#so as to not have a repeat of their first meeting and argument

[asteralley]

both of them saying the worst things to say to each other on their first meeting kills me

[uzurakis]

hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Ironically, after having obsessively listened to the entire saga on repeat last night, my favorite song was I Can’t Help But Wonder. It was my least favorite on my first listen through, but the more I listened to it and absorbed all the meanings and implications? I just. Loved it so much more 😭

There’s Odysseus finally meeting his son for essentially the first time (yes he held him as an infant, but he doesn’t know him as a person), there’s the fact that he spent twenty years wishing he could know his son. And then there’s Telemachus on the other side of the conversation who’s been dreaming of knowing his dad for twenty years and is worried his dad won’t love him?? Devastating. Imagine desperately loving and wanting to meet your child for twenty years and being told they worry you won’t love them??

AND THE LINE ABOUT ODYSSEUS TELLING HIS INFANT SON HE WOULD CAPTURE THE WIND AND SKY FOR HIM?? Guys. Odysseus literally captured the wind and sky to get home to his son and wife.

And then we have the reunion with Athena 😭😭 They don’t even talk about anything that happened?? I just imagine this scene of Odysseus saying, “Show yourself. I know you’re watching me,” just like he did when they first met, and neither of them say a thing about their argument, nothing about Athena fighting for him and saving him, nothing about everything that happened between the last ten years.

And without saying any of that, Athena goes straight into a roundabout way of saying, “You were right, I was wrong, and I led you astray.” She said, “I’m sorry,” without saying it. And there’s a beat of silence. Odysseus sighs. And essentially tells her, “No, you weren’t wrong. And I wasn’t wrong either. That world could exist somewhere far away, but it doesn’t exist here. I’m too old and tired to ever find it though, so you’ll have to make it exist someday for both of us.”

He forgives her in un-said words. It’s an absolution of the wrong Athena feels she’s committed. A goddess apologized to him, and Odysseus absolved her of her sins. Just. AHHHHHHHHHHH.

And then they part ways 😭😭😭 and there’s a tone in their voices that says it’s really their final goodbye this time. And they didn’t even say goodbye.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[ghostfacd]

YES I KNOW THAT HE’S MY EX! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. you knew tom was your ex, and that you should probably stay away, but that’s never stopped you before

part 1 | installment of this au (please read for more context!)

ynuser :)

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user1 im loving the aesthetic

user2 THE BIKINI TOP IS SO CUTE

user3 put them toes awayyyy

rachelzegler i pay attention to things that most people ignore (this isn’t your car.)

➥ user4 PLEASE?? not rachel using yn’s own lyrics on her

➥ user5 IS THIS TOM’S CAR??

user6 i may be delulu but those r tom blyth’s mfing hands.

user7 he has her hair tie on; i repeat, tom blyth literally has yn’s hair tie on

When Tom had messaged you saying he wanted to talk, no matter how much you knew it was a bad idea, you decided to agree to it anyway.

The breakup had ended pretty badly. Although it was an agreement between you and Tom, that didn’t mean that’s what the both of you truly wanted.

The reason the two of you broke up in the first place was that Tom was talking too much about your future, which wasn’t a bad thing — but it overwhelmed you. You weren’t ready to settle down, not yet, at least. You and Tom had only been dating for a few months, and although it was all sweet and loving, you knew that getting engaged this early was like asking for a disaster to strike.

He was upset. Clearly. He loved you, you loved him, so why was it such an inconvenience for you to agree to take the leap in your relationship? That caused a blown out argument between you two, and by the end of it, you had agreed breaking up was the right thing.

You had a acting and music career to focus on, and Tom had an acting career that was just at the beginning of its success. You felt that it wasn’t right to put a distraction into his life.

“Is this a bad idea?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away from the kiss. You can’t help but stare into Tom’s eyes, which held a language of their own.

“Maybe,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth. “But who cares?”

Who cares. Right. Well surely, it was a bad idea to meet up with your ex, much less kiss him, and although alarms were baring in your head that you probably shouldn’t—you go in for a second kiss, this time, Tom doesn’t let you go, cradling you close to his body.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to take the next step in our relationship, I’m fine if you’re not ready yet. I just want you, okay?”

And how could any girl possibly reject Tom Blyth when he’s begging so prettily? Certainly not you.

tomblyth and ynuser both posted an instagram story !

ynsbiggestfan THE GIRLS AND I AFTER SEEING THE STORIES ON INSTA

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user8 IM ACTUALLY DYING BC NO WAY WAS THAT A COINCIDENCE

user9 they’re connected they cant be far away from each other

user10 she’s my Heather 💔💔

➥ user12 fr i wish tom was that inlove w me

user13 so this is why rachel said that wasn’t yn’s car

➥ user14 ITS ALL MAKING SENSE NOW

sean.kauf photo dumpy

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ynuser pic creds ?? 🤬

➥ sean.kauf 🤓🤓

user15 wait im confused, is she together with tom again or is she with sean..

user16 Ykw i cant even be mad, if i was as hot as yn, i’d have two bfs too!

➥ user17 REAL SHIIT

tomblyth fun fact: the 2nd pic is sean third wheeling after forcing me and yn to speak to each other

➥ user17 TOM CONFIRMED IT IM DEAD

user18 all the yn haters must feel stupid asf rn after accusing yn of being with sean

➥ user19 literally cause all 3 of them are literally close 😭😭 like why would sean date yn, he’s literally friends with tom

user20 if yn isn’t dating sean let me have him omg

ynuser yes i know that he’s my ex but can’t two people reconnect !!!!!

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user21 this took the cake.

user22 time to cry again bc tom blyth is off the market

user23 she got him wrapped around her finger FR

user24 THE THIRD PIC OF THEM 🥹🥹

user25 THE CAPTION OUUU GIRLY IS BRAVE

tomblyth i only see you as a friend (the biggest lie i’ve ever said)

➥ user26 I CHOKED

➥ user27 THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS ARE CRYING RN

[uno-san]

Hiii! Could I rq reader who was Fords gf/so before he left and when he comes back he’s happy bc he realizes reader stayed in Gravity Falls the whole time and maybe even helped Stan fix the portal!

But then Bill comes and it’s totally up to u whether to make Bill like super jealous of reader or become just as obsessed with reader as he is with Ford idk.

Thank u!

Hello! Thanks so much for sending in a request. This is the first thing I've written in FOREVER, so I miiiiight have gotten carried away. Hope you and everybody else enjoys!

It always reminded you of the night sky. 

That, or what lied far beyond it. Beyond you, maybe. But never Stanford Pines. Who, in this very moment stood several yards from where you yourself were. The both of you had that strange, not-quite night sky wrapped around your forms. Yet instead of the endless expanse that space was known for, various journals, textbooks, and equations littered that space around you.

It would have been a marvelous sight if you didn’t know the purpose behind this all-too tailored world for Stanford. A trap meant to make him feel seen and applauded in ways you couldn’t quite match. A place for them to meet.

Beside Stanford was another figure. A three-sided one to be exact who had taken place near his shoulder, where he had been far longer than you could have ever known. But here he didn’t need to whisper his lies. Here, the two of them could simply converse and enjoy each other’s company. A wonderful plan to make Stanford feel known while also shutting you out from the light altogether.

Their laughter was uproarious.

“AHAHAHAHA! COME ON, SIXER, YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

A shrill voice cut through your observations. The devilish figure that it belonged to had placed his hands over his chest, or stomach, as if he were trying and failing to hold in his joy. His one eye was closed and curved to show a smile that his body didn’t have the means to actually do. His tie meanwhile spun in circles as if a toy had been wound up.

‘Sixer’ had his eyes lowered to the platform of which he stood. Tucked under his arm was one of his prized journals, where each of his six fingers drummed against its spine. He looked bashful under interrogation.

“What, not quite the term your ego would prefer, Bill?” Stanford finally shot back, his gaze raising to meet Bill’s while his eyebrow raised to pose a challenge.

“NOT AT ALL!” 

The demon began to circle around Stanford, who’s whole body began to turn with a determination not to break eye contact again. As if he were afraid of losing sight of Bill. Or his attention. Seeing it reminded you of a puppy enamored with its owner. Its everything, really. You had been familiar with it at some point yourself. What felt like ages ago now.

“JUST SURPRISED, IS ALL. I MEAN, AAAAAAAAALL I’VE DONE IS EXPAND YOUR MIND TO THE UNIVERSE OUTSIDE YOUR PUNY WORLD, SHOW YOU NEW COLORS, AND GIVE YOU THE PERFECT COMEBACKS EVERY TIME YOU GET INTO AN ARGUMENT,” He humbly bragged, “BUT IS THAT ALL REALLY WORTH IT TO BE CALLED YOUR-”

MUSE.

Muse.

Muse.

Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse.

That damn word was going to be imprinted on your brain with how often it was quite literally repeating. Out Loud. High-pitched and nearly shattering your ear drums, a physical manifestation of the word appeared in the space to hurl itself in your direction; A move you’ve seen one too many times. You nimbly dodged off to the side without losing your footing like you had the first time this occurred. With both your feet planted firmly on the ground you whipped your head around to catch the end of the show.

The scene had frozen. Stanford’s expression was stuck in a form of denial, his cheeks tinted a rosy color that you used to make them turn. His brow was furrowed as if he were concerned. Or desperate to assure Bill that he truly was worth it all. Bill meanwhile had his arms folded behind his back while his half-lidded eye bore down on its prey like a benevolent mentor.

Bill’s pupil slowly slid in your direction.

“A BENEVOLENT MUSE, YOU MEAN.”

Bill Cipher became animated again. This time he no longer addressed the version of Stanford standing before him. His smug attention was all focused on you now. His small frame managed to tower over you in mere presence alone, even at the distance you two stood at.

Arms folded behind his back, there was a silence that followed while Bill inspected you. Perhaps waiting for you to give a response before he settled on his own. He feigned surprise.

“DIDN’T EXPECT TO CATCH YOU HERE. SIXER AND I WERE JUST HAVING A MOMENT ALONE,” Bill emphasized, his arm outstretching far past its supposed physical limit to wrap itself around Stanford’s still frame, “YOU KNOW, LIKE WE’VE BEEN HAVING FOR A WHILE. BEHIND YOUR BACK. IN FACT HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO COMPLIMENTING ME. SINCE I’M HIS MUSE. HIS SKY. STARS. WHATEVER.”

Muse.

Another manifestation hurled its way in your direction. You weren’t nearly as prepared and the edges of the word were sharp, slicing into your arm to draw what you assumed to be blood. With a wince you had to steady your balance before your glare shot back to the bastard in front of you.

He was a menace who you hadn’t realized you had been in competition with for years. And now, in a pissing contest with as the man you’re both fighting over like teenagers was lost in worlds unknown. The man you had loved and had been prepared to marry was gone now. Leaving you with his unfaithful ‘Muse’.

Oh, how you’ve come to hate the word.

It happened first when you had learned of the existence of an other-worldly being that had been secretly leading Stanford’s ambitions. Second was when you had discovered Ford’s hidden collection of idols and paintings. All squirreled away in a private chamber of his own viewing pleasure. That had been manageable.

But the fondness in his gaze when discussing their meetings made your heart ache. How he’d talk as if Bill Cipher was the sole purpose of everything now. His reason for continuing his research or facing adversity for his talents. Or the way he’d pause in the middle of a task to instead laugh at a memory of Bill from earlier, with his hands looking to busy themselves as a distraction.

All of that had hurt. But what made you hate the word most of all was its constant use to torture you. That the moment Bill had sensed your distaste for the term he had done nothing but plague your mind with it. Shoving it in your face as if he was a secret side woman in some stately affair.

Thus far this has been your nightly routine for several months now. Ever since Stanford Pines went missing from this world and so many others. With his brother, Stanley, being left behind with you to pick up the pieces to get back your lost loved one. And for some reason or other, Bill had set his sights on tormenting you.

Every night. Different visions of their bonded moments played in your mind while Bill sneered and poked fun at you for being fool enough to never notice the signs of your man slipping away. You never knew if what he showed you was true. You hoped not.

“THEY’RE REAL.”

You ignore him a moment to get back on two feet. Standing tall before him.

“Do you plan on taking me through your ‘Greatest Hits’ every night or are you going to fuck off already?” The venom in your tone caused interest to gleam in his eye. Most nights you try not to dignify his taunts with a response. But you were tired. Both mentally and physically thanks to late nights with Stanley to try to get the portal running again, or your lonely crying sessions blaming yourself for letting this go on for so long. You were exhausted.

“AW, DIDN’T THINK YOU’D GET SO CRANKY OVER A LITTLE FUN FORDSY AND I WERE HAVING! I’M SURE IT’S EASY TO GET INSECURE OVER THE IDEA OF YOUR MAN GETTING THE CHANCE TO VISIT A SUPERIOR BEING EVERY NIGHT BUT HE MENTIONED YOU ONCE OR TWICE. Y’KNOW, ABOUT HOW YOU’RE ‘SAFE’ AND ‘STABLE’.”

You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Perhaps even deter you from working on that portal any further, ensuring that Stanford would remain lost to mystery forevermore. “Say what you want Bill but I know him better than what your mind creeping could ever do. You miscalculated by seeing only the parts that benefited you and that’s going to end up biting you in the ass. Because it doesn’t matter what you and Stanford had before. Whatever was there is GONE, and I know that Stanford will be coming to end you too.”

It was difficult to keep your voice steady to feign the confidence that you hadn’t had in a long time. You stood bravely in the face of Bill, who’s form only grew in size while you charged up your own argument. He was nearly towering over you now while his gaze remained steady on you. His expression was unreadable.

“WELL WELL WELL, I-”

He’s yapped for far too long.

“Maybe that’s the point to all of this,” You gestured to the spectacle put on pause, “You realize you fucked up. Pushed too hard. Or maybe you’re not even playing this for me. You’re just trying to convince yourself that Ford is still in the palm of your hand when in reality, he despises you. Wants you dead. That despite all the compliments and praises you keep showing me he still picked me over you.”

You weren’t sure if any of this was going to strike a chord. Especially with being in the dark as long as you had, there was nothing for you to fight with. The best you could do was treat him like the vindictive affair partner he was pretending to be. And it worked. Or it was the hint of a suggestion you made in saying you were chosen over him.

Bill’s form skyrocketed in size from its already heightened form, with the triangle now bending over you now to force you to nearly tilt your head all the way back just to make eye contact. His pupil was entirely black to reflect your new surroundings as the static image of Ford and their place of contact was suddenly whisked away. What used to be a bright yellow turned to blood-red bricks that you swore you could feel heat coming off of.

“STANFORD PINES FEARS ME,” Bill’s voice boomed, “AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE I WANT HIM. THINKING OF ME AND CHASING AFTER MY COATTAILS UNTIL THAT NERD COMES TO REASON. AND UNTIL THEN YOU-”

His fingers snapped. The ground beneath you disappeared and you felt weightlessness hit as you began to descend into a dark pit. “YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The vision of the gigantic demon began to fade away. His voice still boomed and echoed despite the void that they were shouted into. As your conscience begins to fade into its own form of nothing you close your eyes to instead repeat his words to yourself.

