#things will be all right in the end but right now i'm just... so frail and so exhausted
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
nerdnag · 11 months ago
Text
shrimp philosophy save me. save me shrimp philosophy
7 notes · View notes
aceecee · 3 months ago
Text
Insaitable - Chapter Two
Tumblr media
TW for this chapter: descriptions of injuries obtained from torture, human experimentation, starvation, reader's suffering from everything cause author thought it would be interesting to have a character whose body remembers all the things it's healed, blood mention, brief description of body image, short chapter (I'm sorry)
Synopsis: You wake up and meet Sylus, then discover that something has been taken from you. Something you might never get back.
WC: 2K
Masterlist
Tumblr media
Sylus was the fourth one to meet you.
He was the first to see the potential in you.
After all he has done for you, you still want to leave? If he has to fuck a baby in you to make you stay, he will.
Tumblr media
The little bird was still asleep.
It had been three days since he rushed her to a trusted doctor who had not believed she could be saved, in fact he thought she was already dead. Sylus doesn’t blame him, he had thought the same but he still put a gun to his head and forced him to operate. 
The doctor, who had been convinced you were a lost cause, nearly dropped dead himself when he saw your chest move. It was impossible. You were still breathing. He was paid to be discreet but he couldn’t help the questions that came out, none of which the tall man in the room could answer. A fact he was already pissed about.
He can’t explain the anger that still courses inside him as he looks over her body, he’s never met her before even in all the centuries he’s lived. He can’t explain why he saved her, her body had been so frail in his arms, all he felt were her bones. Just a little pressure and she would snap in half. 
Something about her pulled him even now in her rest. His hand reaches out to caress her cheek and his finger lingers just above her skin. He remembers how it felt right to hold her in his arms. In shame, he pulls his hand back and shoves it deep into his pocket. The other hand follows, just in case. 
He prides himself in his ability to be unshaken but the woman before him has challenged his resolve every moment they’ve had together and she’s been asleep for all of them.
His gaze moved down to her neck, the injury had been too deep so it had to be stapled shut. When the wound starts closing up, they will be removed. Good. It was a barbaric sight. She didn’t deserve this. 
Maybe he’d be a little relaxed if that was all she had suffered from but the list seemed to never end as the doctor examined her. Her cranium was dented, her brain showed signs of extreme damage, her lungs were infected, her trachea looked like it was crushed over and over again, she kept experiencing arrhythmias so the doctor never left her side and her kidneys were damaged, due to lack of oxygen the doctor had theorised. 
She had endured intense electric shock, evidenced by the marks on her body. She had nerve damage and in these three days, she had developed cataracts. 
Her body had been bent, twisted and shattered and yet she still prevailed.
The two of them could not understand how she was still functioning when her physical form had given up. 
He had accepted that any answers would have to come from her. 
Unfortunately, time does not wait for anyone and he had many things to get done. He leaves the room, albeit reluctantly. 
Tumblr media
He’s back by her side.
A week has now passed and she hasn’t moved an inch. 
There’s a feeding tube hooked into her stomach and an IV in her hand. They have to start small with the nutrients, too much too fast will be detrimental. Each day she looks a little better but it’ll take months, maybe even years for her body to go back to normal. He wonders what normal is for her.
Any free time is spent in her company. He finds himself reading while sitting in the room with her or he’ll bring his work with him. His constant disappearances are being noticed but he cannot find it in himself to particularly care. 
His eyes often find themselves looking upon her, the rise and fall of her chest is what he seeks. He can’t bring himself to touch her, no matter how much he shockingly wants to. She feels like an otherworldly being, too high for him to reach. She feels wrong.
But when has he ever cared about such things?
It’s clear the starvation has stunted her growth.
The air in the room thickens. People were being taken. Children. 
They were all going through this.
He gets up from his chair and leaves without a word. 
Tumblr media
You’re convinced that this is all a dream.
You had expected the four familiar yellow walls to be the sight when you awoke. Not this makeshift hospital room before you. It took a while for your eyes to focus, you had to get accustomed to the headache. 
“Subject awake. Alerting staff on call.”
Ugh the technical voice of the robot did not help with the ache.
Its words barely register in your mind. Every little bit of focus you had was on trying to move. You take a deep breath and count the facts in your head.
Your entire body fucking hurts. 
There’s needles stuck in you everywhere. Okay, no ignore that. Needles bring up bad memories and you cannot freak out right now.
You had not imagined those red eyes.
And that someone must have brought you here. Wherever here was.
It’s not helping. You can’t get it in control. Your mind isn’t cooperating. The room you’re in isn’t helping. Everything in it fucking reminds you of that place. Your thoughts escalate.
You’re back there again.
You haven’t escaped.
They’ll put you back in the cage. 
The doctor had been shocked when an alert was dispatched on his watch, letting him know the girl was awake. Abandoning his lunch, he ran towards the room she was in. He opens the door with a bang. The girl was definitely awake, there was no doubt as she was sitting up on the bed, clutching her head in pain. 
He’s a doctor. A doctor who doesn’t exactly live in the best area. He’s done horrible things and worked for even more horrific people. He learnt a long time ago to not get attached and to not intervene. His pledge as a doctor means nothing here. But even he can’t help but be concerned for the girl in front of him.
“Miss…?” he attempted to call out. No response. 
He moved carefully towards her and gently reached out to touch her shoulder.
A hand on you is what snaps you out. You move your head towards the source. It’s a man. He’s old, wrinkles on his face and greying black hair. Your eyes move over him and rest on his white coat. 
A doctor.
Doctor…?
Dr Evans.
As the girl keeps eye contact with him, her face morphs. First it’s confusion. Then, there’s fear. It’s quickly combined with anger. He removes his hand from her, putting them up to show there’s nothing to fear while also taking a couple steps back. Something about her scares him. He’s in danger. His mouth moves on its own as he attempts to soothe her. It doesn’t work. 
You want him to die. He’s just another one. Another cog in the machine, easily replaced but you don’t care. He deserves to die. For all he’s done to you. You refuse to be the only one left shattered.
He hunches over in pain. Something sharp is inside him, it’s moving through his body trying to get out. He brings his hand to his mouth with a cough, when he removes it there’s blood on his palm. She’s going to kill him. 
There’s a warm hand around your wrist, when your mind catches up to your body you find yourself staring into those red eyes. You know him.
“I’d rather you not kill my doctor. He’s been working hard these last couple of days to heal you,” the voice belonging to the warm hand says. It allows you to close your eyes and breathe. It’s familiar and you find comfort in that. But then you become all too aware of the hand still on you and your eyes snap open and you rip your arm away. If it affects him, he doesn't show it. You don’t have it in you to be nice, the thought of being touched by anyone fills you with dread. Besides if he had been rough with even her upon their first meeting, who knows what his real reason for rescuing you even was? Had you left one prison just to enter another?
Just like the doctor, he takes a step away from you. Something in his eyes glints when you sag in relief. 
You’re all too aware of the eyes on you. It’s silent but then he breaks it.
“We’re leaving,” he turns to the doctor and ushers him out the door. “Get yourself together and knock on the door when you’re ready to talk,” he stares at you for a little while with his hand on the doorknob, half out the door. You hold his gaze, his lips quirk and he’s gone with the door closed behind him. 
Your mind is clear now. You push the blanket off you and you don’t even blink as you rip the needles out of you. Blood pours out but you feel nothing. It’ll heal on its own anyways. Your bare feet touch the cold marble floor. It’s welcomed. 
You use the bed to assist you, and slowly make your way towards the mirror in the room. It takes time, your legs are weak from days of unuse and starvation. You haven’t had access to a mirror all these years you’ve been taken. Not even a reflective surface. 
The girl that stares back at you looks pathetic. Disgust fills you as you stare into her eyes. You used to be something to be admired. She’s just bones, you have no idea how you can even stand. Your hair used to be your everything. You took pride in caring for it, the shine is gone. It’s grown in these years but the thickness of it is nowhere to be seen. Somehow this hurts more than the beatings you’ve endured. The spark that you had earned in this life is gone too. Your eyes look devoid of any emotions, the softness in your face she used to adore has disappeared. 
You find yourself slipping into those decrepitating thoughts. Would they be disgusted at you as well? Perhaps it's good that you’ve been labelled as dead. 
Your eyes drift over to your neck and your hand caresses the bandaged wound. You carefully unwind the bandages. The wound is deep, no shock there but it’s much better than before. It’s been closed up with stitches and in a couple of days, it’ll be healed enough for them to be removed. 
Despite your earlier breakdown, you’re numb when not a single sound escapes your mouth as you try to scream.
Tumblr media
The silence has him on edge.
When he left her there, he expected screaming or the sound of things breaking as she processed her predicament.
It doesn’t feel real to see her awake. She had looked like a cornered animal, too busy focusing on killing the doctor to even notice him sneak up on her. She was powerful. Whatever she had tried to do to the doctor had left the man with internal bleeding. He was currently resting. She was a threat and yet he has no answer as to why he hadn’t put her down. That was the way he did his business, it didn’t matter how helpful someone or something could be, if it threatened his life, he would dispose of it. Yet the thought to even activate his evol or have a gun on him had never crossed his mind. He sighs, lifting a hand to his head. She’s barely been awake for an hour and she’s already causing so many problems. 
Her eyes had a hold on him. It was…profitable that she still had a fight in her. Yes. Profitable. She could be useful in other ways than just the information she held. He was a businessman after all. He’d mould her into his image, she could pay him back by becoming his tool. 
He found himself standing right by the door of the room she was in, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. 
A knock snaps him out of his thoughts. 
Tumblr media
AN: Ugh I had no inspiration for this chapter, I rewrote it like five times but I hate it. That's why it's so short. Next chapter should be longer cause the twins will get introduced and I adore them. What sort of bond should reader have with them?
220 notes · View notes
minus-plus-zer0 · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
One Good Grovel
Tumblr media
♡ Genre: Fluff (trust me), little crack ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Established relationships
Tumblr media
You and Katsuki had your biggest fight in a while.
Both sides fought like they were out for blood. You two said things you shouldn't have, things that were hard to take back. It ended with Bakugou storming out of your shared apartment.
The moment he did, he regretted it. But he didn't know how to go back inside and say it.
Hours later after he came home from doing errands, Bakugou found you on the couch. You hadn't answered any of his texts, and Bakugou never felt so helpless before. He was already losing you fast, and he couldn't dawdle now. Bakugou dumped his groceries on the kitchen counter and then approached you. Neither of you said anything.
You still looked torn up about your earlier argument, your hair a little messy in a way that Bakugou liked. He'd prefer to be the one messing it up himself, but he knew he didn't deserve that privilege now. Bakugou threw an extra blanket over you, because you looked like you needed one.
"Yo," Bakugou said, sitting down beside you on the couch. "How've you been holding up?"
"...I don't wanna talk about it. Not with you."
Your voice was frail, quiet. It broke Bakugou's heart, knowing that he put you in this position.
He had to make it right.
"I'm sorry," Bakugou said. "For everything I said. I wouldn't be surprised if ya never wanted to talk to me ever again after this." You looked at him suspiciously. "It'd kill me if you did, but that's fine. 'Cause I value your feelings over mine. When I was out today, all I could think about was you and what I said to you. So I bought you some gifts and I really hope you'll love 'em."
Bakugou reached out to stroke your hair. "And I promise you, I'll never say that demeaning shit to you ever again. You mean more to me than winning that stupid argument, and I don't know where I'd be in my life without you by my side. I was wrong, okay? I was dead wrong for treating you like that, like anything less than the best. Most of all, I just want ya to take me back and love me. But I won't force ya to do anything. I can walk out that door again and leave you alone if you asked. And if you hate me forever... I understand."
You smiled at him. "...Okay, I hear you."
"...So do ya hate me now?"
You still smiled. "Only a whole bunch. You monster." You playfully punched him in the face.
"Sorry," Bakugou said, matching your sweet expression. "I deserved that. Punch me all ya want. Won't even stop ya."
You gave him several more feather-light punches. "You're soooo dead."
"Ya gonna call the cops on me too? Make sure I never do that shit again? Make sure I learn my lesson instead of forgiving me too easily?"
"Yes." You fluffed his hair. "They're already on their way. The conviction of a famous Pro Hero is gonna be the scandal of a century!"
Bakugou fixed his hair. "Well I'll still love ya, even while in jail."
You crossed your arms. "Only after you've served your 10-year sentence and repent through hours and hours of community service will I finally forgive you. Then you'll be free, we'll start all over, and we'll fall in love again."
"Deal," Bakugou said, kissing your forehead. "But I wanna skip to the end."
"No, that's the easy way out!"
"The hell? You're not actually gonna send me to jail for saying it was wrong to like Pepsi over Coca-Cola, are ya?"
"That's how the roleplay is going!"
"It ain't that serious! I said I was sorry babe! I'm sorry!"
Tumblr media
You recalled what you originally fought about quite easily...
"Alright," Bakugou said. "I'm gonna head out for groceries. Any last minute changes to the shopping list?"
"Oh yes!" You rushed out to meet him in the entrance. "Could you get me some Pepsi? Pretty please?"
"What the fuck?" Bakugou looked at you like you grew two heads. "'Pepsi'? You want freaking 'Pepsi'?!"
You shrugged. "...Is that so bad? It'd be nice to have something besides Coca-Cola for once..."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed into slits. He shut the front door and approached you. "I didn't realize we had a freaking problem here. You're telling me I've been buying the wrong soda for you this entire time?!"
"Well... It's just not as good as Pepsi. It's not the same. I'm sorry... but I've always felt this way."
"Since fucking when?! When did things change?" Bakugou slapped a hand over his eyes. "What the hell did I miss?!"
Bakugou couldn't believe this. He thought he knew you better than anyone, just like how you knew him better than anyone. You two were the tightest couple ever. Bakugou had an engagement ring hidden in his dresser because he had already long since decided that what he wanted in life was you.
But now, he didn't feel like he knew you at all.
He'd still marry you though.
You remained silent. Bakugou couldn't stand it. He shook his head, then walked back to the front door, opening it. He stopped before he left, turning to you.
"Coca-Cola is better than Pepsi. That's just a fact."
