#sometimes you need to acknowledge what you feel is wrong

[iz-star]

About the latest polemic about Zayne and Sylus over twitter...

I left twitter for good. I'm honestly so tired of the drama that arises there everyday. I literally decided to log in today just to see some Arcane spoilers and the first thing I was hit with was with the most recent drama about CN players and specially Zayne and Sylus players having a heavy argument about plagiarism and how some lines of Zayne seem to have been copied onto Sylus' lines...

Firs of all, I don't know how the CN fanbase is, so I can't really say anything about that matter. From what I read, it seems things are quite complex there and arguments & harassment among LI's fanbases seem to be quite intense from what ppl is saying but, again, I can't really say too much on that matter cause I don't know how the fanbase is there, I'm not part of it neither I go to CN websites to look up for lads content. Most cases my experience visiting CN websites has been because of kind ppl that has respectfully asked me permission to repost my art and give me credits there, from that perspective my opinion about the CN fanbase has always been good and it still stands, I'm pretty sure that great part of the fanbase it's nice and it's only the small little toxic portion that is overshadowing the nice and chill part of the fandom.

My point here it's: Don't let yourself to have a tunnel vision about this situation.

You can probably see 10, 100 or even 500 ppl arguing and harassing others and even so it's not even a quarter of the whole total of players that belong to the fandom only in China, let alone global. To generalize from your point of view is not the objective take you think it is, talking from your experience doesn't talk for others experience, no one's experience here is universal. I read a lot of ppl trying to find someone to blame all the time "Zayne players started everything" "Sylus writers copied Zayne" etc and you know? Rolling this ball to one another is not going to lead us anywhere because as always, it's not acknowledging the true issue here: that is, us as players, keep enabling this kind of toxic behaviour if that means to stand up for or to 'defend' our main LI.

To try to portray one LI's fanbase as the guilty one is just creating more trouble than solving it and it's also not having a general understanding of the situation at hand and instead, encouraing biased opinions that only create more division and discrimination within the fandom.

And let's be honest, it's not the first time (and probably won't be the last, sadly) that drama arises within the fandom where we attack others LIs and their fanbase. This game is targeted towards adult women, we are not supposed to behave like adolescents making tantrums and messing up with our peers, yet here we are, enabling arguments, harassment, bullying or overall having an ugly and mean attitude in order to defend something that honestly, all the LIs would feel ashamed for if they were real. Like, literally all of them hate to be on the spotlight for the stuff they're good at, it would be even worse if the spotlight it's caused by them for all the wrong reasons.

I know lads guys are fictional, and I'm not going to invalidate people's feelings by saying that you shouldn't take it too seriously just bc they're not real -most of us find a lot of comfort in fiction, after all- but that doesn't give you the right to harass real people neither hurt their feelings [the same ways you feel when they attack your fav LI]. You are able to feel whatever you want to feel, however, you're still responsible for your words and actions. If this game is turning you into an awful person, then I'm afraid to say that you probably must step back and reconsider if your passion for it is healthy for you.

I know it's easy to get upset and sometimes we have the need to express it. However, to decide to be a part of a fandom is to accept that you are not going to always like what ppl say, let alone agree with them. Not everyone's opinions might aling with yours but it's enterily up to you the way how you take and respond to them. As I said before, I left twitter for good bc I found myself often wanting to be mean to others upon reading the negative stuff some ppl said about Zayne, especially in order to compare him with other LIs just to make him look bad. I would often felt so ugly thinking like that. Staying away from that drama has been super helpful and that's the best advice I can give for now: try and enjoy the game and your LI by yourself if the fandom is getting too much to handle.

Be careful about the discourse you support and always ask yourself if your words and actions will truly lead you somewhere good and healthy or it will only cause more chaos for you and others. Flammable opinions only light up and burn if we feed the fire, if there's no one to keep it alive, the flame will drown out very quickly.

[biblical-chronicles]

A quiet shift

_______________________________________________________

where Liam starts distancing himself as his mind has led him to believe that the reader feels summat for Noel, the reader helps him to understand that he's actually the one for her.

_______________________________________________________

You’d always been caught in the middle of the Gallagher brothers. Not in a dramatic way—most of the time, anyway—but in that strange, chaotic balance they both seemed to keep. You were mates with both, though in different ways.

For months now, you’d been growing closer to Liam. There was an ease about him that felt like home—well, when he wasn’t winding you up for fun. He had this knack for making you laugh when you needed it most, for knowing exactly what to say to brighten your day. Somewhere along the way, the laughs and the banter shifted into something more, though neither of you dared to admit it.

But then, something changed.

At first, it was little things. Liam didn’t call you "love" as often, nor did he call you at random times of the day just to make you laugh. Then, when you’d pop over to see him, he’d make an excuse to stay busy, the warmth of your conversations cooling into something awkward and distant. The banter, the light-hearted insults, and that signature Liam energy—it all seemed to drain away. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, but when you’d look his way, he’d turn away like nothing happened.

You’d tried to brush it off, thinking maybe he was just having an off week. But weeks turned into over a month, and the pit in your stomach only grew heavier. It wasn’t just that you missed him; it was the way he’d gone cold without explanation. You started overthinking every interaction. Did you say something wrong? Was he annoyed at you for some reason?

One afternoon, after a particularly awkward encounter where Liam barely acknowledged you, you found yourself pacing in Noel’s kitchen while he leaned lazily against the counter, sipping on a brew.

“What’s up with you then?” Noel asked, raising a brow. “You’re wearin’ a hole in me floor, stomping about like that.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. “It’s Liam. He’s been acting... weird. Like, properly weird.”

Noel smirked, already amused. “Weird how? He finally grown a brain?”

You shot him a look, but he just shrugged.

“He’s been avoiding me,” you admitted, biting your lip. “Won’t talk like he used to. Barely even looks at me and I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Noel took another sip of tea, clearly holding back a laugh. “You? Nah, you ain’t done owt. He’s probably just bein’ his usual daft self.”

“That’s not helpful, Noel.”

“Look,” Noel said, setting down his mug, “Liam’s stupid. Like, properly thick, always has been, always will be. He probably thinks you and me have summat goin’ on.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “Me and you? That’s ridiculous, he surely doesn't”

“Yeah, I know that,” Noel said, chuckling. “But him? He sees you hangin’ round here, havin’ a laugh with me, and his brain turns to mush. He gets all shy when he’s actually feelin’ summat for someone, y’know.”

Your cheeks flushed. “He—he feels something for me you think?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Noel muttered, rubbing his temples. “It’s so obvious it hurts. He’s just too much of a muppet to say owt.”

The pieces started falling into place, and a mix of relief and frustration flooded through you, although you were still doubtful of Noel's theory. After all reading Liam wasn't the easiest of tasks.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I’m gonna have to talk to him either way, aren’t I?”

Noel raised a brow. “Good luck with that. R’kid’s as stubborn as a mule. But, hey, might be worth it, just don’t tell him I helped, yeah? Can’t have him thinkin’ I’m nice or owt.”

You laughed despite yourself, feeling a slight spark of hope for the first time in weeks.

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside Liam’s bedroom door, nerves rattling your chest. You’d rehearsed what to say a hundred times on the way over, but now, staring at the scuffed wood of the door, every word had fled your mind.

Still, you couldn’t back out now—not after everything. Summoning your courage, you raised your hand and knocked. A shuffling noise came from inside, and after a moment, the door creaked open.

Liam stood there, dressed in a plain T-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly disheveled. He didn’t flash that cheeky grin you’d come to expect, nor did he give his usual “Alright, love?” Instead, he just nodded slightly and stepped aside to let you in, his silence hitting you harder than any insult could.

You walked in, your eyes scanning the familiar room. The bed was unmade, a few discarded records lay scattered on the floor, and a small pile of clothes lay in the corner. Usually, the space felt warm but now, it felt muted, the weight of Liam's distance pressing down on you.

He stayed by the door, arms crossed as he leaned back against the frame, avoiding your gaze. The air between you was tense, heavy with unspoken words.

You took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Alright, spill it,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nowt’s goin’ on,” he mumbled, not moving from his spot.

“Don’t give me that,” you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Liam. You barely talk to me, you don’t even joke around anymore. It’s like I don’t even know you right now.”

He shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting your eyes. “You’re makin’ a big deal out of nothin’, love.”

“Nothin’?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You’ve practically shut me out, Liam! Do you know how much that’s messed with me head? I’ve been sitting here thinking I’ve done something wrong, that I’ve somehow fucked this up without even knowing it.”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, finally glancing at you. His voice defensive, his posture stiff, only fueling your frustration.

“Then what is it like?” you demanded, standing up now, unable to stay still. “Because I’m at me wit’s end, Liam. You’re the most important person in me life, and I feel like I’m losing you. Do you even care how much that’s hurt?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and before you could stop yourself, tears started streaming down your cheeks. You hated crying—especially in front of him—but the weeks of bottled-up emotions had finally burst free.

Liam’s head shot up at the sound of your voice breaking, his defensive walls crumbling in an instant. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you. “Don’t—don’t cry, love.”

But you couldn’t stop. You sat back down on the bed, burying your face in your hands, the sobs shaking your shoulders. “It does matter, Liam,” you choked out, your voice muffled. “I’m so lost. I don’t know what’s happening, and it hurts so much to lose you.”

Liam crouched in front of you now, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to touch you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “C’mon now, don’t... don’t cry. Please.”

When you didn’t look up, he sighed and hesitantly placed a hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for bein’ a knob. Just... look at me, yeah?”

