#i tried doing some fancy blurring stuff

[scootyscootz]

Let me tell you a story!

[uracutieraka]

My dear Rex,

You never showed up, and now, after looking at the newspapers I understand why.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Angst no comfort. implied situationship. spoilers for S3.

Rex Sloan x F!reader

You and Rex had a falling out months ago, over something so severely stupid. In the moment it wasn't. But now that you're standing here looking down at the hole six feet deep into the ground? It was so stupid.

I don't imagine you will receive this letter but I nonetheless must send it.

Text after text, and still no response from him. It had been hours since he promised to be here.

'You only turn 20 once!' he had said before shutting your apartment door, heading off to fight some villain.

You had been sat on the curb of this super fancy restaurant that he swore by for at least two hours, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he'd show.

Eventually the staff had to shoo you away like a dog. You cried the entire taxi ride back to your small studio.

Finally after hours of crying and drinking whatever leftover alcohol you had in your freezer you had knocked out on your bed.

You woke up to the feeling of your mattress sinking in, turning around, still drunk, you see Rex.

"What the fuck Rex?"

He winces and slowly opens one eye, looking over at you with a guilty smile.

"I know, I know..." He starts but you quickly throw the covers off of you and stand up, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

"You stood me up!"

He pouts and tries to reach out for you but you snatch your arm out of grip.

"No! Don't touch me!" Your words are slightly slurred and your vision begins to blur. How could he do this? On your birthday of all days?

"Hey, hey, I got caught up with Kate after work s'all..."

You now feel the tears spill down your face, Kate? The girl he used to have sex with?

"Kate?" Your voice is quiet when you ask, even though you only said one word he knows what the call of her name means.

"We just went out for a few drinks to catch up! She had a rough day and need a familiar shoulder to cry on."

He says it like it's just that simple! Like abandoning you on your special day was okay because his old fuck-buddy had a rough day.

"More like a familiar dick to hop on..."

Rex now quirks his brow up at you.

"Fuck did you just say?"

You look up from the floor and back at the man in front of you.

"I said," You make a point to sniffle and wipe your tears away before finishing. "More. Like. A. Fa-mil-iar dick. To. Hop. On."

Rex now scoffs and stands up, facing you from the other side of your bed.

"Are you serious right now Y/n?"

"Are you? You ghosted my on my birthday to get drinks with your old hookup!"

It's like realization sets in on his face when you say those words, and you feel your anger grow.

"You forgot it was my fucking birthday, didn't you?"

"Y/n I am so fucking so-"

"Forget it Rex. Forget all of it. Just get the fuck out."

You turn and sit on the edge of your mattress, facing away from him.

"You're kicking me out?" His voice is quiet, obviously hurt.

"I guess I am, yeah."

You don't look at him but you could practically see his face in your mind. The disappointed look he would have on it if you had turned around.

You just listen as he gathers his stuff and walks out your front door.

Rex, oh, Rex. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams.

"Put me down!" Your laughter and shrieks fill the air of the quiet, secluded beach.

"Not happening sweetheart!" Rex lightly smacks the back of your thigh as he runs towards the ocean with you thrown over his shoulder, struggling to escape his strong grip.

Once his feet break through the surface of the salty water you know it's game over.

"Rex, don't!" You squeal as you're suddenly launched off his sturdy shoulder and flying down towards the coldness below you.

You pop back up a moment later, gasping and wiping water off your face. A laugh escapes your lips as you look over to Rex, who's clutching his sides in an attempt to calm down his own laughter.

"No, Rex, Don't throw me!" He mocks you.

"You're so annoying!" You say, though your words have no real malice behind them.

"Mmm, not too annoying if you kept me around this long though." He says, slowly making his way closer to you, wading through the water like a shark.

"Pretty annoying though..." Your voice is softer now as he closes the distance between you two, his large hands gripping your hips under the water and pulling you closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he does this.

"Eh, debatable." He shrugs and gives you a dopey grin.

"Whatever..." You whisper before closing the distance, kissing him softly.

I miss you, and I will always miss you but I cannot live like that, and it seems you cannot live any other way.

"I can't just give this up Y/n!" Rex's voice booms through the small apartment.

"I did!" You look up at him from your spot on the couch. He's pacing around in front of you, running his hands through his hair, obviously frustrated.

"I'm not you! This is all I have!"

Silence fills the room and he stops pacing, looking back over to you.

"You have me..." Your voice is quiet and he quickly notices the way your voice cracks and falters.

"I know, I didn't mean it like that...," He now sits next to you, pulling you towards him. He kisses the top of your head before continuing. "This is just all I've ever known. I can't just quit."

"I know." You respond, because you did know. It was stupid to try and ask him to give up being a hero.

When I am with you, the world makes sense

Rex is sprawled out across your couch, lazily flipping through the channels on your television.

You're sat across from him, glasses low on your nose as you grumble to yourself about this pointless project you have due soon.

"You okay?"

You now look up and over to the sound of the voice. Rex is sitting up looking at you, eyes squinted to study your face.

"M'fine." You grumble and go back to stressing out over the assignment.

Rex sighs as he stands up and walks over to you. He stands behind you, one hand grabbing the back of your chair as the other lies flat against the cool surface of your table.

You lazily let your head lull back to look up at him.

"You gonna help me or something?" Your eyebrow pops up.

"Mmmm, maybe, or I'll just kiss you until you get annoyed and forget that I came over here to help you, because this shit looks complicated as fuck."

You just roll your eyes and pucker your lips expectantly.

He leans down and connects his with yours quickly. He repeats this action at least 15 more times before you shoo him back to the couch with a giggle and one more kiss 'for luck' you say.

but when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is not a world from which one can escape.

"Rex?" You call, your voice echoing off the barren walls of the hospital as you run, frantically looking around.

You run to the front desk, slamming your hands down against the linoleum.

"Rex? Where is Rex Splode- Sloan- fuck! What room is he in?" Your eyes are wide and your obviously frazzled. The lady behind the desk is quickly trying to figure out what room the man was in when a voice stops the both of you in your tracks.

"Y/n."

You turn around slowly, anger seeping off you.

"Cecil..." You begin stepping towards the old man.

"Y/n." Another hand grabs your shoulder and when you turn to smack whoever thought it was okay to touch you, you don't.

"Rex! Oh my god! You're okay!" You throw yourself into his arms.

"I'm okay. I'm okay..." He strokes the back of your head as you sob into his shirt. He shares a knowing look with Cecil before pulling you off of him.

"Let's go somewhere private to talk, yeah?"

You nod and follow him as he leads you through the sterile halls.

That's how you two ended up here.

"You're really giving us," you point between you and him a few times "up because Cecil told you to?"

He groans and grabs his face with his hands.

"No! I'm going away for a while because I need to focus on my work..."

You just grab your purse and shove past him. He calls after you but you turn around quickly.

"Just, call me whenever you're done 'working on yourself' or whatever it was you called it." With a flick of your hand to dismiss him, you walk off and he just watches as your figure disappears.

I am so sorry, for everything long ago and for starting up that business again. 

Rex's phone has been ringing for the past ten minutes. He groans when he realizes it probably wasn't going to stop until he answers it.

His heart drops when he sees your contact on the screen. He hadn't seen it in months.

"Hello?" He says quizzically into the speaker.

Music thumps in his ears loudly and suddenly your voice breaks through.

"Rex? Hello?"

His breath hitches, he hadn't heard your voice since the day in the hospital.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Oh, thank god!," You let out what he assumes is a choked sob. "Can you come get me? I-I'm at some club and I'm drunk and this guy I came with just left me here because I told him I didn't want anything serious!"

That's all Rex needed to hear. He was there in 20 minutes.

He finds you sitting on the sidewalk next to the bouncer.

You look up at him as he approaches and his heart breaks at the sight.

Your hair is shorter than when he last saw you, and your makeup is smeared all over your face.

Your eyes light up as you see him and you struggle to get up.

"Rex!" You say as you throw yourself into his arms. He stumbles back a bit before grabbing your waist and pulling you off him.

"How much have you had to drink?"

You just frown at him and instead of answering his question your hands find their way to his hair, pushing it behind his ear and out of his face.

"Missed you." You say and he sighs, moving to wrap his arm around your waist. He leads you back to his car and helps you in.

On the drive he sneaks small glances at you. Your head is leaned against his window as you have your eyes closed, humming to the sound of music that's softly playing on the radio.

You were so beautiful, how could he ever give you up for work?

He's going to make it up to you and prove himself this time.

There's a good man within you Rex, but he is wrestling with a giant, and the giant wins. Time and again.

"Are you serious?" Your words slice through the air like knives and Rex jumps at the sudden noise.

"Y/n! It's not what you think!" Kate says.

Rex slides off her and rushes over to you.

"Not what I think? I think you and Rex were just fucking on my couch while I was at work!"

Kate looks down at her lap in shame as you scoff and push Rex away from you.

"You're both whores." You say, pushing your way towards your bedroom.

"Get the hell out of my apartment." You say before your bedroom door slams shut.

You've broken my heart, again and I fear I have broken yours.

"Rex, you should just leave..." Your voice is hoarse and raw, eyes swollen and face red from crying.

"Please, fuck- please don't make me." Rex sobs out, obviously drunk.

"You're drunk a-and I just can't deal with this right now."

"I'm sorry I forgot your birthday! And for the Kate shit! And all of it! Please, please, please."

You sigh at the desperate man at your door step.

"Rex, I don't even know what you're begging for."

"You." His answer is quick, and his eyes are bloodshot and wide.

"Go home Rex." You shut the door in his face, ignoring the way he keeps knocking and begging for you to open it.

Rex never came by again after that.

For that, I will never forgive myself but you must let me go now.

"Rex has been seeing Rae for a bit now, but I'm pretty sure they're trying to keep it a secret."

Your friend Rudy's voice seems to trail off as he continues talking about the rest of his team, filling you in on updates of their lives since you had been too busy between work and school to stop by yourself.

"Wait- Rex is with Rae?" You shake your head and put your hand out as a bewildered look is on your face.

"Y-yes...Y/n? Are you okay?" Rudy asks, looking at you closely.

"Yeah, I'm fine.," You say taking a sip of your coffee. "Good for them."

I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don't like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you. 

You look down at the giant hole in the ground where the coffin is now lowered in.

You run your fingers over the smooth material of the envelope in your hand.

With one last look you toss it in, it clinks against the hard wood and you watch as it slides off, wedging itself in the crack between the wood and dirt.

"What was that?" Rudy whispers to you once you finally look away from the coffin and make your way over to the group.

You softly smile at the memory that play though your mind.

"The mood ring's Rex had gotten for us during some mission, I thought they were dumb but he, uhm...," Your voice cracks as tears well up. "He said that it was only dumb if we thought about it too hard." You dryly chuckle, barely being able to get the words out.

Rudy just nods in understanding.

You look back one more time before making your way out of the cemetery.

I hope, one day you will find some people in love who can use this, for it kept me thinking of you all these years, and I hope by returning it to you I can finally be free.

goodbye,

Y/n

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.6 (Finale) 6.8K MDNI 18+

Here she bloody is, my darlings!

All done, finally, giving me room to write even more Ambessa stuff. Next stop Professor Medarda!

That being said, I've loved writing this story and feel so honoured by the reception it has received. Thank you especially to @shinyshayminflower for the initial prompt, @uselessbard1031 for the endless support and @chocolate-quotes for the stunning cover art which I adoreddddddddddd.

Love you all, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Degradation, Name Calling, Overstimulation kinda? Lots of alcohol idk I'm British and this is set at Christmas okay.

Chapter 6:

You’d failed at the first hurdle, the first second, the truest and largest fuck up possible of a New Year’s resolution. Bubbles fizzed in your blood, common sense popping like a thousand little sparks. 

She tasted good, like whisky and regret and those tiny chocolate puddings on the trays at the party. The party you couldn’t quite remember or reconcile, the party that faded to blurring noise as she consumed you. 

Ambessa’s mind was screaming at her. This was not how she’d intended the evening to go. Rather the opposite. She was going to kiss one of Cassandra’s uptight friends, unwind them a bit and then take her drunken gaggle of children home. 

Instead she’d been ripped to shreds by her daughter and was now eating the very forbidden (but no longer?) fruit she had tried to avoid. 

You pulled away merely to breathe, but it was enough, like a shock of cold water. Tears, hot and angry sprung into your eyes almost immediately. 

“What was that?” You snarled, gulping in air. 

“I-“ Ambessa coughed slightly, “A mistake,” 

You scoffed, shoving her, “You can say that again,” 

“No,” She backtracked, muddled, “I just meant-“ 

“Do me a favour and fuck off, okay?” You wiped your mouth viciously with your sleeve, panic heavy in your heart as you rushed past her without another word. Drunk and distressed, you made your way into a random corner and stayed there. 

You’d tell Mel in the morning, you told yourself with trembling hands, but right now it would be too much. 

Ambessa was having the most tiring evening ever. Nothing was happening in the right order, as if she’d been given the smaller part of every wishbone in existence.Her mouth was a villain, intent on ruining everything. Glancing in the reflection of one of Cassandra’s crystalline statutes, she saw her massacred face, red smudges everywhere. 

“Well,” Cassandra Kiramman’s smug voice rang out, “That was a damn sight better than seeing you kiss my child like last year,” 

Muscled shoulders seized, wide golden eyes meeting cool grey ones, “Lovely party,”

“I think that’s the first time in twenty years you’ve said that,” She snorted, “I needn’t lecture you about how stupid that was, we both remember what happened with Maddie,”

“She isn’t Maddie,”

“Evidently,” A click of teeth, an outstretched hand holding cloth “I’ll see you on the 14th, I can take your money and your secrets then,” 

Ambessa sighed, wiping her face of lipstick and taking a regrouping breath. There was little to do but sober up and figure out a battle plan. Divide her stupidity and hopefully conquer her love. Or some other battle analogy she was too pissed to think of. “Thank you,”

“There’s no need for that,” She smiled, rolling her eyes at her friend, “You’re hosting the women’s luncheon in February,” 

Fuck.

