#okay maybe you can tell but I want to be CLEAR

[wcnderlnds]

home sweet home | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after his big interview, you go over to make sure he's okay and there's a shift in the friendship. ・❥・word count: 941 ・❥・warnings: none! oh, except for kissing, i guess. ・❥・ authors note: ok im nervous about this one. i havent wrote fics for musicians, etc. in years so we'll see how it goes but im so down bad for this man

Each glance at the clock made your heart beat just a little faster, the hours ticking by slowly. If you were nervous then you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. His first interview in years — it had to be the most daunting experience to put himself back into the spotlight like that. Your foot tapped against the floor of your apartment as you waited for the clock to hit 3PM. That was the time you’d told him you’d go over to his place to check on him. His interview would’ve been over by then and it gave him some time to process things on his own. Most of the time Seung-hyun liked to isolate himself but if there was one person in the world that he’d let see him at his most vulnerable, it was you. Not like he had a choice anyway. Whether he wanted it or not, you were always checking on him. He was your nearest and dearest friend so you couldn’t let him face his demons on his own.

Seung-hyun appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to you. As of now, you were the only person he hadn’t shut out — his guiding light in the darkness of his life for the past few years. You were a big reason why he thought more positively these days, why he even had the courage to pick himself up and get back out into the world.

Finally, 3PM came and without hesitation, you made your way over to his place. As you raised your fist to knock, the door pulled open. There he stood, a smile on his face as his dark, floppy hair got in the way of his glasses. He pushed his hair back as you stepped inside. It really was a crime how this man could look so good at any given time. He really had been blessed with amazing genes. His hair with no product in, the glasses framing his face and the comfortable hoodie he was wearing made your heart almost skip a beat.

“How’d it go?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Okay,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. “Scary but I did it and that’s the main thing. It’s long overdue.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. As you pulled back, you let your arms rest on his forearms, gazing up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Baby steps, yeah? Go at your own pace. But, for now, let’s eat and you can tell me all about it.”

The dinner was spent with you both laughing, him telling stories of how the interview went, you telling him about your day — he was always so willing to listen to every word you said. The way he looked at you paired with the way he was always so attentive was any person’s dream. Seung-hyun was a catch; anyone with eyes could see that. Yours had been closed for so long but now? You were starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, what you both needed had been right in front of you this whole time.

As the two of you stood in the kitchen clearing up, you ran a plate under the sink, rinsing off the debris so you could put it in the dishwasher. Spinning around, you came face to chest with Seung-hyun who had been standing behind you placing something in the cabinet above your head. You gulped at the proximity, his fingers sliding over yours as he took the plate from your hand. It was only brief contact but it was enough to make your heart speed up.

“Here, let me do that,” he said quietly, his deep voice like music to your ears. It took him all of two seconds to reach over, bend down and place it in the dishwasher before he was back facing you. 

“Thank you,” your voice was soft, eyes locking with his as you glanced up.

Seung-hyun gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your cheek as he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat. It was like time had frozen still for a moment — nothing but you and your best friend locked in this monumental piece of time where you realised this was more than friendship. Maybe it always had been. Your heart had just finally decided to catch up and realise it. From the moment you had met this amazing, incredible man, he’d had a piece of your heart. All you ever wanted to do was protect him, care for him like he deserved. The world had been cruel to him but you’d make sure that nothing would be again.

It was as if he was reading your mind, his hand cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. Who was going to be the first to make a move? Was it worth risking the friendship? It seemed like it to Seung-hyun as he leaned forward and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on his chest, lips moving together in perfect sync. Like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You could feel him smiling against your lips, pulling back ever so slightly. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

“Can I do that again?” He asked almost breathlessly. 

You didn’t even say a word instead placing your hand at the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips. Yeah, there was definitely no going back now.

[loucifersbitch]

"Uh, hey, hey-hey, Tommy."

"Can we talk?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah. C-Come on in."

"Wow. Maybe I'm working at the wrong station."

"Can I get you something? I still owe you a beer, right?"

"No, I'm good. I won't stay long. I just wanted to clear the air, and I didn't want to do it over the phone or in a text or something."

"Clear the air about what?"

"Obviously, I've been the cause of some bad blood between you and Eddie, and I just want you to know that was never my intention."

"There's no bad blood."

"Evan."

"Really. No bad blood. Just…bad behavior. And-and it's all on my part. You guys didn't do anything wrong. You and Eddie as buddies makes perfect sense."

"Yeah, we do. And you know he can have more than one friend, right?"

"Uh, yes, I-I do know that."

"I mean, it's not like I could ever replace you. Christopher would absolutely have something to say about that. That kid cannot shut up about you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I-I guess Eddie is, uh, pretty pissed, huh?"

"No, he's not. In fact, he feels bad. We both do. Nobody meant to exclude you, Evan. Eddie and I hanging out, it wasn't about you."

"That's usually my problem. Uh, I can get pretty jealous."

"Yeah, you're not the only one. I was super jealous."

"You? Over what?"

"All of you. The 118. How it's become like a family over there. I mean, how you all were willing to put everything on the line for one another. I wanted to be a part of that."

"Hey, you-you were. A-and you did. Y-you even made fake mouth static at the fire chief."

"I'm renowned for my fake mouth static."

"It was not great."

"Come on. Hey."

"It was not convincing, but you did it anyway. Y-y-you threw in with us, no hesitation, and I thought, 'Wow. That guy is cool. I like that guy.' I mean, that's why I called and asked for the tour. You know, it wasn't about me maybe leaving the 118, Tommy. I… I just, I wanted to get to know you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And then you left with Eddie, which, listen, you don't have to tell me how great Eddie is. You know, I've known that since the first day I worked with him. Of course you want to hang out with Eddie. Plus, well, I-I don't know Muay Thai."

"I could teach you."

"Okay. I-Is that gonna be right after our flying lessons?"

"Probably not on the same day."

"Good. 'Cause trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting."

"My attention?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Uh…I mean, I…I did maim my best friend. My sister says there are, uh, better ways to get someone's atten…"

"Like that?"

"Yeah, that works."

"So that was okay?"

"It was better than fake mouth static."

"I got a shift."

"Okay."

"Yeah, crosstown traffic, and I came in a car this time. So what are you doing Saturday?"

"Uh, S-Saturday?"

"You still owe me that beer. You free?"

"Yes. I-I…I am free."

"Great. So let's say I come by around, I don't know, 8:00?"

"Yeah, 8:00 is great."

"Great. See you Saturday."

"Saturday."

"And, for God's sake, please call Eddie. Now would be a good time. He's on pain pills."

[quarterlifekitty]

Sliding into your dms because your pretending to be a man idea got into my brain and won't leave me alone. We'll have to suffer together okay.

Imagine you're a daughter of some lowly destitute baron, he died and now all you have is a house and your brother, Alex. You have to sell the house because your father had debt that hasn't been settled. Luckily, you'll still have money left from the sale. Unluckily, the money is not much. You can either use it to send Alex to the royal academy or you can use it as your marriage dowry, of which your prospect isn't great anyway since you're poor and barely even a noble. Alex wants you to use the money, he's long been disillusioned with the king (Shepherd) and he wants to go help the neighbouring kingdom fight off their invader. He'll sleep easier knowing you have a roof over your head. Still, the thought of being married to some strange old men makes you want to throw up. You think you'd rather die. But you also don't want to stop Alex from pursuing his dream. So you and Alex came up with the idea that will satisfy you both: you will take his place in the royal academy and he can leave in peace, knowing you'll be safer in the academy than alone without a house in the countryside. He'll tell people that he's sent you to live with some distant relatives somewhere.

Years pass and you thrive in the academy. You graduate and despite having no connections or wealth, your capability lands you a job inside the palace. It's nothing fancy, and likely you won't go very far working under a neglected concubine, but she's very nice and funny. The salary is also good enough that you think if you keep working for a few years you can buy a small house and retire back to the countryside. Maybe you'll even stay longer just to accompany your mistress.

All in all, life is nice and uneventful. The great nobles and the king might be fighting, but you and your mistress are so far down the political ladder it barely affects you. Or so you thought and so it should have been, if not for your mistress starting a genuine love affair with Marchioness Laswell.

Your mistress' affection for you causes Laswell to pay attention to you. And unfortunately for you, she's seen the real Alex before. She knows you're a fraud. You think you're done for, but Laswell says she understands why you do it. She says she won't let the public learn your secret.

And she doesn't, because Duke Price isn't the public. He's just a Duke in desperate need of a wife. Someone to help him escape the disadvantageous match that will only put him under Shepherd's control once more. What a good luck he has to meet you, a noble who is unaffiliated with king, at this exact time. Surely you'll be willing to help him out? Being a duchess is certainly better than pretending to be a guy. It's definitely less risky, he says. Do you know that using someone else's identity can get you to jail? What if the king finds out and thinks you're plotting treason? Off with your pretty little head then. Surely being his duchess would be safer. He'll protect you. Take care of you. Spoil you, even. You and your good birthing hips and however many kids you two will have.

TLDR, you pretend to be a guy to escape marrying strange old men only to marry another (worse) strange old man

So first of all. I LOVE THIS. And now for my paltry additions….

I think that once Price found out about you, he became extremely fixated for a number of reasons. One? He’d met you before. He visited the academy as an alumni, occasionally donated to the institute, and would visit to check on the allocation of those funds.

And he remembers seeing you, swimming in your too-large uniform. Absolutely decimating your studies. In his observation of the academy, he’d unwittingly found himself following you around to your different lessons and seeing you sweep the floor with every other student. It was clear you were extremely bright, and he heard the whisperings about you.

A shame about your lowly birth. You might’ve made a fine tactician.

Price, as a rather meritocratic man, wanted to have you in his service as soon as you graduated. But as with many of the finest things in the kingdom, you were plucked up and handed off as something of a present to one of the king’s newer, shinier consorts.

