#thank god for redemption arcs

[kingkat12]

fuck you (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, angry sex, oral sex, extremely foul language, angst, toxic relationship, accidental creampie, reader should run

summary: being in a relationship with Roman Godfrey has its perks, but is he really telling the truth?

word count: 5,304

a/n: this is part 2 of long legs (link here), enjoy!! wrote this over a span of three hours because this idea has been stuck in my head lol

I didn’t take Roman for a liar until recently. 

Because up until now, everything had been perfect these past few months; I’d spend every Saturday at his place, sleeping next to him, having breakfast with him, and then taking our routine stroll through Clifford Park just for the shits and giggles. I loved that more than anything in the world— At one point, I had to stand on the look-out for park patrols, holding my laugh while he etched our initials into the lamp we had stood beneath that night we became official. 

Our time together had been incredible so far. He had taken me out on elaborate dinners, and then refused to let me get out of bed the next morning before twelve because of his new ‘closeness-rule’; “I’m not detaching from you until noon,”

And who was I to say no? Especially not when it felt this good.

Now that I had his undivided attention, was the centre of all his affection and his designated person to call at midnight, I felt like I was floating. 

Up until last week.

Roman had showed up on my front door with his signature smirk to pick me up for dinner, dressed in his classic Armani suit, hair styled back. “Ready to go?”

I couldn’t help but smile, getting up on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheek— I was always so damn happy to see him. “Yeah, I just have to grab my shoes. Come in,”

A soft blush became apparent in Roman’s cheeks, stepping into my apartment as I disappeared back into my room. “The place is right around the corner, so don’t stress,” 

“Yeah, I know!” I said from the other room, rummaging through my collection of shoes. “We could stay at my place tonight, actually, so we don’t have to grab a cab to yours! Thoughts?”

Roman hummed, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Something told me he wasn’t so into that idea.

I stopped in my tracks, grabbing a pair of shoes before I came back out. "... No?”

Roman ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a slight chuckle. “I don’t know, I just… I like my bed,”

I couldn’t help but feel confused, but I brushed it off— maybe this was just a Roman quirk I hadn’t seen yet? It was probably not that deep. Right? Shrugging, I put on my shoes, grabbing my keys and my purse on the dresser. “Alright...? Cab fare’s on you, then, because I lent the rest of my spare cash to a friend earlier—“

In a swift motion, Roman snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him as I yelped in surprise. He let out a warm chuckle at the look on my face, leaning down to capture my lips in a sweet kiss. “Either we get going now, or I eat you for dinner. I’m fucking starving,”

Giggling, I pulled him in for another kiss. “Fine. I’ll be dessert, then,”

Roman let out a satisfied sigh against my lips, excitement shimmering in his green eyes as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the apartment.

However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something weird was going on. As he led me through the restaurant with a hand on my back, I realized this was the moment where the wheel in my head had started to turn. Even as we sat down to eat, the question of why he didn’t want to stay over at my place started gnawing at me. 

I had all my things at my place— My makeup, my shampoo against frizz, my clothes. I always had to walk around with my stuff if I was planning to sleep over at Roman’s place, feeling a bit like a nomad because... he hadn’t given me a drawer at his place yet. 

The mind-wheel continued to turn; why hadn’t he offered me a drawer? We had been official for months. For a man that was so damn adamant about being okay with a committed relationship, the more I thought about it, the more I started to see the cracks in the facade. Was he inadvertently telling me he didn't want to be in a commitment anymore?

Roman’s voice brought me back to reality; “What?”

Fuck. Had I been so swept up in my thoughts? “Pardon?”

“You’re not saying anything,” he said, putting his elbows on the table as he leaned forward. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

This is where my guilt started gnawing at me as well. Why was I even thinking these thoughts about the sweetest boyfriend I had ever had? “Oh, nothing, just...” And suddenly, it dawned on me that there was one thing that would ease my mind about this issue; “Just wondering if you’d want to meet my friends soon. I’ve met some of yours, but you’ve never met any of mine.”

Roman’s eyes widened slightly— I wouldn’t have caught it if I wasn’t watching his reaction like a hawk. With a chuckle, he pulled away from the table, wrapping his long, slender fingers around the cutlery once more; “I’ve met your friends,”

“Only in passing,” I mumbled, reaching out for my glass of water. “I’d like them to know the man I’ve been talking about for months. And I think you’d like them.”

Roman nodded, turning rather quiet. Something about it made my pulse quicken.

“Okay,” he eventually said. “I’ll meet your girls.”

I let out a shaky breath of relief, sipping my water with a bright smile on my face. Maybe I was just overthinking this, as always? “What do you say about next week?”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And next week rolled along— today was the day. I had told my girls that Roman said yes to meeting them at our favourite bar downtown, and I was now checking my makeup in the elevator up to his penthouse. I couldn’t wait for them to finally get to know the man I was so crazy about, because honestly? I was dead tired of having to defend our relationship to them.

And I also didn’t like that it was starting to sound like they were right about him all along.

As the elevator doors opened and I knocked at the entrance, I held back a jump of excitement— I couldn’t wait. However, my excitement quickly died down when Roman opened the door, dressed in…

A white t-shirt and his pyjama pants?

At first, I let out a short chuckle, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Rome, get dressed! Silly man,” I made my way past him, putting away my stuff on the dresser nearby. “We’re supposed to meet my friends in, like, twenty minutes!”

The sigh Roman let out had my heart dropping in seconds. “Yeah, about that...” Something about the dead expression on his face gave me a hint about his next words; “Is it okay if we take a rain check? I don’t really feel like going anywhere tonight.”

My smile fell. “... Are you serious?”

Roman shrugged, reaching out to pull me into a hug, leaning his head on top of mine. “Well, they’re your friends, I think they’ll be fine if you just show up,"

I didn’t hug him back— I stood still, holding back the urge to push him off of me. “But... you didn't even have work today,”

“So?” Roman kissed the top of my head, stroking through my hair. Was he perhaps hoping that the affection would dull my disappointment? “It’s been a bit of a lazy day, sure. Everyone needs those. But don’t let me stop you from having fun with your friends, you should go!”

I put my hands on his shoulders, prying him off of me. It felt as though my heart had sunk all the way down into my heels. “You... said you’d meet them,” 

Had this been any other instance, I wouldn’t have cared— I’d have told him to stay in, that it was okay, but it was really bothering me now. Maybe Roman hadn’t changed after all? Had I deluded myself into thinking he had just for the sake of being with him?

“I know, but we can take it another time. Right?” With a sigh, Roman reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Why are you getting so upset about this?”

No— this was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you really asking me that?”

Roman didn’t even look confused, just... annoyed. “Yeah?”

I had to put a lot of energy into not letting my lower lip give in to a quiver. Standing in front of the man I loved, feeling shut down and upset, I finally let it out; “Do you know I don’t even have a key to your place?”

Roman furrowed his brows, clearly not expecting those words out of my mouth. “What does that have to do with anything?—"

“The one time I left a toothbrush here, you returned it to me!” I balled my fists, hating that this was making me feel like a whiny child. “You don’t want to sleep over at my place, you don’t want to meet my friends, and the one time we ran into your mother, you introduced me as your friend!” Saying it out loud only made it more clear to me. This was not okay, nor was it normal.

Roman’s eye twitched— it was obvious that he didn’t like to be confronted about this head-on. He shook his head, looking further annoyed and uncomfortable as his gaze wandered around the room, refusing to meet mine.

“The only thing that has changed, is that you’re no longer fucking those women with the ridiculously long legs!” I said, feeling my tears press up on me. 

This was it for Roman— he groaned, turning to me with a rather angry look on his face; “What the fuck is up with you and your hang-up on the long legs?—“

“Because, Roman, those women were beautiful!” I cried, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “And maybe you’d let them keep their toothbrushes here, because maybe it would be easier for you to embrace someone you think is on your level!” 

Seeing the stunned expression on his face, I angrily wiped away the tear that had rolled down my cheek, grabbing my stuff. I reached for the door, taking one last jab before making my leave; “I should’ve left with Peter when I had the chance,”

It was in this moment that Roman put his hand on the door, slamming it shut with all his might. The bang echoed through the apartment, making me jump and look back at him with wide eyes of shock; the look on his face made my heart threaten to beat out of my chest.

Roman’s breath came out in short, ragged motions, chest heaving with anger. The way his eyes widened with fury had me worried, and his lips shut tightly into a line as his jaw clenched— I had to take a step back. I should’ve known better than to provoke a man like this. 

“If you need a key to know that I’m crazy about you, then I might have to rethink what I’m doing here with you,” he said, his words coming out like a low growl. “Are you that fucking insecure?”

“You make me insecure!” I let in a big heave of air, flailing my arms around as I tried to find the right words. 

“Yeah?” Roman snarked. “Well, if I’m so fucking horrible, maybe you should go back to Peter! Go ahead!”

Had I not been so terrified, I would’ve cried all over again. “Fuck you,”

Roman’s eye twitched once more— “Fuck you, too,”

“Fuck you!” I couldn’t help but grow more and more agitated; I had never been this hurt in my life. “Fuck you and your snoring!”

Roman’s lips parted in confusion, quickly retaliating; “Oh, yeah? Fuck you and your incessant need to be late to everything!”

“Am not!” This was starting to make my blood boil. “Fuck you and your stupid suits!”

Roman seemed to be feeling the same; “Fuck you and your heels!”

“Fuck you and your hair!” 

Somehow, I felt like this fight was shifting into something else.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you and your short fuck-me dresses!” Roman took a step away from the door, nearing me with dangerous steps. “That’s just not appropriate to wear in my fucking office!”

It didn’t take long until this had turned into a screaming match. “Fine, I will wear nothing but baggy jeans and enormous sweaters, even during the summer! Would that make you happy, asshole?” 

Roman groaned; “You’re such a fucking bitch, do you know that?” he yelled, nearly hovering above me. “Of course it wouldn’t, you know that’s not what I meant!”

“What the fuck do you want me to wear, then?!—“

A beat. “What about nothing?”

It didn’t take long for the both of us to understand what was happening, our eyes widening at the same time as it dawned upon us. It also didn’t take long until I flung myself around his neck, our lips meeting in a fiery, angry kiss. Roman lifted me up in no time, my legs wrapping around him. 

“Fuck you,” I breathed in between kisses, feeling my heart beat against his as he carried me further into the apartment.

“Will do,” he said, reaching his bedroom in no time with his long steps. Roman laid me down on the bed, wasting no time crawling on top of me. 

I was still unbelievably angry at him— but somehow, those emotions had turned into flashes of passion. Something told me that our relationship wouldn’t last at this rate, and it only made me more desperate for him. With tears in both our eyes, we somehow managed to get out of our clothes in between hungry kisses, not wanting to be apart even for just a second.

I let out a tiny sob as he kissed down my stomach, feeling my anger simmer in my chest, raging through me like a storm. Roman was so damn infuriating, but I couldn’t bring myself to let him go. I really, really didn’t want to let him go— was this how we would end?

My back arched off the bed and I let out a soft gasp as I felt him lick a wet stripe up my sex; somehow, the pleasure was starting to feel like a relief from the tornado of feelings ravaging my insides. Feeling his tongue trace tight circles around my clit was way too damn overwhelming at this moment, making me want to cry out in more ways than one. “Rome—“ I breathed, feeling another sob bubble up in my chest.

However, it quickly died out as he sucked down on my clit, lapping me up, making me feel like I was on the brink of pure ecstasy. 

Roman knew how to dull down my brain. He knew, and he knew it very well. Right now, that was more of a blessing than a curse.

