#and I'm not really looking for a relationship right now

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Motion Sick

pazzi series

Theme: homoerotic friendship in all it's messy glory... iykyk

A/N: My personal life is a hot mess and I needed to write some therapeutic angst. Not sure where this story is going to go, but it's going to be a slow burn, it'll get better eventually because I'm a hopeless romantic. I just don't know how often I'll update -- might depend on whether you like this or not?

Warnings: cussing

WC: 4.6K

**** Chapter 1 ****

The coffee isn’t working.

Paige knows this not because she’s finished half of it and still feels like her brain is running three seconds behind her body, but because she’s staring into the murky liquid like it holds some kind of cosmic answer, and all it’s doing is making her feel more nauseous. She shifts in the seat, blinking against the way-too-bright lights of the student center, her sweatshirt hood half-draped over her head in an attempt to block out the world.

Regret is a funny thing. It always hits in layers.

First, there’s the easy kind of regret—the kind you can trace back to one stupid choice. She shouldn’t have had that last tequila shot. Or the one before it. Honestly, she probably shouldn’t have gone out at all. But at 8:47 p.m., Amari had sent a text that just said “Thirsty Thursday 😈” and Paige barely hesitated.

She didn’t even respond. Just stood up, grabbed the cleanest jeans off her floor, and smeared on some mascara with the same mechanical energy she used to lace up sneakers before a game. Her limbs moved before her brain could argue. And maybe that was the point—maybe she didn’t want to think too hard about it. About what staying in meant. About how quiet her room had gotten lately. About how it’s easier to make noise than sit with silence.

So she went.

Now it’s 8:43 a.m., and her body feels like it was hit by a bus named Jose Cuervo.

She slumps lower in the armchair, tugging her hood a little tighter, phone glowing dimly in her palm as she scrolls Instagram reels she won’t remember watching. Somewhere in her peripheral vision, someone drops a backpack too hard and her head pulses. Everything feels too loud. Too sharp.

She should be in the gym. Correction: she wants to be in the gym. Correction: she can’t be in the gym.

Not really, anyway.

Her knee aches again, like it always does when she thinks too hard about the way things were supposed to go. It’s not the sharp pain anymore—just this low, nagging throb that lives there now, like a shadow she can’t shake. A ghost of the season she was meant to have. She shifts in the chair, trying to stretch it out, but nothing helps. Not really.

It’s junior year. The year she was supposed to lead. The year they were supposed to run it back, take what almost was and turn it into what should’ve been. She’d played through pain last spring, limping through the tournament with one leg and a lot of adrenaline, and she’d still nearly gotten them there. This year was meant to be the redemption. The banner year. Twelve.

But instead, she’s sitting in the student center at 8:47 a.m., head pounding, sweatshirt wrinkled and smelling vaguely like someone else's perfume—she doesn’t remember who, and she doesn’t care enough to figure it out. Half-hungover. Tired in a way sleep won’t fix. And mad at the world. Or maybe just at herself. She can’t tell the difference anymore.

The scroll continues. Likes. Highlights. People pretending their lives are together.

She thinks about turning her phone off. Maybe skipping class altogether. What’s one more absence in Family Interaction Processes? The idea of sitting in a circle and talking about “attachment theory in parent-child relationships” feels laughable. She can’t even attach to her own future right now.

So yeah. Maybe she just… won’t go.

Then it happens.

The laugh.

It floats in, sharp and sudden, before the doors even fully open. Light and familiar. Too familiar.

Paige’s stomach flips, slow and mean. Her hand freezes mid-scroll.

She doesn’t even have to look to know.

But of course she does.

Her head lifts before she can stop it—eyes flicking toward the entrance on pure reflex.

And there she is. Azzi.

Like the universe knew Paige was already on the verge of spiraling, and thought, you know what would be funny? Let’s really f**k her up today.

There’s a beat—maybe two—where Paige just watches. Where time slows, and everything else in the room goes fuzzy around the edges.

Azzi strolls in like a damn movie scene. Hair pulled back in that effortless way that always drove Paige crazy. UConn warmup hoodie unzipped just enough to reveal the fitted black crop top underneath. Surrounded by a crew of teammates like they’re all just living their best lives on a sunny Friday morning.

And then there’s him.

Derrick Fucking Jones.

Paige’s lip twitches before she can stop it. Of course he’s here. Of course he’s walking beside her—no, with her. Hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like they fit. Like it’s always been him. And Azzi’s smiling—really smiling—like he just said something that made her laugh from the center of her chest.

It looks easy. Simple. The kind of moment you’d catch at the end of a movie, all golden light and soft focus, two people falling into step like it’s meant to be.

And Paige? She’s the one on the outside looking in. The one they cut to for a second too long—the sad ex in the background, watching it all unfold like a scene she was never written into.

Azzi laughs at something he says. The one Paige used to hear at 2 a.m., soft and sleepy, tangled somewhere between sheets and skin and promises they never said out loud. The one she could pull out with the dumbest joke, a look across the room, a meme sent with a single word: you.

And now it’s his. Or at least, it’s being directed at him. Her whole face lights up, dimples and all.

Paige feels the ache like a bruise being pressed. Old and buried, but never healed.

She yanks her hood further down, like maybe if she folds herself into this chair hard enough, they’ll all just walk past her. She’s not in the mood to play catch-up. Or pretend she’s okay. Or fake-smile through a conversation when she’s actively fighting the urge to throw up.

Her phone’s still in her lap, but her fingers have gone numb. Heart climbing somewhere into her throat.

And that’s when it happens—Aubrey spots her.

Of course, it’s Aubrey. Loud, observant, well-meaning Aubrey, who probably didn’t think twice before saying something to the group.

Paige doesn’t have to hear it to know. She sees the slight shift in posture. Aubrey’s arm gesturing. Caroline looking over next. Then Derrick. Then—

Azzi.

Their eyes meet like magnets that forgot how to unstick. And for a second, it’s like Paige forgets how to breathe.

Azzi’s smile fades. Just a flicker. Barely enough to catch unless you were looking for it.

And Paige always is.

There’s too much history in that split-second glance. Too many late nights and drawn-out silences. Too many “what are we?” conversations that circled the truth but never landed. Too much that was never said out loud, and even more that was.

And now all of it lives right there in the space between them.

Unsaid. Unresolved.

Unmistakable.

Paige forces herself to move.

She stands slowly, her knee stiff and unforgiving, throbbing in rhythm with the headache pounding behind her eyes. A full-body reminder of every bad decision she made last night—staying out too late, drinking too much. She grabs her coffee like it’s armor, like maybe it can steady her hands or mask the way she’s unraveling from the inside out. 

She nods once in their direction—cool, detached, like yeah, I see you but we’re not doing this today—and tips the cup toward them in a mock toast.

Then she walks.

Or limps, technically, but she’s trying real hard to make it look like swagger.

As she passes, the space between her and Azzi feels like static. Like the second she crosses the invisible threshold of proximity, the whole world holds its breath.

Azzi looks at her.

Paige looks back.

She wishes she hadn’t.

Azzi’s expression is unreadable, but her eyes are soft. And maybe that’s worse.

Paige doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t let herself feel the full weight of the eye contact burning into her back.

She does, however, catch Caroline’s voice—sharp and way too loud:

“Damn. She looks like shit.”

Cool. Thanks for that.

Paige clenches her jaw, ignoring the way her stomach turns again. She tightens her grip on her coffee and pushes through the student center doors like they wronged her personally.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s out in the cold morning air, hoodie still half on, knee screaming, heart pounding, and the bitter taste of coffee and something much worse lingering at the back of her throat.

Paige exhales a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding in. It’s shaky. Sharp. Cuts through her chest like glass.

She presses a hand to her stomach. Something tight coils low—nausea, regret, grief, shame. Could be all four. Her mouth tastes like acid and disappointment.

Why do I feel like I’m gonna throw up?

Is it the tequila still hanging around like an unwanted party guest? The venti iced coffee churning in her gut like cement? Or is it just—Azzi?

She blinks hard against the sunlight and veers left, scanning frantically for somewhere—anywhere—to get sick without making a scene. Her eyes land on a trash can just outside the library steps.

Barely makes it.

She leans over, hoodie sleeves bunched at her wrists, and throws up everything—coffee, milk, espresso, and whatever fragments of composure she had left. It comes up quick and bitter, and when it’s over, she’s left with her palms braced on the concrete, breathing heavy and eyes stinging.

Perfect. Really killing it today.

“Uh—are you okay?”

A voice. Neutral. Some kid in a beanie, looking mildly alarmed and also deeply unsure of what to do.

“I’m fine,” Paige mutters, wiping her mouth with the inside of her sleeve. “Bad coffee.”

The kid nods slowly, backing away like she might infect him with whatever brand of chaos she’s carrying.

Paige doesn’t blame him.

She stands, barely, and starts walking. Not toward class. Not toward anything productive.

Just… away.

Screw Family Interaction Processes. Screw being seen. Screw this whole damn morning.

Her dorm is too warm when she gets back. Too still. That kind of suffocating quiet that makes your thoughts louder. She peels off her hoodie, kicks off her sneakers, and crawls into bed fully clothed.

Head against the pillow. Eyes closed.

Please. Just an hour of sleep. A pause. A reset.

