#me wondering if I should stop talking about it so much

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

matt x reader

you’ve never been in a relationship, not that you don’t want to be in one, but no one has ever found you attractive. your friends always came to you for advice, talking to you about their problems, their crushes, their love lives. 

“what should i say to him?” 

“he’s mad at me, what should i do?” 

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks! should i break up with him?” 

of course, you were happy for them, always offering advice with a genuine smile, but sometimes, deep down, you wished you were in their shoes. so many boys were enamored by their beauty, constantly chasing after them, leaving you to wonder, what about me? what was wrong with you? why didn’t anyone ever look at you the way they looked at them? 

it didn’t take long for you to stop caring. you convinced yourself that you didn’t need anyone to be happy. your life could be complete without someone else filling that space. 

“...but i also was- are you even listening to me?” matt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words breaking through your trance. you blinked, realizing that you were sitting in his room on his bed, watching him talk while your mind had drifted away to places you didn't want to acknowledge. 

“hm?” you looked up, surprised by how much you had zoned out. matt was standing in front of you, dressed in his usual grey sweatpants, the waistband of his red calvin klein boxers peeking out from under them. he was just a few feet away, but your mind had wandered so far. 

“oh, sorry. i think i just... zoned out. what were you saying?” 

matt sighed, sitting beside you, his presence a little more serious than before. something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

“you’ve been acting... strange for the past few days. what’s up with you?” his voice was soft, but there was a frown on his face, concern in his eyes. 

“what do you mean by strange? i’m perfectly fine!” you didn’t realize how defensive you sounded until the words left your mouth. your voice rose sharply, startling both you and matt. 

he looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. why had you raised your voice? he hadn’t said anything wrong. he was just worried. but why did it bother you so much? 

matt’s voice softened, his gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something unreadable. “i’m just worried, okay? you’ve been... different. more distant.” 

you felt a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t know how to express what was really going on. maybe it was just easier to pretend like everything was fine. 

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. “nothing to worry about, matt.” 

but matt didn’t let it go. “i don’t think it’s just that. we’ve known each other forever, and i can tell when something’s off with you. if you’re going through something, you know you can talk to me.” 

your heart skipped a beat. was he just being a good friend? or was there something more? the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so concerned—it made your stomach flutter, but you quickly shut the thought down. no, you couldn’t be thinking like that. 

you didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. instead, you changed the subject, almost too quickly. “hey, are you still watching gravity falls with your brothers?” you asked, hearing the familiar voices coming from the living room. “i love that show.” 

matt’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press any further. “yeah. they’re probably still watching. you wanna join them?” 

you smiled, but the thought of spending time with matt felt... different now. what is wrong with me? you thought, shaking your head. stop overthinking. 

𝜗𝜚

you loved music. you loved drawing. and those two passions, together, created something perfect for you. when you drew, it wasn’t just about the lines and colors. it was about the rhythm of the music guiding you, inspiring every stroke. you were like a painter with a soundtrack, each note blending seamlessly with the colors swirling on your canvas. music pulsed through your veins, setting the tempo, and guiding your hand. without it, drawing felt like trying to drive a car without fuel—motionless, incomplete. you couldn’t imagine creating anything without the melodies that calmed your mind and stirred your soul. 

matt was in the living room, watching gravity falls with his brothers. you loved this show. it was fun, clever, and full of strange adventures. but today, your thoughts felt distracted. you knew you shouldn’t, but something about the quiet of the house and matt being so engrossed in his show made you do it. you stood up from the chair that was next to matt’s desk and grabbed the diary he’d left behind, curiosity gnawing at you. 

inside, you found something unexpected 

pictures of you and him. 

at first, you giggled, feeling a warm sensation spread through you as you flipped through the pages. it was filled with things you two had talked about, little moments that seemed so simple but meant so much. but then you turned to the last page. 

it was a recent entry, dated for today. 

"might tell her how i feel tomorrow." 

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the words, your mind trying to process what it meant. could it be? was matt talking about you? 

you ran your fingers over the page, over the ink. your thoughts raced. he’s been acting different, you realized. but i thought it was just me... 

you remembered the way matt had looked at you earlier, his eyes soft and full of concern. his subtle touches, the way he’d always been there when you needed him. you never thought much of it, not really. but now, the idea that he might feel something more made your chest tighten, and a strange warmth flooded your cheeks. 

you weren’t sure what to do with this new information. should you confront him? did you want him to tell you how he felt? what if it changed everything between you two? what if it ruined your friendship? 

you closed the diary, setting it down carefully on the bed. for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure what to think, and the uncertainty was overwhelming. 

𝜗𝜚

later that evening, you were sitting in the living room, drawing absentmindedly. matt was still watching gravity falls, but his brothers weren’t there. you could feel his presence next to you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. you kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out how to bring it up, or whether you should at all. 

just tell him, you thought. but fear of rejection, fear of ruining everything held you back. 

when matt finally turned to you, his voice was soft. “hey... i was wondering if we could talk about something.” 

you froze. oh no. here it comes. 

“sure,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

he hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “you’ve been distant lately. and i know you’ve been... busy, but i just want you to know i’m here if you need anything. i... i care about you, okay?” 

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i care about you. 

suddenly, everything seemed clearer. but as you looked at him, you realized something—this wasn’t the same as what you had imagined. it was more. the butterflies in your stomach weren’t just from curiosity anymore. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i care about you too, matt.” 

he smiled softly, but there was something more in his eyes. something he wasn’t saying yet, but you knew it was there. and in that moment, 

everything changed. 

a/n... first fic hellooooo what are we thinkingg? send some requests please! i was literally so excited before even posting this lmfao 😭 @strnilolover <3

© PPLEASEXANNY

[sturnsrecord]

OVER THE PHONE

— [ex!matt x reader. angst] matt bites the bullet and decides to call you on a lonely night, desperate to just hear your voice.

the thought of you often appeared in matt's head. and when it didn't, he'd consciously think about you, all the things he remembered loving about you.

it could be as simple as your smile, or even the way you rolled your eyes at him. 

he contemplated your entire relationship. going over how it ended, as well as every mistake he ever made.

he hadn't been like this with any other girl he'd seen or dated. he'd usually shut all the memories out and move on. convincing himself that it was for the better, which apparently it was. 

but you – you plagued his mind, with both wanted and unwanted thoughts. 

he tries to keep some dignity, acting like he's fine and that he doesn't miss you. but despite the persona he plays in front of his friends and family, he knows the truth. he knows how much he misses you. 

he's considered calling you a few times, mostly on nights where he feels lonely and nostalgic, his memory of your voice not being quite enough to fuel his dopamine. 

so he drops his pride, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. his finger hovers over the call button, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip nervously.

maybe he should just send a text, he thinks to himself. but he knows he doesn’t want that – he wants to hear your voice, and your tone. 

he decides to go for it, starting the call as he brings the phone up to his ear. his heart pounds in his chest, there's a good chance you won't even pick up, or that you'll hang up as soon as he starts speaking. 

but his heart stops as soon as he hears your voice.

“matt?” you question, confused. his mind goes blank, short circuiting. he hadn't really thought about what he was gonna say, now just sat there, his mouth run dry as he listens to you.

“matt?” you say again, now slightly worried. “hello?” you chime, wondering what the fuck was up.

he finally speaks up, his voice coming out in croak. “uh, he- hey.” he mumbles, his palms sweaty. he swallows, trying to calm his nerves.

“hi?” you say, still not understanding what was going on. you sigh when he doesn't respond, considering hanging up on this non-eventful phone call. 

he notices the way you sigh, his heart picking up again. “don’t - just don't hang up.” he panics slightly, taking a deep breath.

“ok.” you mumble, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “i just wanna talk - just about anything.” he mumbles weakly, trying not to sound pathetic. “tell me ‘bout your day.” he says quietly, a meek suggestion.

you sigh again, reluctant to do this. but you'd be lying if you said a part of you didn’t wanna talk to matt. you thought about him sometimes too.

“tell you about my day?” you question, frowning a little at the suggestion.

“yeah.” he breathes out, trying to relax his body a little. “anythin’, just wanna hear your voice.” he admits. you sigh, rubbing your temple. what the fuck were you doing? 

“i've not been doing much - mostly just work.” you mumble out, abiding by his simple request. he lets out a small breath at your words, happy that you'd decided to continue the conversation. 

he smiles to himself, reminding himself that you were in college now, living a whole other life. “right, college. forgot ‘bout that.” he mumbles out, fiddling with the bottom of his top as he speaks. “how is it over there?” he asks, suddenly desperate to know everything about your new life.

“it's ok. hard work, but it's good.” you nod as you speak, trying to respond as casually as possible. “nice change in pace.” you add quietly.

he swallows, listening to your every word. he sat there imagining you in your new life, studying at college. you were always smart, and it made him happy that you were doing something good with your life, something you'd spoken about to him when you were together. 

“they’re not workin’ you too hard are they?” he jokes, keeping the conversation light and interesting for both your benefit.

