#I always forget how much I love it and then I watch it again and it makes me cry and I'm like 'oh yeah..'

[lalchimiedecupid]

it's all fun and games until I start hating you and I hit you with a large ass essay that expresses my frustration and exhaustion with your neglect and the hurt you've caused me.

Exemple:

To my dearest boy who broke my heart and left it to pieces with one missing shard in hand that keeps it from healing:

Love. A vile and twisted thing you remain in my eyes. For I have never loved someone and got to keep them in my heart for all eternity. It seems like the universe, God, have odd ways of pulling their strings when it comes to love, slow, torturous and often unexpected goodbyes grace us at the end.

It's been six months since you left me. Six long and excruciating months, and I can not put into words the disdain I feel towards you. Yet, I find myself staring longingly at you, find my heart racing at your mere sighting. You've become a dependency of mine, destructive yet fulfilling like the crimson drink I drown myself in. Like the pills I abused my body, my organs and my mind with. You'd bring me a sense of Euphoria, but what did it leave me with once your presence was gone? Pain. So much pain I can not even manage to put it into words. You were my oxygen. My will. My life. My sin and my soul. You were all that I needed. You were all that I wanted and still want even more. What should I call it? Soulmates who were never meant to be? Right person wrong time? Strangers to friends, friends into lovers and what now, strangers again? How low do I have to stoop down in order to make you want me again? I know you still want me, I can see it in your lingering eyes, yet you offer me silence and silence all over again. What did you do to me? What more could you possibly want from me? How much do you want to see me beg and try to make it up to you for all the hurtful words you've heard from my friends? How many "I'm sorry" do you want to hear fall from my lips and seem to always land onto deaf ears? What more do you want from me? Why do you ignore me again when you promised to be my friend? Was I not enough for you? Is it that hard to forget the girl you wanted beforehand? I know I am delusional to hold onto a love that clearly has perished long ago, but please for the love of God, let me cry into your arms for the first and last time so I can truly let you go. Let me sob my heart and guts out to you just for a few moments at least, I do not ask for more. Let me confess my desires , my dreams, my secrets and my pain to you. Even if they shall fall onto those ears of yours that you turn deaf on me every single time I try to get your attention. Let me. Please, allow me this. Let me find solace in your embrace even if it's cold and unwanted. I'd get down on my knees for you and let you kill me with your coldness. Let you freeze my heart and devour it whole if only a piece of me gets to be held by you, my darling boy. You have reduced me to a ghost of the strong woman I once were. And I am ashamed of myself for it, yet I can not even blame you for my downfall, because despite it all, I was an accomplice as well. Destroy me for all you want , I'll always come crawling back to you, with all my broken parts and my gaping wounds, bleeding into your own hands.

Just one last embrace is all I ask of you. I know you'd refuse me more. You cruel bastard. You heartless devil.

Go on and destroy me and watch me build back my pieces only to destroy me again. Go on and ruin me. Go on and put unnecessary distance between the both of us, because you are far too much of a coward to face the truth.

The truth is that you want me but are far too afraid of commitment, of new beginnings that you'd rather stick to the past and hope for the best. Hurt me. Hurt me all you want, but you'd never rebuke me from my church. From my sanctum, from your arms, from your hold. Rebuke me for my sins of loving you but know that I still hold you in high regards, that I still pray for your well-being, for your success, and your future. Know that against all odds..

I still love you.

—C.A

oh to be loved by a poet … 🎀

[afterglowkatie]

the bolter | m.p./i.e.

mapi león x ingrid engen x putellas!reader | 0.8k | ‘I know you’re supposed to keep a close eye on me, but this is a little extreme,’

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pollito universe. pollito is nine in this fic!

❆♡────୨ holiday season blurb event ৎ────♡❆

‘María,’ Alexia exhaled slowly, ‘What do you mean you lost Pollito?’ If Alexia wasn’t just down the other end of the phone, Mapi would’ve already started running. She wasn’t even facing your Mami in person and she felt like she had to run away from Alexia’s wrath. 

You liked to run and hide away from Mapi, you thought it was funny when you’d watch from afar, seeing her all frantic. Even better when your mami got involved, you’d end up teasing Mapi for getting in trouble. Safe to say you were never going to change, you took too much joy in it all. 

‘Did I say lost?’ Mapi spoke out slowly, trying to think of a way to diffuse whatever this was turning into while she was frantically still trying to find you, ‘Well yes, I meant Pollito lost the..the game we were playing,’ A small curse flew was muttered under her breath and Alexia definitely wasn’t about to believe anything she was saying. 

‘Alright,’ Your Mami sounded too calm, ‘Put Pollito on the phone, por favor,’ Mapi’s eyes grew wide and she stumbled over saying a goodbye and how you were having too much fun to talk. Even at nine years old, you still liked talking to your mami whenever you could and would run to whoever was looking after you at the time if you heard your mami’s voice.

Mapi hung the phone up but not before hearing Alexia mutter a ‘I’m never leaving Pollito with you again,’ Which was always an empty threat, considering the next time your mami left you with Mapi wasn’t long after that. Mostly since you begged your mami to let you have a sleepover with Bagheera and you knew how to wear your mami down so she’d agree to almost anything.

‘You better not lose Pollito again,’ Alexia raised her eyebrow, there wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face when she was talking with Mapi before giving you over. Mapi and Ingrid had come to pick you up, planning to take you out for the day as well. You’d overheard your mami’s conversation with Mapi and knew Ingrid was the only reason she’d agreed so soon after the last incident. 

You saw the way your mami was looking at Mapi and very smugly copied her, you liked Mapi being in trouble with your mami. Your mami can be scary, so as long as it wasn’t at you, you loved seeing it, ‘Oh trust me, I’ll keep a very close eye on her,’ Your smug expression turned into a glare when you noticed the mischievous glint in Mapi’s eyes when she turned to look at you.

‘I wish I could,’ Your mami muttered mostly under her breath before shaking her head at the two of you and disappearing back into the house, still needing to look after your younger brother and your new baby sister. Officially letting Ingrid be the one to deal with the two of you for now.

Your glare towards Mapi left for about a millisecond before it came back once she tried, and unfortunately was successful, in wrangling you into one of those backpack leashes. Those ones for children, which you were but you were definitely too old for it considering how it was sitting on you. Your deadpan stare was almost identical to your mami, and almost chilling enough for Mapi to briefly forget that you were the child and that she got to make the decisions, not you. She almost let you out of it immediately.

‘I know you’re supposed to keep a close eye on me, but this is a little extreme,’ You wriggled around trying to get it off of you, all your attempts were pointless. You weren’t getting away any time soon.

‘Just keeping you safe, little Pollito,’ To add fuel to the fire, Mapi patted your head, talking down to you a little, making you seem smaller than you are.

‘María,’ Ingrid’s voice had a warning tone towards her girlfriend, not wanting to spend the entire day listening to the two of you bicker. She especially didn’t want to have to deal with Mapi bickering with a nine year old all day long. 

‘Or keeping you safe from Mami,’ Mapi didn’t have to look at you to hear the smirk through your voice. You may only be nine but you picked up on things most wouldn’t expect you to at this age. 

‘Dios mio,’ Mapi muttered, wanting to say more but the look from Ingrid stopped her. You tried to run off, hoping the end Mapi was holding would slip from her hand. But she wasn’t as distracted as you’d hoped when you were tugged back instantly.

Sighing dramatically, you let your body go limp and flopped to the ground, ‘Just take me to see my Bagheera,’ 

[revelboo]

So......

With the new bots being added wat kinks do you think they have?

Also you turned me into a Megs fan. I came for the Soundwave and have been hit with the Megatron hots. And the whirl.

Waking up to more fics is great!! But don't forget to look after yourself

More Scenarios

Various Transformers x Reader

18+ content 🌶️

Knockout

• “Just to make sure you keep your grubby little paws to yourself,” he growls as you wriggle against the soft material he’s bound your wrists with. Huffing at him as his servos lift your hips with casual strength and you feel his spike slide against you. “Can’t smudge the paint.” Back arching as that spike slowly stretches you, you moan. “Do you know how wrong this is? How illicit?” Gripping your hips, he thrusts against you, optics narrowing as his attention dips to where your bodies are joined. Knowing he loves it. Loves that this is taboo and scandalous as much as he loves to complain. Toes curling, you whimper.

• “It’s obscene,” you moan, that breathy sound stringing him tight. Part of him hates how addicted to the feel of your body he is. To watching his spike shiny with your need sliding into your wet heat, the way your grip him. Hips snapping against yours, just to hear that wet sound. To make you whimper and squirm, so responsive to him. So vocal.

Shockwave and Soundwave

• Tension thrumming through Shockwave as his head tips to watch you squirm against Soundwave, head thrown back against the communication’s officer as you come apart. Hears the other mech murmur against you, shuddering slightly as he releases, servos tracing the delicate line of your throat with one hand, the other sliding from your hip to your lower belly. Watching Soundwave’s hands slide to grip your hips and help you out of his lap. Your warm smile faltering some when you come to him.

• Nerves thrumming as Shockwave’s head tilts to study you, there’s always the uncomfortable feeling that you’re an experiment to him, not a person. Soundwave you trust to an extent, he seems to care about you despite how distant he can be sometimes, but Shockwave? This one makes you shiver and not in a good way. When he just stares, you give up and drop to your knees between his spread thighs. Comforted by the fact that Soundwave is right there watching as you grip his spike and slide your mouth along Shockwave’s length and he makes that low, rumbling snarl, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to touch you, just trembles. Because this has become normal. Him watching, but rarely touching.

• That warm mouth of yours slides against his spike, tongue stroking over the head. Antenna flicking back, he watches Soundwave kneel behind you. Unable to move as you make a hitching sound of pleasure when Soundwave mounts you again. Mouth working his spike he cautiously reaches out a hand, processor stuttering when that disjointed feeling of wrongness slams through him, seeing the cannon at the end of his arm when he’d been sure it should be a hand. Shaking as your eyes flick up at him in worry, he runs the smooth metal muzzle of the cannon over your cheek. It should be a hand, shouldn’t it? He’s not sure. Antenna flicking as Soundwave rumbles at you, hips rocking as he breeds you, Shockwave focuses on that. That low, crooning purr and the feel of your mouth on his spike. Letting those sensations ground him in the present.

Rodimus

• Curled against your back, he slides a palm down your arm and twines his servos with your fingers. Hears the sleepy sound you make when he tugs your hand down your body and spears a servo inside you, rocking your knuckles against yourself. Feels you squirm against his hold. “Not even wake, yet,” you protest, voice hitching adorably as he rocks his hips against your butt, teasing his spike against you.

• Leg sliding in the blankets as he releases your hand to grip your thigh with his wet servos and then he’s driving inside you with a growl. Rolling you to pin on your belly as his spike slides deep, thrusting urgently. Rushing for that finish line with no patience at all. Laying your cheek on your outstretched arm, you look back at him, his optics so bright as he ruts against you, growling in a broken mix of English and Cybertronian. “With my sparklings…. Frag, so tight… mine…” Sparklings. He’s said that before while inside you. More than once and you never remember to ask what that means, but as he ruts against you, nothing else is important aside from the feel of that thick spike driving deep over and over.

Whirl

• Leg kicking out slightly as he bends you over the edge of the surface he’d lifted you onto, you shiver as one of his pincers slides against you, hooking around one of your thighs and spreading you open for him. Feel his spike slide against your inner thigh as he tries to line up with you, refusing to let you just roll onto your back and help him. “So wet,” he growls, the outer curve of his pincer sliding against you. “Be loud.” Because you’re in Ultra Magnus’s office. How many times has he fucked you across the poor guy’s desk? You’re almost positive he wants Magnus to walk in on the two of you going at it.

• “Fuck me already.” Impatient and needy, your tone has an angry edge that makes him shudder with delight. Shifting behind you until the head of his spike finds you, he drives deep, thrusting urgently. Figuring out how to mount you with his unique anatomy had been fun. His tit guns as you refer to them in the way in most positions. This way, though? He can rut against you, pincers grabbing onto the edge of the surface he has you on, giving him extra leverage. With the added thrill of possibly getting caught fragging you on Magnus’s precious, oversized datapad of rules.

Tarn

• Big servos scraping against the berth under him, a rough snarl escapes him as his hips buck against you. Big frame draped over your back, you’re tempted to risk his temper to try and remove the stupid blindfold. Especially when you feel his lips brush against you, sliding up behind your ear. Wanting to see his face, but knowing he’s weird about it. Denta grazing your ear lobe, he shifts behind you, his warmth leaving your back before placing a palm between your shoulder blades to push you down.

• So obedient as you lower your upper body, hips up and his hands slide to grip your hips as he moves against you, spike stroking deep. You feel so much tighter this way, gripping his spike as he stares down at you. Sees your blindfolded head turn to lay on your arm, lips parting. Making those little, ragged sounds that string him tight. Movements growing rougher when you push back against him, crying out. Fisting his spike as he keeps bucking, drawing it out as his servos tighten on you. Snarling as he releases inside you, palm surfing up your skin while you tremble under him. “Don’t,” he growls in warning when you try to touch the blindfold. Feels you tense under him, but you don’t argue, turning your face away. Can feel the disquiet in his spark as he slowly rocks himself against you, reluctant to leave the wet heat of you. Why does it matter so much to you? No one sees his face, he tries his best not to see it himself. Venting softly, he braces a hand near your head and curls his frame over you.

