#there will be nothing better than it is now

[lostfracturess]

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[ren-144p]

I think picking through the flashback to find little bits you like is the way to go, really, for most zaundads enjoyers right now. Fierce and murderous they may be, it's nice to know they had something more casual and domestic going in between all that

This is what the dynamic was like

[oceantornadoo]

when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tried to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus’ a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nodded stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slid into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

-

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

From the moment you were ten, you had sought their attention like a moth drawn to a flame. But the flame was always too hot, always too far away, and with every desperate attempt to get close, they burned you. You had been a shadow in their world, hovering at the edges of their lives, wanting, needing. Needing. That word, so simple, yet it had been the curse of your existence. You needed them. You needed their time, their care, their love. But they never saw you, never acknowledged the pit of loneliness that gnawed at you every time you begged to be included.

They had brushed you aside, every single time.

The family, your family, was never really yours.

It started when you were just a kid. “Not now, kid,” they would say. Or “Go play somewhere else.” Every time you tried to insert yourself into their lives, they shoved you away, like a toy they’d grown tired of. They didn’t need you. Not when there were bigger things at stake. Not when Gotham was drowning in its own darkness, when the Batcave was filled with the hum of machinery and the rush of adrenaline.

You were just a distraction.

You were nothing.

The words didn’t change as you grew older. They only got sharper.

When you were twelve, you tried again—this time with more subtlety. You offered to help, to be something, anything that would make them notice you. I can be useful, I promise. But no. No, they couldn’t have you tagging along. Not when there were more important things to do, more important people to be with. You were only a child.

By the time you turned fifteen, the bitter reality had set in. You weren’t wanted. You weren’t needed. They were a family—their family—and you? You were the outcast, the inconvenience they only tolerated because they had no choice. They didn’t want you, but they had to keep you around. The occasional glance from Tim, a brief acknowledgment from Dick—enough to keep the illusion of familial love alive, but never enough to make you feel like you mattered.

It wasn’t just Bruce anymore. He had become an empty figure in your life, a distant authority figure who only spoke when there was something to be done. Do this. Do that. Don’t ask questions. That was how you learned to live under his roof—like a shadow. Like a nothing.

There were moments when you thought you might be able to break through. When you thought maybe—just maybe—they would see you for who you were, someone who could stand beside them, shoulder to shoulder, not as a burden but as a part of the family.

But those moments were fleeting. They were crumbs, pieces of hope that you clung to like a starving animal, only for them to be yanked away, leaving you empty once again.

By the time you turned sixteen, you no longer asked. No longer begged. You had learned that your needs were nothing but noise to them. So, you stayed quiet, retreating into the corners of their lives. You were there, but invisible. A ghost that haunted the edges of their family but was never invited to sit at the table.

But it wasn’t just the coldness that broke you. No. It was the sharpness of their words.

The day it all ended—the day your last shred of hope died—had come like a storm.

You were seventeen when you finally broke. You had asked, yet again, for something so simple. You wanted to hang out, to spend the evening together, just for once. No work. No patrols. Just them. Just family. But Dick—always so perfect, so composed—snapped.

“Stop nagging, goddammit!” His voice was low, but the venom was there. The venom that cut deeper than any blade. “I don’t have time for this. You’re not a kid anymore. You should know better.”

And it was in that moment, when the words hit you like fists to your chest, that you knew. It was over. They will never care about you.

No more pleading. No more silence. You were done.

You wanted to scream, to break down and tell him how it felt to always be ignored, to always be pushed aside. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was stare at him, the person you had once looked up to, the brother who had made you feel like you belonged. And now? Now he hated you. He resented you. You were just a thorn in his side, something he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

The Batfamily didn’t need you. They didn’t even want you. You were just a memory in the background of their perfect little world.

And so, you left.

You packed your things and left Gotham without a second thought. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care about them. You didn’t care about the lies you had told yourself for years, that someday they would come to love you. No. You were done.

You found a small apartment in a city far, far away. The rent was cheap. The food was okay. It didn’t matter. For the first time in years, you felt a strange kind of peace. No more begging. No more hoping for something that was never going to come.

But the peace didn’t last long. It never does.

Months passed, and the Batfamily went on without you. It wasn’t like you expected them to notice, but they did. They always did.

It started slowly at first. A message from Bruce, terse and businesslike, asking how you were. A phone call from Dick, his voice hesitant, full of uncertainty. Tim sent an email—just a few lines, but still. He’d written “We miss you.”

You didn’t respond. The first few days, you let it sit there, those words ringing in your ears. We miss you. The words came so easily now, but where had they been all those years? You stared at the screen, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. Miss you? They had pushed you aside when you needed them most. They had ignored you, told you to shut up, told you to go away.

Now they missed you?

You threw your phone across the room and sat down, gripping your hair, letting the quiet take you over.

It wasn’t until the second month that they started to call. At first, it was Tim—his voice softer than it had been in years, like a penitent ghost, when he called you.

“Please… just talk to us. We’re… we’re worried about you.”

You didn’t pick up.

Then, Dick. His voice cracked when he asked if you were okay. Just talk to us. How many times had you told them that? How many times had you begged? And now, they were begging you? You felt the rage swell inside you, the bitterness of those years threatening to break you apart.

And that was when they came.

It wasn’t just a phone call. It wasn’t just messages anymore. They came looking for you.

Nightwing was the first. He showed up at your door, standing there in his familiar suit, but his smile was tight, his eyes uncertain.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We just want to talk.”

You stared at him, the same person who had once smiled at you like you meant the world to him. And now? Now he looked like a stranger. Someone who didn’t know who you were. And maybe, in a way, he didn’t.

“Why?” you asked, your voice rough from months of silence. “Why now? Where were you when I needed you?”

The guilt in his eyes only deepened. “We were wrong,” he said, the words fragile, like he was afraid they would break if spoken too loudly. “We… we miss you.”

The anger rose in your chest. They missed you?

The words sounded so hollow. What good was their love now?

They all came. One by one, each member of the family arrived at your door, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, for your attention, your love.

But it was too late.

They had pushed you away for too long, and now you could feel it: the suffocating weight of their regret, the twisting hunger of their need.

They needed you. They needed you so badly. They would never let you go again.

It wasn’t just about family anymore. It wasn’t just about reconciliation. Now, it was about possession.

And the family would do whatever it took to keep you close—no matter the cost.

Gotham had never felt farther away, yet the shadows of the family loomed larger than ever.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back, to reopen that door. But deep down, you knew one thing.

They would never let you leave again.

And now?

Now, they were willing to do anything to make sure of it.

(A/n: no part 2 becuz it's a one shot 😸)

[entitled-fangirl]

I'll always be thanking you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The reader goes through postpartum depression after she gives him yet another girl. Cregan reassures her that he loves his daughters.

Warnings: postpartum depression, recovering from childbirth, sexist culture

Masterlist

A/n: it's a two fic kinda day

...............................................................................

It had happened so suddenly.

Cregan thought all was right in the world. Everything was set in place by the Old Gods as it should be. Everything was perfect.

But he knew that the last two pregnancies had been unkind to her, prompting a horrid depression after them that went on for months. But when it hadn't shown yet for this last one, he thought that perhaps it had stopped completely.

Until now.

He stepped into their chamber with a broad smile, lightly bouncing the two-year-old on his arm. Arya. She giggled with each one, the sound distorted with the force of the bounces. Witnessing the intimidating man turn soft for the little girl was entirely endearing. 

"Your mother is still in bed," he chipped lightly as he observed his wife covered by the furs they shared every night.

"She always in bed," Lyanna, their five year old said as she trailed behind them.

"Not always," Cregan corrected firmly. "She just gave us your new sister. It takes a long time for the body and mind to recover from something that great."

A small shaking of his wife's shoulders from her laying form in the bed caused him to worry slightly. "Lyanna, why don't you take your sister?"

She wanted to complain but knew better than to argue with her father. She took the toddler's hand and they walked out from the room.

Cregan's recovering wife laid in their bed, completely unmoving except for the small shoulder shake he'd seen. It was a quiver and it sent him on edge. She only ever did that when-

"Are you crying?" He whispered as he sat on the bed, her back to him.

Finally she turned. She had been awake the entire time. Her face was red from crying, the paths of her tears evident on her face. Her lips pouted down as she suppressed a sob.

Cregan was quick to comfort her. He practically laid his body over hers, keeping an arm around her to let her weep into his collarbone. And she did so.

He cooed every few moments, his free hand rubbing at her hair. The tears pained him almost as much as watching her endure the harsh labor only a two weeks before.

When the violent part of the crying was over, he pulled her face away to look at her. "Now," he caressed her cheek, "What is all this for?"

She sniffled and hiccuped between words. "It's just… just… Sarra."

His face fell. "Is something wrong with the babe?"

"No. It's just…" she caught her breath. "Another girl."

Cregan's head tilted. "It is," he reckoned. "What is the problem, my love?"

"Can I not give you a boy?" She whispered in fear of the answer.

Realization flooded Cregan. "You're doing nothing wrong," he assured. "I love my girls with all my heart. Did you want a boy this badly?"

"I just want you to be proud of me."

He visibly flinched. The thought of his postpartum wife crying over giving him a healthy baby was too much for him. "I'm proud of you. You've given me three girls now."

"But it's not a boy." Her eyes continually welled up with tears. "I was so sure it was a boy."

"Do you think me that shallow, dear wife?" He asked in a firm tone. "That I'd have you birth children until I got a boy?"

"Two," she corrected. "You need an heir and a spare and I-" her breath caught. "I cannot even give you one. A cursed womb-"

"Don't say that." His voice was a firm growl, his hand grabbing her jaw a bit harder than he meant to. "Do not say that."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

Cregan forced a sigh and let his anger die down. He sat up a bit, giving her space. "Do you think that all I wanted in this world were two sons? Do you think that is all my heart desires?"

It was clear that she knew deep down how ridiculous she sounded. "Well-"

"-I've said it many times. What does my heart desire? Hmm? What brightens my day more than the sun?"

She let out a breath through her nose.

Cregan continued, tilting his head down to catch her gaze. "My wife and what? What else?"

"Your children," she whispered.

"Hm?" He asked, though he clearly heard it. He just wanted her to say it once again.

"Your children," she said a bit louder. 

He smiled. "Yes, our children." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Whether we had had one or you give me an army, I shall love them all until my remains in the crypt are long gone. Being a boy or girl doesn't change it."

"But… Winterfell-"

"-We'll deal with the succession when it is meant to happen. Until now, you're going to rest, and I'm going to spend time with our children. But I'm not going anywhere until you've done your part."

"The maester said it would take much longer to heal this time," she muttered. To herself or Cregan, she wasn't sure.