Then he turned, and left. Instant regret washed over him, but he continued down to the front lobby. As Bakugou looked down upon his cursed shopping list, he couldn't in good conscious buy Coca-Cola anymore. Not when you hated it so much. He had to make things right.
He was getting Dr. Pepper instead.
Tumblr media
"This is fucking disgusting, Katsuki," you said, halfway through your delicious can of Dr. Pepper at your dinner table.
"It was on sale, alright?!"
Tumblr media
(I've read that a lot of people are unsatisfied with grovels in romance novels because they don't feel that the love interest apologizes well enough, so I wrote this just in case anybody needs one good quick grovel with none of the baggage attached. Btw, my favorite is Coke and it's not even close)
425 notes · View notes
fastandcarlos · 9 months ago
Text
Whole World On Your Shoulders : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton
summary: with the pressures of his upcoming move weighing down on him, lewis counts on you to reassure him that he's doing the right thing
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Your eyes followed Lewis carefully as he walked through your home, watching him drop his bag with a thud, brushing his hands over his face. You placed your phone down, studying him closely as you noticed the frustration that was evident in his expression. 
“Everything alright?” You asked, offering Lewis a soft smile, only for that to drop when he didn’t return it. Instead, he scuffed his feet on the ground, throwing himself down beside you. 
“I can’t win,” Lewis sighed, feeling your arms quickly wrap around his frame, pulling him into your chest. “I’m doing well with Mercedes but people keep making me feel guilty about leaving. And now I’m winning again, Ferrari are telling me about all these expectations they have for me.” 
“I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing a kiss against Lewis' head as he cuddled himself into your side, desperate for a touch of comfort from your hold. 
Your head rested on top of his, entangling your legs in with his own. “I’ve got so much pressure on my shoulders right now, there’s so many people who I need to try and impress, what if I mess up and just end up disappointing everyone?” 
“That’s not going to happen Lew, you’ve not disappointed anyone in nearly twenty years of racing.” 
It broke your heart seeing how frail Lewis was as he held you, struggling to maintain his composure. For quite some there had been a little bit of pressure, it was only natural for someone who was about to sign with Ferrari, but as contract start came closer, the pressure was only mounting more. 
“What am I supposed to do baby?” Lewis nervously asked you, tilting his head back slightly to try and look up at you. 
His voice sounded as if it was on the verge of desperate, a tone from Lewis that you hadn’t heard for quite some time. He liked to be composed and not let you in whenever he was struggling, but today it seemed as if he had decided that he was going to do the complete opposite. 
“No matter what I do I’m upsetting someone, it’s bitter for Mercedes but a joy for Ferrari that I’m doing well right now,” Lewis continued to huff, “they keep telling me they’re happy for me, but I know they don’t mean it, they don’t want me to go.” 
Your hand brushed gently over the top of his head, “you don’t need to worry about all of them, you need to focus on doing what’s best for you, regardless of who you upset.” 
Lewis hummed in agreement with what you had to say, he’d spent so long working as part of a team, but now his new decision was a selfish one. His career didn’t have much longer left and he wanted to make the choices that would be best for him, not for anyone else. 
The biggest cheerleader for him when making that decision was absolutely you. You’d encouraged him immensely to make the call that was best for him. Whether it was Mercedes or Ferrari, you were going to support him with it regardless. 
“Thank you,” Lewis whispered, “for always being here for me to help me out.” 
You never wanted to be thanked by Lewis, you never expected it from him either. All you did was care, and if you were needed to pick him back up and give him a boost, then you were going to do that without even having to think about it. 
“You know, people would dream about being you,” you told him. 
“They'd be stupid too," Lewis scoffed, "I wouldn’t want anyone to have to work under the pressure that I'm working under. The only reason I manage it most of the time is because I have you here.” 
“I’m nothing to do with this,” you laughed, only for Lewis’ head to shake as you spoke. 
He wished you saw more of the impact you had on him and how helpful all of the little things that you did were for him. “Just you being here means the world love, the feeling of knowing I’m not alone makes such a difference,” he admitted. 
You could feel in Lewis’ hold just how much he wanted, or needed, to have you there. He was terrified of you letting go, the one person who he could always count on leaving him. You didn’t even need to do or say anything, just being there was more than enough for him. 
“I’m incredibly proud of you, I don’t tell you that enough,” you mused. 
Your words were like music to Lewis’ ears, the perfect pick up that he needed. At times it felt like no one was proud of him now, they were disappointed, confused, some even angry, but they didn’t understand Lewis like you did, they didn’t understand why the decision needed to be made. 
“Will you be there at the last few races?” Lewis tentatively asked, taking a tight hold of your hand. “It’s going to be tough, and I’d really love for you to be there, for me.” 
Without even thinking, your head nodded in response to his question. If he was honest, he was terrified of leaving Mercedes, leaving everything that had become so comfortable over the past decade, it was a goodbye that was going to be far from easy. 
“I don’t say it enough, but I really am thankful for all that you do,” Lewis told you once again, “not many people could put up with someone like me.” 
It had its difficulties dating Lewis, you couldn’t deny it, but that was far outweighed by all the positives. You didn’t want the easy life, you enjoyed the challenges, the highs and the lows, all the boring bits and the exciting bits that left you thrilled. 
“I’m going to be right here to ease that weight you’re carrying on your shoulders,” you insisted, “you don’t ever have to worry about carrying it alone.” 
“I know,” Lewis smiled, “that’s what makes us such a good team.” 
You hummed in agreement with Lewis, you two clicked perfectly together, you had such a clear understanding of one another and knew exactly how to be there for the other. 
“I don’t quite know how the next season is going to pan out, I can’t promise that next year will be easy, but I’m still going to be there and putting you first,” Lewis assured you, kissing against the top of your shoulder. “It’s going to be a rollercoaster, but that’s how we like it.” 
“You always promised me life wouldn’t be easy.” 
Relief hit you as a chuckle came from Lewis, “I’ve no doubt it’s going to be amazing, because we’ll be right there together.” 
Ferrari was going to be new to everyone, but you had every confidence that it would work out, if anyone knew how to overcome a challenge, it was definitely Lewis. 
“Try not to worry about everything that’s coming our way,” you whispered, “for once, we’re going to be selfish for a while.” 
Lewis nodded in agreement, “it’s about time that we put ourselves first for a little while, don’t you think?” 
“I couldn’t agree more, we’ve got to be our number ones for once.” 
“Screw what anyone else thinks anyway.” 
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
402 notes · View notes
zreamy · 4 months ago
Text
things i know that i can't have (teaser)
Tumblr media
jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it.
genres: college au, (established) fwb to lovers, smut, fluff, angst
teaser warnings: minors dni, smut (yn sends nudes and jake jerks off)..........extremely dramatic (jake is going through it basically)
teaser word count: 1,125 (chose peace)
fic word count: probably around 35k???
post date: apr 3 !!!
message from zo: yeah uh huh zreamy finally finished a jake fic.. yeah uh huh (i say as i'm still writing this fic.. im affirming #lawofassumption ..sigh whatever whatever) the wip page is literally cursed !!! it is it is it is .. anyway.. jake nation will always win accept me please jake nation.......
Tumblr media
r/Christianity 
u/footballfan1511 | 2m
How bad is premarital sex, really? (Need quick answers!!!)
I (20M) have been having sex with my friend (20F) for three weeks now. I knew it was wrong, but she’s everything (very hot, totally, completely sexy), so I didn’t care. BUT I just saw this verse (Matthew 5:28-30) and apparently it’s a sin just to THINK about it??? 
The last time we did ‘it’ was this morning before church (sorry), and I was supposed to go over there tonight, but I’ve been freaking out about that verse all day…….. idk what to do but I really like her, so much, and I still want this, with her. Please give me advice .. 
Tumblr media
Every Thursday night. Ten p.m. sharp. Almost no exceptions. You call Jake, talking shit for as long as it takes one thing to lead to another. Tonight is an exception—you had friends over, rescheduled for midnight. Jake lies in bed, hair still damp from his post-football training shower, counting each minute as it passes. 23:55. His leg is shaking. 23:56. He sits up straight, jolting as if waking from a nightmare, nerves sharp and restless as his thumbs fly over the keyboard, texting Sunghoon. 
Jake: What about phone sex?
Jake: Like if I don’t think about her while I do it? 
Sunghoon’s groan reaches Jake through the thin walls of their shared flat. Drawn-out and long-suffering. Read receipt. 23:57. Three dots. 
Hoon: I can’t tell you what to think, but if you’re asking me then you probably alr know
Hoon: Also..??? Do you think you can jack your shit on the phone without thinking about her 😭😭😭
Jake snorts despite himself, much too loud for the quiet. Echoing as if even the room disapproves. He closes his eyes, shakes his head. Palm to his cheek. A low smack, half-joking, half-sincere. Guilt snakes around him, a hot, unwelcome coil that won’t ease. Jake gets the sense that the choice ahead — to answer or not to answer — might drastically skew his life one way or another. 
A minute early. 23:59. Your name on his screen. Phone humming in his hold, pulse lashing his throat. On the other end of the line, before he has the chance to weigh his options, you dead the call—making his decision for him. 
Jake’s heart stumbles, clumsy in his chest. He thinks of the verse, sharp and prickly—crown of thorns on heavy head. He has been thinking about it since Saturday morning. Extra training with Team B, avoiding you, six-thirty wake-ups to join Sunghoon at the rink. Ice-cold mornings melting into afternoons. No matter what he tries, it always comes back. Lustful intent, adultery, with her. And despite his best efforts to pray for rapture, Thursday has come, and Jake has lived to see it. 
A minute late. 00:01. Your name on his screen. Hovering thumb. He knows that phone sex and sex-sex aren’t the same thing, Matthew didn’t even have a phone—but if he could’ve, and he could’ve known you, and you wanted him? Jake sighs. He should answer. If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off, and throw it away. The words sink their senile claws into him, holding on for dear, frail life. His phone stills in his palm. 
You don’t call again. You never have. If this phone call is going to happen, it’s up to Jake to make it so. This knowledge and its weight multiply by the second. An itch he doesn’t try to scratch, knowing he won’t be able to reach it. Another agonising nine minutes trudge along. 00:10. His phone buzzes on his chest, and he knows it’s you before he looks. Two texts.
YN: Said you’d stay up for me Yunie :((( 
YN: You don’t think I’m worth the wait?
Reading your messages through the notifications, he’s having a hard time convincing himself not to reply. Not to tell you he waited, that of course, you’re worth it. His guilt loosens, making space for his desire to reassure you—he cannot rule out the possibility that this desire outweighs his guilt. Silence settles in his room, stretched thin and strange around him. He sighs. 
YN: Attachments: 2 images
YN: Wanted to hear your reaction, but you can tell me when you’re up ig.
YN: Night, loser :P 
Butterflies, sudden and bright—teenaged. Foolish. Tucked under the notification, the photos dare him to look. His curiosity clicks it, and the first picture fills the screen, yanking his breath from his lungs. 
Most of your face is cut off, showing only your lips—pouty and glossy and pretty. Pulling at him in a way he’s not quite equipped to name. This would be enough for him, an innocent selfie, you and those pretty eyes, that smile. More than enough—pulse quickening just thinking about it. His gaze lingers on your lips, stuck for a while. Then, unintentionally, his eyes flick lower. Hair fanned over your pillow, breasts peeking out from under black lace. Fuck. A sight he’s seen a million times, but somehow, each time feels like the first. Jake gulps. Holy shit. He ignores the throbbing in his pants, how much tighter they are—he won’t give in. No matter how badly he’s craving it. He’s stronger than that. With his eyes, he traces your lips. Ogles until his screen dims, locking the picture away again.
Picture two. Fuck. You on your stomach, grainy in your webcam. Arched back, black lace panties over your hips. Fuck. The lingerie, the shape of your body.. Seeing you like this, so perfect and all for him—it’s taking every last shred of his self-control not to get in his car and rush over to you. Want, need, tugs at him. A tether he can’t break. His phone locks. 
Enough is enough. He drags his feet all the way back to the shower, oppressive cold water hitting him. Doing absolutely nothing for his revolting need. This isn’t working—not the water, not the attempt at self-control. Not when he’s already hard and aching against his stomach. Soft breasts. Round ass. Wet—his hand moves instinctively, forehead resting on the cool tiles. He closes his eyes, your body clear in the dark. Full lips. Arched back. He’s breathless when he finishes, head bowed as heat coils low in his stomach. The water carries his release away. Nose crinkled as it swirls around the drain, cringing at the sight—guilt, shame curling around him.
Again, he dries off, pulls on clean pyjamas, and drags his feet to bed. On his side, he closes his eyes, your body like a brand behind his eyelids, thoughts filling the quiet in his room. Exhaustion however, is its own kind of mercy, and eventually, pulls him under.
326 notes · View notes
alwerakoo · 3 months ago
Text
''Dream about me''
ROTTMNT Leonardo & Michelangelo - centric Post-krang roadtrip AU, 5k words
After stopping an alien invasion (of the world-ending kind), a road trip across America feels like the most logical next step. A brilliant idea, as far as Mikey is concerned. His siblings still treat him like particularly fragile glass statue, Leo refuses to look at him, and there's a deep knot, constantly tightening somewhere inside of his chest. But the views are nice, at least.
Tumblr media
(Art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast)
Read on AO3
------ “That's not going to close.”
Donnie, carefully trying to balance a third suitcase on top of two others, leans back to look at April.
“Maybe it would, if one of you actually tried to help.”
Raph and April, both equally invested in the task of trying to look busy, quickly avoid his gaze.
He's not looking at Leo, because it would probably cause him to say something like: 'You think this is a three-arm job?', which would make Donnie's face turn into that deeply and unexpectedly sad expression, which would make Leo feel so guilty he's shaking with it, and it's just a little too early for all that.
“You're doing great,” Mikey says, just to be encouraging.
He's not really doing anything either, but Donnie doesn't look at him.
He was supposed to paint the side of the minibus because he said he would, but the brush felt frail in his soft grip, the lines coming out shaky and uneven, and then he knocked over the paint bucket and almost started crying.
