Tumgik
#this has most likely been done before and if it has i’m sorry
underoossss · 2 days
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Let me help – Miguel O'hara
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pairing: miguel ohara x fem!reader
warnings: tw homelife problems mention, some angst
words: ~3k
masterlist
an: they're good friends in this but feelings are hinted at from both of them. this is definitely not me projecting not at all. but sometimes you just need someone to offer comfort when you're feeling down, which is how i have been feeling for weeks. anyway, have some hurt comfort on this tuesday i guess. we're so back.
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“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Miguel’s voice reaches your ears just as you’re about to leave his lab.
There was a mission with Hobbie and Gwen that needed to be reported, and you stood silently in the back until Gwen was done and the three of you dismissed. Or at least the two of them were.
“No I haven’t.” You say, closing your eyes and chiding yourself for not leaving faster.
You have been avoiding him, leaving before he can speak to you, only spending time with him when a mission is involved and not answering his calls. It’s killing you –there’s nothing you want more than just to spend your time with him like you always do– but if you didn’t avoid him, you’d be in trouble. He would notice something’s wrong; he’d know you’ve been crying. He’d figure out something’s wrong the moment you tear up again, because you can’t stop feeling so sad. Miguel is your friend, and unbeknownst to him, the object of your affections, he knows you and he can’t know you’re not doing well. You can’t be another burden.
“Mentira.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s shaking his head, but you do anyway. He gestures towards his platform and because you can’t deny him, you go. This is why you avoided him. “Did I do something?” Miguel asks you once you’re standing in front of where he’s sitting.
“What? No, of course not.” You shake your head. “I’m fine, just feeling a little off today. Sorry if I’m ruining the vibe for the team.”
“Come on, you know you light up the room anywhere you go.” He says casually, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. The orange glow of the screen highlights his facial features, from the top of his cheekbone to his lips. His eyes meet your masked ones and you look away.
“But I don’t anymore?” You ask, knowing the answer is yes. You half expect him to say it, ‘Your mood is bringing everyone down’.
“You do. But I know you, and there’s something off.” Miguel sighs and gestures towards your face. “You won’t take off your mask anymore for starters.”
“I have a pimple, many.” You lie, sitting on one of his desks opposite him, crisscrossing your legs.
“Uh huh.” The look Miguel gives you is enough for you to know he doesn’t believe you one bit. “You know you can tell me anything” He breathes out again. “I won’t insist on you doing so, if you don’t want to.”
You bite your bottom lip under your mask and shake your head. “I can’t tell you. It’s stupid.”
“Doubtful.” Miguel stands up and walks towards you. Once he’s close enough and looking down at you one of his hands reaches for your mask, asking for permission.
This is why you avoided him, you think again, you can never say no to him.
The most imperceptible nod from you, and a moment later your teary eyes are meeting his brown ones. When his face falls with concern you can’t do anything but wrap your arms around his middle and hug him. Miguel wastes no time returning the hug, arms secure around your shoulders as he holds you.
“What’s going on, mi pulguita, huh?” He says, voice quiet, gentler than it’s ever been. “It’s not stupid if it’s got you like this.”
“Things back home aren’t… good.” You whisper, finding comfort on his warmth and relaxing with his touch. When was the last time you got a hug like this? “God I shouldn’t be complaining, sorry.”
“You’re not complaining.” Miguel pushes you back so you’re looking at him, his eyebrows are furrowed. “Stop apologizing.”
You nod even as your lip trembles. It’s wrong in your mind to say how you feel –not about him, you’ll never tell him, but about your home life. Others have it worse, why can’t you just grow up and put up with your situation. It should be easy, getting through the day despite the chaos and heaviness that seems to plague you. If others have it worse, you have to be strong no matter how much you’re hurting right?
“Whatever you’re thinking about right now is probably wrong.” Miguel frowns as his hand moves up to cup your cheek. “If you want to talk about what’s going on back home, if you don’t like it, that’s okay. Stop thinking it makes you a bad person.”
You shake your head and look away. “Complaining won’t solve anything, Miguel. I just have to get over it.”
“It’s eating you alive; nothing good can come from bottling it up.” Miguel’s frustrated tone shines through but only momentarily.
“You’re one to talk.” You huff, leaning your forehead on his torso, avoiding his eyes.
“That was before.” His hands move to your shoulders and push you back gently. “I’m getting better at that because of you. Let me help.”
Your eyes tear up again and you bite your lip; this goes against every instinct you have. When you’re like this you retreat into yourself, talking about what’s making you so sad is the complete opposite. Yet you find comfort in the concerned gaze that meets yours when you look up again. “I hate living at home.” You confess softly.
“There’s yelling and fighting, and an environment that’s so toxic, every single day. It gives me so much anxiety I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. Then there’s this feeling when we’re all together –right before an argument breaks out– that I’m letting everyone down, that I’m not the person they thought I would be, and it kills me because I can’t be that person.” You pause to gesture at your suit in a way of explaining what you mean. “And-
With another shake head you cut yourself off and wipe at your tears harshly, falling silent once more.
Miguel’s warm touch in on you again, wiping a rogue tear more gently than how you did before. His other hand shoots his red webs and brings his chair over, letting him sit I front of you until you’re in the same eye level.
“And?” He says, prompting you to keep going, mostly likely wanting to know everything so he can find a way to solve it.
It shouldn’t be his problem. You tell him that.
He rolls his eyes at you, not annoyed, but frustrated. “It’s not a problem. No entiendes que…” With a deep breath he looks at you again. “I care about you, and I hate seeing you cry so let’s see if we can at least make it better.”
You fiddle with your fingers until Miguel gives you one of his hands and you hold it tightly instead. “And I feel so lonely, Miguel.” You whisper as you squeeze his hand. “I feel lonely and then I feel selfish for even wanting anything to change in the first place. Other people are going through worse situations, so why do I cry because I feel so alone in that universe...
“Sometimes I feel like… like I’m such a problem that if–”
“No.” Miguel’s gaze hardens but not unkindly. This is protective Miguel and he’s trying to save you from your own train of thought. “I know what you’re going to say and it’s not true.”
“But what if it is?” You whisper, letting go of his hand to wipe away your tears again.
“Lyla, bring up file 7200” Miguel says in lieu of an answer. He nods towards the screens and stands up.
You follow him wordlessly, wondering what this is all about until you’re standing right next to him and see yourself on the various screens. They’re all different missions, some of them with Miguel fighting alongside you, some of them with your spider friends. There’s footage of you wiping the floor with the Scorpion until you capture him; you, trapping a Doc Oc for Miguel to cage inside his high-tech cells; you, being Gwen and Jess’ backup when their mission with a Sandman got out of control; and finally, you, comforting a little girl that got hurt in a fire back in your home world as you bring her over to an ambulance. The girl looks at you with teary eyes but a growing smile, then giggles at something you say until you put her down on a stretcher.
Next to you, Miguel lets out a breathy chuckle as he looks at the same footage as you –you and that little girl. “‘Want some smores?’ I can’t believe you said that.”
“I knew it would make her laugh.” You whisper, the corner of your mouth lifting.
“Do you see the positive impact you have?” Miguel asks, his voice is low as his hand gestures to the screen. “None of this would have happened without you. So you’re wrong.”
“Miguel…”
“Everyone would feel your absence, so don’t think the opposite is true.” Miguel closes his eyes and turns to you. “Who’s going to visit me at the oddest hours if not you?”
The fondness in his voice makes you look away. “Probably another variant of me.”
“They all hate me.” Miguel reminds you, then brings your gaze back to his with his thumb and index finger on your chin. And I love you, you think, fighting so hard not to show it as you look at him. “We can fix this.” He nods.
“How?” You ask him, heart beating louder, anxiously, at whatever he’s going to suggest.
“You, are going to move out of your house.” He says decidedly, walking to a smaller monitor. “It’s not doing you any good.”
“No.” You shake your head. That’s selfish, that’s–
“That’s putting yourself first for once.” Miguel says, making you realize you were thinking out loud. “You need to be yourself in your own world, and not just here. You can’t do that if you’re frozen with anxiety by living at home. What’s something you want to do?”
“Ballet.” You mumble, knowing deep down he’s right. “Ever since I got bitten, I haven’t been to the studio once.” It feels like a selfish act to do something for you instead of patrolling the city, no matter how joy it would bring you.
Miguel sighs and walks over to you, a glance over to the screen confirms he was searching for apartments in your home world. His hands find you face, and he shakes his head. “I know all I do is work and go on missions, but that’s me. That’s not you, and the world is not going to end if you have a hobby.”  
“I like being here.” Your voice is a whisper as you look at him, calming down the thrumming of your heart so he doesn’t notice it. With you. “I like the society.”
“Then do ballet here, the Gwens would love that.” He insists.
“Miguel, I don’t think I can.” You shake your head as much as you can manage with his hold on your face. “It feels wrong, doing something just for me feels impossible. I always feel like I should be doing more.”
“Is that you talking? Or your family asking more and more from you?” His hands move down to his hips as he looks at you, a quizzical eyebrow raised.
When your eyes tear up again, they wordlessly answer his question.
