#seriously it's worked for two weeks without issue

[rinwolf1312]

Dear Pearson, Can you please stop enshittifying my textbook, please?

[salthusiast]

Who You Truly Are - Part 2

Viltrumite Mark x Female Reader

Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks. Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.

Word Count: 5k

Other Parts: 1 , 3

Warnings: Alludes to comic spoilers once if you SQUINT, and I mean SQUINT. It's literally "if you know you know" I tried to keep this as open to both show enjoyers and comic enjoyers as possible.

OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART. I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. I tried to take any advice given to me. Thank you!!!

“I am not working with you again. I don’t care that there is another version of me out there causing issues.” Mark gestures wildly before rubbing his temples.

“You have all the superheroes you could ever need on call. You could defeat half of them without me. You don’t need me right now. I have to be there for Eve. If this other version of me is really that big of an issue, then just send every other superhero you have.” Mark walks past Cecil, leaving him alone in Eve’s room. 

“Mark, please try to be reasonable.” Cecil follows him soon after. 

Mark scoffs, “If I see him, I will take action.” He stops in his tracks. “This does not mean I’m working for you. I will take action if people are getting hurt. Do not expect me to be at your beck and call.” He turns, glaring at Cecil.

Cecil sighs, “If that’s the most you’ll do…”

“It is.” Mark cuts in sharply. “In case you have forgotten, I refuse to work with you. Now, I have other things to attend to.”

“At least let us know if you see him out in public, please, Mark. If not for me, then for the betterment of humanity.” Cecil tries.

“Oh yes, I’ll just shoot you a text! ‘Hey, Cecil, I know we hate each other, but there’s another version of me destroying the world right now.’” Mark exclaims sarcastically, holding his hands up as if questioning whether Cecil is serious. Cecil looks at him unimpressed.

“I don’t hate you, kid.” Cecil responds.

“Yeah, okay, but why even ask? I’m sure you’ll know if there’s an attack or something before I do. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you spy on me even when I’m not out saving people.” Mark looks at Cecil suspiciously.

Cecil sighs; he looks like he’s given up. “Just keep an eye out, kid. Please.”

“I will let you know if another version of me decides to attack me. Otherwise, call somebody else.” Mark reiterates, beginning to walk past Cecil.

“Wait,” Mark stops in his tracks. “You know we’re always here to talk, right?” Cecil looks at Mark, who returns a conflicted look. 

“I don’t really want to talk to you,” He shakes his head, continuing his path, “but thanks.” Mark continues as he exits the Pentagon.

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

“Dude, where'd you get this coffee?” You ask, examining the foreign packing of the coffee beans Mark returned with. You take a sip from his cup, and he gives you a weird look.

“Brazil.” He answers.

You roll your eyes. “Very funny. No, seriously, you have to tell me. I gotta know your sources.” 

He looks at you, “Can’t expose all my secrets.” He looks at you, amused.

“Okay fineeee, but you gotta promise to get me some more if we run out.” You relent, finishing his coffee.

“...That was my cup.” He sounds a little despondent.

“Sorry, we can make another batch.”  You smile guiltily. He sighs, but goes to make more. You check the bag of groceries he brought. “Woah, this all looks authentic.” You examine the dry pasta that he bought. 

“Did you travel to Italy too?” You joke, smiling at him.

“Yes.” He responds seriously. You laugh in response and stand up to wash the cup you stole from Mark.

“Oooh, next time you go, you should bring back pizza or something!” You grin at him, finding it funny how he seems so solemn with his responses.

“Hm, perhaps.” He says as he grabs two mugs. 

“Oh, you don’t have to get a mug for me.” You say as he looks up at you, unimpressed.

“Really? So you won’t drink from my cup if I only make one for myself?” Mark narrows his eyes suspiciously.

You shake your head, “No, I won’t, Scout’s honor.” You place a hand on your chest. 

Mark sighs before putting away the second mug. He pours himself a cup and takes a sip. He looks at you, then at his cup. “We should put away the groceries.” 

You nod, “Of course.” You go to help him put the groceries away. 

Mark stops in his tracks, “Are you serious?”

You look at him, then back at the cup you stole again. “Sorry, I wasn’t going to, but you commented on it, so I had to.” You take a slow sip, making it as loud as possible.

“You said ‘Scout’s honor.’ Do you have no honor?” He shakes his head in disappointment.

You snap your fingers, “That’s the thing! I was never a scout.” You put the cup down. “Don’t worry, I didn’t finish it this time.” You gesture vaguely to the cup. 

He walks up to you, frowning. He looks at the cup, “You contaminated it.” 

You laugh in surprise, “Oh, come on, you’ve drunk from my cups before. Think of this as payment for providing you with temporary housing.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows, “I have?” He hesitantly picks up the cup before drinking from it.

“Uh yeah? Wait, I think? Great, now you got me questioning it.” You sigh, heading over to the couch to turn on the TV. “Let’s see what’s on…”

The camera focuses on a massive floating figure. He seems to be towering over Invincible. They appear to be engaging in some sort of fight. The headline proves that your guess is correct.

“Hey, that looks like what the Chicago Destroyer Invincibile was wearing.” You comment offhandedly. Mark, on the other hand, coughs violently before walking over to watch with you.

“‘Chicago Destroyer Invincible?’” Mark quotes you incredulously.

“What? He destroyed Chicago, it’s either that or that one Invincible wearing white. That doesn’t really roll off the tongue— ooh, that was a nice punch.” 

Mark still seems hung up on the “Chicago Destroyer” part. “From planet conqueror to Chicago Destroyer.” He scoffs, muttering the words low enough that you don’t hear. 

“It looks like Invincible’s getting his ass handed to him though… Ouch, that looks like that’d hurt.” You comment, watching as the unknown attacker slams Invincible into the ground.

“Yeah…” Mark doesn’t sound very upset, “He’ll probably die here. That guy looks powerful.” You glare at Mark. 

“You’re supposed to root for the good guy, Mark. Invincible is on our side.” You shake your head disapprovingly, placing a hand on your chest, feeling offended for Invincible. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m just saying. I mean, look at him. Didn’t you also just say he’s getting his ‘ass handed to him?’” You both look at Invincible getting slammed on the ground and punched into the sky. You grimace as the fight goes out of frame… anddd probably out of that city. 

“Okay, fine, but have some faith. Invincible is the one defending us. I mean, what’s gonna happen if this guy wins? Take over the Earth?”

 

“Yeah, probably,” Mark responds unfazed. 

You chuckle at his deadpan response. “Damn, if we were conquered, what would happen to us? I can’t imagine we’re useful to people who can fly and have super strength like that. Maybe we'd be like slaves? I’d be such an awful slave.” Marks looks at you like you’re crazy.

”You wouldn’t be a slave.” Mark responds. 

“Aww, thanks, I don’t think you’d be a slave either.” You respond affectionately. 

“What? No, of course I wouldn’t— That’s not the point.” Mark shakes his head, looking back toward the TV. 

You laugh at his response, placing your hand onto him, “Didn’t realize you feel so strongly about your ability to not be enslaved.” He stares at your hand, but he doesn’t flinch. He moves slightly away from your touch.

“Very funny.” He replies unamused. “He could, though. Enslave humanity.”

“Invincible? Nah, doubt it.” You play dumb, also knowing fully well that if he wanted, he probably could. Mark gives you a disappointed stare. “Fine, fine. If he truly wanted to, he could. I felt like that was pretty obvious. Not sure why you’re so serious about this.” You mumble. 

“You could die out there,” Mark states, wow, okay. Somebody is feeling optimistic.

“Of course, I could die out there, Mark. Unless you’re secretly Invincible, then there’s nothing we can do if somebody like that invaded us.” You gesture to the TV, feeling yourself get frustrated by his negative outlook.

“Last I checked, Invincible is getting beaten up out there, so like it or not, we can’t change anything.” He gives you a conflicted look. “I’m going to go do some work. I’ll be at my desk.” You stand up, he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

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

“Conquest was defeated.” Mark later walks into your room. 

“Who?” You ask, still a little on edge. Normally, you wouldn’t care about Mark's comments here and there, but Mark had been making comments like this ever since he started staying with you. It was just so unlike him.

He pauses for a moment, and you turn your chair to him. “That guy who was beating up Invincible. He’s apparently called ‘Conquest,’” Mark elaborates. You nod in understanding.

You look over, and Mark is standing over at the door like a lost puppy. A tall and serious lost puppy. The image is so jarring you almost burst out laughing. You sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

He blinks, “You apologize a lot.” 

You remain silent, “Sorry..?” He looks vaguely amused.

You decide to change the subject, “I tried texting Eve. She is okay. William is fine, too.” Mark hums. 

“Did you tell them I was here?” Mark asks. He makes his tone seem casual, but there is something hidden underneath the surface.

“Uhh, not yet, I literally just heard back from her… I’ll text them right now—“ You jolt as he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Mark, what—“

“Don’t tell her anything. For a matter of fact, don’t tell William either.” He replies with a sense of urgency in his tone.

You frown, “Did you guys all argue or something? Even if they’re mad at you, I still think they’d want to know you’re safe.” You remove your hand from his grip, barely registering the loss of warmth in your confusion.

“Look… just please don’t tell them. They have enough on their plates as it is. They don’t need to find out my house is destroyed.” Mark tries, looking at you with eyes reflecting some emotion.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Of course…” You reply softly. “Mark, you have to talk to them eventually.”

He nods, “I will, but not today. Just… trust me on this.” He looks down at your hand. He looks up, “Don’t tell them.”

You look at his eyes, pleading. This is probably the most genuine emotion he’s shown (other than joy at destroying you in that game of Uno, but you don’t count that). 

You sigh, “Fine…” The conflict in his eyes is suddenly gone; it’s back to that blank look. You both sit in silence, before he eventually stands up. You frown, “Where are you going?” You ask, watching as he heads towards the front door to leave. 

“Out.” He turns to leave before pausing. “Do you… need anything while I’m gone?” He seems unsure whether he should ask the question. 

You smile, “Oh yeah, just that Italian pizza I was asking for earlier. With your skills in finding hidden gems, I can’t imagine it’s too difficult.” You joke, leaning against your room’s doorway. He gives you a deadpan look before nodding and closing the door behind him.

You frown, “He could’ve at least said yes or no.” You close the door to your room behind you. You go back to work for the next few hours.

Eventually, you take a peek out of your room. Huh, still not here. Whatever he decided to do must be taking up quite a bit of time.

You are scrolling on your computer when you see a headline. It reads “NEW CAMERA SHY SUPER VILLAIN FIGHTS WITH GUARDIANS, ALL GUARDIANS SEVERELY INJURED.” 

Normally, you wouldn’t spare a second glance, but it’s unusual that all the guardians get attacked. You open the article. The giant photo showing this new “super villain” is blurry. There are no defining features. All you can see is that they are wearing dark colors and are floating over the injured Guardians.

“New super villain is pictured decimating the Guardians. There seems to be no previous record of this figure. It appears as if he was after the Guardians specifically. Nobody knows names, but everybody is asking questions. Why did they do this?”

“Early witnesses describe seeing the fight originally between this mysterious individual and Atom Eve. It must have been a planned attack, as Atom Eve was recently out due to presumed injuries acquired during the Invincible War.”

“Whoever this is seems to have a vendetta against her. As of now, all the Guardians are safe and receiving medical attention. Perhaps the most odd thing about this is that this figure fled the fight. Why? We have no idea. However, we’re grateful nonetheless. Eyewitnesses seemed to see the figure flee soon after they started filming the fight up close. Perhaps the new villain is camera shy?” You snort reading that last line.

You look at the photos provided by various witnesses. All show the initial battle between the person fighting Atom Eve. All you can see is their back, you vaguely register that they look to be masculine, but it’s difficult to tell with the low quality and distance. Eventually, when they turn to face the camera’s direction, it just turns into a blur. 

After scrolling through the photos, you read the rest of the article. The second half seems to detail the damage done to the Guardians. It’s crazy how much is occurring right now. First, those Invincibles, then Conquest, and now the Guardians? 

“That’s wild…” You mutter, scrolling up and down through the article.

“What’s wild?” A voice says.

“OH MY GOSH! MARK?!” You press yourself to the back of your chair, jumping in surprise. “When’d you get back?! I didn’t even hear you open the front door?”

He doesn’t respond, instead, your eyes are drawn to the pizza box he holds up.

“Oh, you actually got pizza.” You smile, standing up and walking out to the kitchen. He trails behind you and places the box down.

“You doubted me?” He asks as you grab plates for you two.

“Nah.” You grab a slice. “Anyway, where’d you go?” You ask casually, sitting down.

“Out.” He responds, grabbing the plate and getting a slice.

“Ooh, how descriptive.” You chuckle, taking a bite of the pizza. 

“How were you while I was gone?” He asks, changing the subject. 

“Eh, bored. I was doing some work, but then I got caught up reading an article. Apparently, some guy went out and attacked the Guardians.” His head slowly turns toward you as you speak.

“Somebody attacked the guardians.” He said, looking at you, nodding in affirmation. “Did you see who it was?” He asks casually.

You shake your head, “No. People are saying he’s camera shy. Nobody could get a clean shot without him fleeing the scene.” You chuckle at the thought. Imagine being so powerful that you could take on the Guardians alone, but flee at the first sign of a phone.

“Camera shy.” He repeats, looking at you, and he looks slightly disturbed. 

“Yep, at least that’s what the article said. Wouldn’t show his face anywhere. Must be new. Probably doesn’t want people to be able to trace his identity. Hey, it’s kinda funny how he popped up after Invincibile went MIA.” 

“I doubt he’d want to fight Invincible. Probably creates too many issues.” He looks at the pizza slice, studying it.

“Where’d you get this pizza anyway? I think this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.” You continue, you turn your gaze to the blank pizza box. Not even a company name on there. You snap your attention back to him, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna keep it a secret too.”

He eats in silence, not making eye contact with you.

“Markkkk!” You groan. “Come on, it can't be that important to keep it a secret.” You frown, looking at him. He continues to eat in silence, ignoring your presence entirely. “We’re friends, right? Come on.”

He finally looks up, “Oh, friends? Hm, didn’t realize.” He says offhandedly. “Are you going to want more?” He asks, looking at the box.

“Changing the subject, I see.” You observe. “We can save it for later.” You finish up your slice.

“Don’t tell me you were actually getting pizza for two hours?” You ask as you start to clean the dishes.

His lips turn up to resemble a smile, “I wasn’t.”

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

“Are you sure it was him?” Cecil asks, standing across Eve’s hospital bed. 

She narrows her eyes before standing up, “Yes, I’m sure. I think I’d recognize Mark when I see him.” She starts to walk to the door.

“Anything notable about him?” Cecil asks, following her to the doorway, she pauses.

“Aside from the fact that he single-handedly beat us in combat?” She asks, turning to face him.

“You barely had any time to recover after Conquest, and you were unprepared.” Cecil justifies, shaking his head.

“We didn’t get the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Mark out there. Don’t beat yourself up.” He places a hand on her shoulder.

Eve looks down, frowning, “He fought much differently than I had expected from Mark, even an alternate version.” 

Cecil nods as if expecting that, “He fought like a Viltrumite, right?” She nods. “That’s expected.” He walks past her, gesturing to her to follow. 

“Based on the information we gathered, the version that was left behind joined the Viltrum Empire. We highly suspect he was even raised on Viltrum.” Eve follows behind as he explains.

“While I hate to say it, he’s probably going to share more similarities with Nolan than he will with our Mark.” He pauses to look at Eve.

She looks down, conflicted, “But.. isn’t he a version of Mark? Can we maybe appeal to him in some way? I mean, they are the same person in a literal sense. Deep down, maybe he can be reasoned with.” 

“I doubt it,” Cecil responds, and Eve looks up at him.

“Have you even tried?” She asks, slightly frustrated.

Cecil shakes his head, “No, and if you know what’s good for everyone, you won’t. He’s a Viltrumite. Our Mark is a different case, and if we’ve learned anything from Viltrumites from Viltrum…” He pauses before turning towards her. 

“They see us as lower beings, pets. They cannot be appealed to. Our Mark is the special case. Don’t think that because they’re the same person, they have the same principles.” 

She goes silent, “So, what do you want me to do if I encounter him?” She asks softly.

Cecil looks at her, determined, “Don’t hold back.” 

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

You wake up the next morning feeling a tingle in your throat. No…

You are not getting sick. You refuse to. Maybe if you drink water..?

You take a sip, hoping the tingle will go away. It doesn’t. You try clearing your throat to see if it will go away. Damn.

Mark walks into your room, “Are you dying?” He asks, unconcerned. 

“Maybe,” He suddenly looks up alarmed, “I think I’m getting sick.” You both look at each other.

He takes a step back, creating distance between you two. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You’ve been here for days, and you’ve been fine.” 

“I don’t want whatever foreign illness you may have acquired.” He grimaces. 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” You roll your eyes. 

“I’m not. I just don’t like viruses.” He states. 

“You never even get sick! I rarely see you get sick, if ever!” You exclaim.

“Yeah, cause I keep my distance.” He replies.

“It’s just a sore throat, Mark. It’s not like I have the plague.” You groan. “I’m going to make some tea.” 