Never see him again.

__

The Mystery Shack above you groaned with disapproval. Its wood and structure creaked as it finally settled back on the ground, thankfully still supported by its own weight once gravity returned to normal. You were face first on the ground with your head still spinning from that hasty landing you made to resist any damage. With just one peek of an eye you could see that your vision was still hazy. Only a sickeningly familiar blue light kept the basement of the Shack from being in total darkness.

Darkened figures up ahead began to move. When you tried to join them you were quick to discover that your leg caught in debris. A quick examination told you that it wasn’t anything dangerous like active machinery, and the small tugs you gave to test your aching body showed that nothing was quite broken. Hurt, yes, but all intact.

Just like the house you could feel your bones settling back into place while creaking with resentment. You could only imagine how Stanley must have been feeling. Propping yourself up with one arm you then used your freehand to begin pulling away at the rubble on top of you, trying to carefully dismantle it piece by piece so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of you.

Having been so focused on your escape you had only caught the tail-end of what Stanley was telling dipper.

“The author of the Journals…”

Your head whipped around so fast it could have snapped, “My brother.”

As if on cue a figure cladded in a black cloak removed his mask with a six fingered hand, his silver hair whipping around him as he slowly revealed a face you thought you could have anticipated after having aged years with Stanley. The fact that they were twins did little to stop you from tearing up at the handsome visage that was your Stanford Pines.

The wrinkles in his face had deepened from the last you saw him. He was still chiseled with a hint of facial hair he might have shaved off recently while his posture and expression gave off a confidence you weren’t familiar with.

Stanley began to approach him with open arms, prepared to greet the brother he’s missed for years for longer than yours. Stanford didn’t match his sentiments. Instead his fist drew back to strike Stan who had flinched out of the way- But not before Stanford’s fist froze. Left hanging in the air as something else caught his attention. Past Stanley and Dipper. Through various piles of cement and broken wood.

You.

Neither of you moved. His eyes flickered back and forth in a manner that suggested he was examining you all the same. Taking in every detail of your graying form, of each new wrinkle that has marked your age like a tree. The intensity of his gaze made your heart stall for more reasons you could count.

Was that disappointment in his gaze? Or worse, indifference? The world had already been cruel in tearing you apart in the first place. How easy would it be to have Stanford simply forget you? To have moved on to grander and exciting things since his time away. After all, Bill Cipher had enticed him once before. YOU nearly lost him once before. Who’s to say you haven’t wasted your years chasing after a man who could no longer remember your face?

Tears began to gather. They soothed the sting of debris in the air to instead replace it with a dull ache in your heart. At this point you could have been crying over any number of things. You tried calling out his name but the words caught in your throat.

He shouted yours instead. Pushing passed his stunned brother and great nephew to run in your direction. Just as Stanford was a few feet away he suddenly dropped to his knees to slide the remaining distance. It was a physical endeavor you envied in this moment.

Already Stanford’s arms wrapped around your form, drawing you in close to his chest while he buried his face into your hair. You didn’t dare utter a sound of discomfort. Swallowing your tears you chose to focus on his warmth rather than the pain your body was in. How much studier his arms felt from the last time you were held in them, however long ago that was.

“M…My dear…” Stanford gasped, as if the term of endearment hadn’t been uttered in history before. His six fingers nearly dug into your body with his tight grasp. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “This…This is real. Bill isn’t lying again. You’re here. You.”

From the corner of your vision you could see both Soos and Mabel staring in wonder. Their mouths were left hanging open while they slowly turned to each other to clasp hands together. Mabel began to mouth ‘they have a histooooory!!’

You opted to turn your face into Stanford’s chest to ignore all that as long as you could.

“All these years I’ve waited here for you, Stanford. Every year was spent fixing the portal, I-” Your eyes wandered to his twin, “-We’ve been fixing the portal. Stan and I together decided we weren’t going to stop until you were home safe.”

Stanford drew in a breath. The tension that coiled his posture was a familiar sign of his frustrations being withheld, and with the copious warnings in his Journals to not open the portal again you had a fairly safe guess as to what that tension was. Stanford managed to swallow it down as his hand cupped your cheek and directed your eyes to his.

The years have really gone by. For the both of you, you realized as you gazed into weary and worldly eyes. Did he see the same thing in you? Or has it occurred to him just how truly long it's been since the two of you were close like this. Since way before he was lost in the first place. To where Bill’s schemes began to put the first cracks in the foundations of your relationship.

From the distance the portal still glowed a blue hue, flickering every few moments as the machine began to lose its life at long last for what you pray is the last time. Both of you were left illuminated with blue. The beautiful sight of Stanford had been imprinted on your mind, nearly washing away the years of trauma the color had come to be associated with.

You could have sworn Stanford’s eyes were brimming with tears as well before they closed, the distance between you two gone as he leaned down to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. With it came the relief of a thirty-year grief. Not of a healed relationship but of a path to recovery and trust. You nearly grinned into the kiss. Stanford Pines chose you.

[luveline]

can we see more of kbd after everyone agreed another baby would be a good idea? 🥹

KBD —just another day at home with Steve and your kids. mom!reader, 1k

Baby five shows quickly. You smile at your body in the mirror, the roundness that’s taken your stomach, a proud baby bump for a small baby. 

It looks super solid today. Unmistakably pregnant, though you suppose you could just be super bloated. Good thing you have the tests to prove your case. 

“Steve?” you ask. 

He’s in the closet looking for a clean shirt. “Yeah?” 

“Wanna see my tummy?” 

“Always, but why?” 

“The bump is out.” You turn to the side, cupping the underside of your stomach to emphasise it. 

You didn’t plan on five babies. Four felt like enough for the time being, perhaps forever, and so baby five was a shock you loved. You weren’t trying but your protection clearly failed, as is the risk, and you love your family and the life you’ve made. You weren’t sure a fifth child would hurt that or not, but the moment you saw your positive test you knew what you wanted. And Steve’ll do pretty much anything he needs to give you what you want. It doesn’t hurt that he’s always wanted as many babies as he can have. 

“The bump is out,” Steve repeats, screwing his mouth up to hide how excited he is unsuccessfully. 

He comes up behind you in the mirror and looks down over your shoulder. He covers your hand on your stomach, his hair tickling your cheek. 

“Bump number five,” he says softly. 

“I was just thinking that.” 

“Girl or boy?” 

“Boy.” You turn your face to meet his eyes, warm brown and as dreamy as the day you met. You still remember your first kiss, how he’d touched your neck gently to guide you. It was more loving than you’d imagined. You had no idea before you met him how much affection could be shared in just one kiss. “I think it’s a boy, this time.” 

“You don’t usually guess,” he says, your faces incredibly close. 

“Four girls already. I like our chances.” 

“You’d love another girl.”

“Of course I would.” 

“It would be nice, though…” 

You hum. You close your eyes, and wait for whatever it is he’s going to do, content to be kissed or cuddled or simply leaned on. “I love you, honey,” he whispers. 

“I love you, too. What’s on the list today?” 

“I don’t think there’s much,” he says. You smile as his nose traces your cheek. “The only thing I can think of is finding Avery’s sweatpants for dance.”

His hand moves to your hip, turning you toward him, holding you.

“They’re in the dryer. Saw them earlier,” you say.

“It’s just the same as usual, then.” 

“Ave wants to make those brownies,” you remind him. 

“Yeah. Maybe we can go to the store? Dove needs a couple of new t-shirts, I think, and the pantry is pathetic. We’re a day away from running out of fruit slices. We can get brownie mix at the same time.” 

The girls will riot if you run out of fruit slices. They’re obsessed with them, warm pastries with fruit jelly in the middle that cause all sorts of arguments. 

He straightens your shirt out over your new bump and holds you by the hips. You expect it as he kisses you, and while his kisses don’t make you nervous anymore, you still love the feeling of his lips against yours, and the smoothness with which he turns his face and your lips part against his. Warm, sweet kissing. You hook an arm behind his neck and give in. 

When you’ve kissed one another dizzy, turned yourselves into gauzy flushed caricatures of a couple in love, you reluctantly part to finish getting dressed. You savour how it feels to put on your own socks, knowing that in just a few months you’ll lose the ability all over again. 

You’re checking you look presentable in the mirror when Bethie lets herself in. 

“Hello,” she says. 

“Hi, baby.” You wipe lint from your cheek. 

“Dad?” 

Steve again returns from the closet, but now he’s dressed, and looking for some hair mousse. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” 

“Are we going out?” she asks. 

“To the store.” Steve grabs her under the arms and puts her standing on your bed. “Wow, you got taller?” 

Beth laughs. Steve chucks her under the chin and returns to his mousse search. On the vanity, the baby monitor crackles, and then a cry gurgles from the speakers, echoing up the stairs. 

“Mommy!” Avery calls. “Wren is awake!” 

You laugh to yourself. “I’m coming! Thank you, Ave!” 

“She has a snot bubble!” 

“Oh no!” 

You ditch Steve. Beth decides to come with you, sliding off of the bed and saying, “Mom, mom, mom,” until you hold her hand. You make your way downstairs together, where Avery and Dove are eating chocolate covered popcorn at the plastic play bench in front of the TV, their colouring books open and brightly decorated. Wren cries weakly in her rocker to be picked up, nearly eleven months old and agitated. 

You wipe her snotty nose with a wet wipe stashed under the rocker. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m getting you out.” You lift her up and sit down on the couch, holding her to your front. “That was a good nap.”

“Mama,” she says. 

You smile. “That’s me, sweetheart. Mama-ma.” 

“Mama,” she says, her tears quickly smoothed away. She grins at you. She doesn’t seem like she’s just been napping. 

“Hello,” you murmur softly. “Did you have a good sleep?” You stroke along her face and under her chin. 

“Mom, can we go to the store, too?” Avery asks.

“How did you know I was going?”

“You’re in jeans and it’s Saturday.”

“My little detective,” you croon, to Wren’s delight. She crawls up your chest to kiss you. You laugh under her, and more when Avery climbs onto the couch to hug your arm. Beth follows.

“Can I come?” Dove asks. 

“Of course you can!” you say through kisses. “Come up here and cuddle me. Come on, Dove. I’m putting all my love in my tummy for the baby, so I need extra.” 

It’s a cheap shot, but it encourages Dove into the couch, where she presses a kiss to your cheek. “I wanna push the cart,” she says. 

It’s so nice to hear her voice that you agree on impulse. “You can push, baby, dad’s gonna help you.” 

Speaking of her dad, Steve appears again with arms full of dresses, socks, underclothes and cardigans. “Who’s going first?” he asks.

It’s easier than it looks. Avery’s a big girl who doesn’t need help but gets it anyways. Beth stands still as a doll, and Dove likes when Steve buttons up her cardigan because he gives her one kiss for each button. 

He leans down to kiss you gently and take the baby. Always gentle, your husband. 

[tetsumie]

Love your writings so so much!!! Pretty please can i ask for angsty to fluff sunarin to heal my broken heart

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

pairing: suna rintaro x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: suna's been playing the argument the both of you had on repeat in his head and he decides it's time that he proves to you that he wants to make this work

a/n: hi bby <3 ofc i can write angsty/fluffy sunarin i hope u like it and this could meet your expectations! i hope that this helps mend your broken heart love u always and if you ever need anything i'm always here to talk <3

suna is staring at the ceiling in his apartment.

his vision shifts towards the bright red numbers "3:07" glaring at him menacingly.

he shifts his body to turn away from the clock as he coddles a pillow next to him, holding it as if it's the most precious thing he has.

i destroyed the most precious thing in my life. the overthinking demons begin to plague his conscience.

he wonders what you're doing right now. he hopes that you're asleep but he knows you're probably cramming last minute for that midterm you have for your class tomorrow.

he sighs.

he opens his phone and presses your contact, thumb hovering over the call button.

he just wants to hear your voice. at least once.

ah, fuck it.

his finger presses the call button and it begins to ring. and ring. and ring. and ring. and ring.

he's beginning to lose hope as the ring continues to go on until he hears his favorite sound in the world.

"rin?"

rin.

"hello? rin?"

he clears his throat, realizing he's just been lying there, not speaking a word.

"hi baby."

"what's wrong? why are you up? don't you have pract-" you start questioning him.

"don't worry about it hun. it's all good," he sighs into the phone. "just wanted to hear your voice right now."

you hum in response.

the hurtful words he said to you a couple nights ago are playing on loop in his mind and he's unsure of what to say now.

"did you need something rin?" you begin. "you don't usually call me.. voluntarily."

he knows he doesn't. he's always been the nonchalant one in the relationship, always waiting for you to make the first move. you've always been the one to suggest going out or planning a night in. he became so used to you always being there. he never thought you wouldn't be there anymore.

you were never supposed to get out of the picture.

"i really miss you."

you're silent.

"i know you don't believe me but i really miss you."

suna knows you're having a tough time believing him. every time you would try to bring up how you wish he'd put in just a bit more effort, he always brushed it off. but when you had brought up again for the nth time a couple days ago, asking if he could at least plan something for just the two of you, he gave out on you.

"i don't have the time for this shit. i have a professional career i'm working towards and i don't have the extra time to get distracted."

he remembers the words like they were written on the back of his hand. god, he can't forget the way your beautiful features etched into a look of pure heartbreak.

god, he can't that look out of his head.

but the worst thing plaguing his mind was your response.

"rin, i just want you to act like you at least care about me. i feel like you don't care about us anymore."

god, if he could express into words how much he deeply cares for you, your relationship, and everything that has to do with you. he wants you wholeheartedly but he can't seem to express that properly.

"right," your voice is curt. sharp. it cuts like a blade into him.

he gulps.

you're hurting and he can feel it from miles away.

and the silent treatment that you've been giving one another has not been helping to heal that pain ever since that horrid dispute.

"i realized how shitty of a boyfriend i've been to you."

you're silent, waiting for him to continue.

"you wanted me to reciprocate the time and effort you put into making this relationship work and i didn't do that. it was the least i could have done; you're right."

"rin i-" he interrupts you.

he's sitting up now in his bed, staring out the window of his bedroom.

"no, wait please let me finish."

you're silent and he takes it as his cue.

"the fact that you felt like i never cared about you — about us — this entire time truly shows how much of a shitty person i've been to you and to our relationship. i'm supposed to be the one there for you yet i never was. your absence in my life for the past couple days has affected me in ways that i don't even know could be possible"

he continues although he hears what could've been a sniffle.

"i don't know how else to put it into words but i miss you so bad, y/n. you don't have to forgive me — i wouldn't blame you — but i just want you to know that if you don't want to do this anymore with me, i understand. i'll love you no matter what your decision is."

