#the world would be better off without him he thinks

[amoressb]

───── TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ just two best friends being oblivious to their love for each other ｡｡ bestfriend!riki x reader . fluff & wc. 1.0k ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki and you had been best friends since middle school. the type of best friends who communicated through facial expressions alone, who texted each other memes at three in the morning, and who had an entire language of inside jokes no one else could understand. you two bickered like an old married couple, stole food off each other’s plates without permission, and shared your wildest dreams without hesitation.

too bad you two were completely oblivious to the fact that you were in love with each other. so when riki surprised you with tickets to universal studios, you had tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking him over.

“you are officially my favorite person ever,” you declared, eyes sparkling. “i better be, these tickets were not cheap,” riki joked, though he looked pretty pleased with himself.

the moment you two stepped into the park, the chaos began. both running from ride to ride like little kids, shoving each other playfully as you two argued over what to do next. you screamed the loudest on roller coasters (riki swore you shattered his eardrum on jurassic world), while riki attempted to set a new personal record for how many butterbeer flavored treats a person could consume in one day.

“are you sure you should be eating another one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as riki took a huge bite of a butterbeer flavored churro.

riki waved you off, “please, my stomach is built for this.”

not even an hour later, he was groaning on a bench, his head in your lap as you laughed mercilessly at his misery.

“laugh it up,” he grumbled. “oh, i will,” you teased, poking his cheek. “this is what you get for underestimating butterbeer.”

by nightfall, you two finally made your way to super nintendo world. the moment you stepped in, both of you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. the neon lit mushroom kingdom surrounded you and riki, the familiar game music playing softly in the background.

“riki.” you grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement. “we’re in mario land!”

“i know,” riki grinned. “this is literally my childhood dream come true!”

“okay, we have to go on mario kart : bowsers challenge,” you said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“oh, absolutely,” riki agreed. “and i’m so ready to destroy you.”

“in your dreams, loser.”

as soon as you got into your karts, the competition began. you threw yourselves into the ride, dodging banana peels, throwing shells, and laughing way too hard when one of you got hit. by the time you two stumbled off, breathless and giddy, you and him were still arguing about who had won.

“i definitely won,” you declared.

“you literally lost at the finish line,” riki shot back. “just accept that i’m superior.”

“please yeah right—” you groaned and shoved his shoulder.

it was supposed to be playful, but riki, being the clumsy guy that he was, lost his balance. instinctively, he grabbed onto your wrist, but that just made you stumble too and suddenly—you two crashed into each other.

your faces were way too close.

neither of you moved. you could feel rikis breath against your lips and you were very aware of the fact that your hands were gripping his hoodie while his fingers were curled around your wrist.

everything around you—the neon lights, the distant game music, the sound of other people laughing—blurred into the background. the only thing that existed in that moment was him.

and then riki, looking dazed and definitely not thinking straight, mumbled, “if i kissed you right now, would that be really stupid or only kind of stupid?”

your brain short circuited. “wh—” you opened your mouth, but no words came out. “did you just—”

riki blinked, his own words catching up to him. his face immediately turned bright red. “i—i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered.

you stared at him, your heart pounding. the worst part? you didn’t hate the idea. in fact, it was like something clicked in your brain—all the teasing, all the lingering touches, all the everything suddenly made sense.

“oh my gosh,” you whispered. “what?” riki asked nervously.

“i’m in love with you.” the words slipped out before you could stop them and as soon as you said them, your eyes went wide. “oh no.”

“oh no?” riki repeated, staring at you. “why oh no?”

“because..” you groaned, covering your face. “because now i can’t pretend i don’t have feelings for you and now our friendship is going to be so weird, and i—”

“y/n.”

you peeked through your fingers. riki was staring at you, wide eyed, looking like you had just revealed the greatest secret in the universe and then…he grinned.

“you love me,” he repeated, and he sounded way too smug about it. you scowled, “shut up.”

“no, this is amazing,” riki said, his grin widening. “because guess what?”

“what.”

“i’m also in love with you.”

you blinked. “wait…what?”

“you heard me,” riki said, rocking back on his heels. “i love you. i have probably always loved you and if we weren’t in the middle of mario land, i would definitely be kissing you right now.” you gaped at him, “we’re in mario land, riki.”

“i know,” he smirked. “which is why i’m gonna kiss you right here and make it the most iconic confession in history.”

you barely had time to react before riki leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you—warm, soft, and so so long overdue. eventually you melted into him, your hands fisting his hoodie.

when you pulled apart, your face was on fire. “that was—”

“amazing?” riki grinned. “i was gonna say stupid, but sure.” riki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you totally lost mario kart, by the way.” you groaned, “you’re lucky i love you.”

“yeah you do” he smiled. you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile as you lean into his arms, head sort of resting on his shoulder/chest, his hand that was around your shoulder intertwined with your right hand.

and just like that, two oblivious idiots in love finally got their happy ending…at mario land, of all places.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz

[artisiumstudios]

Au where Stan finds the duffle bag.

HEAR ME OUT-

Basically it’s like a week or two before the science fair, Stan is minding his business (sort of) and while he’s going through a closet/cabinet trying to find some supplies, either for the Stan’o’War or his car, he finds a duffle bag. Curious he rummages through the bag, inside are some toiletries, 20 bucks, and clothing- wait a second. Those are his; his shirt, his pants, his socks— all stuff he has been missing for a couple of weeks. He’s confused, scared, and worried.

Why would his stuff be in here? Why are there toiletries? Why is there money? And who put them there? Unfortunately he already has his answer. Pa was always clear that none of his children would continue leech off of him. If you had nothing to prove then you had nothing to take. The conversation behind the principal’a door swarmed through his mind. How long had pa had his bag packed? Was this always the plan? Was Stanley really that worthless?

But that didn’t matter because Ford wouldn’t choose a school over him! They were going to sail the world together and that would be that, to hell with Pa if he wanted Stan gone then fine he didn’t need him, he didn’t need anyone but his brother and the sea!

At first Stan wants to tell Ford about what he found, but decides not to because in the end it won’t be important. So he keeps quiet and decides to take the bag into his car, after all hey 20 bucks and he gets his stuff back! He can’t leave it in his room cause if Pa finds out he was snooping through his stuff, well he’d rather not think about that.

Then the conversation on the swing set happens, and Stan’s head starts spinning. So it wasn’t just Pa who wanted Stan out, Ford was willing to ditch him too. Stan feels betrayed and hurt, he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. He starts to question his theory, did ford help pack his bag? Was that why he had been so distant lately, feeling guilty for letting his Pa kick him out and even helping him with the bag?

Did ma know? Eventually Ford leaves, huffing from Stan’s lack of enthusiasm and response, mumbling about being jealous that he has a better future up ahead, not just some silly childish dream. Stan snaps, not physically, not with his words: just emotionally.

Fine if they don’t want him there then he’ll just leave. That night while everyone is asleep he grabs all of his money, more clothing, a sketch book, his comics— a picture of him and ford on the stan’o’war— and some other things he thinks might be valuable or just handy. And he drives away.

Nobody notices Stanley’s disappearance the next day, not until night has fallen. Ford cheerfully excited with his new full ride scholarship, goes and tells his parents. Caryn is happy, tears of joy falling down her face as she hugs her intelligent baby boy, his father gives a small smile and a nod— he gives his approval. But the mood changes once he questions where Stanley is. No one has seen him in hours, actually his car has been gone since early morning. They wait awake all night, hoping for some sign, some clue!

Filbrick grunts as he walks up to the closet, his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, his lips pressed in a tight line. He sighs deeply.

Eventually a report is filed, but there is not much they can do, if Stanley ran away then he isn’t missing, and the police refuse to do anything about that.

Anyways thats like yk the beginning of how this whole thing happens but here are some other thoughts and ideas:

Stan:

Without Filbrick telling him he’s not allowed back into the family without a million dollars, Stan isn’t as driven by money as in canon. He doesn’t have a need for large amounts of money therefore he doesn’t have a need to do sketchy jobs just to satisfy his need to have his family back. In other words he doesn’t have as much trauma as in canon and is actually more able to settle down without being on the run or in survival mode. The first couple of months he just spends driving as far away from the East as possible making his way over to New Mexico where he settles down, first as a bar tender then eventually as a mechanic, he lives comfortably in a crummy apartment but hey he doesn’t really need much

Unfortunately he does get bored, even if it’s not with his brother he does crave adventure. And while fixing a this guys truck he overhears of a town called Gravity Falls, where weird creatures tend to reside in. So you guessed it, he picks up and drives from New Mexico over to Gravity Falls Oregon.

He gets a small but nicer apartment this time around and first he works as a mechanic. Immediately he starts to get a sense of the place and its weirdness and he loves it! (Ford would love it here-) .

Since the blind eye isn’t a thing people have two reactions to the weirdness of gravity falls: freak tf out or shrug and go on with their day. Stanley being Stanley gets the great idea to act sort of like a monster hunter/ putting small attractions up with the less violent creatures, not the mystery shack, but more like the mystery circus!

Eventually Stanley gets the name Monster-Lee for his ability to be able to fight off creatures so easily (mostly through bribery or fists)

Ford:

He still leaves for West Tech, but now he's fallen into extreme stress/anxiety and a bit of depression. Why did his brother leave? Why didn't he say anything? Is he okay? Why did he ever let their father get between them, he should've spent more time with him when he had the chance-

Unlike canon, Ford has no resentment/grudges to hold over Stanley, rather he holds that anger towards Filbrick especially when he found out that he had planned to kick Stanley out-- for being the reason Stanley left.

While Ford does still want to study anomalies, he also takes engineering classes, he wants to develop better technology and hopefully resources for run away teens/homeless teens.

While he doesn't meet Fiddleford as his roommate, he does meet him at a robotics convention where they instantly become friends. After college they develop a small company based around the idea of being able to find people, now expanding into different areas.

Ford is a lot more open with the fact the not only is he a twin, but he likes to talk about his younger twin brother who supported him and always stood up for him.

Part of the development with the technology involved finding people in forest dense areas, especially with a lot of caves (please tell me someones seen that one chart) Which then leads them to gravity falls as their first test area, small enough to test their tech, but still forest dense to get sufficient results.

and then these three bozos find each other lol. anyways thats all i got , i thought of this in the shower like 30 minutes ago and decided to procrastinate on my HW writing this lol. anyways

[shanastoryteller]

let the beltane fires burn

The Halliwells are descended from Melinda Warren, are the branch in which the greatest power resides, the line that would birth the most powerful witches to walk the earth.

