#what do i have to do to be sick enough for them

[unriding]

HOW THEY COMFORT YOU AFTER A NIGHTMARE. moze, mydei, phainon. sfw. fluff + comfort. written with f!reader! in which the hsr men reassure you that you’re safe with them after a scary dream.

— MOZE.

The room you share with Moze feels foreign as soon as you jolt awake with a sharp gasp. Nothing at all like how it usually is.

It’s Cold. Empty. Much too spacious. And…. where’s Moze?

The nightmare you’ve only barely managed to escape seconds ago comes creeping back to haunt you as quickly as it had left — fragments of fear and loneliness rushing in and swirling about in your head, shooting up your spine as you shakily cling onto your blanket. “M..Moze…?”

There’s nothing, save for the sound of wind beating against the window. Violently so, you quickly realize, with each slam of the branches against the glass making you sink further and further back into the corner of your bed. “…Are you here..? Moze—”

Every part of you hopes that he is. Perhaps he’s just lurking somewhere within the shadows as he normally does. Still beside you nevertheless. Always within earshot and always making sure you were safe.

Any shadow could be him — you know this well, but the shadows don’t usually look so cold. They don’t usually stare back at you with such a haunting air around them, nor do they ever feel this empty.

A part of you wants nothing but to bury yourself beneath your blankets — slam your eyes shut and hope that you’re still dreaming.

Any scenario in which you don’t wake up alone in the dead of night, and any scenario in which Moze hadn’t packed up his things and left without a word.

Any scenario where he’s still here.

But you don’t. Still too fearful to move even a single muscle, so you settle for clinging tightly onto your blankets instead, eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.

Any sign of Moze.

It’s only a second later when the door creaks. Quietly. Though your eyes seem to finally find the shred of courage needed to slam shut at this, head ducking beneath the blanket with a muffled whimper to seek refuge from what you think is doom.

Only, it never comes.

“You’re awake.” The mattress dips from where he sits down beside you, and then you feel a second blanket cover the lower half of your body soon after. “Did I wake you?”

It’s almost silly how quickly the fear begins to dissipate — his presence enough to convince you to wiggle your way out of your blanket, only enough to peer up at him through tearful eyes. “Moze….?”

The look on his face changes ever so slightly as soon as he hears you, even more as soon as he sees you. “I thought .. you left. Like, left me. In my dream, I think — but when I woke up —”

“I didn’t leave.”

The three simple words that loosen the grip on your chest like clockwork. He pulls you into a tight hug before you manage to choke out another word, strong arms keeping you flush against his chest to let you soak up his warmth, the way you always like to do.

He feels you trembling against him, hears the way you sniffle into his shirt, and yet — you latch onto him without another moment of hesitation. “You were shaking in your sleep.”

Moze doesn’t let go, even when he stretches to reach behind you, bunching the second blanket he had left to grab around your frame before his arms wrap back around you. “I thought you might get sick, otherwise.”

You nuzzle deeper into the safety of his embrace. “You.. you went to get blankets in the middle of the night? Because I was cold..?”

“Yes.”

— MYDEI.

Mydei notices the way you stir in your sleep long before you even have the chance to jerk awake, let alone keep yourself up for nearly long enough to work up the courage needed to nudge at his shoulder seeking some comfort.

It catches his eye within an instant — gaze flickering to the way your eyebrows furrow first, then how your body starts to curl up on itself hoping to hide from something. You’re having a nightmare.

It’s not an odd thing for Mydei to stay awake longer than you. He’s grown fond — Phainon’s words, to be exact — of the way you nuzzle yourself closer to him in your sleep. Just a small habit of yours. To press your cheek into the firm muscle of his arm, your own limbs tangled over his in an effort to keep him close to you.

You insist that it helps you sleep better, and that fact is obvious enough. You sleep like a log as soon as you’re latched onto him as so, and whenever he decides to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him — big hand mindlessly rubbing your back up and down and feeling the way your frame melts underneath his touch — your lips curl into a small smile, even in your sleep.

It’s why seeing you in such discomfort bothers him. The way fresh tears start to collect along your lashes, face frowning and body tense and trembling — all things he absolutely never wants to see, especially when you’re safe beside him.

Mydei puts down his drink first. Almost instinctively, not taking his eyes off of you for even a moment before he’s letting out a huff, easily pulling you to rest fully on top of him (another thing that he remembers you enjoying, as you’ve mentioned once that it’s fun to hug him like a koala while sitting in his lap).

Only, you don’t hug him this time, and the frown stays on your face.

He frowns now, too.

“Hey.” His arms wrap around you even tighter now, one moving to cradle the back of your head and the other around your shoulders, as if keeping you safely tucked away from whatever threatens your comfort. “It’s only a nightmare.”

You make a noise in response, one akin to a whine or a grumble before your fingers start to dig into the muscle of his shoulder, stirring and fidgeting in your sleep — even more so than before. His mind hesitates for only a moment, conflicted as to whether he should abruptly wake you or continue to hold you in hopes that whatever is scaring you eventually leaves.

He settles for both.

“Nothing’s here,” he continues, pulling you closer to him, this time moving to press a kiss against your forehead. Another, after. One against your temple. Then another against your forehead, for extra measure.

This time, your expression softens, hands relaxing to lightly rest on his body. It’s working.

“See that?” His voice comes out softer, and perhaps if you were awake, you’d point this out.

But you’re not.

So he settles on holding you close like this instead, keeping you warm and close to his heart. “You’re safe.”

— PHAINON.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes shoot open to be faced with Phainon, hands on each side of your head as he hovers over you, concern and what you think might be a hint of fear etched deep into his features. “You’re okay. It was only a dream.”

“Ph-” you call out to him, or at least you try, but the words get caught in your throat, as if something wants to keep you away from him. Your eyes widen. “..on..?”

You hadn’t been expecting him to visit you so soon. His presence almost catches you off guard, more so than the nightmare that had scared you awake, maybe. (Though, perhaps he had intentionally avoided telling you, since he’s always had a thing or two to say about you skipping rest from excitement to see him.)

It wasn’t uncommon for you to have nightmares like these. Nights where you abruptly jerk awake in a cold sweat, barely mustering the courage to wrap yourself in a blanket before seeking out Phainon.

The first person you’ve always sought out, and the only person whose hold can make you feel as safe as you do. Such as now.

“Come closer,” his brows furrow deeper when your lips continue to wobble, now opting to fully climb onto your bed to lay beside you, immediately pulling you towards him. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Sorry..” you grasp at his shirt, almost instinctively. “I know you’re busy — it’s okay. I was just a little scared—”

He doesn’t move away, only letting out a soft sigh of relief at the realization that you’re at least not physically hurt before he’s holding you even tighter against himself, as if shielding you from your thoughts with his own body. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything harm you.”

“Don’t worry.”

It might just be magic, you think, the way one simple embrace from Phainon can put an end to your fears so quickly. It was often that you’ve told him this — a shy tug on his sleeve and a reminder of just how much you cherish him, to which he only ruffles your hair with a soft smile — followed by another promise that he’ll keep you safe.

Always.

“And,” he shifts his position on your bed, the movement drawing you out of your thoughts when his chin comes to lightly rest atop your head, “I’ve told you there’s no need for apologies, haven’t I?”

“Oops,” you weakly mumble against his chest. “It slipped again.. sor—”

“Ah. And almost again, huh? That’s fine. Let’s focus on getting you back to sleep again for now,” he plants a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, “Close your eyes.”

[daynascullys]

because tumblr is the gif website, I feel like everyone here should understand the work that goes into creating a gifset. because I think not everyone does, and it’s a huge part of why people don’t respect gif makers the way that they should.

the simplest gifs you will ever see me post still take the better part of an hour to create. because in order to make a gif, you need the material—for me, that means taking screen captures of videos or finding a download for them, both of which take time. then you have to open photoshop and create your gif, which can take a really long time depending on how quick photoshop is, how long the gif you’re making is, the size, any number of variables. and then I always color my gifs from scratch. if there’s dialogue, I listen over and over to try to make sure it’s correct, sometimes I look up transcripts, and sometimes it takes time to decide how to break up the dialogue. so even if it’s a simple two-gif set of a short scene, it will take the better part of an hour at least. and again, this is for the simplest gifsets I create.

so when I gif a scene, I am spending at least an hour with that tiny little snippet of material. which means that whatever it is that is featured in the gifset, it’s something that I like or tolerate enough to spend at minimum an hour with it. and this is why it DOES NOT MATTER if you are not critiquing the gif itself, gif makers do not want to hear every negative thought you have ever had about an actor, character, scene, or anything else they may have made a gifset for. if you want to complain about something, make your own post.

do not take someone else’s creation as a chance to complain or make nasty comments about anything featured in it. if I am willing to gif something, it means that I am willing to spend my own free time looking at it and working with it and creating something with it. so even if it isn’t my favorite scene or character or actor or whatever, I like it enough to watch the same three second clip over and over again for the better part of an hour. and yes, you’re just one person, but imagine a gifset with 100 notes. say 50 of those are reblogs, and 20 have some sort of complaint in the tags. you only see the tags of people who reblog from you, but OP will see all the tags. which means it’s not just your complaint, it’s all 20 different complaints about the thing they liked enough to make a gifset for.

and look—I understand it’s your blog and you can say whatever you want. I understand that I am creating something to be seen by other people and I don’t get to control what people say or do in the tags. if you read this and think fuck that, I can do what I want, you’re right. the purpose of this post is to remind you that you can do whatever you want, but the consequence may be that the people who are creating content for your fandoms stop posting altogether because they get sick of reading everyone’s negative opinions.

all that said, for the love of god: if you like something, reblog it. send asks and tell people you like their creations. say it in the tags. send things to friends. DO NOT REPOST THINGS. if you want to reap the benefits of other people creating things, make them feel like their work is appreciated.

[andhumanslovedstories]

The critical care unit is where the sickest people in the hospital go. Those patients need a nurse completely dedicated to them, and the unit needs to keep "code beds" open in case a patient in a different part of the hospital urgently needs a higher level of care. That means critical care is always under pressure to decompress (i.e. to turf their less sick patients somewhere else so they can take even sicker patients.)

In the last weeks before we went on strike, I was floated repeatedly to the critical care unit to take care of boarders. That's what we call medsurg patients who have graduated from critical care but don't yet have a bed on a medsurg floor. Personally, I hate floating to critical care. On the floor, you would (ideally) never get a patient assignment of three patients who were critical care status an hour ago. That's going to be a very heavy assignment. But that's how many I can take when I'm helping out in critical care. And it's dangerous. It's SO dangerous. The scariest shifts I've had have been with patients who should be in critical care but aren't. People with massive strokes, or GI bleeds, or respiratory failure, that are technically able to be downgraded because if you say they're less acute, you can give more of them to the same nurse.

Last June, Oregon passed a law mandating certain nurse to patient ratios on units. While critical care is ideally a one to one ratio, medsurg (where I work, which is the general hospital population that isn't maternity, emergency, maternity, or behavioral health--so, almost everyone) has more patients per nurse. This is good and makes sense! Most people in the hospital do not need dedicated one-on-one care with someone outside their door. As a night-time medsurg nurse, I expect to take four patients a night.

And by the way? There are a lot of medsurg nurses in America who would KILL for four patients a night. I know some nurses reading this are like "four??? are you kidding me?????" Night shift nurses in states with less protections can average seven or eight patients a night. I've seen some go as high as twelve. When I have five patients, I feel like I'm running like crazy. I truly cannot understand how I could possibly give good care to more people than that.

What this means in an understaffed hospital is that patients who should be critical care get classified as medsurg instead, so instead of needing another nurse to treat another ICU patient, you can give that patient to a medsurg nurse instead. This is so common. I'm in float pool which means I work in almost twenty different units in the hospital. I have seen this happen on every single unit. Critical care patients become medsurg patients. Medsurg patients become observation class. Whatever it takes to maintain the legally mandated ratios without actually increasing staffing.

One of the major things ONA (the Oregon Nursing Association) is striking for protection against decisions like this that put patients and their caregivers at increased risk so that the hospital can save money. Even when laws are put in place protecting workers and patients, companies will work as hard as they can to circumvent those requirements. It's not enough to get legislation passed. We need the power to enforce that legislation. And baby, there is power in a union.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄ES, ANGEL ᝰ! KATSEYE

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ summary: if each katz (excluding yoonchae) is a tease and how they would react while they’re jealous/how you would react to them being a total brat > lowkey just turned into daniela and lara being jealous lmao

disclaimers: slight!nsfw, making out, harsh language, teasing, fem!reader, suggestive/sexual content (minors/men dni)

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Sophia Laforteza - Brat Tamer

You groaned at the foot of Sophia’s bed, slamming your phone into her duvet. You were beyond bored out of your mind. The Filipina laid just inches away from you, her laptop in her lap and her eyebrows furrowed. Her expression was stern, her eyebrows furrowed. Her focus never once pulled away from the “official Katseye business”, she called it, on her screen.

You mentally cursed her for the outfit she had on; a black pair of glasses and a big grey hoodie. The way she was sitting had the edge of her hoodie risen up just the slightest, leaving her slim figure exposed, and little to the imagination.

“It’s been hours, Fia, am I just chopped liver here, or what?” you whined, “Why did you even call me if you were busy?”

Sophia sighed, taking her glasses off with one hand. “I told you to be patient, baby. This is supposed to be in by tonight, and I’m almost done.” She leant forward slightly, enough to peck you on the temple. “Give me a couple more minutes, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, watching her go back to her laptop.

“But you’ve been working forever, and I only get to see you so many hours a week,” you groaned. When no reaction could be instigated, you grabbed her laptop, slamming it shut and slid it towards the foot of the bed. She clicked her tongue, but before she could protest, you rose a finger to her lips. “Your job is your mistress, Laforteza, and I’m sick of you putting it above me. You’re gonna pay attention to me now, or I’m leaving.”

She stared back at you with curious eyes, her lips gradually moving from a scowl to a smirk when you’d hoist yourself over her lap to straddle her. “Okay, where did this come from?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“I’m tired of you putting your work before me… If you paid half the amount of attention you did your work to me, maybe I wouldn’t have to literally pry it out of your hands.” You pouted, running your fingertips up her neck and into her hair. One of your hands drew lines along her jaw, down to her chest. “You love work more than you love me.”

Her face immediately fell, her hand raising to brush your hair from your face. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that, mahal, but you know it’s not true.”

She wrapped her arm around your waist, and for a second, you really believed you finally had your girlfriend back--until she swiftly pressed you flush against her, your front against hers as she grabbed her laptop. Her chin found the crook of your shoulder, her glasses tipping off her nose as she read off her now lit again screen of her computer. “But I’m sorry, I really do need to finish this, or I’ll get in a lot of shit with Geffen.”

You let out a loud sigh, your body slumping in her arms.

Fine. Guess you were gonna have to do this the hard way.

Sophia hated playing this game, but when she did, she always won. You always loved to test how far you could go before she cracked and gave in, but it always ends with you begging for her instead. Alas, it was your favourite game to play.

The fast, soothing typing from her was the only sound that rung in the room. Slowly, step by step, you began removing items of clothing from Sophia.

First, off came her glasses. You easily removed them from her nose and she didn’t put up much of a fight.

Once her glasses were tucked snugly into her bedside table, you began playing with her hair draped over the hood of her sweatshirt. Sophia was very good at concentration, and like you’ve mentioned, she was very good at this game. She didn’t give in easy, not even when she knows what you’re trying to do. Your greedy hands grabbed at the hem of her hoodie, tugging them upwards as she continued typing through you.

“You’re really gonna do this?” she questioned, her voice low and demanding, “I’m warning you, mahal, this won’t end well.”

You were just more encouraged by the nickname.