"you love me?" your voice comes to life on the other end of the line completely caught off guard.

oh my god.

he smiles to himself as he stares at the vast dark room in front of him. "yes i love you. i always have."

"from the moment you walked into the sports psychology lecture late to the time you spilled coffee all over my brand new jersey to the time you had your sickly chicken pox. i've loved you ever since and i won't let you go."

you're silently digesting the information that he threw at you all in one sitting.

it's dead silent and suna is nervous. he wants to know what you're thinking, how you look like right now, how you're feeling.

he really wants to see you right now. to be there with you right now.

the overthinking demons begin to make their entrance in his mind as he begins to speak. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done this over the phone. i should've done this in person. i'm just too nervous to even say a word because what i want to say gets lost and then-"

"rin," you stop him before he can continue his ramble.

"yes?"

"i love you too."

oh my god.

his heart is beating out of his chest and he's stuck. his mouth is slightly agape, stunned by your confession. after everything he's done with you, you still love him?

"are you sure?" he asks to confirm.

"why are you literally trying to deny my confession to you right now?" you give a watery chuckle which he can instantly hear through.

"i don't deserve you," he states and he feels his eyes water a little bit.

"yeah you don't," you laugh in hopes of lightening the mood but the laugh dies down in your throat.

a comfortable silence holds between the two of you.

"i'm sorry for keeping you up so late. please get some rest-" he begins but is this time interrupted by you.

"can you come over?" your small voice interrupts. "obviously if it's not a bother... i just want to, um, see you right now. if that's okay."

his heart beats faster.

"are you sure?"

"yes please," you sound so frail. "please come over rin. i really need you right now."

"i'm there, baby."

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved

[jjongswannabebae]

Marriage of convenience (18+) < rich!jay x rich!fem!reader, hurt/comfort fic, lots of making out, kissing, arguments, angst, smut 18+, a lot of tears. note: first time writing smut- not proofread!! MDNI, please reblog >

Not that you minded, being set up with on a date on a mundane Wednesday wasn't on your checklist. Considering skipping it, you drawled the process of making small talk with some random geek who had cash.

Ugh. Being the only daughter of a rich man had its own plight.

"Jude, Can't I skip today's appointment with Mr. P?" You complain to your manager, Jude shirt for Judith. She keeps her eyes in the road, save for a glance, only opening her mouth,

"Do you even know who you're meeting?"

You nod profusely, "another rich kid with attitude," you finish, staring bored out the car window, watching the way birds fly, free of restraint. How you wished to live to like that.

Money can go far but you couldn't get freedom with said money.

"Well, hate to break it to you, this guy, "Mr. Park" is different,"

"You always say that," you drawl a whine puffing up your cheeks with air. "I'll stake some money if makes you happy"

Money? You had plenty but jude wasn't someone who'd set losing bets. Curious, you beam to accept her bet, having a spike in your mood.

Jude dropped you off at the posh cafe your date had scheduled to meet. Wondering who exactly this man was, convincing enough to get the stingy jude to bet bills.

Surely, he would be anything but disappointing.

Oh and how right you were.

He stood leaning back on the counter, decked in a neatly ironed silk shirt stretched across his defined shoulders, shirt buttoned down with his chest slightly exposed, sleek formal pants running down his legs loosely hung off his waist.

Okay, you admit he had great fashion sense but what about his face?

Sunglasses decked his perfect slicked jet hair, gaunt face with a killer jawline, brown eyes sharp and lips small yet kissable, ears pierced, vieny arms folded to his chest.

Jude won the bet the moment you locked eyes with him.

He was absolutely beautiful and you'd experienced what you thought was love at first sight.

He drew a smile and walked closer animatedly. Shit. Your feet were frozen to the ground as your lips parted with surprise. He stuck his hand out, "nice to meet you, I'm park jay" he offered, politely. Yet your mind and actions faltered and were a heartbeat late on grabbing onto his hand.

The rest was history. Married a year and a half later, nobody could predict the marriage would be this loveless and stagnant. Not that the public knew.

Jay Park. Hier to the one and only park estate, leading hotel series bringing wads of cash. Along with your own established wealth from your dad's company, which you assumed you'd be taking over soon.

But those dreams were crushed when jay came home with the news that a merger would take place, a year after your marriage.

Now all that you had to do was stay at home and look after him and the kids. But wait.

What kids? A loveless marriage was one thing but a sexless one was unheard of.

Yet intercourse was the only intimacy you shared with him. Hes perfect in every aspect yet incapable of affection, you'd deemed a year into the relationship.

Any show of affection like cuddling or spending time you'd initiate would fall flat or would be denied, or worst yet he'd never be there for you to initiate it. Work, home, sleep, eat. That's all he did and that's why it was all the worse.

He acted like you were invisible except the days he came home drunk and fucked you senseless. You'd consent to that but it felt meaningless, like a repeated one night stand yet you lived with the guy and were married to him.

So when your parents haunted you with the pressure of having children, you'd burst into tears upon your arrival home. You hated the fact you were so shallow and unlovable to the one man you swore to.

You ignored the pressure from your parents to have a child yet the tension mounted.

You and jay were to eat lunch with his parents and then came the infamous line, "I would love to see my grandchildren anytime soon," said Mrs. Park nonchalantly and you swear you saw jays left brow twitch. It hurt.

There was nothing wrong with you, or him for any matter. Just that your marriage never even felt like one to begin with.

"So soon?" Jay questioned, setting down his fork to the plate. You could his temple crease ever so slightly. You'd observed the man sitting next to you for a long time when he'd be with you was when he would sleep. You'd spend countless hours staring at his beautiful face, yearning for his attention, and even more far fetched, his love.

"it'll be two years soon, son" replied Mr. Park giving a stern glare towards his son, eyes flickering over you momentarily before they returned to his plate yet again.

Worthless. That was the look in mr parks eyes. He'd probably thought how hard it'd be to seduce his son, or rather get him into bed.

You sat wordless in the car, watching out the window as you did the time Jude dropped you off him to meet him for the first time. Jay sat beside you, facing the window as well. Rain poured heavy, matching your gloomy vibe from the happenings at lunch with the parks. Right, you were a Park.

Love at first sight was real when you met jay for the first time. Yet he never reciprocated anything you felt.

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill yet you held them back with all your might. Not here, not infront of jay. Never had you cried when he was present. It was unnerving to see his expressionless face watch you cry.

Yet your thoughts only grew worse and before you knew it, a tear fled from your eye and a sob broke from your mouth. It was hard, feeling unwanted and isolated all the time. Those emotions flew out like a river, gaining the attention of your husband.

"you okay?" He spoke softly, like you'd shatter if he spoke any louder, and at that you sobbed harder till you broke down weeping in the car as the driver flicked his eyes to the back seat repeatedly, wondering what commotion was taking place.

Jay asked the driver to drop you two off at their hotel, and the tyres swerved to the right, soon infront the entrance. Jay urged you to calm down and get down the vehicle. You complied and wiped your tears away, standing there as the cold wind hit your face. Yet again you felt like crying.

Jay grabbed you by the hand and tried to haul you inside as fast as possible, but you slapped his hand away, "I'll take myself there," His eyebrow twitched and raised, leaning closer to your ear to whisper, "there're eyes on us, the paparazzi is right here so just get inside," he seethed through his teeth.

At his words you panned your head around, merely for jay to put his arms to your knees and neck and pick you up and head for the roundabout back entrance. Absolutely stunned that he lifted you up with no struggle, you watched him maneuver with your mouth slightly parted.

On the elevator to the largest suite, accessible by family, you asked to let down. "No," he replied, keeping his eyes on the doors of the elevator. You didn't protest further and cozied up to his chest. He took three strides to the door and whipped it open and peered inside.

He let you down and trapped you to the door, his forehead pressing against yours. His breathing was erratic, his eyes showed emotion. *What's wrong," he let out in between exasperated breaths.

And the tears came again.

"Everything," you quip and wiping away you erratic tears with the back of your hand, leveraging your weight in the door to stand up straighter and look him dead set in his eyes.

"Do you even know anything about me? What I like to do, what I like to eat, what's my favourite color... Do you even love the person you're married too?"

He opens his mouth devoid of swords, eyes guilty shoulders heavy of burden. "You like to dance, you like spicy food, and your favourite color is," he starts small, working his mind through all the things he knew about you, "purple?"

"blue,"

"oh."

"what was the name of the dog I had when I was younger?"

Silence.

"Bruno," you answer, disappointment filling your being as you stare the guilt stricken man facing you. "At this rate you probably never felt anything for me, let alone love." He leaned his head to the door behind you, keeping his hand to your shoulder and whispering to your ear, "do you know why I've been distant with you?"

"if what you mean by distant is ignoring my every attempt and instant of me trying to express my emotions to you in the past two years, then, no. Probably except the fact you don't like me but needed someone to fill in the position of your wife." You huff, letting your true feelings show, the pack of interaction between you two hurt you a lot more than you thought.

"Perhaps your criteria was to find someone smart but quiet, pretty but not attention seeking and lastly a nice body would be a plus point, I suppose," you finish, one hand settling on his nape and the other his back. You keep your eyes trained on his, batting them ever so often so you wouldn't cry with word you uttered.

At first, jay showed no signs of response except guilt, then his face contorted to confusion and lastly to anger. The crease on his forehead from burying his eyebrows downward as he almost glared at you with a fire lit in his eyes.

"So you think I'm using you," he says, and you nod, solely for him to sneer and pull back from your hold, stepping closer and claiming you up the door as he swung his arm round your waist and one hand to your face, tilting it upto him, and dipping his head down to your eye level. Your lips were mere centimetres apart from collision. Eyeing your lips he grazed his thumb past your lips.

"You talk like you know the whole story, darling. It's not a good habit to make assumptions," he said drawing a line down your lips, his finger slipping past making a small smacking sound

"well then what's your reasoning to leaving me devoid of affection? Before you say you sent gifts, I know your assistant picked them, the clothes he sent were chosen with little to no fashion sense, whereas you have an exceptional dressing style so don't say you bought me those items, darling." You muse replicate his fiery response with sass.

He watches you with contemplating whether to tell or not. "We were only supposed to be married for a year." He starts slow, taking in your facials, watching as your eyes widened and practically urged him to continue. "The merger wasn't going to happen, you were supposed to take over," he said calmly, knowing how much of a touchy subject this was to you, having prepared your whole life to head the company and ultimately not being able too.

"But the results shown over the one year we were meant tobe together showed immensely worthy and the merger took place, therefore nullifying our one year marriage,"

Like rains drops now fell from the sky, the sunny days his behind the clouds like your tears behind your eyelids. Jay couldn't bare to see you look so vulnerable. He felt as though he was the cause for these misunderstandings, which he was not completely but partly.

"I, I never signed any contract,"

"It wasn't meant to be signed by us, it was unanimous decision,"

"So now they want us to act like a couple? Do they even know how hurt I felt to be ignored for a year, how it felt to feel unwanted and unlovable?" A stray tear strolled down your cheeks as anger creeped up your voice. It was unfathomable to you, to be lied to by your own parents, and possibly jay too.

"Had you known we'd last for only a year?"

"...yes" he paused, waiting for the information to sink into you, hoping it wouldn't shatter you more. Your head spun in circles as you struggled to get away from him, pushing as his chest as tears streamed down your face, brushing past him to sit on the couch to relieve your dizziness.

You sat there and cried while jay watched you unwind into a tears, unsure of what to do. 'I didn't want to fall for you, because I'd have to leave eventually but I couldn't stop myself from catching feelings when I was around you. I decided it would be best for me not to be there for you and I'm aware of my mistake here... But apologizing won't make the hurt and damage you faced go away. You're free to take your call, whether it may be divorce or not, and don't worry about our parents, I'll handle them."

You panned your head up at the word divorce, shifting to your feet and striding over to jay, where he stood previously, stuck in place. You faced and a loud smacked echoed across the room, his head turned 180 degrees, his cheek red with the strike of your palm.

"Atleast tell me you'll love me now, asshole,"

He put a palm to his cheek, running the area you struck him, watching your tear dried somber face, more threatening to brim out the ledge. "I'm sorry." He apologized, hanging his head low with shame and guilt.

"One thing you've never done to me," eyes conveying different sorts of emotions, "is kiss me."

He looked rather surprised at the observation, "I knew if I kissed you, there'd be no going back, both mentally and physically."

"Jay weve fucked before for hours yet you never kissed me once, didn't you think I'd find it strange? And when were you going to tell me about this whole one year marriage clause being nullified, meaning we'd spend the rest of our lives together part? Not that I didn't think we'd spend our whole lives together but I guess we thought different."

"I was planning to, but the time was never right, so..."

You turned your back to him and walked to the suites bedroom and to the bathroom, jay following behind slowly. Splashing water to your face and drying it off, seeing an awkward jay hanging around in the tension of the air. "Sit," you ordered, pointing to the ledge of the bed. Confused, he still complied, comfying himself on the edge of the bed.

"Good,"you commented, hiking up on the bed and onto jays lap to his surprise, situating yourself atop of him, staring back down to his glasses over pupils, red and swollen from the lack of sleep and fatigue. "Are you tired, darling" this time saying the nickname endearingly. "Not really,"

"then kiss me,"

Flustered by your demand, he began stuttering, "Are you sure? Like really?" You nodded along, "yes,"

"then I guess I could," he became nervous, but built up the the courage to put his hand to the back of head and slowly press down in it till your lips met his. The motion started out awkward, then jay relaxed after a few seconds or so and found a rhythm you could match.

The dynamic of the intensified as jay began settling into reality that he was kissing his wife. Swiveling his tongue around yours he began tasting every corner of your mouth, exploring every inch. You attempted to pull away due to lack of air but he held you back your hair aggressively tugging to his lapping tongue.

You moaned his mouth, hand squeezing his shoulder for stability, swiping over your bottom lip, and softly biting your lip, he let go of the insane grip he had on you. You heaved your chest up and down, messing your hair. You pushed down to the bed, sitting on top of him.

He tugged your arm towards him and you were face to face with jay. He brushed past hair intruding your picturesque visual. He lifted up your shirt enough to expose your stomach and rubbed past the expanse soothingly. He picked you and flipped you over and onto your back and made you scoot to the headrest.

The two of your made out for another few minutes or so only pulling back when in dire need of oxygen. Your lips were swollen but you were addicted. Even though the two if you had got intimate before, it was nothing compared to the emotions you felt through this. You sat up on the bed to catch your breath and ruffled through his hair endearingly.

With your approval he yanked your shirt off, then he stripped off his shirt, trapping you in between his legs. "You kiss me," he breathed out and situated his hands behind back to suport both his and your weight. You lunged at him and connected your lips to his, grinding down where your body met as he let out the soft noises from his mouth as he moved to kiss at his jaw, your hands running the expanse of his well built chest and back.

