#stuff i was thinking about while doing squats today

[on-poetry]

I think that, in addition to the fact that poetry is not as widely celebrated as it should be, part of the reason people don't buy poetry books is because they don't know how to read poetry books. They can read and understand a poem, sure, but reading a collection requires a different form of attention. You need to be sensitive to narrative arcs, to the ways different themes and ideas evolve throughout the text, to the transformations that occur, and the ways different poems juxtaposed against one another reveal new insights into each poem.

In short, a poetry book requires you to slow down. But the ways literature is commercialized makes it a lot harder for folks to realize this. The literary world has annual reading goals (I read 100 books last year!), top 20 lists (these are the best poetry books of 2023!), a general sense of urgency around literature (you haven't read it yet?!?)

But poetry collections aren't about filling shelf space. You can't flip through the pages like prose and expect to understand even a tenth of what you've just read. Just because there are fewer words than in a novel, doesn't mean it should take less time than it does to read a novel.

Poetry books resist commodification, and when our literary culture praises the most well- and widely-read individuals, it gives into that commodification, celebrating the reader whose shelf is filled with thousands of collections they only barely grasped. I often find myself lamenting how few poetry collections I've actually read, but if I spent my time with the work and gained a whole lot from reading it, why does it matter that my poetry shelf has so many "vacancies?" Why do I feel a lack, and not what I've gained from the work I've actually read?

[erinwantstowrite]

if you're stuck on a chapter there are a few reasons:

-your set up to the scene you're writing is not working. go back and check it

-you are not in the right POV. think about who would be the most interesting or the most entertaining or the most informative in that scene, depending on what impact you want the scene to have

-you're at the beginning of the chapter and the words aren't coming to you even though you have it planned out already? the solution is simple: you don't like what you have planned out as much as you think you do. do not force it

-solution to a lot of problems comes from a single question I ask myself: Do I choose the kind option, or the mean option? (Your readers will eat up either one)

-You find the dialogue lacking? Act it out

-Your scene feels boring or something just "ain't right" but you can't tell what it is? Try making yourself feel the emotion you want your readers to feel. If you didn't cry while writing a scene meant to make your readers bawl their eyes out, then you might not have connected to your character as well as you wanted to. Put yourself in their shoes, pretend you ARE them.

(And afterwards, please practice putting yourself back in your own shoes and taking care of your mental health. Sometimes the fucked up stuff might get to you. Healthy minds create healthy lives, and in turn, you get to keep creating.)

-Your environment might be bothering you. Take a look around you and see what's nagging you. Is your workspace not clean? Are your notes out of order? A clean/orderly workspace can help you organize your thoughts or get you into a more productive mood. (Trust me, I get it, sometimes it's really hard to keep it tidy.)

-Try white/brown/pink noise. Try listening to music, or to videos that create background noise you feel most productive with.

-Jumping jacks. Squats. Stretches. Wiggle around your room. That one scene in High School Musical where Sharpay and Ryan are warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but this is good for you, your body, and your mind. Release pent up energy, get yourself awake and focused. If you aren't able to do this, try something silly to wake your brain up. Do some puzzles, sing some songs, etc.

-Most importantly:

Did you do your laundry? Did you get enough sun? Did you drink enough water? Did you eat enough today? Did you get your favorite snack? Did you smile? Did you run in your yard like you did as a kid? Did you laugh with your friend? Did you see the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at you? Did you play with your dog? Your cat? Did you look at the flowers in the field near your house? Did you meet someone new? Did you learn something you didn't before? Did you try something you were scared of? Did it go well? Did you enjoy being yourself? Did you explore the world today? Did you live? Did you love? Did you feel? Did you breathe, and relax, and feel that everything is gonna be okay?

It might seem insignificant, but we write from the heart, not just the mind. Let your story sit in the back of your mind when you truly feel stuck. Take care of yourself, try getting out of your head. Notice the details around you, commit them to memory. Your story will wait for you. It might take a day, or days, or a week, or a month, months, or a year or years. But the story sits with you and you'll be thinking about it without actually thinking about it. When you come to your story again, it will be happy that you've grown, no matter how big or small

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Could we have some hcs of reader referring to some of the older MHA men (coughAizawacough) as "beekeeping age" and then they make her explain it? LMAO.

For those who don’t spend all their time on TikTok like I do, ‘beekeeping age’ refers to an attractive older man, usually in 40s/50s. Some of these guys technically don’t apply but we’re putting them in anyway!

Characters: Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori/All Might, Maijima Higari/Power Loader, Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Contents: The existential struggle of trying to explain a meme to people who aren't chronically online.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Age: 31

Yes, he’s only in his thirties, but Aizawa has the vibe of a retiree. He looks like someone who should be muttering “I’m too old for this shit” at any minor inconvenience. In fact, he often does. He’s said it several times today. 

Most especially when you looked over at him and told him that he looks like he’s ‘beekeeping age’. Now, as a teacher, Aizawa isn’t as out of step with popular culture as he might like you to think he is. Even if he doesn’t really bother with social media himself, he has twenty students who are all hooked to their phones like it’s a dialysis machine. He picks stuff up just by proximity, and it’s not the first time he’s heard the phrase ‘beekeeping age’. And while he might have a vague idea of what it means, he’s not just going to let you get away with calling him that. 

He looks straight at you, lifts an eyebrow and asks, “What does that mean?”

Which leaves you floundering a little, because you have to explain to Aizawa that it means you think of him as an attractive ‘older’ man. 

While he’s the furthest thing from vain, he finds himself a little bit offended.

“What the hell do you mean ‘older’? I’m thirty-one.”

“You have to admit, Shouta, you do give off the vibe of a grizzled older man.”

“I’m too old for this shit.”

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Age: 55+

Toshinori’s the only one who really qualifies for this trope, and naturally, he has absolutely no idea what you’re referring to when you tell him that he’s beekeeping age. He grins uncertainly at you.

“I’m…not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I’ve always thought that beekeeping looks like a relaxing hobby! As long as you’re not allergic!”

Of course, you take a little pity on him and explain that it means he’s a hot older guy. 

“Oh, are you referring to a DILF?”

Once you’re done spraying your coffee or whatever you were drinking everywhere, you demand to know where Toshinori heard that word and if he knows what it means. Let’s be real, Toshinori doesn’t run his own social media and doesn’t know squat about memes.

“Oh, a charming young lady walked up to me at a signing once and informed me I am what the young people call a DILF. Still can’t get anyone to tell me what it means! Slang these days! Ha!”

I dare you to try and get Toshinori to refer to himself as a DILF in front of Aizawa. Just for the hell of it. 

Maijima Higari/Power Loader

Age: 41

Higari can’t catch a break. Not only is he very short and look a couple decades younger than he actually is, leading to a lot of unfortunate misunderstandings, now he has some whippersnapper calling telling him to go start a beehive. 

He’s probably the only one on this list that actually knows what it means. I feel like because he’s so in line with cutting edge technology that he’s pretty on top of social media as well? He doesn’t seem like the type to lose step with the rest of the world when it comes to these things. So you don’t even have to explain what you mean when you tell him he’s beekeeping age. 

“Buzz off.” 

Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Age: 38 

At first Sir Nighteye thinks you’re making some kind of joke. He stares you down, looking rather menacing even while his mind is turning over the phrase ‘beekeeping age’, looking for the pun or the play on words. When he can’t find it, he finally has to admit defeat and ask you gravely: 

“What does that mean?”

Sir Nighteye’s a little put out when you tell him it’s about good looking older men, because he doesn’t consider himself particularly old. Pacify him by telling him that he just gives off the dignified air of a mature man. He might scoff, but he’ll be somewhat more mollified. 

“I suppose I can accept that as a compliment. Although I think you ought to come up with better jokes. That one didn’t even contain a pun.”

[seoktized]

gym bros 🤘(s.mt + o.sm)

pairing: seok matthew, oh seungmin [o.de] x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, oral (m. + f. receiving), double penetration, unprotected sex, public ? (gym) sex, face riding, meanish!dom seungmin, soft!dom matthew. praise (f. receiving), o.de calls you a slut . i think that’s it

a/n: leave it to me to write a matthew threesome with a random idol :3 thank you to my lovely wife, @junhanner for getting me obsessed with o.de & inspiring me to write this ^_^ mwah

reblogs are very much appreciated!

nsfw under the cut, mdni.

every year you made a resolution to start bettering yourself by going to the gym but it always fell through, your schedule getting ‘too busy’ (or any other excuse you had to make yourself feel better.)

but this year, you decided to stop procrastinating and join the gym. this particular gym was owned by a friend’s friend, oh seungmin.

you were told good things about this gym, so you immediately signed up, even going as far as getting yourself a personal trainer. that’s how you met matthew.

matthew was everything you’d expect a personal trainer to be like. fit, confident, and encouraging. you definitely had doubts about joining the gym, constantly worried about others seeing and judging you. but matthew soothed all of those anxieties, encouraging you with a warm smile that you soon became very fond of.

and with that fondness of his smile came a particular liking to matthew himself. your little crush ended up hindering your ability to stay focused during your sessions with matthew, and he noticed.

while you were doing squats, matthew shook his head before coming over to you, placing a hand on your lower back and straightening your form. his other hand went to your thigh, pulling your legs farther apart. “don’t half-ass this.” he mumbled before going back to his previous spot.

now you’d be lying if you said the touch didn’t ignite something in you. the lingering feeling of his touch burning on your thigh. you tried your best to do as matthew said, but your brain was obviously in other places.

matthew’s eyebrows furrowed, “are you okay? you seem off today.” you shook your head, “just.. thinking about stuff.” matthew raised his eyebrow, but nodded.

“let’s try bench pressing.” he tilted his head towards the bench press machine. you nodded before making your way over to the machine, matthew close behind you.

what you didn’t see was matthew’s eyes scanning your body, watching how your ass moved in your gym shorts. he as well had something on his mind; you.

every time you come in for your sessions, matthew has to remind himself that you’re his client, he shouldn’t feel this way about you. but when you show up, your gym bra showing off your cleavage and your shorts hugging your curves just right… all of matthew’s sanity goes out of the window.

you laid down on the bench, adjusting yourself to lift the weight while matthew went to the top to spot you. your breath hitched as matthew seemed closer than usual. so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

when you looked up, your eyes widened as you realized your face was almost crotch-level with matthew. he leaned over to adjust the weights before nodding at you, signaling you could begin your reps. “now, push your limits, i believe in you.” matthew encouraged.

you took a deep breath before reaching up to lift the bar. “there you go. you’re doing so good, just like that.” matthew praised. his words went straight to your core, causing a soft moan to leave your lips before you could catch yourself.

both yours and matthew’s eyes widened at the noise. you attempted to play it off, grunting more to make it seem as if the weights were too much, but matthew wasn’t buying it. a smug smirk was plastered across his face as he placed the bar back on the rack, “you’re clearly thinking of something else. you wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head?”

you pressed your thighs together at matthew’s sudden boldness. “c’mon don’t get shy now.. maybe i could help you ease your thoughts.” matthew purred, leaning down to be face level with you. “thinking about you, matthew.” you whispered.

matthew’s smirk grew before he stood up straight, glancing around the gym to see if anyone was still around. once he was sure no one was around, he went around to the side of the bench, “get on your knees, pretty.” you quickly got down, letting matthew sit down before you went between his thighs.

“so eager.” he chuckled before lifting his hips up to take his shorts off. you watched intensely as matthew slipped off his boxers, his hard cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. feeling your mouth water at the sight, you looked up at matthew, waiting for him to give you the green light.

he smiled at your awaiting form, “have at it darling.” you leaned forward, taking his length in your hand and pumping it slowly.

matthew bit his lip as he tried to suppress his moans. his eyes rolled back as you ran your tongue across his tip, giving kitten licks to it. “fuck, don’t tease, pretty.” he groaned, his hand leaving the bench to lace in your hair.

he slowly guided your mouth on his cock, pushing your head down until your nose came in contact with his pelvis. shameless curses and moans left matthew’s lips, your mouth feeling too good for him to care about someone overhearing you two.

while nobody was around in the gym area, his boss, seungmin was in the gym office sorting through paperwork before he heard the matthew’s moans. he quickly got up, worrying that someone had injured themselves while they were unattended.

when he reached the gym area, he was met with matthew, balls deep inside your mouth, groans escaping matthew’s lips every time you bobbed your head on his length.

seungmin narrowed his eyes as he cleared his throat, matthew’s eyes shooting open and you sputtering around his length. “really, matthew? couldn’t keep it in your pants for one session?” he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

matthew blinked as his mind was currently all over the place, his orgasm ebbing away with every passing second. seungmin’s eyes trailed over your form, stopping on your teary eyes and swollen lips.

you’d met seungmin a handful of times, but you never made note of how buff he was. his size and the way he was staring made you feel small.

he slowly walked over to the two of you, eyes locked on you as he moved. he leaned down, “don’t think i could blame you, though.” he reached out, pressing his thumb past your lips. you began to suck, instantly submitting to seungmin.

matthew watched with wide eyes, wishing your mouth was still around his cock. “how bout this,” seungmin spoke up, “you finish sucking matthew off while you ride my face. i know you’re soaked down there..” seungmin awaited your response, eyes flicking up to matthew who’s eyes were locked on your lips around seungmin’s thumb.

you nodded enthusiastically, pulling off his thumb with a pop. “it hurts,” you said breathlessly. seungmin smiled before moving to lay down beside you, gesturing for you to climb onto his face.

matthew stood up as you shimmied out of your shorts, then moving over to seungmin. you threw your leg over the other side of his head, your cunt hovering over his mouth. matthew positioned himself by seungmin’s head, his cock in hand.

seungmin wrapped his arms around your thighs, gently pulling you down onto his mouth. his tongue quickly lapped at your juices, dipping it into your hole and messily thrusting the muscle inside of you.

any moan that could leave your lips was quickly muffled by matthew’s cock. “just like that, doll. sucking me so well.” matthew groaned. you moaned around his length as seungmin’s nose bumped against your clit with every movement of his head.

your hips started to subtly grind against seungmin’s tongue, your orgasm nearing quickly as he worked his tongue skillfully. “s-shit, gonna cum soon, love.” matthew warned. you began to suck him harder, desperately trying to get him to cum.

with a few more thrusts into your mouth, matthew groaned as he came, shooting his load down your throat. you let matthew’s cock fall from your lips as you swallowed his cum, watching him as you did so.

seungmin watched the two of you, the actions causing him to groan into your pussy. “s-so close-!” you cried, reaching down to lace your fingers in seungmin’s hair. he let you take over, sticking out his tongue for you to grind yourself on.

your mouth opened in a silent scream as you came on his tongue. seungmin lapped up your release, moaning at the taste. “tastes so good..” he mumbled against your cunt. you slowly slid off his face, going to straddle his lap instead. you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

the kiss quickly got messy, seungmin’s tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped, feeling his bulge against your cunt. matthew watched the scene in front of him, feeling himself grow hard at the sight.

“love, you think you could take both of us?” matthew asked, leaning down to lift your head towards him.

your eyes widened at his question before you bashfully nodded. matthew smiled before patting your head, moving to kneel behind you. seungmin quickly pulled off his bottoms, his cock standing tall. you lifted up, aligning his cock with your entrance before slowly sliding down on his length. curses left both of your lips at the feeling.

matthew let the two of you adjust before moving forward, pressing the tip to your already full hole. matthew slowly pushed in, watching as you collapsed against seungmin’s chest. “s-so full,” you moaned.

“i know pretty. you’re taking us so well, just a little more.” matthew massaged your sides soothingly as he bottomed out. your nails dug into seungmin’s chest as the two men slowly started to thrust into your cunt. sinful moans erupted from your throat as they stuffed you full.

“such a greedy s-slut taking two cocks at the same time.” seungmin said through gritted teeth. you were already too far gone, your quickly nearing orgasm turning your brain to mush. seungmin chuckled as he felt you drooling on his chest, “shit, we fucked her dumb, matt..” he said breathlessly.

matthew watched as you babbled and moaned loudly, “our pretty girl is gonna let us fill her up, hm?” matthew cooed, you moaned in response, incoherent words leaving your lips. your moans increased in pitch as you came around their cocks, your body shaking in their hold.

“i’m close,” seungmin groaned, the feeling of your cunt and matthew’s cock dragging against his sending him over the edge. matthew came soon after, both men emptying themselves inside your cunt.

“so good for us.. you okay, baby?” matthew asked, leaning down to caress your face. both matthew and seungmin pulled out, their mixed cum leaking from your cunt.

you hummed at matthew’s question, mind still too foggy to form sentences. “c’mon, pretty. let’s go get you cleaned up.” matthew stood up, bending down to pick you up.

he carried you to the gym’s showers, praising you every step of the way, seungmin followed close behind. both men helping to clean you up, pressing soft kisses to your skin. <3

[eggtartz]

Hey!! May I please request Wakasa, Izana, Mitsuya and Baji protecting the reader from a pervert? Maybe someone taking pictures of the reader at the gym, or trying to take a picture under the reader's skirt, or trying to grope the reader in the subway/bus, etc.

a/n : thankyou for requesting anon 🫶🏻

masterlist

: everyone is a menace, sexual harassment

baji keisuke

- it was recess so baji stayed in class while his other classmates was having lunch normally at the school cafe so he wanted to have a quick learning lesson

- after a while baji saw there was ten more minutes before recess was over but he haven't seen you yet so he walked down the halls to your class

- he heard some whimpering coming from your class and tried to open the door but the door was locked

- he intended to shrugged the whimpering when he couldn't hear any voices anymore until he heard a voice. your voice.

