#I Cut him off a while ago but he still knows my address and now I’m paranoid about that yay !!!

[thegreatestheaver]

still reeling from an awful hallucination I had last night at like 5am what the fuck was that

[messiahzzz]

it is a conscious choice of mystra to initially present herself as this benevolent, courteous, and merciful being. a practiced and perfected approach she knows will compel gale to follow her demands with the least amount of resistance on his part. he already refused to follow her instructions when she sent elminster to request his death — his effective father figure, gale’s self-proclaimed hero, mentor, and the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place — so another appeal is in order.

narrator: "elminster's visit weighs heavy on your mind. his face you did not expect to see again." narrator: "when you last saw him, you were in your prime. no orb, no tadpole. a mage of growing renown, all power, pride, and potential - beloved by the goddess of magic herself. narrator: "it's one thing to have fallen from such heights, but to have elminster himself now witness your humiliation is almost unbearable." gale: [his disappointment cuts deeper even than mystra's. he was your hero.] narrator: "while most know of elminster the legend, few know him as you have. he plucked you from obscurity. offered you his guidance. his faith. and most recently, his pity."

yet it is curious how quickly she changes her tune once gale doesn’t readily agree to her demand to return the crown of karsus to her, no questions asked. or even dares to impugn, or criticize her reasoning for leaving him to die.

gale: "a great ask indeed. you've given me much to think on - as you always did." mystra: "so be it. follow the needles of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

gale: "because i disobeyed you. you punished me for it." mystra: "how so? you think i should have cured you? erased the consequences of your actions?"

gale: "you break up with me, cut me off from the weave, leave me to die, and that's all you have to say? 'you look well'?" mystra: "i did not come here to suffer a mortal's admonitions. certainly not yours."

gale: "you were threatened. you realised you couldn't control me." mystra: "you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a saviour." nodecontext: sharper, almost a warning - don't entertain such thoughts, gale. you won't like where they lead.

gale: "i don't know. i need time to think." mystra: "so be it. follow the needle of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

particularly interesting to note is how she uses his surname as a tool to chastise and taunt him. only referring to him as "gale dekarios" in the context of him displeasing her, when he doesn't readily obey, whether he simply wavers (needing time to think) or outright declines her instructions. she uses the very name he had actively discarded and refuses to be referred to at this point in time. a deliberate reminder of his fallible humanity, of the flaws he tried to distance himself from. she knows this.

gale: "i won't let you down again. when the absolute is vanquished, i will surrender karsus' powers to you. you have my word." mystra: "thank you. may the weave's light guide your purpose, and it's wisdom guide your hand." mystra: "the future of magic rests on your shoulders, gale of waterdeep". mystra: "i promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

gale: "i don't need your forgiveness. the crown of karsus will be mine, and the karsite weave will obey me." mystra: "crown yourself, gale dekarios, and you will learn what it is to carry such weight upon your shoulders." mystra: "if it does not crush you, i will." nodecontext: an icy edge entering her voice - a hint of a challenge gale will face if he pursues this course. nodecontext: here we glimpse the true, unimaginable power of mystra. she's still in control of herself, but her anger should be palpable.

i have already addressed the overall topic of mystra & gale's relationship in several posts i wrote some time ago [x] [x] [x]. however, since then we have received new snippets of information with patch 5 that shed more light on the progression of their relationship as a whole. this post is intended to be an update of sorts, containing a more comprehensive list, as well as lore excerpts for added context and proof. i will split this essay into several sections for coherency — buckle in, cause this is going to be a long one!

✧ mystra's history of manipulation ✧

one of the epilogue letters revealed that elminster first sought gale out when he was about 8 years old. which according to gale's canon age being 35 (as listed on his idle champions character sheet) means that their first meeting occurred around 1465 DR. although elminster's wording suggests that this may merely be an estimate on his side.

furthermore - in the ending where gale dies in the attempt at ascension, raphael has the following to say:

raphael: "you were the spark of ambition that rekindled gale's ambitions, after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest."

insinuating that mystra did make an active effort to keep gale in line, to temper his ambition, lest his thirst for more knowledge would eventually prove bothersome for her. keeping an eye on him at all times, keeping him close, placating him, and urging him to be patient.

what distinctly stood out to me is how this also aligns with some of azuth's quotes in the temptation of elminster, while he gives advice to a then-young sage of shadowdale.

we are her treasures, lad—we are what she holds most dear, the rocks she can cling to in the storms of wild art. she needs us to be strong, far stronger than most mortals ... tempered tools for her use. being bound to us by love and linked to us to preserve her very humanity, she finds it hard to be harsh to us—to do the tempering that must be done. she began the tempering of you long ago; you are her 'pet project', if you will. [...]

"you serve mystra differently. she watches you and learns the human side of magic in all it's hues from your experiences and the doings of those you meet—foes and friends alike. yet the time has come for you to change, and grow, to serve as she'll need you to, in the centuries ahead."

and yet again, there is a reoccurring pattern in her relationship with sammaster, another of her chosen, as well:

sammaster fell to his knees and wept upon mystra's feet. they ended up spending ten days together. this made him the first chosen of mystra since the seven sisters. when he asked for the reason that mystra had chosen him, she replied that she had foreseen that one of her chosen would be killed in battle, and he would be the replacement. he left this encounter feeling as though he and mystra were in love.

mystra is no stranger to fostering feelings of boundless devotion that weren't present before. observing her potential chosen, appearing before them, promising them power. luring them into service without the knowledge of what this may entail. where other gods may instill fear, mystra instills the notion of love. practicing seduction while mirroring her chosen's humanity. intentionally portraying herself as someone sympathetic and approachable. syncing their language, highlighting mutuality, making them feel favored and seen. mystra sees no need in the act of divine separation, a display of godlike grandeur — inimitable, menacing, larger than life, towering above her chosen. instead, her manifestation is purposefully unassuming. she meets them in the form of a woman in her early 30s, conventionally attractive, palpable, and appealing to the masses — a human figure. the very embodiment, the very ideal of traditional beauty an impressionable, young wizard may have.

gale: "i can't quite describe it, the need i sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." gale: "no sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies."

gale: "in her likeness, i used to read a thousand stories. she was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes."

player: “what did mystra’s attention feel like?” gale: “love. [...] perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. it was most certainly love to him. [...]"

how we see her in the game is very likely the same form she chose to present to a young gale. beauty, wisdom, elegance. perceived perfection, yet humble in her divinity.

the mystra of now (1490s DR) retains some of the memories of all of her earlier selves, and the relatively young and inexperienced midnight is “in there,” but wholly subsumed. mystra could generate an avatar or seeming that might fool some mortals into thinking they were meeting midnight, but it would be an act. [x]

generating an avatar in the form of a mortal she subsumed. purporting mutuality. midnight was just another mortal added to mystra's long list of "human stock" — vessels intended to preserve her power. favored, chosen, and ultimately suppressed by the very essence of mystra herself. midnight is no equal piece of mystra, the deity, there is no conscious part of the mortal that remains. [x] the mystra that currently exists is a union of the original mystryl, as well as all the other reincarnations of her that melded into her being. fragments of their minds that linger in the weave, scraps of humanity that could perhaps aid in her knowledge and understanding to prevent further betrayals in the future.

mystra's approach has always been indirect, instead of being outright menacing and portentous. the fact that mystra isn't written like the other gods in the game doesn't mean she's more sympathetic to gale's struggles or more inclined to understand human nature. her concern will always be the preservation of her domain and her hold over the weave — to do as the gods do.

gale: "you're one to talk. how many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if i detonated the orb?" mystra: "such eddies are unexceptional. souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust." nodecontext: matter of fact, not interested in these kinds of specifics

ketheric thorm: "who decides what is right? the gods did not care for right and wrong when they dismantled my life piece by piece." ketheric thorm: "and when i tried to buy it back, it cost me everything - everything." ketheric thorm: "we are copper pieces in their belts. tokens to be traded for scraps."

it is often mentioned that mystra makes her attention known by brushing against her potential chosen. whispering to them, touching their skin, eliciting a tingling sensation. which is also how mystra chose to reveal herself to ariel manx (midnight) in 1353 DR, while she was 21 years of age.

gale mentions feeling a similar sensation if he chooses to destroy the summoning circle in balthazar's office at moonrise and thereby receives her blessing.

gale: "did you feel that?" gale: "if i wasn't surrounded on all sides by the darkness of the shadow-cursed lands, i'd think it was mystra herself brushing against my skin."

mystra isn't above using manipulations to get her way. once again evident in her instigating dornal and elué silverhand's union in the first place, as well as intentionally withholding information from dornal that she actively took possession of his wife, elué. to ensure that they would indeed produce her offspring — the seven sisters — her chosen and the vessels to house her power.

where elué had previously been reluctant to acknowledge dornal's advances, he found them suddenly returned with great fervor once mystra took possession of her body. [x]

"by the time elué was carrying her final child, she was in effect a lich - a crumbling shell kept alive only through mystra's power. dornal was shocked at her deterioration. he sought magical aid to cure his wife, and when he learned from the most powerful priest he could find that his wife was possessed by an intelligent force of great power, a sickened dornal tried to slay her. he struck off her head one moonlight night as they walked together in a wooded glade. mystra was forced to reveal herself. dornal was shattered by what he had done, and aghast at how he - and especially elué - had been used." [x]

dornal, who had been kept in the dark throughout, abandoned his lands and children after slaying his wife, traveling to the north, with the plan to seek his own death. he repeatedly tried to poison himself, yet mystra wouldn't allow him suicide and magically neutralized the lethal doses to keep him alive against his will. after his death in 797 DR, mystra turned him into another servant of hers: the watcher — one who wanders the realms, seeking out new potential chosen to this day.

which brings us to...

✧ mystra's foresight and her "death" ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight - she foresaw the time of troubles and her own passing at the hands of helm in 1358 DR for defying him and her attempt to converse with the overgod ao without the tablets of fate. the very reason why she sought out mortal vessels to house her power (the seven sisters) — to avoid disaster should another entity win control over her in the chaotic period of wildly fluctuating power struggles that was the time of troubles. this divine power slumbers within these individuals, which she can call upon.

in 1385 DR mystra (midnight) was struck down by cyric and shar, which brought upon the spellplague.

in 1479 DR mystra was located by elminster inside a cave in cormyr, guarding her mortal body. she survived cyric's assassination by inhabiting the body of a bear, while still able to contact her chosen. she returned to her full power in 1487 DR.

the important part, that i've often seen outright ignored or misinterpreted by fandom altogether, is that mystra wasn’t actually “dead” for over a hundred years. at least not in the way we perceive it. we can’t equate her death with our mortal understanding of it. her powers were diminished to an extreme and she was weakened, yet she was still able to communicate. it was in her power to contact her chosen and to guide them. evident by her calling for elminster through her telepathic link and directing him to recruit other chosen for her to restore her power.

the plot of baldur’s gate 3 takes place in 1492 DR. meaning gale's actual year of birth would be 1457 DR. while elminster likely sought him out around 1465 DR, when he was only 8 years old. however, i once again want to emphasize that “couldn’t have been more than 8 summers old” indicates that this may merely be an estimate on elminster's side. he could’ve possibly reached out to him even earlier than that, or perhaps later. gale was 22 year old at the time when mystra was found in her diminished state by elminster in 1479 DR.

✧ mystra's awareness✧

gale: “so, all it took to get mystra’s attention was to learn how to reforge an artifact that once destroyed her." gale: "it's obvious, when you stop to think about it."

even if you may personally be skeptical of elminster’s insertion into gale’s life at age 8 (as well as mystra's ability to contact her chosen during her death) to be enough evidence of mystra’s attention — she had to be aware of him for his talents alone since he was a mere child. there is no way around this.

player: "how could she possibly know we read a book? hasn't she got more important things to worry about?" gale: "the weave is a highly sensitive magical network threaded through all life on this plane. any shift in magical energy, no matter how small, is akin to a beacon, alerting mystra to its cause." gale: "opening a book like the annals of karsus was akin to us shooting a firework spelling 'look at us, mystra!' directly into the skies of elysium. she knows."

mystra IS the weave, as gale himself has stated several times. it is an extension of her being, threaded through all life. by touching the weave one is directly touching the goddess of magic herself. mystra is aware of any magic user, able to deepen this contact at her choosing.

shadowheart: "isn't it so, that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavouring to call upon mystra?" shadowheart: "i'm surprised she still listens to you." gale: "she has no choice - she's sworn to hear all magic users. even me." gale: "i'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations."

gale described himself as a child prodigy. a virtuoso that was able to manipulate and compose the weave at will from an early age.

gale: "magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as i can remember. there's nothing like it."

gale: "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet."

gale: "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. the lady of mysteries. the goddess mystra." gale: "she revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. in time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover."

someone who was able to perform feats way beyond the skillset of his peers. he managed to wield the blackstaff itself, accidentally facing an irritated death slaad, and lived to tell the tale. he summoned and befriended tara, as well as the magma mephit, k'ha'ssji'trach'ash. we also know from elminster that he was able to cast fireball — a 3rd level spell — at age 8.

it is indisputable that mystra must’ve taken notice of the precocious young wizard during this time, even in her diminished state. much like she had once observed midnight. she began to whisper to him, drawing back the veils, revealing herself bit by bit, urging him that he was special — chosen.

gale: "he fancied himself much more than that. he fancied himself favoured above all others. [...] mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. the gossamer veils first, draped across the weave. the delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘chosen one’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely."

✧ final part: power imbalance & exerting control ✧

gale: "the weave is still here, all around us - inside of us too. as long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch." gale: "i've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways i am still a more than capable wizard." gale: "it's just that i'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at." gale: " to have one hand on the pulse of divinity." gale: "you have to remember that the weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of mystra herself." gale: "she can give and she can take away. i'm afraid i'm still very much on her naughty list."

gale: "mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold." gale: "and yet, even now, more than i fear losing my own self and soul, i fear losing my command of her art."

player: "he sounds like a very talented individual." gale: "he was. even though it was in mystra’s affections that his true power lay."

even apart from their innate different forms of existence as a mere mortal and the literal goddess of magic, mystra is in full control of gale's power at all times, able to grant and withdraw her favors at will. claiming that such a power imbalance doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t apply to their respective relationship, that it might’ve been “healthy” at one point if gale was indeed of age at the time their relationship transitioned into a sexual nature is —pardon my french— fucking insane.

this stance disregards everything we know about the gods, about mystra’s involvement with other mortals and her chosen. it disregards the level of authority she wields over any magic user. it carelessly and naively disregards the implicit difference in power. mystra is the goddess of magic, his goddess. the very object of his worship and adoration since childhood. the goddess he devoted his life, his work, and his unyielding loyalty to. it is ultimately irrelevant at what exact point their relationship underwent its final transition from muse to lover. this discussion is redundant. mystra has been a constant presence since his early childhood. his worship of her began with the practice of his first spells, even if it wasn't conscious at the time. every practitioner of magic inevitably honors mystra, regardless of their faith in her. magic is his life, in the same way that mystra is pure magic. she is in total control of the tools he wields.

✧ summary ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight, already knowing about the time of troubles & her subsequent passing. this being her reason to seek out mortal vessels to secure her power.

mystra feels any shift in magical energy no matter how small, immediately alerting her. gale was able to cast a third-level spell at age 8.

mystra has a history of instilling feelings of love that weren't present before and using her chosen/other mortals for her own means. (elminster, khelben, sammaster, the seven daughters, ariel manx etc.)

mystra's manifestation is a conscious choice. midnight has been wholly subsumed by her.

mystra wasn’t actually “dead” in 1479 DR, but merely diminished. she was inhabiting the body of a bear and was still able to communicate with her chosen. she directed elminster to recruit other chosen to restore her power.

elminster sought gale out around 1465 DR when he was about 8 years old, as stated in the epilogue letter.

mystra first functioned as gale’s mentor, then his muse, and later his lover.

gale’s relationship with her was indeed of a sexual nature, he has explicitly stated so several times. their intimacy wasn't restricted to incorporeal interactions either, even though they were preferred.

during the ending where gale fails to ascend raphael states during the credits that tav has “rekindled gale’s ambitions after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest”.

azuth describes mystra's chosen as "tempered tools for her use". being bound to them by love and linked to them to preserve her very humanity.

mystra's intention to shape gale into yet another loyal, devoted asset to her portfolio has been there from the very moment she chose to reveal herself, to instruct elminster to seek him out. it was a conscious decision to directly insert herself into gale’s life, sowing his conviction that he was favored above all others. singling him out among his peers, isolating him with subtle promises of his greatness, his uniqueness, and all he could yet accomplish to be under her guidance. offering him her teachings, her inspiration, and eventually her love. yet all the while tempering his perceived greed and thirst to reach for even greater heights, unless it acted in her favor. keeping him close — lest his growing ambitions should ever prove to be an outright challenge to her rule.

the groundwork has been carefully laid from the very beginning.

gale: “goodnight. and thank you for your patient understanding. [...] try not to think too poorly of me. a cat can look at a king. a wizard can look at a goddess.”

[anniebeemine]

Ride- s.r. x reader

totally didn't spend an hour sobbing to Ride by Lana Del Rey in my car. Either way, I made this for y'all

It was late—later than you had intended to stay at the BAU. The bullpen was eerily quiet, most of the team having left hours ago. You had just finished up your paperwork, filing away the last report of the day. Glancing at the clock on your computer, you realized with a sigh that dawn was closer than the sunset. You mentally prepared yourself for the drive home, downing the cold coffee in your mug. 

As you gathered your things, you noticed Spencer lingering near his desk, seemingly engrossed in a book. He was the only other person still there, apart from you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but every so often, you noticed his eyes flicking up to check the time or perhaps to glance around the empty office.

You hesitated for a moment. You’d never really had a chance to talk to Spencer one-on-one outside of work, and despite being part of the same team, you’d never been alone with him before. But something about the way he was lingering made you wonder if he was in the same situation as you—stuck with no easy way to get home.

Clearing your throat softly, you stepped over to his desk. “Hey, Spencer.”

He looked up, surprised, as if he hadn’t noticed you were still there. “Oh, hi,” he said, closing his book and setting it down. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Yeah, just wrapping up,” you said with a small smile. “It’s pretty late, though. I was about to head out, and I was wondering if you needed a ride home.”

Spencer blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. “A ride home? Are you sure? I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, waving off his concern. “I’d feel better knowing you got home safely. It’s pretty late, after all.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding slowly. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you’d offered. “Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

The two of you walked to the parking garage together, the silence between you comfortable but charged with a sense of unfamiliarity. You couldn’t help but notice how Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax as he fell into step beside you. He was always so focused, so intense at work, that it was almost strange to see him in a more casual setting.