He watches you walk past him to the kitchen, following behind you. “How did you even get sick?” He asks.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Stress perhaps? I haven’t been around anybody but you recently. Unless you were recovering from being sick when you came over.” You theorize out loud. Mark watches as you grab a tea bag and mug. 

“I doubt that. Why would you be stressed?” He asks, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.

“Not sure. There was that attack all those Invincibles did and that whole Conquest thing.” You guess. 

“You weren’t even near those attacks, though.” Mark frowns.

“Yeah, but you were near one of them.” You attempt to clear your throat.

“So you’re stressing over me?” He asks, seemingly confused over the concept.

You misinterpret his confusion, “Mark, you don’t stress me out. Life,” You gesture outside, “does. The possibility of death is a little bit stressful.”

He looks at you, conflicted. You can’t imagine why. “So you’re sick cause you’re stressed about my, what, well-being?” He asks.

You sigh, “Don’t think too hard, Mark.” You can see the gears turning in his head. For some reason, he can’t seem to fathom you caring like that. “I was just guessing anyway.”

“So you don’t even know why you’re sick?” He reiterates, seeming incapable of not understanding how you don’t know the exact cause of your illness.

“That’s kinda what a ‘guess’ means, yeah.” You nod amused.

“Are the hospitals here that bad?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s actually asking you or not. It seems like he’s talking to himself. 

“What?” You chuckle, confused, “I don’t think a cold requires a hospital trip.” He looks at you, seemingly conflicted.

“Okay…” He doesn’t seem to accept the answer, “Do you need anything?” He asks.

You smile, “Probably just some rest.” You clear your throat. “Ugh, I sound awful.” You shudder. 

Mark watches you for a moment before leaving the room suddenly. You frown, “Damn, bye I guess.” You mutter to yourself.

You drink your tea for about a minute before he returns. He has a blanket in his arms.

You watch as he walks behind you, placing it on your back like a cloak. His hand lingers on your shoulder.

You feel moved by his kindness, so you don’t mention that you feel like you're burning alive. You accept the blanket. “Thanks.” You smile.

He looks at you, eyes softening for a brief moment before looking away. You wonder if you imagined it, seeing as there’s been nothing but a serious expression on his face these days.

“We can share the bed if you’d like. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I can’t imagine it’ll be helpful for your recovery.” He avoids eye contact.

You chuckle amused before coughing, “Weren’t you the one who didn’t even want to be near me?” You can feel your face heating up. Damn, maybe you have a fever. You do feel like you’re melting.

He eventually looks at you, all softness (imagined or not) gone from his expression. “The offer stands.” He responds.

“What is this, a business transaction?” You start laughing, but launch yourself into a coughing fit. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” You say, not thinking anything of it.

Mark nods stoically, not saying anything else on the subject.

“Mark,” you feel reluctant to bring the topic up, “are you doing… okay?” You think back to his distance from Eve and William.

He pauses, unsure where this is going. “Yes, why?” He responds, his tone betraying nothing.

“It’s just… I thought you and Eve had a” you gesture at him, “thing… going on.” You take a sip of your tea. 

Mark stared at you, “You thought we were courting?” He asks, seemingly appalled by the idea.

“Yeah, I mean you’re with her all the time. Then suddenly you’re here and refuse to speak with her.” You tap on your mug. “It’s not any of my business, I know, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.” You look up at him. He looks at you silently.

“I don’t care about Eve.” He eventually breaks the silence.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Mark…” You sigh, “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” You take another sip. 

“Just…” you pause, looking up at him. His eyes are dead set on you, his expression cold. “Remember, she’s also your friend. William too. Don’t push them away over something trivial.”

Mark says your name, “Nothing is going on between us. Don’t misunderstand,” you see his expression shift as he says that last part, “I really have nothing going on with Eve.” 

You smile softly, not really believing him. You’ve seen them together. They lean into each other like nobody else exists. They share smiles with each other that nobody seems to understand. They seem to exist purely in each other’s existence. 

“Okay.” You sigh, not really believing him. “Just, at least try to contact them. They’d want to know you’re safe.” 

Mark nods, avoiding eye contact, “Alright.”

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

After you finish your tea, you go to watch TV on the couch. Nothing interesting is on the screen. You cough again, and you can feel Mark watching you.

You let the TV drone on for a while before you feel yourself drifting off. Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Mark’s attention snaps to the door. You sigh, getting up.

You go to the door, covered in the blanket Mark gave you. ”Eve?” You look at her, surprised. “What’re you doing here?” You sniffle.

“I came here to see how you’re doing.” She smiles, amused. She looks at the blanket on your back. “Sick?”

You nod miserably, “Yeah. Woke up this morning not feeling too good. Do you wanna come…” Something catches your attention to your left.

You can see Mark wildly gesturing an “X,” mouthing something along the lines of “DON’T LET HER IN!” You furrow your eyebrows, but he looks at you expectantly.

“... back later? I’m really not feeling too well.” You force another cough. It sounds real since you are actually sick.

She frowns sympathetically, “Of course. Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay after everything that’s been going on. Haven’t really gotten a chance to check in.” 

You nod, as you watch Mark shake his head disapprovingly to the side. “Of course. I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I trust William is fine, too?” You ask. She nods, smiling, “Yeah, both he and Mark are fine.” You nod before pausing.

“Wait, Mark contacted you?” You frown, confused. You see Mark move toward you, still out of view of Eve.

“Yeah..?” Eve frowns even more confused. 

You look toward Mark, confused, and he gestures for you to close the door on Eve. “Oh, okay, well, thanks for checking in, Eve. I’m going to rest.” You gesture to your room. She nods.

“Of course, get better soon.” She smiles. You wave as she walks away before closing the door and turning to Mark.

“So…” You say slowly. Mark looks down, glaring at the floor as if it offended him. “You did contact her.” 

You sigh, “Mark, I’m not mad or anything. I’m just concerned.” You frown. “Why did you lie about contacting her?” Mark looks up, seeing you looking at him, hurt. 

“It’s nothing.” He brushes it off. You furrow your eyebrows. “Mark, if you’re here just to avoid Eve, then yes, it is something.”

”You think I’m here just to avoid her?” He asks incredulously. 

You look away from him, “Let’s just drop the subject. I’m going to bed.” You start to go to your room to lie down. Mark watches you leave, and he looks hurt. You can’t imagine why.

As you enter your room, you close the door behind you. You are about to go to bed when you see Mark’s bag open. His stuff is scattered right next to it. You sigh, picking up some of his items and throwing them into the bag. You don’t want to step on it or trip over anything.

When you throw some of his stuff into the bag, you notice some bright piece of clothing stashed neatly in there. You were going to ignore it until you saw a bright red stain on it. 

Your eyebrows furrow before you slowly move closer. You didn’t mean to snoop. It’s just that white is a very distinctive color, and a red stain like that doesn’t look normal. Perhaps you can offer to wash it for him? 

Suddenly, he opens the door, medicine in hand, his eyes gravitate to you. He looks at his bag. “What are you doing?” He asks gravely.

“Your stuff was making a mess. I didn’t want to trip over it.” You say. He (not subtly) moves to cover your view of the bag, zipping it up. 

“Get some rest.” He responds coldly. You feel yourself shrink under his cold demeanor. Is he mad at you because of the (unintentional) snooping, or because of the whole Eve situation? You don’t even know.

You do know one thing, however. Mark is hiding something. You don’t know how big, but it’s something he clearly does not want you to know.

Sure, it may not be any of your business, but you can’t help but feel like this is not something you should turn away from. You sit down on the bed, getting under the covers. 

You look at the lone bag that Mark zipped up. He didn’t have to say anything, but the message was clear. “Don’t open this bag.” His eyes told you. 

You flip over, facing the other direction. He has been acting so weird recently, distant. You kept telling yourself it was just shock from what happened, but does shock justify lies? You don’t know.

You look towards the medicine he left on the nightstand. You look at the extra blanket he grabbed for you. You snuggle closer to the blanket. Sure, he’s distant, but he’s still Mark. You turn again to the zipped-up bag.

Right?

Side note: I think this will probably be a 4-5 part series. While I will get that done, I also want to make other fics. I have this one idea for a no goggles mark fic that I'm in the middle of writing, so be on the lookout for that if you're interested. I'll probably post that one next. So yes, there will be a part 3. It just might be a bit of a longer wait than this one was though.

Taglist: @xzmickeyzx @onlybatsyy @lilacoaks @i-love-frensh-fries @marvelwhor3 @nerds-in-glasses @creat0r-cat @ploiigee @pixviee @otomeanimemanga-fandom-writer @bloppyy @invinciblewaffles @am-3-thyst @brooks-lin @alittletiredcry @secretaccountlol @thefangirlhasarrive @strawberrymangoes @linasxoxo @lunamooina @rae-iin @alittletiredcry @sweetb3rry If I missed you I'm so sorry, feel free to pester me lol. If you want to be added just let me know!

[bemusedlybespectacled]

what's happening with James Somerton right now: a probably-incomplete primer

TW: suicide, including suicide as a threat and a manipulation tactic.

The short version:

James Somerton is a former Youtube essayist who focused entirely on queer history, queer media criticism, and queer issues in general. He is also a flagrant grifter who has made tens of thousands of dollars via fraud, both directly (lying about his finances to beg for money and getting donations for films he never even started making) and indirectly (stealing whole essays and articles and books, reading them out loud verbatim for his videos without indicating they were anything other than his own work, and then using the prestige he gained from using their work to get Patrons and sponsorships).

The story as told James and James apologists was that James attempted to apologize twice, was hounded mercilessly on the internet for weeks, and then, driven to the end of his rope, he posted a suicide note on Twitter, was MIA for several days, and from then on has been avoiding the internet.

The actual story, as revealed yesterday, was that James used two sockpuppet accounts to defend himself and parrot his talking points (again, while publicly claiming to be trying to take responsibility for his actions), using one to try to rebrand the con under a different name and another to deliberately stoke the panic caused by his suicide note. He was not only aware of the pain and anxiety he was causing people, but he encouraged it on one alt while hornyposting about his favorite movies on the other.

He is an unrepentant con artist who successfully used a suicide threat to prevent further interference with future cons. The only reason he was caught is because he is apparently incapable of going more than a couple of weeks without trying to get back in the internet spotlight, allowing people to tie his alts back to him. He lies for fun and profit and he should not be taken seriously, ever.

The long version:

In December 2023, Youtube essayist Hbomberguy (Harry Brewis) put out a four-hour-long video about plagiarism on the internet, and devoted two hours to addressing as much of JS's plagiarism as he could. I strongly recommend watching the entire thing, as the first two hours build on the concepts that he uses later in the video.

He also blew the whistle on James' fraud surrounding Telos, a studio James founded using thousands of dollars of IndieGoGo money that never actually produced any films despite him definitely working on them! Any day now they'll be released! Don't you worry!

A day later, Todd in the Shadows, a guy whose entire thing is music reviews, posted his own video debunking multiple outright lies that James had told about history, especially queer history. A few more days later, The Ace Couple, who run a podcast about asexuality, released an episode detailing how they'd lost $1.5k donating to Telos.

I have put the videos, Twitter threads, Patreon posts, and Reddit posts by other people discussing different aspects of James' fraud under the cut.

Every other time James was caught plagiarizing, prior to Harry's video, he would lie about it. Either he'd have some excuse (easily proven to be a lie) or he'd retreat to his favorite deflection: "I'm just being harassed because I'm gay."

This last lie was one he'd use not only to deflect accusations of plagiarism, but all criticism in general, no matter how trivial. Every time, the critic or someone associated with them would somehow dox him, or harass him, or send him death threats, or threaten to falsely accuse him of sexual assault.

This happened to The Ace Couple (who'd tried to correct him on something extremely acephobic in one of his videos), Jessie Gender (who'd tried to correct him when he claimed that there were no queer content creators on Nebula, given that she and a bunch of other queer creators were definitely on that platform), and the person who first blew the whistle on him stealing from Tinker Belles and Evil Queens by Sean Griffin (who was accused of being behind death threats he'd received, and hounded so harshly they had to leave Twitter).

It is important to note that every time James faced potentially damaging criticism, or even just a threat to his ego, suddenly he would claim to be harassed by people connected to the critic, including threats to his life. There has never been any proof of any threats being directed at him, nor evidence that, if the threats were real, that they are actually from people connected to the critic.

In the original video by Hbomberguy, Harry makes a compelling argument that James brought on a friend of his, Nick, as a co-writer specifically as a shield against accusations of plagiarism. "How dare you accuse me of plagiarism! Nick would NEVER do that!" This is even more apparent given subsequent developments which I will get into.

When evidence started dropping about different aspects of his fraud (not only Harry's video, but Todd in the Shadows' video debunking his misinfo, The Ace Couple's podcast about their experience donating to his fraudulent film studio, and Dan Olson's tweet thread about James' obvious lies about his finances), he went into hiding for two weeks, and then put out the first of two apologies. He then deleted that one and put out another one a few weeks later. And then he immediately deleted that one.

While his first apology was rambling, vague, and dramatic (lots of sniffing/crying), and his second was more measured, thought-out, and totally batshit (lots of hilariously and bizarrely implausible excuses for why he'd done what he'd done), they had roughly the same points:

Not ALL of his stuff was plagiarized! Actually, a lot of it wasn't! No specifics as to what, though!

Most of the stuff that was plagiarized was just a failure to properly cite sources, as he had no idea that putting someone's name in your end credits or video description (without specifying what parts are attributable to that person or disclosing that you are using their words verbatim) is not sufficient credit,

Also, he totally had permission, in some cases, to use their work verbatim prior to publishing the video (this is not true, and is disproven both in Harry's video and his own screenshots);

He definitely didn't commit fraud with Telos and would soon have a good explanation for where the money went! (he did not)

He was going to keep the videos up so that he could either donate the funds from any monetization to the fund Harry had set up for his victims or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing his work;

He lost his best friend (i.e. Nick) over these allegations, who absolutely definitely wasn't a scapegoat, except Nick was also responsible for a lot of the stuff James was being criticized for;

He was going to keep the videos up so he could either donate the advertising proceeds to Harry's fund for his victims (first apology) or to "help Nick's portfolio" by showcasing the work he'd done; and

As a result of this entire ordeal, he had attempted either self-harm or suicide (he merely alluded to "doing something stupid").

Again, his response was to 1) downplay the severity of his actions or flat out ignore allegations against him, 2) come up with ridiculous excuses for his behavior, 3) throw Nick under the bus, and 4) claim to be in mortal danger. As far as I am aware, he has never taken any concrete action to make amends to any person, not even donating money to charity.

This was coupled with some kind of attempt to profit: monetizing his apology videos, closing and then reopening his Patreon right before the monthly charge cycle happened (totally to let people unfollow him, not at all as a grab for that money), creating a new Patreon under a different name, and changing his Twitter and Youtube handles to distance himself from the controversy while gathering new followers.

At one point (I forget if this was on Twitter or Instagram), he also said that someone had broken into his apartment due to the notoriety he'd received from Harry's video. I believe that was after his first apology, when people started to point out that he'd just changed the name of his Twitter and Youtube channel and had restarted a new Patreon under a pseudonym. (BTW, the pseudonym he used for his new Patreon was "The Gay Raconteur"; this will be important later).

It had what I think was the desired effect: any attempt at pointing out that he was rebranding his grift now came across as weirdly fixated on minor things he was doing, which certainly wasn't worth putting him in physical danger. (Again, he has never provided any proof of this happening, nor provided any evidence that these people allegedly threatening him were, in fact, in some way inspired by Hbomb).

So along comes March 5, 2024, and James posts a suicide note on his Twitter, saying that he is going to set up his videos to automatically publish (for Nick's portfolio), provide in some way for the ad revenue to go to a suicide prevention nonprofit, and then kill himself.

The immediate response from the internet was compassion and totally chilling any further criticism, since you might be callously criticizing a dead person. Harry and Kat worked for a couple of days to get a wellness check for him while a substantial section of the internet called them murderers.

On March 6, a day after the note was published, Nick tweeted that that he had cause to believe James was fine. Kat confirmed that James was safe on March 11. Due to the drama of the "suicide attempt," however, the chill on criticizing James stayed in place for months.

And then yesterday Lady Emily, one of the cowriters for Sarah Z., drops two more bombs:

James has not one but two alt accounts that he was using to rebrand and start over.

The first one was created between his first and second apologies, and originally was for "The Gay Raconteur" until he changed it to "Will"/"thatgayyouknow" and, later, "The Achillean Boy."

The second one was much older, under the pseudonym "Mikey JB," and used stolen pictures from Grindr instead of his own face. However, it is pretty obvious that it is, in fact, a sockpuppet account and not just some other person who happens to like James, as detailed below.

Both accounts, both between apologies and after his "suicide," talked about how criticism of James was unfair because the plagiarized stuff was "like a decade old" and repeating the same excuses that James had also made.

The "Mikey JB" account not only supported James, but actively threw Nick under the bus, saying that a criticized part of a video "reeks of his co-writer."

On March 6, the day after James' main Twitter posted the suicide note, The Achillean Boy account was hornyposting about Ryan Phillipe. James didn't even take a day or two off of Twitter. If he had been completely off Twitter for a couple of days, that could have been an indication that he really had hurt himself and was unable to access his phone, or at the very least unaware of the panic. But he wasn't. He was aware of it and did nothing. Actually, no! Worse than nothing!