“what, at college?” you joke back sarcastically. “nah, it's just what i signed up for.” you sigh, smiling to yourself without even thinking.

he nods, biting back a smile. “you happy though?” he asks sincerely, wanting to make sure you were good. 

you think for a second, nodding to yourself. “yeah, i am.” you respond quietly and honestly. “social lifes good, turns out not every girl here is a bitch.” you joke, getting more comfortable in the conversation. 

he raises his eyebrows, chuckling under his breath. “that’s surprising.” he chimes back, amused by your lack of filter that he knew so well. “s’no surprise though, you've never been bad at making friends.” he says kindly, knowing damn well how easy you were to talk to. how you'd effortlessly charm everyone with your addictive personality, in a way he admired and wished he could do.

his compliment makes your brain fizzle with happiness, but you push past it to keep the conversation lighthearted. “yeah, not socially awkward like you.” you retort back playfully, smiling ear to ear as you speak. 

he scoffs at your insult, although he found comfort and relaxation in the light teasing. finding it easy. “wow, rude.” he responds, shifting around his bed to get more comfy. “s’not my fault i like a smaller social circle.” he defends.

“yeah, you tell yourself that.” you snap back quickly, lightly chuckling as you speak. then there's a silence across the call, one where it would feel like a good time to hang up. but neither of you wanted to, that much was clear. 

“you doin’ okay?” you mumble through the phone, knowing that now was probably the only time you'd be talking like this. checking in on one another wasn't exactly a usual occurrence.

he swallows hard, his whole body feeling hot at the caring tone in your voice. “yeah - i mean, i've been better.” he mumbles awkwardly, trying to sugar coat his emotions. he was fine, just not great. but you weren't in his life like that anymore, you didn't need to know. 

your face drops a little at his words. right, so he wasn't doing okay. “m’sorry, ‘bout that.” you mumble quietly, unsure what to say. 

“it's fine” he huffs, fidgeting with the blanket under him, also unaware of what to say. the conversation veering in a slighter deeper direction, a direction he didn't particularly wanna go with you right now.

but his words escape his lips quickly and quietly, his emotions coming out over his logical thinking. “i miss you.”

his words send a thrilling shock through you. you let out a sigh, trying really hard not to say it back and make this whole stupid phone call an emotional breakdown over your past relationship. 

he swallows at your lack of response, knowing it was stupid of him to say. but talking to you on the phone like this was driving him insane, knowing he couldn't just do this whenever. it's like he was on a time limit to get everything off his chest before he went back to his life without you. 

the call is silent, but he knows you won't just hang up without saying anything. he feels his emotions bubbling over within him, the hurt consuming his mind with thoughts and questions, consuming his everything.

one question rattles in his brain, gnawing at him on a replay, so much that he didn't know if he was saying it outloud by accident or if his inner voice was just that loud. but considering the hole he's already dug himself into he stupidly lets it slip, needing to know the answer so deeply.

“are you seeing anyone?”

you shut your eyes firmly, hoping you hadn’t just heard that. “matt.” you whisper, practically pleading him to stop with just the tone of your voice. 

“i know, i know.” he mumbles, backtracking as he realises what he's just said. he knows he shouldn't have pried like that, but the need to know overtakes his pride. “i just.” he begins, sighing to himself. “i just need to know.” he croaks out, voice breaking. 

“matt.” you whisper again, in the same pleading tone that was telling him to stop asking questions he didn’t wanna know the answer to. “please don't.” you huff, practically warning him of the answer already. 

his stomach drops. fuck. you’d just answered his question, and fuck did it hurt. he was taking this a lot worse than he thought he would, jealousy surging into every nerve ending of his body. an emotion he didn't often show because of how ugly it was.

“just tell me.” he mutters, his voice coming out in a rasp of both desperation and pain. you bite down on your bottom lip nervously, honestly debating hanging up, but you owed him at least this. to be honest with him.

“yeah.” you say weakly, your heart rate picking up as you become nervous. “i have a boyfriend.” you mumble out. you know that's not what he wants to hear, but what were you meant to do.

“fuck.” he whispers under his breath, his body relaxing from its tension as the words finally leave your mouth. but what filled in was much worse, the pain and jealousy of knowing you'd moved on whilst he was still sat here thinking about you almost everyday. he felt pathetic in all honesty. 

“matt, m’sorry-” you begin, feeling bad. but he cuts you off quickly. “no, no- you don't need to.” he sighs, rubbing his temple. “you don't need to apologise, for that.” he speaks softly, trying his hardest to rationalise with that part of his brain. the logical part screaming at him to not get upset over this, to not let it completely ruin him. 

“m’happy for you.” he mumbles out, the words catching in his throat, like he's struggling to say them. maybe thats because deep down he didn’t really mean them, some fucked up, jealous part of him cruelly wishing you weren’t happy. but he couldn't act out on that. he was smart enough to understand this wasn't his place to comment, nor let his ugly emotions get the better of him. 

“thanks.” you mutter back, trying to keep the situation civil. you knew he was upset. you knew because if he had a new girlfriend you'd be freaking out, probably hating it more than you'd like to admit. and maybe that wasn't fair, but weren’t gonna dwell on the logistics of the situation.

he takes a deep breath, trying to keep up his calm demeanour, not wanting to pathetically slip up. but it's difficult trying to keep his mind at bay with thoughts of you happy with someone else. a part of him crumbled, knowing that something he had dreaded for a while now was true, and it had been for a while.

“i'm uh- i'm gonna go.” he mumbles, deciding that he couldn't talk to you anymore without practically breaking down. 

“right, okay.” you mumble, mentally smacking yourself for letting the conversation get to this. you scrape your brain for something else to say, something to fix the now low mood. but nothing comes to mind, regret taking over. 

“bye matt.” you whisper softly, the shock of the situation beginning to take over, your eyes brimming with tears as you think about the fact you've just hurt someone you care so much about. 

maybe it had been easier this whole time when you weren't talking to matt, able to keep him so incredibly separate from whatever life you were living now.

the only reason you'd been able to move on is because there was hardly anything else in your life that had any attachment to matt anymore. but getting a call from him, and hearing his voice, it really fucked you up.

“bye.” he whispers back before hastily hanging up, letting out a sigh as his eyes water. god was that a bad idea. he takes a few deep breaths, stopping himself from crying over this.

he felt pathetic and sad for himself. here you were moving on and he was just stuck, stuck on a part of both your lives that you had so easily left behind.

he hated himself for it, because he only had himself to blame.

©sturnsrecord

notes . this was inspired by @pearlzier c.ai chris bot lmao

tag list . @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss @hearts4sturniolo @emely9274 @dominicfikeenthusiast

[cakepoppresent]

Let Me Beat His Ass

A few things

Lol poor Daisuke his future wife is going through it and hasn't been returning his texts or calls

Malcolm truly is a big baby. Since Malcolm has been told "no" by Luna he doesn't know how to react. He's taking her wanting to see Andre as a personal attack against him rather than his sister just wanting to find out the truth.

Love Veronica and Luna, in an alt time they would have been GREAT

Transcript under the cut ~

Luna: She’s looking into it, she trying to find this “source”, Chantel isn’t saying who told her

The comments under the pic (it's much smaller on a phone than a computer)

@toucanman - I fucking knew it a rich girl like her would never actually be nice, she was just hiding her bitch ass attitude

@coochielicker - This isn’t the Luna I stan! All SMZ does is lie lie and LIE. Shes been acting for years and its only now shes a diva? Stop playing with my good sis!

@flo- Hmmm...I can see it tho, shes from a super wealthy family its probably her way or no way but who cares was anyone even hurt?

@fruitysims - LOL ive been waiting on something to come out on this hoe. Her nice girl shtick was so overbearing now her true colors are coming out. Thank god

----------------------

Veronica: What did Destiny say? Is she gonna do anything about this?

Veronica: You should send her bitch ass a lawyers letter or something. Can’t be legal to spread malaious rumors like that

Luna: I dunno. I’d rather find this source

Veronica: Where the hell is that man of yours? He must have connections he can use

Luna: Probably... he’s been calling but I don’t even have the time to deal with him right now. Malcolm that bitch still won’t talk to me and now Andre’s face is all over the news and my bitch Dad hasn't even called. It's...a lot right now

Veronica: Let’s travel then, How about Tomarang or Tartosa? Just until everything dies down and you figure out what to do next

Luna: No...I don’t want to leave Andre to deal with this alone and Malcolm is gonna crash out once he sees this online...I can’t leave right now

Veronica: Get off your phone babes. Reading all these comments is going to make you feel worse.

Luna: This is fucking awful and I miss Malcolm, can’t believe his ass won’t talk to me. Benji gives me updates but I’d like to meet Andre with Malcolm.

Veronica: Malcolm is the biggest fucking baby you gotta force him to see reason. If you don’t he’s just gonna pout and mop all day. Let me talk to him

Luna: What are you gonna do? Beat him up?