It's not the only line.

Deanna knows about hunters, knows what they don’t know and don’t understand and that they killed her family. But Samuel didn’t kill her family. Samuel’s a good man who saves innocents, the same way she was raised to, if not how she was raised to do it.

She’s all alone. It’s not safe to be a witch.

The day before her wedding, she binds her powers.

When Mary is a year and a day, she does the same to her. It’s safer this way. Better. The world is so unkind to witches, even ones like them, born into it, with their power baked into their blood. Better to fight evil with bullets and knives than the strange terrible thing she’s destined to give her daughter, that her daughter is destined to pass along to her own daughters.

She never tells Samuel. There’s no reason to.

When Mary is old enough, when she’s talking of running and rebelling and all those things Samuel thinks will never come to pass and Deanna knows almost certainly will – running and rebelling is in her blood as surely as the magic, but there’s no binding potion for that – she tells her daughter what they are. What she’ll have to do to keep her future daughters safe, if she has them. It’s the only potion she ever teaches Mary how to brew, the only one she’ll ever need.

The day after Dean’s first birthday, Marry brews the potion and feeds it to him. He cries more after, doesn’t settle as quickly, and John worries and Mary reassures him and tells herself she’s done the right thing. Whatever it is that Dean feels he’s lost, he’s better off without it. She’s going to be normal. Her children are going to be normal.

She intends to do the same for Sammy, but she burns above his crib when he’s six months old.

~

John sees Sammy levitate a toy towards him when he’s two years old and shouts so loudly that he drops it, tears running down his face and wailing in the face of his father’s anger. Dean comes running from the other room and reaches for Sammy, letting his brother’s chubby fingers tangle in his shirt. “What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide.

He doesn’t answer, rubbing his hand over his face and heart pounding in his chest.

What did that demon do to his son?

What did it turn him into?

Is Sammy even human anymore?

He doesn’t react to salt, to holy water, to silver. John loses his temper every time something moves inexplicably and eventually it stops, by the time Sam’s in kindergarten he’s just like all the other kids.

John watches, fear and suspicion and something uglier caught up inside of him.

What is his son?

~

Sam figures out young that he’s a freak.

Dad and Dean just think he’s weak, just think he has nightmares, and he lets them. He only practices the telekinesis when he’s alone and every time he almost gathers the courage to tell his brother or father about it, to finally come clean, he’s viciously reminded how much they hate the things they hunt, how they’d never accept it, accept him, and as soon as he tells them what he is, he’ll lose them.

He doesn’t know what he is, really. Only that he’s not normal.

Eventually he stops seeing things in his sleep, instead getting them when he’s awake, more vivid and real than the monsters that plague his dreams. He sees people being hurt, people who need help, and it goes against everything he’s been taught to leave them to their fate.

But how can he explain it to his family? He can’t.

He’s thirteen the first time he sneaks out and saves a woman from one of his visions, finding her in the dark alley he’d seen her die in. He puts a bullet in the man’s chest, but it barely stops him, and then she and him both are getting a fireball thrown at them.

Sam shoves his hand in front of him, pushing back against the heat, refusing to die the same way his mother died.

The fireball returns to the man, catching him in the chest and he screams, disappearing into the fire until he’s nothing more than a smudge on the ground.

“Wow,” the woman breathes. Sam turns to her, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, when she continues, “I’ve never met a witch with active powers before.”

“I’m not a witch,” he says automatically, thinking of bargains made with demons, of hex bags and rotting meat and blood sacrificed.

She looks between him and the smudge on the ground incredulously. “Are you sure about that?”

Yes. No.

He doesn’t know what he is.

She leads him back to her apartment, stacks books into hix arms, and then makes him a sandwich when his stomach rumbles. His age worries her, his ignorance worries her even more, and everything she’s saying sounds like kooky new age bullshit except for the way that it explains everything he’s never been able to.

There are witches and demons and monsters nothing like anything his father’s ever talked about.

~

It’s easy to research, at least, because his dad thinks there’s a kernel of truth in every piece of supernatural bullshit. Dean makes fun of him for digging into girly, feel-good crap rather than the harder stuff, but his dad just seems relieved he’s taking an interest all. Sam starts taking notes, keeps them all in a folder until Dad buys him a journal, patting his back when he hands it over like it’s a rite of passage.

To Dad, it’s his first hunting journal.

Sam runs his hand down the soft leather spine and knows he’s starting his book of shadows.

The visions don’t stop. He saves more innocents, some witches and some mortal, and keeps the record of all the creatures he’s killed in Latin to discourage Dad and Dean from snooping. He uses his telekinesis on hunts only when there’s no other option, only when there’s someone’s life on the line, and he’s as careful as he can be not to get caught.

It should be a relief, to find out there are other people like him, to know that he’s a force for good in the world.

There’s no way he can explain the existence of a different type of witches to his father without putting a target on their backs.

Some witches have been targeted by hunters, ones who were trying to help but got caught in the crossfire, ones that had turned evil and needed to be stopped, but it’s not often he finds a witch that regards hunters with anything but fear. At least when his family are the ones sniffing around, he can give them a heads up, can tell them how to avoid their attention.

He’s had a lot of practice, after all.

~

Sam is sixteen when he’s a little too slow.

The innocent is safe and the demon is killed, but his chest is torn open and he’s bleeding out on the pavement.

“Oh no, oh no,” the woman he’d saved chants, pressing her hands against him, even though it’s pointless, even though it just sends a bolt of pain through him. Fuck. He doesn’t want to die. Dean is going to devastated. “Paige! Help me! Paige!”

There’s a bright light in the corner of his eyes and an woman around his dad’s age with bright hair red hair is leaning over him.

Then she touches him, but her touch doesn’t hurt.

He looks down and the wound on his chest closes, skin clear and unharmed, pain retreating to only a memory.

“He saved me,” the woman says. “He can move things!”

The redhead’s eyebrows rise. “You have active powers?”

They’re always so surprised by that. Sam’s more impressed with the fact that she just healed him. “I get premonitions too. What are you?”

“You get,” she starts then cuts herself off. “Where’s your whitelighter?”

He stares. “My what?”

She raises a hand to her head and groans. “Oh, someone’s really messed up somewhere. Leo!”

~

Guardian angels are real, called whitelighters, and apparently witches with active powers who go around saving innocents are supposed to have them to help keep them from getting themselves killed in the process.

Leo, who’s something called an elder with a kind face, says an unconventional witch deserves an unconventional whitelighter.

Chris Halliwell is his age, half witch, and also has telekinesis.

Oh, and he’s apparently his cousin. His very, very, very distant cousin.

“Are all witches related?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” Chris says, long dark hair and hazel eyes doing more to aid his claim of family than the spell his mother had cast. He and Chris look more related than him and Dean do. “We’d thought all the other branches of the Warren line had died out. You’re a surprise.”

Great. He’s a freak even among witches.

~

It’s so much easier now that he’s not desperately trying to piece together everything on his own, with only the occasional help from the innocents he saves. Chris is sarcastic and annoying and funny and more than having a guardian angel, Sam’s relieved to just have a friend he doesn’t have to lie to for once.

The Halliwell house, with its potion ingredients and powerful witches and home cooking, is only an orb away. He mostly hangs out with Chris, of course, but Piper always invites him to stay for dinner and Paige checks in on him, feeling somewhat responsible for him since she met him first, and Wyatt’s friendly enough but Chris sends him packing whenever Sam’s there.

He’s pulling doubletime when it comes to saving innocents, doing it as a witch and as a hunter, and he’s still maintaining straight As on top of it all while lying about half his life to his father and brother. It’s a stack of cards that’s bound to fall apart.

Going to Stanford is about more than just escaping his father.

It gets him close enough to San Francisco that he won’t need to be orbed to the Halliwells. It’s supposed to give him some breathing room, to let him focus on being a witch, to let him get his education. He does more good as a witch than as a hunter, but it’s not like that’s something he can explain to his family.

He’d wanted out, needed out, before he gets himself or someone else killed trying to balance it all. But he hadn’t thought his father would kick him out. He hadn’t thought Dean would let him.

He goes to the bus station but doesn’t buy a ticket. He calls Chris and spends the rest of the summer at Halliwell manor, burying all his hurt under training with Chris and saving people and getting ready to start college in September.

~

Jess wears a pentacle around her neck and keeps salt in small bowls in each of the cardinal directions and Sam doesn’t intend to tell her that he’s a witch, but when he ends up saving her from a darklighter attack, that decision is taken out of his hands. Coming clean about the hunter part takes longer, but it’s a bit of an easier sell once the knowledge of the supernatural is already out there. The thing that surprised her most of all is that things like bullets and steel can be used successfully against monsters, rather than the existence of monsters themselves.

Three years later when Dean shows up at their door, Sam can’t bring himself to deny him. It’s one weekend. He’d never wanted to lose his family in the first place.

When he returns home to Jessica pinned to the ceiling, he doesn’t even have to think.

He yanks her down, catching her in his arms just as fire effulges the place she’d been. He pushes the fire away from them, but it fights him harder than demonic fire usually does and leaves his hands burned and blistering. He doesn’t care. Jess is bleeding and in shock but still alive, breath rattling against him. “CHRIS!”

Dean’s yelling for him, but Sam can’t let him in. He throws his hand out, keeping his bedroom door closed even as his brother throws his body against it, still screaming his name.

Chris orbs in, eyes going huge. “Sam, what-”

“Heal her then go,” he snaps, the smoke already hurting his throat. “I’ll explain later.”

He puts his glowing hands over her bleeding stomach and the wound closes, her body going slack and her breathing easing even as her eyes roll back.

Sam tenses. “Is she-”

“Fine, let’s go, your hands,” Chris says, hands already glowing as he reaches for him.

“SAM!” Dean shouts, sounding like he’s about two seconds away from trying to shoot through the door.

“You can heal me later,” he says. “Thank you. Go.”

Chris shoots him a bitchy look that Paige says they share and then he orbs away. The fire’s covered almost the entire room now and Sam finally lets go of the door.

Dean stumbles in, pale, already reaching for him.

Sam stands and finds his knees buckling, gritting his teeth to keep himself upright. “Take her,” he says urgently, pressing Jess into his brother’s arms. “We have to go.”

“You think?” he snaps, but he’s gentle with Jess. Sam shoves him towards the door, slamming it behind him just as it surges after them. Keeping the flames from killing them is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. No wonder he’s exhausted.