On the same day (March 6), the Mikey JB account was actively contradicting Nick saying he was okay (they "haven't spoken in months" so there's no way Nick could know if he was alive) and saying that "people like you" i.e. his critics, "drove him to it." Not only did he ignore the panic he'd intentionally created, he actively drove it.

He saw people going emotionally through the wringer over the idea that they might have somehow caused his death, and intentionally made them keep thinking it. He say people calling his critics "murderers" for "driving him to his death," and he joined in.

Why am I explaining all of this? I want to make a couple of things extremely clear, and the context is necessary to my ultimate points, namely:

James Somerton didn't merely "credit people improperly;" he conned his followers out of more money than some people make in a year with the Telos con, while raking in thousands more per month on Patreon and buying expensive equipment, while claiming to be near insolvency and in desperate need of money.

James Somerton has never taken full responsibility for his actions or attempted to make amends. He has only ever tried to dodge responsibility, particularly by throwing Nick under the bus.

Every time he has ever been criticized, for any reason, he has lied about threats to his life to gain sympathy and quell criticism. This is a standard part of his MO. He has done this over and over and over again. At this point, I think if he says the sky is blue, someone should go out and check first before doing anything.

"But BB, what if he really is getting harassed/threatened or really is suicidal?"

So, okay: people who are attempting to manipulate you may use legitimate problems as a tool. It doesn't need to be fake to be effective - in fact, it might be more effective if it it's true. An abusive ex who says "if you leave me, I'll kill myself" and genuinely means it and actually attempts it (and possibly even succeeds!) is a lot harder to leave than someone who says the same thing but is clearly just bluffing, because the threat is real.

My rule of thumb in these cases is to treat the threat like it's real, without caving to the intended manipulation. Whether your ex is lying or telling the truth when they say, "I'll kill myself if you leave me," the appropriate response in both cases is to immediately call a mental health service or supportive family member. If it's fake, it's inconvenient for them; if it's real, you reacted appropriately. Your response needs to be the same regardless.

You don't get back together with them because it's a real threat (presumably you wouldn't do that if you knew it was fake and they were never in any danger), and you don't tell them that they're a piece of shit who should be dead (HOPEFULLY you wouldn't do that if you knew for a fact that they were telling the truth).

In this case, I am extremely confident in saying that he was coldbloodedly lying the entire time and was never once threatened, and certainly not to the degree he claimed to be. But even if he wasn't, that does not and should not change anyone's behavior in terms of holding him accountable.

And I mean actually holding him accountable: making sure he doesn't try to start a new con on new people, continuing to point out that he hasn't paid anyone back for his previous con (so long as it's still true), that sort of thing. It doesn't mean people should tell him he should go die for real or, I don't know, try to get him fired if he gets a job at Tim Horton's or Target or something else that's not fraud. That would be wrong regardless of whether he's actually in danger or not. The point is to avoid being cruel without negotiating with terrorists.

Video sources and links under the cut:

Links:

It's like Breaking Bad, but backwards: a brief history of how Somerton successfully screwed himself Dan Olson's Twitter thread about the financial fraud My Year With James: Todd's post explaining the backstory of his video (Patreon-locked) DJSO#: Dan Olson's breakdown of James' second apology (Patreon-locked) Lady Emily's Twitter threads revealing James' alt accounts, part 1 and part 2

[sparrows4bats]

@vi-reads Thanks for the Inspo!!

Damian is smart, a genius to rival his father, everyone knows that, but what even the batfamily didn't realise is just how qualified he is.

Damian spent at least the first 10 years of his life with access to a multitude of tutors who were forced to change their ciriculums to adapt to how fast he learnt. By the time he joins his family, he has the equivalent of PHDs in many fields, including but not limited to Geology, Business and Finance, Engineering, and Zoology. He learnt classical instruments such as the violin and is fluent in multiple languages.

Now imagine a preteen Damian going from that to a classroom education with his age group for the first time. No matter how elite Gotham Academy claims to be, there is only so much they can do to keep him stimulated, and as Bruce wants him to learn social skills, he is stuck in tedium.

So he looks for other outlets out of pure boredom. As the stagnantation gets worse, so does his attitude.

The first one to notice is Alfred, predictably. The old butler remembers how Bruce was at that age and the terror he was in his boredom, so he took Damian aside and offered him a deal. If he completes all of his schoolwork, how his teachers want him to. (It takes Damian only two hours a week) Alfred has no issue procuring him learning materials on any subject he would like. Damian so frustrated at this point, agrees without hesitation. The Manor quickly fills with university level textbooks on Physics, Chemical Engineering and Mathematics.

But soon that isn't enough, and Damian, despite knowing more than ever, has nothing to do with it.

He start seeking out the rogues after he finds their research. Ivy, Quinn, Freeze, and Scarecrow are very confused but so happy and flattered to talk about their work with Robin, who has fascinating ideas of his own.

Barbara is the next to notice because while she is taking inventory of Batcave supplies, she notices chemicals and other raw materials are going missing, so she checks the cameras and sees Damian making gadgets, different antidotes and poisons, even a second flying Batmobile!!

So Barbara confronts him about it and he (and Alfred) explain what's been going on and Barbara feels her heartbreak a little because God does she understand this problem she herself is always pursuing at least one qualification or writing a research paper under a puesdo name. When she was young, her boredom and the lack of accommodations in Gotham literally led to her becoming Batgirl.

A bored genius in Gotham is a recipe for disaster, so she very quickly sets Damian up with placement exams in every subject she can think of. He passes every single one of them at a high school level and many past university.

Damian looks elated when the results arrive, and Barbara easily convinces Harvard (where she did her law degree long distance) to accredit him and formalise his qualifications. They even work it so Damian can write his dissertations in Gotham Academy so that he can still gain social skills and go to Gotham University to use their labs and libraries when needed.

By the end of the year, Damian has earned his official PhD. in Geology and Mechanical Engineering and plans on doing his next one in Chemistry and Bioengineering. He even easily completes an MBA and starts branching out to the humanities.

The family doesn't know about any of this until Damian invites them all to his graduation, but do note the improvement in Damians' behaviour. (Damian keeps forging Bruces signature on the paperwork).

To say they are shocked but happy is an understatement. Bruce has a crisis because Damian has multiple PHDs in Gotham! What if he becomes a villain!

Yet all of Damians' research is for the betterment of people and animals. The batfamily becomes very overprotective of him, especially around chemicals. Just in case.

Jon finds out about it after Damian and he start dating. He knew his best friend was smart but hadn't taken him that seriously when they were kids. Damian went to Gotham Academy and hated every second of it.

After he slept over for the first time and couldn't find him in the morning, Jon located him in the Manor by his heartbeat to Damians study, where his degrees were framed and hung on the wall. He was in awe of how many there were.

Damian proudly explained each one to him, and Jon kissed his genius for every graduation he missed. He now calls Damian Doctor just to see him blush. (In the privacy of his own mind, Dr. And Mr Wayne Kent has a nice ring to it.)

Damian and Barbara bond and give feedback on eachothers work regularly. The bats who are still in school come to them for help, and Tim is inspired to get his GED and join a university program. (Alfred is Delighted) The Wayne Family Library expands rapidly to accommodate research materials, and Bruce builds Damian a proper lab. (It's so much easier to make antidotes now!)

When Damian goes to med school, he quits being Robin as he has to be there in person at odd hours. Bruce mopes, but goes to yet another graduation. Damian still does some lab work but finds his calling in Surgery and Medical Research.

The thing is, outside of the family, and even inside of it, very few know how many qualifications Damian has achieved.

Until one of the rare times Damian goes to Watchtower and someone tries to correct him as he explains the very complicated biochemical pathogen that is being spread by a new villain.

Damian looks bored and asks where they did their degree when other answers he goes, "Oh yes, I know your advisor. I disproved his shoddy results last month. I published my paper last week."

The hero turns bright red and tries to argue, but Damian shuts him down at every turn. "Well, the expert in this field - "

"Is me, so if you don't have a better idea, sit the hell down and shut up!"

The bats look so smug, and Jon has to restrain himself from dragging his wonderful partner into the nearest supply closet. (He finds Damian so irresistible when he is both competent and verbally evisirating someone.)

[heetr]

daddy issues ── ( 심재윤 )

synopsis — jake works too much, but he loves harder. ── smut (m.), requested ( @riqomi ). dilf!jake x babysitter afab!reader. wc : 2.03k !

warnings — jake’s a few years older, (25). pet names: baby. unprotected sex (don’t be a fool, cover your tool) p.i.v. sex / pwp also. jake’s between the soft and rough dom area, y/n is down bad for her boss, jake’s a consent king, jake as a 3 year old toddler (s/n - son name), breeding (jake’s pull out game : weak.. pussy too good.)

two weeks ago… “s/n has already had a bath, a nice dinner, and his uniform for school tomorrow is out, hanging on his closet door. mr. shim.” you hummed, you’ve been babysitting for jake for a few months now. he was a few years older than you, a perfect mix of sweetness and tenderness. he was a tired hard working man, he had a minimum wage job—working in a corporate office, as an agent. “thank you, y/n seriously i don’t know what i would do without you.

and you? a college dropout who needed extra money until you found a job—but with the way jake pays you… you don’t need another one. “there are leftovers on the counter for you mr. shim, you’ve seemed to have had a long day. it’s my grandma's recipe, you’ll love it.” you assure him, he smiled. thanking you once again before placing your weeks worth of money in your hands.

you should have about five hundred dollars sitting in your palms right now. more than you’d usually give, but jake always threw a little extra on top. “do you think you’ll be available next week?” jake asked, hair messy and voice raspy from a long day of: “thank you for calling lee enterprises how can i help?” — “i was hoping so, we could do your monthly feedback and a dinner.. maybe? i still have to work but.. yeah.”

“are you asking me on a date mr. shim?” you were taken a bit aback, not rejecting it but not clearly understanding it either. did he want the dinner with just you and him or you him and friends.. “i thought we’d keep this a little professional.. yeah?” as he was still your boss you don’t think dinner is smart… not yet. “i’ll be available to work though… just text me dates. goodnight.” you smiled, walking away—now you just rejected a man on a date. and hopefully, his heart was bigger than his ego.

over the next few weeks, jake made it his mission to have at least a 10 minute long conversation with him every night. learning you, understanding your personality and your humor. what makes you sad, happy and what gives you the ick. he was feeling you, and he’s not sure how. or why.

“hear me out,” he walks into his kitchen. “we could take s/n to a baseball game? i’m inviting you because my friends are busy with their partners or working.. and s/n likes you y/n.” — “i’ll have to think about it mr. shim.” you chuckled while taking a drink of your water.

“jake is my name. you can call me jake. mr. shim is for when we’re working… and you’re not working.” hear made you laugh a bit—he was funny. flirty and you indeed felt something towards him. you’d finally started staying late, sometimes he’d bring takeout and you’d eat it together. brushing knees accidentally when sitting with each other. jake’s eyes always lingered. he could be staring at you, your lips. you nose… shamelessly your chest, thighs… ass. he was in love with your ass.

one night, he asks you to stay for dinner. real dinner. he cooks, a little clumsy but endearing, and you help, bumping shoulders and exchanging soft glances. also taking a few drinks… glasses of wine. a/n was upstairs sleeping, and your job was done. at first, you hesitated, drinking with your boss? but now. he made you feel comfortable like you were at home.

and now, today you’d decided to stay, longer than you ever had. it was around two in the morning and you and jake were up all night having conversations. he was so easy to talk to… you found yourself curled up on the couch, looking over and laughing at him as he talked about the most embarrassing thing to happen to him. “okay. it’s not that funny. i did think it was going to eat me..” he frowns playfully. “what about you? the most embarrassing thing you’ve done or had done to you.”

you were a bit tipsy, sipping on the wine jake poured for you an hour previous. “well.” you laughed nervously, not sure if you should spill it. “i have daddy issues, and every guy i’ve ever met has noticed that about me. it’s embarrassing because i always get left in the end… i kissed a guy once and he said i kissed like ive been hurt too many times… HUMBLED ME.” you covered your face, laughing now because it’s funny but back then—broke you .

jake only laughs a little, setting his own glass down. “i don’t see daddy issues, i see that you’re trying though.” he admits, “how about i kiss you, and let me see if i can taste it on your lips.” as much as you wanted to believe he was joking, he was not. you only looked at him, head tilting in disbelief. “do you think that’s appropriate, mr. shim?” 

“i thought you clocked out of babysitter duties, five hours ago? i’m not your boss right now, i’m a friend. a friend willing to help you learn the truth.” he nodded his head. you don’t know why that was so attractive, how he looked at you—how he protected you but was assertive with his attitude. he was honest… and we can all admit that he’s a handsome.. attractive man. who just so happens to be a father. an active father figure, it was so hot to you.

“okay. you have a point,” you say your drink down, moving closer to jake—practically crawling to him. you looked at his lips before looking into his eyes. jake placed his hands on your waist, pulling you to sit in his lap. right where he wanted you. it was unspoken—the attraction you both had to each other.

your lips finally touched. warm and synced almost instantly—like you were made to be right here. it was soft at first, then it got more intense. showing signs you both wanted each other. jake mutters against your lips. “you can tell me when to stop you know.” oh but you didn’t want to stop, and neither did he. 

jake’s hands slide down to your thighs, gripping hard enough to leave marks, pulling you closer until you’re straddling him fully. he groans into your mouth when you roll your hips against him, slow and teasing, feeling how hard he already is through his sweats. “fuck, y/n.” he mutters, voice wrecked, dragging his mouth down your neck. “been thinking about this all year.. every time i see you… you’re driving me fucking crazy.” 

you whimper when he nips at your skin, grinding down harder, your hands fumbling to push his shirt up. you need to feel him — all of him — need to get as close as you possibly can. he picks up on that, taking his shirt off before taking yours and tossing it away. “beautiful.” he looked at your chest, kissing and sucking at your skin. leaving only a few marks. 

you couldn’t believe what you were doing, how this could affect the both of you in the long run. “look at me,” he whispered, kissing up your neck and then your lips again. you hadn’t told him to stop, even if you did tell him—you didn’t want to. looking at him, it’s like he put a spell on you. your whole body relaxing under his touch. you hadn’t even realized he’d laid you down. 

“can i take your clothes off?” he asked softly next to your ear, settling himself between your legs. once you agreed, he wasted no time stripping you down. kissing over your skin with lust. “fuck you look so good…” he murmured. stripping himself next, moving his hand down to rub your core—feeling how you were already dripping wet and the sweet sounds embedding itself into his brain. “excited?” 

you shut your eyes in minor embarrassment, biting your lips as his finger worked its way around your clit. slow and sensual feelings shooting through your clit up to your chest. jake slipped a finger inside, then another. “so wet, warm. you smell good… it’s like you're reeling me in.” he chuckled, leaning over your body and brushing his tip along your slit. “ready?” 

“ready,” you said against his lips. without wasting any more time, jake slid into you—his own eyes squeezing shut. he’d been working so much he forgot what pussy felt like. “holy shit—.” you were so tight, maybe too tight for him. he had to work his way through it. there was no way he was passing up another night alone with you. 

your soft moans helped him through it, grabbing ahold of his shoulders. it took him a minute but he thrusted—in and out of you. slowly at first, making sure he felt how deep your velvet walls were. how stretched he’d gotten you. he was huge, and you could feel him everywhere.. it was quickly becoming an addiction. “fuck.. right there.” you moaned. 

he kissed you, deeply. like he was done playing nice. hands sliding up your sides and holding you down to the couch. keeping you exactly where he wanted you. the shift in his energy��� the tension rebuilding in the air. he was ready to break. “you made it so hard to keep my hands to myself.” he sits up, holding your legs in place while rutting deeper into you. 

“always sitting there looking so good.. no matter what you wore. i always had to rub one out after you left.” he admits, his moans slipping through his words. “your body screamed at me to touch it.. take it. and sitting here. so easy. that just let me know that you wanted it as bad as i did baby.” 

the way he was talking, the way your cunt squelched with each thrust. it was driving him insane—he was so focused on it. on the sound—making you feel good and praying for the best outcome of it all. “look at you, falling apart beneath me..” was it even possible for him to get even harder? you felt it.. all of it. “fuck i’m so close..” you moaned, his free hand coming up to your neck, squeezing it and applying pressure. 

your tummy did a thing, like butterflies. you wanted it, you needed it. “fuck.. fuck me harder.” you covered your mouth, holding back as you started to get louder. but jake uncovered it, “let it out. let me hear you fall apart, tell me how good it feels. nobody can fuck you the way i do.” jake’s words were ripping you apart. into pieces, “that’s it..” 

your moans slipped, uncontrollably. you wish you could put into words how good it felt but he was rocking your world. it was too much, too good and your whimpers from the contact. told him he was doing an amazing job. he pulled out, earning a whine from you before slamming back into you. “so fucking desperate to cum..” he was mesmerized by you. 

everything he was doing, words couldn’t form in your mouth. only sounds and squeaks. even your eyes were rolling back—he moved his hands. watching how you rolled your hips up, matching his pace. “don’t stop, please.. please don’t stop.” you ran your hands down his chest. loving every second of it. “even your beg is so pretty.” 