Constructicons

• Crying out, head tossed back against Mixmaster, your thighs tremble. Six sets of hands gripping you, keeping you suspended between them as, which one is it now? Scrapper ruts against you. There’s a mouth sliding warm against your hip, a glossa sliding over your belly. Another mouth finds yours as you arch and buck in their grip. Hearing them murmur to you as Scrapper’s spike strokes deep, toes curling as he drives you to that peak again, your brain too muddled to be sure, but you think they’ve started a second round. That Scrapper had already fucked you. “I-I can’t, please.”

• “We’ve got you,” Mixmaster says. Laughing softly as you writhe against them with a breathy cry, arching like you’re trying to escape, and he rumbles at you, hands curled around you under your arms as you toss your head back against him, soft hair sliding against his plating. “Take good care of you,” Bonecrusher growls, his hands under your hip as he bends forward over you. “Such a good little mate,” Hook adds as you buck in their hold, crying out as you milk Scrapper’s spike.

Drift

• “Slow down,” he growls, shuddering and hips lifting slightly as you bounce on his spike. “Not going anywhere.” Worry about you overexerting yourself mingling with his fear of losing control. Of slipping again, rolling you under him and taking you hard and fast. Hates how rough he’d been with you, even though you’d insisted you liked it. Servos stroking your hips as he watches you ride him, those lovely eyes meeting his optics.

• “Not made of glass,” you gasp, rolling your hips as you chase that high. Feeling his palms stroking over you, touch so gentle. Because you’re still not well, but you’re not an invalid either. You want this, want him. And he’s holding back. Always keeping himself in control, but when he slips? When he takes you with that urgent, edge? Fucking you like he might die if he’s not inside you, that had been electric. Made you feel alive in a way you desperately need.

These nerds…

[soldearestsoulmate]

Character + Prompt/Request:

Hyugo and GN!Reader, Sol x GN!Reader (Sol is mainly just mentioned here fyi. This is more Hyugo centered.)

Have some small angst. 🩵💔 (Hyugo fans I'm sorry lol)

"How many times has he told you he doesn't love you?"

The question took you off guard, made you grow silent as you thought back over it...

"Rarely...Never..." You muttered.

"Exactly! Then you have nothing to worry about! Sunny loves you, Y/n! With his whole heart and soul! Never forget that okay?" Hyugo said with a smile and wink, though you didn't notice it wasn't genuine. If anything, Hyugo was hiding back a frown, or more than just that.

As much as he supported his friend Sol being in love with you, supported his mission to win your heart, to be together. He also couldn't deny, he hated it.

He didn't know when it happened, how, but he couldn't ignore the fact he was crushing on you...No...It was far more than a crush now. Hyugo was in love with you. But he dared not to say it, show it, because of Sol...Because of his best friend.

But if Sol wasn't his friend, wasn't someone special and important to him...

He would of ridded of him already and did everything in his power to make you his.

Yet he forced himself back, helped support Sol get closer to you, to get farther away from Crowe, his rival.

Though Sol was unaware of the many times Hyugo would watch you and him leave together. Usually hand in hand now...Smiling, laughing together. As he felt jealousy over seeing you smile and show joy because of Sol...

But same time, seeing you smile and look happy, it was all he wanted and needed to see too. Even if it wasn't with him.

Yet he still wished, wishes...He could be the one to make that happen for you, make you feel that happiness, joy and love with and around him.

"Hyugo?" You snapped Hyugo out of his thoughts, as you reached a hand out to touch his face. "Why are you crying?"

"What?" Hyugo didn't even realize he was shedding tears as he was so lost in his thoughts over what he was feeling...

Then felt his panic rise over this slip up, a huge one, scared he'll ruin it all for Sol. "O-oh! I just...I'm just so happy for you and Sunny! Who wouldn't tear up over such a cute lovely couple! God you two make me so proud." Hyugo tried to play with the tears now, making a silly show of wiping them away like he was in some drama play.

You couldn't help but lightly laugh at his act and then give him a playful light shove. "C'mon! I was really scared you were upset there! But really...If...anything is bothering you. You can tell me you know? You're a good friend to me Hyugo...One of the best ones I have I feel now."

That hurt. He knew he was just seen as a friend to you, but still, hearing that, it hurt. He should still be happy, yet he struggled. Struggled to smile, but did his best to force it, look convincing.

"You're my best friend too, Y/n. Which is why I only want the best for you, always." He felt his heart ache with every word he spilled, then he heard Sol calling out for you.

You turned away to see him coming, your attention completely on Sol like always now. But that gave Hyugo enough time to turn around and wipe his tears away that were escaping his eyes again. Then took a deep breath to compose himself before Sol arrived over.

For Sunny... Hyugo thought. It's all for Sunny...

[chaossturns]

IN WHICH.. chris claims to be too ‘lazy’ while you ride him

𝜗𝜚 dom!chris, riding, swearing, creampie, p in v, fem!reader, pet names

𝜗𝜚 wc: 856

your choked cries had completely engulfed the room, coming from nowhere else than your mouth as you came undone once again. chris had laid underneath you, an arm folded behind his head, while he enjoyed the sight of your perfect body doing all the job, you struggling to remain on top of him.

"c'mon keep it up, mama. i'm not there yet." chris casually rested his left hand on your hip, a lazy smirk plastered on his face. he was being way too demanding for someone who hasn't moved an inch since you started.

"m'but chris, it's t-too much," you whine, the movement of your hips slowing on his length.

"too much? i thought you were stronger, ma. you that tired already?" chris lifts his hips up against yours the tiniest bit, a smug smirk plastered on his face the whole time.

"just a little bit more and i'm there, you just have to put in a bit more work." chris's hand moved from your waist to your thigh, pulling you down on him a little roughly, making you sink more fully on his dick.

you whimper, your thighs burning as you tried to continue rocking against him.

"you've done a good job so far baby, you really want to stop just before i cum in this pretty pussy?" his smirk shifted into an arrogant grin, and he slowly started to move his hips up against yours, his eyes hyper fixated on your figure on top of him.

"m'no, i-i don't want to stop." you were needy, desperate even to feel his seed coat your fleshy walls, the thought alone adding to your arousal.

a show of satisfaction flashed in his eyes as he heard your reply. chris's hand moved from your thigh to the back of your head and he suddenly pulled you down, bringing you closer to his c he could whisper in your ear.

"then be a good girl and keep going." his warm breath fanning against your ear.

the smug smirk tugged at his lips once more. chris moved his hand down to your hip, starting to put in more effort and move his hips against yours, making sure to keep them at the same rhythm as yours.

"good girl." he mumbled in a low voice, his eyes focused on you. chris's movements were lazy, but still strong enough to keep stimulating you. his hand was now firm on your hip.

"you're doing good mama. don't forget to keep moving your hips." The sound of his raspy voice rumbling in the air.

his hand located on your hip slowly started to move up your body, his touch lingering against your bare skin. chris's touch was hot, it always was, but this time felt even more intense than usual, causing a shiver to travel up your spine.

your hands were now planted on his chest, the speed of your hips quickening their pace.

"hmph, that's more like it." he groans when you picked up the pace, moving his hips faster to match your speed. it didn't take long until a low growl left his lips as the pace grew more and more heated.

"feels good." you moan, new stamina filling your body as you have the need to make chris finish.

"i bet it does baby." a low moan left his lips as he heard your moan. chris began to thrust aggressively into you, his hand on your hip gripping you with more force as he lifted his hips up.

you could tell the laziness was leaving him being replaced with desperation. his lip tucked between his perfect teeth as he watched his dick disappear into you cunt.

chris brings his hand down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the puffy bud. you throw your head back, mouth agape as small cries and whimpers escape your lips.

"such pretty noises f'me." chris murmurs lowly, his pelvis clashing into you. you moan at his words, squeezing against his aching length, as groan emits from his lips.

chris's hips went to clash against yours more furiously, his hand not letting up on your clit. "god, m'gonna fill you all up," he says, looking up at you with lustful, hungry eyes.

you moan at his words, as you are fulfilled by the pleasure he's giving you.

"i love how you feel on top of me, mama" his voice coming out low and breathy, full of need. chris's thumb leaves your clit, a whine coming from your throat at the loss of contact. they then moved to your thighs, holding them as his dick hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

"oh shiiit, chris." you whined, your nails digging into his chest as he relentlessly thrusted up. "yeah c'mon, make a mess all over my dick," he said, watching as your tits bounced, hypnotizing him in an erotic way. your gummy walls clamped around his length, sending overbearing waves of pleasure crashing through him as you came.

"fuck, ma" chris groaned, his grip on your thighs almost bruising as he coated your walls with his cum, filling you to the brim.

🏷️: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @sturnsslut @bigbeefybitch @itsnotmariahh @thenickgirl @thisisntmattsturniolo @sturniyolo69 @luvs4matt @joemamaaa42069 @conspiracy-ash @chrispotatos @watercolorskyy @sturnfannn @emely9274 @strnlslut @jetaimevous @gemzyy @sturn777

​©chaossturns

[himasgod]

Gaming x Reader

Where you are a craftswoman, and he always make sure that your orders arrive correctly

You work as a craftswoman in Yilong Port, creating small sculptures that merchants sell in other regions. Although you've seen Gaming many times helping merchants, you've never had the chance to talk to him. Everything changes when a problematic delivery leads you to cross paths with this energetic and lively escort.

(HAPPY BIRTHDAY GAMING I LOVE YOU SO MUCH <3)

At Yilong Port, work never stopped.

Every day was a dance of activity: merchants haggled, fishermen unloaded their loot, and you immersed yourself in the workshop, delicately carving small sculptures. The pieces you created, from animal figures to ornaments inspired by local legends, were in high demand in other regions. Although you loved your craft, there were days when exhaustion caught up with you, and this was one of those days.

“This order is a mess!” you muttered to yourself, looking at the pile of sculptures that still needed to be packed.

You had worked tirelessly to complete an urgent order, but the merchant who was supposed to pick it up never arrived. Now, you were at the port, carrying the box yourself and looking for the delivery man.

That was when you saw him: Gaming, with his unmistakable red amd brown hair and his smile that seemed to light up the place. He was helping a group of merchants load their ships, moving with an energy that seemed inexhaustible.

“Do you need help with that?” he suddenly asked, coming closer as he saw you struggling with the box.

“I don’t want to bother you…” you replied, but he had already taken the box with ease, as if it weighed nothing.

“It would be bothersome to let you continue carrying this alone. Come on, where are you going?”

His tone was carefree, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel like he really wanted to help.

From that moment on, Gaming began to appear frequently in your path.

He always had an excuse to stop by the workshop, whether it was to “make sure the merchants weren’t late again” or just to see how your projects were going.

At first, you found him a little annoying; his energy contrasted with your calm environment. But over time, you realized that his company made the days less lonely.

“Your sculptures are amazing,” he said one day, as he watched you work on a dragon figure.

“Thank you. I always try to make each piece tell a story,” you replied, without taking your eyes off your work.

“And what is the story of this dragon?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by his genuine interest. “It’s about a guardian who protected his people, even when no one believed in him.”

Gaming smiled, but this time his expression had something else, something melancholic. “I like it. The dragon looks like the Wushou dance's one. I also dance."

His words intrigued you, but you didn’t want to push him. It was during another conversation, while sharing an improvised Honey Char Siu, that Gaming began to open up.

“Before I got here, I traveled a lot. I’ve always wanted to see the world, meet people, help them fulfill their dreams. But…” He paused, his gaze lost on the horizon. “Sometimes I feel like, while I do that, I forget my own.”

“And what are your dreams?” you asked softly.

He laughed, though his laugh didn’t have the same energy as usual. “I guess I’m still trying to figure it out.”

It was at that moment that you realized that behind his energetic attitude, Gaming carried a burden that he didn’t always share.

Over time, your relationship became closer. He began helping you in the workshop, though his attempts at woodcarving often ended in disaster. In return, you taught him to appreciate the tranquility of the creative process, something he admitted he needed in his life.

One afternoon, as the sun set over the harbor, Gaming appeared with a surprise: a small wooden box, clumsily carved, but clearly made with effort.

“It’s not as good as your sculptures, but I wanted to make something for you,” he said, handing it to you with a nervous smile.

Opening it, you found a tiny figurine of a bird in flight. It wasn’t perfect, but that made it all the more special.

“Gaming, I... it's beautiful...” you said sincerely, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Gaming scratched the back of his neck, clearly relieved. “I wanted you to know that even when I’m busy with merchants or travel, I always think of you!”

That confession, simple but full of meaning, marked the beginning of something new between you.

From then on, every day at Yilong Port was a little brighter. You were no longer just a craftswoman working in solitude, and Gaming was no longer just an escort carrying other people’s burdens. Together, you found a balance: he showed you how to find joy in chaos, and you taught him to appreciate peace in the small moments.

Under the warm lights of the port, the two of you began to build something more lasting than any sculpture or journey: a connection that made every day worthwhile.

[yapperblog]

Like it's the last night

Tags: angst, brief mention of a break up, lapdance, oral (m! and fem!receiving), fingering, PinV (unprotected).

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

Joost turns to see you, his whole body physically relaxing at the sight. In a blink of an eye he is standing next to you, ready to wrap his hands around you, feel the smell of your perfume. Before he gets to move closer, you turn around suddenly.

"We need to break up." your voice is stern.

"What?" he says with a chuckle, thinking he misheard you.

"I am breaking up with you, Joost. We can't keep going like this anymore." your face is without any emotion, he watches you say the harsh words so easily, like it's the most natural thing. But it doesn't make any sense to him.