Once you reached your car, you unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat, waiting as Spencer settled in beside you. The car was filled with the soft hum of the engine as you started it up, and you turned to him with a small smile.

“Where to?”

Spencer gave you his address, and you nodded, pulling out of the garage and onto the quiet streets. The night was calm, the usual hustle and bustle of the city muted at this late hour. You drove in comfortable silence for a while, the soft strains of music playing through the radio.

After a few minutes, Spencer spoke up. “Thank you again for the ride. I didn’t mean to keep you so late.”

“It’s really no problem,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the road. “I’m glad I could help. It’s nice to have some company for the drive.”

You fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to a radio commercial play softly. The city lights streamed past the windows as you navigated through the streets. Spencer shifted in his seat, setting his bag between his feet and leaning back slightly.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the quiet, “I’ve noticed you’ve never really gone out with the team after work. We usually head to a bar nearby, but I don’t think I’ve seen you join us.”

You smiled, keeping your eyes on the road. “Yeah, bars aren’t really my thing. I don’t mind a drink every now and then, but the whole bar scene just doesn’t appeal to me.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. “So, what do you usually do after work?”

“Honestly?” you said with a small chuckle. “I like to drive around. I’ll just pick a direction and see where it takes me. Sometimes I find a new café or a bookstore. Other times, I just enjoy the drive, listening to music or thinking about the day.”

Spencer’s interest was piqued. “That sounds… peaceful. Do you do it often?”

“Pretty often,” you admitted, glancing at him with a smile. “It’s a good way to unwind. Clears my head.”

A moment passed before you felt a burst of spontaneity. “If you’re not in a hurry to get home, I could take you out for a bit. Show you how I spend my evenings.”

Spencer’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but a small smile curved his lips. “Sure. I’d like that.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of excitement at the prospect of showing him your side of the city. Reaching over, you rolled the windows down a little, letting the cool night air flow into the car. The breeze brushed against your skin, and you sighed, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away.

With Spencer agreeing to your impromptu adventure, you relaxed into the drive, cruising through the city with no particular destination in mind. The streets were quieter now, the typical bustle of the day giving way to a more serene atmosphere. The city lights flickered like stars on the pavement, casting a gentle glow that made everything seem a little more magical.

Spencer leaned back in his seat, seeming to unwind as well. “So, where are we headed?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Anywhere we want,” you replied, smiling. “That’s the beauty of it. No plan, no rush… just enjoying the night.”

He chuckled softly. “I could get used to this.”

You drove through the winding streets, taking turns here and there without much thought, simply following the flow of the city. You passed by a few late-night diners, a couple of bookstores with their lights still on, and a park that looked inviting in the moonlight.

After a while, you found yourself near the waterfront, where the city’s lights reflected off the gently rippling water. You slowed down, rolling the windows down even further to let in the cool breeze from the bay. The sound of the water lapping against the shore was calming, and you could feel the tension in the air dissipate completely.

Spencer turned to look at you, his expression relaxed. “This is really nice,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the peace.

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, parking the car and turning off the engine. “I end up here a lot.” 

You both sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the view. The city skyline was a dazzling array of lights, and the water below reflected them like a mirror. There was something so serene about the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Spencer said softly, breaking the silence. 

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore filled the silence between you and Spencer as you wandered down the path by the waterfront. You hadn’t planned on stopping, but when you spotted a large log near the water's edge, something about it seemed inviting.

Without a word, you reached out and took Spencer's hand, pulling him gently toward it. His hand was warm in yours, and you felt a slight tingle run up your spine at the simple contact. He followed you without hesitation, his eyes curious as you approached the log.

When you reached it, you nudged it with your foot, testing its stability. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you gave him a small smile before sitting down. He joined you, and the two of you settled in, side by side, the night sky stretching endlessly above you.

The silence that fell between you was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was as if the world had quieted down just for the two of you, leaving only the distant hum of the city and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze.

And then, as naturally as the night turned into day, you began to talk.

There was no rush, no pressure to say anything in particular. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything and nothing all at once. You found yourself sharing things you hadn’t told anyone before, stories from your past, hopes for the future, small secrets that had always felt too personal to share. But here, in the quiet of the night, with Spencer beside you, it felt right.

He listened intently, his gaze soft and attentive. Occasionally, he would share something in return, and you felt a deep sense of connection growing between you. There was something comforting in the way he opened up to you, revealing parts of himself that you had never seen before. It was as if the night had stripped away the barriers between you, leaving only honesty and vulnerability in its wake.

Time seemed to slip away unnoticed as you continued to talk, the darkness of the night gradually giving way to the first hint of dawn. The sky began to lighten, a soft blush of pink and orange spreading across the horizon. You noticed the change in the light, the way the world around you was beginning to wake up, but neither of you made any move to leave.

Eventually, though, as the sun began its slow ascent, you both fell into a companionable silence. The words had all been spoken, and now, there was only the quiet understanding that had formed between you.

You glanced at Spencer, noticing the way the early morning light caught the edges of his hair, giving him a soft, almost ethereal glow. His expression was peaceful, a small, contented smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the water.

Reluctantly, you shifted, breaking the spell that had held you together throughout the night. Spencer turned to you, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, it felt as though the world stood still. There was an unspoken understanding in that look, a recognition of the bond that had formed between you.

Without a word, you both rose from the log, your hands brushing together briefly before you stepped away.

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a gentle glow over everything. Spencer turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft morning light, and he gave you a small, genuine smile.

“That was nice,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent in the stillness of the early morning. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

You smiled back at him, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “Anytime,” you replied, standing up and brushing off your clothes. The simplicity of your response carried all the unspoken things you wanted to say.

Together, you began walking back to the car, the world around you slowly waking up. The grass was cool and damp beneath your feet, the earth soft from the dew. As you walked, your mind was still wrapped up in the serenity of the night, lost in thought.

Suddenly, your foot caught on a lump in the grass, and you stumbled slightly. Before you could fully regain your balance, Spencer’s hand was there, steadying you with a gentle yet firm touch on your lower back. The contact sent a sudden jolt up your spine, a spark that made your heart skip a beat.

You glanced up at him, a little surprised by how much the small gesture affected you. His hand lingered for a moment, warm against your back, before he slowly let it fall away.

“Careful,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice a bit breathless as you regained your footing.

The walk to the car continued in a comfortable silence, but the simple touch seemed to hum in the space between you. It was a small moment, yet it felt significant, like an unspoken promise that whatever had started between you tonight was just beginning.

[sassy-cass-16]

Oh god I promised myself no bell’s hells meta until c3 ends but my brain is turning the “can she be trusted?” line over and over like chicken at the shawarma shop. because there are layers to that.

more under the cut because i let this run away from me:

so first off, there's the obvious: dorian initially seems to start to address the whole group, everyone who's left in the inn room, but turns and just locks eyes with orym when he asks. orym, who of everyone has the most reason to be biased against laudna right now. orym, who just got into a fight with laudna over the sword that killed both of them and orym's husband and father-in-law. that's who dorian thinks to ask, because he trusts orym not to let his judgment be clouded.

dorian first saw orym again after months of being separated, like, three days ago, and despite how much orym has visibly changed in those months, dorian doesn't hesitate to believe that orym will still be objective. he trusts that orym will be the one to look at this situation and tell him the truth.

because dorian has experience with orym telling him the truth. dorian knows firsthand how willing orym is to shuck his personal feelings in favour of what's true. dorian just saw what he could have become, had orym not stepped in to stop him taking the circlet of barbed vision. he owes the fact that he's alive and beholden to no gods to orym's willingness to be rational and objective in a situation involving a powerful magical item. by his own admission, "i wouldn't be here without you."

so of course dorian trusts him right now.

and there's something to the exclusion of the others, with that. dorian doesn't look to fearne and orym, although that would make sense because he's known the two of them the longest. he doesn't look to chetney, who's proven to be able to get a handle on this with the scream needle compromise. he doesn't look to ashton, who's been extremely levelheaded through this whole mess. he looks at orym, exclusively. he is asking orym, exclusively. not the group, although everyone decides to jump in to answer and then imogen comes through the window to complicate the matter. just orym.

dorian is the kind of person with a lot of potential for darkness in him. he hides it well because he's also deeply kind and friendly, but it's always been there. he's just been through something massively traumatic, and that was after the original circlet conflict back in exu prime. he had his alignment forcibly changed from good to neutral. but even after all he's gone though, orym's alignment is still good.

as much as orym doesn't want to be a leader and prefers to be a protector and follower, he does very well in situations where he takes on an amount of responsibility. when he's in some level of control over a situation, he takes to it naturally. he's a very good babysitter to his gaggle of weirdos. the "can she be trusted?" might have been an attempt on dorian's part to give orym a bit more control here. to reassure him that regardless of anyone else's feelings—regardless of how laudna's reaction might have affected him—orym deserves to be trusted, and he can make a decision that dorian will trust.

back in exu and all the way into early c3, dorian and orym slotted into a sort of parental position in their groups. watching over the crownkeepers' clothes when they went skinny dipping in exu. orym repeatedly steering everybody away from bad ideas. matt even described dorian leaving dariax in zephrah in 4sd as "dad just going out to get cigarettes." there's always been that underlying sense of "we are two of a pair" with dorian and orym. not to say that either of them don't see the others as adults, but they do have that rapport of being the babysitters in the gaggle of weirdos.

that kind of bond is just part of their dynamic. but especially in light of what's been happening while they were separated, and then what happened between them earlier that evening, "can she be trusted?" is a reminder of that bond. orym's been lonely, by his own admission, and one of the secrets he divulged at nana morri's was "i really miss dorian." he broke down crying during his last message through the sending stone, and then again on the bench not a few hours before this whole incident went down.

dorian came to comfort him. he flat-out said to orym's face "i'm here now." he reminded orym that he needs to rely on other people, that he can't always be the one saving everybody else. he gave orym the room to not be the strong one, and told him he has that room because dorian's there to support him. they can be two of a pair again.

he knows orym's been feeling like he can't do anything, like he had to resort to what he stopped dorian from doing with the circlet. and so dorian both gives him a choice to make, something to do, and shows him that he still trusts him unconditionally. "can she be trusted?" also means "i trust you" and "i'm here with you" and "this is how we've always been."

we know from liam in 4sd that orym has feelings for dorian that he's not sure are reciprocated. but even regardless of the romantic element here, dorian and orym have always had a partnership. they have always been two of a pair. the sequence of events leading to "can she be trusted?" is a perfect microcosm of he relationship between the two of them. it's just incredible.

[itneverendshere]

my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

just a lil something, completely self indulgent and inspired by miranda and steven in s2 of sex & the city 😔🥺

warnings: angst😤; a little fluffy; soft!rafe because i personally LOVE him

you did it without thinking.

it felt as if your body had a mind of its own and while your brain yelled at you to stay put and act normal, your heart simply didn’t allow it. your feet pounded against the street pavement, each step echoing the racing of your heart. you didn’t dare to look back, afraid that if you did, you’d crumble under the weight of your memories with him rushing back. the sound of your breath filled your ears, drowning out the chaos of the main street.

rafe.

the name echoed in your mind like some sort of haunted melody. you didn’t expect to see him, not after so many months without a single glimpse of his perfect face. you’d broken up months ago, you were supposed to be over him. and yet, despite all your attempts, his presence still stirred something within you. 

this wasn’t how it was supposed to work out.

you rounded the corner, trying to convince yourself that it was fine. so what if he was back in town? so what if he didn’t call you? so what if you two promised to stay friends and yet…it’s none of your business. you should be thankful.  

but seeing him out of the blue, it was like a sucker punch to the gut, except it felt like it came from a hundred directions at once. maybe you just needed a minute to process all of it. maybe a venti latte and some retail therapy would do the trick.

except they didn’t and hours later, here you are, stuck to your couch wondering how the hell you are supposed to step foot outside knowing there’s a possibility you might run into him again. 

your brain always goes into overdrive when you think of rafe cameron. and now you’re stuck here, overthinking every little thing. should you text him? would that be too desperate? but what if he's thinking the same thing?

and if he isn’t?

there's a sudden knock on your apartment door, the sound cuts through the haze of your mind, jolting you back to reality. you reluctantly peel yourself off the couch and shuffle over to the door, wondering if that amazon package you ordered this morning is here already. 

you glance towards the peephole, debating whether to check who it is or simply ignore it. after a moment of internal deliberation, curiosity wins out, and you approach the door cautiously.

you peer through the peephole, half expecting to see a stranger or maybe the mailman with a package. but to your surprise—it's rafe.

holy fuck.

your breath catches in your throat as you take in his familiar face from up close, a jumble of emotions stirring inside you.

what's he doing here? how did he get your new address? you moved from your parent’s home just a month ago. 

for a beat, you’re frozen. no one taught you how to proceed in these kinds of situations, but you are fairly certain letting an ex-boyfriend, the one you’re still in love with, inside your personal space is a big no-no.  

should you open the door? pretend you’re not home? smash your head against a wall and pray it knocks you out instantly? before you can even begin to form a plan, there's another knock, this time a little more insistent, as if he knows you’re on the other side.

“i can hear you breathing.”

panic sets in. 

summoning whatever fake bravery you have left, you take a deep breath and reluctantly twist the doorknob. with your hands trembling like crazy, you swing the door open, revealing rafe standing there. 

you gulp, feeling like your throat's suddenly decided to go on strike “yeah-uh. hi!”

his hands are clutched behind his back and his eyes take turns between your face and the door. there's a slight furrow in his brow, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the curve of his nice cheekbones. 

“that was a shitty thing you did. running away from me on the street.”

you feel a crazy amount of guilt wash over you. he’s not wrong. running away like that was cowardly, but did he expect you to run into him with open arms?

“i didn’t run?”

his lips, usually set in a determined line, now quiver ever so slightly, “you ran.”

the weight of what you did hangs over you like a dark cloud. could you have acted any more immaturely?

“well, i wasn’t expecting to see you-“ you manage to blurt out, your voice shaky, “and-and, i-“

“it really hurt my feelings.” rafe's finger points accusingly at his chest, and you feel like you’re about to shrink into the floor under the weight of his disappointment.

you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. you can feel your eyes starting to sting with unshed tears and you use every remaining strength inside you not to cry in front of him. you’ve embarrassed yourself enough. 

“i don’t deal very well with ex-boyfriends?”

his expression softens slightly, and he leans his weight against the doorframe, his eyes searching yours.

“hey, sweetheart, this is me.”  his hand moves again and he gently places it on his chest, right over his heart, as if trying to convey the sincerity of his words “rafe.”

but he’s not your rafe anymore.

that’s the one thing you want to tell him. you chew on your lower lip wondering if honesty would do you any good right now. if it would erase all these months, weeks, days, hours, without him. 

a moment of silence stretches between you, and then, after what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to utter a response.

"yeah..."

rafe's gaze remains fixed on you, “i held you while you were sleeping.”

if you weren’t crying before, you are now. it's like a dam has burst inside you. tears stream down your face like a leaky faucet, nothing strong enough to hold them back. they're not the dainty tears you see in movies, but big, ugly cries that leave your mascara streaked and your nose running.

you try to speak, but all that comes out are choked sobs and sniffles. it's embarrassing, really, how out of control you feel. but you can't help it even as your front neighbor comes into view. 

you do quick 180 and bolt back into your apartment, hand pressed against your forehead as if holding it will stop the raging headache you’re about to experience. you don’t have to look back to know rafe’s following you, trailing inside and swiftly closing the door with a soft click.

"i’m sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "i’m really sorry. i’m so sorry-“

rafe's hands reach out, his palms open as if he's dealing with a wounded animal. 

"hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle reassurance, "it's okay.”

“i hadn’t seen you in so long,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush, “and i missed you and then i did that shit-“

his hand envelops yours, his touch grounding you. "hey, breathe," he urges softly, “it’s okay.”

tears well up in your eyes again, blurring your vision as you struggle to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "’m sorry," you choke out, voice breaking with each syllable. "i'm so sorry, rafe."

“it wasn’t that shitty, okay?” rafe's expression softens further, the way it does only for you.

“it was! i’m a shitty person.”

his thumb gently brushes away your tears as he shakes his head slowly. "no, you're not.”

“i am! you would’ve never done something that shitty.”

the nagging feeling that you’ve let him down once again is eating you alive.

he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "what do you call showing up here, in your apartment, in the middle of the afternoon and calling you shitty, huh?" he asks, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

you can't help but let out a shaky laugh, “t’s not the same.” 

rafe reaches out, gently cupping your face in his palm as he brushes his thumb gently across your cheek. “yeah, it is.”

without even questioning it, you lean into his touch, closing your eyes as your allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace. for the first time in months.

“i miss you,” you confess, “whenever something happens, i just want to tell you about it.”

“so, tell me.” the tender smile softens the lines on his face, "’m right here.”

you feel a rush of relief, a weight lifting off your chest as if he's just granted you permission to exhale. and yet, tears still well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and spilling over onto your cheeks in hot.

“i have a date.”

a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening with each syllable. your voice quivers with uncertainty, the words tumbling out like stones from a crumbling cliff. you don’t have to look to know your hands are shaking like leaves in a storm. you’re pretty sure if you held them up, they'd look like one of those ridiculous earthquake simulations. 

rafe nods, doing his best to stop the cheeky grin growing on his face, as he shakes his head understandingly, “looking forward to it, are ya?”

but you only sob harder.

"hey, hey- sweetheart. it's alright.” he says gently, his voice soothing you better than any depressing song on your playlist, “just jokin’ around.”

but you can't shake off the feeling of shame, the burning embarrassment of admitting to something you wish you hadn't. of letting someone take you out, someone who isn’t rafe, your rafe. 

"i just... i thought it would help me move on, y’know?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i get it.” he tries to smile at you again, but it looks sad, and it makes your heart hurt. his hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear from your cheek, “i’m not mad.”

but you are. at you. at him.

the words linger in the back of your mind, gnawing at your insides. you want to scream, to lash out at him for being so understanding, for not fighting for you the way you wish he would.

you push his hands away from your face, your voice cracking. that’s all it seems to do since he walked back into your life ten minutes ago.

"that's it?" you exclaim, "you're just okay with it? with me going on a stupid date with someone else?"

it was like someone had just pulled the rug out from under him, and he didn't know how to stand back up.

rafe’s jaw is set in a firm clench, "i just want you to be happy.”