So when Laswell starts her dalliance with that very consort, it sparks a memory in Price. And he asks after you. Which gets Laswell to commit you more to memory when she meets with you. And suddenly it’s quite obvious. She tells Price all about it, with amusement on her face, at one of their weekly meetings.

Suddenly there’s a little click in his brain. Like everything’s slotting into place. He was denied you once, in one way, and it won’t happen again. Now he can have you in all ways. With the forces at his disposal, and your brilliance in tactics and writing, he may well have the makings of some serious political sabotage. With him as your husband, you could soar in a way your class and gender never would’ve allowed. And at the end of it all? You’re quite pretty. A new dress and a circlet for that boyish cut of hair and you’d be bewitching. He was eager to see what those loose tunics had been hiding.

You can’t refuse his offer. Suddenly, Alex is called by letter to care for an ailing relative who has no other means of support. The same relative that had supposedly taken you in. And John quite selflessly takes you in following, and from a public perspective, it all went so naturally after that. What could be more heartwarming and dreamy? A generous noble taking in a common born girl in an act of charity, and the two falling in love, enough to defy the gaps in their stations and marry. It’s the kind of thing that only happens in fairy tales.

But despite all of John’s political aspirations, he knows it must appear as if nothing is amiss. That means doing what any noble would do with a young, pretty bride. It means spoiling you with all the finery he can… and it means making sure that you’re with child within the year.

[milessunflowers]

Hello! Um... lestappen (they aren't together, not because they don't want to be but because it doesn't feel right) being happy about seeing their shared crush again after not seeing him because he decided to go to nascar only for him to switch to formula 1 for 2025 because he accepted the offer the new team gave him and because he missed them too. (Feel like lestappen doesn't tell reader that they have been in love with him since f3 because they thought he was straight, male reader thought that max was straight and charles was bisexual leaning to women and also didn't tell them he was in love with them)

Also! Love everything you've written so far! Love the franco, paper rings, fic its my fav so far!!!

–🍑

thank you so much peach!! that motivates me so much!! also this idea *chefs kiss*

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: when you finally make your debut back in the world of formula racing, max and charles come to terms with how much they loved you, leading to you finally confessing.

author's note: okay so after some practice, i am now comfortable enough that i can write well enough for a driver!reader. for purposes, cadillac will already be a team and reader will be american AND LOGAN IS HIS TEAMMATE BC I SAY SO (miss my american sm😔) EVEN IF IT IS ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED. anyways, feel free to request, read the guidelines first ofc! (also apologies for the lack of dialogue in this one. i kinda forgot how to write good dialogue and kinda just let things flow! felt right for the vibes to me idk)

formula one, a true dream come true for you. you had raced in earlier formula series, alongside the likes of now four time world champion, max verstappen, and ferrari golden boy, charles leclerc. you hadn't seen them in a few tears as you had been busy racing in nascar, dominating the tracks at almost every track. you missed them, more than you would ever admit.

when you first heard that cadillac would be joining formula one as a brand new team, you felt sparks of hope erupt deep in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you would finally get the chance to race against your once competitors (and the two men who were your first real crushes).

you hadn't expected to be approached by your manager with a multi-year deal with the american team. without a second thought, you signed immediately, ecstatic that you could prove yourself to those you grew up racing, not including your all-time hero, fernando alonso. you couldn't keep in your excitement, which was clear to everyone in your immediate circle, including your new teammate and mentee (who in reality is a year younger than you), logan sargeant.

when it was revealed you were to be racing for the newest addition to the paddock, max and charles had almost the same reaction: joyful nervousness. they realized all to late the feelings they harbored for you.

but now... now you're back. it was exciting and terrifying for the two men, who have grown accustomed to only really seeing each other and never acknowledging those feelings.

to say that you were all big fat chickens was an understatement.

the first time you reappeared in the busy paddock, charles felt his heart jump to his throat while max just felt frozen. in ways, they each thought you looked better, less stressed and more mature. you seemed genuinely happy, especially in what they always called your natural habitat. you were a social able person after all.

they struck up small conversations during the driver's parade, mainly catching up and swapping jokes. it reminded you three of the old times, even if max and charles back then had some sort of beef. it made you feel even happier and more excited to be back and racing in the formula series.

it took a good few races before the three of you finally shared a podium. you would have never expected to feel more excited about p2 then now. in the cool down room, you chatted heartedly with max, awaiting for the winner to finally arrive. once the three of you were together, it was nothing but subtle flirting and chatter until it was time to go to the podium. even there (save for during monaco's national anthem as well as the italian one ringing) the three would not shut up.

it wasn't until the after party at the club where the three of you drank half of your body weight, confessing with no shame to each other. you couldn't remember the night, having had way too much to drink after celebrating your first podium of the season.

when you awoke the morning, you were in an unfamiliar hotel room, a warm weight behind you. you groan awake, blinking as the morning sun shone bright through the curtains, bathing yourself, max verstappen, and charles leclerc in a beautiful golden li-

wait, max and charles? you sobered up real quick and scrambled out of bed, falling with a loud thud in the process. you curse yourself, trying to grab whatever shirt was closest and pulling it on.

charles was the next one awake, stirring on the farthest side of the bed where he had curled around max. he blinked those beautiful eyes awake, a soft smile gracing your lips before you snapped out of it.

this couldn't be happening. you were half panicked, half happy to have woken up with the two men you had secretly loved for years but never, in a million lifetimes, would have ever thought were anything but into you. charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not yet having caught on what was happening. you stood there dumbly, still as a statue as you both finally made eye contact.

you chuckled awkwardly and charles let out a surprised yelp, loud enough to startle the last man asleep awake. you stared at each other for a good, long, ten seconds before max broke the silence with a cough before he sat up, as if all this was casual. it was very on brand for the dutchman.

it was quiet again, charles blinking blankly while you scrambled to collect your belongings. max stops you, sits you back down on the bed, and tries to calm you and charles down. and for some reason, it was too easy for him to.

he was gentle and sweet, carefully explaining what was going (or at least what he thought) before he finally comes clean, opening up about his feelings. after that, it was easy for you and charles to do the same, just in a slightly less organized and calm manner. it was no longer awkward but sweet and caring, soothing each nerve in the three bodies to a nice, warm hum.

you offered to make breakfast while max and charles cleaned up. from then on, it had become routine. from the hotel stays in different countries, to moving into the same apartment in monaco now overrun with pets. it was healthy and well established, the three of you keeping things strictly business at work but at home, leaving raving behind for a nice night in with the lobes of your life.

TAGS! (if you would like to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: golden - harry styles WORD COUNT: 889

navigation | inbox | jj maybank masterlist

you’d been talking about getting a tattoo for months.

maybe years at this point. it had always been one of those things. 

‘when i have the money.’, ‘when i’m sure about the design,’ ‘when the time’s right.’ 

every time it came up, he’d tease you relentlessly.

“you? finally committing to a tattoo?” he’d laugh, leaning back on your couch.

“please. you can barely commit to what you want for dinner.”

you’d roll your eyes every time, but the truth was…he wasn’t wrong. you’d had a million ideas, a pinterest board, even a few consultations, but none of it ever felt solid enough to make it permanent. until now.

when you unexpectedly came into some extra cash. a little freelance gig that finally paid off, you’d walked past the tattoo studio you always told him about. the one with the big windows and the friendly artist whose instagram you stalked religiously. this time, you didn’t stop at the window. you went in.

the design had come to you. something about the sun, about warmth, about light and life, it just felt right. 

when they cleaned the area and held up a mirror for you, your breath caught. it was more perfect than you imagined, bold and intricate, the swirling lines almost alive against your skin.

“damn,” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away.

the artist smiled knowingly. “looks good, huh?”

“it’s amazing, thank you!” you said, a grin spreading across your face.

after carefully wrapping it in a thin layer of clear foil, they handed you the aftercare instructions, their tone light but firm. “keep this on for a few hours, then follow the steps i gave you. it’s gonna look even better once it heals.”

you nodded, still staring at your reflection in awe. it was surreal. you’d finally done it.

and you couldn’t wait to show him.

you didn’t tell him right away. no texts, no calls, nothing. not because you were nervous. okay, maybe a little nervous, but because you wanted to see his reaction in person. when you did finally text him to come over.

his reply was typical: be there in ten. getting snacks!!!

when he arrived, he was already talking before you even opened the door.

“i swear, if you dragged me over here to talk about another tattoo you didn’t—” his words died in his throat the moment he saw your face.

you stepped back, letting him in with a small smile tugging at your lips. “what if i told you…i actually went through with it this time?”

he stopped mid step, eyebrows shooting up. “no way.”

you nodded.

“liar.”

“swear to god.”

“prove it.”

you took a breath, your pulse quickening, pulling the hem of your shirt up just enough to reveal the ink. his reaction was instant.

“holy–” he stopped himself, leaning closer, his voice trailing off, huffing out a surprised laugh. “you actually did it.”

“i told you i would,” you said softly, almost whispering.

he didn’t say anything at first, his eyes glued to the tattoo as if he was trying to memorize every line. his fingers twitched at his sides. wanting to reach out to touch you.

“it’s…it’s perfect,” he said finally, his voice a little rough around the edges. “it suits you.”

“yeah?” you couldn’t help but smile.

“yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i mean, i’m still kind of in shock. you actually did it. but–it’s beautiful. you’re beautiful.”

the last part slipped out so naturally, so quietly, that you almost missed it. almost.

your heart stuttered in your chest. “what?”

he blinked, his expression shifting like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. but then something in him shifted.