"Why? What happened?" his heart sinks. Are you pulling a mean joke on him? "I don't understand." he tries to reach out to touch you, but you take a step back, his hand falling limp by his side.

"This is the problem. You never understand. How can you not see that you are pulling me down?" your words feel like a barb wire around his throat. "I deserve so much better." you say and tears start falling down his face, meanwhile you remain so stoic, that he starts to believe you are right.

He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, he watches you go, his legs not moving. He just stays in place, your figure disappearing in the distance.

"Wait!" Joost screams.

He sits up in his bed, face wet with tears. His hand immediately moving to your side of the bed searching for you, but it's empty. The panic sinks in, his brain still hazy.

He puts his face in his hands, finally coming back to his senses, realising it was all a dream. A nightmare even. He checks the time on his phone - 7:10. You left for work already, you are still his girlfriend, you didn't break up with him, he repeats to himself. But the words you said keep ringing in his head. You do deserve better.

He tries to go back to sleep, but it is of no use, self-doubting thoughts are too loud. He wants to hear your voice, needs reassurance, he thinks of calling you, but doesn't want to disturb you at work so early in the morning, so he settles for a quick text.

"Want to grab dinner after work together?"

he types and hits send, staring at the screen, waiting for you to see it and reply. After a few silent minutes, he puts down the phone. You must be busy. There is no point trying to go back to sleep, he decides the shower will help to get rid of the weird thoughts and forget the dream.

While drying off his wet hair with a towel, he checks his phone again to see two notifications:

"Sure! Would love to!"

"Someone is up early. Everything ok?"

Seeing your text brings a smile to his face. He swears you can read his thoughts, you always know when something is on his mind.

"Just a bad dream. I will come pick you up at 4."

All day he couldn't properly focus on any errands he had to run, all tasks left behind half-finished. He switches from one thing to another, in hopes of busying his brain enough, but the thoughts are too loud in his head. Is he doing enough in the relationship? Are you truly happy with him? Is he happy? Does he maintain work and life balance? Work definitely takes up more of his time.

He mind flashes back to seeing your face when he wakes up earlier than you, in those silent moments his heart is full with so much love for you, so many times you caught him laying by your side, brushing your hair softly with his fingers, a smile spreading on his face when you slowly wake up, or on the weekends when you both can lay in, spending sweet time in each others embrace, sinking into the mattress when his hips slot so perfectly between yours, rocking gently, hitting all the spots, that make you moan into his mouth. He thinks about how your fingers feel in his hair, when you've missed each other so much, you can't wait to tear each others clothes off, kissing hungrily, his fingers bound to leave marks how hard he is holding your hips, whispering into your ear, how good you feel around him, how much he loves you, pushing so deep into you, getting drunk on your sweet moans and whimpers.

He starts to feel hot at all the images in his head, he needs to change his trace of thought, before he gets fully hard, as he doesn't have the time to deal with it alone right now. Every corner of the apartment is filled with memories, his eyes catch on a broken off piece of a mug, you accidentally dropped on the floor during your last argument. It seems so stupid now, the spilled tears from the both of you so unnecessary. You talked it out after and found a compromise, hugging each other tight, promising and reassuring everything will be okay. He picks up the piece and throws it out.

He starts to feel claustrophobic surrounded by four walls and decides to go for a walk, fresh air always helps, it is getting close to 4pm anyways.

He walks around the park for a while, drawing while sitting on the bench, then gets an Uber to get to your work. He still arrives an hour early, waits for you to finish up, meanwhile busying himself on the phone.

The weather has dropped down very suddenly that week, the cold air biting your cheeks as you walk out of your office building. Joost is all bundled up in a hoodie, puffy jacket, beanie pulled down low on his forehead and headphones sticking out. He is barely recognisable, but you wouldn't mistake him for anyone else.

"Hii." you call out from a distance. You can't help but smile at him waiting for you, you've been looking forward to seeing him all day.

Your voice immediately draws his attention. A wide smile spreading across his face, as he looks in your direction. If he had a tail, it would be wiggling wildly.

He puts away the headphones and quickly closes the distance between you, wrapping his hands around you, trying not too throw himself at you, but it's so difficult after the day he had, he needs to feel you.

"Hi" he says finally letting go of you just enough to see your face.

"Hi." you say again. He is always excited to see you, like a little puppy jumping at your feet when you come home, but this is different. You almost get worried something happened and he can see it on your face.

"I missed you." he says looking into your eyes and leans in for a kiss, he knows it has to be quick, you are in public. But he can't help it, you answer the kiss just as desperate - you've missed him too, for an average day it felt too long that you haven't seen him. His lips feel as intoxicating as they always do, he squeezes you even tighter to him, wishes you were back home already without the layers of clothes separating you. You put your hands under his jacket seeking his warmth. He can feel your cold hands even through the hoodie underneath.

"Let's get something to eat, ja?" he asks, taking your hands in his, trying to warm them with his breath.

"Let's go. I know a good place nearby." you lead the way.

While eating you tell him about the new drama at work, he listens and tells his own remarks and thoughts about your coworkers and what he would have done. Gossiping with him is always so fun, he is the great rare combo of having a friend, who can give gossip and shopping advice, but also a boyfriend, who cares about you dearly and tends to your needs in bed. When you ask him about his day, you notice the lack of enthusiasm, he still tells you all about it, but there is no usual spark.

"What was your bad dream about?" you ask him suddenly. You can tell you hit the spot, this must be what has been bothering him.

He looks at you, knowing he can't get away with trying to brush it off. There is no reason to really, you are always there for each other. He shouldn't hide it.

"I know it's stupid and just a dream. But we broke up in my dream, and I have been feeling off all day. I'm sorry."

"It's not stupid, Joost." you reach for his hand to try to accentuate your words. "And don't be sorry, I would have felt the same way. Sometimes dreams feel so realistic, I also wake up disturbed." he gives you a weak smile. "I love you." you move closer to hold his cheek. "Is this also about a fight we had?"

"Probably." he replies. He hasn't been in a lot of relationships. He cares about you deeply, has never felt this way about anybody before, sometimes he catches himself thinking he wishes he could be glued to you to spend every breathing moment together and it scares him. If you ever loose feelings for him, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

"I love you." you say again, seeing he is in his head again. "That's why we bicker, because we care about this" you motion in between you two. "About us. We want this to work and it will."

You can finally see his shoulders relax. He leans in to kiss you, which you gladly accept. "Love you."

In the taxi back home you are stuck in traffic. Before the driver regulated the temperature, the windows started to fog up a little at the sides. In the corner of your eye, you notice him doodling with his finger on the window. You lean closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder, he kisses at your hairline, putting his head on top of yours and continuing to draw. He writes I love you, and intertwines your fingers together on his lap.

Since that conversation with Joost, you've had an idea brewing in your head. It was obvious he needed to relax, a couples massage could work, but there was also something else that wouldn't leave your mind. It is silly and cliche really, but the thought of focusing all attention on him, making him feel good, reminding him you are his and you'd do anything for him, makes not only your heart flutter. Even if it means giving him a lapdance. He never expressed an interest in it directly, but you did notice you manage to pull the loudest most delicious moans from him when you are on top, so this could work.

Joost is in the other room working on his music, through the closed door you could hear him humming a melody and sending voice memos to Tantu from time to time. This gives you time to get ready: you put on a new set of lingerie, which doesn't leave much to imagination, already in anticipation of his face seeing it for the first time, and a short silk robe tied around your waist.

Now it's the waiting game. You decide not to call Joost over, you leave him to finish up and come into the living room on his own terms, so he doesn't have any lingering thoughts of unfinished work and can fully enjoy your surprise.

As you sit on the couch, mentally preparing the dance you will do, quietly laughing at your own imagination, you hear the door open and Joost's slow steps. You quickly throw your phone further down the couch, sitting up straighter trying to look sexy, giddy waiting for him.

Joost walks in, his eyes immediately meeting yours, a wide smirk spreading on his face.

He whistles noticing what you are wearing. "That's a nice outfit." he says coming to see you closer. You try to keep a straight face and not laugh.

He is about to flop down on the couch next to you and wrap his arms around you, but you stop him.

"I've got a surprise for you." you stand up and smile up at him tracing your finger down his chest. He is wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He reaches for your waist to pull you closer, but you take his hand instead to lead him towards the chair. You gently push him to sit, which he obediently does and laughs confused.

"Ok, so you sit and relax, ok?" you reach for your phone to turn on the music you picked. As you turn around towards him, you catch him looking at your every move. You want to spoil him rotten, your heart is filled with so much love and it's all for him. He feels the same way, he wants you to have everything and more. He buys you everything you mention even in the passing, which you chastise him for, but he can't help it. He remembers the perfume you liked, knows exactly what pastry to bring you to cheer you up. There is never a moment when there isn't a fresh bouquet of flowers in your house, which he brings for you. He doesn't need a reason for it, you are the reason. He showers you in "I love you"s, he is your biggest hypeman, even your smallest achievements are applauded by his loudest cheers.

You take a step towards him, smiling sweetly at him, making sure to sway your hips to the music.

"Is it my birthday today? Did I loose track of time?" he asks laughing, but you see the way his eyes eat your act up.

"I just want you to have a good time." you walk towards him, he spreads his legs apart to make room for you. As you come to stand in between his legs, he sits up to be closer to you, but you push him back with one finger on his chest. "You work so hard" your voice is low. You start walking around him, tracing your finger from his chest to his shoulder, around his back. He turns his head following you. You start massaging his shoulders, feeling the tension.

"We can pretend it's your birthday, would you like that?" you lean in closer to whisper it in his ear, still working your hands into the tense muscle.

"No, this is good." he replies and you can already tell your plan is working. You kiss him on the cheek and continue walking, placing your hand on the back of his neck. You walk around the chair, his eyes never leaving you for one second. You are now a few steps away from him dancing in tune with the slow music, you move your hands down your body, lifting the hem of the silk robe up just enough to give him a sneak peek at what's underneath.

He sucks in a breath, seeing just a lacy string on your hip, but it already has him worked up at what's to come. "Fuck" he whispers.

You walk slowly towards him, you can't contain a smile when you notice his blown out pupils and the way his chest moves up and down. He has never been a patient man, and you love to test him.

"You look so hot." he says looking up at you, when you come to stand in between his legs again. You sit on top of his legs, facing him. "Yeah, you like it?" you put your arms around his neck, moving closer to him, your legs on each side of his. He puts his arms on your hips, feeling the warmth through the silky material, finally getting to touch you, he lets out a sigh.

Before he can reply, you start placing slow kisses on his cheek, his forehead, his nose. "I missed you" you say in between kisses.

"I missed you too." he says, his voice breathy.

"Tell me about your day." you say when you nudge his jaw with your nose, he rolls his head to the back of chair, giving you more access to his neck. You start placing kisses and little bites, his hands grip your hips harder, moving to your thighs.

"I- um" he finds it hard to focus, when your mouth feels so good and warm on his skin, but this is exactly your plan. "We finished the beat," he continues, while you place a kiss on his pulse point, moving closer to his ear. "for the new song."

"So proud of you. Can't wait to hear it." you say into his ear. A satisfied moan escapes his lips and he squeezes your thighs, feeling the soft plush skin. Little words of praise always work on him. "What else?" you ask as you move to leave open mouth kisses along his throat.

"I am working on the lyrics for-" you giggle against his skin when he can't finish a sentence properly.

"You are evil." he sits up straighter to look into your eyes, wrapping his hand around your lower back to push you closer to him. Teasing him is your favorite game and he lets you do it, knowing the reward is sweeter. You start to circle your hips trying to feel more of him, a smirk spreads on your face when you feel the outline of his already half hard dick through the sweatpants, your clit rubbing on his tip making both of you suck in a breath, but before you can get too far ahead of yourself, you unwrap his hands around you and take a step back.

"Heyy." his voice whiny when you leave him. Your legs are a little wobbly as you stand up, teasing him got you worked up too quickly. But how couldn't it, when he looks so good, all pliant for you, waiting for your every move.

You turn back around to face him, continuing moving to the song, slowly walking your way up to him again. He seems to have gotten back to his senses in the short break you gave him, you can tell by the smile that adorns his face, one dimple you love so much showing, he looks more confident now that he knows what's coming. His legs are still spread, his hard on so obvious against his sweatpants. Hands on the arm rests of the chair, but you know he wants nothing more but to touch you, and you are happy but to give him that.

"You look so great, schat." he watches you sway your hips to the song, your eyes closes, enjoying yourself, letting him ogle, as you move closer and closer to him, letting the anticipation build. "Could have told me earlier you were planning this, I would have wrapped it up with Tantu quicker."

"I didn't want to interrupt your creative process. Who knows what you are up to with your producer." you say giggling. "You already have matching t-shirts, who knows what's next." you come to stand between his legs.

"Oh we get up to all sorts of things. Aligning our beats together, cranking up the tempo, on repeat all night." You roll your eyes and laugh. "Can't create an album without a little bit of love making, don't be jealous." he says looking up at you, smiling proud of his joke.

"You two are my favorite weirdos." you put your hands in his hair and push it back, running your fingers through the strands. He moans in delight, always begging you to scratch his head laying his head on your stomach after a long day.

"Give me your hand." you tell him, which he happily does. You put the tie of the robe in his hand and he gently pulls on it looking into your eyes, untying your silk robe, watching it reveal your body fully to him.

"You are perfect."