“you’re gonna cum like this baby?” you nod, ready to release it whenever he was ready for you too. it was his world, you were enamored in it. his breath got shaky, thrust getting sloppier��louder. harder. “then let’s cum together.” his voice was dark, low—almost dangerous. your legs were shaking, you couldn’t hold it, clenching around him—uncontrollably. 

and then he growls, deep and rough, lips brushing yours as he says, “then do it. come for me. now.” and you do—hard, trembling, a mess in his hands as the pleasure crashes over you like a wave too big to fight. he holds you through it, grounding you, watching you unravel with a smug, look. jake spilled himself into you, practically claiming you as his. he was possessive over you already, and he couldn’t let anyone else have you. ever again. 

taglist ; @yoursjaeyun

[gallusrostromegalus]

If you please; what is your Tolberone theory of knowledge?

My theory, which I thought up a few weeks ago while sick with covid, is that all knowledge is a form of art, and that there are very broadly three basic types of knowledge arts: physical arts, philosophical arts, and scientific arts, and that pretty much all academic, artistic and practical disciplines exist somewhere in that triangle spectrum.

Physical arts are knowledges of how to actually, physically do things. The purest front of physical arts are things like dance and navigation.

Scientific arts are knowledges of things that can be tested and proven. Computer programming and Quilting are both scientific arts: they work, or they don't.

Philosophical Arts are knowledges of things which while not objectively provable, are still very real. History and Being A Good Listener are philosophical arts.

Nearly every discipline of knowledge is some combination of all three. Cooking is largely applied chemistry, a scientific art, but it's also a philosophical art because flavor is extremely cultural and contextual, and a physical art because you have to know how to hold the damn knife and heat when it's done.

The first part of toblerone theory is that, like how each piece has three sides, any given project needs at least one person who has a good grasp of each of the underlying arts involved or it's going to go sideways at best. For example:

Physical and Scientific arts, no philosophy: Jurassic Park. They need someone to point out that, while very possible, it's not necessarily a good idea.

Philosophy and Science, no physical: that dril tweet about the forum debate locked by a mod after 12,000 pages of heated debate. They need someone to drag them away from the keyboard and actually do something.

Philosophy and Physical, no science: that cult in midsommar that put a guy in a bearsuit. Without the ability to engage measurably with the world, they give into fear and behave like reactive animals. Also the "rare chicken steak" phenomenon.

You can have differing ratios of each type- Jurassic Park really only needed two philosophers: one animal behaviorist and an OSHA inspector, and 98% of the issues would have been avoided- but you do need at least ONE of each underlying art to check each other's work.

The second part of toblerone theory is that, like how the toblerone is made of many triangle pieces, there are poles to the triangle spectrum. Practical vs Esoteric arts. Short term and long term arts. High stakes vs for funsies arts.

While you have have different ratios and levels of expertise in each of the arts, you do all need them to be on the same piece of the bar, or they won't take each other seriously. A UN Diplomat and a climate scientist aren't going to take the advice of physical artist my uncle Bobby the plumber re: global warming, but they will take the advice of physical artist my Aunt Cheryl the civil engineer, a world expert in getting shit done.

The same applies for the other end of the spectrum. Aunt Cheryl the civil engineer isn't going to get much milage with the local high school student council and principal Waley when the problem at hand is "what are we going to do for this year's prom theme?"

I gotta go to therapy now, pictures later.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Kiss and Make Up

Summary: You used to get along with your brother’s best friend, but at some point, it all changed. Lando’s rude comments frustrate you to no end, and your brother is fed up with your complaints. Max only sees one solution: you need to make up.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 5.0K

Warnings: cursing?

Masterlist

You heard the keys jiggle in the door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, and your brother stomping through the hallway of your parental home. You finally have some time off from school after the insane amount of deadlines and exams that filled your last couple of weeks and decided to visit your family. You like studying and university, but it’s nice to come home and be taken care of instead of doing everything on your own. However, you’re still in charge of dinner tonight. You can never make it back home without being forced to make your famous lasagne at least once and tonight’s the night your family will be blessed with your famed, home-made dish. 

Max smiled when he saw you standing in the kitchen, chopping up the veggies for tonight. Although he’d never tell you directly, he had missed you. Max still lived close to your parents whereas you had moved further away for school. It made it difficult to see each other regularly, especially since Max had started Quadrant with Lando and didn’t make the effort to visit you anymore. Seeing you in person had become a rare occurrence, something that would only happen in his parents’ house.

Max put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned forward to watch what you were doing. “Hey sis, are you making lasagne?” He said with a smile.

“Hello Y/N, I’ve missed you. How are you doing? – I’m doing well, Max. Thank you for asking.” You mumbled as you continued to cut vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t see it with your back towards your brother, but he smiled at your antics. “Hello my dear sister, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I do wonder how you’re doing.”

You turned around and smiled when he pulled you into a hug. “It’s your own fault. You never come to visit me, but I’m doing well now that the exams are over,” you tell him with a chuckle.

Max decided to ignore your complaint, instead redirecting the conversation to what you were busying yourself with. “So, lasagne?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m making lasagne for dinner.” 

He silently cheered at your response. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face when he asked, “Is there enough for one more?”

“Depends… Who’s it for? P?” You said, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as you cut up more veggies.

“Does it matter who I invited? You won’t let anyone else eat your lasagne?” He said with a laugh, but you knew the question was serious. He knew you didn’t particularly get along with some of his friends – actually, one of his friends, Lando. To say your relationship with Lando isn’t great would be an understatement. Max didn’t know why exactly you didn’t get along, you’ve never indulged him, but the dislike is clearly noticeable and has been going on for ages. Max had tried to improve the relationship in the past, but nothing had worked, only making it worse. He doesn’t understand why Lando, specifically; you don’t seem to have any issues with his other friends. 

You looked at Max pointedly; he was asking for something he already knew. Of course, you’d let people other than P eat your lasagne. There’s only one person that you wouldn’t allow.

Max sighed at your seriousness, “Yes, I’ve invited P,” he told you.

You smiled triumphantly, “Good! I’ve missed her; more than you, actually,” you said with a snort.

Max rolled his eyes at your comment. “I should never have introduced you two. You’re suspiciously close,” he mumbled as he shook his head, leaving the kitchen.

You grinned at his comment and continued to prepare dinner. You carefully cut the veggies, made the sauce and built the lasagne before you covered it with cheese. After you finally put it in the oven, you went to your room to freshen up. Of course, you cannot cut tomatoes without getting juice on your shirt, so clean clothes are a necessity. You quickly changed your shirt, reapplied your deodorant, and fixed up your hair before you heard the door opening, footsteps and voices following soon after. You smiled as you walked down the stairs, excited to see Pietra after months. You walked into the room, ready to hug your brother’s girlfriend, only to see his boyfriend making himself comfortable on the couch.

Your smile dropped from your face in an instant, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Lando,” you said in a low voice. What on earth was he doing here? Your brother told you he’d invited his girlfriend, your friend; was she not here yet? Lando must’ve come to pick something up, right? He wouldn’t visit around this time unless he came to pick something up… Or come for dinner… Judging by how comfortable he had made himself on the couch, you doubt it’s the former.

“Y/N! How are you?” Lando said, getting up from the couch to properly greet you. You scoffed and folded your arms as he moved closer.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too,” Lando said with a smirk.

“I hope you’re not here for dinner,” you continue.

“I am here for dinner, actually. Max invited me.”

You shifted your eyes over to Max in anger. He’d told you P would be coming over, not Lando. The little bitch. 

“I take it P’s not coming, then?” It was evident in your voice that you were upset.

Max looked at you with apologetic eyes, like a child being scolded, as he avoided your gaze. At the lack of response, you turned your attention back to Lando.

“There isn’t enough food for all of us, and even if there was, it probably wouldn’t match your fancy diet anyway. Go buy a salad or something,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at your response. “Such hostility,” he said, his hand resting on his chest in fake hurt, and a teasing grin on his face that made you want to slap it off.

You gritted your teeth at the teasing – God, this man frustrated you to no end, and he was enjoying it, too. 

“Fuck off, Lando. You’re not welcome here,” you said before walking away.

Lando was about to follow you into the dining room, unable to resist teasing you further, but Max stopped him. “Come on, man. Don’t provoke her. She’s already annoyed, especially because I lied to her.” 

You paced the dining room in an attempt to calm yourself down while the lasagne cooked in the oven. You grabbed the plates from the cabinet and started setting the table. You'd cooled off until you realised you’d have to set a place for Lando. You frowned as you stared at the last plate. Why couldn’t Lando just leave you alone? He should know not to bother you, you’d shown him before how petty you could be when he frustrated you, so why did he have to try again and again? Should you act like the bigger person, get over yourself and set the table for Lando, or should you 'forget' about Lando and set only four places? Your parents would be upset for sure, but the urge to retaliate is so strong. You stood still for at least a minute as you weighed your options. 

A smile crept its way on your face when you spotted the kids’ table in the corner of the dining room. Usually, it’s only used for big family events, when your much younger cousins would come to visit. They don’t properly fit at the adult table and have their own tiny table in the corner of the room. A normal-sized human wouldn’t properly fit on one of the seats, but then again, Lando’s short, right? Besides, if he acts like a child, then he can sit at the children’s table. You grab the children’s cutlery and plate from the cabinet and set a special place for Lando. You can barely keep your laughter back at the thought of Lando sitting at the small table in a chair that’s way too tiny for him.

When you heard the timer beep, you tried to neutralise your expression. You placed the lasagne on the kitchen table before calling your family (and Lando) for dinner. Your parents were, unsurprisingly, the first to join you at the table. The boys, naturally, were still finishing up the game they started before dinner was finished. Your parents were already seated and provided with drinks before the boys came walking in. Although your parents hadn’t noticed the table in the corner or the missing chair, your brother noticed straight away.

He looked at you disappointedly as he said, “Y/N, did you seriously not set a place for Lando?”

“No, I did. It’s right over there,” you said, pointing to the kids’ table.

The boys looked in the direction you were pointing, and Max started laughing immediately. Meanwhile, Lando was shocked at how blunt you were being. So far, every retaliation you’d ever taken wasn’t that obvious. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and disappointment as he stared at the table – did you really dislike him that much?

“Where’s the other chair?” Max asked, still chuckling as he stood at the empty spot by the table.

You didn’t look up when you responded, “I don’t know,” shrugging your shoulders as you casually continued to divide the lasagne.

Lando sighed as he tried the chair, his knees pointing out above the table. Max only laughed louder at the image, and your dad couldn’t resist chuckling either while Lando pouted.

“I can’t eat like this.” 

“Then don’t. I told you you’re not welcome.” 

“Y/N!” Your mum scolded you before turning to Lando. “You’re always welcome here, darling. Ignore her,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where did you put the chair?” She questioned you.

You sighed, “They’re just in the pantry,” you admitted.

Your mum stood up and grabbed the chair for Lando who was still sitting in the tiny seat, while Max took pictures to post on his story, laughing. Lando smiled thankfully when she came back with the chair and grabbed a normal plate to serve him a generous portion of your homemade lasagne.

You couldn’t help but glare at Lando when he took his first bite. He was undeserving of the food which you had put so much effort and love into. You couldn’t even enjoy your own portion with the boy sitting across from you, although it tasted great. But Lando couldn't enjoy it either with the glares you kept sending him. Your resentment made him uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d be afraid that you’d poisoned his dinner. That was not your style though; he knew exactly how you liked to take your revenge. After all, he had experienced your wrath many times, and he had to admit you were very creative in creating your retaliations. He could never be entirely sure, or prove that you were the cause, but everything about the weird situations he’d been in the past years screamed your name.

There was one time that he’d gotten tens of phone calls every day for a week about a missing key. Even now, he occasionally gets calls about a key that was found. It seems quite innocent, but Lando’s phone was blowing up the entire week at the most inconvenient times: while he was in important meetings, when he was spending time with friends, even when he was streaming. Another time, Lando’s Netflix was completely messed up. All the recommendations on his home screen were for kids’ TV and romcoms. This, too, seems innocent enough, but after he had watched Netflix together with Daniel Ricciardo, and his homepage was filled with Cocomelon, The Kissing Booth, Riverdale and other films and series of the same genre, he had to hear about it for years to come. Some other time, Lando’s clothes mysteriously fell apart after only a few hours of wearing them after he’d stayed the night at Max's place at the same time as you. He didn't know how, but he was sure you had something to do with that too.

Although your reactions were very petty and often childish, Lando did admire your perseverance, resourcefulness and creativity. If he wasn’t always the victim of your crimes, he would have loved them, and perhaps even encouraged them, because, let’s be honest, it’s impressive if you can make someone’s clothes fall apart when you’re not even near them.

Lando didn’t really understand why he was always your victim, though. When you were younger, you’d gotten along fine, but as you’d gotten older you’d become meaner to him. He didn't know where things went wrong, and whether it was his fault or you just decided you were done with him. You used to tease each other, yes, but that was always mutual and lighthearted. Neither of you minded the comments that were made because you both knew it was all in good fun. At some point, you just started doing things like these, and Lando still doesn't know what initiated it.

You know exactly when it started, though. Everything was fine until Max and Lando hit puberty. Suddenly, they were ‘too cool’ to hang out with you, and you were excluded from all of their activities. The teasing didn’t really feel like teasing anymore, but rather mean comments that hurt you. Lando never caught onto your change in perception; he thought you still saw it as teasing. But the comments became more rude over time, and it felt like the boys who were your friends once, were now making fun of you.

Like when you were invited to apply for Honours College at your university. You were extremely proud that your grades in your regular courses were good enough to be admitted, and that you’d been invited to apply. But Lando just called you a nerd and laughed before continuing to talk about his own achievements, as if what you’d done was nothing important or impressive.

It wouldn’t have mattered much if it were any other friend of your brother, but Lando was important. You’d known him for about ten years, and he was basically a part of your family. What didn’t help either was that you had developed a small crush on him over the years. By the time he turned twenty, he’d gone through a glow-up. He finally learned how to deal with his curly hair and his face had matured to that of a handsome man. You were attracted to him, but his ugly personality distracted from his looks – most of the time.

Nevertheless, you wanted to impress Lando; to make him like you so he would stop with the off-handed comments. Though you weren’t necessarily good at sports or karting like he was, you excelled academically. You thought by showing your intelligence, you could gain his respect. Unknowingly, it made Lando feel dumb. He’d never even finished secondary school, and you were taking on extra classes in university without any troubles. He reacted differently than he would have liked to, but he thought you’d understand it was a joke.

Another time, you organised a last-minute surprise party for your brother. You had made sure there were decorations, music, food, and most importantly, drinks. You were happy with what you had managed to do in the time available, but your mood significantly worsened when Lando jokingly said you could have put in a little more effort. He was smiling when he said it, but it felt like he was making fun of you; of the amount of effort you had put in to make sure everything was organised as perfectly as possible. Despite his intention to tease, it didn't feel that way to you.

The comment that you believe triggered your best revenge was on Pietra’s birthday. She celebrated her birthday at Max’s apartment, and of course, you’d come to visit and celebrate with her. A few months before her birthday she’d shown you a top she really liked when she was online shopping, but the colour wasn’t right. So, for her birthday, you decided to crochet the top in her favourite colour. It was a bold choice because you didn’t have much experience crocheting, nevertheless, you tried. If she didn’t like it, you would just buy it from the store after all, or get her something else. You thought it looked pretty good, especially for your first try. Regardless, there were some mistakes and uneven shapes.

Pietra was completely surprised and elated with the present, especially when you told her you made it yourself. She knew how much time and effort it probably cost you to make it, but Lando didn't consider that when he commented on the piece.

“You made it yourself? Maybe you should practice a little more, huh?” He said, laughing, before handing it back to P.

You felt the smile drop from your face at the hurtful remark, but Lando was oblivious to the fact he hurt your feelings. Max turned to Lando in shock, while Pietra assured you that she loved the top, and couldn’t wait to wear it. You plastered a smile on your face, but it was obvious (to anyone but Lando) that it was fake. That night, after drinking your feelings away, you tore the seams in Lando’s clothes. Not every single one, but enough so it would fall apart after too much exertion; the punishment should fit the crime.

The anticipatory pleasure at the thought of Lando’s clothes tearing at an inconvenient moment was enough to satisfy you. When you heard about what happened a few days later from Max, you could barely keep your laugh back.

More recently, you had gone clubbing with your brother and his friends. It was an unusual event because your brother didn’t want to see you flirting or dancing with random boys in the club, but this time it was different. He knew you’d been stressed from school, and he’d rather you let loose when he’s there than when he’s not there to keep an eye on you. 

You were dancing with your brother and his friends when a cute boy came up to you, asking if he could buy you a drink. You said yes, of course. You would never refuse a free drink, especially in good, handsome, company, and you wanted to get over your small crush on Lando. You don’t know why or how, but he always seemed ten times hotter in a club, and you needed to get away from him. The longer you stayed near him, the more his pretty face and well-dressed body seemed to distract you from his unattractive personality, and that couldn’t happen. 

You followed the man to the bar and ordered a drink as he flirted with you. His attention was completely focused on you, but you kept getting distracted by the feeling of eyes on your back. It wasn’t until you were dancing in the middle of the large crowd that the feeling faded. You felt free without the supervision of your brother, and without Lando to distract you.