“Look at all the things you’ve done.” Miguel motions to the screens behind him where the footage still plays on a loop. “You’ve never been one to back down from a fight, no matter how dangerous it is, and I don’t think you’re starting now.”
This is another battle entirely, internal with your negative thoughts and external with all the triggers and stressors in your home world. Fighting variants is never scary, not even the Goblin, but why does your stomach sink at the thought of freeing yourself from your torment, of opening up to something new and hope. Yet letting things stay how they are scares you more.
Eyes glassy, and breath shaky you look up at your friend –the man you’re secretly oh so in love with– and nod once in determination. He doesn’t smile, yet his eyes light up with relief and pride before pulling you close again. “There she is. You’re not alone, you’ve got us… me.”
“My mind hates me sometimes.” You murmur as your eyes close at the physical touch– at his words.
“Tell me when it happens.” Miguel says, voice low. “I’ll listen.”
Lyla pops up next to you. “Hm, words of affirmation seem to be your preferred love language, as well as physical touch.” She looks at some data on her phone before she addresses Miguel. “I’ll add it to her file.”
“I can’t believe you actually have a file on me.” With a shake of your head, you reluctantly step away from his embrace to look up at him. A weight has lifted from your shoulders, so much you can genuinely grin at him this time.
His expression doesn’t change, though his brown eyes give away how pleased he is. “Are you surprised?”
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” This time you do smile, maintaining eye contact even as his thumb caresses your chin gently one last time.
“Come on, we’re finding you an apartment and you’re getting out of that house.” He turns away from you and walks towards the screens, closing your file and opening multiple real state webpages.
“Can I stay in a spare room until we find it?” You ask, sitting on his abandoned chair.
Miguel’s already focused on his task, but he pauses long enough to reply. “You don’t have to ask, pulguita.”
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reblogs are super appreciated, let me know what you think!
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mentira: lies
pulguita: term of endearment for someone short (literally it would mean little flee)
mi pulguita: the same as before but calling her his
no entiendes que: don't you understand that
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bultaoreunheyyy · 2 days
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Rather Be
Title: Rather Be
Word Count: 1,850
Sickie: Yoongi (cold/snz)
Caretaker: Hoseok
A/N: Written for anon request for a very sneezy/needy/affectionate Yoongi with a cold
want to come over and hang out? we can watch a movie :D
It’s the first thing Hoseok texts Yoongi when he hears it start to rain outside. He knows there’s a fairly big storm forecasted to roll in soon, and it’s been dreary all day, but now that it’s actually raining and the sky is growing dark, Hoseok can’t help thinking instantly about his friend.   
Hoseok hates to be stuck inside due to the weather, but it’s Yoongi’s favorite thing. He’s not even expecting Yoongi to answer his text, because Yoongi would love nothing more than to chill at home by himself on a Friday night with the excuse of the rain to keep him inside. He can picture Yoongi already, sitting by the window and listening to the rain while he reads a book.
He’s thoroughly surprised when Yoongi texts him back less than five minutes later.
Maybe. I probably shouldn’t though, I think I’m getting sick.
Hoseok frowns and starts typing.
oh no!!! are you okay?
you can still come, I totally don’t mind
or do you want me to come over there instead?
do you need me to get you anything at the store? 
After that, it takes Yoongi a longer time to respond. Hoseok feels a weirdly strong sense of concern, but it’s just because it’s unusual that Yoongi’s sick. Hoseok can’t even remember the last time that happened. 
Just when he considers calling Yoongi, his phone buzzes.
No, I can come to you, if you really don’t mind.
It takes about fifteen minutes for Yoongi to get there, and Hoseok uses the time to set up the couch with plenty of comfy pillows and blankets and brew a pot of tea. He’s not really sure what Yoongi is sick with, so he still gathers their usual assortment of snacks they like during movie nights too.
He hears a knock on his front door, and then a second later it opens and Yoongi comes inside. He leans his dripping umbrella against the wall, and bends down to take his shoes off. They’re soaking wet, as are the bottom of his pants, and his rain jacket is dripping all over the floor of the entryway. 
“It’s really coming down out there,” Hoseok comments, peering out the window. He turns to Yoongi, who nods and then lifts his arm up to his face.
“hsch-eh! hshch’iew! Ugh, excuse me,” Yoongi mumbles, sniffling a little. He pulls off his hood and unzips his jacket, and Hoseok can see that he’s shivering. Even though he’s wearing the coat, his face is wet and so is most of his hair.  
“Bless you. Go change into some dry clothes,” Hoseok instructs. “And if you need anything, there’s plenty of medicine in the cabinet in the bathroom. Tissues, too.” 
Yoongi gives an uncharacteristically shy smile and goes to change, sniffling as he makes his way down the hall.
When he comes out, he’s wearing a pair of Hoseok’s sweatpants and sweatshirt of his own he’d left there at some point, and he’s sneezing up a storm, stopping every few steps to sneeze into the crook of his arm. 
“hrrshsh-eh! ksh’shuh!”
“Bless you!” Hoseok says, but Yoongi doesn’t even hear him, not even close to being done sneezing. 
 “hh-ktsch-uh! hh-hh-hshch’uh! S-sorry…hshch’iew! hrrshsh-eh!”
Hoseok blinks in shock, He’s never heard Yoongi sneeze so much before. “Bless you!” He exclaims, nudging Yoongi in the direction of the couch. “Sounds like you’ve definitely caught a cold.” He’s instantly worried, and the worry grows exponentially with each sneeze.
“ksh’shuh! hh-ktsch!” 
“Bless you. Sit down, there are plenty of blankets on the couch. I boiled water for tea, I’ll be right back.” 
As he makes his way into the kitchen, he hears Yoongi sneeze twice more– he has no clue how he never noticed before today that Yoongi sneezed in twos. 
When he returns to the living room with two mugs of tea, Yoongi is sitting on the couch, curled up under a blanket and sneezing into his sleeve yet again. 
“hh-hh-hshch! hsch-eh!” 
“Bless you. Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to watch a movie if you’re not feeling up to it.”
“I’m okay,” Yoongi replies quickly, chuckling softly even as a blush appears on his cheeks. “It’s just a cold. I did take some of your medicine, though. Thank you.”  
“Of course. Take as much as you need. Or, I guess, as much as recommended.” 
They both laugh, and Hoseok turns on the TV. He sits down on the opposite end of the couch, and he’s surprised when Yoongi moves over so he’s sitting right next to Hoseok, their shoulders touching. Grinning to himself, he glances over and tries not to be noticeable as he observes Yoongi up close, his smile faltering a little when he sees that he doesn’t look very well at all.  
There are dark circles under the older man’s eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping well, his lips are dry and cracked, and Hoseok gets a good look at how red his nose is for just a second before Yoongi is covering it with his hand, inhaling sharply before– 
“hrRSHSH-eh! HSHCH-eh!”
“Bless you!” Hoseok grabs a blanket and spreads it out over both of their laps, still a little surprised at how close Yoongi is sitting. Yoongi isn’t exactly one for physical affection– or any kind of physical touch, really– but he pulls his feet up onto the couch once the blanket is over him, knees bending as he leans against Hoseok’s side even more.
He’s quiet after that, leaning against Hoseok’s side as they watch the movie. Less than ten minutes in, Hoseok notices something; little by little, Yoongi leans further over, until his head is resting on Hoseok’s shoulder, his hair brushing against his neck. 
He stays very still as he processes the surprising unfolding of events. He wonders if it’s just because Yoongi is so tired– he also briefly wonders if Yoongi has a fever or something, because it’s so unexpected. And then, Yoongi pulls one arm out of the blanket, lifts his fist to his nose to rub briefly, and then when he puts his hand down he lets it rest so that it’s almost in Hoseok’s lap instead of his own, his fingers splayed out over Hoseok’s blanket-covered thigh. 
Hoseok tries very hard to resist the urge to grab Yoongi’s hand, or to put his arm around the older man’s shoulders, grinning to himself the entire time. He can’t help being excited at the fact that Yoongi trusts him enough to be so close. 
Suddenly, Yoongi pulls away a little, lifting his head and turning away from Hoseok to sneeze. “hh-KTSHCH-uh! HSHCH’uh! Excuse me,” he mumbles, sniffling afterward and rubbing his nose with his knuckles. 
“Let me go grab a box of tissues,” Hoseok says as he listens to Yoongi sniffle. 
He’s not sure if it’s in his head, or if Yoongi is reluctant to let him up, but he pauses for a moment before he does, sitting up slowly and barely just enough to let Hoseok stand up. 
As soon as he returns with tissues and sits down, Yoongi burrows against his side, spreading the blanket back out over their laps and then wrapping his arm around Hoseok’s waist. 
Hoseok beams.
He keeps the tissues in his lap, and he’s not really sure how he senses it– maybe Yoongi sniffles softly, or his body tenses a little– but he has a sudden thought to pull a couple of tissues from the box, and he passes them to Yoongi at the same exact time that Yoongi reaches over.
“Th-thank you,” Yoongi gasps before letting out a particularly wet-sounding pair of sneezes. “HSHCH’iew! hrrshsh-eh!”