He's sat on the floor now, with a fresh, bright orange stain on the concrete next to his feet, a few ugly scribbles on the car, and a deep knot in his gut.
Which is stupid, really, because that's what he wanted to do, and getting upset over it makes him feel like an inconsolable child.
“Do we really need all this?” Leo asks.
The fact that he's responsible for at least half of their luggage seems to escape his mind at the moment.
“If we run out of food,” Donnie takes a slow step back, like he's trying not to startle the game of Tetris he created out of their bags, “we're eating you first.”
“We're not going to run out.” Leo rolls his eyes, rocking on his feet. “You know, there's this thing called 'grocery stores'? You go in there and you can exchange money for items. Crazy things that humans come up with.”
Donnie looks at him.
“Are you being annoying on purpose?”
Leo huffs, like he's taking great offense to that, but doesn't say anything else.
Mikey's not sure which of them is right. He's never been on a road trip before.
The idea was sudden and spontaneous, like a spark that quickly turned into a blaze, until it was all any of them could think about.
“I want to get out of here,” April said one evening, lying flat on the couch, her legs thrown over the armrest. “I feel like I'm going crazy.”
And that was that.
By the next Monday, Leo had drawn out a thin line in red ink over a map, cutting the country in half. On Tuesday, Mikey spend excruciating hours convincing their father that they were well equipped to deal with far worse dangers than dehydration, high gas prices, and white vans full of potential kidnappers. On Wednesday, Raph came home carrying every tourist guide he was able to hold in his arms, which was a lot.
By the next Sunday, Donnie had the car ready.
A minibus, to be precise. It was a new and shiny thing, with rows of seats, sliding doors, tinted windows and many other possibly illegal modifications. Mikey was also almost certain none of the steps his brother took in order to obtain it were quite lawful, but his excitement quickly outweighed his already brittle moral compass.
He wonders, now, if with a bit more of a foresight, Donnie would've opted for something with a bigger trunk.
Carefully, Donnie pushes the back door of the car closed.
Inside, their suitcases rattle to the floor.
He sighs, resting his forehead against the metal.
“Hey, Leo,” Mikey tries, pushing himself upwards. He's already feeling restless. “Wanna help me make lunch?”
He doesn't need help, and if he does – he doesn't want it.
But he wants Leo, the opportunity to talk to him.
“Nah, I'll help Donnie here before he pops a vein. But Raph has been reading the same page for twenty minutes now, so I'm sure he'd be happy to help.”
Quickly, Raph closes the little booklet in his hands, cheeks pink.
Leo turns to smile at Mikey, almost on instinct.
But then his gaze falls on the car, his face drops, and he turns around awkwardly, like he's not sure what to do with himself for a moment.
Mikey wants to grab and shake him until he finally tells him what's wrong.
He thinks they might be fighting, which is strange, because he has no idea why they would be.
It took him a moment to realize it at first.
The first few weeks after the Krang were spent on mending old wounds, ripping out new ones, and it felt like years and years of things held back, never spoken out loud, spilling out all at once.
Mikey can recall the one time Leo found him making pancakes at four in the morning. Or attempting to, because his hands started to bleed again, and Leo held his wrist in place under the faucet, washing his palms with cold water and screaming himself hoarse.
And then Leo yelled: 'Are you trying to hurt yourself or are you really this dumb?', and suddenly Mikey felt like it wasn't about the pancakes at all.
But it's been three months since then, and there's no longer any doubt in his mind.
Leo is avoiding him.
It's confusing and it hurts, and it feels like he just woke up to find half of the walls in his house missing. And the worst part is just that:
He doesn't know why.
“Okay,” he says, all casual, because if Leo can lie, so can he.
He watches Leo forget himself for a moment, bringing his palm to his stomach like he wants to rub his hands together. Then he freezes, just for a moment, before letting his arm fall.
Mikey stands, giving his brother one final look.
Leo can't run forever, but he knows him too well to think he won't try.
It's a good thing Mikey isn't anything but stubborn.
***
America from a passenger window, as Mikey finds out over the next few days, is a lot bigger than he expected.
It's miles and miles of fields, and forests, and fields again, and he watches all of it roll pass with the sort of squashed amazement, like he can't quite believe it's real until they stop for a break, and he can take a breath, cities and villages, and trees, and lonely gas stations stretching out before him.
Mikey managed to convince Draxum to let them borrow his old cloaking brooches, and they quickly make great use of them, stopping at every monument and museum any of them finds mildly interesting (which in Leo's case includes not one, but two ''world's largest balls of yarn'').
But Mikey's favorite moments are the nights.
They sleep on the sides of the road, in the woods, in front of someone's field; in small tents with the occasional bonfire to keep them company, away from the busiest roads and civilization.
Just a few years ago, the thought of sleeping on hard, cold ground probably would’ve made all of his siblings wince in vague disgust. But they've grown tougher over the years, rougher around the edges, and he can't decide if it's a good, or a bad thing.
The days are hot, and the cold of the night feels soothing, and Mikey spends hours with his head tilted back, watching the stars, to then promptly pass out in his seat as soon as they start up again.
“Lucky bastard,” Donnie tells him one morning, yawning. “You get to be a passenger princess.”
Mikey, one of the two passengers not allowed behind the wheel, leans out of his seat to look at Donnie in the rear-view mirror.
“I wouldn’t be, if someone agreed to teach me how to drive.”
Donnie frowns, wrinkling his snout in a funny way.
“Let you drive my cars? I don't think so.”
Mikey doesn't even take it for anything other than a joke until Donnie's eyes widen suddenly, real panic quickly flooding his face.
“I mean, not like I think you'd be a bad driver!” He turns around to look at him. “It's not because of the- It's- I was just joking.”
“Dee, eyes on the road,” April says quickly, making a weird gesture like she wants to lean over and grab the wheel herself. She always seems a little on the edge when Donnie's driving, and no one can really blame her for it.
Donnie turns back with a quiet swear under his breath.
Behind him, Leo and Raph exchange silent looks. They all fall quiet for a moment, like they're expecting Mikey to flip out, and really, that makes him want to do just that.
Instead, he says:
“It's fine. I didn't assume you meant it that way.”
He probably shouldn’t feel too offended, even if Donnie did mean it in that way. He doesn't think he'd be able to keep the wheel straight anymore.
“Hey,” Leo says suddenly. He's holding a map Mikey didn't notice him grabbing. “There's another yarn ball, like, five miles from here.”
Raph quickly grabs at the map.
“No way.”
“I'm telling, you, man. There are so many.”
“They can't all be world's biggest,” April says from her seat next to the driver. “You think they just keep building new ones every once in a while?”
Leo's good at this. At turning everyone’s attention so effortlessly, so quickly, it's hard to even realize it at times.
Mikey watches him for a moment, trying to catch his gaze.
It never happens.
***
One day, when April's 'no radio until I've had my coffee' rule keeps them all quiet for the good chunk of the morning, Mikey pulls out his sketchbook.
He hasn't touched it in a while, and the thought of doing so now feels heavy. But the road is quiet, the view behind the window nothing but grass and flat ground, and he feels warm.
It's not until he opens up the sketchbook, pencil gripped in one hand, that he feels Raph lean forward, looking over the back of his seat.
Mikey can't see his face, but he can feel the way Raph's fingers tense on the material, the slow exhale that escapes him.
Mikey feels his jaw clench, his jagged nerves already flaring up.
“I'm fine,” he states, before his brother has a chance to say anything.
He feels like his whole life is now revolving around those words.
Yes, I'm fine. No, I don't need help. Yes, I can do this on my own. Over and over again.
Mikey clenches his pencil a little tighter, the contrast of the white pages and his black compression gloves stark.
Raph makes a face, like he begs to differ, but is not sure if he's ready for that fight.
“Are you sure?” He asks despite it. “Raph doesn't want you to-”
“Raph.” Mikey turns in his seat, pushing against his seatbelt to look at him better. “I'll be fine.”
He knows that his stare tends to be intense at best and intimidating at worse. Luckily for him, that is exactly the reaction he's currently seeking.
“I know,” Raph placates. “I thought-”
He doesn't really finish. His mouth draws into a thin line, a vague hum rising in the back of his throat.
“Hey, Big Guy,” Leo says suddenly from his seat in the front (it's his third time in a row winning the paper-rock-scissors for it, and Mikey starts to suspect he's cheating, somehow). “It's okay. Leave him be.”
Raph gives him a look, one that only older brothers seem to be able to understand, until he finally sighs, falling back against his seat.
“Alright, alright, sorry.”
A flash of familiarity washes over Mikey.
In many ways, Leo's always been like this.
First to laugh, first to say 'I told you so', first to back him up, first to defend him, even when Mikey was elbows deep in teenage rebellion and barely gave him any ground to stand on.
He was funny, the coolest person ever, larger than life and it made Mikey's chest swell with pride to say: ''This is my big brother and he's my best friend''.
Leo turns to him, cheek rested against the headrest, sending him a conspiratorial smile. Then his gaze drops slightly to the sketchbook thrown over Mikey's lap.
His expression wavers, something complicated showing in his eyes, until it all collapses. He turns back, eyes on the road.
Mikey clenches his jaw, feeling his own smile fade.
***
Mikey falls in love with roadside dinners – head over heels.
The food is mediocre at best and beyond vile at worse, the floor always feels sicky, and the tables seem dirty even when he watches the waitress wipe them down.
But there's something about it.
About walking in, their cloaking brooches pined to their shirts, and piling into a booth. About laughing, arguing about the menu and anything else that comes to mind. About making everyone at the dinner give them a dirty look, because they're being obnoxious and they're being teenagers.
Moments like that make Mikey feel whole again. Better, even.
Infinite.
Like they're just normal kids on a trip to catch last breaths of freedom before college, and they're young and unburdened, they have nothing to be afraid of, and things like 'death' simply don't happen to people like them.
“I'm getting the eggs,” Raph announces finally, putting down his menu.
“How many portions? Six?” April teases.
It sounds like she's joking, but Raph seems to actually be considering that option, humming softly.
Mikey turns to look out the big window. Kansas is nothing but fields and grass, and he watches the few lonely trees sway in the wind.
Absentmindedly he rubs his hands together.
They feel dry and achy today, like something's pushing at the tight skin from underneath. It feels weird with so many fingers. He's not going to let that ruin his day.
“How come they don't have vanilla milkshakes?” Donnie huffs, turning the menu over again. “That's, like, the most basic option.”
No one questions him on why he wants a milkshake for breakfast, because he will be driving later, and having him behind the wheel in a bad mood feels like a death wish.
“How dare they,” Leo says, in that tone of his where they can never tell if he's joking or not.
The waitress, previously busy with trying to start the coffee machine (seemingly by punching it several times), finally walks up to them.
She's looking down at her notepad, and there's a vague, practiced smile on her lips. She's around their dad's age, maybe with kids of her own, because she doesn't seem all that bothered by all the noise and chaos they've been causing.
When she's standing in front of their table, she finally looks up.
“Hey, what can I-”
She goes quiet, all of the sudden.
Her eyes sweep over all of them, her mouth slightly open, like the words she's been speaking every day for so long have suddenly escaped her mind.
And this is Mikey's least favorite moment.
The moment the illusion breaks.
Because they're not normal kids, they're here because their whole world fell apart just a few months ago, and there's nothing any of them can do to change that.
Her eyes go from Raph’s eyepatch, to the scars covering April's and Donnie's faces and arms, to Mikey's palms, finally landing on the left sleeve of Leo's hoodie.
“Oh,” she says, quietly.
Tumblr media
(Art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast)
Leo wouldn’t sit next to Mikey, which hurt, but it means he can see his face now, the way his expression folds in on itself, until there's nothing left but a blank slate. It's hard to tell when he barely looks like himself.
Mikey aches.
Donnie clears his throat, loudly and only a bit rudely. Carefully, he raises one eyebrow.
“Oh!” The waitress blinks, suddenly flustered. “I'm sorry, I just- I'm sorry.” She looks to the side, embarrassed. “What can I get for you?”
By the time they get their food, it all slowly rolls back to normal.
Leo's smiling and joking along, and if there's a slight downturn to his lip – they all pretend to not notice.
He finishes his portion faster than Raph, which is almost absurd, and Mikey quickly gets the feeling they'll be stopping again very soon for him to vomit it all back on the side of the road.
“I'll wait in the car, okay?” Leo says, pushing back his empty plate.
He doesn't wait for a replay, grabbing his jacket and exiting the dinner like it burned him.
Mikey watches him go.
“He just needs a moment,” Donnie says, following his brother to the car with his gaze through the window. “He'll be fine.”
Mikey wonders then, if any of them noticed what’s happening between him and Leo.
He tells himself no, because that is what he hopes for.
But that's another lie, probably.
***
They're stopped at some forgotten rest stop, and it's a quiet evening, the setting sun covering the horizon in a pink hue. It's the sort of view that makes Mikey want to step away for a moment and just watch, because there's only so much family time one can manage in one day.
He's not the only one.
He finds Leo sat on one of the covered benches, his back pressed against the plexiglass. The left sleeve of his hoodie was trimmed, and he's playing with a loose thread, eyes fixated on something in the distance.
There's a nervous feeling in Mikey's guts, like all the butterflies turned into a mush and he might throw up at any moment.
But it's a chance he has to take.
“That's coming undone,” he says, chin pointing to his sleeve.
Leo blinks slowly, turning to him, like he needs to take a moment to fully digest his words.
“Oh,” he says. “Yeah.”
“Want me to fix it for you?”
He's not sure why he says it, because it was Dad who spent hours carefully altering every piece of clothing Leo owns. But he needs to say something.
“It's fine.”
They stay in silence for a moment, and Mikey turns his eyes to the horizon.
“What's so interesting out there?” He asks, not expecting to get a real answer.
Leo opens his mouth, stops for a moment.
“I don't... Know,” he says, but it sounds different.
Because he's been different since the Krang, and all of them know this by now.
He's quiet at the most unexpected of moments, distant and hazy, like your hand would go right through if you tried to reach him.
He smiles and laughs but it's not the same, like a speaker that's been dropped one too many time – everything sounds just slightly pitched.
Mikey wonders where he goes when he disappears like this.