"That's alright. We've got all the time we need for now, don't we? No need to rush things."

"But the sooner we try-"

"-No-"

"-And Sarra was such a surprise-"

"-Stop-"

"-The next one could be sooner-"

"-Love," he said with a slightly raised voice. "When you're healed and ready to try once more, I will be eternally grateful. But I can wait a lifetime if I need to. I have all I need in the world already."

There was a small knock on the door. "Papa?"

No doubt it was Arya.

Cregan grinned and kissed his wife's temple before going to the door. In the doorway stood little Arya, her hair a sandy brown like Cregan's, her bright eyes like her mother. "What do you need?" It was a firm ask from him, but not one without care.

Arya had yet to say complete sentences yet, only a few  words here and there and the lord would be forced to try to make sense of them. She babbled about something and Cregan's brows raised, completely at a loss. "Um… I-"

"Here, darling," Y/n's soft voice came from behind Cregan as she walked to them. In her hand was Arya's doll that she had no doubt dropped earlier. It was a carefully sewn piece from Cregan's bastard sister, Sara, of whom the new babe was named after. "I see Aunt Sara got a new dress for her, hm?"

Arya grabbed the doll quickly from her mother and hugged the doll tightly. 

Cregan wrapped an arm around his wife. He wanted to scold her for getting up but he would refrain from that for now. "Aye. A very pretty dress," he tried to compliment. Cregan didn't know the first thing about sewing or doll making, or even the fashion of ladies, but he tried anyway to please his girls.

Arya's brows came together in clear confusion, prompting his wife to lightly elbow him. He gave a grunt and gawked.

"It's a battle dress," she spoke through her teeth. "It's a doll dressed like a female warrior."

He decided to go along with it, though he clearly didn't understand it. "I mean, what a very fierce dress. Seems very… protective."

Arya accepted that answer and held the doll out for Cregan to truly see. His gruff hand reached out and took the doll, bringing it up to his level to admire. His sister had done well with it, even he could see that. "So very pr-" he caught himself. "So very strong."

Arya jumped up to grab the doll and Cregan handed it back to her. The two parents watched her take off again like nothing had happened. 

"How'd you know what she wanted?" He asked his wife.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs. "She said so. Didn't you hear it?"

"We have three lovely girls and I still have so much to learn," he remarked, amusement oozing from his voice.

She gave a tired grin at that. She began leaning more into him than before and he held her hips taught. "Now," he remarked, "to bed with you."

"Sarra might need me-"

"-I'll check on Sarra."

"And Lyanna was hoping to play outside-"

"-I'll see to it."

"And Arya-"

"-What of Arya?" He asked quietly.

She paused. "I- She always needs something."

He let out a deep chuckle, guiding her back to the bed. "I'll see to it all. I promise you. I can be a father, whether you believe that or not."

She hummed. "I do."

"Alright. Then let me." He kissed her cheek, his scruff rubbing at her skin. "We'll get you in bed."

"Can the girls visit later?" 

He couldn't deny those bright eyes of hers. The same ones each of his girls inherited. It was his one weakness. "After you sup, then yes. But that is in a few hours."

Relief and excitement pulled at her shoulders, a comforting feeling washing over her. "Thank you."

As he tucked her back into the bed, he smiled at her. "Don't thank me. You've given me everything. I'll always be thanking you."

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[maxivstappen]

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING ?

[ masterlist / requests closed ]

☽｡⋆ distance can lead to stupid, reckless decisions. but lando knows better than that, right? — lando norris x reader based on “did you like her in the morning” by nikki

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst! pure angst 𝄞 1.7k words

You loved a loud life just the same as he did. You enjoyed the traveling, the partying, the sleepless nights, hell, even the stressful nights you wouldn’t trade for a peaceful, quiet, boring, normal life. You were eternally grateful for having a job surrounding the same tracks Lando is driving on, even if that was rather a lucky coincidence instead of a thought-through plan.

You loved it not only because it meant you’d get to be close to your boyfriend most of the time, more so because you got to experience the loudness with him. The parties, the race weekends, just everything. You’d have it without him too, and no doubt, you would have tons of fun doing so, but of course it’s better with a “super cool hot famous boyfriend” by your side, as he liked to call himself.

You loved it, until you couldn’t anymore.

Not as dramatic as it sounds. You were invited to a wedding of an old friend back at home, and Lando, for obvious reasons, couldn’t attend with you, so you flew out the country by yourself, giving Lando one last good luck kiss a few days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix. You missed him dearly, but you also missed your friends at home whom you haven’t seen in what felt like forever, and really, what’s a better reason for a reunion than a wedding?

But that’s where the trouble began.

You liked to call yourself independent. Very independent, even. You didn’t have a problem with being far from Lando for a few weeks, and while you of course loved him more than anyone else in this world, you’ve stated before that in case of you losing the job for whatever reason or if you just couldn’t travel with him anymore, you’d think a long distance relationship would work just well. At least for you.

Of course, the constant missing your partner would complicate things, but that’s still no reason to break up a relationship that has lasted for longer than three years already. At least that’s what you thought.

Lando liked to call himself independent too. Very independent, even. Too bad it’s all a lie.

Lando has always hated the idea of being away from you, or rather the idea of you being far from him. It’s not like he didn’t have any trust in you, it’s just become normal for him to always have you at least somewhat in his reach. That’s how your relationship has always been, you were coworkers before you were lovers.

He didn’t mind you taking a few days off. He also didn’t mind you wanting to spend some time with your family and friends who were still located far, far away from wherever you two would usually have to travel to for the many races. However, he did mind you not being near him.

It bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

You’ve talked about it before, talked about him being too needy and too possessive from time to time, but never once have you two fought about it. You thought you never would, and you were right. Your departure was slightly painful for the both of you, but it was only 2 weeks that you‘d be gone, and it’s not at all like you couldn’t stay in contact. So there was nothing to worry about, right?

Or so you thought.

The moment you arrived at you local airport you saw your mom run up to you, caging you in her arms as if to never let you go again. Your father wasn’t far behind, and then came your brother. It was a sweet little moment of a family reuniting as a whole again. And even though you wanted to set your whole focus on the few next days to come, the lovely wedding and the friends you once lost on the way who you’d now finally see again, Lando never really left your mind. You just didn’t understand why, you weren’t usually like this.

Maybe it was just that after five years of knowing each other and three of those spent dating, you did grow somewhat dependent. you knew it wasn’t the truth, but blaming it on a simple thing like that seemed terribly easier than giving in to the thoughts of what could actually be the cause of it. You didn’t have any time for that. You weren’t here to think about work or about Lando, but about the things that were right in front of your eyes, which at this moment was the beautiful white wedding decorated with all sorts of flowers of sunset hues.

The wedding was held on a beach, surrounded by the dreamy sound of waves crashing and seagulls singing their own nupital melodies. You arrived with one of your old friends Nina, both of you wearing long and flowy pastel dresses, just as the dress code ordered you to. The day went on with you two crying at seeing one of your childhood friends getting married, listening to the heartfelt vows of bride and groom.

Your mind immediately went to Lando and you standing at the altar like they did. You knew it was too soon, and you knew he didn’t have time for marriage, even less for planning a wedding, but you still couldn’t help it. You really did miss him more this time, and throughout the whole ceremony, the feeling of something being incredibly off only intensed.

But the night came, and the feeling faded. Or at least the drinks made it do that.

You were sitting with Nina and two guys you used to be very close with at the dim bar near the dance floor when you suddenly noticed something light up inside your purse. You didn’t mind it at first, not wanting to be rude towards Tom who was trying to talk to you without stumbling over his word completely, but the shots you downed beforehand made it undoubtedly harder.

Your phone lit up again. Slowly getting on your nerves, you decided to wait until Tom’s attention was fixated on Nina again to then check your messages and - missed calls?

—

Lando hated how his mood changed whenever you were gone. It felt as if there was something missing when you weren’t there waiting for him at home after debriefing or after PR events and whatnot. He missed your hugs and kisses, your smile and most importantly, just your touch.

Truth be told - but never to you - when you first started dating, for Lando, the thriving point was attraction. One month in, that’s when he realized that he wasn’t getting rid of you any time soon. Not that he minded. Two months in and the two of you made it official, of course not without any drama because how was a McLaren driver allowed to date a McLaren employee? Two weeks and the conversations and the hate online slowly died down, but your relationship kept on blooming. There was just one thing that somehow had Lando incredibly confused - why did your relationship suddenly feel more like you couldn’t get rid of him? Why did it feel like he was the one attached to you instead of the other way around?

Not that it felt bad or anything, he was just very used to have the girl being that dependent on him, to always want his attention, to always ask for his opinion on everything. Now he was the one all over you, and you didn’t mind it at all. You had the man you love wrapped tightly around your finger, just like he had you. For three years now.

But that didn’t help him right now, not with jealousy nagging at his side like a demon. You were out, enjoying your time with people you loved, and while he should be happy for you, he spent his time rather annoyed at you not being where he was. It’s only been a week, and work has already failed to keep his mind off of you. And he hated it. He knew it was the day of the wedding, and he was done wasting his time only thinking about you, so what else was there for a man to do instead of going clubbing with the guys? He hadn’t spent time with them in a long time, neither had he gone clubbing these past fem months, too caught up with Formula 1. So this would be okay, right? Just some drinks to keep his mind off of you.

Right?

—

15 missed calls from carlos sainz.

that was weird, you thought, and your stomach dropped and you felt the dread creeping up your consciousness. It had you feeling weaker than ever.

You quietly excused yourself to go to the bathroom, though every step towards it made it harder and harder to breathe.

What if something had happened to him? A work incident? Then how did Carlos know? Were they hanging out and he hurt himself? Were they out and someone there hurt Lando?

Did something happen to your Lando?

Your finger hovered shaking over the green button until you finally decided to press it and call the Ferrari driver back. Not even a single beep was heard before he huffed out your name as if he had been yearning for you to finally phone him back.

“Carlos? Is everything okay?” The Spaniard could practically feel your distress through the screen and he swore he’s never felt an urge so strong to punch someone right across their face, let alone his best friend Lando Norris.

It took some time for realization to set in. Your breathing had slowed down but the chills all over your body told that it was a sign far from good. Very far from good.

You could still make out the faint sound of Carlos’ voice as you locked the door of the bathroom stall furthest in the back, however, every word that came after “Lando cheated on you” somehow wasn’t comprehensive to you.

You just hope he’ll still like her in the morning, cause you, for sure, weren’t coming back.

[icelynia]

Most of these “live-action” adaptations are using so much CGI that they may as well be 3D animated. They’re even using CGI for human characters that did not need it (the dwarfs).