- baji didn't even hesitate to kick down the door and saw two of the seniors cornering you, while you were crying and holding a thin broom stick

- baji lunged himself on the guys, making a mess of the chairs and tables there while you try to calm him down but baji was ruthless with his punches

- it wasn't until ryusei held back baji that he calmed down a little, now looking at the two seniors bloody on the floor

- the teacher came and the two of you got released early (baji due to some injuries)

- "im sorry keisuke, i couldn't reach you"

- "idiot, that's not your fault. im sorry i didn't came there earlier i should've know"

imaushi wakasa

- it was a regular day where you would hang at the gym with benkei and wakasa but wakasa had work today so you were with benkei

- "hey y/n do you mind if i run downstairs to run the coffee machine a bit?"

- "oh no keizo go ahead!" so benkei went downstairs while you continued doing some squats

- you were wearing earbuds to concentrate more on your breathing and the music blasted through your ears too so you weren't aware of your surroundings

- there was this person behind you, they weren't too close but close enough to see you weren't paying attention towards your surroundings so they took out their phone

- after glancing around to make sure the coast is clear, they took photos of your sweating thighs and clicking sounds were heard

- they moved to take pictures of your chest too until their wrist were restrained

- "enjoying your time prick? delete those pictures"

- "wakasa? im sorry it's just-"

- "shut the fuck up and delete those pictures"

- the person hurriedly deleted the lewd photos but wakasa wasn't content in case there were backup files so he took the phone and took out the battery and memory card

- he tossed the empty phone and sent a glare to the person while approaching you

- "oh waka kun?! you're back?"

- "yes honey, how about we take a break and have some tea yeah?"

izana kukorawa

- you were going to one of his meetings to bring him so snacks but he was a bit busy so you waited outside the hideout

- after a while kakucho came to fetch you and escorted you inside the meeting room where you saw izana at the table

- "im sorry i couldn't come and get you love, i was busy" he said, looking up from his paperwork

- "oh it's okay izana, continue your meeting and i'll sort out these snacks at the table how do think about that?"

- "oh the members would like that so much love, thankyou" izana continued his work and soon the meeting started

- you have packed a lot of desserts because izana's members loves sweet stuff so you took some plates from the cupboard and stack the desserts on them

- you took out the plates and placed them on the table, in front of each member

- you were happy with their reactions because each one of them gobbled the dessert quickly and smiled a lot

- that was until one particular member slapped your butt, him laughing afterwards

- "your desserts are so sweet, i wonder does that ass taste the same huh?"

- the room fell silent as your face was clearly horrified but it couldn't match your boyfriend's face

- "say that again?" he said while slowly pushing his chair

- "what? what's wrong?"

- a chair flew at his direction, knocking him out

- "say that again at my partner, punk. i'll murder you" izana said with bloodshot eyes and erratic breathing as if he's controlling his temper

- shion and mucho dragged him outside and did the beatings (kakucho gave them a look to do the work, not trusting izana to do so)

- "love? come here" izana said softly to you

- you approached him and he took off his red jacket and tied it on your waist

- "let's go home" he whispered in your ear, the only person hearing his vulnerable tone was you

takashi mitsuya

- you and mitsuya just fetch his younger siblings from school and now was riding the subway while the two girls were giggling while eating their ice cream

- suddenly the subway got a little packed so you had to stand a bit further from your boyfriend and his siblings to give space to the new people who entered

- mitsuya gestured you to sit at his seat but you refused, luna and mana were sitting in his lap because there were way too many people

- you were standing about three steps away from them when a man came behind you

- the man nearly sniffed your neck at how close he was but distanced away from him

- you didn't mind it because you thought he did it by accident

- "oniichan, the creepy guy is looking at y/n's skirt. isn't that bad?" little luna said, remembering what his brother used to teach her that people seeing under her skirt is bad

- "that's right luna, can you sit here and be good girl while i see y/n?" mitsuya let the two siblings occupied the seat while he walked to you and the man

- "so? what's with the phone?" mitsuya asked the man behind you. he hid it in time that you couldn't see it but mitsuya saw it

- "what phone?"

- "c'mon i saw that. how about you delete those pictures and i'll forgive you"

- "what's got you so riled up who're you her girlfriend?" the man asked

- "yeah im her girlfriend. can you delete those pictures now while im nicely asking?"

- the man ignored mitsuya and mitsuya was enraged but he didn't wanted to lose it because his sister's were there

- he quickly snatched the phone in the man's right pocket and went to the window and guess what he did?

- yup he threw it out the window, out from a moving subway

- "you fucker! my phone!"

- "i asked nicely and you refused so you give me no choice. oh look at that it's our stop. c'mon mana, luna. y/n?" mitsuya hold your hand and dragged you out from the packed subway

- the man stand there shocked while watching the four of you come out from the subway, mana mockingly stick out her tongue at the man

[ivycjl]

Epiphany - Part 3

The wind whips Benny’s face. He'd been riding for the better part of an hour now, away from the city and into the country. Johnny was ahead of him. They were riding out to a nice spot with a big, shady tree where they would spend most of the day.

He followed Johnny as he took a right turn into their spot, parking his motorcycle under the tree. Benny allowed himself to think about what happened this morning. Sure, recently you had been brushing him off a little, but he figured you were just in one of your moods. But today made him see different; something was definitely up. The last full sentence you spoke haunted him. I am just about done with you, Benny Cross.

“What'ya thinkin’ about?”

Benny shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Nothin’.”

“You sure? What's on your mind?”

Benny sighed. “Just…wife stuff."

Johnny tilted his head. “What'd ya do?”

Benny rolled his eyes and shrugged. Johnny gave him a look. “Well, okay. D’you see the Cubs lost again?”

Of course. Of course he would do that. He's got the whole day off of work, you just had a fight about not seeing him, and he wants to spend it with his fucking motorcycle club. God damnit.

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, hemming a dress for one of your clients. Altering clothes was one of your many side hustles to bring in some more money. Between that, teaching a few dance classes, and occasionally working at the established seamstress shop, you earned decent money for yourself.

The sharp stab of a pin refocused you. Honestly, what are you doing wrong? Why doesn't he love you like he should? Whatever.

For the next couple of weeks, Benny tries reaching out to you a little, but every time it comes with more pain.

He puts an arm around your waist, then informs you he's leaving town with the club for a couple days. Awkwardly tries to touch your shoulder once before going out all night and not coming home until 2 p.m.

Your worries and insecurities started to culminate. They all usually came to the same conclusion. I'm not good enough for him anymore. I’m asking too much and he fell out of love. If he was ever in love in the first place. Maybe he found someone new. God knows I can't supervise him, so it's entirely possible.

When the two of you show up to meetings now, you pretty much completely ignore him to meet Betty and Kathy and Shiela. You pretend not to see the hurt on his face as you greet them with big smiles. You haven't smiled at him in a while.

The next night, he actually came home at a decent time. You don’t hear the door open, too consumed by your emotions and distracted by the TV. He drunkenly stumbles throughout the house, trying not to make too much noise when he finds you laying on the couch, tears streaming down your face.

Boldened by the alcohol in his system, Benny walks over to you and squats down. “Why are you crying?”

He tilts his head. You try and fail to discreetly wipe the tears off your face. “Oh, just um…the movie’s sad.”

Benny turns to the TV. “This is Bewitched.” He looks back at you, even more confused to see you looking down.

“You should go to bed.”

The words are like magic on his inebriated mind. Exhaustion overtakes him as he walks up to bed. You're still in the back of his mind, puzzling Benny until he falls asleep.

Benny wakes up with a pounding headache. He looks over, expecting to see you, then remembers what happened the night before. What the fuck is going on? Whatever it is, it's been happening for too long. Benny decides to ask you about it.

He ambles downstairs and finds you sewing at the breakfast table. “Hey.”

You hum. “Y/N, I need to ask you about something.”

You freeze at the question as he pops some Advil and sits across from you. “And don't bullshit me, 'cause I know something's wrong.”

You take slow, measured breaths. “Okay.”

“What's been goin’ on with you? You're-I don't know what it is but something’s wrong.”

Oh, you noticed, huh? Well, since your observation skills are so great why don't you tell me? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that I've been upset with you for months about all your shit, and even when we have huge, nearly marriage-ending fights about it, you can't bring yourself to care?

You want to snap all this at him, but try to remember your ultimate goal. No talking means no fighting. Sure, it's not entirely fair to make him guess, but at this point, is it even guessing? You had come to him multiple times about the same problems, over and over.

“I-I don't know.”

“You don't know? Seriously?”

“No.”

“Honey, are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.”

Benny clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. “No, no you're not. I’ve seen you, you're bein' weird, you're avoiding me-”

“Stop! Just stop it, Benny. I don't want to talk to you.”

You bite your tongue before you can say anything worse. You look your husband in the eyes for the first time in a while. Instead of his usual anger, you see nothing but hurt on his face. It breaks your heart.

He slowly nods, looking down. “Okay.” He shakily exhales and exists the kitchen, walking outside to work on his bike.

Fuck.

[bluegalaxygirl]

First Bath togeather (ZoLu X Reader)

Plot: Your first bath with Zoro and Luffy gets you to open up about your past a bit.

Warning: Old self harm scars, fluff, nudity but no Smut and bad language.

Inspired by Night Routine. Reader is GN, Zoro X Luffy X Reader, established relationship, poly relationship.

Stepping into the warm bubble filled water a sigh of relaxation leaves your lips, its not normal for you to take a bath before everyone else but while you were working you tripped and dropped some of your stuff onto the floor making a big mess. Luckily you weren't hurt but you did get covered in stuff and after cleaning up your mess you decided to take a bath early as not to feel gross. After a while of relaxing you started cleaning your body with soap which you take out of a small case, you use different soap from everyone since you use a lot of creams and moisturizers for all your scars. Some are form fighting but the ones you worry about the most are the old scars on your stomach and thighs, they look very different to the rest of your scars since they scatter across your skin, some in thin lines while others are raised and thick. You regret doing them but at the time it was the only thing to take away the feelings you had, well at least for a little while, the only person on the crew who knows about them is Chopper who has more than helped out with suggestions on creams and message techniques to lessen the appearance. The creams and moisturizer you use everyday stay in a basket that you keep locked away in your locker in the locker room but now its currently on the side of the large bathtub waiting for you to pick which one to use first.

Luffy had been trying to find you for a while now but you were no where to be found, the last spot to check was the crows nest where he knew Zoro would be, it's not your normal day to work out with the Swordsman but you have worked out with him on your off days before so maybe today was one of those days. Climbing up the ladder and popping open the hatch the captain enters the large round room with sofa's around the walls and work out equipment littering the floor. Zoro was listing one of his many weights while doing squats his eyes focused on the window across from him while Usopp was working in the corner of the room putting some wooden panels back into place. "Captain? You need something?" Zoro asks seeing Luffy enter the room with a concerned yet kinda annoyed face, the captain turns his attention to his first mate and walks over to him with a sigh "I can't find Y/N anywhere" The captain groans earning a chuckle from the swordsman who puts his weights down and wipes his face with a towel, before he can answer Usopp raises his head from his work to look over at the two "Oh they went for a bath after spilling some stuff" The sniper sighs going back to his work as a big smile forms on Luffy's face. Your normally the last to get a bath since you work late into the night so maybe this was his chance to finally have a bath with you and Zoro.

Zoro knew exactly what his captain was thinking so deiced to do the rest of his workout later, throwing his towel to the side the swordsman puts his arm around Luffy's shoulders and leans into him "Want to take a bath?" Zoro smirks seeing his captains face light up and nod before dragging the swordsman to the hatch and down the ladder "Luffy slow down" Zoro laughs once down on the deck of the sunny only to earn a slight pout from his captain before being dragged to the ladder heading up to the bath area. Hearing all the commotion Chopper is woken up form his nap and steps out of his office to see Luffy laughing while pulling Zoro behind him, wiping his still tired eyes the doctor steps a little closer to them "What's going on?" The reindeer asks earning the attention of the two who stop in their tracks, Luffy rubs the back of his head realizing he must have woken the doctor up but keeps the smile on his face. "We're gonna take a bath with Y/N... there's nothing to worry about" Zoro's smile drops seeing Choppers eyes widen in panic and run over to the two "I-I don't think thats a good idea... d-did you ask them?" Luffy tilts his head to the side wondering why his crew mate is panicking over this "its just a bath, plus they work late, so we never get to do this with them" The smile on the captains face returns while slightly bouncing on his tip toes eager to spend time with you and Zoro.

Zoro sighs and puts his arm around Luffy's shoulder giving the reindeer a reassuring look "If they don't want us in their then thats fine but i'm sure it'll be ok" Chopper looks down while rubbing his arm, he wanted to stop them but Zoro was right, if you tell them no then they will both respect you and walk away even if their upset over it. The doctor also didn't want to let slip about the real reason why you don't bath with them or take late night baths so kept his mouth shut and nodded letting the two head off. Zoro through stops for a second watching his captain climb up before looking at Chopper, he could sense the reindeer's unease so places a hand on his head getting the doctor to look up form his feet "Is something wrong?" The swordsman asks hoping to get an answer but instead Chopper shakes his head and backs up "I-its nothing" The doctor suddenly runs off back to his office making Zoro sigh "Zoro, hurry up" Luffy calls out from the top now in the bathroom and heading to the locker room next to the bath area in order to get undressed. With a small smile Zoro heads up following his captain in getting everything he needed and wrapping a towel around his waist before heading to the bath area.

Grabbing a pot of scar cream form the basket you sit on the edge of the bath with your back to the door applying the cream to the scars littering your stomach and massaging them in. With a sigh you look them over noticing two of them are puffy and red, probably form where your waist band has been rubbing against them, if it doesn't get better your gonna have to apply plasters or bandages again which sucks since you haven't had to do that in a while. Grabbing some more cream you apply it to your inner thighs before closing the lid and placing it on the side, rubbing the cream in you suddenly feel someone behind you but before you can turn around or cover yourself a voice yells out along with a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders "Y/N, can we join you?" Luffy asks only for you to push him away and sink into the water, placing a hand over your heart and turning you glare at your captain clearly showing your anger "You scared me half to death" You yell seeing that Zoro had also joined his captain both with towels around their waists and the swordsman's hand around Luffy's waist seeming to have caught him before the captain slipped and hit the floor. "I told you not to do it" Zoro sighs looking down at Luffy who puffs out his cheeks a bit at his first mate before turning to you and rubbing the back of his head "Sorry Y/N... i didn't mean to scare you but i really want to take a bath with you and Zo... is that ok?"

A sigh leaves your lips not sure if you should say yes or no, Your gonna have to reapply the cream on your legs now since it hasn't had time to settle in before you hit the water. You didn't want them to think different of you or act different around you like most people do when they find out but on the other hand you hate keeping things form them. "Fine but" You hold up your finger as Luffy smiles wide about to jump in until Zoro grabs him and holds the captain back, the swordsman raises an eyebrow at you wondering why there has to be a but. "I have a strict routine when it comes to my scars and skin care so don't rush me to get out if you get board and no touching my creams" Putting your finger down you watch the two nod their heads before taking off their towels and getting into the bath. You sit back on the edge of the bath to go back to what you were doing, as much as you didn't want them to see your self harm scars you knew that you would forget to do the ones on your inner thigh if you changed up your routine plus you didn't mind being naked around the two since you know they won't do anything. Zoro gets in next to you and places a warm towel over his hair while leaning back into the bath letting the warm water soak into his skin. Luffy gets in on your other side feeling a little deflated because of the water, but he was happy to be with the two of you, resting his arms on the edge of the bath he sighs in content before laying his head on his arms and looking you over.

Your body was littered with all kinda of scars from fighting but there were some he's never seen before, your stomach and thighs where always covered even when in a bathing suite you would wear some kind of pants or skirt to cover those areas. He tried not to stare, he really did, but he couldn't look away as your moved to your outer thigh rubbing the cream into the clean thin scars, it confused him a bit since they were so different to your other scars. Zoro soon opened eyes again and turned to look up at you, the concentration on your face always made you look more amazing in his eyes, reaching his hand out the swordsman rubs your lower back with a smile feeling slight goosebumps raise where his hand is and a small smile appearing on your face. Before moving onto your other thigh you lean down and place a kiss on Zoro's lips as his hand runs across your lower back "Gods your amazing" The swordsman whispers making you blush with a smile, it always warms your heart to hear those words from the two you love "So are you" You whisper back placing another kiss on his lips before sitting up, turning to Luffy you notice his face looking at your stomach so you take his chin and lift his head up to look at your face before leaning closer "It's not polite to stare, Captain" You smile hoping to take his mind off what ever he was thinking, it seemed to work since Luffy smiles a little and leans up to meet your lips, his hand runs up your leg but you stop it before it reaches your thigh.