“Gotta remind myself the world isn't all gray,” Leo says, suddenly. “Not like...”
He stops.
He blinks, looking at Mikey once again, and there's a strange expression, like he just realized who he's speaking to.
“Like what?”
“Like New York on a cloudy day,” Leo says, an easy smile fixed onto his face. “Come on, let's get back to the car.”
Mikey wants to scream.
Because they used to tell each other things like this, and Leo knows he knows, and he can't figure out why he's being lied to. Why his brother won't talk to him.
If he's trying to protect him in some misguided, backwards way, he's being a fool. If he thinks Mikey can't hear the way he wakes up some nights with a gasp, a silent scream still lingering on his lips. If he thinks Mikey doesn't notice the way he rubs at his chest sometimes, like he can still feel a linger of old pain there. If he thinks Mikey never notices the way he goes silent at the sight of red lights, static behind his eyes.
If he thinks Mikey doesn't have nightmares of his own.
Leo stands and Mikey wants to cling to him.
He wants to grab at his arms and dig in his claws and scream at him until Leo tells him what he's done wrong. Why he doesn't want to be his friend anymore.
He doesn't, and Leo pats at his arm as he passes him.
***
Utah steals Mikey's heart in all possible ways.
It's all red sand and dry land, cold night and the echo of something old and bigger than him in the wind, and stars that look back when he tilts his head up.
They camp further away from the road, where it feels like they're the only people left on the entire earth, and all of this, every moon, every rock, every breeze, is just for them.
They set up a small campfire inside an old metal barrel and sit around it for hours, swaddled in blankets and hoodies, and sweats, because the chill is calming, but unforgiving.
Mikey wears three layers at any given moment, curls up close to Raph in his sleep, and wishes the sun would never raise up again.
He wakes up one night, the sun still far behind the horizon, and there's a small rustle outside of his tent.
He doesn't stir at first, because his general aversion to anything horror related made his mind less likely to jump to axe murders and ghosts at the first opportunity.
But the sudden familiar footsteps make him frown, and he sits up. It's a full moon, and he watches Leo's shadow pass his and Raph's tent, his movements quiet but not silent.
Slowly, Mikey rises to his knees.
By the time he manages to pull on all of his clothes and crawl out of the tent without waking up his brother, Leo's already by the car, leaning against the hood, ankles crosses.
He's wrapped in jackets and hoodies, and they almost hide the way he flinches when he finally spots Mikey out of the corner of his eye. Almost.
“Hey. Why are you awake?”
Leo looks at him for a moment, then he squints slightly, like he's trying to hide a different expression.
“Why are you?”
Mikey considers telling him the truth but then doesn't.
“I had a nightmare.”
He feels bad lying when he doesn't need to, but it's worth it for how quickly Leo's face softens. It's half a truth away. He woke up this morning with cold sweat running down his back.
“Oh. Sorry.” Leo's quiet for a moment. Then, a little shyly: “Me too.”
It's a start, a small crack between the door and the frame, and Mikey throws himself to shove his foot into it.
“What was your about?” He asks.
Maybe it's a little too forward, because Leo doesn't answer him. He stares up at the night sky.
He's holding onto what's left of his left arm awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers, like he's trying to soothe it over the layers of clothes.
Mikey's gaze lands on the side of the car, on the ugly smudges of paint he left on it, before quickly deciding he doesn't want to look at it any longer.
He walks up, sliding on the hood next to his brother.
“I've never seen a sky like this,” Leo confesses.
Mikey follows his gaze up, up, up.
“Yeah.”
“Not in New York.”
He says the last part oddly, and Mikey can't decide if it's homesickness, or the exact opposite. He looks down, watching Leo move his fingers again.
“Does that hurt?” He asks, pointing to his side with his chin.
“Not really,” Leo answers far too quickly, dropping his hand.
But Mikey knows he's lying.
There's some real elegance to the way Leo lies, like watching an expert work their craft. Would've fooled anyone else. Maybe even Mikey, just a few months ago.
But he sees the slight downturn to Leo's mouth, the way his jaw shifts in place, the way his chest staggers for a moment with every breath.
He's hiding pain, and it's the kind of pain Mikey knows all too well now.
“My hands hurt, too. Sometimes.” He stretches his arms, the scars on his shaky palms stark in the dim light.
He's trying to encourage vulnerability, but it must be the wrong thing to say, because his brother's mouth turns into a thin line, and he looks away.
His hand rests on the hood, like he's ready to push himself forward and run at any moment, and something in Mikey snaps.
“Are you mad at me?” He barks, finally.
Leo blinks, turning to him again. He seems slightly panicked, like that was the last thing he expected Mikey to say. Mikey would feel bad, if he wasn't so damn angry.
“What? No.”
He sounds honest. More than usual anyway. Mikey wants to believe him.
“You're being so weird around me.” He wraps a loose string from the edge of his hoodie around his finger. He doesn't pull it loose, because that would hurt more than it's worth. “I don't know what I did.”
Leo watches his hands, like he can't bear to look him in the eye.
“Nothing,” he says. “You've done nothing.”
Mikey bristles.
“Stop lying to me, that's so annoying.” He pushes his hands inside his pockets, and that finally makes Leo meet his gaze. “I feel like you hate me. I know you don't, but it feels like that, and I don't know why.”
It's all been brewing in him for longer than he realized.
It feels unfair.
He knows he's not entitled to Leo's attention, to his love, but it feels like he is, and he's past the point of caring about all the different ways in which that makes him selfish.
“I don't- Mikey.”
He says his name like Mikey just hurt him so deeply he's lost for words.
“Just tell me what's wrong,” he pleads. “Please.”
You're not alone, he wants to say. I want to be friends again.
I miss you.
Finally, Leo sighs, and it's like the breaking of a dam, his eyes suddenly glossy and wet in the moonlight.
“Mikey,” he says. “I ruined your life.”
That makes Mikey pause. All of it – his anger, sadness, bitterness – coming to a stop.
“What?” He asks, mostly for the lack of anything better to say.
And, because, really: what?
“I know you can't do art anymore.” Leo pushes himself away from the car, pacing nervously, counting down the fingers of his one hand. “I know you struggle at training. There are eggshells in everything you cook now and I-” He stops, taking a deep breath. “It's all because I did something stupid, and you had to save my ass.”
Mikey stares at him.
He stares and stares for what feels like hours, until he finally feels his voice return to him.
“Are you being deadass right now?”
There's the start of a laugh in his voice, but Leo must realize he doesn't find any of this funny, because his face remains appropriately miserable.
“I'm sorry.”
“Leo.” For a moment, Mikey wants to walk up to him. But then he doesn't, taking a breath. “If you ever thought, even for a second, that I wouldn't die for you, you were wrong.”
Leo laughs, a hollow and hysterical thing.
“Angelo,” he says, like he doesn't really believe he's being serious.
But he is.
He'd die for all of them, his whole family, over and over again.
“Master Michelangelo died opening that portal,” Casey told him months ago.
And Mikey thought: 'Yes. I would.'
He steps forward.
“You're right. You did a stupid thing. Because you're stupid and brave, and you always want to save everyone.” He walks up closer, taking one hand out his pocket to point it at Leo's chest. “And I saved your ass, because I love you.”
Leo's face softens, a small frown forming between his eyes.
“I wish you...” For a moment, Mikey thinks he might say: 'hadn't' and almost punches him square in the face for it. “I wish you wouldn't have to.”
“Me too,” he says, honestly. “But this isn't your fault. I knew what I was doing. Sort of.”
He doesn't want to say the last part out loud, but if he's being honest, he might as well go all out.
“I- Okay.”
Leo doesn't seem too sure, but it sounds like he's been holding all of this back a lot for a long, long time.
“You saved me too, you know?” Mikey asks. Leo looks at him like he didn't know that, and that's so absurd it almost makes him laugh for real. “You saved the entire world, idiot. And it-”
“Costed me an arm and a leg?” Leo smiles, all wobbly and unsure, and Mikey giggles, honestly.
“Exactly.”
“I was scared,” Leo says, “that you were going to hate me for it. I wouldn't blame you if you did. But I didn't want to see it.”
It's like weight off his shoulders, like finally digging far enough to notice the root of the problem. Even if he doesn't know quite what to do with it - he can see it now, and that makes everything click into place. “I won't.” Mikey holds out his hand, pinky pointed out. “Promise.”
Leo wraps their fingers together, shaking their hands a little.
“Yeah. Okay.”
And for a moment, it feels like they're kids again, sharing secrets and promises in fortresses made of blankets.
Leo lets their hands drop.
“Gosh!” Mikey tilts his head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I can't believe you got me so worried over something so stupid.”
“Sorry,” Leo says, and it sounds like he's only half joking.
He holds out his arm, fingers flexing.
And Mikey doesn't hesitate to reach forward, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders.
Leo holds him like he's a lifeline, like he's afraid one of them will disappear if he lets go.
“Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Mikey asks.
He meant for it to come out as a joke, but Leo's voice sounds dangerously shaky when he responds:
“Yes. I'm sorry.”
Mikey just holds him tighter.
He doesn't think this fixes everything. He doesn't think this fixes much at all, all things considered.
But the deep knot inside his gut is gone, and when he wakes up tomorrow – his home will feel whole again. That's all he wants for now, really.
They can deal with the rest later.
Step by step.
162 notes · View notes
mysteryshoptls · 7 months ago
Text
SSR Idia Shroud - Room Relaxation Vignette
"Happy Birthday"
Tumblr media
[Mister S's Mystery Shop]
Idia: …Hrrm, I can't find the 15th Anniversary special Star Rogue diorama.
Idia: I told Sam-shi I'd look for it myself, so I wouldn't have to deal with him talking to me, but… There's way too much stuff here to look through!
Idia: And I came all this way 'cause I wasn't fast enough to get it online.
Idia: I can't go back empty-handed after telling Ortho that there's no way I wouldn't get my hands on one as a number one fanboy!
Idia: Oho? This shelf over here has a ton of specialty figures and other hobby stuff… EEHHHH!?
[products fall of shelf]
Idia: OUCH! OW OW OW!!
Jack: Woah!? That was close! Some of the falling goods almost scraped by my nose…
Idia: I-I-I didn't do anything! They just fell off on their own since they were thrown haphazardly onto the shelf!!
[Idia runs away]
Jack: Huh? No one said it was your fault or nothin'…
Jack: …What the, he's already gone! Idia-senpai… He looks slow and frail, but is he secretly actually pretty nimble?
Jack: Oh, man, and he just left everything on the ground. Ugh, I guess I'll have to…
Jack: …Hm? Isn't this box the one Ortho mentioned today…?
Tumblr media
[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]
Idia: …Haah. And in the end, I just ran away… Without a Star Rogue diorama…
Idia: It's all because they sold it first-come-first-serve, instead of pre-order... Not my fault what happened earlier…
Idia: If I went back now, that terrifying beast of a man from Savanaclaw might still be there. I'll try again tomorrow…
Idia: K. Now that I've decide that, time to get all the annoying dorm work stuff done!
Idia: Uhhh, so, the notices I have to give the other dorm students are… Oh, right, the equipment replacement schedule, and the AC inspection time.
Idia: Just in case, I'll add "Important", "Good News", "Response Required", and "Read Immediately" to the subject… K, sent.
Idia: It sure is hard work bein' a Housewarden. Thought it's not that bad since I implemented a chat app once I became Housewarden.
Idia: Efficiency above all! No face-to-face meetings! Conserving my own energy is the best way to do things!
Tumblr media
Idia: Finished all my Housewarden tasks, and even took a shower, as annoying as it is. I'm awesome. I'd give myself 100,000,000 points out of 100.
Idia: Nice, so… It's finally me time!
Tumblr media
[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]
Idia: Ah, I got a message from Ortho… He's spending the night in the first year rooms, huh.
Idia: Then, I guess I can just game all night by myself! Fheeheehee!
 [beep, beep!]
Idia: Hm…? What's with this reminder…? Man, right when I was getting into things.
「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」
Idia: Ugh.. Right, that was a thing. You don't really see paper surveys anymore. Let me think, it should be around… Yep, here it is.
Idia: Uhhh, so what, they want to know what I'd like improved? I mean, kinda late to ask a third-year, isn't it? I can't really think of anything.
Idia: Sides, there were stuff I used to not like about the dorm, but I already made upgrades to all that stuff.
Idia: We soundproofed the walls and floors, installed commercial-grade AC, and the dorm-wide servers are of my own technical specs.
Idia: To live the perfect shut-in life, we can't not have walls that can't take loud shouting, or ACs that can't keep overclocked PCs cool, so~
Idia: …Ah, wait a mo'. I just thought of one issue I got. "There's not enough electrical outlets"!!
Idia: This kinda stuff needed specialized qualifications to do, so it's not like I coulda bought the parts and DIY it.
Idia: I'm using a power strip for now 'cause I have to, but I hate how the wiring just looks like spaghetti. Even a master wiring tech like myself can't stand a sight like that!
Idia: Oh, I just thought of one more thing. "I want to have the low-capacity breaker replaced"!
Idia: It's so weak that the breaker flips just 'cause I try to have 4 computers, the server, a 3D printer, microwave, and electric kettle all plugged in at once!
Idia: I mean, I'd set up a UPS (uninterruptible power supply) system in case of emergencies, so my computers and server was fine, but...
Idia: Because of that, my plan to add an AC unit and a refrigerator in my room went out the window. That was a nightmare. Oh, and…
Tumblr media
Idia: …Dyehehe. I said I couldn't really think of any, but it's hilarious how the ideas keep flowin' out.
Idia: I'll attach some of the numbers we have on the cost of estimated damages by having Ignihyde students continue to use those useless breakers.
Idia: The Headmage is pretty much influenced by profits, so. If I explain how it's necessary to get better equipment, then he might listen to improvement suggestions.
Idia: Nice, mission clear. Time to watch some new anime episodes while grinding levels in my gams.
Tumblr media
Idia: See, nothing beats watching anime while mindlessly leveling… Ooh, I pulled a rare one!
Idia: I thought I'd be bored of this anime 3 episodes in, too, but it's actually starting to get interesting!