“i said you’re beautiful,” he repeated, his voice steadier now. “and i love it. the tattoo. you. all of it.”

you didn’t realise how close he’d gotten until you could feel the warmth coming off of him, the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin. “can i…?”

you nodded, and his fingers brushed against the edge of the tattoo, careful not to press too hard against the healing skin. the touch was so gentle, giving you goosebumps.

“is it bad that i'm kinda obsessed with this,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the design.then his eyes flicked back to yours, something in his expression you’d never seen before. 

“i can’t believe you actually did it,” he said again, softer this time. 

“you know, you’ve been here for all of it. all the indecision, the doubt…everything. i don’t think i would’ve done it without your overwhelming support.” your words sarcastic as playfully push his shoulder.

“don’t give me too much credit,” he said, though his lips curved into a smile. “this? this was all you.”

maybe it was the way he said it. maybe it was the way he was looking at you. whatever it was, you leaned in, kissing him.

it was soft at first. hesitant, testing, nearly going to pull away but the second his hand cupped your jaw, pulling you closer, the tinge of worry melted away. 

when you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, he let out a shaky laugh.

“took you long enough,” he said, his grin lopsided and so very him.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. 

“shut up.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2025.

[delugyu]

thinking about bsf gyu (specifically your take on him) and he’s like pecking your lips “playfully” in hopes that maybe you kiss back (you never do) and all your friends hate him cause he’s so bad for you ughhhh love me a toxic possessive bsf

GAHHHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD.. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

(warnings: manipulation, kinda suggestive?)

best friend beomgyu who knows no boundaries… his hands linger in places that aren’t so friendly, his eyes trail over you with more heat than what friendship allows… but you always dismiss his actions and shrug it off as him being clingy.

his lips on your skin isn’t an entirely unfamiliar feeling. he’ll take your hand and kiss the back of it, and you meet his eyes to see a wide smile already adorning his face. how could you tell him off when he looks at you like that? he’ll wrap his arm around you during a movie night and turn to peck your cheek, completely unphased. the first time it happens, you try desperately to fight the heat that threatens to take over your face. you tell yourself this is normal, this is beomgyu. he’s just like that sometimes.

he starts getting braver, letting his hand rest so far up your thigh you’re scared to move and accidentally push him towards your center. his kisses to your cheek move closer and closer to your lips, but you don’t dare turn your head to reject his affections. his arm brings you closer and closer to him, until eventually you’re halfway onto his lap, legs thrown over his own and body pressed tight into his side.

the first time he places a peck against your lips, you can’t control the way your eyes bug out. all he does is laugh at your display of confusion, patting your head and calling you cute. the two of you were in public—not a very crowded place, but public nonetheless. you try to control the way your heart hammers against your chest. this is beomgyu. this is normal.

it’s not a one-time thing. the action follows into your homes, into your friend dates, into the car, truly anywhere beomgyu wants—but what’s most horrifying is when he does it in front of your friends.

“are you two dating now?” your friends ask you. you get texts and calls piling in, even from friends who weren’t at the stupid party with you and beomgyu. it’s a chore having to explain your dynamic to everyone, because no one believes you. no one thinks that beomgyu’s behavior is just friendly, no one thinks he’s being sweet or cute. it leaves you second guessing your friendship.

beomgyu’s offended when you bring it up to him. who are they to dictate what’s right and wrong in your relationship? they don’t know him like you do. you shouldn’t listen to them, they don’t get it. why do you even need them anyway? they’re just trying to split you apart.

you’re so unsure of everything now. your friends are adamant that this is weird, that he’s taking things too far. beomgyu is persistent in promising you everything’s okay, and even more persistent in telling you to stop listening to what everyone else is telling you.

“how about you just stop hanging out with them?” he suggests one day. “all they’re doing is making you confused. wasn’t it easier before they all came in convincing you of things that aren’t true?”

you don’t know. you feel like you’re in the middle of a tug of war, being pulled to either side, but you’re threatening to split now. you guess you should make a choice; it’s pretty clear you can’t have both beomgyu and your other friends in your life.

“if i stop hanging out with them, then i’d only have you,” you say. he doesn’t seem to find anything wrong with that. he takes your hands and pulls you close.

“is that a problem?” he asks in a whisper. you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks.

you know you can’t say the wrong thing here. he wouldn’t react well to anything other than the answer he’s expecting. “no,” you say.

he smiles at that, pressing a kiss to your lips. he got what he wanted, but he’s frowning when he looks at you again.

“what?” you ask, eyes darting between his, trying to find the issue.

“you never kiss me back,” he says. his frown doesn’t leave his face.

“i’m sorry.” you don’t know what else to say. his hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. he doesn’t conceal the longing or the hurt in his eyes. it pangs your heart.

“do you think it’s wrong?” he asks. you blink at him in confusion. “for me to kiss you?”

you try not to feel so nervous, but you can’t help the way you tense up a bit. he gives you an illusion of choice: if you say no, he’ll be happy, but if you say yes, he’ll be upset and pester you.

you look away and choose to not say anything. he grabs your waist and pulls you closer until you’re flush against him. your eyes land on his face again in shock.

you don’t get very long to question his action when his lips are on yours again the next second. you pull your head back and place a hand on his face to keep him from lunging at you again.

“everyone told me it was wrong,” you answer finally.

“are you them? or are you your own person?” he asks. he’s losing his patience, his eyes hold his irritation.

you pout. “i’m my own person…”

“that’s right. only we get to decide what we do as friends,” he spits out the last word as if it holds some sort of derogatory connotation. his mouth finds your jaw, and you gasp.

he pulls away to continue, “so this is okay… right?” he places a kiss on your neck.

you gulp and nod. you don’t want to argue with your best friend. “yes.”

[cosmicalily]

"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 42: but two though? | fiance!kim seungmin x fem!reader

author's note: as you can tell by the title, this entry is inspired by 'juno' by sabrina carpenter (minus the freakiness). i hope you love this final chapter, and of course there will always be more seungmin content in my oneshots and timestamps!

warnings: pregnancy (giggles mischeviously)

“Hey pretty girl,” Seungmin mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your jawline, “I’m gonna go to the store; wanna come?”

You rubbed your forehead, downing the glass of water he’d given you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some fresh air will help clear my head.”

Seungmin looked at you with his head tilted to the side, an action that your beloved dog, Mini, frequently imitated. “I was just thinking . . . like obviously, you know your body best so I don’t want to assume but . . . are you sure it’s PMS?”

“I mean, it’s the longest fucking PMS I’ve had in a while,” you groaned, rubbing your lower back as you stood up, giving him a crooked smile and pulling on one of his hoodies.

Mini whimpered a little as the two of you closed the door behind you, despite the endless amount of attention he’d received all day.  Once you were settled in the car,  Seungmin rested his hand on your thigh as you hummed to the music, wincing as the pain in your lower back moved in waves of tension.

“You haven’t gotten your period in a while,” Seungmin persisted, giving you a quick glance as he drove, rubbing circles on your knee.

“What a good boyfriend, being so concerned about my hormonal cycle,” you giggled.

“I’m being serious, baby,” Seungmin replied, face concerned.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, you’re not wrong. With all these ongoing symptoms, I’ve been expecting it for a while now. I just assumed that it would show up eventually.”

“Two months,” Seungmin replied, pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store and hopping out of the car, opening the door for you like he usually did and helping you out.

“Seung, you’ve been counting?”

He shrugged, grabbing a trolley and holding the list in between his teeth. “I’m your boyfriend, I notice when something’s off.”

“You’re not my boyfriend, stupid, didn’t you propose to me?” you lightly slapped him on the arm, and his expression of concern faltered for a little, his mouth moving into an automatic smile at the memory.

“Fiance, whatever,” he replied, gently elbowing you back, then slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, two whole months?” 

“Yeah . . . do you think . . .” Seungmin shoved the list into his pocket, looking at you. “Like . . .”

You paused in the aisle, mentally calculating everything that you’d experienced throughout the past few months. “Oh my God, I think you might be right.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hand and abandoned the empty trolley, leading you towards the medication aisle. You looked through shelves until you reached the end. Next to the pads and tampons Seungmin hadn’t bought you in so long was a selection of pregnancy tests.

“Do you care which one we get? I don’t really know if there’s a difference,” Seungmin asked, looking through the boxes. 

“Just get whichever one’s quickest. I don’t mind,” you replied, heart thumping hard in your chest.

Weekly groceries forgotten, the two of you headed to the cashier with two boxes and his hand in yours.

That was when you realised that even if you weren’t pregnant now, you most definitely wanted to be.

Because Seungmin would be the best dad you could ever imagine.

“C’mere, sweet girl, just leave it for a little while, then we can check,” Seungmin pulled you gently by your waist, briefly removing your focus from the white test sitting on the bathroom countertop. He’d set a timer on his phone, and knew that the seconds would take much longer if you both simply watched the piece of plastic’s little screen, yet neither of you could really draw your attention away.

“Are you . . . Seung, if . . . if it is . . . what do you want to do?” you sobbed into his shoulder, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do. It’s your body, baby,” Seungmin replied, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. “If you don’t think we’re ready, that’s fine. If you wanna keep the baby, that’s fine too. If you change your mind in a year and  suddenly decide you don’t ever want kids at all, I’ll be a little bummed, but I don’t care, as long as I have you, and as long as you’re happy.  It’s your decision, and I support it.”

You stared up at him, eyes like pools of wet ink. “I think . . . I wanna keep it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Seungmin’s eyes shifted into crescents, pressing kisses onto your forehead. “But if you really don’t, I-”

“No, Min, I do, I know I do.”

“Okay,” Seungmin mumbled into your neck.

He felt a buzz in his left pocket. The timer. You didn’t want to pull yourself away from his arms, feeling so comforted by him that you didn’t really care about the answer on the test anymore. Whatever the case was, he was your safe space, and you knew, just by the way he reacted and cared for you throughout all those years you’d been together, that he was the best partner you could ask for.