You were sitting in a fancy taxi, a snoozing Mel on your shoulder as Kino rambled about the artwork in Caitlyn’s house. You didn’t care about the fact that the frames were worth as much as the art, or that some of them had taken years to find. You didn’t care about anything at all really, save the brooding woman in front of you. She seemed so cold, so distant, and you found that it did not suit her. You’d never be rid of her, that understanding had set in as you stumbled out of the car and into the front porch. She was like Japanese knotweed, strong and thriving and made to rot the very foundations of life. Here you were, a three time offender of succumbing to her, despite your morals and your strength and your hatred. 

Deft fingers attempted to grab your wrist as Kino and Mel waltzed arm in arm up the staircase, but her hold found nothing but air. A snap, a growl, something animalistic as you trailed quickly after your friends, the third of the good little wolves and nothing more. 

Sleep was easy due to alcohol, though all it really did was lock you in dreams. Tender kisses and bitter words fighting for the spotlight, leaving your mind a flashing drunken strobe. Sweaty, distressed turning and rolling until dawn beckoned and you lay shivering in the fetal position. No amount of fancy heating systems could rid your bones of the chill, heavy limbs freezing you in place. 

It took several hours and a minor pity party to make it into a different pair of less sweaty pyjamas, another hour to make it downstairs and fifteen seconds for your hopes of sorting this out as soon as possible to be crushed. 

A series of texts from Mel. Mel and Kino had left twenty minutes ago, a sibling breakfast tradition you had been omitted from due to your lack of appearance. Fuck. Just her, somewhere, lurking. 

The kitchen was safe, paprika crisps settling your stomach as you brewed some longjing tea. A plan was formed, tell Mel, pack your shit and stay with your cousin until the housework finished later this week. It was solid, grounding and allowed you to get the fuck out of this weird fantasy land. Nothing felt tangible here, all consequences smashing down as soon as the spell of the upper class echelons was shattered by travelling 20 miles north. You holed yourself up in one of the spare sitting rooms, avoiding where she thought you’d be in favour of unfamiliar cream sofas and animal artwork. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Tentative footsteps, her arrival heralded by Mina, like a slow marching procession. There was no escape. One way in, one way out. The oak door clicked shut softly. You did not, would not, give her the satisfaction of looking up. 

Your name on her lips, measured and calm, as the sofa to your right dipped with her body weight. A loud clunk, your gaze meeting a bottle of artisan Olive Oil. 

“Olive branch?” She muttered, “We were out of breadsticks,” 

You looked at it, still not her, nose twitching. Her charm, though flavoured now with hesitancy, was viscous and wrong as it lapped at your skin. “That implies there’s a conversation to be had here, and there isn’t,”

“Look at me,” Soft but impatient. 

Your eyeline did not move. Her arrogance astounded you.

“I was thinking-”

“No, Mrs Medarda,” You snapped, formality and fury, making the cat jump, “There is nothing you can say, I am going to tell Mel and then I’m going to get away from you, as fast as possible,” 

“A tad dramatic,” Cryptic, passive smile, “Mel knows, darling,” 

“What?” This had you meeting her gaze, “You told her?”

“Not yet,” A sniff, “Not exactly,” 

“Well then she doesn’t fucking know, you twat,” 

Ambessa’s lips upturned slightly, “She doesn’t know the specifics, but she knows my motivations,”

“Motivations?” You scoffed, “Your untameable pride and sex drive you mean?”

Ambessa, despite having spent most of the night replaying every interaction you had ever shared under the rosy haze of infatuation, had yet to find a way to piece together her confession. Part of her wanted to wax lyrical, a modern day poet speaking in nothing but nonsense and flowers. But your impatience, borne of hurt and exhaustion, hung heavy above her. She was the one fearing the guillotine’s blade now, she should have learned from history that the revolution always comes in the end. And here it was, the revolt of her own mutinous heart. 

“Well?” Her silence unsettled you, those carved brows scrunched inwards, as you fought a mounting urge to backhand her. 

“Not quite that,” She muttered, “Wouldn’t have bothered with the olive oil if it was just sex, dear,” 

Your eyes rolled, pushing off of the sofa, body fleeing before your blood curdled in your veins. 

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back down with a thud, “Stop I-” gasped air, “I’m trying to be honest here,”

“You’re speaking like a Dickens novel and I’m supposed to take you seriously? Three Ghosts come and slap you in the face? Or some New Year’s resolution, is it?” You yank your hand back, skin fizzing and yearning for the calloused warmth to return. 

“Yes, actually,” 

“What was your Christmas past like then?”

“Troubled,” She quipped, rolling her eyes at you, “It is a resolution, one I indeed to stick to,”

A laugh, grating against your throat, “Didn’t take you for the type, you don’t seem in a rush to change anything about your life,” 

“Stop being childish and listen,” She snapped. 

“You have two minutes,” You spat, “And then I’m leaving,”

“Two minutes isn’t even enough time to boil an egg,” 

“Ambessa,”

Muscles tensed. Fine. Fucking Hell. “I’ve been bad to you,” There, well done Ambessa, a start. Accountability, the sharp blade you must crush within your palm. 

Tart and hard, an unripe cherry between your teeth, shock bloomed. There was nothing particularly reassuring about her words, but you jumped all the same. 

“I abused your kindness and took advantage of you,” How lovely and romantic, the muted whites of the room shifting to morose greys. 

“Old news, cemented about nine kisses ago,”

“I know that,” It was sharper than she’d intended, a sigh rattling out, “I know,”

“If you know, why are we having this conversation?” You grabbed the olive oil, waving it about, “What kind of weak, spindly branch is this?”

“You’re so pedantic, must you have everything spelled out for you?!” She growled, tenderness foreign on her tongue, “The I’m in love with you kind,” 

A spell, like a muffling blanket of snow, enveloped the room. Such a tender, sweet truth, with all the certainty and promise of the apple of Eden. Was she the snake or Eve, you could hardly tell. You sat, in stasis, as she swallowed. 

FIve minutes. Ten. A brutal, endless fifteen. 

“Don’t be cruel,” Acid burned in your mouth, tears smarting your eyes, “Don’t wave that about,”

Snip. Your words cutting Ambessa’s newly found heartstrings, “I wouldn’t,”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” It was firm.

“And that’s what Mel knows?” You asked, eyes narrow. You didn’t believe her, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t. 

“She insisted upon it, screamed at me in the Kiramman’s bathroom,” 

“Wait,” Awe bubbled between your ribs, “Last night?”

A begrudging nod, that soft half smile that made you melt. She loved your lip twitches of surprise, your mouth turning over words you couldn’t vocalise. 

“Why?”

“She sort of stumbled into it, as did I,” A pause as she pulled a red wine bottle and glasses from seemingly nowhere, “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do,” You snarked, flicking the cork onto the floor, “But by all means, don’t let that stop you,” 

“I won’t,”

You took the glass she offered all the same, settling into the sofa with renewed confidence, petulant hands spilling drops of burgundy onto the cream sofa. “Stumbled, you said?”

Ambessa crossed her legs, Malbec coating her tongue, “She was..frustrated that I had not distanced myself enough from you,”

“I noticed a distinct difference,”

“That’s what I said,”

“Not taking your side,” You swished your hand for her to continue. 

“She said I was selfish and many other things, another character assassination,” Heavy chug, “But she wanted a reason, a cause,”

“She always does,” Anticipation was building now, possible half truths and sweet words lingering just out of reach, “It’s the only reason she forgave me, because of how I felt,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes distant, “Did you know I find it harder to sleep now?”

What? You were hungover and hair of the expensive vintage dog was not quite cutting it.  Speak plainly you maddening cow, your mind cried. Instead, “Pardon?”

“I miss the weight of you on my chest, and the coldness of your toes on my calves,” She muttered, memory easier than big declarations, “It’s what I thought of when Mel asked me to prove it, to prove it was..” 

Monster. Cannibal. Villain. She was gnawing at your bones, words like ambrosia to all the battered, tired shades of you that sat before her. You missed that too, had mourned it like so many other little, luxurious sweetnesses. 

“That’s still a physical desire,” You rationalised, lips stained with wine. 

A grunt, “Do you need more?”

A nod. Several. Only confirmational overkill would do here. 

“I-” Her hand twitched, “find myself trying to force an affinity for apple tea,”

“You hate it,”

“But it tastes of you,” She said, “Sometimes it’s all I can do to stave off the craving,”

“So you miss my mouth? Physical.” 

Ambessa pouted, heavy hand overpouring another glass, “What do you want from me? I’ve already said it,”

You laughed, in spite of it all, “I want to know what you’re feeling, not what you miss or crave or imagine,”

It seemed to rent her asunder, her feelings etched in memories, stuck far away from words. Love was one, but it was vulnerable and rough against her tongue. It had only come out via happenstance, sleep deprivation and growing panic. Affection hung in the background, and devotion sat like oil on her smooth skin. How was she to wield them? A great axe pulling her into herself, straining underdeveloped muscles. 

“It’s a bit like quicksand,” Her tone was unsteady, “It’s eating me whole,”

“What is?”

 “Love,” She snarled, as if it was obvious, eyes ever so slightly glazed. 

“The more you fight, the more you sink?”

She nodded, a heady relief in your understanding, light at the end of her confusing tunnel, “Exactly that,” 

You downed your glass, “Then I’ll throw you a stick, help you out,” a dismissive sniff, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” No hesitation, “You fell before I did, Sweet Girl,” 

“And look where that got me,” 

“But we’re in it together now,”

“There is no together, Ambessa,” You were sinking, she would not be proven right, “Your love is as dangerous as your indifference, wolves do not cradle their prey tenderly,”

“You aren’t prey,” It was a cry, angry and indignant, as her hands found yours. 

“Then why am I covered in your bitemarks?” 

She grumbled, “I think we’ve used the full extent of this metaphor, darling,” 

“Metaphors, jibs, cold truths, however you spin it, you are an emotionally immature mess,”

“Mel called me an emotionally impotent bitch,” She said, interlocking her warm hands with your trembling ones, “You were kinder about it,” 

“I’m always kinder about everything,” You replied, tightening your grip.

“It’s one of the things I love about you,” 

“Stop saying that!” 

“What?” She smiled, something giving way inside her, “Love? That I love you?”

“I-Yes,” You were chest deep now, thick wet sand eating you, “I don’t know what to do with that, with you,” 

Ambessa sat, rhythmically stroking your knuckles, as her head leaned closer to yours, “You let me earn you, my darling,”

Thick sludge, stealing your breath away now, “Earn me?” 

“Will you let me try?” Her voice was molasses now, pushing you down into the very bottom of the pit, her brain finally catching up with her body, “Words fuelled by action?” 

“L-like date me? And woo me?” Your eyes were fluttering, heart a schism of fear and fancy. 

She hummed in confirmation, free hand tucking some of your glitter crusted hair behind your ear, gaze soft. 

“Doesn’t seem very characteristic, Ambessa,” 

“Yes, well,” A humorous sigh, “You’ve clearly made me sick, some kind of spell or curse,”

You smacked her arm, a nonsensical laugh slipping out. She was ridiculous and stupid and images of her sending you flowers or taking you mini golfing came into your mind unbidden. 

“Is that a yes, my darling?”

“What does Mel think?”

“I think you should ask her,” Ambessa’s voice wrapped around you, “Regardless of this, I will not monopolise on your relationship with her,”

“I think you’re suffering from head injury,” She was perfect, she was handing you your dreams on a silver platter, so why couldn’t you take it? “I think I need some time,”

She nodded, ignoring the dark growl in her chest, “There’s no timeline,” Actually, the timeline was she wanted to be between your legs right now, but it seemed the clocks were confused. 

With an odd, robotic stroke to her cheek, you stumbled out of the room and back up the stairs. Ignoring your door, you curled into Mel’s room, allowing yourself to be engulfed by frilly bed sheets. She’d find you later and you could have a chat. 

Find you she did, snoring and pale in her bed, with wine stained lips and tear stained cheeks. Hungover limbs crawled around you, kissing your forehead. 

“Babe!” It was a happy shout, as you flinched awake. 

“That was not the only way to do that,” 

“It’s the way I chose,”

The conversation that transpired was as follows. You bared your snotty, shattered soul and called her mother all the cruel, loving things you could think of and she nodded sagely whilst stroking your hair. She then decided to take her mother’s side, and say that you should definitely pursue a relationship if you loved her, as if it was that simple. You were now battering her shoulder with a candy cane shaped cushion. 

“Hitting me isn’t going to change my answer,”

“It’s not normal to tell your friend to date your mother,” You cried, “The only sane person in this family is Kino,”

“Really?”

A memory of him drizzling a chicken wing with melted chocolate the night before returned, “Christ, okay you’re all nuts!” 

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” Mel murmured, taking the candy cane from your grasp, “Just that she’s evil and you feel weak when she smiles, which honestly urgh,” 

Uncertain, jittering hands tug at a strand of hair, “I don’t think I know,”

Silence, her hand on your shoulder, as you sorted through the bombed out craters in your mind. Each kiss, fight, and confession had made its mark and the rubble was hard to decipher. 

“I think I want to exist a bit, before I commit to anything,” 

“You have been through a lot, babe,” Mel was so gentle, you adored her more than she could ever ever know, “Maybe just be you? Mum’ll wait,”

“Will she?” That was your hope and your fear. 

“She’ll have to if she’s serious, and if she doesn’t then fuck her, you can find another fish, preferably one I’m not related to,” 

“I love you,”

“Damn right,” She kissed your head, “Now can we watch TV or something, my head hurts,”

Three days passed, and she was surprisingly normal. There was no forced affection or ultimatums, just the same smile; considerate and mischievous. You were grateful, the space confirming what you’d said to Mel. You needed to be you, away from the magic and madness of this house, and only then would you really know. 

When you told her as much, firelight flickering in the library on your last evening, she let out a long sigh. The grating, dull pain in her heart intensified, but with it so did her plan.