Reluctantly, you lowered your hands, your tear stained face meeting his wide, worried eyes. “Why, Liam?” you whispered. “Why have you been like this?”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I thought... I thought you and Noel had summat goin’ on.”

You blinked at him, utterly confused. “Me and Noel?” you repeated, your voice incredulous. “What the hell gave you that idea?” You said not believing Noel's theory to actually hold true.

He shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Dunno. You’re always round his gaff, laughin’ at his shite jokes. Figured I was just gettin’ in the way.”

Your jaw dropped, and despite the raw emotions swirling in your chest, you let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re a fucking moron, Liam.”

He flinched, misinterpreting your tone, and started to pull back. But before he could, you grabbed his hand, holding him in place. “No, listen to me,” you said firmly, your voice steady now. “You’re a moron because you could’ve just asked. Instead, you’ve been torturing me for weeks over something that doesn’t even exist.”

His brows furrowed. “So... you and him... there’s nowt going on?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed, giving his shoulder a light shove. “Noel’s like... like an annoying older brother. And he thinks you’re a muppet, by the way, for getting this in your head.”

A flicker of his old self returned as a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be wrong, would he?”

You rolled your eyes, but the sight of that smile sent a wave of relief washing over you. “No, he wouldn’t. But you’re me muppet, alright? And if you ever pull this shite again, I’ll knock some sense into you.”

For the first time in weeks, Liam let out a proper laugh—a warm, hearty sound that filled the room. “Fair play,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m sorry, love. I dunno what I was thinkin’. Just got scared, I guess. Thought I’d lose you either way.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you said, giving him a watery smile. “so get that through your thick skull.”

His grin widened, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Stuck with me, eh? Lucky you.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Before you could say anything else, Liam pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, the weeks of tension and confusion finally slipping away.

As you pulled back slightly, he tilted his head, his nose brushing against yours. “Can I...?” he started, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

You didn’t let him finish. Closing the gap, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss warm and full of all the emotions you’d been holding back. When you finally broke apart, he smirked down at you.

“Knew you fancied me,” he teased, his energy back to normal.

You swatted his arm playfully. “Don’t push it, Gallagher.”

But as he leaned in for another kiss, you couldn’t help but smile. It was good to have your Liam back as a friend and summat more now.

________________________________________________________

me daft brain totally left this one sittin' in the drafts... So massive apologies to the person who asked for this a while back. But it’s here now, so I hope it was at least worth the wait. Proper sorry again, and if you wanna throw another request my way, I’ll sort ya with a priority pass xx

[shinigami-social]

This is probably going to be massively controversial, but I just feel like it needs to be said at this point. I desperately need people to read this very carefully and approach this in good faith. General blanket warning for intersexism, transphobia, and intersectional misogyny with both of these I just wonder how many people in the intersex community just like… fundamentally don’t understand the way being intersex impacts your gender. I know that sounds fucking wild because obviously being intersex impacts your gender but like… it feels like a lot of people reach for comparisons to the binary over just, like, the label intersex itself. The thing on my mind in particular is the stark difference in what transfemininity seems to mean inside and outside the intersex community. This isn’t to refer to AMAB and/or CTM intersex transfems, but in particular people who were AFAB and/or CTF.

I want to clarify before I get into the main body of this post that I fully believe people can be AFAB and/or CTF and be transfem. This post isn’t to say that this never happens, no one ever experiences the combination of these two* things, or that people who identify this way are wrong for it. I just want to open up a discussion about why people are identifying this way, I guess. It’s not about invalidating anyone or their experiences, on the contrary, I really want to discuss the varied nature of the intersex experience.

I was AFAB, and I would generally consider myself CTF. I have simple virilizing classic CAH. I experienced many of the events which a lot of people talk about as why they relate to the transfem experience or consider themselves to be transfem. I grew up with a tenuous connection to girl/womanhood at best, I had the locker room harassment, I was widely rumored to be a hermaphrodite and transgender (no one could decide in which direction), I was put into situations specifically to attempt to uncover my “real” sex/gender. Even when I was seen as a girl/woman, I was Wrong about it. When I was seen as a boy/man, it was before I had ever come to terms with that identity for myself, and it was instead something thrust on me against my will for being a girl/woman Wrong. I was, for much of my life, locked out of womanhood in various ways.

I can very easily understand why people with experiences such as these would relate to transfemininity (and on a “relation” basis, yes, I would say I relate), and perhaps even identify with it based on how these sorts of things impacted them in particular. That being said… I have never understood why people think this is somehow not just being intersex. I’m not trying to say it can’t possibly be both, but sometimes it feels like people just refuse to acknowledge that this is a very common experience of the intersection of misogyny and intersexism. There are certainly transmisogynistic elements to it, I think transmisogyny and intersexism are deeply intertwined and always have been, but like… to act like this is solely transmisogyny feels like a denial of the intersex experience. For intersex people who were AFAB, are CTF, and/or likely some other types of intersex people depending on their circumstances, this is entirely par for the course because they are intersex. The things I described are, above all else, intersexist in nature. They happen to people for being intersex. There are aspects reminiscent of transmisogyny and perhaps even motivated by transmisogyny in many cases, but this distinct experience that I see many, many intersex people have experienced, it is to me such a classic experience of growing up intersex.

This is to say nothing of the appropriation of the transfem experience (no, I’m not accusing you or anyone else specifically of doing this, if it doesn’t apply to you, it doesn’t apply to you, but yes some people are objectively doing this). I am not focused on that. It is its own separate issue, but the thing I am trying to communicate here is why people struggle to find themselves in the word intersex when the thing that caused them these traumas is being intersex. The denial of intersexness and intersexism as explanations for the experiences directly caused by being intersex. The need to use terms broadly conceived of within perisex communities to describe perisex experiences of sex and gender to describe experiences inherently outside of the perisex view. To me, it seems like there is a very clear difference between using intersex transfem to describe “I have Klinefelter and also I am a trans woman” and “due to my experiences with PCOS, my relationship with femininity is deeply complicated and I use transfem as a sort of code for reclaiming my womanhood that I feel has been denied to me.” And like. I am not saying that these couldn’t possibly both be transfem experiences! I am not the decider of what makes people transfem, and it’s not really my business at the end of the day, but these are still just like, objectively different concepts being described. This is what I meant at the beginning of the post by the inside-outside usage of the term. It feels like transfem, in intersex spaces, is often used as a shorthand to describe a specific relationship to femininity and womanhood and this relationship is not necessarily “transitioning to femininity.” At the same time, it feels like it is being used this way because in some way, perhaps, the community is lacking in language that adequately communicates “my being intersex locked me out of womanhood, even though womanhood is what I was assigned and expected to conform to” which is, to me, a fundamental difference between most (not all, I’m aware we cannot ever make absolute statements when it comes to intersex experiences) AFAB/CTF and AMAB/CTM transfem experiences.

To me, I feel that intersex does adequately express these sentiments. Or, at least, it can if you let it. Intersex people pretty much inherently experience a complicated relationship to their sex and gender, and I wish we were allowed to talk about this without there being an obligatory comparison of how every intersex experience is always analogous to some equivalent transgender experience. Intersexism is intersexism, and intersex people experience it because we are intersex, and maybe we should fucking talk about that sometimes.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think that Ms. Bustier is overhated?

Not particularly. I don't have any strong feelings about her, but she's clearly a terrible teacher who is in way over her head. I totally understand why she sets some people off. If she was a real person that I actually had to deal with, then she'd probably set me off, too, because she so perfectly encapsulates toxic positivity. If you're not familiar with that term, then here's a quick definition:

Toxic positivity is the act of avoiding, suppressing, or rejecting negative emotions or experiences. This may take the form of denying your own emotions or someone else denying your emotions, insisting on positive thinking instead. Although setting aside difficult emotions is sometimes necessary temporarily, denying negative feelings long term is harmful because it can prevent people from processing their emotions and overcoming their distress.

Read that definition and then look at this scene from Zombiezou:

Marinette: But Miss Bustier, it's so not fair! It was Chloé, pulling another...Chloé! And...I'm the one who's getting in trouble?! Miss Bustier: Of course you're not in trouble, don't worry! As the class representative, I want you to set a good example for your classmates. Don't give into feelings of anger. Try to forgive Chloé instead. Marinette: I don't get it... Chloé is the meanest person I've ever known. Miss Bustier: Come on... There are much worse people in Paris right now than Chloé Bourgeois. I'm sure people like Chloé are capable of great things. The problem is, they only think of themselves. They don't understand the meaning of love, and we can't force them to change. But perhaps we can show them by setting a good example. That's why Marinettes are so important in today's world; because they have a lot of love to give. I'm counting on you. Marinette: Yes, Miss Bustier.

This is toxic positivity in action. Marinette is told to set aside her extremely valid feelings as if anger is a terrible thing, but it isn't. All emotions have their place and ignoring them can do real harm, a lesson that Miraculous really struggles with. It seems to see "negative" emotions as bad and they're really not. What matters is how we express and address our emotions, not that we experience them. If you want to see a family friendly piece of media do this topic right, then go watch Pixar's Inside Out.

There's also the fact that Chloé is never punished for her actions in this episode. She ruined a gift that probably took Marinette hours and yet Miss Bustier puts the onus to fix things on Marinette, blaming the victim and doing nothing to actually fix the situation. Canon mildly complicates this with Chloé's father's willingness to meddle, making punishing her apparently impossible, but Miss Bustier doesn't even acknowledge that here. The stated logic is that you need to be nice to your bully and that will hopefully magically fix things, which is a terrible lesson that I don't want any kid to learn! What kind of logic is that?