“Bless you,” Hoseok murmurs, pulling a few more tissues from the box and passing them over. “Are you okay?” 
“KSHshuh! hrrshsh-iew!” 
With a harsh sniffle, Yoongi nods, but then he sneezes twice more and groans afterward, his face flushing. 
“Bless you.”
Yoongi blows his nose, mumbling an apology that Hoseok brushes off. Once Yoongi’s nose seems to settle, they go back to watching the movie, and a couple of minutes later Hoseok feels eyes on him. He glances down to see Yoongi looking up at him.
“Sorry I’m so boring tonight,” he whispers as soon as Hoseok looks at him. “Thank you for still wanting to hang out with me.”
“Of course,” Hoseok replies. “I love hanging out with you.”
Yoongi smiles, then settles back against him, cheek against his shoulder. 
Hoseok isn’t really thinking when he reaches over a few minutes later and starts to rub Yoongi’s back, and he feels Yoongi tense beneath his hand. He pulls his hand back, but Yoongi makes a small, congested sound and shifts under the blanket.
“Keep going?” He asks sleepily, mumbling the words against Hoseok’s neck. 
Hoseok does not have to be told twice. He focuses on rubbing Yoongi’s back, completely ignoring the movie now in favor of bringing his friend comfort, and when Yoongi tenses again not five minutes later, he’s startled by Yoongi sneezing softly. 
“hsch-eh!” Yoongi barely gets a hand to his face in time to cover the sneeze, and Hoseok pauses, waiting for the second one.  A second sneeze doesn’t come, though, and he cranes his neck a little to check on Yoongi when he sits up halfway; he’s taking tiny little breaths, chest moving up and down rapidly, and Hoseok bites back a smile at the way his nose scrunches up. It feels a little silly, sitting and waiting for Yoongi to sneeze, but before he can think about it too much more it finally comes– 
“hshch’iew!”
“Oh, bless you,” Hoseok coos, tugging Yoongi back against his side. His heart flutters when Yoongi comes easily, snuggles up against him like he does it all the time.
As the movie plays on, Yoongi starts to slump further down, like his head is too heavy to keep upright, and soon he slides down until his head is in Hoseok’s lap. Hoseok keeps rubbing his back, smiling when Yoongi makes an unintentionally cute little snorting noise that turns into a yawn. 
By the time the movie is done, Yoongi is sound asleep. Hoseok doesn’t want to wake him. He looks so tired and sick, and so vulnerable resting his head in Hoseok’s lap, and he can’t bear the thought of breaking the peaceful atmosphere surrounding them. Outside, the rain falls harder than ever, but it feels cozy inside, like they’re in their own little world.
Hoseok cues up another movie and settles in, knowing he might be stuck on the couch for a while, because there is no way he’s going to make Yoongi move until he does it on his own accord. 
And when Yoongi coughs himself awake halfway through the second movie, Hoseok just keeps rubbing his back and holding him close and soaking up the way Yoongi leans purposefully into his touch, glancing up at him with a shy, grateful smile every so often in a way that makes Hoseok melt. 
He can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.
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Note
So this might be an odd one, but I cannot stop thinking about it, so here you go. How would the celebrity characters (Vox, Velvette, Charlie, Lucifer, Angel Dust, maybe Alastor and Valentino) fare on a show like Hot Ones? (Explanation below if you're not familiar. It's on YouTube too if you're interested.)
It's basically an interview show where the guests and the host eat chicken wings with 10 progressively hotter hot sauces. Typically, guests descend into various flavors of mania as the sauces get hotter.
Vox would act nonchalant but be out fairly quickly. He likes spicy food but his processors aren’t built to handle so much at one time, especially if it’s only getting worse. He’d likely glitch and spark before crashing.
- “Hot? What, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m fine. Tastes great! What do you mean I’m glitching out-”
Velvette wouldn’t even comment on the spice- try asking her questions and she’ll insult your clothing choice. She’s taking it slow and identifying every nuance of the flavor of each sauce before moving on, just to be petty because she likely didn’t want to be there. I think she’d get to number seven?
- “Mm, yes. It has a bit of a savory feel to it, doesn’t it? Really brings out the hints of desperation, sadness, and a profound taste of time wasting. Are we done here?”
Charlie, incredibly nervous. Out at around 3 or 4, eating any piece of bread she can find, probably crying. She’s dramatic but she’s trying.
- “Hoolllyyy shit- fuck, hold on, I am so sorry- gah! Why is my mouth on fire? Water, I need water! Oh shit that made things worse! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEED- YOU ALREADY HAD ALL THE BREAD AND MILK? I’m doomed. I’ll die to a hot sauce challenge. Check my will, I’m giving everything to Vaggie, Razzle and Dazzle.”
Lucifer, like Vox, would act nonchalant. Except he’s good at it. He’s been around since forever, and he’s likely had plenty of chances to get used to all sorts of food. He’d look at the bottle, take note of how it was made, how long the company has been around for, and dive into a short but sweet lecture on the history of the company, most popular flavors, etc. he’s probably pulling half of it out of his ass, in an attempt to impress Hell or look like a cool dad for his little girl. He’d be out of the game between 6 and 8.
- “Oh yes this is a family recipe! Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting a living member of said family, but I know it’s made with both love and care. Yeah, I know! John is such a good man, and his wife? Makes the best chicken buffalo casserole you’ll ever have. The sauce isn’t particularly spicy, but the dedication and history behind it, the love this family holds for eachother, is really what brings tears to my eyes.”
Angel Dust is an immediate lose. He’s charismatic but absolutely unhinged, he probably doesn’t follow the rules. Asks if he can mix the sauces, then ends up chugging the whole bottle (number 2) for ten dollars. He does it, gets his money, and is disqualified immediately after. Insults everyone’s sense of style, their boring topics of conversation, etc.
- “Enough about the sauce, tell me, hot stuff, do you have someone waiting for you at home? Cus I’d sure like to sample this hunk of meat…”
Alastor is completely unphased by the sauce but extremely irritable. He finds it all completely abominable. From the cameras and the picture boxes it’d be seen on to the sheer disappointment and lack of spice in the sauce. He’d asked if the wings are even seasoned, when everything was made, how fresh it is, etc. He glitches out the footage so he can’t be scene and the host (or hells equivalent- look, I headcanon it’d be Tom trench just for the shits and giggles) is pissed at him for it. He makes it to 9 before he ends up killing someone and getting kicked off.
- “My mother was quite a good cook! Have I mentioned that before? She made the best jambalaya, the recipe was to die for. No, of course I’m not telling you! What would you do with it? Take out all the seasonings and add this poor excuse of a hot sauce bought from the store? No, no, no. I’d rather keep my dignity and reputation as a well respected man, thank you. (Scoffs) share the recipe? As if I’d ever do such a thing to my mother…”
Valentino is nothing but insults the whole way through. Cussing people out, making snide comments on the set up of the cameras, outfits, the hosting skills. He doesn’t even have the sauces in order, he chooses whichever one he wants and just sort of goes for it. He wins with ease. Nobody can get him off set, he’s mixing the sauces together, somehow brings his own?? He forces production crew members to join in and try the sauce so he can insult them, specifically on their tastes and lack of ability to handle it. He’s a menace, to say the least. Gossiping, talking about clothes and fashion, texting, etc. he wins but everyone is pissed because of it.
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twinjunhui · 2 years
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So… you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship?
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calamitydaze · 2 months
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long tag ramble below u have been warned
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#ok i feel like i should say Something before i start being active again#but i dont want it to be a Statement which is why i’m putting it in the tags#(also bc i procrastinated doing this for weeks so i know this is a very stale topic by now#but i also haven’t been on tumblr literally at all so this is 100% my organic authentic opinion lmao)#so read if you gaf and ignore if you don’t#anyway: george def could’ve done more to ensure she was comfortable#and as someone who has also gotten in over my head with older men and regretted it#her hurt is valid and i’m deeply sorry she feels the way she does about that night#but with that said i see no reason to believe george Should have known how she really felt#or that he deliberately took advantage of either her youth/inexperience or her discomfort#and that’s the most important thing for me— he fucked up and misread a situation but that doesn’t make him an evil person#and i hope they can both move on and grow and heal#as for my future in the fandom: i honestly dunno how active i’ll be going forward#i was already becoming pretty disconnected so this might’ve just sped up the process? i’m tired of being put through the wringer#but i also don’t really have a fandom to replace this so i might just continue casually participating in the way i have been#either way rest assured i will never become a rabid anti. that shits embarrassing#i got HORRIBLE drolo rsd the other day when tommy’s mom needed clout and vagued him so like if nothing else. droloisms are forever#also as a last thing— this feels kinda silly and self centered to say but i will anyway#sorry for not opening up my blog as a forum for discussion again the way i did with the drituation#i know i helped a lot of people sort out their feelings and that was (and is) really really important to me#but it also tanked my mental health (mostly as a result of the fallout and not the act itself but still)#plus my life irl was pretty stressful at the time when everything was first going down#so i just didn’t feel up to putting myself through that again#but i’m sorry if anyone wanted to discuss w me but wasn’t able to#anyway. i think that’s all i have to say!#i don’t want to turn this into a capital D discussion but as always my askbox and dms are open#love you all tons! i hope you’re having a good day 🫂🫶#bella talks
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donnatroyyyy · 1 year
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Batman has/had some kind of miscommunication going on with every single one of his kids. The bat family is just one big miscommunication trope after the other.