The last dinner felt stupidly biblical, final and massive, as though you may never return. A veritable feast, overflowing plates and glasses, as even Rictus joined you for the meal. Kino was a jester of epic proportions, breaking more than one glass in his pursuit of a punchline. Ambessa sat, quiet but merry, against the carved mahogany chair of the dining room. Mel, as ever, was the master of pictures. You dreaded the thought of the costs to develop that much film, though you placed bunny ears behind Kino’s head as you grinned into the flash all the same. Rictus, though, was the real diamond in the rough of the evening. Strong and well mannered, with your exact sense of humour. He was quiet and yet seemed to fill every silence that threatened to hurt you. You felt sorry to have overlooked him in a way, leaning a heavy head against his shoulder. 

“I’m going to miss you,”

“Miss my endless free labours?” He joked, a gruff voice above your ear. 

“Miss your sanity,” You said, “Miss your friendship,”

“Well, I’m only ever a phone call away,” He replied, “Us furniture have to stick together,” 

You laughed, bright and true, as he dolloped another mountain of tiramisu onto your plate. 

Slowly, but surely, you all retired to bed, a holiday well spent and a heavy desire to return to normal weighing in the air.

The next morning, as he bundled your endless possessions into Mel’s boot, Rictus called you over. 

“Something the matter?”

“Kid,” A sternness, “You’re going to be alright?”

You snorted, “I told you I’d keep in touch, where’s this come from? Delirious from all of Mel’s handbags and shoes?”

“I love Ambessa Medarda very much,” He said out of nowhere, hand stroking your arm, “Don’t let her wants eclipse yours,”

“What?” What the fuck was he on about? 

“Speak of the devil, and she appears,” He muttered, stepping away without a further word. Bastard. 

Ambessa squeezed Mel with all her might, an acceptance blossoming in a relationship filled with shards of glass and broken promises. “Look after yourself, work hard,”

“Party harder,” Mel muttered, “I know Mum, I’ll see you at Easter,”

She climbed into the preheated Land Rover, just as Rictus wandered back into the Manor with a shout and a wave. Kino had said goodbye over breakfast, nearly breaking a rib, and so it was just her.

The goodbye was stilted, her large hand stroking your hair as she took an audible sniff. It made you giggle wetly, swallowing down the impulse to just collapse into her and let yourself be consumed. You first, her later. That was probably what Rictus had meant, god your brain was slow today.

“Thanks for a lovely Christmas, and everything in between, well most things,” You mumbled, watery smile. 

“You’re more than welcome, Sweet Girl,” 

“I-I’ll be in touch, when I can,” Her hand was warm in yours, keeping you anchored in place. 

“IF you can, Dear,” She corrected, voice caring “I expect you to take this seriously,” 

A scoff, as you nodded and pursed your lips. Everyone was treating you like you were suddenly going to go back on your plan and jump her bones against the front door. It was a valid concern, even you hadn’t decided completely if you would or not.

“See you soon,” She said, a throwaway comment, as you let go and climbed into Mel’s car. 

Several beats. Your heart full and empty, a weird schrodinger’s joke. A fern tree smell from the little car freshener. 

“Well that was agonising to watch,” Mel quipped, shooting her mum a wave and pulling out of the driveway. Manicured nails flicked on a random playlist, 80s rock heavy, as you stared out at the frosty scenery. 

The flowers started a week after you had gotten back to Edinburgh. Always different, always perfectly sized for your light green vase and never overwhelming. It was a constant sign of her presence, without the stifling need to be responded to. There was never a note, beyond her initials, and that made each delivery all the sweeter. Sometimes other things would come with them too, after a long deadline or big presentation, there would be wine or a new book. It was a more considerate type of materialism, reminiscent of sand castle buckets and chiffon dresses, as glimmering parts of your old self emerged from the explosion of Her. 

Winter socials, dancing around the house in pyjamas singing ABBA with Mel as the world began to thaw.

Valentine’s Day arrived, and with it a little bouquet of roses and a takeaway voucher. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, Ambessa x

                               You too, Sweet Girl x

It was your first point of contact, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. She was slowly but surely winning you over from afar, earning you as she’d said and this new, fresh, old version of yourself was happy to let her encroach a bit on No Man’s Land. Plus, this burrito was one of the best things you’d eaten in ages.

Ambessa was smiling widely at her phone, heart a jackhammer. She felt foolish, any acknowledgment sending her into a tailspin, but that soft kiss at the end of a text was enough to solidify her already immense resolve. You were hers, and she was yours, however long she had to wait.

You were granted the funding you needed, your academic success propelling you into spring with tired and happy limbs. Eleven weeks of flowers, a few scattered texts and one slightly drunken nude later, Mel was rambling at the dinner table about Easter plans. 

“Dad’s not back till the last week,” You replied around a very hot mouthful of chicken parm, “Presumed I’d spend the rest of the time with you,”

Mel’s eyes glistened, shit eating grin on her glossed lips, “Did you now?”

“Oh come off it,” You snapped, “Ambessa already offered anyway,” 

“She has? How nice of her,” Excitement fizzed in her, battling with a bit of sadness at losing her friend’s full attention, “And how is that? Calla lilies this week, I noticed,” 

“Why’s that matter?”

“They mean beauty,” 

“They have meanings?” Tomato sauce stained your grey joggers, you didn’t care, “What about the others?” 

She snorted, “You thought they were just random?”

“I-I” A gulp, “Well, fuck I don’t know I just thought they were pretty,” 

Her laughter grated at you, google your true friend in the matter, as you scanned through each message Ambessa had supposedly sent. 

Bluebells first - Humility. Ironic start. 

Honeysuckle - Bonds of Love

Yellow Tulips - Sunshine in a smile - your heart seized. 

Peony - Bashful - not a word you’d really associate with her. 

White Hyacinth - Loveliness - Hers or your own? Both, you decided. Both. 

Edelweiss - Devotion - a dizzy wave of warmth over your skin. 

Red Roses - I Love You - apt for Valentine’s day. 

Chamomile - Patience in adversity. How brave she was, how ridiculous.

Forget-Me-Nots - True Love Memories - Her stained grin, garlic bread in hand came to mind. 

Red Camellias - You’re a flame in my heart - This coincided directly with her receiving a picture of you in a lacy red bra and thong, courtesy of cheap pints in your favourite pub, and an uncharged vibrator. 

Calla Lillies - Beauty. 

Your chicken parm was cold now, your mouth hanging open, as your eyes burned slightly. 

“You back with me, babe?” 

“This is so stupid,” You spluttered into cold marinara sauce, “She’s so stupid,”

“Love makes a fool of us all,” Mel said wisely. 

“Is that why you, Viktor and Jayce were curled up last night? I saw you holding hands,” 

“Be quiet!” She whined, “Die,”

“Don’t throw stones, Mel,” You mocked, “You’re looking awful glassy right now,” 

You would stay for Easter then, you both agreed over chocolate mousse, as you sent a thumbs up to Ambessa’s invitation. 

Ambessa, glasses balancing on her nose as she read a novel, scanned the text. Once. Twice. An exuberant third time. Rictus ended up battered with requests for a clear and ornate Easter menu, despite the fact that the holiday was over six weeks away and not at all favoured by the Medarda family. Mina had taken to nibbling her phone but only ever when you texted, and Ambessa was beginning to take it personally.

Your spring deadlines came and went, as April and its gentle rest bite from academia beckoned. The journey was painfully familiar to you now, as was the warm and rough rock sitting in your stomach. You felt you again, which was terrifying as it finally gave some space for her. Something you had come to want so desperately it made your dreams turbulent and your hands shaky. She still had some work to do, but as you flicked through your sparse text exchanges you couldn’t fight the smitten smile. 

You loved Ambessa Medarda, and that was okay now. For both of you. 

Ambessa had been waiting for three hours by the door like an overexcited dog. Several times Rictus had come to ask her questions or show her things, and each time she was transfixed on the long driveway.

“Mel said they wouldn’t be here before 2,” He said, smirk on his lips. 

“She’s never reliable,” 

“She is literally compulsively on time,” 

“Rictus, do I pay you for these kinds of conversations?”

“No, but you probably should, I was going to bring it up during my next performance review,” 

“Ah yes, 31st of April, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, wandering back towards the tower of hand painted easter eggs he was tending to.

2pm on the dot you pulled up by the house, clambering to stretch your legs. As the door opened Mel ran to it, kissing her Mum’s cheek and shooting past her to get to the toilet. Whether intentional or serendipity, Mel had given you the perfect opening to stare like a lovesick fool at her mother. 

“Ambessa,” Her name a cry of joy.

“Sweet Girl,” She ignored the thickness in her throat, eyes glimmering at seeing your face again. 

“T-Thanks for the flowers,” Unsure hands, “And the messages they sent,”

She smiled, stepping forward and squeezing your arm. “Always, as long as you enjoy them,” 

“You’ve been just what I needed,” Affection swelled in your chest, “Present but distant,”

“Like a ghoul?” 

You giggled, “Exactly that,”

“You keep comparing me to spirits and ghosts,”

“I actually compared you to Scrooge, not the ghosts themselves,” 

She rolled her eyes, snorting, “You must always be right, mustn’t you?”

“Ambessa,” You repeated, gentiler now. 

She hummed in question, gaze meeting yours. 

“I think I’m ready to try now,” A sharp inhale, “If you are?”

“Well,” Her crimson lips part into a dazzling smile, “That makes me very ha-”

“Princess!!” Kino, dressed in plaid pyjamas, shouted as he ran to engulf you in a hug, “You’re here!”

“Bastard child,” Ambessa grunted under her breath, watching as you cuddled her son and made faces at her over his shoulder. 

“Later,” You mouthed, before focusing on Kino, “Hello there, Peacock Prince,”

She wandered back inside with a murderous expression, greeted by Mel halfway through a bag of Quavers, “Kino cockblock you?”

“Mel, I fund your lifestyle,” Ambessa snapped, “Do not antagonise me,”

“That’s a yes,” Her crunchy words said, offering her a cheesy grin. 

It took until after dinner that evening for you to get a moment alone together again, your spot in the library occupied as you stared across at her. Kino was out with another lady friend and Mel had common sense, so the air that crackled around you would not be interrupted. It was a good thing too, you’d spent the whole time eating your spaghetti trying to make yourself look alluring. Until Mel had pinched you under the table. 

“So,” You started, chest tight. 

“So,” She repeated, stroking Mina, “You said you were ready?”

“Yes,” Your decision was certain now, having spent some time back in her presence. You wanted it all, as soon as you could get it. Seemed you were as damned as she was. The devil on your own shoulder.

“We can take it slowly, Sweet girl,” She said, leaning forward, “There’s no rush,”

Your blood was thick and hot, mind whirling, “What if I want to rush?”

Ambessa grinned, chucking Mina away and with one sharp tug moving you onto her large thighs, “Then I’d say, where would you like to start?”

She was solid and seductive and all the things you’d avoided in your time finding yourself. She was as sticky and tempting as always, though her love tempered the fire now. Things were never done by half, and you’d fooled yourself when you planned to build a relationship step by step. Ambessa had laid the foundations, floral and firm, so now you wanted to chuck brick and cement together as fast as you could. 

“This maybe?” You half slurred in anticipation, hungry lips meeting hers. 

Ambessa was, for once, incredibly surprised. You were devouring her, with no restraint, as if no time had passed at all. But you were different now, she could sense it. Stronger, more certain of your place, your needs and wishes. It suited you, like an attractive new coat. Her hands were roaming about, searching for the best place to land, each patch of skin more perfect than the last. 

“Are you sure?” She murmured against smudged lips, holding your chin in place to stop your desperate advance, “I don’t want to push you away again,”

You melted, kissing her palm, “You won’t,” it was breathless, “I promise,”

“I’ll only do this if I get to take you out tomorrow, a nice long day together,” Her honeyed voice muttered, though one hand was already making its way under your shirt. 

“So a win-win?” 

Calloused fingers grazed your nipple, kissing your neck as she nodded into it. 

“Not sure I could ask for a better Easter,” You joked breathlessly, body twitching into her touch. 

“That’s why you’re not going to ask for it,” Her voice was dark, a switch flipped, “You’re going to beg,” 

Welcome back Ambessa Medarda, you’ve been sorely missed. I hope you fuck my brains out now. “Please?” You quipped. 

A sharp pinch to your nipple, a low growl, “Do you think I’m joking, girl?”

You ached for her, mind fracturing, as an earnest apology ripped from your throat. Your pleading was real now, her wet kisses maddening. 

Ambessa felt hungry, ravenous in fact, and you had offered yourself like a perfect little dessert. How kind. How naive. It took her a few minutes of pawing at you for all of your clothes to be left on the floor, goosebumps prickling your skin as you rubbed yourself against her thigh. This was perfection, your thoughts slush as she whispered filth in your ear. 

“More,” You whined, the pull on your chest not harsh enough. 

She twisted until it burnt, making you jolt, as her wet tongue soothed the ache, “That enough pain for you? So desperate for it,” 

“I-I”

“Is that why you sent me those filthy pictures?” Her thumb, slick with you, danced in circles across your clit, “Wanting to show yourself off, hmm? A slut in red lace?”

“Ambessa,” You gasped. 

“You wanted to drive me mad,” A suck to a sore nipple, “Wanted to corrupt me, after I tried so hard to stay away,” 

“It was an accident,” You slurred, stomach tensing as you thrust in rhythm with her touching. 

“An accident?” She scoffed, nuzzling against your throat, “That’s what you call spreading yourself for me on camera?” 

You were so close, her words like gasoline as you whimpered a confused apology, your mind desperate to keep feeling good. 

“Is this an accident too, Sweet girl?”

“Wha-” Your eyes rolled, cunt gushing as your first orgasm slammed into you like a sledgehammer. 

She slipped you off her lap, sliding out from under you to the ground, as your bare skin touched the cool red leather chair. She knelt, a devious grin on her lips, between your trembling legs as she watched a soft slickness drip down your thighs.

“You’ve made a mess,” She said, disapproving pout on her face, “Say you’re sorry,”

“S-sorry, Ambessa,” You mumbled, eyes glassy. 

“Good girl,” She stroked your thighs, a tight grip on them, tiny crescent moons from her nails, “It’s okay, I’m here to tidy you up,”

She had always been skilled, playing you like an instrument, but as her hot tongue hit your folds you found yourself blank, empty and unsure if you would ever feel anything other than raw, molten pleasure again. Teasing kitten licks lapped up your juices, her golden eyes controlling your every move, as you went limp against the chair. It smelt of her. Everything in this room did. Your body twitched again. 