They stumble downstairs, away from the fire, and someone’s already called the ambulance.

The story’s an easy sell because it’s not like anyone would believe the truth. They say Jess took sleeping pills and Sam came home to flames. He pulled Jess out and has the burns to prove it. Dean saw the flames in the window and went up, helping to get them both out.

It’s almost true.

“He had yellow eyes,” Jess tells him after. “He was – Sam, I’ve seen demons, I’ve fought demons. He’s something else.”

“Different kind of demons,” Sam says. There’s the underworld, and there’s hell. Underworld demons go after witches mostly. Hell demons go after mortals and are a lot harder to kill, ironically. “It’s the same demon that killed my mother, Jess, and now it’s after you. I have to take care of this.”

Dean’s too relieved about Sam’s determination to rejoin the hunt to question him too closely about all this. He knows better than to think that will last for very long.

Chris agrees to watch over Jess for him even though she’s not technically one of his charges. They layer protection spells on her, including one cast by the power of three, and even this yellow eyed demon will be hard pressed to break through that.

Hell demons are tricky. They’re not as susceptible to witch magic. But Sam’s not just a witch.

He’s a hunter too.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 10 - vulnerability

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, fluff central

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

you and rafe had spent the whole afternoon together and it had been everything and more. just like he had promised the other week, he was showing you around LA and never leaving your side.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange as you walked along venice beach, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race.

"you know," rafe said with a smile, glancing over at you, "i’m glad we’re doing this. not just the tour thing, but... you and me, this."

his words hit differently now, sitting down on the beach to watch the gentle waves and the sky change colours.

you looked over at him, "me too," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned back, his playful energy still present, but a hint of seriousness took over him. "i've never done this before." he admitted.

"done what?" you asked him.

"caught feelings like this." he spoke softly, almost scared to say the words out loud.

you reached out to touch his cheek, "me neither rafe." you held his gaze, "there's still so much we have to learn about each other."

"i know, and that's what i'm scared of."

"why?" you questioned.

"i'm scared you won't like the version of me you uncover. i'm not good with my words but, i didn't used to be a good person. i was addicted to drugs, i bought girls home every night to fill a void, i was so unhappy and treated people so badly. but this," he stuck his hands out and pointed between the two of you, "i've never experienced this."

his truth taking you by surprise, but making your heart swell that he was opening up to you this way. "i'm not scared rafe. the rafe i know now is a good guy. i've never met someone like you and i want to know all parts of you even those that you think i won't like."

rafe let out a soft, almost shaky breath at your words. it was as if you had taken a weight off his shoulders without even realising it. his eyes softened, and the air between you two stilled for a moment.

his eyes didn't leave yours, no response was needed, but he pulled you in for a soft kiss full of emotion.

he pulled away to stare at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.

"i’ve been thinking about you a lot," he admitted, almost too quietly. "more than i thought i would. i know we’re still figuring things out, but i can’t help but want to be around you. want to be better because of you."

your heart fluttered at the honesty in his words, the vulnerability making you weak, all laid out in front you.

"rafe, you’re already better. you’ve made it this far and the fact that you're here with me, saying this stuff, shows me just how far you've come. you don’t have to prove anything."

his lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just smiled. without another word, he reached out, carefully taking your hand into his, the touch gentle, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after many hours had passed of gentle touches and soft conversation, you headed back to the hotel in time to join the others and pack before your flight back home tomorrow.

your chest was full of happiness, feeling ready for what was to come.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: why am i crying writing this they are so cute i hate them

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68

i will be taking people off taglist if that don't interact! just as more people want to be added and need to make it fair<3

[dykespirk]

I think both tos and aos Jim survived Tarsus. but I think tos Jim was older (15-17) and aos Jim was younger (10-12).

I think tos Jim became the de facto leader of children survivors (as we see with Kevin Riley and Thomas), because of his age. That Jim carries the survivor’s guilt of not being able to save more kids—of watching the youngest ones die (ostensibly) in his care. his coping mechanism is thus leadership—usurping and clinging to positions of authority in an effort to save others; he craves authority, wants and needs to embody it to turn it into something that would’ve saved the others, would’ve saved him. Starfleet becomes his white whale. he needs the myth of Starfleet—an intergalactic emblem of peace, carving through deep space purely to discover (and defend). he embraces starfleet’s militarism because it echoes his understanding of power (some evils need to be defeated; innocents need to be protected). Jim also loves to defend—to entrench and hold boundaries (with the Klingons, the Romulans, with any hostile life). deep space is at the same time mystical—where birth and rebirth are always possible, where miracles happen every day—and orderly, where regulations and boundaries are clearly defined. Jim finds solace and role stability in this space, defending others, acting as a father figure, and indulging in hyper-independence & isolation.

that’s how we get tos Jim, who’s desperate for connection & intimacy, but ultimately clings to his leadership role like it can sustain him—like it’s all that can sustain him. (love, you’re better off without it, and I’m better off without mine. this ship, I give, she takes…I’m the captain…I’ve lost the enterprise, I’m losing command…nothing is more important than my ship) the guardian role is essential to his self-image.

conversely, aos Jim was the child. he was the scared, too-skinny kid who had the rug ripped from under him. aos Jim is born into a world where fatherhood/authority is already dead; George Kirk’s absence is a gaping hole in his life. Starfleet’s idealism makes martyrs, but it also cannibalizes its men to sustain its ideals. George’s replacement, Frank, neglects if not abuses him. that Jim witnesses the complete breakdown of authority. he watches Starfleet come with too little, too late. he sees the older kids die. he watches his only solace from Frank’s terror, his fresh start, become a waking nightmare.

that Jim learns that no one is coming.

his coping mechanisms are withdrawal from the system entirely; to bare his teeth at it, to claw at it, to draw blood. scare them before they can scare you. act bigger than you are. appearances are everything. to distrust authority entirely. give up on Starfleet, because Starfleet is an empty vaccum that will take and take, ineffectual at its core and hypocritical at best.

instead of being defined by his attraction to space, aos Jim is defined by his inability to stay still; his distaste for Earth, for Iowa, for groundedness. for him, staying in Riverside is a kind of self-harm, one he doesn’t understand how to escape and ultimately believes he deserves.

this Jim is lonely not because he uses distance as a defense, but because he’s so distrustful of others, he genuinely can’t imagine an open hand. (enlist?)

that’s how we get the Jim that ultimately cares way more about his crew than his ship; who latches onto Bones like a leech and craves Spock; who wants connection with far less shame has absolutely no expectation of receiving it. this is the Jim that blares sabotage while charging into battle, says fuck you to the admiralty, and would rather die saving lives than live with taking them—that’s what I was raised on.

there’s also the fact that tos Jim is a Jewish man written in an era of liberal internationalist optimism underscored by the early Cold War and the shadows of the Shoah whereas aos Jim is the flashy product of peak commercialized Hollywood in a post-9/11, post George-Bush America. anyways.

[seongwars]

more lads dad!au because dad!zayne and dad!caleb beef would be hilarious. spinoff from this drabble

The thing about heart surgeons was that they spent years in medical school, training relentlessly to save lives. But despite Zayne’s expertise, the one thing he couldn’t mend was his four-year-old daughter’s broken heart.

“Elsa, sweetheart, why are you crying?” he asked, crouching to her level as she hiccuped between sniffles.

“Because Archer doesn’t want to be married to me anymore,” Elsa sobbed, rubbing her fists against her red-rimmed eyes. 

“He said he likes Cece.”

Oh. His heart.

His daughter was barely out of preschool, and she was already experiencing the crushing weight of betrayal. While he remained calm on the outside, Zayne was seething on the inside. How dare this boy break his daughter’s heart? Who did he think he was?

“Archer?” 

“Caleb’s son,” you chimed in from the doorway, setting Elsa’s backpack down on its hook.

Oh. It all made sense now.

There were rumors that Caleb had been Mr. Popular back in high school, then again in college, and even at the academy. The kind of guy who could walk into a room and instantly become the center of attention, effortlessly drawing in mobs of adoring fangirls. His son, apparently, had inherited those same infuriatingly charming qualities.

Zayne clenched his jaw. No one, not even another four-year-old, was going to trample on his baby’s feelings and walk away unscathed. He turned back to Elsa, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Zayne said gently, wiping away the last of Elsa’s tears with his thumb. “You don’t need to be married to Archer. You’re the most brilliant, kind, and incredible little girl in the whole world.”

Elsa sniffled. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Now, let me ask you something: does Archer know medical terminology?”

Elsa frowned, thinking hard. “No,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Zayne gasped dramatically. “See? That right there is a red flag, sweetheart. You’re already smarter than him! Do you know how many medical words you know?”

Elsa sniffled again, but a tiny smile started forming. “A lot.”

“That’s right! And what’s the big one you learned last week?”

“Myocardial infarction!”

Zayne’s eyes widened in exaggerated amazement. “That’s incredible! Now, tell me, does Archer know what a myocardial infarction is?”

Your daughter scrunched up her nose, thinking. Then she clapped her hands. “No!”

“Sweetheart, how could you possibly be married to someone who doesn’t even know what that is?”

Elsa giggled, wiping at her damp cheeks.

“What other big words do you know?” Zayne encouraged, leaning in.

She tapped a finger against her chin before her face lit up. “Hippocampus!”

“That’s my girl!” Zayne grinned, nodding approvingly. “Anything else?”

Elsa’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Gluteus maximus!”

She giggled so hard at the meaning of gluteus maximus that she nearly toppled over, but Zayne caught her just in time, lifting her up and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Just minutes ago, she had been devastated over some preschool betrayal, and now she was giggling about medical jargon like the brilliant little girl she was.

It was far better than pining over a boy who didn’t even know what a myocardial infarction was.

☾⋆

“Hey, I saw Zayne today at drop-off, and he was squinting at me the whole time,” Caleb said, pulling Eden out of his high chair.

“Huh. Did he have his glasses on?” his wife asked, refilling Stella’s sippy cup. 

Caleb furrowed his brow. “Now that I think about it…no, he didn’t. Oh! That makes so much sense! I waved at him, like, three times, but he just kept squinting. Poor guy was probably struggling to see without them.”