The captain pulls away a bit to raise an eyebrow at you but you move your hand to his cheek and run your thumb over his cheek bone. "It needs time to set before i wash it off... i don't want it getting wet" You whisper leaning in for another kiss. The Swordsman hasn't had a look at the rest of your body, to stunned by your face and wet hair but now his curiosity was peeked, so he let his eyes wonder until they stopped at your stomach, his bit his tongue as he looked down to your thighs knowing those type of scars too well. He never did it himself, but he knew people that did, he could tell they were old but there were two on your stomach that had him concerned that you were still doing it or had recently started up again. Pulling away Luffy notices Zoro's clenched jaw and fixed eyes a pit forms in his stomach knowing that his swordsman isn't happy about something so his eyes travel to where Zoro is looking and spots the two angry, red and raised scars in your stomach. "Does it hurt?" Luffy asks snapping you out of your loving gaze over your captain to look down at yourself, Luffy's fingers lightly touching the two puffy scars being careful not to hurt you "N-No" you stutter only to feel Zoro's hand grip your waist, you could tell he was angry just by the feeling, with a gulp you turn to look at the swordsman who's angry yet sad eyes meet yours. "Their old love... very old" you try and reassure the man and place a hand on his cheek, you could tell he knew what they were, it scared you that he might think different of you. "It looks fresh to me" Zoro's eyes burn into yours, not happy that you would do this to yourself, Luffy looks over at Zoro then to you not understanding what is going on, you get cuts and bruises all the time, either form your work or from fighting, so he didn't see the big deal.

With a sigh you cup Zoro's face and place your forehead against his "I don't do that anymore, it was a long time ago, its red and angry because it's been rubbing on my waist band thats all" You sigh hoping he believes you, his hand on your waist eases a bit no longer gripping it hard as he looks into your eyes, trying to find any kind of deceit in them. Luffy looks the both of you over his mind working to figure out what you both were talking about until it hit him, he felt upset, but he believed you weren't doing it anymore, the only thing he could think of was why? Your kind, smart and amazing so why would you do that to yourself? The captain leans over and lightly kisses the scars on your stomach causing you to gasp and jump slightly "Luffy?" you ask placing a hand on his back as the captain kisses over every scar until he gets to you thighs where he stops remembering what you said about letting the cream set in "Can i?" The captain looks up at you with those dam puppy dog eyes you can't say no too so you nod your head seeing a big smile appear on his face as he goes back to kissing your scars. Zoro lets out a chuckle and pulls your hand from his face before leaning up and kissing your cheek "I'm sorry i got mad... i believe you" relief washes over you at his words making you feel a lot calmer, Zoro's fingers lightly run over your stomach avoiding the two angry scars. He can't understand why you would do this to yourself, but he didn't want to ask in case he upsets you.

Luffy raises his head form your leg and grabs your arm to pull you into the water with them, you don't offer up any resistance as he pulls you down and wraps his arms around your waist. Usually people treat you like a fragile flower after they find out about your scars but Luffy didn't he pulled you down the same way he always does and when he wraps his arms around your waist he squeezes a bit while he gets comfy. With a smile you place your hand on his cheek to guide his head to lay on your shoulder. "Why? You're amazing so... why?" Luffy asks, It may have been a long time ago, but he can't imagine you being any less than amazing. Zoro moves closer putting his arm around your shoulder, his fingers stroking Luffy's hair while his hand runs up and down your leg soon being met by Luffy's hand who interlocks his fingers with the swordsman's. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want too" The swordsman places a kiss on your temple not wanting to force you into anything but you might as well tell them now that they know. "It's ok... i don't talk about it because people always treat me different after knowing so.." You sigh hoping they won't do the same but so far they haven't held you like your breakable or talked to you like a child so it gives you confidence that they won't change. You told them everything you could and why you did it, it hurt to talk about but Luffy's arms didn't loosen like so many others did and Zoro never pulled away instead he would place firm kisses on your head, neither one of them looked at you in shock or sadness.

They just listened and when it was all over Luffy smiled up at you squeezing you a little tighter "Your more than amazing Y/N, your incredible." It shocked you a little since your so used to the, I'm so sorry or I'm here if you need me. Those words are comforting but Luffy's words warm your heart more than any other words, you can't help but smile back and move some wet hair out of his face as Zoro moves his head into your neck "There's no need to worry, we're not going to treat you any different" The swordsman smiles into your neck before kissing it, your shoulders relaxing to the feeling of his lips. "Thank you" You whisper reaching a hand up to touch his cheek only for the swordsman to take your hand in his and kiss your hand making his way up to your lips, you can't help but blush at his touch. Luffy watches with a big smile, he loves seeing you or Zoro blush, so he'll have to keep in mind that what the swordsman is doing makes you blush, so he can use it later. Getting to your lips Zoro stops hovering over your lips as his eyes meet yours "No need to thank us baby" A cocky smile appears in the swordsman's face before he crashes his lips onto your and lightly biting your lower lip, wanting more than just a light kiss. Opening your mouth you let Zoro's tongue meet yours his hand moving form yours to interlock his fingers with Luffy's who nuzzles into your neck placing light kisses on it as you make out with the swordsman. You have to push on Zoro's chest to get him to pull away when you needed air but it felt good to have his lips on yours, he wasn't gentle with you which you were grateful for.

Luffy lifts his head from your neck before grabbing the cream on the side with his free hand, you go to tell him off since you told them not to touch your creams but the captain moves to sit in front of you with a big smile "Teach me" You raise an eyebrow at him wondering what he wanted from you and it seemed it got threw the Luffy before you could voice it "I help Zoro with his shoulders and i want to help you with your scars so can you teach me" A smile appears on your face as you lift your leg out of the water to show him, "We'll first off thats the wrong cream" taking the cream off your captain you put it back in the basket and grab a different one "There are different ones?" The captain tilted his head making the swordsman chuckle holding his hand over his mouth, so he didn't let out a big laugh, you nod though and hold out the cream to Luffy who takes it and opens it. You teach him how to apply the cream and the massage techniques you learned form chopper, you try to explain things as best you can, like how different scars need different treatments and how some need a gentle touch while others need a bit more force. The captain was surprisingly good at it helping you finish off both your legs before leaning up and placing his lips on yours, it shocked you a little since he did it so quickly but you took the cream off him and put it on the side while kissing back.

Short sweet kisses soon turned into making out, your tongues meeting as your lips moves together and your hands in his wet hair. Meanwhile Zoro had gotten washed but watch the two of you, learning a little from you but when you both started making out he couldn't help but smile, taking a bath was a good idea. Luffy's the first to pull away with a big smile "You're amazing Y/N, i love you" Your heart flutters at his words letting your hands move form his hair to his cheeks as you place a loving kiss on his lips "I love you too My King" You whisper before letting the captain pull away and turn to Zoro "Want me to get your back?" The swordsman smiles moving closer to the two of you before patting in front of him "Nah, I'll do your hair and back though." Luffy was quick to nod sitting in front of Zoro as the swordsman started to wash the captains hair and giving his scalp a good massage in the process. "We should do this again" The captain sighs closing his eyes at the feeling of his head being massaged, you nod leaning into Zoro while running your hand up and down his arm "I'd like that... you ok with that?" Zoro asks turning to you with a small smile, you look up at him and place a kiss on his cheek before nodding "Yea.. I'd love it" Your words make the two smile a little bigger.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Can I request a story for Bayverse Kids, Were The oldest kids going on there first mission /patrol

U can do it if u want I'm not forcing u to do it :)

NYPD Special Task Force, team 2 (Fluff?/Angst?/Crack?)

Children Series

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I recommend you read Romeo’s first patrol before this one;) Romeo, Joan, Galileo, Sunny and Marcello’s first patrol without their parents around, and things happen. Focuses mainly on Romeo and Marcello.

Warnings: Fighting, mentioning of former injury, mentioning of wanting to strangle a butterfly, lol.

Today was a special day. A truly special day. The NYPD Special Task  Force, team 2 was going on their first patrol, without their fathers to supervise them. Sunny and Marcello had now been going on patrol with their fathers and the three oldest kids for three months, and now police chief Vincent had decided it was time. And tonight, as the two teams made their way to the roofs of New York City, they would for the first time not be going in the same direction.

“Okay, here’s the plan”, Romeo said, squatting down on the roof in front of his team, having all four half turtles listening to him. “Chief Vincent says there’s been a lot of suspicious activity on the east side, so she has asked us to take a look at that. In the meantime, Leonardo will take team-”.

“Did you just call dad by his first name?”, Marcello asked, causing the others to stuff a chuckle.

“Dude, cut it out, I’m trying to be professional”, Romeo said annoyed.

“This happened quicker than I thought it would”, Joan chuckled. “Continue. Where are our dads going?”

“They are doing a stake out at a bank. In the light of the last few bank robberies, there’s reason to believe that they will strike again, and they think they know which bank it’s going to be”, Romeo explained.

“They’re following a pattern”, Galileo butted in. “I saw it on my dad’s screen. It’s mapped out and all. 95% sure that bank is going to be hit tonight”.

“What about the last 5%?”, Sunny asked. “What bank are they on?”

“The hell do I know”, Gali said, shrugging his shoulders while Marcello rolled his eyes. Romeo and Joan gave each other a knowing look. Tonight was going to be a loooong night.

“Okay, let’s get moving”, Romeo said, standing back up before turning towards the edge of the roof.

The group of five jumped over and across the roofs of the city, going further and further east, until they came upon the place chief Vincent had directed them to. A construction side not far from the water. Here they stayed at the top of the construction, keeping an eye out on the ground below.

“Soooo”, Sunny said from her sitting position on the side of the construction, her legs dangling over the edge. “What are we looking for again?”

“Any suspicious activity so we can report it back to chief Vincent”, Romeo said, keeping a strong eye on the ground below.

“Glad she was specific”, Marcello mumbled sarcastically, making Gali smile.

“And what do we do if we see anything suspicious?”, Sunny asked, as happy as she always was.

“Then we notify police chief Vincent”, Romeo answered.

“What?”, Marcello asked, turning his full attention towards his brother. “We’re not going to do anything?”

“Only if Vincent tells us to”, Joan said nonchalantly, earning an approving nod from Romeo.

“Why?”, Marcello asked, almost sounding insulted.

“It’s our first patrol alone. Chief Vincent’s order, not mine”, Romeo shrugged.

“Bullshit”, Marcello mumbled, turning back around, looking down on the construction site beneath them.

All five of them sat on the roof for a few hours, waiting for anything to happen. Every once in a while, they would listen in on the police radio, in order to hear if anything was happening anywhere else. Maybe the expected bank robbery. But nothing. Everybody was still waiting around. Strange… They all thought something would have happened by now…

All five of the young half turtles sat around, eyes scanning every centimeter of the construction sight. And as the third hour passed by, Marcello was almost ready to give up. Throw his hands in the air, contact chief Vincent and tell her that he was done - anything just do something useful. But then something flashed in the shadows beneath him.

Marcello sat up, looking directly at the shadow. And for a split second he saw it again. A person. A person hiding in the dark.

“Gotcha”, he said, getting ready to make his way down there, only for Romeo to try and grab him.

“No! We’re supposed to tell Vincent!”

“Tell her yourself! I’m tired of sitting around!” And with those words, Marcello was gone, grabbing a hold of his sword from his shell on the way down. Marcello caught the shadow person by surprise, the small gasp behind their mask giving it away. Fully dressed in black with nothing but their eyes visible, Marcello was quite proud of creating such a reaction.

“Surprise”, he said, flashing them a cheeky smile. He expected the person in front of him to be hesitant, especially at the sight of nagamaki in his hand. But nope. Whoever this was, they weren’t scared whatsoever. With a yell they caught him by surprise, kicking out against his face. Marcello dodged, frowning at them with his mouth open. “Hey! That wasn’t nice!”

“Marcello! Watch out!”, sounded Joan’s voice, followed by the clinging of clashing weapons. Marcello just managed to catch a glimpse of his cousin, pushing back a secondary attacker that tried to get him from behind. More attackers came in as the others jumped into action.

“I told you we had to wait for Vincent’s orders!”, Romeo yelled at his brother, swinging his odachi at his attacker.

“And wait around all night? You must be crazy”, Marcello chuckled, doing a swing against his opponent. But his opponent was quick and well trained. They used dirty tricks that took Marcello by surprise time and time again, and soon he found himself on the ground, his nagamaki laying just a few meters away from him. This caused Romeo’s big brother instincts to kick in, stepping between the two of them, taking over the fight. But as soon as the two of them laid eyes on each other, a flash of recognition flashed before the two of them.

“Wait”, Romeo said, staring at the opponent in front of him. “You’re the girl that kicked my kneecap in!”

And it seemed like she remembered it as well, trying to make a kick for his knee once again. However this time Romeo was ready, dodging her before swinging his odachi at her. She duck, trying to kick his legs under him as she did so, making Romeo jump. But whoever this girl was, she was good. Soon she has Romeo on the ground with all the air knocked out of him. This was the call for Marcello to get back on his feet.

“No one kicks my brother’s knee cap except me!”, Marcello yelled, charging the girl. She turned, just in time to see him run for her, pushing her over, so that they were wrestling each other in the dust on the ground. “Don’t you ever get tired?!” The girl only grunted at this, trying to punch him in the face. Marcello grabbed her hand, pinning it to the ground, yet somehow she managed to roll him over.

“You’re more annoying than your brother”, she said through her mask.

“If you think I’m annoying, you should hear him during training”, Marcello said, and he swore he could hear her chuckle.

Her hand flew to her belt, ready to pull out a weapon, when the sudden sound of sirens pierced through the air. She froze, her bright eyes widening, before shooting a look at Romeo, who sat smiling wickedly at her, his fingers on his wrist radio. He had called for backup.

“Retreat!”, she yelled, hurrying off of Marcello. “Retreat!”

And just like the attackers had done last time Romeo had had a run in with them, they followed her order, before making a run for it.

“Hey! Don’t be cowards!”, Gali yelled running after them as the backup arrived. “Come back here!”

—

Police chief Vincent was not happy once she learned that Marcello had disobeyed orders, and just made a run for the suspects. Especially when Romeo’s call for backup made their fathers leave their post to come and help. All the way back to the station, Marcello was chewed out, his boss reminding him how bad this looked on his first unsupervised patrol.

At the station Marcello kept his mouth shut, only listening and watching as the others told Vincent, Casey and the turtles about what had happened. The many hours of nothing, followed by the sudden appearance of a suspicious individual. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he listened to his older brother explain what happened, especially the part about her. Confusion rose inside of him when he felt a strange tingle inside of him, when Romeo mentioned the girl. For a moment he almost wished he wouldn’t have mentioned her. But he did. And he continued to do so. Romeo kept talking about the girl while at the station. He was clearly agitated to have seen her again after three years. Even Leo had to remind his son to take a deep breath.

—

Back in the lair, Marcello wasn’t much for telling his mother or aunts about what had happened, but the others surely were, telling them all about how they had seen her again. The girl that dislocated Romeo’s kneecap. It was the talk of the lair that night. But Marcello did not wish to take part of it, heading straight to his bedroom. Here he stayed for some time, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what had happened. Only for his thoughts to get interrupted by the knocks of his brother, asking if he could come in.

“Are you okay, bro?”, Romeo asked as he entered the room.

“I’m fine”, Marcello answered, rubbing his face. “You?”

“As good as can be”, he said, taking a seat on the side of Marcello’s bed. “You’ve been silent ever since she got away. Did she hurt you?”

“No”, Marcello shook his head. “Just tired”.

“I get that. She’s tiring”, Romeo said, making Marcello feel just a little heavier inside. “I don’t like her, one bit. One day I’ll catch her, and I will make her pay for what she did. Trust me on that. I don’t know who she is, and I don’t know what her motivation is, but one day I will figure it out, and from that point she will have to count her days”.

Marcello stared at his brother, shocked at his words. Never had he heard Romeo speak in such a way about anybody. His normally calm brother who spoke so much about control, meditation and mindfulness as if he was their father’s personal recorder, now sat on his bed, letting out his anger about a person he had only met twice. Marcello did not like it. But that wasn’t the only thing he did not like. What he wouldn't do to kill that little butterfly flapping around in his stomach whenever he thought about that girl's eyes.

[tobifuyu]

Shopping with the Haitani Ran goes wrong!

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

Ran thinks you're too cute to be dressing this badly. He takes you shopping, finally gives in to his own desires and touches you in the dressing room. Chaos ensues.

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial.

words count: 5,398

a/n: this is actually my first time writing smut, or anything at all, so bear with me. the one shot is part of a longer fic that I will start posting pretty soon, set in the Bonten timeline, I just wanted to put out something in the meantime, mostly as practice. english is not my first language! enjoy.

If you think shopping with a man such as Haitani Ran would be an enjoyment of sorts, well, you’d be wrong.

If your damnation could be encased in a day it would be today out of all of them.