Veronica: Yes? Beat him up verbally at least. You’re hurting and he needs to get over himself, I'll help him see reason

Luna: He really does listen to you. Don’t be too harsh on him

Veronica: Hush. It's important you guys deal with this Andre thing. Malcolm needs to at least hear him out and stop punishing you for wanting to talk to Andre

Luna: Hahaha Malcolm has always been so sensitive, I wonder where he gets his bitch ass attitude from

Luna: V... it's been hell these past few days. It means a lot that you’re here with me now

Veronica: Babe. You’re basically my sister and I love you. Whatever is happening now will pass I know it will.

Luna: Feels like it's never going to end everything is going to fucking shit. I’ve never fought with Malcolm like this and Benji doesn’t know what to do he hates being in the middle of all this

Veronica: Sleep it off. I can’t help with what's going on online but I can and I WILL speak with Malcolm okay?

Luna: Okay...

Veronica: No more tears babe. I’ll beat his ass up if I have to. Just wait for my call okay?

Veronica: Love you too babes

Luna: Love you V

[amaryllis-sagitta]

Hi again, going through the different endings of DAV, I was pretty surprised to hear Solas being all like "I am a god!!" when Rook beats him in a fight. I know he has pride issues but that felt so OOC to me?? I was wondering if you had an opinion on it?

Hi, thanks for asking again!

There are 3 tiny (or not so tiny?) moments that I think push the envelope on Solas's characterization in a way that allows us to portray him as more genuinely sinister than the main line established in Trespasser, post-Trespasser media and most of DATV, which is the "Pathetic, stubborn man ridden with massive unprocessed guilt and shame, who can't make a choice without some catastrophic collateral for the life of him, and the unforeseen consequences of his choices repeatedly push him to double-cross people and have them do his dirty work".

One moment that had me thinking is the third memory of the rebellion - I mentioned earlier how Solas's pose and facial expressions make him unduly smug when Felassan calls out that they were supposed to do better than send out an army of spirits, appealing to their nature in seemingly good faith, when they were really a distraction doomed to fail. It shocked me because it seems to strike at one of Solas's core values. It's supposed to hurt more in relation to spirits because we know how much Solas despises wasting, destroying or twisting spirit purpose. And yet, in his confrontation with Felassan, he seemed content, smug even, about achieving victory against Elgar'nan and didn't show a trace of regret.

Another moment is the jab in the Fade that "at least you have Varric to talk to", again with a smug sense of satisfaction. Learning about this line took me by surprise because for all the disingenuity Solas is capable of, I never had him for someone who takes delight in such petty cruelty, especially when the matter is also personal to him to a degree. Varric's death should have hurt him by virtue of their mutual respect gained in DAI, so has the game underdelivered in representing this? Or are we really pushing a narrative that he never really changed his mind on non-elves, or chose not to acknowledge them as people, so Varric was just a disposable fool?

The third specific moment that shows Solas in a worse light is the moment you mentioned in the ask. Though, watching this scene, I feel we need to cite the full sentence:

Rook: [...] I am not alone, but you will be. The Veil needs to be tied to the life force of an elvhen god. And now it is, Dread Wolf. Solas: You sneer at me as though you understand. You are mortal! Compared to you, to your infinitesimal existence, I AM A GOD!"

This is a conditional state of an ending, when you decide to fight him and at least the companions in your party have reached the Hero status, which means they survive Solas's counterattacks, so in the end Rook doesn't stand against him alone, and does not end up in the Fade prison with Solas. This is where Solas is at his most desperate, I think, because when Rook remains alone in the Fight ending, it's a pyrrhic victory. Solas doesn't lash out then, because he isn't done with Rook. The context of "I am a god" is that Rook will soon perish while The Dread Wolf will prevail for centuries still, and no mortals can stop him in a way that matters.

But could it also be a trigger for his greatest fear: that there's a realistic chance he can very nastily die alone with his regrets and self-loathing? Because he does not say he is immortal - he never bound a dragon, so he can't take advantage of the Evanuris perk. Neither does he accept a definition of godhood. It's a matter of scale and comparison; in this final moment, he's looking for a way to belittle Rook and their team.

In fact, the "I am a god" in this context represents the extreme of the views he's held about mortals before - arguably, before joining Inquisition. Though I think that even then, he had trouble humanizing races other than elvhen. If his mind has really swayed throughout DAI, it feels barely half a step towards acknowledging that mortal elves, especially the Dalish, might have a point in their approach to history. Then, in Tevinter Nights, he says to Charter that the elves who survive the un-Veiling might find the "new" world better. Not really a win.

I believe a proper background for this is found in two conversations. First, when Rook keeps poking at Solas's plan to tear down the Veil and he stops eluding the question, Rook says "Spoken like a god". Solas's reply in this moment frankly sounds... too deflective. Like it's coming from someone who genuinely needs someone to constantly whisper "Remember you are but a mortal, Caesar" in his ear.

The second moment is when, after having the loud argument with Elgar'nan to get Rook out of a Fade pocket of despair, Solas admits Elgar'nan is who he feared becoming - callous, tyrannical and contemptuous. I guess Solas's worst moments are supposed to show how close he really could get, because the "I am a god" most definitely defines an ego trip that comes from a place of great insecurity.

If I were a hater looking for a hook to make an uncharitable argument that "He was amoral all along and his gentler side was a mask that just waited to slip", I'd start there.

[calinaannehart]

time is shortening (down to the bone)

Chapter 2

“Okay, Bobby should be here any minute, he’s going to take you to chemo, but then he’s got that meeting with the chief so Hen is going to pick you up and bring you home. Then she and Karen have got a playdate with Mara’s brother so Chim’s going to come over after he’s dropped Jee off at the Lee’s. I think he’s got this plan for, like, a movie marathon or something, so save your energy for that, and then Eddie will take over from him and do your physio with you. Now, I’ve told him that you’re leg has been pretty bad the past few days so don’t try and just suffer through it, you hear me? And then Eddie will stay with you until I get off my shift, I should be back about eight, but that will all depend on how the traffic is at—what?”

Tommy’s looking up at him from his spot on the couch, heated blanket draped over his legs, and his head is cocked to one side matching the fond, yet slightly exasperated, smile that he’s directing at Buck.

“You know you wrote this all on the calendar already, right?” Tommy says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “I haven’t lost my memory yet.” His eyes scrunch as his smile turns teasing.

Despite everything he’s going through Tommy hasn’t lost that dry sense of humor that had caught Buck’s attention. Right from that first meeting, when Chim had driven them to the harbor station after calling Tommy for help finding the cruise ship, there had been something special about Tommy. Buck just hadn’t been able to work out what it was straight away.

The man had swanned out of the hanger clad in a blue jumpsuit that should have been unflattering, but somehow looked like he’d swiped it right from a fashion catwalk, and greeted Chim with an embrace that dwarfed the small man. Tommy had shaken Buck’s and Eddie’s hands in turn and asked them what their plan was. He hadn’t even taken a second to consider another option when Chimney had asked if he could get them a helicopter.

“For Captain Nash, anything,” Tommy had said solemnly, leaving Buck wondering what the story was behind the vow, and had bustled them toward a bright yellow helicopter with an instruction to stay out of sight until Hen arrived.

It hadn’t been until they’d safely landed on the rescue ship, grabbing a much-needed warm drink after watching Bobby and Athena reunite, that Buck realized he’d introduced himself as Evan rather than by his chosen name. Tommy had stood next to him, full of jokes about how no one would fire them now that they were officially heroes, and had asked Buck if that was how life was now at the 118. He hadn’t registered at first that Tommy was talking to him as he was so used to hearing the name Evan directed at him. But strangely, he hadn’t minded in the least.

Maybe that should have been his first hint at just how much the man was about to turn Buck’s whole life around.

“I know, I just…it’s a lot of moving parts, you know?” Buck shrugs as he stuffs a clean LAFD tee into his duffle bag.

It had hurt so much seeing Tommy suffering so much. It had been three days before the vomiting had let up enough for him to be able to keep down more than a few sips of water and a handful of saltine crackers. Buck had stayed for the duration of it, calling out sick claiming a stomach flu, and turning down all offers from the 118 to stop by and check on him and find him not at home. He’d confessed the truth when he’d returned for their next block of shifts, having gotten Tommy’s permission to share the news of his diagnosis, and just as Buck had predicted everyone had been shocked but had also offered to do whatever they could to help.

Getting Tommy to accept that help from someone other than Buck, however, had been more of a battle. When Buck had taken vacation days for the second cycle Tommy had been agitated, insisting Buck didn’t need to babysit him, that he could just check on Tommy after his shift. It had been hard not to let his frustration show when he’d reminded the man how he’d had to clean up the vomit before it stained the rug, how he’d washed weeks’ worth of dishes and done multiple loads of laundry, how he’d had to help Tommy in and out of the bathtub because he hadn’t had enough energy to stand, let alone wash himself.

“I’m not judging you for it,” Buck had insisted, softening his voice when he’d spotted the embarrassment on Tommy’s face. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. Watching you suffer is one thing, but actually going through it? I wouldn’t cope any better. Just accept the help, Tommy. Even if you say no I’m going to be here anyway, all of us are.”

read on ao3

@911bingo

If you like please reblog!!!