You obsessed over marking his jaw and neck for a good few minutes before travelling down to his nape, marking and sucked the area. You peppered kisses back up to his lips, taking his bottom lip between your teeth,feeling the vibrations of his groans down to your wet spot and grinded harder but free tired and settled on top of his clothes hardness.

He returned the favour by making you mean with every touch, electrifying you body. You but as his ear when his began to touch you through your remaining clothes, still keeping his lips fixated on yours. Approaching closer to your high you became hypersensitive of his every action he performed on you.

He set you on him and forced you down onto his hard-on till you cried of pleasure, riding off the whiteness by laying you down on the bed and dropping up on his elbows to kiss you. You felt immense pleasure and relief, showing your gratitude by jerking him off.

Tired, you laid on the bed in his arms, still thinking about the events that took place. "At this rate, we could just expect a kid," you say, laughing it off as a joke, "then we'll have to get to work.* He replied with a giggle and you buried yourself in his chest with a smile.

[solitaryearthperson]

Infatuation

Summary: What is it about you that has Homelander so infatuated?

(The reader is gender neutral. The ethnicity/race is preferably a person of color.)

Why you?

That was the million dollar question that kept going through Homelander's mind. There was nothing truly special about you. You were nothing like him and his teammates. You were - he couldn't help how hard his face cringed at the reminder - human. No Compound V or Temp V. Only regular red human blood coursing through your veins with no harmful or life-changing chemicals. Just human. Sure you were good-looking. Sure you were smart, and polite, but so were many of the other dumb, cocksucking fans he had to smile for and pretend to give a fuck about. So what made you different from them?

When did this even begin?

He couldn't really pinpoint the exact date that your beauty, poise, and civility had caught his attention. He thinks maybe a month or two ago. He could distinctly remember how pissed off he was at Ashley, not because she had did anything herself, but because she was the one delivering the bad news to him, and how that was the first day, you had spoke to him.

"What," he asked, his voice low and strict, while dripping with disbelief at what Ashley had said. He tried his hardest to keep facing the large windows of the Seven's meeting room, and keep a cool composure, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Um-um," she repeated, her mouth opening and closing, almost resembling a fish. Her green eyes widened in fear at what the Supe in front of her may do.

"Ashley," he said, his irritation at her hesitance to speak was making him even more angrier by the second. "Say that again."

"Well, I-you,...uh," she gulped and tried to speak again, her words coming out easier this time. "Your points has gone down significantly, by at least 60."

Hearing it repeated made his crystal blue eyes become engulfed in ruby red and he kept his gaze towards the windows, already sick of hearing and smelling the rank fear that was emanating from Ashley, and not wanting to make the smell worse. "How the fuck are my points down that much?"

The calmness of his voice made Ashley want to hurry and leave the room, but instead she nervously gulped down some of her fear again, and spoke, "People have not truly forgiven the Stormfront situation and the civilians that you accidentally lazered in half on the last mission made it worst. Their families and friends are all in mourning and sharing their grief online."

"Oh come on," he yelled, finally turning away from the window and seating himself in his usual seat at the large table, his face frowning in irritation. "Both of those things were fucking accidents! Stormfront is dead and those people have been dead for, what, weeks now. Almost a fucking month!"

Ignoring the harshness of his raised voice, Ashley continued, "Vought thought it could really help if you made an apology video or interview to get people back in your favor-"

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," he said, his tone stern and leaving no room for argument. "It was a fucking accident and they need to get over it already." The rage inside him was rising higher and higher and he knew that more redness was coming to his eyes the more he listened to Ashley and the bullshit that she was spouting. He was sick of having to apologize for who he is and how powerful he is.

"Mr. Edgar thinks that-"

At the very mention of his name, Homelander's fist quickly connected with the surface of the table, leaving a large crack in the glass. The sound of his fist hitting it made Ashley quickly quiet and she instantly took a deep breath in, waiting for his next words.

"Get the fuck out," he told her, closing his eyes, and laying his head back against the chair.

"Yes sir," Ashley quickly replied, rushing out.

At the time, she had quickly forgotten that you were with her, and had left you alone with the most dangerous Supe of them all.

"Mr. Homelander, sir," your voice, while small, had still interrupted the quietness that had taken over the room and was beginning to calm Homelander, and he quickly opened his eyes and looked to you, his red gaze freezing you in place.

"Who the fuck are you," he asked.

"I'm (Y/N)," you replied, nervously holding your folders and documents close to your chest. "I'm Ashley's assistant."

"And...?" Every part of his body language screamed that he was ready to murder anything right now.

"I was just gonna say that I'm sorry that you're under so much pressure," you told him, your voice still meek, but a little more confident as you see that you have kept his attention. "I'm pretty sure for a person like you, it can be hard to be like others and make mistakes."

"Exactly! Fuck! Thank you!" he suddenly exclaimed, making you slightly jump, but you quickly hid it, and returned the wide smile he threw to you, happy to see the redness from his eyes finally cool down to blue again. "No one gets how hard it is to be me. No one is ever truly grateful for what I do. Right?"

You silently nodded your head, happy to see the Supe no longer angry.

"I have to pretend to like and listen to these fucking idiots and apologize to them for helping them!" He let out an incredulous laugh at the thought of apologizing to the public again.

An idea came to you when he said that, and you quickly voiced it, "Maybe you can get their favor again without having to apologize for it."

He quickly furrowed his brows at your idea and quickly gestured for you to continue.

"Plenty of celebrities make apology videos and people always know that it's fake. Maybe you should donate money to the families of the victims instead. You won't have to make some embarrassing video or do an interview."

"A donation?"

"Yeah. Fans love when famous people donate something of theirs. Money, clothes, cars. You win the favor of fans you lost, and more."

He was silent for a second, his face full of contemplation and for a second you were scared that you had gone too far, proposing an idea like this. He might see it as an insult that an assistant was giving him advice on how to get fans. You had sworn your heart was about to beat out of your chest by his silence, but a suddenly growing smile on his face quickly calmed it.

"That is perfect! No having to grovel to those idiots."

"Would you like me to get Ashley to help set everything up?"

"Yeah! Do that! Now!"

You made your way to the door and was about to leave the room, when suddenly his voice made you stop. "Hey! What's your name, again?"

"Um, it's (Y/N)," you told him.

"(Y/N)," he repeated, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "Thanks."

You quickly left the room after that and went to get Ashley to tell her about the idea, and you didn't know it, too naive to realize it, but Homelander had already began making a plan in his head to see you again.

That was it. That was what caught Homelander's attention. Unlike other regular people, and even other Supes, you were the one who understood the pressure he was under, who understood how great he was, how better he was. Soon after that he began making an effort to talk to you. After Ashley would report things to him, he made sure to pull you aside and make conversation, and he surprisingly found it addictive to hear your voice, whether you were talking about your day, your favorite meals, current shows you were watching, he needed to hear your voice. Every now and then, he could hear the tremble in your voice as you spoke to him, fear still running through you at the fact that you were speaking to him of all people. That tremble did things to him. He disliked hearing it as he wanted you to be comfortable around him and trust him, but at the same time, he loved hearing it, reminding himself of the immense power he had over others even when he doesn't do anything.

It wasn't long before he used this power to find your address. He found himself relieved that you lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, not wanting anything to happen to his favorite person. HIS? Yes, HIS. Just the thought of you accepting his affections, a life of being with him, of coming home to finding you ready to hear about his day and please him was already making him loose his already deranged mind, but he knew that you needed time. You needed to still be fearful of him, but at the same time, realize that he would be the best partner for you. And now as he looked at your sleeping form, he listened to the soothing beat of your heart, wishing he could lay his head upon your chest and take a deep slumber with you. Wishing he could wake up next to you, and make love to you first thing in the morning. Make love to you at Vought. Make love to you when he comes home from work. Make love to you before going to sleep. But he knew he needed to wait just a little bit longer. Not too long or else, some dumb imbecile will think they have a chance with you and he'll have to take care of them. But soon you would realize you belonged with him and no one else.