Her tongue drew another two orgasms from your needy body, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead as you tugged at her salt and pepper curls. 

At some point you ended up flat on the floor against her fancy Persian rug, legs spread as she sat on your face. She was soaked, your cheeks wet as you ate mindlessly. Her orgasms were like nectar as she came apart above you, stern voice turning airy and dazed.

“Just like t-that,” She panted, fucking herself on your tongue.

Your hummed agreement hit her swollen clit, her tongue lolling out her mouth as an animalistic grunt filled the room. 

You were in a bed now. How had that happened? 

“Still with me, little one?” She teased, stroking your hair as she loomed above with a long, hard strap-on. 

“That looks nice,” You babbled, chest rapidly rising and falling. 

“Would you like it?”

A nod. 

“Ask nicely then, Sweet girl,” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You said, sweet as sugar, spreading yourself just as you had in those pictures. 

Ambessa Medara was a strong woman. It was her defining feature in fact. Iron will and firm muscle, she prided herself on being a fortress. Here, however, with a whimpering slut beneath her, her resolve shattered like china against marble. You were stuffed before she’d processed the last plea, a surprised gurgle as she worked to destroy you. 

Again, and again and again. She fucked that sweet spot in you with relentless efficiency, as cool leather rubbed against your clit in time with her thrusts. You’d long since given up on the idea of being quiet, mewling gasps and shouts of her name leaving you hoarse with fluttering eyes.

“Cum for me,” It was a sudden command, voice harsh and high, as she fell apart with a vicious thrust. 

You obeyed, the coil in you snapping again, as her sweat covered skin collided with yours. 

You stayed like that, hearts beating in time, as lust faded to contentment and exhaustion. Her slurred praise soothed your battered body as a cold flannel wiped away the stickiness that lingered everywhere. 

There was little else to be said that night, words of love and happiness pouring from you both under your shared silken sheets. 

She loved you. 

You loved her. 

How perfect. 

Slightly lopsided, with a turtleneck to hide the smattering of bruises across your skin, you made your way to the breakfast table. You’d agreed with Ambessa to tell Kino this morning before your date, the only thing still truly weighing on her out of the way in order for you to have the perfect day together. 

He was currently assembling a tower of waffles and bacon, as Mel systematically pushed it over. Rictus stood making more construction materials at the hob, sharing a grin with Mel. 

Ambessa, seeing you enter, coughed loudly to silence the squabbling. 

You wandered over nervously, resting beside her. 

“I’d just like to make everyone aware of something,” She started slowly. 

“Someone dead?” Kino muttered, staring at you. 

“No,” She held her hand up to silence him, “Nobody’s died,”

“Someone pregnant?” Mel asked. The shit stirrer. 

“No I-” Ambessa glared at her, taking a deep breath her hand gravitated towards your shoulder,“I wanted to let you know that we've decided to pursue a romantic relationship,”

“Oh,” Kino’s body tensed, “And when did you make this choice?”

“Last night,” You replied hesitantly, “Why?”

“Fuck,” He groaned to himself, a gruff laugh heard from the hob. 

“I do believe we said one thousand even,” Rictus mocked, flipping a waffle onto the boy’s plate. 

“You couldn’t have waited another twelve hours,” He grumbled, fishing for his wallet in his coat. 

“What is happening right now?” Ambessa said, voice stern. 

“I bet yesterday,” Rictus said as if it were obvious, “Wolf pup here bet today, thought you’d need a little time to warm up, silly boy,”

“You’ve been betting on our relationship?!” You cried, eyes wide as saucers. 

“I wanted to feel included somehow,” Kino whined, “Everyone was taking me out for breakfast to shut me up,” 

Your gaze turned to Mel, who held her hands up, “I knew nothing about this babe, I swear,” 

Liar. Her grin gave her away. 

Ambessa took the wad of cash from Kino’s hands before Rictus could, taking two hundred pounds from the pile, giving you a hundred and keeping the rest for herself, “Our commission,” Her voice was tiny daggers, “For entertaining you all so thoroughly,” 

Both men grumbled, though the sparkle in their eyes told them it was never really about the money, the satisfaction coming from destroying the other's pride. 

A pause, as she turned directly to her son, “You’re taking this very well, Kino, despite your usual nonsense, I am sorry for keeping you in the dark,” 

“About as dark and subtle as a bat signal, Mum,” He laughed, “I knew you’d tell me when it worked for you.

“Yes, well, thank you anyway,” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, as she kicked down his tower this time. 

The loud, nonsensical rumble of infighting filled the kitchen as her hand found yours, a tight squeeze making you smile. 

No more secrets. No more sadness. 

You were finally officially a Medarda.

[chaifootsteps]

Ok, so the big difference between Viv and Glip copying is that Glip isn't good at it.

They basically copy and paste an already existing character and change the color scheme while Viv does something like giving a character more "white" features.

However, Glip copies characters from well known media while Viv preys on smaller artists who don't have big or decent size followings.

Viv always reminded me of Michelle Phan in a way. Because Michelle would steal from small content creators and just fucking steal so much from anywhere and never once apologize, even when she'd get caught. Like how she said she painted something and it was some stock image she blurred and tried passing off as her own work. She's not good at stealing however, while Viv is.

When she stole someone's Audrey Hepburn Zombie makeup, she didn't do as a good a job. People flat out ridiculed her for it and she called people haters. That and Michelle was such a big "I'm an artist", but for her artwork she'd flat out would trace manga panels and someone even caught her in the process when she made some fancy instagram post about working on a comic.

I do think Viv is similar to Glip, but she's more like Michelle.

In fact, I'm shocked no one's made the comparison yet. I think its because Michelle tries passing off as a beauty guru and she's been quiet online.

It's astonishing how much stuff she's stolen, and it's even worse that she keeps getting away with it. Even her pitch sheets to studios were full of stolen fanart.

[wwaheoh]

"Pronoia", Kafka x gnReader, SFW, Comfort

a/n: a part two to "Paranoia" (Angst), would reccomend reading that first before reading this. not great at writing happy stuff so apologies if this sucks

Weeks passed after that fateful night. Your promotion had started rocky, as you stayed up late thinking off all the ways you messed up. How stupid you were, how better you life was with Kafka. How you would kill to spend even a minute longer with her.

Thankfully your work didn’t get you demoted, stabilizing after a couple of days and being written off as getting comfortable in your new position. A progression, but not for you. Every day you’d wake, robotically going through the motions. Taking a shower, eating breakfast, commuting to work, working, going home, eating dinner, and then stare at the wall. Sometimes you’d be able to break out of this spell, doing a little bit of exercise, watching a movie, but it all fell apart once your thoughts began to spiral. Kafka, you missed her, even if she broke up with you in the end, even a week longer would have been far better than this.

-

One day during your commute back home, you brushed someone’s shoulder. It wasn’t particularly busy, so it was embarrassing to have somehow ran into someone. Looking up, you began to apologize, “‘m sorry,” before your voice hitched. A charcoal gray coat hanging off a white dress shirt. Deep purple eyes stared back at you, a smile adorning a face you’d longed to see for weeks.

“Ahh, no worries. In fact, you’re just who I wanted to see.”

You began to be led out of the subway station, right as your train home arrived. It opened its doors, an exit. But did you want to take it? This was a chance to get back what you so brazenly threw away, even if for one last conversation. Even if she killed you tonight, deeming you a loose end that had to be taken care of.

You followed the Stellaron Hunter out, following the stairs upward, it all became a blur until you realized you were both seated in a fancy restaurant. The kind you’d have to book weeks in advance for.

“Kafka-” “You know, what you did wasn’t something you should do to a lady.”

She cut you off just as you began, you didn’t even know what you were going to say, maybe wanting to tell her to leave you alone, maybe to tell her to stay and to forgive you.

“I’m sorry…” “I want to know why exactly you did what you did.”

Lazily, she looked through the menu that had been prepared at the table, as if she wasn’t pushing you hard. Hell, you didn’t even know why you broke up with her without sounding like an idiot.

“I… I was scared.” She looked up at you, “But you’d known of my profession for a long time. Why then?” “Not that… it was the scripts you followed.”

Aeons, it felt like forcing the words out of your mouth, realizing how insane your words sounded with how far your mind jumped to conclusions.

“I was scared that you had only been with me to get to others. And that you’d… leave me after.”

There was a silence as you and her mulled over what you said. Nervously, you picked up the menu and read through some of the entries.

“If that was the problem-” You set your menu down quickly, “You should have just told me.”

“Huh?”

She chuckles, “Do you truly think I would have told you who I was if you were solely a pawn? None of the scripts given to me even spoke of me finding someone like you.”

Your throat was dry, tears welling up.

“I truly do love you. What you did really hurt me.”

“‘m sorry…”

Tears began to fall down your cheek, realizing that all this pain that the both of you felt for the past weeks was needless.

“It’s okay…”

She leaned forward, softly grasping at your hands to console and help ground you.

A server came, awkwardly cutting in in order to collect your orders.

“Don’t worry, it’s all on me tonight. I never got to treat you for your promotion.”

She ordered her food, with you following, regaining composure as you turned back to her.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke as you tried not to start crying again.

“It’s okay, I just hope you realize that I love you. Not for any plans, not for your connections, but for you.”

“I… I love you too. The past couple of weeks had been horrible…”

-

After a while of catching up, you dined, eventually a peaceful ground set between the two of you.

Stepping out into the chilly night, you shivered as the breeze came by. A warm coat covered your shoulders, with Kafka lending you hers to keep you warm.

“I’ll… be seeing you soon?”

“No, dear.”

Your heart felt like it stopped, as if she had stabbed you and twisted the knife.

“I’ll be coming home with you.”

You felt your legs almost give up on you as relief set in.

“Th-that was mean.”

“I apologize, just wanted to lighten the mood. Now, home?”

“Yeah!”

Kafka was happy that you both were finally back together, that smile she wore after seeing you after what felt like an eternity had been plastic at first, but melted away as the night passed. She had made a promise to herself to not use her Spirit Whisper to push you to come back with her, only getting Silver Wolf to “reserve” a spot for them and keep her out of any surveillance.

It was going to be back to normal…

-

Your house did need a lot of cleaning up though, being unkempt as it deteriorated along with your will during the time you were apart.

[snuggerudsz]

YOU’RE LOSING ME l NH13

summary: nico is pulling away, and although you're desperately trying to hold on, you can't stop the two of you from falling apart at the seams.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

author's note: hi!!! been trying to finish this for a few days, but i just couldn't write anything for the ending, so the end is kinda méh. anyways, i hope you enjoy! remember: likes and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated!!! thank you so much for reading!! <3333

You met Nico Hischier in the winter. It was freezing in New Jersey, but his warm hands and big brown eyes warmed you from the inside out.  He was passionate, understanding, kind, and delightful. Nico Hischier was the closest to perfection anyone has ever been. Or, used to be, at least. Now, you felt like you hadn’t seen him in days, even if you lived in the same apartment. He was gone before you were up and came back home when you were already sound asleep. You couldn't pinpoint the moment everything went downhill, and Nico stopped being the perfect boyfriend he had always been, but it was slowly killing you. 

You knew you’d eventually have to let Nico go. It was the hardest thing you’d have to do, so you didn’t. You ignored the hurt when he refused to spend time with you, or when he forgot date night, or when he stopped telling you to come to his games, or when he started to go out more and more, or when he stopped texting and calling you back, or when he seemingly stopped caring. But you couldn’t escape it forever, and, most importantly, you couldn’t keep fighting this battle alone, holding on to a dying relationship until your knuckles turned white. You were miserable, and you couldn’t live your whole life like this.

You took a deep breath, watching as the rain poured down through your windows. The raindrops echoed harshly on the roof of the building, bringing an unsettling feeling to weigh in your stomach. It was loud and anxiety-inducing. It made you want to disappear under the covers, cuddled up to your boyfriend.

The rain seemed to get louder with each passing second. Your head pounded and your vision was blurred. Another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. It's just rain, you tried telling yourself.

Nights like these would have Nico holding you tightly and whispering sweet nothing into your ear until you fell asleep in his arms. If he was away, you knew you could always call him. Nico would always pick up after the second ring, even if he had been sleeping. And then they would sit there and talk, letting the darkness fade away until the nightmares were long gone, and all there was left in the world was the two of you. Until you could sleep through the night, thinking of the man who would always be there for him. But when, once again, Nico sends some half-assed excuse about missing date night because he’s going out with the boys for “team bonding”, you know you’re done. You were already reaching your breaking point and this might just have been the final blow. You take off the fancy dress, and the makeup and start packing. 

Putting all of your clothes 一 or, most of them, at least, 一 is the most painful thing you’ve ever done. Especially, when all that’s left in your side of the closet are your favorite of Nico’s hoodies. 

After packing all the most important stuff, you decide to get an uber. You’ll text Nico tomorrow and explain everything and then, you can come sometime later this week to get the rest of your stuff. Right now, you just need to leave peacefully. But you know it won’t be this easy when you hear the door open. You walk out, going to the living room, where Nico is just entering. He’s stumbling slightly and reeking of alcohol.

“Baby? Why are you still up?”

“I think we should break up.” You say, without looking at Nico.

“What?” He questions, suddenly sobered up by your statement.

“Nico, I love you. But this isn’t fair.” Anger sounds through your voice, while you continue, “I can’t keep trying to keep us afloat on my own anymore. I’m drowning.” 

“Baby, where is this coming from?” Nico asks, with a shocked expression on his face.

“I can’t do this anymore, Nico.” Tears well up in your eyes as you speak, “This is fucking killing me. I love you in every possible way I can love someone, but you don’t even care. I’m hurt, and I’m so tired. I’m fucking exhausted, Nico.” You cry out.

“Why are you doing this?” Nico questions, again, incapable of wrapping his mind around you leaving.

“Because of you.” Bitterly, you answer, tears streaming down your face. “You pushed me away. I was here every single day, for you. And it tears me apart because you used to be mine. And I-”

“I’m yours,” He says, cutting you off desperately

“You were mine, Nico. And I was yours. I thought the world of you, I’d have done anything for you and now, you’re the one who hurts me the most. I just wanted you to be here. To try. To love me.”