Haitani Ran is already a handful as it is, put him in a store-filled street, already dressed to the nines and parading around like he owns the motherfucking moon and stars and what comes out is a big ass headache and a lot of self-deprecation.

In theory, the idea was not half bad. Ran knows a lot about this kind of stuff: fashion, styling, brands… at least more than you do, no matter how much you’d like to keep up. And the amount of money in his bank account is – well, still a mystery to you – you can only imagine a lot, considering what he is wearing and the place he’s dragging you to with a big hand wrapped around your wrist.

So in theory him helping you pick out a few pieces of clothing you could buy with your weekly allowance didn’t sound too bad. Considering how extravagant he and his brother are, you were expecting to head over to Harajuku, and maybe try to dig out something he could style for you from a cool vintage store.

You didn’t think he would bring you to a mall.

You don’t even think you’d be allowed in such a place, normally, not in the way you’re dressed anyway.

I mean, you did try your hardest to look somewhat presentable, knowing you’d be running around with the Haitani Ran, but with your laughable budget and a very confused sense of style, you look like Ran had just picked you up from the sidewalk like one of those lone puppies you’d see in a sad movie and brought you around to keep him company while squatting at his feet and wiggling your tail.

You’ve just always liked too many trendy styles, buying a few pieces here and there and leaving you with no basics and nothing to match them with, and so y ou look out of place, walking into a brand store practically hand in hand with one of the most handsome guys those judgy store clerks have probably ever seen, with a timeless and classy outfit that makes him look like he belongs there.

And most importantly, that he can afford it.

Maybe the only thing that makes up for it is his crazy two-toned braids. Doesn’t make him look nearly as bad as you, but at least you know how to use a toner.

He spends some time looking around the racks after shooing the shopping assistant who tried to approach the two of you away, and you trail behind him like – yeah, you guessed it – a lost puppy with eyes cast down, as if trying to disappear, maybe then they’d stop staring holes through your bland white cardigan that’s a little too big for your frame since you eyeballed its size and then found it too comfy to size down.

And that’s because you and fitting rooms just don’t click. You find the whole process a little too tiring, both mentally and physically.

Who enjoys spending that much time undressing yourself to wear clothes that have been worn by god knows how many others and have yet to see a washing machine, just to cry the moment you get them on because fast fashion sizes don’t fit people but want people to fit in them? Also having to recollect yourself and patch up your makeup while redressing as quickly as possible cause a line has already formed outside the door, you can hear them, and you can already feel their judging stares the moment you are gonna leave all the clothes you tried on with the clerk, nonetheless, cause everything looked like absolute shit on you–

Draining, that’s what it is.

But it’s dread that you feel creeping up on you while approaching the said fitting rooms with one of Ran’s arms now circling your waist, the other doing the most to hold up a bunch of clothes that you can barely make out but you know he has picked out, just for you.

“We can skip this part.”

You had tried reasoning, just to get hit with a “Skip this part my ass, there’s no buying clothes without trying them on. That’s how you end up with that cardigan. And I’m paying for this shit, so we’ll do as I say, princess.”

Ouch, what a little bitch.

Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling remorse, after he’s reminded you so kindly of why he’s decided to do this in the first place, knowing he wants to pull out his wallet to soothe his pretty eyes from having to see you dressed like a mess all the time.

But you’re better than this, so you decide you’ll only pick something you can afford.

He’s nothing to you but a new acquaintance, after all.

A means to an end, you like to remind yourself. You’re not using him, not a hundred percent at least, cause he’s getting your shining company in return. But yeah… you just need him to get to Manjirou. Nothing more. Nothing fun… you swear to yourself.

You’re doing Toman a favor, continuing Draken’s underground work now that he’s gone. You know Takemichi and sweet Chifuyu don’t add up to much when it comes to planning.

You’ve heard about Ran’s little fixation on you from the grapevine. His own brother had admitted to him relentlessly talking about you. And now, with Kantou Manji looming over the future of you all, you knew you had to get involved.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Ran’s lazy lavender eyes have had you in a chokehold from the very first time the two of you met, years ago.

He and Rindou wanting to fight you and your brother – only the latter, really – just to find out that you don’t back down from a challenge.

(From that day onward, if you were to ask Rindou, he would say that’s when his brother started talking about you.)

So you let him lock you in the fitting room, one of those cool ones with mirrors and lights all around you but, most importantly, a sturdy door.

One you know, in a store this expensive, no one will start knocking on if you take too long squeezing into one of those tiny dresses.

Not that it does anything to stop Ran once you’ve declared you’ve tried on the first one.

A pretty lilac piece, that would complement him and his eyes more – you mentally decide you’d like to see that – but you would look pretty (for once) standing at his side.

If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a tad too little on your frame, as expected, squeezing all the wrong places, skin spilling over and all that (you can’t possibly know he’s picked it a size or two too small on purpose).

Especially your cleavage, meaning this is all but a dress you could just wear to parade around the streets with a gang member. It would send the wrong message. And god knows what would happen if that message were to reach someone from Toman. A blond-haired guy in particular.

Shame on you.

But you can’t dwell on it too much, with Ran bursting through the door, then closing it behind his frame with all the nonchalance in the world, as if it isn’t quite scandalous the way you’re half clad and enclosed in a tight space with a man older than you (not by much, but still), in a luxury store, with clerks circling the both of you like hawks.

He approaches your body, and you can tell he’s making a decision his head while scrutinizing the dress, or rather you, from over your shoulder.

You’re facing forward and can feel the heat of his body approaching way before you feel his front touch your back, his hands momentarily settling at your hips.

They then move lower, trying to smooth the fabric of the dress as if it would make it fit better, and you feel a shiver run through your spine at the contact.

The tips of his fingers are cold where they brush your naked thighs, so you blame it on that.

“Looks perfect on you.” his warm breath hits your neck as he speaks with that low voice of his.

Focus, goddamnit.

“I hope you’re joking. I can barely breathe, and I think my ass might be hanging out.”

You can feel his body shake with giggles, and you know he’s trying to contain them for your sake, even though he’s never been the one to shy away from public shaming, especially when it comes to you. Sigh.

“Mh, I don’t know about that, but the front looks good.” His hands make a b-line for your waist, squeezing the fat there before moving upwards to rest a breath away from your tits. The dress is so tight you didn’t need to wear a bra with that. “Gosh, would you look at that? Fucking perfect.”

“Ran,” you warn him, you know he’s just teasing you again, or rather, testing you.

You meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you don’t want him to win one of the many little challenges he poses you with daily, so you hold his gaze, leaning the back of your head against his left shoulder.

He’s sure you’re the one tempting him at this point, deciding to play along in his little game that’s gonna ruin the both of you sooner or later, cause with that movement alone you’ve exposed your neck and cleavage like a white canvas, only his to paint.

“Fuck baby,” he groans and you feel yourself shivering once again, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? Or maybe you do, you little vixen.”

You laugh, “Is that all it takes to bring down the Haitani Ran? A dress that’s a little too small?” you want to hit his ego back, at least, for the way he’s making you feel.

So exposed and vulnerable.

And little, which you’re very much not, but the way he’s encasing you with his bigger body is making you look ridiculously tiny.

“Paired with these tits and hips yeah, might just be the one thing that’s gonna put an end to the Haitani’s reign.”

It’s mesmerizing, his tone of voice, the deep baritone laced with a hint of teasing and sass that drips from his lips like honey straight to your pliant ears and reverberates through your even more pliant body.

One of his fingers creeps up to the neckline of the dress and drags over its seams with such a delicately that you wouldn’t even have caught it if you weren’t so busy trying to follow his every move and breath, leaving the haze of his purple eyes that split second enough to record the very movement.

“Ran, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You try to hide your smirk as you say that, knowing that is not gonna stop him but rather rile him up.

He smirks back, grabbing you by the chin with his free hand so he can turn your head to face him. “Since when have you become such a prude, uh?”

“I have always been, you’re the one trying to taint my innocence, remember?”

You’re not completely joking at this point, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you since you’ve started hanging out more frequently.

He knows you shouldn’t, but he’s adamant in getting you to admit he can rile you up just as easily.

A dark set of lashes shade his lavender hues as he stares down at you, pondering over what to do next without scaring you too badly.

“Can I kiss you?” There he goes, he just couldn’t resist himself, could he?

You just look so good, dressed in something he picked for you, standing in this tiny space with him draped around you. He wants to eat you up.

“No.”

Ouch. That hurts. How could you say no to him? Look at me, he thinks, and as if you can read his twisted mind, you do just that.

He is so irresistible, with one of his long braids slipping past your shoulder, hair tickling your skin the same way his hand is still doing over the hem of the dress. Pink full lips shaped in a pout you think he’s sporting more to get pity out of you rather than because he cares. But you’re a woman of great self-control.

Or so you thought.

“Just– you can touch me. To fix the dress.”

You two are so close, practically glued to each other, it’s not the first time it’s happened but your body still reacts like it’s being shocked every time he touches you.

And Ran thinks it’s more than he thought you’d allow yourself to go, so he does just that, to fix the dress, that is.

It’s to fix the dress that he grasps the fullness of both your tits in his big palms, no need to use one hand to hold your face to him anymore as you instantly rotate towards his frame to hide your face in the curve of his neck, soft lips pushed against his pale skin to muffle the sighs that you’re letting out at his bold move.

He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze them, pushing them up to prop the fat against the hem of the dress as if to make it fit properly, or as properly as the set image he has in his head, which is everything but proper.

“Fuck, you have such pretty tits.” He’s groaning in your ear at this point, enjoying the way you’re letting him touch you a little too much if the way he starts rubbing against you from behind is of any indication.

You can’t help your body from trying to mold to his touch, back arching and pushing against the hands caressing you over the skimpy fabric of the dress.

One of them is heading lower, running over the hills of your torso and hip before grabbing onto the flesh of your right thigh. The other keeps teasing you with precision and reaches over the hem to pull it down and expose your skin to the cold of the fitting room.

A perked nipple is encased by his long fingers, nails scraping over the bud to tease a soft moan out of your mouth. You grab onto one of his braids, slightly pulling before blindly looking for the hair tie. It’s removed with swift hands that you then run along its length to free it from the twists, so you can bury a hand at the back of his nape, pulling him towards you – as if he could get any closer – scratching the skin there as payback.

“R-Ran” your body is starting to heat up, the cold air surrounding the two of you doing nothing to cool you down. “‘Need more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” At that the hand that has been massaging the fat of your thigh creeps under the bottom of the infamous dress, making you unable to see his next move even from the reflation of the mirror.

But you can feel him skimming over your panties with his fingertips, pressing against the wet patch that has formed there.

“You got wet just from this? Must be really desperate, uh. ‘ve barely touched you.”

What a piece of shit, you think.

But your body likes this side of his, the degrading and teasing, and it especially likes the way the pad of his finger is now pressing against your clit, unexpectedly making you let out a moan that you didn’t think you’d be capable of. Always the quiet one.

“Shh, you wouldn’t want them to hear us, now, would you?” He’s rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves, touching it just right, just like you would, alone in your room (while thinking about him, probably), making it hard to think or even remotely feel shame. “Maybe you’d like that? Mh? Want them to know making you feel good, right, pretty girl?”

When you don’t care enough to answer he pinches your clit over the wet fabric of your underwear, the whimpering noise you let out like music to his ears.

You just really want to feel his skin on yours, but too shy to ask for it you decide to do the next best thing. With the hand that is not too busy pulling the back of his head, you reach between your legs and push the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air without a care in the world.

If desperation had a face, at this point, it would most definitely look like yours.

“Ah shit, pretty-“

“Touch me, Ran.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds your clit once again, not before running through the dripping folds and collecting the wetness with the pad of his fingers, just to rub it over your soft spot with careful precision.

His hand gives one final flick to your nipple before joining the other between your thighs, raising the lower hem of the dress to fully expose your wetness under the bright lights of the fitting room, just so he can take a good look in the reflection of the mirror.

You’re no saint, but also no one has ever touched you like this before, and the pleasure is pushing you to do things you probably would never even think of when the two of you are apart (but maybe you will, from this day forward).

That is why you reach down to grasp the wrist of his other hand, redirecting him to where you want to feel his touch, before slipping your fingers through his as if to show him what to do to you.

You feel his lips move against your ear before you register him talking, “Princess, you want my fingers? Hm?”

At that, you couldn’t nod faster, waiting for his touch to finally skim your opening, and once it does, you know he understands how much you need him, cause you see him raise his fingers as if to take a double look at the viscous liquid now wetting his skin. He rubs it over you then, spreading it on top of your clit to make his other hand work smoothly.

He stops right before he could slip in, making you whine in disagreement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

All these pet names are new to you, he usually sticks to one a day, trying them out on his tongue before throwing the chosen one at you with the most annoying tone he could muster to, simply put, annoy the fuck out of you, as he does with pretty much everything else.

But the way he’s saying them now, between rushed breaths and a voice so strained that nearly makes you believe he’s the one being played with, does unspeakable things to you.

So you give in like you’ve learned to do with him lately. “R-rannie, please, want you… to touch me.”

“What do you need me to do, pretty? Speak up, use your big girl’s words.”

“Need your fingers. Inside me.” You feel like the air in the dressing room is thinning out, and you need to get this done as fast as possible.

That’s until his pointer slips past your hole. The moment his other fingers resume their rubbing over your bundle of nerves, while he’s opening you up, that’s when you actually start praying for time to stop.

Maybe if his hands were to leave your frame now you would crumble to the ground and die. That’s a new fear you have just unlocked because you don’t think you could ever go back to how life was before he made you feel what you’re feeling right now.

Alive.

Like every nerve ending is tingling and responding to the sweet sounds he’s making, or maybe the ones he’s pulling out of you. You don’t know what makes you more turned on, the effect you have on him, or the grip he has on you.

He starts moving his lone finger in and out, gently, testing out how far he can reach before you clench around him in pain.

He rubs over the ridges of your walls looking for something, trying out different patterns, and bumping against the outside of your hole with the palm of his hand to stimulate all of you once he slips completely inside, reaching as deep as his long digit permits.

At first, it doesn’t feel like much, you can tell he’s an expert but he’s just getting to know you. You think the feeling of fullness alone is enough to get a kick out of you, as long as he keeps massaging your clit in a, now, slower motion, as if he has nothing to rush about, not one care in the world. But it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

You thought he oversold himself with that oozing confidence that he sports 24/7, but as he starts laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck, running up its column, until he finds your sweet spot nested just below your ear and right by your clenching jaw, so does his finger.

“Fuuck. Oh my fucking god.” you heave.

Yeah, his lips are a godsend, but the way he’s bumping against that one spot inside of you with the tip of his digit just now is downright delicious.

He builds up a rhythm then. Fucking into you with more force and confidence, not forgetting to hit that patch of skin even for a single time.

“You like that, uh?” he asks like he doesn’t know, pressing his mouth against the underside of your jaw to drag his tongue along your salty skin, moaning at the taste. He asks as if you’re not clenching around his finger like your life depends on it, as if you want to capture it and hold him inside you to never feel empty again.

He realizes you need more, and he wants to give you his cock. Wants to stuff you full to the brim, cause he can feel how greedy your cunt is, so he knows you would eventually take him all inside, no matter how big.

You’re thinking the same, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you against the mirror that’s fogging up in front of you. You’re seeing the moon and the fucking stars with the tip of his finger alone. You wonder if his cock is big enough to kiss that little spot just right with his leaky tip.

He leaves you little to wonder, with the way his hips are bumping against you from behind. You can clearly make out the size of his length, now fully erected, as it rubs against your ass.

“Ran, fuck, I need more!”

And you both know that, but he also knows how ridiculously tight you are, how much he would have to open you up to take his cock, how he might need to spend hours with his head between your legs, fasting on your wet cunt just to make you loosen up. He’d do that gladly, but not now, in this fitting room.

So he just joins his pointer with his middle finger, carefully trying to fit in a second one through your squeezing muscles.

“No, Ran-“ you’re ready to beg, get on the ground on your knees, and plead him to have his way with you.

This is so not like you.

Or maybe it was, all along. You just needed someone to free you at last.

“You’re not ready to take my cock yet.” His tone is firm like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “I can barely fit two fingers in, pretty. You need to let me in, gonna make you cream around them, ‘kay?”

You swear the way he’s looking at you through the mirror alone is your undoing. You see his eyes running back and forth to your half-open ones, so you follow the gaze rolling over your exposed tits, heaving with your labored breaths, until reaching the apex of your thighs.

Two of his fingers are now plunging into your wet opening, the squelching sound being so loud to tint both of your cheeks red, and a ring of white collecting around the circumference of his digits, before dripping down your parted legs at the force of his thrusts. Your clit is still being rubbed raw, the intensity increasing with every passing minute, making you twitch in his firm grasp.

The whole picture is insanely erotic, something you haven’t even experienced in your fantasies yet.

It’s so intense that you feel your cheeks get wet from the unexpected tears now streaming down your face.

You’re a cryer, he’s elated.

You’re trying hard to muffle a scream, but Ran has you blocked in his grasp with both of his arms running over yours, so you have to turn and bite at the skin of his collarbone to do so, as you grip over his forearms, leaving behind the half-moon indentation of your nails.