I'll admit that I'm a big fan of "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind," but that doesn't mean that you should never acknowledge harm or fight back. It just means that you need to be measured in your responses and pick your battles wisely. If this episode was about that, then I'd be fine with it, but that's not the lesson here. There is no point where the wrong done to Marinette is even mildly acknowledged. Miss Bustier's initial reaction to seeing Marinette's ruined gift is:

Miss Bustier: Well, I think this present is wonderful. It'll be my new cosmetics bag! Then I'll be able to think of both of you every time I use it.

And we go straight from that to the toxic positivity.

Something is wrong with this woman. You shouldn't even take this approach with preschoolers! While I could see this being a good final solution to something like Chloé scribbling on Marinette's drawing, Chloé's behavior still needs to be addressed. She is still the one in the wrong here. The one whose behavior needs to change.

This is one of many cases where there are two paths to take with this character. The writers clearly want Miss Bustier to be a wonderful teacher, but they wrote a victim-blaming disaster who shouldn't be in charge of anyone. If you're ever adapting her, then it's up to you if you want to redesign her into her intended self or if you want to lean into the bad writing. I think both paths have merit because the writing is so bad that there is no way to make canon Caline work as a good teacher. She's too fundamentally flawed so you either acknowledge how awful she is or do a major overhaul where she's much less forgiving and actually acknowledges things like the Chloé problem.

[artisticonyx]

The lengths people will go to in order to defend nasty shit is amazing.

[raeofalbion]

I wanna make a post about the ending of Veilguard so bad, but I've sworn an oath not to publicly talk about Dragon Age, so I guess I'll just sit here and internally scream.

[hsslilly-blog]

source

[nope-body]

.

[adamantine-ribbon]

the thing is that I think I am a pretty selfish and self-centered person, but I think that's mainly because everyone around me sucks so why would i give a fuck about them or their feelings and opinions

[4dbeingguide]

11 tips from a master manifestor.

y’all have been loving my first post and it’s really encouraged me to come back. this time i have 11 tips for you! i would’ve really appreciated a post like this when i was a beginner so i’ve decided to make it for those who may also be starting with their journey. actually it doesn’t matter where you are on this road, this is supposed to help everybody, including master manifestors (yes, sometimes doubts cross our minds, we just know how to deal with them)!

there is a lot of repetition as there are some concepts i want to emphasize on. excuse any grammar errors. let’s get straight to it!

stop giving a fuck about the 3D. that is absolute (as in, don’t check it, don’t wait for anything from it, don’t let it get to you). just stop. i have a post over here that will really help you in doing so (and no, it isn’t me cursing at you while ordering you to stop. it’s me having a discussion with you and listening to your doubts while refuting them and i also back it up with scientific sources).

acknowledge that you already are a master manifestor. you’re already where you need to be. don’t let the illusion that is the 3D tell you otherwise!

if you see a piece of manifestation advice that rubs you the wrong way then simply act as if it’s false and doesn’t apply to your reality. you make the rules.

speaking of rules, make yourself some manifesting rules that dictate that manifesting is effortless and instant for you. don’t settle for less.

keep a success story list (and yes, you can put stuff that you’ve assumed that hasn’t appeared in the 3D since the 4D is the only reality) so that you can use it to reaffirm your belief in the law if you ever doubt it.

never seek approval from the 3D for ANYTHING. it is an ILLUSION. your 4D/mind/assumptions are the OBJECTIVE reality. this also applies to the state of waiting and wanting. why do you want to wait for the approval of an illusion? and what are you wanting when it’s already here?

the 3D is not your enemy and it is impossible for the 3D to reject your manifestation. the bitch is inanimate lmao. have you ever walked in front of a mirror and had it tell you “i’m not gonna reflect right now”? i’m sure the answer is no. the 3D works the same way. it EXISTS to reflect our assumptions. that’s its entire purpose. it is nothing but an illusory perception of our 4D. it actually obeys you down to a T. i was gonna say it’s your pet but pets are actually alive and autonomous, the 3D isn’t. the 3D just an inanimate illusion. your business is in the 4D. that’s where you live.

you don’t need a technique. to manifest, all you have to do is assume you have it or enter the state of having it. techniques simply exist to help you do so (that’s why we affirm/visualize/etc. that we have it) but you can do it directly. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them. do what feels most natural to you. do what is the most efficient when it comes to making you fulfilled (not what gives it to you fastest in the 3D. remember, it’s an illusion).

you shouldn’t care if the 3D will give it to you or not. the 3D is an illusion, remember? a simple way to get yourself to put your eyes on the 4D is saying something to the effect of “this 3D/physical world isn’t real/is an illusion, the 4D/mind is the only true reality, i live in the 4D and thus all my affairs are there and not in the 3D and this is what the 4D is saying: (insert manifestation)”. seriously, all your affairs are in the 4D. you’re 4 dimensional.

when doubts persist, reading rants and banging pots and pans might help sometimes but sometimes you just have to sit down with yourself and have an internal dialogue. you’re human (probably 🤔 just in case you’re manifesting otherwise as you read this, and yes it IS possible). hear what your doubts have to say in full (don’t buy it though) and debunk them calmly and civilly.

limits don’t exist. imagination is the only reality. if you can imagine it then it can happen unless you say it can’t.

if you liked this post, make sure to check out my post here!!! in it i elaborate on how to deal with doubts. have an amazing day 🫶

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[nanaslutt]

Bathtime

synopsis: When Uraume informs you about Sukuna's ability to lactate but his disdain for emptying his tits, you know exactly what to do to help

contains: fem reader, you're Sukuna's assistant, true form Sukuna, nipple play, lactation kink, masturbation, dry humping, mention of blood, dirty talk, sexual tension, porn with plot // wc: 6.6k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Sukuna had grown quite irritable lately, more so than usual. It had been a few days since he started acting out, and you had no idea how to get closer to him to find out what was wrong. Sukuna wouldn't even let Uraume into his chambers to drop off his food, always making them leave it outside the door. It was a gamble whether he would even eat the food at all. 

Sukuna spent the majority of his time locked up in his room, or down the way at a nearby village, blowing off steam. This time when he came back though, he looked worse for wear. His face was in a permanent scowl, his muscles were twitching under his skin, and blood was coating every inch of his body. Not his, but he still looked rough. 

"Sukuna let me-" The king bumps his into your smaller body, making you fall back against the wall behind you, your arms reaching back to brace yourself. Uraume stood opposite from you in the room, catching your eyes before they fell to the floor. They kept their hands together in front of them, watching Sukuna's silhouette disappear from their peripheral vision. When the door to his chambers slammed shut, the loud sound echoing through the halls, Uraume let their gaze drift up as they made their way over to you.

"Are you alright?" They asked, brushing the dust off of your kimono. You ignored their question, your eyes latching on the outside of his chamber doors. "What is his problem? He's always grumpy but... this is new." You said, rubbing the ache from the back of your neck. Uraume sighed and placed their hands back together in front of them, putting some distance between the two of you.

"I know you haven't been this close to Sukuna-sama for very long, but this isn't out of character for him at times. There's a reason for it." You looked back over to Uraume, confusion evident on your features as you tilted your head to the side. "He- He doesn't like to acknowledge it, he's stubborn," Uraume said, averting their gaze. Their expression looked conflicted, their nose scrunched as they stared at the floor.

"Acknowledge what?" You asked, prying further. "Sukuna, he-" Uraume paused to clear their throat before they finished, "he lactates." It took a moment for their words to register in your head, but once they did, your jaw dropped. Just when you were about to question them further, they spoke again. "He knows he needs to drain them, but he hates the act of doing so. Which makes him ignore his problem. As a result, as you can imagine, the feeling is quite uncomfortable for him, making him more... grumpy than usual." Uraume explained, using the word you used earlier.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, trying to find the right words before you spoke. "How long do these fits of his last?" You asked Uraume. The white-haired chef looked around at the walls that surrounded them, pondering. "His longest fit was two months. It was excruciating to try and care for him during that time, it always is." Uraume said, sighing. They sounded exhausted. 

You wanted to pat them on the back, you didn't know how they dealt with his attitude so well sometimes. "How does he go back to normal?" You ask, fidgeting with the fabric of your kimono absentmindedly as you speak. "All he has to do is relieve himself. He has pumps I keep in the kitchen. If he's ready, he'll come find them." Uraume said, suppressing an eye roll.

You felt bad the chef had to deal with this for decades. Just how many fits of his has he gone through while Uraume was at his side? He probably never thanked them either. You've always looked up to Uraume. They had the kind of elegance and patience you could only dream of achieving someday. You stared at the freshly swept floors of Sukuna's residence. The shiny black tile reflects the light from the chandeliers above you, blinding you. 

"I'll take care of it," You said vaguely, determination laced in your tone. Uraume's eyebrows furrowed together as they looked at you quizzically. "I hate to see you get treated so roughly by him all because he refuses to milk his tits." Uraume's eyes went wide, their hand shot up to block their expression from you, hiding the blush that crept up their face from your use of anatomy language for the man. 

"You- I don't know if you'll have much luck. He's a stubborn man." Uraume said, sounding like they were dismissing your idea. You were about to try and press them further when they spoke before you. "But if you really want to give it a go, I'll take you to where I keep his pumps." Uraume could swear your eyes shimmered at their words.