Idia: Well, now that the mood's getting good, I just gotta let loose! TIME FOR A SNACK PARTY!!
Idia: …Huh? I'm out of my favorite snack. Ugh, I completely forgot to re-order some more when I ate all of it last time.
Idia: If only the Mystery Shop had 24-hour delivery service… Maybe I should add that to the survey?
Idia: Nah, nevermind, I should just focus on the anime. NOTHING'S GONNA BRING ME DOWN!
Idia: Woah, the animation's clean…! They're all movin' so smoothly… Maybe the production team changed this week?
Idia: I'm getting pretty into the main theme song, too! Heehee, fheeheehee…!
Tumblr media
[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]
Idia: Urrghnn… Aaarghh…
[~♪]
Idia: Gah! Urgh, what's that noise…? What time is it right now…?
Idia: Urk! Everything's so bright, I can't see anything… How's it morning already…? Wait, before that, where'd that noise come from…!?
Tumblr media
Idia: Huh…? Ortho…? Weren't you spending the night with the other first years…? Oh wait, is this just a message…?
Idia: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"…? Oh, right, today's my birthday! I completely forgot, since there wasn't anything to look forward to…
Idia: I'll just write back… Thanks, Ortho.
Idia: Urp…! But now I feel a bit sick…! And my whole body hurts…!
Idia: I fell asleep running my games, and I'm just stiff all over. Can't I just go move to my bed and go back to sleep?
Idia: Nah, if I end up crashing and forget to login and get all the birthday login voice lines, I'll never recover. Gotta wash my face or something…
Tumblr media
Idia: Woah, I can see how crazy my bedhead is reflected in the monitor! I think this every time, but why does my hair end up this bad whenever I fall asleep at my desk?
Idia: Kinda looks punk, but that's totally a different vibe from my usual, lawl.
Idia: Meh, my hair can be whatever. Not like anyone looks at me, anyway.
Idia: It's a pain to go all the way to the washroom… I'll just use magic like I normally do. I'll chill the water, then.
[splash!]
Idia: WHEEEEW, THAT COLD WATER HITS JUST RIGHT!!
Idia: Normally, I'd just leave it here, but… My face feels so dry after pulling that all-nighter.
Idia: But I'm all good. I'm a functioning nerd, so I know how to fix it.
Idia: Ta-da~ I don't really get it, but here I go with the number one most popular all-in-one cream~
Idia: Putting on lotion and moisturizer one at a time is a waste of time. Just plap it on, and ta-da, done. Next is my clothes…
Idia: Nah, nevermind, I'm not gonna change. Now all I have to do is to jump into all my games and collect the birthday login voice lines. Fheeheehee.
Tumblr media
Idia: Perf, I've gotten them all for now. …Huh? There's another message from Ortho…
Idia: …HUH!? HE GOT THE 15TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL STAR ROGUE DIORAMA!? SERIOUSLY!?
Idia: "I was planning on picking it up in the Mystery Shop after classes, but if you can't wait, you can go pick it up whenever"…?
Idia: Well, I gotta go right now, then! That means I have to finish getting ready.
Idia: I don't really wanna go outside, but… I can't keep my poor Star Rogue waiting! Hyah!
[Idia magics hair and clothes]
Idia: K, bedhead fixed. And now, onwards, to the Mystery Shop!!
Tumblr media
[Main Street]
Idia: Fheeheehee…! Look at this craftsmanship…! It looks just like the scene I imagined as a kid!
Idia: Ortho… Did you look for this Star Rogue diorama because you knew I was sad I didn't get it?
Idia: Wheew~ The best thing in the world is a little brother who thinks the world of his older brother, and is really good at search functions~!
Jack: Hm? Is that… Idia-senpai? Good morning.
Idia: GYAAAAAA!? J-Jack-shi…? Why are we making contact two days in a row…?
Jack: I mean, it's not really anything, but… I heard from Ortho yesterday that today was your birthday, is all.
[Idia runs away]
Jack: Happy Birthday. So, uh, did you get what you were looking…
Jack: Huh, he's already gone! Ugh, I don't get him at all.
Tumblr media
Requested by @farfalla049.
297 notes · View notes
yanderes-galore · 2 months ago
Text
I have Baldur's Gate 3 brainrot and I will make it YOUR problem. Here's HCs of you having Raphael as your patron when being a fiendish warlock.
Yandere! Patron! Raphael with Warlock! Darling
Pairing: Romantic/Dubious
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior Occult themes, Violence, Murder, Blood, Mature themes (I elude to, well, sex but it's nothing graphic), Stalking, Kidnapping, Coercion, Haarlep is involved occasionally, Biting/Marking, Branding, Mind control via charm, Forced relationship.
Tumblr media
Normally people avoid making deals with devils, cambions, fiends...
However, some are pushed into such an option, specifically if there's nothing else to turn to.
Perhaps you are such a case... Forced to deal with a devil in order or to keep your life.
Raphael isn't picky... He loves to charm mortals into deals.
So... It's expected he comes to you when you're at your worst, right?
Perhaps you were cast out of your home... ostracized for following dark paths... or perhaps you were on the brink of death from an attack?
Maybe you were originally a mage who was punished for being too ambitious.
Or maybe... Well, there's a whole list of reasons why warlocks make pacts, yeah?
Anything from curing a curse to wanting enough power to save yourself or those you love....
Raphael doesn't care for the reason.
When he encountered you, he saw you as another soul he can toy with.
Devils do love their toys.
You looked like a kicked puppy when he found you, such a weak frail thing.
Helpless souls like you are so delectable.
He had originally decided to interact with you in his human guise, to play the part of your savior.
"What a predicament you're in~" He coos, piercing eyes gleaming over your vulnerable form. "Would you like my help?"
Raphael is careful to pick the desperate ones.
Said souls have a harder time refusing his charms.
"I can help you be stronger... Think of me as a friend. I'm sure we can help each other out."
With no other place to go, what else could you do?
Imagine Raphael forcing you into a deal once you're at your worst.
With him, he promises you power, all in exchange for being his servant.
At first it's your typical devil deal.
The fiend allows you to use fiendish magic in exchange for your servitude.
It's mostly simple... a fair price for where you were at before.
Sometimes it's seeking items, other times you serve as a debt collector towards those who are indebted to your cambion master.
You grow used to being at your master's beck and call for years.
You've done horrible things to keep the power you were given.
Yet you've accepted the fact you're not a good person a long time ago.
You stopped being a good person when you met Raphael, practically begging for power to survive.
So, if it comes to killing a few folk and sending them to the Hells for your patron, you'll accept the task.
You're meant to be a plaything, a puppet to do your master's bidding.
Your agreement is simple for a few years.
You think it's what most warlocks deal with when it comes to their patrons.
However... Imagine Yandere! Raphael playing favorites, seeing you as his favorite debt collector.
His favors become more... personal.
You end up being summoned to the House of Hope more often than you'd think.
It's always an unnerving experience to you.
You'll be focused on learning a new spell or tracking down a target, only to feel a chill run down your spine.
It isn't long after an infernal transportation gate opens, making you come face to face with your patron.
He's always charming with his appearances, being theatrical as he tells you he has a new job for you.
You're used to this by now... He invites you to his House of Hope, he tells you of a new debtor, and you're sent off to hunt like a loyal hound.
Yet... Imagine if Raphael simply invites you over to chat?
There's no debtor to be hunted... Your job is just to entertain him with chat.
It's a new yet easier task... One where Raphael promises to teach you a new spell if you indulge.
As time goes along, you'll soon realize these moments you share with your patron are attempts at control.
Raphael, as a narcissistic cambion, enjoys control over you as his warlock.
He chats you up, trying to encourage you to do certain things for him.
Chatting is enough to show Raphael's interest, the devil often asking how your training and jobs are going.
That or asking if you miss him, your dramatic patron.
You can tolerate this for the most part... But devils always seem to surprise you.
Imagine if Raphael adds onto what he likes for favors.
Your patron has been watching you closely lately, call it 'admiring from afar'.
Raphael voices his needs in a way you aren't expecting, mostly because it's out of the blue.
"Little mouse, I desire something new. Perhaps I should give Haarlep a break and have you entertain me instead for a night or two. You'd do it if I ordered right, pet?"
Yes, Raphael seems like a devil who would use intimacy to control his warlock.
Of course, the devil has an incubus who normally keeps him company... but what better way to keep your pact than making you worship him?
At first it disturbs you.
Raphael has never said this was part of your contract.
You could do errands for the infernal beast, but now he's suggesting you bed him?
An unfortunate thing when it comes to devils... is their charm often gets to mortal minds.
He may be no incubus, but he has a certain seduction to him.
If he feels like it, he may allow Haarlep to make you comfortable, using 'Charm' to keep you a compliant little pet.
Raphael is an exploitative beast.
He'll use any means necessary to show you that you're his.
You should feel lucky... normally he isn't a patron for many warlocks.
Plus it's a small price compared to what his eternal debtors go through.
Let him have his fun... Let him leave his mark to keep you as his perfect little mouse.
Then you can go back to wrangling debts, being his enforcer by using his power.
Raphael is sure you reek of him.
His power rolls off you in waves, weaker creatures shuddering due to sensing his presence.
Other fiends can practically smell him on you, quickly making them realize your soul is tainted.
Raphael plans to trap you in his pact, giving you temptation and power, all while having you charmed.
Even the spell 'Protect From Good And Evil' won't help you evade his charm.
Raphael can sense it cast on you, causing the devil frustration.
Even Haarlep finds it amusing, you're clever...
But master has other ways of making his warlock comply.
Raphael covers you in bites, maybe he'll even brand you with a fire spell.
His entire obsession revolves around ways to control you.
He wants your eyes only on him, even when he allows Haarlep to share... You're only allowed to look at your patron.
Raphael plans to train you to crave him, all so can ensure you're loyal to him.
He wants you to need his touch, words, power... Everything.
He wants your worship.
In return, he'll let you channel his power, he'll let you be powerful... As long as you're his.
Raphael feeds you, your stomach and needs for temptation.
To him, it's like luring a mouse.
He'll put out some cheese... he'll make you come out of your mouse hole...
Then, as the cat, he'll pounce.
Even if you try to run, to find a way to remove the contract branded on your soul...
He won't let you.
You think Raphael will ever let you out of debt? Nonsense!
You belong to him.
Even if you tried to run or hide... He'll find you.
You'll be dragged back to the House of Hope like a misbehaving child.
You'll stay in his room until you can behave, Haarlep watching you like a hawk when your patron is gone.
There's no way Raphael is going to allow you to leave.
Ever since you pledged servitude to him... You became his to use as he wishes.
Soon you'll get used to it, soon you'll need him.
He just needs to break his mouse down with some more temptation and punishment...
Then you can be his perfect little plaything... His warlock who listens to his every word like it's law.
116 notes · View notes
campgender · 1 year ago
Text
Whenever a player safewords, this is an occasion for mutual support. We understand that nobody safewords from a happy place, and that all of our egos feel frail and kind of runty when we need to back out of a scene. It is completely unethical to respond with scorn or ridicule to a person who has safeworded: S/M is not a competition, we are not playing against each other.
As tops, we have noticed that if we are having a good time and our bottom safewords, our initial feelings may not be happy. Whaddaya mean you don't like that? I do all this work and you don't appreciate it? I'm hot for being in control and you want me to stop? We have felt real anger and felt challenged in our top role... and, on a deeper level, we have felt put down, hurt and rejected. It is okay to have these feelings. It is not okay to act on them. Take three deep breaths and everybody start taking care of each other.
Sometimes bottoms get so deeply engaged in a scene that they fail to safeword, or forget, or so profoundly believe in the fantasy that it doesn't occur to them: many of the techniques we play with, like interrogation, function in the real world to undermine volition. Dossie remembers a scene in which a top offered her a choice of something or other: "I felt very confused. Some distant part of me vaguely remembered having made choices, but the response from my state of consciousness at that time was, Choose? I am not a thing that chooses." So then what is the top's responsibility?
If a bottom does not safeword and you don't pick up on what's going on, and this will happen if you play long enough and well enough, there is no blame. However, it is still your responsibility to monitor for physical safety as best you can. As ethical tops we make a commitment to never knowingly harm our bottoms. To this end we check in regularly to make sure that things are going the way we think they are, and we constantly monitor the physical and emotional safety of our bottoms. If a bottom is beyond safewording, and you as the top feel unsure about how far you should go, it is your responsibility to slow down or stop the scene and get into communication with the bottom to make sure you have informed consent. If you have to bring the bottom back into reality to do this, please remember that you helped get them into that altered state in the first place, so presumably you can help get them back there again as soon as you are sure of what's going on.
And just because someone safeworded doesn't mean that the scene has to be over. There may be times when the problem that brought either of you to safeword is so overwhelming that carrying on doesn't feel like the right thing right now - but most often we find that after we've dealt with whatever the difficulty is, we're still terrifically turned on, with the added bonus of a shared intimacy.
from The New Topping Book (2003) by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy
(note: the authors use ‘top’ & ‘bottom’ in the historical S/M sense, meaning ‘person performing the act’ & ‘person receiving the act’; the act in question is not necessarily penetration.)
490 notes · View notes
sleeplesssmol · 2 years ago
Text
I think Vertin might be a tactile person.
Here are examples taken from the voice lines and context clues.  This isn't an all conclusive list of touchy interactions, just what I could find. Someone stop her before she gets hurt. Update: I'm going to keep adding on as we find more interactions together because this is really fun.
Sotheby (hat and hair): Stop it! You can't just touch an adult's head! (She is 13. Vertin probably sees her as a baby and pat her head).
Bette (hands): Ha ha ... They might be a little rough. To tightly grab the eave does require abundant practice. (assuming Vertin is holding her hand. Don’t ask me how we got here.)
Rabies (clothing and torso): Straws ... be hugged. Rabies ... feels it. (she hugged him 🥹)
A Knight (hat and hair): One step further, and you will be in close contact with Someone's nose... As long as you can hit Someone's head. (how close is Vertin standing to the AK? Or maybe she was looking for an invisible head to pat.)
Mesmer Jr (Hands) :Compared to the incurable anxiety, these wounds are minor. Oh, watch your distance. (smh Vertin not everyone likes being touched.)