Just think of what a different medium could bring to different stories. If you have nothing to add, expand, or change in a meaningful way, maybe you shouldn’t be making an adaptation of that story.

Cinderella (2015) will always be my favorite live-action adaptation because it added and expanded upon the story that was already there. It didn’t make Cinderella a “Girl Boss Who Doesn’t Need no Man”, but kept the heart of her character the same. It expanded upon the Prince and made him an actual character with a name. We got to see young Ella with her parents, her mother especially, happy and carefree.

If Hollywood learned from this that people like meaningful stories full of universal truths, then we would be in a much better place right now when it comes to them.

Back to the whole point of this, having animated adaptations would be amazing. As long as they’re handled with love and care, this would be such a good turn for the industry. You can do so much more with animation than with LA.

One final note:

Just because somethings animated, doesn’t mean it’s not for adults. Not all animation is for kids! Look at Arcane, Hazbin Hotel, Attack on Titan, Beastars, and so much more.

STOP no more live-action remakes. We're going the other way now. Animated Casablanca. Animated The Godfather. Animated Oppenheimer. Animated Fight Club.

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[7s3ven]

SINGLE DAD! X BABYSITTER! READER HAS ME FROTHING OMGG. Even better when the rest of TF 141 is involved

part 1 | part 2 (coming soon - rest of tf 141 introduced)

master list

MDNI 18+

Warnings: big age gap, babysitter! reader, reader is in medical school (but still legal guys)

You told yourself it was just a temporary summer job, something to fill your pockets over the Summer break as you moved into another year of university. Medical bills were not easy to pay off and your old job that paid the bare minimum did not help you in the least. All it taught you was that you had a nasty uppercut (from the time you actually hit someone and got fired).

So, you found yourself standing in front of John Price’s house. You stared up at the tall building, brows raised in surprise. He had understated how big his house was… it even had a garden and a pool. You may as well consider it a mansion.

You quickly rang the doorbell, smoothening out your tight blouse. Your much more appropriate one was in the wash so you prayed whoever answered the door did not notice.

It was a tall middle-aged who greeted you, beard cleanly trimmed and… a hat on his head. “Y/N L/N?” He asked you. You swiftly nodded, softly smiling when he stepped aside.

“So, medical school, huh? Training to become a doctor?” He asks as he brews you a cup of tea while you read over his terms and conditions.

“A surgeon, sir. Not much better, though.” You offer him another smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension.

“Right. Next time I need surgery, I’ll call you up.” He takes a sip from your tea, which you notice but you say nothing. “Just checkin’ the temperature. Wouldn’t want ya to burn yourself.” He hands you the mug, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment too long.

“I assume this is only a quick job for you? Just away to gain a bit of money to pay those student fees off?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you nod. “Yes, sir. I know I should have clarified it but I’m a little desperate at this point. Besides, no retail places want to hire me… after I hit someone.”

Your words intrigued him. He let out a low chuckle as he sat across from you. “Now I’m interested.”

“Well… there’s not much to it… a guy kept staring at my chest. He said some vulgar stuff and next thing I knew, I was punching him.”

Price shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “The lad was askin’ for it. So, what do you think about the job? You’ll honestly be a glorified babysitter. Just do some cleaning and cookin’ here and there and make my baby happy and you’ll get a nice pay check every week.”

It all happened in a blur. You agreed to the job and weeks later, you found yourself at Price’s house more than your apartment. You hadn’t stepped foot into your apartment since two days ago, Price generously allowing you to use one of the guest rooms.

“Lila has a sleepover tomorrow.” Price mentions as you’re reading the instructions on how to make cookies for Lila’s bake sale.

Based on the cooking skills you had seen from Price, you doubted he could bake very well. In fact, all he could cook was steak, which was general knowledge for dads.

“I can drop her off if needed.” You offer while opening the packet of flour only for it to explode in your face. You smacked your lips together, grimacing. “Not a word.” You mutter to Price who’s chuckling under his breath.

“Wasn’t gon’ a say anything, love.” He helps wipe the flour dust off your face, still grinning in amusement.

In all honesty, your relationship with Price felt a little too domesticated, especially right now as you wore a frilly apron he had bought just for you.

“Your skirt’s too short, by the way.” Price grumbles, attempting to tug it down. “You sure no creeps stared at you on your way ‘ere? Wouldn’t want ya in danger.”

You push his hands away from your hips. “Even if people were staring, I’ll just punch them.”

You had tried to maintain a professional relationship with your boss but it was hard when he carelessly manhandled you and treated you like his wife rather than his daughter’s babysitter.

And all professional behaviour came crashing down when he unexpectedly stood behind you as you whisked the cookie batter.

“You look like a coke addict.” Price jokes, referring to the flour that still stained your face. “Like you got it everywhere but up your nose.”

“I can assure you, sir, I have never tried coke unless my friend daring me to snort sherbet counts.”

Price grins at your biting remark, his heavy hands falling to your waist. “Yeah? Heard it doesn’t feel too good with sherbet.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His hands trail dangerously low but you don’t have the courage to ask him to stop… nor do you really want him too. He seems to sense your willingness as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, body pressed up tightly against yours.

You feel more like his spoiled wife than a medical student just trying to pay her bills.

“You’re pretty, ya know that? Surprised you don’ have a boyfriend… or girlfriend. Or partner. Dunno what your label is.”

With shaking hands, you place the bowl filled with cookie batter to the side, afraid you’ll only spill it.

“Never met a woman as soft as you… most think I chased Lila’s mother away. But nah. Her mother ran off, leavin’ me with a baby. Not that I’m complaining, I love Lila… and without her, I wouldn’ have met you.”

You’re reduced to listening to Price’s words, stuck between his larger frame and the marbled kitchen counter.

“Sir.” You whisper but it reaches his keen ears. Everything after that is a distorted blur and you find yourself bent over the counter, clad in nothing but the apron, with Price right behind you.

Price was a mystery to you. How could a man be turned on by something as simple as an apron? Though, he was a single dad so it made sense.

Price is muttering praises in your ears as your knees tremble, threatening to buckle. You never imagined you’d be in your employer’s kitchen, having your back blown out by the man himself.

His hands were hungrily climbing your body, gripping every bit of exposed skin he could find. If it wasn’t for him holding you upright, you would have toppled to the ground in a heartbeat.

You feel Price lift a hand to grip your hair, tugging at your locks. He’s in a desperate stupor but you’re not any better, pushing back your hips to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Gon’ a fill ya up. Give you a baby of yer own. Fuck… be so pretty just like you. My perfect little wife.” He grunts in your ear. You have no energy to correct him; that you’re not actually his wife but you’d have no complaints if he bought you a ring.

If anything, his words spur you on more.

Your chest is heaving by the time you near your release. You’re whining like a damn dog, high pitched noises slipping past your saliva-slicked lips. And you only grow in volume as Price speeds up, pressing his body against your back.

He’s older than you, that’s a fact you knew from the start, but he’s definitely more experienced as well. His well thought out words have the desired effect on you as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Your fluids drip down your exposed legs, hitting the tiles kitchen ground in thick droplets. You hear Price swear under his breath, quickly pulling out and staining your back white.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Then he leads you towards his bathroom, ushering you inside and handing you a spare set of clothes.

“Imma place your old ones in the washing, yeah?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you to wash off.

You sit on the shower floor for a good five minutes, replaying the moment in your head. When you finally cleanse yourself of sweat, you slip Price’s shirt over your head, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his cologne. It was the one you liked too.

His clothes engulfed you as you stumbled back into the kitchen, hobbling a little.

“I guess I’ll… get going then.” You murmur, fidgeting with your hands.

Price reaches out a hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Then he nods. “See you tomorrow night, lovie.”

Right, you still had to finish those cookies and pick up your clothes.

[okwonyo]

INTO YOU, 或 𓈒𓈒 navigating a secret relationship.

❛𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇’ 𝗎𝗌. 𝗌𝗈, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𓈒𓈒 ❜

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 16OO fluff ── non idol au skinship kissing ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i miss summer and i desperately need winter to come huhu >< idea from my favorite oomf @soov 🎀 enjoy !

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

the cold air brushes your face as you step outside. you wrap your arms around your body, trying to get warmth by hugging yourself. 

you walk to the usual corner where your boyfriend organizes your little meeting. the weather gets colder as you walk to it, you swear it. 

it puts you in a bad mood, you can feel your eyebrow furrowing and a frown forming on your lips. 

there is a fire that lights in your freezing heart when you finally see his face. he leaning on the wall next to him, and he seems to be smiling at your misery. 

“what?” you say, harsher than you initially attended to— it doesn’t seem to bother him. not in the slightest, his smile grows wider. you smile as well, “what?” 

standing straight, he steps closer to you. so close that you have to tilt your head up to see him properly. “nothing,” he shrugs, “jus’ wanted to see you.” 

you don’t answer, just staring at him blankly. although the warmth of his words touches you, you sniff, “‘m cold, hee,” you state. 

the said ‘hee’ laughs, loudly. in a way that makes his adam apple move, in a way that makes you flush, in a way that keeps your eyes on him. 

he steps even closer, your chest gets pressed against his. he wraps his arms around you putting his face in the crook of your neck: 

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, you don’t hug him back. even though you close your eyes. “is it better now?”

you only hum before adding, “i hope no one catches us.”

JAY

the first thing you feel on your skin is the sunlight peeking through the windows’ blinds. it kisses you slowly out of sleep, welcoming you warmly in the new day. 

the second thing you feel is the gentle pressure around you and the circle of warmth— that is not yours—swallowing you whole. you hide your face further into the body in front of you. 

the arm holds you closer as you hug the body tighter. 

all your senses slowly awoke and you can progressively recognize the scent enveloping your nose. 

it smells like cologne, like a real man, like home, like home, like—

“jay!” you exclaim, jolting awake. the man groans next to you, his arm sliding on your thighs. you tap him, “jay, wake up!”

his deep, sleepy voice emerges from him, “what?” he almost whines. 

“we fell asleep,” you whisper loudly, looking at your barely conscious boyfriend. that should also definitely be anywhere but in your bed. “you are not supposed to be there!”

it looks like it takes a while for him to register, but when he finally does, he almost falls on the floor. 

he gets his shirt back on himself, kisses you quickly and escapes from the window.

JAKE

he loves when you kiss him. he loves when your soft lips brush his skin and when your mouth rests on his ever so softly. 

and you know it. he tells you always, how much he loves it, hushed and hurriedly between two kisses in the corner— hiding from the public eye. 

this is why you already know, from the look in his eyes weighing on you from right across you, that he wants to kiss you. 

he watches you amongst the crowd of all your mutual friends together and when they all leave, back turned toward you, he stays. 

he holds your waist and, in a sort of instinct, you cup his face. 

you aim for his pretty nose first, then you peck his cheek two times in a row before finally kissing him on the mouth.