“Baby . . . you might want to look.”

You reluctantly removed your face from the crook of his shoulder and stared at the two lines that were set across the screen of the test.

“Oh my god . . . oh my GOD!” You gasped, grabbing the test out of his hands and holding it to your eye, before tossing it back onto the counter and shoving yourself back into Seungmin’s embrace. Tears of joy prickled at your eyes, and you felt his own start to dampen the top of your hair.

“You’re perfect,” Seungmin murmured. “You’re so strong. I’m so in awe of you and what your body is doing, I hope you know that.”

“It was you who seemed to know my body better than I do,” you chuckled softly, leaning in to press a long, sweet kiss to his lips.

“You’d be surprised by how much I’ve actually adored your hormonal clinginess, you big baby.”

“Shut up. I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you,” Seungmin beamed, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach, before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you on top of him onto the soft bathmat.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @nappynapnaps @yaniluvs @bellarellasstuff @btch8008s @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts - send an ask, comment or dm to be added!

[himluv]

Together

Chapter 27 of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Find it below, or read it on AO3!

Lucanis was not a man well-acquainted with the outdoors. His youth in Treviso taught him the nature of cities – the rhythm and pulse of life that flowed in clear patterns. Even when he did travel for a contract, House Dellamorte’s wealth ensured he did so, if not in luxury, then in comfort. 

But, he’d read enough adventure stories as a boy to find Arlathan Forest fascinating, despite its utter lack of amenities. It was a place riddled with wild magic and ancient mysteries, but best of all, it was where Rook thrived. 

In the forest, Rook’s cheeks were always flushed, her eyes gleaming. She ran along the trails with an almost youthful energy, an eagerness that Lucanis found enchanting. So when she asked him to accompany her and Taash on an excursion to the forest, it was an easy thing to say yes. 

He and Taash stood by the merchant’s stall, Taash considering the wares while Lucanis watched Rook and Strife argue. The senior Veil Jumper was prickly at best, and while Lucanis couldn’t hear what they were talking about, it was clear that neither elf was happy. 

“You stare daggers any harder, maybe he’ll actually die,” Taash said.

Lucanis glared at them. 

Taash snorted. “You don’t scare me.”

He sighed. “I know.”

They moved to stand next to him, mimicking his posture – arms crossed and leaned against the wall beside the shop. They jutted their chin toward the arguing elves. “What’s his deal, anyway?”

Lucanis shrugged. “He always has a bone to pick with Rook.” Every time they came to Arlathan, Strife had a critique for Rook, some new grievance to air. It reminded him too much of Caterina, he realized. No wonder he felt on edge around the man. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Rook shouted. 

Instantly, Lucanis shoved off of the wall to come to her aid, but Taash put an arm out to block his path.

“Wait,” they said, voice low. 

Strife shook his head. “You don’t think things through, Rook.”

“This has nothing to do with the Veil Jumpers–”

“Doesn’t it? If you’re too distracted–”

“I can’t believe you think you can–”

“–or worse, heartbroken–” he continued, shouting over her.

“You’re not my dad, Strife!”

The whole camp fell silent at Rook’s outburst. 

“Oof,” Taash whispered with a wince. 

Strife blinked at Rook, and for the span of a heartbeat, there was hurt in the man’s eyes. “I’m not,” he said. “A good thing for us both, I think.”

Rook’s hands twitched at her sides, and for a moment Lucanis thought she might actually swing at Strife. Instead, she marched away and out of the camp.

Lucanis batted Taash’s arm away and hurried after Rook, shooting a glare at Strife as he went. The older man shot one right back at him, chin high and gaze imperious. 

Angry, Spite said. And scaaaaared. He glared at the man. Hurt. Rook! But… he grinned at Lucanis. Rook hurt. Him too!

Lucanis didn’t spare a single thought for Strife and his hurt feelings. He hurried down the trail, only slowing when he saw Rook standing at the edge of the lake, her back to him, wiping at her face. He paused, giving her space to regain her composure, and himself a moment to bring his anger to a simmer. 

Rook could – and would – fight her own battles. She needed him cool-headed and comforting, not spoiling for a fight.

Taash joined him and grunted. “Ugh. Why does family stuff always have to be so complicated?”

Lucanis snorted. “If I ever figure it out, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

They smiled at him as he passed on his way to stand beside Rook. 

“I’m okay,” she said before he could ask. She glanced at him and gave him a shaky smile. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her cheeks were drying. “Ugh!” She shook her head and wiped at her eyes again. “I hate that I cry when I’m mad,” she said. “It’s humiliating.”

Lucanis wanted to reach out to her, to squeeze her hand and reassure her that she wasn’t alone. But somehow, beyond the safety of the Lighthouse, he wasn’t sure if he should. They probably should have talked about this the other night. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She smiled. “Really,” she added after his skeptical look. She glanced back at Taash. “Now, let’s go find this dragon.”

Taash grinned. “Hell, yeah!”

For awhile they walked in silence. Taash was certain the Fangscorcher was holed up in a ruin far to the north of the forest, so they had a bit of a hike ahead of them. The silence wouldn’t have bothered Lucanis, if he wasn’t so worried about Rook. What could she and Strife have disagreed about to the point where she’d wanted to hit him?

Ussssss, Spite hissed. 

Lucanis frowned. That didn’t make sense. Strife barely knew him. And how would the man even know about his and Rook’s burgeoning relationship? They’d only just talked it through a few nights ago. 

“Hey, Lucanis,” Taash said, pulling him from his worrisome thoughts. “When we were at that market? The lady selling ribbons was into you.”

–ahhhhhhh. “Smelled like strawberries and blood.”

“Hey. Spite. Eyes on me. That is a no. We do not talk about what other people smell like without their permission. Okay?”

Hisssssssss. “Fine.”

Lucanis blinked, suddenly back in complete control of his body. He hadn’t even noticed the seeping chill in his neck until Spite was speaking. The demon hadn’t taken control, at least, not in the way he used to. Instead, he’d left Lucanis in charge of his body, while… borrowing his mouth and sharing his senses. Lucanis had been present and aware the whole time, their voices twining, and as soon as Spite was done, Lucanis was back to his usual self. 

He frowned, and glanced at Taash. “You’re not scared of Spite?”

They shrugged. “I’m Rivaini. We’ve got all kinds of spirits.” They said it like it was nothing, as if demons spoke with mortal tongues all the time. And, from what little Lucanis knew of Rivaini Seers, he supposed that might be true. He should speak with Seer Rowan, perhaps she would have some insight about this new sort of harmony he had with Spite. 

Then Taash’s original point struck him. “What makes you think the ribbon seller was interested in me?” If the woman had been interested or, Maker-forbid, flirting with him, it’d been completely lost on Lucanis.

He caught Rook’s smirk at his question, but if she felt even a twinge of jealousy, she hid it well. 

Taash smirked. “Caught her scent.”

“Not. Fair! You just. Said!”

Rook laughed at that, which soothed Spite’s irritation some. The demon liked it when Rook laughed, especially if he was the cause. Lucanis couldn’t deny, he enjoyed her mirth just as much. And after her anger and tears earlier, he was relieved to hear her laugh again. 

“Shouldn’t be much further,” Taash said. “Come on, this way.” Their sudden shift in demeanor brought any banter to an end. Taash was in dragon hunter mode, so Rook followed after them dutifully. 

And Lucanis followed her, always ready to have her back. 

Mierda, fighting a dragon was no joke. Sure, he’d fought the one in Treviso, and been by Rook’s side in Hossberg when they’d fought both of the gods’ blighted dragons, but now he knew the difference. The Fangscorcher had been much more cunning than Ghilan’nain’s pawns. 

By the time they reached the eluvian room, Lucanis was desperate for a hot bath and even hotter cup of coffee. 

“Good job out there,” Taash said. “You guys didn’t totally suck.” They smirked and Rook laughed. 

Lucanis thought she sounded as tired as he felt. “We have a good teacher,” he said. 

Taash snorted, but there was a flicker of a smile on their face. “Yeah. Well. Thanks.” They shrugged. “Now, go be gross together or whatever.”

Rook laughed again, shaking her head as Lucanis scowled at Taash’s retreating back. When he turned to look at Rook, she was already watching him. 

She rolled her neck and sighed. “I need a bath,” she said. 

Lucanis shoved away the image that materialized at the thought of Rook in a bathtub. “Go,” he said. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee.”

She eyed him, noting the dust in his leathers and the smeared dirt on his forehead. He obviously needed a bath as well. Maybe someday they could bathe together, but not tonight. Lucanis’s throat tightened with anxiety merely at the thought. As much as the thought of Rook in the bath tantalized him, he definitely was not ready for that. 

Rook must have seen it in his face, or heard it in his silence, because her gaze softened. “Meet me in the music room later?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. There was no way he could speak and not reveal just how much the thought of her affected him. 

“Bring. Rook. Coffee?” Spite asked when Lucanis didn’t speak. 

She grinned. “I’d like that, Spite. Thank you.”

Lucanis shook his head and smiled. “It’s going to take awhile to get used to that.”

Rook raised an eyebrow at him. “To what?”

Did it not seem different to her? “How Spite’s talking, now.” He shuffled his feet, rolling his neck and shoulders experimentally. There was only the barest twinge of ice at the base of his skull.

“We’re. Sharing!” Spite crowed. 

“Yes,” Lucanis said. Though he didn’t fully understand how. 

Her eyes darted over his face. “It seems like an improvement.” Her tone was careful, almost probing. She wanted to be sure he was okay. 

“It is,” he said. 

“Give is. BETTER! Than. Take!” Spite added. 

She smiled. “Good! Now–” she put her hand on his upper arm ”–you go wash up first,” she said. “I’ll check in with the other and meet you upstairs later.”