Melania (hat and hair): "Well done. Please keep on." ...Aren't you going to say that? (more headpats but Melania needs vocal praise too.)
Lilya
Clothing and torso:  Feel awesome? Now it's my turn to pet you. (...what is Vertin petting? This is clothing and torso but I'm lost.)
Hat and hair: You should be grateful that I am too lazy to move now. Or you should know that the first-class pilot’s got a first-glass head-butt, too. (Vertin taking advantage of the moment to give headpats. I'm telling you, its a THING)
Leilani (Hands): Shaka brah! Ooh! Do you want a handshake or a high-five, my friend? I'm fine with either! (She’s so wholesome)
Cristallo 
hat and hair: Are you patting my head? The doctor says, this is a reward for good children. Have I done something right? 
Hands and sleeves: Would you like to hold my hands? I could be with you anytime. (Cristallo is weak and frail. The nurses say she could be blown away by a gust of wind. Despite this she says she’ll be with Vertin anytime. To me it reads as Vertin being worried Cristallo will disappear too. Cristallo notices so she offers to hold hands and says she will always be here as a way to comfort her.)
Darley Clatter
Hat and Hair:  Oh ... I can't deny you are really good at patting.
Clothing and Torso: Take a look at my beautiful muscles! I don't need to explain how fabulous I am. Hey, watch out! Rub me in the direction my mane grows.
Bonus Intimacy : Adorable? Ahh? You don't even have a taste! (Vertin pets him and calls him adorable. Darley, don’t let the girlies know. They might end your noble bloodline.)
Pavia (Hat and Hair): Wanna know how many holes I've made on others' heads? No? Then stop it. (What possessed her to give Pavia headpats?)
Dikke (hat and hair): Thou art overstepping my boundaries, arcanist. (I’m guessing Vertin is at it again with the headpats. Dikke smiles when she says this so she isn’t offended. If anything, she seems amused. )
Eternity (hands and sleeves): Go on, try holding it, and feel its temperature rising in your hand… Easy, sweetheart… take it easy, heh heh… (more hand holding but Vertin wasn’t prepared this time)
An-an Lee (hands and sleeves): What? You want a palm reading? (Vertin, why are you like this? Are you randomly touching people's hands?)
Regulus (hands and sleeves): What do you want? I don't have any spare scratch. (I'm sure she knows you're broke since she's your boss. Vertin's just being Vertin at this point.)
Vertin leads Regulus by the hand into her Suitcase in the prologue
Blonney (hands): Interesting! It's been a while since I last met someone who would start with holding hands.
She also holds Blonney's hand as she calms her down during the green lake event.
I feel like I should have picked up on this sooner. Gift-giving, hand holding, and headpats. This is the Timekeeper way.
746 notes · View notes
nytb · 2 years ago
Text
If you were mine
Click here first <3
A dinner party leads to a hot encounter with what seems to be a master of all trades, Alexia now filled with lust and desire for more.
Tumblr media
“Want to explain why you left in a hurry last night?" Mapi questions her captain, leaving the woman no time to rest after practice ended.
"You know, I could have just wanted to leave"
"If that were the case, Y/N wouldn't have left running after you like there was something to fix" The defender's quick wit taking a hold on the situation "Want to tell me what actually happened?" she smirked.
It wouldn't be implausible that her childhood best friend had laid it on thick on Alexia and it might have somehow backfired. Unrealistic? Yes, but implausible? No.
The midfielder took a quick glance around her, making sure that nobody else would be able to hear her confession.
"God, what didn't happen - " flashbacks from the previous night in her head, smiling from ear to ear.
"Spill it"
"So..." Alexia started "Have you ever not have had to think? Like whatever was happening was meant to happen and it's not like you don't want it to happen so you're just there - happily participating?"
"Ale, I think that you lost me"
"How about you give me another excuse to be around her and I will give you all the details" she smirked, Mapi always loved to know all the gossip, especially when she wasn't involved in it.
"Wait - around wh- " she questioned, only to realize it before finishing her question "You and Y/N?"
"Mhmhm" Alexia nodded, clearly proud of herself.
"Wait so the whole 'you need to celebrate getting a new apartment' thing was a setup?"
"You catch on quick" The midfielder laughed "Sadly, I think that your girlfriend got there first"
Mapi's gossip game was lacking.
"Tell me everything" the defender ran behind Alexia as she made her way to the locker room. The latter turned on her hips, tapping at her friend's shoulder as she punctuated every word "One. More. Excuse." she reminded Mapi of the deal she had previously offered.
It didn't take long for the defender to concoct a plan to trap her childhood best friend in Alexia's reach.
A quick pop up, that her media team would gladly encourage, at a major concert in Barcelona.
"You do know that I hate these things right?" Y/N complained, getting dressed in Mapi's guest bedroom.
"Just think that right after we will go to your favorite sushi bar" the defender, who was sitting on Y/N's temporary bed, said "And if we get real crazy we pop by a tattoo parlor and get a new design on that arm" she smirked.
Clearly Mapi was the influence quiet homebodies begs for.
"I will even skip over the fact that you called Rosalia's concert a thing" she air-quoted the last word "And you should know that that's a serious offense in my book"
Y/N broke in laughter "Sure, because you now listen to the latest music and aren't still caught on the songs your parents still listen to" she mocked.
"Again, I will let that offense slide by" the defender stated "Aren't I an amazing friend" grinning from ear to ear, only to confess the real reason they were heading to a concert.
"Just be aware that this whole thing is a setup"
"Yeah I know, my agent has been grilling me to actually show up this time"
"Oh no cutie, she's not who I'm talking about"
Y/N turned on her feet "You're telling me that you got me to renounce training days just to hook up with one of your friends - again?" This time the boxer didn't sound as happy.
"Yeah because you had such a bad time with them" Mapi mocked "But don't worry, this time I'm not the one that planned who you're meeting"
"I'm not sleeping with your girlfriend's friends Mapi" Y/N crossed her arms, now staring at her childhood friend.
"Loosen up, this is all Alexia's doing."
Y/N's face turned blank, probably thinking about her previous encounter with the Barcelona midfielder.
"Stop daydreaming" the defender threw her friend a shirt "And cover up, you're making me feel frail."
"I have asked you if you wanted to come train with me in the past" she slipped into the tight fitted shirt.
"Yeah, you still need something over that" the defender groaned "Can't have you looking like that."
"Looking like what?" Y/N complained "I always wear this sort of stuff”
"That's the problem" the defender argued "You're always making the rest of us look like potatoes, even us athletes."
"Cheer up, in a couple of years, when all this fighting thing ends I will look just like you." Y/N joked.
"Maybe I should also teach you how to be funny" the defender threw her own dig "For when you can no longer rely on looks to get women"
"I have other traits" Y/N smirked.
"And somehow I think that that's why Alexia is so adamant on seeing you again" Ingrid joined, smiling as she greeted Y/N "What about we actually get going now? I have been keeping watch on that blonde all day - and it's tiring" she joked.
Damn - no wonder Y/N hates these things, people practically glued to one another, screams coming from every direction - this must be what introverts picture hell to be.
Getting greeting and her media press appearances over and done with, Y/N made her way to her VIP gifted tickets.
Being a star with a great agency backing her was a great asset, especially for Mapi as she managed to get a free concert and an easy setup with one single phone call.
"Remind me to thank your agent"
"So you're the one that made this happen" Y/N laughed "You had me thinking that my agent thought I liked this sort of music for a hot minute."
"And what's wrong with this sort of music?" Alexia questioned, shimmying past Ingrid, aiming her question at the boxer.
"Hi, I'm Y/N and I think that I messed up again" she extended her hand out, making a clear reference at their first encounter.
"Funny" Alexia said sarcastically "You should probably get more clothes" she stated "There is nothing wrong about having those peek through every shirt you wear" the midfielder pointed at Y/N's abs "But it's getting a bit repetitive"
"Weird, I was thinking the same thing" Y/N approached Alexia, bringing her into a hug and as she reached her ear she whispered "If you were mine you wouldn't be wearing that right now".
Alexia's excuse of a tank top that barely covered any of her skin wasn't to Y/N’s liking, let alone the short booty shorts she had on - if she was trying to cover the least amount of skin possible she successfully pulled it off.
"Maybe I'll invite you when I go shopping" Y/N disguised her previous statement, allowing herself a quick glance over Alexia's figure "Or send you along my assistant to pick outfits for me" she smirked.
"You have an assistant? Let me give you my assistant's number, maybe they want to be friends" she joked, taking the opportunity to place her hand on Y/N's shoulder.
"Maybe it's me who wants her number"
The midfielder's hand flew to her own abdomen, crossing her arms like a discontented child "I liked you more when you were more action and less maybes" Alexia stated, clearly annoyed at the boxer's previous statement.
Y/N snuck into the midfielder's personal space, slightly taking hold of her hips, moving past the group but not before taking the opportunity to whisper at Alexia's ear.
"Jealousy looks good on you"
And she was off, letting everyone knew that she was on the first drink run of the night.
"What was that?" Ingrid questioned, flustered at what just happened "What actually happened between you girls?"
"A lapse in judgement" the midfielder replied, seeing that Y/N was already being wrapped by someone else's body.
Mapi, followed her captain's line of sight, sympathizing with her situation "It's probably not what it looks like" she stuck up for her childhood best friend.
"Don't" Alexia's cold statement put the defender in her place "She's literally salivating at her for goodness sake"
Y/N's return to the group had the drinks she brought along with a couple of women overshadowed, especially by the Barcelona midfielder.
"Found these two in the pit" the boxer laughed, they were also Mapi's friends.
"OMG I haven't seen you girls in forever" pure enthusiasm in her voice, greeting them euphorically.
“See? Only friends" Ingrid spoke at a tune only Alexia would hear
That probably calmed the midfielder's jealousy for a minute, but she would be damned if it were only her that would be feeling that way tonight.
Dancing with strangers, her hands travelling through another person's body, her own fully leaned into it.
Y/N was fuming.
"You think that this is funny" the boxer approached, clearly pissed but hiding it underneath the coldness of her statement "Come with me" she grabbed Alexia's wrist, taking her away from the concert.
“What!?" the midfielder crossed her arms as soon as they got to a less crowded hallway, stopping Y/N dead in her tracks.
"Don't give me attitude" the boxer warned "I will teach you how to behave" and with that statement Alexia found herself up on Y/N's shoulder as she was carried out of there.
The midfielder fought it at first, but seeing Y/N's determination, and being highly attracted at the possibilities of whatever this was leading towards, she simply closed her grip around the boxer's abdomen. Grinning from ear to ear at her previous performance, clearly over the moon that it worked.
Setting Alexia back on her feet right next to Y/N's car, the midfielder made her way to her car's bonnet, leaning against it.
"No." Y/N groaned "I'm not rewarding whatever that was."
"Oh really?" Alexia leaned backwards, resting her weight on her arms firmly placed behind herself "So what will you do?" the midfielder continued, clearly provoking Y/N, being successful at every turn "Punish me?" she smirked.
The boxer's answer was simple. She made her way to Alexia, settling herself between her legs, she pulled the midfielder by her short's waistline, getting her to stand straight.
"I clearly have a lot of things to teach you"
"What if I don't want to be taught"
"Don't lie now" Y/N whispered at the midfielder's lips "There are better things we could be doing than having this" she pointed between the pair of them "conversation"
"This is a conversation to you?"
"I would rather it not be one"
Y/N placed space between them "Get in" she ordered opening the passenger door.
"And if I don't want to?" she argued.
"I would go over there and make you want to get in"
Alexia leaned back onto the bonnet, yet another provocation. Y/N groaned.
"Have it your way" the boxer closed the door roughly, a loud echo on the underground parking filled the air.
"Don't say that I didn't warn you" Y/N groaned at Alexia's ear "I will have you begging for me to let you enter my car"
A promise that would soon be fulfilled.
The boxer pulled Alexia into a rough kiss, exploring her mouth as the midfielder reached for Y/N's shirt, pulling her even closer.
"No." Y/N stated, grabbing the Catalonian's hands away from her shirt, placing them on the car's bonnet "They stay there" she ordered.
For a while they did but as Y/N nibbled at her ear, unbuttoning the midfielder's shorts, she had no other choice than to break the command given to her.
Alexia tried her best to grab onto Y/N's hair, she wished to pull the boxer’s lips back to her mouth, but Y/N reacted quicker.
Grabbing Alexia's neck, firmly choking her she whispered into the midfielder's mouth.
"So disobedient" she started, placing Alexia's hands back on the bonnet "Let's make it easier for you" she smirked
“You move, I stop."
"No" Alexia argued back.
"I told you not to give me attitude, it wasn't a suggestion."
"Or what?"
"You wouldn't want to find that out." she warned
"Actually, I do."
That ignited a flame in Y/N, Alexia was getting what she so eagerly requested.
The boxer rose her hand, placing two fingers on Alexia's lips "Suck" she ordered and the midfielder gladly obliged "So beautiful" Y/N whispered "What a shame that you're so disobedient" she took her fingers back, lowered them into the midfielder's pants "I will teach that out of you"
"It's more fun this way" she argued back
"I will show you how untrue that is"
Y/N roughly inserted both fingers at once, no warmup this time.
"You move, I stop" she reminded Alexia the simple command she had to follow.
As Y/N expertly curled her fingers inside Alexia, bringing the midfielder into a state of pure lust, the Catalonian learned that rolling her hips - as she looked for release - was getting her nowhere, so she fought against her body's urges, at times struggling with it.
The boxer made it her mission to edge Alexia for as long as possible, ignoring every request for release that slipped the midfielder's mouth.
"More" she begged as Y/N worked her clavicle, roughly sucking on it, leaving hickeys only a few people would see.
"Say you want to get into my car."
"I want to" she whispered as she arched her back, looking for release.
"Beg."
"Please" Alexia whispered into Y/N's mouth, making the boxer stop, placing space between the both of them she walked towards the car’s passenger door “Now wasn't that easy” she opened the passenger door again.
"You're just going to leave me here and stop cold turkey on me?" Alexia was raging.
"I don't reward disobedience" Y/N stated "Now, get in."