The man pulled your back closer to him, and you let him. You swayed from side to side with your arms in the air while he kissed his way down your neck. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t matter; it was good enough. You liked the feeling of his lips on your neck and felt yourself get lost in the moment until suddenly there was a tug on your arm.

Your eyes opened in shock as you felt yourself get pulled away. The man you were dancing with didn’t seem to mind much and moved on with another girl standing nearby as you stared at Lando confused and disoriented.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him as you struggled to pull your arm from his firm grip.

“I’m taking you back to the group, you need to be more careful,” he explained.

You scoffed, “What? I was perfectly safe! Let me go!”

“Were you? He seemed untrustworthy,” Lando continued as he pulled you through the club.

“I was just having fun! God, you’re so annoying!” You say with a huff before walking back to your brother.

Lando watched you as you walked away. He didn't want you to dance with that man, or any man for that matter, even though he would never admit it. However, you had misunderstood his intentions. To you it seemed like he was interrupting your fun, cockblocking if you will, and it frustrated you to no end. 

For days to come, you complained to your brother about what happened, insisting that it was none of Lando’s business and he should’ve left you alone. However, your brother grew tired of your complaints really quickly and couldn’t deal with your issues anymore. Your ongoing dispute with Lando had dragged on for too long and it needed to be resolved, soon, before he went insane. During your next fight, Max would force the two of you to repair your relationship, whether you wanted to or not, because he simply couldn’t take it any longer.

It didn’t take long until your next fight. You were looking at pictures of Lando and Max on Instagram from when they went golfing a few days back when you spotted something. In one of the pictures, Lando was taking a photo with a camera, a camera which he had seemingly ‘borrowed’ from you without your knowledge. 

The second you saw him enter your parents’ house, you targeted him.

“You stole my camera?”

“Hello to you, too, Y/N,” he responded with a grin.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where is it, Lando,” you continued, stepping closer to him.

“I gave it to Max. He was supposed to give it back. He hasn’t yet?” 

“No, he hasn’t. And you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

Your gaze shifted to Max, who walked in behind Lando.

“Where is it, Max?” 

“In my room somewhere, I think.”

“Can you go grab it? Please?”

The words you said were much kinder than the way you said them. Max sighed before walking up the stairs to his room, you and Lando in tow. He looked around the room, getting on his knees to look under the bed.

“You put my camera under your bed?” You asked angrily.

“I’m not sure if I did, that’s why I’m looking, Y/N.”

Max thought this was the absolute worst. He had gotten himself pulled into one of your arguments again, and now he was being yelled at by you when it wasn’t his fault to begin with. He sighed before getting up. 

“I’ll just go grab my phone for the flashlight,” he said before leaving the room.

You merely nodded in response as you continued to look around the room in search of your camera when you heard the door close, the lock falling in place.

“Max? Did you just lock the door?”

Lando lifted his head from his place on the floor, where he was looking under the dresser, at your insinuation. He quickly changed his position to sit up, staring at the door with you.

“Yes, I did. The two of you need to make up. I won’t let you out until you get along. I can’t handle the two of you fighting anymore. It’s really fucking annoying,” he said through the door.

You looked at Lando in shock, to find him already staring back at you.

“Max, you can’t do this! What the fuck is wrong with you! Let us out!” You yelled as you knocked on the door.

When he didn’t react, you hit the door again, “Max!”

You looked at Lando at the lack of response, “Do something!” You said, but he merely looked at you.

“What am I supposed to do? Knocking the door won’t help. I actually think it might be a good idea for us to talk everything out.”

You looked at Lando in shock. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged while he stared at you, and you shook your head in response.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, pacing around the room while Lando followed you with his eyes as he sat on your brother’s bed, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m leaving,” you said, opening the window.

“What are you doing?” Lando asks, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I’m leaving,” you repeated, sitting on the window sill, throwing one leg outside.

“What have I done to you to make you this angry? I can’t believe you’d rather fall out of a window than talk to me,” Lando frowned.

You let out a choked laugh, mouth open in shock. “Are you serious? You don’t know what you’ve done?” You said as you sat on the window sill, one leg outside the window, the other still on the floor.

“Yes. Please tell me, because I’ve obviously missed a lot if you’re willing to climb out of a window. By the way, stop climbing out of the window!” Lando said, all but running to prevent you from dangling your other leg out of the window too. It was already halfway there, leaving you in a very uncomfortable position when Lando grabbed your leg.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Y/N!” 

“No, I’m not,” you grunted out as you tried to kick him away. You leaned away from him, losing your grip on the windowsill at the exertion. Lando could barely catch you before you fell out of the window. 

“Fuck, Y/N! I told you to get away from the window!” He yelled as he pulled you away from it and back into the room before quickly closing the window. He stood in front of it as if he was trying to block your way from the window, trying to block your escape.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t be such a baby, I’m fine.” 

“Only because I was holding your leg.”

“If you weren’t holding my leg I wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.” You stepped closer to him, huffing in defiance. 

Lando sighed, but he didn’t respond. He kept silent while he stared at you, challenging you as you crept closer without breaking eye contact. The tension in the room was palpable, and it only increased the longer you stared at each other. Your breath was shallow from the adrenaline of your near-fall, and your glare was met with a look of annoyance. Lando’s hands hung limply by his sides, the complete opposite of a mere moment ago when he grabbed you with such urgency.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Lando's voice was low, strained with frustration.

"Me?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You're the one who's always so demeaning, so... so infuriating!"

"Infuriating?" Lando repeated, scoffing. "Coming from the girl who sabotages my Netflix and sets up kiddie tables for me?"

"You deserved it," you retorted, folding your arms and looking down. "You always mock me and belittle everything I do, every achievement, every effort… Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Lando’s confidence faltered at your confession. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, stroking your arm softly. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I thought... I thought we were just joking around, teasing. I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise what?" you interrupted, eyes brimming with tears. "That your words actually affect me? That I care what you think?"

Lando's hand reached out, tentatively brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost adoring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know."

You closed your eyes, breathing out through your nose as you let the apology sink in. When you opened them again, the regret you saw in his eyes made you believe him. But it was the love and adoration in his gaze that convinced you.

"Lando..." you began, but your voice caught in your throat.

Before you could finish, Lando closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was longing. Slowly, almost apprehensively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in an uncertain kiss.

Your initial surprise was quickly replaced by the warmth spreading through your body. Almost automatically, your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The kiss deepened, filled with your pent-up frustration and unspoken feelings. Your hands slid up Lando's neck and you ran your hands through his hair, pulling on it softly. The sensation of Lando's hands on your body, and his lips against yours felt right, making everything else fade away.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Lando’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, and you were certain your eyes showed the same.

“What… what just happened?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was now slightly tousled from your fingers. “I don’t know. But it felt… right.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of all of the emotions running wild inside you. “We can’t just pretend this didn’t happen, Lando.”

“I don’t want to,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. 

You laughed softly at the situation, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arms around you straight away. 

“This is not what I expected to happen,” you whispered.

Lando chuckled softly. “Me neither, but it’s not so bad, is it?” 

You snuggled into his neck, sighing contently once you were comfortable. No, it wasn't bad at all.

[psychemochanight]

Dick being neurodivergent, because why not? (Am I projecting myself onto my hyperfixation character of the moment? Absolutely).

Dick finds the weirdest possible positions to be absolutely comfortable. We already talked about how he likes to hang upside down, but besides that, he's always sitting in a strange way.

Bruce doesn't have any opinion on any of this, but sometimes wonders if Dick is trying to give himself some kind of cramp. The others just wonder if the boy has actual bones.

Bruce thought Dick couldn't be a picky eater, but he's totally wrong. Alfred taught Dick to cook because he knows that if he depended solely on food prepared by other people, the boy would starve. (Worse is when they discover that if they don't remind him, this guy won't eat at all. He just totally forgets that humans need food).

He also taught him other things for sensory issues that he doesn't want to acknowledge. (Yes, there are ways to keep his sheets soft enough, to prevent his shirts from getting lint, even cleaning the slab so it doesn't have weird textures).

Bruce always purposely gave him more work than he needed to do, otherwise he would never get the boy to concentrate. Nothing too difficult, he didn't want to overburden him yet, but seriously, even if he liked math, he would never sit down for more than 10 minutes to do his homework. Organizing his tasks didn't always work, but a deadline? It was his best strategy. Even out of ten minutes, eight were just him thinking about something else and only two to complete the job, he would complete it anyway.

(He never gives him the same task twice in a row. God knows that will never be complete. Have you seen how many jobs this man has? He can't stay in one place for more than a few months).

His thoughts also jump from one situation to another as much as he jumps on rooftops when he is on patrol. Bruce never understands his line of thinking, but it is extremely helpful in solving cases.

Despite appearing extroverted, Dick was still more of an ambivert, sometimes even seeming more introverted, he's just not that shy. His social battery runs out pretty quickly, even if he pretends it doesn't. He still needs time to himself in order to move on, and as a child his best way of pointing this out to Bruce was by hiding under tables in a dark place, or instead, climb to the highest places, farthest from people. Bruce learned that although Dick was used to the noise of people, he was used to seeing it from above, not in the middle of the crowd.

It's not that he's non-verbal, but there are still days where just talking is a no-no. As a child he had better control, but as an adult he just doesn't want to talk, and he's not going to talk.

Weighted blankets? Yes please. Noise cancelling headphones? He would love to, but he is too paranoid to completely isolate himself from his surroundings. (If his friends notice that his leg is bouncing more than usual, they assure him that they will keep watch and ask him to wear his headphones for a while, if they need to talk to him they use sign language).

He also has blackout curtains. And we all know his comfort object is a stuffed elephant, come on. (I love the fandom for this idea. Give the guy his stuffed elephant, give him Zitka.)

Yes, Dick, people have hobbies, but normal people don't change hobbies after mastering them once, much less change them every three days. No, gymnastics is no longer your hobby at this point, it's literally your life.

A special interest falls short when you spent a week without sleep to continue researching your new hyperfixation.

[tmpestuous]

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’) 

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.” 

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/N,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up. 

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times. 

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night. 

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position. 

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom. 

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in. 

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all. 

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair. 

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you. 

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up. 

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time. 

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one. 

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough. 

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

[visibleclosedeyes]

Gap in my heart (Literally)

pairing: Mr. Gap x reader

“Hello”

While you prepare to work in your bedroom–doing your makeup and hair, putting on your uniform–ready for the day ahead, a chilling but familiar voice calls you. 

“Mr. Gap? Uh. Me not play,” You said without turning your head toward the voice. Since the day you managed to get out of that  Otherworld, Mr.Gap has consistently shown up in your space in the gap in the wall, in different containers, and so forth. At this point, you kinda have a domestic relationship together. Boyfriend? You wouldn’t go that far, but something is there. 

“Disappointed” Mr. Gap narrowed his eyes before asking another question 

“Where go?”

“Same place every day, Mr. Gap. Working. uh–Me work, same work.”

“Why?” He asks, eyes still narrowed–displaying an unreadable expression that you guess to be some kind of discontentment. It surprised you really–Mr. Gap isn’t a high-maintenance type and he never asked you these questions before. What changed?

“Uh…Work hunger gone,”

“Work stop hunger?” He seems interested now. 

“Not exactly. Work gives things, and things get food.” You try again to explain to Mr. Gap the concept of monetary exchange and bill to the best of your ability. 

“....not understand, residents don’t need work. Why work?”

“Humans need work, me human…Mr. Gap, why curious now?” You ask a question of your own. 

“Me bored, Stay,” 

“Can’t. Need work,”

“Disappointed” He responds, the conversation sounds like it goes back to the very beginning. 

“Give finger?”

“No,”

“Disappointed” He repeats yet again before disappearing. 

Working is hard. Living in the human world is hard. You know this already but it seems like every day her co-workers really remind her of that fact. Today is just another day of demoralizing work days. Getting yelled at by your boss because of your co-worker's mistake is not fun. In the parking lot, you are sitting there with a cigarette between your fingers contemplating whether or not to murder your co-worker, literally speaking. Suddenly between the gap in the wall opposite to you, a familiar pair of eyes pop up.

“Hello”

“Mr. Gap??! How did you..? Oh right, you can show up in any gap,”

“Human trouble?”

“Its nothing, just hard day at work,”

“Me solve problem, give me finger,”

“What? No! Not give finger,”

“Boring. Goodbye,”

Almost every day was the same old same old—your co-worker is an annoying asshole who purposefully caused issues just so he could blame it on you.

“Where are the documents the boss asked you to do?” Speaks of the devil… the most annoying face among the co-workers in this shitshow of a company has shown up like a fucking ghost the moment she starts thinking about her job

“What? What documents?” She answers truthfully. What fucking documents? And why is she hearing this just now?

“Seriously, the boss wants you to be the one to do it. you’re seriously irresponsible. Why did they even hire you?” He said with such a fake shocked expression on his face. Wait, so the boss told him…

"Boss told you this and you never told me?” she asked him in disbelief

"You never ask me to tell you, you should have been more active,” He snickers with a smug smile. Oh, this irritating fucker.

2 months and 1 week. She has sworn off killing people for exactly two months. Like a proud ex-addict, she wears that pride quietly on her mind, unable to announce how prideful she is for not killing some random pedestrians who show up in an abandoned apartment. She wants to keep it that way, but this man seems to be testing her patience. She is going to lose it and kill this guy on his way home. 

"There is still time left. You can take responsibility and be active for once. Give me a call once you are finished!”

your palms curl into a fist full of hate and rage–this man has no idea who he is up against. She fantasizes about the different ways she would go about killing him. Her regular method of a crowbar to the head would be the safest route but this guy is a piece of shit to her so far and she wants to do something special for him.

No, she doesn't want to kill these days. Hunting and killing seems to be a hobby she lost interest in a while ago. Now, she simply wishes for a more simple life after all those lives she proudly took. 

(not finish)

One day, when she was working as per usual–she hears the sound of that asshole screaming from the restroom

"I swear! I saw it there! a pair of creepy eyes between the crack in the wall inside the male restroom!”

"some pervert looking into the male toilet?”

"No! I…I don't think it's human–when I saw it, it just disappeared into thin air!”

"I think you should go see a doctor”

“Yeah, are you I'll or something? Did you hear a voice in your head too?”

“S–shut up! Stop mocking me! I fucking saw it, Ok?!” 

It seems like vacation comes to visit you early this year as she hears one of the best but most shocking of all week. Her asshole co-worker has decided to quit, it also seems like he has been scared shitless and borderline losing his mind at something that most people don't seem to understand. Many think that he cracked under constant pressure but she has a better idea of what might have happened. She didn’t think to ask of him at this current time but it seemed like he could read her mind somehow when she found him manifesting in her bag, a pair of gleeful, teasing eyes with an otherworldly smile somehow made her heart skip beats. 

“Mr.Gap!”

“Hello. Me good resident.” 

“I heard about the haunting spirit between the wall’s gap in the male bathroom—did you do it? The guy who tormented me quit”

“Me solve problems, me good resident,”

“Yeah, that was a good one. Good, thank you”

“Give good resident finger?”

“No”

“Disappointed”

[enjoythebutterflies33]

✮ FACETIME | Isack Hadjar ✮ 

Summary: little drabble where Isack gets his girlfriend to travel with him to races word count: 591

⋆˙⟡♡ masterlist

It’s late. Way too late for you to still be awake, but here you are anyway, laid in bed with your laptop resting next to you, on facetime to Isack in Canada. 

You already know you’re going to regret the lack of sleep while you’re at work in a few hours, but he’s been gone for 5 days already and you’ve barely gotten 10 uninterrupted minutes alone. 

“I hate this” You blurt out, without really thinking about what you’re saying.

“Uh.. Oh.. I-I” Isack stutters, completely taken aback and misunderstanding what you actually meant by that. 

“Oh god no!” You cut in quickly. “I didn’t mean this, not us, not you. It’s just we’ve been together for four months and you’re gone all the time”

“I know bébé, I’m sorry” Isack looks disappointed, and a wave of guilt washes over you. You’re regretting saying anything about it now, but you significantly lack a filter when it’s late and you’re so tired.

“No baby, I'm sorry, please don’t apologise. I just wish we could stay in our little bubble all the time”

“We could” Isack said so matter of factly. 

You briefly frown, not out of anger, but confusion, because how could you stay in your bubble while he travels at least once a month. Before you get a chance to ask what he means, Isacks speaks up again with a cheeky grin on his face. “Travel with me, you can work on planes and in cars and in the paddock”

“You’re forgetting about time zone differences, I’d be working in the middle of the night, in like half the places you go” You sighed. “Plus, I can’t just follow you around like some lost puppy, I couldn’t afford flights every week or two, I can’t just leave everything behind and we’d be living in hotel rooms, an-”

Isack's laughter stops you in your tracks, he can’t help but think you’re completely adorable, even when you’re in an overthinking ramble. “Bébé” Isack mutters, while shaking his head. “Half of that isn’t even an issue. First of all, I’d love you to follow me around like a lost puppy” 

You roll your eyes playfully and mutter out “Of course you would”

“Listen to me bébé” Isack tells you gently. “The only thing you need to worry about is packing your bags and talking to your manager about working remotely”

“But” You squeak, taken aback at how simple this all seems to Isack.