But her brain—traitor that it is—doesn’t cooperate.

Because of course it doesn’t.

Instead, like a scratched record, her mind queues up the scene she’s watched a thousand times before. Every blink brings it back sharper.

The night everything changed.

Paige turns over in bed, pulling the blanket over her head like it could block the memory out.

But it’s too late.

It’s already started playing.

One Year Ago

The lights inside Ted’s were low, but everything about Azzi still found a way to glow.

Paige leaned against the bar, half-sipping a drink she didn’t really want, the condensation soaking into her hand. The music was loud enough to drown out her thoughts—almost. The kind of bass-heavy, shoulder-to-shoulder chaos that used to feel like escape, but tonight just made her feel stuck. Like she couldn’t breathe right.

She spotted Azzi across the room before she even realized she was looking for her.

Same UConn hoodie. Same easy posture. That half-laugh she only gave to people who didn’t know how complicated she was underneath it all.

And then—him.

Some guy. Tall. Smiling at her like he was winning something. Paige had no idea who he was, and honestly, she didn’t care. All she could focus on was the way Azzi tilted her head back laughing at something he said. The way her hand brushed his arm as if it meant nothing. As if it always meant nothing.

Paige felt it in her chest—tight and sudden.

Not because it was new.

But because it wasn’t.

Because this had become a pattern. Azzi flirting with someone else while Paige watched from the sidelines—again. Because Azzi knew exactly where Paige was in the room and still chose to look right through her.

Her drink hit the bar a little too hard as she set it down, untouched.

No one noticed. Or maybe they did and chose not to say anything.

She pushed off the counter and started moving. Past the line for the bathroom, past the couple making out near the door, past the entire situation she never should’ve walked into in the first place.

And then—

The second the cool night air hit her skin, Paige felt like she might crack wide open.

She stormed out of Ted’s like the place had personally offended her, shoving through the crowd until she hit the sidewalk, breath fast, vision hot. The thrum of bass and clinking glasses still echoed behind her, but out here everything felt sharper—colder. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t mean to make a scene. Didn’t mean to lose control like that.

But watching Azzi, lit up and laughing, leaning just a little too close to some guy Paige didn’t even recognize, it had knocked the air right out of her. Not because it was new, but because it wasn’t. Because it was the same game, the same script they’d been dancing around since high school, and Paige had finally hit her limit.

She was halfway down the block when the voice hit her.

“Paige?”

That voice.

God.

Azzi.

Of course she followed her.

Paige turned slowly, already regretting it. Azzi stood under the glow of a streetlight, one arm folded across her chest, the other gripping her phone like a lifeline. She looked concerned. Like genuinely worried.

And that made Paige want to scream.

“What?” Paige snapped, sharper than she intended.

Azzi blinked. “I just—saw you leave. You looked upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Paige scoffed. “Why? So you can feel better about yourself?”

Azzi flinched like she hadn’t expected that, and honestly, Paige hadn’t either. But the words were coming fast now, her heart racing to keep up with them.

“You don’t get to do this.”

Azzi stepped forward, cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

Paige laughed—sharp, bitter. “Seriously?”

She took a step closer, the emotion bubbling just beneath her skin now, too much to hold in.

“Do you even realize how messed up this is?” she asked, her voice shaking. “One night you’re in my bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and the next you’re out here acting like I don’t even exist.”

Azzi’s mouth parted slightly, stunned into silence.

“You hook up with me in secret, act like I’m yours when no one’s watching—and then you go out and flirt with guys like I don’t even fucking exist. You don’t get to be all over me in private and then play straight for the crowd. I’m not your secret. I’m not some backup plan you get to use when it’s easy.”

Azzi doesn’t respond right away.

She just stands there—frozen, blinking like she’s still catching up. Like the words hit her late and hard, like a wave she didn’t see coming until it knocked the air out of her.

Her mouth opens, then closes. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly across her chest like she’s trying to hold something in.

And Paige could see it in her eyes—the empathy, the sadness—but also something else. Distance. Like Azzi had already decided this was the only version of them that could exist, and Paige had just never caught on.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” she says quietly. “I swear to God, Paige, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Paige scoffs under her breath, turns half away like she can’t stand to hear it.

Azzi swallows. “I know I’ve been selfish. I know I’ve made this messy and confusing and not fair to you. But I wasn’t trying to use you. I just��”

She trails off, voice cracking on the last word.

Azzi’s voice hangs in the air between them, fragile and trembling. Paige wants to believe her—wants to reach for that version of the truth where none of it was intentional. 

But it doesn’t change what it felt like. What it still feels like.

She shakes her head slowly, the words slipping out before she can stop them.

“I can't keep doing this,” she says, voice rough. “This emotional whiplash. I’m getting motion sickness from it. And I’m exhausted, Azzi. I can’t keep pretending that this—we—doesn’t mess me up.”

Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t argue.

And that—more than anything—was her answer.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

She turned, slow and steady, and walked back toward the bar.

And Paige stood there alone on the sidewalk, chest cracked wide open, watching the one person she wanted most walk away without a fight.

She didn’t chase her.

She couldn’t.

Because this time, Azzi had let her go just as easily as she’d kept her.

Present Day

She blinks back into the dim light of her dorm room like she’s just resurfaced from underwater.

The memory clings to her like humidity—dense, sticky, impossible to shake. It sits in her chest, thick like smoke she can’t cough out, creeping up her throat every time she lets her guard down. Her stomach twists again—not from the hangover, not from the too-sweet coffee still curdling in her system, but from the weight of everything she’s been trying not to feel since that night outside Ted’s. The words she said. The ones she didn’t. The way Azzi looked at her—like she’d broken something that was already cracked and didn’t even know how to begin fixing it.She pulls the blanket tighter over her body, like it might shield her from the past. From herself. From Azzi.

I’m tired of this, Azzi.

She meant it. God, she meant it.

And yet—here she is, a year later, still tired. Still aching. Still wondering what would’ve happened if Azzi had said anything else besides “okay.”

The room feels too still, too quiet. Her hoodie smells like stale bar air and regret. Her phone buzzes somewhere in the sheets, but she doesn’t reach for it. She already knows it’s no one she wants it to be.

Azzi never texts anymore. Not unless it’s something team-related. Logistics. Group chats. Nothing personal. Nothing that says I miss you.

And now she’s walking around campus, hand-in-hand with Derrick fucking Jones, like none of it happened. Like Paige hadn’t handed her every vulnerable part of herself just to be told—okay.

She turns over onto her side, wincing as her knee twinges sharply beneath the blanket. Another lovely souvenir from the universe.

Not playing this season was supposed to feel temporary—just a detour. But watching Azzi from across the student center this morning, laughing like she didn’t feel anything at all, made Paige wonder if she’s the only one who ever thought they were more than a phase.

She stares at the wall, blank and gray and safe.

Paige has always been good at powering through. Rehabbing, recovering, restarting. But this? This emotional limbo? This silent ache every time she sees Azzi across campus, like a ghost of the future she wanted?

She doesn’t know how to push through that.

She exhales slowly and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes until all she sees are stars.

Maybe she should sleep. Maybe she’ll wake up and it won’t hurt as much. Maybe by tomorrow Azzi will just be her ex-best friend with a new boyfriend and Paige will finally start to mean it when she says she’s over it.

Maybe.

But for now, she just lies there.

Wishing she hadn’t looked up in the student center. Wishing she hadn’t left Ted’s that night. Wishing, most of all, that she could forget what it felt like when they still felt like a “what if” instead of a “never.”

Azzi

Azzi shouldn’t have looked.

She knew Paige was there the second Aubrey nodded toward the corner booth. Felt it like static in her chest. Knew it in the same bone-deep way she used to know when Paige was about to pass her the ball—without words, without warning, just felt it.

And still, she looked.

Paige, hood pulled halfway down her face, coffee in hand, eyes dull like she hadn’t slept. Azzi didn’t need the commentary—Caroline muttering “She looks like shit” under her breath—to know how wrecked she was.

Paige had just stood, nodded toward them like they were strangers on a train, and walked off.

But she looked right at her.

That look.

The same look Azzi has tried and failed to forget for months. The one from that night outside Ted’s. The one she sees in her dreams when it’s late and quiet and her chest feels too tight to breathe.

That look still haunts her. Because she remembers what came right before it.

“You don’t get to be all over me in private and then play straight for the crowd. I’m not your secret.”

God.

Azzi swallows hard, still tasting regret behind her teeth. It’s been a year, but sometimes it hits like it was yesterday. The way Paige’s voice cracked. The way Azzi didn’t stop her. Didn’t chase her. Didn’t say what she should’ve said, even if she didn’t fully understand it then.

Even now—especially now—she doesn’t know if it was fear or selfishness that held her back. Probably both.

Derrick squeezes her hand, pulling her back into the present. “You good?”

Azzi blinks, forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

He’s nice. Safe. Predictable. He doesn’t ask too many questions, and he doesn’t make her feel like she’s walking a tightrope with her own feelings. And she knows, somewhere deep down, that she doesn’t love him.

Not like that.

Not the way she—

She cuts off the thought before it finishes.

Not the way she used to look at Paige.