[silverynight]

The selfish choice

Based on the first episode of act 3 s2. Contains spoilers

Jayce wakes up not precisely screaming, but scared. Maybe the explosion was a dream, but it felt terrifyingly real. Still, he needs to make sure the hexcore is alright, and figure out a way to destroy it.

But when he sits on the bed, he realizes the ceiling is not familiar to him. There's something weird about his body too, even though it looks the same, it's like he's wearing something that's not his even though he's naked under the sheets.

Why is he naked? Suddenly, a sharp pain in his temple makes him groan; flashes of the explosion fill up his mind as his own fingers run through his own hair, and he realizes it's longer... He also has a beard. He hasn't grow one in a long time, he's sure of it.

What's going on?

"Are you alright, Jayce? Did you have a nightmare?"

That voice. He'd recognize that voice anywhere... And the hand on his shoulder, a hand that hasn't been corrupted by hextech yet.

"Viktor?"

"Yes, it's me. It's okay, you're here with me. At home."

It's Viktor. The old one, his partner. But, at the same time, Jayce realizes, as he cups the man's face in his hands, that this Viktor looks different, healthier and happier.

He smiles more, and the expression reaches his beautiful eyes every single time.

"What is it? You look confused," Viktor says gently, caressing his shoulder.

Then Jayce notices that Viktor is also naked under the sheets; he's wearing a wedding band, and when he looks at his own hand over his partner's cheek he realizes he's wearing another one. One that matches Viktor's.

They're married. But he doesn't find the fact weird; it's not even remotely surprising. It makes sense somehow. Like something he should've done from the very beginning, but he was too obsessed with hextech to see the right path in front of him.

However, he's aware he didn't do that; he's not married to Viktor no matter how much he wants it now that the option appeared in his mind.

What's going on? Is this a dream? And if it is, can he stay a bit longer?

He doesn't want to wake up.

"I'll make breakfast. You should stay in bed," Viktor says, getting up before Jayce can grab his arm and beg him to stay with him. He stops only because he finally gets to admire Viktor's beautiful body for the first time. There's not trace of hextech on him.

Then he notices the prosthesis. His right leg. Even thought it's the first time Jayce has seen it, it looks familiar to him somehow.

"Where did you get that?"

Viktor chuckles; it's so good to see him laughing and happy, Jayce wants to make him do that sound again.

"Very funny. You perfectly know you did this for me. It was the first one. We do these for the people who need it. The Kiramman family pays for them."

Jayce can tell Viktor is passionate about the project; he likes to help, he likes to build things to improve people's lives in any way he can. In his heart, this also makes sense. He should've done this in the first place.

"What about hextech?"

"What are you talking about?" He's completely dressed now and Jayce laments it. But he gets closer and touches his forehead. "You're a bit warm, but I don't think you're sick. Maybe you should go back to sleep."

"No!" He snaps, startling Viktor for a moment. No, he doesn't want to go back to sleep because he'll lose this, he's sure of it.

"Maybe we should take the day off. You clearly need some rest."

Jayce has breakfast with him, he looks at their house with wonder; there are a lot of pictures of them, moments he doesn't remember, but that somehow make sense. In some of them, or perhaps a lot, Jayce finds himself staring at Viktor with a besotted grin on his face.

He helps Viktor with the dishes and kisses him for the first time in their kitchen; he can taste Viktor's smile against his lips and although it's familiar, it's completely new at the same time. He should've done that a long time ago.

When Jayce pushes him towards the bedroom, Viktor stops him.

"Wait," he chuckles again. "We should go buy groceries first."

"Viktor, please," this version of him must beg a lot, because his husband just rolls his eyes before following him inside.

"I love you, Viktor," Jayce says with tears in his eyes as flashes of the other Viktor appear in his head; he loves that Viktor too, even though he's been consumed by the hexcore now. "I think I've always loved you."

"I know," he smiles softly, running his fingers through Jayce's hair as they roll their hips together. "I love you too."

***

As the days pass and Jayce gets used to his new life; he realizes that this is not a dream. It feels too real to be one. He's starts wondering if the explosion sent him to another reality, a kinder one.

If that's the case he should try to find a way to get back, but without the hexcore there's no anomaly here.

And frankly, he's not sure he even wants to try; this Viktor is completely his, Jayce doesn't have to share his body and soul with the hexcore. The other one loves their project more than he loves Jayce. He's not sure the other one loves him the way Jayce does.

One day, Heimerdinger knocks at his door, and when he opens it he's tempted to close it right on his face. But then Viktor peeks over his shoulder and smiles.

"Professor, come in!"

This could be the Heimerdinger that lives in their reality, a different one; one who doesn't know about hextech. But Jayce has a bad feeling about him.

"I would like a cup of tea."

Viktor immediately leaves, heading towards the kitchen, acting like this is something that happens quite often at their house.

"How long have you been here?"

"How do you know, professor?"

"There's a different look in your eyes, boy. Besides, the other Jayce doesn't look at me like I'm a threat," Heimerdinger replies simply, staring right back at his former pupil.

"Do you want us to go back?"

"I don't know how we could do that, to be quite honest," he replies, prompting Jayce to finally relax. "I just had a feeling you were going to be sent here too, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. But I can see you have adapted quite well already."

"I don't want to leave, professor."

"I can tell."

"Is that wrong? Am I making a mistake?"

"I don't know."

***

When he sees Ekko again, it's months later; the headaches and flashes of his past life are not that frequent anymore, but it's because Jayce has trained himself to ignore them.

This time, it's Viktor the one who opens the door. Jayce it's in the living room so he manages to hear part of what his husband is saying.

"Is this your new pupil, professor? I'm Viktor. It's a pleasure, Ekko."

This is not a coincidence. The boy has finally arrived and it means nothing good for Jayce.

He rushes towards the entrance and stands between Viktor and the other two, like he's trying to shield him from them.

"You're acting a bit weird today, Jayce," he blurts out, confused before glancing back at their guests. "Don't mind him, he gets overprotective sometimes."

"It's fine," Ekko says. "I understand."

No, he fucking doesn't.

"Viktor, can you give us a minute?" Jayce asks, taking one his husbands hands before kissing it softly.

"Sure. I'll be in the lab."

He leads them to the study before closing the door behind himself; he's getting angry, and the fact that they're both looking at him with pity it's making him feel even worse.

"I won't help you find a way to get back," he says, trying not to growl.

"We already created the anomaly," Ekko shrugs. "We didn't need your help."

Jayce immediately flinches, thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

"You never asked," he blurts out before looking at the boy: "How long have you been here, Ekko?"

"I told him we shouldn't bother you," Heimerdinger cuts in then, when it's obvious Ekko is not going to answer any of Jayce's questions. "I apologize, but I genuinely thought you could... uhh... make everything a bit more difficult, if you agreed to help us."

On purpose. Heimerdinger thought Jayce could sabotage their project. But he doesn't get mad because he's right.

He would've.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You need to come back with us," Ekko says, using the exact words he fears the most.

"No."

"Listen, I understand why you-"

"No, you fucking don't!" He growls without actually meaning to.

He hates that Ekko doesn't lose his composure, he hates that he's the mature one even though he's younger than Jayce.

"I do," he insists calmly. Jayce can see it in his eyes, the sorrow, the love... "I have someone here too. I don't want to leave her, but there are other people who need me where I come from. She's there too, another version of her, but I don't want to give up on her just because she's different."

The right words to undo him; the words that bring the image of his Viktor into his mind. He loves his Viktor too, but selfishness has been blinding him this whole time.

He can't give up on him, even if that Viktor doesn't love him as much as Jayce does.

He can find a way to destroy the hexcore and save Viktor at the same time; maybe they can have what they already have in this reality. It'll take some time and effort, but Jayce is going to be patient. He can fight for it.

"Let's go, right now."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye, boy?" Heimerdinger asks, taking pity on him. It's even worse than Ekko's judgment.

"If I see him I won't leave."

***

Something goes wrong. The core is reacting different in that reality, Jayce can feel it as his and Ekko's other selves get thrown out of the sphere and back into their reality.

Heimerdinger gets out before it's time to leave, he disappears outside the core and both Jayce and Ekko know they won't see him again.

When he opens his eyes he knows this is the reality he was supposed to land in the first place because his hammer is there, like it's been waiting for him this whole time. But Ekko is not with him.

And this place, this new reality looks like hell.

[dira333]

Soft Launch Competition - Suna x Reader

for @moochiwoochi for the Milestone Event Week 2

You don’t want to be the one asking for it. 

But with how much time Rintarou spends on social media, you shouldn’t even have to, right?

“What are you doing, Rin?” You ask, cuddling into his side.

“Scrolling,” he huffs out, swiping upwards one last time before putting his phone away to focus on you. “Just wasting time. What are you up to?”

“Cuddling?” You offer and he pulls you further in, rests his chin on top of your head. 

“I like that idea.”

“Do you-” You hesitate. “Never mind.” You grab the strings of his hoody and pull on them, hoping it will distract him enough.