“Rome, come back here,” I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his soft hair. “I can’t— I want you close.”

Roman hummed, his wet lips never leaving me as he made his way back up my body with kisses along my stomach, my chest, my collarbones and my neck. “Thought you hated me,”

I looked up at him, meeting his hard gaze as his lips hovered inches above mine. “Not fully,” I whispered, reaching forward to touch his face. Sometimes, it was hard to believe someone so beautiful could be real. “Only a little.” My hands traced his brows, the curve of his nose, the hollow of his cheeks, touching him as though he was made of glass.

And something about my softness seemed to affect Roman— his green eyes rounded out, looking down at me with an unintelligible emotion I hadn’t seen in him before. Leaning back down, he kissed me once more, no longer able to hold back.

With his chest pressed against mine like this, I couldn’t help but feel soothed from the absolute agony coursing through my veins. I was so, so scared that this would be it, that this night would determine whether or not we stayed together or not— and right now, I put away all our differences, all our hiccups, everything that was damn right infuriating about him, because at the end of the day... I loved this man.

And I hated myself for it.

I let out a gasp as he entered me, giving in to a sigh of relief against his lips. Nothing could ever top this feeling, nothing and no one could ever make me feel this good, and I knew it.

“Fuck you,” Roman whispered against my lips, his breathing further challenged by the feeling of being engulfed by my wet heat in this moment, rolling his hips against mine. “Fuck you for driving me crazy like this.”

Feeling his cock deep inside of me like this was enough to make me submit, my fingers going into his hair as I let out a shaky moan. “Fuck you, too,” I wrapped my legs around him, wanting him closer, feeling my breath hitch in my throat as his thrusts soon enough grew more rough. 

Roman reached down to grab my hips, making me meet the harshness of his thrusts. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood for being gentle— he wanted to take his anger out on me, and I was going to let him, whether I wanted to or not. 

A deeper, darker part of me loved this. Loved this feeling of having no control, knowing I had no say in what he was doing whatsoever. I could only tighten my fist in his hair, holding on as he continuously thrust his cock deep into me, letting out a string of breathy curses and moans. 

I could feel my legs getting sore as Roman suddenly said something that made my heart stop; “I love you,” he breathed, his grip on my hips tightening. “Stay with me.”

What? What was going on? I let out a cry, letting my body go limp to take his thrusts. My eyes widened as I realized that in this moment, I suddenly had power over our relationship, probably for the first time ever. I could decide whether or not I wanted to stay— he was begging me.

However, it was incredibly hard to make such an important decision when my legs were trembling and my whole lower body was in a state of the highest euphoric feeling on earth. “Liar,” I eventually said, my anger flaring up again at the memory of the events this past month. “You don’t love me, Rome... A-Aah—“

Angered, Roman pulled out of me without warning, flipping me over on my stomach. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, making me wince, as he used his other hand to prop me up to make it easier for him to enter me again. I let out another cry of both pleasure and anger, grabbing at the bedding beneath me as he spoke; “It’s you... For me, it’s only you... Shit,”

Roman let go of my hair, allowing my body to go limp beneath him. With the little power I had left, I instinctually moved my hips to meet his thrusts, wanting more. 

This was possibly the biggest mind-fuck I had ever been through, my brain shutting down as I felt his dick slide in and out of me continuously. My tears continued to press up on my eyes as I felt my orgasm building. “I loved you,” I breathed, feeling his hot, laboured breath against my shoulder and his hair brushing up against the crook of my neck. “I loved you, so, so much…”

It dawned on me that I really, truly did. I had loved him, but I couldn’t love him anymore. 

As Roman grabbed my hips, somehow shifting the angle of his thrusts, I let out a cry as he brushed up against my sweet spot— this was enough to drive me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before. I muffled my string of moans against the bedding beneath me, feeling a tear roll down my cheek, completely spent and overwhelmed.

It didn’t take long before Roman came as well, the harshness of his thrusts coming to a halt as he spilled into me. My eyes widened at the feeling— we’d been so swept up in the moment that we forgot about the condom. Fuck.

I heard Roman’s breath hitch as he pulled out of me, taking in the sight of his cum slowly leaking out of me.

It made me shudder— crap. I rolled over on my back, feeling how much my thighs and hips ached. It was a strange feeling, accompanying the satisfaction of post-coital rapture. I also couldn't piece together whether I liked the feeling of his cum seeping out of me or not. Had the relationship not been in this state, I probably would've found it rather... hot. 

I watched Roman’s chest raise up and sink, his green eyes meeting mine. None of us knew what to say, the sound of our panting filling the room. 

As everything started to dawn on me, I wiped away my remaining tears, sitting up in the bed despite knowing the cum might stain his sheets. Fuck the sheets. “I should go,” I mumbled, not meeting his eyes anymore. “My friends are probably waiting...”

With a sigh, Roman shifted on the bed, laying down next to me. His fingers reached for my arm, hoping to pull me back down and into his embrace. “Stay,”

I looked back at him, unsure what to feel. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say; “No,”

Roman’s expression remained unchanged, possibly expecting that answer. “I’ll go with you, then,”

“No,” I got up, looking for my clothes that had been scattered somewhere on the floor. “I need to go the pharmacy, get a plan B, and then meet my friends. I don’t have time for you anymore.”

That was definitely something he hadn’t expected. Roman sat up, lips parted in confusion as he watched me get dressed; “What is that supposed to mean?”

I felt my lower lip tremble as I got hit with a newfound sense of clarity. “I’m not getting what I want in this relationship. This isn’t good for me. So until you get your priorities straight, I’m leaving you,” As I finished getting dressed, I turned to him. “Thanks for this, Rome... Have a good night.”

Leaving the bedroom with tears in my eyes, I did my best to hold back yet another sob. I quickly put my shoes on, not wanting to waste another second in his ridiculously big penthouse. I wiped away the mascara stains on my cheeks in the hallway mirror when Roman appeared, back in his clothes.

“Just... Let’s talk about this, okay? Let’s not make a rash decision,” he said, nearing me. “We can make this work. Give it some time.”

It was hard to look at him right now, especially when he looked this sexed-up. I didn’t even want to answer him, making my way to the door.

“Come on!” Roman was starting to sound more desperate, reaching out for my wrist. “This can work!—“

I turned around, my gaze hardening. It was so damn hard to resist him, and I needed to get my decision confirmed. “Say it again,” I said, knowing what would ensue.

Confused, Roman’s brows furrowed; “This can work...?”

“No,” This was it. This was the moment. “Tell me you love me, now that we’re not in bed. Mean it.”

Roman froze, and it was clear that his mind was working overtime. I held my breath, hoping that I would be proven wrong, that this was something we could overcome. However, with a shaky breath, Roman let go of my wrist, taking a step back. He lowered his head in newfound shame, giving me a silent approval to leave.

Sighing, I felt as though my heart had broken into a thousand tiny pieces.  How was it possible that I had let him disappoint me over and over? “Thought so,” I took one last look at him, feeling a sob build in my throat. “Bye, Roman.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It had been a week since I had seen Roman, and it had been a week of pure agony. I hadn't stopped crying, having to take a week off of work, buying takeaway dinners every day because I didn't have the energy to get out of bed most of the time. 

Agony. Pure agony. 

Quite frankly, it made me feel ridiculous. I couldn't believe that I had let myself fall apart because of a man. But this wasn't an ordinary man— This was Roman. The previous-love-of-my-life Roman. Man-of-my-dreams Roman. How could I expect myself to be okay after a breakup like that?

Waking up on Saturday was even worse. The day I would usually have to follow his ridiculously cute 'closeness-rule'. The day we would take our stroll in the park. 

However, a small voice in my head asked me; why can't you just do that yourself? And that was exactly how I ended up back in Clifford Park under that same lamp as usual. A small part of me hoped he would show up, but another part of me went into a tiny panic over that thought. 

I stretched out my hand to let my fingers run over the cold metal where Roman had etched in our initials. In truth, I had found it quite stupid when he had suggested to do it— it was something kids did, teenagers, not grown adults? However, in this moment, I couldn't help but realize how romantic it was. That we were eternally etched onto something, a tiny memory of us and what we used to be. 

The lamp was starting to feel like a tombstone for a beloved, and I wiped away the tear that rolled down my cheek, not necessarily loving the thought of crying in public. Forcing myself to leave, I lowered my head as I passed by a man with a rather familiar scent, trying not to think too much about it. But my curiosity got the best of me— I turned around, watching the man in the familiar coat turn back around. Had he looked at me too? Was that who I thought it was?

I immediately sped up. I shouldn't be here.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Another week had almost passed, and I was starting to feel better. I had found out that the ache in my heart could easily be subsided by a glass of wine or a day out with my friends, but nothing could fill the hole Roman had left in my soul.

However, I had hoped that I would feel better about the whole ordeal at this point. Who needed a man that couldn't commit? Definitely not me.

... Definitely not. 

It was a Friday now, and I had just gotten off of work. I was getting ready to leave for drinks with my friends once more, seeing as that was the best remedy. And when I heard a knock at my door, I opened it without a second thought— it was probably one of my girlfriends asking to borrow a pair of shoes, as always. 

Meaning, when I saw who it was, I completely froze as my lips parted in shock.

There he was; Roman let out a shaky breath as he met my gaze. His hair wasn't styled, lying in soft waves over his forehead, and he had ditched his usual suits for a casual, formal look. Typical Roman— he couldn't even show up looking like a normal human being. Ever. 

However, I wasn't about to complain. I held my breath, unsure what to say or do. 

And suddenly, he spoke up; “Did you know I failed math class?”

I couldn’t help but let my jaw fall, giving him a look. "... What?” Is this really what he chose to say right now? It was definitely not what I had expected. 

Roman shrugged, not meeting my gaze anymore. “I had to redo it over and over again, probably up to three times,” he mumbled, putting his hands into his pockets. "When it comes to important things, I usually fuck it up. Majorly. And it seems to apply with... this as well."

My knuckles were turning white by the sheer force I was holding onto the door. It felt as though I couldn't breathe, turning to stone. 

"I'm also bad at sharing," Roman continued, looking up from the floor. "Really bad. And I'm sort of legally not allowed to give out spare keys to anyone, because of security reasons my company has put in place. So I'm sorry that it didn't cross my mind. But, wait, hold on—" He pulled one hand out of his pockets, reaching out his palm to me. 

And there it was. A key. With a shaky hand, I took it into mine, trying not to pay too much attention to the feeling of his hand against mine after so much time apart. 

Roman let out a relieved sigh, nodding to himself. "The thing about the toothbrush... Fuck, I've been thinking about it endlessly, and I see how it looks now. I genuinely thought you'd probably want it back, it didn't even hit me that you might've wanted a toothbrush at my place, and I have nothing against that. It's... cute, actually,"

I let go of the door with my other hand, putting the keys into my front pocket. I did my best to steady my breathing; I hadn't been this overwhelmed in a while. "Roman, I didn't expect you here—"

"—And the thing about my mother," Roman was practically rambling on at this point. Was he nervous? "She's insane. I don't introduce her to anyone, actually. If she found out we were dating, she'd probably put you through hell and back to see if you'd be the right fit for the 'future of the company', as she says. I wanted to spare you. So, again, sorry. Should've cleared that up."

Another shaky breath escaped me, not knowing what to say. 

Roman nodded to himself, glancing around the hallway to check that we were still alone. "And... I freaked out about meeting your friends. I have an inkling that they hate me, which they sort of have all the right to do," 

"Oh, Roman," I took a step forward, mostly out of pure habit. I had to stop myself from reaching up to his face and stroke through his hair. "Why didn't you just... tell me?"