They’re walking into the dining hall now, the fluorescent lights making everything look too sharp. Too sterile. She nods along as Caroline starts talking about practice later, but the words blur. All she can think about is the way Paige looked this morning—like she was barely holding it together. Like seeing Azzi hurt more than she’d ever admit.

And that makes Azzi feel worse than anything.

Because the truth is, she hasn’t stopped thinking about her.

She’s tried.

She filled her time with practice and people and pretending. Tried to let Derrick kiss her and convince herself it didn’t feel wrong. Let herself believe that the silence between her and Paige was necessary. That it was better this way.

But every time she sees her—across campus, on social media, in her dreams—something twists in her chest. Guilt. Longing. All the words she never said and still don’t know how to.

She should’ve said something that night.

Anything besides “okay.”

Because the truth is, Paige wasn’t wrong. She had kept her close when it was convenient. When it was safe. She liked the way Paige made her feel—steady, known, loved. But Azzi hadn’t been brave enough to reach for it out loud.

And now?

Now she walks next to a boy whose hand she’s holding and feels like she’s living someone else’s life.

She pulls out her phone under the table, opens Paige’s contact without thinking, then locks the screen again before she can even type a word.

Nothing she says now will fix it. Not really.

But still—Azzi can’t help but wonder.

If she’d just said don’t go that night… would Paige have stayed?

They pass each other all the time.

At practice, in film sessions, on the sideline waiting for treatment. It’s not that they don’t acknowledge each other. There’s nods. The occasional "you good?" in the weight room. A tossed towel. A shared laugh when Coach Geno goes on one of his rants and no one knows if he's serious or just dramatic.

But they don’t talk. Not really.

Not the way they used to.

Not the 2 a.m. texts. Not the playlists they used to trade. Not the inside jokes over Chick-fil-A or the FaceTimes from opposite ends of campus just because they couldn’t go more than an hour without hearing each other’s voice.

Now it’s polite. Controlled. Measured.

And it kills Azzi slowly.

Because Paige doesn’t look at her the way she used to. Not with that open softness, that teasing spark. Now there’s just this guardedness. This distance. Like Azzi’s been put in a box and labeled handle with caution.

Azzi knows she did that. She built that wall between them. She told Paige without saying it that her love—whatever it was, whatever it could’ve been—was too much. Too risky. Too real.

And now she gets to live with the version of Paige that doesn’t look at her like she used to.

She looks right through me now.

At practice, it’s almost worse.

Because they click on the court. Always have.

Azzi knows where Paige is going before she moves. Paige cuts backdoor and Azzi bounces a pass without looking. They’re telepathic, instinctive, frustratingly in sync. Geno eats it up. Teammates praise it like it’s magic. But Azzi feels it for what it is—muscle memory. Chemistry that never really went away, no matter how badly she tried to bury it.

Only now, Paige doesn’t cut. Not really.

Not since August.

Not since her ACL gave out during a pre-season practice—before classes had even started. One wrong plant, one too-fast drive, and everything came undone.

Azzi hadn’t even been in the gym that day. She heard about it from Caroline. And when she showed up to the training room, Paige was already sitting on the table, leg braced, eyes hollow, pretending like it wasn’t the end of something she’d been building toward for years.

Now, she runs the offense from the sideline like it’s second nature—clipboard in one hand, barking out reads with the sharpness of someone who still sees the game like she’s in it. And in a way, she is.

But it’s different.

Azzi watches her during drills, sees the flickers—Paige’s jaw tightening when the trainers roll out the ice, the way she shifts in her seat like her body still wants to move. Still wants to lead.

But she never lingers too long. Never lets it show. Never lets herself feel it out loud.

And Azzi knows better.

She knows what it’s like to want something so badly your chest aches—and to watch it move on without you.

Every day it eats at her. The silence. The space. The unanswered question hanging between them like fog.

Why didn’t you fight for her?

Azzi still doesn’t know.

She thinks about texting her all the time. Writing something that could undo a year of unspoken everything.

“I didn’t know what I wanted back then.” “I was scared.” “It was always you.”

But the truth is, none of it feels like enough.

Because Paige gave her everything. And Azzi gave her nothing.

She sighs.

You were scared to choose her. Now she’s gone.

[lovelybucky1]

i'm thinking about how do you think dad!matt would react to nudes/suggestive photos?

obviously matt can’t see them so im adding a little open relationship type thing with frank to this situation for some spice xx

you’re cuddled up with matt on the couch when your phone chimes. matt doesn’t mind you being on your phone while you spend time together, but when you pick it up and giggle quietly at the message, it gets his attention.

“who’re you texting?” he asks.

“no one,” you dismiss easily, focusing on your phone.

matt isn’t a fan of your non-answer, so he asks again, firmer this time. “who are you texting, sweetheart?”

his shift in tone makes you look up at him and the unamused expression on his face tells you not to push it.

“frankie,” you respond and immediately prepare yourself for his reaction. matt knows you fool around with frank when he’s in town. he certainly doesn’t encourage it but he allows it to happen because he wants you to be happy. that doesn’t mean he wants it rubbed in his face, though.

“yeah? what’s frank sayin’ that’s so funny?”

you bite your lip. you know there’s no point in trying to lie to matt. he’ll see right through it and it’ll only get you in trouble, but the truth won’t exactly give you a better fate. maybe you can get away with a half-truth.

“he said i look good in the picture i sent him.” matt hums in response.

“and what kind of picture was it?” fuck. matt is too familiar with your antics.

“mirror selfie,” you say as you continue to text frank.

dad caught me. you always get me in trouble

you get yourself in trouble, kid. tell red he’s missing out, because you look sexy as hell in those panties.

you’re heart skips a beat at the message. partly from the compliment, and partly because frank is sexting you while matt sits right there.

“what did he say?” matt asks. of course he noticed.

“what?” playing dumb has never worked for you, but at this point, it’s worth a shot.

“after your phone buzzed, your heart rate sped up. what did he say?” matt’s voice is low, not angry, but firm enough to leave no room for argument.

“he said you’re missing out because i look so good,” you confess.

“what were you wearing in that picture?”

“not much,” you say meekly. “just some panties.”

the clench of matt’s jaw is so tight it looks painful. “you’re sending nudes to your little boyfriend while you’re spending time with dad? that seem like a smart choice, sweetheart?”

god, you hate when matt gets like this. you’d rather him spank your ass raw than make you feel guilty about it.

“no, sir,” you say, unable to keep the pout out of your voice.

“tell frank you’ll talk to him later. right now, you need to spend some quality time with dad.”

i have to go. dad’s really mad at me

i want a picture of your ruined pussy when you’re done.

[heyimkana]

Hey Kana... I just saw my crush hugging another girl (it hurt me) because I've liked him for about 10 years. Can you make a short scenario about Jinwoo comforting a crying Reader?💔❤️‍🩹

omg babe 😭 i'm so sorry to hear that 😭 I hope you're doing much better now 🥺 i'm sorry this took me a while but i wanted to make sure i wrote something decent enough to cheer you up hehe

(i tried to keep the mood light and fluffy cause i figured you already cried enough afjslddsfsdf 😭. Also, to make it easier to read, I changed your crush's name to Kihoon LOL I hope that's okay!)

It’s late evening. Jinwoo’s apartment is dimly lit, wrapped in the soft glow of a few scattered lamps and the pale light bleeding through the curtains from the streetlamps outside. He sits on the couch, a stack of Hunter Association documents spread across the coffee table in front of him—urgent, of course—but his pen stills mid-sentence when a knock echoes through the apartment.

He already knows who it is. That familiar heartbeat. That unmistakable presence.

“Coming,” he calls, setting the pen aside as he stands.

When he opens the door, there you are—his childhood friend. The one he’s secretly loved for years. But tonight, you're not smiling. You look like the world cracked open beneath your feet.

“Hey, what happe—” Before he can finish, your voice slices through the silence.

“Oppa, you know how I always see you as a big brother, right?”

His brows pull together at the suddenness of your words, but his expression stays gentle. “Yeah, of course. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Can I be really childish and annoying for a minute?”

He can’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching. “You’re annoying every day, so I’m kind of used to it.”

You take a deep breath. And then—

“LOVE SUCKS!”

Jinwoo flinches at the sudden outburst, eyes wide. He glances down the hallway, half-expecting a neighbor to peek out, then looks back at you, ears still ringing. “That’s… a very loud opinion.”

“Oh, I’ve got opinions, alright!” you rant, unstoppable. “Love is overrated. Relationships are overrated. Anyone in love is either an idiot or a masochist! No matter how much you love someone, they’ll always fall for someone else. Someone prettier. With a nicer smile, or a better nose, or who can sing or cook or do stupid backflips or—ugh! BEING IN LOVE IS SO STUPID!”

Jinwoo stands quietly, watching you unravel—equal parts surprised and quietly amused. You’re fiery. Heartbreakingly endearing, even when furious.

“…And what brought this on?”

“No reason,” you say, waving your hands like you’re swatting the truth away. “I just think love is stupid. Don’t you agree?”

He sighs and steps aside to let you stomp in properly. “Alright, drama queen. Come in before you wake up my neighbors.” With a soft chuckle, he closes the door behind you.

“I told you I was going to be childish,” you mutter, collapsing onto the couch.

He follows, settling beside you, his voice gentler now. “Okay. So what really happened?”