 That’s when it finally clicked. The words coming out of your mouth started to make sense and guilt started to eat away at Nico. How could he be so stupid? He wasn’t trying to push you away, but he also hadn’t done much to keep you around. He felt like a failure. He had allowed the one thing he always vowed wouldn’t be in the way of your relationship to do so and destroy what he cared about the most: You. And now, he was losing you. How had he not realized this before? How had he not seen this coming? How does he make it stop?

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Nico manages to choke out, fear suddenly consuming him, “I love you. You’re the most important person in my life, let me prove it to you, please. Just don’t go. Please,” He begs, “Give me a second chance. I’ll show you how much I need you. I’ll do better. I’ll be better,” Nico pleads, teary-eyed. 

“I have to go, Nico.” You mutter, looking down to the ground

“No.” The man interrupted you, shaking his head and fighting tears, in denial, refusing to believe the words you were saying. “Please, stay” His watery eyes scanned your face, looking panicked, searching for anything he could hold on to.

“I can’t, Nico.” You answer, whispering, avoiding his eyes. “Not anymore. I don’t wanna lose you, but I can’t live like this forever.”

“You won’t have to. I promise I’ll be better, I’ll-” Nico tries to plead, pulling your hand into his.

“Nico, it’s over.” You interrupted him, too drained to keep discussing it any longer. And then he lets go of your hand.

He wasn’t ready.

He didn’t want to let go.

But he had no choice.

Still, he let you go.

[schwarzgeier-side]

Haiiii you mentioned a sec ago that you could maybe do a small tutorial on coloring and shading?

I tried to do something similar to your stuff (twice. The first time was copying the shading style on that first Sybil piece and the second was just generally trying to emulate the lineart/color style you have) but it’s crazy how hard it is and well let’s just say it sucked. So I’m looking for advice from the pro in the room.

Heoo First of all i am definetly not a pro in shading , I genuienly kinda dont like doing it fjfjgj most of my art files are just line art sketches and doodles cause color is. Decietful and backstabbing but i do use some old tricks i learned from internet and youtube

I do use Medibang pro for software , it aint fancy but it sat with me more than paint tool sai for over 8 years now i think ,its free and has good stabilizer (i average on 16 setting) uhh for the brushes i do use u do need to download them but they are in the free section of medibang.

And as for process here it is very roughly while using a blorbo for demonstration. The last stage with shading darker/ purple multiply layer cheat i combine , and if im realllyy doing a full shading piece , I'll merge all layers together and start just. Blending stuff and lineart too together. Yeet some ADD light gradients and thats it. Theres few more tricks like duplicating lineart and bluring it slightly for a soft glow , or using motion blur for cool effects.

[prince-of-red-lions]

I got bored in church today so I started coming up with band headcanons for the chain so here (sorry it’s really long I’m a huge band nerd)

concert band:

time - flute. he’s just the whimsical type to play flute, also he can go incredibly high and his fingers probably blur cuz of how fast he’s playing

twilight - baritone/euphonium. twi just seems like that mellow yet determined type, though he will get very aggressive if you call it a “mini-tuba”

warriors - trumpet. I don’t think I need to elaborate.

wind - trombone. wind is 100% a trombone kid- making jokes 24/7 and whether their funny or not is a 50/50. he blasts super loud to annoy everyone but he’s low key amazing at playing

four - four stumped me a bit. I’m not too 100% sure because his personality is rather complicated (hahahsrhjrjfjajajahz), but I think he’d play alto sax. he can play the others too; tenor, soprano and bari (ITS 5X HIS SIZE AHAHA).

legend - trumpet. he’d be first chair and extremely smug about it, though he’s so insanely good at trumpet. he makes a 3 octave instrument 5 octaves. he snarks a whole ton at the rest of his section and constantly has to put people in place (people aka warriors).

hyrule - flute. also very whimsical along with time. :) he seems like that happy type and just likes the flute cuz it makes a pretty sound. yes hyrule we love you for that <3

wild - percussion. so obviously percussion. he’s extremely good at everything in the back. he loves to double up on mallets (holding two mallets in each hand) and go ham. he can make it sound very pretty tho :) he can do fancy things with drumsticks and the metronome fears HIM. he also summons demons in the back of class during warm ups (very proud of him. if you couldn’t tell, I’m a percussionist).

sky - let’s be honest, he’d be in orchestra (what a traitor /pf). but if he were in band he’d defo play clarinet. very soft and mellow, and does the instrument justice. very attentive in class and definitely a teachers pet yet not to the extent it’s annoying. he just really enjoys being there.

jazz band:

time - he would play alto sax but would definitely do flute cameos whenever he could. he likes making the crowd go “WOAH! A FLUTE IN JAZZ? THATS EPIK”

twilight - I think he’d learn trombone for jazz. amazing at improvising and his solos are astounding round of applause for twilight 👏👏

warriors - still trumpet, he loves jazz and quite good at the whole concept. 10/10 he loves those high notes in his solos

wind - still trombone. he likes playing around with glissandos and very good at them. his playing is very fun and interesting!

four - i think he’d do piano despite the fact he has 4 saxes to choose from. a god at music theory and has so much fun with the piano. four’s fingers can stretch impossibly far to reach keys. that boy loves his soloing!

legend - trumpet as well. nothings really changed, he likes smooth jazz and you cannot change my mind. he’s usually pretty nonchalant about jazz but he secretly has so much fun with it.

hyrule - electric bass. he loves to have funky solo’s and makes it all look super easy. he can get super energetic and start having *too* much fun in which the band director needs to tell him to calm down 💀

wild - DRUMSEEET! my boy can really rock out on this thing. he really knows how to make the song interesting without being overpowering (sometimes). really good at making things pop

sky - upright bass! that lil guy loves his bass and rather shy with solos, preferring to let others do the solos. he downplays his 11/10 improvisation. which is stupid sky you are amazing at bass

extra headcanons:

time and hyrule would talk a lot in class despite the fact time tries to pay attention. those two have so much dirt on the rest of the band and they KNOW it.

wild and four like to go early before rehearsal to just screw around. whether it be remixing music or just straight up doing some crack stuff, they have a blast.

wind would help twilight with trombone since he’s still a bit new to it. even though he can be a bit annoying to the band, wind is a great teacher and twilight is improving a lot.

wind and warriors would be the evil duo of “who can blast the loudest”. everyone in the band despises them for it.

like I mentioned earlier, warriors is constantly challenging legend or just testing him in which legend blasts warrior’s ego everytime without fail.

more on the double mallets with wild, he quite enjoys making small peaceful songs or finding them to play. if you come early you can hear him practicing and his playing is very soothing. :)

like I said, sky would probably be in orchestra, but I like to think he does both. often doing cameos for both groups, as well. almost like the middle man because the band and orchestra hate it each other, but both agree sky is an exception and everyone cherishes him.

time is the president of the band. everyone loves time. the students and the director. he’s probably one of the best players in the band. extremely mature but in those SMALL moments he’ll do something devious.

twilight is also cherished by the band. he’s very hardworking and has adopted several students. many look up to him as he’s a bit more approachable than time. (time is scary to new people)

though warriors can be annoying, he’d never do anything purposely to screw up the band during performances or whatever. he loves being here even if he’s showing off 24/7.

four is really a jack of all trades when it comes to sax. everyone teases him whenever he plays bari due to the size difference, but no one goes to far because deep down their all scared of the tiny short gremlin who will start speaking in music theory language and confuse everyone.

wow, your still here? 💀 im concerned for your health and mine. really though, if you read all that, I admire your dedication and thanks for listening. there will certainly be more headcanons to come so if you liked this do not fret, it’s not the end. sorry this is so long and sorry for the people who talked in church that I shamelessly tuned out.

[starstofillmydream]

Oh hey friend! It's @wings-and-beskar here 💜 Hope you're doing well and staying sane through all the law school toils!

I briefly broke through my writer's block to write this little ficlet and I figure if there's anyone who'd enjoy a WW2 AU featuring Cody, it'd be you 😇 It got a little sad, but I tried to make it feel at least a little hopeful. And I'm sure you'll recognize exactly which episode this was inspired by lol

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Autumn in Paris was a sight for sore eyes, even during the height of the war. 

The city crackled and sparked with energy all around you—cars, buses, carriages and bicycles crowded the busy roads, meanwhile pedestrians packed the sidewalks. The streaming flow of traffic was downright hypnotizing.

A pleasant aroma of baked goods drifted atop the cool autumnal breeze, shaking loose a few golden leaves from trees across the street. The bright sun warmed your skin and, for a brief and glorious moment, you felt utterly at peace. 

It was almost enough to take your mind off the horrors you’d survived thus far, and the horrors that surely lay ahead. It wasn’t long before your mind began to drift towards the cold darkness of the war and everything you’d lost so far…

In desperate need of respite, you glanced to your right, at Cody—searching for the source of warmth and goodness and strength you had left in your life that kept you going. His handsome, neat dress uniform still caught your eye, despite having seen him wear it constantly over the last few days. 

You thanked your lucky stars that you had him here with you now, that you were both able to go on shore leave together. You had a hunch that one of Cody’s superior officers, also an old friend of yours, had something to do with this “coincidence"… so you made a mental note to smuggle back some croissants and fancy French tea back to Obi Wan when it was time to head back.

Cody’s attention was fixed before him, at the French newspaper in his hands. He stared intently at the foreign words with stern, unmoving eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He’d been so quiet this morning, lost in his own thoughts, much like you were.

“Since when can you read French?” you teased and tried to lighten the mood as you took a sip from your now very cold espresso. 

His eyes remained fixed on the foreign print in front of him. “Since never,” he sighed and finally caught your eye, shrugging lightly. “I just like how it feels in my hands. Feels…normal.” 

He rustled the newspaper straight and folded it up, tucking it beneath one of the plates on the table.

You hummed with a knowing nod and forced another sip of espresso.

“How’s your espresso?” Cody gestured towards the tiny cup in your hands with a nudge of his chin.

“Oh it’s awful,” you said with a straight face before bursting out into laughter. Cody laughed too, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I miss a good ol’ fashioned cup a Joe. This stuff tastes like dirt,” you sighed and set the tiny cup down, settling back in your seat. You looked away from Cody as the uncomfortable sting of tears suddenly burned at the corners of your eyes, catching you by surprise.  

“Yeah,” Cody murmured beside you. “I miss having a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper in the morning before work.” 

Your vision blurred a little as you stared blankly over the busy Parisian street. You wanted to relax, to let your mind rest and enjoy your time with Cody…but it was so damn hard. A loud honk of car’s horn nearby startled you, and the ensuing slew of angry French cursing didn’t help. And neither did the raucous laughter from the group of soldiers seated directly behind you. 

Your jaw clenched, your body tensed and—

Cody’s warm hand settled atop yours lightly and, with a gentle squeeze, brought your attention back to him. 

Your eyes found his instantly, and you couldn’t help but mirror his reassuring smile. He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low so only you could hear him despite the chaotic din of the street.

“What d’you say we go for a stroll by the river?” The rich, warm sound of his voice held your attention effortlessly. “We can head back to the hotel after and order some room service… Maybe draw you a nice bath?”

He leaned back to await your response, and his eyes darted hopefully across your face before his other hand settled over your cheek with a light caress.

Your eyes fluttered shut and took in the sensation of his warm touch. You wanted to cherish this moment as long as you could. 

“Yes,” you finally managed the word, then met his eyes again. “I’d like that.” 

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it seemed like his eyes brightened at your answer. This time, the smile did reach his eyes. 

Cody wasn’t a miracle worker—his touch and presence didn’t heal all your troubles, but the load on your shoulders certainly felt a little lighter, and the world felt a little quieter. Even if just for now. 

AH YES BAND OF BROTHERS CROSSROADS MENTION 🚨🚨🚨

D, you came in at the perfect time to drop this into my inbox. Seriously. Law school has been kicking my ass all semester, but especially right now with finals starting in the beginning of May 😩 I just submitted my appellate brief (i.e., one monster of a legal writing assignment that took hours upon hours upon hours of research and was assigned in January) on Sunday and I'm just getting over being sick (still not sure if my nausea and fever was actually sickness or anxiety...yeehaw I guess), so the way this healed me is indescribable 🫶🏻

The beginning descriptions of the setting were so visceral. You legitimately bought me a plane ticket to Paris and I felt like I was actually there with the words. 18/10 execution you are a star!!!

His handsome, neat dress uniform still caught your eye, despite having seen him wear it constantly over the last few days.

I would NEVER get sick of seeing Cody show up and show out in a dress uniform. He would look so good ugh. I have a pit in my stomach just thinking about it 😩 I wish they showed us that in TCW or TBB with the Republic gray dress uniforms, but the animators probably thought it would be too much for us to handle. So valid enough lol.

Cody’s attention was fixed before him, at the French newspaper in his hands. He stared intently at the foreign words with stern, unmoving eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He’d been so quiet this morning, lost in his own thoughts, much like you were.

This epitomizes my vision for old-man-in-a-young-man's-body Cody. Reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee. Bonus points if his sleeves are rolled up so you can see his flexing forearms as he turns the pages 😮‍💨 (who said that)

Cody laughed too, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

PLEASE I CAN TOTALLY SEE THIS AND IT MAKES ME SO SAD

Cody’s warm hand settled atop yours lightly and, with a gentle squeeze, brought your attention back to him.  Your eyes found his instantly, and you couldn’t help but mirror his reassuring smile. He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low so only you could hear him despite the chaotic din of the street. “What d’you say we go for a stroll by the river?” The rich, warm sound of his voice held your attention effortlessly. “We can head back to the hotel after and order some room service… Maybe draw you a nice bath?”

SAY LESS CODY. SAY LESS!!! This is such a dream omg.