“i got to go,” he whispers against your mouth before kissing one more time. 

when you look one last time on his face, you giggle— seeing lipstick strains about everywhere you kissed him. he wears them like tattoos and leaves before you can even tell him anything. 

(he is cheeks blossom with a red hue when his friends tell him about it.) 

SUNGHOON

you barely survive the entire day with someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in the tiniest room possible.

surprise doesn’t over take you anymore. you already know why you are here and who you are with. 

your boyfriend’s hand cups your jaw, gently and carefully. he tilts your head up, just a little to be able to lean in a bit and kiss you as your fingers slide in his black thick hair. 

“hi,” he says when he pulls away a tad to tilt his head to the other side. 

he kisses you senseless. loving and passionate like he usually does. his tongue slides in your mouth. you let him lick the inside of it instead of greeting him back.

his free hand hugs your waist, pulling you closer to his body, impossibly so.

your boyfriend is all over you. he takes over your senses and swallows whole. you cannot think of anything else but his hot tongue teasing yours. 

until someone tries to unlock the door and you jump, breaking the kiss and pulling a weird sound out of your lover’s throat.

“did you just bite me?” he hushes and you apologize, eyes still worriedly looking over the door. he chuckles, “i liked that.”

you beat his chest with your fist playfully.

SUNOO

he swears to you—brags even— whenever he has the chance that he is not a jealous man. 

you almost started to believe it, if it wasn’t for how often he brings it up. almost as if he is trying to gaslight you or desperately trying to convince himself, or rather manifest it. 

and you could even consider it, rethink it when you are on your own. but you can always feel it, see it in his face. 

the heaviness of his gaze whispers the truth to you. whenever you are talking to another man a few feet ahead of him. 

in your peripheral vision, his arms are crossed under his chest. and his teeth are pressed so tight against one another, that his jaw is more defined than ever.

he comes to you as soon as the stranger leaves, “who was that?” he asks, nodding his head towards the leaving man.

you study his frustrated face with an amused look. his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth is frowned— he looks cute, if you were to be honest. 

you opt for something funnier, “are you jealous?”

he instantly opens his mouth, to defend himself and closes it immediately. 

his sighs, “yes,” he states. shock explodes in your stomach. “i don’t like seeing guys flirt with you,” he leans to whisper the rest in your ear: “when they don’t know you are already taken.” 

JUGWON

this entire situation seems to be very funny to your—secret—boyfriend.

it is no surprise that he is annoying in private. his fingertips melting in your sides, him tickling you, your skin getting pinched and getting a yelp out of you each time. just because he can.

and just because he can, he does his best to get a reaction out of you in public. 

sometimes, he stares at you from across the room, tilting his head to the side with a grin when your eyes lock. you ignore him each time. 

sometimes, his knuckles brush smoothly and ever so softly against your skin as he passes by you. his touch stings all day long.

today, he aims for a mixture of it. 

“look,” your friend whispers to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. her finger is pointed to his direction when you look at her, “he is doing it again.”

your boyfriend is staring at you from across the end of the hall you are walking down. he is walking towards your direction, but you tell your friend to ignore him.

he takes a step to the side as he approaches, exchanging places with his friend to walk next to you. his fingers quickly wrap around yours as your shoulder brushes. 

he holds onto it enough to make your heart skip a beat, but not enough for anyone to see.

RIKI

his hoodies are way too soft and comfortable for you to not steal. 

he always manages to find the sweetest material. the kind of tissue that his scent soaks into perfectly. a tissue that keeps his warmth days after he wears it. 

you love to be enveloped into that said material. so big and perfectly cozy like the embarrassed he locks you in.

“you want it?” he once asked you. seeing the way you buried your face in his hoodie. you shook your head against his torso, “i insist, sweetheart.”

you didn’t fight against his own wants and you find yourself in it a few days later. the cold wind doesn’t go through it when your coat gives up for a mere second and you hold onto it for dear life.

you bury your nose in it when you miss your lovely boyfriend. his cologne is still impregnated in it— it makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

when you meet each other at his, he comments: “isn’t that my hoodie you are wearing?” your cheeks get pink. “were you really walking around with that on your back?” 

you study his own outfit before answering, “and isn’t that my shirt you are wearing?” you pinch his cheek and he laughs. “i thought you hated pink, mh?”

you taught him well.

ㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[worrywrite]

This is why I keep telling people I'm not interested in the show. More than half the cast of the game exists to be porn or marketing fodder. No thought beyond aesthetics was put into essentially every character in the game. Any depth was added in post, and it's so slapshod it makes it worse.

The problem with Arcane is the general problem with prequels:

No matter how good the prequel is, if the thing that happens after is an unmitigated cash grab dumpster fire where everyone gets reduced down to a two paragraph "I'm in the death arena because..." statement that never even actually answers the question of why they're in the death arena--well, why bother.

(I'm a bit more bitter below, so continue at your own risk. I'm not adding much to my point.)

I'll be honest, Vi and Jinx were better characters on release because they meant nothing. Vi was a butch lesbian ex-con with a heart of gold that punched things and got blackmailed into worked for the police. Jinx was off brand Harley Quinn, if the joker didn't exist (yet) and she got to be him instead. The lack of detail beyond that didn't matter. Even Viktor and Jayce were better off as cyborg Hitler and off brand Tony Stark.

I'm honestly very surprised that Riot ever pushed for a wider narrative and world for the LoL IP. They'd been flattening it down for years so they could sell skins and rework characters whenever they wanted (to sell more skins) and then release more characters that made the old ones narratives not matter at all (so they could rework things again and sell more skins). They started out with a decent amount of lore and world building. They actually had lore based in-game events that mattered. But then they had decided for a long time to not do those things, they pushed for eSports and flat narrative for basically a decade. And now, now that their IP basically sucks and their player numbers are down and their skin sales are down and most of their team from when the game was good have left or been fired (for good reason) and eSports as a genre are in massive decline post nft grift--now they choose to try and have a story. And that story is still not going to affect their game at all.

At a business level, it's a good decision for them. Sure. But on a consumer level it does nothing to draw me back towards the game at all. Though I guess that is just me being aged out of their target demographic. They don't want the nostalgia money. They want the money out of kids demanding premium currency for Christmas.

Arcane is an advanced form of doomed by the narrative/doomed from the beginning because the show is trying so hard to create this serious, intricate story but the endgame of this story is everyone ending up in League of Legends

[aplaceinme]

“I’m just saying… there’s a reason why people say ‘three times it’s a charm’ Evan.”

“And I’m just saying I don’t want to risk it, Tommy,” Evan huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C’mon, what could possibly happen?” Tommy insists. 

“Hmmm…let me think… oh, yeah, I got it! Given our track record, we break up for good,” Evan says exasperated. 

“That won’t happen again, Evan. We’ve talked things out. Everything has been laid out on the table. We are better than ever,” Tommy says softly, walking up to Evan and tenderly cupping his cheeks, “We are good! Nothing bad will happen, I promise.” 

Evan tries to resist, his pout really pronounced but he can’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Fine! Fine! We will go and have dinner at Miceli’s again,” Evan relents, throwing his arms up in the air. “But if things go south again, it will be all your fault, ok?” 

Tommy leans in and kisses him softly, letting the kiss linger a little. “Ok, if something happens, it will be my fault.”

Evan goes to his bedroom to change his clothes, all the while angrily muttering, “Thousand of places in L.A. to go but no! We have to go back to that place… all because the pizza is good… fuck that place.”

“Did you say something?” Tommy asks, trying not to laugh at Evan’s adorableness. 

“Nothing… except… We are not getting spumoni, Tommy!” Evan yells from his bedroom.

Head thrown back in laughter, Tommy sits down in one of the barstools to wait for him to be finished. “Fine but, again, everything will be alright, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that! But you know what else people say? Famous last words! That’s what they say,” Evan says before closing the bathroom room. 

Nodding, Tommy quietly says under his breath as if trying to convince himself, “It will be alright.” 

—

“Will you stop muttering? We are here, and everything has been ok so far, right?” 

“Yeah, so far,” Evan says stubbornly. At Tommy’s raised eyebrow, his shoulders relax. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right! Everything is fine. We are together and everything is fine.”

Tommy holds Evan’s hand across the table and intertwines their fingers. “Exactly.” 

“I’m just glad we aren’t going to the movies after this. I think they also bring bad luck to us,” Evan teases, though he also seems to be serious. 

Wanting to tease him back, Tommy says, “Actually, I saw that they are playing this movie that I wanted to check out…”

“Do not even think about it! Not tonight at least,” Evan points at Tommy seriously. 

“Alright, alright, no movies tonight,” Tommy laughs. “We will just go straight to my place then… find something else to entertain us with.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Evan says with a smirk. 

“Oh my God! I think he’s choking! Somebody help us!” 

Tommy and Evan look over at the table from where the scream came and, after sharing a small glance and a nod, they get up and run over. 

“Move over, make room, make room, we are firefighters,” Evan says loudly, reaching the patient first. 

As Evan starts doing the Heimlich maneuver, Tommy reassures the family and makes sure they give Evan room to work. 

After a couple of agonizing seconds, the man spits out the food and everyone at the restaurant releases a breath of relief and they start to clap.  

Tommy moves over and helps Evan to sit the man down as they start to assess him, asking him if he is feeling alright or if he would rather they call an ambulance. 

Once the man reassures them that he is ok and thanks Evan profusely, they start to walk back to their table. 

“Glad that turned out o-” Evan starts to say but a scream interrupts him. 

“What now?” Tommy asks. 

“Fire in the kitchen!” Someone screams. 

It takes two seconds for chaos to reign. People start to scream and run desperately, pushing tables, chairs, and everything out of their way. 

While Evan calls 911 and starts helping people out of the restaurant, Tommy runs up to the kitchen.

Grabbing a fire extinguisher, Tommy tries to put the fire out, but it’s not enough. The fire is spreading fast, so he just makes sure that no one else is inside the kitchen and then runs outside. 

“Tommy, Tommy,” Evan calls to him and hugs him as soon as he is within reach. 

“Everyone out?” Tommy asks him, quickly looking Evan over to make sure he isn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I got everyone out and the firefighters should be here any minute now.” 

“Good, good, that’s good!” Tommy says in relief, his adrenaline starting to recede. 

—

Tommy and Evan are standing a few meters away from the restaurant, watching as station 56 put the fire out. The fire spread out so much that the restaurant is absolutely destroyed, Tommy doubts the owners could salvage anything from inside. 

“What is it? I can see you looking at me,” Tommy asks, turning to look at Evan. 

Evan gestures wildly at the restaurant and looks at him incredulously. 