#him and Dick have miscommunication about how they see each other. Bruce sees Dick as a son and Dick sees Bruce as a father#but they didn’t think the other saw them that way so they never told each other. that’s what led to their fights in Dick’s later teenage#years and dick quitting and becoming nightwing. he thought Bruce only saw him as a ward/robin so he thought that as long as he couldn’t be#robin Bruce wouldn’t want him#and if didn’t help when Bruce stopped talking to him when he left. though to Bruce it was because he thought Dick didn’t want to talk to him#and also Dick really needs to tell Bruce like ‘hey you put me on a higher pedestal then you put even yourself which is saying something and#and I don’t like that cuz that’s too much pressure for me. and also since you did it everyone else does it and has done it since I was Robin#and it’s literally just a matter of time before I break from the pressure cuz I’m not fucking Superman and I can’t take it’#and Jason with the whole UTRH thing. you know all Bruce had to say was that he had tried killing the joker over Jason multiple times and#maybe just explain to Jason WHY he doesn’t kill. a simple ‘you’re better than me because if I killed one person I’d kill everyone’#or it could even just be a simple ‘I do love you Jason youre the kid that I felt most comfortable loving’#and also maybe a ‘I don’t think anything changed after my death and that makes my death meaningless which I think goes against your no kill#rule because I hat is the rule of not a reminder taht death means something. and by that logic my death already went against the rule so why#can’t you do it again for the man that murdered me.’ and Bruce needs to make a presentation: ‘all the ways Jason’s death meant something’#and Tim just needs a simple ‘I don’t see you as work I see you as family.’ maybe even a ‘you don’t have to be the grown up in this relati#anymore I’m sorry you were one to begin with. you should’ve always been the child’#now his miscommunication with Damian goes much deeper but I’m one hundred percent sure if they sit down and air out all of their feelings it#would help a lot but I have a feeling that won’t happen#a ‘I have trouble understanding you because both your trauma and compassion run deeper than mine and I also never had to grow up to be a#weapon’ from Bruce and a ‘I don’t understand your optimism and moral stubbornness and easness why is it so easy to be good for u?’#his miscommunication with Cass stems from two things a simple ‘why are you so afraid to show how deeply you love?’ from Cass maybe a#‘I’m jealous of you because you’re better than me not only in fighting but morally and emotionally’ from Bruce should fix it#and Steph— look I’m not even going to TRY to get into that that goes SO much deeer and wider than any one else’s miscommunication#but maybe a ‘you reminded me of Jason at a time where that wasn’t a good thing’ from Bruce should start things up#for Duke a ‘I can never truly understand what you’re going/have gone through and for that I’m sorry’ from Bruce should suffice#maybe also Bruce telling him that just because he sees Duke as a son doesn’t mean he’s trying any less to get Duke his parents back#oh and babs just needs to go up to him and say ‘I don’t like that what happened to me happened for your story and not mine and I don’t like#that you don’t let me make it into my story’ and then Bruce can follow up and say ‘I see so much of myself in you and it makes me worry and#also I can never look at you without feeling guilty cuz you’re right what happened to you happened for MY story so I’m at fault’#then the two can go back to being too much like each other and sitting at their respective computers
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tripleaxeldiaz · 1 year
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🤬
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ziracona · 2 years
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Finally! Vindication for my boy Anders.
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#dragon age inquisition#Anders#da anders#Anders dragon age#Tiva Hawke#though HIGH key judging the dev team for making the /MOST/ positive thing a Hawke set to ‘romance-saved-condoned actions’ is ‘he’s#complicated. not like people say. he isn’t just a monster or a hero. or maybe he’s both. he was trying to change the world. he knew it#couldn’t happen peacefully’ UHM?? is ‘condone’ a joke to you? in DA2 my Hawke got to straight up say she’d have helped him if she knew /in/#the text of the game? devs for Inquistion chopped their balls off ethically speaking. what happened to allowing us the freedom to have an#opinion other than ‘centrist all the way’ or ‘I’m evil’??? like. >.>#her real text would be ‘A good person under too much pressure alone for too long. he was fighting a war in isolation for years and he ran#out of time. Sometimes the good options all leave and you’re stuck with bad and worse. he did what no one else was willing to do to make the#world a better place. maybe if I’d done more it could have been different. But what’s done is done. Someone acted and the world /has/#changed. he was right. I only wish he hadn’t felt the need to do it alone. I wish I hadn’t made him feel that.’#he WAS right and there was literally no better way by the end of Act 3! there was the right of annulment ALREADY sent for before the chantry#AND Justinia was taking an exalted march! there were no better doors left. change only comes through the use or threat of force sorry but#no vile power structure has EVER changed in history bc you asked super nicely. you have to apply pressure to move something. he was right.#and he made the world better and it’s going to keep getting better too
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causticsunshine · 1 year
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hi!!! i was wondering, when are u going to update your momrry fic?? tsm!!
hi anon!
i’m assuming you haven’t seen the updates i’ve been giving, but: every fic wip i have currently standing will be finished, but due to extenuating circumstances ie having a lot on my plate in several different areas, i cannot give an exact time frame!
very happy to hear you’re enjoying! it’s the first thing on my docket to finish right now, but the second chapter should be done soon 🩷
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exopelagic · 4 months
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dr who is a strange show
#so I finished 13’s run like two weeks ago? and I’m about to finish 9#and it’s just kinda interesting how like simultaneously continuous and disjointed it is#10 was the doctor I’d seen most of before I started watching it myself so that was who I knew the doctor to Be#but now I’ve watched 13 and. she’s kinda It#and having watched 9 he definitely feels like an early incarnation which is interesting I think bc 13 is just so tired of everything. 9 isnt#like he isn’t NOT tired but he’s not hit 13 breaking point#also like. watching 9 has been fun bc it’s constantly like ohhhh so THATS where they were getting that from#stuff that like I’d seen in 13 that I didn’t remember from 10 but no she didn’t make it up that’s a callback#I don’t have particularly coherent thoughts if you were wondering just this like. swirling mess of how these people are the same person#it’s also just rlly strange to me that we’re not gonna get more 13 now like that’s It her run ended#and it might be because 9 is so clearly Done and he’s got one season that I didn’t have a chance to get as attached#and I didn’t ever sit down myself and watch 10 I just saw chunks so it doesn’t feel like he’s done yet#(but also I mean he did just come back. there is that. strange show)#yeah idk. I’m sure if I ever watch classic who it’ll be a similar case of seeing the echoes like. retroactively I guess#very appropriate to watch the time travel show incredibly out of order. debating whether to watch 10 or 12 next#unrelated but I wanna see the lupari again I can’t believe they gave us dog people and then took them away so quickly#karvanista my beloved I’m so sorry for what they did to you it was too big a thing to just leave hanging there in the narrative#but hey. time travel show.#I also rlly like what 9’s season has done with all the recurring plot threads like it Felt like it was building to something all the way#god yeah I just miss 13. it felt like they’d only just started getting into the stuff they could do with her and then it’s just Over#I feel like that might be the point of the doctor. unclear. will report back#luke.txt#doctor who#OH HEY THIS POST DELETED BUT ITS BACK NOW#just finished 9’s last episode and yeah it fucked
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screampied · 3 months
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can you do soft sukuna after an argument vegas for fluff pretty please i think we deserve it after all you've done to us
໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ MAYBE I’M THE PROBLEM﹒⺡ SUKUNA RYŌMEN. ’
sum. gn! reader, angst with c-comfort, he’s a softie at heart, fluff, petnames, ty lucy for beta'ing <3
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“what’s with you today?” sukuna furrows his eyebrows, and he lightly grabs your wrist. you face him only to briefly look away with a stubborn scowl. “you didn’t have to do that. i can take care of myself.”
he was referring to earlier…how careless you were, at least from his perspective. throwing yourself in danger just for sukuna. perhaps it was stupid, but at that particular moment—you didn’t have a thought that crossed your mind.
“well, i did,” you mumble, and sukuna bites his tongue from the inside of his cheek. his nostrils flare before he grabs your shoulders.
“what are you not getting? and if you died trying to protect me, then what?” and for a brief moment, it was dead silence. you stared at sukuna, and you can’t remember a time he looked like this. sukuna was … scared. the more you looked into his dark eyes, once full of arrogance and wit — instead, his pupils dilated and widened. his thumbs gently pressed into your skin, and then he continues to speak. “how can you even be calm about something like that?”