Thank you so so so much for sending this, D. I love it so much and you are such a talented writer and I will be thinking about it for the foreseeable future 😍

[belovedcorvid]

a tray with a letter and a dish covered with a cloche is left outside of rosinante’s room. once lifted, it’s revealed to be a meal of lettuce – plated like a face, with apple slices and plums functioning as the mouth and eyes.

　　　roci, 

it’s your birthday. 

are you surprised i remembered? did you remember? i waited all week for you to request something special of me, but you never said a word. surely it’s because you forgot and not because you didn’t think it would matter to me.

if your reason is the latter, i wouldn’t deny being a bit sad. just a bit. because, in fourteen years, i’ve never not remembered your birthday. i might have treated it like a lot of things – like a vigil, or an excuse to drink – but i still remembered. i never got much sleep on those nights. i hope the same wasn’t true for you. i hope, wherever you ended up, you spent those nights in places that were safe and warm. i hope you slept well. i hope mother visited your dreams – maybe that would explain why she never visits mine. .

speaking of mother: you might be too young to remember this clearly, but on your 6th birthday – before she even started getting sick – she wanted us to find you something special to eat while she kept you distracted. i broke into a nearby farm and ripped a head of lettuce straight out of the ground, with the trade-off of getting a nasty welt on the back of my head from a rock. father found some plums, and we had one apple left. then she had me take you outside to play and, while we were gone, she took that food and arranged them into a smile.

i tried my best to recreate it from memory. i don’t know why, it was just the first gift i could think of. i have others for you, too – but you’ll have to come see me for those. how about after dinner, on the balcony? i have a bottle of wine we could share while the sun sets, and maybe we could watch the stars for a while. if you want.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　- doffy

❣︎ | Unprompted :: Happy Birthday, Corazón ! |

He stared for a long time after he'd brought the dish back to his desk - a bizarre staring contest with a face made of fruit, or with his own small, distorted reflection gazing forlornly back at him in the margins of Doflamingo's fancy tableware. The smell of fresh produce - crisp, clean, alive - still lingered in the room even though he'd removed the cloche ages ago. He did remember, though perhaps not as sharply as he should: a lot of his early memories were sort of blended together into one pain-inducing sequence, alternately blurry and viscerally sharp - difficult to wrap his mind around, to understand that he was there in them. All that stuff happened, written on mind and body with a sharp edge. Doffy was older, maybe that was why he could see all this so clearly, like in this letter.

Guilt coiled itself around his heart as he reread the portions of this that seemed particularly genuine, for what if it was ? What if there was some remnant of a heart rattling around inside his brother's ribcage, and here he was betraying his last blood relative, lying to him, because he was too weak of will to believe that he could get better ? What kind of brother did that make him ? Or, was what he was doing for his brother's own good like he usually tried to tell himself when he felt poorly ? Scarred hands curled themselves into fists in his hair as Rocinante mentally prepared himself to try and explain this to Sengoku. What could he say - that Doffy could be rehabilitated after all, and that his primary evidence of this was a lettuce with a face on it ? It was entirely possible that this was done this way specifically because his brother could still read him so well, could see his bleeding, sentimental heart even though he did his best to hide it. That was what Sengoku would say, if he were to call him. Really there was nowhere to go.

The sensation of tears tracking from the planes of his face to the edges of the bowl was itchy, made his vision blur a little as he picked through its contents to browse a little. The plums, his favourite, were really good.

Doffy remembered.

[helene2troie]

Get to know you- Sims style

Thanks for tagging me @niamh-sims and @12raben! I used to play TS1, but have been playing TS2 pretty much since it came out!

What’s your favorite Sims death?

So I've been playing for year and years, but I still haven't seen some of the deaths (like the murphy bed one?). I'm going to go with the satellite-falling-on-Sims death, just because the first time it happened, I was totally unprepared for it, I didn't know it was so risky to have Sims sky-gazing! XD

Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

Alpha CC all the way.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

Nope.

Do you move objects?

Yes, both for building and moving Sims past annoying obstacles.

Favorite Mod?

Recently really loving the trait-related mods, and my community lots couldn't function without the visitor controller.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

It was the complete TS1 set with all the expansions.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing?

Live like aLIVE. But never really stopped to think about it until now.

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

Probably Madeline Morleigh from my old victorian hood. Love love her cheekbones, I still use that Sim as a base sometimes when making other Sims.

Have you made a simself?

Nope.

Which is your favorite EA hair color?/ Favorite EA hair?

I don't use any Maxis hairs except the bald and the cropped hairstyles

Favorite life stage?

I don't have much of a preference, I'm just not a fan of the infant stage, I frequently age them up to toddlers with some cheats.

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Depends on the mood. I sometimes have this grand idea and spend hours decorating, only to arrive at something completely different than what I wanted to execute. But mostly gameplay. Recently I'm also posing and decorating for picture-taking, that's fun too.

Are you a CC creator?

I've tried, only to discover how hard it is! I want to get a little better at it, because I have a lot of ideas, but I'm not skilled enough to execute them yet!

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

Not really. But everyone is super nice, and I love following other simblrs doing BACCs/medieval/historical NHs!

Do you have any sims merch?

No.

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

No.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

As soon as I discovered what CC was all about, I started spending a lot of time hunting down cool stuff. I used to have a fantasy-ish NH, and I even uploaded a few stories on the Exchange a while back (ages ago!)- it was actually pretty formative, because it taught me (very basic) picture editing. After a long break from the Sims, I came back to it and created mostly Victorian-ish NHs, like with my first simblr @janyasims2. Then I got bitten by the medieval CC bug, and I got excited about this new medieval/zombie apocalypse challenge, which I started posting over at @ts2mortalswar. Sadly I lost this save because of computer issues. Now back to medieval-ish content, over at @ts2cambremon, but mostly using the Sims as a way to worldbuild and weave in stories with gameplay. The Sims is such a versatile game, I have taken long breaks from it before, but I keep coming back to it!

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

@sunmoon-starfactory, for all their amazing sets!

How long have you had Simblr?

It was during the covid shutdown! So... April 2020?

How do you edit your pictures?

I try to edit as little as possible because honestly it's not something I enjoy, so I usually just crop pictures, and that's pretty much it. If I'm feeling fancy, I'll add some light gaussian blur and make the colors a little warmer. I usually rely on in-game lighting, especially with colored lights, makes all the difference.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite?

Open for Business! (also the 'fame/hollywood' one for TS1 was amazing, I really wish we could have had something similar for TS2!)

Tagging @esotheria-sims and @equinoxts2 !

[sinfullyxsadistic]

Mynx flopped into a seat in the back of the bus, throwing his stuff beside him and crossing his arms with a "humph!". He didn't know why his Alpha was sending him away to this so-called "Omega Retreat" anyway. He didn't do anything wrong, he was just goofing around!

He buried his head in his arms, ear buds in. He really didn't want to be bothered with anyone right now. How could his mate do this to him?! Sending him away? Especially after everything he'd been through...

His throat tightened with emotion and he swallowed hard, blinking back tears. His Alpha wanted the "Perfect Omega", that's what he had said. And he felt the only way to achieve this with Mynx was to send him off to some fancy "Omega Obedience Retreat " or some shit like that. He didn't want to go!

The bus gave a low hiss as the doors shut behind another new arrival. Mynx didn’t look up. He kept his head buried in his arms, music playing low through his earbuds — not that he was really listening. Every lyric just made his chest ache worse.

He shifted slightly, one hand curling into the sleeve of his hoodie, where his Alpha's scent still lingered. Or maybe it was just in his head. Didn't matter. The betrayal stung either way.

“I love you. I just can’t live like this anymore.”

That’s what he’d said before handing him the sleek brochure, all soft pastels and smiling Omegas in white linen. A retreat, they’d called it. A place to “grow.” To “soften.” To “align.”

Bullshit.

Mynx wasn’t broken. He was hurting — and not once had that smug bastard even tried to help him heal. Just slapped a “fix it” label on his back and tossed him onto a bus like a defective product being sent back to the manufacturer.

He gritted his teeth and forced the burn in his eyes to go away. He wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. Not where someone might see and think they were right about him.

The bus lurched forward. The scenery outside started to blur — homes, stores, freedom. All of it falling away.

He clenched his jaw, staring down at his shoes.

Let them try to change me.

Let them try to make me some smiling, purring pet.

They’ll see.

[sunshine-in-your-smile]

Q2 Empties & Declutters

same shit now it's july

iUNIK Propolis Vitamin Eye Cream - A fine eye cream. Do I need eye cream? It certainly helps with moisture before putting concealer on but any other benefits I did not really notice. Maybe I should stop buying eye cream and take my night cream up under the eyes.

e.l.f. Cosmetics Blemish Breakthrough Acne Fighting Spot Gel - You'd think with a rollerball you would just roll it on your face easy peezy lemon squeezy but this thing is prone to just. stopping. or maybe my face is that uneven I'm not sure. Kinda hurts too. Also maybe unhygienic so I rolled it on my fingers and rubbed it in that way. It did help calm my acne down, not sure about its ability to get rid of it since there are a lot of factors at play with my skin. I am so bad at reviewing stuff

Rohto Mentholatum Hada Labo Gokujyun Hyaluronic Acid Lotion (Light) - To be real, I don't know how I feel about this. I use it as a second (technically) toner/essence. It's simple and a watery texture. Sometimes you don't need fancy skincare. Maybe the other version would feel more hydrating/richer.

COSRX AHA/BHA Clarifying Treatment Toner - Light and gentle for what's technically an exfoliator. Comes in a spray bottle which I guess makes sense since it's a thinner and watery formula than other liquid exfoliators and toners from COSRX. I like pretty much everything from this brand so no surprises here. The problem with spray bottles though is at some point it just doesn't want to spray. I opened it up to just get some on my hands and it all spilled out. Was it doing wonders for my skin? Not really, but that was a lot of product literally down the drain.

PURITO Deep Sea Water Cream - The blue of the packaging flakes off if you put too much pressure on it like for example if you're trying to squeeze every last bit out. Should I have gotten the scissors out? Maybe, but the moment I bring out the scissors is the moment I lose. The moisturizer itself irritated my skin for the first like week before calming down? It felt nice and hydrating but I don't know about using it again.

Maybelline Volum' Express the Colossal Cat Eye Washable Mascara (Glam Black) - Dried up and I didn't bother trying to resuscitate. Never liked it that much tbh she will not be missed. Wasn't bad but wasn't anything spectacular.

Milk Makeup Blur Stick - Hey, I reached my goal before it finally expired. Smells absolutely rancid now so fly high soldier or whatever. Is it even possible to finish it all before the expiration date??

ETUDE Look At My Eyes (BR407, PK007, BR415, BR416, and BE104) - Why the fuck did I buy so many shimmers. I think it was because they were essentially $2 a shadow and I just got excited. The formula is nice but I don't use shimmers and as much as I would like to become one of the one and done shadow girlies I'm just not. Anti clean makeup. Dirty bitch makeup. It's like when I tried to convince myself I was bisexual for all of high school. If I want eyeshadow I am breaking out a palette and doing a look. I cannot date a woman. I don't even wear neutrals that often and I certainly don't wear warm orange toned browns. What am I doing.

O.TWO.O Eyeshadow (NO.01-8) - The less intense version of an ETUDE shadow and I just don't need that in my life right now I have enough trauma as is

BH Cosmetics Mrs. Bella Lip Gleam (No Sidechick) - How did I not realize I have this color in a lipstick already. Milk Makeup Lip Color C.R.E.A.M. Nearly exactly the same on me but one is a gloss and the other isn't. I have a clear gloss. I can replicate it. And then there was one (BH Cosmetics Mrs. Bella Lip Gleam Notice Me).

AOA Studio Everglow Highlighter (Twilight) - My mom wanted a highlighter and I was like yeah sure I think you'll like this one it's more neutral and she did so

ETUDE Soft Drink Lip Tint (1 Zero Red) - The stain it leaves is a little orange and I already have an orangey tint I can mix with. Be thrifty and resourceful like that

e.l.f. Cosmetics Glossy Lip Stain (Fiery Red) - Decided to wear this on a day with a dark purple red eye as a base tint for a brown red lip and this wasn't fucking around. It is obnoxiously bright and saturated red and clashed horribly

Milk Makeup Flex Foundation Stick (Golden Nude) - She finally expired on me,,,, first the blur stick now the foundation stick. I should check my lipsticks next. Also for some reason it turned more yellow? Godspeed my beloved I will not purchase you again because it's like $36 and also I don't be reaching for foundation sticks outside of one season a year. Bad investment but I will cherish our times together when I actually got some sun

[magniloquent-raven]

its midnight and im sleeby but i finished this thing i started scribbling out this afternoon based on @harringroveera 's post that i couldnt get outta my brain

i think i might have angsted it up a little cuz i can't help myself but its still cute so. pls enjoy

--

Billy's not super clear on where he is right now.

There are people everywhere. Yelling. Laughing. Music plays over a big fancy sound system. There's a blurry blue light glowing through glass sliding doors that he's been staring at for a little while 'cause it's…pretty. Twinkly and stuff. 

He's too many drinks past a good buzz, that much he's sure of. His head feels. Floaty. And heavy. And if he tries to move the room starts to spin. 

Whatever he's sitting on is comfy though. Soft. Softer than his damn mattress with that broken spring that's always stabbing him in the ribs. 

He's tired. Really tired.

Feels like he hasn't slept in months.

To his left a girl starts squealing as her boyfriend grabs her around the waist, to his right a speaker vibrates against the wall, buzzing to the beat of a deep bassline. Everything sounds far away, though. White noise blending together while the edges of his vision go fuzzy and faded.

He feels his head tip, just a little, and then—

With a sharp inhale he jolts, blinks, glancing around blearily at a silent, empty room.

It's still dark out. The blue glow still shimmers at him through glass. A lamp lights the room he's in. Everything's…shapes. Colours. His brain is still mushy.

He blinks a couple more times. His eyes are dry. Wobbly. All the shapes are wobbly.

"Hey, man, party's over." A voice startles him. He tries to look around, but it fucking hurts, and moving his head is so much work. Whatever, it's a nice voice. Way nicer than the jarring silence. 

Wait, why's the party over. He doesn't want the party to be over.

He wrinkles his nose. "Nooo…" 

"...Yeessss." There's a pause. "Everyone is gone, dude."

"No." Billy rubs his eyes. The chair is still so comfy. He sinks further into it, unwilling to move. "You're here."