“What?” Tommy plays dumb. 

“What? What?” Evan yelps. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe the fact that the restaurant is literally destroyed. Third’s time a charm, my ass!” 

“Technically, I was right, Evan.” 

“Wha- How?” Evan sputters. 

“Well, nothing bad happened to us. We are ok, there hasn’t been any misunderstanding, no one has confessed anything from their past… we are ok, just like I said we will be,” Tommy reasons.

Evan shakes his head and chuckles, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…” 

“Evan…” Tommy starts but gets interrupted. 

“I love you,” Evan says. 

Tommy does a double take, not expecting that. “What?”

“I love you,” Evan repeats, shrugging his shoulders. 

“This is the first time you’re saying that,” Tommy says, bewildered. 

“I know.” 

“I… I- I…” Tommy looks around them, in disbelief that Evan could love him. 

“You don’t have to say it if you do-”

“I love you too. Of course, I love you,” Tommy tells him quickly, not wanting Evan to doubt it for even one second. 

“Yeah?” Evan beams at him. 

“Yes,” Tommy nods and leans in to kiss him, not caring about the fire, firefighters, bystanders, or anything else. 

Once they part for air, Tommy asks him, “Should we get going? They seem to have everything under control.” 

Evan nods, and they slowly start to walk to where Tommy had parked his truck, with Tommy’s arm around Evan’s waist. 

“Since no one got hurt, I feel ok with admitting that I’m kinda happy that the restaurant went up in flames,” Evan whispers as if it is a secret. 

Tommy chuckles, “Yeah, me too.” 

When they are near the truck, Tommy jokes, “So, what about that movie then?” 

Evan playfully hits him on the shoulder but laughs. “I believe someone said something about finding something to entertained us with at their place?”

“Let’s go then,” Tommy says with a smirk, walking faster towards his truck. 

[simonbrain]

cw omegaverse, noncon touching, neglected!reader

you're slowly convincing yourself that your pack is trying to get rid of you. they've been acting off around you for weeks, and you aren't sure why you've been pushed to the side.

john snaps at you more often now, even during downtime when you're seeking comfort from your head alpha. the soft look he usually directs at you has been replaced by a scowl, and you're not sure if it's from the tedious amount of work and stress that weighs on his shoulders or if it's because you pop into his office every few hours to check on him. maybe you're just making it worse for him—you don't miss the way his face scrunches up whenever you appear in his doorway—so you visit him less often. hopefully he'll appreciate it if you take your sad, sour scent somewhere else.

which leads you to simon, who doesn't seem to notice you at all, not until you approach him first, and then you regret your actions when he greets you with nothing more than a grunt. there's that distant, eerie look in his eyes as he impatiently stares down at you, cocking his head to the side as your words get caught up in your throat. he's been easier to aggravate lately, and unfortunately his irritation doesn't evade you. you can't remember the last time you saw him this guarded around you—maybe when you first joined, although it wasn't this bad—but it still stings nonetheless.

"spit it out, peanut. i don't 'ave all day." your silly callsign rolls off his tongue less affectionately than usual, and you try to scrape up a reason to talk to him, as if being his mate isn't enough. when you finally ask if he's seen the other sergeants, he only scoffs and shakes his head, stalking right past you.

the blatant disregard from both your alphas has your chest aching uncomfortably and your throat winding up tight, but you walk off to somewhere else, wanting to find some dark corner so you can cry all of your frustration out.

you know you should be happy when you bump into your other two mates, grateful even. johnny crowds your front while kyle embraces you from behind, the two of them cooing at your weepy state and promising to make it all better.

but their touches are rougher than you want them to be, and kyle's grinding on you with more hunger than you can handle right now, and johnny's nosing down your neck, whispering promises of turning you pliant and brainless in a second, and you're growing more stressed each time they paw at your body as if you're just their little fuck doll—

you wrestle out of their grip and shove them both away before storming off to your room, leaving the two of them to simmer in the remnants of your stressed and upset scent, the sourness of it hitting them both at the same time. whatever heat they were feeling before is replaced with alarm, and when they try to follow you, you slam the door in their faces, choked-up sobs leaving your mouth as you slump down on your bed.

no one checks up on you that evening—not to apologise, not to see if you're okay, not even to ask if you're hungry. the smell of a distressed omega seeps out of the cracks of your door and wafts around your room, but no one comes. they must really not want you, then.

you tell yourself you're too needy. you're a strain on your alphas, always demanding their attention. you feel like an embarrassment compared to kyle, who, despite being another young omega, can get by with a simple pat on the shoulder, purring away in satisfaction. even johnny isn't as desperate for attention as you, you think bitterly.

the nasty thoughts haunt your mind until you're quietly getting out of bed and walking down to john's office. you know you smell pathetic, but you keep your head down as you walk past other soldiers, who are no doubt pitying you right now.

still, you keep on walking. you need to tell john to break the bond, to rid the pack of you. it needs to be done, even as your heart squeezes painfully and you're close to letting out a sob.

you don't bother knocking, but when you walk in to the sight of kyle sitting on john's lap while simon and johnny stand on either side of their captain as they converse among themselves, you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you up already.

john notices you first, but you don't catch the way his gaze softens at the sight of your weak state. you know that they all can smell the distress on you, but you try to steady your voice and wipe the tears that are beginning to form again.

"i want to break the bond."

four pairs of eyes zero in on you, and despite the tension in the room and the seriousness of your words, despite your anger and hurt, you can't help but relax slightly as the anxiety gradually melts away. finally, they're paying attention to you.

[you-know-honey]

A Strange Guy

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Summary: Jayce needs to go to Undercity for certain materials if he wants to continue his secret project. Which ends up taking him to the only crazy person who take risks to take him. You. Even if it ends up getting you into more serious problems than street fights.

Series: The Path of Zaun

Next Part

N/A: English is not my first language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I'll update it. Remember share if you liked it.

Knock…Knock…Knock

The knocking on the door started softly, like the sound of a drop on wood, almost imperceptible to your ears. The cold air of Piltover came through the window, clean air, so pure that even after so many years your lungs were still not used to it. In undercity you were used to the heavy, dry air, the damp, sticky streets, but above all, dark, where the sun was barely a mirage and everything was ruled by shadows. In the great city of progress everything was full of unusual energy, each piece destined to move with millimetric precision, full of light even at night.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocking became louder, making the beams of your very humble bedroom at the academy vibrate. It was not how you had thought you would end up. A small apartment, so old that you thought maybe Professor Heirmerdinger himself lived there when it was just new, but you couldn't expect anything less, without a last name to bear or a sponsor watching your back it was all you had, and still it was better than having nothing like in undercity.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You woke up with a start, your back creaking as you stood up from the chair and stretched. Some of your notes were stuck to your face and the ink had been ruined by your drool. You were a complete mess right now, but who would come to your room at this hour? The clock read 2:36 AM. You ran your hands over your face trying to help you wake up and tear the papers off your face.

You walked as best you could to the door, tripping over everything in your way. You swung the door open, through the shadows of the night and your irritated eyes, you focused on a tall, burly man standing in front of you.

“What do you want?” you asked. You weren’t in the mood for whatever that guy needed, besides only one person in the world had the right to visit you in the middle of the night and it definitely wasn’t him.

“Are you Y/N?” he seemed quite nervous, playing with his fingers and avoiding eye contact with you.

You refrained from answering for a moment, if this was some kind of joke from your classmates they would pay dearly for waking you up at this hour. “Who’s asking?”

The boy didn’t seem to expect that answer but he answered as quickly as he could, as if he was holding back from spitting out a wave of words.

“Jayce Talis”

I think the raised eyebrow on your face gave him the message that you had no idea who the hell he was, maybe that’s why he seemed embarrassed.

“Mhmm, and what is Jayce Talis doing knocking on my door?” You leaned back against the door with your arms crossed. “I don’t think you’re coming here just to introduce yourself.”

The boy cleared his throat, as if he was gaining courage to be more firm in his way of speaking.

“You’re from undercity, right?”

“You got it, congratulations.” I joked, giving him a sarcastic, slow applause.

You snapped your fingers in front of him when you caught him looking behind you. “What do you need?”

The academy was very clear about where they wanted to invest the funds they received. The biology faculty was one of the last places on their priority list. It had been years since any of the projects proposed by their students had borne fruit or even been promising. This was the reason why you fell asleep on your desk that night, working on your own project.

“I need you to take me there.”

Your eyes widened before bursting into a loud laugh.

“You? In undercity? Are you crazy?” You’ll be eaten alive.” You tried to stop laughing when the boy’s brow furrowed in disgust, but you couldn’t imagine a guy like him, so well dressed in a place like your home.

The light of a flashlight at the end of the hallway caught both of your attention, your laughter had attracted a police officer who was making rounds in the academy.

“I don’t think you should be here, Jayce Talis” you smiled, ready to close the door and have someone else take care of him.

The man clenched his jaw and clenched his fists, he was annoyed, not at all pleased with you playing with him, the police officer’s increasingly closer steps left them little time to act.

“Hey!” you shouted when the man pushed you aside and snuck into your room, closing the door behind him.

You didn’t say anything when the police officer’s flashlight stopped in front of your door a few seconds before continuing his rounds. The academy was very strict about students in the hallways, their strategy had been foolish and risky. You could scream, alert the police about him…but you wouldn’t, because then you would bear the brunt of the possible punishment.

“What is all this?” he asked, moving from the door to walk curiously around the small living room.

Behind your back, what you had tried to hide from him, was your small private laboratory. The desk was overflowing without space, filled with papers and notebooks in total disarray, one of the walls was completely covered with terrariums, large ones with flowers that possibly no one in Piltover had ever seen before. A sight for someone so curious to Jayce.

“It’s none of your business” you replied, there was no way to excuse the sight, it was just what it seemed. You let yourself fall on the couch reluctantly.

He smiled maliciously “Maybe not, but I bet Professor Heimerdinger did”

Your body rose as if a spring from the couch had lifted it, you grabbed one of the books on the nightstand, the thickest one and threw it in his direction, with such good luck that you managed to hit him directly in the forehead.

“If you say anything I’ll kill you!” you screamed while trying to keep your composure and relax your agitated breathing.

He didn’t scream in pain, although you were sure he would have if it weren’t for the fact that the policeman would have surely heard him and well…it was the female student wing “Crazy…” he sighed while touching his forehead with his fingers, luckily there was no blood. He took the chair from your desk and turned it to sit in front of you, with a grimace you dropped back down onto the couch. “Let’s make a deal.”

You had no other choice so you just nodded.

“Take me to undercity and Heimerdinger will never know about… whatever you do here.” he said as he pointed at the terrariums.