He groans, letting his head lol back as you lick over the bruise; the skin has torn and you can taste the blood. As he speeds up the fingers that are massaging your clit, you realize that both of you might enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure.

The overstimulation is so overbearing that you know you should’ve come long ago, but he’s taking you to such heights that you just can’t seem to let yourself go when alone in your bed you would have long given up and just taken a shitty orgasm as a win before retiring to sleep.

“Feel so- god, it’s so fucking good, Ran. Don’t stop, please please-“You don’t stop begging and he doesn’t stop thrusting, both his fingers and his hips behind your frame, chasing his orgasm against the plush of your ass.

He wants to pull his cock out of his pants and rub it against your skin. The dress has raised over the globes of your behind, he wishes he could just come all over it.

But he has no intention of ever slowing down his hands, not with the way you’re trembling against him, and not until you come, completely undone and fucked up from just two of his fingers.

You look so beautiful like this, with tears streaming down your reddening face, lips bitten, unfortunately not by him, and your cunt taking his fingers so well. Like the good girl he knows you are under all that sass.

He glances down at the scene one more time.

Your pussy is so pretty, glistening wet, he could finish right here and then.

He wants you to fucking come while screaming his name, no one else’s. He doesn’t care if they hear, he wants them to.

Ran wishes for more than just the clerks hearing you come undone for him.

At that thought something snaps inside of him.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Fucking tell me.” You snap out of the blubbering mess you’ve become, not because of the inexplicably angry tone of his request, but because he’s slowing down his movements and you were not expecting that.

Does he not know by now that you like his roughness? You need to come so badly.

“Please fuck don’t stop, please-“

“I said who’s making you feel this fucking good.” Ran doesn’t like to think he’s a jealous guy.

He’s The Haitani Ran, after all. There has never been any need for him to be.

But now that he has tasted heaven, here in this tiny dressing room with you, he doesn’t think he can stop.

He wants to make you his, and if that means he has to deprive you of your very first orgasm given by someone else so that you can come back running for more, so be it.

“You, Ran! Fuck it’s all you! You make me feel so go-” The slap that resonates in the small space it’s the thing that stops you from completing your praise.

Ran’s fingers have stopped moving inside of you completely, and his other hand has raised to slap your spasming cunt.

A scream of his name finally does rip out of your parted lips. There’s no way you could’ve avoided that.

And the new canting of your hips that are raising to chase a ruined orgasm is to little avail, you just don’t seem to reach the promised land.

Against all odds, Ran doesn’t resume touching you, even his hips are now resting firmly some inches away from yours, not even letting you feel him anymore.

He presses father light kisses from the column of your neck up to the side of your jaw, retracing the path he had run with languish before, until he can sweetly kiss your burning cheek as if to gently bring you down from the orgasm that never happened while he removes his fingers from inside of you, leaving you eerily empty.

“I- I didn’t come.” you’re still trembling at this point, but for a different reason. You think he might have mistaken any of your reactions for you reaching your long-awaited end.

You’ve heard some stories, you know some guys can’t even tell right from left when it comes to a woman's body.

But you’re wrong about him. “I know.”

More kisses are left on the side of your face, you’d think the gesture sweet if it weren’t for the ever-present grin you can feel against your skin.

“What- why?” the way you’re asking nearly breaks his heart, you sound so confused, broken. But that’s exactly what he needs, right? He needs to be the one to guide you.

“Because I’m not letting you come. You’re not my girl.” Your eyes are big like saucers, and you’ve turned your head to stare at him, he thinks this situation is so fun he could giggle.

“But I thought-“

“Just leave him, pretty girl. You’ve already forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was my name you were screaming, it was my cock you were begging for. Leave him, and come back crawling to me. Maybe then, I’ll think about letting you come.”

He takes some steps further away from you then, cold but still careful enough to make sure you won’t fall the moment he lets you on your own, bringing his soiled fingers up to his mouth. You watch in silence as he licks them clean. He’s making a show of it, engulfing the digits in his mouth and sucking around them as he moans. You’re so turned on you could die right there and then.

He then hits you with a “Fuck, you taste like heaven, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Before diving right back in, licking the skin one last time for safekeeping.

And now, you don’t know what’s worse: the cheshire grin stretching the pinkish of Ran’s lips while he’s downright degrading you after depriving you of an orgasm and, honestly, your self-respect;

Maybe it’s the fact that sweet Chifuyu’s face had only flashed behind your eyelids at his mention, after you’ve probably done one of the worst things you could ever do to him, or in your life, really;

… or the fact that you had to walk out of there, and wait for Ran to pay for the stained dress, cause he wouldn’t let you leave without making a scene. Knowing damn well that everyone in the shop had heard the two of you and is now looking with a mix of: reverence towards Ran, and hatred for you, by all women and men who rightfully wished to be in your stand.

At the end of the day, you were right. Fitting rooms would ever only leave you a crying mess, with clothes too little to fit; and shopping with Ran Haitani was hell made on earth.

At least you were convinced this was gonna be the last time you would ever accompany him – anywhere, really – or so you thought…

[valaruakars]

Let's Get Physical (Part 7)

Viktor/F!Reader || 6.3k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW

Bitches hate you for your overzealous approach to supporting your friends and deeply anxious behavior. Viktor is not bitches.

A/N: Omg. We're here. We're back on our bullshit. Thank you to everyone who beta'd and/or provided me free therapy about this for that past um... seven months. Oops. Thank you to everyone who reached out over the (unintentional) hiatus with encouraging comments and asks. I hope you'll understand why I took so long to handle this with care and unpack some of my own issues. Very cathartic. Would recommend.

Part 1 → Part 2  → Part 3 → Part 4  → Part 5 → Part 5.2 (nsfw) → Part 6  → Part 7 (Ao3 Link)

Before you know it, two weeks and a day have passed. They make no palpable difference. 

Except maybe in your quadriceps. 

The same weights you’ve been using feel almost effortless, too easy. You don’t fatigue as quickly into heavy breathing and the urge to cheat yourself a rep or two—not lunging with the dumbbell gripped at one of its wide ends, not squatting while it’s clutched close to your chest. It’s suddenly not enough. 

Nobody’s around to see it, but progress is progress. Turns out, you’ve finally graduated to heavier weights on this lonely leg day you’ve committed to. 

That’s a bit of a misnomer, though. The day is mostly past you now. It’s evening—crisp and wispy, sky like striated fire outside the garage—and as the sun sets, you’re reminded of the late start you’re up against. All because you forgot something. 

A good attitude is optional. A scrunchie you can live without. But your shoes? Leave them forgettably kicked off in two different directions on your bedroom floor and you’re fucked. It’s a small miracle you’re here, dragging around weight plates, setting up a barbell. There was a very real danger of tripping and falling into bed—totally by accident, never to get up again—when you drove home and stomped upstairs to grab them. 

But whether or not he knows it, likely the latter, Viktor keeps you accountable when no one else can. It’s because the only running you truly love is the risk of seeing him, which still requires proper footwear. And for you to leave the house. 

Though by the time you whipped into the driveway and thrust the gear shift into park, it’s empty. He’d left already; you didn’t get to see him off on his reluctant shuffle through the garage. But lucky you—he tends to come straight home after physical therapy. Call it friendly concern that you’re paying attention. 

It’s probably an odd way to think about a friend. You need to work on that. 

Your phone vibrates dully on the padded bench beside you. Nearly knocking your water over in the process, you grab it to find a text from Jayce—the usual culprit. You slide it open, accidentally brushing the top of the screen with shaky fingers. It catapults you to the beginning of your most recent messages before you can read the new one. 

Mon, Oct 10

[Jayce Talis, 5:56am]: Did you leave the back door unlocked last night? [Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: And the pool lights on? [Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: Was Viktor in the pool?

[7:32am]: Holy shit. Good morning. [7:33am]: No, no, and why do you think I know these things??

[Jayce Talis, 7:45am]: Sorry, it’s all good. He’s alive. 

[7:46am]: ???????

[Jayce Talis, 7:49am]: You guys didn’t hang out after I left? 

[7:57am]: Idk if you would consider it that. [8:02am]: But has anyone invited him to cards on Saturday??

[Jayce Talis, 8:17am]: He already said no. [Jayce Talis, 8:18am]: Although… [Jayce Talis, 8:19am]: You could try telling him it’s strip poker. Haha :) 

[8:20am]: Blocked. Reported. Banned. NOT DOING THAT.

[Jayce Talis, 8:21am]: No wait! I was kidding. He’s not a creep :(

Tue, Oct 11

[Jayce Talis, 3:38pm]: Wait did you actually block me? 

[3:50pm]: Yes.

Sun, Oct 16

[Tayce Jalis, 8:00am]: Can I have my t-shirt back today?

[8:31am]: Oh the really old anime one? I left it with some stuff to be washed, ask Viktor. [8:32am]: Maybe the dryer did you a favor and ate it. 

[Tayce Jalis, 8:34am]: Hey! Naruto is timeless.

Today

Tayce Jalis unsent a message

Not fast enough to scroll back down, caught revisiting those unremarkable little messages, and now you’ll never know what Jayce’s butt managed to text you this time. Oh well. Keep your secrets. 

You toss your phone down behind you with a leathery slap. Back to working on the whole stop pining after Viktor thing.

Right, and your legs. 

The barbell bites into your hips as you roll it into your lap and adjust it, the bench presses into your shoulder blades. It’s heavier and harder to manage, but you do, driving down into your heels to get your ass off the ground, hefting yourself into a nice, solid bridge. From there it’s as easy as dipping your hips, which isn’t quite easy at all. No, it’s brutal. 

It burns from your core down to your thighs; has you clenching your jaw, gritting your teeth with the strain. Even your biceps are active, lifting some of the steel-hard pressure off your hip bones. 

You’re so zoned in—no thoughts, head empty except for the number six over and over until it’s seven—that you only hear the hiss of your breath in and out, the hammering rush of blood behind your ears. You don’t hear Viktor come home. 

Not until he’s standing above you.  

He had the heinous metal on metal sound in his old beige car fixed—that grinding, grating death knell in its engine. One of several potentially life threatening reasons the check engine light was always on—maybe still is. And though you much prefer him living, it’s harder to hear him coming over the steady music without paying attention. 

Bad timing for Miss Carly Rae Jepsen on your Upbeat Workout Jams playlist, considering you do really, really, really like him. Him and how he stands at the end of the bench, staring down; how he fixes you with that sliver thin smile, a manila folder tucked under the arm of his long cardigan. 

You seize with embarrassment, frozen on the upswing of your hips. “Hi,” whispers out on the end of an exhale, caught ragged in your throat. 

You can’t do pelvic thrusts in front of him. 

You just can’t. 

It’s bad enough that you’re sweaty in every skin to skin crevice and certainly flushed, t-shirt sticky and legs trembling as they hold your awkward position, but then there’s him. 

He wears that same look much better. On him, it’s healthy color across the cut lines of his cheeks; it’s still-damp curls at the nape of his neck and the jump of his lean throat when he swallows, dry when he must’ve forgotten a water bottle again. It’s suggestive. It’s hot. 

And it’s the endorphins that make you feel that way, surely, more than any affinity for men in gray sweatpants that are far more revealing than they must realize. 

You clear your throat, finding your own parched voice. “Watch your feet,” you warn, on the side of caution, dropping butt and barbell to the ground with a metallic thud. You let your head drop back against the bench pad, staring up at him with the dazed satisfaction of calling it quits. Only for the moment, of course, as you blindly feel around for your phone to turn the music down. 

And good fucking god is what you see unholy. Viktor shifts his weight before you can look away, and the ache in your core redoubles—different, deeper than any lactic acid buildup. Did his pants shrink in the wash or is it really that m—?

Nope! Absolutely not! 

You can tread no further with that thought because, really, there’s no such thing as having a platonic appreciation for your friend’s dick. Not when the friend is Viktor. 

“You’re not finished yet?” he asks. Innocent. Oblivious to your mental struggle out of the gutter. 

Typically you would be by now. Equipment racked, the citrus scent of disinfectant on your hands, picking at innocuous conversation while you walk inside together. How was your day? Did you hear they’re demolishing the old physics building? There’s a guest lecture next month that might interest you. 

“About another thirty minutes,” you breathe, “and then I’ll be done. I’m running behind.”

“Ah, interesting. That looks to me more like sitting,” he says, which is terrible enough to earn an eye roll, and snarky enough that your lips wobble and break into an insurmountable smile.

“It’s called resting, thanks. This would go faster if you stopped distracting me,” you huff, muscles loose, lips looser. 

The little spark of mirth in his eyes, so bright and awake, makes your stomach clench vice tight. “Mm. There’s no rush,” he shrugs, “but… Rio might enjoy a visit.” 

Your smile is skeptical as he pulls the file folder from beneath his arm. “Oh really?” It widens as he starts to fan you from above—chilly in the garage, but you’re still sweating buckets. It’s futile, although he’s sweet to try and help.  

He nods, gravely serious, “She told me herself.” 

You crane your neck unconsciously to let it cool the sweat that lingers there, sighing as little wisps of loose hair billow feather light and tickle your feverish skin. 

He isn’t holding it right, though. His grip is too loose on the edge.

At once, a flurry of white comes raining down on you. It’s instinct that your eyes clamp shut against the onslaught. 

“No, no, no,” he hisses as if begging could stop gravity. 

It doesn’t, of course. 

His papers flutter and scrape across the floor. An unlucky one sticks to the sweat on your scrunched up cheek. He’s quick to dip forward and snatch it back first, the easiest to reach.

You blink off the surprise and snicker, “Oh, how the tables have turned. Who’s the clumsy one now?” Rolling the barbell away over your outstretched legs, there’s nothing in its path to be crumpled beneath the weight.  

But Viktor doesn’t answer with a crooked smile or a quiet laugh, no dry wit to be found. His dark, heavy brows furrow and he insists, “No, just—just let me,” while he crouches to the ground, distributing his weight between his cane and the end of the bench. 

“It’s okay,” you insist, reaching to gather what’s scattered between you, “I’ve got it. No big deal.”

“To you,” he mutters, snatching two away before you can turn them over. Makes him lose balance. He narrowly catches himself before he can veer face first into your spandex lap,, blunt, bony fingers digging into your thigh at the hem of those skin tight biker shorts. It crushes the papers all the same. 

“Top secret nuclear codes?” you tease, drowning his muttered apologies. It sounds stupid and obvious that you’re trying to distract from the fumbling tension when his hand stays put for moments too long. Yours, too, on his shoulder to brace him. 

Just until he’s able to sit himself solidly on the ground beside you. 

He purses his lips, “My work is with reactor cores, not weapons.”

It’s only been a week since you got an impromptu lecture about nuclear fusion in the kitchen. It’s not like you’d forget so quickly. “I know—”

Impatient, Viktor reaches over your lap, too close for comfort. Whatever you were about to say is struck from your train of thought. 

His cardigan drags soft and pilled with wear across your beat up knees. Beneath it, his sweat smells sharp and strangely appealing. It’s fascinating, that draw to something so base and human. It’s unsettling, the way your heart responds like it beats between your legs.

You follow his hand, unabashedly curious, and watch him pick up another overturned paper. Below it, the next sheet is stuck face up to the floor with what you cringe to assume is a drop of your sweat, bleeding the ink of a diagram. Multiple diagrams, actually. 

Of stretches.  

The familiarity sparks excitement. 

By the time he peels up the corner of the page with his fingernail, you’re sure of what you’re looking at. It’s common ground, of a sort; the excuse to end all excuses. 

“These are from the physical therapist?” 

He sighs, sitting back in an awkward fold of spindly legs. Looks wearier, now, with his shoulders collapsed like the exhaustion of going has finally caught up. “Yes,” he admits, because you’re smart and he’s smart, and any other answer would be an obvious lie. 

You’re doing it again—digging your fingers into a soft spot that feels as ripe as it does intrusive. We do not talk about it much, he once said, but it’s hard to stop once you’ve started. You just have to know: “Do you do them?” 

His eyes cut down to the papers in his hands. “When time permits.”

“How often does it permit?” 

“Occasionally,” says Viktor, which might mean somewhere between rarely and never. 

Early mornings, late nights; classes to teach, lab hours to log, projects, papers, and a dissertation that looks done to you, but he laughs bitterly when you suggest it. Still has to find time to eat and shower and sleep, but his eyes are always restless purple and there are wrappers from meal replacement bars scattered around the house, too high calorie for Jayce to be the culprit. 

You wonder what will happen when it all catches up with him. Worse, you worry. 

Beseechingly, you reach out. Your grip is gentle as you take hold of the printouts at their edge. “Can I see?” you ask, not grabbing or pulling or taking, just there and ready. 

His lips form a tight, considering line. “If that is the last of your questions,” he slowly replies. Prickly, but relenting, he lets go before you can ever agree. 

So you don’t.  

His eyes are on you as you flip through the stack—you can feel it as a strange, shy tension like bated breath, watching and waiting. 