“i wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just be more careful,” you chastise, a sudden wave of gloom spraying over you. sukuna kept pausing every few seconds, as if he was carefully thinking of what to reply with.
sukuna’s almost got a glare before he sighs. “i told you. i can take care of myse—”
“no, you can’t sukuna. you know how many times you’ve almost died? the countless days where i’d be worried sick about you. if anyone’s reckless, it’s you. and you wonder why i act like this, it’s because i’m in love with you, you idiot.”
you don’t even register your words, it’s as if you’ve been yearning to get that out for ages.
sukuna grows mute, trying to figure if he actually heard what he’d just heard. you…you were in love with someone like him?
the awkward silence was deafening, a single tear strolls down your cheek before sukuna’s face suddenly softens.
he brings a thumb up to your cheek, swiping the tear aside before muttering in a raspy, “you love me?”
“i thought it was pretty obvious,” you grumble, avoiding his eye contact. your heart ached, never in your life have you felt this vulnerable. saying it out loud only made you flustered immensely quick. a soft smile goes against his lips — you didn’t answer his question, but he knew the answer. you loved sukuna. “but whatever.”
“oi. don’t ‘whatever’ me,” sukuna mutters, cupping both sides of your face. he has you stare right into his eyes, the eyes where most see a cruel villainous person, you see the softest eyes imaginable. reserved only for you. “look at me,” and you finally meet his gaze, a smug grin slowly tugs against the corners of his mouth. “you’re in love with me.”
a weird tingly feeling crept up inside your stomach, and you give sukuna a glare. “you know,” he keeps speaking, a soft finger stroking your cheek. “instead of almost dying for me, you could have been normal and just said, ‘i love you’.”
“…shut up,” you grouse, entirely abashed. he found it cute seeing you like this. in the midst of your mini tantrum - sukuna hums to himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“hmpf. well, i suppose i love you too, brat,” he utters, watching your face briefly light up at his words. sukuna saying it back couldn’t have made your heart swoon even more, but it did. “and i’m sorry for being so careless.”
you felt butterflies collide inside your tummy before you blink, ears perking at his first initial words and you pout. “you suppose?”
sukuna looks down at you before he awkwardly pats your head. “i … love you,” his voice was a mere soft rasp. studying his stare, sukuna started to grow a tad bit embarrassed. even more than you. as his fingers softly roam through your hair, he leans up close to your face and scoffs. “happy now?”
“i love you more,” you smile, feeling more relieved. he’s taken aback once you hug him. sukuna’s always been so stiff at something as simple as a hug. your frame held his waist tightly, and he’d never admit it but it was adorable.
sukuna scowls. “…. you’re squishing me.”
“shut up and hug me back.” you sigh, only taking this as an opportunity to squeeze him tighter. he was so warm.
usually…sukuna wouldn’t let anyone get this close, yet alone do this. a simple affectionate hug.
he groans, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “you’re so annoying,” and as your head rests against his chest — you look up at him, a soft smile goes against your lips. “pain in my damn ass.”
“talking about your ass isn’t romantic, ‘kuna.” you raise your brows . . . obviously kidding, but he groans.
with an eye roll, sukuna does the unexpected and pulls you up close towards his face. with a perplexed grin, you watch as he grabs you into a chaste kiss. it takes you by surprise, your hands remain flat and still before you wrap your arms around him. sukuna’s soft with you, you made him soft—and he hated it, but a tiny part of him secretly loved it too.
abruptly, he pulls the kiss away before glaring at you. “i love you.”
“i love you too, kuku.”
“…..call me that again and see what happens.”
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p3terparker · 1 year
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𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿
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𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.
𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k
𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)
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“please hold me” 
it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.
“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.
“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.
adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.
you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.
“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”
“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”
“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.
“how did you–”
“i’m spider-man, baby”
“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.
“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”
“very. now come lay back down”
you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.
“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”
“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.
“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”
“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”
“okay fine, i’m done”
“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.
“you are truly such a big baby”
“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”
how could you deny him?
“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 
“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.
“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.
you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.
“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 
“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.
you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.
you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.
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niqhtlord01 · 8 months
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Humans are weird: Cats
Alien: Thanks for inviting me over. Alien: I’ve never been in a human’s home before so this will be- *sees cat sitting on couch* Alien: What is that? Human: That is Fred. *Turns to cat* Human: Say hi Fred. Fred: *MEOW* Alien: I was not aware you had a roommate. Human: What? Human: No, he’s my pet. Alien: You keep a sentient being as a pet? Are you a monster? Human: No; but Fred is. Fred: *MEOW* ----------------------
Alien: *goes to sit down, accidentally steps on fluffy ball* *Cat’s head shoots up* Human: You need to run. Alien: What? Why? Human: You just stepped on Fred’s favorite toy. Alien: So that means I am in danger? Fred: *low growling sound* Human: It’s too late….. --------------------------
*Thirteen stitches later* Alien: How can something so fluffy be so angry!?!?! Human: Domestication probably. Alien: Is that not meant to breed out the violence? Human: Normally yes, but with cats it just condensed it. ------------------------
*Next day* *Door slowly opens* Alien: Is it safe to come in? Human: Let me check. *Picks up Fred and holds him in front of alien* Fred: *Low growling noise* Human: No it is n- Alien: *Slams door shut quickly* ---------------------
*Two days later* Alien: *Sipping drink* Alien: What can I do to win over your furry slave? Human: First off, he is a pet not a slave. Human: And even if that was the situation I technically am Fred’s slave. Alien: *Surprised* You are one of the most advanced species in the galaxy; having mastered space travel and the manipulation of matter itself. Human: And yet I am the one cleaning up his shits. Alien: *Opens mouth to counter, then sips instead when nothing comes to mind* ----------------------
Human: Why does it matter that you want Fred to like you? Human: I thought you hated him? Alien: Were he not an animal I would have sworn a blood oath to destroy him and his family for what he has done to my face. Human: I ask again; why does it matter? Alien: Because for reasons beyond my understanding I feel compelled to have that little death machine love me. Human: Welcome to being a cat owner. ------------------------
*Three days later* *Door slowly opens* Alien: Are you ready? Human: I’ve got Fred. Alien: And you’re sure this will work? Human: Positive. *Alien walks in and Fred starts growling* Human: Get ready; I’m releasing Fred. *Puts Fred down who begins sprinting towards alien* *Alien holds out tiny tube with goop pouring out end* Fred: *MEOW!* *Stops murder sprint and begins sniffing and licking tube enthusiastically* Alien: So you bribe him with food? Human: Works on us humans as well. ------------------
Alien: Do you think I have won him over? *Fred walks up and brushes against Alien* Human: I think you’re good.
Alien: It felt like being embraced by the goddess herself. --------------------
Alien: So besides eating, sleeping, and acts of disproportionate violence; what else do they like to do? Human: Fred loves to play. *Picks up laser pointer and flashes it around room* *Fred’s head shoots up, does the butt wiggle, then lunges at the laser* Alien: What fascinating technology. Human: Yeah; we also use this to guide missiles for air strikes in wars. Alien: Your pet enjoys playing with tools of death? Human: I think that’s one of the reasons he enjoys it so much. ------------------
Alien: *Looks down at shirt* Alien: What is this? Human: Oh yeah, forgot to mention he’s a heavier shedder. Human: Sorry about that. Alien: Do not worry, for I too shed my skin. *Proceeds to peel off skin until raw muscle and bone is left* *Casually tosses aside empty skin suit which Fred walks over to and cuddles in* Human: Thank you for that fresh nightmare material. Alien: *slurring words due to no lips* Yoooou’re welllllcoommme.
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nervoussagittarius · 2 months
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which triplet is most likely to ft. matts girlfriend y/n!
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matt sturniolo x reader
summary: matt invites his girlfriend to a car video with nostalgic vibes
warnings: none :)
you were sitting in the passenger seat of the minivan, you're normal spot when you were driving with the triplets. this time though, a camera sat in front of you on the dash of their car.
being home with the boys in boston was still something you were getting used to. your boyfriend matt had spent a big part of the day taking you around all the iconic spots in the city. the boys had asked you earlier in the if you wanted to participate in a video. you, of course, said yes.
your relationship was no secret to the world. you guys have been together for a couple years, and you had been featured in many og videos.
"gotta turn the world into a dance floor" chris sang, as matt got into the car. he pointed at you to finish the lyric
with a roll of your eyes, "determinate d-determinate" you sang back.
matt and nick looked at the both of you. one in anticipation of you guys to keep singing, and the other in anticipation of starting the video.
nick cut all of you off quickly to intro the video. "hey guys! welcome back to the fridays video"
"today we have a very special guest, drumroll please, my girlfriend y/n" matt said as he looked at you with a stupid smile on his face.
"hi guys! im back" you replied looking at the camera.
chris started from the backseat, "if you're new here, y/n has been in a bunch of our old videos, and were bringing her back to see her take on 'who's most likely to'"
"we've done this before but we figured y/n could give you guys an outside perspective” matt said as he looked at the camera.
“i’m giving y’all the dirt. we’re getting deep… i- okay” the boys laughed at you while nick pulled up the first question.
“okay, which triplet is most likely to get mad at another for chewing to loud?” nick asked as you immediately looked between the camera and matt.
“we already know the answer because the viewers have seen this happen multiple times”
“yeah, i have to say it’s matt. i’m so sorry for coming at you first honey” you said in between giggles as matt rolled his eyes.