[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: angst, assumed cheating

~~~~

“I wish you could come with me.” You looked over at your boyfriend next to you by the kitchen counter. He didn’t meet your gaze, face contoured in concentration as he formed the ground beef into patties.

“I know baby.��� You agreed, reaching for a bowl to put the cut cucumber in. Max grabbed it for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with? Bahrain is nice.” He softly bumped his arm against yours, offering a playful smile. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would love to, you know that. But I have my thesis to write.”

“You can do that on the road.” He tried, but you both knew the answer. This conversation had been on repeat for the last few months and every time it ended with Max, somewhat disappointed, agreeing that it would be best if you stayed home. You weren’t surprised he tried one last time tonight.

“Even if I could Maxie, I still have to work and I can’t do that from Bahrain.” Even before he spoke up you knew what his next argument would be and if anything got under your skin, it was this.

“You don’t need to work though. You have me.” The way he said it so casually, like he always did, had your stomach twisting. You hated that he saw it like that, and no matter how many times you talked about it Max didn’t seem to understand your point of view. You clenched your jaw, physically biting your tongue not to say anything back. Instead you concentrated back on the work on the cutting board, brows slightly furrowed. Things were quiet for a few moments, Max being busy with the meat in the frying pan, and you had almost blocked him out completely, deep in your own thoughts, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. Your back was softly pulled flush against his chest and a second later he nudged the side of your head with his nose.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing a few kisses against your cheek and down your shoulder. “Of course you have things to do here, I get that. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help but smile, the frown melting of your face in a second. How could you ever stay annoyed at him when he was this cuddly and cute? You placed the knife down, turning around in his rather tight grip to face him. Max looked down at you, tilting his head slightly as to ask if he was forgiven. You just reached up to grab his cheeks, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said when the two of you finally pulled apart. “But it’s just two weeks, right?”

“Hmm.” Max nodded, fingers pressing into the skin just above your hips. “Then I’ll come straight back home and I won’t leave your side for at least a few days.” You laughed at that, snaking your arms around his torso and leaning your head against his chest. Max pulled you even closer, a deep breath leaving his lips. You were going to miss him, but two weeks went fast and you told yourself that he’d be back, preferably with two wins under his belt, before you knew it.

~

The first race had been amazing. You had watched from home with some of your friends, absolutely ecstatic and somewhat tipsy as your boyfriend passed the finish line in first place what felt like hours ahead of the rest. When he called you after the win you had literally screamed into the phone how proud you were of him and hearing him laugh loudly on the other end had you smiling the whole night.

That was four days ago. You had been busy, work was more chaotic than normal and your limited freetime was spent in the library working on your thesis. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had missed a few of Maxs phone calls and when you’d called him back he had been busy instead. You texted a lot, but it had been a few days since you last heard his voice and you were starting to miss it.

Getting back late from the library, not at all happy with the work you had done, all you wanted to do was to call Max and have him tell you about his day. You knew he had been at the annual banquet in Jeddah last night, which he hated, and you were excited to hear all the gossip. You sunk down in the couch, making yourself comfortable as you searched up the results of the first practice round. You always wanted to know how things were going for Max before you spoke to him, partly to show him that you cared and partly because you wanted to know what mood he might be in. You smiled to yourself, pleased, when you saw him at the top of the rankings. Absentminded you begun to scroll down among the tweets, rolling your eyes at the people hating on Max and grinning proudly at all the people joking about how this season would just be win after win after win for him. Suddenly you stopped, a tweet written all in caps catching your eye.

MAX VERSTAPPEN LOOKING DAPPER WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE! DID HE LEAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND AT HOME?

You raised your eyebrows, not being able to stop yourself from clicking on the photos. Surely it was going to be something dumb, you were used to the rumors surrounding your boyfriend and you had simply learned to just tune them out. Scrolling through the pictures now, however, you could feel your stomach drop. It was blurry, but it was clearly Max. The photos were taken from far away but you saw him, dressed handsomely in a suit and bowtie, with his arms tightly wrapped around a tall blonde. Her back was turned against the camera so you couldn’t make out her face, but you didn’t recognize the body at all. The two of them seemed to be alone, standing outside what looked like the building where the banquet was held. In one picture Max was shown grabbing her cheeks, staring down at her. You squinted, as if that would help you distinguish his expression, but you couldn’t quite tell what was happening. You couldn’t deny that it sure looked like he was about to kiss her. Quickly locking your phone you dropped it in your lap, staring down at the black screen with wide eyes. That wasn’t just some rumor, something someone had claimed to see or made up. Those were real photos, photos of Max being way too close for comfort with someone who clearly wasn’t you. You knew you should calm down, take a step back until you could talk to him and let him explain. Surely there was an explanation that didn’t involve him actually cheating on you? Right? Before you had time to spiral further your phone lit up again, the picture of Max sleeping, drooling, in a cab you had as his contact photo illuminating your screen. Acting on reflex you picked it up, sliding your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Baby!” He seemed surprised that you answered but quickly regained himself. “Am I disturbing you? Are you at home?”

“I just got home.” You answered, frowning at the shortness of your own tone. You weren’t sure how to approach him, you weren’t even sure what to say. Were you mad? Sad?

“Good. Feels like we’ve just missed each other the past few days.” Max shuffled around on the other end and you assumed he was laying in bed. With a content sigh he spoke again and you could hear the smile on his face. “How are you my love?”

“I’m good.” You mumbled, clicking on the speaker icon and placing your phone down in your lap.

“How’s the thesis coming along? I assume you just came from the library?”

“Hmm, yeah I did. It’s fine.” Max obviously picked something up in your voice because he was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I hope you’re not spreading yourself too thin baby, you have to take a break sometimes.” His voice was full of concern and you don’t know if it was that or the pictures still haunting you but suddenly all you wanted was to be next to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Actually,” you began, deciding what to say as the words were coming out of your mouth. “I was thinking about maybe coming to you? I think I can make it to the race if I leave tomorrow and-“ you stopped as you heard Max laugh on the other end, stomach twisting at the sound you usually loved. That was not the reaction you wanted.

“You know I miss you but that’s crazy baby.” He chuckled. You could feel the pressure take form behind your eyes. “You have things to do and I’ll be home in less than a week.”

“Yeah but I want to see you now. I thought you’d want that too.” You hated that his reaction, a very reasonable reaction at that, left you feeling so hurt.

“Of course I want to see you, but you shouldn’t come all the way here when we both know-“

“I shouldn’t?” His choice of words felt like a punch in the stomach and you frowned down at the phone. Max took a second too long to respond so you spoke again. “Why shouldn’t I? You don’t want me there?”

“What’s all this coming from?” The smile was far gone from his voice and now he just sounded bewildered. “You’re the one who opted to stay home because you had work to do.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you’d cozy up with some other girl if I’m not there.”

You pressed your eyes shut, cringing at your own words the second they left your lips. You did not mean to put that out there like that. The line went quiet for a moment before Max broke the silence, voice as confused as it gets.

“What?”

You wanted to cry. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“Nothing Max. Don’t worry about it.” You snapped, hating yourself more every time you opened your mouth. You really needed this conversation to be over, preferably before you started to cry. “I’m actually really tired, I think I’m-“

“No no no, you don’t just get to throw something like that at me and then hang up. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You were rambling. “Just forget it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You heard Max say your name before you hung up, heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

so literally eight years ago i posted a snippet of a modern retelling of Much Ado About Nothing set in a student co-op and for no particular reason, the concept is tickling my brain right now. so uh here, have this? i guess?

“So, Ursula, my dear,” said Lee, taking the seat across from her at the dinner table. “My fluffy little crumpet. My buttery brioche bun. My tangy slice of pumpernickel—”

Ursula squinted up from her Anthro reading. “Uh-oh,” she said. “You only call me bread when I’m in trouble.”

“Happened to glance at the meeting notes this morning,” Lee continued, her voice rising. “You’ve got anything you wanna explain or defend?”

Ursula flicked her highlighter from one finger to the other, determined to play it cool. “I think it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Which meeting notes, exactly, were you glancing at?” She peeked out of the corner of her eye to check how this was going down. 

Poorly. 

Lee stared at her, apparently at a loss for words, which was not a great look for the house president.

“You did this more than once.”

“I take notes every meeting, Lee,” she said, as levelly as possible given how Lee’s ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ Mom vibes were oozing from every pore. “It’s my job, as house secretary.”

“Is it?” said Lee tightly. “Is it your job?” She whisked opened her laptop and read aloud: 

“Benedick’s eyes blazed with passionate fury. His nostrils quivered. ‘Well,’ he said in a low growl, hair resplendent under the environmentally friendly fluorescent lights, ‘personally, I think if anything, there's not ENOUGH lentils—’ Beatrice gasped. It was so wrong, and yet…”

Ursula winced. “‘Said in a low growl’ is wordy. I should’ve just put ‘growled’.”

Lee pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ursula,” she began, “just how much of our official co-op house notes, which by the way are formally submitted each month to the Co-op Board, are written as if Benedick and Beatrice’s stupid arguments are some kind of torrid Harlequin paperback?”

“That depends.” Ursula steepled her fingers, dropping the highlighter in the process. “How much of my notes do you have access to?”

“All of them,” Lee gritted out. “Because they’re public. That’s what I’m saying.”

 “Look,” said Ursula. “I don’t think I said this when I ran, but I wanted to be house secretary in the first place because a lot of the time, taking notes is the only way I can make myself concentrate. I would literally be taking notes during the meeting anyway. It’s an ADHD thing.” 

Ursula sighed. “And pretty early on, it became clear that meetings in Messina House are basically just a Sexual Tension Thunderdome for Benedick and Beatrice. They go back and forth for pages sometimes. I can feel every electrical connection in my brain fighting to zone out. So yeah. For a while I rewrote their fights as rhymed couplets, for a very short bit of time I had Balthazar set them to sea shanties, and since last December, I’ve been transcribing very close to their actual words, with very close to their actual intentions, plus just a tiny bit of genre trimmings. If they’re gonna waste my Saturday and test my focus, I’m doing what I can to stay awake and keep my typing fingers limber. I’m up to 75 WPM, by the way.”

“December?” Lee repeated. “Ursula, it’s October. You’ve been doing this for over a semester?” A terrible wave of realization seemed to sweep over her just then, regarding the general pacing and content of a standard Harlequin. “Please tell me,” she whispered, “there is no sex in the meeting notes—”

“There’s no sex in the meeting notes,” Ursula interrupted. “Per se,” she added under her breath.

Lee’s lips were pressed together into a thin line. “One year,” she said. “I want one year where nobody drives a motorcycle down the hallway or accidentally mixes up chlorine gas during their bathroom clean, or spends almost a full calendar year slipping smut into the public record—!”

“Excuse you,” said Ursula. “Smut’s a different genre altogether. This is romance. Slow-burn, enemies to lovers.”

Lee threw up her hands, nearly knocking over her laptop. “What are you gonna do if Benedick or Beatrice sees this?” “Oh.” Ursula froze. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, uh-oh,” she said. “Look, clearly there’s only one thing to do.”

Ursula nodded. “Right, we have to execute a series of far-fetched shenanigans designed to turn those two fighting fish into a pair of cooing lovebirds, stat.”

“No,” said Lee. “What? No, you need to go back and rewrite all of—”

Pedro slid into the room in his socks. “Oh sweet, are we hooking up Benedick with Beatrice?”

“Hell yeah,” said Ursula. They high-fived.

Lee closed her laptop with a snap. “Ursula, what are the odds,” she said, “that you actually buckle down and rewrite all of the meeting notes to read like they were written in the genre of meeting notes?”

“Oh, like, zero,” said Ursula, as Pedro chimed in, 

“Yeah, that will not happen.”

Lee looked despairingly back and forth between Ursula and Pedro. “What do you think is the likelihood that playing love gods will like, actually, genuinely work?”

“Twenty percent,” said Ursula.

Margaret glanced up from the other end of the table, where she was gluing together a collage of every restaurant on campus that had ever given her food poisoning. It was for class, was the thing.

Art school kids, man.

“We’re tricking Benedick and Beatrice into giving themselves over to their intense chemistry?” asked Margaret.

“Thirty percent,” said Ursula, because Margaret was inscrutable much of the time but surely they would have a fighting chance with more of the Humanities on their side.

At “intense chemistry,” Lee shuddered. “That reminds me,” she said, standing and scooping up her laptop, “I need to post a sign in the basement bathroom warning people not to mix bleach with acid.”

“Are you in?” said Pedro as Lee attempted to slip out the door. “Love Gods?”

“Jesus Christ,” said Lee.

“Not a love god,” Margaret announced. She had found the sequins, and was applying them with enthusiasm. “Except in the general Peace on Earth sense, I guess.”

“I’m texting Hero,” said Ursula, digging for her phone. “She knows Beatrice better than anyone. She’ll have tips. That puts our potential success rate at 45%, easy.”

“If we’ve got Hero, we’ve got Claudia,” Pedro added. “And she’s been BFF with Benedick since freshman year.”

“This is a terrible plan,” Lee muttered. “Yeah,” said Ursula, “but you implied it yourself. If, uh, certain parties see my meeting notes, they will murder me. Do you really want a fellow co-oper’s blood on your hands?”

Just then, Benedick burst into the room, Beatrice on his heels.

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice shouted, “are you genuinely trying to argue that soybeans are the superior legume? Soybeans? Over chickpeas? Over kidney beans? Hell, over peas?”

“Soy milk,” said Benedick, counting on his fingers, “silken tofu, miso, tempeh, firm tofu—”

Beatrice took a step closer to him, eyes flashing, “I have never in my life had tempeh that tasted like anything other than an evil Cliff Bar.”

“It’s not my fault your tastebuds were installed backwards,” said Benedick. “This from the woman who still, in the year of some people’s lord 2024, thinks lattes are ‘too trendy’—”

“Espresso is a waste of coffee grounds,” said Beatrice in a low, dangerous voice.

Benedick gasped. “You take that back.”

Beatrice took a step closer. “Coldbrew has more flavor and more caffeine.”

“Coldbrew,” Benedick echoed, stepping even closer. “You’re defending that swill over a nice mocha? Get latte’s name out of your mouth.”

Benedick and Beatrice were standing almost nose to nose, breathing hard.

“You know what?” said Lee from the door. “Ursula? Fuck it, I’m in.”

Ursula whooped. Margaret reached for the glitter glue. Benedick and Beatrice visibly both ran through their mental rolodexes of coffee-related insults. 

From the entryway came the distant revving of a motorcycle engine. Borachio was no doubt doing wheelies in the foyer again, but that was a problem for house presidents, not innocent house secretaries who had done no wrong, thought Ursula as she returned to her reading and her growing mental to-do list.

[blissfulip]

Surface Tension

on AO3

Steb x f!reader

Rating: E

Tags: doctor!reader, anthro (does he count as a furry? idk), post-canon, just shameless smut

Cw: Dacryphilia

Words: 3.9k

[A/N: Steb has Selective Mutism in this fic, meaning he has the physical ability to speak but chooses not or is unable to due to social, psychological or other circumstances. Since we don't have any information on this in canon I have decided that for the purpose of the story, what prevents him from speaking is biological, he can only speak if his gills are properly wet, otherwise it hurts him, so he chooses not to most of the time.

Also, for reference on what his body looks like anatomy-wise, refer to this (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby @moonstrider9904

Happy Holidays from me to you  🎄

The knock was soft, tentative, like the wind testing the strength of a door. Steb looked up from the book resting on his lap, his fingers frozen mid-turn of a page. He tilted his head toward the sound, waiting, and when a second knock came he convinced himself to stand up. When the door creaked open, it wasn’t a draft that slipped through, but you, coat half-unbuttoned and cheeks pink from the cold.

He narrowed his eyes at you, his fingers lifting up to sign. 

“You’re early this month, should I be worried?” His hands hesitated halfway through the sentence.  

You smiled faintly, the kind of smile that seemed almost apologetic. “Not unless you’ve developed an allergy to soup.”

“You check on me once a month, doctor”, he signed slowly, “Routine, clinical. This isn’t that.”

“It’s not,” you agreed, unbuttoning your coat the rest of the way and draping it over the back of a chair. “It’s not an official visit, Violet mentioned you haven’t left your room in a while, and I’m on vacation so I thought I’d stop by.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of Vi, nosey, he thought to himself. The word vacation felt out of place in this room, he had been trying to get out of medical leave for the past month and go back to work, with no success. He scrunched up his nose, and then let out a sigh of resignation. 

“You didn’t have to come.” he signed.

“I wanted to.”

His hands stilled. The room felt heavier now, the tension fragile but unyielding like a drawn thread. Steb looked away first, his gaze sliding to the window where frost rimmed the edges of the glass. When he signed again, his movements were slower, almost uncertain. 

“You’re bad at taking vacations.”

That made you laugh—a soft, short sound that filled the room briefly before fading.

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

“Deep breath,” You instructed, your stethoscope cool against his chest. He complied, the effort visible in the furrow of his brow and the sharp rise and fall of his ribs. You listened, frowning slightly, before stepping back and meeting his eyes directly.