Roman shrugged, looking rather embarrassed. "You didn't tell me that it bothered you,"

I sighed— he was right. "I'm getting a deja vu. I thought we were supposed to better at communicating, now," 

"I know," Without being invited in, Roman stepped into my apartment, checking it out. It was so typical of him to assume that he would be welcome despite our fight, but I couldn't help but find it sort of... attractive. Arrogant man. I closed the door behind us as I watched him, crossing my arms over my chest. It looked like he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon, sticking out his hand to bump the lamp on my ceiling as though he was bored; "Did I ever tell you I love this place?"

Grimacing, I rolled my eyes. The time he didn't want to stay over at my place was still lingering in the back of my mind. "As if,"

"No, I do," He turned to me, a tiny hint of his signature smirk appearing on his lips. "It's just that your bed is ridiculously tiny. Did you ever notice that I'm longer than your bed?" 

I scoured my brain for that information, flustered. How was it possible for someone to be so charming? Giving up, I shook my head and admitted defeat. I wasn't going to win this mental battle against myself, and I knew it. I wanted him here, whether I admitted to it or not.

Allowing his smirk to grow, Roman's green eyes shimmered with hope. "It seems this will take a while.... Looks like I might have to spend the night,"

I bit back a smile— bastard.

[gadzooksgalore]

If there's one good thing that came from my inability to write "Stronger Than Blood" last year, it was the decision to make a slight change between Ardyn and Mip: they're adopted siblings now c:

In late 2024 I had the thought of shifting Ardyn and Mip’s relationship from father and daughter to brother and sister, mainly because I felt like Ardyn’s youth and personality better fit the mold of a big brother figure. Not much would change as a result anyway so I realized a sibling relationship between them could be cute and fitting. I love siblings in stories and while many of my characters canonically have siblings, they're generally not the main focus. So as a younger sister myself, I wanted to give some attention to that connection.

Besides, I already have two young characters with adopted fathers, so that particular trope is satisfied XD It's always my goal to create distinct characters with unique backgrounds and relationships, and sometimes when I find myself falling into the same habits, changes like this can be encouraging and exciting. It means development is still happening!

[mossdogs]

hgnggggg cringe russian clones

[thydonutart]

AU in which Heimdall attempts to use his sword as a sword.

[ninawolv3rina]

100% gay, 100% PISSED

OC: Maryska (she/her)

[indestinatus]

two things: what do you think ziva and kate’s relationship would have been like if ziva joined but kate never died and also do you know if there are any tiva fanfics where kate is alive exists ? i ask cause i recently rewatched 1x16 and thinking about how under different circumstances ari and kate could have been something

hey, anon! that is such an interesting question. thank you for asking 💗

I think the characters of ziva and kate are similar because they're strong women and good agents, but I also think that they would've been good friends if circumstances (oh well) had been different. as a tiva shipper, kate's death was a great event for them to start their relationship that way (not really trusting each other) but I think if things had gone differently, this would stay the same—as in if kate had given up working for ncis and ziva had joined as a liaison, I don't see it being waaay too different that what went down

I don't know of any fanfics that way but hopefully someone in the fandom will! (idk about ari & kate but it's been a while since I watched season 1) how do you think the relationships would've happened?

thank you!!!

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

⚠️ rio's route dramatic route spoilers !!

[drgnbld]

manga!lance knows he can't heal any of the wounds he opened during his time as the leader of Kanto's Elite Four so he spends the rest of his life trying to heal others and to stop people from making the same mistake he did.

it's the only way he knows how to help.

[wavernot4love]

it is in fact tourdust round two eve babey can i get an

[kitchensinksurrealism]

lonely ✅

hyperfixationless ✅

unemployed ❌

[sseanettles]

rewatching POI and god I forgot how much I just. do not like root. and how much I hated that she just progressively became more and more The Main Character/The Message and i’m just stuck here going ok can we be done with her yet

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SEVEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, abortion, alcohol, drug consumption.

MASTERLIST

You never spent much time on The Cut, unless you were being dragged by duty, mostly charity events for the local populations, fundraisers for their schools usually.

You always showed up in something tasteful but subtly expensive—pearls, understated Louboutin heels, and a blazer that whispered wealth without screaming it. 

Your mother taught you that.

Now, you sat in Poguelandia, doing god knows what.

The name alone sounded like some bad beach-themed party game. But you kept the snark to yourself—mostly. Sarah swore to you this was her new "thing," her big redemption arc, and who were you to judge? It wasn’t where you pictured spending any afternoon, yet there you were.

Pregnant. On The Cut. Drinking—well, holding—a very flat ginger ale out of a plastic cup.

You smoothed your dress for the hundredth time, light linen in a neutral tone that looked effortless but cost more than most people’s rent, while pretending not to notice Pope and Cleo staring like you were a rare bird that had wandered into the wrong habitat. 

Were they always this... intense? Did people on this side of the island not know how to look away when someone made eye contact? Your mother’s voice echoed in your head. They’re not staring at you, dear; they’re staring at themselves in relation to you. 

Whatever that meant. 

To their credit, they weren’t mean about it. Just... curious, as if you’d wandered in from a wildlife documentary called Kooks in the Wild.

You moved your weight around in your seat, hyper-aware of every grain of sand sticking to your hérmes sandals. Every time you shifted, you felt the grains grinding between the straps and your skin.

Should’ve worn the espadrilles, you thought ruefully, but even then, this wasn’t the world’s most glamorous venue. Sarah had begged you to stop by, though, and you owed her. It was also good for you to leave the house instead of being cupped up inside all alone.

“Okay, seriously, what’s with the staring? Do I have something on my face? Is my makeup smudged? Be honest.”

Cleo snorted. “No, you’re fine, princess. We’re just surprised to see you.”

You were still holding your sad little plastic cup. “Just thought I’d participate in—whatever this is.” You gestured vaguely at the mismatched chairs and string lights that looked like they’d been stolen from someone’s backyard wedding. “Community service?”

It was supposed to come off as witty. You weren’t sure it did.

Pope choked on his drink—sweet tea? soda?—and Cleo chuckled outright. “You’re funny,” she said, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she meant it.

“Thanks?” It came out like a question, and you wanted to die just a little bit inside.

Pope grinned, leaning forward with a chip in his hand. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who hangs out in The Cut, that’s all.”

You blinked, feigning shock. “You don’t think I spend my weekends in—what is this, a glorified surf shack? I’m crushed.”

Cleo laughed again, which—fine—made you feel a little better.

“Nah, it’s just... you’re different up close. Not like, scary kook different. Just human. Y’know?”

“Great. That’s exactly what I was going for today.”

Pope gestured to the bar. “You want a snack? Chips? Cookies? We have...three options.”

You straightened, eyes narrowing like a hawk zeroing in on prey.

Food. Your stomach growled loudly, as if it had been cued by a stage director. “What kind of cookies?”

He blinked, not expecting you to care. “Uh... chocolate chip? Maybe oatmeal raisin?”

“And the chips?” You pressed, leaning forward now.

“Salt and vinegar,” Cleo piped up, eyeing you curiously. “Barbecue too, I think. Why?”

“Okay, shit, great.” You clapped your hands together decisively. “I’ll have all of it. All the chips, both kinds of cookies. Do you have anything else? Pretzels? Popcorn? Random condiments? I’m not picky.”

Cleo stared at you, her mouth slightly open. “Everything?”

“Yes, everything. Is that a problem?”

She blinked, her eyes darting to Pope like he had an explanation. He shrugged helplessly.

“Woman” she muttered under her breath. “Did you not eat for a week, or...?”

The salt and vinegar chips were divine, borderline transcendent, as you shoved another handful into your mouth. The truth was, you weren’t just hungry—you were still terrified. Every bite, every easy conversation with other people that weren’t Sarah, was a game of jenga to you. One wrong move, one offhand comment, and your secret could be out in the open.

Six more days until this would all be... over. Until the secret growing inside you—the one you’d barely admitted to yourself most mornings—would be gone.

The past three days had been the best you’d felt in ages, cravings and all, thanks to Sarah. She’d slept over, stayed up late talking with you, making you laugh, distracting you from the endless pit what-ifs and why-mes.

It was the longest you’d gone without crying in three months. The longest you’d lived without feeling like you could suffocate at any given moment. With her help, it had been easier to forget—to pretend that things were still okay.

But Sarah wasn’t there, she’d left earlier with John B, something about helping him with a tour.

“You good, princess?” Cleo’s voice cut through your thoughts.

You blinked at her, realizing you’d been crushing the chip bag in your hands like a stress ball. “What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to fight that bag of chips,” Pope said, grinning.

You forced a laugh, leaning back and tossing the bag onto the table. “No fighting. Just... intense snacking."

You reached for the chocolate chip cookies he had offered earlier, focusing on the sweetness, the comfort of food that tasted good for once. Sweet, crumbly, safe. If only the rest of you life felt like that.

Pope and Cleo knew something was up, they all did, probably.

Sarah had been glued to your side, and it wasn’t exactly subtle.

Her sudden move to “stay over” at your place had obviously raised eyebrows, especially since you two hadn’t had a proper conversation in months before all this. And there was the beach clean-up, Kie and JJ had been there when you felt ill, and while you’d been too disoriented to keep up with the cover story once Rafe drove you away, Sarah had stepped in later to handle it.

Heat exhaustion. Overworked. Totally fine.

Still, to your relief, neither Pope nor Cleo seemed inclined to pry, perhaps it was pity, or maybe they were just decent enough to let you keep the little shred of privacy you had left. Either way, you were grateful.

“So,” Pope said, leaning back on his elbows and flashing you an easy grin, “How are you finding our place? I mean, other than our fine selection of snacks.”

You swallowed a bite of cookie, forcing a smile. “It’s...charming. Rustic. A real je ne sais quoi vibe.” You waved your hand vaguely, trying to mimic the way your mother used to describe terrible restaurants we’d never go back to.

Cleo snorted. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

“It’s cute,” You offered, looking around, “I can tell you guys put your heart into it.”

Pope smirked, lifting a brow. "That's nice of you to say."

You gave a small shrug, feigning nonchalance, but you meant it.

For all the mismatched chairs and questionable decoration, there was something undeniably warm about the place. You weren't used to that—spaces filled with love instead of decorators and florists, it wasn’t bad. Just different.

“I mean it,” you said, brushing crumbs from your lap. “It’s very authentic. ‘Pogue Chic’ or something.”

Cleo laughed, loud and genuine, her grin lighting up her face. “Pogue Chic?"

Pope chimed in, “Hey, don’t knock it. We’re trendsetters. Ahead of its time.”

You smiled, but your mind was already falling back to the sand clinging to your dress and the ginger ale that tasted like disappointment. You’d never say it out loud, but you admired them, that ability to make joy out of scraps. It was something you didn’t quite know how to do. Not yet, anyway.

Cleo leaned forward, her elbows resting on the makeshift table. “So, are we going to see you around more? Or is this just a one-time royal visit?”

You hesitated, twirling the rim of your cup between your fingers. “I don’t know. Maybe. If Sarah keeps dragging me here, I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

You didn't know if it was the way he said it, the tone he used, or just your hormones fucking you up, but suddenly there were tears in your eye sockets. You blinked rapidly, tilting your head back slightly and praying that the tears stayed put.

These kids, all of them, sitting here like they hadn’t spent their lives scraping by, like they hadn’t been hurt or abandoned or let down a hundred times over by people they loved and trusted. Yet somehow, they were still full of hope, full of life.

You envied that.