"It's my house. I'm allowed to stay." The voice sounds amused. There's some rustling behind Billy. Plastic crinkling. Maybe. Something being moved around. "Why are you even here, anyways?" 

Hazy memories jumble together. A flask of vodka in his pocket, slipped under itchy robes. Sitting two heads away from Steve Harrington, sneaking glances between barely concealed shots. A droning speech. Another droning speech. Neil's solemn face in a crowd, watching him walk across the stage to shake hands with…the guy. The. Whatever.  

Some girl digging her talons into his arm after he slipped away from Neil's attempts to maintain a public image by acting like he gave a shit about his son's accomplishments. Beer and cheap tequila and shitty music blurring into each other as he gets dragged around like a trophy dangling off the elbow of whichever nameless girl claimed him for the night.

"Graduated," he says, picking at a sticky spot on the thigh of his jeans. Pinching the fabric isn't doing anything but he can't stop prodding. 

"Yeah, I know, with honors. Congrats." There's a huff. A silence. "Doesn't explain why you're here though." Footsteps, sneakers on linoleum, tap tap tap, meandering around whatever room is at his back. Glass bottles getting moved around. It's sort of soothing to listen to someone move around their house without any reason to be keeping track of their movements.

Well, unless…

Billy's stomach flips, and his chest goes tight. "You're not gonna kick me out are you?" he asks, his voice small. He feels sick, saying it. Thinking about it. He doesn't want to be anywhere else. This house smells sweet under the stink of spilled beer and leftover perfume. And he likes this chair.

The movement behind him stops for a second. "...Nnno?"

He breathes. Relaxing into velvety upholstery. "'Kay." 

"You sure you don't have anywhere to be? Family waiting up? Girlfriend expecting a midnight rendezvous?" 

Billy snorts. "No one gives a shit where I am." 

Neil will care tomorrow when Billy makes him look bad by pulling up hungover and in yesterday's clothes, but that's a problem for tomorrow. He won't be waiting up for him, worrying about Billy's safety or whatever.

A glass bottle clinks against something. "What about your sister?"

"Pfff…" He snickers, and gives his head a tiny shake. The movement makes everything spinny for a second and he has to pause to swallow bile. The sour taste on his tongue feels appropriate. And gross. "I fucked up. Everything. Beat the shit outta her friend. She's prolly hoping I don' come home at all. Ever."

Another glass bottle gets set down, slower this time. Carefully. "...This friend of hers…"

"Steve," Billy sighs. His eyes fall shut and he leans back into a cushioned headrest. His insides do the stupid fluttery thing they always do when he thinks about Steve. Steve and his stupid kissable face. 

"It was pretty dumb of him to pick a fight with you, huh," the voice says wryly. 

"Mnh…I guess." There's a soft snort behind him. But something prickles at Billy. Guilt, maybe. It's uncomfortable. He chews his lip as his eyes start to burn. "Nah. No. Whole thing was my fault. All my fault. S'always my fault." 

Saying it doesn't make it feel better.

"What do you mean?" There's sounds anymore. Just the voice, and Billy's heartbeat in his ears.

"It's…" Billy swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's a secret."

"I'm good at keeping those."

"You can't tell him."

"...I definitely will not tell him."

Billy hums. "He's real pretty, y'know."

"So I've been told, but what—"

"No, he's…he's so pretty. Like, I can't believe it sometimes, and I just wanna. Do something about it. All the time. But it hurts. Hurts so bad, and it's not supposed to, so I had to—I had to…I just got so mad. And I had to prove I didn't wanna kiss him, but I do. 'Cause I like him so much. Too much."

The silence is back. Ringing in Billy's ears. He sniffles quietly. 

"Oh…" 

"Please don't tell him. Or anyone."

"Billy…"

"Promise."

There's a strained pause. Billy fidgets, his insides twisting into knots. 

"I promise." The voice is so gentle, and it makes Billy's eyes sting again. He blinks away tears and listens to more bottles being moved. Plastic cups hitting plastic bags. Sneakers against linoleum, and hardwood, and carpet. And after a while, "You're not gonna spend all night in the chair, are you?"

"You said—"

"I'm not kicking you out, I just meant. There's a guest bed, man," 

"Oh."

**

Sunlight hits Billy directly in the face and he rolls over, groaning. 

The motion makes his stomach lurch, but he buries his face in…pillowcase. Unfamiliar pillowcase. Smells like honeysuckle and clean air and it's softer than any bedding he's ever touched. 

His legs are tangled in sheets just as sweet-smelling and finely woven, and his guts give another heave as he realizes he's only wearing briefs. 

Did…did he fuck someone last night?

He was definitely drunk enough to do something that stupid, if the cottonmouth and pounding headache are any indication, but he doesn't fucking remember. Which would normally be a blessing, except he usually doesn't stay the goddamn night. 

Is he going to have some girl hanging all over him for the first couple weeks of summer? Until he can figure out how to ditch her without making it look like he's too eager to.

Or maybe he'll stick around for a little while, this bed is actually ridiculous. He might be able to fake his way through one shitty summer fling if it means sleeping like a goddamn king. There are like, five pillows, and it feels like he's laying on a cloud. 

He nuzzles deeper into the pillowcase. Smells nice too.

His memories of the previous day mostly stop around Tammy Whatsherface dragging him away for a graduation afterparty. Maybe he shouldn't have started drinking at noon. 

Christ, he's not even sure how he got here, or where his car is. 

Or where here is.

It's one of the Loch Nora houses, probably. Nowhere else would have sheets like this.

Eventually he drags himself, reluctantly, out of bed. And immediately tastes bile.

Which is. Bad. 

Being upright is bad. 

And he doesn't know where the nearest toilet is. Which could be extremely bad. Girls whose carpets you puke on don't invite you back to sleep in their nice guest rooms.

So, he's very slow and careful about pulling his jeans on. And he makes sure to pause when he starts to feel clammy, sitting on the floor to stop his head spinning. 

It takes him forever to get mostly dressed, jeans and an undershirt are enough. He can't find his button-up and socks require too much bending down, which his dehydrated brain does not appreciate. 

Peeking out into the nondescript hall doesn't provide any more answers about whose house this is. It's all shiny boring expensive decor and not a single person in sight.

Oh, looks like there's a bathroom at the end of the hallway though, good. 

He beelines for the sweet promise of a place to piss and rinse out his mouth, shuffling past a couple closed doors, listening for any signs of life and hearing nothing, until he shoulders his way into the bathroom and freezes in his tracks, because—

"Hey, uh. You're awake." Steve Harrington blinks at him, standing in front of a plain oval mirror, hairbrush in hand. Which he obviously hasn't used yet, because the bedhead he's sporting is kind of hilarious. It's all fluff in every direction. Billy wants to run his hands through it. 

Worse, though, is the fact that he's bare chested, wearing an unzipped hoodie and soft plaid pants, with all that fucking chest hair, and he's looking at Billy with a curious expression that isn't remotely like any way he's ever looked at Billy before and this is…all very, very strange.

So, obviously Billy's theory about what happened last night was wrong. He's not even back to square one, he has less than no idea what the fuck is happening.

"...Yes," Billy responds after a beat too long. 

Great.

Fantastic.

Very smooth.

The corner of Steve's mouth twitches. There's something soft and warm about the amusement twinkling in his eyes and it's making Billy itch. 

"I think I'm gonna puke."

Steve snorts, and drops his hairbrush on the vanity. "Right, I'll get out of your way then." He sidles past Billy, far too close, patting his shoulder as he passes. Which does not help when he's just barely keeping his shit together.

His footsteps fade down the hallway at Billy's back. And Billy doesn't move. 

What the actual fuck.

He slams the bathroom door shut behind him, and leans his forehead against it, trying to breathe slowly through his nose. 

They didn't have sex last night. There's no way. He did not fuck Steve Harrington.

He couldn't have. Steve would never…

He's not…

That's just. Not what happened. Because that would never happen. 

It kind of looks like that's what happened, but it's not. 

He sits on the floor, head in his hands. And breathes. 

It's unclear how long he stays curled up on cold tile. Long enough that his legs start to feel stiff. Nothing about last night comes back to him. He sighs.

And gets up.

And splashes some water on his face. Drinks a little from the tap. Uses some of the mouthwash he digs out from under the counter. Takes a piss.

He's still unsteady. His temples throb if he moves too quickly. But he feels a little less like roadkill.

Steve waves at him when he spots him coming down the stairs. Waggles his fingers in the air, like they're best buds and this situation isn't the most surreal thing to happen to them since the Byers' weirdly trashed living room.

Billy rubs the back of his neck. "...Hey."

"Coffee?"

"Sure."

Steve pulls out two mugs, one of his thumbs stuck through a hole in the cuff of his sleeve. There's sunlight warming the honey-coloured highlights in his hair.

Yeah, no, this is definitely more fucked up than finding Max in a random house with a busted window and shitty drawings everywhere.

He might actually have lost his mind.

"What the fuck happened last night?" He blurts, his cheeks hot, fingers jittery. He shoves his hands in his pockets, fists balled up against his thighs.

Steve glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, figures you don't remember."

"Don't remember what?"

"You were pretty out of it."

"Yeah, thanks, I know that part."

Steve snorts, grabbing more things out of cupboards. Billy's paying more attention to his hands than what's in them. "You didn't want to leave, so I let you sleep upstairs."

"...Why?"

"You didn't say, just said you didn't have anywhere else to be."

"That's not what I meant." He knows exactly why he didn't want to leave. All the many reasons why he'd rather be here than under Neil's roof. Or anywhere else. What doesn't make any fucking sense is Steve accommodating him. 

Steve's eyes flicker to his again, briefly, before he turns back to the counter. When he shrugs the nonchalance seems forced. "You're a lot nicer when you're plastered."

"I…" Billy opens his mouth. Shuts it again. 

What the fuck does that mean. 

Steve fidgets with a spoon. "You got…kind of weepy, y'know."

Oh.

Goddamnit.

His shoulders go tense, jagged edges of a shield around what's left of his dignity. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snaps. It's all he can muster when he doesn't know what the fuck he was crying about. Every possibility is worse than the last.

"Yeah, you wish," Steve mutters.

Billy freezes. 

And doesn't recover quick enough to hide it from Steve. Steve's eyebrows shoot up. "Holy shit, it's true isn't it?" He turns around fully, the mess he's made of the counter forgotten. 

Fuck.

"I—don't know what you're talking about." His stupid deer-in-the-headlights expression is mostly under control but the sudden tremble in his voice definitely fucking isn't. 

He backs away a step and then stops. Where the fuck is he going to go, he doesn't know where his car is, where his keys are, and he's fucking barefoot. Running upstairs and locking himself in Steve's bathroom seems just a little too pathetic but that doesn't mean he doesn't consider it.

Billy clenches his jaw. It makes his head pound. "What exactly did I say last night?" He grits out, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Steve eyes him. Slowly, carefully. Deliberating. He chews his bottom lip. The silence is fucking agonizing. 

"Can't tell you," he finally replies, his voice light. One corner of his mouth lifts into half a smile, and scratches his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone."

"That's…" Billy rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand, like he's looking for the button to restart his poor, confused brain. He drops his hand, exasperated, eyebrows creeping up to his hairline. "Steve, what the fuck."

Steve cracks a full-blown grin. "I told you I'm good at keeping secrets."

"I swear to god—"

"Aw c'mon, I can't break a promise! Especially 'cause you asked so nicely. You were so polite. It was very cute."

"I…what?"

He can't have heard that right.

Or Steve's just fucking with him. That's what's going on here. Billy let something slip last night and now Steve's holding it over his head. Because why wouldn't he, honestly. He has every reason to want to mess with Billy, and now he's got the perfect leverage.

"Billy." Steve's voice is soft, suddenly. His expression gentles, and he moves to close the gap between them. And Billy…doesn't get it. He's stalled out and stuck trying to figure out how this is gonna go wrong, how it fits into whatever prank Steve is clearly pulling.

He doesn't know what his face is doing, but he's pretty sure he's being way more readable than he'd like. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Steve touches him. A hand on his shoulder. A hesitant, awkward pat. Testing the waters, maybe. Trying to make sure he's real, maybe.

Is any of this real? Billy's still not convinced. He can smell Steve's shampoo and see all the little flecks of colour in his eyes and his shoulder is still burning where they made contact, but…

"I'm sorry I hurt you, y'know," Steve murmurs, his gaze dropping, hovering somewhere around Billy's crossed arms. He reaches out again, fingers grazing Billy's knuckles this time. All Billy can do is blink at him, afraid to breathe. "Doesn't have to be like that."

He tugs at Billy's hand, untucking it from the crook of his elbow, unfolding Billy's arms, and Billy lets him. One hand drops to his side and the other stays cradled in Steve's grip. He's…staring at it like he's studying for a test. Billy has no idea what's so fucking interesting, or what Steve's talking about, but he's also not bothered at this point. 

His knees feel like jello. 

"You could've just kissed me."

Billy nearly collapses. Like one of those swooning chicks in shitty romance novels. Breathless and flushed and overwhelmed. Except he just stands there like a moron, staring at Steve. And Steve's mouth.

"What?" he manages not to sound too strangled. Miraculously. 

Steve smiles at him, almost sheepishly. "You still could. I wouldn't mind."

"You…wouldn't."

"Yeah, I mean, if you had morning breath still it might be a different story, but…" Steve gestures vaguely, pulling Billy's hand along with him as he shrugs. 

Billy snorts.

And hey, maybe Steve is messing with him, and this will blow up in his face, but…

Well, he just really wants to kiss him before it does.

So he leans in and presses their lips together. 

~~tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

[somber-sapphic]

Date Night

〖Notes: Just a repost while I work on other stuff :)〗

〖Summary: The three of you are finally all free for a date and no meger cold will get in the way.〗

〖Word Count: 1023 〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Date night was supposed to be fun. You hadn’t seen your girls in nearly a month and this was an opportunity to catch up and give each other some much-needed affection. You were lonely and needed a hug. Wanda and Natasha had gone on a few missions together but there had been a lot of being alone. 

You sniffled miserably and downed half of the bottle of DayQuil you’d put into your purse, and dabbed at your bleary eyes with a paper towel. You’d need to leave the bathroom soon or the girls would get suspicious, but there was the matter of delaying with your constantly running nose. 