“but i'm not happy!" you retort, your voice rising in volume as tears continue to stream down your face. "i'm miserable, rafe! and you're just standing there, doing nothing!”

his chest is rising and falling heavily, as if he’s trying to contain himself.

"i'm doing nothing?” he asks so quietly; you take a double take to make sure it’s still him. his eyes flicker with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. it feels like staring into a wildfire, all fierce and untamed. 

you swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of your words crashing down on you. the way rafe looks at you, it’s like he sees right through you.

"i’m here, aren't i? i’m listening, okay? i'm trying to understand."

but his words only fuel the fire of your frustration.

"i need you to tell me that you still care. that you don't want me to go on that date because you want me for yourself."

you could see the anger draining out of him, leaving behind this raw, broken man. he slumps forward, shoulders drooping. his eyes go from blazing with intensity to just... empty. like he just flicked off a light switch behind them. 

it’s heartbreaking, honestly, to see him just fizzle out into nothing. 

“’course i want you for myself," he whispers, "but i can't force you to choose me. you left me.”

it’s a devastating sight, really. to see someone you love so deeply, someone who’s always been so strong, just fall apart like that. it’s like watching a building crumble to the ground.

and the worst part is, you know you’re the one who caused it. you’re the reason he’s standing there looking so broken, so lost. and you hate yourself for it, hate that you couldn’t be what he needed, hate that you had to go and ruin everything.

“i left because i didn’t feel good enough,” your voice is hoarse from screaming and crying, “not because i stopped loving you.”

for a moment, the silence between you is deafening, stretching on through time. it’s like neither of you knows what to say. 

and then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, something shifts in his expression, he looks as if you have hit him.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. “i never wanted you to doubt how much you mean to me.”

his words hang in the air, like they’re carrying the weight of all the things you two never said, all the things you wished you could take back. as if he’s putting it all out there, laying his soul bare for you to see, finally showing you everything he’s been keeping bottled up inside.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words a solemn oath sworn in the quiet of the night. “’m sorry for not being there when you needed me.”

“i’m sorry too,” you choke out. “i’m sorry for pushing you away.”

and then, without another word, without another moment wasted on regrets and what-ifs, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. it’s like coming home after a long time.

and yeah, you might have a shit ton of things and problems to sort through, but rafe cameron is worth that and more. 

[russellradio]

~to be updated when I post a new fic, so I have them all in one place~

you can find me as bucksclipboard on ao3 💕 kudos and comments make my day!

buddie fic masterpost here

clear the air (G, 1.8k) | ao3

After the basketball incident, an injured Eddie (on heavy pain pills) can’t stop worrying about Buck. Tommy knows how important they are to each other, even if he only met them a few weeks ago. So, he convinces Eddie to give him Buck’s address.

or: missing scene, set right before tommy shows up at buck’s loft (7x04)

nobody compares (G, 1.3k) | ao3 | (ambiguous bucktommy/buddie)

"Sorry", Eddie said and scrunched his nose.

"No, you’re right", Tommy admitted. "I don’t want that. I want to give him something he’ll love."

"Well, then not a gift card. Look, I’ve been a terrible gift giver in relationships, so I’m not judging. But you look like you’re getting a migraine, so maybe… let me help you?"

A deep sigh escaped him. "How?"

or: eddie helps tommy shop for buck's birthday gift and inadvertently makes things worse

to be loved is to be seen (E, 2.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

"Right now, Buck was standing in front of the window stark naked. The curtains were drawn wide open, but he didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

Tommy had heard bits and pieces of his Buck 1.0 history, he knew he wasn’t as shy as their first encounters had made it seem. Still, this was a surprise."

or: tommy learns that buck doesn’t mind being seen at all

fond at first sight (T, 1.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

“Aren’t you off the clock, Kinard?”, a confused voice called after him. Technically, he was. His shift had ended about 30 minutes ago and Tommy was free to go home – however, he couldn’t. He had promised to stick around in case he was needed.

or: 7x03 missing scene – buck and tommy’s first meeting

kiss in the kitchen (like it's a dancefloor) (T, 1.6k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When Buck realizes Bobby is going to be ok, it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Tommy insists on coming over and keeping him company – and for the first time, they make dinner together.

or: maybe buck and tommy get a little distracted

(set before their scene in 7x10)

born to make you happy (T, 1.8k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck kept thinking of that Parks and Rec quote. “If I keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.” He smiled to himself as he opened the door to his loft, exhausted and ready to collapse on his couch but feeling somewhat accomplished. He had spent the morning volunteering at a dog sanctuary, and then raced home to take a quick shower before going to his annual checkup and to get a haircut he didn’t really need but hey, why not. It was his birthday after all.

or: tommy surprises buck on his birthday

more under the cut

written all over your face (T, 2.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

A completely smitten Buck decides he wants to keep Tommy all to himself for just a while longer. When an accidental goodbye kiss exposes their new relationship, the 118 wants to be respectful – but when has that ever worked?

or: buck and tommy try to keep their relationship a secret and fail adorably

let me hold your hand (T, 1.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

They could’ve lost their jobs over the unauthorized cruise ship rescue – instead, they’re receiving medals. Buck and Tommy arrive at the ceremony together and share a sweet moment before going in to join their crews.

or: buck and tommy can be professional AND hold hands in public

better than revenge (E, 3.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck is having a hard time adjusting to Captain Gerrard’s reign of terror. After weeks of keeping his worries to himself, he tells Tommy – and they get their own kinky version of revenge.

or: does this qualify as revenge sex?

series: I think we'd feel good together (4/4)

the fics can be read in order or as standalones

you talk to me like lovers do (M, 2.3k) | ao3 | rebloggable | (1/4)

After that beast of a fire, Buck makes sure Tommy is taken care of. He brings him home to the loft – not only so he can kiss him some more but sure, that too.

or: tommy shows up for buck and buck shows up for tommy

you better come get your man (T, 3.2k) | ao3 | rebloggable | (2/4)

Buck and Tommy bask in the early stages of their relationship – but there’s one concern Tommy just can’t seem to shake. He decides to confront Eddie about a careless comment he made and learns more than he bargained for. In the words of Chandler Bing: can open, worms everywhere.

or: tommy tries to understand the 118 dynamics and gets a little overprotective

oh what a beast, oh what a man (E, 2.2k) | ao3 | (3/4)

Tommy doesn’t want to pressure Buck – and Buck has been holding back for his own reasons. One night, he decides to take the next step and ask for what he wants.

or: buck finally gets to have sex with his beast of a boyfriend

it's in his kiss (T, 3.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable | (4/4)

Buck finds out Tommy confronted Eddie about the comment he made, and it leads to the first fight in their relationship. It’s time he learns: This is what it feels like to be someone’s priority.

or: I hope buck gets a kiss on his birthmark every day

if you made it to the end of this post: thank you so much for reading!

[parappaadventure2q-a]

READ: @alex-silli-art-corner

tw: suicide, abuse

I'll start this callout by saying that most evidence has been deleted long ago. There is no way to recover most of it, but if I have found any more, I'll add them to this post later. My friendship with him/how it ended.

It started in March of 2024.

Alex had been a member of a discord server, and had a tumblr account where he answered asks as Katy Kat. (Keep this in mind, as sometimes he will be shown as Katy Kat rather than Alex) He then asked for a vent channel to be created in the discord, where he would post frequently about how he was going to kill himself. (this is important later)

He started to DM me about him killing himself, so I started to support him. He would then message me about normal stuff, with him telling me he was suicidal every now and then. I talked with him, because every time I didn't talk to him, he would say i'm ignoring him on purpose.

Around that time, someone else in the server was banned for drawing CP of him and Alex. (both him and Alex were minors at the time.) Everyone in the server told Alex that this person was not a good influence on him, but he ignored us.

As it turns out, he did not cut off this person, (the name that's in blue) and kept being in a relationship with them.

This would continue for a long time. Alex would tell me he would kill himself, I would try to talk him out of it, and he would be fine the next day.

He said he had epilepsy, but those claims are unconfirmed as he has watched the Um Jammer Lammy cutscenes multiple times, which have flashing lights most of the time. If I remember correctly, he would use this to guilt us even more, with us not even being allowed to send any gifs. That would be understandable, if he didn't refuse to turn on Discord's accessibility feature that pauses gifs.

In his Katy Kat ask blog, he drew a lot of gore of Katy Kat. Some of these are deleted, but you can still find some on his account of Katy missing an eye, with bruises and bandages on her. I am not okay with gore, but I kept talking to him because he was suicidal.

All of my friends cut him off though, except for a stray few who I assume didn't know what he did.

When I cut him off:

About a month ago if I can remember, one of my friends showed me screenshots of Alex saying that one of his suicide attempts was a lie. He had apparently made a joke about him killing himself, and the two people there were telling him it wasn't funny and to not say that. This screenshot was taken a while back, and I didn't see the convo back then. Seeing this, I decided to cut off Alex entirely, because I couldn't trust if what anything he said was true. On top of that, I looked back at everything he'd done, and decided that I wasn't going to talk to him, ever again. He kept trying to contact me.

I noticed how guilt trippy all of his messages were. In fact, most of the time, he was guilt tripping all of us.

This is his last tumblr message to me before I blocked him.

He kept trying to contact me on other websites, such as Reddit.

I had sent him a message telling him he was in the wrong, and that we would never be friends again. This message was deleted, as he threatened to share it with one of my closest friends.

As for the IP address thing, I had posted this meme to Reddit and Tumblr using a fake copypasta that was a lot of information. It's a meme about leaking someones info, but all of this isn't real. It's taken from a copypasta website. In fact, it's this one.

Alex interpreted this as me posting his IP address publically, something I would never do, (yet as you read, it's something he would do to someone else.)

I did not, and will not post someone's IP address publicly. Yet he thought I posted his, even though it isn't hard to look at your own address, and compare it to this meme.

What caused me to make this post.

This happened just today. I was sent an ask clearly written by Alex containing my personal information to me.

Alex. If you're reading this, which I know you are. This wasn't okay. You're putting my life in danger. You're putting other's lives in danger. You're putting my family's life in danger. Why would I want to be friends with a guilt tripper?

Why would I want to be friends with someone who leaks other's information?

Why would I want to be friends with someone who draws gore of my favorite characters?

Why would I want to be friends with a liar?

None of this is okay. You were, and still are, the worst thing that's happened to me.

You don't deserve happiness.

I ask anyone who's been affected by him, to please speak up. Don't sit there in silence like you have all this time. I know he's done awful things to you. Please, if you can, tell me what he's done to you. Nobody should have to go through what he's put me through, and I'm sure that he's done something similar to you.

Sorry for being a bit rude to him in this post, but I don't care.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

binge reading your works is my best part of the day ><

anyways, I'd like to request kidnapper!könig with an apathetic reader, so tired they decide to stop reacting! (I just need to see könig comfort and cuddle his beloved)

I am so so sorry for not getting to this sooner. As I stated in the last post, I’ve been without a permanent address (but I’m staying with friends) so it’s been hard to find time. I keep hunting for a place to live, but sadly the rental scene is not kind to people on disability. I do not have much money to go anywhere, but I keep trying!

Anyways, I tried to follow the ask, but maybe the ending might be a bit too much? I kept it a bit ambiguous, so you can take it as you will. Either way, it’s a nice fluffy bath scene which should be all fluffy and good for all of us. Lord knows I need to take a shower! I might do that soon actually…

So, you know the drill, story under the cut.

18+ MDNITW: yandere König, suggestive content, kidnapping

Idle

How long had you been here? You’d been staring at these same four walls for days, maybe weeks now. You could see the sun rise in a tiny dingy window up above before setting far far away from where you sat. The moon followed suit like a faithful servant to their glorious master. You only watched with dim eyes.

König came down multiple times every day to speak to you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to him. Instead, you listened to him prattle about his every day. You learned he was ex military, discharged for an ‘accident’ related to his mental health. He didn’t go into detail. You didn’t ask.

Listening to him prattling on about whatever was on his mind that day helped make the days pass by quicker. The dull and insipid meals he presented to you quickly ramped up in quality. His meals became elaborate, and though some were blunders, he was quickly learning and adapting. However, it was all lost on your dull tongue.

At this point, you wondered if there was any difference between spending time in the world outside or being locked away in this basement. The mattress was hard and your back was beginning to hurt. Your arms ached when you lay on your side, but what else was there to do? It didn’t matter that he piled a plethora of hobbies and crafts around your bed in a desperate hope to invigorate you. It was all lost on you.

Heavy bootsteps trod down the creaking wooden stairs like the treading of a great machine. His gears creaked as he ducked under the doorway, and he grunted a cloud of smoke as he approached you. When he neared, he smelled of cigarettes and beer, but there was something else that was hidden deep beneath. If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would’ve been intrigued, but instead you simply shallowed your breathing to avoid taking in his pungent odor.

“Pet, why are you so sad?” you felt rough calloused fingers trace along your cheek. It felt nice, but you couldn’t bear to give in to his advances.

“When can I go outside?” you retorted.

König slumped into a crestfallen crouch, “Not for some time. If you are good, then you can go out, ja?”

“Aren’t I good now?” you sighed.

König shook his head.

“Being sad does not mean you are good,” König stroked your matted hair, “I bring you hairbrushes and combs, yet you still don’t take care of yourself. I even got your skincare from your old place. Yet still, you won’t wash your face. When did you last brush your teeth?”

You shrugged, “A while ago.”

König chortled as he walked away, “I can tell. Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe that will make you feel better?”

You didn’t bother reacting. You knew there was no point.

König drew a bath for you in the other room for you. You could smell the sweet scents wafting through the air, and despite yourself, you relaxed. When he unlocked your cuffs and carried you to the washroom, you took in the hot steamy air that had fogged the bathroom mirror. The lights were off, but sweet scented candles had been set out for you. When you were placed down, he’d made sure to set you on a puffy bath mat.

“There, my pet,” König murmured as he brushed your sides down, “now let’s get you undressed. Raise your arms for me.”

You did as he asked. You’d learned that despite his rough and irritable ways, he was a gentle giant around you. He took care to touch you as little as possible as he took off your clothes, tossing them into the laundry for you before helping guide you to sit in the bathroom.

You let out a sigh as he carefully helped you lay back. You hated how perfect everything was. It would’ve been so much easier to hate him if he weren’t so damn loveable. Everyone you knew would have been sickened by how easily you let this man take control of you. You never thought of escaping, but König didn’t know that. He was still so worried that you’d leave. It pained you, in a strange way. How could you care for him so deeply but also hate his entire existence? Was it worth thinking about? It didn’t matter. You were trapped in this basement, and you doubted you would ever feel the sun on your skin again.

“Oh pet, why won’t you smile anymore?” König mourned as he sudsed a washcloth for you.

“Why should I?” you snorted.

“Because I am here for you now,” König reminded you, as though it wasn’t the constant of your every day.

He set the washcloth aside and squirted some of your shampoo on his hands. When he sunk his hands in your greasy hair, you couldn’t stop yourself from sighing and relaxing into his hands.

“There… Isn’t that better?” König murmured into your neck, “if you just let me take care of you, everything will be okay.”

You didn’t reply, instead sinking into his scalp massage. He must have been watching tutorials for this. There was no way he was this naturally skilled. In a way, it touched you that he would go out of his way to learn all these new skills for you, but on the other hand, how did he have so much time? Where did he get all the money? Was it worth asking these questions?

He washed your hair with warm water. You couldn’t help but let go. It was so nice to finally feel clean. You could already feel your hair returning to its normal state. He brushed your hair lightly, wincing whenever you hissed and taking care to be gentle on the worst of the mats. He was so careful for such a hulking goliath of a man. You didn’t think his large hands could be so dexterous, but here you were, relaxing in his hands as he massaged conditioner into your hair. He was careful and methodical as he worked, ensuring you were perfect cared for, free of any pain or stress in the world. You caught yourself nearly smiling a few times. You had a feeling he saw, but chose not to comment. Smart man.

“There,” he took the washcloth again and started rubbing deep circles into your aching back, “I know the bed is no good. You will sleep with me soon, I promise. No more pain.”

You closed your eyes and let him work the knots out of your back.

“I promise it will get better,” König promised, “you will be meine Frau, and then we will be happy.”

You’d long since learned that ‘meine Frau’ meant ‘my wife’. At this point, you didn’t bother correcting him. Sometimes you looked down at your hands and you were surprised that there was no ring on your finger. It bothered you.

“I’m sorry, Frau,” König sighed as he dipped down, “but you need to be clean. I want you healthy and safe.”

You let him clean your lower parts without question. He was thankfully quick and efficient. It was a small comfort that he tried his best to avoid hurting you too much. You figured the reason he hadn’t suggested that you do it yourself was that he knew you wouldn’t so much as lift your hand to take the washcloth from him. Still, it would have been nice for him to offer, or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“All done,” König’s hand retracted as he rinsed the washcloth, “now just your hair.”

He rinsed your hair with the shower attachment, thankfully gentle with the remaining mats. He muttered something about ‘keeping your beautiful hair’ as he worked diligently. You figured it had probably grown a bit since you’d come here. Maybe you’d need a trim.

The rest of the bath was calm and relaxed. He left and let you soak for a bit on your own before he came back and took a towel from the dryer below the sink and pulled the plug on you. When you got cold, he wrapped you in the plush towel and helped you dry down. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. You’d never get a bathroom without a washer and dryer in it again. It was just far too convenient.

He carried you back to your bed where a new change of clothes had been set out on freshly changed sheets. So that was what he was doing when he left you in the bath. It was a nice gesture, but you knew that wouldn’t make the mattress any softer. At the very least, it would smell nice.

You changed into the modest clothing he gave you, all comfortable and soft to make you feel more at ease in this foreign environment. It was a nice change to having to make yourself up in stuffy clothing for your office job at least.

Your kindly captor gave you a tiny hug before he locked you back in your ankle shackle and left you in the basement. The only reminded of his presence was the faint lingering smell of cigarettes, a smell that had become surprisingly comforting since you’d adjusted to staying here.

He kept promising that you could go out, but hope left you as the days crawled by. A part of you hated him, a part of you was grateful he’d spirited you away from your past life. The meals were certainly more substantial, and you’d gotten a little bit more well rounded, but not to the point where you were upset with yourself.

Your life had become perfectly calm. There was no stress of socializing with people who hated you, no worrying about rent or bills, no threat of eviction or skipped meals. It was idyllic, really. So why were you so sad?