You wished you could bottle it, whatever it was that kept them laughing and fighting and welcoming someone like you—a result of privilege and mistakes and heartbreak—into their home. It was humbling in a way that made your chest hurt.

“Does that mean I can choose to order better snacks next time? Maybe some sparkling water? Flat ginger ale is a crime against humanity.”

Cleo snorted, still not fooled by your deflection, but she let it slide.

“Good luck with that, princess. Our snack budget’s about three bucks and whatever we can steal from Kie’s pantry.”

Pope chuckled, tossing a chip in his mouth. “And you’re welcome to contribute if you’re so concerned about the menu.”

It surprised you, how easy it was to talk to them.

On paper, you had nothing in common. They were younger, grew up in a completely different world, and you were used to the polished conversations of country club luncheons and charity galas. 

Here, things were different.

They didn’t seem to care if you stumbled over your words, if your jokes were awkward or if you occasionally sounded like a walking trust fund catalog. They didn’t care about your last name, your family’s money, or any other things that had weighed you down for years.

That was disarming.

You’d spent your entire life around people who mirrored your upbringing—kids who summered in the Hamptons or Barbados, adults who measured their worth in stock portfolios and vacation homes. Now, you were here, in this cobbled-together haven with salt-stained cushions, sitting with people who’d grown up struggling for things you took for granted.

You thought it would feel more awkward or forced, but it didn’t.

It was easy.

Pope sat on the counter, gesturing with a half-eaten chip. “Serious question. How do you even survive on Figure Eight? Do they hand you iced lattes and designer handbags when you’re born, or do you have to work your way up to that?”

You raised a brow, smirking. “Oh, absolutely. The moment you’re born, they issue you a monogrammed diaper bag and a gold-plated pacifier. It’s very exclusive.”

Cleo nearly choked on her drink. “See, this is why we can’t take you seriously.”

Your phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with your cousins name, interrupting the fun. You sighed, rolling your eyes before picking it up. “Yes, Top?”

Topper’s slightly whiny tone spilled into your ear. “Can you believe Mom’s threatening to rent out the beach house for the summer? Actual strangers, staying there. What’s next? Turning it into a hostel?”

“Tragic,” you deadpanned, resting your chin in your hand. “Truly, a devastating blow for humanity.”

Pope fake-coughed, mumbling “white rich privilege problems,” while Cleo mouthed, “Hostel!” and shook her head, laughing silently.

“I know. Anyway, I’m coming over later.”

“Where’s your invitation?”

You heard him scoffing, “I’m family, I don’t need one.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Top, you can’t just announce you’re coming over. I might have plans.”

“Yeah, and I’m your family, so those plans now include me,” Topper said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “Besides, I’ll bring food.”

Across from you, Pope was already gagging dramatically, holding his stomach as if the mere sound of Topper’s voice made him physically ill. 

“I don’t know if—”

“See you at noon,” he interrupted. “Later!”

The call ended before you could even argue, and you set your phone down with a resigned sigh. 

“Looks like I’m hosting a one-man Topper pity party,” you said, crossing your arms and slumping back in your chair.

Pope clutched his chest. “Will you survive?”

You only left once the sun dipped lower into the horizon, you gathered your things promising Sarah you’d drive safely and talk to her tomorrow.

Cleo, Pope and John B were mid-argument about the best way to fix something in the shack. You felt lighter than you had in weeks.

With a few more quips exchanged and goodbyes said, you walked back to your car. That night, the ache in your chest wasn’t completly unbearable. You weren’t okay, but you weren’t drowning, either.

You’d been terrified of this afternoon all day, worried you’d stick out like a sore thumb or say the wrong thing.

But the Pogues hadn’t cared about your awkwardness, your polished self, or even the giant invisible cloud you carried everywhere these days. They let you just be.

The drive home was quiet, but this time you even hummed along to a song on the radio, which was strange because you couldn’t remember the last time you cared about music or even turning on that thing. When you pulled into the driveway and stepped into your house, it didn’t feel as cold and empty as it did last week.

You set your bag down on the entryway table and kick off your sandals, the floors cool beneath your feet. Heading to the kitchen, you decided to see if there was anything decent for tonight’s impromptu early dinner with Topper. The fridge greeted you with a sad bag of lettuce, half a bottle of sparkling water, and a single container of leftover pasta you weren’t sure was still edible.

“Great,” you muttered, closing the door and moving to the pantry.

The situation there wasn’t much better. Sarah’s latest health-kick contributions—a bag of chia seeds and some organic trail mix—laughed at you from the top shelf. You frowned, pushing them aside to reveal a dusty box of crackers and a jar of Nutella.

“Guess we’re going shopping tomorrow,” you murmured, grabbing the crackers and Nutella to snack on now.

You placed them on the counter and glanced around. The sink held a few dishes from earlier —a couple of coffee mugs, a bowl, a plate.

You sighed, rolling up your sleeves, might as well get this out of the way.

Normally, you’d have had someone else to take care of this—stocking the pantry, cleaning the dishes, even deciding on the menu for your lunches. But lately, you’d been scaling back. You hadn’t let anyone go, of course. You could never do that; the staff had been with your family for years, and many of them felt more like extended family than employees. Still, you’d quietly rearranged their schedules, giving them more time off.

They didn’t question it—probably thought it was some new phase, another eccentricity of a bored, privileged young woman.

Truth was, you liked doing these things.

Focusing on something small, tangible, gave your brain a break from drilling itself into a million dark corners. Folding laundry, washing dishes, even the routine of chopping vegetables—it kept your hands busy and your thoughts manageable enough. It wasn’t that you’d suddenly become a domestic goddess or anything. Most of the time, you’d forget to pick up groceries or burn whatever you tried to cook.

It wasn’t about being good at it. It was about doing something.

You looked around the kitchen, noting the little imperfections you wouldn’t have noticed before. A small water stain on the counter from where your glass had sat too long, the scuff marks on the cabinets where your chair scraped when you leaned back. They weren’t problems to be fixed—they were just signs of life.

And right now at that very moment, life felt…okay.

The house didn’t seem as cold or empty when you were doing things for yourself, even if it was mundane work. You finish up wiping down the counters, glance at the time—definitely cutting it close—and head toward the dining room to tidy up a bit.

Topper was not the type to notice if the place is spotless, but you always liked things to look... presentable, yourself included.

You heard the doorbell ring in the distance, he was early as usual, probably checking his watch just to make sure he wasn't a second late.

"Of course he’s early," you muttered to yourself, a little smirk pulling at your lips.

You walked towards the front door, ready to greet him, but when you opened it, your eyes immediately locked onto the large takeout bag in his hand. It smelled... amazing.

Topper grinned at you, an exaggerated flourish as he held up the bag.

“Guess what I brought?”

“You brought... Korean chicken wings? Really?”

“Hell yeah, I did!” He stepped inside, completely ignoring any formalities and heading straight toward the kitchen, “They just opened.”

He placed the bag on the counter with the confidence of a man who knew he’s just won “Best Dinner Host” without even trying. You peeked inside, the crispy wings drenched in a glossy, sweet-spicy sauce that looked downright delicious.

Topper laughed and took a seat, pulling out the wings, not even bothering with plates. “You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes but sat next to him, picking up a wing, the heat of it still making your fingers tingle. The crispy exterior cracked open with a satisfying crunch as you bit into it. It was everything you'd hoped for—tangy, spicy, perfectly cooked. You nearly moaned in pleasure, not even caring that your cousin was watching you with that cocky grin on his face.

“You look like you’ve seen the light,” He teased, leaning back in his chair as he grabbed a wing of his own.

“I mean,” you said, savoring another bite, “this might make up for you barging in uninvited.”

“Barging?” He clutched his chest dramatically, mock offense radiating from every inch of him. “I'm saving you from a night of sad dinners, and this is the thanks I get?”

You gave him a pointed look, but the corner of your mouth tugged upward despite yourself.

“Fine. Thank you, Topper. You’re the hero of the day. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he said, grinning as he reached for another wing. “What’s new? Still slumming it with my ex and the Pogues?”

“First of all,” you said, wiping your fingers on a napkin, “slumming it implies I’m suffering, which I’m not. And second, Sarah’s not a pogue. She’s pogue-adjacent.”

“Pogue-adjacent?” He snorted. “You’ve been spending too much time over there.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” you shot back. “You basically live at Kildare Brewing these days. That’s like, one pogue away from full assimilation.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then stopped, realizing you had a point. “Okay, fair. But only because they have good beer."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should even bring it up, but curiosity got the better of you. You hadn’t heard about her in a while, and you knew by experience, that was never a good thing.

“So... Ruthie,” you started, watching him over the rim of your glass as you took a sip.

Topper paused mid-chew, looking up at you like he wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation. “What about her?”

“I mean, you two are still together, aren’t you?”

He wiped his hands on a napkin. “We’re… not talking right now.”

You tried not to look pleased, but a rush of vindication bloomed in your chest. You'd grown to hate her, plain and simple. Her recent proximity to your cousin had always baffled you. He wasn’t perfect, but surely, he could do better. 

“I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, reaching for another wing. But then he stopped, like whatever he was thinking was messing with his head.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to sound more curious, concerned, than nosy.

You weren’t sure if he’d tell you, but the look on his face made it clear something big had gone down.

He hesitated, debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed. “She... started a rumor about you.”

Your head jerked back in surprise. “About me?”

“Yeah,” he grimaced like he’d swallowed something sour. “She said you passed out at the beach cleanup and decided to spread some bullshit about you doing drugs.”

You just stared at him. “She what?”

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised.

You knew what she was capable better than anyone, especially when she was bored out of her mind.

“I didn’t believe it,” he added quickly, his tone defensive, as if that made it better. “I told her to shut the fuck up about it, but you know how she is. She thought it was funny.”

“Funny?” Your voice was sharp now, “She thought it was funny to spread lies about me? About drugs? What the fuck?”

“Yeah, it’s so messed up. That’s why I’m not talking to her. I told her if she couldn’t act like a fucking decent human being, we were done.”

You blinked, stunned.

You weren’t sure what shocked you more—the fact that Ruthie had stooped so low or that Topper had finally stood up to her. You shook your head, biting back another nasty comment about how awful she was. You’d been saying it for months, and he hadn’t listened.

No point in beating a dead horse now.

“It’s about time you saw what she’s really like. She’s really bad fuckin’ news, Top. Always has been.”

He gave a low grunt, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “Yeah. Took me long enough, huh?”

You didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow and sipped your water.

“She’s always been weird about Sarah,” Topper muttered, almost to himself. “Even when we were together, she’d find these ways to dig at her. Like that one time at Midsummers—”

“—When she ‘accidentally’ spilled her drink on Sarah’s dress,” you finished, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I remember. She’s always had this thing about trying to one-up her. Honestly, it’s so pathetic. But you never listen to me, so.”

“Okay, ouch.” He threw a crumpled napkin at you, which you easily dodged. “I listen to you sometimes.”

“Do you, though?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah, I do!” Topper protested, though the whine in his voice made him sound more like the teenager he used to be, back when he’d follow you around during family holidays like a puppy. “Just… selectively.”

“Selective listening isn’t listening, dumbass. You’re just proving my point.”

He narrowed his eyes at you but didn’t answer, reaching for another wing instead. He took a bite, chewing dramatically, as if the exaggerated crunch would somehow end the conversation.

“Look, I’ve been saying for months that Ruthie’s bad news. Since she showed up at last year’s Christmas party wearing a dress identical to Sarah’s, just in a different color. You thought that was a coincidence?”

Topper groaned, dropping the wing. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Are you happy now? Can you stop rubbing it in?”