Cece - Sylus' daughter Eden & Stella - Caleb's twins

[wttcsms]

OK last concept i swear, but please think about rich ceo!character who is stuck in an arranged/for business only marriage. there’s absolutely no love, but neither of them are allowed to be with other people without suffering a heavy financial loss on their end due to the prenup negotiations. his wife has fallen in love and is actively seeing someone else, but she can’t be the one to break off the marriage or get caught cheating! it would ruin her family. so, what does she do? she calls an agency designed to catch cheating husbands.

it’s a bit sleazy, but it’s somewhat honest work, right? that’s what you tell yourself. you’re just a grad student trying to pay off student loans and your current job isn’t helping with that. but job after job has you realizing that love doesn’t exist anymore. you’ve seen so many targets fall for your honeypot scheme, and after being the final nail in the coffin (aka the reason why so many divorce lawyers are getting a fat check), you think you’ll never fall in love. especially not with a target.

when you’re assigned to character, he’s hard to break. you’re one of the best girls in the agency, and your client is demanding you get her results. you keep telling her he might be the last decent man in the world, but she’s insistent that he is a cheater and she’s paying you to catch him so you better!! it looks like you’ll have to play the long game then.

managing to snag a job as a secretary at an office that operates in the same building as his own company, you try to stage as many coincidental run ins with him. you try to catch him in compromising positions or getting photos that can be taken out of context. but slowly, you start to realize that he’s genuinely a good man. slowly, he starts to realize that you’re genuinely an interesting woman he can’t stop thinking about. slowly, the two of you start believing — and falling — in love.

yikes

[beuxwhoyouare]

Is It Infidelity?

Ethan & Mark came up in a generation that wasn’t fond of the idea of them. They combatted adversity to be together through it all after meeting each other in high school. Coming up in a time that wasn’t too kind to gay people, they found solace in one another’s company and through it all fell in love. By that point in time, the world began shifting. Being gay was more common and less frowned upon.

The pair ended up going to college together, getting married, climbing their career ladders, and establishing themselves in their community. Eventually in their early 40s they decided it was time to take the plunge and start a family. They eventually had their little Billy goat and thought this would be the beginning of their next chapter. But as much as they wanted Billy’s new life to be surrounded by love, it presented new challenges that made Ethan & Mark doubt their preparedness and worse…their love for each other.

They got through years of bigotry and hatred, but resentment built between the pair. Eventually they realized they needed to spend time together being more thoughtful and constructive with their communication and began trying to see a couples counselor, but that required help to take care of Billy.

That’s when they met Aaron. A former collegiate football player, Aaron was in pharmacy school trying to pay his way through and looking for relatively long term and stable gigs to allow him a routine to focus on school. Aaron overheard the pair squabbling one time about how to make time to go see the counselor when he had the idea to pitch himself as a potential nanny for Billy.

The two men were taken aback by the strangers act of generosity and they’d be remiss to ignore his archetypical great physique.

They invited him over for drinks at the house to get to know him better and ensure he wasn’t like a murderer or anything outlandish. His story endeared the couple to him even more and they all hit it off, including Billy. That was nearly 2 years ago now.

Ethan & Mark had seemingly worked on their tension, Aaron enjoyed their family unit. A child aged out of the foster care system, the family became a surrogate one to the future pharmacist. All was seemingly at ease once again and Aaron hoped that even when he finished school, he wouldn’t lose them or maybe he selfishly wanted something else that couldn’t be said aloud. Under the surface multiple things were bubbling.

Mark was not happy in their marriage anymore. He still loved Ethan and his son but he wasn’t sure that was enough to keep the marriage alive. They all had built a friendship with Aaron, so Mark thought he’d be the perfect one to confide in about the emergence of such turmoil in his heart.

Mark told Aaron one day about the fallout of love he was facing as Ethan worked a double at the hospital. The confession was a blindside to Aaron, but not for the reason you may think. Aaron loved them all dearly but he began gaining feelings for Ethan somewhere along the way. Could this be his chance to get the man he thought he wanted? No, surely that would ruin the relationships they’ve all built? Right? Almost like word vomit, Aaron released those inside thoughts aloud.

The silence between the two was deafening. The two stared at each other quietly for a few moments before Mark broke down crying. Aaron began inching closer to console his boss and close friend. As he sat close he began tearing up saying “I wish I could help you more in this moment. I love you guys so much and I love Billy he’s like a kid to me too at this point.”

Mark looked up and told the young man, “I’m so sorry that you’re having these feelings for Ethan and now you’re in the middle of our mess. I wish there would just be an easy way to end the sadness.” As the two wiped their tears, they agreed to not divulge anything to Ethan without the other one’s approval. In their respective homes, they both tossed and turned in bed, distraught over the days discoveries or so they thought. The world had other reasons to keep them tossing and turning. Aiming to add balance to their situation, the world had a solution and needed their souls to accomplish it.

A universal force aimed to add balance, ripping their souls from their bodies and placing them in each others corporal forms. When the switch was done, the two finally fell into sleep.

Mark woke up peacefully with no blaring crying from Billy. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened lately. Trusting muscle memory he made his way to the restroom eyes closed, bumping into a few things he didn’t recognize but also didn’t invest too much thought into. He fumbled into the restroom feeling a bit chilly, odd considering he went to sleep in a long sleeve pj top.

Oblivious to the situation, Mark’s new physique stood in a doorframe it did many times before unaware of its new operator. As Mark moved to drop his pants to pee, he wrapped his now muscled hand around an unfamiliar thick morning wood. The size difference forced his eyes to finally open as he looked down gasping from the foreign sight below him. Gone was his long sleeve, replaced by mounds and mounds of sexy rippling muscle. Pecs like mountains with sharply pointed nipples. Ridges of cobblestone abs leading towards a v-line that introduced a thick, dark, rod below, insanely larger that the one he’d used for decades.

Instead of beginning to pee, he motioned over to the mirror in the restroom with pants still down. In the reflection there stood a nearly nude Aaron. Instinct took over as his new hand almost began jerking back and forth comfortably on his new thick pole. Speeding up as he involuntarily began moaning then grunting. As his pace picked up he wasn’t used to the sheer force needed to keep this body satisfied and while stacked with muscle the lack of preparedness led to him bracing himself against a nearby wall.

Meanwhile, Marks’ new phone sat buzzing at the bedside of the bed. Across the city, Aaron panicked calling Mark after realizing the new situation he found himself in, literally. He panic called several times in a row unaware the Ethan entered the room behind him. Slipping his hands around Aaron’s waist, Ethan pulled him in. The shocked new inhabitant of his husband’s body turned around shocked at the pull, turning around to figure out what’s happening. As he turned his head, Ethan dominantly went in for a kiss. Unbeknownst to Ethan, Aaron initially panicked and moved to resist the kiss before melting into the moment.

He couldn’t resist. If this was a dream, he might as well live it up. Aaron disregarded who he looked like and played the role he always wanted to be. A doting loving husband. He used context clues and realized Mark wasn’t the most domineering of the two, but used a little initiative to motion to the bed. Ethan pulled him over as the continued to make out, Aaron’s new husband savagely ripped off the boxers he was wearing. Ethan pushed Aaron to bend over on the bed, ass up just like he liked it. It was a side of Ethan that Aaron never saw while babysitting Billy but he was savoring every single moment.

Aaron’s new husband romantically kissed him from behind again before having his head shoved onto the bed. A tongue quickly beginning to then explore his hole before a familiar to the body but foreign to Aaron sensation arrived. Ethan quickly entered before slowly rocking back out. That odd tempo was weird to understand at first before Aaron quickly accepted the pace and went with it.

Across the city, Mark was still enjoying his self-pleasure rodeo grunting and moaning as he pounded his new body’s meat. The vitality of a younger body was something he previously lost along the way of life but was thankful to have once again. This body knew its way in a gym clearly so what would’ve broken a sweat previously was like child’s play now. Stroking back and forth, Mark used his free hand to try and stimulate himself the way he used to, trying to explore his hole. His new body nearly protested itself. Way too tight, never seemingly been explored. A strict dom top? He should’ve known. That discovery almost erotic itself turning Mark on even more.

The universe seemingly playing its hand once again as both men on both sides of the city climaxing at the same time. Both independently relishing their new situations. Both getting what they wanted without the need to sacrifice seemingly anything?

Aaron turned to Ethan doting to him almost pleading with his eyes to go again. While Mark picked up a nearby shirt and made his way to a pre-school workout.

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 18

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

The next day at work you were exhausted and distracted, almost putting the wrong shade of foundation on two different clients and completely forgetting primer and setting spray on another. You never fell back asleep after you got home that morning and you spent the entire day constantly checking your phone to see if Tom had texted you, even though you told yourself you didn’t want him to. You needed space from him to get over whatever was going on with you. However, the longer the day went on without hearing from him, the more depressed you got. What the fuck was happening to you?

When you went to bed that night, you checked the On Demand Entertainment website to see if Tom’s interview was online yet. Sure enough, the video was just posted. You settled back against your pillow and pressed play. 

Tom was dressed in a classic white button down shirt with a navy suit jacket and trousers. He was also wearing his glasses, which usually meant he was too tired for contacts. Still, you always thought he looked especially sexy in his glasses. 

The interview started with the classically attractive blonde reporter asking about Tom’s latest projects. His face lit up as he answered her, like it always did when he talked about his work. It wasn’t long, however, before she began ramping up to ask him about his love life, at which point, he began fidgeting more than usual, touching his face, rubbing his thighs, adjusting his glasses, and running his fingers through his hair. 

“So Tom, many of your films and series revolve heavily around romance, something you seem to have quite the knack for on screen,” the reporter began. 

Tom blushed. “Well, thank you. You’re too kind, really.”

“But what about off screen,” she continued. “You would have a hard time convincing me that Tom Hiddleston doesn’t have someone special in his life.”

He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs as he laughed nervously. Your heart rate sped up a little bit. You told yourself it was just because you were nervous for him, but the truth was you were genuinely anxious about what he would say. “Actually, I am currently unattached,” he replied coyly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a better answer than that.” He chuckled bashfully.

“In that case, I’m sure our viewers would love to know how you would describe your perfect woman,” she responded without missing a beat. You rolled your eyes. Hear we go, you thought.

Tom furrowed his brow and rubbed the pad of his index finger across his lips contemplatively. “Should have seen that one coming,” he joked. Then he blushed again and smiled, seemingly thinking of something. “I think my so-called ‘perfect woman’ is anything but perfect. Someone who is passionate, almost to a fault, who recognizes the beauty in everyone but herself, and who calls me out on things that no one else will because she sees me for who I truly am, not what the world makes me out to be.” His face lit up again, just like when he talked about his work. That usually didn’t happen when he talked about his personal life. Was he thinking of someone specific, or was he acting? You’d like to think you knew him well enough to know whether he was acting or not, but then again, he was incredibly talented. 