You blew it messily into a rough paper towel, pouting at the redness it left behind. You pulled the concealer out of your small bag and dabbed it on, spreading a little bit over your flushed cheeks followed by adding some blush to cover up the sickly pale look. 

You sighed tiredly and shook your head, trying to clear up some of the fog that was invading your mind. You braced yourself against the counter for a moment and returned to the table, plastering on a fake smile as you went. 

Natasha and Wanda were engrossed in conversation when you took your seat, being sure to brush a hand against Wanda's shoulder when you sat. She squeezed your fingers and smiled brightly at you, her beautiful hazel eyes crinkling in her joy. You’d fallen in love with her from the moment you saw her. 

Natasha stared at the two of you, tears welling in her eyes. She loved the two of you so much, it’d been so long since she’d seen you. Noticing her tears you reached over to take her hand as well and lifted her knuckles to your lips. 

“It's okay Natty. This job takes a lot, we all knew what we were signing up for when we started this. Let’s enjoy tonight for now.” Your voice was raspy and your words blurred by slight congestion. Natasha frowned but decided to let it go. Wanda, on the other hand, was more instant. 

“Sweetie, are you feeling okay? You’re a little shaky.” The auburn-haired woman said softly, reaching up to touch your cheek. You intercepted her hand, not wanting her to feel the fever. 

“It’s been sort of a long week, I’m just sort of tired.” You chuckled, eyeing your soup bowl with distaste. Your throat hurt and you didn’t want to put anything in your body. You were both not hungry and all of your muscles hurt. 

“Whatever you say. Tash, how’s your pasta?” Natasha had ordered chicken broccoli alfredo and Wanda had gotten lasagna. You’d just gotten tomato soup, which you were surprised that the fancy restaurant had. 

“It's fantastic, this place is wonderful. We’ll have to come here again. What do you think, Y/n?” You had totally zoned out and were staring into your bowl, imagining what it would be like to crawl into the hot liquid. The warmth would probably be amazing and part of you was thinking about putting your hands in it. Then you remembered that it was soup, you were wearing a nice pantsuit, and “we don’t put hands in soup”. 

“Y/n, hun? You with us?” Natasha asked gently, reaching over to take your hand again. You shook your head in another attempt to clear the fog. It was getting harder to keep your eyes open and the haze was becoming harder to resist. 

“Huh, what did you say? Sorry, I was a bit distracted.” You mumbled, scrubbing a hand over your eyes. Shit, you’d forgotten about the makeup. Now it was all over your hands, and your face where you’d wiped it off was a drastically different color. 

“Uh oh,” Natasha said, her smile falling into a deep frown. 

“No, no, it's fine. I’m fine, everything is fine. Just want soup.” Words were getting harder to make work. That didn’t make sense…words were bad. You frowned and tried to pick up your spoon, but you somehow missed and dipped your fingers into the warm liquid. 

“Nope, nope, give me that.” Wanda grabbed your hand and wiped it off with a napkin, increasingly concerned. 

“Sorry, spoons don’t work. Um…somethin’s wrong.” You slurred, blinking hard. Natasha squeezed your shoulder, providing sort of an anchor to the conscious world.

“Honey, you’re not making any sense. Can you try that again?” She ran a thumb along your collarbone, trying to bring you back to the present. You pulled away from Wanda and dug around in your purse, bringing out the bottle. The blue color made your face drain of color. 

“I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and I’m about to pass out.” You stumbled over the words, doing everything that you could to keep your head up. 

“Damnit Y/n, why didn’t you say something? You know we wouldn’t be mad, we just want you to feel okay.” Natasha said gently, reaching over to cup your heated cheek in her soft hand. 

“I-I haven’t seen you in so long, I just wanted to make you guys happy. I just needed to make you happy. I’m sorry.” You were fighting back tears and about to lose the battle. 

“Oh, sweetheart, no. You make us happy every day, whether we’re together or not. You’re everything, our nightly conversations are the best part of the day. It’s okay that you don’t feel well, we’re going to make sure that everything’s okay. Let us take you home.” Wanda leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. 

You nodded after a moment, wanting nothing but the comfort given to you by the women you loved. Natasha smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the tender gesture nearly causing you to break down. 

“Let’s go, my heart. We’ll finish this date night with some hot tea and a movie.” Natasha called for the check as Wanda helped you to stand, wrapping her arm around your waist. These people were your rocks. They were everything to you. They were everything you wanted and more. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier. 

〖Join my taglist!〗 @asiangmrchk13

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: like clockwork | njm

summary | fights with jaemin are impossible because he never takes them seriously. so, when you get into a relationship-ending fight with him, you decide on an ultimatum: if he doesn’t apologize first this time, you're going to cut the string of fate.

genre | non-idol! jaemin x fem reader. angst and a little fluff like at the end (if you consider it that)

warnings | over-dependence (from both sides), generally just a toxic relationship whoops sorry jaemin

wc | 2.1k

a/n: this is like a part two? i guess? to nct dream after a fight, except i don’t think jaemin is very nice when it comes to arguments

jeno’s ver

YOU’VE BEEN SITTING in your ex-roommate’s living room for three hours, crying into her blankets while she tried to console you. You weren’t sure what to feel—anger, sadness, confusion, or maybe all three—at this point.

Jaemin was, in all senses of the phrase, a perfect boyfriend. Your friends fawned over him and his consideration, the way he bought you bouquets and little teddy bears from time to time, the way he agreed with you on everything you said. They fawned over the way he planned out your whole future, from beginning to end, as if you were never going to break up.

And, to be honest, you thought there’d never be a chance you would break up. Seriously, you’d started dating in your last year of high school, and you’d never gotten close to breaking up in the years that followed.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

You had to fight sometimes. No matter how unargumentative he was, how he never cared about how late you stayed out or who you were friends with, there were always going to be bumps.

Your roommate helped you realize that, after every single fight, you were the one to apologize. Without fail. An hour ago, you’d gone through every single argument you had (you could count the number on one hand), and, no matter who started it, you always had to be the one reaching out for forgiveness.

None of those fights were as big as this one, but you knew it would stay the same.

Today was your fifth anniversary of being with him. You’d spent weeks saving up for a gift for him, working extra hours and budgeting so he wouldn’t notice such a big purchase in your shared expenses. It was simple, a thin bracelet with a few fancy gemstones and his initials engraved onto it, but it meant a lot to you.

Jaemin didn’t get you anything.

You’d never especially celebrated anniversaries, at least not with presents, but you had made it clear that five years was a big deal to you. On the day of, today, you spent hours preparing your apartment, even taking the day off so you could prepare.

Then, at around 5, Jaemin sent a text saying he was going to get drinks with Donghyuck. Then, you hinted that you’d prepared dinner. Then, he asked you to put some in a tupperware for him so he could savor it the next day.

By that point, you were near tears, and the only thing you managed to type out was: what about our anniversary?

He caved at that, saying he was on his way home. By that point, though, the night had been ruined for you; maybe you should’ve let him go so you could calm down, take a few deep breaths, and complain to your friends. But, something in that naive mind of yours said this could be fixed, and you believed that inkling.

Jaemin returned home looking annoyed. You watched as his face morphed from mild discontent to shock as he stared at your decorated kitchen, with flowers everywhere and a cute sign you’d spent the whole morning making.

“Babe, when did we do stuff like this?” was the first thing he asked. At that moment, you saw concern, guilt, but that was the only time that night you saw remorse at all.

“We didn’t,” you agreed briefly, taking a sad bite of the cookies you had made. Your dinner was cold now, uneatable by your standards. “But five years isn’t a short amount of time, Jaemin, and I have been talking about it for months.”

The rest of the fight was a blur. When your voice raised, he implored you to calm down, to just listen to him. He kept a level head throughout the whole thing, spitting logic and reasonability at your emotional outburst. Things about how he hadn’t budgeted for gifts, how he never thought it would be this big of a deal, how you never told him it would be this big of a deal.

The way he spoke to you was condescending, as if he had everything under control, everything figured out, everything according to his wants. You recognized his tone of voice well because it was nearly identical to the tone your superiors, male superiors, took when they spoke to you at work. You knew he felt like he was the rational one, and that you were overreacting.

Nothing was fixed. You remember grabbing your jacket, slinging it over your shoulders, all while Jaemin told you to stay and “figure yourself out.” You didn’t listen, yanking one of the kitchen drawers open and pulling out the small, velvet box where the bracelet lay. In your anger, you threw it at him, leaving him to stare while you took yourself (and the pretty dress you’d put on) elsewhere.

“I think you need to tell him to apologize,” your ex-roommate suggested, handing you a bowl of popcorn intermixed with M&Ms. “I’ve never heard of Jaemin acting like that much of an asshole.”

That night, you set an ultimatum. If Jaemin couldn’t take your concerns seriously, your needs seriously, then you obviously couldn’t be together. If he could not take this seriously, then you would not be together.

So, you sent a text:

If you aren’t the one to apologize this time, we need to have a talk about our relationship. I’ll give you a week.

-

Four days pass, and you’re regretting it. Jaemin has been your entire adult life, and you’re not sure if you can live without him.

All your friends are on your side, telling you that, if this is the end, they’ll be here to help you recover. They give you tips on separating your bank accounts (when you and Jaemin decided to do that about a year ago now, you had been giddy, thinking this meant marriage was now in the picture), how to find an apartment on your own, ways you can keep yourself safe and sound when you were home alone.

Still, you were nervous. His only response to your text had been a small “okay,” all lowercase, with no emotion behind it. You hadn’t even opened the text at your ex-roommate’s behest, as she claimed “opening it means he knows you’re thinking about him.”

You were going to regret this, one part of you said. The other part insisted this was good for you, that you couldn’t live your whole life dependent on someone who wasn’t dependent on you. That your relationship with Jaemin might’ve been toxic anyways, maybe even suffocating, because who wants their entire life planned out at 22?

Deep down, you know that your breakup will destroy your life. You’d probably go back to your parents for a bit, wondering if Jaemin talked to his friends about how you always told him that you’d never been too fond of them. You’d watch as his life sailed on perfectly fine without you, always planned to a T, always ready for an unexpected iceberg or two.

Jaemin’s life was like clockwork: constant, yet moving forwards with no chance of looking back. No matter the clock he was adorned by, his ticking would not end until the clock was destroyed beyond repair.

Yours was not. Yours was planned around his planning, every move decided upon with his opinion, every decision made with his watchful eye leading you through.

You were his clock.

No clockwork could exist without a clock, though. 

- 

You stood outside your apartment door, key in hand, ex-roommate parked outside. Part of you didn’t want to go inside, didn’t want to face reality if reality meant the end of your life’s only constant. But, a week had passed, and you would not let yourself fall now.

You shoved the key into the doorknob, clicking it open with the slow turn of your wrist, and pushing it open. Jaemin was sitting on the floor, scratching the chin of your shared cat.

“Are you ready to talk now?” he asked, not turning his attention away from the cat. He assumed the tone of voice he’d kept that night, a tone that made your stomach churn.

“I don’t think you understand this, honestly,” you replied, slipping your shoes off and trudging farther into the apartment. He rose from the floor, following you into the living room, where he’d sorted your flowers into one of the many vases he’d bought a couple of ago.

“Enlighten me, then. Let me understand,” he replied, sitting down on the sofa. You sat in the single chair across from him, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I took extra shifts to buy you that bracelet, Jaemin. I talked about our anniversary for months, and you pretended to listen to every word I said, but, down to the wire, you don’t even acknowledge it,” you breathed out, trying to keep yourself as level-headed as he presented himself to be. “You didn’t even plan on coming home for dinner.”

“Who said I was pretending? Listen, [First], your months of talking were just little ideas and hints. You never said anything outright, so I didn’t think it would be such a big deal—”

“I’m not here to fight again,” you cut him off, clenching your fists and biting back the tears in your eyes. “I’m here for an apology, and if you can’t give me something as simple as that, I am going to break up with you.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened as if that was the last thing he expected to hear. The whole room went silent, save for the quiet meows of your cat, who was currently rubbing her back against your leg. Jaemin didn’t seem like he knew what to say, or what to do, which was the last situation he wanted to be in in most cases.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands, as if he was in some sort of shock. Not wanting to speak until he decided on his response, you just leaned back in the chair, staring at him.

Jaemin dropped his hands from his face, staring at the coffee table. Your cat took off elsewhere, blissfully unaware of the gravity of your situation.

Finally, he said, “You can’t do that.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t break up with me now,” he repeated, looking up at you. “Not after—”

“After what? You planned out my entire future for me, to fit your tastes?”

“Not after I planned my whole life around you.”

You went quiet at that. Something in that statement didn’t feel right, at least not to your mind. There was no way Na Jaemin’s perfect life plans had you in mind, not at all. He was the center of the universe, and you were the stick threatening to pop his perfect balloon. In what world had everything been planned around you?

“If an apology is what you need, I will give it, but you have to promise you won’t leave now. Not over something like this,” he continued, letting his voice crack. A single tear fell down his face, and, you swear to god, you have never seen him panic like this. “I’m sorry, [First]. It’s my fault your anniversary plans fell through, and it’s my fault I didn’t think the ideas were anything more than ideas. I loved the bracelet and will never treasure anything more in my entire life. Okay? Is that enough?”

You didn’t know what to say. Jaemin immediately began wiping at his tears, sniffling, trying to get himself in order, trying to keep the clock ticking. Slowly, you stood up, approaching the sofa. You took an awkward seat next to him, trying to hold back the reactionary tears at him crying.

So, instead of verbally agreeing, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him tightly. He kept wiping at his tears, desperately striving to return to his usual calm self. After a few seconds, though, he gave up, returning your embrace in earnest. He buried his head in your shoulder, repeating “I’m sorry” every few moments.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, shocked that he was just as scared as you were. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he responded, pulling you closer. “Our sixth anniversary will be the most extravagant thing you’ve ever seen. Same with our twelfth, our eighteenth…”

“I can’t wait,” you hummed.

At the end of the day, you learned that, although they are separate in theory, a clock can’t work without its clockwork, and the clockwork has no function without a clock.

thank you for reading!