You grinned, propping your chin on your hand.

“Oh, I could. But what kind of older cousin would I be if I didn’t remind you how often you’re wrong?”

“You’re not that much older than me.”

You shrugged. “Old enough to know better than to date someone that awful.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. I get it.” He looked over at you again, his gaze softer, this time, “But seriously, you’ve been off lately. If there’s something going on, you can tell me, y’know? We’re family, even if I don’t listen to you half the time,” he added with a small smile, though his eyes were searching, hoping you’d let him in.

It would be so easy to tell him the truth—that you were pregnant, scheduled for an abortion in six days, and drowning in uncertainty and dread.

But he was still Rafe’s best friend, and the risk of this ever reaching him was too high. Instead, you forced a lightness into your voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle. And right now, I desperately need the bathroom.”

He looked at you skeptically, not fooled for a second.

“You’re really okay?” he pressed, his voice dropping to a level that told you he wasn’t going to let this go easily, "I texted and called before, you didn't answer. Thought you were resting from the scare."

You’d been having such a calm, easy time with Sarah, you almost forgot about everything else. The thought of picking up the phone, letting all that anxiety and worry back in, just wasn’t appealing—so you’d ignored his calls, but not on purpose. You were doing him a favor.

You plastered on a smile and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as you passed. “I promise, I’m fine. Just felt a little light-headed and needed some peace."

His eyes narrowed slightly, unconvinced. “That’s all?”

You forced a giggle, hoping it would sound more genuine than it felt. “Yes, Dr. Thornton. Just needed to eat more or drink water or whatever the fuck it is you’re always telling me to do.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, crossing his arms, watching you closely. “Because you’ve never just fainted before.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything. Besides, don’t you think I’d tell you if something serious was wrong?”

It took everything to maintain eye contact, your stomach twisting at the lie. He was family, and you wanted to trust him, to let him help you. But you couldn’t. He hadn’t even told you about Rafe and Sofia until you found out by yourself. 

Topper tilted his head, considering you, then sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “Alright, fine.”

“Okay, if you’re done being weird,” You pushed back from the counter, grabbing your glass. “I gotta pee,” you announced casually, as if this was the most normal interjection in the world. The wings were good, but running away was tempting. And also, the pregnancy had made your bladder a ticking time bomb, and you really didn’t want to risk any accidents. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You offered him one last smile, hoping it was convincing enough. He whined some sarcastic comment about your water consumption as you hurried away, but you barely heard him.

All you thought about was the blessed relief that awaited on the other side of that door.

You didn’t usually spend this much time with Top nowadays—your own tendency to avoid “close” family drama—but tonight had been oddly… nice.

Even if you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck half the time. Even if you hated lying to him. If he’d just pushed a little harder, maybe you would’ve folded, let it all spill right there in the kitchen.

Every time you thought you’d come to a decision, another doubt would take over you, leaving you back at square one. You knew what you wanted, so why was this so hard? 

Topper had looked at you with such genuine concern back there. The “if you need me, I’m here” sentiment was the same one you’d grown up with, the kind of care only a cousin, practically a sibling, could have.

This was hard.

When you came back into the kitchen after taking your sweet time in the bathroom you immediately noticed something was off.

Topper was by the counter, staring at the half-eaten pile of wings by the table like they’d personally offended him. He looked paler, too—almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“Uh…” You stopped mid-step, furrowing your brow. “What’s with the stupid face? Did the wings betray you or something?”

He jolted slightly, as if he hadn’t even heard you come in. “What? No. No, the wings are fine. Great. Amazing, even.”

“Okay…” You gave him a skeptical look, setting your glass down and crossing your arms. 

Topper laughed, but it was this oddly nervous, stilted sound. He glanced at his phone, tapping the screen for no real reason, then shoved it into his pocket.

“You know what, though? I totally forgot—I have something planned. Like, super important. In about… ten minutes.”

You stared at him, unimpressed. “You forgot you had plans? Sounds fake, but okay.”

“So unlike me!” He got up from his chair with such sudden energy that it made you take a step back. “Anyway, I should really get going. Don’t want to be late. Uh, thanks for… hanging out. And for, uh, letting me use your wings as a form of therapy. Yeah. Later!”

And with that, he was sprinting for the door.

“Topper!” you called after him, confused and mildly annoyed. “What the hell is going on? You’re acting fuckin’ weird!”

“Nope, not weird! Just busy!” he shot back over his shoulder, not even looking at you as he opened the door.

You didn’t have time to yell at him before he disappeared out the door, the sound of his Jeep starting up echoing from the driveway a moment later. You stood there bewildered, staring at the now-empty doorway.

Something was definitely up. He was many things—dramatic, stubborn, occasionally insufferable—but shifty wasn’t usually one of them.

You went back to the kitchen, glancing at the counter, ready to brush off his weird exit as just another of his dramatics, when your eyes landed on a random envelope— the one you’d been using to scribble down everything lately. 

Extra small grocery lists, reminders, and, unfortunately, the number for the abortion clinic.

Rafe’s fingers curled loosely around the tumbler of bourbon, eyes set on nothing in particular. The lunch rush was winding down, country club regulars filing out.

He’d been there for over an hour—first, the meeting, listening to those finance guys ramble on about numbers, projections, all that bullshit he usually liked to hear. 

He’d faked his interest well enough, but his mind had been miles away. Mostly thinking about you. And the company, of course, because that was his priority right now. Or, it should be.

The whole thing with you, three days ago, it was a slow-mind-burning headache he couldn’t ignore, even if he wanted to. And he had wanted to, tried to, in fact.

He took another slow sip, hardly tasting the bourbon. Across the room, Sofia was working between tables, balancing trays and forcing her best country club smile.

All he saw when he looked at her was you, it only made him force down another swallow, running his thumb over the rim of the glass, mind somewhere between the company projections and the mess he’d made of things with you. 

It was ridiculous that you were still in his head. He should be thinking about that deal, about locking down his place in the Cameron empire. 

Rafe pushed the glass aside, signaling for the check when something caught his ear—a conversation from a nearby table.

“Yeah, she actually passed out the other day. Pathetic.” The voice was loud, sneering.

A dude’s voice followed, fake sympathy dripping from his tone. “I heard she was a fuckin’ mess after the whole breakup.”

“Oh, totally.” A different girl laughed, high-pitched and cruel. “She’s probably on something. Can you blame her? I’d be desperate too if he dumped me.”

It didn’t take a fucking genius to know who they were talking about. Small town and all, of course, things got around, mostly turning into half-truths and petty rumors.

He stopped all his movements, jaw clenching. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table, the only thing keeping him from breaking something, preferably bones.

They were talking about you. 

About some made-up version of you, the fact that these spoiled, airheaded brats thought they could shit talk about you like that, rip you apart for fun just because you weren’t there to defend yourself made him sick.

He pushed his chair back and stood, crossing the room with long strides. He didn’t care about the eyes following him as he walked up to their table, the laughter stopping the moment they looked up and saw the look on his face.

“What did you just say?”

The girl who’d been laughing, a petite brunette with too much makeup and a self-satisfied smirk, blinked up at him, her smile faltering.

“Oh, Rafe! We didn’t see you there. We were just…joking around,” she stammered, trying to backpedal.

“Joking?” He laughed, the sound making them flinch. “That what you call it? Spreading some bullshit rumor because it’s all your pathetic little lives have to offer?”

The brunette’s face went red. “I mean, we all heard about it. I’m just saying what everyone’s already thinking—”

His fists clenched and his patience, already thin, snapped the second he heard the guy—one of those trust fund preps with an overdone tan and a too-tight polo—chime in.

“Oh, come on, dude,” the guy smirked, leaning back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not like she’s worth all that trouble, is she?”

His entire body went rigid, and before he registered it, he was leaning down, letting them feel the weight of his glare.

“Say that shit again,” Rafe taunted him, something almost amused twisting at the edge of his mouth, daring him to keep talking. “I’d love to hear you repeat yourself.”

“Relax, man—”

He didn’t even let him finish, eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a near whisper, more dangerous than shouting ever could be.

“You think it’s funny? Talking about someone who’s not even here to defend herself?”

The guy’s face paled, and Rafe swore he was seconds away from landing a punch, from wiping that smug grin off his face. Just as he prepared his fist, ready to make good on his threat, he felt a hand on his arm, a small, insistent tug. 

“Rafe,” a soft voice hissed. Sofia. He barely glanced at her, shrugging off her grip.

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice sharp, dismissive.

He kept his eyes on the guy, who looked more uncomfortable by the second, squirming in his seat.

Sofia’s hand still hovering near his arm, cautious now. “Rafe, come on, this isn’t worth it. You’re better than this.”

She looked scared. Scared of him, scared of the situation. He wasn’t better than this.

He’d never been, and he’d been good enough at lying and pretending for her even to think that.

You would’ve known better.

Fuck, you wouldn’t have wasted time talking.

You would’ve yanked him back by his collar, shoved yourself between him and the guy, shot him that warning glare, daring him to keep pushing you so you’d have to drag him out by force. You always knew when he’d get like this, that edge in his voice, that look in his eye that told you he was seconds away from snapping. You knew better than anyone how to pull him back when he hit that switch.

But you’d never bothered with gentle.

Sofia’s eyes darted around the room, clearly embarrassed, maybe even afraid of drawing attention. He knew this wasn’t fair to her, that she hadn’t signed up for this part of him—the anger, the unpredictability. It wasn’t in his nature to stay silent, to ignore things and walk away. 

He could almost see it—feel it, like a familiar bruise under his skin. You’d shove him hard enough that he’d stumble back, half-pissed and half-shocked. You’d get in his face, not even close to scared, cutting through his spiral. “What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe? You wanna end up in jail over some loser? Grow up.”

If you’d been here, you wouldn’t have given him a choice. You’d have grabbed his arm and dragged him away, kept a grip on him until he’d snapped out of whatever dark place he’d dropped into. You’d push him until he finally let go, forced him to come down from that blinding fury and face the mess he’d just caused. It was the only way he’d ever been able to listen—when you pushed him to wake up, forced him to look at himself and see just how reckless, just how stupid he was about to be.

But Sofia? She had no idea. 

She thought saying “you’re better than this” was going to do anything, that with a light touch and some empty words, he’d suddenly be calm, reasonable, soft. 

But he’d never been that way, never with you, never with anyone.

She hadn’t done anything wrong; she’d just seen the version of him he’d wanted her to see. The version he’d put together, patched up and polished, all so he could convince himself he was something he wasn’t.

With her, it was easy to pretend. He could smooth his sharp edges, show her just enough of himself to keep her interested without letting her close enough to see the mess underneath.

He’d let her believe he was the kind of guy who could just calm down, let things slide. The kind of guy who’d listen. He’d wanted her to believe he was controlled, calm. Sofia’s softness had appealed to him, but now, it only highlighted the differences between them.

With you, he’d never had the luxury of pretending.

You’d seen through him from the start, never let him get away with putting on some act.

You hadn’t let him pretend to be better than he was, hadn’t let him off easy when he’d tried to brush things off or shut down. You knew every side of him, even the ones he’d rather ignore. You’d always known exactly who he was, who he wasn’t, and you’d never been afraid to remind him.

He didn’t want to let it go, didn’t want to give the guy an inch of leeway to think he’d won this. Rafe sighed and released his grip, his hand falling from the table as he finally stepped back. Sofia relaxed, giving him a relieved smile, but it only made him feel emptier. 

“You talk about her again and I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me?” 

The guy sputtered, looking down, embarrassed and shaken. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like an apology, but Rafe didn’t care enough to hear it.