“i disagree. i don’t think i’m most likely to do that”
“matt! we’ve witnessed it bro. you can’t say it’s not you when it is. either way it’s a who’s most likely to question not who’s actually doing it! but you’re actually doing it. good god” nick exclaimed.
the car was packed with laughter as nick went in his tangent. you all calmed down as nick asked the next question.
“who’s most likely to not be able to sleep alone”
“all of you.”
“what!?” “no way!” “that’s not even true”
“no it’s so true” you responded to there complaints. “let me explain. nick is probably the least likely. he’s okay sleeping alone i just feel like people come to him the most to sleep with him so he’s used to sleeping with other people.”
“that’s very true. people are always in my bed” nick said giving the camera a little wink.
“matt and chris need to have someone with them at all times. chris can’t sleep in the same place for more then a night. he’s always sleeping everywhere but his own bed. and matt texts me at least once a week that i need to come over and sleep in his bed with him because he can’t fall asleep.”
“let me just clarify,” matt started, “i can sleep alone. i would rather have my girlfriend with me though. and that’s okay. that’s fine”
“yeah and i just don’t like being alone.” chris defended.
a few more questions were answered before you guys decided to call it quits for the night.
matt grabbed the camera off the dash pointing it at you. you smiled and put up a peace sign.
“look at how cute she is” matt said as he put his hand on your cheek.
“alright matt, end the video”
matt screamed in the camera quickly ending the video.
comments:
i can’t get over how beautiful matt and y/n are together
i need someone to look at me the way matt looks at y/n
i love nostalgic boston videos
petition to bring y/n back on the channel more.
an: this kinda sucks because half of it was deleted when i tried to save it to my drafts and i don’t really like it but y’all wanted a matt fic. first part of the matt series will hopefully be up soon🤍
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daisynik7 · 3 months
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Rub You the Right Way
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Pairing: Choso x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Word Count: ~4.1k
cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio), hand job, face-riding, face-fucking, use and mention of sex toys, cum eating
Summary: You've always been cordial with your shy next-door neighbor Choso. One day, you receive the package you've been expecting, finding out a little too late that it isn't your package at all; it's his. What you find inside makes you wonder that maybe your sweet and quiet neighbor has wild side, one you’re curious to see for yourself.
Author’s Notes: First Choso fic! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Consider this my unofficial return from hiatus. Enjoy! Divider by the wonderful and super talented @/cafekitsune!
part 7 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
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The trek home from the office is especially grueling today. Your backpack is heavy with a clunky work laptop that’s been due for an upgrade along with a pile of documents that need to be reviewed ASAP. One hand carries the dinner you bought at the station while the other hoists a heavy bag of groceries you picked up during lunch, thinking it would be productive to get as much of your errands done today before hunkering down for the weekend to do a job that doesn’t pay you enough to work overtime. 
You eventually arrive to your apartment complex, making one more necessary pit stop to the mail room. Inside, you recognize the distinct pink-hair of the boy standing in front of the lockers. He’s your next-door neighbor’s younger brother who visits from time-to-time. “Hi Yuji!” you beam at him. 
He turns to face you, eyes crinkling happily as he smiles. “Hey! How’s it going?”
You drop your bags to open your own locker. “I’m alright. Got a busy weekend working. And you?”
He kneels down towards the boxes in front of him. “Same, except studying for exams.”
“Are you picking up your brother’s packages?” It’s a well-known fact by now that Choso isn’t fond of leaving his apartment or interacting with people in general. It doesn’t bother you though; he’s a great neighbor who barely makes a peep. Never has he ever rubbed you the wrong way, despite his reclusive nature. Sometimes, through his brother, he’ll give you an offering of cookies from the batch he baked that week. On the days you’re working overtime, he’ll send Yuji to check in on you, making sure you’re not too stressed or overexerted. And on the rare occasion that the two of you meet face-to-face, either entering or leaving the apartment at the same time, your heart skips just the tiniest beat at how his face softens when you greet him with a smile. From these tiny gestures alone, you’ve determined that Choso Kamo is a sweetheart. Quiet, but most importantly, a sweetheart.
Yuji slides the stack out from Choso’s locker, answering you. “Yup. I also had some stuff delivered here, so I figured I’d just grab everything.”
You stare at the small package in your own locker, evaluating how you’re going to carry it to your room in one trip. There’s no space in any of the bags and you’re almost convinced that you can balance it on top of your head as if you actually possess the proper skills to do so (you don’t). “Need help?” Yuji chuckles. Before you answer, he grabs it, placing it on top of a box similar in size on his stack.
“Thank you so much!”
As the elevator rides to the third floor, you continue to chat casually with Yuji. The two of you walk to your neighboring rooms and when he reaches for his keys, the stack topples over, the boxes now strewn across on the hallway floor. He blushes, collecting them hastily back into a neat pile. “I’m sorry, I hope there isn’t anything fragile in there.” He quickly slides you a box, avoiding your gaze to hide his embarrassment. 
It's new office supplies you ordered for your workstation at home, so you hardly care even if there is a bit of damage done. “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good,” you assure him, using your foot to push it towards your front door. “Thank you for your help, Yuji. Tell your brother I say hi.”
“Will do. Have a good night.”
Finally home, you drop all your belongings, letting out a relieved sigh. One-by-one, you put everything away: the groceries in their appropriate places, your lukewarm dinner in the microwave, and all your work junk on the dining table, where you’ll be sat at for most of this weekend starting tomorrow. You save the package for later, planning to refill your supplies tonight so you don’t have to worry about it the next morning.
You soon find out that something even better is waiting for you inside. 
~~~
Choso is sprawled on the couch, too lazy to cook dinner. He ordered delivery from Yuji’s favorite pizza joint a few blocks away, which should be arriving any minute now, according to his calculations. When he hears the door open, he sits up, watching his brother enter with a tower of boxes in his hands. “I don’t remember ordering that much stuff,” he grumbles, standing up to help him. 
“Most of these are mine. I think only this one is yours.” Yuji passes him a small box, which Choso quickly grabs to toss into his room, hoping to avoiding any questions about it. Truth be told, the contents of that box is way too embarrassing to explain to his precious baby brother. Inside is the sex toy he recently purchased online. It’s essentially a silicone cock sleeve, open on both ends for simple clean-up, made entirely of pliable material for ease and comfort. To put it simply, it’s a fleshlight. A state-of-the-art, new and improved fleshlight, he would like to emphasize. He’s been looking forward to using it all week and once Yuji leaves tonight, he’s going to give it a proper test run until he’s a puddle in the sheets. 
It’s been a while since Choso’s been intimate with someone other than himself. A few bad breakups and past betrayals have led him to distrust most people outside of his intimate circle. The unpredictable nature of people, strangers, is frightening to him, so it’s better to avoid them completely. He has the luxury of working a job that’s fully remote, and aside from his brothers and the few colleagues he is forced to converse with periodically, it’s easy for him to remain a recluse, and he’s perfectly content with that. As for his sexual needs, he’s managed to make it this far in this drought thanks to sex toys and pornography. And while he’s aware that it’s not the most glamorous lifestyle, it works for him. 
“By the way, your neighbor says hi,” Yuji mentions, opening his packages one-by-one. “She came into the mailroom.”
Choso says your name in the form of a question to clarify, though he’s certain of the answer. The only other human contact he has outside his circle is with you, his next-door neighbor. He doesn’t leave the house much, but on the occasion he does, he always hopes it’s you he runs into. He often worries that one day, you’ll realize what a pathetic loner he is and stop showing him that gorgeous smile of yours. So far, that hasn’t happened yet, so he cherishes those tiny moments every chance he gets. Something about that smile, something about you, makes him feel good. Safe.  
“Yup,” Yuji confirms. “She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.”
Before Choso can inquire any further, there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of their pizza. After thanking the delivery man, the two gather at the dining table, ready to dig into their dinner. Choso listens intently as Yuji laments on his weekly occurring university woes with a mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. As much as he adores his younger brother, he’s eager for his departure so he can have alone time to break in his new toy.
At eleven, without a crumb left of the pizza and the recycling bin filled with flattened cardboard boxes, Yuji finally announces that he’s leaving. He stuffs his newly delivered items, which includes textbooks, notepads, and a bunch of miscellaneous items, in his bag. “I’ll see you next week, bro. Take care of yourself,” he says, squeezing his big brother into a warm embrace. There’s always the smallest hint of concern in his voice whenever he leaves like this. Does he worry about him? For living a life of seclusion, constantly in fear of the outside world? Sure, it may sound lonely. In fact, it is lonely. But it’s easier to stay safe in the comfort of his own home than risk being hurt from the unknown. It’s better this way…isn’t it?