Once the video ended, you set your phone aside and stared at the ceiling, debating if you should text Tom or not. You definitely hadn’t cleared your head of those annoying thoughts and feelings from the night before, and you wanted him to be the one to text you first. Still, you were the one to leave abruptly this morning, and you should still be a supportive friend about his interview. After about an hour of wrestling with yourself, you finally picked up your phone.

Goddammit, you thought. So much for getting some space. 

A few minutes later, you heard Tom enter your house. “Sweets?” he called, looking for you.

“In here,” you responded from the bedroom. You continued scrolling through your phone, wanting to appear indifferent.

Your bedroom door was open, but he gave a courtesy knock on the door frame anyway. “May I come in?”

“I was under the impression that I didn’t have a choice,” you replied, never looking away from your phone screen.

He chuckled lightly and then flopped down next to you on the bed. He gave you a quick peck on the shoulder and then positioned himself so he was laying perpendicular to you, with his head resting on your stomach.  “Hi.”

“Hi.” Your eyes stayed on the screen.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to hold your phone hostage to get you to talk?” 

“You will do no such thing,” you told him firmly, still not looking at him. “You were the one who decided to interrupt my quiet evening.” He swiftly plucked your phone from your hands and tucked it underneath him, forcing you to finally look at him. “Oi!”

“Talk,” he commanded. 

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“You literally just told me that you’re too in your head lately. So what exactly is going on in your head?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, trust me.”

“Fine then. Tell me what you meant when you told me to take you out of my ‘rotation.’”

“You know what I meant.”

“Actually, no, I don’t. Do you really think I just have a bunch of women on retainer, ready to come when I call?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You expect me to believe that you don’t?”

“Is that really what you think of me?” He looked concerned. 

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “I just meant that you could literally have anyone you want. Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that opportunity?”

He sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly. I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?”

“You started it!”

“I just… I hope that’s not what you’re upset about.” He searched your face for confirmation, but you weren’t about to give it to him.

“It’s not. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m sure you’ll find something or someone else to do while I work through my shit.”

“That’s not why I’m concerned. You’re my friend and I want to help you. I don’t understand why you won’t let me.”

You paused, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought back tears. “Because it’s not something you can help with,” you choked out.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly as he sat up and took your face in his hands. “You’re starting to scare me, Y/n. Please talk to me.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, causing some tears to fall down your cheeks. Tom brushed them away with his thumbs. You looked back up at him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you whispered, your teary eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. With genuine concern still in his eyes, he slowly leaned forward and just barely touched his lips to yours. You brought your hands up to cradle the back of his neck and gently pull him closer to you. His lips caressed yours tenderly, moving cautiously. 

After a moment, he hesitantly broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “Should I stay, or do you want me to leave?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you replied, echoing his own words from moments ago.

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly.” Though there was still sadness in your eyes, a slight smirk crossed your face from giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He gave a small chuckle. “Then I think I’d like to stay. I’d rather not leave you like this.”

Your stomach filled with butterflies, but your brain told you not to think anything of it. “You really don’t have to,” you told him as he stood up and stripped down to his boxers. “Honestly, I’m okay.”

“While I one hundred percent believe you,” he said sarcastically as he climbed back into your bed and gently brushed one last stray tear from your face. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign that he was just doing this out of pity. When you couldn’t find one, you gave him a small smile. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to let you stay.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, smiling back at you. He’d never called you that before– his girl– and even though you knew it was just an expression, you were sure that if you’d been standing, your knees would have buckled. He kissed you again briefly and then laid down on his side facing you. You turned on your side so the two of you were face to face and he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

”I noticed you wore your glasses for your interview. Did you get any sleep after I left this morning?” you asked him.

“You know me too well,” he replied, running his foot lazily up and down your calf. “No, I couldn’t fall back asleep after you left.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you groaned, hiding your face in his chest. “You were sleeping so soundly before I woke you up.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

You lifted your head back up to look at him. “You were snoring.”

“What? I do not snore,” he argued in disbelief.

“It’s just a soft, little snore,” you explained, trying to hide your smile. “It’s kind of cute actually.” 

He looked at you suspiciously. “Are you sure it wasn’t just that one time?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh no. You’ve snored every night that we’ve slept together. I can’t believe no one else has told you this before!”

He shrugged. “Not everyone is as honest with me as you are, darling.”

“Well, someone needs to put you in your place once in a while,” you teased.

He laughed. “You’ll have no arguments from me about that.” His expression quickly shifted back to concern. “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m positive,” you assured him. “Like I said, I think it’s cute.” You tried to fight the yawn that crept up on you, but you lost.

Tom carefully tucked your hair behind your ear. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead and held you close to his chest. You fell asleep almost instantly.

…

When you woke up the next morning, you rolled over to find that Tom was gone and there was a note on the side table. 

Had to rush to a meeting. I would have said goodbye but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you’re feeling better, and know that I’m always here if you need me. xx -T

With a heavy sigh, you let your forehead fall onto the mattress. This man was not making this easy on you. Why did he have to be so goddamn sweet? And why did you let him stay over in the first place? Even without the sex, you wouldn’t be able to get over…whatever was going on with you… if you kept up all this cuddling, and kissing, and sleeping over. Unfortunately, that meant that you had to set that boundary with him.

He didn’t reply right away, and your mind and heart started racing. Was it just about the sex for him this whole time? Did you just lose who you thought was your best friend over this? You felt yourself about to break down in tears, but then your phone buzzed.

You let out a sigh of relief, but there was still a small pit in your stomach. You desperately hoped that this would work; that the two of you could just focus on your friendship for a while and you would get over your silly emotions, and maybe you would go back to having casual sex one day, or maybe not. The important thing was that you wouldn’t lose him. You couldn’t lose him.

…

Tom threw his phone to the other end of the sofa and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. You wanted to focus on being friends. Of course. Just when he’d finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for you. He wanted so desperately to take a step forward, and instead you took a step back. At least he hadn’t made a fool of himself like Evelyn had suggested he do in Hawaii. 

It was a few nights before you came to visit him, and he and a few cast members had gone out for some drinks. 

“So Tom, are you ever going to tell us who she is?” Evelyn said with a nudge to Tom’s side.

“Who who is?” Tom asked, confused. 

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Do you really think no one has noticed when you get a text and you start grinning like an idiot?”

“I don’t grin like an idiot,” he defended. 

“Oh, you so do,” Lily, another co-star, chimed in. 

He chuckled nervously. “It’s just my friend, Y/n.”

Evelyn scoffed. “Your friend? If she’s just your friend, then why are you blushing?”

Tom felt his cheek with his hand and looked down in embarrassment. “She’s my best friend, actually. And yes, we sleep together occasionally, but it’s casual. Nothing more than that.”

“You sleep together??” Evelyn and Lily squealed in unison. 

He blushed harder. “Okay, tone it down, ladies. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal!” Evelyn contested. “You’re best friends, you sleep together, and she makes you light up like a fucking christmas tree… You’re completely smitten!”

Tom shook his head. “Stop. I am not smitten. We’ve had an agreement to keep things casual and that’s what we’ve done.”

Lily’s face suddenly lit up in realization. “Wait! Is this the friend that’s coming to stay with you this week?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Casual, my ass!” Evelyn accused, pointing her finger in his face. “You are SO smitten!”

Tom hid his face in his hands, failing to hide his ears which were now bright red. “Okay, fine… Maybe a little.”

Evelyn and Lily both let out another squeal, this time reaching a pitch only dogs could hear. 

Tom was actually surprised himself. Maybe it was because he was a bit tipsy, but they just got him to admit something out loud that he’d never even admitted to himself before. 

Evelyn grabbed his arm rather aggressively. “You have to tell her!” 

Tom’s head shot up from the cover of his hands. “Absolutely not,” he protested. 

“Why not?” Lily asked.

“Are you mad? What if she doesn’t feel the same? Then it’s going to be awkward between us and I could lose my best friend!”

Evelyn looked at him like he was stupid. “She’s coming all the way from London to spend a whole week with you!” 

“Because she desperately needs a holiday, and the only reason she decided to take it was because I already arranged it!”

“Dude, you’ve got it bad,” Lily said, shaking her head. 

“I do, don’t I?” Tom groaned, returning his head to his hands. 

Evelyn rubbed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “Look, see how the week goes. If you detect any sign that maybe she has feelings for you too, tell her. If she doesn’t feel the same– which I find highly unlikely, by the way– at least you know, and then you can move on. And if she’s truly your best friend, then this little hiccup won’t matter!”

Tom sighed and then turned his head to look at her. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

He almost did it. He was going to tell you how he felt on the ride to the airport, but then you suddenly closed yourself off and told him not to come with you, saying you had to “get back to reality,” and it made him question everything he thought he felt between you the night before.

Despite Evelyn’s hopeful sentiment, however, you only seemed to pull away more and more after that. You stopped wearing his clothes, you were texting him less and less, you wouldn’t tell him what’s wrong, and now you just wanted to strictly be friends. He would no longer be able to kiss you, to hold you, to feel you in his arms while he slept, to wake up to your beautiful face. But he’d sacrifice all of that if it meant he wouldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly , @the-princess-of-loki , @princess-ofthe-pages , @darcylikesloki , @kikster606 , @foxherder , @simone818283 , @newtomofgods @christinebloodwrittings @tom-hlover , @lulubelle814 , @kingliam2019

[aloysiavirgata]

Scully is a doctor ofc but what does Mulder do in 2024 outside of his fanon blog?

Alexa goes off at 2 AM and Scully makes a noise like a pepper grinder. “Fuck’s sake,” she groans, rolling over. “Christ.”

Mulder feels the same but he rises, heavy-limbed as a winter bear.

***

Four of them, squeaky and unhappy and uncoordinated. He’s named them after pumpkin varietals. He’s warmed their formula like he’s Amalthea, feeding the hidden baby Zeus.

***

“Sshhhh,” he says, tenderly and warmly, after the first round of formula.

The kittens belch and squawk as he tends to them. They hiccup and sleep. They have bellies like hot water bottles. He rubs their tiny bottoms with squares of soft cotton because they’re too young to poop and pee on their own.