But this is Suna and he’s got laser focus when he shouldn’t, really.

“No, no, what did you want?”

“Nothing,” you push your lower lip out but he’s not buying it today, biting it but keeping his eyes sharp. You shouldn’t have started what you can’t finish.

“I’m hungry,” you decide. It’s your best bet to push this away from you.

It works for a while, at least, because you’ve been undecided on food before, weighing the options of different restaurants, eating and not eating late at night.

Rintarou knows you like that, so you have reasonable hope that he’ll stitch it up to this.

-

“Now,” he drags a fry through the ketchup on your plate and holds it up to your lips. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he drags another fry through the ketchup and taps your cheek with it, grinning when you move to pat away the ketchup stain. “Stop.”

“Only if you tell me what’s going through your head.”

“That you’re annoying is going through my head.”

“Boohoo, you’re so sad about it. Tell me.”

“No.”

Rintarou grabs another fry and you know you can’t win this one, you just know.

“Fine,” you huff and he drops the fry with a winning smile. “I was wondering… whyI’mnotonyourinstagram.”

His smile does not waver. 

“Ah,” he nods. “I should have guessed that.”

“Right?” you nod, despite the anxious thrumming in your stomach. “We’ve been dating quite a while.”

“Mhm,” he eats a fry and chews slowly. “You know putting you on my Instagram is going to unleash hell, right?”

“What?” You furrow your brows. “No, it’s not.”

“You’ve seen my posts, right? People follow me for my jokes.”

“And your thirst traps.”

“Oh,” he blushes. “Those. Yeah. I do upload these for you, so.”

“Liar,” you tell him. “You could just send them to me if that were the case.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Rintarou grins, teasing you. “Besides, you haven’t posted me either.”

“I was waiting for you to post first.”

“Oh, are we scared now?”

“No!” You pull your phone out and put it on the table. “Bet?”

“Oh, it’s on.” He waves his phone around. “Whoever posts first pays for the food?”

“We already paid, it’s McDonalds.”

“Not today,” Rintarou scoffs. He means business now. “This Sunday, big date. Loser pays.”

“Fine,” you hiss, grabbing your phone. You already have the perfect picture saved. “Go.”

-

You win by a measly five seconds and you suspect that Rintarou let you win, not that you’re going to complain. 

He’s got the bigger paycheck.

“Let me see what you posted,” you giggle, still high from your win.

“Yours is cute,” Rintarou comments, turning his phone to show you your post, the two of you, sunglasses on, at golden hour. 

“I kno- Rin! Why’d you pick that?”

“What? It’s cute!”

“It’s not cute, my shirt has stains on it.”

“And I still claim you as my girlfriend. You’re welcome.”

-

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[lavenderclownwritesanddraws]

I Really Want to Stay at Your House (Jamil X V! Reader, Cyberpunk AU)

This fanfiction contains mild spoilers for character interactions in Cyberpunk 2077.

In Cyberpunk 2077, the main character is V. they're currently a mercenary trying to survive in the chaos of Night City.

If you' re wondering about Johnny—well, he’s the personality living rent-free in your cyberware implant. Johnny Silverhand was a legend in Night City, known as both a terrorist and a rockstar, and he died decades ago. Now, he exists as a digital ghost in your head. He can talk to you and even appear in your vision sometimes, which is… an experience, to say the least.

Over time, Johnny and V build an unlikely friendship, leaning on each other to make sense of all the chaos and sacrifices that come with life in Night City.

This fanfiction references the in-game event I Really Want to Stay at Your House and the moment when you let Johnny take control of your body for a day. Unsurprisingly, Johnny being Johnny, he goes overboard—drinking too much, hitting up a strip club, picking up a stripper, and then crashing your car. Yes, all while in your body.

Trust me, listening to I Really Want to Stay at Your House will hit differently after reading this.

I Really Want to Stay at Your House (Jamil X V! Reader, Cyberpunk AU, The Lovers Progression)

The door to V’s apartment slid shut with a dull thud, and she exhaled slowly as if releasing the weight of the entire city from her shoulders. Each step felt like wading through quicksand. The day—or rather, the day Johnny had taken from her—was a blur of flashing lights, noise, and pain. Her head pounded, and the sour taste of alcohol lingered on her tongue, making her grimace. She rubbed her temples, willing herself to focus.

Empty. The apartment was mercifully empty, or so she thought. Relief washed over her. The last thing she wanted was for her partner, Jamil, to see her like this—hungover, bruised, and barely standing. She kicked off her boots, the sound echoing in the stillness. Just a few steps more, and she could collapse into bed and forget this nightmare ever happened.

“Didn’t think you’d make it back in one piece.”

The voice, low and deceptively calm, sent a chill down her spine. V froze, her eyes darting to the dimly lit kitchen. There he was, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Jamil Viper. His dark eyes, always sharp and unreadable, watched her with an intensity that made her stomach churn. His hair, dark and slightly disheveled, framed his face, casting shadows that only made him look more imposing. The soft glow of his tech implants along his forearms pulsed rhythmically, like a predator’s heartbeat along the oversized jacket she had seen him wear so many times.

“Jamil…” V’s voice cracked, and she winced at how pathetic it sounded.

He pushed off the counter with a grace that belied the tension in his movements, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. His gaze swept over her, taking in every bruise, every unsteady breath. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, forcing a weak smile. “Really needed to hear that.”

He stopped a few feet away “Care to explain?” His tone was deceptively mild, but she knew better. Beneath it lay a storm waiting to be unleashed.

V ran a hand through her hair, wincing as the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through her head. “It’s… a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He tilted his head slightly “I’ve had plenty of time, actually. Watching your biometrics spike and crash in real-time tends to do that.”

Her heart sank. “You were tracking me?” She should have known better. The Top Netrunner for the Asim Corporation’s Counterintelligence Division didn’t just sit idle when his partner was out self-destructing.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t act so surprised. I had to know you weren’t dead.” His voice dropped, soft but deadly. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you spiraling into alcohol poisoning, adrenaline surges, and then flatlining in a crash. Care to enlighten me?”

He was close now, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. His dark hair fell around his face, framing eyes that burned with a mix of fury and hurt. She’d seen him angry before—sharp-tongued, sarcastic—but this was different. He was quiet and controlled, and that made it infinitely worse.

V took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I… let Johnny take control.”

Silence. The kind that felt like a knife pressed against her throat.

“Ah,” Jamil said finally, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “So, you handed your body over to that ghost in your system. To drink, to gamble, to crash your car. Am I missing anything, or is that the whole highlight reel?”

V stepped past him, moving towards the couch, needing to sit before her knees gave out. She dropped onto the cushions, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

Jamil followed, his footsteps slow but deliberate. He stopped in front of her, then leaned down, placing his hands on either side of her head. “Then how was it supposed to go, V?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and his breath brushed against her ear. “Tell me.” Each syllable turned into ice piercing through her.

She didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze head-on. “I thought he needed a break. I thought giving him one day would… help.”

Jamil’s jaw tightened, and he pushed off the couch, pacing. The controlled movements betrayed his simmering rage. “Help? Him?” He turned back, eyes blazing. “At what cost? You come back like this—hungover, bruised, and broken—and I’m supposed to accept that you did this for him?”

“It was a mistake,” she said, her voice firm. “One I won’t repeat.”

“Damn right, you won’t,” he snarled back, but there was no satisfaction in his tone. Slowly, he returned to the couch and sat, inches away from her, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” His eyes softened, the harsh lines of his face relaxing ever so slightly. “Every time you throw yourself into these situations, you drag me along for the ride. I can’t… I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

V nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And I’m sorry. I can’t undo what’s done, but I can promise it won’t happen again.”

Jamil leaned closer, his hands resting on the back of the couch, effectively caging her in. “Do you think I want your promises?” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. “I want you. Alive. Here. Not a shell.”

“I’m here now,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’m here, and I’m listening. I’m not running.”

He studied her for a long moment as if searching for a lie hidden in her words. Then, slowly, he leaned back, giving her space. “Good,” he said, his tone softer. “Because I’m tired, V. Tired of chasing after you, tired of feeling like I’m one step away from losing you.”

V reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining. “I know.” Her grip tightened. “I’m tired too. But I’m still here.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “Next time, you think about him, think about what you’re risking.” He glanced down at their joined hands. “Because I won’t let you go without a fight.”

—————————————————————

The kettle’s soft whistle broke the silence, a subtle contrast to the rain pattering against the windows of the dimly lit apartment. Jamil moved precisely, pouring the boiling water into a mug. The faint aroma of spiced tea filled the air, warm and calming, in sharp contrast to the tension between them. V sat on the couch, her head resting against her hand as exhaustion clung like a heavy cloak. She’d endured plenty of rough nights, but tonight felt different—heavier somehow.

Jamil approached her, the mug in one hand, a medkit in the other. His gaze, sharp and discerning, flickered over her face, taking in the bruises and shadows under her eyes. He handed her the tea, his voice low but firm. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

V took the mug with a quiet thanks, the warmth seeping into her fingers as she sipped. The tea burned her tongue slightly, but the spice and heat soothed her. She glanced at Jamil, who was already settling beside her, opening the medkit with practiced ease.