“You’ve had quite the ordeal.” You said. Steb nodded once, his jaw tight. He didn’t need the reminder. His chest still ached faintly, a ghost of the gas that had filled his lungs, its burn raw and relentless. “Does it hurt when you speak?”

Silence. You repeated your question when he didn’t answer, fearing he might not have heard you, and confused when you only received a stern look back. Vi, who had been sitting in a nearby chair keeping him company despite his protest, chimed in. “Do you know sign language? He has mutism”  

“Oh, that makes sense”, You said nodding, “I do, you can sign your answers.”

“Selective” He signed for the first time. 

“Hm?”

“Selective mutism, and yes, it hurts.”

“Good to know.” You nodded once more before continuing to examine him. “I’m keeping you here for observation for another few days. No arguments.”

Vi smirked. “Oh, he’ll argue.”

“I’m stubborn as well, let’s see if I can outlast you.”

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

He watched you move to the kitchenette, unpacking the bag of food with quiet precision. Bread, soup. Simple and practical. Your hands worked with a deliberate ease, as if you were trying to fill the silence with motion.

He stayed seated, his fingers curling and uncurling in his lap. You weren't here because you had to be. That much was clear. But the why of it lingered, unspoken, in the space between you both. He wanted to ask, but instead he watched you.

The room fell quiet again after you left, the faint echo of your footsteps lingering in Steb’s ears like the fading notes of a song. He sat motionless for a moment, staring at the empty bowl and crumbs on the table. Your visit left the space feeling fuller, even though it was now empty.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, his body aching with the subtle pull of exhaustion. He crossed the room to the corner where the tub waited, an old clawfoot basin half-filled with clean water he’d drawn earlier. The air already felt drier than he liked, the faint itch under his skin a reminder that it had been too long since his last proper soak. He shrugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor, his greenish skin catching the dim light of the room, rougher than it should have felt, another sign he’d been neglecting himself. He stepped into the tub, the cool water lapping at his ankles before he lowered himself in completely.

The relief was immediate, a soft exhale escaping his nose as the water embraced him, its touch soothing the ache in his muscles and the dryness on his skin. He tilted his head back, letting his gills on his jaw flutter open as they met the water. He could almost feel his body pulling life from the moisture, the subtle tension in his chest easing with every passing second.

But even as the water worked its way through him, his thoughts stayed tangled. Your face lingered in his mind—your calm, steady voice, the way your fingers brushed the table before you left. The way you looked at him, not with pity or detachment, but with something quieter, warmer. He shut his eyes, sinking further into the water until only his nose and eyes remained above the surface. Your words replayed in his mind, I wanted to. Not I had to, not I should, but wanted.

He cared for you. Deeply, irrevocably, in a way that terrified him.

You stepped into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you, tossed your coat over the back of a chair, not bothering to hang it up, and let the paper bag you’d carried back with you drop onto the counter to then walk over to the living room table. You reached for the book you’d left there, its pages dog-eared and scribbled with notes. The Anatomy and Physiology of Vastayan Subspecies was stamped in gold along its spine—a dense, technical text you’d been studying since Steb became your patient.

You flipped through the pages, fingers deftly skimming over sketches of gills, webbed hands, and intricate scale patterns. When she reached the section on the fish folk, your focus sharpened. The accompanying illustration was striking—detailed renderings of fins that ran in continuous lines down the backs and arms of the species, elegantly integrated into their musculature. You read through the notes in neat, clinical prose:

“The dorsal and arm fins of fish folk are highly sensitive, containing a dense concentration of nerve endings. In social and intimate contexts, tactile stimulation of these fins is known to elicit strong physiological and emotional responses, often interpreted as arousal. The evolutionary function remains speculative, though it is suggested this sensitivity aids in both bonding and self-preservation.”

You sat back, breath catching in your throat briefly. The words lingered with their implications vivid in your mind. You thought about Steb, the way he moved, always careful to not make any abrupt movements, something you had attributed to his personality. Curiosity flared unexpectedly, sharp and unwelcome. What would it feel like, you wondered, to trace the edge of his back…You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks. The thought had come unbidden, intrusive, and entirely inappropriate. With a sharp inhale, you snapped the book shut and pressed your fingers to your temples.

“This is research,” you muttered to yourself aloud, the tone brusque as if saying it could push the thought away. “It’s important to understand. That’s all.”

But even as you placed the book back on the table and tried to focus on something else, the image of him and the way he always held himself with quiet restraint—refused to leave your mind. 

Steb made up his mind sometime during the night, as the water soothed him and his thoughts swirled. He needed to see you—not as a patient, but as… something else. Someone else. He couldn’t name what that was yet, but he knew the need was undeniable. By the time he reached your apartment, the air was crisp with the early chill, his breath curling in soft plumes as he adjusted the scarf around his neck. He knocked lightly, a polite rhythm that belied the tension he felt inside.

When you opened the door, you looked startled at first, hair loose and face soft in the morning light. “Steb?” you said, blinking at him. Her eyes flicked to his damp scarf, then back to his face. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head quickly and your brows furrowed in concern as you stepped aside to let him in. The room smelled faintly of coffee and lavender, the latter likely coming from the small candle burning on the counter. He left his scarf on a chair and took a seat at the small table, his movements careful as always, and waited until you settled across from him.

“So?” you said, your voice calm but with a thread of urgency.

He leaned forward, signing deliberately. “When my gills are wet it doesn’t hurt to talk”.

Your eyes widened slightly, “Are you sure?,” you blurted out, as you stood, not waiting for a response. “It explains the discomfort you described, I don't know how I never thought about it.”

Back when you first met him at the hospital, he attributed his elective mutism to the fact that it hurt him to talk. You ran numerous tests on his oesophagus, vocal cords and so many other things that yielded no conclusive results.

He hesitated, feigning a sheepish shrug, “Realized last night”.

“If it’s true this changes everything,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, as you paced back and forth, “We’ll need to adapt your care plan…hydration protocols, speech therapy, we can get a humidifier and…” You stopped on your tracks and looked at him as an idea surged in your mind.

“What?” Steb signed.

“We have to test it.” You said grabbing the anatomy book off the table along with a pencil and quickly moving on to walk all the way to your bathroom, dragging him with you by the arm before he had any time to protest. 

The walls of the bathroom were cloaked in the mottled green of old tiles, their edges chipped like broken teeth. Time had sunk into the grout, leaving darkened veins that spidered in uneven paths, whispering tales of hands long gone. The light overhead buzzed faintly, casting a dim yellow halo that couldn’t quite chase the shadows from the corners. The tiles, damp to the touch, exhaled a faint mineral tang that clung to the air, mingling with the metallic drip-drip of the showerhead. 

Much like his own bathroom, this one carried the promise of comfort and relief, but with the circumstances at hand the shower itself made Steb feel weary. Its once-proud chrome dulled and speckled with rust, as if it had wept along with those who stood beneath it. Water marked its passage in faint trails, a tapestry of use etched upon the walls. 

You leaned over to turn one of the valves and quickly leaned back to avoid the steady stream that cascaded as a result, turning to look at him with an invitation in your gaze. His eyebrows shoot up then furrowed deeply, a silent scoff playing across his face as his nose wrinkled ever so slightly, repelled by the mere thought. 

“Do you have a better idea?” You said in response to his negative.

“These shoes are velvet.” He signed.

“Well not with your clothes on, duh” You said. 

No more than 3 seconds went by, but the amount of thoughts that went through Steb’s mind made it seem like time did not exist, and he had been standing there in silence looking like an idiot for an eternity and then some. His first instinct was indignation—eyes darting to your face to gauge whether you were serious. You were, of course, your tone carried no malice, just a clinical, matter-of-fact assurance that this was perfectly reasonable. 

His chest tightened. He felt heat creeping up his neck, a prickle of something. Embarrassment, maybe, but deeper, sharper. Why did his skin feel so tight, his breath so loud? Yet your eyes held him like an anchor, and against all logic, he found himself nodding, hands fumbling with maroon plastic buttons. Perhaps if you hadn’t looked, if you had kept your eyes somewhere between his face and the far wall, they wouldn’t have hovered over his hands and consequently landed on his collarbones. It was mere scientific curiosity at first—or so you tried to tell yourself—why you marveled at the sight of him. 

He was so different from what Piltover knew about his species, and you could pinpoint so many details you wanted to take note of. You stood with the book clasped tightly, fingers curling just a touch too hard around the edges. Your posture was straight and composed, but there was a tautness in your shoulders, a stiffness in the way you shifted the weight between your feet, the collar around your neck unable to mask the faint flush creeping up. 

The silence buzzed between you louder than the hum of the fluorescent light above, and was only broken by the sound of his belt buckle falling on the floor tiles, a metallic clang that echoed all over the cold walls and instinctively broke the eye contact you had been trying to maintain, bringing both of you out of the awkward trance you unknowingly shared. He walked into the shower and stood there as the water completely soaked his skin. 

“You should walk back a few steps, you’re getting…”

You heard his voice very few times before, and cherished each one of them. Once a few months back you asked him what the nurse had added to his iv drip, the cold dusk lighting coming through the window shone over his sleepy face, and you could see as his eyes looked to the side and worked hard to remember if there was a sign for ‘saline solution’. A big sigh of resignation was followed by him saying it and you gasping in surprise. You tried to play it off but your reaction got a smile out of him, and you could’ve sworn you’d never seen that either. You only heard him twice after that, one time when he called you over to check something and the last one a short ‘eh’ that punctuated a lazy shrug. 

An entire sentence was something else, you were able to make out the lilt in his tone and a vague accent dancing on his vowels. You almost asked him to speak again so you could hear the slight rasp in his voice, but your body was quicker than you; before you could even register what you were doing both of your hands were already on either sides of his face and the book on the floor, you let out a full belly laugh, not for one second concerned by your now completely drenched arms. However, it lasted only half a second and the sharp gasp came before the tumble as your foot slid on the slick floor of the shower’s tiled edge. The world seemed to lurch for a split second before Steb’s arms shot out to grip your shoulders instinctively, his chest rumbling with a low, warm laugh, breaking the tension. You stayed like that a moment too long—his hands still cold on your arms, breaths mingling in the close, humid air—before you straightened yourself with a nervous chuckle. 

“Could I, eh, compare some of the information I have on the book?” You said delicately slithering out of his grasp to pick up the heavy volume you had hurled across the small room earlier. He nodded, and waited still for you to flip back to the correct page. You skimmed through the text until your eyes landed on the passage you had highlighted the night before; ‘…tactile stimulation of these fins is known to elicit strong physiological and emotional responses…’ you hummed to yourself, unsure. 

“Turn around, will you? I want to check the dorsal fins.” And he did, unceremoniously. “Do you know what they do?”

“No, I can’t reach them, does your book say something about it?”

“You look very different, I’m not sure how accurate any of these ‘facts’ are.” You said, looking at him and back at the illustrations on the book a couple of times. “Mind if I test something out?”

“Go ahead,” he said, looking back over his shoulder.    

They were translucent and filmy, wet and slightly slimy to the touch, not scaly like you were expecting when you reached over and ran your fingers along the fins on his back. You would have spent hours pondering and observing the taut and elastic webbing on them if you hadn’t been brought back to reality by the husky groan he let out. Panic came over you. 

“Did it hurt? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone at it so carelessly, I thought…” You blurted out.

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” He said, leaning on the wall in front of him with both hands, head down like he was trying to catch his breath. It dawned on you like a ton of bricks, out of all the things this stupid book got right it had to be this. Guilt immediately crept up your throat, but you weren’t allowed to mull it over any longer before Steb spoke again. “You…you can do it again, if you’d like, if you need to.”

Once again your hands acted off their own bat, your fingers started a path, slower, more intentional, from the nape of his neck all the way down to the small of his back. This time around you cared not about the impossibly slick and almost amphibian quality of his skin, you observed him. The way his ears twitched slightly and the fins that ran all the way down his arms fluttered, similar to how a human’s skin would get goosebumps. You paid close attention to how the muscles on his arms tensed up and his legs shivered, and a second time, a gravelly sound coming out of his mouth, more whiny than the last.

“I’m sorry, I knew this would happen and still…” He tried to say through heavy panting. 

You couldn’t really pretend you were still doing this for the science of it, not after you saw one of his hands come down to his crotch. He turned, both hands covering up what was clearly an erection. You didn’t want him to apologize, not for something you had shared control over, so you showed him. 

Both of your hands grazed down the fins on his arms in tandem. His reaction wasn’t different, but this time you could look at his face, a beautiful painting of arousal that culminated with him holding onto both of your arms for balance and his head buried on your shoulder. You allowed him to breathe, and when he sluggishly lifted his head up to look at you, the wicked grin on his face warned you about what was to come. 

The kiss was ferocious, hungry, the water almost steaming as it came in contact with the scalding heat of skin. You weren’t used to this much humidity, and he could tell from the way you gasped for air when he turned his attention away from your lips to nibble at your neck, so he helped you out of your soaked shirt and pants before gently pushing out of the bathroom. 

It wasn’t his first time at your apartment, so the walk to your room was seamless and the kissing never stopped until you felt the back of your knees graze the edge of your bed. He nudged you down gently but he didn’t come with, instead, he took off your underwear, and as he lowered himself you spread out your legs almost instinctively. 

The feel of his tongue was indescribable, rough but not too much that it hurt when he gave a long intentional lick to your folds, but just enough to elicit an initial shock and an immediate whiny moan to come out of you. He licked your still dewy skin all the way to your neck, and after a small nibble to your ear he started to kiss you again, the sharp nails of one of his hands digging into your thigh as the other struggled to remove the damp fabric of his own underwear. 

You were still dizzy from the heat of the water and the steam, so it took you a while to notice he was looking at you and waiting for confirmation. 

“Huh?” 

He looked down at where his hand firmly gripped his cock and then looked back up again, eyebrows raised in a guise that screamed uncertainty. 

You nodded, “Please.” You said almost embarrassingly eagerly. But he gave you no time to overthink before he was inches deep. 

You could only arch up into each fleeting touch and hope Steb would give you more, each small grunt coming out of him adding fuel to the fire in your core. When he lifted one of your legs to lay over his shoulders it was like electricity ran through your spine with every thrust, and he noticed how you felt, the knitted frown he usually carried turning into a smug look you had never seen before. 

Occasionally he would pull back and look at you for a second, a torturous second that felt like a year. He seemed to revel in torturing you, seeing you get whiny and desperate before plunging into you mercilessly. Each time you were incoherent, begging for something and nothing in particular, and each time he would thrust into you harder. He waited longer that time, waited as you arched your hips in frustration and your eyes swelled up with tears, he waited until you vocalized your pleas before he continued and inched closer to your face with a triumphant smile when he saw the tears trickle down your cheeks. 

You were too worked up to wipe them off, and that was, you noticed in hindsight, exactly his intention, since he reached out his hand behind your neck and pulled you closer to lick them clean as they streamed out of your eyes. After that it was mostly a blur, he railed into you with no stops or pauses, all you could feel was an overwhelming pressure building up in your core and finally a release as your orgasm crept up. After a few more minutes you heard him groaning loudly in your ears and opened your eyes to a sight of wonder, worked up, panting, his wet hair sticking to the greenish skin of his forehead, and a little smile in the corner of his mouth. 

“Breath,” You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until then, and let out a long sigh followed by a chuckle of relief. His skin was mostly dry now, so his voice was hoarse. 

He pulled out slowly and started kneading the skin of your hip to dispel the tension when he let your leg down, hoping it wouldn't be sore the next day, but you had a different idea.

“Come, let’s get you wet again, I have so many questions to ask you.” You said as you got out of bed and extended one hand. He took it, but instead of going after you he used it to pull you back to bed next to him. 

“Tomorrow,” he signed.   

[bella-goths-wife]

Kiss the barrel of my gun softly: chapter six

Chapter warnings: angst, arguments, mentions of non-con, confessions, brief smut, oral (R receiving), kissing, fluff, ooc Sevika, lmk if I missed anyway :)

Sevika pants loudly as she looks at you with a concentrated expression, her hard, toned body covered with splatterings of blood that told a gruesome story. She doesn’t speak as she looks you up and down and tries not to admire your lustful figure in the silk underwear that you were wearing, looking like a gift wrapped wet dream.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in confusion as you attempt to cover yourself by crossing your arms 

Sevika doesn’t answer with anything but a grunt before she’s shutting the door behind her and turning her back to you, blocking your only exit.