He’s doing penance, he knows. Every warm-bellied kitten is his son and it’s a tiny cat and it’s his blue-eyed son, alone with Scully. Monica.

The bluest eyes., the sweetest milk.

His son.

***

She comes to him at 3 AM.

She comes to him with her bright eyes and her warm heart.

The kittens are wormy and loud and woolly. He is tender and patient with them. He deworms and he burps and he teaches them to play. He teaches them to love and to seek being warm and alive.

Scully, exhausted and lovely, curls against him. The little tortoiseshell girl, the boldest, staggers from the nest box towards Scully’s foot.

“Which one is that?” She scoops the tiny animal into her hands. She strokes its head with a finger.

“Crunchkin,” Mulder says.

“Hi Crunchkin.”

The tiny cat curls up and falls asleep.

They sit together, Mulder and Scully. Silent, in this liminal hour. Only the kitten makes sounds, soft purrs and snores in her small, milky dreams.

“I love you,” Scully says after a time. She returns the kitten to the warm nest box. “I love your stupid little cats.”

“Silly girl,” he says warmly. He kisses her ear.

“Are we saving ourselves, do you think?” she asks. “My patients, your kittens?”

Mulder takes a deep breath, considering. “At my bar mitzva, my speech was on Tikkun Olam, on repairing the world. Did I ever tell you the party theme was Star Trek?”

Scully laughs. “Yeah, but I would have guessed anyway, let’s be real.”

His grin is sheepish. “Fair. Anyway, this one quote kind of stuck with me from that deeply awkward moment. You are not obligated to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.”

Mulder, feeling vulnerable, looks down at the little scraps of life in the warming box.

Scully wraps her arms around him, squeezing her face against his bicep. “That’s you in a nutshell,” she murmurs.

They curl together on the rug and, without meaning to, drift to sleep in the smallest corner of a bettered world.

[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 020

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Fontaine, Lante, Dion, a severed head

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Last post of today, hope you guys enjoy it

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

It’s been two days since Dion came back, and you’re sitting in your room, eating some bread with soup. The doctor advised you not to eat solid food such as bread, but having it with a liquid to soften it would be okay.

You eat by yourself, content with the quaint atmosphere of the room. The bread with soup is good, much more savory than the soup you’re familiar with in your world. It must be due to the lack of exotic spices. If they can’t make it flavorful, then making it rich and savory is the next best thing.

The door to your room creaks open. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

Lante stands over your small form, his presence as oppressive as ever. He smokes a cigar, the acrid scent stinging your nose. He takes a long drag before speaking.

"Since you're injured, you’ll have to make up for it later. I expect overtime. And when you’re back on your feet, you better doll yourself up properly. Consider it an apology for the inconvenience."

He turns to leave, then mutters under his breath, "Last time someone pulls a stunt like that." Your bread halts halfway to your mouth. Stunt?

"What do you mean?" you ask.

Lante glances at you over his shoulder, his expression one of mild irritation. "Fontaine's been dead for two days. His head's missing, but I'd recognize that stupid brat’s body anywhere."

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you in silence.

Your stomach churns. The soup suddenly tastes like ash. Fontaine is dead. You have no doubt who did it.

Dion.

The blood on his cheek that morning. His calm, unbothered demeanor. He didn’t even hesitate, I bet. That makes me feel a lot better. One problem is gone, but I’d be an idiot to think that Fontaine is the only Agriche to pull off a stunt like that.

You push your half-empty bowl away, fingers curling over the edge of the wooden tray. I should eat. I won’t heal if I don’t. But the thought of swallowing anything now makes your throat close up.

Your thoughts scatter when Roxana enters, carrying fresh bandages, a basin full of water, and a towel. She says nothing as you set your food aside and pull the blanket off your body. The cold air makes you shiver.

She starts with your head, unwrapping the old bandages carefully, her fingers firm yet gentle. She dips the towel into the water, squeezing out the excess before dabbing at the wound. The water stings, sending a sharp jolt through your skull, but you don’t flinch. It’s better than infection.

She works in silence, her touch precise, pressing fresh gauze against your temple before securing it with clean bandages. Moving to your arms, she peels away the old wrappings, revealing healing bruises and shallow cuts. She cleans each wound methodically, replacing the bandages with practiced ease. Your legs are next - she lifts them gently, mindful of your sore muscles, fingers brushing against sensitive skin as she works.

By the time she reaches your torso, you’re trembling slightly, not from pain but from the sheer exposure. She unwinds the final layer of bandages, revealing the deep gash across your ribs. The cool air prickles against it, but Roxana says nothing. She only dips the towel again, pressing it firmly against the wound to clean away the dried blood.

The basin is now dark with bloodied water, the scent of iron thick in the air. She wraps the final bandage tightly, securing it with a knot before gathering the soiled wrappings and the basin. She turns toward the door, only to pause when it creaks open once more.

The door opens again. You don’t need to turn to know who it is this time either.

Dion steps in, a medium-sized box in his hands, wrapped with a red bow - the same shade as his eyes. Roxana stops, scowling at him before shoving past and leaving without another word.

Now, it’s just you and Dion.

He walks closer, setting the box beside you. You glance at him, searching his face for anything. He meets your gaze without hesitation, but he says nothing.

He’s watching me. The silence stretches between you both, thick and unspoken. You hesitate before reaching for the box. “You brought me something?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there’s an edge to it. Why does it feel so heavy?

Dion doesn’t respond. He only tilts his head slightly, watching you expectantly. You tug at the bow, undoing the knot, then lift the lid.

Inside, staring back at you, is a severed head.

Fontaine’s head.

Your breath catches. The world tilts.

The face is pale, slack with death. Blood stains his hair and the edges of his severed neck, dried and dark. His lifeless eyes remain half-open, a frozen expression of surprise barely etched onto his face. Flowers adorn the edge of the box, along with a single rose in the hole of his gouged eye. It’s an ugly sight to see, but something about it…

The silence is deafening.

Your hands tremble, but you don’t drop the box. You can’t move, can’t breathe.

Dion doesn’t say a word. He only watches.

You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He watches you with something unreadable in his crimson eyes, head tilted slightly, as if assessing your reaction. There is no remorse. No regret.

Your stomach churns violently, but you swallow it down. He did this for me. Didn’t he?

How sweet.

You exhale, pushing the lid back onto the box, blocking out the gruesome sight. It doesn’t erase the image from your mind, though. Fontaine's dead eye is seared into your thoughts.

Dion shifts closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. His fingers brush against your cheek, cold and deliberate. He lingers there, his touch featherlight, testing.

Your pulse stutters. You should pull away. You don’t.

His lips barely part, his voice a whisper. "Afraid?"

You swallow, shaking your head. "No."

His fingers trail lower, his touch ghosting down your jawline before he pulls away.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips - something dark, something satisfied.

"Good."

The room feels smaller. The air between you charged with something unspoken. You don’t have an answer, but one thing is clear - Dion did this for you. He has no intention of leaving.

And now, neither do you.

TAGLIST: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus

[mya-valentine]

February 10th - Let The World Burn by Chris Grey - Ex Husband!Sosuke Aizen x Reader

The world was quiet in the way only the aftermath of destruction could bring—an eerie silence, the air thick with ash and the metallic tang of devastation. You stood amidst the ruins of Karakura Town, your eyes fixed on the horizon. A blood-orange sky bled into the endless fog of despair, casting its ominous glow on the broken world below. You should have been frightened, but fear had long since been replaced by something more numbing: a hollow resignation.

"Sōsuke," you whispered, the name leaving your lips like a prayer and a curse.

"Still saying my name like that," his voice called out from behind you, smooth as silk and just as deceptive. "As if it belongs to you."

You turned to face him, and there he stood, an image of unshakable poise amidst chaos. Sōsuke Aizen, your ex-husband, the man you had once loved more than life itself. His captain's haori fluttered faintly in the wind, though its pristine white was marred by soot and blood. He was no longer the man you had fallen for—the gentle soul with an enigmatic smile and a warm laugh that only you seemed to elicit. No, this Aizen was something entirely different, entirely otherworldly, yet still hauntingly familiar.

"You did this," you said, your voice trembling, anger and sorrow intertwining in equal measure. "You burned everything."

"And I’d do it again," he replied without hesitation, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they roamed your face. "For you."

The weight of his words fell upon you like the collapsing structures of the town. You shook your head, disbelief mingling with the gnawing ache in your chest. "Don't put this on me, Sōsuke. You made your choices."

His gaze softened momentarily, a fleeting flicker of something human behind those cold, calculating eyes. "You think I had a choice?" he asked, stepping closer. "The moment you left, my world began to crumble. Do you truly believe I’d let it fall apart without taking everyone else down with me?"

The wind carried his words, slicing through the air and straight into your heart. Memories flooded back—how it all began, how you had loved him, how he had charmed you with his intellect and quiet strength. You had believed in him, trusted him, stood by his side even as whispers of his ambitions began to surface. And when his true nature was revealed, you had walked away, leaving him and everything you had built together behind.

"You were never satisfied," you said, your voice breaking. "You always wanted more—more power, more control. I couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself."

"And yet here you are," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Drawn back to me, as if by fate."

You hated how he could still read you so well. Despite everything, a part of you had hoped he could be saved—that somewhere beneath the layers of manipulation and arrogance, the man you once loved still existed. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise. This was not a man who sought redemption. This was a man who would let the world burn for his own desires.

"I came to stop you," you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his penetrating gaze.

He laughed softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Stop me? My dear, you should know better. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The world is my chessboard, and I am its master. And you…" He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, like the embers of the destruction he had wrought. "You are my queen."

You recoiled as if struck. "I was never a piece in your game, Sōsuke. And I won’t be now."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "You misunderstand," he said softly. "You were never just a piece. You were the reason I played at all."

Tears pricked at your eyes despite yourself. "Then why? Why do this? Why destroy everything?"

His expression darkened, the softness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Because if I cannot have you, no one can." His voice was calm, but there was a chilling edge to it, an undercurrent of unyielding obsession. "I let you go once, and it nearly destroyed me. I won’t make the same mistake again."

"You can't control me," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "I’m not yours to keep."

His eyes glinted with something dangerous, something unrelenting. "Aren’t you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even now, you carry the mark of my love, whether you acknowledge it or not."

He was right, and you hated him for it. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how far you had run, the ghost of him lingered—his touch, his words, his very presence etched into your soul like a scar. But you couldn’t let him win. Not this time.