--

You took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the king's quarters, immediately dropping to your knees, the pump tucked away in a bag, slung around your shoulder. "Sukuna-Sama, I ran a bath for you and I-" The door swung open before you could finish your sentence. The door slammed hard against the wall, making you close your eyes, your body tensing reflexively. You saw two sock and sandal-covered feet in your line of sight, making your heart race. 

"Let me help you wash up Sukuna." It wasn't uncommon for you to help Skuna in the bath, help him get dressed, other mundane tasks, so your proposal didn't seem out of the blue. You wanted to give your reason for asking, as you usually just assumed you would unless he said otherwise. But you guessed if you had added that you wanted to help him because he seemed like he was having a hard time lately, he would mistake it for pity, and your head would be severed from your body.

Only Sukuna truly knew your worth to him, so he would never do such a thing, but you thought otherwise. Sukuna huffed out a breath before he walked past you and took a sharp left, heading to the bathroom, where you had already drawn him a bath.

You sighed in relief when he turned another corner, now out of your view. You briefly wondered what the hell you were doing. Hands clasped together in front of you, you pushed open the cracked door of the bathroom. You were met with Sukuna's rippling back, covered in now dried blood from his earlier massacre, contrasting nicely against his pale skin. Your eyes dared to travel down further, starting from his heels, up the strong muscles of his calves, and the tight muscles of his as- 

Sukuna's glowing red eyes peered at you from over his shoulder, making you swiftly avert your eyes, finding the floor of the bathroom. It was hot in the room as you shut the door behind you, locking yourself in with your king. You couldn't tell if the heat you felt creeping through your body was from the steam around you, or something else. 

Splashing of water took you out of your trance and back to the man in front of you as he descended into the tub, the clear fluid overflowing around him, creating a mess on the floor. Swallowing whatever saliva was left in your dry mouth, you walked forward, making sure not to sneak up on him and instead walking around the side of the bath to set your bag on the chair in the corner of the room, a few feet in front of the bath.

You didn't dare to look, but you could feel Sukuna's eyes tracking your every move from the moment you were in his sights. You squeezed your fists into the fabric of the bag, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as you tried to ready yourself to turn around and face him. 

"You're nervous." Sukuna's deep voice cut through the tense, hot room, creating goosebumps along your flesh. You turned on your heels, making eye contact with him. You tried to ignore the now pinkish color of the skin of his chest in your peripherals, his body warmed by the water around him. "Nonsense, it's just a little hot in here." You explained, making your way towards the tub.

When you reached the side of the bath centered in the room, you reached out to grab the washcloth hanging off the side, half submerged in the water. Sukuna's hand gripped your wrist entirely, his stronghold keeping you in your place. you didn't dare to even breathe. "Lie to me again, you won't like the consequences." You tried to keep your breathing steady as your eyes traced the rippled in the water around his knee.

You nodded, still averting your gaze. The only thing you could hear was how intense your heartbeat sounded in your ears. His touch had been so unexpected. If you weren't nervous before, you certainly were now. Sukuna squeezed your small wrist, cutting off your blood flow entirely for a moment, your hand throbbing at the loss of it. You could feel his eyes cutting daggers through the side of your face. Finally, he released you, placing his heavy hand back along the side of the tub.

You took the washcloth in your hand and walked around the tub until you were met with his wide back. You took deep breaths behind him, trying to steady your racing heart now that you were out of his sight at least. Unfolding the washcloth, already hot and damp with water, you reached out and placed it against Sukuna's skin, not missing the way his muscles contracted under your touch.

Taking care of Sukuna relaxed you, you felt most at a place like this. Your eyes traced the markings on his skin as you rubbed the dried blood from his body, collecting it on the washcloth. You leaned down to your side, crouching a bit as you dipped the rag in a smaller bucket of water, cleaning the blood off of it before you went in again. The water turned a pinkish color from the first wipe. 

"Relax Sukuna, you did a lot of work today." You said, trying to ease him as you rubbed the rag over his shoulders, your other hand holding atop his other shoulder. Sukuna all but grunted at your words, his eyes darting around in front of him, trying to find something worthy of stimulating his vision. Your body relaxed from his tame reaction, the hot water must be doing wonders on his chest. You decided to push your luck.

Moving to the side of him, you brought the rag over his shoulder and around his collarbones, ridding him of the crimson blood there. The water was a big moggy from the blood that had coated the rest of his body, making it hard to see into the water. You could only see blurry shots of his body parts when you dipped the rag into the water.

Sukuna was watching you again, and this time you hadn't noticed. You were too focused on your job at hand, that you failed to notice the piercing red eyes tracking you. You leaned over the tub slightly, reaching the blood that stained his other collarbone. Sukuna was exhausted. The hot water bordering on boiling his skin combined with your soft touch was lulling him away into a calmer headspace.

His chest ached, the feeling standing out like a sore thumb compared to how relaxed the rest of his body was. You noticed his hand on the tub opposite from you had relaxed, his arm now just resting along the side instead of gripping it. You peeked your eyes over at his neck, looking at his face through the corners of your eyes. Sukuna's breathing was even, and his face was still, his eyes shut. You knew he wasn't completely unguarded, he never was, but he was relaxing.

You dipped your hand into the hot water of his tub, your gaze finding his hard chest as you rang out the towel. You couldn't tell if his nipples were red from the hot water, or from his little predicament. Seeing as how his chest was above water though, you could make an educated guess. 

It looked so swollen. Sukuna's muscles were impressive, yes, but you were extremely familiar with his body, and his chest was larger than before. He had kept you away from him for almost a week, so you had failed to notice it before. The skin of his chest looked taut and almost stretched. You placed the rag just above his chest, your eyes finding his face to check if he noticed or felt anything displeasing.

When he gave you no reaction, you dragged the rag down his chest, maybe pressing a little too hard as you went down, but you were determined to ease his ache. You only made it about halfway down his chest before you were being restrained again. This time, Sukuna was more dramatic.

He shot up from the tub, the water reaching about his knees as he kept a strong hold on your arm, distancing you from his chest. Your heart had started racing again, this level of stress seriously couldn't be good for your health. Sukuna's lip twitched in disdain, his eyes sharp and pointed as he glared at you, his jaw muscles clenching under the weight of his teeth. 

You forced yourself to speak, "S-sukuna are you alright?" You asked, feigning ignorance the best you could with how in shock you were from his abrupt actions. Sukuna's breathing stayed quick, his gaze angry. He looked as if he was trying to see if you were being honest, if your words were genuine. More time went by, and his nails digging into your skin hurt you more than you cared to admit. Your arm throbbing where he grabbed you.

"Not. Not there." Sukuna said, sucking in a deep breath. You stayed quiet, mustering a confused look on your face. "My pecs. Do not touch them." He clarified, seeing as how you didn't understand his words the first time. You nodded quickly, keeping your lips firmly shut. It was only then that you realized you were face to face with his crotch.

Sukuna had been naked in front of you countless times, but that doesn't mean you got any more used to it. You've never fully got a glance at his... down there, always stopping yourself from leaning into your desires and looking at him. For some reason in this atmosphere, you wanted to look so bad. More so than you ever have before. You were usually good at curbing your arousal for the king, but it was growing harder and harder the more time you spent with him.

Sukuna squinted his eyes at you before he crouched back down, two of his hands grabbing the sides of the tub as he descended back down, his face now coming more level with your own. You softly pulled back against his hand, reminding him he needed to let you go.

He obeyed seconds later, his eyes staying locked on your face the whole time. Dipping the rag in the water, you swirled it around, pretending you were cleaning it off good before you spoke. "Sukuna-sama, may I ask you something?" You said softly, not wanting to irritate him further. Sukuna stayed silent. Your eyes found his when he failed to answer, that's when you noticed the curt nod he gave you.

Looking back at the rag, you rang it out with two hands, the water droplets creating rings on the surface. "Forgive me for asking, but why am I not allowed to wash you there?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows as you spoke, trying to give him the impression you really didn't know his situation. "You're... there's still blood on your chest." You added.

Sukuna's eyes stayed locked on yours, an unreadable expression on his features. "The water will wash it away." He responded, ignoring your question. You returned his words with a short nod of understanding. You knew better than to expect Sukuna to admit to you he was in pain. He wouldn't even admit it to himself. 

You dragged the washcloth along the side of his torso, along his ribs just under his arm. Sukuna's lip twitched, the pressure from his chest extended to the side of his pecs as well, making your touch irritable, but Sukuna was able to control his reaction, miraculously. 

You noticed the water shift with him as he pushed his hips forward, sliding down into the water more as you scrubbed his body clean of the blood. "Would you like me to abstain from touching you here too?" You asked, keeping your eyes on his chest instead of his face when you asked the question. "If I don't want you touching me somewhere, you will know," Sukuna said, his eyes squinting at you as he spoke.

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft laugh. More like a soft breath of air passing through your nose, but the small smile on your face made the sound have a direct correlation. You corrected yourself immediately, clearing your throat you distanced yourself from his body a bit and dipped the towel back into the water.

Walking around the other side of the tub, going behind him to escape his gaze for a moment, you started cleaning the blood off of his left side. You pressed your fingers along the sides of his ribs, making small circle motions almost at the end of his pec, giving him small relief through the discomfort. Sukuna was now staring at the ceiling, his jaw bulging under the weight of his teeth each time you pressed against the side of his sore pec.

Just when you were about to move on to another part of him, as you were dragging your hand away from the underside of his chest, a small white drop of fluid dripped down his chest and met with the water below him, right next to your hand. You froze in place, watching how the milky color faded into the crimson water, becoming the same shade.