Art supplies were littered before you, something you once would have jumped at. He had a space dedicated to working out if you should so please. He even had a state of the art desktop lined up for you, primed with both his and your steam account and a few emulators ready and primed for you. It was all perfect, but you only lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

Life was meaningless, and so you ignored the world. However, as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore how soft König was with you.

You curled into the warm sheets. The ceiling was still there to be stared at. The craft supplies were still there to be ignored. But this time, your toothbrush and your hairbrush seemed more enticing.

Maybe you’ve been here for too long.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch4

"friends who sleep on call with each other" - 2.4k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch3. "friends who believe in mpreg"

next: ch5. "friends who fuck things up"

With his dad back to help him with the Baby, Ken needs to call you to check if you are okay.

You nearly fall back into old habits. ---

Ring…

Ring…

One thing Ken loves likes appreciates about you is that no matter the timezone or how busy you are, you always pick up the phone for him.

Ring…

Ring…

Sorry, your call is not—

Okay, so he exaggerates sometimes.

Ken flops on his bed post-shower, hair still damp as he throws his phone to the side. Mina flits around nearby to ensure that he finally sleeps tonight while his dad watches over the baby in the basement. And he is trying his best to. His joints are begging him to succumb to his fatigue, and he can barely keep his eyes open. Yet, he still lay awake. He knows what he needs.

Mina worries like a mother hen, hovering over the bed. “If you would like, I can run one of the simulations instead if she won’t answer,” she offers.

“No Mina, it still makes me feel a little creepy,” he grumbles.

Her mechanical whirring grows a bit louder. “It would just be for a few minutes. No one has to know.”

Okay, tempting. “...Can you run a quick one?”

Before Mina could start up the projector, his phone lights up with a familiar ring tone. He never dove so fast to answer a call.

His phone nearly slips out of his grasp as he fumbles to press the green button—

You are greeted by a freshly showered Ken Sato through the video call. You sit up straighter on your bed as you blink, bleary.

“Hey,” his relief leaks through your phone speaker. Though it is a bit dim in his room, his camera still caught the crinkle of his eyes as he saw you. “You’re okay. I saw in the news you got picked up by a—”

“You ever heard of a shirt?” You cut him off.

“You know I don’t sleeping with one.” He chuckles when he sees you roll your eyes.

“Whore. No wonder you’re knocked up.”

“Think about who you are slutshaming.” You see him ease into his bed, hearing his soft yawn as he lies down on his left side. “Stress isn’t good for our baby.”

“You know, you don’t have to baby trap me into staying, as the gossip mag claimed. Our fight at the Yakisoba place last night wasn’t the end of the world.” That fight felt worlds away now given all that happened to you in the past few hours.

Ken laughs nervously. “Honestly, I was scared that the article ruined our friendship even further.”

You  lie down on your right side and put your face close to the camera, eyebrows scrunching. “Worse things have been written about us.”

“Never a pregnancy though.”

“That one article about me, claiming I was double-timing you and Yuzu, was a lot worse.”

“I still don’t get what you saw in him,” he grunts. “And will you stop calling him Yuzu? He publicly broke up with you.”

You aren’t stupid. You know exactly why Ken hated your most recent former boyfriend, Yuzuru Hanyu. Hell, Ken used to respect the guy so much as a fellow athlete until you started dating him. He does not have to say it out loud for you to know the reason. He knows you know. Neither of you have ever addressed it.

“It’s been a year, it was mutual, and he’s still my friend,” you point out as you adjust your covers over your left shoulder, a flash of deep red seen briefly.

“Yeah well you tell him— woah wait, hold the phone up to your arm.” The sudden urgency of his request nearly jolts you awake.

You bury yourself into the covers a bit more. “It’s fine. Doesn’t really hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“I thought this was a sleep call, since the last time you asked for one was three weeks ago. You look like you haven’t had a good night’s—”

“Can you stop changing the subject and show me your arm?” He snaps, his fatigue making him irritable. A drop of water from his damp hair hits his camera, which he promptly wipes away. “I called you because I heard you were grabbed by a kaiju.”

“So you don’t want me to help you sleep? You always tell me you pass out like a baby when I help.” You try to lift the mood but he wasn’t having it.

“Arm. Now,” He scolds, like you are a dog.

You scoff at his tone, but you brought your left arm from out under the covers. You use your mouth to tug up your sleeve as you held your phone with the other hand to show him the fresh, angry bruisings imprinted on your skin.

“Oh god—”

“It’s just from when that tiny kaiju picked me up. It squeezed me a little bit but I’m just glad its claws didn’t scratch me.” You push your sleeve back down.

“I’m so sorry.” For some reason, his apology sounds so personal.

“It’ll be fine,” you try to soothe him through the call. If you two were together in person, you would have reached forward to squeeze his arm. “It is going to fade away in a week. I got it checked too before I went home, nothing was broken. I’m still here.”

He mumbles something to himself, and you strain your ears to hear a guilt-filled this is all my fault. You don’t really understand what he means by it, but perhaps it is just grief making him say strange things. It is hard when those you cared for get taken too soon by a monster. A multitude of families all across Tokyo struggle to cope with the losses they have sustained, and the entire city lives in fear that it will happen to them.

“Kenji? Are you alright?” You ask slowly. His face is blank, save for the misery that shone in the crease of his forehead.

He closes his eyes, trying to relax his face. “...Can you just keep talking…”

“You wanna sleep?” You start thinking about what to talk about this time. Often, he likes hearing about your day the most. However, not much has happened to you today save for the incident.

He nods.

“Okay.” You talk about the company and the work you have been doing— how often times it feels like a 24/7 shift. You know he only wants to lie down and listen, so you warm up to give a lengthy discussion about numbers and recent data points in market research that you found interesting— maybe it will bore him to sleep. His even, measured breathing tells you that he is close to. While there is so much for you to talk about your work, you begin to start running out of things you actually want to discuss. You are also getting sleepy, and you even have to rest your hand holding your phone on the pillow since your fingers are getting too tired to secure it in your grip. You are about to draw a blank, but your mind wanders to when you were stumbling on the roof of a building earlier that evening.

Oh, you think. Maybe he will find it a little funny. Haven’t messed with him in a while.

“Also, is it just me or has Ultraman gotten hot?”

You startle when his eyes suddenly shoot open. “I’m sorry— who?!”

“The 40-meter superhero?”

“Him?!” His voice is alert but hoarse, his throat pushing out words amidst his drowsiness.

You laugh freely at his reaction, bringing up your thumb to your mouth to bite a little on your nail as you explain yourself. “I dunno, he… I never really thought about him like that, being a giant and all but maybe it is because I never came close or spoken to him before…he saved me earlier from that kaiju and I kinda found it hot? Just being so tiny in his palms—”

“Please stop talking.” You have never seen such a conflicted face on him before.

“Why? You jealous he has a killer waist?”

“I can tell you that that is the furthest thing I am feeling right now.”

“You know he knew my name too,” you continue, failing to notice the way he freezes. “Do you know the theory that Ultraman is like a human guy when there aren’t any monsters? I bet he knows me from the internet or something,” you giggle.

“Yeah, of course he knows who you are…Who wouldn’t?” You mistake his nervousness as sarcasm.

Can’t he just let you have a little celebrity crush? “Kenji, it’s not like I’m going to fuck him. He’s all smooth down there and I don’t even know if his mouth works like that.”

“Can we talk about anything else? Please, I can’t fall asleep to this…” He grumbles with half of his face buried in his pillow, strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

“Maybe you can’t sleep because your pillow is all wet from your hair. Should I come over and teach you how to dry it properly?” You joke.

“Yeah?” He rasps, eyes heavy. “You wanna come over?”

He is nearly about to pass out, fatigue causing his mental filters to lower. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

That does not stop your throat from going a bit dry.

You were quiet for a bit too long. “Kidding,” he mumbles.

You let out the breath you were holding, looking away from the screen.

“Too much stuff is going on,” he continues. “My dad is here and I’m struggling to adjust to the fact that he might stay with me for a while.”

“You’re speaking to Professor Sato again?” While you are hopeful that this will be a step toward the right direction for the father and son, you worry about what exactly is happening in Kenji’s life that he cannot tell you. You cannot imagine what would bring him to ignore his closest friend in favor of confiding to his estranged father. Perhaps it was a personal family matter.

He sighs, signalling that he is not in the mood to talk about it–he never is–and you let it go.

“I know you said that you can’t put in the effort right now to maintain our friendship, but,” you pause, unsure if what you will say will help. “I miss you.”

His shoulders shake as he laughs. It fills your bedroom. “Fuck you have no idea.”

“It’s just been some time since you have called me for sleep help.”

He does not respond immediately, but you clearly see how deep his eyebags are— or actually, have been, the past few months. “You told me…to call you when I need someone. I really…really need you… I wish you were here…”

The call falls silent. It strikes you suddenly how your bed feels emptier than normal.

You wonder if it is worth the risk to fill it with one more body.

.

..

…

“Come over.”

His breath hitches.

You decide to say it a bit clearer, surer. “Come over. It…It doesn’t have to mean anything. We can just cuddle. I think…I think you need it.”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I thought you said—”

“It’s just one night.” You have no idea who you are trying to convince, but a dull ache begins to rise in your abdomen.

He slightly narrows his eyes, a little distrusting. “I don’t want to do this if you’re only doing it to make me feel better.”

“Kenji, I miss you.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I can send a car to pick you up if you’re too tired to bike here. I’ll let you go by the morning,” you try to entice him further. “Kenji…do you need me to tell you how much I need you? Because I do.”

He swallows loud.

“I need you.”

“Fuck— okay, I’ll be there.” he places down the phone so you are met with the view of his ceiling. You hear frantic movements in the background, a jingle of a belt buckle as he hurries to put on his pants.

“I’ll send the car—”

“Not fast enough. I’m awake enough to bike.” 

You couldn’t stop the grin from forming on your face. “This is such a bad idea.”

“Hey, no take-backs,” he barks to the phone from a distance. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Once he finally picks it up again, you see he is dressed in a white shirt and leather jacket. The chain around his neck catches in the light. You slightly nibble on your bottom lip.

“I’m just coming over to inspect your bruises,” he gruffly justifies.

“Mmhm.”

“And I want to make it up to you for how MIA I’ve been the past few months.”

“Just how will you do that?” You let your voice drop slightly, and he groans at the tone.

“Nothing like what you’re thinking, perv. You said a cuddle is fine, and I’m too banged up for anything else.”

You giggle. “I did. I won’t stop you though if you wander a bit.”

“And I will stop you if you so much as touch—”

A crash was heard at the end of his line. You bolt up as you see him stumble and fall as if an earthquake rocked his house. The phone flies from his hand and the camera meets with the floor. More crashing was heard, and you hear a robotic voice which you recognize as his AI, Mina, enter the vicinity.

“Professor Sato needs help with—”

“I got it, I got it!” You hear Ken snap. He picks up the phone again, and his face is contorted with exasperation. From behind him, Mina floats in view.

“Hey, Mina…” You weakly greet her.

She greets you back. “Apologies, that Ken cannot go to you—”

“Now who decided that?!” He interjects, frustration exploding. “Can’t he handle it alone? Like I have for the past—”

Another loud bang is heard through the call. You wonder whether this was what he has been dealing with all this time. It definitely sounds…occupying. You struggle to temper your disappointment. “It’s okay, Ken. I understand.”

He grinds his teeth, but nods. “I am so sorry.”

“We know that it is a bad idea anyway,” you murmur back. “You coming here. Maybe this is a sign we shouldn’t…go back to old habits.”

His face is unreadable. “Good night. Call you soon.”

“I’ll tell my assistant to wait for your email…about my schedule,” you recall your previous conversation.

“I miss you,” he simply says.

“I miss you too.”

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

What if... the CEOs were hybrids? Part three | BTS OT7 AU

Its been a long while my lovelies and I apologise, hopefully making up for it with the third instalment of the what if series, starting us off with some 7.7K words about hybrid CEOs.

Trigger warnings: Possessive/obsessive behaviour, jealousy, scenting, usual hybrid trope things, swearing, testosterone, I don't know if being mean is a trigger warning but here it is. Angst.

Prev / Next

Playlist : Fire Escape - Matthew Mayfield, Delicate - Damien Rice

Hybrids: KNJ - Wolf, KSJ - Bear, MYG - Panther, JHS - Lion, PJM - Arctic fox, KTH - Tiger, JJK - Bunny.

You smelled like him, that was the first thing the trio noticed on their first day back to work when you passed them by. That's why the hyungs looked so sullen at home, why they were no longer coming home with your scent lingering on their clothes. And why Yoongi and Namjoon could barely stand to be in the same room for longer than a minute without tearing into each other about something stupid, all while avoiding the topic of you. 

The miasmic cloud of misery seemed to be hanging over all of their heads, following them without mercy from its downpour. You were avoiding their gazes, the maknaes watched you across the office longingly, waiting for you to greet them, to make the first move they were too afraid to make.

“This is stupid, we’ve known her longer than the human oaf,” Jimin mutters under his breath to the other two. “My angel isn’t one to hold a grudge, let’s just go and say hello.”

As brave as his words sounded, he could feel his heart in his throat, choking back any greeting he wanted to give you. 

“What if she’s still upset with us?” Jungkook’s bunny ears flopped, his own sadness weighing them down as he nervously struggled to keep his eyes on you. How did it get like this? He told you only a week ago you were part of their pack, now they were terrified to talk to you. 

“She doesn’t want to speak to us,” Taehyung states bluntly, while Jungkook could barely look at you, the tiger’s eyes never left you. He could read you like a book, you were ignoring them, and he hated it. All for that stupid human, the anger and jealousy burned inside of him. You never paid anyone else any interest all this time, to the point where he really believed you had feelings for them, and now another’s scent lingered on you, taunting him. How did he get it so wrong? 

He turns away first, walking out of the working space leaving Jungkook and Jimin to reluctantly follow, once last longing look your way, lingering there for as long as possible as they pleaded silently with you to meet them halfway. 

—

You take a deep breath as you approach his private office, bracing yourself for whatever the hell reason it was today he demanded you come to see him. All week there was a new reason, a new mundane task, more workload, more grumpy attitude from the CEO as he stared daggers into you like he was reverting back to who he was when he met you, when he didn’t trust you. But you could see through it, to an extent, the panther was punishing you and you were letting him . 

You exhale, it sounds almost like a sigh before you knock on the door, a gruff voice replying.

“Depyunim, you asked for me?” You greet him politely when you open the door.

“Take a seat,” he responds without looking up from the paperwork in front of him.

You hesitate, this was how it always started, you sitting there in silence fidgeting for however long he decided before he actually addresses you again. Only today the workload was catching up with you, you couldn’t afford to waste your time with his antics. 

Your reluctance to follow instruction makes him look up at you, not a single emotion on his face, his eyes almost black, void of the man you once knew. 

“Is there a problem Miss L/n?”

Ah. That was the other thing he started doing, he didn’t call you kitten anymore. It shouldn’t still cut you like this, and honestly you thought you had gotten used to it after a whole week, but every time it knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut. You were too terrified to call him by his name or question him over it, something told you his bite would be worse than his bark. Even now, where you would normally challenge his behaviour, you couldn’t muster the courage to. 

You shake your head, taking your seat like you had the previous days before. He returns to his paperwork without a word. The atmosphere between you was unbearable, every time you sat in this chair you wanted to bawl your eyes out, and every day you forced yourself to hold the tears back. 

“Depyunim…” you couldn’t take it anymore, you watch the pen in Yoongi’s hand pause at the sound of your voice. “I don’t want to rush you, but I have to get the Enhyphen contracts done by 4.”

You tried to say it calmly, softly, politely, but the stone in your throat made it difficult to speak. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, bracing yourself nervously. He exhales loudly out of his nose, as if you were testing his patience, resuming his writing without a verbal response. 

In all honesty, you were misreading his behaviour. Yoongi was angry at himself. What was he trying to do? Push you away? Keep you close? Make you waste an entire day with him, so you’d be forced to stay late to catch up and then you wouldn’t go to see that human he could smell on you? What exactly was he trying to achieve? He was just so angry all the time since that day. That stench that didn’t belong on you was frying his brain cells, making him act like a possessive panther, enraging him even when he couldn’t smell it. He was desperately trying to keep you as close to him as possible whenever he could, keeping you in his office, his personal den, away from the thing that was taking you from him. 

He hears you sniff, it's small but audible, it stuns him frozen, scared that tears would follow, that he was the one to cause them. As hurt as he was, as miserable, the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. The grip on his pen tightens. He owes you an explanation for his behaviour, his abuse of his power, he knows it, but how does he start? 

“Did I do something?” Your small voice makes him finally look up at you, almost snapping his neck in the process of how quick his attention turned. 

His hard expression melts into one of shock, jaw dropping an inch as he takes in the way you’re trying to smile despite the sadness coming off of you in waves. 

“No.” Is it a lie? It sounded firm, something that left no room for questions, but he can’t convince himself that it was true. 

In your mind you’ve already come to conclusions about the change in atmosphere, observing their attitude towards you and knowing it coincided with Eric coming into your life. You’re not stupid, you know they saw you as a packmate, so a new foreign scent was going to drive them over the edge. You just thought it would have settled by now, that they would’ve gotten used to it. 

But how could you act hurt when you were the one to instigate the change, to pull away for your own peace of mind. You put up walls and boundaries, knowing what the consequences would be. You couldn’t complain now, even if your whole body ached with missing them, despite working with them almost every day. Distance didn’t have to be physical, you could prove that. 

“Okay,” you accept it, plastering on a patient content smile on your face that didn’t feel right. Yoongi doesn’t like it, he knows it’s fake, but he turns back to his paperwork like a coward, unable to confront you or let you go. 

—

“What’s this?” Namjoon’s eyes are aflame as he shows you the email on his laptop, his eyes unbreaking from staring down your small figure in front of his desk. 

“I-it’s a request for a job reference,” you state the obvious, trying not to tremble in front of his heated glare. 

“I can see that babygirl,” he sounds almost condescending, the fire in his chest unable to remain contained in front of you. “Is there a problem here working in this company?”

You gulp a little, shaking your head since you couldn’t trust your voice to stay steady. 

“Then why would you even think about applying elsewhere?” He almost growls, almost. 

He sucks in his cheeks, trying to calm himself down, knowing what a hypocrite he was being. He told the others to keep their distance, to stop with this mating nonsense especially since you were obviously interested in someone else. All those times he told the others to respect your choices, and here he was eating his own words. Employees come and go, it’s a given in any business, but you, over his dead body was he ready or willing to let you leave. He didn’t even consider it an option. 