Choso muses on his brother’s parting words in the silence of his apartment for much longer than he intends to. He decides that the best way to keep him from spiraling further is a distraction, and that means fucking himself silly into temporary bliss until he knocks out for the night. Hidden away in various drawers of his bedroom are a plethora of options to choose from: vibrators, masturbators, cock rings, even the sex doll tucked deep in his closet. Tonight, however, is all about his shiny new toy. Pristine and untouched for him to ruin as much as he wants. He picks it up from the floor, ripping the tape off quickly, too impatient to inspect the exterior for any potential damage. When a stapler drops, almost hitting his feet, he stares down at it, confused. Thinking it’s a weird bonus item the sex shop has sent him, he chuckles nervously, still searching. Each item he uncovers leaves him more and more baffled: a container of paper clips, a wad of sticky notes, bundles of red pens, another fucking stapler. Finally, he checks the shipping label ripped partially from his haste, whatever color remaining on his face draining completely. 
This isn’t his. It’s yours.
Which means…
By the way, your neighbor says hi. She came into the mailroom.
She had her hands full, so I helped her carry a package.
Oh fuck. 
~~~
It’s near midnight when you’re ready to turn in for the night. You almost forget about the box sitting idly on the floor by your shoes, exactly where you left it a few hours ago. With your computer all set up for work tomorrow, you think it’s best to organize your new supplies before you actually do forget. At your desk, you open the package with a pair of scissors, excited for the new staplers you bought, a standard one and a heavy duty one. It’s surprising how neatly it’s wrapped, covered in tissue paper like some sort of gift. After removing all the extra layers, you finally get to the reveal, which renders you speechless.  
Nestled neatly amongst more delicate tissue paper, the translucent material almost luminous against the dim glow from the lamplight, is a sex toy. Call it what you want: a penis stroker, a male masturbator, a pocket pussy. There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind what is before you. A fucking fleshlight.
Besides the obvious appearance, the dead giveaway is the user manual included with it, displaying in big, bold print “The Cock Stroker 3000 – New and Improved!”. Lifting the box up to inspect the shipping label, you notice that it says Choso’s name, not yours. If you weren’t so stunned by this unexpected discovery, you’d be giggling at the absurdity of it all. Instead, you’re gawking at the lewd gadget, unsure what to do next. 
“Fuck!” 
An intense shout from the other side of the wall snaps you out of it. That’s the loudest you’ve ever heard your neighbor, and you can only assume that he has also just realized this unfortunate mix-up. There’s no way the two of you can pretend this isn’t happening. Besides, the last thing you want is for Choso to think you have a bad impression of him after this. Because you don’t, not one bit. It’s perfectly normal for people to have sex toys. In fact, it’s healthy. Even the thought of him using it on himself intrigues you. The hungry expression on his face, tongue lolling out of his mouth, those usually pale cheeks blushing a deep red. The obscene squelch of the wet silicone surrounding his engorged cock, leaking with precum. Closer and closer to the edge, ready to burst any second with your lips near the tip, ready to swallow his load…
You almost curse out loud yourself, ashamed for having such lewd thoughts about your sweet, innocent next-door neighbor. But maybe he’s not as innocent as you think.
Ultimately, you decide the best way to move forward from this is to nip it in the bud. With the opened package in your hands, you walk over to his front door, knocking three times. You hear a faint, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” from within, then hurried footsteps growing louder. Without removing the chain lock, he answers, peering at you through the narrow crack, not saying anything.
Nervous, you greet him with the best smile you can muster. “Hi Choso. I think there was a little mix-up.”
He clears his throat before mumbling a short, “Yeah.”
You glance away from him, staring at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze for this next part. “I opened it without checking the label first. I’m so sorry.”
He shuts the door suddenly, startling you. There’s the distinct rattle of the chain being fiddled with and the door swings open fully, Choso towering over you, a serious expression on his face. He shows you a box, revealing all the office supplies you ordered earlier in the week. Without saying another word, you do the exchange, anticipating that this will be the end of it. 
It surprises you when he apologizes quietly, focused on the small space separating you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He hides it behind his back, as if doing so will erase the image of it from your memory. “You must think I’m disgusting.”
You shake your head, ignoring the instinct to step closer and comfort him with a hug. The last thing you want to do is cross even more lines tonight. “I don’t, not even the slightest. It’s okay, Choso. This is totally normal and totally fine.”
“You don’t have to say that – ”
“But I mean it! I really do! There’s nothing wrong with it!” Desperate for him to believe you, you confess, “I have sex toys too, plenty of them!”
This time, he actually looks at you with a mixture of intrigue and skepticism. “You don’t have to lie for my sake.”
“I’m not lying!” you urge him. 
He retreats inside his apartment, speaking once again through the crack. “I appreciate you trying to make this better, but I think it’s best that we never speak again. Goodnight.”
With that, he shuts the door, leaving you with a lump in your throat, devastated. In your frenzied attempt to fix this, you return to your room, searching your bedside drawer for your favorite vibrator. If words aren’t enough to convince him, then maybe actual proof will. Without taking a moment to reconsider the hole you’re digging yourself deeper and deeper into, you pound on his door, the sex toy clasped in your other hand. 
When he answers, you shove it in his face, vindicated that you can prove your point with physical evidence. “See? I told you! I have toys too, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed about.”
He squints at the vibrator squeezed in your fist as if inspecting it like a foreign object. “That’s it?”
You glare at him, offended by his response. “What do you mean?”
He tilts his head to examine it at another angle. “There’s only one button.”
“One button is all I need,” you argue, defensive about your favorite being criticized. ��Sure, it’s small, but that’s what I like about it. It fits comfortably in my hand and with just a single push of the button, I can experience three different levels of intensity. What more do I need?!” 
He smirks, amused at your rambling. “I just don’t see how something this simple can be useful, that’s all.”  It’s the closest to a smile you’ve seen from him; it has your belly fluttering. 
You hold back a laugh. “I bet it packs more of a punch than that Cock Sucker 2000 or whatever.”
“3000,” he corrects, grinning, causing your heart to race. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s the best on the market right now.” He hesitates, his next words coming out of his mouth slowly, testing the waters. “Maybe you can show me what your little toy can do. Prove me wrong.”
You never expected this from him, but that’s what makes this exciting. All you can think of in this moment is showing him just how wet you can get. “Fine,” you agree, stepping towards him. “But only if you show me what your little toy can do, too.”
~~~
Never in a million years did Choso predict that this would be the outcome of your bizarre mix-up. You, his next-door neighbor, on his bed, naked from the waist down. Your t-shirt riding up your stomach with your legs split apart, the cute vibrator you love so much pressed to your clit. He kneels in front of you, too transfixed at the erotic sight before him to give attention to the erection strained in his sweatpants. 
“You’re next,” you say, glancing at his lap.
He nods, all the confidence he had just a few minutes ago when he initially proposed this idea thrown out the window. Now, he’s back to being his nervous self, afraid to be vulnerable with someone he barely knows. 
You set the vibrator beside you, closing your legs. “Are you okay?”
He’s frozen, tempted to call the whole thing off. Go back to being neighbors and nothing more. Go back to being lonely Choso and pathetic Choso, who’s scared of everyone and everything  and – 
“Hey.” It’s only now he realizes that the two of you are face-to-face, foreheads pressed, noses touching. Your voice is gentle, your palms soft on his cheeks. You smile at him, full of warmth and compassion. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone,” he admits. “I’m nervous.” A myriad of what-ifs play out in his head. What if he’s bad? What if you don’t like it? What if this ruins whatever sliver of hope the two of you have at being friends? At being anything more? 
“We’ll go slow then,” you assure him, brushing your lips to his. That genuine smile of yours is enough to convince him that it’s worth the risk. That, and how fucking good it feels to have your mouth on his. He closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss, relishing the warmth of your breath. He finds himself gradually losing control of his inhibitions, his carnal instincts taking over, hungry for more of you. He slips his tongue inside, swirling around yours, kisses growing frantic and sloppy. You tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. His heart pounds in his chest as he roams your body, fingers grazing your perked nipples from outside your top. You whisper his name, so luscious and sweet in your voice. He’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined it before. How you’d sound whimpering from his touch. How you’d feel between his massive hands. How you’d look with his cock filling you up to the brim.
He can’t stand it anymore. He’s aching, begging for release from the confines of his pants. Quickly, he removes them, freeing his throbbing erection. You gasp, marveling at the size of it. “Oh fuck, Choso. You’re so big.”
“Yeah?” he breathes out, fumbling for the Cock Sucker 3000 beside him. He slathers a generous amount of lube on his shaft and inside the toy. Foreheads pressed together once more, you both focus on his lap, watching it sink smoothly down his dick. The coldness of the lube and rubbery flexibility of the silicone surrounding him is familiar, though having someone spectate makes this all the more titillating. 
“Fuck,” you swear, amazed at how it covers his entire length. You ogle at him as he starts slowly, eventually increasing to a steady pace. Your pussy flutters, incredibly aroused to see this man pumping his cock in front of you. For you.  
“Do it with me.” His gaze flickers to the vibrator beside you. “You should feel good too.”