“They’re toxin purifiers…” you muttered under your breath. You weren’t happy that they treated your job like a simple child’s game.

“What?”

“They’re plants that purify the air and earth of toxins, I’m trying to make them work on a large scale.”

“I’ve never seen that kind of plants,” he exclaimed, and it made sense, they were rare and it had been extremely difficult for you to find them, they glowed in the dark, some with leaves that seemed to move like tentacles, others gave the image of a skull.

You let out a small, egotistical and proud smile. “Of course not. They are plants from undercity”

“How did you get them?” he asked, standing up and bringing his hand closer to the glass of one of the terrariums.

“What do you think?” you walked towards him as soon as you saw him approach the terrarium, you had been working on this project for years and you weren’t going to let any of his imprudences ruin it.

He rolled his eyes, you weren’t being easy to deal with, not that you wanted to be. He let out a small growl before turning around to glare at you.

“Are you always this charming?”

“Only with those who enter my room without permission.” You forced a smile.

He sighed again, massaging his temples in frustration.

“Let’s stop playing games, take me to undercity tonight and no one will know about your research. Period.” He crossed his arms, seeming very determined to continue with this crazy idea.

You thought of some way to dissuade him from that, but he seemed too sure and perhaps too desperate for you to convince him. There weren't many undercity students in the academy, you could count them on the fingers of one hand and you would have fingers left over, but you supposed that no one was crazy enough to go down again after all the comforts that the academy offered.

“Why do you want to go?” You asked, giving up, after all if it was something simple you could do it, otherwise you would hit his head with something and leave him in the main hallway so it would seem like it was just a bad dream.

“It's none of your business” he replied, almost in the same tone that you spoke to him.

“You already stuck your nose in my business, it's only fair that I do the same.” He also sighed and sat back down in the chair.

Both of you were realizing that their pride would only lead them to an ego fight until dawn and neither of them were comfortable with something like that.

“I need some machinery parts…” he said, obviously not wanting to reveal too much and biting his tongue to avoid accidentally saying anything too much.

“Machinery parts? You could get that at any market here.” you snorted, finding it ridiculous that he wanted to go down for something he could get in much better condition in Piltover.

“They are specific parts, I couldn’t get them here without raising suspicions” he mentioned, taking a notebook out of his vest.

You hadn’t noticed that he had something inside his clothes, it made your hair stand on end to think that it could have been a weapon and you hadn’t noticed. You swept those paranoid thoughts from your mind to continue listening to him.

“Show me and I’ll tell you where to get it” you walked slowly behind him, leaning an elbow to rest your face on his shoulder, he winced but you didn’t care.

He opened the book to one of the bookmarks, very clever of him, so you wouldn't take a quick look at the rest, on the page there were very specific tools and materials, and you knew that things like that wouldn't be easy to get in the (in your opinion) very basic markets of Piltover, if he said to make them on his own, it would attract the attention of the teaching staff and since this boy had sought you out, that was probably the last thing he wanted.

You looked at the notebook for a moment, hoping to see something that would give you a clue about what he was up to. “You sign every page? A bit of an egotistical on your part.” He just rolled his eyes, but you noticed that he tried to cover his name on the page with his thumb. “Do you have money to pay for something like that? Things aren’t cheap downstairs,” you mentioned, letting your face fall on his shoulder.

“Will this be enough?” he asked, leaving in the coffe table a bag of considerable size with gold coins.

You let out a small giggle. “If you’re not easy to scam, I suppose this is enough.”

“So, do you accept?” He turned his head in surprise, getting too close to yours, both of you moving away from each other as if you were leprosy.

You thought about it for a few minutes, it seemed like something not too difficult to do, go get some gadgets and come back, it didn’t seem that difficult. It would be easy.

“Okay, deal.” You extended your hand to him, who didn’t hesitate to close the deal with a smile.

“So… are we going now?” he asked, like an excited child going on a trip for the first time.

You looked him up and down very critically, everything screamed Piltover boy.

“Not with those clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked, looking at himself for any wardrobe flaws.

“Do you want to be stripped? If you come there’s dressing like that, forget about getting anything.” You crossed your arms, thinking of something that might work, you didn’t think he had a change of clothes in his vest.

“Do you have any ideas?”

An invisible lightbulb lit up above your head, accompanied by a mischievous smile that chilled his blood. “I think so…”

“I hate you.” Jayce exclaimed. If looks could kill your body would be unrecognizable.

“Who goes on an undercity with gold details on their clothes?” you quickly replied with a murmur. It wouldn’t be wise for any police to see them right now.

“Couldn’t you get something better?” he stretched the tight collar of the shirt that clearly wasn’t his size.

“The janitor’s clothes are fine, don’t complain.” You poked your head out of one of the alleys. “A cop is coming. Against the wall.”

For once he heard you, it was funny to see him stick to the wall, a little more force and he would go through it. You did the same, clearly with more class than him. It had been a long time since you had worn those clothes, you had buried them in the back of your closet in the hopes of never wearing them again but somehow it was the most comfortable you had been in a long time.

In Jayce’s case you couldn’t say the same, he looked like a cake in the wrong mold, the poor janitor’s uniform barely fit him, the buttons were trying their best not to jump out of the buttonholes of the shirt, you didn’t even try with the shoes, they were too small so you just limited yourself to putting tape on the gold details and making him step in every mud puddle on the way to the bridge.

When the policeman walked away, far enough so that he wouldn’t hear you, you motioned for him to follow you, both of you successfully sneaking to the end.

“This place isn’t so bad” he said as you walked through the streets of the surface.

“This isn’t undercity” you mentioned, giving him a quick glance before quickening your pace and tightening your grip on the backpack on your shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, as if he didn’t expect that answer from you. Somehow that irritated you.

Going back to that place simply awakened a huge irritation inside you, you couldn't control it, it was the part of you that kept you alive all that time. Both arrived in front of an old establishment in ruins, next to a dark precipice.

“Do you want the easy way or the interesting way?” you adjusted your backpack and began to stretch all the dormant muscles in your body.

“Which is the interesting one?” He asked, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets when you pointed with your head to the precipice “The easy one, definitely the easy one” he quickly said.

You sighed, you had definitely liked the idea of ​​jumping on roofs and sliding down pipes with the minimum of safety.

“As you wish princess” without warning you entered the place, at the back was the elevator “ I was thinking of giving you the panoramic view tour”

Jayce ran after you, as soon as he set foot inside you turned on the elevator and with the sound of old mechanism working you warned them that they were descending.

The sight in front of Jayce left him with his mouth open. The view only gave an industrial and decaying place, in the darkness the only touch of light were the saturated neon signs of some stores, he was surprised how they were still standing, above them rose buildings more similar to the architecture of Piltover, only a few could afford that luxury, as they went down the air became heavier and more humid with different smells that he preferred not to think about too much, he knew that the path would not be easy when you hid a knife in your pocket.

“Just in case” you told him. It's not like he would be of support if they found themselves in crossfire but at least it would be enough to keep away a few addicts and minor criminals.

The elevator soon filled with people and Jayce felt you press your back against his body to make him crash into the wall, you didn't look at him, nor did you apologize, it was what you were used to doing and he seemed to understand it well.

Each inhabitant had a unique style, crazy and anti-gravity hairstyles, old clothes or with patches everywhere, some with prosthetics made to make them look more intimidating than to take care of their health.

Going down you took his hand and pushed him through all the people in the elevator, you received some insults but you wisely ignored them.

Returning gave you back the feeling of hopelessness you used to live with, remembering all the time you were fighting to survive at all costs. Every inhabitant of undercity was resilient, refusing to let themselves die, clinging to life and the dream of something better with nails and teeth.

You shook your head to clear away that fog of thoughts, you weren't here to go back to the streets, you were here for work. Both of you walked in silence a few more blocks, loud and noisy music could be heard coming from most of the premises.

“Keep your eyes forward” you told him when you caught him looking at a modified weapon in the hands of a thug with an unfriendly face.

He listened to you, like a punished puppy he looked at the ground and let himself be guided to a small and lonely alley where they barely change.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked, he seemed somewhat worried. Sure two academy students caught trying to buy contraband in undercity deserved a considerable punishment if they were caught, but to be honest it was the least of the problems they could face right now.

“Show me what you need to finish this quickly.” He quickly pulled out his notebook in the correct bookmark, it was definitely things he could get here. You examined the sheets for a few moments before rushing over and tearing one of them off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he yelled at you, pulling the notebook away from you and putting it back. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was very upset about it, the way his voice sounded and the heaving movement of his chest made it very clear to you.

“I’ll give it back to you later, don’t yell, we can’t go together or we’ll attract trouble.” After all, you were the expert here. “See the beech store?” you pointed with your index finger, there was a white-haired boy cleaning the glass of the entrance.

“The one that says Benzo’s?” Jayce asked, you just nodded.

“Go to that store and look for the rest of the stuff, it’s like a premium junk store.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked as he saw you putting on some goggles that were previously hanging from your backpack.

“I going to get the rest. I'll give you 30 minutes, if you're not out of the store by then you'll be back upstairs alone.” You pulled up your shirt collar to cover your nose. “Don't let them rip you off.” Giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder you ran off until you were lost among the people.

“Wait, you don't have any money!” Jayce shouted your name but the sound was swallowed up by the noise of the people, he had no choice but to trust that you would come back. Resigned, he walked as fast as possible to the store you had indicated, as soon as he entered he was already amazed.

He was greeted by a small child with white hair, who watched him from the counter, following him with his eyes wherever he went.

“Can I touch something?” Jayce asked, in other cases he would have expected the arrival of an adult but his minutes were numbered.

“Only the ones you plan to buy.” The child answered suspiciously while playing with a wrench on the counter. He was almost sure he used the same tone of voice that you used with him all this time.

“Okay…” Jayce shrugged as he looked at all the artifacts carefully to know which one to take “It’s all stolen?” he said to himself.

“Stolen is a very big word, let’s say they were bought without permission” The boy appeared at his side as if by magic “Buy something or leave” the boy crossed his arms in front of him.

Jayce sighed and began to take things and put them on the counter, at first with some laziness and before he knew it he already had a considerable mountain of things and was going for more.

“Why do you need so many things sir?” the boy asked as he noticed how the mountain of things grew and grew.

“I’m going to do something revolutionary” Jayce said proudly, if everything went well it would change everyone’s lives forever.

The boy nodded curiously, he was willing to ask more questions until his curiosity was satisfied but the bag of gold coins caught his eye the instant it was placed on the counter.

“How much would everything cost?” asked Jayce.

The smile on the boy's face was big and malicious. "This would be enough." He quickly grabbed the bag of money and put it under the counter before his naive buyer could complain or change his mind. Jayce was more than satisfied with everything he had acquired, his mind was already plotting how he would put it all to work. He looked at the old and strange clock on the wall of the store. He still had a few minutes of free time before you arrived.