“What is it, Y/n?” he pushes, “Is it the pay? The workload? What would make you decide to leave when all you have to do to fix anything is speak to me.”

He was seething, but his anger wasn’t directed at you, it was the fear he was hiding in the flames speaking for him. 

“I was just exploring my options,” you can’t meet his eyes when you say it, your focus aimed at the edge of his desk. You knew logically you didn’t have to answer a thing, didn’t have to justify your actions, but you felt compelled to. This wasn’t just your boss, this was the man you had been in love with for years. You respected him far too much.

“Anything any company can offer you I can match or double,” he still sounds so angry, but he can’t help it. “You want a pay rise? Done. Promotion? Whatever position babygirl, it’s yours. Anything you want.” Just don’t leave. 

The corner of your lip rises an inch, a humourless sad smile on your face as you hold back a scoff. Your eyes start to water, you don’t want to say a word. He couldn’t give you what you wanted, you wanted him, you wanted the others, and if he ever knew he would throw you out of the company himself. You were doing him a favour by removing yourself, but you couldn’t tell him, because regardless of what you thought were noble actions, you knew you wouldn’t be able to take the look of hate or disgust in his eyes if it was directed at you. 

“You’re the biggest asset this company has ever had,” he explains, needing to cover his outburst before you read between the lines. It wasn’t a lie, but it sure wasn’t the reason why he was so desperate for you to stay. “I’m not letting you go without putting up a fight.” 

You wanted him to stop. It wasn’t fair how he made your heart sway and burn when he didn’t feel the same way. You hear him sigh, collecting his words, the hesitation makes you finally glance at him.

“Does this have anything to do with why you were crying last week?” He asks cautiously, his gaze inspecting your every reaction and movement.

“No,” you lie, “I told you, I was just overwhelmed with the workload.”

You sounded so flat, it made him ache. He fights the instinct to wrap you in his arms, smothering the voice in his head that was telling him something was wrong with his mate, reminding that incessant voice that you chose someone else. It was happening more and more frequently recently, he was arguing with himself all the time. The same conversation with himself repeating everyday whenever he saw you.

She chose someone else, he says to himself firmly, shutting down any chance of a counter argument. He doesn’t notice the grip on his pen is deadly until it cracks under the pressure, ink spilling all over his hands. 

“Joonie!” Maybe it was instinct that tore away all the boundaries you were building, but you race to his hand in worry as if he had injured himself. He felt the tug in his chest again the second you said his name, finding himself gazing at you softly. There’s a frown forming as you take his hand, looking it over in case he cut himself. He doesn’t pull away, even though he knows he should. You had him wrapped around your little finger, and although he didn’t mind, it was starting to hurt. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him, glancing up at his face to ensure he wasn’t in pain before returning to inspect his soiled hands. 

He knew he was pretending nothing had changed since you started dating, but his whole world turned upside down and he had to grit his teeth through it. He had to lead the others by example, but doing what was right rather than what he wanted was getting harder each time he saw you. Each time he could smell that disgusting odour on you it flared his jealousy, it had only been a week, how often were you seeing this boy in a week that his scent was always on you? 

“I don’t think you’re bleeding,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, that frown of concern still cemented on your face as if you refused to trust the evidence he was unscathed. 

He hates it when you pull away, your own hand stained with ink from holding his. You glance down at them, lips turning up an inch as if you found it humorous for reasons unknown to him. You were laughing at yourself, all that progress you thought you were making away from them was bullshit, the state of your hands were proof enough of that. 

“I think I need to go wash my hands,” you chuckle, moving away from him. 

He fights back the instinct to grab your hand in a desperate attempt of keeping you with him, words lodged in his throat. He controls himself as you walk out of the office, feeling like a hopeless puppy rather than a wolf. 

—

“Did you hear, Y/n got herself a boyfriend!”

“No way, for sure thought she was courting the CEOs.”

“She obviously tried and failed.”

Jin sighs, closing his eyes trying to contain the disappointment he felt in his employees as they gossiped about you, not realising he was within earshot. He tries not to listen, tries not to focus on the details of your new relationship, but gossip spreads like wildfire in the company, the details getting warped as they were whispered. 

He scoffs. What did they know? They were all wrong about your affection for them, it was the other way round, they were courting you. It was plain and obvious for anyone to see but in the eyes of your jealous and spiteful colleagues, you were the instigator. Perhaps it was a blessing you unknowingly rejected them, he hated to think of what rumours would try to taint you if they were successful. He says it to himself so convincingly he can almost pretend it doesn’t taste bitter. Why was everyone so blind? Why were you so clueless? Why was everything so complicated?

He sighs to himself as he makes his way to the meeting room, half an hour early. Some habits die hard, some don’t die at all. Just as he expected you were already there setting up, he would’ve smiled if it wasn’t for the smell that hits him, the reminder. He could pretend nothing was changing, but the truth was hard to deny. 

“Need any help, beautiful girl?” he says, his sudden presence making you jump out of your skin. He grins at that at least.

“I’m almost done,” you laugh lightly, hand on your heart as it raced, refusing to calm down even when you knew there was no threat. You don’t know why but you were becoming increasingly nervous around Jin, a paranoid part of you thought he could see right through what you were doing, and you were afraid he would call you out. 

He hums in acknowledgement, approaching you slowly, his eyes boring into you as if you would disappear from sight if he so much as blinked. 

“You’re early,” you comment, trying to focus on anything other than his stare. 

“I wanted to spend time with my beautiful girl,” he confesses against his better judgement. He didn’t want things to change, so what if you were dating a moron, you were still his mate. 

Your pulse was beating faster the closer he got. Jin refused to let you pull away, it was why you thought he knew what you were doing. He didn’t let anything change. Boundaries? Fine, he’d respect them, but you trying to create a distance from him? It would kill him. 

“I-I, umm…” You can’t find an excuse to leave the room, and when he stands in front of you only inches away you lose your train of thought all together. His eyes implore down to your own, the softest smile admiring you without attempting to hide it at all.

“Hmmm?” he hums again, asking you to go on with a slight smirk, reading the effect he had on you, proof that you liked him too. 

You’re sure you look like a fish out of water to the amused bear in front of you playing with his food. 

“What’s wrong honey?”

You gulp, his eyes turning dangerous and knowing underneath the light expression he held. Maybe you liked that new term of endearment a little too much, Jin swore he could hear your heartbeat flatline for a second. He takes a step closer, basking in the warmth radiating from your heated form, just more evidence, more reassurance that he hadn’t gotten it wrong. You loved them too, the only issue was Namjoon’s inability to see it, and whatever the hell you were doing with that boy he could smell on you. 

The urge to get rid of it with his own scent was driving him up the wall. It would be so easy, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Crossing boundaries was how you all got into the predicament, he wasn’t about to make it worse. 

Your mouth opens and closes, repeatedly without words like the proverbial fish. Didn’t you ask the maknaes what hybrid you would be? Well you know the answer now. 

“Are you ill honey?” He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. He can’t help it, just something small, something that can be brushed off as concern. “You’re burning up.”

By the look on his face you can tell he knows exactly why that is. The smirk is gone, his face unusually serious with a challenge in his eyes to prove him wrong. 

“I-I’m fine,” you don’t sound it when you push his hand away from your face, but you force yourself to brush it off. “Honestly Jin, I’m fine.”

Before he can investigate any further, you turn away from him, feeling his stare on your back as you finish setting up for the meeting. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that you repeat certain things, or take your time, obviously trying to avoid any more interactions with him. He laughs to himself in pity, maybe he did get it all wrong. 

—

It's silent in their office, it has been all week. No one seemed to muster the energy to talk, not even the maknaes now they were back. Namjoon half expected them to whine or complain openly about the situation, but they were too deflated to speak. A burning guilt seared right down his centre, realising his punishment was part of the reason they wouldn’t be open about their feelings, he was their alpha and he lost their trust. But they couldn’t see he was just trying to protect everyone, that was his burden. 

Hoseok walked in, doom and gloom written all over his face, a visible sigh through his lips, his eyes concentrated on the ground as he walked. A part of him wanted to hide in Yoongi’s office, not really wanting to be alone but not wanting company either, but he couldn't impose and the panther had been a bit volatile recently. He can’t remember the last time Yoongi willingly came into the main office since his argument with Namjoon. The two were avoiding each other thinking that was the best way to avoid conflict, in reality it was just making things ten times worse.

“I think I’m going to transfer to another floor,” he says nonchalantly as he stands at his desk, the others gawping at his words. 

“Hyung,” Jimin sounds equal parts outraged and upset. “You can’t.”

“Floor seven needs better management,” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“And the real reason Hyung?” Taehyung scoffs.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, wanting to keep it repressed inside, but this was his pack, his family, they knew him better than anyone else. 

“I can’t take the smell,” he confesses quietly. “Everytime I look at her all I can see is someone else's hands on her, I-”

He cuts himself off, taking a breath. His emotions were spilling, overwhelmingly so inside of his chest, the only way out was through his mouth as words, but he locks it shut. 

“We won’t let a girl come between us or the company,” Namjoon states after minutes of silence, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve worked together since the start, we’ve had problems before and we’ve gotten through them every time, this is no different.”

It was like he was brushing the situation off, that’s what made them stare at the leader of their pack aghast. A girl? A problem? Did he seriously just say that?

“But she’s not just a girl Namjoon,” Hoseok sounds so heartbroken that he even implied it, not holding back his words even though he knew it wasn’t a subject to approach the lead CEO with. “She’s our mate.”

Namjoon sighs, ready to have the conversation again for the hundredth time but Hobi doesn’t let him.

“You can deny it to yourself and the rest of us,” he says. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”

He doesn’t want to hear the lectures today, doesn’t want to sit through another spiel about how it would never work, so he left the office before the wolf could start. It was just his bad luck that he ran into you as he walked out, your form colliding into his chest. 

“Woah-” It’s instinct the way his arms wrap around you to hold you steady, and he blames instinct as to why he's so reluctant to let you leave. Your palms are on his chest, burning through the fabric of his shirt, finally giving him some of the warmth he had been craving for a while. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, pulling away, but he doesn’t release you. You look up at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

No, I'm not okay sunshine. He’s missed you, the confession almost leaves his lips. But instead he smiles through the gut wrenching pain of letting you go, carrying on as if nothing had happened. 

—

Twice in one day? What had you done to deserve it? You march over to Yoongi’s office this time, the pile of work starting to stack itself into the leaning tower of pisa on your desk. You don’t even knock, opening the door to greet the panther. 

“Depyunim you calle-”

“You need to rewrite this,” he cuts you off without looking at you, holding the files you dropped off earlier before they slammed on his desk. 

“What’s wrong with it?” you challenge quietly, knowing that you checked it over ten times before giving it to him. 

“You need to change the font,” he states matter of factly. What the- was he kidding?

“This again?” you groan, rolling your eyes in without thinking, patience wearing thin. “There’s nothing wrong with the font!”

Yoongi stands up so quickly his chair almost falls back, he strides over to you, eyes pinning you down where you stood just outside his office. The doorway between you shouldn’t symbolise so much, but when he looks down at you with an anger simmering in his eyes, you can’t ignore that it does. 

“I’m a CEO of this company,” his voice is quiet, dangerously so. “If I tell you that it needs changing, there shouldn’t be any questions about it kitten.”

The pet name slips before he can stop it, but he can see your eyes soften at the term despite the way you were trying to challenge him. Your hands ball into fists by your side, trying to stop the ache that came with hearing him call you that again. Trying to pretend you didn’t miss the sound with your whole being. 

“I’m not changing the font Min Yoongi,” you keep your voice and gaze steady, ready to win this battle between you both. 

He almost smirks, it was instinct when his kitten got out her claws, he couldn’t help it. 

“I’m telling you to.”

“Fine, if you’re going to be stubborn about it let’s take it to Namjoon and he can tell us if you’re being unreasonable or not,” you argue back not realising that was the wrong button to press, but how were you to know of the ruins of their relationship. 

“This isn’t Namjoon’s project,” he can hear the growl in his words, taking a heavy step towards you. 

The way his eyes turned black in a second made a shiver go down your spine, goosebumps jumping out of your skin, warning you that you pushed the panther too far. The next step he takes has you gulp, survival instinct taking over as you take a step back, keeping the distance between you the same, moving into the corridor. 

“It's mine,” he looks so disgusted at you, hate pouring out in his words and his glare, aimed far away from you but unfortunately you were on the receiving end. Kim Namjoon was not a name to be uttered in his presence. “So if I tell you, to change the font Miss L/n, you change it.”

His words are final, you can see it. It doesn’t falter, his stare so intense you have trouble finding your own words. 

“Okay,” you give in, ready to drop the subject and run away from his demeanour, but he wasn’t having it. 

“How dare you try to question my rank in this deal Y/n,” the way he says your first name makes you realise it's not just anger there, you hurt him. “But I guess you don’t respect me a much as you respect him.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he walks back into his office, slamming the door behind him, leaving you alone on the other side. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath until your lungs filled with air again shakily. No, you were not going to leave it like this. 

For the second time that day you don’t knock, walking in to find his back to you as he stood in the middle of the office, Shoulders rising and falling with each angry breath he took. You close the door behind you, staring at him until he turns around. 

“Get out of my office,” he’s not joking, the tone of voice he was using with you, you had never heard aimed at you before. You force your bottom lip to not quiver.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. He lets out a breath of laughter, humorlessly, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. 

“Fine. Now leave.”

In his current state, the stink on you was only fuelling the fire. It filled his office, his safe space and he wanted it out even if it meant kicking you out. 

“Yoongi,” he curses the way you look up at him with watering eyes. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“That smell is off putting,” it’s spit out before he can reign it in. Part of you expected that to be the answer but you still look surprised.

“But this is irrational…” you shake your head, you want to create boundaries not be exiled. “I know Eric isn’t part of your pack but neither are most of the people you work with every day and you’ve never behaved like this before. Not with me.”

His jaw clenches at the name, the way you said it sounded too familiar for a guy you only met a week ago. Humans were more like animals than they thought, if you met your mate time was irrelevant, he really thought that was you for them, he didn’t want to believe anything else. 

“I can’t stand their stench either kitten,” he bites back, sounding spiteful, tail flickering behind him dangerously. “Why do you think I have a private office that no one’s allowed into?”

You reel back, hating the way he was speaking to you. You both bickered and argued all the time, but this felt different, this felt real. 

“And right now, you’re filling it with that disgusting smell,” you could almost see smoke coming out of his head, like a volcano about to erupt. “So please, Y/n, leave.”

You stare at him silently for a second, unable to hide the hurt on your face anymore. He doesn’t budge, he can’t, and you can see it your efforts to get through to him would be fruitless. When you close the door behind you, walking out without another word, he can feel the guilt drop like a pill inside of him, regretting letting his jealousy speak for him.

—

You can hear the tap running in the kitchen when you walk into your apartment after work. Sighing with emotional exhaustion as you take off your shoes, you really wanted to be alone.

“Hey!” His voice shouldn’t aggravate you, but it pulls at a chord. “How was work?”

You try to smile, but it feels awful. 

“Busy as always,” you don’t elaborate, and Eric is smart enough to know not to push. 

“Well I made you one last dinner… without burning the kitchen down this time,” he chuckles sheepishly. 

“You really didn’t have to,” you didn’t have the stomach for food today. 

“I just wanted to thank you Y/n,” he says sincerely. “For letting me stay with you this week, I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

If you told any of your friends you let the guy that took you on one date stay with you when he accidentally burned down his apartment, you’re pretty sure they’d kill you before giving you the lecture of ‘you don’t know him’, ‘he could be a serial killer’. But you knew Eric through a mutual friend, and if they vouched for him, you’d believe it. Plus you couldn’t lie that his presence was useful in your badly executed plan of getting over your bosses or at least not letting them find out you were in love with them. 

“Sure you’re not going to let me take you out on another date to make up for it?” he tries cheekily, reminding you of his presence when you space out thinking about them. 

“I thought dinner was your way of making up for it,” you say with a look on your face that roughly translated to, nice try.

“No, that's my way of saying thank you,” he chuckles but again doesn’t push it.

As much as you wanted to be distracted from your current dilemma, you wouldn’t use anyone that way. It wasn’t fair, you were hung up on them, and you didn’t believe that stupid saying of getting under someone else. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were doing, you wanted something impossible. Did you honestly believe that a little distance was going to erase the past few years of getting to know them, of falling in love with them? How did you think you could have it both ways? Love them from afar, but still keep them close. You really were a mess. 

—

His scent was stronger on you this morning. It was all they could think about through the meeting all seven of them had to attend, but they didn’t know that was because you hugged Eric goodbye this morning when he finally left with his stuff. More from the relief of getting your space back than anything else. The time-old saying was wrong, what they didn’t know would definitely kill them. 

Did he spend the night? Was that why the once lingering smell on you was now punching them in the face with its pungence? Jin glances briefly at the way Yoongi was tapping his pen irritatedly on the surface of the desk. Hobi looking distraught beside him, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

The maknaes were fairing no better. Jimin's stare was as cold as ice, threatening to freeze anyone cold that dared to approach him… perhaps it was quite fitting for an arctic fox. Jin could hear the way Jungkook’s leg was restless under the desk, the strength of the smell too much for the bunny as his face contorted into pain. And Taehyung… well the tiger looked at you with such an intensity, the oldest CEO didn’t know how you were ignoring it, surely you felt the burn of his gaze.

Jin wondered how Namjoon was leading the meeting with such faux ease. If Jin didn’t know him any better, he would have believed it, but he noticed the subtle clench of his jaw, the way he couldn’t help glancing at you at any given moment, the heartbreak and questions in his gaze every time it fell on you. 

“We’ve only just managed to reach our target for this year’s quarterly,” Namjoon states, trying not to wince at the way the smell was giving him a headache. “I want project leaders to reassess their team's work for any pitfalls or areas for improvement.” 

You frown in concern when he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with his fingers, closing them in pain before resuming the meeting. You want to question it, stay late when he finishes his speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and letting your colleagues leave the room. You want to stay, you want to check he's okay, but you remind yourself of what you’re trying to achieve and force yourself out without looking back at any of them. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel each of their stares as you left. 

—

You can see Jungkook and Jimin wandering around the office floor, trying to look busy, striking up conversations with almost every employee, asking them mundane questions about different projects, all while sneaking not so subtle glances your way. You’d laugh under any other circumstance. You hadn’t said a word to them since that night, and now because of the lack of communication the atmosphere festered into something awkward. Each party was afraid to approach the other, you were scared to talk to them, they had a way of bringing down your defences, and you knew it would take them seconds to break down the wall of boundaries you were building. 