“Let me see your arm,” he said, not waiting for her to comply. His hands, steady and meticulous, worked to clean and dress the scrapes on her forearm. His movements betrayed no hesitation, but she could feel the weight of his focus—a quiet intensity that always made her chest tighten.

As his fingers brushed against her skin, she winced. “You don’t have to patch me up every time, you know.”

He didn’t look up. “Clearly, you can’t be trusted to do it yourself.”

“Ouch,” Johnny’s voice broke through, sarcastic as ever. His flickering hologram appeared in V’s peripheral vision, leaning nonchalantly against the edge of the coffee table. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a regular househusband here. Never thought I’d see the day.”

V sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Johnny, not now.”

“What? Just calling it like I see it,” he replied, smirking. “Guy’s got more patience than anyone I’ve ever met. Even if he does look like he’s plotting your funeral half the time.”

V shot him a glare, muttering, “Says the man who got us both into this mess.”

Jamil let out a soft sigh, his shoulders rising and falling with the movement. He’d long since learned that addressing the engram only prolonged the chaos. Instead, he fixed his gaze on V, his expression calm but with a hint of weariness.

“You’re talking to him again.” It wasn’t a question.

“Occupational hazard,” V muttered, taking another sip of tea. She glanced at Jamil, her eyes softening. “But he’s not the one here. You are.”

Jamil’s gaze flicked over her, and though his expression remained composed, the faintest trace of a smile ghosted across his lips. “Let’s get you to bed before your occupational hazards get the better of you again.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the soft, amber glow of a shaded lamp on the bedside table. The rain outside drummed gently against the windows, its rhythm a calming counterpoint to the ever-present hum of Night City’s neon chaos. The air was warm, tinged faintly with the herbal scent of Jamil’s tea from earlier. V stood by the wardrobe, shrugging out of her jacket and letting it fall onto the back of a chair. She glanced over at Jamil, who was already in the middle of changing.

He tugged off his oversized jacket first, hanging it with practiced precision over the arm of a chair. Beneath it, his tank top clung to his lean, muscular frame, revealing the taut lines of his shoulders and the faint definition of his arms. He moved with the same fluid grace that always caught her attention—every gesture measured and precise, betraying the discipline and control that defined him.

When he reached for the hem of his tank top, V couldn’t help but watch as he pulled it over his head, revealing smooth, dusky skin and the faint sheen of sweat from the day’s tension. The sharp contours of his back shifted as he stretched, and her eyes caught on the small, dark insertion port at the base of his cervical spine. The port gleamed faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast against the unmodified perfection of his skin.

He pulled on a clean black T-shirt, the fabric stretching briefly over his broad shoulders before settling into place. The outfit—a plain tee and loose joggers—was startlingly casual for someone who always seemed so put together, but it suited him. He looked comfortable, a rare sight that made her chest tighten.

Jamil glanced at her briefly, raising a brow. “Done staring?”

Caught, V smirked and turned away to finish changing. When she turned back, Jamil was already lying in bed, his back propped against the pillows, a datapad resting on his lap. His legs stretched out beneath the covers, his body relaxed as he scrolled through updates. The glow of the screencast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the elegant curve of his jaw and the faint hollows beneath his cheekbones.

The neon light from the city outside slipped through the curtains, fracturing into streaks of red and blue across his face. He looked almost otherworldly in the mix of colors, his sharp features softened by the cozy surroundings. V took a moment to study him—this rare, unguarded version of Jamil. His brow furrowed slightly as he read, his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration.

Something in her stirred. She crossed the room quietly, slipping into bed beside him. The mattress dipped under her weight, and he glanced at her, his expression softening as she settled against the pillows.

“Work updates?” she asked, nodding toward the datapad.

“Just catching up,” he replied, his tone as even as ever. “I returned early today to… make sure you came back. Now I’m behind.”

The faint rebuke in his voice made her wince, but she saw the flicker of relief in his eyes when he looked at her again. She wanted to say something—something light, something to dispel the lingering tension—but instead, she moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to his side.

Jamil froze for a moment, caught off guard, before setting the datapad aside. His hand rested lightly on her arm, his thumb brushing idly against her skin. “What’s this?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her words muffled against his shirt. “For scaring you. For making you worry.”

His hand stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle motion. “You say that now,” he said, his tone tinged with a faint bitterness. But there was no anger there—only a quiet, aching vulnerability. “Don’t make promises you cannot keep.”

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ll try harder. For you. For us.”

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin lightly on her hair. For a moment, the only sound was the rain outside and the faint hum of the city beyond the glass.

“Just… be careful. I don’t care how hard things get. Just come back.” he said after a long pause.

V tightened her hold on him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered. “I promise.”

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly against hers. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the glow of the city painting the walls around them in fractured light.

Eventually, Jamil shifted, pulling the covers up over both of them. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice a murmur. “Tomorrow will be better.”

“Get some rest, V,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. She nodded against him, letting her eyes close. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of Jamil’s breathing.

[hearmeoutgirl]

Hey guys... this is my first fic.. and for god's sake I'm so excited.... I hope you like the plot. And yes, I'm open to requests, girl! Enjoy reading :)

[Notice: my native language is not English, forgive me if there are any mistakes 🙏]