“No, no buts, no what ifs” Isack tells you seriously. “If this is what you want, I won't force you, but if this is what you want, I will have it sorted by 9am”

You finally take a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, and then suddenly a fit of giggles slip past your lips. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Isack’s grinning giddily and nodding through your computer screen. “I’ve wanted you to come with me since I left for testing”

“We’d only been official for like three weeks!” You gasped, covering your mouth. 

“We’d been spending time together for two months already! I just didn’t want to come on too strong and beg you to follow me everywhere” Isack admits as a crimson blush cascades over his cheeks. “Like a lost puppy” Isack added in quickly with a playful smirk.

“You liked meeee” You teased in a sing-song voice, causing Isack to rub his hands over his face with a groan. “God, we’re grossly in love” Isack nodded along happily. “Tellement dégoûtant d’amour bébé” so disgustingly in love baby

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem! Reader) Monster AU pt 10

(Ruggie is a Gnoll and can switch between bipedal and quadruped locomotion as easily as most people breathe. Any scent of food or the sound of someone eating something draws in Ruggie to investigate to see if he can have a snack or get some scraps from whoever is eating. Leona is usually the one that feeds Ruggie the most, so he has earned Ruggie's loyalty. The fastest way to befriend a Gnoll is through food.)

Warnings; Yandere, Yandere behavior, multiple Yanderes at different Yandere stages/levels, Romantic and Platonic Yanderes, smothering behavior, blood, mention of menstrual cycle, blood consumption, Crow, Selkie, Sphinx, Shadow-man, Minotaur, Vampire bat, Dragon, Grim, Shinigami, Harpy,