The midfielder did just that, buttoning her shorts as she gave Y/N a death stare.
"Did I allow you to do that?" the boxer pointed at the short's button.
Alexia's death stare remained, not granting Y/N an answer.
"So disobedient"
632 notes · View notes
anthonsgi · 2 years ago
Text
★’・゚:。・:*:First kiss with HSR characters PT.1:。・:*:・゚’★
Tumblr media
【Note: Hello! I haven't written anything in a while, but I recently got a surge of motivation, so why not take advantage of that? :) There will be a few parts because I want to write for many characters and the process of writing each one is really long for me so I prefer to spread them out a bit, so if the character you would like to read about isn't here, keep an eye out for future parts, perhaps I will include them there! As per usual, English isn't my first language and I'm learning as I go, please be patient with me. Requests are open! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧】
【Pairings: Kafka, Argenti, Blade x GN!Reader】
【CW: I may have added some angst here and there, but I couldn't resist (I tried to end it with a good, slightly bittersweet conclusion each time though)! I wanted to make the characters' traits as similar to the game's as possible, but a few things may still be out of character, sorry in advance!】
a lil note: this is literally just all of these characters being absolutely SMITTEN for you and them fawning over you, but every day is a good day to get praised left and right, no?
☆〜KAFKA〜☆
It shouldn't be much of a surprise that you fell in love with this young and exceptionally charming woman. As a Stellaron Hunter, she ensures that Elio's predicted plans are carried out. That being said, you were a completely unpredicted element in a series of missions; there was never a mention of you ever being included in situations that you always found yourself stuck in. Kafka always saw it as "the usual result of the unforeseen nature of destiny," as she liked to explain to you.
After a while of simple acquaintance, she has grown more fond of you than she has of anyone. Not only were you beautiful in her eyes, which was a big thing for a connoisseur of beauty such as herself, but she felt at ease with you. She may be a sly, unbothered criminal whose prize for capturing her is enough to provide many good-lived lives for a bunch of Vidyadharas, but she actually really appreciates the times when she doesn't feel like she's being chased by people or by time itself.
Being with you was as enjoyable as studying the waves—a peaceful activity, a thought-provoking process. She desired to look at the horizon and discover more than meets the eye, however, it was quite impossible. The job of a Stellaron Hunter is challenging not only because of the relentless pursuit of destiny and the never-ending dangers but also because it entails never staying in one place for too long, never forming more meaningful connections, and never attaching yourself to finite, frail matters. Even though she knew she was more unlikely to run into the same individual twice as a Devil Hunter than she was now, her options were usually limited.
Kafka isn't one to fully hide her true feelings; she spoke very highly of you, your way of being and thinking, your appearance, and your tendency to be the miracle of one's destiny (*cough* talking about herself there). She has developed a habit of complimenting you just to see you squirm away from her gaze and bite your lower lip to try and stop a smile from forming. These occurrences weren't rare; they always followed the same pattern: she said something = you discreetly reacted = she noticed and couldn't stop noticing.
A kiss from her would be more of an indication of her love than a reveal, showing rather than declaring it. It may have happened during one of your late-night chats where you slowly opened up to one another, or it could have happened in the early morning after she invited herself into your home after you had just woken up and weren't sure if you were still asleep. In any case, without having said much, she leaned in, rested her hand on your cheek, and left a tender and delicate kiss on your lips. It didn't last long, but it meant more than a decade of stolen glances and conversations with hidden meanings.
It didn't feel like a goodbye kiss, it never did, but it was clear it was some form of leaving you wanting more, leaving you yearning for her to come back and see you again, and leaving you wondering how long it would be before she does it once more.
☆〜ARGETNTI〜☆
Knight of Beauty, a follower of the fallen Aeon Idrila. He's constantly on the journey to honor the principles of beauty itself, spreading the grace of his Goddess all over the universe. Discovering numerous forms of beauty in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. When he first laid his eyes on you, it was as if time began to bend around you, a black hole in which the concept of time didn't seem to exist, trapping anyone and everyone residing in its proximity.
Recognizing refinement in people was second nature to him, admiring their souls that mirrored their personalities and beliefs. He wished nothing more than to convey compassion to those who possessed honorable qualities, pure hearts, and desirable traits. Your beauty shone with such radiance that it put the stars to shame; your existence was an excellent reminder of Idrila's presence in the universe.
To Argenti, love is a miraculous feeling that is a joy to experience; it reflects a person's deepest desires and is an act of care so poetic that it almost brings a tear to the eye. In a way, having never experienced it before and having no opportunity to try due to his commitment to traversing in solitude, he decided it wasn't he who was supposed to feel it and that he was merely destined to admire the beauty of it from afar.
Meeting you meant the world to him; you made him feel love for another person for the first time—the all-consuming love from every classical novel he had read. The purest form of it is tragic love, one that breaks down the foundations that hold one's life in perfect balance. He spent several days and nights with you, staying in one location longer than he ever did since becoming a knight—the place where he started to ponder his destiny and his vocation.
He made every effort to push these thoughts away, thinking such things felt like a violation of the universal code of chivalry he upholds, yet when he gazed at your gentle smile as he held your hand, it was a tougher battle than that of a wax candle facing the sun. He was melting into a pitiful puddle as your very being formed him again, never to be the same as before.
One beautiful night, when the birds had gone to sleep, no expectations were laid forth, and no secrets were to be unveiled, Argenti took you by both hands, kissing each knuckle as if they would break if he put pressure on them. He spoke of you as if you were the one he had devoted his life to worshiping, his lips singing silent praises; perhaps it was a prayer, perhaps an apology. His eyes met yours, a nonverbal plea, and you leaned in, connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss, electricity coursing between each soft teeth clashing.
What an outstanding farewell kiss that was. The thought alone made you gulp down the lump growing in your throat. Argenti has to leave, or rather, ought to leave; otherwise, he's afraid he may decide to stay. He's certain your paths will cross one day; it's just the way of the world. Either way, he always finds himself drifting towards beauty. Behind him, he will leave a timeless tale of a wounded and repaired heart, as well as a dose of fate that makes no mistakes.
☆〜BLADE〜☆
The undying man who became a blade, a shell of a person, a mara-stricken monster with no hope for craved demise. His story is one of endless agony and misery. In this everlasting life, Blade's abilities are used in matters including bloodshed, spreading the pain he felt himself, and only then would he feel himself disappear, even for a moment. As bitter as that was, it was reality, his burden to bear. Blade didn't have "companionships" and never needed attachments. The closest he had to an acquaintance was Kafka, whose voice managed to calm the monsters who grew inside him relentlessly, and possibly Silver Wolf. However, he didn't understand her, nor did he wish to.
How you were able to capture his wounded heart remains a forever-unsolved mystery. He, of course, didn't decide one day that the way you laughed made him feel emotions so intense that he wondered if what he was feeling was some form of suffering he'd never experienced previously or that his intensified urge to protect you wasn't just due to the fact he was always nearby when danger struck, but because he genuinely cared. It was a lengthy process imbued with a myriad of understatements and denial. An "I love you" leaving his lips was as bizarre as the prospect of hell freezing over... yet when it did happen, you only wished to hear it again.
He frequently wonders why he finds himself faintly grinning primarily in your presence alone (and obviously during combat). When you resided in his vicinity, everyone could feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding him, as well as a change in his usual behavior. It was almost comical to observe, especially to his fellow Stellaron Hunters, who never missed an opportunity to tease him. Nonetheless, love expressed by a presumably loveless man is as fascinating as it is arduous. Your existence was curative, helping him to rediscover parts of humanity he thought he had lost, yet healing is a part of him he has come to loathe with every fiber of his being. At one point, he distanced himself, as if limiting your healing influence on him was the sole thing that he could control about his 'condition'.
That didn't last long, and he scurried back to you like a moth to a flame. Blade didn't grasp the concept of physical touch as a kind of comfort; it never failed to remind him of how many times he had been hurt. You, once again, were the exception. Gentle arm touches, random lacing of fingers, your scent, and that insufferable (not really) look in your eyes whenever you stared at him drew him in. As much as he despised life, he did not detest the idea of living simply to be with you; that paradise that always seemed to be out of his reach, a mere push away, appeared to be standing right in front of him.
A minor brush of your body against his made you excited, but a kiss? It's overwhelming to even imagine. You'd have to initiate it, subtly steering the conversation to a topic where it wouldn't be too odd to inquire about moving to the next step in your relationship, acting as lovers. If Blade didn't wear a stoic expression on his face more than half the time, you could tell by his nervous swallowing that he would be at least blushing a little. He wasn't an adolescent, and he didn't think of a kiss as the grandest gesture of intimacy; nevertheless, that didn't free him of hesitations. Being vulnerable and helpless in the hands of another, all of his shortcomings could be easily revealed.
Kissing Blade had to come naturally when you were alone and indulging in small talk; there was no need for a perfectly timed gust of wind or a captivating blanket of stars above, just two imperfect people pouring all of their desires, yearning, and passion into a single imperfect kiss. Your lips met, linking your souls and creating a sensible spark deep within. There was no distance between you, and you were both entirely defenseless against the other's will. After you moved away, it was as if a thousand sentences were pulled from your mouths, yet no one spoke a word. With swollen lips, you were unable to resist a grin while Blade leaned in for another kiss.
lil ending note: hope you enjoyed! also, I have to mention that I know that both Kafka and Blade are Stellaron Hunters so the main problem portrayed in Kafka's part (the never being in one place too long) could potentially be brought up In Blade's part as well, but I decided that would be pretty repetitive so I wrote about Blade's history instead :D
478 notes · View notes
melverie · 2 years ago
Text
Can I just say that I absolutely LOVE how ever since they all found out that MC is human and was brought here against their will, it was Lucifer who kept insisting that they shouldn't be the ones to trap MC in the Devildom. That whether they want to stay or not is a decision MC has to make themself and that the brothers should support them no matter what they end up choosing
And now that the moment is finally here, now that MC has confirmed that they indeed plan on heading home, and now that all of his brothers agreed on helping them get back, having forged a pact and lending their powers to do so—
Now that he knows that he's the final piece needed to send them back; that the lingering idea of the yet to be forged pact between them is what's stopping MC from potentially leaving their side for good, leaving his side for good—
Now that they have finally gotten to this point, he realizes something. And he's unable to live with it
And so, he goes back on his word.
He's taking that choice from them.
"I don't want to."
Lucifer's pride is what keeps his voice leveled and neutral, as if it were just another day. As if he everything was completely fine. As if he didn't feel this pain in his heart, almost as if someone had rammed a dagger through his chest over and over and over again
To most people, he'd appear to be in perfect control of his emotions—if only his gaze wouldn't completely obliterated that frail façade of his. The way his beautiful dark eyes shimmering with a hint of blood red silently plead, beg MC to stay...
Internally, he is breaking apart because he knows what he is doing isn't right. He knows that he shouldn't trap them like a bird in a cage, and yet he can't help himself. Not in this situation. Not when it comes to MC
'No'
He—Lucifer, Avatar of Pride himself—is the last thing trapping the very person that finally made him realize what his sister had meant forever ago
'I won't let you go'
How one day, someone would stumble their way into his life, and how he'd love them so wholeheartedly and so deeply that everything else would become trivial as long as he'd get to hold them in his arms
'I can't let you go'
Someone that he'd happily throw away everything for, not even considering any alternatives if only for the shred of a chance at just one last tomorrow with them
'Please stay with us. Please stay with me'
Everything.
'I cannot lose you, MC'
Even if they'll never forgive him for it.
"I'm not going to forge a pact with MC."
874 notes · View notes
novaursa · 9 months ago
Note
eek! Hope I'm not too late! it's already 30th here!
If you'd write for Tyrion plz could I get a x wife!reader where she takes care of him (running him a warm bath, massages, pain relieving tea etc) when he has a particularly bad pain flare up?
As someone who knows first hand what chronic pain is like I know all too well how difficult it is to accept help at times, even when you probably need it, and I get the strong impression that Tyrion would be more stubborn than most, but sometimes its nice to have just one person that you trust enough to let help.
For Better or Worse
Requests are closed!
Tumblr media
- Summary: Tyrion is in pain and refuses to admit it. But you are stubborn as any Stark.
- Pairing: stark!reader/Tyrion Lannister
- Note: The reader was married to Tyrion instead of her sister, Sansa.
- Rating: Mild 13+
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround
Tumblr media
You watch Tyrion from the corner of your eye, his movements slow and careful. His usual swagger seems muted tonight, replaced with an uncharacteristic stiffness. He’s trying to hide it, of course—sipping his wine a bit too quickly, cracking a joke that lacks its usual bite—but you’ve known him long enough to notice the way his hand clenches around the arm of his chair, the way his brow furrows when he thinks no one’s watching.
It’s one of those nights. The kind where his pain flares up, gnawing at him like an uninvited guest.
“Tyrion,” you call softly, approaching him with the kind of ease you know won’t set him off. “Are you all right?”
He glances at you, offering a smirk that’s meant to reassure. “Ah, my sweet wolf, ever the doting wife. I’m fine. Really.”
You narrow your eyes, not buying it for a moment. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”
“Is that what they say in Winterfell? In the South, we call it ‘selective honesty.’” He chuckles, but it’s short-lived, and you catch the wince he tries to mask with a sip of wine.
You sigh, crossing your arms. “You’re in pain.”
Tyrion waves a dismissive hand. “A minor inconvenience. Nothing to worry your pretty head over.”
“Right.” You give him a look that says you’re not leaving it alone. “You’ve been shifting in that chair for the past hour like it’s full of splinters. When was the last time you had some relief for your back?”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your persistence. “Relief, you say? Are you offering, my dear?”
“Don’t distract me.” You step closer, laying a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension knotting under your fingers. “Let me help.”
Tyrion sighs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that betrays him. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I’m fine. I’m not some frail thing in need of coddling.”
“I know that. But even the smartest man in Westeros needs a bit of care now and then.” You kneel beside him, looking up at him with a determined glint. “Please, Tyrion. Let me make you some tea, draw you a bath… do something.”
He huffs, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated annoyance. “You’re as stubborn as a mule, you know that?”