Sofia’s hand was still on his tail when he left, and as soon as he walked out of earshot of the table, she followed him, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrowed with an expression he’d never seen from her —disbelief. 

“What was that?”

Everything.

Rafe didn’t speak. He was staring past her, back at the group, mind far from the confrontation and miles away with thoughts of you. She seemed to notice, her lips pressing together.

“I can’t believe you did that. You threatened to kill him, Rafe. Over what, a stupid rumor?”

A stupid rumor? She was making him feel like he was out of control, irrational—even though he couldn’t explain why this mattered so much.

“You wouldn’t get it. It’s not your problem.”

She flinched a little, her face falling, but to her credit, she didn’t look away. “You’re right. I don’t get it. Tell me.”

He wanted to believe that it could work with Sofia.

Nice girl, pretty too. She laughed at his jokes, and she didn’t call him out on his bullshit, because she didn’t even know that side of him existed. On paper, she was perfect. But she wasn't you.

He looked back at her, her worried eyes scanning his face.

It was frustrating—seeing the fear, feeling her judgment when she didn’t even know what she was judging.

To her, this was just some meaningless outburst, something he could turn on and off at will. This wasn’t her fault. He knew that. He hated how this wasn��t something he couldn't put into words, not in any way that would make sense to her.

“Forget it, alright?” his tone was harsher than he meant.

Sofia shook her head, clearly not willing to let it drop this time.

“Why would you get so worked up over something like this?"

To her, that’s all this was—just noise, harmless, inconsequential. 

She looked up at him expectantly, her brows furrowed in confusion, waiting for some reasonable answer.

And it pissed him off, how she kept waiting, expecting him to offer some calm, measured response when he didn’t even understand it himself.

Sofia’s eyes softened, but it only irritated him further.

“She’s nice,” Her words drifted out casually like she didn’t know she’d just cracked him open. “She defended me, last week, when I was serving brunch.”

He couldn’t stop the self-loathing.

You had always been that way—ready to defend anyone, even when you were the one hurting. Rafe winced, hating himself for it, hating that you could still be so good even after everything. He swallowed hard, keeping his expression blank.

“Did she?” he muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

“Yeah,” Sofia replied, watching his reaction with mild curiosity. “Guess I wouldn’t have expected that.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, that familiar hurt in his chest.

His mind was already conjuring all the times you’d jumped in, backed people up, and called out anyone who crossed a line. Even when it came to people you barely knew.

It made him feel like the worst person in the world, knowing that you’d been there for Sofia of all people, that you’d shown her that same loyalty. It made him hate himself even more.

His phone buzzed, saving him from the inevitable conversation, his hand brushed the side of his face as he glanced down at the unknown number flashing across the screen. He didn’t hesitate, before swiping the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Cameron, this is Dr. Harris from the hospital,” the voice on the other end said. “We’ve been trying to reach Miss Thornton about the blood work results from her visit three days ago. Unfortunately, there’s been an issue with our system and a few patient’s data has been deleted, except for the emergency contact information.”

Rafe’s stomach dropped.

He was still your emergency contact, not by choice probably. The hospital was calling about your blood work.

Was something wrong?

His blood ran cold. “Is she okay? Did something happen?” The urgency in his tone made Sofia’s eyes widen again, her confusion growing.

“We’re concerned about a possible infection. We need to run more tests to rule it out, but the symptoms suggest it could be more complicated. We must check thoroughly to be sure.”

“An infection?”

“Yes, but it could be nothing serious. We just need her to come in as soon as possible for a follow-up,” Dr. Harris explained.

There was a pause as if he expected Rafe to say something reassuring or offer to pass on the message. 

Sofia’s brows knitted together as she watched him. “Rafe?” 

“I’ll tell her,” he said, the words cracked in his throat. The doctor thanked him and hung up.

He stared at the phone waiting for it to ring again with more news, a reassurance that this wasn’t as serious as it sounded. 

You probably hadn’t changed your emergency contact because it slipped your mind.

He couldn’t stand the idea that something could be wrong, and he was not the one you called when you needed someone. All he’d ever done was mess things up between you.

“What’s going on?”

How the fuck was he going to tell you when you'd blocked him everywhere?

He couldn’t call, couldn’t text, couldn’t even show up unannounced without risking the usual argument that would end with you screaming at him to get out, or worse, you looking at him with that unforgiving stare.

He knew you’d locked every door, bolted every window to keep him out, and he deserved it. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, the lie slipping out automatically. He could feel her studying him, waiting for another explanation he also didn’t have the patience to give.

Maybe Topper could help.

The irony wasn’t lost on him—he’d given your cousin the mission of checking in on you, playing the careful messenger while Rafe kept his distance. That was supposed to be him.

But the reality was you hated him now, hated him enough that Topper was a safer option and yet, the private information still landed on his lap. As if he still had the right to be in your orbit, let alone the person trusted with this kind of news.

It felt wrong.

He knew you were going to hate him even more for still having access to your private details. It wasn’t really his fault—the hospital called him. He should have hung up the moment the hospital mentioned your name, told them they had the wrong guy. But he didn’t. He listened. 

“If you need to go—” she started, trailing off when he didn’t answer. Her voice softened, tentative. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Rafe’s jaw ticked, and he looked away, out at the horizon where the sun was setting.  “Yeah,” he muttered, not bothering to lie this time.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He typed something out, then deleted it, then typed again.

Finally, he just went with the simplest thing he could think of and hit send.

Can we meet up? Tannyhill in 30. I think I know what’s wrong.

He half-expected some lame excuse or joke from Topper. Instead, the text he got made the deep lines across his forehead make an appearance.

Shit, you do???

Did the fucker already know?

Did he suspect? Or was this just the kind of baited question someone asked when they thought they were the last to know something big?

He frowned, gripping the phone tighter.

If Topper did know, why hadn’t he said anything?

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[55szn]

good luck - mv1

max verstappen x fem!reader smau

summary when max and y/n adopt a black cat and everyone thinks it’s bringing him bad luck, they are determined to prove them wrong

warnings none i think

fc various girls from pinterest

notes requested!💘 loved this so muchhajska (excuse my poor editing skills on this one lol)

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just uploaded to their story!

[new child just dropped, everyone say hi to mocha🐾][same mocha, same @ maxverstappen1]

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 819.718 others

maxverstappen1 not having the season we expected, lots of work ahead.😑

view all 6.189 comments

yourusername ❤️ liked by maxverstappen1

user male acting performance where he’s having the worst day of his life but looks so hot doing it:

user girlsnjasfkja😭

user i’m being so serious rn you HAVE to give that cat to someone else

user first dnf i laughed… second dnf i serioused

user dw i played the dutch anthem at home for you king🧡🧡

user IT’S OKAY POOKIE YOU ARE GONNA WIN ALL OTHER RACES😖😖😖

user not if he doesn’t get rid of that cat lol

maxverstappen1 just uploaded to their story!

[😍🐈‍⬛ @ yourusername] [when the cat steals your gf😑]

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 102.189 more

yourusername certified dilf‼️

tagged maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 the last pic??

yourusername gave me dad vibes idk

user so true

user what are the odds of max getting a black cat and immediately starting to get bad results

user ikr

user just a coincidence 🤷‍♀️

user one time thing is a coincidence, two dnfs in a row and then not being able to get a single win in many races… sounds like “black cat curse” to me sorry

user get rid of the cat if you want him to win the championship i’m BEGGING🙏🏻🙏🏻😫😫

user you guys are so ridiculous

user mocha with the max plush omgggggg i might die🥹🥹🥹🥹

user idc what anyone says he is gonna win the championship again and mocha will be forgiven you read it here first

user cat crazy lady + cat crazy dude = perfect match💘

FEW MONTHS LATER

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yourusername just uploaded to their story!

[4x world champion🥹🧡 i love you so much @ maxverstappen1] [beyond proud🦁🫶🏻]

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yourusername black cat bring good luck 😺 not bad luck 😾 so so proud of you maxie🧡

tagged maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 my girls🫶🏻🥰

maxverstappen1 love you❤️

yourusername love you more dilf💘

user just unserious as fuck😭😭

user max calling the cat and yn “his girls” like mocha is his daughter or smth😭

user she is his daughter wdym

redbullracing what an adorable lucky charm😺🍀

yourusername you know it🫡

user queen 🙏🏻

user I KNOW WHO MY GOAT IS🐐🐐 (mocha)

user mocha redemption arc ohhh i’ve been waiting for this one

user FR I ALWAYS BELIEVED IN YOU MOCHA😫

user THEY GOT MOCHA A PADDOCK PASS IM CRYINGGG

user always blessing us with the best max pictures thank u mother🥹

user please god i also want to raise a black kitty with my incredibly hot bf😔😔

user oh to be mocha…

user you don’t understand this lil family is EVERYTHING to me☹️☹️

[rafedarling]

Maybe a Drew x fem famous reader, when Drew accidentally walks out of a store holding a drink he didn’t pay for.You: “DREW, YOU JUST STOLE THAT.” Drew panicking “I THOUGHT I BOUGHT IT.”Cue him running back inside, dramatically throwing cash at the cashier, and apologizing way too much.

𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥

pairing: drew starkey x famous!reader

summary: a peaceful coffee run takes an unexpected turn when drew, in all his distracted glory, accidentally walks out of a store with a drink he didn’t pay for. cue sheer panic, a dramatic redemption arc, and you trying not to laugh as your boyfriend over-apologizes to a very confused cashier.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, drew being an adorable mess, secondhand embarrassment, and an excessive amount of apologizing.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

i actually kinda bored so it would be great if we talk, you can send me anything through here → 💌 (will reply later, i had to charge my phone now :0)

Your and Drew morning had started off perfectly.

You and Drew had just wrapped up a long press tour, and finally, a lazy day together was in order. Hoodies, sunglasses, and a quick coffee run, so simple, right?

Well… almost.

You held Drew’s hand as you both walked into the small coffee shop, a place that had become a quiet favorite of yours over the past few months. It wasn’t too crowded, the baristas were nice, and most importantly, they made the best iced vanilla lattes.

Drew was half-distracted, scrolling through his phone with his free hand, probably checking a text from his agent.

Meanwhile, you stepped up to the counter, ordering your usual and Drew’s preferred cold brew. He grinned at you, pocketing his phone and wrapping an arm around your shoulder while the barista rang you up.

The moment the drinks were placed on the counter, you thanked the barista, grabbed your cup, and turned to Drew, expecting him to do the same. Except—

He was already walking out the door.

With his drink.

That he did not pay for.

Your eyes widened as you called after him.

“DREW, YOU JUST STOLE THAT.”

Drew, mid-sip, froze in place.

His blue eyes widened in sheer horror as he turned to look at you, then at the store, then at the drink in his hand. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“I THOUGHT I BOUGHT IT.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as he stood there, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The barista behind the counter blinked at him, half-amused, half-confused.

“Babe,” you whispered through your giggles, walking toward him.

“You didn’t even take out your wallet.”

Drew’s face turned a shade of pink you rarely saw.

“Oh my god. Oh. my god.”

His voice came out in panicked whispers before he turned on his heel and sprinted, actually sprinted back inside.

What happened next would be forever etched into your memory.

Drew dramatically dug into his pocket, pulled out a handful of bills, and threw them onto the counter.

“I AM SO SORRY,” he announced, as if he had just committed a grand felony.

“I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN TO—I WAS JUST—I GOT DISTRACTED AND—”

The barista, bless his soul, simply nodded.

“Happens all the time, dude.”

But Drew wasn’t done.