“I’m not doing anything,” you smirked, “It’s getting warm in here, I’m helping you get cool.”

She scoffed in amusement, eyeing you with those beckoning eyes of hers. When you wouldn’t look away, challenging her, she turned back to her computer. “Okay, then. Let’s play.”

She let you strip her off her hoodie, but didn’t entertain your hands travelling up and down her back. You were growing impatient, grabbing at the straps of the tank she was wearing.

“Fuck, how’re you still working right now?”

She laughed at your evident frustration, her hands hovering over her keys. “I warned you, mahal. You always try and do this, but end up losing really bitterly. You still tryna play?”

You were determined to get her to abandon that damn laptop.

“Yes,” you grunted, adjusting yourself over her lap to shield her eyes away from the screen. “You’re an asshole, y’know that?”

“Mmh, really?” Sophia hummed, “You always try and play this game, but you never win, baby. Are you really that desperate?”

When she refused to let you strip her down anymore further, you adjusted yourself so she couldn’t see the screen anymore. “Fine, Fia, you win. Are you done now?”

She scoffed, closing her laptop and setting it on her bedside table. Finally, her eyes laid on you, her hands gripping your hips so you wouldn’t move around in her lap. “Oh, I’ve been done for a while. I was just tryna see how long you’d last.”

You rolled your eyes, stripping out of your own top.

“I hate you,” you murmured, “You’re the worst person ever.”

“Oh, yeah?” she smirked, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your lips. One on your lips, one against your jaw, one on your collarbone. You let out a soft sigh. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that after I’m done with you.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Manon Bannerman - Brat Tamer/The Brat

Manon is a true tease. She will get you all hot and bothered with those cursed eyes of hers. Today, she invited you to the girls’ dance practice. She felt bad for cancelling plans for last minute rehearsal for their opening show in the Philippines in a week, so, with the approval of their team, you were welcomed to sit in on the last ten minutes.

Now, sitting across the practice room as the girls moved their way to Touch, you could sense the looks Manon were throwing your way. She was a show-off, giving 110% of herself into the choreography. Throwing smirks and winks your way.

By the end of practice, you were ready to jump her bones, right then and there in the middle of the room.

Manon bid their choreographer goodbye, grabbing her things from the corner of the room and quickly dismissing herself.

You were standing beside one of the staff members, but whatever he was talking about going in one ear and out the other. You watched as Manon swayed her way over to you, innocent smile spread across her lips.

She leant in, greeting you with a quick peck. “Hello, my love.”

You didn’t reply, biting back whatever venom you had building in your throat. For a moment, when her hand came in contact with your waist, you almost let out a lewd noise.

“Hey, y/n!” Lara called, the other girls approached you.

You managed a quick greeting, paired with a smile. You were hoping Manon would make up some excuse so the two of you could just leave and get some time alone, but when you looked over at her, she only gave you a knowing smirk.

“We’re having dinner at the dorm tomorrow night, Sophia’s cooking. My sister’s coming, I know some of Dani’s friends are coming if you wanna join!” Lara invited, earning a couple hums of agreement from the others.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you replied, watching Lara’s expression turn awry when you shuddered slightly at Manon’s cool hand slipping up your shirt and caressing your back.

“y/n, are you okay?” Yoonchae asked, concern evident.

Manon chuckled, “Yeah, honey, you okay?”

You felt her fingers reach down, slipping past the waistband of your pants. You gulped, “I’m fine. It’s--just been a long day.”

“Okay… anyway, bring soda if you can, Sophia won’t let us do sugary drinks.” Daniela leant in to whisper, only to earn a hard hit to the head from the leader. “Ow! I didn’t say anything!”

“I heard that,” Sophia scolded, “No soda, y/n.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together to keep yourself composed. Manon could go all day if she could, but she was really hoping to relax a little… with your help.

“Okay, I’ll see you guys at home.” she announced.

You followed her outside to her car. Once you slid into the passenger seat, she shut the door and started the engine.

"Are you insane? That was so close, I was so sure we were gonna traumatize Yoonchae or something,” you scolded, leaning over to nudge her shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Manz, I know we haven’t seen each other in a bit, but you can at least keep it in your pants until we’re alone.”

“Like we are right now?” Manon glanced at you, her eyes narrowing. She leant over, stealing a kiss from you. She chuckled when you leant in further for another, pulling back with a smirk. “Can you blame me? I finally get you in my hands and you think I’ll wait? Do you even know me?”

"Oh my God, how are you an adult?" You scoffed, but the teasing glint in your eye gave you away. "You truly have the sex drive of a sixteen year old boy."

Manon laughed, her eyes softening as she glanced at you again. "You want sex drive? I can give you sex drive." She shifted in her seat, and before you could even process what was happening, she leaned over and kissed you quickly, just enough to leave you breathless.

You blinked, momentarily stunned, before shaking your head. "That’s not what I meant, we’re still in the parking lot.”

She pulled back slightly, grinning. "And that stops me, how?”

"You’re such a tease," you scoffed, still smiling. "I’m surprised you’re controlling yourself so well right now."

Manon gasped, slamming a fist against her chest dramatically. "You don’t know how much this guts me, to not be able to fuck you in the middle of my work parking lot right now."

You couldn't help but laugh at the idea, even if the thought of her dancing just for you had your heart racing a little.

"Drive, Manz, we’ll test that teenage boy sex drive of yours.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Daniela Avanzini - The Brat

Daniela is a jealous, jealous, jealous girl. She cannot stand, even the thought of you getting close with anybody without her there to supervise you.

The last time you laughed around your friend, Heeseung a little too hard at dinner, you woke up the next morning with every inch of your skin aching with bruises spelling out Daniela’s name, whom slept soundly with her arms and legs wrapped around your body. Though, she was also the Queen of double standards, because she loves flirting with anybody--and everybody--in her line of vision when she’s in need of attention.

Today, you came to pick her up from a schedule, because you thought, “it’s not everyday I get to see my girlfriend, it would be a nice little surprise for her”.

But oh, no. You just had to start chatting with the new guy.

Luke was the new security guard standing at the front desk. He was a tall, clean-cut guy with the most innocent features. He carried a bright smile for whomever passed his doors, and you were no exception. When you registered yourself a guest, he begun stirring a conversation about Katseye.

He asked you about Daniela, and when you began talking, you just couldn’t stop.

Unfortunately, that’s what Daniela saw too. When the elevator doors opened, the last thing she expected was to see you. For a moment, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of your familiar head of hair. You were standing in all your glory, the light at the end of a long tunnel of media schedules.

But her heart sunk when she heard your heavenly laugh.

Just as Luke started talking about some new shift schedules, you saw Daniela striding toward you. There was an instant shift in her posture when she saw you and Luke talking. Her smile, usually so warm, turned into something more neutral, and you could tell she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“Hey, honey,” you greeted her, but she didn’t quite meet your eyes, her attention on Luke instead.

“Hey,” she responded, a little more curt than usual, before offering a tight smile in his direction. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Luke said, flashing a grin at her. “Looking great as always, Dani.”

Her expression flickered for a moment, her lips tight, but she didn’t say anything back. It felt like the air in the room shifted, and you felt an odd tension building between the three of you. You tried to ease the situation.

“Well, we should get going,” you said quickly, wanting to break up the awkwardness. “I got us dinner reservations.”

But Daniela didn’t move, her eyes flicking between you and Luke for a second before she reached over and took your wrist firmly, pulling you toward the hallway. You raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden change in demeanor, but she didn’t give you a chance to ask anything.

The two of you quickly found your way into the nearest bathroom. Once the door clicked shut behind you, Daniela turned to face you, her jaw tight, her lips pressed together in a way that made your stomach tighten with nerves.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she moved closer, her hands settling on your arms as she looked you in the eye. You could see the frustration in her gaze, and the way she took a deep breath before speaking made your heart race.

“I don’t like it,” she muttered, her voice low but serious.

“Don’t like what?” you asked, feeling confused.

Her grip tightened slightly, her voice soft but firm. “Luke. He’s always checking you out. I don’t like it.”

You blinked, processing her words. “Dani, he wasn’t checking me out, we were just talking. He was just trying to make conversation. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She seemed to struggle for a moment, her face softening a bit, but there was still a trace of jealousy in her eyes. “Yeah, well, if you get to eye fuck Luke, maybe I should find someone too.”

You reached up, cupping her face gently with both hands, trying to calm her down. “What? What the fuck?”

For a moment, she just looked at you, her expression conflicted. Then, she exhaled, clearly trying to calm herself. “I’m saying, what about I go have a chat with Justin, huh?”

Justin was a young intern on Katseye’s team. It was obvious to anyone with eyes he had a fat crush on Daniela. You’ve had a conversation with her about it, and she assured you there was absolutely nothing to worry about with Justin.

You stepped closer to her, grabbing the back of her neck with a hand, her waist with the other. Your lips locked in a fast, hot kiss. She pulled away, catching her breath. “Wanna say that again, Avanzini?”

She toyed with your hair, and she smirked.

You were exactly where she wanted you to be.

“Why don’t you go ask Luke, I think I have Justin’s number in my phone…” When she goes to grab her phone from her pocket, you grabbed her wrist, slinging it around your neck. Your grabbed her hips, propping her onto the counter.

“Get his number off your phone right now.” you demanded.

“Why, you don’t like ‘Luke the security guard’ anymore?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned her head to look away, but you grabbed her cheeks gently, turning her back to you.

“No, he’s out of my mind. And by the time we leave here, Justin will be out of yours.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Lara Raj - Brat Tamer

Lara was a very accepting, easy-going girlfriend. She didn’t care if you went out clubbing with a bunch of guys who were obviously into you, or get jealous when the barista at your local cafe kept writing her number on your coffee. But if there was one thing Lara did not tolerate was you talking to your ex.

A complete stranger flirting with you? Whatever, it’s not that big a deal. This person who’s seen you butt naked before her? Absolutely not, she’s launching every nuclear missile she can.

You and Minji didn’t date long, it was more of a high-school sweetheart kinda relationship.

When Minji graduated a year before you, the two of you kinda broke it off. And by kinda, I mean she promised she would come back and marry you one day when she’s earned enough to take you around the world, so--yeah, it was safe to say Minji was not over you, even now, years after the two of you had called it quiets peacefully.

Even at the mention of her name had Lara boiling with anger.

She absolutely hated how obsessed with you Minji was--and still is. She wouldn’t even care this much if she wanted you physically, if she just missed hooking up with you, but this was love we were talking about. Feelings. Lara hated feelings, especially when they were from another woman for her girl.

You promised Lara one day you would meet her at home, just going out to grab a quick coffee after your morning jog. She hadn’t woken up yet, and you wanted to get your run out of the way so you could spend the day with her.

Once you placed your order, and once again turned down the barista’s persistent advances, you waited for your name.

“I see you’re still a screenager,” a voice pointed out softly in front of you, your head shot up to see Minji’s familiar features. She had a small smile on, “I was hoping I’d run into you here.”

You scoffed, immediately accepting her invitation for a hug.

“Oh my God, you’re back in town! Last time I saw you, you were off in Korea getting famous,” you beamed, “I can’t believe you’re here, and you didn’t call me!”

Oh, did I mention the two of you were best friends first?

“Yeah, well, I was hoping to surprise you. I’m off on break, and my sister really wanted to come to Cali, so here I am.” Her hands slid into the pockets of her jeans. “Since you’re here already, would you like to join me for a coffee? Are scones still your favourite breakfast pastry? I’ll get you one.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“I’d love to, but… my girlfriend’s waiting at home.”

Your name was called before she could answer, you thanked the runner, grabbing the two cups of coffee from her. You held them up for Minji to see, “I’m surprising her with her fav.”

She nodded, gulping. “Girlfriend? Cool… what’s her name?”

“Lara. She’s super busy, so I don’t get her alone most of the time--I’d love to catch up some other time this week though, how long are you staying for?” You almost felt bad when you noticed the slight falter in her expression. It was like kicking a little puppy. But you were really exited to see your girlfriend.

Little did you know, said girlfriend was awake and wanting to surprise you as well. She was hoping she would go in and out of the cafe and have you come home to breakfast.

But to be greeted by the sight of you talking to, none other than, the legendary Kim Minji.

Two cups of coffee in your hands, smiling and talking with Minji. You were hunched over her phone, held out so you could read her calendar. She watched as Minji’s eyes turned from her phone to your cheek, inches away from hers.

Oh, Lara was ready to blow the place up.

“Great, you’ll text me this time then?” you joked, earning a light chuckle from Minji. She hummed, “Yeah, I will.”

A hand palmed the small of your back, a taller figure looming over your shoulder. You looked down, seeing familiar rings on a hand you would only assume to be your girlfriend’s. Your body relaxed, tense shoulders easing upon looking up to see Lara.

“Oh, hey, baby, I didn’t know you’d be awake.”

She kissed your forehead, ignoring your statement. Her eyes focused solely on the woman standing inches away from you. Minji swallowed thickly, intimidated by the woman’s dark aesthetic. The eyes, it was always the eyes. If two people were to look at the both of them, they would never be able to tell you dated both these women.

“You must be Lara then,” Minji said, clearing her throat. “y/n was just telling me about you. I’m Kim Minji.”

You smiled at the Korean’s polite introduction. You looked up at the Indian singer, whose jaw tightened, her eyes dull and judgemental. Your smile slowly faded at the rising tension as neither of them spoke, before Lara broke the silence.

“The Kim Minji you dated?”

You swatted her arm, “Lara--!”

“Actually, Minji, I appreciate you being so nice to my girlfriend, but I don’t think she’ll be able to make it this week,” Lara threw her a smirk, “She’ll be too busy hanging out with me. Have a good time in LA though, it’s a very nice city.”

As she ushered you out the cafe, you threw Minji a quick mouthed apology before gesturing for her to text you.

The gesture didn’t escape Lara’s hawk eyes.

“Really? ‘Oh, Minji, your phone is so far away, let me lean in and look at it closer’, ‘Oh, Minji, I’m sorry my girlfriend doesn’t like you, you’re still giving me heart eyes like you’re about to get on one knee in the middle of this shitty cafe’.”

“Hey!” you barked, “You love that cafe.”

“Who cares about the stupid cafe, you were flirting with your ex--who should go back to Korea ‘cuz I don’t want her here.” Lara snarled, looking past your shoulder through the windows of the cafe outside to see Minji trying her best to avoid either of your gazes.

“Okay, first off, that sounded like there were hella racial undertones,” you pointed out, crossing your arms, “Second of all, I was not flirting with Minji, we ran into each other while I was trying to grab you coffee--mind you, exactly the way I know you like it before I got ambushed by you being rude to the poor girl. Seriously, if I was flirting, you’d know, Lara, ‘cuz she’d be on her knees already.”

The older’s face grimaced at the statement.

“Oh, yeah? You think you’re that irresistible?” she scoffed, her tongue sticking against her inner-cheek.

“You sure think Minji thinks so,” you teased, “So why don’t I go in there and prove you right?”

Just as you were about to re-enter the cafe, Lara grabbed you and spun you so she’d stand in between you and the door. “Absolutely the fuck not, you’re not seeing this woman under any circumstances, you hear me?”

“Why is that, Raja, think you’ll lose to Minji?” you taunted.

Taken aback, Lara grew silent with widened eyes. She never pegged you for the lippy type. You were always much more lax with things, and it was something she admired greatly about you. The new side of you was foreign, but not unwelcome.

“Really?” she scoffed, amused at your sassy attitude.

“Really,” you nodded. “Shall we go, or not?”

“Okay, baby, why don’t we go get some real breakfast?” she smirked, and before you knew it you were speeding home in her black BMW. She got a real good munch is all I have to say.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Megan Skiendiel - The Brat

Megan was the most bizarre human being you have ever met--and you absolutely loved the fact you never got bored around her. You could tell at the very beginning of your relationship, she was trying hard to be “normal” so she wouldn’t scare you off, but she would then find out you were, if not worse, just as bad as her at being nonchalant.