Page by page, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Some you’ve even done yourself, but with simple modifications. Hell, bridges are just hip thrusts performed flat on the floor, without the weight. Nothing he’d need help with, which is ideal when you’re not qualified to do anything but make space for him; to emphasize that he’s welcome and wanted, maybe offer up a sweaty-palmed high five if you’re feeling spunky. 

You peel your legs off the floor and resituate, tucking them as your turn to face him, direct in every sense. “You could come do these with us on Sunday mornings after we run, before you get started on work. It would make Jayce happy, and Vi has a really funny way of being encouraging—”

He pulls a face—a nose scrunched up, barely concealed, abso-fucking-loutely not sort of scowl. 

“Or…” you’re quick to try, “Just with me, when I’m here. It’ll take, what—fifteen? Twenty minutes?” 

“It’s a poor use of time,” he says. It’s as avoidant as it is clumsy, with a dismissive edge still dull enough to bruise. 

And that’s because: “You stop and talk to me for longer than that sometimes,” you remind him flatly.  

He sighs sharply, toying absently with the cane laid across his lap. “That is different.” He says it like it’s obvious; like it’s frustrating that you don’t know how obvious it is. 

“Well, what if we could do both at the same time?” you propose. After all, he’s got such a hard-on for efficiency, if that’s what’s stopping him. “I know you’re a good multitasker…”  

His jaw works, trapping his thoughts behind imperfect teeth. 

“And we probably keep this floor cleaner than the carpet…” you prod, because the silence of a man who can and has talked your ear off is disquieting; because you don’t always know when to stop; because this feels like a negotiation. 

“My bedroom suits my purposes just fine,” he says, eventually. 

But you never said which carpet. The thought of him sequestered in there, even for this, is fucking depressing. Arguably disgusting when you’ve walked across that rug and felt the grit of dirt, crumbs, and debris that the pattern hides through your socks. And worse: It’s a choice, so why is he making it? 

Abruptly, the rubber tipped end of his cane meets like against the rubber tiled floor. He pulls himself up on it with difficulty you can’t ignore, but shakes his head when you move to help. The only thing you do is hand him up the battered stack of papers, tucked back into the folder from which they came, when he stands up fully. You won’t hold them hostage, even if part of you wants to. It wouldn’t keep him from leaving, his back to you such a familiar sight. 

You just want to understand, though, if nothing else. To crack him like a cipher.  

Softer, you try: “I wouldn’t judge you.” It’s the last, desperate little thing you can think of. They’re like magic words to you. 

But the problem is: They don’t work on everyone. 

To his credit, his tone isn’t harsh. It’s indifferent, like stating a sterile fact. “This has nothing to do with you,” he says. “I haven’t skipped an appointment recently, and that should be enough.”

Indigence might suit you in those moments you grow a seedling backbone, but it doesn’t suit this. You can’t help it though. His frustration has bled into you, caught like kindling. “Is it?” 

“You and I do not share the same sense of priorities,” he replies, but it’s not an answer. Not really. 

The urge to turn him upside down and shake him until something definitive comes out is overwhelming—so straightforward until he just… isn’t. “If you’re not going to say yes or no, can’t you just lie and say you’ll think about it?” 

He looks you over inscrutably, sitting there in his shadow. “Why would you assume it’s a lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” you huff. But you do. Experience and a certain friend who actually bothers to text you back have given you the answer. “Jayce says you’re stubborn and I’m starting to think he’s right.” 

Viktor nods conclusively, but doesn’t care to share what’s going through his head. As evasive as ever when he cares to be, just murmurs,“You should finish this.”

And then, for a reason that is simply beyond you, says: “I will see you later.”

But for once, you’re not sure if you want to. 

—

You rap your knuckles against his open door. 

Seriously—who were you kidding, thinking for even a second that you wouldn’t be here, doing this?

Yes, it’s well after eight now and you’re pitifully hungry, but it wouldn’t feel right to leave without saying anything. In writing a note or sending a text, you’d simply be spelling out, ‘I’m a coward!’ in far more words. It’s best, you decide, to be polite and mature and just say goodnight despite the awkward taste in your mouth that is very reminiscent of your own foot. 

And you get to say it to his back, which should be easy. 

But then there’s Rio on his desk like a pissed off paperweight, swimming the foggy side of her holding tank—sorry, prison—without any hope of escape. They’re the angriest, most pathetic wiggles you’ve ever seen. Habitual, given how tongue-smudged and abraded the plastic has become. 

“You see?” he says, gesturing to the sound of her scrabbling in his bright rubber kitchen gloves. “It’s just as I said.” 

“I think it’s more about you ignoring her.” Rio pauses, slipping down the side. Her little face conveys it perfectly: “Father is cruel? Father is… unyielding? Father hates Rio?” 

“No, no… Although, eh, yes, I suppose she does sound like that…” he muses, nodding. “I think she must wonder those things about you, actually.”

Your shoulder hits the door frame, shrugging against it where you lean. “I probably don’t matter much to her.”

There’s a heavy pause, enough for him to breathe in and hold it. Breathe out, softly: “You do.”

And suddenly, you can’t find it in you to leave. Did you ever truly have the will? 

The truth is there on your feet—those perpetually mismatched socks. You’d hoped for this, secretly, else you wouldn’t have left your shoes off at the door.  

It’s warm when you walk in. A space heater that’s been running too long glows electric orange on the floor near his desk. Makes the smell of churned earth and vinegar cleaner that much stronger. And while the clutter is clearly endemic, it seems the fuzzy, stagnant mugs are not. They’re all gone from his desk and the bedside table, replaced by sticky notes, pill bottles, and an avalanche of papers.

You come up and give Rio’s tiny, clawed foot a high-five through the plastic. “Has she been doing this all night?” you ask, looking over. 

Knee on the desk chair for leverage, he’s elbows deep in her tank, rooting those waxen, fake plants back into the substrate with unnatural posture. It’s that stiffness you’ve always noticed—ramrod straight from the mid-spine up. It’s easier to see in profile, in a thin shirt that clings to his back, that there’s nothing visibly forcing it. 

“On and off. She tires quickly now,” he says, arranging a broad-leafed plant near her favorite rocky shelter—scrubbed clean, still damp. “When she was younger, it would go on much longer while I did this.”

“How old is she exactly?” 

His sigh is almost lost beneath the hum of the space heater. He answers, “Fifteen,” in the soft, subdued way of someone who hates to be reminded. 

There’s many things you’re too afraid to ask him. Such hits as: Why did you dig yourself a hole this deep, does Jayce text everyone about you, and would I even stand a chance if things were different? But right now, most of all, it’s how long do geckos live? 

You don’t think you’re going to like the answer. 

Viktor clears his throat. “She’s very, eh… spritely for her age,” he adds, fondly this time. 

You hum a soft sound in agreement, too shaky through the legs to squat down to eye level with her. When you bend your knees to try, you realize you’ll probably never get up again. 

He glances over as you straighten up. “You can sit,” he offers without really saying where. It’s obvious, though. The only option—his rumpled bed, never made, with all its mismatched pillows. One has definitely been stolen from the couch, three are yellowed and missing pillowcases which is… ew. 

But you’re not going to refuse. You’d like to hold Rio, after all. 

You swallow hesitation and tuck yourself onto the end of his mattress, balancing on the firm edge. At least the intrusive thoughts are fleeting. Only briefly do you wonder what he thinks about at night. What he does. What he wants for.

Not you. That’s for sure.

Your elbows lock out where you grip the ridged edge of the bed. The weight of things gone unsaid, of things left unresolved bears down; it prickles warm at the back of your neck and you can’t stand the waiting silence. 

“So…” you drawl, letting your voice fill the void.

“Hm?”

“Are you going to hand her to me now, or…?”

“Ah, no, I’m finished,” he says over his shoulder. “She needs to go back in the tank.”

“Then why am I sitting here?” 

“Because I have something to ask you.”

Straightforward. Right. You forgot just how terrifying that can be. 

“That sounds just as bad as saying we need to talk,” you mutter, heart twisting into a suffocating, arterial knot. 

“We do, though,” he says, too literal, too preoccupied with placing Rio back in her clean terrarium to notice your soul leave your body—preemptively abandoning ship. 

But he’s merciful, at least. He doesn’t keep you in suspense. 

“I just want to understand at what point you developed such a vested interest in, eh… fixing me, I suppose,” he asks, like wondering what the weather will be tomorrow or what the dining hall might serve for lunch. Conversationally. “Did Jayce put you up to this?”

Your eyes narrow in thought. “No…?” you reply. It comes out too shifty as you toy with the serged edge of his blanket. Jayce put you up to something alright, though that hardly matters anymore. But, in a way, does this count? Would Viktor think that this counts?

“A sure answer, please.”

Fuck. 

“It’s just that I would lump that in as part of being friends with you—except I’d call it, y’know, caring?” You draw your leg up onto the bed, closer, tucking your foot beneath your thigh. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”

Viktor flips the grate down with a finality that lights your nerves like a beacon to flee. “So he asked you to do what, exactly?” 

“Nothing,” you squirm. 

He pivots, solidly on two feet. Doesn’t sit down in the desk chair quite yet. “It wouldn’t be the first time for this behavior, and, with you, I’m sure it was not the last. Do you know that he once provided Caitlyn with a written list of topics not to bring up to me?” 

You shrug, “He’s a good friend...” 

Now you’re staring down the barrel of being just the opposite—of throwing Jayce under the bus. 

“What did he ask?” Viktor presses.

And you break. Made brittle by your desire to put him first, of course you do.  

“All he wanted was for me to give you a chance, which was pretty reasonable after you called me annoying—” that word comes out with a bite to it you didn’t intend; sensitive, sore, “—but I never told him about that. He’s just… worried about you in his own way, I guess.” 

Viktor quietly raises an eyebrow, and that’s all it takes to snap you into fours next. It practically falls out of your mouth: “He keeps texting me to make sure you’re still alive. Sometimes I think he’s joking, but then one time he told me he had a nightmare that you drowned in the pool, so part of me actually thinks he’s being serious.” 

“He is.” 

“Wait, really—?”

“Is that why you come so often now?”

Wednesday. Friday. Sunday. Monday too, sometimes, if the day before hasn’t left you sufficiently sore enough. The pain means progress. It must.

“Well, no,” you blink, “that’s mainly because I have a lot to work on.”

“Do you?”

You gesture to yourself. All of you. The way your stomach folds and rolls and fucking exists unappealingly beneath your sweatshirt when you slouch—it could be better. The way your thighs pancake out, smushed against the bed—not getting better, but discipline and toning might shape them into something near desirable. “Yeah, obviously.”

He treads lightly. “I… would not say it’s obvious.” But his eyes are cast down as he carefully removes his rubber gloves and discards them in a bucket of cleaning supplies. He’s not rude enough to agree, but you worry, in all those moments you can feel him looking at you, that he’s thinking it. After all, he’s willowy, sharp and elegant in a way you’ll never be. Soft and fleshy. Never quite right. 

“And that’s because you’re, what, zero percent body fat?” you sigh, gesturing to him incredulously. “I’m not implying that’s healthy or ideal—honestly, I’d share some if I could—but…” Your hands curl to your chest, clasped tightly in one another when there is no one else to hold them through the indignity of admitting, “I’m the one that needs fixing. Not you.” 

He was right, though, when he said it earlier. This isn’t about you. “Where did you come up with that, anyways?” you ask. 

The lines on his face, those deep, concerned creases between his brows, spell out what the fuck. You don’t understand what’s so hard about that question—what he can’t figure out, why the confusion lingers in his eyes. “This… This is the second time you’ve offered to help me.”

“I was trying to be supportive. Encouraging, even—that’s also a good word for it.” 

“It all feels the same,” he tells you, taking his turn to sigh. “Which is to say patronizing, sometimes.”

And that was not what you intended. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a saint or anything. That’s not entirely it.” You fight the turtle-like urge to retract into your sweatshirt, which would arguably be more stupidly embarrassing than admitting: “I was just looking for… common ground, I guess. Ways to hang out without dragging you out with us.” 

“Are we not doing that right now?”

“Sure, but I feel bad about it.” There’s the silvery peek of his computer, buried on the desk. “I’m keeping you from more important things.” 

“You’re not,” he says—no, placates, but the disbelieving press of your lips makes him reconsider. “Well, eh, perhaps, but I can manage. I’ve dealt with Heimerdinger’s high expectations and, mm, sadistic deadlines for years. The weekends work well to make up for lost time, and there is all night after this too.”

“You should sleep.”

“I can’t. Not well.”

You give a creaky little bounce—not much of one, no spring to it—to demonstrate: “Maybe because your mattress feels about as hard as sleeping on the ground.” 

“One problem of many, yes.”

You count yourself among them, in one way or another. You’ve been leaking these awful insecurities all night. 

Is it any wonder that another slips? 

“It’s just—the last thing I want is to bother you. Everyone, really, but especially you.” 

“Is that because of me?” he asks quietly. “Because of what I said?”

Oh, you’ve carried this around since day one. Let it color his tone and his words and his actions. Let it haunt you trying to reach for others, the freshest nick in a line of scars that was never stitched properly. That’s what you get for letting all those little anxieties run wild with knives in their hands. That’s what you get for forgiving him before he ever asked for it, as if that would make things easier. For you. For him. For everyone. 

It hasn’t.

Viktor crosses the three steps between you on bare, nobby feet. His weight dips the bed beside you ever slightly, like he’s hardly there. But he is, by the way his leg bumps your knee, and you scoot over to give him space.  

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, grasping at some distant thread. They’re as awkward as he is in saying, “I can’t recall what I meant at the time, but it… it wasn’t that. It would’ve been fine if you thought less of me for it, but not of yourself.” 

You shake your head. “It’s—don’t worry, it’s not all you,” you say, softening his guilt, perhaps at your own expense. “I have a lot of anxiety, and that’s a long running thing, okay? It’s mostly… me.” 

“That’s… good to know. About you, I mean. Not that it’s—it’s good. Just, eh, helpful to know.” 

“I guess that’s generally the benefit of being upfront about things,” you shrug as if it comes easy. 

“I would prefer that, I think.”

It doesn’t, but the light, fizzy feeling of relief makes you want to try, if only to have more of it. Maybe more of his shy little smiles too. This time with more intention, and less leaky word vomit. 

“Okay…” You shift to face him fully, mirroring his posture in leaning back on your hand for support. “Then in no uncertain terms, I want you to know that I’m not trying to fix you.” Been there, done that, got the shitty dunce hat. People don’t change unless they want to. You know that. “I just wish you were kinder to yourself, but that’s on you. So if you ever decide you want better, whatever that means, I’ll be there. Only if you want me to and only on your own terms—no physical activity required.”

“I might want to consider it, you know…” His voice lowers, softer and softer with hesitation, to the point that you find yourself leaning in. Noticing, as he seems to have noticed, that your hands are a hair’s breadth apart. “As a future prospect, if anything. But you have to understand, I don’t enjoy being watched.”

“I get that.” 

“Mm, no, I imagine people stare at you for very different reasons,” he mutters. “Not pity. Envy, perhaps.”

“I promise, most people don’t want these thunder thighs,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap them like a used car salesman. These babies can fit so much soul-crushing insecurity, which is a terrible pitch, really. The occasional bouts of self-loathing are not your strongest selling point.

He lets out the strangest bark of a laugh, so dry it’s almost ugly, as if he can read your mind. 

But you didn’t mean to derail. “Sorry, continue.” 

“Right…” Viktor draws in a long breath, quiet for a moment before he figures out how to word it. “It’s as simple as that I would rather go unseen. It’s very, ah, personal. And painful, sometimes.”

You think of the age old adage: If it hurts, don’t do it. “Um, not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be?” 

“So they say,” he nods pensively, eyes ticking over some distant thought, maybe a memory. “It wasn’t like this before. The discomfort wasn’t… serious. That’s how I was able to ignore it for so long.”

“Ignore what?”

Not the brutal slam of the garage door across the house, for one thing. The pictures on the wall must be hanging crooked now.

Viktor sits straighter—if that’s even possible—and calls out: “Jayce?”

Footsteps—softer, distant.

His eyes snap back to yours. “It’s been a week since he’s come home,” he tells you in a quick whisper. “Mm, well, in the evening. He’s here in the morning—”

“To work out at the ass crack of dawn? I know.”

“You were invited?”

“He knows better than to think I’ll get up that early. I saw on his Instagram.”

Footsteps—louder now.

Viktor nods sagely. “Ah, yes, the stories. By my count, he has written, eh, ‘rise and grind’ forty three times since the first of the year.”

“That’s…” Your math isn’t great but, “More than once a week,” you whisper back, on the cusp of giggles as Viktor nods. And then, it hits you. “Wait—”

But the footsteps have stopped. 

And instead, there’s Jayce’s stoop-shouldered figure braced in the doorway. He sniffles loudly.

He’s still dressed in the khakis and blue button down he wears to work—rumpled, sleeve cuffs smeared darker. His eyes have that red, raw, burning swell of someone who's tried very hard not to cry, and failed spectacularly. 

Viktor finds the words you’re looking for with immediate precision. “Has something happened?” he asks, voice tight, hand tighter on your shoulder as he leans around you to look his roommate over. “Jayce?”