Note; Ortho is STRICTLY platonic.

~~~~~~~~

It was dark and well before those first few rays of light were to peak over the horizon. It had been thirteen days since the Human had arrived in Twisted Wonderland and already a representative had arrived from at least seven different Kingdoms and Queendoms as well as a few scientists. Crowley had managed to convince them to wait a few more days, but the many Kingdoms and Queendoms were eager to confirm there was a Human and confirm they were being treated well.

The several staff members were sitting in the Crow's office as they all contemplated what to do with the arrival of the representatives. None of them wanted the Human taken away from them or from Night Raven College grounds. In the next few days they would have to ensure nothing harmed or unsettled their Human before the representatives arrived. This would prove difficult given the already obvious interest almost all of their students had taken in the abnormal Human.

That wasn't even the worst of their troubles, however.

"And you are certain our (Y/n) has imprinted on Grim?"

"Absolutely certain. She was stressed after waking from the injury and overblot, but she was more distressed over being unable to find Grim and only calmed once he was reunited with her. According to the other students she even threw young Riddle after he targeted Grim in his Feral state which is what lead to her injury."

"Then he can't be removed from her side any longer. My memories of Humans are old, but I do know Humans- especially the young bearers- take guarding those they imprint upon rather seriously. There will be questions to the potential threat Grim poses to (Y/n), he is a forest creature of unknown type and origin. We can't guarantee he is safe to keep around her, but we can't remove him either without a catastrophic response from (Y/n)."

Divus frowned at the memory, displeased to have not even a full week pass before the Human had been injured by a Feral student. Not to mention said Feral student was supposed to be the safest bet for a guard for the Human. Still, despite what had happened it had proved that the collar worked to some degree and that many of the student body was willing to protect the soft Human.

"In any case," Trein began, lifting his tea cup to take a long sip before setting back on the table, "there are several issues with her dorm that need to be addressed. Not to mention the fact that she has a rather limited wardrobe given her very recent arrival. The representatives will be looking at all of these things, from safety, to general happiness, to even her diet. If we are to keep her here, we will need to address everything before the representatives arrive."

Of course, most things were still being figured out as it had only been a little under two weeks since that fateful day. There was very little time now and they would have to pull several Housewardens from classes to aid in resolving these issues.

"I can handle the clothing issue, I will be pulling those two Pomefiore pups to aid in my pursuits. I have little doubt Vil and Rook will prove to be useful in my endeavors."

"Good idea. While you work on that, I can begin discussions with Mr. Ashengrotto as to the state of the building. Dubious as his dealings may be, he is a valuable resource."

Most issues they faced could be solved within the timeframe they had been presented with especially given the fondness their students had for the soft Human. The only issue that was most prevalent in that moment was the Dragon-sized problem of Malleus Draconia. He was a fantastic guard, but who knew how he would react to the idea of the representatives potentially trying to take this Human away from him and NRC.

"The question that remains is this; do we tell Birar Valley's prince and heir apparent to the throne Malleus, or do we try to keep him away from the representatives?"

Sam's question did bring up a very valid issue as they all knew Malleus had claimed their dear Human as a member of his Hoard. Dragons were notorious for having an ill temper towards anyone or anything that may threaten that Hoard. Beyond even the representatives, there were the many scientists from across the vast lands of Twisted Wonderland that wanted to get a good look at the Human and study her. Malleus would never allow such an intrusive and inquisitive bunch to poke or prod at his Human for long.

"Perhaps his handler can address that for us? Mr. Vanrouge has been quite adept at keeping Mr. Draconia peaceful despite a Dragon's natural temper and pride."

"Brilliant idea, Mozus. Ashton, you will be in charge of telling Mr. Vanrouge our plans and keeping him up to date with the impending arrival of our visitors. Sam, I trust you can handle the food situation? Shadowfolk are the next most culinary adept species after Humans."

Sam nodded, already looking at his own stock and comparing it with his most recent visit to (Y/n)'s kitchens. He would ensure to get a wider variety of spices and foods not typical to the broader student pallet, perhaps this Human could even surprise him in the kitchen. Despite the woefully short timeframe they had thanks to Cater's lack of discretion, it seemed like there was at least a chance at keeping the Human.

"Besides, if all else fails and they try to take her, we just set Mr. Draconia loose on them and they will either concede or fall."

~•§•~

You awoke to an unusual sensation on your neck. It was still dark outside but the faintest of light blue began to bleed into the sky as you slowly regained consciousness. The feeling on your neck was an odd one as it seemed like a mouth was nuzzled against your skin and slowly dragging a pair of soft lips over your pulse. Something about the almost unconscious movements confused you as you were usually the one cuddling, not the other way around.

The pair of black and pink wings told you who it was laying behind you and you vaguely wondered why Lilia had been drawn to your side as you slept. He had been the least problematic of your guards during your several days long stint with your own hormonal cycle, so you weren't particularly annoyed that he was holding you. Sure, the lack of personal space was wearing on you but supposedly your nestmates were going back to Diasomnia for the week.

In some ways you wondered if you would miss the group you had grown accustomed to and vaguely worried about getting to sleep without them. As odd as it was, there was a great comfort to having the four monsters sleeping by your side. You certainly never complained about the absolute warmth and comfort that was cuddling with Silver. Maybe you could convince one or two of the four to sleep in the nest whenever you felt lonely.

The soft growl of a stomach interrupted your thoughts as the sound had come from Lilia and you vaguely considered getting up to cook. It was far too early for your tastes, but something about the Bat's hunger made you feel on edge. Perhaps it was the way he unconsciously mouthed at your neck that gave you such an unsettled feeling. Perhaps it was the fact he had you wrapped up securely in his wings.

"Lilia," you whispered, trying to rouse the Bat without rousing your other nestmates, "you're getting a bit too nibbly there."

The Bat made an almost whining sound at your attempts to wake him, his wings tightening their hold around you and a soft mumble coming from him. You could feel his lips move against your neck more than you could hear him, unable to understand what he mumbled.

"Lilia-"

A startled yelp left your lips now as those pointed teeth of his dragged a bit too roughly against your neck for comfort. The sound rousing all of your nestmates rather quickly. You could see the way the eyes of the four men and one cat-beast snapped open and seemed to glow in the low light, reminding you of crocodiles, cats, and other predatory animals. It was surreal to see how quickly they woke as Lilia actually moved in a protective stance over you.

There was a moment of quiet as they took stock of their surroundings and their alert stress turned to confusion as they looked back at you. From their understanding, there was nothing they could find that could have caused you to cry out. You, however, were quick to touch your neck where the Bat had been mouthing and found he had not broken skin but the area he nipped was raised and irritated.

"(Y/n)," Lilia started, looking down at you as his wings lowered, "what's wrong?"

"You just bit me."

"Did I?"

Lilia seemed genuinely surprised at your words as he quickly examined where you had been touching your neck. Sure enough, there were two scrapes along where his fangs would have sat had he been mouthing the area. The hunger within him told him what information was missing as he sighed and moved from on top of you. He would have rathered you learn of his dietary needs in a less stress-inducing manner, but his own hunger had unconsciously acted for him.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). It seems my instincts were getting the better of me."

"Instincts?"

"I'm what we call a Vampire Bat Fae, unlike many other Bat folk, my kind has a certain... Dietary need that we have to satisfy once in a while."

"Satisfy how?"

"I need blood. Specifically I need to drink blood. Usually Silver helps me with this 'craving' but even Malleus or Sebek have offered in the past."

"Like... From a cup?"

"No, the blood coagulates and clots too quickly in a cup. I have to drink from the source or the blood needs an anticoagulant- which rarely tastes good- for me to consume it from a cup."

You stared at the Bat Fae as he explained his actions to you, almost seeming upset with himself. They made enough sense that you vaguely wondered why he would keep such a thing secret from you. Vampire Bats existed in your world and though you weren't overly familiar with the species you knew even the little Bats of your world needed to consume blood.

"Why were you only at my neck then?"

"Well, as morbid as it may sound, your blood has a very appealing scent to me. I assume I unconsciously gravitated towards you due to your recent- and pardon me for saying this- bleeding cycle. The lingering scent of blood on you likely drew me in."

Some part of you wanted to snap at the Bat for trying to bite you, even if it was unconscious. Another part of you wanted to allow the hungry Bat to take a quick drink despite your reservations as a way to somewhat repay him. Lilia had been your original chosen guard and he had more than earned his keep given how many students and poachers alike he had driven off. Perhaps the Bat did deserve something for his efforts in protecting you.

"How much do you need?"

"A mouthful or two. Luckily I don't need to feed on blood often or in large amounts, just every now and again to make up the vitamins I can't gain from my food."

"... Do you want to drink my blood?"

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable. You are proving to be quite precious to me and an integral part of this Hoard, I would hate to drive you off for something as simple as blood."

You considered his words for a moment, staring at him as your hand rest over your neck where he had scraped his fangs against you. Sure, you just lost a good level of blood already thanks to your cycle, but maybe you could let the Bat take just a bit more. Out of those who seemed to gravitate towards you, Lilia had been the most reliable and the one to explain quite a bit to you when you didn't understand the ways of these monster men.

"... Will it make you happy?"

"What?"

"To feed on my blood. Would that make you happy and help you be content with your life?"

Lilia stared for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were asking him. He did worry about saying the wrong thing if you were testing him for aggressive thoughts or behavior, but part of his brain insisted that he be honest with you.

"Yes. It will make me happy, but I still don't need to feed specifically from you if you are uncomfortable with that. Would I like to? Absolutely. I would consider myself somewhat of a gourmand when it comes to the taste of blood and your blood is very interesting to me. Would I take if it wasn't offered? I would try not to, but we both see how my instincts control the way I unconsciously act."

"Will it hurt?"

"Not horribly. I won't lie to you and say it is painless, but it is not as painful as an axe in the arm."

You almost snorted at this response, still feeling the dullest of throbs from your recently healed injury. Really, you had been so stressed and upset over potentially losing Grim that you barely felt any pain until it was already over and even then you were given pain management. At least Lilia didn't seem keen to lie to you about it.

"... Go ahead."

"(Y/n)?"

"Take a drink, Lilia. Either we all get up now so you can find blood somewhere else, or I give you blood now and I can get a few more hours of sleep."

"I want to make sure you are serious, (y/n). I don't want this to be a spur of the moment decision."

"I know. I am serious. Take a drink, Lilia. You're probably the one I would consider to be one of my first friends and you haven't complained even once about my attitude. That matters to me and is important to me. You are important to me."

Lilia gave a genuine smile at this, hugging you quickly. He had hoped you would be willing to share some of your sweet smelling blood with him and your approval now could mean you would let him take more drinks in the future. Naturally, Lilia didn't plan to force you to share with him, but he certainly wasn't upset you were willing to let him take a drink.

"Let me know if it hurts too much and I will stop. Okay?"

You nodded, staying still as the Bat moved behind you in a mimicry of how you had awoken. His wings wrapping around you as if he intended to cuddle you as he rest his mouth over your pulse. It was unnerving in some way to think about letting the Bat latch on to your neck and consume your blood, but you were being honest when you said his wellbeing mattered to you. Lilia was a good guard and a good friend despite everything that had happened.

"Hey, Bat-wings, don't hurt my Hooman, okay? I'm not gonna lose her, no matter what, so you better be careful."

"I know. I will try to not harm her."

Grim nodded, still seeming stressed with the situation as Lilia hummed. The Bat had easily found the ideal spot to bite, but he seemed to be taking his time either to try and soothe you or to make sure he has control of himself before actually biting. It would be a lie to say you didn't tense up somewhat when those fangs teased your skin.

"Child of man, if you need a distraction or to be soothed, I am content to speak with you."

"I- ah!"

You yelped again as those fangs sunk in and the bat began to nurse at the wound gently. He was clearly trying to be as gentle as possible and not move too much or drink too quickly as it would move his fangs in your skin. It was not pleasant by any means but you trusted Lilia to not take more than he needed.

"I think- ngh- I think you need a new name, Malleus."

"Is my current one insufficient?"

"No, I just think- ah- you could use a nickname. Something short and- and not so lofty."

"If that will appease you. I am eager to know what name you believe fits me most."

"Like M-Mal or Tsuno, or-!"

You fought to keep your hands from reaching up to where Lilia nuzzled against your neck, your own instincts upset with you at allowing such a creature to bite you. It was vaguely disturbing to feel the way he pulled back, his fangs sliding out of your neck with a little too much ease. His warm tongue made quick work of licking over the wound to catch whatever else spilled out as he wasn't keen to waste the delicious flavor.

"I am somewhat partial to Tsuno, perhaps Tsunotaro?"

"... The point of a nickname is to be shorter than your actual name. Tsunotaro is longer than Malleus."

"Tsuno works. As close to my name as Mal is, a new name certainly wouldn't be amiss."

Lilia hummed and used his magic to summon what appeared to be a bandage of some kind. He happily set to work cleaning and covering up the bite-mark as you tried to keep yourself focused on your conversation with Malleus. It was odd to be a blood-bag for the unusual Bat and to be somewhat bullying a literal Dragon into letting you give him a nickname, but your life has been odd since you woke in the coffin.

For now, it wasn't too much of a weight to bear.

~•§•~

The early morning meeting was well underway as it was akin to a mulligan from their meeting several days ago. Again, the Dragon was invited to the meeting and again the two dorm leaders of Ignihyde showed up to make the switch. Given the earlier meeting between the staff members, this hand-off needed to go without a hitch. Almost everyone was stressed as the Dragon walked into the room, his cloak sweeping behind him as his fellow guards walked the treasure they protected into the room as well.

You seemed tired, but still dressed in your uniform as you held Grim close to your chest. He was happily laying in your arms and snacking on what remained of the breakfast burrito you had thrown together that morning for breakfast. The scent drew a few jealous looks, but word of Grim's importance to you travelled quickly. Even Leona knew better than to try and bully the little cub-like monster out of his meal, lest the cub's mother react poorly.

For some of the Housewardens, seeing this odd creature was still a very surreal experience as she was an extinct species so casually attending their school. For one of them, it was his first time officially meeting the Human face to face. Idia really didn't consider the small amount of time spent in the Human's dorm as an official meeting and he was somewhat hoping the Human didn't remember his panicked sprint into her kitchen. He hoped the other Housewardens that had also sprinted to her dorm distracted from him as he wanted a mostly clean slate for their official meeting.

"Good morning, my precious little chick! Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough. Do we really have to switch out who lives in the dorms with me? I just got used to these guys..."

"Yes, we really do. Besides, it isn't all bad, the Housewardens were chosen for a reason and I have faith you will be protected! It's the Housewardens and teachers that are notified by your collar in the situation you are injured or attacked, you can trust them to protect you."

"If you say so..."

Your less than excited attitude towards the situation put your faithful Dragon on edge as well as several of the other Housewardens. They all wanted a chance to get to know you and be around you, only really knowing your species through rumor and myth, but they didn't want to cause you genuine distress. Idia was especially unnerved as he wanted to make your acquaintance and be your friend despite his severe lacking of social skills. He had hoped Ortho would be a good buffer as his younger brother was much more cheerful than he was.

"Don't worry, Nee-san! Nii-san and I will make sure you are safe and feel comfortable while we guard you!"

"I'm sure you will..."

"Oh, Nee-san, this is Idi-nii! My big brother."

Idia almost ran the moment your eyes landed on him and actually looked at him the way he looked at you so often through the many cameras he had around NRC. You could see him and perceive him where he had been the only one to see and perceive in the past. Always watching, yet never watched until now.

"Eep! She's looking at me... What do I do? Ortho, help!"

"Introduce yourself, silly!"

"I'm... Idia Shroud... Ortho's big brother and Housewarden of Ignihyde... Why is this so hard?"

"You're doing fine, Idi-nii."

He almost screamed as you walked over to him, looking at his bright flaming hair and making him want to sink into the chair or disappear behind a screen once more. As you observed him and the way he squirmed under your gaze, Vil scoffed loudly.

"I knew he didn't have it in him. He can't even talk to us, why would anyone think he can talk to her? Does anyone genuinely think Idia could even fight when push comes to shove?"

"Hey," you interrupted with a frown, seeing as Idia wouldn't argue with Vil regardless of what Vil said or did, "leave him alone. He is here, isn't he? That's more than most could say. You can act the act and talk the talk, but why do you feel the need to put him down? Does it make you feel better to know you can easily do something he struggles with?"

Vil scoffed again and looked away from you, wanting to argue with you but also wanting to stay in your good graces. Despite how Vil felt the others had no right to be in your presence, he wasn't going to drive you away from himself by speaking his mind. The actor knew better than to speak until he had you alone and held within his own talons.

"You really don't have to do that... It's the way they all act with me. You don't-"

"Don't care."

"Ghk-!"

"Just because you let them treat you that way doesn't mean I will let them treat you that way. You're my new guard for the week and you're a Housewarden, right? So, screw what they think. You have a right as much as they do. Besides, my talk with Ortho leads me to believe you are more useful to me than a lot of others could be."

"H-how?"

"I want to play videogames. I loved my videogames back in my world. It feels like no one else plays and I want to play even for just a little bit. It is easier to stave off the feeling of pressure and the stressors of life with a controller or keyboard in hand. Help me forget I am somewhere far from home, okay?"

Idia slightly perked up at this, hearing you talk about using videogames to escape certain aspects of life. He had done it himself so many times that he almost began to believe he was alone in this avoidant behavior because it seemed like everyone else didn't need that escape the same way he did.

"You... Game?"

"Yes, and I have been twelve or thirteen days and counting without playing. This makes me incredibly upset. I have classes today, so I can't play right now, but I would like to have access to a gaming system even if this cursed place doesn't have the games I'm used to. Can you help me with that?"

"Yes."

"Good, then we have nothing else to worry about right now. Right?"

Idia nodded, beginning to feel unusually comfortable now that he knew what it was you expected of him. It really wasn't a big ask at all and Idia had already been planning on setting up more than a few devices in your dorm. He figured it would help to keep him comfortable outside of his room and keep Ortho entertained. Neither Idia nor Ortho needed much sleep and their species was prone to spending days awake, so he wanted to make sure he and his little brother could have entertainment while you slept.

"Right. Ortho and I don't have classes today, so we can get things set up right away."

"Alright. That is what I like to hear. Can I reasonably assume things will be ready by the time my last class is over, or should I lower my expectations for getting in some gaming today?"

"I can have everything ready and set up in no time. If you wanted, you could cut out of half your classes today and start gaming before lunch."

You smiled in response to his words and for some reason it made his heart flip wildly in his chest. He liked seeing that gentle and almost sweet smile, liking it even more now that it was directed at him. Sure, he had seen it through the visor Ortho wore while you talked to the young Shinigami, but it was a whole new experience being face-to-face with you now.

"Music to my ears. Last question; what kind of foods do you like? I will be cooking for myself so I will also cook for you if you want, but I'm not a mind-reader and I have no idea what is safe for you and Ortho to eat. Especially Ortho."

"Wh-what? You're gonna cook traditional Human meals for us? Seriously?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I feed those who are protecting me?"

"This is the best day of my entire 88 year fanboy life..!"

"What?"

"Nothing. Ortho and I are gonna go set up. See you after class."

Despite how nervous Idia had been, there was something disarming about the soft Human. He was quite large in comparison to their stature, standing well above most in the school despite wishing to just disappear in the background. Even sitting he had to look down at the little Human.

Something about how soft she looked made him want to grab her and never let go, he was starting to understand why the others were acting the way they did. Something about being close to someone he considered incredibly cute and small was endearing. Actually being near this soft Human made him realize just how little she was.

"I don't know, Hooman. This one has a kinda funny look to him."

"Grim, be nice. We have to at least trust the Headmage is correct in everyone here being safe."

"Fine... But I'm not sharing the nest with him!"

"Oh, absolutely not. Malleus made that nest and only his Hoard is allowed to use it, you know that. Lilia told us the rules."

"Am I part of Tsuno's Hoard too?"

"You're part of my hoard," you kissed Grim's forehead gently and several of the onlookers felt burning jealousy, "so you count by Proxy."

Grim purred at this and you turned back to the Shinigami. He was very much an older and larger version of Ortho in terms of appearance, but obviously very different from his bold and affable little brother. Also, you heard his mumbling quite easily and that meant he was seventy-five years older than Ortho. That meant either Ortho was very smart and advanced for his young age or Idia just couldn't attend a school without someone else accompanying him.

You had also never seen this student around except for the brief passing glance when he entered your dorm several days back with the others. It was odd to you that he really didn't stand out much to you back then like he did now, but you also weren't really in the mood to entertain guests at the time. Much like Ortho, Idia had more technology on him than most students had at all and he seemed to be almost hiding behind it as he suddenly turned away in his chair seeming to try and compose himself while looking away from you and somewhat out of your sight.

It was while he was turned away that a voice unfamiliar to you spoke up.

"Crowley? It's imperative I speak with you-"

Walking into the room was a bird-man that somewhat reminded you of an owl entered the room, pausing abruptly as he noticed you staring at him curiously. He seemed to be an older Harpy man judging from his feathers and general bird-like appearance, several gray feathers grew alongside his hair and came up in two points like ears. The man seemed taken aback at your presence as he slowly set the scrolls in his hands down, seeming to study you closely as you watched him warily.

"In... In all my years... Here you are."

He gestured to you and you felt more than a little upset at the treatment. Sure, you understood they were surprised but that still didn't mean it felt very good to have someone gawk at you. You weren't a pet and you weren't some sideshow attraction.

"Here you are."

"Ambrose! This kind of casual disregard for decorum is unlike you! Explain yourself!"

Crowley was quick to get inbetween you and the newcomer, his feathers fluffed and wings somewhat raised. It was clear the Crow was blocking this Owl-man from taking too long a look at you as his wings spread and he almost seemed to caw angrily.

"Crowley, my old friend," the man paused, glancing at you and almost grimacing, "more have been spotted in the woods. It's not just trophy hunters, there are Fae among them. Townsfolk are starting to talk and the rumors at Royals Sword Academy are more than a little wild. We need to unite and discuss the-" he lowered his voice, "the Human."

"This meeting is dismissed, students. Everyone make sure to get to your classes. (Y/n), my chick, do you need a guide to class from here?"

You were about to shake your head when Vil came sweeping over, his crest up and his movements almost an exaggerated graceful motion. He seemed to be trying to show off in a way as if the presence of the two other birds made him suddenly need to present himself. It could have been your perception of the situation, but Vil almost seemed threatened by the increased avian competition and was keen to get you away from both older birds.

"I will happily show you to class, (Y/n). My class is right nearby, so I will gladly show you the way. Come now, we can't dawdle."

The Peacock was quick to herd you away from the room and the other Housewardens, ignoring the look Malleus gave him as he passed by. You wondered who that man was or what it was he was so worried about, but you knew it had something to do with you. Those games and potential earthly comforts you may be able to get from Idia seemed all the more tangible now.

All you had to do now was get through the day.

[sturnlsstuff]

GENTLE SEX WITH GHOSTFACE!CHRIS

[smut, unprotected p in v]

requested by @curlyswurlywirly !! not sure if it's exactly what u wanted but i hope u like it

chris could feel something is up the moment you threw yourself at him.

not that he was complaining, but damn, you were moving so quick, almost in rush, frustration was clear in your every move. he thought maybe you were just really horny? after all, you hadn't seen each other for a while since he's been busy the past two weeks, dealing with his 'business'. finding victims and staying undercover was hard, the cops even came close to catching him a few times but luckily he got away. chris hasn't had time for any distractions lately, fully focusing on being the ghostface and keeping his secret, which is why you two stopped with your little hang outs. you didn't have a big problem with it, focusing on your own life but the last few days were awful because of family issues. especially today. you were moody all day, not being able to distract your mind with anything so at some point you texted chris, begging him to come over, and lucky you, he had some free time finally.

he saw that you must've had a hard day, but he didn't really ask since it wasn't really his business. you two just fuck after all.

so he completely lets you have control over everything tonight, hoping that it'll help you with whatever you're going through. his head tilted back against the headboard, his lips slightly parted as he watches you bouncing on his dick like your life depended on it. the way your pussy feels around him sends shivers down his spine, and makes his head spin, but he could see it's not giving you what you need. the movements of your hips are almost desperate and not in a way he's used to, it was like you try to go rough so badly to keep your mind off things, but it's not doing anything which makes you even more frustrated. your eyes are squeezed shut and you don't even glance at his ghostface mask that he had on as always. you barely make any noises besides cursing every now and then, assuring him that something is seriously wrong— you're never quiet with him.

you open your eyes, feeling them filling with tears and a frustrated whine leaves your lips. it's not helping at all.

chris catches that, his grip on your body immediately loosens, a slight fear appears in him that maybe he's hurting you in any way.

"you wanna stop?" he asks, breathing heavily, but you shake your head, knowing that stopping won't help either.

"can't, just..." you bite down on your lip, holding back all the tears. you couldn't figure out what was it exactly that you need, but it was most definitely not this. "kiss me," you mutter, tugging on his mask, not really in a mood for the rough usual sex you two have. "like you mean it. pretend or something, i don't know, i just need something else, please."