She tries not to show when something bothers her, but it’s usually so obvious she’s trying to hide something that you notice immediately. She had zero poker face.

So when you had to go off and do whatever it is you had to do with your busy schedule, especially on a rare day off for her, she was evidently down. Her texts were growing shorter and more melancholy, and as bad as it made you feel for not being able to just lay in bed at home with her, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at her puppy persona.

meggerz <3 Okay then

meggerz <3 Text me when you’re otw home

meggerz <3 I miss you pretty

Eventually, you had to avert your attention back on your work before you sidetracked too far. But the consistent buzzing of your phone kept pulling your gaze towards the screen.

meggerz <3 I miss youuuuuuuu

meggerz <3 The bed feels so empty rn

meggerz <3 Please just come home

meggerz <3 If I called them and told them there was a bomb hidden somewhere in the building will you get sent home?

meggerz <3 Ignoring me is crazy work

meggerz <3 Ugh need my sexy hot gf right abt now

Your fingers hovered over the keys, typing and deleting responses in an attempt to steer her into a quiet zone. But no, that wasn’t her style. She wasn’t the type to settle for a simple conversation, and you knew that.

meggerz <3 What are you working on?

meggerz <3 How is it more important than me :((

meggerz <3 Please pretty? I miss you…

You groaned, pulling a hand through your hair. You wished you could shut your phone off, but you also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. You knew your girlfriend just needed some love.

You bit your lip, glancing at your work. You really should finish this last report, but her message made your chest tighten. You missed her, too. You were practically aching for her touch, her presence. A small part of you wished you could be done with work already, but you still had to finish.

But come on, did you really think it was about to be simple?

But your phone kept ringing, and each ping of the texts dug into your concentration, chilling away at it like Michelangelo to marble. After an eternity of distractions, you finally hit send on the last report. The moment it was out of the way, you let out a breath of relief and immediately grabbed your things.

You couldn’t wait to get home. You couldn’t wait to see her.

When you walked through the door, you found her sprawled on the couch, her eyes glued to her phone. She looked up and grinned when she saw you, but there was a softness in her expression too, like she had been waiting for this moment all day. You smiled, feeling your heart race as you knelt beside her. Her eyes curved, but you could tell she was tired. You’d barely sat down before you scooped her up, pulling her into your lap.

“Baby, you’ve been texting me all day,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “What do you need?”

She sighed dramatically, nestling into your chest. “I just missed you,” she mumbled, voice thick with longing.

You kissed her forehead, rubbing her back softly, and soon, the chaos of the day began to melt away. “Okay, you have me, ma’am. Wanna go take a bath and get some Thai?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around you. “That sounds like exactly what could make up for your stupid work.”

౨ৎ author’s note: lowkey might make the lara one a full blown two-part fic cuz i just got inspired but idk…

[prettycopperpennies]

They Take Care Of/Comfort You When You're Sick

Anonymous asked:

Could I request a Squid Game preference (with the usual characters) where the reader has a cold/fever or something and they take care of them, or vice versa?

Squid Games x GN!Reader

Including: The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | The Recruiter

The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho

~Hwang In-ho would hear the sniffles when you called asking for a favor and he would immediately check in on you

~”Darling are you alright?”

~Even over the phone he would be able to clock you were sick before you asked him to bring you cold medicine

~You could tell him all you wanted not to worry, to just bring it whenever he was free, but he would drop everything to come over. As he showed up within half an hour you would know he had done just that

~You could try to apologize or insist he didn’t need to go out of his way for you. You could have waited till he was free

~But as he tucked a hair behind your ear, your guilty resolve would quickly melt away

~He would mean every word, and wouldn’t hear anything against it. You can’t keep him away when you need help. Even if the situation is as lowkey as a simple cold

~”How do you expect me to get anything done when I know you’re here suffering?”

~If you warned him you might get him sick, he would still keep the same attitude: insisting he wanted to be there for you

~Every soothing smile and gentle hand on your back, arm, shoulder would weaken your argument. You both knew you wanted him to stay

~You would end up asleep in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder

~And he would be happy to pamper you through your cold

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~He would notice your red nose and fever flushed cheeks and would immediately feel a little tug on his heart

~No matter how much you insisted he should stay away because you didn’t want to get him sick, he would be able to tell you really didn’t mean it. He knew you well enough to be able to clock when you didn’t want to be left alone

~You two would end up on opposite ends of the couch, as a feeble attempt to keep himself healthy, playing video games

~But thanks to your cold your mind would be too foggy to really focus, and after the millionth time losing at Mario Kart you would finally quit

~You’d make him change the video game over and over again, not liking how much energy each took. He’d go along with it, not complaining. 

~You had no idea the amount of power you had on him at that moment. He wouldn't be able to say no to anything you wanted, feeling too bad for how miserable you seemed thanks to your cold

~It would be awhile before you admitted you actually wanted to sit and watch him play something instead

~As time would go on, he wouldn’t be able to ignore your sad, sick state from the other side of the couch. You would finally notice his state when he sighed loudly. You could ask him what was wrong, but he would only answer by pulling you onto his lap.

~”You’ll get sick.” “Yeah, I know.”

~You’d smile as he rested his head atop your own and wrapped his arms around you to keep playing the video game.

~If he noticed you getting at all amused by him finally caving, he would of course have to defend himself

~”You were sitting there looking miserable! It’s emotional blackmail.”

Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong

~Choi Su-Bong would come and get you the second you called, no matter where you were or what he was doing.

~He couldn’t be able to stop himself from getting anxious when you first called; sniffling, telling him you feel awful, and you need a ride

~He would show up in a matter of minutes. It would be so quick you could only presume he had sped to get to you. Of course, you’d already be feeling better as he smiled at you from the driver’s seat through the front window

~If you apologized, explaining you didn’t feel good enough to drive or didn’t want to take the bus, but he would shut that down immediately

~”Baby, I’ll come get you whenever.”

~He’d hold your hand the whole ride. It didn’t matter if he was driving with one hand or two, he wouldn’t ever signal (it was an argument you two had a million times). So you would let him intertwine his fingers with your own as you two would make it home

~He would of course make a pit stop along the drive at your guilty pleasure bakery. He would keep the car running after noticing your shivering so you could keep the heat going as you waited for him to come back

~Within minutes you would have a bag of baked goods on your lap as the two of you went home

~If you want medicine you’d have to remind him to grab that along the way too. Su-bong wanted to help you feel better, but the logical approach is not necessarily at the front of his mind

~If your cold got to you, and suddenly you were tearing up over how nice he would find it amusing. You would be met with a large smile and a laugh

~”You’re weepy when your sick”

~After some lighthearted teasing he’d wrap a hand around the base of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. You’d try to warn him, but he’d of course say he didn’t care

~And you both would spend the next few days getting over a cold together

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

.

~Kang Dae-ho would come over the second you called asking for his company while you tried to get over your cold

~”I think I’m getting sick. Maybe… Do you think you could come over? I don’t want to be alone.”

~He would be at your place even before you hung up, which wouldn't surprise you even a little. What would surprise you even less is the arm fulls of cough drops and the tea he brought with him

~You wouldn’t have a chance to get out of bed before he was wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You would be lifted up a little bit as he tightened his grip around you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck

~”You definitely have a fever”

~Your close proximity would let him feel the fever radiating off you. He wouldn’t care though, immediately following up the hug by telling you to scoot over

~He would wrap an arm around your shoulder, telling you that you were stuck with him all day

~And he would stay true to his word. He would be hanging around, making you warm/good for you food, watching popcorn movies, and whatever else he could think might make you feel better/distract you

~Every time you reacted to his sweet gestures with even the most miniscule of happiness, he would feel immensely pleased with his efforts and how it was making you feel at least a little better

~And by the time night rolled around you wouldn’t really need to convince him. He’d stay over, more than happy to appease you in your clingy state

The Recruiter

~As soon as he finds out your sick he’d be showing up to bring you to his house

~He’d find it very amusing if you warned him you would definitely get germs all over his house. He would point out you did get in his car, so how worried could you really be?

~Either way, warnings or not, you would end up on his couch buried under blankets with your guilty pleasure tv show playing

~He would be lounging on the other side of the couch, his arm resting across the back, and biting back a smile as he pretending not to notice how often your gaze wandered over to him

~He knew how clingy you could get when you were sick, but he couldn't help but wonder if you would admit it yourself if he was patient enough

~And eventually you would mention you were cold, and he would offer more blankets or to turn up the heat. You’d give excuses for every offer till he would finally ask you flat out if you had anything specific in mind

~As you refused to cave with a sniffle and a “I guess not”, he would be the one to fold. He couldn't watch you suffer through a cold and pout on the other side of the couch

~He’d be pulling you over to cuddle, letting you bury him in your blankets as well, with an amused chuckle over how you absolutely did not fight it

~”But you don’t want me to get sick, right?”

~If you feigned innocence or pretended not to hear him over the tv show, he wouldn’t call you out further. He wouldn't’ have it in him to argue with you (even playfully) when you feel so under the weather

[darinawrites]

๑-Glares that kill-๑

Pair: In ho x gn!reader

Summary: desperate to let the X side win tomorrow, you go up to an old man to convince him. Who knew he could be so snarky? Yet, when his hand lifted, another stopped him (In-ho standing up for you).

A/n: this was written while waiting for a bus that came 2 HOURS late in the freezing cold, so this is probably a bit rushed. I hate this, honestly. But for writing with thumbs that were about to fall off from the cold, I'll take it.

Word count: 1.2k

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ

You felt sick, utterly sick. Watching the numbers get bigger on the O side, anxiety going up everytime someone strode down to the button. A sigh of either relief or disappointment echoing in your ear once the button was clicked.

You simply didn't understand it. You didn't understand why people thought so lowly of their life to throw it away. You've seen both sides try to talk some sense into each other, but at las it never worked. Simply stabbing their words into each others veins, trying to get it deep enough to convince them. It felt like watching a zoo seeing it happen.

You couldn't even bare to watch the count anymore, everyone's choice to pick O so enigmatic to you. Gaze on the floor each time a new number was called, a number nearing yours. A feeling of betrayal rushing trough you each time a person beside you picked to stay, picking for your death.

You didn't trust your ears once the number sewed into your tracksuit was called, too engrossed with your thoughts. You stood still for a moment before feeling the familiar gaze of everyone set on you. You sighed, walking as everyone watched with meticulous detail on your hand that now loomed over the two buttons presented to you.

Letting your eyes stare at the immense difference of votes displayed above you, eyes glistening as all drops of hope vanished from your body. You felt so hopeless, your opinion so puny. What difference would this one number make?

Regardless, you picked X, all types of reactions ringing in your ear as you left the platform and found a spot on the side you chose. Some people around gave you hopeful smiles, but you couldn't return them. Shoulders slumped, only a few votes left before the decision was made. A very obvious decision.

The rest of the voting time was a blur, not being able to focus on anything. The thought that you'd have to play another childrens game tomorrow made you want to throw up. You didn't want to die, you didn't want blood staining your clothes.

But the others didn't care. Loud cheering mixed in with the groans once the voice on the speaker announced another game tomorrow. There's nothing you could do about it now, the pink guards cleaning everything up as the rest sat down.

Having not aquatinted yourself with anyone, you leaned against a wall by yourself in the corner. Contemplating all the different emotions whirling inside your head.

If you somehow lived tomorrow, there'd still be another vote. You had to make sure there's at least a tie between the two sides. Maybe you could convince some people to vote X, to let yourself not feel so useless.

The problem now lies between the selfishness and persistence of the people. The luminous piggy bank above you controlling these people to act like lunatics.

But, with a mellifluous voice and a logical explanation, you could convince them. Right? They still had to have something beneath the nefarious facade. Even if it didn't, a try is still something.

Stepping off the wall, you tried finding the nearest O's. It seems like your luck ran out though, the person being the the persistent and loud old man, surrounding himself with the little group of minions he made.

It'll definitely be a a hard task, but also something that could benefit the votes a lot. Sighing, you just had to act scrupulous this one time. A tinge of hope coming back as you walked over to the group.

You couldn't deny your nervousness with their creepy stares, but you hid it and started to, respectfully, show them the 'wrong' in voting O. Before you could even finish, you were rudely interrupted by a scoff.

"Oh, please. Just because you're scared doesn't mean my vote is going to change." glaring at the old man, or rather player 100 as he completely ignored all the sensible argument you made with just one sentence.

Furrowing your eyebrows, reminding yourself to stay respectful, you tried to speak up again. "But sir. Have you not lis-""

Just look at yourself. Weak and pathetic, of course you'd pick X. We're not going to fall for it." you were rudely interrupted. A young man beside player 100 loudly calling you weak, now catching the attention of the people surrounding you.

You tried to restrain yourself, lashing out wouldn't help your case. Especially with a newly found crowd now joining in. Yet it felt like talking with a wall. The group not letting you speak properly, dismissing your words and even insulting you. Every loud snarky remark coming out of their mouth made more and more heads turn to your way.

"Fucking bastards.." you muttered under your breath, completely done with them. Their side is simply too coarse and violent to deal with. Foolish to think you could start anything with them.

"You want to repeat that?" one of the men spoke up, now standing in front of you to emphasize his threat. Must've said your thoughts too loudly, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

The scoff that you let out in response ticked him off, apparently. Twitching his eye as he raised his hand. You closed your eyes as your arms flinched to your face, fear now rushing in at the sudden aggression.

Gasps filled your ear, but no pain rang out. Slowly opening your eyes, you could see a tight grip on the man who wanted to hit you. Glancing at your savior, you could see the number '001' on the tracksuit.

"That's enough." the words coldly lingered, his stare sharp. The silent that followed after was eery, everyone baffled at the actions.

The men seemed to get the memo. Intimidated, they slowly walked away with fire in their eyes. A sigh was let out in relief, you were sure to get bruises if they stayed even a second longer.

"Hey, miss. Are you alright?" the same voice that stood up for you called out.

You've seen the guy before, being the reason you've had to endure another game today. It made you resent him, truthfully. But you must've judged wrong with the way he saved you today. Especially since a red patch was given to him while voting.

"I'm fine. Thank you for helping me out there." smiling softly as you bowed your head a bit out of gratitude, causing him to have an enchanting smile plastered on his face.

"No one in here knows how to respect anyone. You should stay away from that side, unnecessary arguments will only worsen things."

The chattering of the players shooed the tension from before, continuing like normal as you spoke with the stranger that helped you more. His eyes lingering on yours far too much everytime you spoke, but you didn't mind. It felt nice to have a sincere conversation with someone here, his jokes even letting you giggle, a feeling you've missed since stepping into this place.

It was only once the guards came back did your enjoyable conversation end. The announcement of food suddenly reminding you of your empty stomach, rumbling for anything to satiate it.

"Ah, seems like they finally decided to give us something. Let's see what they have." he grabbed your hand, a small blush creeping on your cheek once you feel his strong grip on you, quickly pulling you to the line.

Must his hand feel so warm? It was basically engulfing you, heat seeping into your freezing fingers. It felt so oddly intimate, the act making your stomach churn, but not in hunger. Looking up to see him, you realized he was staring at you, giving a small smile before adverting his gaze.

You slightly squeezed his hand, the hand that helped you from those lunatics. The hand that made you forget the horrors of this place, just for a moment.