The pair notice you ignoring their presence, making their way through the sea of employees, inching closer and closer to you as naturally as they can fake. 

“Hyung I don’t think this is going to work,” Jungkook mutters under his breath for only the arctic fox to hear.

“Why won’t it work?” Jimin challenges in a hushed breath. “We’re the CEO’s of the company checking on our employees, Angel is also an employee, this is the perfect way to start a conversation again.”

“But hyung-”

“I miss her,” Jimin looks earnestly at the bunny, his heart in his eyes for him to see. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Jungkook bites his lips nervously as Jimin talks to Seulgi, the next desk they would approach would be yours. You seemed engrossed in your work but he kept his eye on you, scared you would figure out what they were doing and run away before they had the chance to talk to you. 

You, however, were so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t question their motives. That is until they make their way to your desk.

“Angel,” Jimin greets you as if nothing happened. 

Your eyes widen as you stare at him in shock, realising this was their plan the whole time. 

“Jimin,” you breathe back, and he has to stop himself pouncing on you. Fuck, he missed you? Why was that word not enough to explain the pain of being away from you for so long?

“Hi Noona,” Jungkook saves his hyung by sacrificing himself, the older CEO malfunctioning after hearing his name. “W-we w-wanted to see how everyone was doing.”

He chews at his lips, cursing himself for stuttering, but thankfully Jimin finds his tongue.

“The hyungs sent us,” he lies hastily, “to check on everyone, I mean…”

You just nod in reply, feeling a little on the spot with both their gazes burning into you like you would fade from sight. You kind of wish you could fade from sight.

“How are you?” Jimin asks softly, the words sounding light but holding more weight than anyone would ever know. 

“I-I’m okay,” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just falling behind.”

Your hands grip onto the arm rests of your chair, as if you were physically trying to hold yourself back from leaping into their arms. You missed them, you missed them so much you didn’t care about that stupid night and the stupid boundaries. You just wanted to go back to normal, but you couldn’t, you had feeling for them, it was wrong. 

“Anything we can help with?” Jungkook asks, hoping you’d let them. All he wanted to do was bury his nose in your hair, after scenting you so hard that you only smelled of him and the pack. His fingers fidget, entangling around each other, can’t he at least touch your hair? Or your cheek, or something. 

“I kind of need to not be distracted,” you say sheepishly, wincing at your own harsh words though you tried to say them as politely as you could. Both boys balk at the suggestion before Jimin composes himself.

“Understood.” His features turn to stone as he drags the bunny away, leaving you to your work. Your heart breaks more and more with each step they take, knowing you can’t take it back. You hurt them. 

—

You thought their office was empty, it's why you didn’t knock. Knowing their schedules, knowing they were all at different meetings, you didn’t think twice to enter with the files you had to drop off, coming to an abrupt halt when you’re met with his red rimmed eyes. You both stare at each other, your face one of complete shock, while his was evident of his tears. 

It's the sob that wrecks through his whole body that has you spring into action, flinging the files onto whoevers desk you didn't care, as you almost ran over to him, engulfing him in your arms nearly knocking you both over. If anything he cries harder, tail wrapping around your waist too as he holds onto you like a lifeline. You squeeze him hard, his head burying itself into your neck, trying to find the scent of you that wasn’t tainted with that awful stench. 

You don’t smell like you. You don’t smell like them. He won’t pretend it's pure instinct as he rubs his head against you, sniffling as he moves your head under his chin, rubbing his scent glands on you roughly. It’s all over you, that fucking smell was everywhere. 

“Tae,” you call his name airily, his ministrations already having an effect on you, but you had been so starved of him for so long. 

He doesn’t respond, taking your arm in his hand, pressing it against his cheek, hiding his eyes from you when he decides it isn’t enough. You feel yourself stop breathing when he uses his lips instead, soft delicate kisses on the length of your arm, making his way slowly to your neck. You’re frozen, not wanting him to stop for a second, your skin searing at every touch he gives. 

That is until you try to make sense of his behaviour. He was a hybrid, who saw you as part of his pack, and you denied them your presence for over a week. This was just his instincts on overdrive and you had to get yourself together before he went too far and regretted it. Or before you misread the signals and got your heart broken again. 

“Tae, stop,” it sounds feeble even to your own ears, but you grab his wrists and push him back. His eyes meet yours, no tears left but his pupils are fully blown like he was on catnip. 

“No,” his voice is hoarse but stubborn. “I don’t want to.”

It takes all your strength to hold him back when he tries to lean into you again, his heart aching at the way you're keeping him away when he so desperately needs you. 

“Please,” he begs, whimpering, feeling like if you denied him it would crush him beyond repair. “Please flower.”

You breathe out slowly, long and calm, trying to keep yourself together, to not give in. It wasn’t fair, every brick you painstakingly spent building against them came down like a house of cards. Tears prickle the corner of your own eyes. This wasn’t fair. 

He manages to rest his head on your shoulder, his nose sniffing against your neck. It’s still there, muted but he could still smell it. You hear the low hum of a growl in his throat.

“Taehyung, talk to me,” you say gently, needing him to verbalise his actions so you didn’t misread them. 

“You’re not supposed to smell like him!” he cries, closing his eyes in pain. “You’re supposed to smell like us, you’re mine.”

Your heart leaps before it falls. 

“Tae,” your bottom lip trembles, doesn’t he realise how cruel this was. “You can’t say shit like that.”

He hears you sniff, moving away enough to see the look of sadness on your face. But he doesn’t understand why it’s there. Did you really not feel the same way? No, that wasn’t it, the way you looked up at him, begging him to stop but they were soft on him, so loving. 

“Why?” he dares to ask, it comes out a whisper, his heart pounding as he inspects you. You close your eyes, wanting to laugh at how pathetic you are. It causes tears to fall out of the corner of your eyes. You let go of his wrists to wipe them away, ready to answer him, ready to confess and leave him forever to save yourself from more pain. 

A creak startles you both, the door opening to reveal the others making their way back from their respective meetings, all of them staring at the scene, completely taken back. 

“Baby girl?” Namjoon is the first to step towards you both, his eyes flickering between you both. The concern on his face turns to one of anger, aimed at the tiger but you had already decided it was towards you. 

You can’t deal with this. Turning away you try to make your leave, only to be held back, Taheyung grabbing your hand in his and making you face him. 

“Why?’ he repeats, more adamantly. He needed to know, because whether he was right or wrong would change everything. 

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls warningly. His eyes fixed on your hands together. 

“This is between me and flower,” he glares at his hyung, the threat in his eyes clear for the wolf not to get involved. He turns back to you, the others watching intently. “Why?”

You feel defeat ripple through your chest, your face scrunching as you sniff back the sob working its way out. 

“Because my stupid human brain is going to misunderstand,” you voice is heavy with tears, a few slipping out against your wishes. “Your actions mean something different for humans than they do for hybrids.”

He almost scoffs, this was what you always did. They were so obvious with their affection and love and you rationalised it wrong every time.

“What does it mean for humans, flower?” he almost sounds like he’s mocking you, a new stern and unforgiving look on his face as he moves closer to you. 

“Taehyung stop,” you beg, not wanting to go through with this, to feel embarrassed about your feelings when he figured it out. “Please.”

“Taehyung maybe we shou-”

The glare he sends Hoseok’s way has the lion biting his tongue. They were all panicked, what if the tiger’s actions cost you them forever?

“What do kisses mean for humans?” he asks again, louder, more demanding, not letting the subject drop. “Or better yet… What do you think they mean for hybrids?”

“You kissed her?” Both of you ignore Namjoon’s outburst, Taehyung not caring if he misunderstood. 

The corners of your lips pull down so far, your eyes welling ready for overspill as you implore him silently to let you go. Why was he being so cruel? You had never known him to be like this before, what did he want from you? You breathe shakily, feeling lost until it hits you, he’s figured it out. He knows. 

Your worst fears come to surface and you pray it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t about to out your feelings to the others. He watches you struggle for words, deciding to take pity on you.

“Because last time I checked,” he breathes, his heart pounding in his chest hard as he takes a leap of faith. “They mean the same thing for us as they mean for you.”

It takes you a second, he can see the crease between your brows before your whole face goes slack with disbelief. He can see the puzzle pieces finally fit into place through your eyes, unable to help himself, smiling when he can feel your pulse match his. 

He takes another step closer, the distance between you only a hair width. Final drops of tears fall out of your eyes as he watches your pupils dilate when he leans in. You don’t pull away when his lips press against yours, you pull him closer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @mwitsmejk @minswife4life @agustverse @whtamidoingagain @missmoxxiesworld @itsjustwinter @midiplier @toriluvsfics @juju-227592 @galacticmei @mardduska @paymeinkash @blxssxmsposts @sweetestofchaos @aykxz98 @hannahdinse8 @canarystwin @blushyrawrz @roguesthetic @bex-tk1 @abrokenlink @thedarkwinterrose @ronynz @dont-believe-in-cheesus @matchat3a @ryomen-yn @1-800-punch-a-pimp @muffinminnie @demidevilangel @sugajinny @spiralingnino @yoongissmalltoe 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for rejecting someone bc they’re 'too skinny'?

I know this sounds genuinely horrible but let me explain. TW for eating disorder talk!!

I (20m) met this really cute guy (19m) through a mutual friend a while ago and we immediately hit it off. I really like him but the thing is, I’ve been struggling with an eating disorder for over 7 years now. He’s super skinny and that’s totally okay but sadly it’s been triggering my ed a lotttt.

He literally said he loves how soft my hips are which made me feel physically sick. I haven’t had a reaction like that in a long time and it’s making me feel like shit. I’ve put a lot of work into addressing this eating disorder and trying to heal from it. Keep in mind that I’m a pretty thin guy, I’m 5'2 and on my recent doctor‘s visit I was around 116lbs, there really isn’t that much softness to me. No idea why he said that.

So, after some consideration and for the sake of my mental health, I decided to cut things off with him. We’ve only been on a few dates and I really didn‘t think it was that serious. He obviously asked me why and I decided to be honest, which didn’t go over well.

He called me a selfish asshole, accused me of bodyshaming him and then went and told my friends that I’m a 'vain bitch'.

I really don‘t think I’m in the wrong here. I have a lot of issues to work on, yea, but I try to handle them as well as I can without dragging anyone else into my mess. Still, a good number of my friends told me that I’m cruel and vain for what I did. None of them responded after I explained myself, so, I don’t know.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[fhrlclln]

Omg so like what if reader is at a party and it's late at night but there are some guys there that are scaring her. Her dad isn't home to call to come pick her up and she can't drive since she's been drinking so she calls eddie instead. He does have a reputation in town and he looks mean so when he shows up everyone kinda moves out of his way and he goes to look for her. Once he gets her home and cleaned up for bed he starts scolding her for being so thoughtless (responsible eddie showing his age lol) but she starts to cry because he's never talked to her like that and he ends up feeling really bad and it's just them having like a little fluffy moment. Also I'm thinking this is like further down in their relationship where her parents know about them and stuff.

older!mechanic! eddie x fem! reader

I LOVE THIS IDEAAAA, thank you anons 🙌

and yes, eddie being his old matured ass, he is very protective of reader. i am kneeling rn. 🧎‍♀️

also, so sorry i took so long to respond !!

also here’s the imagine connected to this !! older!mechanic! eddie

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“pick up, pick up, pick up. pleaseeee.” you muttered to yourself nervously, the landline phone on your ear close, glancing back and forth from where you are in the kitchen, glancing to see the group of guys staring at you from the far corner of the living room. the sea of people dancing only the barrier as you quickly looked away. you cringed, glad you still had some sense even though you felt drunk as hell. a party had been going on the up street neighborhood, it was like all house parties, everyone is invited and everyone is free to join. college frat parties like so.

it was fun at first, but you are just itching to go home now after one dude had been too intent on asking you out a while ago. you already told him you had a boyfriend— which was entirely true, but the said creep didn’t back down after countless no’s and fuck off’s. but you managed to stray away, and now his group are watching you like hawks, ready to strike at your most vulnerable. which is why your drinking stop, you already felt tingly and dizzy and it was time to go home. the music was getting boring anyway.

you opted to call your dad but he wasn’t home, probably having a drink with his friends too. you couldn’t call your mom, knowing she’s asleep and could literally yell at you for being at a party and would make things worse for your headache. you decided it would be eddie, who’d you call. your parents trust him enough knowing the established relationship between you two. and to mention, your dad is so very fond of him. a win-win perhaps.

“hello, who is this?” your breath stilled as the ringing finally stopped as you heard his voice. not enough time to respond back, still a little dizzy as he cuts you off. “if this is that one jackass prankster who keeps barking, i’m fuck—“

“eddie. it’s m-me.” you meekly replied, feeling groggy as you hiccupped.

“sweetheart? what’s going on? where are you?” he immediately asked as you hummed sleepily. wanting for him to be here.

“can you come pick me up?” you hiccupped, “‘m at a party right now. i need you.” you glanced back to the group of guys staring at you. you let out a shaky sigh ass you could hear eddie shuffling in the other line. “there’s a bunch of creeps staring at me. please hurry up.”

“creeps? baby, are you alone?” eddie asked worriedly, hearing the music blare in the background of your voice.

“y-yeah. ‘m friends—“ you hiccuped, lying a bit knowing he’ll be mad that you’re alone. “my friends are somewhere h-here…i’m in the kitchen.” you gulped, feeling the nausea slowly start to sink in. you whined as you rest your head on the wall, holding the landline phone dearly on your ear.

“give me the address now. i’ll be there soon.” you muttered the address coherently, saying it two times wanting him to come to you quickly. the sound of a squeaky door opened loudly on the other line as eddie’s footsteps were heard. “you just stay there where you are, sweets. do not fucking go anywhere alone.”

“i will, eddie.” you whispered hearing him hang up as you lazily put the phone back on the receiver. you leaned on the counter, sobering up a bit as you tried your best not to fall down on your ass.

to say,

eddie was fuming, in utter complete rage. he swerved his van to a vacant spot in front the roaring house. getting out hurriedly as he slammed his van door shut. the party was still lively with a lot of people in it from outside to inside. music blasting from the inside, horny young adults kissing, drinking— he could remember the times he had been in parties back then making bucks from dealing, but that didn’t mattered now. he can smell the alcohol as he neared the door. he opened it, earning the attention of the people near the entrance.

“shit, that’s mr. munson—“ one of the boys muttered, staring at the leathered jacket man with a hint of fear in his face. eddie felt the whole room stare at him now, all partially intrigued and intimated seeing the tall mean-looking man step forward to the sea of people. a shiver ran down eddie’s spine, concealing his discomfort of the stares, it felt he was in highschool again— which sucked.

“move.” he grumbled to the dancing people blocking him towards the kitchen. they immediately part a way for him, seeing him already unpleased with the scent of sweat and alcohol in the air. god, he hated parties so much. all stood silent as he finally sets his eyes on you and to an incoming man inching towards your sunken form, as you desperately tried to hold yourself up the counter. he felt his heart surge knowing you mentioned some guys giving you the creeps, in which he immediately stomped to stop the said man eyeing you.

the creep furrowed his brows as eddie came into view before he could grab you. “hey, man. what the fuck—“

“fuck off.” eddie’s voice dropped as the creep backed down. a vein bulge on forehead as the creep scurried away, knowing hell who eddie is. oh, eddie knew he had a reputation in this town for looking intimidating. he still dressed the same like in highschool, just that the evident matureness on his face and more ink on his body caused him to be gossiped around how scary he looked.

which was not true. at least to you, as you felt arms wrap around your waist. you were about to protest until the familiar scent of oak cologne and cigarettes passed your nostrils. your heart thumped as you immediately looked up to see the man you’ve been waiting for as you drunkily smiled at him. your boyfriend. that looks pissed.

“eddie!” you hiccupped, jumping up to encircle your arms around his neck. his shag hair brushing against your cheek as you nuzzled closer to him. chest brushing against his.

“baby, let me get you home.” he mumbled, patting your back gently. you nodded, kissing his cheek as he kissed your forehead. not caring if anyone saw the you two. on the way out, people eventually parted a way for him and you, not questioning anything, it felt sort-of a win, knowing his intimidating presence made anyone flee. hurtful it felt sometimes, but at least the drunk you in his arms said otherwise. you were clingy, clingy for his touch and his affection. he gave it you before you’d sober up and the massive scolding he’ll have to do afterwards.

eventually he helped you up the stairs now in your house, up to your bedroom. your mother was asleep and you told him to be quiet, afraid you both would be getting a yelling from her. you got to plop down to on your bed, before you could feel yourself blacking out. every ounce of strength you had left diminished after such a exhausting night. you tried not to sleep, hearing eddie shuffle inside your room. you could hear him open your closet, shuffling through your clothes then back to somewhere else. you groggily let out a sigh, brain a little mushy but a little sobered up.

“sweetheart, sit up for me.” he tapped your thigh as you lazily complied. sitting up with a groan, back slumping forward as eddie held your face up. your eyes fluttered to see him holding a towel, he gently wiped the sweat on your face. his calloused hands gripping the side of your head as gently as ever, you rubbed your face against the palm of his hand, feeling a little fluttery how good he smelled up close. the comforting silence passed by as you started to feel the drowsiness again until he finally spoke.

“i thought you said you had friends over at that fucking frat party.”

“hm? i-i did, they’re—“

“don’t fucking lie to me, sweets.” he sighed, letting go of your face as he threw the towel on the bed. crossing his arms as he stands in front you with a clipped look on his face.

“i swear, eds, i was just having fun.” you mumbled embarrassingly, feeling his anger.

“fun? that was fun? getting almost cornered by those creepy shitheads was fun? do you have any idea how fucking worried i was, y/n?” you stilled, not used to hearing your name come from his mouth, let alone how angry his tone is. you stared at him in silence, his nostrils flared as the vein on his forehead bulged. you averted his gaze, feeling shameful. his eyes burned holes through you as he waited your answer.