“All right,” he said, returning her smile with a small one of his own. Then he hurried upstairs to do as she said. 

Freshly scrubbed and two steaming cups of coffee in hand, Lucanis entered music room bone-tired, but happy. Rook sat at the piano, her hair damp and down around her shoulders. She wasn’t playing, her hands merely trailed the keys mindlessly as she hummed to herself. 

“Embria,” he murmured as he handed a cup to her. 

Her smile was bright as she took the coffee. She brought it to her nose, inhaling the steam and sighing in contentment. “Thank you.”

He went to his usual chair (usual chair, usual mugs – how quickly she’d become a usual part of his life) and sat with his legs outstretched and ankles crossed. 

She spun to face him, straddling the piano bench. “So,” she said. “The ribbon seller?”

“Mierda,” he chuckled. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

“Did you know she was flirting with you?”

He snorted. “No.”

She tilted her head. “Did you know when I was flirting with you?”

Lucanis scowled at her playfully. “Not at first.”

Her smile widened, and her eyes gleamed with mischievous humor. 

He shook his head. “I never know when – or why – someone is flirting.”

“It can be hard to tell,” she admitted. “As for why,” she said, and gave him a leisurely look up and down. “Have you seen yourself?”

He blushed and shifted in his seat. “Rook.”

Her smile was slow and tantalizing. “I’m just saying, you’re easy on the eyes, Dellamorte.”

Now his scowl was real. He didn’t understand how people found complete strangers attractive, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea that random people on the street might find him… desirable. But, he couldn’t deny he was curious as to what Rook liked about him. He just didn’t know how to ask such a thing. 

Lucanis shook his head. “I don’t understand it,” he said.

“What?” Her demeanor changed at his tone. Gone was the teasing glint in her eyes and she sat up a little straighter. 

“Attraction,” he said. “I know some people are objectively appealing–” like Teia and Viago ”–but I look at them like one admires a fine painting.” To be admired from a distance, never touched. 

She hummed as she considered his point. “Do those paintings ever make you feel something?”

“Sometimes,” he said. Then he smirked at her. “Though I’ve always found music to be more… stimulating.”

She huffed at that, her cheeks going pink. “That counts as flirting, you know.”

Did it? It was true, and he’d said it because he knew she’d like it. Was that all there was to flirting? He frowned. “Did it work?”

She laughed. “Yes!”

He smiled. “Good.”

“Lucanis. Rook. Belong together now?” Spite asked. 

They looked at each other and the warmth in Rook’s eyes made his chest feel flushed. 

“Yes,” they said in unison. 

“And Spite?”  The demon asked. “I belong. Too?”

“Yes,” Rook said, her voice unwavering.

Lucanis didn’t speak. He knew now that there was no ridding himself of the demon – wasn’t even sure he’d want to if he could. There was a growing fondness in his heart for Spite, like a troublesome little cousin he couldn’t avoid. 

But when he prodded at the memory of what Zara had done to him, of the dark and the pain and the isolation, of what she had stolen from him and left him in return… he found it was still tender. Even after Spite and Rook’s help, it was still a wound. Not quite open, but certainly not healed. 

Lucanis? Spite asked, just in his head, like it used to be. Just them. The demon’s voice sounded small, almost frightened. And the way that stung at Lucanis was answer enough.

“Yes, Spite,” he said, staring into his cup. “You belong, too.”

“Make. Rook. Happy?”

She grinned. “Yes. Very much so.”

Lucanis blushed again, but couldn’t contain a smile of his own. 

“Rook wasn’t happy. Today.”

She frowned, then made a displeased little noise. “You mean Strife.”

Spite growled at the man’s name.

“What was that about?” Lucanis asked. He’d been curious, but then the dragon had required his full attention. There’d been no time for wondering about Rook and her mentor’s argument. 

“Nothing,” she said, too quickly. 

He waited, but she didn’t speak or look at him. “Embria,” he said, his voice soft. “Tell me.”

She glared at him, but sighed. “It’s just Strife forgetting, yet again, that I don’t actually value his opinion.”

Lucanis’s stomach clenched with a sudden suspicion that she was protecting him. “His opinion on what?”

She gave him a stony look.

“Me?” He frowned. “How does he even know–”

“How do you think?”

He blinked and then growled. “Bellara.”

“I doubt she even realizes she mentioned it,” Rook said. “But, Strife is convinced that my being with anyone is a huge mistake.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I care about what he thinks.”

Lucanis gave her a sad smile. “Don’t you?”

She groaned. “I don’t want to!”

He understood that feeling all too well. And while he was eager to get Caterina back, he did not relish the idea of telling her about Rook. But, that was a problem for another day. 

“He cares about you,” he said.

“I know.” She shook her head, staring down into the mug cradled in both hands. “We’ve always disagreed,” she said. She dropped her voice low to mimic Strife’s. “You’re more stubborn than a hungry halla!”

“Stubborn. Is. GOOD!” Spite said. 

Rook laughed. “I’m glad you think so, Spite.”

The demon beamed at her, and then at Lucanis. See?! Rook. Likes. ME!

Lucanis said nothing, waiting for Rook to continue. 

She sighed. “The worst part is that, a lot of the time, I think he’s right about me.” She shrugged. “I don’t think things through. I let my feelings run away with me, or get in the way of the job. And I don’t know when to back down from a fight.”

Lucanis stood and moved to sit across from her on the piano bench. He mimicked her, straddling the bench and sitting so close their knees touched. “Embria,” he said. 

When she didn’t look at him, he put two fingers under her chin and guided her face up to meet his gaze. 

“All of those things?” He said. “They’re what make you, you.” He gave her a tremulous smile. “They’re your heart, Embria. Don’t ever doubt it.”

She blinked against the tears that welled in her eyes. “Even when it gets people hurt?” 

He remembered her words, warm and reassuring in his mind not even a week ago. “Whatever the consequences, I’ll be there to help you.”

“Together,” Spite added. 

He let his hand fall from her chin, but she took it in hers and pressed it to her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Both of you.”

Lucanis held her gaze, marveling at how luminous the violet tone was behind the shimmer of her unshed tears. He wanted to kiss her, and mierda they were so, so close. But he didn’t want their first kiss to be so… sad. 

So, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. Their noses brushed and she nuzzled against him seemingly on instinct. His heart raced at the proximity. They were touching in so many places at once – knees, hands, faces, so close they shared shaky breaths. The intimacy, the trust, and that she kept her word and pushed no further, all combined to leave him breathless.

Lucanis knew, when he finally did kiss this woman, it would be a life changing event. He would never be the same again. He looked forward to it more than anything else in his life thus far. 

[hoiststowline]

Hello! Saw that your requests are open, love your writing!! Would you consider writing for Skyfire? I'd love to cuddle him and wish there was more x reader content for him. Either IDW or G1 up to you, and feel free to ignore if you'd rather not to!

skyfire/jetfire x reader

[a/n: hi!! omg, yes!! also, im sorry chat all I can write is hurt/comfort atm. many apologies.]

The effort scrounged was almost admirable, given the amount it took to stifle it, swallowing that sadness that had crept up the back of your throat. Though heavy evidence sufficed that you tried, yet it all was in vain as it was evident something was amiss, a fact that he would never ignore.

He’s categorically certain that warble in your words he’s never heard in past conversations. It fills his chassis with an overwhelming sense of apprehension and restlessness, presenting him immediately with a problem he does not know, but wishes to solve in a trice.

If Jetfire finds any words in your language to describe the tremble in your tone, they do not come to him easily. He’s instantly distressed, a slew of sentences rushing and fighting to escape first, but no combinations make any sense to say. This strikes him oddly, as usually there is never any ceasefire amongst conversation with you, always able to keep it from dropping off into a state of silence.

“Maybe tomorrow, okay?” You push forward, the slight quiver now nearly obsolete. “I’m not good company.”

But you’re always good company. It lingers longer than he’d like to admit, wanting to disagree with your argument wholeheartedly. It tips on the edge of his glossa, ready to be argued, but he’s spent too much time trying to pick apart the underlying message within your proposal.

“Jay?” You whisper when a moment too long passes, wondering if the call had dropped, as it has many times previously. “Are you still there?”

“Hm?” He muses, still unsure of how to proceed. “Apologies. Yes, I’m still here,”

“Oh.” It’s awkward, and that’s something you hate that arises even if it’s warranted. You’ve upset him, this is obvious, though it’s the last thing you wanted of the entire encounter. “Is…that okay?”

Would it be too forward to say that it’s not alright? In any other instance your cancellation would surely unsettle him, but he would not argue. You’re upset. You’re feeling an emotion that yanks on the chains of his own processor, wanting to be the protector, but also the consoler.

“Of course.” He settles on, opting to circle around this carefully, as to not push you further away. “May I ask you something? Before you go?”

In turn you pause, and Jetfire swears he can hear the gears turning in your head until you ultimately reply.

“Sure.” You sniff, trying to pass it off as normal, but it only slowly spikes his budding concern even more. “I can do that.”

“Whatever is the matter?” There’s a very muffled jolt at his inquiry, as if you were about to fall out of your chair. Without much hesitation, he continues, hopeful not to loose his insistence. “I can tell something isn’t right. But if you’re going to lie, please, at least humor me.”

An expected sigh, then you clear your throat twice before presenting a reply. “I should have known better to try and hide anything from you.” There’s a bout of static, as if you were moving around to another location to finish your sentence. “I’m fine.”

That did little to ease his worry, though he opted to let you go for now and try and reach you later on. “Alright.” He says, but doesn’t mean it. “Talk later then?”

“Yes.” You exhale, as if holding in an unforeseen breath. “I’ll talk to you later,”

Goodbyes are exchanged before the line clicks dead, leaving two parties isolated and unable to process their immediate problems. Jetfire cannot solve your unknowns in a timely manner, he doesn’t even know what he can do to help you, but the irresolution doesn’t last very long.