[lvrsatoru]

╭ pairing ⸺ gojo satoru x reader

╭ drabble ⸺ 1.8k, before his final fight with sukuna, gojo reunites with someone he thought had been long gone </3 sorry in advance luvs

𐙚 december 24th, age 28

she’s standing in front of him.

she’s standing in front of him.

she’s standing in front of him.

his mind loops over the thought, unable to process it, unable to accept it. his six eyes tell him it’s real—she’s real—every fiber of his being tuned to the cursed energy signature he knows better than his own.

but it can’t be.

because he was 23 when he kissed her goodbye for the last time. because he was 23 when he got the call, when he read the report, when he stared at the empty space where her body should’ve been.

because forever had lasted less than a year.

and yet—

“satoru,” she whispers, hesitant, careful.

his name in her voice sends a violent shudder through him.

his infinity is still up. she hasn’t touched him. she can’t.

but he feels her anyway.

it’s muscle memory, instinct. his body still reacts to her, still leans toward her even as his mind tells him to run.

he doesn’t.

but he doesn’t move forward, either.

she takes another slow step, like she’s afraid he’ll bolt.

“you look different,” she says, soft but teasing, a poor attempt at levity.

his throat is too tight to respond.

her gaze drifts over him, and the weight of it makes his skin prickle, makes him aware of how much he has changed.

his hair is shorter now, with the undercut he gave himself one night, after she’d left. he’s leaner, stronger, his body hardened by war and loss and time.

but she—she looks like she’s lived, like she has known something beyond grief and battle and the never-ending ache of survival.

and it makes him feel sick.

like she’s had years he wasn’t a part of. like she kept going while he stood still.

like the dead had the audacity to age.

“where the hell have you been?” his voice comes out strangled, hoarse, barely a whisper.

her expression shifts, guilt flashing across her face before she can hide it.

“satoru—”

“where have you been?” louder, harsher this time.

she flinches.

and it kills him, because she’s not supposed to flinch at him.

she takes another step forward, cautious, careful.

his infinity is still up.

she stops.

“you’re not real,” he says flatly, more to himself than to her.

she blinks, startled. “what?”

“you’re not real. you’re a trick. a clone. a shapeshifter. an illusion.” he lists them off mechanically, like if he keeps saying it, it’ll become the truth.

but his six eyes don’t lie.

and neither does the ache in his chest.

she swallows, and for the first time, he sees the fear in her eyes.

but it’s not fear of him.

it’s fear for him.

he hates it.

he hates that she still looks at him like that. like he’s something fragile, like she’s worried he’s about to fall apart.

because he is.

he is, and she knows it.

she’s always known.

“satoru, it’s me,” she says, voice softer now, and god, it sounds like home.

he shakes his head.

no.

no, no, no, no

this is cruel.

this is so fucking cruel.

“you died,” he says, as if saying it aloud will make it true again.

her face crumples, and he has to look away, has to stare at the ground because if he meets her eyes, he’s going to break.

“i had to leave,” she whispers.

his jaw clenches.

“you left,” he repeats, voice hollow.

she hesitates. “i—”

“you left.”

his infinity flickers.

just for a second.

just long enough for her to step forward, just enough for her to lift a hand to his face—

just enough for her fingers to brush against his skin.

he shatters.

the breath rushes out of him like he’s been struck. his legs feel weak. his hands, which have been clenched into fists, loosen, tremble.

her hand is warm, so impossibly warm.

it has been five years since someone has touched him like this.

since she has touched him like this.

he wants to pull away, wants to shove her back and demand why, why, why, why she thought she had the right to do this, to touch him, to stand here in front of him like she hadn’t been a ghost for half a decade.

but he doesn’t.

he can’t.

he leans into it instead, his face tilting into her palm like it’s instinct, like he has no choice in the matter.

and maybe he doesn’t

maybe he never has.

“you left,” he whispers, softer this time, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come.

“i’m sorry.”

it’s so quiet he barely hears it.

but he feels it.

feels the tremor in her hand, the way her thumb brushes against his cheekbone, the way her fingers tighten against his skin like she’s afraid he might slip away.

like he’s the ghost.

“you left me,” he repeats, because it’s the only thing he can hold onto, the only thing that makes sense in all of this.

“i know.”

“you—” his voice breaks, and he hates himself for it, hates the way his shoulders shake, hates the way he can’t stop leaning into her.

her forehead rests against his, and he squeezes his eyes shut, his breath coming out shaky and uneven.

“i know,” she whispers again, her voice cracking.

his hands move on their own, gripping her waist, holding her there.

he shouldn’t.

he shouldn’t.

but he does.

he clutches her like she might disappear again, like she might slip through his fingers if he lets go.

she wraps her arms around him.

and that’s when he breaks.

a sound leaves him—something between a sob and a laugh, something raw and guttural and helpless—and he buries his face in her shoulder, his whole body trembling.

she smells the same.

she feels the same.

but everything else is different.

he is different.

“i thought i was getting better,” he breathes. “i thought i—I thought I was moving on.”

“i know,” she says, holding him tighter.

“i wasn’t.”

“i know.”

he swallows, his throat tight, his hands clenching at the fabric of her clothes.

“i still love you,” he admits, and it feels like surrender, like defeat.

she exhales, a shaky, broken thing, and pulls back just enough to cup his face again.

“i still love you too,” she whispers.

it’s unfair.

it’s so fucking unfair.

because she’s here.

but she won’t be for long.

and he’s about to die.

they stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, both afraid to let go. he clings to her, hands curled into the fabric at her waist, like if he holds on tight enough, time will stop, and none of this will matter.

but he knows better.

time has never been kind to him.

“you have to go, don’t you?” he murmurs.

she stiffens.

he pulls back just enough to look at her, to search her face for answers, and god—he hates that she looks guilty.

“tell me,” he says, voice quiet but firm.

she bites her lip, hesitates.

and that alone is enough to set him off.

he pulls back entirely now, hands falling from her like she’s burned him.

“don’t,” he snaps. “don’t look at me like that. like you already know how this ends.”

“satoru—”

“don’t.”

she exhales, looks away.

and fuck, it’s happening again, isn’t it? she’s leaving again.

“why?” he demands. “why now? why show up just to—” he stops himself before he can say it, before he can put words to the fear clawing at his throat.

just to leave me again.

she steps forward again, hesitant, like she’s unsure if she’s still allowed.

but his infinity is still down.

he hates himself for it.

“there are things i can’t tell you,” she says finally, and he wants to scream.

“that’s bullshit.”

her jaw tightens. “it’s the truth.”

he laughs, sharp and humorless, runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“i spent five years thinking you were dead,” he says, voice low, almost trembling. “five years, and you come back just to—just to what? tell me there are things you can’t tell me? give me some cryptic half-truths and expect me to accept it?”

“it’s not that simple.”

“it never is with you.”

she winces.

it makes him feel sick.

“do you think this is easy for me?” she asks, voice cracking.

he stares at her, and for the first time since he’s seen her again, he lets himself really look.

her hair is longer, her face a little older. she carries herself differently now, like someone who’s had to live a life she never wanted.

it hits him then—she didn’t want this, either.

but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“why did you come back?” he asks, quiet now, all the fight drained out of him.

she takes a shaky breath.

“because you’re about to fight sukuna,” she says.

his stomach drops.

he had almost forgotten.

almost.

the weight of the truth settles in his chest.

she came back because she knows.

“you think I’m going to lose,” he says flatly.

her eyes are glassy, but she doesn’t deny it.

his breath catches.

“i don’t—” he swallows, shakes his head. “i don’t know how to do this.”

she reaches for him again, and this time, he lets her.

her fingers trail over his cheek, down his jaw, feather-light and devastating.

“neither do i,��� she whispers.

and suddenly, he hates her for this.

for coming back, for giving him this sliver of something just to take it away again.

but he can’t be angry.

because she’s here.

she’s here.

and it’s the cruelest thing the universe has ever done to him.

“stay,” he says, and it’s not a demand—it’s a plea.

she swallows hard, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“i can’t.”

his hands tighten on her waist, his chest aching so badly he can hardly stand it.

“please.”

she shakes her head, her own tears slipping free now.

“i can’t,” she says again, and it shatters him.

he presses his forehead to hers, closes his eyes, breathes her in.

because this is all he gets.

a stolen moment before the end.

she holds him just as tightly.

“i love you,” she whispers.

his breath hitches.

“i still love you,” she says, voice breaking. “i never stopped.”

his chest cracks open at that, something deep inside him splintering beyond repair.

his grip tightens, fingers digging into her like he can carve her into his skin, like he can keep her here.

he doesn’t say it back.

because it’s never been a question.

because of course he loves her.

of course he does.

he always has.

he always will.

but she’s already slipping away.

and he lets her go.

[thelostgirl21]

I don't know if this is going to be any comfort, but I think most Canadians see the American population as fellow victims in this whole situation.

Besides those of us that have also fallen prey to far right ideologies, there's this sense of awareness that Trump manipulated his way into power and is making decisions that are going against his people's best interests.

A lot of you have more or less been taken hostage by a fascist leader that is furthering his own egomaniac agenda without any empathy whatsoever for the suffering he is inflicting, and it's utterly horrifying!

And what's absolutely heartbreaking is that many of his "followers" are either aware of what's happening, but too scared of repercussions to take a stand and criticise him (and it's hard to blame them for being scared); or they genuinely worship him and believe in him the same way as people will follow and worship cult leaders.

And, in those situations, the only hope you have is basically for the victims of his manipulations to finally wake up and fight back themselves.

Because we can't do it.

We are a population of 40 million vs an American population of 335 million.

We can't just walk in there saying "we've come to liberate you from a fascist President that's threatening the lives and safety of trans children, disabled people, illegal immigrants, threatening to cripple your economy, etc." when a huge chunk of the American people would fight back and die for him!

And Trump was "democratically elected" by the people that he is now abusing. So, despite how disgusted and sick some of us may feel over the ICE raids (for example), we can't really stop what's happening in the USA from happening.

I think a lot of us feel a profound sense of sorrow and powerlessness in this whole situation, rather than a sense of being betrayed by the American people themselves.

And it could have been us. It could still be us. Actually, what's happening to Americans right now might save us from falling into the same trap as you did in our upcoming elections.

Because there's been a very troubling increase in hate crimes targeting sexual orientation (they've increased by 388% between 2016 and 2023, and a fucking 69% between 2022 and 2023 alone!) in Canada, and Pierre Pollièvre (leader of our Conservative party) had been more or less importing a "softer and more politically correct" version of Trump's rhetorrics into Canadian politics as well.

If enough Canadians get pissed at Trump, they might rally behind a leader that is the polar opposite of what he represents, giving someone like Mark Carney (that might take the leadership of the Liberal Party from Trudeau in March) a fighting chance against Pollièvre.

We might end up "owing you", in a very awful and twisted way, because you gave us a reason to try to come together as a country to attempt to find solutions against a common threat.

Yes, I can't deny the friendship dynamic might change a bit... Because, I don't know if people realise this, but we actually did put some measures in place that were meant to keep USA and Canada heavily reliant on each other to avoid such conflicts, and force us to continue to "play nice" with each other.

Ex: Canada produces the crude oil, the USA refineries refine it into a usable product, and then part of it is sold and sent back to us via pipelines that travel under both Canadian and American soil.

That's actually one of the benefits of global trade - the lack of self-sufficiency forcing you to care about your trade partner's own needs and interests as well.

Therefore Trump's willingness to threaten our economy in an effort to forcefully assimilate us as the 51st State is obviously making us go "Yeah, maybe we should try to diversify our trading partnership a bit more, and be a TAD LESS RELIANT on the USA in the future. We should definitely continue to make new friends out there, and expand our market a bit..."

But it's not necessarily a bad thing for both countries (there can be significant advantages on having more trading partners on both sides), nor something that should be taken as personal.

Because, again, it could have been us. The Canadian and American people can still see each other as brothers and sisters in a post-Trump era while understanding that all it takes is an abusive step-father to suddenly take advantage of people's fears and vulnerabilities to threaten the fragile economical balance between our two countries.

I currently support retaliatory tariffs and trying to avoid buying any American product for which we can find a Canadian equivalent in Canada, because well, first, if American consumers can no longer afford to buy Canadian products, because they cost 25% more than the price we're selling it to them, we'll need to buy as much of our own stuff as we can.

And, second, we do need some of the American people to wake up, and realize that the "illegal criminal immigrants" and the "child grooming trans and LGBTQ+ people" won't be Trump's only victims during his presidency!

As long as a problem doesn't personally affect or threaten them, some people have a tendency to sit back, stay silent, and close their eyes on the horrors happening around them.

But Trump promised the American people that the price of groceries and the general cost of living would go down, that it would be an easy fix, and that the tariffs imposed on international imports would not increase the price of the products they are paying.

He lied. About this, and about so much more!

I believe that the Canadian people are still very much ready and willing to support the American people and fight by their side, though.

But right now, you are fighting against your own selves, and lashing out while being unable to tell friends from foes.

We won't let ourselves be attacked without putting up some solid boundaries and opposing those measures from President Trump. But the idea that, because of this, American people will be economically suffering and struggling more - including all of those that did not vote for him and attempted to sound the alarm - is utterly heartbreaking for us.

We're not even going "Well, if President Trump has decided to hit our economy and make the Canadian people suffer, we'll make sure the American people will be suffering alongside us, too!"

We do not wish Americans any harm. We've been thrown into a senseless situation, are trying to limit the impact of the blows we are receiving, and standing up to a powerful bully as best we can!

While also vaguely hoping that those of you getting hit with us will realize that both the Canadian and American people are sharing a common enemy right now, and he's the fucking President of your own country!

The vibe I get from most Canadians is that we still do love you, but fuck do we hate HIM!

You did elect him, but he manipulated his way into power and took advantage of your fears and vulnerabilities. And a lot of us are very much aware of that.

To be clear I don't want a trade war with Mexico (or even China)

but Trump breaking our relationship with Canada, Canada, our ever friendly, dependable, helpful brothers to the north, is particularly hurtful. It feels like an abusive step-father banning you from a favorite cousin's house because they want to isolate you to keep beating you. It's painful and heart breaking and your cousin keeps asking you to explain and you can't.

sorry Canada, I didn't vote for him, I campaigned against him hard, but a bunch of idiots voted to blow up everything and hurt everyone so do what you have to do, maybe if you inflict maximum pain some people will wake up.

and to Americans reading this, I can't over stress we have FOREVER damaged our relationship with our neighbor, biggest trading partner, military and strategic ally, we fought WWII with them guys, and they are NEVER gonna look at us the same way again. We might repair the relationship in future but it'll never be as full a friendship as it was last month.

[stollengoods]

The Longer the Wait, The Sweeter the Kisses

Requested Nam-gyu Fluff~

Warnings: Cursing, slight smut but not much (they don’t go all the way), mentions of drug use, overdose, and recovery.

Summary: Your friend Mi-na is tired of you third wheeling her and Thanos so she has him set you up on a date with his friend Nam-gyu. Surprisingly you and Nam-gyu really hit it off. So much so you invite him to your place, but what happens when you guys start making out/touching each other and you inform him that you won’t go all the way ?

P.S. This one’s a bit long… I apologize I got carried away haha

————

Thanos and Mi-na were cuddling on the couch while you were sitting in the arm chair beside them. He booped her nose with a blue colored finger nail, “You’re so cute.”

She giggled touching her forehead to his, “You’re so handsome.”

“And I so want to kill myself right now.” You murmured, scrolling through your phone.

In the background you saw Mi-na’s head turn towards you. “I told you it was just gonna be Thanos and I this weekend. You’re the one who invited yourself, remember ?”

You scrolled mindlessly on Instagram, “Yeah, but I didn’t think you guys would be like this.”

“It’s called being in a relationship.” She remarked and you snorted, “Gosh, thats what I have to look forward to ?”

“I used to think that way too until I met my soul mate.” You heard their lips smacking and immediately felt sick.

“Ewww, if I ever get like that shoot me. Please.”