You spread your legs, displaying your cunt to him, already sopping wet with arousal. His eyes follow your every move as you tease the tip slowly up and down your pussy lips. Finding the right spot on your clit, you place your finger on the button of the toy, bracing yourself for what’s to come. As soon as you press it, the vibrations from level one alone are enough to send you wild. Knees shaking, feet flexing, moans pouring out of your open mouth. He continues to watch you, restraining his grunts as he strokes himself faster. Desperate for more, you click the button twice, increasing the vibrations to the max level. Within seconds, you’re coming, back arched and head thrown into the pillows behind you. Tossing the vibrator aside, you stare up at the ceiling, dizzy and disoriented from your ecstatic high, pussy shiny with your orgasm. Choso’s voice is so faint, you don’t understand him at first. You sit up to face him, waiting for him to repeat himself. 
“Can you ride my face?” he asks meekly. 
More than willing to accept his request, you nod in response, grinning. His expression relaxes and when you lean nearer to him, palm pressed flat on his chest, he even cracks a smile as he’s lies down on the bed, eager to have you like this. You straddle him, facing away from the headboard while his head rests at the foot of the bed. Carefully, you lower yourself until his mouth is pressed to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit slowly and he releases his grip from his toy to hold onto your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. You don’t take your eyes off each other as you rub yourself across his face, his mouth open, swallowing every drop of you. When you reach your second orgasm, you’re practically bouncing on him as he smothers himself deeper, humming in satisfaction as he sucks hard on your clit, flicking it with his tongue. 
You lift yourself off him, spent and completely wrecked. Still, you want to touch him, treat him as well as he treated you, make him come as hard as you did. You position yourself between his thighs, admiring the silicone sleeve hugging his dick. “Your turn.”
Sitting up on his elbows, he watches as you grab hold of the toy, stroking him with it. He moans, tongue hanging of his mouth, drool leaking from the corners of his lips, eyes half-lidded. His moans turn into whimpers when you start cradling his balls with your other hand, his body twitching from the sensation. The tip peeks out from the other end, a thick wad of precum collecting at the slit, so enticing that you’re salivating for a taste.
“Your mouth,” he stammers, barely able to speak.
“What?” you ask breathily, inching closer and closer. 
“Want your mouth.” He swallows hard, voice trembling. “Please.”
Excited, you remove the toy from him, in awe at the way his fat cock flops heavily against his abdomen. You take him in your fist, loving how hot and throbbing he is in your grip. He’s coated in lube and precum, so slippery with your fingers wrapped around his girth. Unable to resist any longer, you bow your head, licking the pearl off the tip, savoring the taste. He shudders, letting out a loud, “Fuck!” 
It’s so much better than a toy. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him is better than any masturbator, fleshlight, pocket pussy, whatever silly contraption he uses to get by. The swirl of your tongue gliding along the shaft, the vibrations of your moans as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, the view of your pretty head bobbing up and down his lap. Nothing in his collection compares to this. This is real. You are real. 
He fucks your throat, unable to resist bucking his hips against you, timing his thrusts to meet yours. It doesn’t take much longer for him to be pushed over the edge. You pull off for a brief moment to smile at him, pumping him fast. “Come for me, Choso. Come in my mouth.”
At this, he completely loses himself, muffling his incessant moans into his forearm, too shy to watch you guzzle down his entire load until he’s milked of every last drop. You scatter delicate kisses along the entire length of him, even down to his balls. Too sensitive now, he pats you gently on the head, making you look up at him, a warm smile on your face. He smiles back, caressing your cheek, thumb grazing your soft skin. You lie beside him, nuzzling into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to a steady, relaxed pace. He slides his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.”
This world is a terrifying place for Choso Kamo. But with you in his arms, he feels a bit braver. He’s safe with you. 
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saetoru · 10 months
Text
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ JUST YOURS — LYNEY.
contents. archon quest spoilers, reader finds out lyney is from the house of the hearth—and all the drama + betrayal that comes from that </3 so big rip </3 but it has a hopeful ending tho !!
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lyney has knocked on your door three times today—you haven’t opened up once. you can’t.
“please,” you can hear his muffled voice, “i just want to talk. will you let me explain?”
magicians must always make their audience believe in the impossible, he’s always told you with that sweet, alluring little smile on his face that makes you hang onto every word of his. he’s right, you think—magicians are simply those who have mastered the art of deception, and lyney is no exception. he’s deceiving you even now, with that broken voice as if he’s the one who’s hurt.
word spreads fast in fontaine—lyney, your sweet, romantic, devoted lyney, is of the house of the hearth. his trial mortifies you at first—but deep down, you know in your heart that lyney is no murderer. and then, in an instant, you’re not so sure anymore when somehow, within less than a day, lady furina is able to uncover more about your boyfriend than you have in months.
lyney is of the house of the hearth. he’s of the fatui.
“i’m sorry,” you hear a thud of his forehead resting against the door, “you’re mad, i know—but let me explain the—”
for the first time all day, you open the door. you’re not sure why—somehow, you need him to know you’re not just mad. you’ve been mad at lyney before, being mad is easy. being mad means he’ll pull a rose from behind your ear and make you smile against your will. being mad means you’ll realize you can’t stay mad at him for long, not when he looks at you like that. being mad is temporary—but this? this feels permanent.
you’re not mad at lyney. you simply can’t trust him anymore, and he needs to know that, needs to understand that he should stay away and never find you again.
you’re glaring at him, staring at the face that has always done nothing but make you smile. you wonder, for a small, doubtful moment, if every smile lyney has ever pulled from you has been built off of pure lies and half truths and withheld information.
you’ve given him every bit of yourself, told him everything there is to tell and then some, let him discover things himself that no one has yet to learn. and lyney, as you learn, is someone you can’t even begin to know, not really—maybe not ever.
“you’re with the fatui,” your voice is cold, but you know he can hear the waver—you hate him for that. for being able to pick you apart when you don’t know the first thing about him, “you’ve lied to me all this time—”
“i didn’t lie,” he says quickly, “i just…didn’t tell you everything—”
“that’s not any better,” you cut him off, finality in your voice that makes his eyes widen a fraction, “i have no business with someone of the—”
“wait,” his foot stops the door before it can close, stepping in despite your protests as he inches closer and closer. you take a step back every time—the hurt on his face is palpable. “can…can i explain? please?”
“explain what?” you furrow your eyebrows, “explain that you’re with the fatui? how is there any explaining that? how can you look me in the eye and tell me you’re not bad—”
“i’m not,” he insists, “i’m not bad.”
lyney has never looked at you like that—like you’ve hurt him right where he’s most vulnerable, right where he’s weak and fragile and can’t bear to be hurt. you hate that you want to apologize for a moment, that you want to cradle his face and kiss the tremble off of his lips.
“then what are you?” you challenge, crossing your arms.
“i’m trying to save people,” he croaks, “our organization has a lot of people—a lot of goals. father and i want to—”
“your father has hurt people,” you cut him off.
“father saved me,” he says firmly, “and lynette. she gave us a home. and she wants to save the people of this nation—”
“she’s taken advantage of your weakness and—”
“she did what no one else would for me and my family.”
“then go,” you spit, “go to her and do her bidding. but i can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that you’re with the fatui.”
“even as a member of the house, my decisions are my own,” his hand grabs yours—you can’t find it in yourself to pull it away. it’s familiar, warm—it’s lyney. your lyney. “i’m doing what i believe is right. to break the prophecy.”
“i don’t know what you’re trying to do,” you admit, tired, defeated, “or who you are, frankly. but i’m tired of lies, lyney.”
“then i’ll tell you the truth,” his voice trembles, “anything you ask.”
“i’m not sure that’ll help,” you say quietly.
and then his arms are wrapped tightly around you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck as he pulls you close. you want to push him away. you want to melt into his arms. you want to tell him to leave. you want to ask him to always stay.
lyney is of the house of the hearth, the fatui. but he’s also your lyney—the one who brings you flowers and tucks them behind your ear, the one who does tricks for children and makes them smile, the one who gives his heart and soul for his family to keep them safe.
you don’t know if the two can coexist as one, but you know despite it all, you still love lyney, and you don’t know if you can stop. the thought is haunting.
“i’ve always done what i believe is right,” he promises, “i’ve never hurt someone innocent. you have to know that much.”
“lyney—”
“i love you,” his voice breaks, “i’ve always loved you as just lyney. i promise.”
“i’m scared of who you are when you’re not just lyney,” you whisper—and you suppose you’re also weak, because your hand slips into his hair, stroking through the strands so that if it’s the last time, maybe you can commit the feeling of him to memory.
you can feel his tears fall onto your skin, and you can feel his fingers grip your shirt as he clings onto you, onto the last bit of hope that you’re his—that he’s yours. your lyney, the one you’ve always known and loved.
“i’m always just lyney,” he promises, “no matter who i’m with.”
“i just…need time,” you sniffle, “to think.”
“okay,” he says quietly. you can feel his lip quiver against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck, “i’ll wait. however long you need, i’ll wait. i love you.”
“i know, lyney,” you sigh, caving and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. you savor the feeling—just in case you’ll never feel it again.
maybe you can—maybe he’s telling the truth. maybe lyney has always been yours, the one you think you know. you don’t know, but you hope you’ll find out.
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i would forgive him i can’t lie to you no amount of fatui crimes could outweigh how badly i need to kiss this little shrimp of mine
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