Within five minutes or so, he’s already too far gone into a haphazardly tossed together plan, redialing once more. He’s found himself uncharacteristically impatient, the line hardly clicks alive before he jumps straight out and says it, worry very present and then some.

Somehow, you conceded. Though not proud, his options were limited and the threat of sending Red Alert to your house was enough to make your situation a little more clear.

It tips on the edge of your tongue, eyelids heavy as your held securely against the side of his face. Jetfire mumbles, lips moving against the cotton of your jacket, thumb brushing against your leg in short motions. He’d wrangled you to the Ark without much effort, but partially, you knew you wanted his company. But didn’t want to be bad company, so instead absolved yourself from the comfort that was most desperately needed.

He doesn’t want you to fall asleep, wishes you would shed some of your burdens onto his shoulders. Jetfire would do it in an instant, but in this very moment, you wanted something else. And with how simple of a thing it was, he was in no position to deny such a request.

“Don’t,” He says, impossibly treading closer. “Don’t say it. Just…sleep.”

You swallow the resounding ‘I’m fine’ back, instead offering words you truly meant. “Thank you,”

Jetfire doesn’t reply, but it’s only because he catches your eyes finally closing, sensing it’s been a bit since you’d had a proper nights rest.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 5

Warnings:this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

Despite feeling entirely out of place, you can’t resist the draw of sleep. Nestled on the couch beneath a blanket, a soft pillow under your head, you drift away from the tension rippling off your study buddy. Even in the next room, you sense the density in the air. 

You’re so tired, you hear yourself snoring from the depths of your unconscious. Your brain is sludge and your dreams are murky. You only wake up as you sense the murmur of voices. 

You open your eyes to the glare of the TV in the pale light of day. You rub your cheek as your vision clears. You blink at the screen as the teen drama plays out. 

“You snore louder than my dad,” Faye snorts. “Morning, sunshine.” 

You lurch up, almost top-turning from the suddenness of it all. You remember where you are in an instant. You knead your temple as you try to sort yourself out. 

“Um, good morning,” you croak through your dry throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” she grins, still in her pajamas as she drapes her legs over the armrest of the chair. “How about you?” 

“Urgh, tired,” you drop your hand as the blanket falls to your lap. “Sorry, I should go--” 

“Daaaad,” Faye hollers over you. 

You flinch and turn as you hear footsteps. As you glance over, Walter emerges in a bathroom. You can tell by the glimpse of his furry chest and the glisten in his curls that he just got out of the shower. 

“Your friend’s awake.” She chirps. 

He looks at you and his shoulders square. He really doesn’t like you. You can’t help but wonder why he insisted you stay. 

“It’s alright, I’m just about to head out,” you stand and fold the blanket and set it neatly on the cushion. “Thanks, again.” 

“You should at least have breakfast. Dad made waffles.” 

“Waffles? Oh,” you glance at him. “I wouldn’t want to... impose.” 

“No big deal, I saved some batter. Iron heats up in a snap,” he shrugs. 

You face him as you cross the room. You stop by the doorway into the entry, “it’s very nice of you but I’m okay. I really should try to catch a bus.” 

“Gimme a few and I’ll drive you.” He offers. 

“Really, it’s...” 

He’s already stalking away before you can finish your protest. You sigh and grimace at his back. He really doesn’t give you a chance to argue. With anything. Would it be easier to just have him look at the paper before you go and tell you everything that’s wrong? 

“My dad likes you,” Faye giggles. “He doesn’t like anyone.” 

“Um, I don’t think so,” you lean on the doorframe and stare at the TV, trying to make sense of the snarky conversation. 

“He does,” she insists. “I know, I’m the only other person he likes.” 

“Sure,” you tut. “Does it matter? I just need to get this project done.” 

“Don’t you think it’s funny? My dad taking a writing course? He doesn’t really seem like the creative type. More the bashing skulls type,” she cackles. 

“I don’t really know... him.” 

“What did you think when he showed up? I’d be pissing my pants,” she doesn’t look away from the TV as she speaks. 

“I don’t know, I thought someone named Walter would be skinnier... maybe have glasses and a pension?” 

She laughs even louder, “oof, don’t say that too loud.” 

You let yourself smile. She’s not a bad kid. If you were her age, you might be friends. 

“I’m just going to get my stuff together,” you say, “uh, Faye, it was nice to meet you.” 

“You too. Nice to have someone around to keep the wolf from coming out in the full moon,” she snipes. 

You snicker softly and leave her. The analogy isn’t far off. Walter does fit the type. He’s a bit furry after all. 

You check that everything’s in your bag and ben to put on your shoes. You pull on your jacket and Walter appears; he wears a black hoodie and dark jeans. He pulls on a jacket and leaves it undone before he grabs his boots. 

You zip up your coat and hook your bag on your shoulder, “thanks, again. You know, I have a bus pass.” 

He grumbles and you quiet. Don’t push your luck. Hopefully he only needs to revise a little and you can be done with all this. 

You flinch as he suddenly moves toward you. Your eyes round and you hit the door with your back. He tilts his head as he reaches past you for the handle. You look down and cringe. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t... paying attention.” 

He hums and you shift out of his way. He opens the door and lets you out first. You step into the sunshine, a deceptive beacon as your breath puffs out visibly. You cross your arms as he locks the door. 

He gestures you ahead of him to his truck. You go down the walk and to the driveway. You wait on the passenger side until the locks click. You open the door and climb in. He has a much easier time stepping into the high vehicle. 

He pulls his seatbelt down as you do the same. He turns the engine and lets it rumble as he turns the dials for the vent. He checks the mirrors and grips the wheel in one hand. He leans his elbow on the arm rest as he backs out. 

“You know,” he says as he rights the tires. “I got eye surgery so I don’t need the glasses anymore.” 

You squint at his remark. What? It takes a moment before you realise. Shoot. 

“It was a joke,” you say. “Obviously...” 

“No pension for another fifteen years at least and, well, helps to have a bit of bulk in my line of work.” 

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You really didn’t mean anything. 

“I’m sorry, I... yeah, I say stupid things.” 

He’s quiet as he steers. He sucks his teeth as he stops at a sign, “it was a good joke. Better than Faye’s werewolf schtick.” 

“Oh, uh, right,” you flick your thumb nervously. 

“You seem like the werewolf type. Know any good books?” He asks. 

“Werewolf type? Um, didn’t think I put out that vibe but... maybe Mongrels? I don’t read a lot about that stuff actually.” 

“Mongrels,” he nods. “I’ll check it out.” 

You’re almost flattered that he’d take your recommendation, less so that he thinks you’re a Twilight girlie. You stare through the windshield and take the victory for what it is. You don’t think you’ll be getting any more than that. 

[echo-riot]

Desperately yours ||Loser!Ellie x reader||

Summary: your waitress flirts with you while you and Ellie are on a date at a bar-

Warnings: none, Ellie just being a bit jelly

Ellie had been fidgeting with the label of her beer bottle for the past five minutes, her freckled cheeks pink from the way she kept sneaking glances at you. She was trying—really trying—to focus on what you were saying, but your voice, your smile, the way you looked tonight… it was all too distracting for her. You had her wrapped around your finger, and she didn’t even mind.

“So, as I was saying—”

She nodded quickly, pretending she’d caught every word, but the soft smile you gave her told her you knew she’d been spacing out. She cleared her throat awkwardly, taking a sip of her drink to hide her growing blush.

The two of you were tucked into a booth at some low-key bar Ellie had been hyping up all week. She liked the vibe—dim lighting, quiet enough for conversation, and just grungy enough to feel like a place Joel would have disapproved of. Ellie had called it a “cool spot” when she suggested it, and though you’d teased her for trying to be suave, it was nice seeing her so excited about taking you out.

You were halfway through telling her a story when the waitress approached, a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Hey there,” the waitress said, her tone dripping with a little too much warmth as her gaze lingered on you. “Can I get you anything else? Or maybe you’d like something special, on the house?”

Ellie froze mid-sip, her freckled face scrunching slightly as her hand tightened around the bottle. She glanced up, her sharp green eyes flicking between the waitress and you.

You offered a polite smile, oblivious to the way Ellie was starting to bristle beside you. “Oh, no, I think we’re good for now.”

The waitress didn’t seem to take the hint, her attention fixed on you like Ellie wasn’t even there. “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I’d be happy to… take care of you.”

Ellie nearly choked on her drink. She set the bottle down with a loud clink, clearing her throat and muttering under her breath, “What the fuck?”

You glanced at Ellie, surprised by her reaction, but the slight clench in her jaw and the pink in her cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

The waitress lingered a moment too long before finally walking away, and the second she was out of earshot, Ellie leaned closer to you, her voice low and a little rushed. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” you teased, playing innocent.

“You know what,” Ellie grumbled, her brows knitting together as she gestured vaguely toward the waitress. “She was hitting on you. Right in front of me! Like, who even does that?”

You bit back a smile, reaching across the table to take her fidgeting hands in yours. “Ellie, are you jealous?”

Her freckled cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and she immediately looked away, scratching the back of her neck. “Jealous? Pfft. No. I’m not jealous. I just think it’s, like, super rude or whatever.”

“Mhm,” you said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, for the record, I’m here with you, not her.”

Ellie’s lips twitched into a small, shy smile, but she was still fidgeting, her knee bouncing under the table. “Yeah, but, like… she was so obvious about it. I mean, you’re—you’re you. Who wouldn’t hit on you?”

You leaned closer, your voice soft and teasing. “Ellie, I’m not interested in her. I’m interested in you. And for the record, I think it’s kinda cute that you’re all worked up over this.”

Her eyes darted to yours, wide and a little panicked. “I’m not worked up!”