Subject: Fight in the Rain!

~~~~~~~~

If you were to describe today with one word, it would be shit.

You and Rafe went out to a dinner that you thought was special. The first moments were beautiful. You both were having a good time. Wine, food and a handsome gentleman Rafe... Isn't it heaven? The happiness didn't last long. When the tactless man at the table across from you sent a bottle of champagne to your table and his number with it, Rafe's veins started to boil with blood and anger.

Someone was trying to walk next to him, to his lover, to his lover.

Rafe was not a calm man, he never was. So he took the champagne in his hand and walked towards the man. If eyes could kill someone, this pimp had been killed many times by Rafe. As you watched him nervously, trying to grab his arm, Rafe broke the champagne in his hand over the man’s head.

Yes, your psychopathic lover.

And now, after all the chaos, you were sitting in the car, driving home. Rafe’s palm was bruised and bleeding from the shards of the champagne bottle. He was driving furiously as you carefully wrapped his hand.

“I wonder when you’ll finally get your temper under control,” you grumbled.

Rafe glared at you as he tried to control his anger. “That fucking pimp should be thankful I didn’t stick a champagne bottle up his ass.”

You just rolled your eyes. You finished cleaning your hands as the car drove to Rafe’s house in the pouring rain. You could feel the tension in the car as you sat there silently.

“I should have killed him,” Rafe said angrily, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. “I should have buried him in that restaurant.”

You didn’t say anything. This happened a lot. When Rafe got angry, he would mutter to himself and when he finally calmed down, he would start talking to you. You were sure this guy was a real psychopath.

Rafe looked at you while smoking his cigarette angrily. “You shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, are you going to be a bitch to me?”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The reason a man walked up to you was because you were wearing a short dress? Seriously? Was this man serious? “Are you serious, Rafe?” You frowned at him.

"Oh, come on Yn. Don't look at me like that. You caught that man's attention by wearing that fucking dress. That's what you wanted. To be a whore." He growled, blowing smoke from him cigarette.

You wore this dress for Rafe. Not for any other man. You clenched your jaw in anger, not going to last until you got home. You turned to Rafe as he sneered at you.

"Stop the car."

Rafe frowned. He looked at you as he tossed his cigarette out the window. “What are you fuckinh talking about?” When he stops the car, you grab your bag without turning to him and get out of the car. You can't stand him calling you a whore. You weren't a whore. You never were.

You were already crying with anger when Rafe got out of the car, cursing. Rafe grabbed your arm and turned you towards him as you drove through the rain. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

You pushed him away. You pulled away from him, your body boiling with anger. But Rafe didn’t let you. He grabbed your arm tighter. “Are you trying to be a spoiled slut?! Wasn’t it enough to get that pimp’s attention?!”

Your hand, which you knew was tiny, flew up in anger and hit Rafe's cheek. You hadn't expected him to be so harsh either. But his disrespect was too much. "You're not the Rafe I know." Actually, that was exactly it. Psychotic, rude, Rafe.

When Rafe stood there in shock from the slap, you continued to cry in anger and turned your back and walked away from him. Your hands were shaking and it wasn't because of the rain. When you took a few steps, you felt two strong arms around your waist. He pulled your shaking and wet body to him. Your back hit his broad chest. Your efforts to push him away were in vain as his face rested on your neck. "Baby...." you gasped when his muffled voice reached your ears.

“Let me go…” your weak voice was mixed with the rain as your body leaned against his chest. Your eyes closed as Rafe held you closer to him. Your mascara was running down your face. Your black satin dress was soaked. The rain was cold, but the body you were leaning on and the arms that would have wrapped around your belly twice if they weren’t embarrassed were warm.

“Sshhhh…” Rafe muttered quietly, burying his face in your neck. “I’ll never… never let you go…” he felt you go limp in his arms as he gently kissed your neck. You knew you were crushing your pride underfoot, but damn it, you couldn’t help but feel his arms around you and wth his lips on your neck, and his voice muffled... what were you going to do but not give yourself over to him?

After a few minutes, when your hiccups had subsided and your crying had slowed down, Rafe removed your head from your neck and turned you towards him. "Look at me..." He gently lifted your chin. There was no anger in his blue eyes. There was compassion. A feeling he showed only for you. The shield in his eyes was lifted. There’s your Rafe.

"I'm sorry, okay? I meant to call you that... I mean call you bitch- damn it baby... I didn't mean to call you that shitty word..." He searched your eyes for any emotion as he looked at you. You looked up at him. You nodded silently. Your heart was still broken.

"Shit...." You looked up at Rafe as his huge hands cupped your cheeks. "My baby... my beautiful girl... my love..." the words were making you drunker than the wine you were drinking. "I never meant to break that little heart of yours. I'm sorry... I'm sorry so hard... I... I don't know how to handle this..."

"I see..." Rafe felt worse when you spoke with your cracked voice. He looked at you while cursing himself and suddenly fell to his knees. He looked at you while you frowned at him. "Rafe? What are you doing?"

"Respect.... you thought I didn't respect you... I respect you more than I respect myself..." Rafe on his knees just out of respect for you... fuck, my god....

"Rafe, get up... come on..." you looked around as he continued to look into your eyes. The dark street was empty. You bent down in front of him and became the same height as him. "idiot... you're a complete idiot..."

If anyone else had insulted him he would probably be buried, but Rafe smiled slightly at you as you called him an idiot. “I’m your idiot... sorry baby, I–” before he could finish his sentence your hands tangled in his wet blonde hair and you kissed him.

Smiling at the groan you heard coming from his throat, Rafe quickly stood up and lifted you up as well. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you.

"Fuck, baby..." He looked up at you, breathless, as Rafe's thick finger brushed against your wet lips. He kissed you hungrily as you stared at his lips. His arms wrapped around your slender legs and kissed you hard as he pressed your back against his car.

He kissed you until you were moaning and grinding yourself against his hardness. He moaned when you pulled his hair and whispered against his lips. "Fuck me until I forget how mad I am at you.." that was the last straw.

And Rafe fucked you in the backseat of his car until daylight, until the sun came up...

Hey, guys! I hope you like this....

When I wrote this episode, I wanted to write in a mood somewhere between season 2 and season 3 Rafe. A psychopath but a guy who respects his girl... you know he.

Don't forget to give information about the department you want! bye!

[itsmeyaspider]

Yandere Kengan Ashura mens x female reader

Pov: The first time they saw you

Trigger Warning: Yandere behavior, stalking, jealous behavior, possession, obsession, smoking, cigarettes

Note: I know it's been a while since I wrote something, but I recently finished watching the Kengan Anime and I can't stop thinking about anything else, then my hot muscle men's!🤧😭✨️ ((I probably should mention that this was my first real attempt to write several headcanons, english is not my main language I really tried my best! I still hope you liked it<3))

Ohma:

Ohma doesn't think much of love and certainly not of love at first sight. He has far more important interests than dealing with such an idiotic thing like love, or at least he thought.

The first time he sees you was at one of his underground tournaments , you were sitting in the back row, waiting for a friend to bring some drinks and popcorn. At first he didn't think much of it, you were just an ordinary spectator who had come to watch one of his fight. But something in him wondered what a beautiful woman was doing at such a place. Of course there were other woman present but they eiter were CEOs or family members. So what the hell are you doing here?

He keeps catching himself staring at you, something about you has aroused him but he didn't understand what. Was it your beautiful (h/c) hair? Or were it the different gestures you made during the tournament? Something deep inside him wanted to see you closer, he wanted to talk to you and ask what you are doing here.

After the tournament was finally over he ignored everyone else around him, he had a new important mission and that was to find you. He walked in every hotel room and in every corridor just to find you. It took a while but he found you. Finally. You were sitting outside on the beach with your friend and it seems that you having a lot of fun together. Was this your boyfriend?!

Only now does he notice how his heart begins to race faster and faster, something he only knew from fighting. He immediately comes over to the two of you, as your (e/c) eyes look at him for a few seconds. You are a bit surprised what one of the fighters wants from you at such a lats hour, as you let out a small sigh.. "Can we help you? Oh and your fight was sooo cool!" A small smile spreads on your lips as you keep looking at the fighter.

That was the moment when Ohma fell in love for the first time in his life. Your voice, your eyes, everything about you made him want more of you. You were his new obsession and he would do anything to keep it that way. Even if it means to get rid of this asshole by your side. He was the better choice anyways.

"I don't like seeing you with that guy. You should stay by my side, forever. You are mine."

Raian:

Raian knew since his childhood days that one day he would be forced to marry someone. After all, the Kure Clan is known for strengthening their family through marriages. Even if he would rather devote himself to other, more fun things like murdering or fighting, he had no other choice but to obey his grandfather.

The first time he met you was outside at night. You were on your way home when a strange, drunk man accosted you. You usually ignore this kind of people, but today was a fucking shitty day. "Please leave me alone sir. I need to get my bus." You said with annoyance. The man weren't interested in your words, he came closer to you and as he was about to touch you, you finally had enough. You threw your (f/c) bag you had taken with you on the ground and kicked him in his face.

"Don't you dare to touch me ever again." you threaten him, the drunken man slowly falls to the ground. You roll your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as you pick up your bag and make your way back to the bus stop.

Suddenly you feel a warm breath behind you, as you slowly turn around you see a tall, muscular man. His wide sadistic smile and his damn black eyes who keep staring at you, made you really uncomfortable. The mens laughter didn't make the situation any better and something inside you knew immediately that you didn't stand a chance against him.

"Look what we have here~ A little bunny trying to act all mighty and strong. How cute." His voice sounds almost psychotic, something that makes your body tremble. How long has this men been behind you? Why didn't you notice him? And why the fuck is your body acting so damn scared? "Have you lost your tongue?~"

And from this moment on he laid eyes on you, Raian knew that he would marry you. Even if you didn't want to, what are you going to do about it? Try to fight him?

Even his grandfather couldn't do anything about it, once bis grandson got something into his head there was no turning back. At least the Kure Clan would get new descendants.

"You will be mine and mine alone understand?! You will obey me and give me many children little bunny."

Sen:

Sen is a womanizer, he loves woman very much but sometimes a little bit too much. He never really cared about commitment in a relationship. Most of the time he gets bored and breaks up with a woman, or he simply cheats on them. It's nothing personal, but that's how he is.

So when he met you for the first time he was in a small shopping mall, he didn't have much to do and because his day was filled with boredom he decided to go to the mall. He was just about to take a cigarette out of his pocket when he realized that he had lost his lighter. With a small sigh, he scratches his head as he looks around for someone who might have a lighter with them.