“I SWEAR I’M NOT A CRIMINAL.”

You lost it.

You actually doubled over laughing, tears pricking at your eyes as Drew continued his over-apologizing spree. The poor barista just gave him a thumbs-up, clearly unsure of what to do with the sixteen dollars Drew had thrown at him for a four-dollar drink.

“Baby,” you wheezed, stepping beside him.

“I think they forgive you.”

Drew exhaled dramatically, running a hand through his hair as if he had just survived a life-threatening event. He turned to you with a sheepish expression.

“I panicked.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, grinning up at him.

“I noticed.”

He groaned, hiding his face in your hair.

“I can never come back here again.”

The barista, who was definitely going to tell this story later… cleared his throat.

“No worries, man. I’ll just put a ‘Wanted’ poster up with your face.”

You cackled as Drew shot him a look of pure betrayal.

“Bro, don’t do me like that.”

Still laughing, you tugged on Drew’s hoodie, pulling him toward the door.

“Come on, Bonnie, let’s go before you accidentally commit another crime.”

Drew huffed but followed you, his arm slung lazily around your shoulders as you walked back to the car. He glanced down at you, a lopsided smile playing on his lips.

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

You smirked.

“Not a chance, Clyde.”

And with that, the legend of Drew Starkey: Accidental Criminal was born.

[senualothbrok]

I was wondering how long it would take before a Mystra apologist came out and said this 🙄

This is a comment on this video of Gale's evil ending

Nope, not thanking Larian for having the only time we see Gale remove Mystra's earring be when he completely loses his goodness and enthralls a bunch of free and sentient beings, because he has been completely consumed by his bitterness and rage

Not thanking Larian higher ups for making it abundantly clear that they believe Gale blowing himself up / completely folding to Mystra's demands is Gale's "redemption arc"

Smirking at being called an irrational hysterical Mystra-hating fangirl for simply being someone who has media literacy and character empathy ✊

Nope. I am going to continue to imagine that a happy, at peace, reconciled Gale who believes that he is enough as he is would still come to terms with everything that has happened to him and choose to remove or replace his earring one day

I am going to continue to see Mystra as the DnD god that she is - distant, neutral and indifferent, and actively manipulative and negligent towards Gale

I'll just be here in my corner being evil, hysterical and irrational 🫶

[mtchee]

Silence is Silver, Your Voice is Gold - [Shouto Todoroki] SOULMATE SERIES | GN

blurb:

The piercing first words spoken by your soulmate leave you shattered, and your passion driven brother, Inasa, doesn't take kindly to it either. Resolving to ignore Todoroki (leaving him in blissful ignorance), your secret is outed in the conflict between Todoroki and your brother. When his eyes snap to you, your own gaze hardens, and you turn away. You thought you could get over your soulmate's rejection, accepting it wholeheartedly. So, why is he being so nice all of a sudden?

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, [name] is Inasa Yoarashi's twin, SPOILERS if you haven't watched BNHA like at all but nothing descriptive or major, i know i'm the one writing this but i'm also mad at shouto on behalf of [name] lmao, Inasa best brother, deku squad friend squad!!, redemption arc for shouto, he's actually very sweet, love of your life fr, tooth rotting fluff at the end

| masterlist | boku no hero academia collection |

[4.3k]

"I'm not here to make friends."

Those were first words Shouto Todoroki said to you. Unfortunately, those were also the soul words written on the outside of your left thigh.

On your very first day at U.A, you'd barely even opened your mouth, having been about to utter a chirpy greeting to your blank faced classmate before he interrupted you.

Immediately your heart had dropped and you took a surprised step back. Though his face was impassive and his voice a monotone trail, the words and their implied meaning didn't bite any less.

Back off, I'm not interested--that's what he meant.

Thank god your uniform covered the glow of your soul words.

You'd stiffly bowed and quickly moved away, snatching a different seat on the otherside of the classroom before they were all taken.

In that single instant, you knew you would never get the happy ending you and your brother would always giggle about as kids. Even if you turned back around and spoke to him now, you knew he'd never come around. It was obvious he doesn't care.

It was evident he never would.

So why bother? It hurt enough now, and speaking up wouldn't change that outcome. So, you resolved to never speak to Shouto Todoroki.

Inasa was right, the Todoroki's were horrible.

You hadn't gotten in through recommendations, so you took the normal trials to get into U.A. It was no wonder Inasa was upset when he got home from the recommendation's test, Endeavour's son was just as stand-offish and cruel.

You thought your twin brother had been exaggerating, but you had always been more sensitive between the two of you.

No wonder he declined U.A...

And now you were stuck here, with a heartless soulmate and no brother to keep you company.

Is it too late to transfer?

You think your brother was more upset than you were when you later told him who your soulmate was. Inasa had teared up dramatically and collapsed to a knee in front of you, vowing to you that had he of known he would've taken you with him to Shiketsu instead like he should have in the first place.

You think you were still in shock though, since normally you would have burst into tears at the prospect of your soulmate rejecting you.

Subconsciously, you think you already accepted it too. He was a Todoroki after all. The son of the Number 2 Pro Hero Endeavour. If he knew, he wouldn't want you anyway.

Unlike your first day at U.A, before your first class where you had introduced yourself to most of your classmates and had been chittering away happily, you were quiet.

Luckily though, you befriended Ochaco Ururaka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, and Izuku Midoriya, most of whom were more than happy to yap in your stead.

Todoroki had since lost any respect you held for him--even more so than from when your brother had first encountered him--but he still scared you too.

You didn't have the confidence that Inasa did to pull his nose up and scoff, rather, you tilted your head down and averted your eyes, nullifying your presence as much as possible.

To your misfortune, you had to verse Todoroki in 1v1 of the Sports Festival. You don't think he even remembered you, not that he said anything anyway. His eyes were as lifeless as his expression when he was looking at you, and you couldn't help but glare back.

Your quirk similarly manipulates the wind as your brother does, though while his quirk is Whirlwind, yours is Piercing Breeze. Whereas Inasa can manipulate and summon impossibly powerful gusts of wind, you can create and control short and sharp bursts of air that can cut through cliffs of stone.

The battle between you and Todoroki was a cruel one, where your quirk sliced through his protective walls of ice and littered him in various lacerations.

However, it was Todoroki who ended the fight victoriously after managing to forcefully kick you out of bounds after feinting an ice shield and propelling himself into the air as you did.

You had refused to look at him as Present Mic announced his victory over the speakers, keeping your head down as you trudged your way from the field, not bothering to see Recovery Girl before taking seat in the stands.

You ended up coming in third, but when you went home at the end of the day you cried in your brother's arms about the events. Inasa could only hold you tighter with pain filled eyes when you started to scratch at your soul words.

Silently, you damned the world around you.

In any other circumstance, you would be absolutely petrified at your own morbid thoughts, but desperate times called for desperate cussing.

Not only had you and the rest of class 1-A faced one too many debacles so early on in your schooling, but each time without fail you were in someway, somehow, paired alongside Todoroki.

Group projects saw you put in an assignment with Todoroki and a couple others. Training saw you either fighting alongside or against the dual haired boy. And, possibly worst of all, Midoriya and the others took a liking to Todoroki's company (like, how!?) so now he'd started sitting with your lunch squad. Also, you have dorms now.

Fun.

Eventually, you gave up trying to perk up and find your way around things, but you were just so tired now. And over it.

So you shut up.

With Todoroki in vicinity, you didn't say a word.

If you noticed him approaching, you would calmly turn yourself around and walk away.

You began excusing yourself from lunch and would grab something small from the vending machines before taking a long stroll around campus.

Your soul words had been itching painfully, so you started to keep a cooling patch on it to stop yourself from scabbing it anymore than you already have.

But every third or so day, you'd call your brother and cry about it.

About how much it hurt. About how irritating the micro scars were. About how the skin the words were etched on were ever so red and swollen and pulsing. You wanted to tear off the skin and be rid of it.

Inasa panicked at that one.

But you did nothing of the sort, you knew how low your pain threshold was anyway. That much was evident with your whining from a few scratches.

Tsu was the one who noticed you withdrawing the most, but you just brushed off the subject and changed it.

The Provisional Hero License Course was where it clicked for your closest friends. When they saw you reunite with your brother, they were surprised at how much... louder, he was than you.

But also at his uniquely polite mannerisms towards others his same age. Although, that part kind of made sense to them, seeing as your classmates had also witnessed that from you.

The first trial was fun, at least you thought so. Apparently, Inasa had talked you up to the point his own classmates (and hence, also your opponents) decided to leave you alone lest they face his nagging. You did have some trouble with a couple other schools, but you passed pretty early on.

It was at the final trial that it all went down hill.

You were successful in rescuing many of the false civilians in the debre, and you knowledge on their injuries and acting manner impressed many of them.

When Gang Orca and his croonies started attacking, you switched from rescue to defense as it was better suited for you quirk.

It just so happened that your brother and Todoroki also made that choice, however, clashed in their tactics.

"Inasa!" You'd called out after sending an onslaught of wind blades towards a line of crooks, "pick your fight elsewhere!"

But his eyes remained locked on Todoroki who was positioned opposite him from Gang Orca. A passionate anger fuels him on your behalf, and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to show up Endeavour's son and put him in his place for wronging his kin.

"What is your issue?" Todoroki finally called, frustrated at his continuously foiled efforts from his very much one sided feud.

"My issue," Inasa growled, sending a hurricane off to the side to gather up concrete and Gang Orca's accomplices, "is your issue with [name]!"

"What?" Todoroki frowned incredulously, not taking his attention off their main opponent.

"Inasa!" You snapped. He ignored you.

"We barely even talk."

Todoroki dodged a flying boulder.

"They're suffering because of you!" Inasa summoned another gust to throw Gang Orca off balance, but it's only intercepted by Todoroki's flame, "if you weren't so uptight and entitled--"

Your eyes widened, "Inasa--"

He let out a battle cry when his attack once again gets interrupted.

"--then maybe you'd have even a decent chance with a soulmate who aleady deserves WAY BETTER THAN YOU!"

Todoroki's attention wavered.

"--he doesn't know!"

Inasa's whirlwind stopped, and his heart dropped. Todoroki's gaze darted to your panicked form, eyes widening as he spied the inked skin on your left thigh from your torn costume.

He made eye contact with you, and everything seemed to stop.

Fear and shock painted your features, and both your lips and throat are dry from horror at the revelation your brother had dropped.

Todoroki's right wrist tingled pleasantly despite the terror filled words you uttered.

"...You weren't supposed to know."

Inasa and Todoroki failed to pass in the end.

Along with a few others, but they were lucky to be offered remedial courses.

You weren't so lucky though.

Well, you passed. But it wasn't long before your soulmate situation became common knowledge. On one hand, unsuspecting classmates came up to you to congratulate you on bagging the grade's pretty boy.

On the other, your friends knew better about it.

After all, Todoroki had been sitting with you guys for lunch and hanging out at many other points in time throughout the year.

You made the conscious effort to stay back from everyone when it was time to leave, spying your brother and some others from Shiketsu talking to Todoroki and your class.

You'd said bye to him earlier, though a bit gruffer than usual becuse of his mishap. You saw him bow lowly to everyone, speaking a few more words to your dual haired soulmate before you had to depart.

You sat beside Koda on the way back, knowing he wouldn't say much on the situation. You didn't miss the stressed and concerned glances he sent you though.

In the following days you dodged your friends like bullets--barely.

It didn't seem like Todoroki wanted to talk to you anyway, and it was easy enough to avoid him after school due to his remedial classes.