Thanos chuckled and your friend giggled rolling her eyes, “When are you going to get a boyfriend y/n ? You’re old enough to drink why don’t you go to the bar and find one, you’ll get one asap.”

“Yeah… there are several reasons why I would never do that, plus I think what you’re describing is a hook up not a boyfriend.”

She huffed, “Well maybe you need a hookup, you’re like always a negative nancy.”

You looked up from your phone and glared at her for a second before looking back at your screen.

“See ! That’s what I’m talking about.” Mi-na said.

“Oh !” She put a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, “Baby, why don’t you set her up with one of your friends ?”

You immediately clicked your phone screen off and shoved it in your pocket, “Fuck no.”

Thanos looked over at you confused and Mi-na furrowed her eyebrows at you and tilted her head towards Thanos basically telling you your being rude.

You awkwardly laughed, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong… it’s just I’ve seen Thanos’s instagram. All him and his friends do is drugs, drink, and party. That’s not my scene, I need someone more-“

You were about to say mature but bit your tongue, “-what’s the word I’m looking for… umm- mellow I guess ?”

Thanos nodded his head in understanding, “Everyone has there preferences.” He shrugged.

“What about Nam-gyu ?” Mi-na asked Thanos with a smile on her face, “Didn’t he just make 3 months sober ?”

Thanos raised his eyebrows, “Oh yeah, I guess I do have a mellow friend.”

“He’s an ex addict ?” You asked, not very surprised since it is Thanos’s friend.

“Yup, he almost died of a heroine overdose a few months back and has been clean from drugs and drinking ever since.” He grinned, “I’m proud of him.”

“I’m sorry did you say- Heroine ??”

Thanos nodded, “Yeah, I’m surprised heroine was the one that got to him. He was on all sorts of things: cocaine, ecstasy-“

Mi-na put both her hands on his shoulders, “Alright babe, he can fill her in, you don’t have to give her his whole backstory.” She raised her eyebrows at him and you knew that look too well, she was basically telling him to stop talking. “You’ll scare her off before she even goes on the date.”

“Yeah because if there’s nothing better than an addict, it’s a recovering one.” You muttered.

She crossed her arms, “Okay, so now he’s too mellow ?”

“No.” You narrowed your eyes at her, “I would love someone who doesn’t drink or do drugs but Mi-na he’s in recovery.”

“And ?”

“And ?! What if he relapses ? I don’t want to be somebody’s mom.” You spat, crossing your arms as well.

Mi-na pulled out her phone, “I think you’ll change your mind once you see a picture of him. He’s really cute.” She glanced over at her boyfriend, “I’m saying in the sense that she would find him cute, I know her type pretty well by now.”

She tossed her phone to you, “He’s the one in the white t-shirt.”

“Oh yeah, I recognize him, he’s the one that’s always holding onto Thanos whenever Thanos posts pictures of him and his friends.”

“He’s not always holding on to me ?”

You turned the phone so they could see the screen, “Dude he’s literally hugging your arm and his head is resting on your shoulder.”

Thanos looked at the phone, “It was cold that day.”

Mi-na laughed grabbing her phone, “Anyways, he’s single, sober, and cute. He’s perfect for you y/n.”

You pursed your lips, you were pretty lonely. You had friends but they all had partners which made it hard for you to hang out unless you wanted to third wheel like you are now.

“I mean… he is kind of cute I guess.”

Mi-na shrieked, “Yay ! Thanos will send him your number.” She kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and clapped her hands in excitement, “If this works out, we could even go on double dates !”

————

You and Nam-gyu had texted back and forth for a few days now, planning to have your first date this weekend. You suggested getting coffee and Nam-gyu loved the idea saying that he knows the perfect spot and sent you the address.

Once there, you spotted him sitting down. “Hey Nam-gyu right ?”

He looked up from his phone and smiled, quickly putting it away. “Yes and you must be y/n.” He stood up and gave you a friendly hug.

You felt yourself blushing from the contact, you knew he was touchy feely with Thanos but figured it was because they were friends.

He smelled of the ocean mixed with amber and you could tell from how healthy the ends of his hair looked he recently got a haircut.

“You’re going to love this place. It has everything: coffee, teas, desserts. It’s amazing.”

When you guys got to the front, the cashier asked what you guys wanted. Nam-gyu answered it fairly quickly, not giving your eyes much time to scan the menu above you.

After the cashier entered his order she looked at you, “umm-“ You made eye contact with Nam-gyu, “What would you recommend ? I’m more of a coffee person but there’s so many options.”

“Hmm… do you like your coffee more on the bitter or sweet side ?”

“Sweet.”

He smiled, “Then I’d suggest their Carmel Macchiato. It’s sounds boring, I know, but for your first time being here I’d start with that, it’s really good.”

You nodded your head and turned your attention back to the cashier, “I’ll get a small Carmel Macchiato please.”

“Okie dokie.” She typed in your order and then smiled while reading out your total.

Nam-gyu pulled out a twenty dollar bill and told her to keep the change, “Thank you.” She said, “We’ll call your order out when it’s ready.”

You guys walked over to a table and sat down across from each other, “Thank you for buying my coffee.” You blushed.

“Oh yeah of course.”

You rubbed your hands together under the table feeling them sweat. You haven’t been on a date in a while and have never had an actual boyfriend before so this was all new to you.

“How did you and Thanos meet ?” You asked, trying to ease your nerves by getting him to talk.

“I used to work at this club downtown and the owner of the club would always let him come in for free because it would attract more people to his club. After a while of being there, Thanos and I got familiar with each other and one day he asked me if I knew anybody who sold drugs. I hooked him up with one of my buddies and we started doing them together, the rest is history.”

You weren’t expecting him to be such an open book but felt yourself slowly becoming more comfortable around him, he seemed like a chill guy.

“One Americano and one Carmel Macchiato.”

“That’s us.” Nam-gyu said, he went over to the counter and grabbed your coffees. When he came back he handed you your drink and you thanked him.

“You wanna go take a walk ?” He asked.

“Sure.” You grinned, following him outside.

You actually preferred this, walking side by side instead of sitting down and looking at each other face to face. It took a lot of the pressure off and you found yourself talking a lot more than you thought you would.

He told you about his battle with addiction and how it nearly killed him. You felt bad for judging him so harshly when Thanos and Mi-na told you about it.

Getting his side of the story made you realize that he wasn’t just a a sleazy guy who drank and did drugs to have fun, he had past trauma that he was dealing with. Now that he’s sober, he told you he’s found better ways to cope like going to therapy and exercising.

He finished his drink first, throwing it away and a few minutes later you finished yours, throwing it in a trash bin as well.

You only knew him for about 30 minutes but already felt safe with him, like he was a long time friend.

“So…” you stopped walking and finally faced him making eye contact, “What now ?” You asked with a smile.

He returned the smile, “I really enjoyed our date and would like to continue it but it’s up to you. We can hang out another time if you’re busy.”

It was weird, you felt special for the first time in a while and that excited you. You didn’t want this date to end anytime soon either.

You bit your lip, “I had fun too.” You said, rocking back and forth a bit. “Would it be odd of me to ask you to hang out at my place ?”

“No, not at all.”

————

When you got to your place, Nam-gyu removed his jacket and you told him he could hang it up on the coat rack. He wore a brown tank top underneath his jacket and, every now and then, you caught yourself stealing glances of his veiny arms; and at the way the material would outline his chest and abdomen.

You guys continued chatting on the couch as you guys tried to find something to watch on Netflix. You ended up settling on a comedy that neither of you have seen yet.

He clicked a button to play the movie, setting the remote down on the arm rest next to him and then threw his other arm over the couch.

A thought popped into your head of scooting over and leaning into his side, but you knew that would be kind of weird. Then again, it seems that Nam-gyu’s love language is physical contact so maybe he wouldn’t mind ?

You casually scooted yourself over and Nam-gyu’s head turned. You looked up to meet his eyes, “Is this okay ?” You asked, scooting into his side and placing a hand on his chest.

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t mind.” His hand dropped to around your shoulders as he went back to watching the movie.

You tried watching the movie as well, you really did but all you could think about was his body against yours. The heat radiating off of him made you want to snuggle into him more like a weighted blanket.

Half way through the movie, you were able to concentrate on the plot a little bit, until Nam-guy’s thumb began rubbing back and forth on your arm. It was a simple gesture and you were pretty sure he was doing it unconsciously but it made the inside of your stomach fill with butterflies.

When the movie was over, Nam-gyu looked over at you. “It was alright, I thought it was kind of funny, how about you ?”

You turned and made eye contact with for a split second before licking your lips and attaching them to his. You were surprised by your hunger for him and you could tell he was shocked as well by the way he didn’t react for a few seconds.

When he reciprocated the kiss, you positioned your body on top of his. Your knees on either side of his legs, as your hands went to his hair.

His hands made their way to your hips pulling you closer into him and you moaned. Pulling away from him, you ripped your shirt off over your head, throwing it to the floor before reattaching your mouths.

His cold fingers snaked up your back, unclipping your bra. Once done, you threw it to the floor as well. One of his hands cupped your breast and you broke the kiss leaning your head against his.

“You okay ?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” You breathed, “But…”

He removed his hand from your breast, waiting for you to finish.

You sighed, “I know I’ve only known you for less than a day and I really like you.” You watched as your hands trialed down his chest, “And don’t get me wrong I really like what we have going on right now.”

You looked him in the eyes, he was smiling listening to you. “But I’m also not the kind of person to hook up with someone after just meeting them. I want to get to know you better before we get to that point.”

His hand cupped your face, caressing it with his thumb. “I respect that. Since my sobriety I’ve made a rule for myself as well, to not hook up with anybody unless we are dating. I’ve been doing good so far but I’ll be honest if you hadn’t stopped, I don’t think I would’ve stuck to it.” He blushed biting his lip.

You giggled, “I like that rule, I think I’ll adopt that as well.”

He smirked, “Does this mean cuddling is off the table too ?”

You rolled your eyes at his silly question, “Off course not.” You smiled before wrapping your arms around his neck and sinking into him. He interlocked his hands behind you while resting his head on your shoulder.

[strang3lov3]

Boys Will Be Boys

You hit Roman where it hurts. Meaning you fuck his dad as he watches and cries.

Tags - dubcon, girthy age gap (80/???), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, masturbation, sexual harassment/assault (Roman’s punished for it, and I kept it short and sweet), unsolicited dick pics, roman roy gets cucked by his father, osteoarthritis, hypertension, logan roy dirty talk, logan roy takes viagra, coercion, tears and mucus as lube, almost?subby?romey??? lowkey...logan roy is kinda a fuckin' stud. uhhhhh…idk. kinda grotesque. you have to embrace it. crack fic adjacent, but this is serious business to me. you’ve been warned.

A/N - you know what you’re fucking here for. maybe it’s morbid curiosity. maybe you wanna see roman roy crying while masturbating. maybe…maybe you wanna fuck that old man. it’s ok if you do. i won’t tell on you, you fucking pervert. enjoy Logan Roy screwing your brains out <3 I tagged my romey readers, and while i implore you to be brave, don't feel pressured to read if it's not your thing. @beefrobeefcal thank you for the beta hot stuff! i love you so much.

It’s been happening for a while now.

It was just small things at first. A little comment here and there. He told you that you had nice legs the first time you wore a skirt, said something else about loving a long-legged woman. Then he asked if you shaved for him, too. What else do you shave, huh? Are you bare everywhere? 

The little tattoo on your wrist, usually hidden by your blouse. What’s that about, huh? Got any other tattoos? Perhaps in a more private place? If I guess where it’s at, can I see it?

Oh, the way you got flustered. Your eyes went wide, mouth dropped open a little. Too easy. Roman took that as a challenge - an invitation, rather, to take it up a notch. 

He turned up the heat in his office to a balmy 75℉ the week after that. After each time you’d turn the thermostat down a few notches, Roman would use a little remote he’d point at it to turn it right back up. Must be busted, Roman told you. How about you call maintenance, huh, assistant? Maybe do your fucking job for once?

Roman watched with a crooked smirk on his lips as you slipped off your cardigan, exposing your body to him. That pretty nude camisole. Roman sidled up behind you, fingers skating over your shoulders until he reached the strap of your bra. Your blood went cold as he wriggled his fingers beneath them, then pulled up, up, and snickered as he let them snap your skin harshly. Nobody else had done that to you since junior high.

In the elevator, he stands too close. While riding up the many floors of the tall building, Roman fucking breathes on you, and follows you when you inch away from him. Your skin prickles when he touches your lower back, fingers drumming against you, walking down your waist. He’d first started by testing you with a little pinch on your ass cheek, just to watch you jump and hear that startled little squeak you’d make. He gropes your ass now, squeezing a handful of it, kneading his fingers. He loves the visible discomfort on your face, and knowing you can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Harrassing you is the best part of Roman’s job. It’s why he wakes up in the morning, getting to exert that power over you. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction, of delight. 

Your phone is full of photos of his cock. Lawsuit material, if you were brave enough to go up against Roman and Waystar and all of its bells and whistles. Roman tells you his lawyers would eat you alive before you even step foot into a courtroom. 

It was late last Saturday night when Roman texted you a picture of his crotch, cock visibly hard under his slacks, outlined in sharp detail.

10:07 - Got a job for you. Wanna help out the boss?  

Every notification on your phone with Roman’s name attached makes you want to puke. You wish you could ignore him. Block him.

10:07 - No, Roman. 

You waited with bated breath for Roman’s response, the little dancing ellipsis on the screen mocking you as he formulated a text back. How’s he gonna make your day worse this time?

10:08 - Funny how quickly a job can disappear.

Fuck it. Whatever. You sent him as modest of a nude photo as you could muster - panties and bra on, face cropped out. 

10:12 - Cute. Smile this time. Lose the underwear. 

10:32 - Leaving me on read wont work. Nice try tho

10:33 - Five minutes. Don’t make me wait

You sighed in frustration as you stripped, then snapped a photo from above. Legs crossed to hide your pussy, your forearm covering your chest.

10:35 - *fire emoji*

10:35 - *As in I’ll fire you. 

10:35 - Bare tits. Bare ass. Bare pussy. Do it now

With no choice but to comply, and with an awful feeling in your gut, you took more photos. First of your tits, then your ass. Sent and sent. 

10:38 - Forgetting something?

It made you feel even more sick, but you needed him off your back. You spread your legs, pointed the front-facing camera at your cunt, and took the photo, then sent it to Roman. 

10:45 - I bet you’re so tight. Are you wet right now? 

10:45 - Yeah

Playing along. 

10:47 - I wanna be inside you

10:47 - Gonna cover you in my cum

Roman went quiet for a while then, probably ten minutes before texting you back. 

10:58 - I wanna watch you cum for me. 

10:59 - I’ll know if you fake it

He made you send him videos of you masturbating, all different camera angles, different positions. He kept you up until almost three, making yourself come over and over for him. Until he could hear you crying in the videos, your thighs trembling. It was horrible - humiliating, exhausting, so fucking dehumanizing. He sent you pictures of an old cardigan of yours covered in his come at the end of the whole thing. You thought you lost it.

It’s Monday afternoon now. You have a bad feeling when you walk to Roman’s office, seeing that the blinds are drawn over the large glass panes of his windows. You let yourself into the room at his request, and Roman’s sitting on his little gray couch, legs spread wide. He’s palming his bulge, eyes following you as you close the door. You avoid making eye contact with him, something that only serves to challenge him. He straightens, then wordlessly pats the seat next to him. 

“I have those files you asked for, Roman.” 

“Oh, that’s great. That’s really, yeah - awesome. Set ‘em down.” 

You set them on the coffee table, then anxiously drum your fingers on your lap. You steal the littlest glance at Roman sitting next to you; his thumb mindlessly stroking where the hard head of his cock presses against his slacks. 