They spend a lot of time apart. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they’re best friends too. 

He swipes at his nose as it runs into the raw little divot above his lip. Beyond sadness, there’s a guilty cast to his dark, hazel eyes, turned down to the floorboards, but you can’t find your voice to tell him that this isn’t what it looks like. 

“Are you… injured?” Viktor tries again.

Jayce shakes his head. No. 

“Is your mother alright?” 

“She’s fine,” he rasps. “Um… Can I just—?” he asks, gesturing weakly to the two of you.

Which you think must translate to: “You want to come sit?” 

“Yeah.”

Viktor’s of course comes without apprehension, without judgment. Only with the apparent surprise that he even needed to ask. 

But Jayce, in several long legged strides, doesn’t come sit. No, he collapses face first onto the bed behind you, all broad, shaking shoulders and quiet sniffles seeping out from behind his arms. They hide his face and nothing else. Hands curling, clenching into his shirtsleeve, there’s the thick band of a tan line striped across his middle finger. 

You turn yourself around, scooching closer, folding up cross-legged to face him. 

You’ve never seen him like this—laid so low. A sweat stain blooms dark at the small of his back, up between his shoulder blades, but sweat is sweat and Jayce is Jayce. You reach out to rub his back despite it.  “It’s alright…” you whisper. Feels like putting band-aids on a bleeding heart, but it’s all you have. 

Soft cotton weave catches the peeling skin of old blisters as you soothe your hand in circles. His shirt leaches the vetiver smell of cologne, but somewhere beneath it, there’s an elegant, cloying perfume still lingers. It’s no secret where he spends most of his time these days. 

You meet Viktor’s searching eyes and mouth: Mel. 

He nods gravely as if to say he drew the same conclusion.

Say something—that’s your next silent suggestion, canting your head toward Jayce. 

But instead, Jayce takes a deep, wet, shuddering breath and asks, muffled into the mattress, “Can… Can we go to Taco Bell?” 

“Sure…” you murmur. He could’ve asked you to drive him two states over to bury a body and you would’ve agreed just as thoughtlessly. Anything he needs. “We’ll take you.”

He doesn’t move. Just sniffles at a prompting little scritch to the nape of his neck, where his hair fades out to shadowy, peach-flesh fuzz.

So you ask, “Do you want to go change, and then I can drive us?”

“Can I just have a minute? Please?”

“Why?” demands a perplexed Viktor, still soft spoken. Desperate for an answer that isn’t made of cobbled assumptions; blunt in its pursuit. 

And worried. You can tell that he’s worried. 

As if you’d been the one to ask, the personification of wet, doleful misery lifts his head and looks up at you. His face is a ruin of dark, clumpy lashes and tear-tracked skin. His lip wobbles, the pressure of withholding little sobs building, building, building. But speaking it aloud makes it real. Speaking it aloud breaks the levee. 

“I think we just broke up,” he finally whispers. 

And cries face-down for another hour after that.

[suntoru]

𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚝. 𝟸

synopsis: you find a gigantic stuffed bear at your desk for valentine’s day! how does your bnha best friend react when it’s not from them?

a/n: bnha version <3 hope you’re all doing good

warnings: a bit of swearing, fluff, crack, semi-angst

genshin version

izuku really tries for you :((((( he tears up, inside his heart breaks a lil bit seeing you so happy with the stuffie, but he doesn’t want you to see him being upset. he pretends to be excited for you, but the smile doesn’t really reach his eyes. he knows it’s unreasonable to be mad at a pile of fluff and fabric… but… he js wants to be your favourite again 🥺

“y/n! …oh, you’re busy cuddling with the bear? …i guess i’ll just go over there then…”

bakugo absolutely loses it. you have no idea why he’s so pissy today, did you do something wrong? when class ends, he doesn’t wait for you to get your stuff like usual, and he doesn’t sit with you at lunch… it stings a lot bit more than you think, you feel so alone. ending up in tears, you call him sobbing, telling him you’re sorry for what you did wrong :( he comes barging into your room five seconds later and crouches over you, wiping a stray tear dripping down your face.

“listen dumbass, i’m… sorry. no, you didn’t do anything wrong. here, i got you your favourite chocolate so you’d stop your whining.”

todoroki’s confused. who gave you this giant bear? why didn’t they give it to you themselves? and most importantly, why does he feel his heart twist? he decides he doesn’t like this feeling. he tells himself it’s illogical to be jealous of an inanimate object, but after class, he takes you to the nearest plushie store and tells you to pick out whatever you want. or better yet, why not just buy the entire store? 

“hmm? what do you mean i’m insane? of course i can afford it, would i offer it if i couldn’t?” yes

kirishima is genuinely happy for you. of course you’d get a stuffie, he thinks you’re amazing and that you totally deserve it! he even hypes you up, telling you that you’re super manly n his favourite person. when you open up your locker after lunch, you’ll find a chibi crimson riot plushie and a polaroid camera photo of you and him during the sports festival 💗

“that bear is super cute! just like you <3”

kaminari hates it. he hates your attention not being on him, he hates that you hug the bear but not him. so what does he do? he tries to gaslight you into throwing it out 💀💀 throwing shade at the bear, getting offended when you defend it, and being all pouty when you huff at him. he squats in a corner, pursing his lips together, mumbling under his breath about how he’ll zap the bear in the balls later 🤩.

“stupid bear… who do you think you are, taking all of y/n’s attention?”

shinsou looks like he couldn’t care less, and for a while, he doesn’t. but when you start to no longer take naps with him because now you have a cuddle buddy, that’s when he has a problem. he physically snatches the bear off his delicately placed spot and tosses it carelessly on the ground. he wiggles onto your bed next to you, taking the place of the bear who was there seconds ago. he swipes the drool off the corner of your mouth before joining you in slumber.

“why the bear is on the ground? it must have fell off.”

tamaki is insecure of it. do you like it better than him? why do you call it your new best friend? have you replaced him? you clearly notice when he starts to get distant, but you can’t figure out why. is it because you’ve been spending more time with nejire? that must be it! when you apologize to him for accidentally ignoring him for your friend, he sighs in relief. at least you still want to be his friend and maybe more

“i-it’s really no big deal. i get it if you like nejire better than me. wait… nejire?” 

dabi doesn’t give a shit. i mean, he’s confident that you won’t leave him because you both have unresolved feelings for each other, but that doesn’t stop him from burning poor teddy into a crisp :( don’t worry though, he’ll just ‘buy’ you another one! he doesn’t mind another late night run with you, especially if it makes you happy. 

“hah? those ashes are from… my cigarettes. maybe shiggy or toga has your plushie.”

hawks juts his lips into a pretty pout. he’d make a really good stuffie too, y’know… if only you’d notice his feelings for you. but on another note, he leaves hints that he just released a new line of hawks chibi plushie, and he just happens to have a couple extra… pouts further when you suggest that he should hand them out to fans next time he’s at an event.

“what? that’s- not what i meant…”

[nso-csi]

231117 Weverse live (eng sub)

Taemin says that it snowed for the first time this year in korea today and asked if his manager saw it. he says that the scarf was gifted by the brand itself and he was thanking the brand for this scarf. cr.

I'm going to the airport because I have a schedule in Thailand. Even tho I left early, there's a lot of traffic because people are getting off work. Today's also friday! I envy the people getting off work, treat yourselves well~ I woke up today and worked out and had a meeting regarding the concert and left for the airport. I've been pretty busy lately. cr.

I might sound full of myself, but rather than fixed variety shows, I want to do youtube content, like uploading song/dance covers. cr.

Taemin: I don't even know if they'll invite me over to variety shows however rather thanwanting to become a regular on variety shows, I want something that actually suits me? something like youtube content or sth relating to dance? cr.

Fans: You don't have any vacation? aren't you tired? Taemin: I don't think I have any vacation for this year, I've really been working hard (without rest) this year~ cr.

Taemin reading a comment: no holiday this year? I won't have holidays this year til the end of year. cr.

Taemin: can you all write how old you are? I am curious.. I am really curious.. because it seems like I'm the only one speaking in honorific?? no one apart from me speak formally?? Every one is younger but no one calls me oppa, everyone was like 'taemin-ah' but of course i know t's because the fans want to feel closer to me that's why they don't speak with honorifics cr.

Taemin: what's funny is everyone talks to me casually even those younger than me 6"6 no one even says oppa to me 6^6 I was joking you can talk to me casually~ some people get mischievous because I said so I was joking! cr.

Alcohol? it's been so long since i drank. When was the last time? I'm not drinking recently, maybe I lost interest. cr.

Taemin said it's been a while since he drink alcohol and said the last time he drank was during the live in Japan cr.

I'm so thankful that so many people did the guilty challenge with me. i was worried that they might feel embarrassed/scold me but everyone did show their abs, so i was very relieved. cr.

Fortunately there are a lot of people that recognize me as an artist. i'm determined to walk my own path. cr.

Everyone's asking me to take care of them, tbh i can't take care of myself. cr.

People who exercise regularly always show up. Like Minho is everywhere. He probably does ab workouts in his sleep and showers while flexing his abs and when he picks up stuff he picks them up in a squat position. I think it's really cool that people can exercise routinely like that. I would rather live without abs and be able to eat whatever i want. During the concert i should show you my abs~ 6v6 shooting content with minho hyung would be fun. there's two types of people who exercise: those who enjoy working out, and those who whine and complain. i'm the second type 6v6. cr.

Taemin: Minho hyung must work out even sleeping n even taking a shower 😆 he has such healthy hobbies so cool~ but shall we just have drinks? let's give up let's eat what we want this life~! there are 2 types of people one working out happily the other doing it whining i'm the latter cr.

I know how hard the SM staff works, so I don't want to talk bad about SM. But there are times when I don't understand the decisions made by (upper management). even if I were to have an ordinary job, I'd be bound to have some sort of complaints. cr.

Everyone is working hard to make something great. "Euisoo hyung make lots of money" I think our company's salary isn't that high. But everyone works with so much passion. It's a company where you make little money but you work a lot. and i know how hard our fans support us. Everyone always talks about how shinee/taemin fans are so amazing and beautiful! Some people enter the company and run away because the reality didn't match their expectations. So the people who stay behind work hard. The company is expanding but there's no money, so i don't understand how it's getting bigger LOL What I want to say is everyone is working hard, so please know that. There are people who work hard behind the scenes. That's right, raise the salary of our staffs! We have the deepest history among entertainment agencies in korea, so raise our salaries to match our reputation! 6v6 cr.

[abilouwrites]

GYM

Jamie Drysdale

I don’t know why, or how Jamie manages to do it but every morning at 5:30 he wakes up and goes to the gym. Not practice but just the gym.

“Babes, you want to come to the gym with me, I think we can get coffee on the way back” He whispers in my ear; sweeping the hair back and kissing just above my temple.

“Mmm.. I guess” I usually whine and complain but today I feel like going. Usually because I don’t get to spend a lot of time with him.

I love the car rides with him; they remind me so much of the airport drives I grew up on. While he drinks preworkout I stick to water.

While Jamie doesn’t take long with his stretches while I take a little longer. I watch him as he does his squat warmups and eventually I join him asking how much he wants to add onto his set, “just give me a ten and I think I’ll be good and I can watch you do yours” he tells me as he sets his tack and I move to grab the weights off and then add it to his set.

“Cute I love this pookie” I Tell him; swiftly kissing his cheek before continuing a stretch as I keep an eye on him.

“I still don’t understand why you call me pookie all the time” He says tucking his head and racking the weights.

“Because, you are my pookie” I tell him; I take the weights off and slowly warm up before adding some simple 25s.

He deadlifts, I squat. Obviously he lifts more than me but that’s simply because I’m not an athlete anymore. I’m enjoying my life, studying to become a doctor. Watching my pretty boyfriend play hockey.

I don’t like working out for too long, and neither does he on the days I join him and even now I sometimes still feel guilty that he’d cut part of his workout short but he says he just likes spending all the time with me as he can before a roadie

I drive on the ride home as Jamie does some work stuff that I don’t ever really understand even though he’s tried to explain it a million times.

I always shower first when we get home because while Jamie showers I do my skincare and make breakfast.

Eggs with toast and avocado, I brew coffee for us and he steps out with sweats on and his hair all damp in the way that makes me want kiss his face all over.

He’ll kiss my cheek and take a plate.

It’s strange usually we don’t talk during breakfast, not because our lives are uninteresting but because it’s hard to decide what to talk about first.

(I dont know how to end this)

[insomniac4000]

George Clarke was not your average gym-goer. Sure, he showed up four times a week, right on schedule, but it wasn’t because he was obsessed with bulking up or shredding down. That was just a bonus, the gym was more of a sanctuary for George—a place where he could clear his mind, focus on something tangible, and take a break from the relentless cycle of creating content.

Life as a TikTok and Youtube star had its perks, of course. George loved the excitement, the creativity, and most of all, the connection he felt with his fans. But there was an intensity to it that sometimes left him feeling drained. That’s why he cherished his time at the gym. Here, among the rows of dumbbells and treadmills, he could just be George, a guy trying to stay in shape and enjoy his workouts.

He had his routine down to a science. Mondays were for chest and triceps, Tuesdays for back and biceps, Thursdays for legs, and Fridays for shoulders and abs. He’d plug in his earbuds, crank up his favourite playlist, and get to work. The repetition was comforting, and over time, he’d come to recognize the regulars the same faces appearing day after day, each of them absorbed in their own world.

One face, however, had started to catch his eye more than the others.

She was new, or at least new to George. He first noticed her one chilly November morning, about three months ago. She had wandered into the gym with an air of confidence that suggested she wasn’t a beginner, but George had never seen her before. Dressed in sleek black leggings and a simple tank top, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, she moved through her routine with a focus that George admired. She was strong, no doubt about that. He watched as she effortlessly hoisted weights feeling comfortable while doing so and was engrossed in her routine, not bothered about anyone else at the gym, just like George.

It wasn’t just her strength that caught George’s attention. It was her smile, which she offered to the staff at the front desk as she checked in each morning. It was the way she seemed to tune out the rest of the world when she was lifting or on the treadmill, completely immersed in the moment. It was the way she caught him looking once, their eyes meeting for a split second before she looked away, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

George didn’t know her name. She didn’t seem to be on social media, or if she was, he hadn’t been able to find her. But there was something about her that intrigued him, a mystery that he wanted to solve. He started timing his workouts to coincide with hers, subtly shifting his schedule so that he’d be there when she was. He didn’t want to come off as creepy or overly interested, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when fate finally intervened. George had just finished his third set of squats and was about to move on to lunges when he noticed her struggling with the leg press machine. She had loaded the plates onto the machine but seemed to be having trouble with the lever that locked it into place.

Without thinking, George walked over. “Hey, do you need some help with that?”

She looked up, surprised, and George felt his heart skip a beat. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown, and up close, he could see the faint freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. She was even more beautiful than he had realised, George often joked he was incapable of speaking to women and he could feel his heart thumping as the adrenaline flowed through him.

“Um, yeah, actually,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I think this thing is stuck.”

George leaned down and gave the lever a firm tug. It clicked into place easily, and he stepped back with a grin. “There you go. All set.”

She smiled, a little sheepishly. “Thanks. I’m usually fine with this stuff, but today it just wasn’t cooperating.”

“No problem,” George said. He was about to walk away when she spoke again.

“I’m Emily, by the way.”

He turned back, surprised. “George,” he said, holding out his hand.

She took it, and for a brief moment, George felt a spark of something more than just a handshake. “Nice to meet you, George,” Emily said, her smile widening.

“Likewise,” George replied, feeling a little awkward but thrilled all the same. “Do you come here often?” He then mentally kicked himself for asking such a stupid question.

Emily chuckled. “Sounds like a line, but yes, I try to come most days. You?”

“Yeah, same here. It’s kind of my escape, you know?”

“I totally get that,” she said, her expression softening. “I work in marketing, and sometimes I just need to get out of my head. The gym helps.”

“Same,” George said, though he didn’t elaborate on his career. Most people either knew who he was or they didn’t, and he found it refreshing when they didn’t.

They talked a bit longer, mostly about their favourite workouts and the best times to hit the gym when it wasn’t crowded. It was a light, easy conversation, and when they finally parted ways, George felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his workout.

Over the next few weeks, George and Emily started to see more of each other at the gym. They’d exchange smiles or brief conversations between sets, and gradually, those moments turned into longer chats. George learned that Emily had moved to the city a few months ago for a new job, which explained why he hadn’t seen her before. She was originally from a small town up north, and she missed the quiet but was enjoying the excitement of the city.

“I didn’t know anyone here at first,” Emily confessed one day as they were cooling down after a workout. “But the gym kind of became my place, you know? It’s nice to see familiar faces, even if we don’t always talk.”

George nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved here. The gym was where I found my rhythm. Plus my housemates are idiots so it's good to get away,” he joked.

They started meeting up outside the gym, too. It started innocently enough coffee after a workout, a smoothie on the way home. But soon, George found himself looking forward to those moments with Emily as much as he did his actual workouts. She was easy to talk to, funny, and grounded in a way that George found incredibly appealing.