You slowly turn, swaying your hips along to the song as you pull off the robe completely, letting it drop to the floor. You place your hands on either side of the armrest, as you lower your ass over his crotch, your back to his chest, hovering and moving side to side, teasing before you finally press down, letting your ass roll over his crotch and thighs.

"Oh fuck, baby. Just like that" he is holding your hips, letting you move on your own, he just wants to feel you.

You circle your hips, feeling him swell underneath you. You can’t resist the grin, happy at how quickly you can make him hard.

He presses himself closer to you. "Can I touch you more?" whispering into your ear.

"Please." he is not the only one getting aroused. This is supposed to be about him, but you know he enjoys your pleasure as much as you do.

He slowly moves his hands from your hips, up your torso to your chest, cupping your tits through the lacy bra, feeling your nipples harden under his warm palms. You moan at his touch and can feel him smile against your cheek, he is also breathing fast and hard while you continue to move your hips on his crotch. Your arch your back and moan, once he starts pinching and pulling on your nipples, you feel yourself getting wetter each passing second.

"So good for me." he whispers into your ear. You are enjoying yourself, but want to take the control back so instead of grinding this time, you bounce in time with the beat, arching your back to feel his entire length. He leans back on the chair, covering his mouth with one hand. You lean into him, reaching your hand behind his neck, you want to feel all of him, needing him like air.

"Don't." you move his hand, which was covering his mouth. "Let me hear you." his put down his hand and opens his eyes, meeting yours. He leans for a kiss, moaning into your mouth and you eat it all up. Knowing you can make him fall apart so easily, makes you even more aroused and determined.

After a particular move of your hips, you notice him whine louder than usual. So you repeat it again and again, getting off on his sounds alone, your own breathing hitching feeling his dick twitch beneath you. His chest hot like coal beneath you, he can't seem to decide where to put his hands, wants to feel all of you at the same time, he moves from your holding your hips to squeezing your chest, enjoying the feel of it under his hands.

"Baby." he tips his head back. "I'm gonna cum if you continue this." he says matter of factly. He is so lost in you, in this closeness, he is fine cuming in his pants at this point. The stimulation and the sight of you enough to tip him over the point.

"Open your mouth for me." you hear him say and follow his instruction blindly. He puts his finger in your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. He then starts tracing it down your chest, your stomach and in between your legs.

"Is this okay?" he asks before pulling your panties to the side, still trying to make sure to care for your needs first. You realise what he is doing, you want this to be about him, so you quickly gather yourself up, slipping out of his hands, turning to face him. "You are the best." you give him a kiss on the lips. "I love you." another kiss. "So much" a kiss on his neck.

"I love you too." he manages to say. "Let me take care of you." a kiss on chest, as you move to sit on the floor in between his legs.

You sit up higher to place a kiss on his stomach over the t-shirt. Then move it up to place a kiss directly on his skin, revealing his tattoo to you, placing more kisses there looking up at him. His eyes are filled with so much love and lust for you, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. You move lower and lower.

"Can I take these off?" you ask holding the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Yes." he says nodding. He lifts his hips helping you take it off, letting it fall around his ankles. You place a kiss on the tip of his still clothed dick, feeling the wet spot there.

"Oh fuck." he sighs and you wish you could record all of his sounds and moans to keep it on repeat.

"Can I take these off too, gorgeous?" he nods and you take off his underwear, getting to see his pretty dick. The tip leaking and red. Your mouth is salivating at the sight, you take the base in your hand and stroke it halfway, watching the dollop of precum leak out of his tip.

"I am not gonna last at all." he doesn't want to close his eyes, wants to commit every second of this to his memory, but he is also so close already, he is afraid he will cum as soon as your lips wrap around him and he doesn't want this to end so fast.

You tuck your hair behind your ears and start placing kisses along his shaft, knowing he is close, you decide not to tease him any longer and take him in your mouth, focusing on the tip at first. He lets out a loud moan, borderline a whine, as his hands grip arm rests of the chair. You continue working your way down his length, moving your hands at the base what you can't reach yet. He puts one of his hands in your hair, not pushing, just needing to feel you, to ground himself at least somehow. You come up for air, letting the spit mix with his pre-cum, it's messy, but it's just way he likes it.

You relax your throat and take more of him, your nose pressing on his lower stomach. The pressure feels so good around his tip, he can't help but buck his hips, making you gag, he apologises immediately, but feels you moan around him. You continue bobbing your head, keeping your lips around him, licking on the underside, tasting him. After a few pumps you deepthroat him again, you try to keep him there for as long as you can, feeling him tighten his hold on your hair and moan loudly. The muscles of his stomach twitching. He is so loud, you hope the neighbours won't complain, but you can't care about it now, it is all worth it. You move your hand down to touch his balls.

"I'm close" he manages to say as a warning in case you don't want him to finish in your mouth, but you just hum in agreement around him creating vibrations around him, and continuing to massage his balls. You look up at him, your eyes watering, you look so good with his dick in your mouth, almost naked and he can't control it any longer. You feel him throb and he releases in your mouth with a loud groan. You swallow, letting him ride out his climax before you pull away. You wipe your chin from all the spit and his release you weren’t able to swallow. His chest is raising up and down as he tries to come back to earth. You put your head on his thigh, trying to regulate your own breathing. You are still so wet, you can feel your clit throbbing.

"Come here." he says and you pull yourself up using his thighs for support and straddle him again.

"That was so hot." he kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing the same air, enjoying being so close. You feel him wrap his hands around your thighs and he pushes off the chair standing up suddenly with you in his arms. You squeal in surprise, holding onto his neck.

"What are you doing?"

"Returning the favor. Did you think I would leave you unsatisfied?" he says and lets you both fall on the couch, managing the fall with his hands.

"Oh my god." you breathe out. "That's a lot of energy after just getting your dick sucked."

"That's what you do to me." you feel his weight on top of you so comforting. He brushes your messed up hair away from your face and kisses you deeply, you moan into his mouth, somehow you missed his lips even though it hasn't been that long. You always long for him, always need more, even being as close as right now isn't enough. You wrap your hands around his shoulders, letting him press into you more. When you have to separate for air, he sits up on his knees to take off his shirt, he feels so hot.

"You look great, did I tell you that already?"

"A few times, yeah." you giggle looking at him, as he lets his eyes eat you whole, appreciate the lingerie you put on for him.

"I mean it every time."

You spread your legs, making room for him, as he leans back down to you. He starts placing kisses along your jaw, while his hands wrap your legs around his hips. "Now you tell me about your day." he continues kissing your face, his moustache tickling you.

"I got assigned into a new project at work." you try to keep your tone controlled, but it's difficult with his ministrations. "I'm pretty excited about it-" he starts kissing along your cheek closer to your ear.

"That's good. I'm happy for you." he says into your ear. You try to squirm away, when his breath tickles you, giggling, but he is holding you close to him. "Tell me more." he urges you to continue.

"I bought that new-" you gasp when he moves to leave kisses on your neck. You realise he is mimicking what you were doing to him. "What happened? Continue." he says into your neck, leaving a trace of bites and soothing with his tongue. "I bought the new lotion I was telling you about. Ah" you moan when he kisses your sweet spot and moves his hands along your sides, feeling more of you. "Oh yeah? The one that smells of caramel you told me about?"

"Yes. That one." you manage to reply.

He moves lower, kissing along your shoulders and collarbone, taking off the straps of your bra, letting it fall down your arms. "You know I love caramel."

"Mhm" you hum approvingly.

He puts his head on your chest, kissing along the exposed skin, but he wants more, looking up at you. "Can I take it off?" you nod and he slips his hands behind your back to unclasp the bra. He kisses the newly exposed skin, circling his tongue around your nipple, making you let a loud moan. It makes him smirk with your nipple still in his mouth, he sucks harder on it, getting lost in the feeling of it and your moans, while his hand teases your other nipple.

You are writhing moaning mess underneath him. He loves having you like this, so desperate for more, desperate for him and him only.

"You are so pretty." he says, while switching to the other nipple, putting it in his mouth. You move your hands to run through his hard, scratching at his scalp, making him moan too.

"Please, Joost. More" your brain is already switching off feeling so pent up. He couldn't ever deny you, you treated him so well, he came so hard, the image of you on your knees for him still engraved in his brain.

He moves lower, kissing along your stomach, feeling the soft skin, looking up you for consent when he wants to take off your underwear. You say yes and he takes it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

He wastes no time licking at your folds insistently, his tongue so deep in you. "You are so wet. Dancing for me got you worked up too?" he doesn't let you reply when he licks so generously into you.

"Right there, Joost, yes." your moans encouraging him. He sucks on your clit and licks at you listening for your sounds, what makes you moan louder and repeating exactly those actions. He separates for a second, letting his finger run through your folds, collecting your slick and moving it to your hole, slipping in. Your back arches, he moves his hand to hold your hips, while the other finds your nipple, tugging on it as he dives back to suck on your clit. He feels it twitch under his lips in no time. You almost scream, orgasm washing over your body, moaning loud, as you hold his head in place to ride out the orgasm. He continues licking at you, watching your face and pumping his fingers, only lowering the speed when you push at him of overstimulation.

He moves up, his face lying on your chest again, looking up at you, but you feel his fingers still in you, clamping down on his digits. He lets you calm down, but when you open your eyes, smiling at him, he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you again.

"Fuck, Joost." you moan throwing your head back into the pillow.

"Give me one more, baby." he moves closer to you, petting your head with the other hand, making you look at him. Your mouth is opened in a continued moan, your breathing laboured. His own face matches yours, he is enjoying your pleasure as much. He is fucking you with his fingers like he would with his dick, feeling you squeeze around his fingers making him moan as much.

"Should I dance for you too? Would you like that?" he asks, his fingers moving at a faster pace, curling up.

"Do I put on the silk robe?" he says in between kisses along your jaw. "Turn on some slow sexy music?" he feels you clamp down on his fingers at those words.

"Oh you would like that." he smirks, as you let out another moan of his name.

"Fuck, that would be so hot, Joost. I am not even kidding"

You feel him get hard again humping against your leg. "I need you inside, please." you say pushing at his hand between your legs, "I want you to feel good too."

He takes out his fingers, licking them clean, moaning and putting them in your mouth too, your tongue swirling between the digits. His dick twitches at the sight, he sits up, pumping his dick a few times. You wrap your legs around him, encouraging him to hurry up.

"Please, Joost." you whine. "I need you."

He leans in, moving his length through your folds, and finally when his head catches on your hole, he slips in. You are so open and wet for him, sucking him right in, it feels so good, he almost cums on the spot, he has to close his eyes and focus. After a moment of collecting himself, he bottoms out, feeling you stretch around him, he leans closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. He starts picking up the pace, both of you still sensitive from your previous orgasms, you know this won't last long.

The sounds in the room are downright sinful, the wet sounds bouncing off the walls. Both of you clinging onto each other.

"I am so lucky to have you. I love you. Thank you so much" he starts running his mouth against your ear, he is holding himself on his elbows on each side of you, one of his arms sneaks between you to touch your clit, your face twisting in pleasure. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, wanting to feel him closer.

"I love you too. I'd do anything for you." he says through gritted teeth, you can tell he is close, know you are. After a particular sharp thrust, your back arches, with a loud moan you gush around him. With the added wetness he can move with almost no friction and it triggers his own orgasm. You watch his face contorted in pleasure, before he hides it in your neck groaning and whining. He comes so deep inside of you, continuing to rut inside you, your mixed releases spilling out.

You are not ready to separate from each other yet, you scratch his back lightly, helping him calm down. He kisses your shoulder. He pulls out of you carefully, seeing his cum spill out of you, mesmerised every time. He sits up and puts his underwear back on. You watch him stand up, while you still feel like jelly. He goes to bring a warm washcloth to clean you up, washing so carefully between your legs.

After both of you are decent, he finds the robe you wearing on the floor. He starts putting it on, the sleeves too short on his arms, barely fitting him, it covers halfway up his ass. You start laughing uncontrollably at how he looks.

"Dude, you look so funny." you sit up and reach for your phone to take a photo of him, still laughing.

"Funny? I was supposed to look sexy" he strikes a pose putting his hand on his hip, pouting his lips. Another one holding a peace sign with his fingers. For another photo he pretends to be shocked, covering up his chest, but the robe barely closes around him. You are doubled over laughing at him.

He reaches for his sweatpants on the floor, taking out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket, going up to the window to smoke, still wearing your robe.

He opens the window and takes a long drag, as your laughter can still be heard. He is so happy in this moment, truly the luckiest man on earth.

[angelshizuka]

I like Stolas. I’m not a ride or die fan, but I like him. He’s an entertaining and likable to watch character, even though he’s a royal he is capable of breaking the classist conditioning ingrained in him from birth and has made some pretty good strides in doing so. He’s a good dad. He has made mistakes, every parent does. One of which was getting so caught up in his fight and break up with Stella and the mixture of stress, fear, and freedom that comes with finally leaving your abuser to forget about the comet storm that Octavia always wanted to see with him. It’s a completely understandable mistake but it was one none the less. He made up for it immediately, went out of his way to do so, so he could still have and share that moment with his daughter. We have seen him comfort Octavia when Stella stayed in bed, we have repeatedly seen him talk about how much he loves his daughter and we have repeatedly seen him show that love to Octavia. He’s a good dad and anyone who says otherwise is watching a completely different show. I’m not saying that he does but I don’t care if Stolas is a bad husband to Stella, I don’t care if he makes Stella look bad, I don’t care about any criticism anyone has about Stolas’ treatment of Stella. She is canonically his abuser, he don’t owe her shit. No one owes their abuser love, loyalty, or to “make them look good” Stolas didn’t deserve the abuse Stella put him through and he doesn’t owe her protection of her public image.