You peeked your eyes up and noticed Sukuna was still looking away, meaning you could investigate a little. Biting your lip, you repeated the same action, rubbing right under his chest. This time though, you kept your eyes on his red nipples, as you had a pretty strong indication of what had happened, and you didn't want to miss it this time.

As you pressed against him, sure enough, another white droplet dripped down his chest, following the same trail as the last. The small droplet left an off-white streak along his pale skin. You pressed your thighs together, you had no idea the sight would be so erotic. Hell, you were starting to think you were going to be unsuccessful in your endeavors with getting to relieve Sukuna.

While you were ogling his tits and subtly rubbing your thighs together, trying to diminish the heat that was forming between your legs, Sukuna had dropped his eyes on you. You were foolish to think he wouldn't feel himself lactating, and especially stupid if you didnt think he wouldn't pick up on how you repeatedly rubbed him in the same spot.

Sukuna watched carefully as milk spilled from his chest, your watchful, lidded eyes not missing a single second of it. "Are you having fun?" His voice echoed in the hot room, making your hair stand on edge at the sound. You swallowed hard, slowly retreating your hand away from him. You let your eyes trace his tattooed skin up and up and up, until you were met with his face, which looked almost amused.

"You planned to do this all along didn't you?" He accused, making your eyebrows shoot up in shock. You distanced yourself, dropping the rag in the tub with him as you waved your hands in front of yourself. "N-no Sukuna, I just- I noticed it just now." You explained, looking anywhere but his face. "I put the pieces together just now. Y-you told me not to touch your t-" You quickly corrected yourself, about to use an extremely inappropriate word to describe your boss's pecs.

You cleared your throat before you spoke. "-Chest, and when I saw the liquid just now I-" "What did I say about lying?" Sukuna interrupted, making you find his eyes swiftly. You furrowed your eyebrows together, a drop of sweat sliding down your face. "Do you think I wouldn't hear you talking to Uraume in the hall? You were a mere ten feet away from my quarters, you think my hearing is so inefficient?" 

You felt all the blood drain from your face, your jaw falling open in tandem, you were going to die here. "Looks like I wasn't hearing things then," Sukuna smirked, your reaction giving everything away. Your skin was vibrating, and the heat you felt between your legs was gone in an instant, only fear remained inside of you.

Sukuna smiled, resting his head in his hand as he looked you up and down. "Well? Aren't you going to defend yourself?" He asked, a smug look on his face. 

You decided it was now or never, he was already for sure going to kill you. Might as well fess up. "I- if you knew, why did you let me go when I touched your chest the first time? Surely you knew my intentions." You asked, keeping your distance. Sukuna's smile grew, smile lines forming around it. "It's fun to tease you." He said shamelessly like the sadist he is. You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to look away from his intense gaze.

"Uraume tried to talk me out of it. If you're going to take this out on anyone, take it out on me. I couldn't stand seeing you treat them so harshly, so I took your pumps and ran you a bath, hoping I would be able to relieve you somehow." You blabbed, keeping your hands firmly in front of yourself. Sukuna clicked his tongue in his mouth, his eyes having a darker look in them after your confession.

"I half-assed ambush." He responded. "Just how did you think you were going to get those horrid things on my chest without me noticing? Hm?" Sukuna asked, his tone becoming harsher when he spoke of the pumps. You took in a deep breath and turned your head to the side, looking at your bag which had the pumps tucked away.

"Worst case I was going to ask you straight up and see if you cut my head off or not." You replied. Sukuna laughed at how casually you spoke to him, you must really think you were going to die. "But you surmised deceiving me would be better than being direct?" Sukuna challenged, his eyes giving you a one-over while you weren't looking. 

The atmosphere had gotten hot again. The heat started returning to your body the longer you stayed alive. Why hadn't he taken your life yet? You looked back to him and nodded, not giving him any more of your reasons, you had spoken enough. Sukuna dropped his hand back down along the side of the tub and tipped his head back, his slanted eyes staring at you from behind his bottom lashes.

"Ask." He said curtly, his fingers tapping along the side of the tub. You blinked at him, considering his words carefully. After a long beat of silence, you spoke. "Sukuna-Sama, may I help you relieve yourself with the pumps?" You asked, keeping your eyes on his. His toothy grin made you throb under your robe. "No." He replied. You still kept your eyes on him, challenging him.

"Ask again." He demanded, tipping his head to the side. "Sukuna-Sama." You paused at his name as you figured out the meaning behind his words. His disdain while he spoke about the pumps must mean he didn't want to use them, but what other way was there? Possibly he couldn't mean...

"Can I relieve you?" You asked, leaving out the part about the pumps. Sukuna released a soft laugh, amused and impressed at how quickly you had figured out what he wanted you to ask. "And how will you relieve me?" He pushed further.

The vagueness in his words made you fight the urge to press your thighs together, a fire burning hot between them. "Anyway, you'd like me to, Sukuna." You replied, not even daring to blink as you tested him. Sukuna licked his lips before tipping his head back down, looking at you straight on. "What are you waiting for then?" He challenged, his knees poking out the top of the water spreading to make room for... something, or someone.

You slowly walked up to the tub, your eyes never once leaving his. "Perhaps we should change the water first." You replied, leaning down to the drain on the outside of the tub. Sukuna's hand grabbed the back of your neck firmly as you leaned down, stopping you from moving any further. "That won't be necessary." He replied, pulling you upwards.

"You aren't afraid of a little blood are you?" He teased, one of his eyebrows raising in amusement. You shook your head, placing your hand on his that still held the back of your neck. Sukuna released you, the smile still evident on his face. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute. He wanted you to get in the tub with him right? That's why he said that? What if you were interpreting his words wrong? What if-"

"Get it. Keep me waiting for another second and I'm changing my mind." Sukuna's deep voice reverberated through your body, shutting down any insecure thought that popped into your head. He was fibbing, there was no way he could go any longer without having his chest milked, he was so sore but his teasing was the only way to get you to hurry up.

You pulled the bow keeping your robe together undone, the thick fabric falling off of your body, exposing a thinner, white robe underneath. Sukuna felt saliva start to pool in his mouth, he could see the figure of your body almost perfectly now, and he would see it even clearer once you got in the water with him. You kicked the kimono to the side and grabbed the edge of the tub.

You swung your leg over it, dipping it into the blood-stained water. Immediately the temperature made you tense the muscles in your leg as you inhaled a sharp breath. "There you go." Sukuna said softly, his large hand grabbing your thigh, pulling you into the bath with him. If the atmosphere didnt feel tense and intimate earlier, it sure as hell did now.

You slipped on the bottom of the tub when your foot reached the bottom, your kimono getting drenched with the water around you, making the fabric sheer as you reached out and Grabbed Sukuna's shoulders, bracing yourself. Sukuna tsked, blinking away the water that had splashed in his eye before your waist was being grabbed with two hands and you were pulled into the water, your thighs straddling his pelvis, just above his...

"Didn't know you could be so clumsy." Sukuna teased, making your face turn bright red as you retracted your hands from his shoulders, sitting back. He kept a strong hold on your waist, keeping you against him. "I wonder what else you're hiding from me." Sukuna purred, tiping his head at you. You swallowed hard before looking down at his chest, swollen and irritated.

It felt like millions of little needles were pricking your skin from the heat, but the sight of Sukuna's chest in front of you distracted you enough for the pain to not feel unbearable. "How- how do I go about..." You stuttered softly, fidgeting with your hands in front of you. "Ask your question in a way I can understand. You aren't a child." Sukuna retorted, making you scrunch your eyebrows together in embarrassment.

His glowing eyes on you didnt help how nervous you were feeling. "The liquid that came out of them earlier, what was it?" You asked, backtracking to make sure you knew exactly what you were dealing with. Sukuna looked unimpressed, staring at you like you were dumb. "What do you think? Surely you can't be that dense," he responded. You felt the vein in your head throb, was he incapable of answering a question straight on?

You were hesitant to ask your next question. How you should get the milk out. Usually, mothers would breastfeed or use a pump to get the milk out, was it really the same for Sukuna? "Why do you produce... milk?" You asked, reaching out slowly before softly placing your hands on his chest with featherlight pressure.

"I'm not a mother if that's what you're asking," Sukuna said, a hint of humor behind his deadpanned answer. You didn't even know he was capable of making jokes. "Of course not." You responded, softly squeezing his chest, resulting in a long inhale from the man underneath you, his nails digging into your waist.

Sukuna's eyes fell to your chest, which was not soaked with the water and sheer. Unfortunately for him, you were wearing a bra, but the sight of it through your now-see-through clothes was a treat nonetheless. "Just do what you feel is right." He answered your unspoken question, his eyes lazily sliding back up to find yours.

With a nod, your eyes left him and dropped down to his tatted chest. You unknowingly wiggled on his lap before you groped his chest harder, resulting in Sukuna rolling his head to the side. You pressed the tight muscles together, rubbing his chest in circles, trying to increase his blood flow there. Sukuna's eyes shut halfway at the painfully pleasureful. 

You worked your hands from the outside of his chest inward until you reached his nipples. You felt yourself throb between the legs repeatedly, the pace almost matching that of your heartbeat. You had no idea how worked up this would make you. Sukuna winced, almost unnoticeably, when you squeezed your hands right around his nipples, a white stream trickling down his chest.

You wanted to apologize, but once again didnt want him to feel self-conscious about feeling the pain. Sukuna rolled his eyes, his lip twitching at the feeling of his tits being milked bringing him relief in more ways than one. His cock had been hard from the moment you had started bathing him, his teasing and your facade of not knowing what you were doing to him only riled him up more. 