And she didn’t seem to know who he was.

This was perhaps the most surprising thing of all. George was so used to being recognized everywhere he went, his online persona preceding him. But Emily seemed blissfully unaware of his TikTok fame. She treated him like just another guy, a guy she was getting to know, not a social media star.

It was a breath of fresh air.

It was a crisp winter evening when things began to change. George and Emily had just finished a particularly grueling workout as George was now training for a race for charity and were walking out of the gym together, their breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

“Want to grab dinner?” George asked, trying to keep his tone casual. “There’s this great Thai place just down the street.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, and George felt his heart drop. But then she smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Dinner was wonderful, full of laughter and easy conversation. George found himself opening up to Emily in a way he hadn’t with anyone in a long time. He told her about his life, his family, and his love for creating content, though he still didn’t mention the extent of his online presence. Emily talked about her work, her friends back home, and her dreams of traveling the world someday.

As they walked back to their cars, George felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. This wasn’t just a casual friendship anymore—at least, not for him. He was falling for her, hard and fast, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“So, Emily,” he began, his voice a little shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Emily looked up at him, her expression curious. “What is it?”

George took a deep breath. “I—well, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. And I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think I’m starting to like you. A lot.” There was a pause, and for a moment, George’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he thought she might hear it. But then Emily smiled, and George felt a wave of relief.

“I like you too, George,” she said softly. “I was hoping you’d say something, because I’ve been feeling the same way.”

George couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Really? That’s—that’s amazing.”

“But,” Emily continued, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, “there’s something I should tell you too.”

George’s smile faltered. “What is it?”

Emily took a deep breath, just as he had done moments before. “I know who you are, George. I’ve known for a while now. My friends sent me your TikToks ages ago, and I recognized you the first day I saw you at the gym.”

George was stunned into silence. “You—you knew?”

Emily nodded, her eyes searching his for a reaction. “I didn’t say anything because, honestly, I just wanted to get to know you as you. Not as ‘George Clarkeey, the guy on TikTok.’ And I’m glad I did, because the George I’ve gotten to know is incredible.”

George felt a rush of emotions—relief, happiness, and something else, something deeper. He reached out and took Emily’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you for that, Emily. It means more to me than you know. I wanted to be just me around you too, not the guy everyone sees online.”

"I think I would have been drawn to you anyway, famous or not because no one can resist you doing a squat," Emily giggled.

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading away as they looked at each other. It felt like the start of something real, something that went beyond the likes and comments of the digital world. George had found someone who saw him for who he truly was, and that was worth more than all the fame in the world.

The days that followed were a blur of excitement for George. His relationship with Emily grew stronger with each passing day. They started spending more time together, not just at the gym but outside of it too. They explored the city, tried out new restaurants, and even spent quiet evenings at George’s place, where they could just be themselves.

For the first time in a long time, George felt truly content. He still loved making content and connecting with his fans, but now he had something—or rather, someone—who made his offline life just as fulfilling. Emily was becoming his confidante, his support system, and more importantly, his partner.

One evening, as they were watching a movie on George’s couch, Emily turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. “So, when do I get to make a cameo in one of your TikToks?”

George laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Whenever you want. But only if you’re sure you’re ready for the spotlight.”

“I think I can handle it,” she teased, snuggling closer to him. “But no pressure. I’m happy just being part of your real life.”

George kissed the top of her head, feeling a warmth spread through him. “You’re already the best part of it.”

And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, George realized just how lucky he was. He had found something rare and beautiful—something that made all the hard work, all the late nights and early mornings, completely worth it.

He had found love, not in the flashy world of social media, but in the quiet, unassuming moments of real life. And he knew that, no matter what the future held, he and Emily would face it together, one set at a time.

[painfulrant]

Peace and Life

JJ Maybank x Reader

Little Angst, mostly fluff

Peace and Life

It was a normal day at the Chateau, everyone packing up to get on the boat. Kiara carried a cooler of ‘apple juice’ while JJ rolled a few. Everyone had been so on edge lately that you had just decided to get everyone out and on the water to let worries wash away with the tides. Of course, they’d come and go but there were other people present and you knew that with everyone around, no one would think of things for long.

When Pope and John B got back with gas for the boat, Sarah finally came out of John B’s room having just woken up. She looked to be decently clothed but you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled from you.

“Love, you’ve gotta change. It’s quite warm today and we’re going on HMS Pogue.” You called kindly with a soft smile before you watched her freeze and groan, turning around before disappearing with a loud thud from the door having been slammed shut.

“Someone's cranky today.” JJ muttered what you were guessing was supposed to be to himself for when you turned with a raised eyebrow and amused eyes, he rolled his eyes and turned away. Your lover boy has had quite the attitude today and you weren’t sure if it was just him waking up on the wrong side of the bed or something that someone did.

Nonetheless, you knew he wasn’t angry or upset with you so you glided over, squatting in front of his form that sat with his elbows propped on his knees, a paper and stuff in his lap. He wore his black shirt with his swim trunks and his red cap backwards which you always loved.

“I think everyone may be.” You hummed, offering a smile. You gently grabbed his hands to stop him from his activity before moving your head so you could see his ocean blue eyes. Something was off. His eyes said as much from the unnatural dark shade to his eyes and the way he seemed to be holding every emotion behind a wall that he hoped would numb them all.

“What is it, sweet man?” You whispered, letting your fingers gently run and trace his face. Over his eyebrows, along his cheek bones, then down to his jawline. On and on, trying to ease the both of you.

He took only a moment, studying you as he usually does before deciding whatever it was wasn’t important enough to tell you. It stung but you knew it was his way of keeping the both of you safe from negative emotions and cruel thoughts. He looked down and grabbed his hat, squeezing the bill between his hands before running his fingers through his hair and placing it back where it was before.

“Nothing. Come on, they’re all waiting.” He answered, interlacing your hands so you couldn’t pull away. Not that you wanted to in the first place, you knew it was just a fear of his and you had no issue being close to him. You loved it in fact.

When the HMS Pogue stopped, water surrounded all sides with glimmering reflections of the sun that cast heated rays all around. Everyone was talking and chatting, JJ having just tried to pull off his ‘party trick’ where he stands on the edge of the boat while it’s still moving, holding a beer so he can try to catch the liquid escaping the bottle. It was funny to watch but annoying when beer matted everyone's clothes and hair.

You now sat in his lap, moving one of the many wash clothes that you hid inside the HMS Pogue seats against JJ’s beer smothered face. He was laughing and nodding along with Pope while the girls played music and chatted about their men and their experience. Which happened to be the exact reason you weren’t hanging out with them at the moment.

When JJ turned his attention to you, you saw his eyes darken once more and felt a creeping doubt that maybe it was you who he was upset and angry with. For what, you had no clue. You tilted your head, smile falling with concerned eyes that searched for the answer through his. When his eyes studied where your smile once was, a sharp ping jutted through your heart.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked quiet enough so the others couldn’t hear but loud enough so he could. When his expression changed from one of distant thinking to one of shock and then again to a slightly frustrated emotion, you couldn’t help but begin to fidget with your hands that laid in between the both of you.

“No, of course not. I just…” He started, breaking the eye contact that you so desperately wanted.

“I can’t offer you anything that others could. I can’t give you a home… or money, or even really peace.” He stated, growing more frustrated by voicing his thoughts out loud. “I can’t support you and heaven forbid if you ended up pregnant, I couldn’t support the baby either.” He lifted you gently, making sure not to harm you but rushing to set you down and stand up. To leave this conversation because he didn’t want to hear your usual reassuring words. He knew they weren’t true and he didn’t want pretty lies.

You watched as he walked away, feeling your heart clench more with each step he took. What did this mean? Was he thinking of leaving? Of dipping on the relationship? All these worries hit you like a one-ton truck and you felt a dizzying spell from it. Swallowing the pain down, you stood before offering a smile to John B who had watched the encounter with furrowed eyebrows. It wasn’t unusual for you and JJ to fight but it was unusual for you to have just let him walk away. Usually, you wouldn’t allow that, that being if you could stop him in the first place.

Walking to the edge of the HMS Pogue, you stripped your shirt, remaining in your jean shorts and swimsuit before jumping into the cold refreshing water. One of the many reasons you loved water was for the fact that it acted as an escape for you. You could usually hold your breath for a while, just sitting in the water and letting your thoughts and emotions out around you.

So that’s exactly what you did. You let the air from your lungs slowly seep out as you sink before letting your body lay limp, the tides moving you. Your eyes were closed and you just let the sound and feeling of the tides wash over you, letting it ease your worries and numb your feelings. You knew this way of releasing emotions wasn’t necessarily safe but nonetheless you still continued to do so. Soon your lungs were screaming for air but you couldn’t find it to move just yet. You wanted the rush that came with having a time limit to swim to the top. You wanted the peace you felt in that instant to last forever. Forever wasn’t an option though.

As you broke the surface of the water, you found everyone searching the water before letting out a relieved breath from seeing you smile and wave.

“Don’t you ever do that sh*t again!” Kie screamed, worried lining her every feature. You stared confused before JJ cursed under his breath, calling you a ‘psychotic woman’, before jumping in as well.

“You were under twice as long as usual.” Pope explained with an impressive look.

“How long?” You asked, confusion and surprise making you ask the question you really didn’t want to know.

“Four minutes.” He answered, shaking his head. Your eyes bulged before you felt JJ’s arms finally slip around you. Without one second of hesitation, you turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, knowing he had probably flipped out when you hadn’t surfaced at your usual time.

“I’m okay.” You reassure before moving so you could place your hands on both sides of his face, not allowing him to move or look away.

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.” You stated before your features soften a bit, placing a soft lingering kiss to the crown of his head. “You are my peace, J. If you keep avoiding life then you’ll never find peace. Okay? So stop trying to push me away.” You demanded.

He was silent, just staring at you before you took a deep breath and made a pouting face.

“Okay. I’ll work on it, sweets.” He muttered before glancing down to your lips.

“Will you kiss me now?” He asked, hope laced into his voice.

“Not yet. I have one more thing to say.” You answered, biting your lip with a half smile that you attempted, and failed, to hide.

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” You hum, teasing but also being completely serious. You knew for some time he was struggling with his self image and you decided now would be an appropriate time to hint at it. Whether he found out what you were truly trying to say or not was up to him.

He stared at you with asserting eyes before he thinned his lips, trying to decipher what you meant. You gave him only a moment before speaking again.

“Now I will kiss you.” You whispered, leaning forward to gently brush your lips with his, quick and swift but holding all the love and affection that the two of you had.

When fake gagging noises sounded from the boat, you smiled against JJ’s lips, letting giggles fall from this. Today has definitely been a good day.

You cannot find peace by avoiding life. - Virginia Woolf

Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself. - George Bernard Shaw

[fluffykiddosstuff]

❤️What would they do for valentine's day (dbh)❤️

Hello everyone! I hope you all got the love you deserved today! (from family, co-workers, friends or lovers doesn't matter <3) and I hope you will like this :) it's not NSFW bc I didn't had enough idea for NSFW headcanons about valentine's days since I'm single :_: so sorry abt that

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💙Daniel💙

(I have this headcanons were the dpd repaired all the androids that could be repaired after Markus got them their rights so let's say it's after that :))

- poor boy is really traumatized by is old owners, but he remembers how they acted to each other on valentine's day, how one would cook and the other buy presents all the stuff like that, so he considered about doing similar

- If you say you don't want anything fancy for this day or that you finish work a bit late, he would be stressing inside but not showing any of it, he has attachments issues and even if it's not meant in a bad way he feels like you would get rid of him like his previous owners tried to

- cooks something fancyer than usually and would set candles were you both usually eat (like I said in previous headcanons : thirium food hc for androids), maybe some red themed decoration but not too much and a lot but A LOT of kisses and cuddles in the couch <3 it would be praises from him to you and the other way around to let each other know you are both loved deeply

- as a gift he would try to help you with work that you brought home so you can rest in bed with him sooner than you did every day, if he can't help he would just bring you some coffee/tea (or any favorite drinks you like folks) to keep you going while you finish

- hugs you frome behind while you work and while you fall asleep either on him or in the bed after taking care of you in a warm and romantic bath <3

💚Ralph💚

(for Ralph you meeted him thanks to Kara and you live with him in this BTW :))

- he didn't knew what valentine's day was until he saw it either on your TV or while he was walking outside, he asked more about it to Kara since Kara and Luther were dating now, she explained that it was something to show love to the ones you truly care about

- "but isn't that something you should do every day?"

- after a while he finally understood and rushed home to surprise you the best he could

- putting the keys in your bag and getting in the living room, you saw a big bouquet of your favorites flowers and plants on the center table, you smiled fondly when Ralph took you in his arms from behind and kissed your cheek

- " Ralph made the composition himself, they won't last very long but we could always try to do the same with paper, what do you think?"

- he also ordered your favorite food, since he knows he can't cook well since he doesn't have a "home caring" program (the Alice and Kara incident at the squat made us realize that lol)

- he want to feed you and you to feed him, he didn't got loved like that and he want to show you he does truly

🤎Markus🤎

- he knows what valentine's day is about, Carl made back then a special painting about this day and explained it to markus how, for humans, it was important and meaningful

- once you got home nothing would have changed but, when you enter your room to get changed you saw a big painting of you and your lover on the bed with petals of your favorite flower on the sheets, you admired the painting when you heard a romantic song playing on a piano, you smiled to yourself knowing who it was and you got into the working area that you reserved for markus and his hobbies

- "did you like the painting? I hope you did because It will be hanging in this room since today"

- he smiled and kissed you, then probably wants to dance with you and make you laugh for the rest of the day

- "you are the most beautiful peace of art ever, I mean it"

☕Gavin☕

- "valentine's day? Pff it's for cowards"

- would sent you some dumb romantic quotes by text so only you can see them

- when you got home you find a box of chocolates with a little note on it

- "even if I don't show it or tell it every day, I'm glad you are in my life"

- he would hug you in the bed/sofa and cherish your body while saying sometimes love words to you

- kiss everywhere you feel insecure 1nd likes when you kiss his scars

💛Simon💛

- prepared everything so you don't have to do anything but relax when you get home, diner? Already made, cleaning? Done, he wants you to enjoy every seconds of the time you will spend together

- "here let me take your coat" with a warm smile then a hug and a kiss

- some lights lit up in the room and your favorite perfume all over the room to make you at ease

- buyed you flowers, made you a card, dressed up fancy and buyed you some clothes he thought you would have liked, this man wants to make you feel special and loved <3

- drinking champagne by a balcony, looking at the stars and Detroit, chatting about whatever comes to your minds

- he is glued to you and snuggling against you (pls let him be the little spoon he just wants to feels you holding him)

🩸Connor🩸

- since he is still a little bit awkard with his deviancy, he literally bullied hank to make tings perfect

- dressed in a blue and black suit, he invited you to a restaurant and made you the center of his attention since every days he as to focus on cases for work

- walks while taking your hand in a park and sits on a bench looking at the stars

- "every nights and days with you are wonderful, I can't get enough of them and you, I wished we could do this every night"

- arrived home he would help you get cleaned and then spoons you while stroking your hair and soothing you to sleep

🥃Hank🥃

- "valentine's day are only made to make money, it's dumb"

- wants just to spend the day with you at home chilling, in pyjamas, nothing fancy

- maybe would order what you would want to eat and let you pick the movie

- strokes your hair whil you snuggle next to him

- don't be surprised if you see a gift on your bed

- "what? Just because I find it dumb doesn't mean I can't buy you shit.."

- If you buy him something he would use it every day every times he can

- falling asleep with you and sumo in the bed is the best valentine's this old man could dream of

🤖Nines🤖

- many researchs of how he can show you his love by touch or gift since he isn't good with words

- kisses and hugs out of nowhere, more than usually

- gift you clothing and jewelry

- tries to cook (either it's fantastic either it's burned, no in-between)

- let's you borrow his working jacket for once

- takes you shopping

- takes you to a restaurant

- in bed he would keep you as close as he can and gently rub every part that reach his hands

- he doesn't expect anything in return but if you do, it will stay in his mind 24/24hours and he would be overwhelmed by that

🕊️Rupert🕊️

- he hear about valentine's day while feeding some pigeons in the park

- would send a message with a bird to your window, while waiting outside for you

- "you know I love you right? Do you want to be my valentine this year?"

- takes you into a zoo and stops almost every time to analyse every animals (even the ones that aren't part of the zoo)

- buys you a plush of your favorite animal and some food

- takes many pictures with you and then gift them to you in a frame

- offers you his coat when you both get home

- when you propose him to stay he smiles and hugs you in the bed until you fall asleep

☮️Josh☮️

- he knows what valentine's day is since almost the start of his deviancy, when you started to get with him he knew he wanted to experience this first time with you

- takes you to your favorite place and does a picnic there

- watch the clouds and imagine the forms and their story

- made you some home made gift

- "wait you have some crumbs here, don't move.."

- plays and dance with you when you get home and then falls asleep one the couch, you on top of him, he is hugging you tightly against him

- you are the best thing that happened to him since the androids rised up

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I hope you like those headcanons!