“Stop, what are you doing?” you say in confusion and slight irritation as you walk forward “I have a client coming, Sevika you can’t be here”

“He won’t be coming” she grunts out before holding up the key that had been given to the winner of the auction that would grant them the ability to unlock your door, using it to lock the door before throwing it on the coffee table next to the loveseat in front of the bed.

You look down at the bloodied key and back up at her, a slight bit of fear gnawing its way into your bones as your eyes widen. Sevika wouldn’t hurt you, right?

“What did you do to him?” you ask quietly, your arms tightening around yourself

“I outbid him” she answers stoically as she turns to face you “I’m your client now”

There's a silence as you stare at her and try to process her words and expression.

“Why would you do that?” you ask in shock, eyes widened in your skull as you move closer.

She stood in silence as she looked at you with her stoic glare piercing into your barely covered body, refusing to answer your question. Your mind became a rage filled machine as you made your own assumptions.

“Is this some sort of game?” you ask with a scoff “some sort of big joke from Silco?”

“Silco doesn’t know about this” Sevika speaks quickly with an almost defensive tone

“So this is just for you? A way to humiliate me further?” you ask in an angered tone, your hands balled up into fists “kick me when I’m down?”

Sevika only scoffs and that seems to only tick you off more as you walk closer and look up at her to glare at her coldly.

“Wanted to gloat? Prove to me that you’ve won?” you yell out in anger “show that you’ve reduced me to a whore just so i can keep my business?”

“I did it for you” She exclaims suddenly as she walks forward to look down at you with a glare, a part of her so annoyed that you’d call yourself such names when in her eyes you were the furthest thing.

“For me? You did this for me?” you repeat in disbelief and anger “your the one who put me in this situation in the first place”

“I had to make you see sense, you need to attend this meeting with Silco” She exclaims defensively “you're playing with fire and i just wanted to make sure you don’t get yourself killed”

“Please don’t act like this is some selfless act” you scoff out with an accusatory tone “you created a problem for me and then made yourself the solution, this isn’t you saving me this is you trying to make things go your way again”

“I never thought you’d enact a night with the Madame, I assumed you’d just go to the meeting with Silco and get yourself out of this rivalry” She speaks with frustration in her tone and face as she walks closer, causing you to take small steps back “do you know how stupid that was? How angry it made me to hear those idiots in the bar brag about the disgusting things they were gonna do to you?”

“So this is a jealousy thing then?” you ask with a sneer, anger clouding your judgement and making you unable to see Sevika’s clear intentions “you wanted to be the one to fuck me? The one to do dirty things to me?”

“What?” Sevika looks taken aback and almost offended as she goes to reach for your hand and continues to walk forward toward you “no, I-”

“You want me just like old times huh?” you ask tauntingly with a sneer as you yank your hand back and continue taking steps back to avoid her touch “gonna bend me over-”

“No” she interrupts with a frustratedly desperate expression “that's not-”

“Hold my arms down?” you carry on in a rage filled rampage “put your fingers inside me? Put your tongue inside me?”

“Stop” she commands quietly but it comes off more as begging.

“Put your hand over my mouth to make sure no one hears?” you continue as you keep stepping back “mark up my neck? Leave bite marks on my tits?-”

“Stop” Sevika yells suddenly as she reaches her breaking point, the change in tone shocking you so much that you take a few more steps backwards and feel the bed on the back of your legs.

You feel yourself losing your balance as your legs hit the bed and you grab onto the first thing you can reach for, incidentally grabbing onto the front of Sevika’s shirt and accidentally bringing her down with you.

Her mechanical arm coming above your head to brace herself from crushing you as you both fall on the bed, her other hand holding onto your hip to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. You look up at her in the familiar position above you with wide eyes as she pants.

She looks down at you and can’t help the flurry of images entering her mind of past encounters like this, but the look of slight fear stops in your eyes stops those thoughts in their tracks. She just sighs and places her forehead against yours in a soothing manner.

“I’m not gonna sleep with you” She admits gently through a sigh, mirroring the words you had spoken so many times at the start of your relationship 

“Then what do you want from me?” you ask quietly, your vulnerability beginning to crack through in your weak tone.

Sevika looks down at you with a softened gaze and you can see how exhausted she looks. You gently caress her cheek with your palm and she immediately leans into your touch.

“I just…..” she struggles to place the words on her tongue as a conflicted expression crosses her face “I just want to hold you, talk to you about my day and listen to you talk or just listening to you breathe”

Her eyes look into yours with an amount of vulnerability that almost makes her uncomfortable to express, her arms tighten around you as if she were preventing you from running and leaving her sight again.

“I want us to be like we used to be, even if it’s only for tonight” she confesses quietly with pleading eyes “please, just let us be us for a night”

You look at her in shock for a moment before nodding silently and signalling her to stand up, which she does but she keeps her hand firmly on your hip as you do the same. You pull the covers of the bed up before laying her in the bed on her back and quickly joining her after removing her shoes and cape. You lay your head against her chest and listen to her thrumming heartbeat and pulling the covers over your bodies, this action somehow feeling more intimate than if the two of you had actually had sex.

“So” you say gently as you wrap an arm around her and her fingers ran through your hair “tell me about your day”

—————————-past————————————

You hadn’t been yourself since your argument with Sevika, and it had been obvious to everyone as multiple brothel girls and Madame Emerald had questioned you about your low mood. 

You cursed yourself for doing something so stupid as falling for the emotionless woman, the woman who was a known womanizer and a known heartbreaker. But she never acted that way with you, she was just Sevika with you.

You were lounging on your bed when you heard knocking on your window, not surprising as sometimes some of the girls used your window to sneak back in after going out after being given a punishment ban from Madame. 

What was surprising was the sight of Sevika hanging onto the ledge with all her might with one hand and the other hand clutching at a small bunch of flowers. You look down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your cold tone making Sevika recoil slightly

“I’m here to see you” Sevika states stoically with a hesitant expression

“Obviously” you say with an unimpressed expression and a pointed look towards the ledge she was holding onto.

Sevika just lets out a long sigh before willing herself to look back up at you.

“I want to talk about us” she says calmly, her tone softening slightly in hopes of convincing you

You think for a moment before sighing and stepping aside and letting her climb her way into your room with a few grunts as you sit on your bed. Sevika approaches you slowly as if she was afraid you’d run if she moved too suddenly.

“I brought you these” she says stoically as she hands you the flowers and looks away, the flowers were the real thing instead of the usual undercity fakes you were so used to and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t impressed.

“Thank you” you say quietly as you place the flowers on your nightstand.

There’s a moment of silence as Sevika sits beside you on the bed and you're both unsure of how to start this conversation.

“I’m still upset with you” you reveal quietly as you fiddle with your fingers anxiously.

“I know” Sevika lets out a long sigh “just please let me explain?”

You nod silently as you look up at her, but Sevika keeps her eyes straight and away from meeting yours. She knows she’ll be able to express herself better as long as she’s not looking in your pretty little eyes.

“I know that I said I didn’t want us to have a public relationship, and I know I said a lot of other things to piss you off” Sevika speaks quietly and shifts around in an uncomfortable manner, clearly not used to apologising “but I never meant to hurt you”

You stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her when she was finally opening up a bit and telling you how she felt.

“I know you don’t like sneaking around Madame Emeralds back, I don’t particularly enjoy sneaking around Silco’s” Sevika states gruffly “but I do it for your own protection, I don’t know how Silco would react to this but I don’t want him to put a target on your back, not to mention all the other people who wanna get to me and would see hurting you as the perfect opportunity”

You stay quiet and look away from her, you know her points are valid but there's something so frustrating about the fact that she’s right.

“I want you, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted most things in my life” She confesses with a humourless chuckle but the way her eyes glared showed she was fully serious “I want you to be mine and no one else's, I wanna rip the hands off any asshole who touches you, I want you so bad that it scares me that other people will notice and you’ll be taken from me”

You couldn’t help the way her words deeply satisfied a dark part of you, couldn’t help how much you wanted to hold her close and have her whisper those words over and over again in your ears.

“Please, say something” She begs quietly as her fists clench, scared her confession would only end in embarrassment. 

You think for a moment on how to respond, but your emotions quickly took over and your mouth and heart was quicker to respond than your mind was.

“We could be together without the bullshit if we just talked to our bosses” you speak quietly with a frown “I don’t understand why we can’t even try”

“I know” Sevika sighs out, she can understand why you couldn’t see things from her perspective. You were used to the gentle leadership of Madame Emerald and she was used to the firm eye of Silco, both two different experiences with their own challenges that neither one of them could understand.

A moment of silence happens between the two of you, but a thousand words are passed between your shared gazes. Longing, disappointment and adoration dances between your eyes before you look away.

“Maybe…..” you start with an apprehensive expression “maybe we’re just not meant to be”

“No” Sevika responds firmly as her hand quickie holds onto yours “don’t say that”

“I won’t keep sneaking around Sevika, and I won’t leave Madame’s care or the position as her assistant” you state firmly but your face looked like pure defeat “and I won’t ask you to leave Silco’s employment, I won’t do it”

“I know….” Sevika speaks quietly to contain her own frustrations at the situation “I know that”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” you muttered out quietly with a despairing expression

“I’m not sure” Sevika admits through a murmur as she avoids your eyes.

“I love you Sevika, I’m in love with you” you confess softly as your thumb rubs the hand that holds your own “but I can’t keep sneaking around”

“I know” She replies with a sorrowful expression.

There's a beat of silence as a hesitant expression crosses your face, your mouth constantly opening to speak and quickly snapping shut again.

“Do you think Silco would say yes if you asked if you could be with me?” you ask quietly, your face turning ever so slightly hopeful.

“I doubt it” Sevika answers honestly with a blunt but regretful tone.

“Even if he and Madame made a deal and she gave us her blessing?” you ask with desperation in your tone

“It's not likely” Sevika tries to reason with you without crushing your hope all together “he still doesn’t trust emerald”

The silence between the two of you is deafening but is quickly stopped when gentle sniffling escapes you and small tears run their way down your cheeks as you're unable to contain your sadness. Sevika feels herself crumble at the sight of your tears as her hands quickly caresses your cheeks and her thumb wipes away your tears gently, you lean into her touch instantly.

“Do you think….. do you think you could just ask?” You ask almost desperately as your voice comes out as if you were pleading “you don’t have to commit to anything, just asking enough-”

“I’ll ask…” Sevika responds quickly, not thinking about the consequences of her words. She just wanted to make you happy again without knowing the weight of her words.

“Thank you” you breath out softly, a relieved expression crossing your face.

You lean forward and press your lips against hers softly, enjoying the feeling of her rough lips against your own soft ones. The kiss lasted only seconds before you pulled away, leaning your forehead against hers.

“I… I love you” Sevika whispers out softly, the words feeling unfamiliar on her tongue but your adoring expression quickly made her feel like the words were the most appropriate for how she felt about you.

“I love you too” you whisper back as you look up at her with nothing but pure, desperate yearning.

Her head dips down and her lips meet yours once again, only this kiss contained more fire, more yearning, more desperation. She wanted to feel you, she wanted to consume you gently and know in her heart of hearts that you were hers body and soul.

You respond in a similar manner as you move your head slightly to the side for her to kiss you deeper, revelling in the sensation of her lips on yours and the arousal it unleashed within you. 

You let out a soft gasp as she parts your lips slightly and her tongue licks at your mouth feverishly, the kiss growing more desperate and sloppy as the seconds ticked by. Sevika didn’t care about the mess she was making, all she cared about was having that sound fall from your lips again.

She drags you onto her lap so that you were straddling her thigh, you comply with utter obedience as you let her manhandle you in whatever way she wishes. Your arms wrapped around her thick neck and her hands clutched your hips gently but firmly, feeling the cold bite of her mechanical hand through your nightdress sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Sevika lets out a soft grunt as her hand buries itself into your hair to bring you impossibly closer and to deepen the kiss into a messy dance of tongues fighting and teeth clashing. Your eyes close as you enjoy the intimacy between the two of you.

Sevika’s hand leaves your hair to grasp the bottom of your nightdress, but a hesitant look crosses her face as she stops herself from lifting it up and pulls away from your kiss. You look at her with a puppy dog like confusion that only endeared you more to her.

“Need to know if you want this, pretty” she speaks softly as her hand rubs circles into your hips “need you to tell me-”

“I want you, Vika” you cut her off quickly as you pant, feeling the arousal gathered in your gut become uncomfortable with the need to be relieved “need you to touch me”

Sevika is caught off guard by your sudden neediness, considering you’d been the one denying her advances for almost a year now. She’d assumed  you’d hold out longer but here you were, trembling like a virgin over a little kissing. She can’t help the small smirk that spreads across her lips.

“Yeah?” she asks slightly condescendingly, to which you nod your head eagerly “how bad?”

The only response she is given is a needy whine as you grind your hips against her thigh, desperate to relieve the throbbing between your legs. She chuckles meanly but quickly shuts up when you frustratedly pull your night dress up and off your body, leaving you writhing on her lap in only your cotton panties.

“Please” you beg softly as you look up at her with your big, innocent looking eyes “Sevika, please fuck me”

That was the moment that Sevika knew, the moment she knew deep down that you had her wrapped around your little finger.

She lifted you up by your hips, causing you to squeal and wrap your arms around her muscular neck. She throws you down on the bed and crawls over your body, her mechanical hand clawing at the pillow near your head and having the feathers accidentally spill out around you.

You let out a soft laugh at her accidental destruction and Sevika swears you look like an angel as your panting, blushing, aroused figure is surrounded by white feathers and you look up at her with blown out pupils and a gentle smile.

You can’t help the soft gasps that leave your throat as she kisses her way down your body, paying extra attention to your breasts and nibbling gently before she reaches your clothed core, an approving grunt leaving her lips at the sight of the dark arousal staining your cotton panties.

“So wet” she mumbles out as she presses her thumb to your twitching clit from over your panties, leaving you to buck up into her touch “real desperate for me, huh sweetheart?”

You nod eagerly as you buck your hips up again, wanting to savour the intimate touch but at the same time wanting to hurry the fuck up and touch you properly. Sevika just chuckles as she pulls down your panties slowly, eyes darkening at the sight of the wetness connecting them to your aching core.

Sevika crawls between your legs and rests your legs on her muscular shoulders, admiring your cunt with a dark expression that excites you deeply. Her tongue leaves her parted lips and traces its way through your soaked folds gently as she savours the taste of you on her eager tongue.

You throw your head back with a melodic cry, catching your bottom lip between your sharp teeth to stifle yourself and clawing at the sheets to prevent your hands from dragging through her short hair and shoving her tongue deeper into your aching cunt.

As Sevika disappears into the apex of your thighs, you knew you were in for a long night. You had denied her advances for a year and left her high and dry on many occasions, Sevika wasn’t a forgiving woman and you knew she’d make your punishment long enough to ensure you paid for your sins.

You knew that this intimate act had sealed your fates and that you were now intertwined despite the many reasons you shouldn’t be. 

You simply didn’t care.

—————————-present——————————-

Sevika awakens in the same position the two of you had been in last night, with you snoring away softly on her chest and her with her arms wrapped tightly around you as if you were gonna up and run in the night.

She couldn’t help but stare down at you and wonder how you had both ended up like this, one minute deeply and madly in love and the next you were clawing at ways to hurt one another.

Though she doubts you’ll ever find a way to hurt her as much as her actions had hurt you.

She wanted to keep you safe, in the end all she did was push you further into the venus fly trap of danger. But there was one thing she could keep you safe from, Silco.

He wouldn’t loosen up on his careful observation of you unless you attended his meeting and agreed to do business with him, or at least be civil and lift your no Silco workers ban.

And the longer you didn’t attend this meeting, the bigger the target on your back would grow.

Sevika stills as she feels you start to stir, her arms tightening around you before loosening up slightly when you let out a huff.

“Morning” you mumble out as you look up at her with a barely awake expression “how did you sleep-”

“Please go to the meeting with Silco” Sevika cuts you off quickly with a pleading expression

You're taken aback at her sudden request, your eyes widening as you look up at her with an ‘are you serious face?’ you’d almost be angry at her if it weren't for her desperate expression alongside something akin to fear within her eyes.

“Please” she pleads with you again as she hides her face in your messy hair “I can’t lose you, even if your not mine anymore”

You look up at her and you can't help but feel yourself soften and the wall you’d built up between the two of you crumble to the ground. You wanted to be angry with her but with the way she held onto you like a desperate child clinging to a toy for comfort you just couldn’t.

“Okay….” you agree gently as you rub her arm soothingly “I’ll go to the meeting”

Sevika visibly relaxes at your words as her hold loosened and she let herself melt into your touch.