It's nice to hear this from a more neutral fan and I totally agree!

What I love about Stolas is how realistic he is as a father. I mean, those "perfect" parent figures in fiction can be enjoyable, but let's be real, no real life parent is actually like that. Every parent has their flaws, every parent has done or said the wrong thing, every parent has forgotten something that's important to their child, every parent has made a (in their eyes) small mistake that scarred their child for life. You get the point.

What matters is how the parent deals with it once they realize the bad affect it's had on their kid and THAT is why I will die on the hill Stolas is technically a good dad (not perfect, but I'm sick and tired of people acting like a parent can only be good when they're perfect, because perfect parents literally don't exist).

Literally every single time Stolas realized his actions hurt Octavia, he's gone out of his way to fix it. I've seen some haters say "he never learns because he did it again" and I'm just like... no? His mistake in Loo Loo Land and his mistake in Seeing Stars are not the same thing (inappropriately flirting in front of his daughter vs being too caught up in the divorce to pay proper attention to her), so how could he have learned from it already!?

Flawed parents are literally my fave, they remind me of my own and I learned first hand how those mistakes say nothing about how much they love me and how much they're willing to fight for me. And not to end on a sad personal note, but seeing my dying mother cry about mistakes she still regrets (including things that happened almost two decades ago) puts A LOT into perspective.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Spitting Image

| based on a request from @sa8859 |

| “When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?” Ocean Vuong |

Many things come unexpectedly.

A marriage.

A pregnancy.

Coriolanus handled both of those quite well. What he wasn't prepared for was the death of his wife, the woman he cherished so very deeply until her last breath was taken.

He remembers the day she left him.

How frail she had looked in their big bed. How she still smelled like vanilla despite not having the strength to bathe or even stand up. She was so sweet until her bitter end, always giving him a smile, always encouraging him to be kind, to find love in someone else for the sake of their daughter.

Oh, Ceraphina. His only child, a sweet little girl who was identical to his wife in every possible way. Soarynn was a beautiful woman, openly complimented on it wherever they went. But that wasn't the trait that drew him to her, no, it was her kindness, her ability to put others first no matter what.

Ceraphina had only been two when Soarynn passed away, young enough to forget most of her memories with her mother but old enough to miss her.

Coriolanus did his best to raise her on his own. He remained patient and gentle but he quickly realized that he was not equipped to be a single parent. He could've hired a nanny, someone to care for his child while he was away at work but he knew what Soarynn would've wanted for their little girl.

So he remarried.

This time it wasn't for love. He could never love again, he knew that much. He married for the sake of his daughter, so she could have a mother in her life, someone to teach her how to be a proper lady, to be there for her no matter what.

Livia Cardew was the obvious choice. She was someone he didn't particularly despise or like, she was a neutral party that he'd never get romantically involved with which was perfect for him.

She wasn't ugly but she wasn't as beautiful as Soarynn. She wasn't mean but she'd never been as sweet as Soarynn. Coriolanus constantly found himself comparing Livia to Soarynn no matter how hard he tried to forget about her.

How can you forget the person who still has half of your heart?

He had given himself so wholly to Soarynn, not expecting her to take him with her to the grave.

Coriolanus stares at the framed photograph of Soarynn that sits on his desk. She looks so beautiful in the photo, wearing a light yellow dress with her wavy hair pulled back, showing off her rosy cheeks and soft pink lips. She's laughing in the photo, he remembers taking that photo, remembers what he was wearing, what they did that day.

He will never see her again.

His eyes drift over to the other side of the desk where a newer photograph sits, a photograph of his new family with his new wife. None of them are smiling for this professional family portrait. Coriolanus is standing behind Livia and Ceraphina who sit on a small sofa, hands in their laps while they all stare into the camera.

When he looks at Ceraphina it's like he's looking at Soarynn. She has her eyes, her smile, her hair color, she even has the freckles that he loved so much.

He shakes his head, he ought to finish up his work so he can retire for the night. He already had dinner with Livia and Ceraphina, it was quiet like always, but he made sure to ask Ceraphina about her day at school. It pains him that Soarynn isn't here to do it, to ask her about school, to see her in the little Academy uniform.

The halls of their penthouse are haunted by what once was.

He goes to open his desk drawer when he hears a soft knock on the door to his study, too soft to belong to Livia.

"Come in," he says, curious as to who is on the other side.

The door slowly opens and he sees that it's Ceraphina, standing on her tiptoes in order to reach the door handle. "Ceraphina, why aren't you in bed?" He inquires, checking his watch to see that it's well past eight o'clock. Ceraphina steps into his study, looking unsure of this foreign space.

Coriolanus has always been firm on keeping children out of certain rooms such as his study and bedroom. She has the rest of the penthouse to run around in as she pleases but she seems troubled about something.

"I need to tell you something Daddy," she whispers, pushing the door shut. Coriolanus furrows his brows, wondering what could be so important and urgent that his daughter has sought him out this late at night.

At only five years old, Ceraphina is a rather bright child with a sunny personality despite her mother dying and he intends to keep it that way. To see her wearing a frown makes him worry, did something happen at school?

He pushes away from his desk and holds out his arms, beckoning her to come sit in his lap. Her worries slightly melt away at the welcoming gesture and she pads over to him, allowing him to scoop her up with a grunt, "You're growing up too fast," he tells her, poking her nose.

Ceraphina giggles, batting his hand away, "You need to measure me again."

When Ceraphina was maybe six months old, Soarynn started marking her height with a pencil against the doorframe of her bedroom. Coriolanus had thought it was silly at first but after she passed away, he continued the tradition. Not as often as Soarynn would've liked but he's busy and he knows Livia would roll her eyes at such a silly tradition.

Ceraphina loves it though.

"I'll measure you tomorrow," he promises, "now what's the matter darling?"

Ceraphina sighs, looking down at her lap, "Um, I don't want anyone to get in trouble," she mumbles. His heart softens at how she cares for others, just like Soarynn. He gives her a gentle squeeze, "No one will get in trouble darling," he assures her, already prepared to give some parents a nasty phone call about their child's behavior towards his daughter.

Ceraphina looks up at him and for a moment, he's looking into Soarynn's eyes. He almost wishes she would look away but he can't bring himself to ask that of her.

"I heard Livia talking on the phone," she says slowly and Coriolanus has to keep himself from sighing. When he married Livia, he had hoped that Ceraphina would take an instant liking to her which would lead to her addressing Livia as 'Mommy' or at least 'Mother'.

But the years have passed and she's made no effort to address Livia by anything but her first name. His friends assure him that it's just a phase but Coriolanus knows better, Ceraphina is smarter than she looks, more perceptive than she looks.

The only person she called 'Mommy' was Soarynn and that will never change no matter how upset it makes Livia who claims it's disrespectful. He knows Ceraphina would never be rude to Livia, she's as sweet as can be but she's still grieving.

They both are.

"What did she say on the phone darling?"

"She was talking about Mommy."

Coriolanus tenses at those words. From the moment he began courting Livia, she made it very clear that she didn't want to talk about Soarynn unless it was absolutely necessary. He had agreed at the time, so engulfed in his own grief that he too couldn't bring himself to speak about his soulmate.

But as the years have gone by, he can see that Soarynn is a sore spot for Livia who's often compared to Ceraphina's late mother. It doesn't help that Ceraphina is a spitting image of Soarynn, making it easy for that to be brought up in a conversation.

"What did she say about Mommy?"

"She um...she said that she couldn't handle being married to a man like you, so I guess it means that Livia is better for you. And then she said that I was um, I was the only bad part about being married to you."

Coriolanus is fucking seething with anger.

Livia has no fucking right, no reason to say those things about his girls.

About Soarynn who fought as hard as she could to be here. And about Ceraphina, who is the only fucking piece of Soarynn that he has left.

Yes, he's sure that marrying a widowed man with a child has been difficult but she knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to start courting him. He made sure to introduce them to each other, to bring Ceraphina on dates so she could spend time with Livia and yet it seems to be a fucking problem where Livia is concerned.

Coriolanus kisses her cheek, so softly and gently, the same way he'd kiss Soarynn's cheek when she'd cry about being sick, when she was scared to leave him and Ceraphina. "You are the best part of my life," he tells his daughter, "you're a gift from your mother to me darling and I don't want you to ever forget that alright? Nothing will ever come between you and me."

He means it too.

Nothing will ever hurt them again.

꧁ ꧂

After putting Ceraphina back into bed and reading her a few bedtime stories, Coriolanus quietly pads down the hallway to his bedroom. He can still hear Livia yammering away on the phone they keep in the room and he presses his ear to the doors, listening to what she's saying right now.

"...it's just never-ending. Everywhere we go, it's all about fucking Soarynn. 'Oh she looks just like her mother', 'Oh Soarynn would be so proud of her,' I mean give me a fucking break. It's ridiculous how people can't seem to move on. What's that? Oh, he's no better. Coriolanus likes to act like he's moved on but he's like this kicked, wounded puppy just holding his broken heart in his hands. And he's constantly doting on Ceraphina, it's like I'm not even here, it's like he just married me to be a babysitter. It's not my fault Soarynn couldn't fucking make it past twenty-four."

Coriolanus pushes the doors open, he can't wait another second to confront Livia who's eyes grow huge when she sees him standing in the doorway.

"Clemmie? I'll call you back," she says, quickly hanging up the phone before rising from the sofa she was sitting on. "Darling! What's wrong?" She asks, acting like she wasn't just berating his dead wife and his child moments ago over the phone.

Coriolanus closes the doors behind him, Ceraphina doesn't need to hear this.

"Ceraphina came to me," he says, walking towards Livia who looks very nervous, "she came to me because she wanted to come to you to ask for a glass of water but you were too busy on the phone talking about Soarynn, how she couldn't handle being married to a man like me which leads me to wonder, what kind of a man am I Livia?"

Livia chuckles nervously, fiddling with her hands, "I...I don't know what you mean Coriolanus," she says with a shaky voice, "you're a good man, a good father."

Coriolanus chuckles, he's been a fool to think Livia could be a good mother let alone a good wife. "I'm also a very rich man," he says quietly, looking her up and down, looking at the nightgown she's wearing tonight, made of lace with intricate patterns. It must've cost him a small fortune.

"I'm a rich man who pays for everything you buy," he continues, stopping on the other side of the sofa, "the clothes, the shoes, the bags, I never question it because you're my wife and I am to provide for you but I'm starting to think that you've been taking my kindness for weakness."

"Coriolanus," she starts but he holds his hand up, he's not done yet, "I'm aware that I'm not perfect, I have my sharp edges, and we both know what I've been through. So imagine my surprise when my sweet, precious daughter came to me telling me that you were saying terrible things about her and her mother."

Livia clenched her fists and he can see how angry she is, "I am her mother," she sneers, "even if she can't fucking bring herself to say it, I have been raising her these past years, not Soarynn. I think it's high time that you two moved on before you get stuck in the past."

All he sees is red right now.

He knew Livia wasn't pleased about this whole situation but it clearly goes deeper than the surface.

"And don't pretend that you don't dote on Ceraphina and then leave me high and dry," she snaps, "I see how you look at her, like she's Soarynn's twin, like she's this precious little diamond but she's not Coriolanus. She's a fucking child who needs to grow the hell up because her father clearly can't."

Coriolanus would never lay a finger on a woman but he's getting very close to considering it. But he can't, because he knows what Soarynn would say, how she'd look at him if she were in Livia's shoes and Livia was the one who was dead.

"We're done," he says quietly, his body is no longer tense, he is no longer angry.

It's amazing how quickly Livia's demeanor changes as well. She goes from furious to desperate in a matter of seconds. "What? No, no, we can't be done! Coriolanus, please! We can work this out! Couples fight, married people fight, we can get through this. Ceraphina will come around, you'll see, and I...I can work on being a better mother to her. We can all still be one big happy fam-"

"I already have a family," he cuts her off with a steady tone, "and my wife may no longer be here with me but I assure you, Livia, I already have a family and you have never been a part of it no matter how badly you wanted to be."

Livia narrows her eyes, giving up on trying to play nice, "Fine," she hisses, pulling her wedding ring off her finger, "stay here in this penthouse and be miserable then, see if I fucking care. This place is a tomb Coriolanus and you're going to die in it just like she did."

He watches her throw the ring at him.

He watches her run into the closet and come back fully dressed.

He watches her rip the doors open and leave.

And then maybe, just maybe, he watches Soarynn walk into the bedroom, faint and flickering like a hologram. She walks towards him, a soft smile on her face and she bends down, picking up the ring Livia just threw at him, "She's right," she tells him gently, standing back up, "this place is a tomb."

She hands him the ring and he turns it over with his fingers, the diamond is big, per Livia's request, nothing like Soarynn's wedding ring.

"I know," he murmurs, a faint smile on his lips, "but at least we still get to be together."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee @erensrealgf |

[bring-forth-his-sac]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 4

Summary: after spending some days apart, you and Negan finally find a way to sort out your differences, and it involves a whooooooooole lot of balls

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, friendly competitive games, sexual innuendos

Word Count: 7.3k (I'm sorry, idk how tf this is getting so long)

Michonne likes her job. It’s cushy, which isn’t what most people would assume. But being principal of Alexandria High is something she fought for and something she earned. In many ways, it’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Not only that, but she gets to be closer to her kids. For the first time, Michonne can embrace the role of the classic mom—carpooling with her children, loudly saying “I love you” and reminding them not to forget their lunch as they all walk into the same building.