The pressure of your hands stimulating his irritated chest outweighed the pleasure with the discomfort, leading Sukuna to grip your waist harder and groan. "Use your mouth, this method is insufficient." He growled, his voice coming out more hoarse than before.

He wanted you to... suck his nipples? You knew better than to ask any follow-up questions, Sukuna was clearly irritated enough. He was at his breaking point. You squeezed your thighs around his torso, trying to press your clit against his lower tummy to bring yourself some relief, completely forgetting that his body was a part of him and he could feel everything you were doing.

Sukuna stayed silent about your arousal for now. With a soft nod, you leaned forward and latched your lips around his nipple, waiting a brief moment to gather yourself before you sucked. Sukuna immediately groaned, and you made a noise of surprise as his milk flooded your mouth, the taste of it sweeter than you imagined.

Sukuna's hand pressed firmly against the back of your head, his low groans filling the bathroom as you sucked harder, your tongue lapping over his nipple occasionally, soothing the bud. Sukuna groaned through his teeth, his head tipping back as he relished in the feeling of his chest being milked. 

Countless times he's had to relieve himself with the pump, and never once has it ever felt like this. Sukuna's cock twitched repeatedly with the need for attention each time you suckled around his nipple. "Yeahhhh, yeah this is doin' it." Sukuna groaned, shaking his head back and forth as he looked down at you. You peeked up at him, moaning around his nipple as you did your best to make eye contact with him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Can't tell who this is for with how much yer rubbin' on me." Sukuna teased. He was right, you had been so absorbed in sucking on his chest that you failed to realize you had been steadily humping against his lower abdomen, giving your clit some much-needed friction. You stopped and pulled off of his chest the moment he exposed you, his hand still holding the back of your head.

Milk dripped out from his nipple, running down his chest. "I didn't say you had to stop, did I?" He corrected, raising his eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. "I told you, didn't I? Do what you have to do." 

You nodded quickly with a hot face before you leaned down and latched your lips around his other nipple. A loud, long groan was released from Sukuna's longs as you started sucking, some of the milk you were unable to swallow spilling out from your lips and down your chest. Sukuna pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes threatening to roll back in his head at the nipple stimulation.

You heard a sloshing sound behind you. At first, you thought it was your body creating the noise now that you were grinding your cunt on his pelvis freely, but you quickly realized it was something much different when you felt his hand repeatedly bumping against your back. Sukuna was jerking off. 

"So eager huh?" Sukuna teased, his voice much darker and needier now. Sukuna was wasting no time with teasing himself by taking things slow, your tongue flicking against his nipples made his balls ache with the need to drain them, so that was exactly what he was going to do. Pulling back from his chest you sat up and began tweaking with the swollen buds, making milk leak down them.

Sukuna's hips jolted under yours, making your body jump against him. "Almost there, they're almost empty." Sukuna nodded, his eyes fluttering in their sockets. You weren't sure if he was talking about his situation under the water, or his chest. Nonetheless, you leaned forward and took a nipple back into your mouth again, sucking harder, trying to drain him completely. 

Your own humping was thrown off as Sukuna began fucking up into his fist, the tip of his cock poking you in the back each time he did so. The water sloshed around you, spilling out on the floor from the tub. "Uh-huh. uh-huh, keep sucking, keeeeep fucking sucking." Sukuna demanded, his head falling back along with his jaw.

His jerking was sporadic now. You moaned and whined around his nipple, your sounds coming out choppy and high-pitched from the movement of his body under yours. His pelvis was bumping forcefully against your clit, it almost felt like he was fucking you like this. "The other one, suck the other one, do it now." Sukuna groaned, his nails digging against your scalp, leaving a mean tingling sensation against it.

Sukuna's chest felt empty and much less taught than before, the previous throbbing all gone, save for the throbbing of his nipples from the pleasure you were giving him. Your lithe fingers tweaked the nipple you weren't sucking as you obeyed him and switched to the other, only getting small drops on your tongue now. You had truly sucked him dry. 

Sukuna's hips lost their rhythm, his body going taught under you as his arm went stiff, doing the best he could to jerk himself up to his high. His jaw fell open further and his eyes rolled back in his head. A long, deep groan was released as he came. Long white ropes of cum shot out from his cock right against your back. He rubbed his tip against your skin while he jerked himself off, working himself through it with your help.

His cum mixed in with the water around him. His balls twitched and clenched as they pushed out every last drop of his cum. Pulling away from Sukuna's nipple you pressed both hands against his now empty chest and started humping against his lower stomach, his hard pelvis muscles rubbing perfectly against your clit, making your head spin.

"Nghhh- S-sukuna-" You cried absentmindedly, resulting in a large hand smacking over your mouth, followed by an amused laugh. "Yeah yeah, get yourself off on me but be quiet about it, don't need anyone else hearin' you cry my name," Sukuna said breathlessly, his hand still holding the base of his now spent cock as he watched you finish yourself off.

His hands around your waist tightened and helped you rub yourself along his muscles when he noticed you were having a little trouble the closer you got. "You gonna cum?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at you, a hint of neediness in his voice. You nodded, your moans getting muffled by his hand. "Cum then, I'll help you," Sukuna said, pressing you harder against him, bringing more friction to your sensitive clit.

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling, now only seconds from crashing down into your high as you rubbed your needy pussy on him. Sukuna nodded at you, his jaw falling open in a small o, occasionally cracking into a small smile as he watched your eyes and eyebrows twitch and furrow in tandem. 

Your hand left his chest to wrap around his arm at the last second to ground yourself as your orgasm hit you. "There you go." Sukuna drawled, smiling to himself as your body jerked forward and your hips stopped moving on your own. He helped you move against him. Each time your throbbing clit bumped into his lower abs while you came another loud muffled moan was caught behind his hand. 

When you tapped repeatedly against his large arm, he loosened his grip on your waist and released your mouth. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his hand, something you would've been embarrassed about if you were in a clearer mindset. 

Sukuna pat your ass a few times under the water, trying to coax you back into the real world. "That felt good, huh? Looked like it felt good." Sukuna teased. Your eyes were all out of focus and your chest rose and fell heavily with every deep breath you took. "Don't get sleepy on me now, still gotta clean this mess up." 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his audacity. You just drained his tits and came on him and he was already telling you to clean up? "A...A thank you would be nice." You said, wiping your hand over your eyes, getting the sweat off of your face. Sukuna smiled before his hand gripped your chin firmly, shaking your face back and forth. 

"I think the cum I spilled was thank you enough." He said snarkily, making you sigh. He laughed at your irritation, glad to see you were coming back. "Have Uraume throw the pumps away when you get finished here." He said, making you tip your head to the side and look at him funny. 

"I don't think I'm going to need them anymore."

[lampiridaes]

♬ now playing: "falling for you"

-> don't you see me? i think i'm falling for you (fallingforyou - the 1975)

summary. various hsr men realizing they're in love with you

chars. dan heng , sunday , aventurine , jing yuan

notes. THIS ONE IS FOR U MIZU-ANON (still gonna call u that despite the username change) had sm fun writing this. i am a biiiiig loser for these types of tropes i need to admit it. I HOPE WHEN U READ THIS U ENJOY MIZU-ANON!!!!!! LOVE U <3

contains. fluff, pre-established relationship, spoiler-free, reader is a trailblazer but not the trailblazer, march & trailblazer mentioned (dan heng), 'pretty' used as a compliment for reader (jing yuan)

inspired by -> this post!

track one: dan heng

staying up late talking to you. dan heng tends to pull all-nighters, but he never expected you to join in one time. it was actually a bonding moment—he felt as if you grew closer since that day. it wasn't exactly a deep talk, it was more like an icebreaker. compared to march and the trailblazer, dan heng was much more reserved, so you saw a different side to him that night. one that you ended up seeing more and growing quite fond of.

always turning their head if your name is mentioned. every morning when the express crew gets up and eat breakfast together, dan heng finds himself always looking over whenever someone calls you. "[name], let's share!" march 7th would exclaim, then the black-haired man's attention immediately turned to your direction.

... and when you notice that a certain someone is staring at you, you make eye contact and smile, which seemed to have flustered him a little. ah, he's growing smitten, slowly.

track two: sunday

realizing certain traits about you that he finds endearing, your curiosity being the most prominent one. with sunday being a halovian, you couldn't help but admire his features, namely his wings. yet you were far too shy to ask if you could touch them—after all, what if he were to feel uncomfortable? but, to your surprise, sunday was the one that offered, finally acknowledging your silent wish. his wings were undeniably soft, but also quite sensitive, fluttering away from your touch. at first, you thought you did something wrong, but judging from the light blush on the oak family head's face, you could tell he actually enjoyed it.

realizing he's in a better mood when you're in a good mood. being head of the oak family, sunday has a tough job. and yet, when he sees you smiling to yourself, sometimes even attempting to help him in any way you can, sunday finds an odd warmth in his chest. one he doesn't experience quite often.

track three: aventurine

the first smile you share. sometimes you wonder whether or not aventurine is serious in certain situations. sometimes you wonder if he's even your friend or if he's using you in a gamble you aren't even aware of. but that one fateful day when he met your gaze and smiled, you could feel your heart skip a beat. aventurine constantly wears a confident smirk, one that makes him seem like someone to be weary of. and that smile of his... perhaps you were the lucky one this time.

flirting with you. actually, your friendship as a whole had some... weirdly romantic undertones, but after a while, the both of you sort of started to truly think about the entire thing. was he serious when he said that you were the only person he wanted? were you serious when you said you wouldn't mind it if he kissed you? only one way to find out, no?

track four: jing yuan

getting things that remind him of you. whether it'd be a shiny trinket he figured you'd like, or even an expensive piece of jewelry, jing yuan slowly started gifting you different things quite frequently. and whenever you'd ask, his response would always be, "it looks pretty, just like you."

finding time for you and spending his free time around you. it's no secret that jing yuan is a busy man, being the general of the luofu. and yet, after those hours are finished, or he managed to catch a break in the middle of the day, he always looks for you somewhere in exalting sanctum and ask if you'd like to take a short stroll with him. you answer yes every time.