"You’re a fool, Sōsuke," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "You think love is about possession, about control. But love is sacrifice. It’s letting go."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Love is power," he countered. "And I will wield it as I see fit."

With that, the ground beneath you began to tremble. The sky darkened further, the air thickening with reiatsu so oppressive it felt as though the world itself was suffocating. He was showing you the extent of his power, the lengths he would go to keep you bound to him.

"Sōsuke, stop!" you cried, but your voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the collapsing world around you.

"Do you see now?" he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "This is what I am willing to do for you. For us."

But there was no "us" anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time. And as much as it tore at your heart, you knew what you had to do. You summoned every ounce of strength within you, focusing your reiatsu into a single, desperate attack. If you couldn’t reach the man you once loved, then you would stop the monster he had become.

"I’m sorry, Sōsuke," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

The blast of your energy collided with his, a brilliant explosion of light and power that illuminated the ruins of Karakura Town. When the dust settled, you were on your knees, gasping for breath. Aizen stood before you, seemingly unscathed, though his expression was unreadable.

"You’re strong," he said, almost admiringly. "Stronger than I gave you credit for."

"It doesn’t matter," you said, forcing yourself to your feet. "I’ll keep fighting you, Sōsuke. Until my last breath, I’ll fight."

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Perhaps that’s why I loved you," he said finally. "Your fire, your defiance. It’s intoxicating."

"Then let me go," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "If you ever truly loved me, let me go."

For a moment, you thought he might. His hand twitched at his side, his expression softening just enough to give you hope. But then, he stepped back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No," he said simply. "I’d rather let the world burn."

And with that, he vanished, leaving you alone amidst the ashes of what once was. You sank to the ground, your strength finally giving out. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, all you could do was mourn—mourn the man you had loved, the life you had lost, and the world that had been consumed by his ambition.

As the blood-orange sky darkened into night, you whispered his name one last time, the echo of it swallowed by the silence of a world on the brink of oblivion.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[meelusinee]

𝜗𝜚 the breaker | mattheo riddle

warnings: toxic!mattheo (like extremely), psychological abuse, drug use and drugging, corruption, blackmail mention, manipulation & coercion

THE BREAKER. usually it’s the heartbreaker, but you know better than that. at the end of the day, mattheo is nothing more than his father’s son. we all know how toxic he can get, sometimes people might like the toxic fantasy. but what if it got worse? more dangerous than that? would you still want him then? he’d make sure you would.

THE BREAKER. a man who’s dangerous and cunning, who knows how to get a job done when he’s ordered. and when his father ordered that he get information out of you? the pure and innocent girl who had been wrapped into dumbledore’s schemes? well, it was almost too easy for him. so in pure mattheo style, he had to make it fun. not fun for you, oh no. just fun for him.

THE BREAKER started with a clock. a ticking clock. act one of his plan was to get you to trust him, to fall in love. he’d make you feel special, like you where the only girl in the entire world. astrology dates, picnics at lunch, sneaking off in the middle of the night for nothing more than a simple hangout. he was insatiable for you, there was nothing that could go wrong. right? he’ll give you the time of your life in any way you can imagine once he has a hold of you, taking all of your firsts so nobody else could have them without you thinking of him. dancing in the kitchen? he’s pouring wine. your first kiss? already perfected his lips. any intimate moment? already crafted careful and sweet just for your tastes. tastes he doesn’t care too much about, but he’d need in the long run.

THE BREAKER who has fun playing with you once he truly gets you. you’re already too far down to notice that he’s slowly manipulating you. he’ll isolate you from friends. lie to you about things. lovebomb and blackmail you. you’d question everything about anything, whether he truly loved you. surely he did, right? he did all of those nice things. so why would he do this? surely this wasn’t the mattheo you knew. did you deserve this treatment? and anytime you’d try to leave? he’d play a game of chase, always in the woods where you end up back in his arms and your mind fuzzy with the after effects of amortentia. maybe somewhere down the line he fell for you too, though you would never truly know.

THE BREAKER who slowly starts to control your entire life. friends? gone. food? fed directly by him. classes? he could easily threaten the teachers into his bidding. clothing? all chosen by him now, pink and dainty just like a porcelain doll. he liked the innocence you had about you, wanting to preserve it in any way he could.

THE BREAKER who stole a bit of your magic in your sleep to enchant chess pieces. they represented his control over you, every move bringing him farther and farther into your mind until you had no choice but to obey everything. and once you did? you’d become his entire world. something that could follow orders and listen to commands aimlessly, something that he started to admire for those qualities. you had finally won over his affection, which only pulled you in deeper and deeper. you’d tell him secrets about everything, do anything that he asked. and when you were asked why? it’s nothing more than just pure love!

THE BREAKER who broke you so far you can’t recognize yourself in the mirror anymore. you’ve changed, a living doll for his amusement. but that didn’t matter anymore. only he needed to see you now.

[redux-iterum]

“Either you come home with me, and never set foot in the Houses again or you leave the Clans forever to live with a collar around your neck.”

Idk if it was unintentional or not but the way Fireheart put it... has the clans' disgust towards kittypets been rubbing off on him? Not that I think he ever loved his own collar. He puts the clans as "coming home to family" and becoming a kittypet as "living on a leash", even tho the assumption is that Cloudpaw would have stayed with Rosy or at least near her. He wouls have gotten a new home, a new family. I don't think he is being manipulative on purpose or anything like that. It was a very emotional situation for him too and not showing those emotions would be weirder than not showing them. I mean he obviously chose clanlife over being a pet cat, so its clear which one he prefers. But I wonder if this whole situation has soured his opinion on kittypets. Not in a way the clan hates them, but I wonder if his opinion on kittypets has gotten lower while trying to solve the situation with Rosy. also kinda off topic... Even if Cloudpaw chose to stay with the clan I'm not at all sure he is going to stick to that choice haha. I wonder how the clan is going to welcome him, he did give them all a scare and they all especially saw how it affected Fireheart and Aspenpaw...

Fireheart didn't mean it in a cruel or dismissive way - he was describing what he and Rosy and Smudge and all the kittypets he knew exist within. Kittypets have collars, and they live in the Houses. If he chose to stay in a house, he would indeed live with a collar around his neck. At least as far as Fireheart's experienced.

Fireheart doesn't think any less of kittypets, or loners, or anyone, really. For him, Clan life is better, but the key words are "for him". He's aware that it's not suited to everyone, including Cloudpaw. This argument was about telling Cloudpaw to decide where his comfort level is and what life he wants to lead, and to stick with that life. Even Fireheart knows that you can't live with a paw in each world - not without sacrificing some of your commitment to your fellows, not without causing anxiety about whether you'll stay in one place forever without warning, not without half-assing taking care of those who need you and risking that you won't be there when they need you most.

[carpenoctxrn]

Confidence (Ominis x fem!reader)

Prompt: Ominis wants to ask out his crush (you) out to Hogsmeade. However, he feels overwhelmingly ill prepared. So he turns to Sebastian, his most trusted friend and the reason for his constant migraine.

AN: Its just cute Ominis tripping over his words. We love him.

Masterlist

"Hmm… I have to admit, Ominis, I didn't expect you to actually take the initiative to plan something." Sebastian smirked as he shut his Potions tome and tossed it onto the bed beside him.

Ominis frowned, arms crossing tightly. "I take initiative all the time, Sebastian. Your comment is completely unwarranted."

"I meant no harm, it’s just that you get so flustered around her, one might think you’ve been placed under the Imperius Curse. You barely move unless she wants you to; just standing there, nodding along like some enchanted statue, completely oblivious to the rest of the world." Sebastian’s smirk widened, thoroughly amused by how quickly Ominis bristled.

Ominis stiffened, grip tightening on the edge of his robe. "Will you help me or not?" His tone was clipped, irritation barely masked. If he let Sebastian continue, he'd be the one with the migraine soon enough.

I don’t get that flustered. He’s exaggerating.

Sebastian, however, chuckled knowingly. It wasn’t often that Ominis came to him for help usually, it was the other way around, with Sebastian begging for favors while Ominis rolled his eyes and reluctantly complied. In return, Sebastian would collect fresh potion ingredients for him and sneak in contraband books on literature and history.

But now? Now Ominis needed his expertise, and that made Sebastian’s ego swell just enough to ensure he was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"I’ll help you… on one condition." Sebastian leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself. "Admit that I am, without a doubt, the best dorm mate you could’ve ever asked for. And not that Weasley." His nose wrinkled in distaste as he recalled Ominis’ words from the previous night; something about how Garreth was a better dorm mate than him because, at the very least, his stupidity was contained to the occasional explosion.

That had stung. Not much, but enough.

Ominis huffed. "I will say it, and even mean it, if she agrees to go on that date with me."

Sebastian grinned. "Fair enough." He extended a hand, and Ominis clasped it, sealing the deal.

"Alright, first things first," Sebastian began, dropping back into his chair, "your plan is solid in its simplicity. What you lack, my dear friend, is confidence."

Ominis drew back, lips parting in offense. "I have confidence."

Sebastian shot him a pointed look. "Rule number one: you are not allowed to get offended when I point out areas that need improvement."

A heavy sigh. "Fine." Ominis grumbled, feeling as though he was quickly running out of options.

They moved to the study table, Sebastian rattling off various strategies, none of which seemed remotely useful to Ominis. And frankly, even Sebastian started to realize how impractical some of them were. A slow grin pulled at the corners of his lips as an idea struck.

"Forget all that, Ominis. The only tip you need?....Fake it till you make it."

-----

Ominis stood behind the girl he wanted to ask out, fingers curled tightly around the stems of the flowers he had carefully chosen. Their scent is soft, sweet, and fresh mixed with the crisp evening air. In the other hand, a bag from Honeydukes rested against his palm, filled with chocolates and candies he knew she was running low on, along with a few new varieties he thought she might enjoy. Thoughtful. Simple. Yet, as he hid them behind his back, they suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

She stood by the gardens next to the greenhouse, the glow of the setting sun casting golden highlights along her figure as she gazed out at the vast, rippling lake. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming mallowsweet, mingling with the distant salt of the water. Ominis could feel the evening sun warming his face, the rest of him shielded beneath his robes.

Should I have changed?

His fingers twitched against the wrinkled fabric of his sleeve. He hadn't thought to freshen up, and now, standing here in the presence of someone so effortlessly lovely, doubt clawed at him. I probably look awful. Damn you, Sebastian.