A heavy silence falls as you process what’s inevitably coming next. Roman unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants, then unzips them. He rests his head against the couch as he pulls out his cock, then looks right at you. A lazy smirk pulls at the corner of his lips and his eyes are lidded, darkened with lust in a way that makes him look like an animal. 

Roman lets out a little giggle at the nervous way you fidget your hands. He takes one in his own, holding tightly onto your wrist when you try and pull it back. “Hang on - wait. I like your nails. Pretty, very pretty, sweetheart. I think they’d look nice wrapped around my cock, don’t you?”

You bunch your fingers in a fist, attempting to pull your wrist out of his grip. “N-no, I don’t, Rom–”

“Oh, come on. That’s why you got ‘em fuckin’ done, right?” Roman uses his other hand to pry your fingers open. “Hey, open your fucking - there we go.” He lowers your hand, pressing your palm against his warm package, and his cock looks smaller in person. Just as upsetting, though. 

Roman lets out a quiet, soft groan of pleasure, then turns frustrated when you pull away again. He snaps his fingers at you, “Hey - assistant girl. Isn’t this your job, right? To assist?”

A knock at Roman’s office door has him jumping, and you take the opportunity to get away from him entirely. You leave Roman on that couch, and he’s cursing you under his breath while quickly tucking his cock back into his trousers, watching you do your quick little half-jog out of his office. Fine, be that way. You’ll fucking get it later. 

You don’t have a plan in mind when you begin walking, you just leave. Looking over your shoulder to see if Roman’s following behind you, if he’ll grab you by the forearm and drag you into a supply closet. Do god only knows what to you. Probably fuck you with the end of some maintenance man’s mop.  

You find yourself knocking at Logan’s door, then exhale a shaky breath. You’re not…you’re not sure what you’re doing here. What you’re gonna tell him, if you’re gonna tell him anything. It’s not like he’d do anything about it, right? Logan eyes you through the window, then calls you inside with just a simple wag of his fingers. He looks annoyed, fuck. But when does he not?

Logan’s room is large, and you’re not entirely sure how to navigate, which feels silly. Sounds even sillier to say. You’re not often alone with Logan, and the proximity makes you unsure of yourself. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve always felt…something for him. He’s a brute, yes, and you’ve seen the ugliest sides of him. Something about it makes his softer moments that much more profound, though. The tenderness is there, and it shows in quieter times. He winks at you now and then, offers you a smile with no malice or contempt or derision behind it. 

Logan’s got a soft spot for you, too. You’re a sweet girl. He’s always thought so, really. You do what you’re told, and you don’t ask for much. You’re not a bumbling idiot or a nagging fly buzzing in his ear. Easy on the eyes, too. Never hurts.

Logan gestures to a seat in front of his desk and hums a little. “Need a minute,” he mutters as he reads something on the screen. You look at all of his belongings on his desk - papers, folders, a mug. A framed photo of him somewhere warm and beachy, showing off his pale legs and his swollen ankles. 

Finally, he closes the window and smiles at you. His piercing, steel blue eyes pin you in place, but they’re warm too, almost. Warmer than Roman’s. When Roman makes eye contact with you, it makes you feel like prey. Like he’ll hunt you for sport. Not Logan, though. His gaze is heavy, but not hungry. 

Logan claps his fingers together over his thick belly. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Uhhh…” You cross and uncross your legs as you shift in your seat, then fidget with your manicure, nervously chipping the paint off. You hate this color now. When you look up, Logan’s got his eyebrows raised at you, waiting for you to continue. You don’t want to wear his patience thin. 

“It - I was gonna talk about Roman, but it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’m not - I don’t need to tattle.” 

“Fuck that. What’s he doing?” Logan demands flatly, immediately, furrowing his brow. 

“No, I shouldn’t have said any–”

Logan interrupts, speaking your name softly. “Tell me.”

You tell him everything about the harassment. How long it’s been going on for, how it started small and just kept escalating and escalating. How fucking relentless Roman is. You show him the texts, the photos, becoming flustered when Logan stumbles across the photos of yourself Roman made you send to him last weekend. Logan quietly hums in approval. 

You tell him about Roman in his office, the stunt he pulled just before now. It feels good to get it off your chest, at least momentarily. The way Logan simply nods, rubbing a hand on his chin makes you feel uneasy, though. A silence hangs heavily as he takes it all in, thinking. 

“What?” The anxiety makes your question slip out rather impatiently. “Sorry, I just - what are you thinking, Mr. Roy?”

Logan scoffs, smiling just a little. “...Didn’t think the kid had it in him.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” 

That’s…that’s it? You wonder if he’s gonna tell you that you were asking for it. Or to buck up. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Logan will be just as cruel to you as his son is. Fuck, you already regret this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice softer than you expected it’d be. “Truly. I’m sorry my son put you through this. I promise I raised him better, darling. I did my best.”

“No, it’s–” You interrupt yourself to exhale steadily, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

“You know,” Logan begins, absentmindedly wiggling his fingers, “You know what it is. Boys’ll fuckin’ be boys.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you know. Men don’t grow out of boyhood so quickly, anymore, s’all. World’s turnin’ to fuckin’ shit. Unacceptable behavior, the fuckin’ kid’s pushing forty,” he spits, rolling his eyes. “Roman - he’s…well, you know what this is, don’t you? You see through his act, yes?”

You shake your head. “No,” you reply.

“Boys like him, they’ll pick on ya when they’re sweet on you,” Logan explains. “That’s all it is. Usually harmless. Usually,” he adds.

“But, Mr. Roy, I don’t–”

“I know, dear. He’s not your type, is he?”

“No,” you answer quickly, garnering a hearty chuckle from Logan. You laugh too.

“The boy always was an odd duck,” Logan adds, then pauses, thinking. “What is your type, darling, if you’ll forgive my asking?”

“Oh, gosh,” you giggle, feeling Logan’s heavy gaze on your body, your warm face. He knows. He absolutely knows. 

“Older, for one,” you admit. 

Logan smirks, and you share a smile with him. He seems to pick up on everything, knows exactly what the words left unspoken spell out. It’s always girls like you, vibrating with desire for him. No matter how white his hair becomes, nor how much rounder his belly gets, nor every new wrinkle that graces his face as the years stack up - doesn’t change the fact that Logan Roy’s still fucking got it. He reaches for one of his desk drawers, then pulls it open and reaches inside. Logan grabs an orange bottle and rattles out a tiny, blue, diamond shaped pill. His blue eyes twinkle at you as he swallows the pill, then points to the bar cart by the window. “Be a lamb, darling. Some water.”  

Quickly, you grab Logan a glass of water, watching him wash down the pill as you clench your thighs. 

“I need to hit him where it hurts,” Logan says in between sips. “Make it fuckin’ stick this time.” 

Logan shoots Roman a quick text, and you wait anxiously for his arrival. When he finally enters the office, his face falls upon seeing you at his father’s desk, looking…happier than he’d like to see you. You’re sitting up straight, chin held high, shoulders back. Logan’s scowl darkens as he gestures for Roman to sit down, right in the seat next to you. Roman’s hands shake a little as he pulls the seat back and lowers himself into it. 

“What’re we gonna do about you, son?”

“What?” Roman’s brows furrow, and his bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. “I don’t kn–”

“You a sicko?”

Roman shifts uncomfortably in his seat, realizing this conversation is absolutely not going to go his way. “No, I–”

Logan cuts Roman off, his tone sharp. “She tells me you’ve been harassing her, Roman. Is this true?”

“What? Dad, no. She’s f-fucking lying,” Roman stammers. Roman looks at you then, and you can see how he tries to glare, to scare you, to regain control. He’s powerless here, with you protected by his father. 

Logan reaches for your phone, which is sitting face down on his desk. He turns it on, “Gimme a hand here, darling. Pull it up again.” 

You have to bite down on your smile as you put in your passcode, feeling so empowered at the moment. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. Roman’s humiliated you so many times and finally, he’s gonna take what he dishes. And then some.

Logan shakes his head a little, grumbling as he prods the screen with his fat fingers. “Fuckin’ bastard…here. Here it is. S’that your fuckin’ dick?” he sneers, spit flying from his lips. He turns the phone around, showing Roman one of the many, many photos of his own dick on your phone.

Roman freezes, his face turning pale enough to make his freckles vanish. “N–”

“Certainly small enough to be yours. Look–” Logan scrolls through more texts, “This one too, huh?”

“No,” Roman seethes, and it almost makes you giggle, the way he scrambles to lie. So fucking…pathetic. He’s everything Logan’s not. 

“Oh, see? Look at him, darling. He’s squirming.”

Logan reaches for his eyeglasses sitting on his chest, held by a cord that wraps around his neck. He squints a little as he scrolls through your phone, then clears his throat before reading aloud. “‘I bet you’re so tight’,” he reads loudly, droning in a monotone voice. “‘I need to be inside you. You’d look pretty covered in my cum.’ You think this is a fucking compliment?” Logan asks, looking at Roman through his eyebrows.

Roman’s face twists, and he scratches the back of his neck in discomfort. “Dad–”

Logan turns the phone around again, and this time a picture of Roman’s hand is on the screen. Fingers spread, covered in his own come. He scrolls again and the next photo is a picture of Roman himself, licking those fingers. 

“You are a fuckin’ sicko,” he growls.

You and Logan watch Roman shrink into his seat, how he looks like he’d willingly crawl out of his own skin and die, if he could. Logan lets him stew in his discomfort and his shame for a beat, then pats his lap, petting his bulge a little.

Roman watches you round the desk at the same time Logan rolls his chair back, making enough space for the both of you. You sit on Logan’s meaty thighs, watching the color drain from Roman’s lips. “Ope - up a second, dear. C’mon, up, up.” Logan swats your hip gently. You stand up then, and feel Logan’s large, paddle shaped hands slide up your thighs, under your skirt. He reaches for the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, then sit back down, leaning against Logan’s thick, pillowy belly. 

“Spread your legs,” Logan whispers, helping you part your thighs. Your skirt rides up your body, putting your throbbing cunt on display for Roman. Roman swallows thickly, watching as his father reaches for your center, grunting a little as he stretches. You moan when you feel him touch you, sliding just one, thick digit through your slippery folds. “Oh,” he gasps mockingly, holding out his hand for Roman to see. “See how wet she is, Romulus? Tell him, darling, who are you this fuckin’ wet for?”

“You,” you whimper, turning to speak to Logan. Logan groans, and you feel his thick cock twitch against your backside. “I need you, Mr. Roy.”

“Oh, my dear. Be patient. We’ll get there.”

Logan glares at Roman as he pushes a single finger inside of you, and even that’s a stretch that has you whining. Logan coos in your ear, quieting you as he uses his other hand to unbutton your blouse. He wriggles his fat hand underneath your bra, palming and groping your tits, teasing your nipples with his thumb. “Fuckin’ kid wouldn’t know what to do with a pair of tits like these, now would he, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you agree, looking right at Roman. Your eyes scan down his body, noticing that - oh, god. He’s fucking hard. He’s trying to hide it, hands covering his crotch. But you see it. You see the way he’s rocking his hips, pressing down on himself to alleviate that pressure a little. 

Logan pumps his finger inside you once, then twice, then adds another. He curls the two rhythmically, noting how it makes Roman squirm. Roman’s making desperate, stifled little noises as he watches his father fingerfuck you, so shamefully, disgustingly turned on by the sight. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, resting your head against Logan’s shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you bask in the pleasure, bucking your hips into his palm a little. 

“Ah-ah. Eyes open, darling, and look at Roman. Look, he’s fuckin’ hard for ya. See?” You lift your head a little, looking at Roman through half-lidded eyes. His face is so fucking red, eyes still wild but a little broken, too. All wet and sad. He’s sweating, you can see it glittering at his hairline, the protruding veins in his forehead twitching to match. “He’s making a mess of himself,” Logan adds, pointing to the the wet spot bleeding through Roman’s pants. “Fuckin’ disgusting, isn’t he?”

“Dad,” Roman whispers, voice breaking. “Please, d–”

“Shut the fuck up, Roman,” you snap. You’re melting as Logan now rubs your clit in practiced circles. He’s got decades of experience under his belt. Guided some hundreds of women to orgasm. You’re no different, just as easy as the rest of them.

You whine as Logan pulls his hand away, pushing you forward so he can free his cock from his slacks. He sucks in his belly as he unbuttons his pants, then exhales deeply, thick belly bulging against his thin shirt. Even at the ripe age of eighty, Logan’s cock is long and thick, and everything Roman’s simply is not. You don’t get much of a look at the thick, unruly patch of white pubic hair surrounding the base of his shaft before Logan’s pulling you against him, tapping his dress shoe between your ankles to make you spread your legs. “Show Roman how you take care of his old man, huh? See how he likes that.” He fits the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, then slowly pushes you down with a firm push on your hips. “Ohhh, that’s it, darling. You take it so well.”

The stretch of his cock entering you has you sucking in a sharp breath, then exhaling through that delicious pain. Your cunt pulses around Logan’s cock as you watch Roman free his own dick, desperately pawing at his own length as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them quickly, then uses the same hand to stroke himself.

“Help a man out, sweetheart. The osteoarthritis…my knees, I–”

“Of course, Mr. Roy,” you coo sweetly, lifting yourself up and down on his turgid, wrinkled member. Logan steadies you with his hands on your waist, guiding you along. Roman lets a little sob escape as he watches his father fuck his massive cock into you, squeezing his own cock so desperately. You giggle at that. 

“Quit - don’t fucking laugh–”

“Hey,” Logan barks, pointing a finger at Roman. “You don’t call the shots here, Roman, I do. I fucking run game,” he growls. Logan squeezes your breasts in both hands as he draws in and out of you, letting out wheezy exhales as his heart rate increases, but he won’t let his hypertension stop him from pleasing you. “Yeah, that’s it, honey. Look at him, fucking his hand. Tell me darling, what do you think of that?” 

“I think - I think he’s fucking pathetic,” you answer, looking right at Roman as you say it. Roman’s face breaks even further, more tears falling from his big, wet eyes. He wipes his eyes and his dripping nose, using the mess on his hand as lubricant as he fucks his fist with a depressing sort of fervor.

“Hear that, son? She thinks you’re fucking pathetic,” Logan taunts. 

“I fuck- oh, fuck,” Roman whimpers, throwing his head back as he desperately works himself. 

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ adopted,” Logan grumbles under his breath. He lifts you up then, and spins you around, then lays you across his desk so you’re looking at Roman upside-down. Logan enters you again in one swift motion, then begins fuckings you with an energy you wouldn’t expect, but that pleasantly surprises you. He’s so spry for an eighty year old. 

“You do so good for me,” Logan praises you. “My idiot son could get fucked like this too, if he weren’t such a fucking screwup. Isn’t that right, Romulus?”

“Y-yeah,” Roman whines. 

“Speak up, Roman. Let her hear you. Actually–” Logan grunts, punctuating the sentence with a brutal snap of his hips “I want you to apologize to her.”

“What?”

“He’s that fuckin’ stupid, huh?” Logan pants, the comment directed at you. “Fucking. Apologize,” he tells Roman. “Do it now.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry. Okay?”

“Again, Romulus,” Logan demands, annoyed. “Louder.”

Roman tells you he’s sorry again, and it makes you smile. His voice all high-pitched and broken. Good, it’s about fucking time he’s taken down a peg.

“Tell her again,” Logan says. “Like ya fuckin’ mean it, Roman. And you don’t stop apologizing until she comes. Are we fucking clear?”

Roman nods frantically, pumping his cock as he whines, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

His words go right to your core. Logan fucks you harder, and licks his thumb before bringing it to your clit. He uses those same practiced circles from before to coax along your release, and it’s not long before you’re pulsing around his cock, moaning Roman’s father’s name as you come hard, all that pleasure washing over you as Roman whispers how fucking sorry he is. 