Carl doesn’t mind it much. At this point, he sees it more as an inside joke between himself and his stepmom.

Judith, on the other hand, still squirms every time she gets out of the car with Principle Grimes, her eyes darting around to see if anyone is taking notice. 

Michonne doesn’t take offense though, she knows it’s because Judith is still adjusting to “big school”, eager to make a good impression during her first year.

She had to deal with a blunder last week between Gregory, Rosita and Sasha. Once again, it was up to her to clean up Gregory’s incompetence while he played victim. 

If Michonne had her way, firing him would have been her first decree as principal. And he wouldn’t have been the last to be fired either. Michonne can think of a few she would’ve picked off straight away if it wasn’t for unfair dismissal laws. 

Saying goodbye to both of her kids, she makes her way down the corridor, pretending not to hear the students going wild in some of the classrooms as they let out their energy before classes start. They’re more hyper than usual for a Monday but since this is the last week of classes, she understands the excitement.

Strolling into her office, she comes face to face with another ‘if only I could fire them without lawful reasoning’ candidate.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, no way Ricky Dicky got you this weird ass piñata for Christmas,” Negan giggles when she walks in, holding up a gift she got for her birthday.

“Carl, actually,” she corrects him, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop the statue “and it’s a unicorn he and Judith painted, not a piñata”.

With raised eyebrows, Negan gently places it back down on the desk. “Well, shit, ain’t they… creative” he treads carefully, not wanting to piss her off.

“Is there a reason you’re lurking in my office?” Michonne gets straight to business, making her away around the desk and to her chair. 

Negan sits opposite her, making himself comfortable “Well, it’s about the Christmas party”.

Michonne debates hiding her smirk but she can’t help it. Negan’s a man that always chooses to be cocky, so why shouldn’t she when she knows something he doesn’t?

Reading her smirk, Negan can’t help but scoff at himself. He’d been expecting a reaction like this. 

“Yeah, I know it sounds stupid,” he mutters.

Michonne twirls a finger in the air, gesturing to her grin. “Oh, this?” she says, her smirk widening “It’s not because you think this whole thing is stupid. It’s because I know exactly what you’re about to say”.

Negan shifts in his seat, caught between feeling a little embarrassed and strangely intrigued. He crosses one leg over the other.

“Is that so?” he says, his tone casual but curious.

“I had a certain English teacher in here on Friday,” Michonne keeps her information vague “she may have mentioned the staff Christmas party as well”.

“Did she mention how she can’t keep her damn mouth shut? Or that she’s the control freak?” he interjects “actually, no I want to hear what she’s said about me and how she’s spinning this whole thing”.

Michonne huffs “Funnily enough I could say the same thing to describe you”.

He rolls his eyes, trying not to mumble anything under his breath in case she hears.

“Actually, she explained everything, from the text message to you deserting her. In fact I think she told me too much, usually when you bunk off your job, you don’t tell your boss” Michonne says, her tone level.

Negan nods knowingly “She has a tendency to keep running her mouth, even when she shouldn’t”.

“And she also asked if the staff party could be held somewhere other than the sports hall, since she tells me it’s essentially your hall,” Michonne continues  “Which is odd, because I’ve never seen your name above the door”.

“It is my hall,” he snaps, his chest puffing out “everyone knows it is. My office is right next door —which has my name on the door— and out of all the coaches, I’ve been here the longest. So, yeah, my hall”.

Michonne just watches him, silently grateful she doesn’t have to deal with Negan more often. “Well, the party will still be held there, and when it comes to the two of you constantly clashing, I’ll say to you the exact same thing I told her”.

Michonne pauses, making sure Negan is actually paying attention.

“Whether you help plan the party while she doesn’t, or she plans it while you don’t, or both of you just plan the damn thing,” she says, speaking slowly, hoping it’ll sink in “I. Don’t. Care.”

Negan clamps his mouth shut, holding back a curse. “That’s your big advice?” he questions, incredulity in his voice. “Seriously?”

He’s met with a flat look “Negan, it’s a Christmas party. Let’s not overcomplicate things ”.

Leaning back in her chair, she glances over the paperwork she should be working on “I’m not going to force you two to work together. If you’re not that interested in helping, then don’t and let another coach help when it comes to setting things up in the hall. Simple as that.

Michonne picks up a pen and begins writing on one of the pages in front of her, giving him the sign that they’re done here.

This is easier than Negan expected. Where’s the whole “you need to work together for the sake of Christmas party magic” speech? The guilt trip about teamwork and holiday cheer?

He expected more pushback, more of Michonne’s insistence that they both need to cooperate and sing kumbaya. 

But instead, it’s just… simple. She doesn’t care.

And, sure, they both irritated the hell out of each other, but now that they’re not being forced into the same space, he finds himself missing it a little. He had started getting into a rhythm—annoying her, sparring with her and slowly picking up on her banter. 

It had become a game of sorts, and he’d almost gotten good at it.

But then again, he did walk away from her. And she never came crawling back with an apology, so maybe this is for the best. Neither of them had the patience to stick it out.

After a few seconds, when Negan doesn’t move, Michonne stills her movements. “I can hear you breathing,” she comments, keeping her head down and reading through the sheets on her desk.

“So?”.

“So, I’m busy? Go get ready for class— oh, actually, while I have you here,” Michonne looks over at him and Negan can see the shift from bored principal to fiery mama bear. 

He stands, getting ready to leave. 

Pointing her pen at him, she keeps her voice calm and steady “You make fun of Carl’s eye again and I’m giving the Coach Smith that actually does his job, your office”.

Negan knows better than to test her, or to even let a word alip about how Coach Mark Smith is off tanning in Jamaica, something he definitely doesn’t consider “doing his job”. 

Straightening up, he gives a quick nod and mutters a simple, “Yes, Ma’am,” before hightailing it out the door.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

What’re you on now? Plan C? Or D?

Plan A went out the window with your pettiness, when you decided to plan the Christmas party just to spite Negan.

Plan B, trying to work with Negan, crumbled and left you stranded at Target. You owe Carol big time for driving out and collecting you. Although you hope the amount of cookies you baked with her afterwards means that you’re both even.

Plan C… well, that hasn’t technically failed, nor has it gotten you off the hook, thanks to Michonne being indifferent either way. 

And now that's brought you on to plan D, which so far has been giving constant reassurance to a fully grown man.

“I don’t think I should be doing this,” Joey’s bottom lip wobbles and for a moment, you genuinely believe you’re about to see a tear roll down his stubbled cheek.

“Joey, you’re just helping me measure” you reply, holding onto the other end of the measuring tape as the wary man makes his way down to the other end of the hall. 

You came to work today with a plan. After avoiding Negan for the remainder of last week and having the weekend to get your shit together, you’ve decided that you’re going to continue planning this party. 

The major difference now?

You’re doing it from your own free will, not letting accidental texts or pettiness be the driving force… although in saying that, you also didn’t want to deal with Gregory’s passive aggressiveness.

So after a quick stop at Negan’s office before he arrived, you side-stepped into the sports hall next, and found your new helper, Joey.

“Yeah but…” he hesitates to even say his name “Negan doesn’t know you’re here, and if he finds out I’ve let you in here…”.

In a sense, you feel bad for Joey. It’s his first year at Alexandria High too but he’s already been indoctrinated into the Negan cult, which consists of Negan, Joey and whoever Negan’s trying to swoon for the week.

“Classes start in twenty minutes, he isn’t even here yet,” you attempt to comfort him for the fourth time this morning “besides, you’re just helping me get measurements, this isn’t the end of the world”.

“Yeah, but I don’t want Negan to think I’m betraying him by doing this, or that I’m choosing your side over his,” Joey babbles and you try not to take offense “I asked him last Friday how the planning was going for the party and he— jeez, if you saw the look on his face when I mentioned you!”.

Gulping, you shift slightly and try to change topics “Are you at the end of the hall?”.

“Oh!” Joey stoops down and presses the end of the tape to the wall “Ok, ready!”.

You write down the measurements in your notebook before calling Joey back. 

Unfortunately, he continues to ramble. “I mean, it was like his whole face changed when I mentioned your name! I was just asking about it cause I was wondering if he got into your pants yet but damn, you must’ve turned him down bad!”. 

You wonder if this is how irritating you sound when you ramble.

As Negan walks down the hallway to his office, he lets out a long breath. No more Christmas party for him. It’s someone else’s problem, whether or not that be his favourite love-to-hate and hate-to-love English teacher. 

He tunes out the chatter coming from the sports hall, not in the mood to deal with teens who’ve sneaked in before class for a quick game of basketball.

He enters his office and takes a moment to drop his bag onto the chair, releasing a long sigh. Like shit he would ever leave Michonne give Mark his office. At this point, Negan’s sure he has squatters rights. 

He removes his winter coat and casually tosses it over the old coat rack. Despite the cluttered state of his desk, it's organized in a way only he seems to understand. Negan knows exactly where everything is but something’s… off.

Something’s different.

His gaze shifts to the small pumpkin statue from Target, its green stalk hidden beneath a tiny Christmas hat. Negan frowns, frustration creeping in. Dammit. 

This guilt-tripping crap shouldn’t work on him. And it won’t. You can buy him the pumpkin but it doesn’t change how you have a bad habit of blurting out the wrong thing at the worst possible time.

Still, he can’t remember the last time someone bought him an actual present. His colleagues never get him anything, unless you count glares. His students skedaddle out of his class the second they have the chance, his only gift there being the peace and quiet they leave behind. 

It must’ve been Lucille who last got him a gift, years ago. His leather jacket to be exact. He rarely wears it to work, not wanting some kid’s dirty paws to taint it. 

That’s just for him. 

After he walked out on you at Target, you’ve both kept your distance, neither one willing to make the first move. But now, it's a new week, with the staff party only a few days away. 

And here sits a little pumpkin on his desk, it's Christmas hat perched jauntily on top. With a low hum, Negan flicks the hat of the pumpkin as he heads out of his office, his sixth sense tingling. 

Letting the other end of your measuring tape zip back into place, Joey strolls the width of the hall back to you.

“So, you not a fan of the lanky type?” he asks, shrugging with as much nonchalance as he can muster “Since you rejected Negan and all”.

It's a real talent suppressing your cringe that fast. You force a tight-lipped smile, trying to set the record straight. 

“I never rejected— I mean, I would have if he—look, Joey, I don’t judge people or decide whether I’m attracted to them based on their—"

“Prefer them with some meat on their bones?" he cuts in, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when you can't come up with a satisfactory answer.

You’re about to let out a defeated sigh but then you wonder if you can use this to your advantage. 

"You know what really gets me going?" you ask, the words alone making Joey’s face go bright red. "A guy who isn’t afraid of what others think, who’ll help people without worrying if it pisses off... oh, let’s say a meaner, older man”.

Before Joey can even respond, a suspiciously cheerful voice cuts in from the doorway.

"There ain't no way I've just walked in on some dirty talk," Negan grins, leaning against the frame with that trademark smirk of his "And to make it even better, you're describing me, sweetheart! Damn, I didn’t realise I turned you on so much”.

Your jaw clenches but you try to keep things cordial. “Negan,” you give a small nod in greeting “I was just leaving”.

He glances over at the numbers written on your open notebook. “Oh, very busy, I see,” he remarks, before deciding that’s enough small talk “how about we have a chat?”.

“About what?” Joey asks, still standing there.

You glance at Joey, but it’s Negan’s pointed look that makes him realize he’s intruding. 

“I’ve got a class in here in about…” Negan checks his watch “ten minutes. How about you head to the storage room, grab whatever balls are in there, and line them up for me? I’ll let the kids blow off some of that pent up Monday morning energy with a game of dodgeball”.

Before Joey can protest, Negan tosses him the keys. Joey fumbles, barely catching them as he hurries off.

“You got it, si— bos— I mean, Negan!” he takes off down to the dusty storage room on the far side of the gym.

“Jesus Christ,” Negan lets out a low chuckle “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked to call me Daddy yet”.

A disgusted scoff leaves your throat and you grip your notebook a little tighter, ready to leave. And yet you want to stay, just to hear what Negan has to say.

Negan crosses his arm, eyes locked somewhere in the middle distance as Joey unlocks the storage room and disappears inside. You stay in your spot a few paces away from Negan, feeling the weight of the silence pressing on you, unspoken words hanging in the air.

After a long pause, he speaks in a much more serious tone “You know, you’re really good at pushing buttons”. 

Putting a hand up to stop him, you quickly clarify “The pumpkin is just a peace offering. I’m not expecting us to get along but I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats for the rest of the school year either”.

Joey hurries out of the with some basketballs and places them in a line along the centre of the hall before going to get more. 

“I get it, I’m not your favorite person—hell, I’m not anyone’s favorite person,” Negan continues once Joey’s gone “but at Target… damn, you don’t have to go there. Not like that”.

Sighing, you avoid eye contact. The words still feel fresh on your tongue but you know you have to face them. 

“I didn’t mean to go there,” you reply “I just… I imploded and I don’t want to excuse it by saying you pushed me to it… I could’ve been more careful with what I said”.

Your stomach drops when you hear him laugh bitterly. There’s no real humor behind it and your defenses go up in an instant. The warning lights are starting to light up in your head. 

“You’ve got a hell of a way of showing that,” he pauses, biting back something sharper “It’s… it’s not that simple for me and I get it, I’m an asshole. But to bring her up when I take it too far? Or piss you off just a little too much?”.