Before his thoughts could spiral further, she turned toward him.

"Good evening, Ominis."

Her voice, warm and lilting, carried a softness that made his chest tighten. He could hear the smile in her words, the kind that wrinkled her nose and made her eyes glimmer. The same smile that, on more than one occasion, had rendered him utterly useless in conversation.

Ominis knew she liked him. He wasn’t oblivious, well not entirely. He had proof, after all. He had overheard Poppy, Imelda, Natty, and her discussing their ideal Yule Ball dates in the Great Hall one afternoon.

“I want someone poised, someone who looks put together,” she had mused, her voice thoughtful as she nibbled on a piece of fruit.

Ominis, seated behind her with his tome open, had pretended to read. In reality, he had been using his wand to subtly amplify their voices, a trick he had discovered by accident but employed more often than he cared to admit.

“You forgot to add that he has to be a Gaunt and blind, too,” Imelda had teased.

The girl had immediately elbowed her, a huff of protest leaving her lips before she glanced back; perhaps to check if Ominis had overheard. He had, of course. But he had kept his head bowed, feigning deep concentration over his book. Meanwhile, across the table, Sebastian had watched him with blatant amusement, no doubt wondering why in Merlin’s name Ominis was turning red while supposedly reading Potions notes.

Now, standing in front of her, Ominis took a steadying breath, forcing Sebastian’s words to the forefront of his mind.

Fake it till you make it.

He had faked emotions before. Confidence, too. It was a survival skill in his household. But here–now—he wasn’t sure he could fake anything. Not when her scent of mallowsweet and vanilla wrapped around him, not when her warmth radiated so closely, drawing him in like a beacon.

"Good evening," he greeted, keeping his tone even. "How was your day?" It was routine between them, an effortless exchange they shared daily.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Nothing new happened, but I suppose that's a blessing compared to having to battle an entire battalion of goblins."

There was amusement in her voice, but Ominis still winced. He remembered that day far too well; oh the chaos, the confusion, the distant sounds of battle echoing through the castle walls. He had been in the Great Hall with the other students, unable to do anything but listen. He had gripped his wand so tightly that his knuckles ached, mind racing with fear for her safety. It had been a startling realization— how much he cared for her, how much the thought of losing her had shaken him.

And now, standing here, trying to gather the courage to ask her out, that fear clawed at him again. But for an entirely different reason.

Ominis took a measured step back, clearing his throat as he steadied himself. His fingers tightened around the flowers and Honeydukes bag, hidden behind his back like a schoolboy concealing a poorly written essay. The scent of mallowsweet and vanilla drifted between them, further unraveling his composure. He could do this. He just had to fake it till he made it.

"I would like to ask you a question," he began, his voice carefully serious. "And please, feel free to be honest. Actually… I hope you will be honest."

His blind eyes found her, his posture straightening as if that alone could reinforce his resolve.

She tilted her head slightly, amusement dancing in her voice. "You can ask me anything, Ominis," she assured him gently. "And I promise, I will only tell you the truth. You have my word."

Emboldened by her reassurance, he exhaled and extended his hands toward her, finally revealing the gifts he'd been clutching. A bouquet of fresh flowers, fragrant, vibrant, delicate. And a small bag from Honeydukes, filled with chocolates and sweets he knew she liked, including a few new treats he hoped she would enjoy.

Her breath hitched, eyes widening as an involuntary gasp left her lips. "Ominis—"

But before she could speak further, he launched into his well-rehearsed speech.

"I have always admired your strength, generosity, and kindness from afar. And now…" He lifted his chin slightly, feigning unwavering confidence. "I would like to admire you up close. Will you allow me to take you to Hogsmeade on a date?"

The silence that followed nearly shattered his resolve.

His heart pounded in his chest, dreading the inevitable rejection. He braced himself for a polite letdown, his fingers already beginning to tighten around the bag in preparation to retreat.

"Ominis…" she started softly.

Here it comes.

"…Yes. I’d love that."

The breath he had been unknowingly holding escaped in a rush.

For a fleeting moment, relief flooded through him, washing away every ounce of doubt. A smile tugged at his lips, warmth creeping up his neck and burning his cheeks. But then—just as quickly, he remembered Sebastian’s words.

Fake the confidence.

Right. Confidence. He had to double down. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he tried to mask his overwhelming joy with what he thought was casual self-assurance.

"Of course," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyone would be lucky to be courted by a Gaunt."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

She raised an eyebrow, lips pressing together in amusement. "Oh? Is that so?"

Realizing how arrogant that sounded, he panicked. "Especially someone like you!" he blurted out, scrambling to fix it.

Her expression shifted. "Especially someone like… me?" There was a warning in her tone, one that sent his nerves into a complete frenzy.

"No! I didn’t mean it like that!" he exclaimed, suddenly feeling like he was drowning in his own words.

She crossed her arms, clearly enjoying his distress. "Then how did you mean it?"

His brain betrayed him, throwing every logical escape out the window. "I meant that… well, it only makes sense for you to say yes… because it’s me."

There was a pause. Then, she let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, really?"

Why did I say that? Merlin, strike me down.

Ominis groaned internally, scrambling for recovery. "I just—what I meant was—you and I—" He sighed, shoulders slumping in surrender. "I’m making an absolute fool of myself, aren’t I?"

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it made his stomach flip. "A little," she admitted, stepping closer. "But it’s alright. I know what you meant."

He swallowed, grateful she was choosing to be kind rather than completely obliterate what was left of his dignity. "You do?"

She nodded, reaching out to gently take the flowers from his hands. "I do." A smile, warm and reassuring. "And I still want to go on that date with you, even if you manage to dig yourself an even bigger hole before then."

Ominis huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "At this rate, I might just disappear into the ground entirely."

"Well," she teased, looping her arm through his. "I suppose I'll just have to pull you out, then."

His breath caught. He was certain now, no amount of faked confidence could compare to how she made him feel.

-----

The end!

@princesspinkss the scream request shall eventually be posted. After I am done with my microbio exam or possibly sooner.

and dividers by @pommecita

Masterlist

[expired-vibes]

Taken for Granted

(Jeon Jae-jun x Female Reader | Angst, Betrayal, Breakup)

NOTE: My first request🫣😳😳..

By @dyingofcookies

I tried my best.. Please let me know if you want any changes

Jae-Jun wasn't always like this

Back in high school, he was reckless, cocky, but he loved you in a way that was undeniable.

He waited outside your classroom just to walk you to your next one. He slung an arm around your shoulders in the hallway, flashing you that smug grin. He kissed you in secret corners of the school like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Back then, you were his world.

And for a while, you believed that would never change.But then came Yeon-jin.She had always been lurking, whispering things to Jae-jun that you weren’t meant to hear.

“Y/N is sweet, but don’t you think you can do better?”

At first, he brushed it off. Of course, he could do better—but he didn’t want to. He had you. And that was enough.But the more he listened, the more the words seeped into his mind.

And slowly, he changed.

It wasn’t overnight. It was gradual. Jae-jun started forgetting plans. Ignoring your texts. He stopped saying I love you first, stopped thanking you when you did things for him.

You thought it was just a phase.

That he was just stressed, just distracted. That things would go back to how they were.

But they didn’t.

And the worst part? He never apologized. Not once. Yet, you held on. Because you believed in the version of him that used to love you completely.

Until the day that belief shattered.

You got a call late at night from the police station.

“Miss Y/N? Your boyfriend, Jeon Jae-jun, has been involved in an altercation. We need someone to bail him out.”

Your stomach twisted. By now, you were used to his recklessness. But something felt different. When you arrived, the tension in the air was thick. And then you saw them.

Jae-jun, standing there with a split lip, his knuckles bruised. And across from him—Ha Do-yeong. His tie was loose, jaw bruised, but his eyes were burning with rage.

“What the hell happened?” you asked, stepping forward.

Neither of them spoke.

But then, Do-yeong looked at you. Really looked at you.

His expression softened just slightly, but when he turned back to Jae-jun, his voice was sharp as a blade.

“You should tell her, or I will.”

Your heart pounded. “Tell me what?”

Jae-jun clenched his jaw. “Mind your own damn business, Do-yeong.”

But Do-yeong scoffed. “You think she doesn’t deserve to know? You think she deserves to keep playing the role of the loyal, devoted girlfriend while you’re screwing around with Yeon-jin?”

The world stopped. The air left your lungs. Your ears rang.

Slowly, your gaze shifted to Jae-jun.

“Tell me he’s lying.”

Jae-jun opened his mouth. Closed it.And that silence was your answer. Something inside you broke. Without thinking, you took a shaky step back.

“Baby—” Jae-jun started, reaching for you.

But you flinched away. For the first time, he looked scared. Because, for the first time, he realized he might actually lose you.

You weren’t sure how you got to his penthouse. Everything was a blur—the fight, the betrayal, the way your heart felt like it had been ripped out of your chest.

Jae-jun stood in front of you, hands on his hips, jaw clenched. “It didn’t mean anything,” he muttered.

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, that makes it so much better.”

He exhaled sharply. “Yeon-jin—”

“Stop saying her name.” Your voice cracked. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to think about her. I want you to tell me why.”

His eyes flickered. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You let out a bitter laugh. “You threw away everything—for what? Some cheap thrill? Because Yeon-jin stroked your ego better than I did?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” you demanded.

He didn’t answer. And that was when you knew. You never mattered enough.You had always been there.

Waiting. Loving him. Forgiving him.

And he had taken that for granted.

“You never appreciated me,” you whispered, voice shaking.

Jae-jun’s brows furrowed. “That’s not—”

“You never said thank you,” you cut him off. “You never made me feel like I was enough. And I kept waiting—kept hoping you’d see me again.”

His expression faltered. “I do see you.”

“No,” you said softly. “You only noticed me when I stopped chasing you.”

Jae-jun swallowed hard, his hand reaching for yours. “I can fix this.”

You flinched away. And something in his face broke.

“You already ruined it,” you whispered.

He looked desperate now, genuinely afraid. “Baby—”

But it was too late.Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to cry. Not for him. Not anymore.

“It’s over, Jae-jun.”

His hands clenched into fists. “No—”

But you were already walking away.

And this time, you didn’t look back.

Jae-jun didn’t chase after people.

But that night, as he sat alone in his penthouse, staring at the empty space where you had stood, he realized something too late.

You had never asked for much.

Just love. Just loyalty. Just him.

And now, for the first time, he had lost something he could never replace.