[gandalfsbignaturals]

ive seen a lot of "egg discourse" floating around and its very frustrating because everyone seems to be arguing either from a position of it being always fine and correct to call someone an egg or it always being wrong and bad. and i have seen scarcely few people acknowledge even the possibility that there might not be a one-size-fits-all answer!

ive seen people talk about being hopelessly in the closet and feeling desperate that someone might notice and suggest that they dont have to be anymore. i do not think it is wrong to suggest transitioning to someone who you think might be genuinely unhappy with their gender.

ive also seen people talk about being harangued about transitioning and how it drove them further into the closet. i dont think its wrong to back off and let someone figure things out and make a choice on their own.

different people have different needs and will have different reactions to the same suggestions. there is no easy answer to this question that works in every situation. you need to be tailoring your approach to the specific individual, not to a hypothetical general case.

if youre going to seriously suggest transitioning to someone, you should probably know them pretty well first. if youre going to make jokes about someone being an egg, you should probably figure out whether theyre ok with jokes like that first. if someone expresses discomfort with your jokes or comments about their gender, you should probably fucking stop and respect their boundaries. and if you see someone in a public space doing something you consider "eggy," maybe instead of posting about it on social media, you should approach them and see if they need something.

sometimes what they need will be someone to tell them that transition is an option. sometimes theyll need time and space to figure it out on their own. sometimes, the same rain that waters a tree can drown a sapling.

[fluffylino]

minho is felix's bestfriend and also happens to be your sworn enemy. he comes over one evening.

whats the worst that could happen...

-contains mature themes

frustration.

pure frustration was what you were feeling. was it really this difficult to operate a toy?!

a damn vibrator that too. a simple little vibrator. internally embarassed by your lack of 'skills' in using it.

maybe you were pressing down on the wrong setting. cause everytime it reached the highest vibrations, it would go back to the lowest setting, a few seconds after.

you didn't even feel like continuing because of how pissed of you were. what a bad way to ruin your fun.

it had been month since you last felt like you should treat yourself. get yourself off to be very specific.

and when you decide to finally try out your very first vibrator, the universe decides its not your day.

stepping out of the bathroom, still uncomfortable with the sensitivity between your legs. unintentionally edging yourself and eventually giving up entirely on trying to make yourself cum.

you blamed it on the vibrator. that darned cursed object.

flinging it on the bed in annoyance.

a small little sticky note is placed on the lamp on your bedside table. its from felix.

he had yelled goodbye while you were still showering (more like struggling). and you had yelled back, acknowledging him.

i'll be going out with chris for an hour or so. minho-hyung will be coming to our room in 20 minutes. im sowwy but he really needed a place to chill at...seungmin is studying and needs no disturbances....so i told minho he could stay in our room for a couple hours.

don't worry, bubssss i'll be back soon so things don't get awkward between yall!!!

MAYBE TRY AND GET ALONG?!

- lixie ☆

now this pisses you off even more. why the hell was everything going exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

lee minho was the last person you'd want in your shared dorm room. minho was literally gonna be coming here.

it had been almost 15 minutes since felix left. that means he'd be here anytime soon. before you even get the chance to hang your towel on the back of your chair, someone knocks on the door.

"fuckin minho of all people"

its real frustration at this point. nevertheless you open the door for him. taken aback by the attire he's in.

it was the very first time you'd ever seen him so...put together? dressed up?

what you meant was he was in semi formal attire ; a mixture of badboy or rather biker boy vibes.

"whats up with the outfit" you say, gesturing to him entirely. pointing out the leather jacket he had thrown on. it fitted him well. a bit too well.

the ripped jeans hugged his thighs. thick and muscular. a reminder that he works out and is a dancer.

"do i need a reason to wear what i feel like wearing?"

his cockiness has your fists itching to punch him straight in the nose. he huffs out a deep breath, walking right into the room. as if he owned the place. he had been here a number of times with felix. but it still pissed you off.

"fuck off" you mutter under your breath. closing the door and walking back to your bed.

that is until you see him plopping himself down on your bed. YOUR BED.

"what'd you say?" minho repeats. he has a few raspberries in his hand.

did he carry them all across campus..to eat them here ? you sometimes question his questionable habits and ways of thinking.

"don't feel like telling you" you cock back. placing your hands on your face and sighing.

were you that needy that for some reason his cologne made your breath fasten-

"what's gotten you so..." his voice trails off, beginning to question why you were so irritable. "...hot and bothered."

"i am not hot and bothered so kindly shut up"

you blurt out, blinking at him and thats when you realise.

where had you thrown the vibrator? did you put it back in your hiding spot or was it still in the bathroom...

"this says otherwise." and to your worst nightmare, minho is holding up the toy.

its like your blood runs cold. theres nothing you can say. or do. except go speechless and motionless.

"pretty cheap, don't you think?" observing it so casually. you feel yourself get wetter. his fingers catching it mindlessly.

"s-stop playing around with it" you stutter, suddenly feeling shyer than ever.

minho smirks and you unconciously press your thighs together.

"it doesn't work properly, does it."

switching it on. it buzzes loudly in the silence of the room. its vibrations are hardly anything.

you've had enough and you grab his wrist. pausing in shock when the buzzing becomes louder. you can feel it vibrating.

he presses down on it harder and it nearly vibrates out of his grip.

how had he managed to get it to its highest setting-

"did you cum? or are you just staining your panties right now as we speak." he snorts out, manspreading.

"cause this wasn't even switched on properly"

☆

you find yourself laying on your back. his hand slithered past the waistband of your pants. pressing it right over your cunt. teasingly moving the rounded tip up and down.

"needy pussy"

he's on top of you. smirking and observing every single change in your expressions.

"min-hho-" squirming under him. your hands flying down to weakly tug on his wrist. eyes struggling to stay focused.

"i must admit. hearing you say my name like that makes me want to see how you'll be if I fuck you"

sadistically keeping his pressure firm. nudging it under your panties.

"you're so much better like this, baby"

minho smirks. chuckling at the way you push yourself deeper into the bed. hips bucking upwards to escape his teasing. its cold when it comes in contact with your clit. the tips of his fingers rubbing into your folds everytime he played around with the toy.

"lee.minho a-ah" you writhe out, voice turning whiny. the familiar sensation builds up. except its more intense than ever.

he purposely turns the setting lower and you whimper in disappointment.

"maybe if i rub this..." pushing the vibrator all over your folds. a breathy gasp escaping his lips at how slicked up your cunt was.

"...or maybe if i touch this soaked cunt" dropping the vibrator and slipping his index finger through your slippery swollen lips.

"shit baby, did i get you this wet." and you know he's going to tease you for days if not months.

"you hate me, d-don't you" you whisper,shooting him a glare when he traces a digit over your clit.

eyes widening and breath quickening with how he maintains eye contact with you. bringing his head down to grunt in your ear. his fingers slapping your pussy meanly.

you whine, gripping his biceps. the leather jacket thrown on the edge of your bed.

"i hate you alright." he whispers, rubbing into your wetness slowly. minho chuckles. "filthy girl. you're throbbing on my fingers"

"i hate you so much that i jerk off to your pictures or that tone you use when you're pissed at me...i hate you to the point I cum so hard just picturing you taking my dick"

you can't control the fluttering feeling. coating his fingers even more so.

"i h-hate you more"

theres no heat in your words. gasping and legs quivering against his thicker thighs. keeping you open, unable to close your legs around his hand.

"hm, you do? tell me how much you hate me, kitten"

"i d-do...f-fuck" eyes rolling back in pleasure. desperately trying to chase your orgasm but he doesn't let you.

"yeah? you hate me so much that you're letting me touch you." minho says, voice going deeper. his ears are a shade of red and his lips parted.

"you're wet and begging for more under me. is that cause you hate me, sweetheart. or is that just you being you"

he quickens his pace. circling hard over your swollen and aching clit.

till you're throwing your hands around his neck. pulling him onto you entirely while you cum. its the hardest you've ever orgasmed.

maybe it was cause it had been so long...or you were sure it was because of him.

"there we go, good kitty" riding your high.

taking you by surprise when he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. so you push a few strands of hair out of his face. not letting go of him just yet.

"don't call me that" you whisper, struggling to hold in your smile. his lips curve upwards into a subtle smirk. kissing your neck slowly..

"but now that I know you're so pliant, i claim you as one of my cats"

your legs giving in when he gets up. wiping his coated fingers on his jeans. it leaves a wet stain.

"again as I said." you lift your head up, confused.

"this thing is useless!" grabbing the vibrator like he had personal beef with it. flinging it casually somewhere behind you.

"choose me. customize, personal talk, boyfriend material, protection...all in one package, baby"

pointing to himself.

he reaches over to the abandoned raspberries on the counter. walking back to stuff one small red berry in your mouth. smiling when you savour it.

"good kitty"

.

.

"is that minho hyung's jacket you're wearing?" felix' eyes widen. wondering why you were wearing the leather jacket.