Guided by that gentleness, that sincere concern laced with curiosity, your facade shatters, revealing a frail, doleful girl underneath. “I saw... Son Kihoon hugging Han Semi today. I guess they’re together now.” The exhale that escapes you carries a piece of a broken heart, your voice softening, cracking on the edges. “I know it's just a crush, but… I've liked him for ten years now. It hurts.”

His heart clenches. Seeing you like this—so raw, so wounded—makes something ache deep in his chest. He wants to pull you into his arms, to soothe you with his warmth, to kiss your temple to make you realize you’re not as alone and unloved as you think you are. But he doesn’t. He never does. Doesn’t allow himself to. 

“I get it,” he says softly. “Ten years is a long time."

You tighten your fists, your teeth sinking into your quivering lip. "I-if I cry, will you laugh at me?"

Jinwoo hates it. Hates that there's someone out there who makes you cry, and he can't do anything about it. Hates that you're crying over something that he can't help recover. He sighs, all due to the disappointment he holds toward himself. "No," he says, his smile tender. "No, I won't."

And with that, he strips you bare. You break down into tears, your nails sinking into your thighs before he pulls you close with one hand, letting you rest your face in the curve of his shoulder. He just sits there and wait, his fingers threading carefully through your strands, pacifying you without a word. But that's the comfort you desperately need. You didn't seek for advice, didn't want to be told white lies, you just needed a shoulder to cry on and he gave it to you, broad and warm with a calming, pleasant scent that soothes you to your bone.

He still hates it. If only he was the one you were in love with. He would've never made you feel this way. And he would've held your hand, and kissed your tears away, one by one, replacing them with silent affection.

After a while, you finally regain the strength to pull away. He smiles softly, fingers itching to brush away the tears. "Better now?"

"Yeah." You sniffle. "Sorry, I... got my snots all over your jacket. I've never seen you worn this before. Is it brand new?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"It's all right."

You look at each other and you find yourself trading chuckles. "God, I feel so much better now. Screw Kihoon. I don't need him. Not when I have you, right, Oppa?" You beam, bumping your shoulders together.

Jinwoo's lips tighten into a line but he forces them to curve. "You knew from the start, didn't you? That he didn’t feel the same way?”

You nod, your heart still aching over the thought. “Well, yeah… but it doesn’t stop the pain.”

Jinwoo watches as your lower lip trembles and you quickly turn your face away, blinking back the tears that threaten to emerge again. He stays silent, hands clenched in his lap. He wants to reach out. He always does. But he shouldn't.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he says, sympathy in his eyes. “At least now you can move on.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never fallen for someone who didn’t like you back, have you? I mean, look at you—if you liked someone, she’d be insane not to like you back. You wouldn’t get how this feels, Oppa.”

The words hit harder than they should.

He looks at you, lips parting as if to speak, but then—he hesitates. He wants to tell you. How wrong you are. That he knows exactly how it feels. That he lives it every day you smile at him and call him Oppa.

“You’d be surprised how wrong you are,” he says quietly.

You blink. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Jinwoo rises to his feet, trying to shake the weight in his chest. “Well... I’ve got ice cream. Want some?”

“Oppa…” Your voice is small, fragile, but there’s a shimmer in your eyes, a hint of gratitude, and a quite joy amidst the sadness. “Yes, please.”

A tender, affectionate smile adorns his lips. “Okay.” He ruffles your hair, like how a caring brother would, then heads into the kitchen. When he returns, he has a pint of ice cream and two spoons. Without a word, he sits beside you again, sets the ice cream between you both, and offers you one of the spoons. “All right, dig in.”

You grab the spoon with a sniff. “If I get fat, I’m blaming both Son Kihoon and you.”

Jinwoo chuckles, the sound low and warm. “If you get fat, that’s on you. I’m just here being a supportive friend in your time of crisis.”

You shoot him a look, lips twitching upward. “Couldn’t you have supported me in a way that didn’t involve ruining my waistline?”

He leans back slightly, teasing. “And how exactly should I have supported you, then?”

You tap your spoon against your chin, thinking aloud. “Hmm… What could the great S-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo do to make a girl happy?”

He hums to himself, playing along. “I could punch Son Kihoon for you.”

You gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Don’t you dare! He’s my precious one.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile falters for half a second. That word—precious—burns just a little too much when it’s meant for someone else. Jinwoo pokes your side again, light and playful. “You say ‘precious.’ I say… ‘punchable.’”

You laugh, finally. A real, full laugh. “You know, Oppa, you don’t act like this around anyone else, do you? In public, you’re always so serious. The stoic, silent type. But here you are, being a complete dork.”

“I see your mood’s improving,” he scoffs. “That sharp tongue of yours is back.” He shrugs then, more quietly. “I guess it just means I’m more myself around you.”

“Oh, I’m still upset, don’t get me wrong. But this ice cream is doing wonders.” When you glance at him, the impish gleam in your eyes softens. You brush your shoulder gently against his, eyes warm. “I’m glad you can be yourself around me. I feel the same way, too. That’s why I came here, you know? The moment I felt awful, my feet just… brought me here. Because I knew you’d somehow make it better. I always feel at ease with you, Oppa.”

His heart clenches. Every word you say is exactly what he wants to hear—just not like this. Not while he’s still just the “safe” one. The “comfort” one. The friend. But he swallows that ache down.

“Of course. Anytime,” he murmurs, forcing out a smile. “What are friends for?”

You pause, eyes a little hesitant when you stare at him. “Hey, can I… be completely honest for a second? It’s gonna sound really sappy. Maybe even cringe. Just warning you.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Go ahead. I’ll try not to cringe too hard.”

You set the ice cream on your lap and let out a slow breath. “You know how people say you can’t choose who you love?” You tarry, watching his face carefully. “Sometimes I think… if I could choose—if I could forget Kihoon for even a second—and choose someone to fall for… I’d choose you, Oppa.”

He turns still. 

It hits him like a quiet earthquake, everything shifting beneath his feet. It’s both everything he’s wanted to hear… and the most painful hypothetical he’s ever been handed. 

He looks down, struggling to keep his expression neutral. “And… why would you choose me?”

“A thousand reasons,” you answer instantly with a smile, tender yet radiant. “You’re kind. You’ve always been there when I needed someone. You protect me—even when you’re not physically there, I still feel protected. You’re blunt sometimes, but never cruel. You tell the truth when everyone else feeds me sweet lies. You’re strong, stronger than anyone I know. And I always feel safe around you. Comforted. Like being at home, surrounded by the people I love.” You slow down for a bit, voice quieter now. “You respect people—women, especially. You take good care of your family. I’ve watched you carry burdens most people wouldn’t survive, and you never ask for anything in return. Meanwhile, here I am sobbing over a guy who barely saw me. You’re everything I aim to be. I admire you so much, Oppa.”

He swallows hard. The lump in his throat is stubborn. “I… see.”

Jinwoo fixates his gaze on his lap before it slowly travels back to you. You’re smiling, relaxed, completely unaware of how deeply you’ve just wounded and uplifted him all at once.

“I don’t think I deserve all that,” he says. “I’m just… me.”

You nudge his knee with yours. “Exactly. That’s why I admire you. You don’t pretend to be anyone else. You’re just you.” Your grin stretches on your face, brighter than the sun. “You’re cool, Oppa. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

He wants to scream. Or laugh. Or just hold you and tell you the truth—that the girl who’s “lucky” enough to have him already exists. She’s sitting right here. And she doesn’t want him.

“Really?” he says instead, a little dry. “Any girl?”

You hum, scooping another spoonful. “Why? Do you have someone in mind?”

He tries to laugh it off. “No. Just surprised. You make it sound like I could have anyone I wanted.”

You tilt your head, chewing thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine anyone turning you down, honestly. She’d have to be insane.”

Every word is another twist of the blade. Jinwoo smiles—because he always does—but inside, his heart’s bleeding.

He watches you enjoy your ice cream, your expression soft and cheerful again. “How long are you going to keep eating that?”

“Shut up,” you grumble around another spoonful. “I’m eating my feelings, thank you very much. Also, I feel super embarrassed after that whole confession, so I need to distract myself with sugar and denial.”

He laughs softly, watching you avoid the conversation with spoonfuls of ice cream. You’re so cute when you’re flustered, and something about seeing you like this—curled on his couch, eating the comfort food he brought—makes his chest feel warm. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?" You tilt your head to the side. "Sure.”

He draws in a breath. The question is simple, but the answer might ruin him. Still, he has to know. “Hypothetically… if I told you I liked someone, what would you say?”

You blink, taken aback. “Hmm… I’d ask who the lucky girl is. You’ve never talked to me about girls before—so I don’t even know your type. But if you told me her name and she was, like, the worst person alive, I’d have to slap some sense into you.” Your body shakes lightly with mirth at the thought.

He smiles at that. It’s comforting knowing you'd be honest, even if it hurt. “But what if she’s not the worst? What if she’s actually… a really good person?”

That makes you pause. He notices your smile falter just a bit, your fingers stilling against your cup. “Well… I guess I’d be happy for you then.” You glance away. “And maybe a little jealous. You got to be in a relationship before me. But yeah… I’d be glad.”

His gaze lingers on your face. He should feel relieved—but all he feels is a sharp ache in his chest. “Yeah? You’d be happy for me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You toss him a small, earnest smile. “You’re like a brother to me, Oppa. If someone out there makes you happy, that’s a good thing.”