Inasa had apologised to you profusely afterwards, decidedly giving you part of his allowance to spend on your favourite drinks and snacks to earn redemption. You tried to give him the cold shoulder at first, but when his eyes had started watering you were quick to tear up with him and gave in.

You didn't bother approaching him on the subject of Todoroki again. You felt stressed enough that they shared their remedial class, and a bit guilty that one of the reasons for your brother's failure was because of your coulmate issue, though he didn't see it like that.

Since the hero licence course, your friends had been subtly poking at you to find out about your soulmate predicament.

Uraraka was intent on listening to your side of things, so she managed to squeeze out a few details from you. Iida was intent on you confronting Todoroki, which you sternly refuting facticiously that Todoroki didn't care anyway.

Midoriya was similar to Iida, though in a much more roundabout way. He wanted to listen like Uraraka did, but you also knew how much closer to Todoroki he was, so you kept your mouth shut with him.

At some points, Momo chatted with you between classes to piece things out on her own. It was unlike her to get involved, but you noticed while she didn't push you to talk to Todoroki, she made sure to address him in a positive light.

Tsu scared you the most.

She had cornered you (again) and made you fess up everything one night after everyone dispersed after dinner. You ended up bawling in front of your door from the stress of it all, and Tsuyu had panicked as she tried to calm you down. Talking to her lifted a weight off your chest, but it also made you relive all those repressed feelings of longing and anger and hurt. You cried yourself to sleep that night.

Damnit, Tsu.

The day that your brother finished his remedial classes, it all seemed to change.

Despite you teetering around the topic of your soulmate with Inasa, he suddenly seemed... invigorated?

Well, he normally is. But, it was different this time.

When he finally got his provisional hero licence, he called you and started yapping about the positively riveting tale of his harrows, before eventually cooling down to address the issue about Todoroki.

At first, your brows had furrowed in concern when Inasa talked light about his interactions with Endeavour's son, which eventually turned into praise about his skill and his ethic.

"Since his quirk worked so well with mine," Inasa had started, "there's no doubt that you two'd pair together perfectly!"

You almost hung up on his strange change in character.

Inasa had planted a seed. And your friends continued to nurture it.

The school festival was right around the corner, and gave everyone an excuse to hang out. At the suggestion of a performance, you'd bounded right up with Ashido to make up a dance, the two of you giggling and wiggling around in front of everyone in excitement.

When you caught sight of Todoroki watching you with a meticulously blank stare, you winced and shrunk back, looking back at Ashido with a lesser smile than moments before.

After most of the band had been decided (courtesy of Jirou), the topic of special effects took everyone's attention.

"Hold up, how's this for an idea!?" Ashido took the reigns once more.

"Uraraka makes Todoroki and Kirishima float! And then, Kirishima chops at Todoroki's ice and sends it flying! Then, Aoyama can be a mirror ball, and all the light twinkling off him and the ice will make it look like it's raining stardust!"

"You know," Momo intercepted, thumb and index finger beneath her chin, "[name]'s quirk would actually be perfect for that. Instead, Uraraka could make [name] and Todoroki float, that way, with the suble manipulation of [name]'s quirk, the movements would be much more fluid, and they could continue the dance routine in the air."

"Oh! That's a great idea!" Ashido beamed.

You felt a cold sweat break down the back of your neck.

"Indeed, that would be much more effective!" Iida stiffened, but blatantly ignored you when you spun around with a disbelieving glare.

That settled your schedule for the festival preparations. When the class wasn't practicing together for the dance, everyone was split into their groups for their assigned tasks.

You were positively sweating at the prospect of speaking with Todoroki--but you didn't want to let the others down.

It was the first time you would talked to him since the incident, and the second time actually talking to him altogether. You stuggled to meet his eyes first time around, his gaze intense with slow, cat like blinks.

You started the discussion, stictly about your parts in the performance, which he only ever added to when necessary, otherwise he was busy observing you.

It was only after scurrying away that you processed how amicable he and patient he was, simply waiting unperturbed as you gathered your thoughts and piping up gingerly when your ideas needed a nudge.

But you digress, it was strictly business.

At least, it was for you.

For some reason, Todoroki took that initial conversation as an ice breaker of sorts, and immediately started seeking you out for things pertaining to more than just the school festival.

When you sat down at lunch the next day, he made a point of sitting right beside you with a bottle of one of your favourite sodas that the vending machine had ran out of when you checked. You couldn't help but pout at the sight of it before turning back to your food.

Your sad bottle of unopened water was then swiftly stolen from your tray right in front of you, and then quickly replaced by the carbonated drink you oh so desired.

You straightened in surprise, looking to your left only to see Todoroki slurping up his soba undisturbed.

You hazarded a look across the table and spot Uraraka and Midoriya still with wide eyes and Iida biting back a small knowing smile. You glance at Tsu beside you, and she blinks slowly with each eye individually.

Todoroki sat beside you at dinner too, but not before having taken your plate and filled it with parts of the meal that you liked most, ensuring you got first serve before sitting down.

A few seats across and down from you, you saw Momo cover her mouth with a light chuckle.

The dual quirk boy also volunteered to clean up with you, though that only really consisted of him shadowing you in the kitchen as you put away the clean dishes.

You worried at first. Not that you really thought he'd do anything to you, but after having avoided each other for so long it was... nerve wracking.

Since you were used to keeping your mouth shut around him, it was kind of hard to break that habit.

In class when you yapped to the others, you could spy him staring at you from your peripherals. If you went out of your way to seek someone out, he would watch you converse intently.

You only really talked to him again at the next rehearsal for the festival, but he sat with you once more at both lunch and dinner. You had an inkling that you had no choice in the matter.

He was quietly stubborn.

The cycle continued for the upcoming weeks, the school festival drawing closer and closer. He'd started initiating small talk with you during lunch, and he'd lean a bit closer to engage with you at dinner. Gradually, you started talking to him on your own--and really, he wasn't that bad.

To be fair though, having your soulmate reject you before they even knew you was hurtful.

But you did also carry the guilt of having not spoken up. Still, he obviously didn't want anything to do with you.

You figured he didn't care about the whole soulmate debacle, so you put that behind you and focused on making subtle amends for ignoring him.

Sure, the thought about the rejection still stung a bit, but what was there to do? Todoroki wasn't making a fuss, so neither would you.

Your soul words didn't itch as much anymore.

It's now the day of the school festival, and you are buzzing with nerves. Sure, practicing the dance and details with your classmates was fun, but now, you actually had to put that plan in motion.

But you refuse to let it dampen your mood!

You gotta keep the energy up for everyone else! Though some of your friends were ecstatic, others such as Midoriya and Jirou look just about ready to keel over.

Todoroki hadn't really left you side all morning--you did drag him out to practice your moves one last time though, before your nerves got shot and you stiffened.

He kept up with you bouncing around and checking in on everyone, and helped you set up wherever you offered your assistance. When he noticed your energy already starting to deplete he turned around to retrieve a tangerine, a small packet of cookies, and a bottle of your favourite flavour of fruit infused water.

You couldn't stop your knee from jumping up and down anxiously, even when he firmly sat you down on a set of stairs outside the gymnasium.

You made sure to distract yourself by babbling about all the preparations so your stress wouldn't overwhelm you, Todoroki standing beside you peeling the tangerine as he listens.

"--the box nearly tipped, so the streamers would've gone everywhere, but Shoji caught it before it did, so it was fine. Also, the sign Denki made was spelled wrong, but Momo did something so it actually looks like it was meant to be that way--"

Todoroki crouches down in front of you, holding out a meticulously peeled tangerine slice that he feeds you when you open your mouth.

"--Mmf," You lick your lips, "thanks. Momo's super resourceful that way, which is cool. Iida's similar, I think, but he lacks the creative capacity she has."

He feeds you another piece.

"--Uraraka's getting nervous, I can tell. But Mina's been hyping her up, so I think she'll be okay. Also, have you seen Midoriya? He might've gone to the bathroom but it's been so long... oh, also, Ojiro needs help setting up the synthesizer since Jirou's busy with the mics. Then we need to do a sound check."

"Drink this."

Todoroki pops open the bottled drink, watching intently to make sure you get your fill. When you go to talk again he tips the bottle back up to your lips for another sip before nodding contently.

"Mm!" You perk up, more energised now, "I love that flavour."

A smile tugs at his lips, "I know."

"Thanks for helping me with that ladder by the way, I didn't see Hagakure when I was walking with it--no pun intended. I would've wacked her with it if you weren't there."

When you're done with the tangerine (rejecting his offer of the last few slices, which he then eats instead) he opens the packet of cookies.

He hands it to you absentmindedly when you make a quick grab for it, the processed sugar and chocolate bits being much more appetizing than fruit.

"Oh, I love this brand!"

Todoroki watches you fondly as you munch down two at a time, nodding off handedly at your statement.

As you continue your ramblings, your nerves gradually lessen--as does the amount of cookies. When he offers you the drink again he spots a smudge of chocolate on the lower corner of your lips and gently grips your chin with his hand to thumb at it.

He pays no heed to your sudden silence as he cleans your face, humming contently when the tiny mess is gone and leaning back casually.

You blink at him.

"What was that."

"Hm?"

You frown, "That."

"Don't worry too much," Todoroki ignores you in favour of addressing your prior anxious babbling, "the performance will go fine. Everyone's worked really hard too. We'll do well."

He kisses you on the cheek.

You feel faint.

"What was that."

"What?" Todoroki blinks stupidly.

"That."

The change in his features is subtle, but he almost looks like he's pouting, "Did you not like it?"

"What?"

"What."

Your face burns, and you frown at him, "Don't copy me. You need to answer my question."

"But you didn't answer mine?"

The sheer audacity of this man to tilt his head at you after a move like that.

"You... You kissed me!"

"You didn't like it." He comes to the conclusion with the look akin to a kicked puppy.

"I-I didn't say that!"

"What do you like then?" His face is carefully stilled as he watches you with round eyes, "what do soulmates normally do?"

"What."

"What?"

"Stop that!"

His head bows, "You still didn't answer my question.."

"You've... soulmates!?" Your heart thrums in your chest, and a rush of feeling threatens to overwhelm you, "you want to be my soulmate?!"

His carefully placed mask breaks into surprise at your outburst.

"Of course I do," His eyes pierce into you like you've said something strange, "why wouldn't I?"

Your mouth drops in shock and disbelief, "B-Because! You said," your hand rests over the covered words encripted onto your thigh, "you're not here to make friends..."

"Oh," He has the decency to look ashamed, "sorry. I didn't know those were your words. Is that why you didn't want me to know?"

"Well, duh! I thought you rejected me!" You huff, taking an angry sip from your tasty water, "Inasa really didn't like you then, you know."

He breathes out a laugh, "I realise."

He watches you adoringly, and when you glance at him you're suddenly all too aware of his closeness. As your lips part from the rim of your bottled drink you're reminded of his chivalrous acts from the weeks prior.

You had thought he was being weird, but you also didn't really care to get to know him before then. Whereas he, on the other hand, did attempt polite conversation when he first started sitting with your group at lunch. He was also civil with you whenever you were paired together for anything.

You suddenly felt awful.

"What about now?" Todoroki's voice pulls you out of your pit of self-deprication, "what do you think? Do... would you like me to be your soulmate?"

When you look at him knelt before you, a subtle pink flush on his cheeks and an almost unnoticable nervous shake in his otherwise placid tone, you can't help but swell with happiness and relief.

You decide to pay him back with a kiss on his scarred cheek, and he takes in a sharp breath.

Your cheeks ache with how wide you smile at him, "More than anything."

As it turns out, you would get your happy ending after all.