"yeah and he told me i could wear it when i meet him for dinner tonight" you reply, lacing your boots up.

"YOU'RE HAVING DINNER WITH HIM?!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

I wanna be his dinner- GOD HE'S SO ARGHSBSJAKJW HAHAHAHIWHEHSHS

[gaysindistress]

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man?

a/n: This is technically part two for this list. You could read them separately but I really think you should read them both so you can fully feel the angst.

non-mcu characters masterlist

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries this is one is for you girl

Price stalks over to him and grabs him by the front of his vest, not caring that everyone can see what’s going on. “You call and apologize to her right now, ya hear me? It’s unacceptable for you to lie to her like that and I should have your balls for it. You fix it before she does go off and find herself a better man.”

Now let’s say that when Simon got back, things were….different. You rarely fought but now you’re bickering about every little thing and having full on battles of the will that leave you crying in the bedroom while he’s storming out. The connection between you two feels strained and distant where’s before it was warm and comforting. You barely look at each other and sometimes you think he’s straight up ignoring you.

Even the dogs have started to notice that there’s something off about mom and dad. Most nights you’ll sleep alone with the dogs by your door while Simon is on the couch. It feels like they’re laying in wait, ready to spring into action if anything were to happen. They don’t go to him as much as they did before and your female dog, Echo, refuses to leave your side. She’s become glued to you while your other dog, Zade, keeps you within eyesight at all times. It really pisses Simon off because Zade is supposed to be his dog and the mutt won’t even look at him (Simon’s words, not yours).

It all comes to a head though one night when Simon is trying to get Zade to come with him on a walk and the dog just stares at him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stares into Simon’s soul and judges him for how he’s been treating you.

“Zade! Come here now!” Simon grumbles in a half shout but the dog doesn’t move a muscle. You’re in the bedroom with Echo at your feet and she glances over at you with a look that says ‘let’s go’.

What happened next is a blur. Echo barely makes it into the living room before she’s growling and placing herself between you and Simon. Zade is up and stalking closer to his sister’s side while Simon is growing more and more angry. You don’t think you even had the time to say anything before Echo and Zade tackle Simon to the ground. You know they wouldn’t hurt him but it’s still a terrifying sight and you’re doing everything you can to get the dogs off of him. You manage to get them off but they refuse to go to their kennels and keep tucked behind you, still ready to protect you if needed.

“Simon, oh my god are you okay?” You ask him in a panicked and high pitched voice as you try to help him up. He shoves your hands off of him and accidentally uses too much force which sends you to stumbling into the dogs.

Everything is absolute chaos with his anger, the dogs trying to protect you, and now you’re crying while trying not to tell him off. At this point you grab the dogs by their collars and pull them away as tears are streaming down your face. When they hear your sniffles, they immediately give into you and let you pull them to the bedroom. You don’t hear Simon as you start to pack as much as you can. The weeks of being on edge have finally gotten to you and you’re done.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who isn’t willing to communicate with you.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who used to be the most loving and devoted man you’ve ever met but now he can’t acknowledge your presence.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s come so far and has forgiven himself for the things he’s done but now he’s slipping back into his old self destructive ways.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who can’t be honest with himself and admit that he’s wrong.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s become Ghost.

You’ve tried having faith in him after he broke up with you but it’s rotting you from the inside out. It’s eating away at your heart, gnawing at your ribs with your flesh stuck in its teeth. This faith is liquifying the kindness and patience you once had. It’s changing you into an anxious shell of a coward who can’t stand up for yourself. Change is alright but this is not. This change is making you cruel and hopeless while it waits for you to become a faithless savage who devours whatever light touches you.

It’s only when you come back into the living room with your bags packed and the dogs ready to go that Simon says something to you.

He questions what you’re doing.

He doesn’t apologize.

“I’m leaving. We’ll figure out everything tomorrow,” you tell him as you find your keys.

“What do you mean?”

You stop. You stare at the front door with completely blank eyes. They flicker to him over your shoulder.

“I’m leaving you. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out how to make it a clean break then.”

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you after that.

He lets you walk out the door. You don’t ask him to fight for you either.

He lets you leave him. You don’t turn back either.

You meant to drive to your friend’s place but somewhere on the way there you pull over and cry until you feel like you’re going to pass out. Zade and Echo watch from the backseat of your car with their heads on your center console. They want to comfort you but there’s not exactly room for two 100 pound dogs in the front seat so they stay put. Your friend calls you frantically because she’s not home but tells you that you should come meet her wherever she’s at. As nice as it might be to get away, it’s not appealing to you at the moment so you call the only other person you know you’d be comfortable with right now.

A part of you knows it’s a mistake to call him and if Simon finds out, he might very well almost kill his captain a third time. The other part of you knows that John would be understanding and the calm presence that you want right now. He already checks on you regularly so would it be a huge surprise if you showed up on his doorstep?

As if he’s been waiting for this moment, John already has a guest room for you and has the back door open for the dogs to run around outside. They’ve met him before so they feel more secure with leaving your side although they both give him a warning look.

Now it’s important to remember that the entire time you’ve known John, you’ve been with Simon. John thinks himself a gentleman, albeit a bit gruff, but a gentleman no less so you’ve been off limits. Obviously he can’t ignore the initial attraction he felt towards you because you are an utterly breathtaking person and it would be impossible to not notice that. He’s tried to lock away the yearning that tugs at the marrow in his bones when he sees you but it’s difficult. It’s like asking a dog to stop begging; they might listen for a moment but they go back to it within seconds. Also during the course of your friendship, he’s come to know the absolute amazing person that you are and seen that you have the kindness soul he’s ever known. It didn’t used to hurt when he saw you but after that night you texted him to keep Simon safe after he broke up with you, it’s damn near unbearable. Simon told you to find yourself a better man and John knows he could be that man. He wants to be that man but only if you come to him. He won’t approach you or even hint at it with you. It needs to be you who seeks him out. It needs to be you who wants him. It needs to be you who asks him to be that man otherwise John would never be able to forgive himself if it all went wrong.

Nothing happens that night or at all for that matter during your stay with John. It was meant to only be a few days but with losing your house so suddenly and trying to navigate a world Post Simon, it ends up being a few weeks. You feel awful about it and promise that you’ll be gone as soon as you can. John always laughs it off and tells you to stay as long as you need. Secretly he’s growing accustomed to your calming presence and gentle ways. He adores how thoughtful you are when you have to work early and barely make a sound. He appreciates how you make him a plate and leave it in the fridge if he comes home late. He’s thankful that you’re comfortable enough with him to tell him about everything that’s going on.

John made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t bring up anything unless you said something first. Even when he wants desperately to know why you’re crying when you came back from Simon’s tonight, he won’t. Instead he offers you a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and some space while he busies himself in his shop outside. It absolutely destroys him to even think about leaving you alone in the living room but it’s the right thing to do.

Just as he’s getting ready to leave, your small voice stops him.

“Can…can you stay?” It’s unusual for you to not be confident in your words. It causes him to freeze to hear the uncertainty. “If..if you want.”

He smiles at the ground before turning to look at you and nod. You’re curled into a ball on the couch with your dogs at your feet but there’s space for him next to you. You lean away from the arm of the couch and he takes the hint. Settling into the space between you and couch, he tosses his arm over the back and lets you decide how to proceed. Against your logical head, you tuck yourself into his side with yours pulled around yourself and your head on his shoulder. His fingers itch to play with the ends of your hair but they stay tightly closed around the couch cushion.

“Thank you…for everything.”

“No need for that.” He murmurs with bated breath. He knows you can feel the tension, how could you not when you’re practically laying on his chest?

“One day you’re going to accept my thanks. It might not be tomorrow or the day after, but you will,” you say with a snort. He says that every single time and you reply with the same phrase every time as well.

John’s hand betrays him and starts to play with the very ends of your hair. You feel it just like you felt his strained breathing. It’s strange to feel affection from anyone else but from him, it’s…. welcomed. You don’t acknowledge it and he knows that you’re doing that for his own sake.

“Maybe,” he tosses back and his breath catches when you move closer to him. Your arm moves to wrap around his waist and stills when he tenses. It’s your silent way of asking for consent to hold him. “Love,” he starts and moves his hand away from your hair.

You move to look at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He’s looking at you with such tenderness and warmth it makes your stomach flip.

“Do you have feelings for me?” You ask him directly, unwilling to be tossed around again. It’s abrasive and you know there’s a better way to have asked but it gets straight to the point.

John looks sick and a tight lipped smile pulls across his face as he tries to come up with an answer. “I…love I think you need to rest. There’s been a…”

“No. Answer the question.”

He glances down at your lips and that’s telling enough.

“Now isn’t the right time,” he whispers more to himself than to you. “You’ve just gone through…”

Cutting him off, you say firmly, “and that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

He can only stare at you with half lidded eyes and pray that he doesn’t break in front of you. His resolve is crumbling and it’s only thanks to his military service that he’s not throwing himself at you.

“I told him it’s over.”

John tries to interrupt you but you silence him with a pointed look. “I told him that I will always love him but that doesn’t mean I want to be with him anymore. I won’t wait around for him to figure his life out. I don’t deserve that. I deserve a man who knows what he wants and will communicate with me.”

Honestly it feels like his world is crumbling around him. You’re here snuggled into his chest and saying all these things which he knows what they mean but he can’t believe that you know what they mean. He can’t trust his own understanding of you and believe that you’d mean that.

“I need you to tell me what you want…now.”

You.

He wants you. More than anything in the world, John Price wants you and you’re asking him to confess that secret.