You gave her a knowing look.

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m a little worked up,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a mumble. “But only because you’re, like… really fucking amazing, and I don’t want some random waitress thinking she has a shot with you.”

You squeezed her hands, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Ellie, you’re the only one I want. Besides, if anyone here should be jealous, it’s me. Half the people in this bar have been checking you out all night.”

Ellie blinked, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t quite process your words. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously,” you said, your smile widening. “But lucky for me, you’re mine.”

Ellie’s blush deepened, and she finally let out a soft laugh, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The waitress returned a few minutes later, her flirtatious smile still in place, but this time, Ellie didn’t look away. Instead, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as she gave the waitress a look that could only be described as smug.

“We’re good,” Ellie said firmly, her voice steady and confident. “Thanks.”

As the waitress walked away, Ellie glanced at you, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips. “What? I had to make it clear you’re taken.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest told you all you needed to know. Ellie might be a bit of a loser sometimes, but she was your loser.

[i-am-rat-soup]

Things That Go Bump in the Night

(art plus short story afterwards - Ghost has a nightmare. SFW)

(Rat’s notes: First time posting my creative writing here. Usually I stick to art. Happy ending, I promise. Because we all probably need some happy endings right now. I sure do. So this is a lot sweeter than anything else I’ve written in a while. Also can’t decide if I like having the names colored, so give me some feedback on that if you want. Writing is below the cut. Enjoy!)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley calls out into the shadowy void. He can’t feel his body. And when he looks down, it’s nothing but smoke. He calls out again, only to be met with eerie silence… or maybe not. Maybe shouting, or gunshots, or the sound of his own sobs and fear echoing from his form throughout the empty room until he realizes that he’s awake again. It was all just a nightmare. He swings his legs out of bed and stands up, putting on his mask. He decides to take a walk and see if it helps to clear his mind, but instead finds himself consumed by the little voice in his head, telling him to go to Soap’s room and check on him. Make sure he’s still there. Simon walks down the long hallway and stops outside of Johnny’s room, before softly creaking open the door. And there he is. Johnny. Peacefully asleep in his darkened bedroom, and god, he looks like a mess. Blankets tangled around his legs, mouth half open, Johnny is the cutest train-wreck the L.T.’s ever seen. And he’s okay. Simon can breathe again. He lingers in the doorway for a little while longer, watching Soap’s chest rise and fall with each quiet snore that comes out of his open, drooling mouth. Simon leaves before Johnny wakes up, making sure the door is shut completely before he goes.

And some years later, when Johnny is medically discharged, they stay close, meeting up to chat and have coffee, or maybe just hang out and watch movies together whenever they can. And when Simon retires, not long after, they move to a house in the countryside. They’re safe there. Away from the noise, and the fighting, and the violence of it all. Price and Gaz come to visit them from time to time. Granted, Price is quite old then, and his hair’s all gone grey. But he still wears his boonie hat. And Gaz still wears his cap. But Simon doesn’t need his mask anymore. So he keeps it on his bedside table instead. They get to grow old there. Maybe adopt a kid, or a few dogs. Their home is full of the air of life, Johnny’s little messes and doodles, which Simon always tries to organize and keep from overwhelming the counter space. The golden sun is setting over the beautiful landscape now. They’re watching it from the porch, leaning against each other as they reminisce about their time together in the military.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, L.T.?”

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

“Oh.”

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 30

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 30: | BONFIRE |

You pulled Sarah by the hand through the crowds of people at the bonfire party, your mind spinning with a jumble of thoughts you weren’t ready to unpack. Rafe’s visit the other night lingered in the back of your mind like a shadow, but you hadn't told Sarah. You weren't ready to talk about how he’d kissed you, how he'd sobbed into your shoulder, pleading for forgiveness. Tonight wasn’t about Rafe—it was about getting wasted and trying to forget. You needed that, and you were determined Sarah would join you.

“You and I need to get wasted,” you declared, your voice firm as if it were a mission. “Maybe smoke a couple of joints, you know, to get high and ease our minds.”

Sarah shot you a surprised look. “Since when do you smoke?”

You shrugged casually, trying to play it off as if it was nothing. “Uh, I tried it not so long ago…”

As you approached the keg, two guys were already there, filling their cups. They noticed you both, grinning with that familiar, irritating mischievousness.

“Can we get you ladies anything?” one of them offered, his grin widening as if he thought he was being smooth.

You rolled your eyes, your patience thin. “No,” you said dryly, not even looking at them.

The guys exchanged looks, muttering something about how you were a bitch before disappearing into the crowd. You didn’t care. Tonight was about escaping, not putting up with sleazy attempts at flirting.

You poured a cup for Sarah first, then filled one for yourself, already feeling the anticipation of the alcohol taking the edge off.

Sarah studied you for a moment, her expression more serious now. “You know, I think you might use a bit of flirting with somebody tonight.”

You scoffed, taking a large sip of your drink. “Yeah, no way. I have too much on my mind right now.”

“Like what?” she asked, tilting her head curiously as she sipped from her cup.

You hesitated for a moment, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Like how Rafe came to see me last night.”

Sarah nearly choked on her drink. “Wait, what?!”

You nodded, still holding the cup to your lips, avoiding her gaze.

“What did he want?” she asked, leaning in, her voice laced with concern.

“He said he needed me… wanted my forgiveness,” you confessed, your voice quieter now, as if admitting it made it more real.

“Don’t tell me you forgave him,” Sarah said, disbelief and concern mixing in her voice.

“I didn’t,” you assured her, shaking your head. “I told him he needs to prove he’s changed before I even consider giving him another chance.”

Sarah’s expression hardened. “He will never change.”

Her words cut deep, striking at the part of you that still held onto hope. It hurt because a part of you feared she might be right.

Before the conversation could continue, Topper approached, holding three mai tais in his hands. He handed one to each of you, flashing a charming smile.

“Cheers,” you said, raising your drink with forced enthusiasm.

Sarah smiled faintly. “Cheers.”

Topper grinned. “Cheers to just a... just a normal, fun night.”

The three of you clinked your cups together, each taking a sip. You were already thinking about the joints you planned to smoke. “I’ll go find some joints, okay?” you said quickly, needing a moment away from the tension.

You found the girls who had given you a joint the last time and bought a few more, hoping it would help dull the swirling emotions. When you returned, you spotted Sarah and Topper dancing, their movements close, almost intimate. Just as Topper leaned in, you cleared your throat loudly, breaking the moment.

Topper pulled back immediately, offering a sheepish smile. “I'm sorry. I, uh… one too many mai tais, I guess.”

“Yeah...” you replied, unconvinced. You knew Topper wanted Sarah back, and this wasn’t just about being drunk.

Sarah gently touched Topper’s arm. “It’s just… a little too soon.”

Topper nodded. “It’s all good.” He excused himself when someone called him over, leaving you alone with Sarah once more.

You shot her a questioning look. “Do you still like Topper?”

Sarah sighed, her gaze distant. “I don’t know what I feel.”

Before you could say anything else, Sarah spotted John B dancing with another girl. Her whole demeanor changed in an instant. “Come with me,” she said, pulling you along with her.

The tension in the air was palpable as you followed Sarah, her hand gripping yours tightly as she dragged you toward John B. You could feel the storm brewing within her before she even spoke a word.

“Sancho. Hi! You gonna introduce me to your friend?” Sarah’s voice dripped with sarcasm, her eyes locked on John B but flickering briefly toward the girl next to him. You could tell she was holding back her anger, but the strain was evident.

John B seemed caught off guard. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in frustration. “What are you doing here?” His question was more of a challenge than a greeting.

“The same thing you're doing here, it looks like,” Sarah shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the hurt creeping into her tone. She barely had time to finish her sentence before Topper returned, draping his arm casually over her shoulder as if trying to lay claim to her.

“Hey, Top!” Sarah greeted him, her voice faltering slightly.

“Hey, Sarah,” Topper replied smoothly, his eyes briefly flicking to John B. There was tension in the way he carried himself now, a silent challenge directed at John B. “Hey, I think we should go.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Sarah said defiantly, shrugging off Topper’s arm. “I think we're just getting started.”

A girl, the one John B had been dancing with, suddenly piped up. “Good idea. You should go, Sarah.” Her words were like a slap, smug and condescending.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her anger finally boiling over. “Did I ask you?” she shot back, bitterness lacing her words.

The girl wasn’t intimidated, her face twisting into a sneer. “You don't own everything, princess. You aren't even together.”

You couldn’t stand by and let her talk to Sarah that way. “Why are you still talking?” you snapped, stepping closer with a glare.

“Have a little respect! Her dad just died!” Topper’s voice rose in defense of Sarah, his frustration starting to show as the situation escalated.

“Shut up, Kooks! Back off!” the girl spat back, her voice growing louder as the crowd around you all started to tune into the brewing confrontation.

“What’s your problem?” you fired back, your voice shaking with rising anger. But before you could say anything more, you heard Sarah’s voice cracking with emotion as she addressed John B directly.

“Did… did I mean anything to you? Did you… did you tell her?” Her words trembled, and you could feel the vulnerability beneath her anger, the raw emotion of someone who had been deeply hurt.

“You wanna start shit right now?” Topper asked John B.

John B stepped forward, squaring off with Topper. “Do I wanna start some shit?” John B repeated mockingly, his eyes locked on Topper with a simmering rage.

“They all know what happened last time,” Topper stated, the reminder of their previous clash hanging in the air like a warning.

“Just get out! Just go!” Sarah’s voice broke through the tension, her desperation for him to leave evident.

“I'll beat your ass,” Topper threatened, stepping closer to John B, ready for a fight.