The word brother hits harder than it should. He swallows, hard. “Right. Of course.” 

“So… who is she?”

“What?”

“Come on, you’ve never asked things like this before. There must be someone in your mind. Who is it?”

His lips curve into a mischievous smile, a shield for the storm inside. “Not telling.”

You narrow your eyes. “That doesn’t sound fair. I told you everything about Kihoon.”

He shrugs with exaggerated indifference. “Welcome to a one-sided conversation.”

“You jerk. I take back every nice thing I said about you earlier. You’re annoying.” But you’re smiling, leaning toward him with that same stubborn determination that always gets him in trouble. “C’mon, Oppa. Just a hint?”

He chuckles at how relentless you are. “You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You pout. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll guess. You just nod if I get it right.”

“You’re turning this into a game now?” he says, trying not to laugh.

“I have to, don’t I? Cause you’re being a pain in my ass.” You finish your last drop of ice cream, setting the cup aside. “Okay, first guess—Cha Hae-In.”

He bursts into a soft chuckle. “Wrong.”

You gape. “Seriously? Not her? But she’s gorgeous!”

“She is,” he agrees, shaking his head, “but nope.”

You frown, deep in thought. “Uhh… Park Heejin?”

It amuses him further. You’re just naming all of the attractive girls now. “Nope.”

“Ugh. Who is it then?” You tap your chin, fully invested now. “I’ve got one guess left, right?”

He leans forward slightly, intrigued despite himself. “Mm. Make it count.”

You squint at him, ruminating for a moment, before your eyes brighten with enlightment. “Oh, I know. It’s been obvious this whole time. I’m a genius. The answer was right in front of me.”

His breath catches. Your confidence makes his heart hammer in his chest. 

You beam, your chin tilted upward in confidence. “It’s Joohee. Lee Joohee.”

Silence. Then—“What?”

“Joohee! You guys used to be super close. She liked you even back when you were still an E-rank. She’s the only one that makes sense.”

He stares at you, then bursts into laughter—half in disbelief, half in agony. “You… You think I’m in love with Joohee?”

You frown. “Why is that so funny?”

“God, you’re ridiculous,” he mutters through chuckles, shaking his head. “So, so stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

He finally calms down, meeting your glare with a gaze filled with both fondness and exasperation. “It's not Johee."

"Who, then?"

"I can’t tell you,” he says softly, his smile fading into something gentler, more vulnerable.

“Why not?” You pout again, more serious this time. “I thought we told each other everything…”

He hesitates. He’s standing on the edge of a precipice, heart pounding. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says quietly. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear. “If I told you… would you be mad?”

Your brows furrow. “Why would I be mad?”

“Just promise me you won’t be,” he says, his voice rougher now, almost pleading. “Whatever I say… just listen, okay? Don’t… walk away. Don’t hate me.”

You look a little unsettled, but you nod. “You’re scaring me, but… Okay. I promise.”

He exhales slowly, gathering every ounce of courage he has. “There’s something I’ve never told you. I’ve carried it for a long time… and I kept quiet, thinking it was better that way.” His voice is shaking now, his gaze locked to yours. “But being around you tonight, hearing the things you said… I just—” He breaks a little, his next line slipping out in a breathy whisper. “I don’t think I can hide it anymore.”

You’re silent, watching him. Listening.

“I… I’m in love with you,” he says at last and your breath hitches in your throat.

"What...?"

“I'm in love with you," he repeats, firmly this time, holding your gaze even though his own wavers, terrified of rejection. "I've been in love with you for a while and I’ve been trying not to be. But every time you walk into a room, everything else just... fades. You’re so important to me, more than anyone—more than anything—else. You drive me crazy, you’re stubborn, you’re impatient, and you’re loud—so loud—and you’re messy with your ice cream, and you call me annoying—but—” He stops for air, his heart thrumming, his voice reducing to almost a murmur. “I’d take all of that if it meant I got to stay by your side.”

You’re frozen in place, barely breathing. “Oppa—”

“And I know you don’t feel the same way,” he rushes, his head falling forward as he clasps his hands together, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping himself, trying to maintain control. “I know I’m just a friend to you. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t care more than that.” His voice nearly shatters. “You’re everything to me. And it fucking kills me because… I can’t have you.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise. He searches your face, waiting—dreading—your response. Every second feels like an eternity, like a pair of hands clasping tight around his throat.

And then, quietly, you say, “I… I’ve never noticed that you... feel that way about me.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, something brittle and small. “You’ve never noticed that I don’t talk to other girls the way I talk to you? That I don't treat them the way I treat you?” His heart races, every word scraped from the rawest part of him.

Your stomach flips. “No, I—” The words catch in your throat and you surrender with your shoulders sagging. “Since… Since when…?”

Jinwoo draws in a shaky breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “Years. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

If your heart hadn’t broken before, it’s crumbling to pieces now. “Y-years…?”

He looks away. “I always knew you didn’t feel the same. That’s why I never said anything. I was going to take it to my grave, but...” His voice falters, thick with emotion. You can hear the vulnerability trembling at the edges of each word.

You’re perched still on your seat. Your heart beats like a drum. “I... I don’t know what to say…”

He closes his eyes briefly, collecting himself. When he opens them again, he wears an expression that breaks your heart—so calm, so gentle, and yet unmistakably pained.

“It’s fine. Like I said, I know you don’t feel the same. I know this probably changes things between us, but… It doesn’t have to. If all you want is for us to stay friends... I’ll understand. I’ll… We’ll stay that way. I promise.” His voice is careful, low, hushed—like he’s offering something fragile that’s already starting to crack.

Your jaw tightens. Taking a breath, you steel yourself and capture his gaze. “Oppa, I... I’ve only ever thought of you as a brother and—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, quietly. He doesn’t flinch, but you can feel the weight in his voice. “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

You bite your lip, guilt twisting in your chest. There’s something else you want to confess, something that you’ve been buried deep down, too, just like his feelings, but you’re unsure if you should say it. No, he's not letting you say it. “I’m sorry…” It’s all you manage to say for now as your feelings are still in disarray.

He shakes his head, trying to soften the ache with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one being stupid—confessing when I should’ve just kept being your friend.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach. “Oppa, that’s not—”

But Jinwoo stands abruptly, not wanting to prolong the conversation. His disappointment hangs heavy in the air. His gaze everywhere but your face. “It’s already late. I should take you home.”

“You... You want me to leave?”

He hesitates, visibly torn. He wants to stay, to talk, to hope—but also to run. “It’s… for the best. We both need some space.”

His voice is flat. Controlled. It’s the only way he knows how to survive this.

You watch him, eyes shaking both in incredulity and heartbreak. He’s just going to end the conversation like this?

It doesn’t matter what you think. He’s already made his decision. Jinwoo snatches his keys, grabs you another jacket to protect you from the cold night air, and walks to the door, holding it open for you like he’s holding open the end of something you never thought would end.

You return to your feet, feeling like they’re shackled. And with every step you take, your heart begs you to stay. Begs him to turn around, and see you, and smile at you the way he always does.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t look at you, not anymore.

***

The car ride is suffocating.

Silence presses down like fog. Jinwoo’s hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed forward. He doesn’t acknowledge you, not even with a glance.

When he pulls up in front of your apartment, he shuts off the engine. The car goes still, painfully quiet. “We’re here,” he says, voice taut.

And it snaps, the patience and the self-control that have been thinning into a thread. “Oppa—”

He stops you with a call of your name. His voice is sharp, not angry—just strained, leaving your lips parted with nothing to say. “It’s… It’s really late. Just go inside and take a rest. I’ll see you around.”

Your chest tightens. It feels like rejection, like the door to your friendship is quietly closing. The words you had been composing all the way here crumble into dust. You step out of the car, still too rattled to say good night, and drag your feet toward the building, your heart aching.

Behind you, Jinwoo watches with every cell in his body begging him to reach out. To apologize. To talk. To run toward you and hug you and stroke your hair and explain why he doesn’t have the strength to look at you just yet. His hands tremble, itching to do just that, but he doesn’t move.

When you disappear from view, he drops his head into his hands.

“Fuck.”

He presses his forehead to the steering wheel, breathing hard, every breath an effort to stay in one piece. After a long moment, he gets out of the car and sucks in the night air. The cold air bites at him, but it’s nothing compared to the ache inside.

Then, out of nowhere, he hears it.

“Oppa!”

Your voice cuts through the night like a blade. His eyes snap open. You’re running toward him, eyes brimming with tears.

“What—” His voice catches. “Why are you here? I thought you went inside—”

“I hate you!” you cry, storming up to him. Your fists hit his chest as tears spill over. “You’re so unfair!”

He stumbles back, against the car, stunned. Your name tumbles off his lips but you don’t give him a chance to follow that with anything else.

“Years!” you shout, hitting him again, clouds of your hot breath painting the frosty night. “You’ve been in love with me for years and only now you decided to tell me?!”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He braces himself, overwhelmed by your emotion, by you.

“Why?” you choke out. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? If you had done just that, I would’ve... I would've...” Your voice breaks, and the rest falls into a sob.