"Waiting for someone, sir?" the boy asked, playing with a gold coin between his fingers.

"Yes," Jayce replied, his gaze fixed on the door, waiting for you to enter at any second.

"What's all that noise?" Jayce asked as he heard screams and moans of pain from outside the store, as well as a huge commotion among the people walking by.

"Some idiot caused a fight." The boy seemed too used to situations like that. He got off the counter stool and approached the door, ready to put up the closed sign.

His hand only stretched a little before returning to his body at a surprising speed. The door ended up swung wide open, cracking glass and wood alike, a hooded figure dropped to the ground, trying to catch his breath.

“Put… everything in the bag… we have to go… Now!” you got up from the ground, taking off your goggles.

“There’s the idiot.” the boy calmly returned behind the counter.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jayce asked as you carelessly threw all of his recent purchases into the backpack and threw it into his arms. “What do I do with this?” your adrenaline began to spread to him, you didn’t have to say anything to him as he adjusted his backpack himself.

“I pissed off the wrong people, we have to get out of here” He grabbed your hand tightly, something that made you scream in pain, you didn’t have enough adrenaline to not feel that your wrist was really hurt. Both of you left the store and ran, you could still hear them shouting your name, it seemed impossible to lose them.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Jayce pushed you into a small alley, both of you too exhausted to take another step, but your pursuers didn’t seem tired at all and they were getting closer and closer.

“You’re getting out of here. Wait for me at the end of the bridge, I’ll lose them.” You let go of his hand before he could stop you. With shouts and exaggerated gestures you managed to get them to follow you. “Hey! Finn! You’re falling behind!” you shouted and said goodbye to Jayce with a wink.

It wasn’t hard to lose them alone, yes of course, they were thugs with guns but you knew Finn well, the last thing he would want is for a bullet to go through his former ‘treasure’. You had run into him while you were walking through the market, taking some things from here and there, just what you thought Jayce might need, you can confess, you got distracted in the food area but who could judge you? It's been years since you tried something homemade. You ended up wandering until you reached the limit between the market and the red light district, there was your limit but there was also him. His eyes were fixed on you like arrows, you tried to calm down as he approached to greet you, you weren't friends, not even good acquaintances, if it were up to you you would erase him from your mind forever. When he got closer, that's when you punched him in the golden jaw and ran away, obviously it didn't take long for him to send his bitches after you.

Getting into that kind of trouble wasn't in your plans, you cursed yourself for having let yourself be guided by nostalgia and curiosity, that shouldn't happen again.

“Come on Y/N, is this how you treat an old client?” Finn’s voice echoed in the desolate street, his thugs had disappeared from your sight but they had to be close, never too far from their master.

You remained silent, it would be foolish to answer him and give away your location while you looked for a way out of there, the cliff you had mentioned to Jayce was close, if you managed to jump over it you could use one of the huge pipes to get out of there and knowing Finn he was too cowardly to follow you there.

You came out of your hiding place with the objective you plain in your mind. A huge hand grabbed you by the hair and slammed you against the wall, your thoughts scrambled a little from the blow, you were dropped to the ground full of broken glass. You tried to stand up as best you could but the small glass stuck in your skin and small rivers of blood dripped from your fingers.

“Aren’t you saying hello to an old friend?” Finn asked, placing his gun under his jaw, as if he were talking to a pet, forcing you to stand up.

“You're not my friend,” you spat the words in his face, he didn't seem to like it very much.

“You’re right…I was much more than that for you” his hands grabbed your thighs and forced you to hug his hips with your legs . “You still remember” He dropped the gun to the ground and quickly caught your wrists with his hand.

The feeling of having his body close to yours was too unpleasant. He made a gesture with his face and his thugs left, you rolled your eyes, hitting your head against the wall, but this time you felt higher than just the wall. You surreptitiously looked up, some rusty fire escapes were above you like a blessing.

A smile settled on your “perfect” face, you let your legs climb up Finn’s body until his face was between your legs and although your hands were trapped you managed to stretch enough to hold the first bar surreptitiously.

“Honey…you know I don’t do that” Finn replied with that stupid and pitiful tone that imitated flirting.

“But I do.”

Before the idiot realized it, your feet were on his shoulders, staining his expensive shirt with dirt, using him to push yourself up and make you touch the last bar of the emergency staircase, getting him to let go of your hands wasn’t difficult, you just hit them against the rusty metal, with the brief moment of freedom you used a bar to balance yourself and push yourself to a more comfortable position until you climbed up and reached the top. Finn tried to follow you but with a couple of kicks the ladder basically crumbled, creating an ideal distance between the two of you.

“Bye Finn” you didn’t stay to hear the answer, you ran as fast as you could before they found a way to follow you.

You ran in the darkness with blind faith that you wouldn’t fall, a dim light indicated that you were approaching the precipice and the sound of pipes greeted you, without hesitating for a second you jumped. It was easy to land on them, they were giants, while you ran back to Piltover you managed to see Finn and his thugs on the edge of the cliff, he wasn't happy at all but that wasn't your problem.

When you got to Jayce he seemed totally nervous and worried, he had dodged a few guards and was afraid that they would have caught you.

“Did you lose them?” He asked just to confirm.

You just raised your thumb, giving a long sigh “Job done”

Jayce sighed just like a worried mother would and both began to walk, this time calmer, without haste and better yet without pursuers.

“So… this is your house?” You asked when both stopped in front of a nice apartment complex in the academic district.

“Yes… umm, thanks for tonight. Without you I wouldn't have been able to get any of this” Jayce shook his backpack a little “I'll give it back to you tomorrow”

“Don't worry…” you turned to leave but a mischievous smile crossed your face “I promise that next time we go I won't get into trouble”

Jayce let out a genuine laugh “Prove it”

Your response was to laugh with him, while you let yourself be absorbed by the early morning mist until you finally disappeared from sight.

That morning, before going to the academy, Jayce opened the door to his balcony while sipping his morning coffee, only to find a small ribbon of stars and beneath it the page you had torn out of his notebook.

N/A: For the person who sent me a one-shot request… You could be more specific, my brain is a bit slow and I didn't understand the request 😅

[brandthefish]

EEEEEEEE This is so rad! I plan on doing this with all my Tavs, starting with Wren! (Tiefling Rogue)

General

Wren can be recruited under a piece of rubble from the crash, somewhere near Astarion.

Shadowheart: "That tiefling seems awfully suspicious. It's rather strange to see someone with that many daggers and in that attire," Astarion: "I must say, our latest aquisition is absolutely delightful. I do love finding like-skilled individuals," Karlach: "Normally I'd tell you to be careful around a rogue, but Wren seems alright! They're the dash, I'm the smash!" Gale: "I have high hopes for our new friend. Hopefully their wits are as sharp as their knives." Lae'zel: "I am torn. On one hand, the purple one seems competent at the least. On the other, hiding in the shadows to make a kill? Cowardly." Wyll: "Keep an eye on that tiefling. They have a look about them I know all too well," (If pressed) "Let's just say that from my time in Baldur's Gate I've met a fair few 'friends' from the Thieves Guild,"

They have a BIG reaction when meeting Astarion. They're a bit cagey and comment about knowing him. Other than that, they act pretty gay around Karlach and are definitely displeased at Wyll's actions. (When they find out Wyll is the grand duke's son, they make a comment about almost carrying out a hit on him before he left Baldur's Gate)

Raise in Approval: Mischief and strange acts of kindness. Necessary violence, like after you've tried to talk out of it. Lower in Approval: Anything excessively horny (Ace moment) or letting someone who is clearly a problem or a bad person live (+8 points for killing Gandrel w Astarion)

They'll permanently leave the party if you come on explicitly sexually. (Agian, Ace moment) They'd give Tav one chance to apologize, and if they don't, Wren's out.

Them being a member of the Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate. This would come up after finding the Zentarim hideout in Act 1 and more references would pop up after that.

Their personal quest involves them leaving the Thieves Guild and becoming a better person more in touch with their emotions like guilt, remorse and affection. Also letting their guard down. A branching path could be re-joining. You would have more allies among the city and to get in fights (such as another rogue, a drow named Soren) but Wren is back in the guild, and not loving it. They wouldn't be at the epilogue in this branch, called away to a job in Neverwinter.

Stay: "Fine. Not as fun to just sit here. I'll just... sharpen my knives I suppose... or read a book," Leave: "Hells yeah! Let me get my gear," (Because whenever they have the chance, they take off their armor, it ain't comfy)

The shtick with Wyll about almost killing him, and they explain why they didn't. (Change in Thieves Guild management, and their own moral compass) Once the player knows Wren is a member of the thieves guild, Wyll confronts them about it. "Why should we let an assasin stay? How heartless do you have to be to end lives for money?" "Says the man who nearly ended Karlach's life for a devil, oh virtuous Blade of Frontiers. For what it's worth, Wyll I'm not a complete monster." "Aren't you? Please elaborate." "When I was seventeen I refused to carry out a hit. On Ulder Ravenguard's son."

Yes! The Thieves Guild Master (in my fics, that's a human woman named Lorenna, but that role would be replaced with whoever the canon Guild Master is) and another thief named Soren, who's basically their chosen brother. (He's who their dream guardian is based on)

After killing the goblin in the tiefling camp. "Shame... could've prodded the old girl for information. Now there's blood to clean up," After meeting Alfira "humming The Weeping Dawn with their eyes closed before answering you,"

Story Specific

"If something's sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Nothing good ever came to anyone from blind trust."

"Absolutely not. I'd sooner let the bard pluck my eye out, then sell what's left of my soul to a devil. And a right cad of a devil at that."

"Glad he's in the open about it now. But if we can't get him bodies to drink from, he may need com- help hunting in the woods at night,"

"*groan* Gross. I mean, more power to you if you like it but... *shudders*,"

"Oh gods, you're actually doing it. I'll um... I'm going to go sharpen my blades... and poison them," (generally afraid)

They will leave if the player kills the tieflings. "They were good people. They didn't deserve that. I... If that's how you're willing to treat innocent civilians, who's to say how you'll treat us? (If the player knows they're with the Guild) Would you turn me over to The Guild for a high bounty if you were low on gold? Or Astarion to Cazador? Or Karlach to Zariel? Wyll to Mizora?"

Singing along and dancing to Alfira's songs!