“Must be the Northern blood,” you quip with a grin. “Come on, just this once. You don’t have to be so damn proud.”
Tyrion stares at you for a long moment, his defenses slowly crumbling. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Gods, how did I end up marrying the one Stark who’s more persistent than the Other?”
You smile triumphantly and start preparing the tea. In the dim light of your chambers, the soft clinking of the teapot fills the silence. The scent of herbs wafts through the room, soothing in itself, and you bring the steaming cup to him.
“Drink this,” you command gently, “and then I’m running that bath.”
He gives you a mock scowl. “You’re bossier than I anticipated when I married you.”
“And you’re more stubborn than I anticipated,” you shoot back, gently pushing the cup into his hands. He takes it with a resigned sigh and drinks, the warmth seeming to ease him a little.
When the bath is ready, you help him out of his clothes, Tyrion muttering something about feeling like an old man. You ignore the remark, guiding him into the warm water with a care that surprises even him.
“This is… oddly nice,” he admits after a long silence, the tension in his shoulders beginning to melt away. “I might have to make a habit of this.”
“Only if you promise not to be so difficult about it next time.”
Tyrion grins. “No promises.”
Once he’s soaked long enough, you coax him out, wrapping a soft towel around him before guiding him to the bed. He watches you with an expression caught somewhere between appreciation and disbelief, like this kind of tenderness is foreign to him.
“Turn around,” you instruct as you straddle the edge of the bed behind him. He raises a brow but does as you ask.
Your hands move to his back, gently kneading the knotted muscles, feeling the way his body tenses and then slowly starts to give in to your touch. He sighs, a sound of relief that’s almost inaudible.
“You’re too good at this,” he mutters. “You should charge me. A Lannister always pays his debts, after all.”
“Consider it part of the marriage agreement,” you tease, your fingers working into another knot. “For better or worse, remember?”
“I recall something along those lines.” He shifts slightly, his voice softer now. “You’re a patient woman, you know. More than I deserve.”
“I think you deserve a bit of care,” you say quietly. “Whether you believe it or not.”
Tyrion is silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. “You’re… far kinder than I expected, marrying a Lannister.”
You press a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling him relax further under your touch. “Well, you’re not just any Lannister.”
“Flattery,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth to his voice. “It might work.”
It’s a quiet moment, one that feels both intimate and oddly vulnerable, but there’s an ease to it, too. For all his bluster and pride, you know that beneath it all, Tyrion is simply a man who’s not used to being taken care of.
And tonight, you’re more than happy to remind him that he doesn’t always have to carry everything on his own.
137 notes · View notes
earthdance · 2 months ago
Text
method acting - fox mulder
Tumblr media
mulder is back after you've come to terms with his death.
☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
note: i'm not new to fanfic but i am new to x-files fanfic! i hope this isn't too terrible! this is inspired by the first two episodes of s3 because how could scully just accept that he was back that quickly. like he just showed up and she was like "ok" like WHAAAAT. anyways i just kind of reimagined that plotline because it seemed so insane to me.
content tags: SPOILERS for epsisodes 3x1 "the blessing way" and 3x2 "paperclip" , canon compliant but also canon divergent, reader insert, use of y/n and y/l/n (i think it's only y/l/n actually), angst, fluff, mentions of death and mourning, reader and mulder have shared dreams, reader is sad, mulder is sad, everyone is sad but it's okay cause there's a happy ending, this wasn't proofread.
word count: 1,394
cross-posted on ao3 if you prefer to read there!
☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
i put the knife in slowly
through the ribcage to your heart
i don't know how we got here
but it's tearing me apart
you don't seem too surprised
i guess that it's become a chore
every tuesday on the hour
you don't feel it anymore
☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
you couldn’t handle it. so much was going on and you couldn’t handle any of it. 
you try desperately to recall your lessons at the academy, about compartmentalizing and shoving unwanted thoughts or feelings into the darkest filing cabinets of your mind. 
but right now, all of those neatly closed and sealed drawers were flying open at breakneck speed, undoing years of hard work and meditation to keep yourself stable and able to do your job. 
he was here, in front of you. looking at you with his leafy green eyes with a crazed look as if he had just come back from mars. standing in the archway where the threshold meets the living room of his apartment, soft lamp light beaming off of his face. you’re in your pajamas, work clothes strewn over his floor, throw blanket and a pillow from his bed crumpled on the couch.. you had come here to sleep, as you’ve been doing since he’d been gone. 
it had been 2 months. you had weeped, screamed, sat in sad silence, broken things around your apartment, all to try to close the gaping wound his absence had torn in you. 
it had gotten somewhat easier. you were just on the precipice of acceptance. just on the precipice of finding some sort of strange peace in the storm that you were caught in. your body was tired, and it was begging you to let go of the pain. and you were about to.
but he was here.
“mulder?”
your voice was hollow like a bone. at this quiet utterance at his name, he steps forward, as if approaching a frail deer on the side of the road. prepared for it to dart at any second. he reaches a hand out, too fast.
you flinch hard. he jerks his hand back to his side.
“wh-” you start, willing yourself to make sense of the apparition in front of you.
you were hallucinating. you had to be. fox mulder was dead. you saw the smoke. the remnants. you saw evidence. 
“who are you? what kind of sick joke is this?” you ask, gasping for breath. 
“y/l/n…” he says. sad, regretful.
at his voice, something inside you crumbles, and you crash.
“don’t! what the hell is going on? what is this? why- why is this happening? why now?”
“ i couldn’t risk contacting you. not until they were sure i was dead. not until they had absolutely no doubts.”
“i- i don’t-”
“i want so badly to explain it all to you. what happened to me. but i want to give you time to process-.”
“process!?” you shriek, “i’ve already processed! i processed for 2 months! and now you want me to process more? to believe you’re alive? how do i even know it’s you, mulder? we’ve encountered people that can change shape, that mimic. they’ve fooled me before, i won’t let it happen again-” you’re hand twitches subtly toward your gun, lying on the coffee table. 
he straightens at this. “y/l/n! y/l/n…”
you freeze, ready to grab the pistol if he makes any sudden movements.
“just.. just listen. ask me something, i’ll prove that it’s me. ask me something only i would know.”
your eyes narrow at him. trying to search for any sign that he’s going to switch up on you. 
you try to calm your mind, to think of a sacred situation that you and mulder shared. something embedded deep in you. that you never told anyone about. 
“i- um…” you run a hand over your face, still breathing shakily. 
“what did i confess to you at the hotel in montana?”
his eyes glaze over in sadness. prepared to recite the story you told him. 
“you joined me on the x-files because when you were 13, you saw an apparition of your grandfather three days after he died. he told you someone was waiting for you. and you told me even though you thought it was just a dream, you’re still searching. searching for whoever’s waiting for you. wherever they are.”
you exhale for the first time in what feels like hours. tears prick at your waterline as you struggle to breathe. 
he’s there, then. arms encircling you, hand on the back of your head to pull you into his chest. and you wonder, how you ever could’ve doubted that it was him. he has never been more him than in this moment. his smell, his touch, his voice as he whispers in your hair. 
it’s okay, i’m here now. i’m not leaving again.
still embraced, he leads you to his couch. sits down gently so you can lean into him more. 
he rubs your back, sweeping those beautiful hands up and down your spine. in spite of yourself, you shudder at the feeling. 
“mulder i don’t-”
“i know-”
“no, you don’t.” 
he lifts your head from his chest and holds your face in his hands, wiping free falling tears away.
“you really don’t know.”
he bites his lip, searching for something to say, but you don’t want to hear anything from him right now. you need him to know. to understand. 
“fox,” 
he sucks in a breath at the use of his name.
“i have gone through countless deaths in my life. friends, family, pets. death follows me everywhere i go. i know the routine. i know how to grieve and come out the other side. i know how to be unfazed by it.”
you stop, to make sure he’s still following. he nods. strokes your hair.
“i-” you stop again, to try and gather yourself the best you can with his thumbs on your cheeks.
you look in his eyes now. you need him to know
“i’ve never felt so much pain. your absence… it was- it was so suffocating. so dark. no one could tell me anything. i didn’t have any closure. it was like i was walking in a tunnel, and i kept expecting to see the light. the end of it. but it never came. until last week. i was- i was getting better, mulder. i was starting to feel okay. i was starting to accept, however painful it still was. i- and then you're here?  you're just here all of a sudden? and now you being here, is almost even more painful then before because it doesn’t feel real. my brain can’t make sense of it. deep down i know it’s you. but it still feels fake. i’ve spent two months coming to terms with your death. it’s like a dream.”
you drop your head into his chest once more. he drags a shaking hand down to your arm and pinches you softly for good measure. a very mulder thing to do. 
you breathe a laugh out of your nose.
“see? not a dream” he says gently, lifting your face back up to meet his eyes once more. 
you give him a sad smile to show him you’re trying to be present with him. 
his fingers tuck your hair behind your ears. he takes a deep breath.
“i’m not going to try and pretend that i know what you went through. thank you for telling me.”
he bites his lip and contemplates his next sentence.
“i went somewhere. i didn’t necessarily die but i was close”
his hand holds your wrist, soothes your pulse.
“in the place i went, i saw people. people i knew that had died. but the last person… the last person was you. i wasn’t worried because i could tell you weren’t like the others. you weren't planted in this afterlife, you weren’t dead. you were just there to tell me something.”
you breathe shallowly.
“what did i tell you?”
“that you were waiting for me.”
you purse your lips and close your eyes, overwhelmed. 
“i know”
mulder looks at you, puzzled.
“you know?”
you nod, and open your eyes.
“i had a dream. my grandpa was there. he told me that i had already found the person that was waiting for me. and then i saw you. and i told you what you just said. i didn’t think it was real. i thought it was just another dream. i- i didn’t know it was your dream too.”
he smiles and presses his forehead to yours.
“were we both waiting on each other?”
a kiss is your answer.
47 notes · View notes
empresskaze · 1 month ago
Text
JAY/VIK NATION I AM BACK!!! Brain is functioning today so taking that as a sign to get some writing done! This isn't an ask or anything just something that popped into my brain earlier and I wanted to get down asap!! This is my modern prof AU setting.
~~~~
Viktor was bored. Beginning the semester staff meetings never were his favorite thing. He would have rather been getting everything together while ignoring Jayce repeatedly telling him everything was already done. Nothing wrong with double checking. Really he just hated being around people, yearning more for the quiet of his office or lecture all.
His good leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the leg, Viktor's cheek smushed lazily in his hand as thought of at least seven other places he'd rather be. Beside him sat Jayce, looking more interested than he did but Jayce was a social creature. Meetings ever bothered him.
The meeting had only just started and already Viktor felt his eyes fluttering from boredom induced sleepiness.
"V-" Jayce whispered, causally nudging him. All he got was a side eyes glare.
A click sounded triggering the vent above them to expel cool air. Though fall was around the corner, the intense heat of the past week reminded everyone the hazy days of summer were still here even if the calendar indicated it should be cooler.
The hum of the air conditioner vent drowned our Heimerdinger's voice which made Viktor happy but the near freezing air blasting down on him did not. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms hoping to shield himself from the chill. It worked for a few minutes but Viktor found himself actively fighting his body not to begin shivering.
"You cold?" Jayce noticed his partners change in demeanor. The air hit him as well but not as on point as Viktor.
"No," Viktor replied, pushing his glasses up which let him rub his nose. Cold air always made it run no matter where it originated from.
Jayce rolled his eyes. Scooting his chair closer, he wrapped his arm around Viktor who exhaled harshly but did not pull away.
"Shit you're freezing." Jayce remarked feeling Viktor's exposed skin from where his cuffs sleeves were rolled.
"I'm not. Now quiet, I'm listening." He hissed before sniffling.
"We both know that's a lie." Jayce smiled showing that annoying gap.
Shaking his head, Viktor's focus once again fell onto keeping his frail body from giving in to the shivers that Jayce's warmth were barely keeping at bay. The icy air conditioning continued berating him. Viktor sniffled more, now almost constantly needing to rub his nose. Sniffling provoked his sinuses igniting a tickle that he fought desperately to subdue.
His position had now shifted to the arm resting on his leg, hand pressed firmly against the side of his bothersome nose. It was easy for Jayce to see Viktor was on the loosing end of this battle.
Right as Heimerdinger was wrapping his time up, Viktor pinched his nose tightly between his thumb and first finger. Head dipping as he silently stifled, now fully unable to stop the shivers which racked him.
Jayce's grip of him no longer bringing the warmth it once did.
As they were being dismissed, Viktor's hand cupped the lower half of his face as he half stifled into it. Another two followed before he'd even got to his feet.
"Damnit." He swore softly, turning his back to his colleagues who walked passed. Hand grasping his cane, Viktor pushed up and was nearly dragged out of the room by Jayce.
"Oh V, I am so sorry." Jayce said as they got into the hall which was a much more pleasant temperature.
"About what? It's not your fault I was assaulted by an air...vent..." Hand up again, covering a wet sneeze. Viktor sniffed hard as he dug his knuckle into the side of his nose.
"I've some tissues in my office." Jayce put out his arm to see if Viktor took it but then drew it back as his partner only nodded and started down the hall.
"Are you still cold?" Jayce finally asked after a few moments. It was harder to see if Viktor was still suffering from the chills since he was walking.
"No." His partner replied flatly, keeping his focus forward.
Jayce opened the door to his office which thankfully hadn't gotten the brunt of the artic chill. A tissue box sat on the desk. Resting his cane on his arm, Viktor pulled a few out then blew his nose, frowning as he did.
"V-" Jayce started.
"Mmm?" Viktor looked at him over the tissues which were still clasped around his nose.
"I have one of your cardigans in the closet." Which translated to I can see you're still shaking even if you won't admit it.
"Fine." Viktor replied as he wiped his nose.
Carefully, Jayce set the thick wool cardigan over Viktor's shoulders. By Janna he looked so good like that, he thought smiling to himself.
If Viktor noticed he gave no indication. He sniffled again but for now it seemed his issues had subsided. "Next time our esteemed head master wishes to have a meeting it better be over zoom so I can have my camera off and a stiff drink in hand."
Now that made Jayce bust out laughing.
31 notes · View notes