Some footsteps echo behind you as Joey drops more balls down in the middle of the room, heading back into the storage room and not noticing a battered handball roll over to join your conversation with Negan.

You watch as it rolls closer.

Shifting from foot to foot, Negan folds his arms. “I mean, shit, I know I shouldn’t have driven off without you but what do you expect me to do after you said that?” he asks.

A flicker of that well known frustration bubble before you sigh. “Maybe I expected you to—I don’t know—talk to me instead of running away every time things get tough? I don’t say these things to be a jackass to you, Negan, I say it because… well, yeah I’m pissed off but also because no one else has the balls to say it to you”.

The handball nudges your shoe.

“No pun intended” you add, a thought springing into your head.

You can see your walls going up, and the same with Negan. It’s a toxic cycle of annoying each other and then escalating it whenever you try to hear the other person out. You can tell he’s getting annoyed again just by rehashing it.

Time for Plan E… which you may or may not have just made up now impulsively. 

Getting restless, Negan switches to putting his hands on his hips “I do talk, damn it, but you just—”.

WHAM!

Before Negan can finish, a handball comes flying from your direction, slamming right into his chest with a loud thud. He stumbles back, eyes wide in surprise.

Negan doesn’t have to feign any shock. Not when that’s just happened. But he’s not angry about it. If anything, the random ball attack has made him break his serious streak. 

“Goddamn, woman! What the hell was that for?!” he looks at you, bewildered.

You let your notebook fall to the floor and take a few steps back, edging towards the centre of the hall. 

“Ever since you deserted me, you’ve been dodging me so I figured you’d be good at dodging that too” you shrug.

Placing a hand dramatically over his chest, Negan glares at you, though the playful anger in his eyes betrays any real frustration. “Really? A damn handball?” he tuts “The one time I’m tryin’ to be serious, and this is what I get?”.

You stop when you feel a soccer ball nudge the back of your shoe, letting you know you’ve successfully made it to the halfway mark of the hall.

“You piss me off,” you state the obvious “I piss you off. We piss each other off so fucking much and I am sick of it! Talking it out is just making us both angry again and that’ll lead to one of us saying something stupid – again”.

To show you mean business, you pick up the soccer ball. Joey, confused as ever, just continues with the job Negan gave him. 

“We both fucked up, I get that and I am sorry, Negan,” you say solemnly before huffing “but fuck! You just annoy me so much! And ’cause of that, I think we should just get this out of our systems… so, you game?”.

The hint of a smile creeps up on his face, playful offence melting into amusement.

“Y’know when two people need to get something out of their system, this ain’t the kinda balls that’re involved, sweetheart,” with a grunt he bends over and picks up the handball. 

You don’t move, fingers strumming against the soccer ball. Joey inadvertently fills up your supply of ammo by bringing out a few more balls out. 

“Are you seriously gonna make me play dodgeball to work this out?” Negan calls your bluff, narrowing his eyes at you as he rolls his shoulders.

“Unless you’re too scared”.

Damn you. Negan smirks, knowing full well you know he’s not about to turn this down. His eyes gleam with mischief  “Scared? Hell no, I just—”. 

Hoping you wouldn’t be expecting a ball hurled at you mid-sentence, Negan throws the handball, narrowly missing your head. It smacks off the ground and you gulp, releasing he’s not about to take it easy on you.

“…I just needed to warm up. Let’s do this,” Negan swings his arms to the side, stretching “Joey! Throw a few down this direction”.

As if signaling the start of a war, three balls roll past you and come to a stop at Negan’s feet, their new commander in chief. The second he bends down to grab one, you seize your chance. 

Without hesitation, you send the soccer ball hurtling through the air.

What follows is pure chaos— dodgeball in its most frantic form. Balls fly in every direction, slamming into walls, ricocheting off bleachers, and nearly knocking over everything in sight.

You dive to the side, narrowly dodging one of Negan’s throws, which sails through the air and wallops against the wall.

Neither of you is holding back now. Negan cackles, the sound of his laughter filling the hall as he effortlessly dodges another ball. 

Joey, meanwhile, has wisely retreated to the safety of the storage room, peeking out from behind the door.

He cowers, half-hidden, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut and trap him in there, caught between wanting to stay out of the chaos and not wanting to be accidentally locked inside.

Negan laughs in between throws, his enthusiasm spurring you on. “Goddamn! This is one cruel and usual punishment, doll” he pants, a wide smile gracing his face.

It’s odd to see him so happy. Not smirking or smiling just to get under your skin. He’s like a dog that’s finally been let out to run wild, truly in his element.

Trying a new tactic, you throw a ball low to the ground, hoping to get his legs but Negan effortlessly leaps over it. 

“Well, if you didn’t cut our argument short then you wouldn’t be getting a face full of balls” you throw another, aiming for his head. He dodges it, bouncing his own ball off the ground as he readies his aim.

Negan grins before tossing the ball straight at your chest. You barely catch it, smiling back at him triumphantly.

“I get it, alright? I was being an ass leaving you stranded… and for trying to wind you up so much beforehand,” Negan shockingly gives a genuine apology “But you can’t just throw stuff at me and call it a ‘game’!”

Bouncing on your heels, you think carefully of your next move. Sure, you’re a little out of breath but this is the most fun you’ve had all month.

“I can if it makes you listen,” you quip back before issuing another apology of your own “look… I didn’t mean for what I said to be so harsh, okay? I was just mad. I don’t want to be that person, but sometimes you’re so damn stubborn… it gets under my skin”.

Negan slows his movements, watching you carefully for a second. The playful energy fades just enough to let sincerity peek through.

“I’m sorry, you’re sorry, can we go back to planning this awful party now?” he asks, surprising even himself by still wanting to help with this damned thing.

Throwing the last ball at him, you manage to catch Negan off guard and hit him square in the shoulder. “One condition, you actually put in some effort” you reveal your single demand.

“No promises but I’ll try. Alright?”.

With a half-hearted laugh, you step away from the ball and approach your opponent.

“Alright” you stick out your hand. Negan looks down at your hand, back up at you and finally, he shakes it.

There’s a moment of quiet, both of you catching your breath as the ridiculousness of the game breaks the tension between you. “I gotta say,” you pant slightly “you’ve got one hell of a throw”.

He laughs, nudging one of the balls to roll back toward the center of the room. “What can I say, I’m good with my hand” that familiar smirk is back, but surprisingly, it doesn’t irk you as much as it did before.

Still, you can’t resist sending a playful glare in his direction. Just to keep him on his toes.

Joey hesitantly steps out from the storage room, glancing around nervously. You watch as he clings to the door, ready to duck and dive at the slightest threat.

“Is it over? Who won?” he asks, his voice cautious.

Negan looks over at him, a grin still on his face. “The school did,” he calls out “considering it’s still got us two fucks planning this party”.

You glance back at Negan, finding his eyes still locked on you, studying you with an intensity that makes something stir in your chest. 

His voice lowers, smooth and almost too casual, as he asks, “If I call you later, will you pick up? To talk about the Christmas party, of course.”

You let a slow smile spread across your face, leaning into the moment. “I might reject your call, just out of instinct,” you tease, feeling the playful tension in the air.

Joey, clearly happy the dodgeball war has finally ended, at least for now, yells over with a grin, “You should definitely pick up!”.

You raise an eyebrow at the advice but there’s a warmth in your smile. “Like you said,” you nudge Negan lightly, the hint of something more lingering in your voice “no promises, but I’ll try”.

And with that, the mood between you both lightens, the game being an unexpected but fitting resolution to all the unspoken things between you.

From the doorway, Negan’s class of teens wait, unsure whether this is something that should be interrupted. 

A mixture of horror and amusement is plastered across their faces. “You owe me ten bucks,” Ron leans over to Carl and whispers “I told you they’re definitely banging”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line keeps you entertained after school. You had a few last minute presents to pick up and get ready for shipping, hoping an influx in gifts back to your parents will ease the blow of you not being home this Christmas. 

It’s a topic you try not to think about, let alone mention it to any friends you have here. And by ‘friends’ you do mean work colleagues , considering you haven’t exactly done a lot of socializing since you moved here. 

Reading the steady flow of messages helped ease the guilt of not travelling home though. And, you were actually given a reason to interact and send in some of your own messages! 

Most of it was you letting the others know more details about the party; what time to be there, dress code, are plus ones allowed.

Bustling up to the door of your apartment, you quickly send a text saying the party will start at 6 as you make your way inside. 

You don’t even have time to shut the door behind you when your phone pings with a private message.

Negan: isn’t 6 too early?

You: I thought it was a little late actually 

Negan: sounds like you’ve been to many parties

Negan: lol

Asshole. Ever since group chat started buzzing with life, Negan has been sharing his running commentary with you.

He still hasn’t sent a text into the group chat but seems to have no problem reading what’s being said and sending his thoughts to you in private messages. 

Kicking off your shoes and turning on the lights to your place, you decide to leave him wait for a response. Right now, your main priority is getting a well nourished dinner… which means microwaved popcorn and watching whatever Christmas movie you can find on Netflix. 

Poking the time into the microwave, you wander from room to room; going into the bedroom and quickly changing into some pyjamas, going to the bathroom to snag a few wipes for your make-up, before heading back to the kitchen, just in time to stop the microwave. 

You: wow I didn’t realize you were aching for another round of balls being thrown at you 

With your Christmas lights on, snacks at the ready and big glass of soda, you settle in for the night when… ping!

Negan: for that, you’re not getting your Christmas present until after the break

You debate throwing your phone onto the other side of the couch and simply ignoring him but he is unfortunately entertaining.

You: your the literal grinch, I know you didn’t get me anything 

It may have taken a while but you can finally feel yourself relaxing when it comes to Negan. Maybe all you both needed was the game of dodgeball to get past all that previous turbulence. 

You’re understanding his sense of humor, how he’ll flirt just for the hell of it and how he’s all bark and no bite. If you don’t fall for his charms and throw yourself at him after his first few attempts, Negan just flirts for fun.

Holding your phone in one hand, you use your remote to navigate through the tv channels with the other, stopping when you get to the Netflix app. With a ping, your attention is back to your other hand.

Negan: are you asking me to roleplay? ;)

First off, ew. Secondly, what the fuck, why does he have to make it weird? Well, maybe that’s the winky face’s fault but either way, you sneer at the message. You keep your response short, sweet and to the point.

You: perv

He responds immediately.

Negan: That’s not a no. I’ll even bring my santa hat

You: you’re right it’s not a no, it’s an absolutely NOT

You: and a Santa hat isn’t grinchy enough 

Getting flooded with notifications, your attention is briefly brought back to the teachers group chat.

Glancing at the top of your screen, you catch fragments of the ongoing conversation. Eugene and Aaron seem to be deep in a back-and-forth, trying to settle what the true definition of "casual attire" really is.

Negan: yes it is, he wore one in the movie

Negan’s private message grabs your attention and you try to ignore what’s happening in the group chat, for now.

You: still not grinchy enough 

You stare at your phone for a few moments but there’s no reply. Oh well. Directing your attention back to the tv, you open Netflix and begin browsing for some stereotypical Christmas romance. 

Across town, Negan picks up his controller again, his eyes locked onto his tv screen as a new team deathmatch begins.

His fingers work swiftly, selecting his loadout with practiced ease. Negan’s character moves forward, entering a tornado of bullets and death. 

He takes down two players in quick succession but before he can reload, some idiot with a rocket launcher blows him to pieces in a fiery explosion. Frustration bubbles up as he watches his character's remains scatter across the screen.

“Fuckin’ ass” Negan mumbles, checking his phone as he respawns. 

Normally, Negan would have his headset on, letting the pent-up frustration of the day spill out as he argues with whatever tween is shrieking down their mic. But tonight he’s opted to go for a quiet evening. 

Instead of unleashing his usual barrage of insults, he mutters them to himself under his breath.

As he fumbles to quickly type a message back to you, a smirk creeps across his face. He knows your reaction will be priceless. The way your eyes narrow and that subtle flush creeps up your cheeks whenever his teasing or flirting goes just a little too far.

You glance down at the message, and for a brief moment, your heart stops. You quickly look away, eyes darting to the search bar on your TV, trying to focus on anything else to steady your racing thoughts.

But after a deep breath, you force your gaze back to the screen, almost afraid to read it again. 

The words are unchanged, still sitting there, but your mind can't seem to process them. It's the same message, and yet, you find yourself unable to believe it.

Negan: What if I bring my green fursuit? Is that good enough?

Weird message, sure, but that’s not the shocking part. Swiping open the message, it doesn’t bring you to your private conversation with Negan.

No, instead you’re taken to Alexandria High’s Teachers Midlife Crisis Support Line, where Negan’s message is there as clear as day. 

Oh my god.

You can’t control your reaction, immediately going out of the group chat and to your contact info on Negan. Without a second thought, you hit call.

It rings once, twice and on the third ring, he answers. It’s like you have no autonomy anymore, simply letting your body work without any consultation with your brain. 

Negan is in the midst of trying to figure out of to delete a messages when your call comes through. When he answers, your name alongside his note of (good ass, weird at flirting) which he will have to change later to (good ass, great throw) lights up as you laugh down the phone to him.

“Oh my fucking god!” you basically squeal “how the fuck did you do that? Oh my g-”.

You can’t finish your sentence before your own laughter cuts you off again.

He stays uncharacteristically quiet but that doesn’t hinder you. With your other hand, you have to drop the tv remote to clutch your stomach, a pain beginning to linger from the laughter. 