With a few harsh thrusts, Logan’s spilling into you next, coming with a deep, guttural grunt and wheezing breaths, a sharp pain in his chest. It’s all fucking worth it. He reaches into his pocket and tosses you his handkerchief, then excuses himself, mumbling something about needing his supplemental oxygen. 

You sit on Logan’s desk as Roman strokes himself to completion, sobbing as he gets off to the sight of your puffy, swollen cunt, ruined by his own father, and dripping with his spend. He makes a mess of himself as he comes, “Here, Rome–” you offer, tossing your used cumrag at him. 

“Get that - fuck,” Roman cries, swatting it away. He sobs as he comes down from his orgasm, unable to even look at you as you put yourself back together. 

“It’s smaller in person,” you murmur, touching Roman on the shoulder before leaving. He flinches at that, then breaks down in tears again as he shoves his softening cock back into his pants. “See ya tomorrow, boss.”

if you enjoyed, please shout at me 🩷💕 comments, rb, or go to my inbox. I turned anons back on because I know a handful of freaks will need to scream about their horniness but would prefer to do so anonymously.

romey tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw

[lov3darlings]

darlings thoughts, figureskater!reader (18+)

cw: slight angst, bashing other skater lol, multiple orgasms, crying, mean!lando

lando sighed as he puts away the guy equipment. "mate you good?" his trainer, jon asked. "yeah, just a lil tired. let's continue this tomorrow," lando says getting up and wrapping up the gym session. lately, you and him were getting into arguments about you not spending enough time with him. "lando, the olympics are so near i cannot slack off, like at all," you yelled at him earlier the week. and since then the entire house was silent. both of you giving each other silent treatment. unable to understand another.

he drove to your rink. you mentioned something about having practice with another male skater because you both were selected to do some gala show together. the said male skater was recently blowing up for his numerous attempts to keep up with you in terms of jumping quads. but obviously lacked the skating skills as you do.

"it's pure bullshit! i am sick of this. you can't even hold the edge for lutz." lando hears you yell. your coaches declare a small break. your fellow skater leaves the rink, "to get freash air," he said, taking the coaches with him. you lean against the boards, body hot from sweat and anger. lando does the same, from the other side of the board. "what happened to my good girl? yelling at everyone now are we huh?" he humms.

your head shots up at his voice. "baby," your immediately filling up with tears. lando moves to hug you over the boards. "i'm so sorry," you sniffled as he rubs your back. you squealed when he lifted you over the boards. "you don’t understand how angry i am right now," he says as you mumble a string of apologise in his ear. standing on your tip toe to reach his height, despite still being in your skates.

"how about sucking me off as an apology," he hums. lando lets out a chuckle as your hands reach the waistband of his pants. "darling we're at your ice rink," he says. "do you want them to hear you being such a slut?" he added, pulling you into a hug. them, in question being your male partner and your coaches. "i dont care who’s outside," you reply as the older man held you in his embrace

lando pulls you into a kiss, his hands caressing your neck as he kisses you. it wasn't a gentle kiss. it was rough, as if he was desperate for it. he kissed you like a parched man, as if your lips was the water he needed. he pulled away as the burning sensation in his lungs grew, saliva still connected to your lips. "i want to make a mess of you," he says, breathing heavily. his fingers running through your hair strands, pulling onto a few of them.

"he's terrible. can't even hold a deep fucking edge on a lutz," you complain making the man chuckle. "yeah i heard you. don't you worry you'll be twice loud when moaning my name."

lando was man true to his words. he did made a mess of you when he had you at his mercy on his bed. moaning his name, like it was some holy mantra, twice as loud you were yelling.

he placed his lips on yours. heated kisses, his hands on your bare skin, yours in his curly hair, lips nibbling, biting, moaning into his mouth. it was one of those kisses that left you heavily breathing after.

"where do you need the most huh baby?" he teased, despite know the answer very well.  you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and guiding him to where you desperately need him, your cunt. "fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby," he says.

lando smirked as he maintained eye contact while he gathered the wetness from between your legs with his fingers and sucked it off a little with a satisfied hum. he bought his fingers to your lips "clean my fingers, this is your mess," he commanded.

lando moves down between your thighs. he lazily licked at your sweet slit as he nosed at your clit. your hands gripping on his curls. he groaned a little at the soft touch. his tongue moving in circles as you pushed yourself closer to his face, practically begging him for more.

which was exactly what he was giving you. pushing two finger inside you. his lips and tongue slurping, sucking, and licking at your clit. you eyes rolled back as he pulled, what? thrid orgasm from you. lando makes sure to lick you clean. "fuck, sweetheart," he groans, smearing your cum all over his lips, breathing heavy, and lean up to kiss you with it.

"suck on it." he commands, leaving you suck whatever was left on his fingers. "good girl," he praised. lando doesn't give you another moment to ride down your high as he inserts his cock in your cunt. "lando wait—" you whined. "take it like a good girl and stop whining," he barks.

lando didn't move. instead he started kissing down every inch of your body he possibly can, murmuring against your skin how beautiful you are, showing how much he loves you. but it wasn't the time. you were far to needy for the man. "if you want something, you have to use your words," he mummrs.

"baby please, please, please, please fuck me, please," you whined. and that's all it take to get lando started, after all how can he ignore such a pretty angel who was warming his cock and begging for it. he rocked his hips in you with such pace that you saw stars, groaning and cursing in your ear.

your nails started scracthed his back again. lando hissed as you accidentally drew blood. he held your both wrists with his one hand. arms over your head, mouth gaping while he groaned, pressing and thrusting himself up into you. "just, like that, oh.. god," you mumble.

something that lando knew about you was that you often teared up as you reached your fourth orgasm. "gonna cry? go ahead cry f'me baby. let me see it," he said as the tear works starts flowing. he knew that you were sobbing not because it hurt. but because his cock was kissing the softest parts of you.

lando laughed at you as more tear drop fell. he actually fucking laughed. the sound had you squeezing his cock harder, and lando only laughed harder, his laugh mocking you. "tu, tu, tu, such a cry baby," he says wiping your tears. feeling cocky that he made such mess of you.

"oh—fuckfuck—lando," you gasped as you came around his cock. "oh my god—lan! it's too much!" you babbled, but lando only jutted his bottom lip out in a mocking pout. he loved you, truly he did, but there was a thrill he got from seeing you cry. cheeks puffy and wet with your trembling, parted lips. it was his favourite sight. "so pretty when you cry," he groaned as he finished in you. using his fingers to stuff his cum back in you.

"come 're," he says pulling you in his embrace, falling next to you. his fingers traveled down to your swollen cunt. "lan—too sensitive," you curled up to him as he fingers you at a tortures slow pace. "you've been too good for me tonight darling, just a lil more," he whispers.

"oh gosh," you sobbed on his chest as you feel your orgasm take over you. lando inserted another finger in you making you latch onto him tighter. "so pretty, so obedient," he praised. "that's it, there we go," he says as you cum all over his fingers again. lando pulled out his fingers from you with a faint pop. sucking on your cum that coated his fingers.

he then kissed you making you taste yourself on his lips. "so pretty for me," he muttered placing a soft kiss on your forehead. lando looked down at you, "i love you," he whispered. you smiled, feeling butterflies for the man next to you. "i love you too," you pecked his lips making him smile.

[pathological-runaway]

"I love you. Do whatever you want with that info."

They continue their way to the shelf and pick up one more jar, checking it for any dirt or scratches, moving it with ease despite its weight. Having found no defects, they go back to the table and start working, paying no attention to the stuttering mess in the middle of the room that the Forest Elder is.

"I'm- I- what?" Teth finally manages to articulate, their hands flying chaotically, not knowing where to settle. The Elder watches their friend — friend? — with their eyes wide open and more thoughts swarming in their mind that they could ever process.

Ayin hums quietly as they scribble something on a piece of paper before gluing it to the side of the jar. They do it so nonchalantly, as if they had not just turned Teth's whole world upside down.

"Are you seriously just gonna... stand there?" Teth asks indignantly. It would be s stretch to call what the other is doing just standing there, but the Forest Elder does not care about the details. Not now.

"I'm doing my work, dear," Teth winces at the term of endearment despite having heard it many times. It suddenly sounds... wrong. Not different. Just wrong, for some reason.

They replay Ayin's confession in their head and the words suddenly make them feel sick.

"Ayin-"

"I mean it", they say putting the jar on the floor, still avoiding Teth's gaze, "I love you. I love you, but you're being an idiot. You see what's happening to your realm. You can't continue like this."

"I can do whatever I want!" their voice sounds harsher than they intended and their words cut like knives. They do not really mean it, and, judging by the sigh coming from their interlocutor, Ayin knows. Of course they do.

The thought makes Teth's chest ache in a very annoying way. They wish it stopped.

"Look, I-"

But Ayin cuts them off.

"Don't. We both know what your priorities are. And I- I don't agree with them. At all. You can't change my mind, and, as I see, I can't change yours", they look at Teth for a split second, and this fleeting moment is enough to break Teth's heart, sew it back together and tear it apart again. "Go. It'll be easier for both of us."

They turn their back and exist the room with the jar in their hands, leaving the Forest Elder standing there, alone in the middle of the room, with nothing left to do other than to look at them go.

Prompt #1156

"I love you. Do whatever you want with that info."

[lustlovehart]

Oh my gods, I was eating the sick!reader piece UPPPPP. 😩 Already re-read it like 5 times. Especially the Diasomnia part had me so good. Silver is the real MVP here.

Do you think you'd ever be willing to write about what'd happen if we didn't recover from an illness and specifically Lilia & Malleus got their way? I find their dynamic as yanderes always super interesting.

Ahh i’m so happy you liked it <33!!! Silver is basically your prince charming and it’s adorable!! Diasmonia was wayy longer than the other parts because the situation I decided on them was the most entertaining! Everyone else only thinking about turning you… They’re the ones who actually act on their thoughts (unfortunately).

(shh, he actually felt extremely guilty letting them do their thing, because no matter how hard he tries, he feels the same desire of you becoming one of them as well… the only thing that stops him is the fact you’ll be miserable, and he doesn’t know how he could live with that </3)

Pairing: [Monster!Twst] Diasmonia x Reader

Cw: You’re turned into a monster (Up to you what kind of monster, but there are scales and claws), Obsession, Craving Human, Kisses, Implied human eating (not a lot), It’s not said in the text but Malleus regenerates so he doesn’t lose a limb, Silver and Sebeks parts are kinda angsty

In the case you fall for your illness, they’re plans succeed, and you fall into a deep slumber. The last thing you see before your eyes shut, you see Silver, an apologetic frown looking at you as he mouths a silent ‘i’m sorry’. It’s enough to tug at your heartstrings, but the sight behind him immediately cuts any form of forgiveness you have.

Malleus’s cold-clawed fingers tracing up your arm, a soft smile on his face as his nail traces a pattern on your palm, Lilia playing with the bracelets gifted to you by the others on the table, and Sebek staring through the castles window, glowing eyes lighting the dark from his swamp.

“It will be over soon, Child of Hunters.”

…

The moment you jolt awake it feels as if you were forcibly taken from the afterlife, a feint memory of Idia desperately trying to pull you back into his arms before being dragged away. Your head is essentially a living furnace, flares happening every other moment leading to an excruciating headache. Despite the tremble in your hands, you reach up to soothe the thrumming, your fingertips coming into contact with skin.

But, rather than human, you feel pin sharp nails poke at your forehead.

You didn’t notice, not at all, with the blur in your vision it was practically impossible to see, but now with the newfound clearing in your sight you see it. Claws emerge from where your cuticles once rested, scales crawling up your skin. You throw the covers off your bed, the sleep wear concealing your horrific monstrous traits beneath the fabric, but it does nothing to rid the fear of what’s under your clothes.

“Mal… Malleus—!” your words are hoarse when you yell, a sign of your voice being unused for… you have no idea, but you know it’s a long time. “Damnit…! Malleus where are—?!” Your next step has you colliding with a stiff material, arms wrapping around you in an attempt of comfort. A fist is raised towards this entity, prepared to break wretched stone. “What the hell did you do to me Mal?!”

“… I’m so sorry.” the softness in his voice is different from the gargoyles, leading you to drop your hand, the only part of yourself you rest on him is your head, Silvers tough muscle tensing before gradually relaxing.

“… No you’re not.” your fresh fangs bite into your lip, your claws reaching into his bicep and burying them self into the dreameaters skin.

Silver hesitates for a moment, before speaking again, “I really am”. His previous pause has you doubt him, but the way he tightens his arms around you tells you he’s being entirely truthful, unfortunately.

You can feel a sting in your eyes, a familiar feeling of tears ready to burst, yet it’s like your tear ducts burned away with your humanity. But that’s not the thing that disturbs you in this moment, no…

It’s the way your stomach is desperate for food. A food you never wished to eat,

“It seems you’re in desperate need for food, yes?” the voice you were looking for emerges from behind you, a stone hand dragging your sleepwear down your shoulder, placing a hard kiss against your scaly skin. You’re quick to slap Malleus away, your claws cutting a strand of his mossy hair.

“Oh, be careful new one, it would do no good to hurt your potential supplier~” another equally disliked voice enters the fray, Lilia floating right next to you.

“Like hell i’m eating human…!”

“I wouldn’t advise not doing it, you’ll die a more painful death than you did a few years ago.” Malleus interjects, his pleasant smile falling into a much more serious frown.

“That’s better than becoming one of you bastards—” You pause your spiel, your legs buckling at his words, a great shock that has you falling into Lilias's arms, and not even fighting back. “… years?” Lilia's hand pets your head, a pathetic attempt at soothing you that only furthers your despair. “You’re joking… But, everyone else… Everyone else…!” you throw yourself back up, pushing Malleus against the wall, a hard clash sounding at stone hitting stone. “What the hell happened to them?! The monsters… Jack… Neige…!” your eyes burn like you’re crying, but you know you’re not. You hiccup before dropping to the floor, the last name that leaves your lips causing your last shred of sanity to snap. “… Rollo.”

For a moment, Malleus’s eyes glare at you, but they’re quick to disappear when he falls to his knees.

You despise it, you despise how even in your current panic, all you can think about is consuming. You grit your teeth, resisting all desire, but the sound of wind has you knowing something will happen, something that will test your patience. Your eyes are closed when Lilia’s hand takes yours, placing a kiss on your wrist before leaving you with his words of departure. “Do try to not eat all of Malleus, new beastie.”

You can’t question him before his presence disappears, but before you know it, when your eyes reopen, you don’t see stone, only pure human. “Malleus… What are you…?” He lifts his arm to your mouth, your lips attaching to his skin while his forehead rests on yours, looking right into your eyes. You can feel your canines put pressure on him.

“You’re what you are now because my affection for you runs so deep…” his free arm reaches behind you, pushing your head into his limb, “that I will do anything for you to stay alive, and here, together.” his voice is low, your jaw trembling with the urge to eat. But his words gnaw into your soul.

… Is this really living to him?

…

You rest your head on Lilia’s shoulder, his deep voice humming as he wipes your mouth clean. “Did you enjoy it?” your silence tells him not to inquire further, but in truth, you hate the fact… that you did enjoy it. “Hm, well, if you’re not satisfied with just Malleus…” his clawed finger taps your lips, red eyes piercing your soul, “I’ll always offer myself up for you too~”

He laughs at the way you glare at his joke, only continuing to rest yourself on his shoulder.

You stare deep into the swamp as Lilia continues to hum, hoping he will emerge. And he does, but he’s quick to disappear just as quickly as he appeared.

“Why did you want this for me…?” your ask has him pause, his finger pushing your head up and off his shoulder. “I just wanted…” you pause, Lilia patiently waiting for the rest of your sentence, yet there’s nothing more to be said. His thumb swipes across you bottom lift, showing you all signs of you feast had been wiped clean.