“i’m sorry.” you quietly mumbled, feeling your eyes water. “i-i just wanted to drink ‘s all—”

“i fucking swear, in the middle of the fucking night. you’re hurting my head...” he grumbled, stepping away as he rounded to your closet, opening it as your lip trembled. he never talked to you like this, it was the first time you ever heard him so pissed off at you and you felt bad. your fingers fiddled with each other, disappointment filling your chest. you merely look down at your hands, tears dropping as you tried to hold-in a sob, feeling a little pathetic now that you were fucking crying just because of this.

eddie sighed to himself, picking out clothes in your closet so you can change in. he wasn’t necessarily mad-mad, just that it pained him to think about if a scenario like this could happen again. he wouldn’t restrict you from parties, hell, he was an active out-goer back then in his young 20’s. right now, he didn’t think of it as fun anymore sometimes. he works, he has a job, numerous responsibilities, he doesn’t remember half the thrill he had back then unlike you now. he guessed this came with his oldass.

he turns around, freezing on the spot when he sees your head titled down, little sobs coming from your mouth along with sniffles. you were trying so hard not to make it obvious but seeing as he saw you, the tears started flowing again. guilt filled his chest as he cursed to himself seeing that he had made you cry. shit.

“hey, hey, baby. why you crying, sweetheart?” he kneeled down to your level, grasping your hands to his. you looked up to his brown orbs, the tears blurring your vision. you sniffled, feeling like you made a fool out of yourself infront of your own boyfriend.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m used to to you…” you paused, gulping. “not seeing you angry at me. i-i’m sorry, eddie.” you sniffled, wiping away the wet tears as eddie softens his gaze. “just wanted to have fun this night. you were working and i didn’t have anyone else. i’m sorry.”

“i know, sweetheart.” he says heartedly, this week has been busy on him. he spent days in his shop, working for every customer. “but you know you gotta take care of yourself.”

he wipes the tears on your cheeks as you look at him, nose sniffling as you nodded, still feeling a little sleepy. eddie hummed seeing as you eyes sparkled as he gives you a small smile, indicating everything was alright. he leaned in, capturing your pouty lips to his, soft and slow as you eagerly reciprocated, missing his closeness. sitting up straight, letting out a small moan between as his tongue joined in, making the sweet kiss a little sloppy. all pent-up feelings being brought out. the stubble of his beard sent shivers down your spine when it tickled your chin. you pulled him closer, wanting everything for him to be on top of you right now. but he had the opposite idea as he pulled away making you whine lowly.

“not tonight.” he whispered hoarsely, cigarette scented lips too intoxicating for you to not stare at them as he chuckled. “you’re wasted and tired. i’ll give it to you in the morning, don’t worry.” he kissed your cheek with a promise as you nodded, pecking his lips, thankful he was here for you making your heart flutter. how did you bagged a man like him? you always wondered how lucky you are right now.

“i love you.”

“i love you too, sweets.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!?! anyways i’m back. 🙄

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Okay so consider!!!

Yandere platonic Geralt!! Generally very cool!! Very nice!! But if you fuck up you have to deal with (what you have dubbed) the get along cuff. Which is literally him just making you sleep next to him and tying your leg to his with a bit of leather cord. It’s thin so he can easily snap it if there’s a danger, but he’ll wake up if you move it.

Also Jaskier being completely fine and okay with this would be hilarious, I would love to see you write a scenerio!! (Idk why but I picture a modern reader, like one who got dropped in the Witcher from the modern world)

I love this ask!! I also love the trope of a modern character in a medieval setting, I think it was all the ‘Modern Girl IN Middle Earth’ fanfics I read (an actual tag on ao3) so I have a weakness for it!! Also Jaskier just going ‘eh’ is so funny to me.

Warnings: forced proximity, captivity, kidnapping, some level of being infantalized, being tied to another person as a form of being restrained, future Stockholm syndrome. Jaskier is complicit, up to you whether he is also a yandere or not. Also the fact Geralt can smell emotions

“You know this could be like, an actual danger?”

You try and reason your way out of your situation, like reason has ever worked on Geralt before. He ignores you, mostly, concentrating on tying the knot around your wrist in a manner that you cannot undo the knot but it also didn’t cut off your circulation. He slips a finger under the cord, testing the knot and the cords strength, and you hear him make a satisfied rumble. You were still getting used to that, to the various sounds the Witcher made to express emotion.

“No it’s not. The cord’s thin, and if I have to fight I can snap it easily. Plus this area doesn’t normally have monsters, not this time of year.”

He stands, towering over you from you spot on the ground, near the fire, and you tilt your face up. The yellow light throws his features into a harsh countenance, makes his face all angles and scars, golden eyes reflecting the light the way a predators would as he glared down at you, scowling. You tighten your fingers in the wool cloak he had given you, so long ago, the fibers catching in your nails.

He must see something in your gaze, or maybe it’s the way you know you probably reek of anxiety right now, but his stance softens, the scowl melting away into something softer, not a smile because you knew he was still very, very upset with you, but not a harsh frown that made you feel small and stupid and like all the things he thought about you were true.

He crouches, making himself smaller next to you, and you feel your shoulders start to unwind. It was strange, being around someone who was so perceptive to your emotions, but seemingly had no clue how to address or handle them, beyond his own instincts as a Witcher and his limited interpersonal skills. His very limited interpersonal skills.

Seriously. You were pretty sure the guy only had two friends.

“You’re going to try and run again. Maybe not tonight, but I clearly can’t trust you to behave without me keeping my eye on you at all times. Since I can’t do that while I’m asleep, this is the solution.”

He motions to the thin leather cord, and you scowl, face twisting into something you know is ugly but doing it anyways. He wouldn’t be intimidated, you knew, he seemed to view you as some helpless kid, even though you were a fully grown adult who had been attending college.

“You wouldn’t have to watch me if you just let me go, Geralt. You can’t… you can’t just not let someone go home, that’s not right.”

You snap, fingers burying further into the cloak to stave off the chill that was only getting colder, creeping up your arms and legs to your torso and making you shiver. It had just gotten dark, the little fire Geralt built crackling away and too small to provide much warmth but rapidly gaining strength, and you shiver, leaning toward the fire and away from the Witcher.

“We’re not having this conversation again. You can’t survive out there on your own.”

Your face flushes, angry, and you bury your face further into the cloak. He had a point, to some extent. You weren’t used to the world of the Witcher, with its monsters and it’s hardships, weren’t used to the roughness of medieval life and all of its struggles. You were used to the modern world, where distances could be travelled by car, not horse, and you didn’t have to endure biting cold in the winter and blazing heat in the summer.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t at least try, Geralt. What kinda person would I be if I didn’t at least try to get home?” You protest, and there’s the sound of rustling, a muttered curse. Looks like Jaskier was back with wood.

“Ah. Seems I walked into a horribly tense situation.”

Jaskier remarks, but his voice is light, not taking your predicament seriously, even as his eyes land on the tether around your wrist and Geralt’s as he feeds wood into the fire, which licks up the logs and sticks eagerly, hungry for fuel. You scowl, face buried in the cloak to hide your sour mood as much as possible. Geralt didn’t care if you were pisses off or not, he cared when you were afraid not when you were mad, but Jaskier would do everything in his power to pull you out of your bad mood. From telling stories to playing little tavern songs, he would be relentless in making sure you cracked a smile at least once, and you didn’t feel like having to endure the bards attempts to cheer you up right now.

“Is tying them to you really necessary though, Geralt? They look like a kicked pup, can’t you be a bit more lenient?”

Jaskier wheedles, and wow, he might actually be your favorite person right now. You peek up from the fold of the cloak, and he’s got a hand on a hip, shifting his weight with a concerned frown. He looks entirely disapproving of the whole thing, which makes your heart soar. Maybe he would actually be able to get Geralt to listen to him.

“They’re lucky I don’t tie them on Roach all day.” Geralt grumbles, setting up the bed rolls. You could feel every small movement he made, the motion tugging gently on the thin tether.

“Oh you grump. Stop being so rude.” Jaskier huffs, sitting next to you, and you quietly despair how easily he gave in, how quickly he yielded to what Geralt wanted to do. You tuck your face back into the cloak, dejected.

“Hey now, it isn’t all bad. There are worse places to sleep. I can recall a few of them myself.”

Jaskier’s hand lands on your shoulder, and you glare, annoyed. You didn’t want company, or comfort, or any of it. You wanted one thing, and it was something that the both of them were denying you.

Jaskier, because he was Jaskier, seemingly didn’t notice. Which wasn’t the greatest.

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Never slept tied to somebody, though.” You say pointedly, and the annoyed rumble Geralt gives is almost worth it. Sharp gold eyes narrow at you slightly, before Geralt huffs, turning back to his task.

“I have! Well, it was more I had been knocked unconscious, but it still applies, I think! And those ropes were rather coarse, my wrists were aching for days!” Jaskier recalls. “Geralt had to rescue me, it was quite the adventure. I wrote a song about it, at some point, although I never published it. I really should rework that song, actually, come to think of it.”

He rambles, his voice filling the tense silence between you and Geralt, and you feel your shoulders start to relax. He was good at that, chattering to fill the silence that would drag on for hours between the two of you if it wasn’t for him. You sigh quietly, leaning into the warm hand clasped on your shoulders as the fire grows in strength, the bedrolls almost fully prepared.

“Alright. Jaskier, you take first watch, and I’ll take over in an hour or so.” There must not be many monsters around, you think, for Geralt to be so comfortable letting Jaskier take watch. Jaskier nods, slipping away your side as Geralt approaches.

“Not a problem! I was feeling wired tonight anyways, a few more hours though and I should be able to sleep well enough.” Jaskier agrees amicably. “Although I am a bit surprised, you normally insist on first watch.”

“Wanna get (Y/N) down.” Geralt huffs, and Jaskier nods.

“Fair enough, I suppose. They are criminally lacking in the sleep department, they’re beginning to get bags, poor thing.”

You scowl at Jaskier, annoyed.

“I’ve had these since middle school, first of all, not my fault I have insomnia.” You scowl, and jerk when Geralt all but drags you to the bed roll, barely waiting for you to finish talking.

“Hey!” You protests, annoyed, but he’s too busy ‘getting you settled’ as he liked to call it. Fussing over the blankets and the best roll, making sure your body was protected from the harsh winds that even the fire couldn’t stave off.

“Jaskier, stop keeping them up.” Geralt grumbles, sounding more tired than annoyed. He drags you closer, and it must be a Witcher thing to radiate heat like a furnace, because he was chasing off the cold without even trying, the same arm that you were tied to securing you against his chest.

“Pretty sure I can sleep on my own.”

You snark, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

“Not for the next week you aren’t, if that. Now go to bed.”

You scowl, glaring up at him. With the blanket over you, the fire, and the heat radiating off his body, you were tired, sure. But not tired enough not to say something, not when you were being treated like an idiot who couldn’t do anything for themselves.

“You can’t just- Geralt this isn’t right, and you know it. You can’t just- keep me here!”

You protest. Arguing with Geralt was much like arguing with a wall, honestly. Stubborn and just as likely to listen to you as the bricks that made up the walls of your old college.

But walls could come down. You just had to get through to him, make him realize that what was doing wasn’t going to work. You weren’t strong enough or fast enough to escape him, not without some clever plan or tricks up your sleeve, and you were pretty sure that an Olympic level athlete would still have issues trying to outpace him. So your only hope was getting him to listen.

It was a fragile hope, but it was the only hope you had.

“We’re not talking about this right now. Go to sleep.”

Geralt grumbles, and you open your mouth again. The warning rumble in his chest cuts you off, and you swallow.

The sound was exactly that. A warning. Geralt had never hurt you before, not really, but whenever he got mad things were miserable. Jaskier would be irritated with you for ‘putting Geralt in a mood’ as he put it, and you would be without the bard’s chattering to fill the heavy silent between you and Geralt. Not to mention the awkwardness of being forced to ride atop Roach with Geralt, the silence thick with tension between the two of you, or the way you would hope desperately for the day to end so you could go to sleep.

No, it was better to keep the Witcher happy. For all parties.

“Alright. Good night.” You finally mutter, and he sighs, the tension leaving his body. You feel his torso loosen, relaxing behind you, and you feel your hand shaking, just slightly. Or a little more than slightly. Your stomach twists, and Geralt sighs.

“I know you don’t understand. But you’ll realize this is what’s best for you.” He says it like it’s supposed to be an assurance, smoothing a hand over your hair like you’re a particularly fussy child, and you consider, for a second, twisting and biting that hand. Driving your teeth deep enough to draw blood and make him listen to you, for once.

You don’t, mainly because you know he would just move it fast enough your teeth would just snap at empty air.

You close your eyes. With the almost stifling heat behind you, and the too-heavy weight of the cord on your wrist that logically shouldn’t feel as heavy as it did, sleep does not come easy. Eventually, though, you feel your consciousness slip away into oblivion.

[asturniolos]

you too - matt s.

chapter 3 ; waistband

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 4

11:29am

maple syrup by the backseat lovers plays quietly throughout annie's car as we drive back to my apartment from our starbucks brunch.

i told her about my unexpected run-in with the 'matt' boy she told me about, but wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of admitting my attraction to him.

"so he asked for your number? and you seriously believe it was purely so that he could pay for your phone to be fixed?", annie taunts me. "you are so unbelievably naive sometimes, y/n."

i roll my eyes at her and turn up the volume. we're only a few minutes away from my apartment and, as much as i hate to admit it, i can't stop checking my phone hoping for a message from matt. all i can think about is him.

~

1:14pm

as much as i love winter, sometimes it gets a little too cold. like today.

the second annie dropped me home, i made myself a hot chocolate, got straight in bed, and took a nap for an hour. i woke up to a missed call, crossing my fingers that it was matt. unfortunately, it was just mr bryan asking me if i received the study material he sent me.

now, i'm in the shower attempting to get my mind off matt which, to no surprise, isn't working.

party for two by johnny orlando plays loudly throughout my bathroom and i sing along when the chorus begins-

and i could throw a party

without our friends,

just watch you dance,

and i won’t tell nobody

just you, me and the moon, baby

i squeeze some body wash onto my hand and start lathering myself with it while the song continues. after about a minute i step under the water, closing my eyes and feeling the soap running off my body. my hands slowly trail down my waist, stopping at my hips as the thought of matt slips into my mind. a smile spreads across my face and my eyes remain closed underneath the warm water. i take my hands off of my waist and bring them up to my chest, lightly touching my boobs with the thought of matt still flooding my mind. my fingers make their way down my stomach, hesitating just inches above my pussy. i pull them away, quickly taking a small step back out of the water and opening my eyes.

god. what am i doing? i met this guy just a few hours ago and i'm already imagining him touching me in the shower.

i reach for the tap and turn it all the way off, causing the water to come to a sudden stop. stepping out of the shower, i glance at my reflection in the mirror but can only make out a faint silhouette of myself in the fogged glass. i grab my pink towel off the rack beside me and wrap it tightly around my wet body. my hand reaches for the door handle but i pause when my music stops suddenly. the bathroom falls silent except for the faint drips of water coming from the shower head, followed by a faint ringing coming from my bedroom.

matt?

i swing open the bathroom door and quickly walk to my room to see my phone laying face down on my dresser. taking a deep breath, i walk over and pick the phone up.

unknown number.

i clear my throat and hover my thumb over the answer button for a moment before pressing it.

"hello?"

"hey, is this y/n? it's matt."

his voice sounds even hotter over the phone.

"yeah, hi matt. what's up?"

"what's your address? i can come to yours in ten and give you the money to get your phone fixed if you're free."

i look to my right and see my reflection in my mirror; wet hair, no makeup, and wearing nothing but a towel. there's no way i'm letting matt come to my apartment while i look like this.

i think for a moment before replying,

"can you just venmo me? i'm kinda busy right now."

"busy with..?", he questions.

"just, you know.. assignments and stuff.", i reply.

"if you don't want me to come over you could've just said that, you know."

"no i want you to come over, it's just-"

"you do?", he says, cutting me off.

i hear him let out a light chuckle.

shit.

i say nothing.

"text me your address. i'll be there in 10."

he hangs up.

fuck!

i hear the music on my speaker start playing again as i run to my wardrobe, picking out a pair of bike shorts and the first hoodie i see. then, walking back into my bathroom, i brush my dripping wet hair and twist it up into a claw clip, pulling some strands out at the front. as i spray my deodorant on underneath my hoodie, i hear a message notification ding from my phone. i sit the deodorant on the bathroom counter and rush back into my room. matt again.

*unknown number*: address?

i quickly type my address and apartment number into my phone and press send. he reads it instantly and doesn't reply.

i turn my phone off and throw it onto my bed before pulling open my makeup drawer and taking out my mascara and favourite clear gloss and applying them both.

~

matt's pov

all i can hear is the loud taps of the heavy afternoon rain pelting down on the roof of my car as i speed down the highway as fast as i can. ever since running into y/n on the way to my lecture this morning, i've been dying to know more about her. as guilty as i feel for smashing her phone, a part of me is so glad that it happened considering i'm now on my way to her apartment.

mansion by lil skies starts playing through my car's speakers and i instantly reach over, turning the volume up and leaning back further in my seat. as the song begins, i can't help but imagine y/n's hands wrapped around my dick, slowly moving up and down while i drive. i let a deep breath out, feeling myself getting horny at the thought of her making me cum. as my car comes to a stop at a red light, i take my left hand off the wheel and lightly rub my dick through my black nike sweats. i bite my lip at the feeling and tilt my head back in pleasure, closing my eyes and moaning softly to myself.

the car behind me honks loudly, causing me to focus my attention back on the road and at the now green light.

fuck, what am i doing.

i put my hand back on the wheel and keep driving.

~

after about five more minutes, i finally begin pulling into the street that y/n's apartment is on. i take my left hand off of the wheel and place it on my lap. my head quickly shoots downward when i feel my boner through my sweats.

"shit."

after putting the car in park i slightly pull down my sweats and then reach into my boxers, grabbing my dick and tucking it underneath my waistband to hide it. for a moment i consider putting the car in drive and going home to do something about it, but the thought of missing out on seeing y/n again outweighs it.

i step out of my car and nervously walk up a few flights of stairs, and before i know it i'm standing face to face with her apartment door.

a/n ; hopefully this chapter is a little more interesting than the first two- next chapter will be out tomorrow, which does have some smut !! tysm for readinggg 💌

[toomiieimagiines]

hi hi there! sooooo, how about some Tsukasa cuddling headcanons? Feel free to ignore if you’ve got better ones! Have a super awesome day! >:D

YOU ALL ARE A BUNCH OF DIRTY DIRTY TSUKASA LOVERS!! WHAT IS WITH HIM THAT YOU LOVE SO MUCH! ToT love a good cuddle hc…. was honestly excited to see it… (can we address how he dresses sometime? what a cutie pie…. honestly, i didn’t really favor kasa before i started writing for him!! he’s so darling!!!>_<) AND SORRY FOR THE MINI HIATUS!! life’s been kinda hard recently!! ^_^||| sorry for it being kinda short!