And then you caught his eye, you were standing in front of one of many entrances, lighting up a cigarette. You took a drag from the nicotine as you feel your body relax.

"Do you have a lighter for me?" You are thrown out of your daydreaming when you hear a soft male voice. You immediately reach into your pocket and hand the handsome man your lighter. With a smile, the men starts to light his cigarette too. "What is a beautiful woman like you doing here? Oh, how rude of me, my name is Sen." You're a little bit suprised that the men is talking to you, most people ask someone for a light, then they light their cigarette and disappear again. "Oh...I'm working here, I just have a small break. My name is (Y/n) it's a pleasure to meet you."

Sen is visible pleased that you are talking to him, his relaxed eyes never take their eyes off you and your (b/s) body. The two of you talk for a while, as you almost forget your work. "I need to go back to work, it was a pleasure to meet you." You say with a small smile on your face, putting out the cigarette. For a glimpse you thought you saw some anger in his eyes, but you shake off those thoughts as you head off to your work again.

He decides to make his way home, but all he could think off is you, something in him longed for you and your sweet voice. He wants to protect you...and maybe also kiss you. With a small sigh he turns back to the mall as he slowly starts to watch over you. He only wants to make sure that no one is trying to hurt you.

"Don't be afraid of me doll, I will make sure that nobody hurts you. Just come in my arms and I will show you how much you mean to me. You will be mine so don't be a douchbag and accept your faith."

Saw Paing:

Saw Paing had never thought much about love, his life consisted mainly of training and fighting, one day he would beat his rival Kaolan for sure! But he wasn't like Ohma who is certainly not interested in love, he just never had the right moment for it.

He was in the gym where he started his usual training routine, when he suddenly noticed you. You were doing a few push-ups as you failed miserably. Something in him had to giggle at your helpless sight, he immediately runs to you with a lot of charged energy. "SHALL I SHOW YOU HOW TO DO IT PROPERLY?"

The unexpected shout jolts you out of your thoughts as you fell on the floor. Your cheeks start to flush from the embarrassing moment you witness. Why can't you just sink into the ground? Unfortunately that wasn't an option, you try to pick yourself up as you notice that the men is holding out his hand to you. For a small moment you both stare at each other, but the silence was even weirder than your push up and so you gladly took his hand.

The man pulled you up with such a swig that you thought you would fall to the ground again. Saw Paing started to laugh again, as you still were embarrassed by the whole situation. "I AM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU." He yells again. "It's alright, I just wasn't expecting this."

The man turned out to be Saw Paing, you two talked a bit and he actually helped you to do some proper push ups! However, it was getting late and you were desperate to get home before it went dark. The fighter offered to walk home with you, you smile as your (e/c) eyes start to sparkle. "Thank you, that would be really nice."

The two of you spent some more time together, and Saw Paing noticed how much fun it was to talk and train with you. He saw how your beautiful eyes sparkle when you talk with him. Something in him wanted to know if you also look at other men's like that.

He doesn't quite understand what's happening in him, but something inside him wanted to spend more time with you, even if you are a stranger to him! He didn't want you to lead a life without him and forget about him. He wanted to be there for you, to help you! Was that love? If so, then he would do anything to make sure that you were only his!

"Let us be together (Y/n)! I will help you with everything you need, just promise me that you only have eyes for me! You are mine."

[thatonegreyghost]

Neuvillette has the perfect day picked out.

Breakfast at the cafè, a day of shopping and strolling on the beach, and finally, dinner and a play at the Hotel DeBord. A masterful idea. It could not be more perfect.

Except.

Wriothesley wakes up that morning and just... leaves. Puts on a casual outfit and walks out the door without even stopping to look at the card Neuvillette put on the table. He barely even looks at the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Neuvillette calls after him.

"Just wanted to run some errands before we hang out all day. We're out of milk. And sugar. And eggs, I think."

And he leaves before Neuvillette can explain that they are supposed to go to breakfast. Wriothesley knows that Neuvillette intended to surprise him, but apparently, he isn't thinking much about that right now.

Alright, that's fine. Wriothesley can do as he likes. It is his day, after all. They'll still be able to do some shopping and that beach stroll together. And when Wriothesley comes back, they can talk about what they'll do first.

So, when Wriothesley does come back, Neuvillette is shocked that the first thing he asks for is to lounge around all day.

"You don't want to go out?" Neuvillette stammers.

"Not if I can help it. It's a warm day, though. If we had the supplies, I'd suggest a picnic." Wriothesley laughs. "Oh, we should plan one! I haven't been on a picnic in ages."

A picnic. That is certainly sonething achievable. Neuvillette sets his mind to it, and immediately rushes to the kitchen to prepare some food.

Two sandwiches– roast chicken for Wriothesley, tuna salad for himself– and some fruits, as well fresh water and Fonta for the both of them. All packaged in a fun little basket he had intended to use for some tea he bought Wriothesley.

At the last second, he also slips in a box of homemade macarons from Navia. Peppermint, Wriothesley's favorite flavor. He'd nearly forgotten she got them for him.

He returns to the living room, basket in hand, and declares the plan to Wriothesley. Wriothesley answers him with a smile, and within minutes, they are out the door.

Of course, by the time they make it to the secluded beach outside the Court, Neuvillette realizes they have no blanket to sit on, no games to play, and no cups to drink with. Wriothesley doesn't mind– in fact, he laughs, calling it a "good first attempt".

"Seriously, Neuv, don't sweat it." He insists as he devours his sandwich. "It's more than enough that you went through to trouble to surprise me with this."

"I wanted it to be more special." Neuvillette pouts, plucking a Rainbow Rose from the grass and twirling it in his hands.

"It is special." Wriothesley assures him.

Neuvillette does not feel very assured. In fact, he feels like he's messed up everything. But, there's no space for doubt in this moment. He must believe that it will work out for the best.

"Navia made some macarons for you." Neuvillette mentions as he lays down in the grass.

"Really?" Wriothesley perks up, sitting up quickly and rummaging through the basket. "Well, look at that! We'll have to repay the favor."

"No favor necessary, Wriothesley." Neuvillette sighs with fondness. "They're a gift."

"Huh. What's the occasion?"

There's a genuine curiosity to his question, and it's at that moment Neuvillette realizes– Wriothesley never asked about his gift. Didn't ask for special treatment. Hasn't even mentioned a list of wishes all month.

"Wriothesley, they're your gift." Neuvillette emphasizes.

"Well, yeah, you mentioned that. I'm just wondering what the occasion is." Wriothesley rolls his eyes, like Neuvillette is being silly. "You still haven't answered my question, by the way."

Wriothesley is leaned over him, smiling and acting coy, but Neuvillette can't bring himself to reciprocate. Does Wriothesley not remember? Did something happen to make him forget? Surely he can't be serious right now. Who in their right mind forgets their own birthday?

"It's your birthday." Neuvillette answers quietly. "I wanted your day to be special."

Wriothesley startles, his face going very pale. He glances away from Neuvillette– he's upset now, and Neuvillette doesn't know how to fix it.

"Wow. Is it the 23rd already?" Wriothesley laughs wryly. "Time really flies, huh?"

A soft rain begins to trickle down as Neuvillette gently caresses Wriothesley's cheek. He's gone and cocked it all up, hasn't he? Wriothesley's all upset now. Was the picnic not good enough? Should he have done more? Something is wrong, but he doesn't know what.

"Did I do something wrong? Is the picnic not to your liking?" Neuvillette asks softly.

"What? No, the picnic is fine!" Wriothesley assures him, his voice urgent yet soothing. "I just... I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. I honestly forgot it was today. I mean... it's not like I had a reason to celebrate."

Neuvillette's heart breaks for Wriothesley. Ever since they began dating– since the prophecy was averted– Neuvillette has become more and more aware of just how harshly Wriothesley was treated when he was young, and is more and more in awe of how gentle he turned out regardless. But this... it's too much. To know that even at his best, Wriothesley has not seen reason to celebrate his birthday, hasn't given it any sort of consideration.

Neuvillette embraces his lover, and the sky weeps for Wriothesley. Wriothesley holds him close, his voice unsteady and his embrace unyielding.

"Are you ok?" Wriothesley asks.

"I... I'm sorry." Neuvillette gasps. "I'm sorry no one has celebrated you. I'm sorry you got used to it. I'm sorry you never saw a reason to ask for that attention."

He doesn't say "I'm sorry you never got to feel special". He doesn't have to.

"Oh, Neuv, it's ok. Really, I haven't thought about it at all, much." Wriothesley insists. "I love the picnic. I love that you went to all this trouble, just for me."

"It isn't perfect." Neuvillette protests. "I forgot the blanket."

"The grass is plenty soft." Wriothesley shrugs.

"I forgot the games."

"We can play "I spy" and cloud-watch."

"We haven't any cups for the drinks."

"It always tastes better straight from the bottle." Wriothesley laughs. "You tried. That's the important part."

"Oh, Wriothesley." Neuvillette sighs. "I'm sorry, I'm making a scene with my crying."

But the rain has stopped, and the clouds are dispersing, and Wriothesley smiles down at him, amd everything is right with the world.

"You know, they say there's nothing new under the sun," Wriothesley says slowly, "but somehow, a picnic in the warm sunshine never gets old."

"Indeed." Neuvillette smiles back. "Happy birthday, Wriothesley."

Somehow, a picnic in the warm sunshine never gets old...~

(Happy Birthday, Your Grace!!)

[itspileofgoodthings]

hi miss— super random I just wanted to say your teaching posts always make me so happy. both my parents are educators and i vowed from a young age i would never be an educator because i thought people my age were terrible and i couldn't fathom why someone would want to work with us. but as i've gotten older i've seen things that make me reconsider, and your posts are quite a few of them fjsdlfkjsdlkf. anyways sorry for rambling, it just brings me so much joy.

😆🌺💕💕📚🤝👩‍🏫

I’m so glad it’s fun to read about!! <3

It’s such a hard job—even when you’re good at it tbh—but it’s also so fun and rewarding and never boring!

[toastervox]

i finally got around to rewatching hazbin i forgot how happy it made me aaggh

closeups / alt text in the read more

[femmesandhoney]

i actually despise the "dark humor because im mentally ill" jokes so much of my generation does. the perpetuation of negative self talk as a way to be relatable to others and bond with people is so fucking harmful? the constant negativity, the eternally glum disposition towards everything, it literally makes you feel terrible even if you think it's "funny". it will lead to a cycle of negative thinking and your brain will believe what you're saying and it will reinforce itself. i wish we could make positive self talk a trend. love yourself bc life is tough and MIs can be hard, but hey look at the positives in life. bond with others over the smallest and most trivial but positive and loving things. im sick of seeing this disease spread. negativity isn't a cure for anything, ever, honestly.

[themyscirah]

Ok game time which 3 series would you just DIE to get a run on ? I'm talking full creative control, can be as a writer or an artist + plotter if that suits your vibe best

My 3 are

Suicide Squad

Wonder Woman

Green Lantern Corps/Green Lanterns

(in that order)

[andragoras-in-vanity]

for the love of god someone convince me from texting my ex, i daydreamed too closr to the sun and now i want attention😭