“Everyone wants something, whether it be human or immortal.” you bury yourself in your arms, the moon reflective on the mystery creature's pale exterior. “And you want to know why it is I wished for this?” he uses his hand to signal at your body, his smile disappearing, an all too serious expression painted on his features. He leans into your face, a few centimeters stopping him from being directly on your skin.

For a moment, a single second, it’s like his scarlet eyes share every single moment of greed and cruelty in his hundreds of years alive, even moments from before his improved personality. A cruel beast who’s a monster just for the sake of being one… It’s gone in that same second.

“Because you’re so adorable!”

“…Go away Lilia.”

“You’re hurting my feelings… And I thought you wanted a bite of me.” you glare at him again but this time he doesn’t laugh, only smiles, “You’ll learn how mucher crueler the world is as a human… We only wish to protect you.” and with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the creature of the swamp alone.

…

“Sebek?” you dip your hand into the water, splashing the liquid up. But to no avail, he doesn't appear, a different monster answering your calling.

“I don’t know if he wants to see you.” you turn around to see Silver, his eyes looking into yours, but you can tell how hard he’s trying to avoid looking at your new monstrous traits. You can’t fault him though, the sight of your replaced eyes in the water sends chills up your spine.

“It’s not like i’m the one who asked for this…” you throw a stick in the water, hoping maybe it’ll darth through the marsh and poke the beast underneath.

“I— He knows…”

“Great! So what’s his problem?” Silver doesn't reply, but to be fair, you don’t think he knows the answer either. “… He left me flowers while I was dying.”

“He did?” Silver sits next to you, he eyes focused on your rather than the ripples you trace into the water with your claw.

“Mhm. I never saw him do it though.” you can see Silver’s reflection staring at you, but you can’t bear to look back, only continuing to draw on the surface.

“That’s… Nice.” he watches you stop, the waves halting as well, the silence that hangs in the air suffocating. You grit your teeth, turning your head but not looking him in the eyes, eyes that are far too kind for a monster of his caliber. You fixate on the place his heart would be if he was human.

It was meant to distract you, but it instead has you wonder, maybe Silvers's warmth would be much stronger had he had the makeup of a mortal. Such hypotheticals are better left in your head though, and you know this. It doesn’t stop you from taking his hand in yours, squeezing his limb as you force your words out.

“Did you want me to be a monster too Silver?” his stoic expression widens, hesitation evident, before his head hangs in shame when he finally tells his truth.

“I… Don’t know.” he watches you stand up, making no effort to stop you, but very obviously tensing at the prospect of you leaving. “I just… I just knew I didn’t want you to die painfully somewhere we can’t reach you…!” he’s about to jump up to meet you eye to eye, stopped by you placing a flower on his head.

“That’s something I knew would happen, something I signed up for.” you both stay still, only looking at each other. This contact is broken when Silver lets the flower fall, his head resting on your bottom half.

“I know… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t feel this way, but…” he expects you to leave when he feels you shift, but instead, relaxes when you let him continue to rest his head on your lap. All his words die in his throat, but you know what he meant to say. Truth be told though, you don’t know if you’re okay with it.

…

Your bottom half is cold as you sit in the water, staring directly at Sebek under the water.

“Can you come out? I don’t wanna risk being a non-marine based monster and drowning.”

“I don’t think so human, I don’t wan to risk— Er…!” He jolts at the mistake he made in his burgled voice, further burying himself into the water. You lean over, your hand reaching out to dunk one of his flowers beneath the surface, he quirks an eye at the action.

“You never visited me when I was dying.” your words have him furrow his brows, but he doesn’t give you a reply nor explanation. “Why is that Sebek?” a moment passes, a few moments, before he emerges from the water, his large form moving towards you on the ledge. His large arms cage you between the side of his marsh and his body, golden slit eyes staring into you.

“I did not want to see that.” His eyes move down your new form, scales, claws, canines, and all, he sees it all in his mind. “You bedridden… It’s a weak sight. It’s like you were giving in, it was cowardly.”

“Aren’t you the one who said all mortals are pathetically weak?”

“They are! You are!” Sebek pushes back, the water splashing at the outburst. “But you’re not supposed to be!” his tail swings in the water causing a wave to move towards you. “You weren’t supposed to die… You were meant to prove me wrong…” you’re about to move towards him before he stops you, a single outstretched webbed hand in your face. “But now you’re here because you proved me right… Humans are weak, pathetic… evil…” he slowly moves towards you again, wavering clear in the way he slowly places his forehead on your shoulder. “It’s why you can’t be one anymore… you can’t be any of those things...”

There are two directions I think their scheme could end, one where they successfully stop anyone else from the cast from knowing your current predicament, and one where your current state is found out by everyone else. If the latter were to happen, it doesn’t matter where their domain is, they will show up to Diasmonia and demand to see you. A vast majority will wish to have you in their care, while the ones who never wished for you to be a monster, will make sure you don’t fall into the other's hands.

[rafesweetie]

track iv. THE MAN! (feat. ceo!rafe cameron and indepedent!reader)

“i’m so sick of them coming at me again, ‘cause if i was a man, then i’d be the man”

your boss was simply insufferable. rude, strict, slimy, arrogant, and worst of all? handsome. and you had absolutely no issue telling him that — the bad things, anyway. every time he’d offer help for such a simple task, you’d push him away with a glare or a ‘get out of here, mr. cameron!’ thinking he was simply being condescending. but my god, he thought your attitude was hot.

the day he asked you if you needed help cleaning your coffee mug was when you snapped. you’d already had an awful day, and you couldn’t take him and his demeaning behaviour anymore.

“mr. cameron, it’s a fucking mug! do you think i’m that stupid just because i’m a woman? is that it? i wear skirts to work so i can’t wash my own mug!? you’re a condesending asshole!”

he takes a breath as to not yell back. “woah, hey, hey. uh, i’m gonna need to see you in my office. ten minutes, give you time to fuckin’ chill out. is it that time of the month?”

you go to lose it at him and he cuts you off. “don’t say any more shit unless you wanna lose everything, hm?”

ten minutes later, you hesitantly enter his office, admittedly a bit nervous. “mr. cameron, i just wanna say—“

“no, no. too late now for an apology.”

“but i’m really sorry—“

“show me that.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “what do you mean? how?”

he stands up and grabs your shoulders gently, then his hands slide down your arms and to your wrists. you blink, confused and having your boundaries violated.

“uh— so you don’t get me fuckin fired, let me ask you something, a little formality,” he starts. “do you consent?”

“to what?”

“not an answer. do you consent?”

having a strange burst of butterflies in your stomach, you know what’s coming. “mhm,”

“yeah, that’s what i thought,” a ghost of a smirk as he smiles and guides you by your wrists to the wall. with no hesitation, his hand is going under your skirt. “mhm. fuckin’ soaked, makes sense,”

“you’re so arrogant, it’s insufferable.”

“i’m just stating a fact baby,”

“don’t call me that, m’not your ‘baby’,”

he breaths out a laugh. “yeah, whatever you say. starting to think you’re more arrogant than me,”

“not arrogant, just don’t like you,”

“tell that to this pussy,” he cups it and you squeak, suddenly feeling extremely powerless against your man child of a boss.

“don’t wanna do this like this,” you say fastly, stopping it. “lemme— lemme do it,” he stops, hands in the air in mock surrender, taking a step back.

he certainly isn’t expecting you to drop to your knees in front of him. in his mind, a blowjob is a surrender, letting him take control. you fiddle with his fly. he goes to help and you paw him off. “don’t need help for something so fucking simple, get your slimy hands away,”

you undo it and waste no time taking his dick out of his pants. you hate the way your mouth waters. “oh.” you try to keep your composure. “thought it would be small. you give that energy,”

“gee, thanks,” he huffs. “c’mon, get going.”

“ask nicer,”

“jesus,” he sighs. “i’ll pay you extra to get going, huh? that nice enough?”

“you’re gross. talking about a ‘please.’”

he scoffs. “no fuckin’ way, you kidding me? not begging to get off, i’m not a woma—“ he cuts himself off.

all you do is harshly pinch his tip with your long acrylics, making him gasp in pain, before standing up, scoffing. “good one, really funny. sure your friends will get a kick out of it,” you dust yourself off. “you’re disgusting,”

as you walk away, you can hear him silently begging for you to come back and suck him off.

for once, you feel like the man.

[neeeooon]

when you’re sick ;

blue lock x gn!reader

isagi yoichi

-> the unlikely return of momsagi????

-> he doesn’t even really have to say anything. he just hangs out with you, subtly checking your temperature when he thinks you’re sleeping, and making sure you have enough blankets and water

-> you are suspicious. “how did you learn to be so… caring?” “?! i’m always caring!” “you laughed when i fell down the stairs.” “cause it was funny! who falls down the stairs anymore, y/n? be honest.” “😐”

-> despite that, he does take good care of you. if you ask him for something, he doesn’t argue or tease you. isagi will simply kiss your forehead and get whatever it is you need

itoshi rin

-> rin doesn’t miss practice. not even when he broke three fingers on his left hand. so for him to call off when you tell him you aren’t feeling well, you panic a bit

-> you had the flu, and while it was annoying, you’d live. rin’s sudden presence made you think otherwise

-> “i’m dying.” you’d announce as rin feeds you soup, and he’d raise a brow at you. “you’re not dying.” “you wanted to spend my last moments together. i’m dying.”

-> eventually he convinced you that you’re not dying and that practice was going to get canceled anyway due to half the players getting the flu as well

barou shouei

-> ocd clean freak maid barou is struggling

-> you have a common cold, nothing too bad, and are still able to be a functioning member of society (at least you think so)

-> when barou heard that first sniffle from you, you were placed on house arrest and locked in your room so he could disinfect them entire house

-> after a few hours, you got bored and went downstairs to get some water. when barou spots you by the fridge, he freaks

-> “y/n?! what are you doing out of the infectious zone!!” “i’m thirsty..?” “go back upstairs! i’ll leave water outside the door for you.” “…”

-> you know he means well, so you don’t argue as you trudge back into solitary confinement

mikage reo

-> he goes all out

-> you’re sick?? nope. reo is with you all the time, asking what you need, getting whatever that is, and even offers to call an in-house doctor for you when you don’t instantly get better

-> “reo, it’s just a cold. i’ll be better tomorrow.” “but that’s so far away :( what do you need? i’ll get it for you!“

-> he surrounds you with plushies and puts on your favorite tv shows and makes sure you never have to lift a finger until you’re all better

nagi seishiro

-> he becomes your shadow

-> when you tell him you’re sick and want to lay in bed all day, he simply nods and slips into bed with you

-> “you’re gonna get sick,” you tell him as he buries his face into the back of your neck. “hmm you can take care of me next, then.”

-> nagi just hangs out with you until you’re feeling better. he lets you watch as he plays games and will bring you delivered food since neither of you would survive his cooking

-> he does get sick, and you do end up taking care of him

michael kaiser

-> he gets worried whenever you aren’t being your normal self, and the flu sucked all the energy out of you

-> kaiser doesn’t want to bother you or risk annoying you while you’re sick, so he kind of sulks around and pokes his head into your room every now and again to ask if you need anything

-> you find his behavior cute and a little pathetic, so when he appears a third time, you ask him to mask up and join you in bed

-> he’ll hold you tight as you watch youtube together, and you assure him that you’re fine and will be better in no time

[28harryssunflower]

Broken paradise

The Italian coastline stretched endlessly before you, the deep blue sea kissing the golden sand beneath the balcony of your villa. The warm breeze carried the scent of salt and citrus, and the soft sound of waves filled the quiet space between you and Harry.

Everything was supposed to be perfect.

And for the first few days, it was. Mornings tangled in the silk sheets of his bed, afternoons spent floating in the infinity pool with glasses of white wine, evenings filled with laughter and whispered confessions over candlelit dinners. Harry had made sure of it - meticulously planning every moment, every detail, down to the playlist that played softly through the villa’s speakers. It was your own little world, untouched by reality.

Until now.

Now, you were standing on opposite sides of the bedroom, voices raised, hearts pounding - not from passion, but from frustration.

Harry scoffed, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t seriously be mad about this.”

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “I’m not mad… I’m just tired of you making me feel like I’m being ridiculous every time I bring something up.”

His green eyes flashed with exasperation. “Because you are being ridiculous!”

Your stomach twisted. “Wow. Thanks for that.”

Harry exhaled sharply. “That’s not what I meant. But really? You’re upset because I said you overpacked? It was a joke.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t just that, Harry. It was the way you said it - like you were rolling your eyes at me, like I was being annoying. And it’s not the first time.”

His jaw tensed. “So now I’m not even allowed to joke with my wife?”

“Not when it makes me feel like an idiot!”

Silence fell between you, thick and suffocating. The golden light from the setting sun spilled into the room, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Somewhere outside, the waves kept crashing, oblivious to the storm brewing inside.

Harry let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You know, I don’t know why we even bothered with this honeymoon if we were just going to spend the whole time fighting.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “This was supposed to be perfect. I planned everything to be perfect. And yet, here we are, arguing over nothing.”

Your hands balled into fists. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you bit out. “Did you expect us to just exist in some fantasy where we never have problems?”

“No, I just didn’t think we’d be like this. Not now, not so soon.”

His words stung.

Your voice was quieter when you asked, “So soon?”

He hesitated, rubbing his jaw, his frustration evident. “We just got married,” he muttered. “And we’re already fighting like this. It makes me wonder if we’re going to be doing this for the rest of our lives.”

The air in the room shifted.

Something in your chest ached, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Well, if you already regret it, maybe we should just get a divorce now and save ourselves the trouble.”

The second the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back.

Harry’s entire body stiffened. His face paled, the anger in his eyes flickering into something else - something shattered.

“What?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling sick. “Harry, I didn’t mean-“

But it was too late.

His expression darkened, hurt flashing across his features before he masked it with more anger. “Right,” he said coldly, nodding as if he finally understood something. “So that’s where we are now? One fight, and you’re already throwing divorce in my face?”

“That’s not what I meant!” you said desperately. “I was just frustrated!”

“Frustrated?” he repeated bitterly. “Frustrated enough to throw away everything we just promised each other?” He let out a dry laugh, stepping back like he couldn’t stand to be near you. “Unbelievable.”

Your throat tightened. “Harry-“

“Don’t.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t just say things like that. You don’t throw divorce at me like it’s nothing.”

Guilt twisted inside you. You had said it to hurt him, to make a point, but you hadn’t expected it to cut this deep.

“I don’t want that,” you said, your voice trembling now. “I don’t want anything but you.”

His jaw tensed, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. For a moment, you thought he was going to turn away, to walk out.

But then, his shoulders sagged, and his face softened - just barely. He dragged a hand down his face, letting out a slow breath before looking at you again.

“I don’t either,” he murmured. “But you can’t say things like that. Not when I mean forever with you.”

The fight wasn’t gone, but the anger had faded, replaced by something more fragile. More raw.

You hesitated before stepping closer, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean it. I was just upset, and I wanted to hurt you the way I was hurting.”

His fingers tightened around yours, warm and steady. “I know,” he said softly. “But I hate fighting with you. And I hate even thinking about losing you.”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “You’re not going to lose me,” you promised. “I love you. Even when we fight. Even when we’re both being idiots.”

That finally brought a small, tired smile to his lips. He sighed, pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. “I love you too,” he murmured. “Even when you overpack.“

You groaned, but there was no bite behind it. “Too soon, Styles.”

His laughter rumbled against your skin, and just like that, the tension eased.

The honeymoon wasn’t perfect.

But love wasn’t about perfect. It was about choosing each other - even when it was hard. Even when it hurt.