His heart cracks with yours. He wants to hold you. God, he wants to. But he can't. He shouldn't. He clenches his fists at his sides, trying to stay strong, trying to understand what caused your emotions to flare like this. “Please don’t cry—”

“And whose fault is that, you idiot?!” you shout with no bite in your voice, only shivers. “You told me you loved me, and then you just assumed everything on your own. You didn’t even look me in the eyes. And then you drove me home without saying anything, told me we needed some space when all I wanted to do was to talk it out with you. Do you understand how you make me feel right now?”

He’s speechless. Your words hit like thunder, like truth. “I… didn’t think you’d want to talk to me after that,” he admits, his eyes downcast. “I assumed you felt awkward.”

“Yes, it was awkward! Of course it was!” you cry out. “It feels suffocating just to be with you right now but I don’t want it to end like this. I don’t want you to act cold or pretend like nothing happened. And I don't want you to look at me like that. Like you're breaking apart and you won't let me in, you won't let me help, and I—” You whimper. "I don't want to make you feel sad... And I don’t want you to avoid me..."

He exhales sharply, jaw clenched. “I don’t want to avoid you either, I just… I didn’t think you’d be this upset. I thought you hated knowing how I feel about you.”

“Why the hell would I hate knowing that you’re in love with me?”

He looks at you then, and the look in his eyes is almost unbearable. “Because you don’t love me back. You see me as a friend. As a brother. You don’t see me the way I see you.”

Your lip quivers. Your chest feels like it’s going to shatter from the pressure. “Idiot,” you whisper. Then you start pounding your fists against his chest again. “You’re such an idiot, Oppa!”

He lets you shove him. Lets you push him until his back hits the side of the car with a soft thud. He doesn’t resist—he just takes it. Takes every ounce of your anger and frustration, every fist pounding against his chest. His eyes never leave your face. They stay locked on your expression, your trembling lips, the tears slipping down your cheeks.

It hurts. Every strike is a dagger, not because of your strength, but the emotions you put in every pound. But Jinwoo doesn’t raise a hand to stop you. He accepts it all, as if your pain is the only thing anchoring him to this moment. And somehow, beneath the ache, he feels relief. Because you’re not indifferent. You're feeling—burning. And maybe, just maybe, that means there’s still something left between you.

Each word you throw at him, every tear, every blow, it sparks something reckless inside him. Hope.

He welcomes the pain, drinks it in. Needs it. It’s proof that you still feel something. He wants to believe that behind all the fury and heartbreak, there’s still a corner of your heart that beats for him.

So he stays still and takes it.

Because if there’s even a sliver of affection, no matter how small, it’s enough. He clings to it—your words, your tears, your touch. He needs to believe he doesn’t have to let go of you. Not yet.

He can’t stop himself, he can’t stop the flood of affection and love for you that’s rising up in his chest. His hand cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, his touch gentle and tender. He’s holding you as if you’re going to disappear if he isn’t in complete physical contact with you. His expression is soft, gentle, filled with tender emotion, while his eyes show the pain he’s in, the pain he feels in his chest.

He pulls you in, cradling you against his chest. He wraps his arms around you tightly, like you’re a lifeline, like he’s holding his world together by sheer force of will. His face buries into your hair, breathing you in. You soothe him, even in the middle of the storm.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His heart hammers in his chest as he holds you. This moment, fragile and fleeting, feels like a miracle. “I’m so sorry…”

“For what..?” you sob, burying your face in his chest.

“For everything,” he chokes. “For loving you in silence. For keeping it all in. For making you cry. For making you angry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

You don’t answer at first. You just hold him tighter, your own emotions unraveling, too raw to speak.

He holds you like you might slip away if he loosens his grip. Your warmth is a balm, your presence a blessing. He tightens his hold. His heart is a mess, barely stitched together.

Then you whisper, voice quivering, “Oppa… Can I be... completely honest with you for a second?”

His breath catches. He nods slowly, head still resting against yours, every nerve attuned to you.

“I… When you told me you loved me… I didn’t hate it. I felt—happy.”

He freezes. His heart stutters, then races. He tries to stay calm, tries to tether himself, but your words crash over him like a wave. “What… what do you mean?”

You lean back, just enough to look into his eyes. “A part of me, a huge part of me felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world to have a man like you say those things to me. I felt grateful. And I felt so happy, and there’s… a side of me that wants to say it back. To tell you I love you, to let you know that there’s always been a part of me who sees you as something more than a friend. But we’ve been friends for years, and all this time, you never told me anything, never showed that you’d want us to be more than friends. So I shut it down, and I taught myself to move on, to find someone else. And I found Kihoon. Even though he doesn’t feel the same way about me, half of my heart still beats for him. The same way the other half did for you when you told me you loved me.”

His heart lurches. Her words both uplift and devastate. To know that you felt something—anything—for him in the past, ignites a radiant spark of hope. But Kihoon… the name lands like a stone in his chest.

Still, he swallows the pain. He doesn't let it consume him. He doesn't beg. He just breathes, slow and steady.

His hands lift again, cupping your face with devotion in each fingertips. “You say part of you loves me… Then why not give me that part?”

Your voice breaks. “Because I don’t want to give you a part of it—I want to give you everything. But I can’t, not right now. I don’t want to sound shallow, and I don’t want you to start doubting my feelings later on. I don’t want you to think that the reason why I accept your feelings is because I can’t be with Kihoon. I don’t want to make you feel like I’m settling for second best, or worse, because I feel sorry for you. If I gave you my heart—when I give you my heart, I want you to believe that you own it. Completely.” 

He feels the breath catch in his throat at your words. He wants you. All of you. But that honesty—that clarity—is exactly why he loves you.

He nods, eyes glistening. “I know. I know you’re right.” His voice shakes. He presses his forehead to yours, trying to ground himself. “But… it’s so hard to be patient.”

You almost give in, just from the way he’s begging silently with his eyes. “I don’t want you to doubt my feelings,” you repeat softly.

“I don’t,” he breathes. “I’ll never doubt your feelings, but if you want to wait then... I will. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

The words are a vow, whispered through lips trembling with restraint. He wants to kiss you—God, he wants it more than anything. But he stays still. Barely holding on.

He opens his eyes, gazing at you beneath heavy lashes. You’re so close. One small move, and his lips would brush yours.

You swallow, your breathing turns heavy. You can feel his gaze cascading to your lips. “I just… need time to sort out my feelings…”

He’s burning inside. The need to hold you, to taste you, it roars inside him like wildfire. But he doesn’t move. “How long…” he murmurs, barely audible. “How long do I have to wait?”

The pain in your face breaks him. “I’m not sure.” In a moment of weakness, of surrender, your eyes flicker to his lips, too. “I need to forget about Kihoon and… focus on my feelings for you.”

He catches your drifting gaze and his heart slams against his ribs.

Your fingers clutch his shirt tighter, anchoring yourself to him. And that small gesture—so intimate, so telling—sets him ablaze.

You’re looking at his mouth, breath shallow. You want him, too. He can feel it. It’s driving him mad.

He leans in, just enough that your noses brush. His breath dances across your lips.

"Please..." Jinwoo whispers, barely knowing what he’s asking. It’s a prayer, a plea for something he can’t even name. A kiss. Your heart. A promise.

He’s barely holding it together, his breath is coming in short pants. “You should... push me away...”

“I know…” You murmur back, your eyes tracing his lips, still.

His eyes are locked onto your face, his head tilted to hover over yours. You’re so close he can almost feel your breath against his skin. This is torture, this is pure torture. “Then why don’t you…?”

“I don’t know…” Your voice trembles, your strength ebbing as you clutch him tighter.

He sees the moment you stop fighting. The moment you lean into him, soft and yielding.

And he almost breaks.

But even now, even in the center of the storm, he waits. He won’t take what you’re not ready to give. He can’t. Not like this.

He breathes you in, dizzy with want. Still, he waits.

“Can I…” He starts, shivers in his voice. “Can I be completely honest with you for a second?”

You nod slowly, eyes half-lidded, lost in him. “Yes…”

He wets his lips, eyes flicking down to your mouth for just a moment—barely a heartbeat—but it’s enough. He’s trying to focus. Trying so damn hard. Because if he doesn’t, he knows he’ll lose control. And he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on.

“I’ve… I’ve dreamed about this,” Jinwoo breathes, voice low and close—so close that if you leaned in even a fraction, you'll taste the vibration on your lips.

“About… what?” you whisper, barely audible.

“You and me,” he murmurs, the words slipping into the silence between you like a secret. His gaze drops again, hungry and haunted. “I’ve dreamed about kissing you for so long.”

You lick your lips, and his eyes track the movement like he’s memorizing it. “You… you have…?”

He exhales, shaky and raw, the sound more confession than breath. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it. About holding you… kissing you… tasting you.”

He’s trembling with restraint, every muscle taut, breath hot against your skin. But still—still—he doesn’t close the gap.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice rough, frayed with need. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s a plea. A prayer. He’s hanging on by a thread, and your answer is the only thing holding him back.

You know you should say no. You made him promise to wait. And you made the same promise to yourself—to let go of Kihoon before giving your heart to someone else. But in this moment, that promise cracks.

Because when his thumb brushes your bottom lip, tugging it down with the gentlest touch, your resolve slips.

He’s so close. You can taste him in the air.