EDIT: i forgot to add tags like a scatterbrain…. -.- i hope people can still see this…

Tsukasa Tenma cuddling hc’s (+ more!)

Too hot to handle… (LITERALLY)

So so warm, an actual walking furnace, YET HES FREEZING!

“Honey, it’s so so cold please…” (whiny (HOW SURPRISING))

“‘Kasa, baby, I’m sweating…”

LOVES and I mean LOVES to cuddle

Who would believe me if I told them he’d pounce on you at any given opportunity? (OMG wuttt??? that’s soooo unlike him!!)

“Sweeetheart, I just miss you!”

“Honey, please when do I ever ask you for anything??”

Trust if he’s sick he makes it your problem too, like pls unsick me!!

Smells like shortbread

You honestly don’t know why because the only time he wears cologne is if he’s going somewhere fancy, and it’s never sweet

Maybe it’s Sakis weird love for baking, maybe it’s a little fairy who likes to sprinkle him with it while he sleeps, he doesn’t really know.

Favorite positions are ones where you’re facing eachother

Doesn’t really like spooning, he doesn’t find it as satisfying

ALSO VERY PARTIAL TO HIM LAYING HIS HEAD ON YOUR CHEST

He likes your heartbeat!!! Is that a crime?

Will genuinely NEVER let you get back up after

He will fight you… Its infuriating

WRAPS HIS ARMS SO TIGHT AROUND YOU, HES LIKE A TON OF BRICKS

Didn’t know I signed up for cuddling sheetmetal, thanks for the warning!

Honestly, he’s so boyfriend tho it’s insane…. like yes yes of course you’re my boyfriend!

AGHHHA HES SO CUTIEEE!!! i enjoy leaving these drabbles after my hcs!! it makes me feel like i actually did something! keep requesting, sorry if i haven’t gotten to yours yet!! there’s been so many! thank you so much!^w^

Rehearsal sucks, anyone who’s ever done anything knows it, and so does Tsukasa. He’s exhausted, and he knows the one thing that’ll recharge him.

You.

He sends you a text akin to “please let me come over before I die and it’ll be your fault”, and who could say no to that!? That’s how you ended up with a mildly sweaty Tsukasa laying on top of your previously perfectly made bed…

“You’re too warm! I can lay with you, but this is ridiculous!” You squirm, trying to pry the boy off of you. When did he get so heavy?! It’s like a bag of bricks is holding you down!

“Please sweetheart, when do I ever ask you for anything?!” He whines, wrapping his arms even tighter around you.

“Five minutes ago you asked me to scratch your back, you asked me for a drink from the vending machine because you didn’t wanna get your wallet-“

“Never mind!” He cuts you off, covering your mouth. “It’s the last time, I swear! I promise that I won’t ever again!-”

You look up at him, unimpressed.

“For the..” he looks away dejectedly, taking his hand off your mouth, “rest of the time I’m here…”

You snicker at his sudden sheepishness, “what happened to the passion, ‘Kasa?” Your fingers run through his blonde hair, twisting it around your fingers.

“You put the fire out… If you could see my eyes right now, you’d see they’re gray and dull….”

You smack his head playfully, “don’t bite the hands that scratch your back.”

He just sighs, burying his head deeper into your neck. He’s warm, REALLY warm, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind anymore. It really is times like these that make you appreciate him the most. He’s not performing, he’s not playing, he’s just kinda there, and you’re kinda there too. Everything can be so much, but life feels mundane and boring when you two are like this - in a good way! It feels domestic.

“I love you, Tsukasa. Y’know that?” You lift his head up, looking into his eyes. Damnit, he’s looks kinda sweet. It almost makes you feel bad for teasing him… Almost.

He leans into the touch, eyes closing again. His voice is uncharacteristically soft when he replies, “I do. I love you too, a lot.”

A beat passes,

“I’m aloud to fall asleep, right?”

“Tsukasa!”

[soupywrites]

Etched Into My Heart

Craig Cuttlefish, former captain of the NSS, and Octavio Takowasa, DJ and leader of the Octarians, talk about how they got here, in this booth, together once again. (2,782 words)

A cuttletavio fanfiction from a simple soup: I see opportunity for cuttletavio in canon, I write about it :P

Octavio turned back into the booth, grabbing a Team Present T-Shirt and handing it to the little jelly in front of him.

“Here ya go, kid. Don’t go wreaking havoc now, ya hear?” The jelly nodded and ran away happily, leaving a few coins in return for their newest merchandise. He had been asked to run the merch booth by Callie, but he hadn’t known with whom he’d be running it.

The DJ sighed and looked out of the corner of his eye. He saw his partner, his friend, and his sworn enemy, Craig Cuttlefish, handing an Octoling a Team Past T-Shirt. They hadn’t spoken much since Octavio swooped in just in time to save the New Squidbeak Splatoon during the fight with Grizz. A few quick words of gratitude and appreciation were all that was exchanged, and they had yet to address their deeper issues. “Here, squirt. Enjoy the Grand Festival!” Craig enthusiastically cheered the kid on. The Octoling nodded and ran away towards their friends; they were all wearing various team shirts. Octavio smiled at this. He was grateful that the new generation of kids could enjoy each other’s company, squid or octopus, no matter what team they were on. It was refreshing to the king. He turned back to his wasabi sticks and began grating. He focused on listening to the nearby Squid Sisters performance while he did the repetitive task. Grate, collect, compress, and serve. The Squid Sisters are playing the Calamari Inkantation. Grate, collect, compress, and serve. They’re playing the spicy remix. Grate, collect-

“Takowasa.” Octavio squinted in disdain and turned toward the shriveled inkfish beside him, scowling. Craig smiled in apology. “M’sorry. You weren’t responding to anything else.” Octavio grunted and turned back to his wasabi, and Craig sighed and floated down deeper into his chair. Watching his granddaughters, he began humming the song while they sang.

“Y’know, Tavi, I used to love this song. Then, I didn’t. But now, now I do again. It’s nice.”

Silence loomed over them. Octavio groaned. “Fine, I’ll bite. Why’d ya stop?” The DJ pivoted to look at the former captain, who was still staring intently at the Urchin Stage.

“Well, if I tell you, you’ll probably think it’s silly.”

“Nonsense. Y’know I don’t do ‘silly.’” The squid chuckled at this.

“It’s because it reminds me of you. Always has, and I think it always will.” Craig peered over, trying to gauge Octavio’s reaction. The Octoling donned a stern face, as per usual. But his eyes were boring holes into Craig’s as if he was waiting for something.

“Well,” Octavio started. “Go on.”

“Why? You asked, and I answered.” Craig faced the stage again, watching as Callie and Marie were quickly replaced by Deep Cut.

“Don’t start now, Cuttlefish. Don’t start the evasive carp. You know exactly what I’m looking for, here.”

“Y’re right. I do. But I dunno if I wanna tell you.”

Octavio growled under his breath. “Why d’ya always have to be so difficult? We’re sitting in the same booth, for cod’s sake. There’s no one else around; every single inkfish is busy somewhere else. Whatever you’ve gotta say, just say it!”

“Fine,” Craig started. “I loved it once, long ago, because it reminded me of you.” He felt uneasy confessing all this to the warlord. “You, Octavio, were a melody that was deeply ingrained in my heart for a long, cod awful time. Then, history had other plans for us.” He stared off into the distance, not quite focusing on anything specific. Sighing, he continued, “I hated anything to do with you because I was too prideful to admit that I missed you. It was a long time before I’d see you again. Then, you came back. You took the Great Zapfish. And, suddenly, I hated more than just you.”

Octavio was quiet. He put his wasabi sticks down, and he stole a glimpse at the captain’s face. It was tired and full of pain. So much so that the DJ contemplated making him stop talking. Contemplated.

“I also hated the idea of you. I hated knowing that we had become less than what we once were. You weren’t mine anymore. I could no longer call you a friend. It felt like there was nothing left. And, Octavio, when I laid down to die, thinking that I’d never wake up again, thinking that that damned bear was going to steal my life away, I thought about you. And I missed you. And I finally admitted it to myself. I, Craig Cuttlefish, had missed you all that time.”

Craig closed his eyes in thought, slouching further into the chair. He took a deep breath, and, after a moment of silence, started again.

“I missed you so much, Tavi, that thinking about you in that moment hurt more than having the life sucked outta me. Did ya know that, Takowasa? That you had stolen my heart?” There was no answer. “Anyway, being alive after all that really changes an Inkling. Not just what that Grizz fella did. But surviving the war. Surviving the metro. Surviving you. I realized that, for as long as I was lucky, and as long as I was alive, I’d always hear your melodies somewhere. Whether in the Canyon, or on the radio, or up in space. You were obnoxiously everywhere, Octavio. Octavio,” Craig opened his eyes fully now, looking back at the Octoling, who was staring at the Urchin Stage, an unreadable expression on his face. “Look at me. Please.”

Octavio turned to Craig, his eyes wet. Craig smiled. “Thanks. I was starting to think I was pouring this all out to nobody.” No response, but the king never took his eyes off the captain. “When you came to help us up in space, Octavio, I remembered what made me miss you all along. You were always stubborn. But you always cared. I knew you did, somewhere deep down. And hearing those girls sing the Inkantation, watching Lil’ Buddy transform due to the sheer power of some simple song, reminded me of you. And I felt as if it etched itself into my heart again for the very first time.”

Octavio took his glasses off and set them on the counter of the booth they shared. Craig tapped his tentacle, as dry and brittle as it is, on the table, lost in thought. Then, he began to smile.

“That’s when I started loving it again. I started loving it again because I started loving you again. No, that’s not the truth; I never stopped loving you. But, for the first time since the last time, I let myself love you.” Cuttlefish laughed an airy laugh, and, for a moment, he reminded Octavio of when they were young. “You probably think I’m such a sap,” he said.

“I always have,” Octavio replied. There was a pause in the conversation.

“But, yeah, you’ve changed a lot, Tavi. But you’ve also changed me. Thanks for that.”

Octavio, for the first time since he was asked not to, looked away from the Inkling. He stared off into the distance, hearing Pearl and Marina singing Color Pulse. Time passed all too slowly.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he finally spat out, voice rough.

“On the contrary, old friend.” Craig tentatively put a tentacle on one of Octavio’s. He didn’t protest. “I have everything to thank you for.”

Octavio looked at Craig, who now had a single tear falling down his cheek.

“You were my everything,” Craig whispered, voice cracking slightly at the confession. Octavio hesitated before wiping away the tear on the inkling’s face.

“You did a lotta bad, Craig. A lot of it.”

“I know.”

Octavio stared at him deeper. “I did a lotta wrong. You did a lotta wrong. But, despite that, I never let you go. I don’t know why. It’s like ya found a way to stay in my heart, regardless of the incessant pain that caused me. Maybe it knew that, one day, I’d let myself love you, too.” Octavio turned away, rubbing his eyes. “Cod, now you’ve got me all sappy. Y’know I’m not one for that carp.”

Craig didn’t answer. He just stared at Octavio. And then, he smiled. And then, he laughed. He laughed so hard that the Octoling wondered if his old body could even handle that.

“Geez,” he started in between breaths. “What happened to us?” Craig asked, his happy demeanor changing to one of sorrow.

“You know that answer.”

“Great, now it’s your turn to be all mysterious. Don’t start the evasive carp, Tavi. Y’know exactly what I’m getting at, here.”

“You’re right, I do know. But I don’t think I wanna say it.”

“C’mon, Octavio! Why d’ya always have to be so difficult? For cod’s sake, we’re sitting in the same booth. There’s no one else around, and everyone is busy somewhere else. Whatever you’ve gotta say, just say it to me now.”

“Fine,” Octavio started. “But don’t expect nothin’ pretty. Y’know I’m not good with words.”

“That’s the way we work, Tavi. I write the lyrics, you play the melody.” Craig grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and let me suffer this through in peace.” The DJ sighed before beginning. “I guess we happened to ourselves. We had jobs to do, Craig. We had people to protect, even if that meant protecting them from each other. I’ll always regret that, y’know. Not trying harder to stop it all from happening. I was the coddamn king. I could’ve done more, but I was scared. Pathetic.”

“I don’t think that’s pathetic,” Craig said. “What more could you have done? We were young, Octavio. Much younger than we are now, that’s f’sure.”

“Great, reminded once again that I’m an old man,” Octavio said. Craig snorted at this. “Anyway. I hated you so much. I wanted nothing to do with you, and while it was probably easier for me, it was still so hard. And it hurt. I wanted you to hurt, too. I thought you didn’t care like I did. So I buried it all down deep. I forgot about us, the way we used to be, as best as I could. That was easier than trying to fix what was broken because of a war. Cod, the war. The stupid, stupid war. And then, my people, Craig. They were dying. Suffering. And I blamed you for it, because that was easier than trying to fix what was broken. It was easier to steal than to try and ask for help, for a truce. Would you have even given that a chance, Craig? A truce?”

Craig closed his eyes and frowned, thinking. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” The DJ raised his voice at the captain, face contorting with anger. “You don’t know if I had come to you, on my knees, begging for your help, at my absolute lowest point, you’d help me? If you’d help my people?” Octavio’s voice broke, and he looked away from Craig, taking his tentacle back. “That’s the problem, Craig. You never knew. You just- you never once tried to make a truce with me. Why?”

“Because, like you, I was scared. Pathetic, huh?” Craig stifled a sob, looking down. “I don’t know if I would’ve had it in me then to let go of the past, to let go of my pride. But I know now, that now I would do whatever you asked of me, Octavio. I would do anything you wish.”

Octavio remained quiet, Shiver’s singing seemingly cutting through the silence every so often.

“I know now, Craig, with certainty, what happened to us,” Octavio said. “We happened to us.”

“Yeah,” Craig murmured. “I guess we did.”

Silence. The sounds of the crowds became background noise compared to the thoughts racing through their respective heads.

“I have one wish I want t’ask of you, Cuttlefish.”

“Name it. Anything within my ability is yours, Octavio.”

“Good. I wish for you to forgive yourself, Craig Cuttlefish. I’m done thinking about the past. It stings, and it will for the rest of time. But that’s all it is now: a stinging pain in the background. We have so much left to live for, Craig. No use in dwelling on our mistakes any longer.”

Craig couldn’t bring himself to look at Octavio. Silent tears fell down onto the sandy floor of the booth. “I don’t think that one’s in my able-to-grant list, Octavio. Not yet.”

Octavio sighed and rubbed his face with a tentacle. “When will it be?” He grumbled.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s the problem, Craig. You never know. You just don’t. It’s a bad habit, Craig. To not know.”

“I know.”

“Then, you should also know how to forgive yourself.”

“But I don’t.” Craig mumbled. “I don’t think I ever will.”

“Thinking can be changed. You’ve changed, haven’t you? Time to change s’more. Forgive yourself, Craig.” Octavio was pleading at this point, which he found embarrassing; why was he trying to comfort his greatest enemy?

“I can’t, Octavio! I can’t. You’re asking too much of me too soon.”

“Too soon? It’s been a century, Craig. If not for yourself, then for me. Forgive yourself.” Octavio knew why, now. He was trying to comfort his greatest enemy because his heart hoped there was still a chance to reclaim what once was.

They were silent, and Craig’s face was still wet with tears. His expression hardened, and he locked eyes with the commander, the king, the DJ. The Octoling. The enemy. His enemy. His friend. His… lover? No, not his lover. Not anymore. But, just maybe, one day they can be again.

“I’ll forgive myself, Octavio Takowasa, if you forgive yourself.”

Octavio’s face softened slightly; it was in a way that only Craig would have noticed.

“I think I can make that happen.” Octavio grabbed one of Craig’s tentacles and squeezed it, keeping a hold on it. They held eye contact, a silent promise to be better for each other.

“OMCOD, ARE YOU TWO GONNA KISS?!” The two quickly shifted their attention to the young Cuttlefish cousins holding two bowls of noodles from a stand across the pathway.

“Now, now, Callie Cuttlefish! That is no way to speak to your elders!” Craig scolded.

“Sorry, Gramps. But I knew this was a great idea, putting you two together!” Callie motioned to their interlocked tentacles. “Clearly, you two are getting along better than I’d planned.”

“Clearly, you are getting ahead of yourself, young lady.” But their tentacles never left the other’s.

“Yeah, Cal. Gramps is right; yelling at two old men to kiss is slightly inappropriate, albeit situationally appropriate.” Marie smirked at Callie before her expression returned to neutral. “By the way, we figured we’d bring you something to eat on our break.” She and Callie placed the bowls on the counter.

“I didn’t know you two even got breaks,” Octavio quipped. “That’s why I prefer the DJ lifestyle; outta the public eye like that.” He nodded to himself. Callie rolled her eyes.

“That would only be applicable if you weren’t also a king,” she remarked.

“Well, I never mentioned being a king, did I?”

“Ughhh!”

Octavio laughed at her disgruntlement, and he smiled to himself, remembering when he felt the same way about his own performer life. His old life. One with Craig in it by his side. His smile softened at that thought. He could still have that if fate willed itself to be so. If Craig wanted that, too. Suddenly, a jelly ran up to the idols, holding out a tablet and frantically jumping in the air. Marie bent down, grabbed the tablet, and read what was on it, cursing under her breath. She motioned for Callie to read it, who subsequently cursed under her own breath, and both of them said quick goodbyes before quickly leaving towards the main stage. Octavio and Craig sat alone in silence, once again relying on background noise to fill the auditory void.

“Hey, Craig,” Octavio started softly in the now relenting quiet. “You did good with those two, y’know that?”

“I didn’t do much,” he said, smiling. “They’ve always seemed to know everything.”

They fell back into silence. There were so many unsaid words, but neither of them made an effort to speak them into existence. Finally, Craig sighed.

“Hey, Tavi,” Craig started softly. “Y’know how I’m officially on Team Past, and you’re officially on Team Present?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well,” he began. “I think that while separately we may be on different teams, together we are on one: Team Future.”

Octavio deliberated for a moment and then smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“I missed you, Octavio.”

“I missed you, too, Craig.”

Author’s Notes: Hihi, if you made it this far tysm for reading! I saw the two sitting in the booth together and wondered how that even happened canonically lol. Anyways, likes & reblogs are appreciated but ofc not mandatory. I hope I brought some joy into your day!

- Soupy

P.S.: which of the devs decided to put them together anyway, give them a raise NOW