"Have fun, I'm going to partaking in the wine, the music, then getting some rest. Don't have too much fun though, we still need to be able to function in the morning ;),"

"WHAT THE HELLS?! NO. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU GET TO APOLOGIZE FOR I- *groans in agony* ... leave me for a moment, if you will,"

"Oh- well let's hope it wasn't venomous, or we're about to have much bigger problems than a foul taste,"

"Alright, fine. Perhaps I'll get used to being on a stage,"

Nah. I think even Orin would be a little wary of them. They're equally stabby, Wren is just aimed differently. And ima be honest, I haven't gotten far enough in my Durge run to know what that is.

Non-Ascended "I'm proud of Astarion. He was able to turn away the power, even knowing how safe it would've made him... He's a good lad." Ascended. "Let's hope he doesn't get too mad with power... I'm already seeing him change and it's scaring me. Let's hope I don't need to get The Guild involved,"

"Gods, I... I hope it was worth it," Narrator: There's more wariness in Wren than you've seen before. They're frightened of you. If they're romanced it adds. "I... I can try to get used to this, as long as all my um... as long as I'm still being listened to,"

"Then make it productive. Focus the urges on the goblins and their leaders. The urges are your arrows, and you are the bow."

They're investigating it crime-scene style, knelt over her body. "Gods... it's not a clean assasination either. Slashes and stabs long after she'd died," they close her eyes. "This was a crime of passion... almost animalistic. And the spatters... was this you?"

"Well... it's a bit sick to say I'm flattered." They hold down Durge and pour wine down their throat that's laced with something to numb them and put them to sleep. After they come to they ask if durge is alright. They just have a few scratches, they're fine. "I will get you through this. My blade and my heart are yours, I swear it."

Romance

Yes they are romanceable! They're a romantic asexual. The player would need to not give them back to the guild or their romance stops immediately. They feel too betrayed.

They do need to be flirted with.

They are technically a poly option. They're ace so they're okay with the player getting their needs satisfied by someone else. "I... I am not in a place to be picky about that, I think,"

You can dance with them at the tiefling party to music played and after share a bottle of wine and cuddle. (Shown to just be cuddling by both of them still having clothes on)

Just the one romance path.

Breaking up: "I... It was good while it lasted. I understand though." Choosing them over someone else: "Oh um... are you sure? I mean, I'm not blind to my looks or anything but... I'm not interested in... carnal delights, like your other flame is,"

"What is Wren's greatest fear?" Answer: Being controlled. "What is Wren's dream?" Answer: To quit the guild and be a poet or a singer. "How does Wren like to fight?" Answer: Throwing knives from the shadows. They named one 'Featherlight Wrath'.

"No protests from me, my love. Just be sure he knows I don't want to be directly involved in sex bit."

Mizora: "Out, devil." "I... I don't blame you for needing something but did it have to be her? Just talk to me next time you want to lay with someone." Emperor: "So... quite adventurous." Haarlep: "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does he need a knife in his eye?"

No they will not. I think that was pretty clear from the rest of this. "Have fun, I'll be waiting outside when you've finished... ugh, realized it as soon as I said it, gods,"

They ask Tav to settle down with them anywhere not in Baldur's Gate. With the treasures they've gained on their adventure they're living comfortably and they want to take up singing. They would be interested in getting married, but later down the line. At the epilogue party if Wyll is the grand duke and the player knows about his adopted daughter, Wren would bring up adopting a tiefling from an orphanage in the city they're living in. "I don't want to have my own children at all... but I'd love to help a child so they don't have to go down the same path I did.

It would technically be possible to convince them to have sex (DC 20 Persuasion check), but it would be like if you picked the option after Astarion's Act 2 confession. It would just be a fade to black, and you would lose approval with Wren a LOT. If you were at highest, it would go back down to the middle.

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[felibrary]

"i love you, i'm sorry"

pairing: aventurine x reader (gender neutral)

synopsis: aventurine doesn’t know how to handle people being affectionate to him. so eventually, just as everyone leaves him, he’s become the one who leaves the person he cherishes the most—you—before you’re able to leave him first. so then, why is he now in front of your home, asking for another chance?

wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, situationship 101, aven has commitment issues (surprise), angst if you squint, hurt/comfort , mentions of aven's past (kind of) ; ficlet

tags: @eccentric-planet HERE IT ISSSS!!! (after waiting for like a week or so oops)

author's note: i wrote like half of this during biology, history and french class LMFAO

in his world, love leaves behind traces. 

be it dejection that gnaws at him, and wraps his heart in sorrow or your lips that press against him, finding home in his scarred skin. all of the little things that shaped him into being—they all track back to you.  

gradually, over time, with every gesture of affection exchanged, he fell. his once sleepless nights were cured by lying beside you, and eventually, he peacefully dozed off. that is until morning arrived, the sun greeting him as her rays seeped through the curtains, which made him rise.

alas, bathing in bliss only lasted for so long. the love that streamed through his veins and was pumped into his heart, was daring to spill; aventurine knew that confessing his love to you would come with its consequences. there were rules he set up for himself, but after all, he is no more than a pathological sinner—an individual long forsaken by the gods that reign this world—a helpless soul.

despite harboring feelings for you, he kept those blooming emotions to himself; confined in the depths of his heart. 

so as much as he loved you, it hurt just as much to let you go; leave you behind with no words that offered an explanation for his leaving. 

aventurine’s foundation was built upon being alone—disappearing without leaving a trace has always been in his nature. having to leave and being left behind was nothing new. he was a natural.

eventually, the traces you left behind, etched into his very being, washed away.

kakavasha was a lonely child. the word company has always felt foreign on his tongue, at least when he had to say it aloud in a language other than his own.

presumably, that’s why he felt strangely weak in your hold. how you always persistently, almost desperately, buried your nails into his skin and held him tight—not wanting to let go as if you knew that he’d leave one day; silently slip from your grasp.

it was to be expected that you wouldn’t reach out anymore—he made you leave. 

(it’s for the better he thinks. after all, if you would’ve marched further into his heart you would’ve seen what was hidden in the depths of it—someone with no strong ambitions, and there’d be no point of return. aventurine wouldn’t make a good lover, he’s both too selfish and selfless no in between.)

there hasn’t ever been a verbal confirmation that the two of you were in a relationship. everyone around him, including you just assumed that the two of you were together

but he can’t blame them. all the spare items in his apartment, ranging from a mere toothbrush to items like skincare or using the same candles as you, that’d help you feel more at home. arriving at work together and subtly flirting in the elevator when others were around or kissing in the copy room, weren’t casual things that friends did.

aventurine thought it was easier that way, simply because the thought of putting labels on your relationship felt strange. to him, it felt like a heavy shackle bound to his feet, preventing him from being free.

so why is he now standing at your front door, waiting like a prisoner on death row for their judgment to come?

there’s a faint squeak as you open the door and aventurine shoves his left hand into the pocket of his coat, fiddling with the flower-shop bill. 

before aventurine knows it; and can fully comprehend the solemnity of the situation, you stand in front of him, as beautiful as ever.

“hi,” aventurine breathes out, and only now does he realize how much he’s missed seeing you. instead of answering your gaze drifts over his figure and his surroundings.

he feels hot under your watchful gaze, his body suddenly heating up, and clothes sickly sticking to his skin. “so? what’s your business?” your eyes land on the bouquet of lilies and gardenias he's gripping tightly,  slightly wrinkling the wrapping paper by doing so. 

countless thoughts are running through his head. may i come in? can we talk? i wanted to apologi—

“i love you, i’m sorry.”

his voice croaks and suddenly he feels small. the gut-wrenching feeling of fear that stirred in his stomach whenever you were around made him vulnerable and submissive. it made him bolder—more reckless with his way of words. they twisted and twirled on his tongue, and ultimately something else slipped out. (the truth)

the dismissive sound you make crawls into aventurine’s ears like a parasite creeping on his skin, causing him pain. “you say that after playing a game of push-and-pull with me? aventurine do you hear yourself?” you huff laughingly. “don’t do this to me. i can’t go through this once again,” you express with bitterness in your voice. “you’ll just hurt the both of us.” your tone is meek, but aventurine can hear the strain in your voice and he feels his stomach drop.

he exhales and musters the courage to say something. “i know that this is sudden, moreover, i know that i’ve been beyond horrible to you,” aventurine admits, and he swallows. “i want to apologize. my first apology is that i never apologized sooner.” he diverts his gaze to the ground, head facing the floor like a prisoner being escorted. 

he’s sure that at this point the stems of the flowers he’s bought for you are already kinked from clutching them so hard in his hand. “so, may i come in? i’ll tell you everything. i promise.” aventurine doesn’t dare to look up, at least not yet.

“calling me, whenever you needed me like i’m a pet who listens to every command, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as if you were coaxing me into believing something that was untruthful from the very beginning, and—” frustratedly, you ball your hands into fists. “listen. everything i told you was honest. yes i wasn’t ready for a relationship but that doesn't mean that i didn’t love you.” aventurine forces himself to look up, but immediately regrets it upon seeing your hurt face.

nevertheless, he continues. “i’m still hung up on the past. the thought of being with someone and promising myself to stay with them and committing my time, my life, and my very being scares me. it doesn’t excuse my behavior and actions, no, but i hope that this helps you understand me better.”

“i'm sorry that i didn't confide you in this any sooner. I was scared that you too would leave me. so i thought that if i’d leave first, it wouldn’t hurt as much. but i was wrong, my heart fucking aches when i’m not with you.” he cringes at how fake this sounds. but he’s more bothered about the fact that his heart isn’t only twinging when not with you, but it also might jump out of his ribcage, right here, right now.

you bite down on your bottom lip and contemplate. it's faint and if aventurine hadn’t paid attention, he’d have missed it. the way you mutter dumbass under your breath.” forget it,” you sigh as if reaching your breaking point. “just come in.”

this time, you fully open the door to him and he feels a wave of relief washing over him. “you’ve always been a mystery to me kakavasha.” you whisper, and aventurine’s lips form into a small smile as he trails and follows behind you, into your home.

a mystery, you say?

aventurine makes a promise to himself as he places the flowers into the glass vase you provided him. this time he’d be completely honest with you. about everything and anything.

so here it is — his heart laid bare.

end note: who am i kidding. if he came back to me pleading id also take him back.

also tagging @azullumi because at this point it'd be weird not to do this. i just want to thank you azul. thank you for being an amazing friend. thinking back, i used to have much worse communication skills. avoiding the ones around me or never voicing my problems aloud. but you giving me advice has genuinely inspired and impacted me so much. simply because i wanted to be so much like you cause i looked up to you so much and i still do. and recently those efforts of trying to better my social skills have paid off (kind of). I've become better and more mindful when it comes to people addressing their problems they have with me and thus trying to reflect and change my behavior. but I'm also able to talk about the things that bother me better now, simply because i took your advice. azul you understand me like no other. you take the words out of my mouth and are able to form such beautiful sentences i could never even think of. honestly your way with words is what enamors me the most about you.

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