“Ye—”

You don’t get the word out.

His lips crash against yours.

One hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His kiss is desperate—starved. He pours years of longing, pain, and buried passion into it, kissing you like he’s trying to reclaim time itself.

Jinwoo deepens the kiss, pressing closer, tasting you like he’s been parched. He doesn’t want to stop. He can’t.

A soft whimper escapes you, and something in him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, pinning you against the car, his hips pressing between your legs. His tongue finds yours, the kiss turning urgent, demanding—devouring.

He only pulls back when the need for air forces him to, gasping, breath ragged. But even then, he doesn’t stray far. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and nips—gently, but possessively.

You break apart, panting, your chest rising and falling against his. You don’t move far, your legs shaking as you return to the ground. Your foreheads almost touch, the air between you charged, crackling with the weight of everything unsaid.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice rough with emotion. “Sorry… I got a little carried away...”

You shake your head, still breathless. “It’s… it’s okay...”

He closes his eyes, trying to collect himself. That kiss—you—are more than he ever let himself imagine. Every fantasy pales in comparison to this.

“You should go,” he murmurs, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “It’s getting late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You hesitate. “Promise you won’t avoid me?”

He opens his eyes, smiling softly. “I promise," he carves the word with his lips, pressing them right against your temple.

He steps back, like it physically hurts to create that space, hands clenched as if to keep from reaching for you again. He watches you slowly move toward the entrance door of your building, gaze drinking in every detail of you like he’s trying to etch the moment into memory.

Then, just before you slip inside, he calls out. “Wait.”

You turn, heart pounding. “Y-yes?”

He stuffs his hands into the pockets, trying to look composed. Steady. But his voice wavers. “Can I be completely honest with you for a second?”

You give a nervous little laugh. “Sure.”

He watches you for a beat too long, garnering all the feelings he holds for you, trying to find a way to place them into sentences. He draws a breath. 

“I love you,” he says, followed by your name, softly, but with unshakable clarity. “I love you more than anything. I love you more than I think I could. And I know I will always love you even if you don't love me back. So stop looking at me like I’m just a friend… or an older brother. Start looking at me like a man. A man who wants you, who needs you. I’ll be waiting. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back to me.”

You stiffen, face flushed, lips parted—but no words come. It’s just… impossible to say anything when he speaks so sincerely, when he gazes at you so fondly, when he loves you so ardently.

Jinwoo smiles again, gentler now, relieved that he’s spoken everything he’d been bottling up for so long. “Good night.”

“G-good night,” you whisper back, as it is all you can manage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tosses you one last gaze, one full of longing, before he slips inside his car and drives off.

You stand there, your face heating up, your mind spinning, your world suddenly tilted on its axis. There’s only one name swirling inside your brain, and it doesn’t belong to the same man who broke your heart earlier today. It belongs to the man who mended it. Who took care of it, then shattered it, healed it, burned it, and kissed it with so much passion, it left your nerves tingling long after he’s gone.

Tomorrow….

What's going to happen tomorrow?

***

A/N: I don't know how to end this and i've dragged it too long lsadfskdflsd I SWEAR I WANTED IT TO BE JUST A DRABBLE IDK WHAT HAPPENED

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT BYE I'M RUNNING

[d3wdropz]

Gojo Annoying Megumi and his S/O

Imagine being Megumi's partner- it's sweet and he's a gentle boyfriend. He's quiet and isn't the best at expressing his feelings so small gestures and quality time are his main forms of love language

You spend a lot of time in his dorm or yours usually his cause yours is messy. It's such a relaxing time, getting the chance to just chill and bond together. You read books, play board games, nap, anything really- everything becomes fun when you both do it together. This is especially true for Megumi who gets to indulge his inner child

Since Megumi didn't really get a childhood you both like to do activities that gives him the chance to catch up on some of the things he missed out on

His favorite thing to do in that regard is building legos- yes he's made you a bouquet for Valentine's Day

So on a random Sunday morning, you're both in your usual spot: Megumi's room. Specifically, on his floor as you paint his nails black. It's something you've both been meaning to try and today seemed like the perfect chance

Everything is nice and calm- you're focused on finishing his left hand and he's admiring how hard you're concentrating. It's quiet, perfect even

Until someone slams the door open

"Megumiiiiiiiiii- I got you souvenirs from London!" Unsurprisingly, it's Gojo standing in the doorway

You're left shocked, still holding Megumi's hand gently and taking a glance at the now ruined nail job

Megumi, on the other hand, is silently fuming at the sorcerer who just barged into his special time

Gojo's just as shocked as you, having heard nothing about Megumi being in a relationship. If it wasn't for the sudden discovery, he'd have the time to be bummed that his little 'Gumi didn't tell him anything- but at that moment he was just absorbing it in

You're all kind of stuck for a moment until Megumi sighs and speaks up "Gojo-sensei, can you leave?"

This, sadly, breaks Gojo from his thoughts and has him gushing over the two of you

"Oh my little Megumi is all grown up! When were you gonna tell me that you've got an s/o? You've been staying PG-13, right?"

It's so much at once that you don't even have the time to think about an answer before Megumi is slamming his door shut in Gojo's face. By the look on his face, he'd prefer you pretend that nothing happened

He'll have to deal with Gojo later and that's already a lot to handle, so you go back to fixing up his nails

After that first incident with Gojo, you and Megumi rarely have a moment of peace

You're eating out somewhere -guess who's tagging along and taking up the seat next to Megumi?

You're both training- Gojo takes time out his very busy schedule to yap about how annoying the higher ups are

The relationship you had with Megumi is no longer a private matter, Gojo's constantly hanging around and inviting himself to your outings

Things only ease up when Megumi reaches a breaking point and goes off on his annoying guardian well in his own megumi way

"This is the reason I didn't tell you about us- since you found out we haven't had even a minute alone. We're not immature or reckless, so if that's what you're worried about you can drop it"

You're standing there, sweating bullets and caught in between their weird father-son/brother-brother/uncle-nephew(?) bond. In your eyes, it's a stand-off for the ages, a teen wanting freedom and their guardian that still wants to baby them

To your surprise, Gojo starts sniffling before he cries out Megumi's name and jumps him. He's squeezing Megumi to his chest and nuzzling his hair, crying dramatically

"Ooooooh! My little 'Gumi's all grown up!" He lets out a loud whine and continues to sob, "It felt like just yesterday you were my little baby!"

When Megumi finally breaks away from Gojo, he's huffing and glaring- but the strongest sorcerer is still rambling "I'm sorry that I made you feel like a baby- you're a grown man now" he sighs dramatically "I'll start treating you like one"

Before Megumi could throw insults at him, Gojo's phone pings and he's gone in an instant, a faint "Great talk- gotta go!" is all that's left

The both of you are now left in silence, just as confused and alarmed as when Gojo first found out about you two

Only difference is the lack of his constant presence looming over your heads now

a/n so hi

I know i've been gone for like ever, but the fanfic writer's curse is real and its found me- i ended up getting diagnosed with bipolar disorder, i got accepted into the biggest university of my state, and i'm moving out at the end of the summer

life's been pummeling me but i'm trying to get back on track with my writing- thank you to everyone who've been patient with me!

[yatori-morgana]

————————————

Blood

In which the Leech twins see something they shouldn't have, but they aren't complaining~

Contents & Warnings: established relationship, blood & murder, mentions of cannibalism, tweels being freaky, kinda suggestive?

»Jade Leech x gn!Reader x Floyd Leech

————————————

The blood was everywhere. Splattered on the floor, coating yourself, coloring the body from whence it bled… Everywhere. Brilliant red, drying into an unappetizing brown, as all blood did. You stared down at the fresh corpse, apathetic. They meant nothing to you. You hardly knew them. All that mattered was they got what they had coming to them.

The liquid once warm on your face had started cooling.

"…Y/n?"

The sound of your name tumbling from someone else's lips stopped you dead in your tracks. The wrist you held in your hand dropped to the ground with a dull thud, and you slowly turned from your place on your knees. Your eyes met heterochromic ones.

Jade.

You didn't know what to say, what to do. No one was supposed to know. But it was only Jade. Surely it was fine? But no, what if he had wanted you for your perceived innocence, something to balance his own sin? No, that didn't sound like Jade. But what if this still somehow made you undesirable? It certainly could. It had made you unlovable before. It was almost inevitable that it would happen once again. Such was your fate, you always believed.

He took a step toward you, expression as unreadable as ever.

This was it, this was the moment you always knew would come. The moment of—

Soft lips met your own, drawing a gasp from you. His hand came to your cheek and smeared the sticky blood across your skin, staining himself in the process. Beautiful lashes fluttered while his eyes closed, and his touch once more entranced you.

This kiss was one of the sweetest he'd ever blessed you with, and you couldn't fathom it in your shock. Why?

When he pulled away, he made sure to swipe a thumb over your lower lip. You stared up at him in a daze, but he only smiled, those dazzling teeth on full display in all their razor sharp glory.

"Jade…"

"You've always been beautiful," he murmured, still leaned over you just slightly, "but in this moment, you're ethereal."

Ethereal?

A flush adorned your cheeks, and you raised a hand to hover over the lips he'd kissed so lovingly. "I don't understand," you dumbly admitted.