“Now that, that has made my Christmas” you try to quieten your laughter and on the other end, you finally hear a chuckle.

“I mean, a green fursuit? Where the fuck did you come up with that?” you have to wipe a tear away.

“That’s the shit Jim Carrey had to wear,” his voice seems a little tight but he’s still chuckling “fuck’s sake, that’s it, I’m switching schools”.

Your laughter simmers down to a giggle “Quick, just delete the message before anyone else sees it!”.

“But how the fuck do I do that?” he blusters, a strange mix of self-assertiveness and panic coating his voice. 

You know you should stop laughing by now but everytime you can feel yourself gain some control over your laughter, you think of the situation at hand and lose it again.

“Just… just hold down on the message and… and wait until the different tabs pop up a-and then… you just have to tap delete” you struggle to get the words out, holding your nose in one hand to stop yourself from snorting.

Now that’s something you know Negan would pick up on, immediately directing all attention to that instead of his hilarious blunder.

“Fine, I’ll try that” he says gruffly before hanging up. You continue to laugh the second he’s gone, flopping onto your side and burying your head into the couch cushions. 

You drop your phone beside you, but only so you can stuff some popcorn into your mouth. Going for the phone again, you swiftly go back to the group chat to find the message has disappeared, and in its place a simple yet ambiguous message from the service provider.

*This user has deleted their message*

Before you can even tap out of the group, the phone starts to ring in your hand. You doesn’t waste any time answering, especially now that your giggles have subsided. 

“It’s gone,” you tell Negan, trying your best to sound serious “now all it says is that you deleted a message”.

“But does it say the fuckin’ message?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I literally just said it doesn’t,” you reiterate “do you listen at all?”.

Negan huffs loudly, muttering something under his breath. “And what was that?” you ask pointedly, wondering why you even answered the phone again. 

His huff turns into something of a chuckle “My ears must be fuckin’ deceiving me cause it just sounded like you used your teacher voice on me”.

“And what if I did?” you challenge.

He chuckles again, before letting out a teasing scoff “How the hell am I the one getting scolded? Shouldn’t you be tryin’ to comfort me for that shit? I mean, I’m fuckin’ traumatised over here”.

“You’re not the only one traumatised, did it say who saw the message?” You pop some more popcorn into your mouth.

“How the fuck would I know that?” Negan asks, leaving the lobby he’s in and going back to the game’s home screen.

“Damn, your age is really showing now,” you mumble but make sure to say it loud enough for him to hear “you swipe the message and it shows you who’s read it and who hasn’t yet… but you can’t do it now since you deleted it”. 

You may or may not have gone up an octave when you said that last part just to tease him.

“Well, that’s dumb. What’s the point in knowing how to do that when I can’t do it now?”.

“Because I thought you’d have the initiative to check before you deleted it,” you goad “jeez, how old are you? You really know fuck all about technology”. 

Negan retorts an equally goading reply, causing you both to quickly fall into their routine of bickering back and forth. “How old am I? I think that only matters if you have a thing for older men” he quips back.

“Only for older men in green fursuits” you tease.

“That can be arranged”.

Staring at the search bar, your perfect romantic Christmas movie so close yet so far away, your attention drifts away from the TV as you prop your feet up comfortably.

The next half hour slips by effortlessly. The conversation flows easily, a mix of casual banter and more personal exchanges, the kind of talk that somehow feels natural between you two. Time seems to slow as you get lost in the rhythm of the conversation, the world outside fading away for just a little while.

Negan raises an eyebrow, balancing his phone between his shoulder and neck.

“And should I even bring up the staff party?” he asks with a grin. Another round of gunshots echo in the background but this time, you don’t question it. Negan’s already had to fill you in on his unconventional form of therapy; video games.

“Ugh,” you sigh “I think the decorations are mostly done. I grabbed a few more things while I was out earlier… but honestly, the worst part is going to be setting it all up on the day. Other than that…”.

You think of the list in your notebook. “We still have food and drink to figure out” you recall “we gotta sort out music too but I was hoping we could just use the speakers in the sports hall? Just plug in a phone and turn on someone’s Christmas playlist“.

You hold your breath, bracing for the inevitable disagreement. You can already imagine the gruffness in his voice, the hard veto against it as Negan huffs and puffs “My speakers in my hall?! Never! I ain’t letting their dirty hands anywhere near my sound system!”.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Negan replies, to your surprise.

“Really?” You pause, wondering if this qualifies as a Christmas miracle.

“Uh-huh,” he continues, another round of gunfire crackling through the phone. “The other Coach Smith owns the speakers, so we get full reign of them. Besides, it’s the least he can do while he’s off spending the holidays in Jamaica”.

That makes more sense. 

“So that just leaves food and drink” you smile, feeling a little more hopeful about the party.

Negan lets out a long sigh as the match ends. Getting up, he holds his phone properly as he wanders to the kitchen for a beer.

“Buying the booze will be fine,” he dismisses “we just gotta go clear the shelves of a liquor store, pick up a bit of everything”.

You nod along. “Yeah, the booze will be the easier of the two… but the food, on the other hand…” You trail off, sucking in air through your teeth.

“Can’t we get the home ec teachers to do it?” he suggests casually “Carol’s fine. She’ll be a hardass about it, but she’ll probably do it”.

“I think I’ve run out of favors with Carol,” you admit “she was the one who picked me up from Target after you pulled that whole disappearing act”.

Negan pulls a face despite you not being able to see. “So just cold finger food snacks, then?” he suggests.

“Yeah, that works,” you agree reluctantly, then suddenly remember “Actually! Speaking of food… did you hear about Gregory eating a student’s pancakes?”.

Negan lets out an amused chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “Jesus Christ, you really are a gossip” he shakes his head, the action more affectionate than he’d like to admit.

You laugh “Oh, shush, you love it”.

By the time you’ve filled Negan in on the school gossip and finally hang up, you’ve finished your popcorn, something Negan quickly caught onto, feigning offense that you were snacking during the call. 

After exchanging a dozen “goodbyes”, you finally hang up, letting out a long breath. 

You glance at the search bar on your TV, offering it a sympathetic look before you turn the screen off, resigning yourself to the fact that it’s time for bed.

Negan finishes his beer, the empty bottle clinking against the counter as his gaming system automatically switches to standby mode. He stretches, then heads towards his bedroom. 

As he pushes open his bedroom door, he chuckles to himself, imagining how chaotic things would’ve been if you were actually here with him and not just a voice down the phone— discussing party plans, laughing over gossip, probably snacking in the middle of it all. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and for a brief second, there’s something deeper in his eyes. But it’s something he doesn’t let himself dwell on. 

The thought of you here, next to him, fills him with a longing he can’t shake and yet he yearns to bury deep deep down. He sighs softly, the quiet of the room settling around him as he pushes the thought away and drifts off to sleep.

[kathlare]

the heart's echo

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando spends time with his best friend, Max, at a MotoGP event, where Max notices Lando’s lingering attachment to Amelie through her social media posts. A candid conversation reveals Lando's unresolved feelings for her, despite the time that's passed and their complicated history.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

August 6th, 2023 - Northamptonshire, United Kingdom

The warm British summer air was buzzing with energy, filled with the hum of engines revving and the chatter of excited fans at Silverstone’s MotoGP weekend. Lando Norris had been attending the event with his best friend, Max Fewtrell, who had been as much a part of Lando's racing journey as anyone else. Max was a solid rock in his life—honest, blunt, and always willing to poke fun when the situation called for it.

They were sitting in a VIP lounge, watching the pre-race activities unfold, when Max caught a glimpse of Lando's phone screen. Lando didn’t notice at first, too distracted by the noise in the room, the chatter of other people, and his own wandering thoughts. But Max did. And what he saw wasn’t the usual stream of racing news or memes.

It was Amelie.

Her Instagram feed was front and center, the familiar sight of her vibrant posts catching Lando’s eye. He was scrolling through her latest photos from her concerts. Each post was meticulously curated—an artist’s passion reflected in every image. But Lando wasn’t just scrolling through her feed out of idle curiosity. There was something more there, a quiet ache behind his eyes as he tapped through every post.

Max raised an eyebrow, leaning over to peer at Lando’s screen. —Mate,— he said with a smirk, —are you actually stalking her right now?—

Lando froze, his thumb pausing mid-scroll. He looked at Max, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. —No. Just… just looking at her posts. They’re, you know, everywhere. She’s doing well.—

Max leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. —Sure. Whatever you say, mate.— He leaned in closer, his voice dropping in mock seriousness, —Is this the part where you tell me you’ve totally moved on?—

Lando sighed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his phone into his pocket. —Stop, Max.—

—Mate, come on, I know you better than that,— Max teased, nudging Lando with his shoulder. —You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?—

Lando opened his mouth to deny it but stopped himself. The truth hung in the air like a thick fog, and for the first time in a long while, Lando let himself admit it. —Yeah… I guess I am.—

Max didn’t hesitate. —You’re still in love with her, Lando.—

The words hit harder than Lando had expected. He’d been running from the thought for months, burying it under the distractions of racing, relationships, and whatever bullshit he could get lost in. But hearing it out loud—he couldn’t deny it. There it was.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. —I don’t know, Max. I mean... it’s been a fucking long time. We haven’t talked in over a year.—

Max leaned back, considering it for a moment. —So? Does that mean you just forget everything? You and Amelie were good, mate. I’ve seen it myself. Even after all the drama, I don’t think you’ve really moved on. But you’ve been pretending to.—

Lando’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to think about it, but Max was right. He’d buried that part of himself, pretending it didn’t matter while casually seeing Magui Corceiro. Sure, it was easy, no strings attached. But every time he saw Amelie’s face—every time he saw how happy she was, living her dream—it felt like a punch to the gut.

—Why did you have to go and bring her up again?— Lando muttered, his voice quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than Max.

—Because it’s obvious, mate,— Max replied. —You’re still carrying a torch for her. I know you, Lando.—

Lando leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen in front of him, the lights and sounds of Silverstone almost blurring into the background. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to feel it. But he was getting tired of pretending.

—I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it, Max. I messed up. I fucked everything up when we were together. It wasn’t just the distance or the fact that I got caught up with other people... it was me. I was stupid. And now... now, she’s living her dream. She’s got everything she ever wanted. And I’m still sitting here, like a dumbass, thinking about what could’ve been.—

Max’s tone shifted, no longer teasing but serious. —Maybe it’s not too late, Lando. Maybe you need to stop pretending and go for it. Go fix things with her. You’re the one holding back. You keep telling yourself she’s moved on, that she doesn’t care anymore. But you don’t know that. You haven’t even tried.—

Lando ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his eyes. —Max, I’m not some fucking idiot. You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know what we’ve been through. I don’t think she’s gonna want to even look at me after everything that happened. It’s been too long, too much time has passed.—

—You’re right,— Max said, his voice softening. —It’s been a while. But does that mean you should just give up? Because, let me tell you something, Lando. If you don’t do something about this, if you keep pretending it doesn’t matter... you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.—

Lando swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his stomach. It was hard to admit, but Max was right. There was a part of him that had always believed they’d find a way back to each other. But it felt like an impossible dream now. Amelie had moved on. Hell, he’d moved on. Sort of.

—I’m not sure, man. I’m pretty fucking sure that if I went to her now and told her I wanted to try again, she’d just laugh in my face,— Lando said, the bitterness creeping into his words. —She’s got a life now. She’s got everything she ever wanted. And I’ve got... what? A situationship with someone I don’t even care about? Yeah. That sounds great.—

Max leaned forward, looking at Lando with a serious expression. —Mate, you’ve got to stop making excuses. You know how much she cared about you. And if you still care about her, then you’ve got to give it a shot. You’ll never know unless you try.—

Lando’s chest felt tight, the weight of Max’s words sitting heavily on him. Was he really ready to face that? To confront his past mistakes and ask Amelie for a second chance? Or would she just reject him? Laugh at him?

—I don’t know,— Lando muttered, more to himself than to Max. —I don’t think I can handle getting rejected again. Not by her.—

Max didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between them. Finally, he clapped Lando on the back. —Well, mate, you’re gonna have to decide sooner or later. Because if you don’t, you’re just going to keep lying to yourself. And deep down, I think you know the truth. You still want her.—

Lando exhaled slowly, his mind spinning with all the possibilities. —Yeah. I still want her,— he whispered, the realization hitting him with full force.

Max nodded, leaning back in his chair. —Then go after her. Don’t waste any more time.—

Lando sat in silence, staring off into the distance. Max’s words echoed in his head, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think about Amelie—not just as the girl he used to be with, but as someone he might still want in his life.

The future was uncertain. But one thing was clear: he couldn’t keep running from his feelings.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to face them.

[sysig]

Wuh oh (Patreon)

Bonus:

The novel experience of being crushed by a giant rock, a visual metaphor

[reminiscentrainclouds]

Watching the last season of The Dragon Prince with my brother and I've already cried at least 3 times. We're only on episode 2.

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry

[mellotronmkll]

This is not a new thought cos the whole autism allegory thing is all anyone talks about when it comes to data of star trek fame but it's so crazyyy how his whole thing is that he says he doesn't have emotions just because everyone has always told him he doesn't have emotions and because he doesn't have the ability to outwardly express emotions other than trying to mimick the way other people express their emotions and so that's just led him to convince himself he doesn't have emotions whole time he's feeling things deeply 😂 ummm it is just Crazy

[readerrabbitsuperfan]

jeff and britta are bi4bi but neither of them realize it