Just then, Kelce barged into the middle of it, his voice loud and taunting. “Hey, she don’t want you anymore, bro.” John B turned away, trying to walk away from the situation, but Kelce wasn’t done. “What you gonna do, John B, kill me like you killed Sheriff Peterkin?” His words were meant to provoke, and they did.

Before anyone could react, John B spun around and landed a hard punch to Kelce’s face. The impact made Kelce stumble backward, his expression twisted in pain and anger. The crowd gasped, the air charged with shock.

Topper immediately jumped in, pushing John B back, and in an instant, the entire scene dissolved into chaos. Every kook seemed to be fighting a pogue, bodies slamming into one another, fists flying.

In the middle of the chaos, you and Sarah were jostled by the crowd. People bumped into you, nearly knocking you off balance, but then you saw Sarah fall, shoved to the ground by the girl who had been dancing with John B.

“Sarah!” you gasped, panic rising in your chest as you pushed your way through the mess of people to reach her.

You rushed to her, your heart pounding as you helped her back to her feet. “Are you okay?” you asked, worry thick in your voice.

Before Sarah could answer, Kie appeared, shoving the girl who had knocked Sarah down. “Move, bitch!” Kie snapped, her voice filled with fury. “What's your problem?”

The girl whipped around, her face red with anger. “Hey, what the hell? Whose side are you on?” the girl demanded, glaring at Kie.

Kie stood her ground, her voice sharp and unwavering. “She’s my friend.”

“You belong with us!” the girl shouted, her voice rising over the noise of the fight still raging behind you.

As the chaos continued, you saw the pogues managing to pull Topper off of John B, and in a rush, they all ran, scattering into the darkness to escape the growing frenzy of the party gone wrong.

You grabbed Sarah’s hand tightly as you both ran, your heart pounding in your chest. Tonight had started out as an escape, but it had only served to remind you of how much everything was falling apart.

•°•°•°•°•°•

After the chaos of the bonfire party, you needed a way to calm your mind. You had been tense all night, your emotions swirling after seeing John B, Sarah, and the fight that broke out. You couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened with Rafe, and the weight of your thoughts was starting to feel unbearable.

When you got home, you grabbed one of the joints you’d bought earlier at the party. You weren’t usually one to smoke alone, but tonight, you needed to quiet your mind. You went out to the small balcony outside your room, lit the joint, and took a deep drag, feeling the smoke fill your lungs.

The effect was almost immediate. The haze of the weed made your body relax, your mind drifting away from all the chaos, if only for a moment. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes as the tension in your body melted away.

But as you stood there in the silence, your thoughts slowly crept back in, refusing to be fully silenced. You kept replaying the last few weeks in your head—Rafe, the confusion, the moments of anger and passion. You took another drag, trying to push it all down, but your mind wouldn’t let you forget.

Something had been off for days now, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, you couldn't escape the feeling. It had been about two weeks since you and Rafe had been together, and the thought of what might be happening inside your body was beginning to haunt you.

You took another hit from the joint, hoping the weed would dull the creeping anxiety, but it only made you focus more on your body. The symptoms were subtle at first—sore breasts, fatigue, and mood swings. And your period, which was usually so regular, was late. You tried not to panic, convincing yourself it could be delayed because of stress. But the days kept passing, and still, nothing.

Your mind wandered to that night with Rafe when things between you blurred in the heat of emotion. You had convinced yourself it was fine, that he would pull out in time, but now you weren’t so sure. The memory of that moment played over and over in your head, mixing with the worries you’d been trying to suppress.

The more you thought about it, the more the possibility became real. Panic started to bubble up inside you. Could you actually be pregnant? No, you tried to tell yourself. It was just stress, right? Everything had been overwhelming lately, with Rafe, with Sarah, with everything falling apart. But the feeling wouldn’t go away, that gnawing sense of uncertainty that something was happening inside your body that you couldn’t control.

You stubbed out the joint, realizing that no amount of smoke could quiet your mind anymore. That’s when you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to know.

•°•°•°•°•°•

The next morning, you went to the pharmacy. The walk there felt like a blur, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what could come. You grabbed the pregnancy test and hurried out, barely making eye contact with the cashier.

You went straight home, shutting yourself in the bathroom, your mind racing with the possibilities. You stood in front of the mirror for a moment, your reflection staring back at you, pale and anxious. What would happen if you were pregnant? What would you tell Rafe? What would you tell anyone?

Taking a deep breath, you opened the box and followed the instructions. Your hands were shaking as you did what you needed to do. When it was done, you placed the test on the counter and stared at it, waiting.

Each second felt like an eternity, and your mind was racing. You couldn’t help but think about everything—the decisions you’d made, the emotions that had led you here. And now, you were waiting for an answer that could change everything.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin @wtfdudesblog @davinashifts333@pvyden

[mjrtaurus]

"Where's my other grandma?"

Gabe asks Crocodile this one day when they're reading together in the drawing room. He really shouldn't have been surprised. That particular query was bound to come up at some point, especially since Urpi's been dropping by. If this were a few months ago, he might have shut down or snapped at the boy, but Crocodile is not keen on repeating that mistake. But he also can't lie to his son.

"She passed away, hayati. She's been gone for a long time"

"Oh," he's quiet for a bit as he absent-mindedly tugs at the carpet for a minute "Did someone make a clone of her?"

Croc has to take a deep breath at that. It's not Gabe's fault in the slightest, but they really need to sit him and Gryphon down at some point and explain that regardless of what the Vegapunks cook up in their labs, cloning is not an undo-button for death. There are things and people that truly are lost for good. But that's besides the point.

"I highly doubt it. She died a long time ago and wasn't someone the World Government would have taken notice of ("at least not for that reason" is what's left unsaid)."

"Oh... what was she like?"

Hell if he knows. His mother perished before he had left the haze of infancy, and in a way that was slow and torturous. Of course he doesn't tell Gabe the last part but he's honest once more about being just as in the dark on the details as his son. Well, he did know some things.

"She had hair like mine. And there were patches of her skin that glimmered like jewels. I think they might have been fishman scales"

"Like ours?"

Ours? What could he possibly mean by that?

When he asks, Gabe climbs up on the couch and lifts his shirt sleeve so Crocodile can see the tiniest little patch of lime-green scales growing right under the transparent tube of green blood.

"You have some on your neck next to your bumpies. I saw them when you were carrying me to bed last night. We match! 😊"

(Gabe calls scutes 'bumpies' and I just find that really cute)

“… What… happened to her, Baba?” It’s asked cautiously. There’s something in Gabe that’s always felt uneasy and upset when thinking about this branch of the family tree. He can’t place it, but it all just feels sad.

And maybe that’s why he’s asking about it.

What can Crocodile even say? How can he even explain?

“Hayati… you know how Tayta loves me? How he’s there for me if I’m hurt or sick, or even if it’s just to be there?” Okay, strong start. Let’s hope the comparison he’s setting up actually works.

“Yeah?” Gabe says expectantly, star-bright eyes wide.

“My father- not Pops, just to be clear- wasn’t like that for my mother. He was… not nice to her. Did bad things to her. And to me. He… didn’t love either of us.” He spoke carefully, riding the line between not wanting to sugarcoat and not wanting to distress.

“When I was four, she got very sick… and he wouldn’t help her. One night I feel asleep next to her, and when I woke up… she didn’t. I never even knew her name.” He remembers the rattle of her breath, how her scales and scutes slowly but surely lost their iridescent luster, how her hair had thinned. How still she was… too still…

Gabe looked at him as if what he was saying was the most alien thing he’d ever heard. Crocodile lays a kiss on his brow, and holds him close.

The silence is heavy, but Gabe’s tears haven’t come just yet. He can tell from the quiet that his son is putting pieces of some bigger picture together.

“…Is that why Vang covers his eyes?” The boy asks, resting his head on his father’s shoulder. He sounds… sad.

“It’s part of it…” Crocodile sighs, carding his fingers through starlight silver hair. “Though not all.”

There’s more to Rocks D Xebec than being a horrible partner and father. Much, much more. But for tonight, that’s enough to chew on.

To divert the conversation, he looks over the little scutes and scales that had cropped up on Gabe’s arm. They were new. Very new. Possibly the cause for the irritable streak the child had been having these last few days. And the voracious appetite.

They are very uniform and healthy, like little plates of bright green armor. Crocodile remembers how his had come in a little wonky, with plenty of uneven edges. He takes it as a comfort, knowing Gabe was far healthier and happier than he had been at his age.

Come to think of it, Crocodile’s had only come in when he was sixteen. He imagines early life malnourishment and eventually running out of puberty blockers had something to do with it.

“They itch when they come in, don’t they?” He asks, scarred lips turned into a lopsided smile.

“They feel like feathers, ‘cept more.”

[obeymeow]

being neurodivergent is all fun and games until you remember those hourly quote bots on twitter and think well maybe I can't make a bot anymore but I could schedule a few quotes a day, that shouldn't be hard. it sounds fun to have a bunch of quotes of my favorite character Thirteen from hit mobile game Obey Me! and its sequel Obey Me! Nightbringer. and then you think about how arduous collecting the quotes is going to be but she's only been in the games for maybe a year and a half with little screentime and you love collecting things so you start but then you remember that you love collecting things so naturally you have ALL of her screentime in the game and suddenly you have 45k characters of quotes and are several lessons into season 4 (which is truly a trial in and of itself) but not nearly close enough to the end but you refuse to just stop collecting the quotes and make the account with the EXCESS of what you have already because you literally only have season 4 to get through and if you don't do it just seeing the bot (because now you've been informed you can make tumblr bots instead) will haunt you with that knowledge even if nobody else would ever know. this is a general anecdote of a situation that could easily happen to anyone though and not in any way related to my life

[barksbog]

if anyone wants to learn color theory i will teach you

are you ready?

make things look edible. invoke the desire for your art to be shoved in someone's mouth. it just works.