“You won’t lose me” you reassure gently “you won’t lose me Vika”

Sorry if the smut was cringe i suck at smut scenes :(

[cheschesterpossum]

Imagine if one day humanity left the planet/system en masse for some reason, leaving their old creations behind without a second thought. Cybertron falls into civil wars and chaos for millenias until an (un?)intentional reunion with their creators.

Get it? Time work differently in the pocket universe? Ok, sorry that was cringe😔. But anyway-

Ohhhhh, i like that! Imagine going back to check on your creations just to see their planet is currently an absolute scraphole right now.

Humans and cybertronians can be very similar. In this AU, it would actually kinda make sense in a way. Like father like son/j humanity would probably see themself in their creations. Earth have a long list of war and conflict with eachother. Seeing history repeating itself on Cybertron, i like to think we would help or guide them (or at least try).

Now, i have some ideas for how the bots would react: under cut↓

One - humans are seen as myth on Cybertron (for example: the concept of some higher being created us- or aliens). Some would probably think we're not...real? they're baffled to meet their og creators (or Primus's creators) that they once thought were just myth. Oh, and SOME bots would fall into existential crisis (like Tyrest hehehehehe) since I remember there's the whole xenophoic or organic-phobic thing too.

Two - they have zero idea who we are, we're a complete new species to them. Didn't know they were created by us in the first place and would have a hard time believing so. Again with some of the xenophoics, this time in denial until we proved it and then they went into existential crisis again.

Three - this is mostly just to stroke my slight god complex, but heyyyyyy what if they looked up to us. Having created the cybertronians, i imagine it's possible they would recognize n heck even have relics or records. I think this would make a bit more sense if placed in TFA, maybe then it'd explain why there's ninjas robots. Possibly learn and took some inspirations from it. Also it would be kinda funny to see human slangs written in history datapads, 'ligma' and 'updog' being the cause of multiple arguments among the scientists- ok ok I'll stop now.

Sorry for ranting so much!

[msnmnt]

Whispers Of Regret

Notes: this is my first time attempting to write angst, I hope it’s okay. Mason is a little bit of an arse 🫣 but all ends well, I promise 🥰 Feedback is welcomed as always 🤍

You ran your hands through your hair, sighing at the way your curls already fell flat. You slipped your shoes on before tugging down at the bottom of your simple black dress, internally criticising everything you saw in the reflection that mirrored back at you. It was your trusty go-to outfit that cinched you in at all the right places and cut off high enough to show off your legs, but not even that could make you feel good about yourself tonight.

You had practically ransacked your wardrobe and your hair that you had spent so long curling had taken the brunt of your many outfit changes, having flattened due to you pulling on and off an endless amount of dresses. Three different shades of lipstick had been applied and wiped off, and when the clapse of your favourite necklace broke in your hand, you wanted nothing more than to just get into your pyjamas and head to bed.

But you couldn't. You had promised Mason you would join him for Ashley’s birthday, one of the trainers at the club who Mason had became friendly with recently. You didn’t want to let him down so with that in mind, you took a deep breath and tried your best to compose yourself.

It had been a rubbish day at uni. Hell, it had been a rubbish week. You had lost track of how many assignments you had started and were yet to complete, you seemed to have more classes than ever and before you were feeling mega stressed about it all.

And to top it off, you had came home to find your boyfriend in an even worse mood than you.

You sympathised with him, of course. The past few weeks Mason had spent more time at the training ground than he had at home in an attempt to get his fitness back up, and he was very obviously shattered. You hadn't seem him much during the whole week, so when you came home to find his car in the driveway you were looking forward to a good cuddle before you had to head out. For him to ask how your day had been. Maybe even a little kiss for the first time that week. Anything.

But when he had uttered the quietest "Hi" when you walked into your longue, making no attempt to even look up at you, you knew he was in another one of his moods.

The pair of you had got ready in silence, tension thick in the air. You tried to put on a fake smile, attempting to look on the bright side. If Mason was going to be in a foul mood at least you could spend the evening with your girls. You had become close with Ashley’s girlfriend, Daisy, and you were looking forward to meeting some of her friends and hopefully being able to drink your crap week away.

You headed out of your en-suite and into the bedroom to find Mason led on your shared bed, tapping away on his phone, clearly engrossed with something that was far more exciting than you. He was dressed nicely in his jeans, a smart top and a big oversized shirt jacket, but his trainers on the crisp white duvet cover that you had only changed last night made you roll your eyes.

Right on queue, Mason finally pried his gaze away from his phone to catch you looking unamused at him. Even after being together for years, Mason’s compliments were always sure to give you a little boost, no matter how rubbish you felt. You had a tiny bit of hope that he might compliment you, but your heart twinged when he looked back down to his phone as it pinged.

“Think you could drop the attitude at some point this evening?”

Your heart sunk to your tummy at his words and a lump formed in your throat. Your eyes stung as you tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill, blinking them away.

“What?” You asked, voice small and quiet, asking him to repeat himself to make sure you had heard him right.

You hadn't been strangers to a few arguments over the years; just usual bickering between couples. But the worst Mason normally did was give you the silent treatment, short and blunt replies, taking himself to your home gym to let out some stress.

He had never spoken to you like that before.

“I said, are you going to drop the attitude? I don’t appreciate it and I certainly don’t think my friends are going to enjoy you scowling at them like you’ve been doing to me for the past hour.”

You were in complete disbelief at the words that left his mouth, and even more so the way he seemed so unphased by it. He locked his phone and got up off the bed, heading to leave the room.

You just stood there still in shook and Mason turned around to look back at you.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you coming?” He checked his watch, mumbling under his breath. “You’ve already made me late, as usual.”

You wanted to give him attitude back. You wanted to tell him where to shove it. But you didn’t have the energy to argue any more, so instead you just followed him over to the door as you headed out of your house without saying another word to each other.

-

You hadn’t seen Mason since the moment you arrived at the club. He had wandered off as soon as he saw some of the boys, and luckily the girls had came over to you, not even having a chance to pick up on the tension between the two of you before a drink was in your hand.

The earlier events stayed in the back of your head, but you actually managed to let your hair down a little, enjoying yourself as you got to know Daisy's girlfriends before gladly joining them all on the dancefloor and momentarily forgetting about your troubles.

"Do you want another drink, y/n?" Daisy asked and you looked down to your glass that you hadn't even noticed was empty.

"That's okay, I'll get these!" You shouted over the music, taking the pair of your empty glasses to the bar before ordering another round of drinks.

The barman took your order and was fixing your drinks up when out the corner of your eye you saw Mason strolling up to the bar. You turned your body to the side slightly, as if that may prevent him from realising it was you.

No luck, you jumped back around when Mason clanged his empty bottle down onto the bar.

“Are you going to ignore me all evening?”

You finally faced Mason, but he was just looking straight ahead, not interested in paying you too much attention.

“I could say the same to you.” You replied, making Mason scoff.

“You couldn’t wait to get away from me as soon as you got here.”

“Could you blame me?!” You huffed. “You didn’t even tell me I looked nice tonight."

You practically heard him roll his eyes and he shook his head. “I tell you how beautiful you look all the time, y/n.”

“I’ve been lucky if I’ve got a hello off you this week, Mason!” You exclaimed over the booming of the music, completely snapping now. “I know things are tough for you at the moment but I’ve not exactly had the best week either.” You tried to level with him, but he just shook his head.

“It’s not quite the same though, is it?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, not meaning for them to come out how they did.

“Of course. My menial life and my pathetic problems are far too normal to ever compare to yours, right?” You asked sarcastically.

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant and if you’re going to twist my words-“

“I’m not twisting anything!”

“Look, forget it. Just go back to scowling me from across the dance floor and ranting to the girls about what a horrible boyfriend I am."

You stood there totally gobsmacked as Mason walked away, not even bothering to wait for his drink.

-

The girls had gone for a rest from dancing and had gathered together in a booth. You tried your best to slip yourself in without causing a fuss, but Daisy noticed there was something wrong straight away.

"Hun, are you alright?" She said hushed, not wanting to draw attention to you.

You gave her a smile but she could tell from how it didn't quite meet your eyes that something was up.

"Where's our drinks?" She questioned, not really concerned about the whereabouts of her drink but rather what had happened to clearly upset you.

You were no longer in the mood to party or even let off any steam. You were exhausted from your shit week and arguing with your boyfriend, so much so you just wanted to go home, curl up in bed and be on your own.

“I’m actually not feeling too good - I think I’m just a little run down from uni.” You tried to cover up the best you could when you noticed the other girls all listening in.

“Yeah, you sound a bit sniffly, babe.” Eva, one of Daisy's friends replied and you gave her a sympathetic smile, pleased to have played it off.

“I think I’m just going to head home.”

“You can’t go on your own at this time. I’ll come with you.” Daisy interrupted.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t want to ruin your evening.” You smiled, trying to make the girls not feel bad. “I’ll be safe, I’ll call Mason’s driver to come pick me up.”

After double and triple checking you were sure you’d be okay on your own, the girls waited till you had got in the car that they recognised before they headed back into the club, and you headed on your way home.

-

You sighed to yourself as you entered your house, your heels clipping against the wooden floor as you turned the heating on, cursing yourself for not having left it on before you went out.

You took your time getting unready, using your expensive cleansers and creams that you saved for best to try and give yourself a bit of a pamper to make yourself feel better.

After stripping off your dress, you changed into some pyjama bottoms before you begrudgingly slipped on one of Mason’s hoodies, opting for warmth.

Feeling marginally better, you hummed to yourself as you headed back downstairs, deciding to fill your hot water bottle up to have with you in bed to help you stay warm. You doubted Mason would be back anytime soon, anyway.

Once the kettle was boiled, you unscrewed the cap and begun to pour the hot water in. What you weren’t expecting was for the front door to slam, creating an almighty thud and causing you to jump, the hot water spilling straight from the kettle and onto the skin of your hand.

You yelped, dropping the kettle as the sting became more and more intense.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You yelped, knocking the cold tap on and quickly sticking your hand under it.

As the burning sensation took over, you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore, bursting into tears as you struggled to hold yourself up at the sink, the burn causing jolts of pain to shoot up your hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Mason had came storming through the hallway, checking in the living room where there was no sign of you. He heard the water running so he headed into the kitchen, his brows furrowing at the noise he could hear till he could make out it was you crying.

He rushed to find you, practically running into the kitchen where he saw you stood there, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed your heart out, the cold tap still pouring water as it cascaded all down your hand which was now red.

“Baby, shit, what’s happened?” Mason rushed over, stopping infront of you to try and release what had happened before he touched you.

“B-burnt my h-hand.” You managed to mumble out between sobs, finally letting yourself go as you full on sobbed, feeling majorly sorry for yourself.

Mason’s gaze turned to your hand, guiltily swallowing as he spotted your blistering skin. His tummy flipped as he spotted the fluffy hot water bottle that he had bought you at Christmas on the worktop.

“Oh, y/n. Oh, baby.” He cooed. “Are you unwell?”

You shook your head. “I was just c-cold and I assumed you wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon.”

Mason felt physically sick at the thought of you being upset and in your big king sized bed all by yourself, just your hot water bottle to keep you warm. The fact you were wrapped up in his hoodie only made him feel worse.

You pulled your hand away from the water, wincing in pain as you attempted to wriggle your fingers.

“Hey, you need to keep it under here for a bit longer.” Mason’s voice was low and stern, his hand gently wrapping around your wrist and slowly guiding yours back under the tap. You groaned in pain as the freezing water hit your skin once more, sobbing as you reluctantly kept it there. Mason’s thumb gently stroked over your wrist as he held your hand in place. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to move your hand he let go, his brown eyes now soft as they took in how much of a mess you were. His demeanour was a stark difference to how it had been earlier, his shoulders relaxed, his eyebrows knitted together slightly and his bottom lip sticking out slightly at seeing his baby in pain.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You sniffled, attempting to stop crying. “It’s not your fault I’m clumsy.” Technically it was his fault for slamming the door, but he wasn’t to know and you couldn’t bear to bicker with him anymore.

“Was it from me slamming the door?” Mason asked, guilt settling in. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” You lied, finally facing Mason and the look on his face told you he knew you were lying. “It just scared me a bit, okay? Made me jump.”

“Oh, darling.” Mason ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a dick…”

“It’s fine, Mase.” You replied, not having the energy to fight any more.

“It’s not fine, it’s not fine at all, y/n. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I shouldn’t have spoke to you how I did. It’s not fair and I’m so, so sorry, baby.”

You offered him a small smile, briefly taking your hand away from the water to try and straighten it out from how stiff it had got in the cold, before putting it back under when Mason gave you a stern look.

“I haven’t exactly been in a good mood either.” You offered to try to in attempt to make him feel a little better but he just shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re my princess and I should be treating you like it.” His honey eyes started welling up with water as he thought about how he had spoken to you earlier. “I'm so fucking sorry, baby. I've been the worst boyfriend in the world recently and I’ll make it up to you, angel. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You tried to joke, relieving some of the tension.

Once Mason was satisfied that you had left the burn under the water for long enough (and you could no longer feel your fingers from how cold the water was), he helped you carefully dab your hand dry before scooping you up in his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Mason!” You giggled as he carefully moved your arms to look around his neck, forcing you to look up at him. His face was full of worry still and you could tell how awful he felt. "What're you doing?"

"I told you, treating you like a princess." He begun to head up to your bedroom, effortlessly carrying you in his arms. "And I don't think princesses should have to walk, should they?"

You couldn't help by grin as Mason carried you to your bed, carefully placing you down onto your kingsize bed and pulling back the covers.

You settled yourself down into bed, attempting to get comfy. "Do princesses deserve food bought to them in bed?"

You felt relieved when you finally saw Mason not looking so tense anymore, allowing himself to chuckle. "You really are going to milk this for all it's worth aren't you?"

"Uh hmm." You smirked. "I think I would like… a cheeseburger."

Mason raised his eyebrows as if to ask if you were serious, but when you begun to pout, he soon got his phone out.

"Cheeseburger will be on its way soon." He said and you giggled contently watching him tap away on his phone, trying to find somewhere to deliver to you at such a late hour.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before Mason was coming back up the stairs with a brown bag full of greasy food.

The pair of you ate and Mason wouldn't stop apologising no matter how many times you told him to stop.

When he noticed you yawning, he pulled the duvet back and you repositioned yourselves to get comfy. Mason had slipped his clothes off so he was left in just his boxers, and when he patted his bare chest you couldn't resist as you tucked your body into his side and snuggled up into him.

"I'm glad you came home, you're much warmer than my hot water bottle." You cuddled even closer to him, your nose grazing up against his chest hair.

Mason's heart broke at the thought of you thinking he wouldn't come home to you. No matter how bad an argument you had, he would never let you go to bed without making up, and he was upset you thought otherwise.

You hear him sniffle and he moved one of his arms from holding your body, and you were completely taken aback when you saw him quickly wiping away a tear.

"Mase what's wrong?" You attempted to sit up but Mason just shook his head and returned his arms to their position, holding you even tighter to him.

"I know I keep saying it but I really am so fucking sorry, y/n." His voice was torn as he whispered out yet another apology.

"I know, Mase. I know." You replied. "I'm sorry too, but we're okay now, yeah?" You tried to comfort him but you could tell he was still beating himself up about it all.

"You actually thought I wasn't going to come home?" He asked, his voice quiet and full of vulnerability.

"Well... yeah." You mumbled out, unsure if it was the right thing to say. "I thought you might've stayed at Ashley's or something."

"God I really have behaved like an asshole." Mason cursed to himself, so you held his face in your hands, his big glossy eyes looking into yours.

"Listen to me, Mase. I know you didn't mean it, couples argue babe, we're fine now." You offered him a smile, attempting to comfort him.

"I never want to lose you, y/n." Mason said, emotion thick in his voice.

"And you won't." You told him sincerely. "Let's just agree to talk more, okay? No more giving each other silent treatment and making snide comments, not talking about our emotions. Just being more open and honest, okay?" You raised your pinky and he managed to smile as he looped his with yours.

"Promise."

"Anyway, I’m wuite looking forward to breakfast in bed in the morning." You tried to break the tension with your cheeky comment.

"Who's bringing you that then, darling?" Mason asked pretending to have no clue.

"My wonderful boyfriend who was persistent he was going to make up being a dickhead to me." You replied, trying to make light of the situation.

"Anything for you, my princess."