you weren't sure what you're asking for exactly, but all you knew is that whatever you two are doing right now isn't working.

you said it softly but it hits chris hard. you need tenderness tonight, something real, and it knocks the breath out of him since he's not used to it at all, especially with you.

his chest tightens, not with lust but with something heavier. he wants to give you everything you need, not take what he wants.

he takes off his ghostface mask, tossing it aside and pulling you into a kiss without saying a word. he kisses you gently, wrapping his arms around your waist and urging you to stop riding him which you obediently do, and he takes the opportunity to flip you over so that you're on your back with him on top. his tongue dances with yours, he starts slowly thrusting into you to match the kiss, wrapping your legs around his hips so he's still hitting the right spot inside you. he makes sure to grind against your clit with each thrust, making you moan into his mouth. his touch is gentler than usual, and it immediately softens your body, melting away the whole tension that has been with you for the past days.

"shit, keep going..." you hum, breaking the kiss to breathe, your fingers tangled into his hair. "this is... perfect..."

"yeah? y'need some different attention tonight, hm?" he mutters against your skin while pressing kisses down your neck. "look how pretty you are, while i'm deep inside you." his lips move down to your collarbone, and he maintains the perfect angle, hitting your g-spot with each movement of his hips. "you feel so good...so tight and wet f'me."

your breath hitched as something in the air changed between the two of you, finally satisfying you fully, causing more soft moans to leave your mouth which he muffles with his own lips. the kiss was slow, but heated, making the whole thing more intimate. chris lets his hands explore your trembling body just as you part your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside and slowly tangle with yours. your bodies are flush, your hard nipples pressing against his chest making chris groan into your mouth, his hands moving up and down your sides. he's never seen you so vulnerable and needy for something soft before.

"fuck, you take my dick so well," he mutters against your lips, breaking the kiss to look downwards, watching as he slowly slides in and out of you. the sound of your wet pussy echoes in the room, encouraging him to go deeper, wanting to hear you.

you throw your head back, getting lost in the feeling, each thrust pushes you into ecstasy. chris's praise makes your pussy clamp down around him, getting a small hiss from his lips. "fuck, i think she likes that, huh?" his voice low and hoarse, sending shivers straight to your core. "you feel perfect wrapped around me— fuckk, taking my cock like a good girl."

"holy fuck, jesus—" your eyes roll back as the pleasure in your belly starts growing. chris looks up at you, noting the way your body reacts to his words for your future encounters.

"yeaaah, just like that." his hips roll against you slightly with each movement, keeping pressure on your clit. he can feel his own pleasure building at the way your walls suck him in, but he's determined to make you come first. you feel him picking up the pace just a little bit, his length moving in and out of you in a steady rhythm, ripping a loud moan from you. "chris..."

"mhmmm, i know, i know..." he removes your legs off his waist, spreading them wide, bending your knees and pressing them against your chest to get better access, and deeper stroke. "eyes on me, princess. wanna see you falling apart on my dick."

his forehead rests against yours as you stare into his blue, lidded eyes through your long lashes. your blissful expression makes his member throb, making him more desperate to make you cum while he keeps hitting that spot inside you over and over again.

a small whine of his name escapes your lips, your orgasm pulse around him, stealing moans and whimpers from you both.

your back arches up, chris maintains the perfect rhythm as you ride out your high, the feeling of you tightening around him makes him nearly lose control, but he holds back, wanting to milk every last wave of pleasure from your body.

"thaaat's it, good girl..." he stares down at you, admiring what a mess you were for him. he presses a few soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, "more?"

you nod, feeling relieved that it worked and easied your muscles, helping you release all of the unnecessary tension.

he keeps bottoming out inside you, maintaining that maddeningly slow pace that's filling you up completely. "i don't want ya stressin' so much," he mutters against your skin.

you blinked, thrown off by his sudden words and the way he actually was being soft with you when you asked him to. it was so unlike him, leaving you momentarily speechless as the realization hits you. you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around it.

giving him a hum in response, you run your hand through his hair, his hands caressing the skin on your waist and thighs. he presses a small kiss on your lips, "i've got you."

it catches you even more off guard when chris's hand moves up your body, finding yours in the tangle of sheets and slowly, deliberately, he laced your fingers together, pressing them into the pillow above your head. you responded with a small squeeze of your hand and a whimper into his mouth when his lips find yours again, almost like he couldn't get enough of kissing you.

you knew you were in trouble the moment you noticed how safe you feel around a person who was nothing but dangerous for everyone else. what's worse is that it didn't scare you away as it should have.

while chris felt nothing but unease— the kind that settled deep in his chest as you looked at him not with hatred or fear, but something fragile, like trust. it was a look he's never thought he'd see from you, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

guess you both will have to deal with the consequences later.

© sturnlsstuff

[coff33notforme]

Healing!Re2 Leon

A/n: So so sorry I haven't posted anything in so long, I genuinely lost my love for writing for I think its been officially been a year since I last wrote something for fun. Don't fact check me on that, but I'm back! I'm trying to let myself just have fun with writing and not take myself so seriously so please be patient with me! Expect a lot of Resident Evil content from me! And don't be afraid to request! I'll be sure to update my request chart!

Summary: Takes place between re2 and re4! Basically just what happened to him after Raccoon city.

Notes: Headcannons, fluff mostly, themes of depression, alcoholism, body issues, gender neutral reader as usual!

Nothing could've prepared you for the look on his face when he arrived home. Opening your door for him at 11:00 at night, his face silhouetted by the gentle light of your porch lamp. His pale eyes seemed to be looking through you, his face tight with the unconscious clenching of his jaw, his adams apple bobbing faintly. The hum of your porch light filling your head.

Well, that was before you were cupping his face, you couldn't even remember the movement forward, all you could take in was the impact of his embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and if it wasn't for the fact it was twenty degrees out, you'd say he was shaking.

Safe to say he'd move in with you after everything that happened, he needed that sense of security, that familiarity that he'd swear was almost entirely lost on him. He was wordlessly welcomed back into your life.

Though it wasn't all the same, he'd hope it would be, God he really wished. It was weird, having him back around, he was quiet, not in an awkward kind of way, he just didn't feel the need to make his presence known. This isn't to say he doesn't engage in conversation with you, he'll just need more of an obvious cue that you'd like to spark a conversation with him.

Leon won't exactly know what to do with himself, he tried giving himself a week to adjust, then back to the drawing board, that's what he told you. You assured him there was no pressure to jump right back into employment, he'd been through something truly life changing, I mean, it took you two whole months to just get over your dog running away in highshcool.

He'd brush it off of course, he wasn't devastated, at least, not in the way you described, it wouldn't even be anything hard, just something simple. Like retail.

That lasted about two weeks, the first week itself just being job searching, but once he got into the flow and rhythm of stacking supplies in the back of some chain line grocery store, he'd have to quit. That kind of meaningless repetitive work only fed into his existential crisis that had been put on the back burner for far too long.

He'd call you crying during his shift, you'd have to pick him up, parking somewhere close so you could calm him down, he'd spill everything out to you. Rambling on and on about not wanting to spend the prime of his life stacking cans and rearranging produce.

Well at least that's how far he got before embarrassment came crawling up his back, digging its nails into his throat until it felt so tight he couldn't speak.

The drive home would be quiet, not the comfortable kind.

He'd spend a lot of time at home, long enough to where you not its not a phase, and that he's not not getting out of bed without an intervention of some kind.

He admits after weeks of obvious reluctance that he's not ready to work again, he just needs time. You assure him that its completely fine, though you're not entirely sure how much that statement holds true you don't mind picking up some extra shifts if it means comfortably supporting you both.

But that isn't to say he doesn't contribute at all, he's the one preparing all the meals every week. He's the one taking trips to the store, jotting down meal ideas on the pen pad you'd gotten him after the silent acceptance that he'd taken to doing all the cooking.

This goes for chores too, though he wouldn't take to that immediately, he's not used to viewing the house as more then somewhere he eats and sleeps, its only after a comment from you about the disarray of the living room would spark him into action.

After that you haven't seen a speck of dust grace your living room floors since. It's the least he could do since you're funding his identity crisis, well that's what he thinks.

Leon struggles with healthy attachment, he's still not used to the idea that he won't wake up and you'll be gone. Though this doesn't mean he's completely distant.

He does little things to show how much he cares. Like waking up early to prepare your breakfast with a warm cup of coffee, or how he always asks you first what you'd like for dinner.

Though he won't admit it, most days are a struggle. Not every day, but those are the ones where he gets to spend some quality time with you, or he washes it off with a can of beer or two.

He'd hate himself to admit it to you, but he's developed a bit of a drinking problem with all that time at home.

Though once you notice the amount of cans piling up in the recycling he'd guiltily admit that he's been using it to cope, though he doesn't say exactly with what.

You'd encourage him to take up therapy, though he'd hastily deny, you offered him to at least think about it, though the very idea of opening up to a stranger about his problems seemed absolutely absurd.

After a bit of time though, especially when you express your concern with his drinking, he yields. 

Of course with the excessive eating of comfort foods and now only occasional drinking, he’d developed a bit of a dad bod. He didn’t seem to notice at first, but one morning it seems to hit him all at once when he inspects himself in the mirror.

He’ll fiddle and prod at the soft pudge dripping from his sides, like the melted wax of a candle. His doughy thighs pressed together. He’s not really sure how to react, all he feels is this sort of disconnection from himself, like the person in the mirror isn’t really him. 

He’ll avoid it for months, but the changes are clear to you whether he knows or not. But it doesn’t fail to hit you that he hasn’t walked around without a shirt in weeks, not just a shirt, but the kind that completely engulfs his figure, until he’s practically swimming in material. 

You’ll have to intervene at some point, he’ll feel the weight of guilt pressing down onto his shoulders until he humbly admits, yeah, he doesn’t like the way his body looks anymore. You’ll need to have a conversation with him, assure him that it’s okay to gain weight, you don’t love him less just because he’s a little more soft around the middle. 

He’ll need you to gently coax him into being more comfortable with showing his body around you. Gently holding his hips when he's making his coffee in the morning, leaning into him when he hugs you, telling him when you think he looks nice. Just little things that really do boost his confidence. 

After months of unwavering support from you, he’ll notice the lack of disdain he feels when glancing at his reflection on passing surfaces. He'll be comfortable enough to let his belly breathe from time to time when walking around the house, maybe even offering to shower with you when given the chance. 

Of course, progress isn’t linear, he’ll have his days where he wishes more than anything the fat clinging to his frame would melt, like snow dripping from a rooftop against the breath of the morning sun. 

But at least now he feels comfortable admitting to you he isn’t always happy being in his own skin, and he knows you won’t try to correct his thoughts, rather then simply reassure him. He’s far from perfect, but more then anything you’re just glad he’s here.

©️ coff33notforme 2025 please don’t feed into any ai chatbot, or repost my content.Please reblog is you enjoyed! It means a lot!

[deathmetalangel]

HARDLY SEEMS FAIR

robby keene x fem! reader

warnings: "casual" relationship", swearing, arguments, crying, heavily ldr coded, implied hookups, slut shaming, cheating, angsty

“in what world is that fair robby?"

oke so this is kinda a retconnned chapter from my wattpad book that i'm just extending and making more ambigious instead of clearly x oc. i hope y'all like it tho. i am sorry i have been gone for so long :(

Y/n plays with the ends of Robby's hair. He was laying with his head in her lap while they just relaxed in her room. It was calm, domestic. A small and very rare moment for just the two of them. No outside force would intrude and break their safe haven. There was no what if's that lingered in the air. Nor past resentments that hung over them like an ominous cloud determined to damper their moods. 

It was just Y/n and Robby. And that's all they'll ever be. No labels. She figured that much after the last time she'd brought it up. But she's become so full of him she can't even bring herself to care. She'd rather have what they have now, whatever it may be with him. Rather than risking losing him, and the routine she's started to build around him. 

She hums softly. Her mind far off. "Y/n?" She hymns in acknowledgement without turning her head. "Something happened this weekend."

He was lying. This had been going on for weeks. He had been having doubts for weeks. He'd been seeing her for weeks. "What happened? Another karate fight?" She wasn't the girl who got heartbroken. She was never the second choice. She got what she wanted. And she wanted him, however she could have him.

"I kissed Sam Larusso."

Y/n freezes. Her body betraying her as she tenses up. She has no right, she knows that. They were 'casual'. Just her and Robby. Non-commital.

"I mean big deal right? We were drunk anyways. Just felt bad not telling you. I know were not dating so it's really not your business, but don't worry about it. I mean we've fucked so often what does a kiss even mean?"

A kiss. To her it meant everything. An act of intimacy that they rarley ever shared. So innocent, so pure.

"Get out of my room Robby." Y/n mumbles, her voice above a whisper. The teen sits up from her lap and looks at her incredalously. He was only telling her to keep her in the loop. She didnt have the right to be mad. So why was she making a big deal about this?

"What?"

"You heard me. Get the fuck out of my room Keene."

He furrows his brows in a toxic coctail of anger and confusion. "Why? You can't get pissed at me for this Y/n. We aren't fucking dating. Don't get all aggro on me like you're some psycho girlfriend when you're a friend with benefits at best."

Y/n stands up and pushes the boy out of her room. "Get the fuck out of here Robby! If it didn't mean anything why don't you go fuck her then? Go whine about your mommy issues and daddy issues to her and leave me the hell alone."

"You have some nerve you know that right? Don't act all high and mighty now. You're a whore. Why the hell would I ever actually take you seriously when I can get everything I want without the label or work. You're easy, I could never do that shit with Sam."

Her breath was stuck in her throat as the boy she truly thought cared began to berate her as if she was a random person on the street. The boy she suffered for. The boy that was really never her's to keep. Y/n forces herself to wipe her anrgy tears and push Robby once again.

Y/n's hands were shaky, she desprately wanted to cry. To scream. To give in and give him the satisfaction of getting to her. "Oh so you can come over whenever you want, make me listen to your shitty life, and basically force yourself into my own life, but all that means nothing right? Well guess what Kenne. You kissed her, and she still doesn't want you!" She presses her finger into his chest while her voice level rises. "That same girl is still with Miguel. So just because you wanna jump ship and 'upgrade' doesn't mean she wants anything to do with you. Face it babe, you're just white trash."

"Shut the fuck up Y/n." Robby practically spits back.

"Oh, so you can disrespect me and belittle me in my own fucking room, but when its you its a problem? Grow up Robby. You're a man baby and a hypocrite. In what world is that fair Robby? Maybe in your little made up fantasy where Sam picks you and you leave me for dead. So go stay there. Cause you're sure as hell not welcome here."

Y/n throws everything he's given her at him. Every last peice a memory they shared together. Posters, drawings, braclets, anything that adorned her room. All of it thrown to him and crashing down like victims of a violent storm. Tears streamed down her face as he backed up to her door.

She opens the door for him and grabs his sweater and keys before shoving it in his chest. The boy watches her dumbfounded.

"Stay away from me Robby. Go back to some other slut that can put up with your baggage and shitty attitude for one night stand status. Because I'm done."

He looks at her, but there wasn't the girl he knew looking back at him. Not with how she glared, not with how she stood, and not with how she felt. Her eyes, the e/c irises reflected love, now they were dark. Harbors for her contempt. The grimace on her face was unforgettable. Especially as the last thing he seen before she slammed her door on his face.

Robby swallows the spit in his mouth, a hard lump of guilt not wanting to go down. He didn't think any of this would happen. He wanted her to care, but he didn't want to fight. His temper, his father's god forsaken temper, and his own damned ego.

He wanted what he had with her, with Sam. The girl next door with a rich family and big house. Like something out of a book. Not the girl that did whatever he said for the sake of making him happy. He really did want to just abandon her, didn't he? After everything.

Choking back his frustrations the boy marches down her stairs and lets himself out. He liked what he had with her, but he wouldn't fight for her. Guys only did that for the girl they want.

[hai7ani]

hihihi, hru?? hope ure doing good:3

i think i literally asked for a rindou hc recently but i seriously need a ran one where he’s like divorced for any reason that you want and he tries to get closer or to talk to his ex through their kid or appear at kindergarten when they’re picking the child from there or just try to talk to them when he goes to pick the kid for weekends or whatever, I JUST NEED IT 😭😭

take your time btw, don’t want you to get yourself busy with this when you have better things to do jahsjjajd:33

i.

Ran thinks it's cruel that your smile still haunts him awake at night.

It's one of the meanest things you can do to an ex after a nasty separation, he thinks 一 having a smile so warm and beautiful that you only show to a loved one (him, used to be), and the image still sticks so freshly on the inner walls of their head years after you divorce and aren't on speaking terms as much.

You can't go a minute speaking to him without choking on your words. You're always awkward with him when handing off your daughter for his night, but he still tries to make you feel comfortable around him again by cracking a joke or two that would've always made you laugh. You don't anymore and you haven't done it in a while, yet he still tries. And he continues with it as soon as he spots the small crack in your facade when one corner of your lips starts lifting against your will and you're quickly looking away to scratch at your elbow.

It's terrible how suffocating he feels currently. He isn't used to being like this.

Ran finds himself thinking way too much of you lately.

He often keeps his head awake at night to the thought of you and what the two of you were, and he has to keep reminding himself that he shouldn't be doing this anymore. Especially not now when you've got another man who isn't him sending you home after work and you're throwing the same sweetish, syrupy smile his way when you get off his car in a little bounce and you're holding onto his door to fix your heels.

It's been years since your separation. You're no longer the woman who'd put up with things just to have peace in the house, and he's no longer the man who'd put off things just to have some peace to himself. Your daughter is a big girl now and she's starting to understand things without anyone saying it outrightly to her. He hears a lot about you from her observations at home and he likes that you've started working on the things you've always wanted to do but didn't have time for because you were so preoccupied with taking care of everyone's needs.

Things have changed a lot since then. Improvements were made and they were done with quick effort 一 it's one of the things people start doing when they let something go and realise just how much they have been missing, or lacking.

And you're no longer together to witness that growth in each other.

But Haitani Ran has never been one to dwell on the past and think too much on what could've been 一 he fixes his issues and he does it really well. It's one of the things you've always liked about him.

If trying again isn't an option, he should at least see you. By tonight. He has to see you now. He wants to see you now.

He throws on a jacket and he grabs his keys to go.

Ran always lives in the present.

ii.

You have a lousy, too-big-for-your-face sheet mask on when he rings your bell. He almost laughs at how ridiculous you look paired with the frog pyjama pants you always like wearing to sleep, but you look so cozy, and a famous tear-jerking K-Drama is playing on your TV screen in the back. He decides he'll not poke the bear tonight.

"Arisa's already asleep." You tell him when he's on his way to go knock on her door and you're pouring him a glass of water. "That's fine."

But he's quick with it this time 一 no more than fifteen seconds with his daughter that he only sees three times a week and he's back out in the living room again with you.

"Hi sweetie. Daddy's gonna go win your mama back tonight, alright? Give me a minute, I'll be back."

He has more important matters at hand right now.

"How's the show?" He downs the cup in one go. His throat had been dry the entire ride to your place. Mind flooded with words he's unsure whether or not to say, but keeps as an option for later. He wants to see you way more.

You shrug and start peeling off your mask. "It's fine. A bit boring. Not as great as what they say." You rub on your face and go wash your hands in the sink.

As always, you're curt with him. You leave no room to continue a conversation. He doesn't blame you for it, though. He wasn't always there to listen.

"Listen, uh," he begins, fiddling with the cup, "can we talk?"

You eye the clock and shake your head. "No, it's getting late and I have to sleep. You should go too, now that you've seen Arisa一"

"一I came to see you." It's suffocating, the sudden silence in the house. And he realises swiftly it's back to square one again with the atmosphere around you both. You're creasing your brows and it's not looking nice.

"Honey, not that again一" You sweep your hair back out of frustration when you remember. "Sorry, I keep calling you that."

"Can we just talk, please? I need to talk to you." His eyes plead. His heart aches.

It's evil what the remnants of love can still do to two people who aren't together anymore.

iii.

"Risa's told me lots, you know一"

You light the cigarette hung between your lips and inhale.

"About you." He finishes his sentence.

"About what?"

In such a small space on the bench of your balcony you still manage to seat yourself as far away as you can from him, and you've got one leg on top of it. Back then his mother would've pointed out how rude it was to sit like this around your husband, but she's not here with you at your house, and you just want to get all of this done with.

He can tell.

But he thinks it's nice that he still managed to convince you to come out here and have a smoke together in the cold like the risqué couple you were back then. He wants to salvage this moment for as much as he can.

"Well, she told me you started doing cross stitch again."

You let out a breath through your nose. "Yeah, finally found the time, I guess. She keeps asking me to use the pink threads, but I don't know what else to stitch other than flowers and bows."

Your voice is a lot deeper than usual now that you've got a cigarette in your mouth and you no longer look as put together like you always do in front to him. Your hair is clipped in a messy bun and your pants are folded at the waist.

He's still charming as ever, though, and it pisses you off.

"And she told me you've been crying a lot lately."

Great way to piss you off even more. He looks at you when he says it and you don't like it from him at all.

Your chest is burning when he leans back in his seat. "Is it because of that twat? The one always driving around in that lame, old Mercedes? He's been making you cry?"

What a fucking guy.

You puff out the smoke and scoff. "I guess you still don't know me well enough then."

"Then tell me. What's going on?"

You click your tongue, agitated. Perhaps it's the nicotine that's keeping you on edge right now, and he notices you're a lot more straightforward with him this time.

He wants to talk? You'll give him just what he wants.

"I just don't get how you always make things look so fucking easy."

"What's easy?"

You shake your head, thinking. You throw the cigarette in the ash tray angrily and groan.

"I don't know! Moving on?"

You shoot daggers right into his eyes. "It's always so goddamn easy with you. Not even a year after we divorce and you've already got a girl on your arm. How the fuck did you do it? Was I so invisible to you in our marriage that all it took was just a year, or less, to go date someone else? And get so touchy with her? Did I not live in your heart at all?"

"What the fuck? What girl?"

You give him a big laugh 一 a fake one. "You're such an asshole."

"There hasn't been any fucking girl after you. I don't know what you saw that time, but nothing ever happened between me and any other girl, ever. And this thing about me moving on? Bullshit. I came to see you tonight. I never fucking moved on. It's been this way for two whole years. Jesus, it's always been you."

You're both out of breath by the time he finishes, and the waterworks come quick.

"Who was she?" You sob into your knees. He moves closer to you. So close you can feel the heat off his skin when he fixes a strand of your loose hair.

"A colleague from the Taiwan office. We attended a gala together and I sent her back to the hotel with the driver. I swear, nothing ever happened."

Your cheek is squashed against one knee when you look at him in those eyes that always gets him to fold. "You're so fucking mean. You're so cool and playful all the time. Did your heart not break when we ended? Aren't you even sad about it? This whole time I've waited to see if you were, but you never let anything show. I thought you moved on."

And finally, Ran pulls you into a hug. A hug so tight you can practically feel the crack echoing in his chest. So tight you're almost swallowed into his soul.

"We have a kid together, damn it."

You hear it then. You finally do.

"I still love you so much, baby." His voice is shaky, heart breaking apart in half from how much it hurts for you. "I never stopped, fuck. It's only ever you."

iv.

It's quiet when you sleep. Half-asleep.

You've got your nose buried in your blanket and your eyes are droopy. They're also red and swollen, but he'll take care of that for you tomorrow.

Thankfully, Arisa isn't woken up by the commotion. She's still sound asleep when Ran goes to check on her after he's ushered you in from the cold.

Your blanket rustles in the quiet when you reach your arms out to go pull him in closer to your chest. "Why are you so far away?"

He laughs a little, "I'm here," while you drape a leg over his hip.

Your sleeping position way too intimate for two ex-lovers who are divorced, and just yelled at each other's faces not too long ago.

But you don't think you care too much. Ran just admitted he still loves you and it's more than enough for you to kiss him again. You need to hold him tonight. You need him to be yours again, even just for one night.

"Rub my back." As always, you're very demanding with affection. And he always delivers as you wish.

But you can't deny that there's still a lot to work on in your relationship if you want to try again. Love isn't just enough to fix things, and only one minor improvement of him being attentive again to your feelings doesn't mean a lot if he can't show that he won't repeat it again.

And you're not perfect either. You're always wicked with your tricks when you don't get the attention you desire, or deem as enough. There's no denying that you only went out with a man to make a certain someone jealous 一 to see if he still cares 一 because you know he's been waiting around at your place to see if you get home by feet or in another man's car.

"That twat that you mentioned earlier..." You trail off and he hums, a smirk on his face when he buries it in your neck again. "I never did anything with him, okay? I stopped seeing him a month ago. We just went out for dinner, like, three times. And he always suggested to AA the bill every single time. He's stingy."

And again, you don't really leave room for him to continue the conversation.

"That's alright."

And perhaps tomorrow will be a better day.

But he's one step closer to winning you back again.

A win is always a win.

And againnnn this is not even close to what was asked for i think you might've been looking for fluff lol 😭😭🙏🏻 and i love how every individual as a couple aren't perfect and i tried my best to portray their own traits in here. And they've been following each other around after their divorce lol