"You're simply gorgeous covered in the blood of your victims," he answered all too sweetly. "I couldn't resist. I'd take you right now if not for the company of our dearly departed." He gestured to the corpse.

"You still want me?"

"Hm?" Jade tilted his head in curiosity, his mismatched eyes seemingly twinkling as he scrutinized you. "But of course, my love. Did you really think I'd abandon you over something as trivial as this? Please, have more faith in me."

Trivial?

But of course. A stranger's life was worth precious little to someone like Jade. Yet, you had doubted. You should've been more worried about him killing you, not you killing another. What an embarrassment.

"Ah, you're shaking." He knelt in front of you, once more taking your cheek in hand. "Cold? Or do you truly fear abandonment?" He seemed more amused than anything, and you looked down in burning shame. "Chin up, pearl. You'd have to make a grievous mistake for me to leave you — and frankly, I'd kill you on the spot for such a betrayal, so you wouldn't have long to regret it."

"Oh." You awkwardly laughed, but your gaze never lifted. It was an incredibly Jade response, yet you still found yourself unbalanced by it. He must've noticed because he chuckled quietly and pulled you onto his lap.

"Oh, darling relax. I'm only hurt you didn't invite me. I'd've at least liked to watch. Now, would you rather get cleaned up, or do you need more time to rest?" He pressed another kiss to your forehead, and you clung to him like he might very well drop you anyway.

"Stay," is all you said.

"Rest it is."

--

Blood smeared across your tongue as you dragged it along the blade in your hand. Sharp, tangy, and delicious. You were tempted to carve a chunk from the body in front of you, but you knew raw meat was not ideal. Sure, you could've cooked it, but smoke from a flame would draw unwanted attention, and taking it back with you would be a risk, too. It was a shame, really. One should always use every part of their catch, yet you had to constantly deny yourself such pleasures.

Still, you should enjoy the forest while you could. Letting that opportunity go to waste would be the real shame.

"I smell it over here~" A lilting voice mumbled, and your head snapped up. "So fresh~"

Your head turned all too slowly. First Jade, now Floyd? How many more people would catch you in the act? You were lucky it was only them. Anyone else, and you would either be behind bars or cut down in an instant. Except perhaps Azul. He knew when and how to keep his trap shut.

"Ahh~ Shrimpy, whatcha doin' here~?" Floyd singsonged. "And— Oh. My bad~ Ya hunting~?"

Your fingers twitched, hands wanting to move but refusing to, and your eyes locked with his. He maintained his mildly interested, mostly sleepy expression, relatively unbothered. His hand moved to behind his head in a relaxed pose.

"…Sorta." You didn't know what else to tell him. This didn't deter him, though, and he stepped close enough to lean over to you.

"Mm~ Clean kill~ But ya coulda asked me if you were hungry~" Floyd knelt down, and his fingers slowly clasped around your arms, just shy of your shoulders. His voiced dropped low. "I'm always happy t'hunt for my mate~"

A shudder ran through you. Not in fear or disgust, naturally, but something much less flattering.

"It's not like that," you said. "It's… I don't know. I need to do it."

His chin came to rest on your shoulder. "You're hungry," he whispered, "but not for food, huh~?"

You stayed silent, but that was enough evidence for him.

"Don't worry~" He cooed. "Me 'n' Jade won't tell~" His hands slid down your arms, and your breathing stuttered. "You're jus' like us, after all. Hehe, who knew our Shrimpy was such a freak, eh~?"

"Please don't say stuff like that," you muttered. "S'embarrassing."

"You were gonna waste this," he realized, lifting his head up. "Why?"

Your answer was clipped. "Could get caught."

His arms slipped around your waist. "Don't worry~ No one's gonna see us. Lemme help ya cook this~"

"But Floyd—"

"Shh…" He nuzzled your cheek with his. "You're not gonna waste your catch. We'll eat it together~"

You sighed. His mind was made up, and he'd drag you around until he got what he wanted, so there was no use in arguing. Still, you felt a smile coming on. Yes, you were a freak. Not in the fun way he meant it, but a freak nonetheless. And yet, he accepted you in all your gory glory. He and Jade both.

"…Fine. Have it your way."

————————————

[screechingdefendorpuppy-blog]

The Player That Got Played

Part 2

You softly bite your lip and you purposefully trace the sketched lines in your sketchpad. The power behind every edge yet softness can be found on every curve. It had been a crazy day in the studio.

Having Abby suddenly enter the studio in nothing but a robe had been a surprise. But then getting to see what was underneath.. well lets just say that you are lucky to have great cardiovascular health. If not you would've surely died from a heart attack right then and there.

Turning to the next page you continue to admire the sketches you where able to do, even with a shaky hand. As you trace the defined line of her shoulder blades you are startled by a groan.

"Dude, you're drooling." says Ellie as she places the big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

"Who's Drooling?" asks Dina as she waddles in to the living room with the bottle of soda and cups. Last year had been a big surprise to learn about Dinas pregnancy. She had been in a on again off again relationship with Jesse since high school.

It had been a bit rocky when she had found out she was pregnant since she had broken it off with Jesse and had started dating Ellie soon after. Luckily after talking it out they came to an agreement when it came to the baby and had stayed great friends.

Now at almost 8 months pregnant she was ready to pop. That however didn't stop her from getting an education in Botany. She had a plan for her life and she will adjust accordingly and bring her son along for the ride.

Sheepishly you start to close your sketchpad. As Ellie answers her. "This goober on her newly acquired porn."

Dina groans as she settles down on her side of the sectional sofa. Once comfy, she makes grabby hands towards you in a silent request to take a peek. Huffing you hand it over and you lean over to grab some popcorn just to busy your hands.

She low whistles and she looks at the new additions. "Daaaamn, She's a looker."

"HEY!" Protests Ellie

"Oh hush I'm just looking." Dina counters a prevalent smirk on her lips. "She's.. well she's something."

"She's unreal Dina!" you say as you scootch over to show her a particular sketch. "Look at this." you say turning to the correct page.

On it an almost done sketch of today session. only thing missing was more detail and some shading. "She look ethereal! Like she was sculpted by gods!"

Dina makes eye contact with Ellie as you continue to rant about how you had struggled to capture an angle and how you didn't give up till you got it right.

"Wow, she really captured your attention huh?" Dina asks, But before you are able to say anything Ellie interjects.

"Psh please more like she was to enraptured by her-"

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

"TITS!? HAHAHAHAHA" Leah's voice blares out her phones speaker.

Abby is mortified as she watches her friend shake from the full blown cackles after learning about her mishap.

"Full on Leah! it was crazy. I never thought I would see that side of Abby." says Manny from beside her squeezing himself in to the camera view. Abby's tsks at him as she places her hand on his face and pushes him away.

"Wait who was bare chested?" Owens voice asks from Mels screen view but completely out of frame.

"Abby" Mel tell him. "What!?" he appears over Mels shoulder "You showed off your mosquito bites!?"

Another cackle is heard from Leah's end of the line this time joined by Manny.

"Fuck you, all three of you." Abby says, her fair skin dusted pink. She sulks down further into the worn sofa. This had been going on for and hour now. All thanks to Manny who took it upon himself to go check on his friend after her disappearance.

“Hay mija calmate! At least you got her number.” Manny shoots back.

“You got her number?” Mel asked with a genuine happy smile for her friend.

Abby smiles softly remembering the moment you had hit save new contact on her phone. “Yeah”

“But that was before she exposed her areolas to the art department.” Nora so helpfully interjects while she, from Abby’s point of view, mixes two chemicals together in the campus lab.

Before Abby is able to put her two cents Manny speaks up. “That doesn’t matter cuz this chicken shit hasnt-”

————————-

“Texted you yet?” Asks Dina, eyes wide balancing the popcorn bowl on her belly.

“No” you answer disappointed present in your voice. Ellie gets up and grabs the bowl off of Dina to make some more popcorn. This is gonna be a long night.

Dina opens her arms and you immediately fall into them. She cradles you and places a soft kiss to your temple. You focus on lil spud as he moves inside his protective home. You couldn’t wait to meet your little nephew.

“Give her time. Maybe it was an accident or something. Hell maybe she’s embarrassed.”

“Maybe, I just wish I would’ve been able to talk to her. She literally disappeared once the class was done.” You sink in to the sofa a lil more.

“Hey guys, Jesse just texted that he got out early from his shift and is asking if y’all would like some Korean food?” Asks Ellie from the kitchen.

“Yes please.” Both you and Dina answer simultaneously.

“You should’ve seen her Dina.” You exhale a far away look in your eyes.

She chuckles. “Oh boy, you are down bad huh?”

You nod defeatedly sitting up again but staying close to your best friend “I am Dina I wanna get to know her more.” You poke at a lil bump that emerges on Dinas belly.

“Damn I haven’t seen you this smitten since seeing Haruka tenoh from sailor moon for the first time.”

“Eh I was more of a Sailor Neptune kind of gal.” Adds Ellie flopping on to Dinas side and starts rubbing her belly.

You groan “We were thirteen!”

“And you clearly have a type!” Says Dina.

You huff and deflate into the sofa some more. Then after a but of silence your phone pings with a new message. Picking it up and looking at the screen you find a message from an unknown number. With only the words “Hey.” in it.

—————————

“Hey!?, seriously thats the best you can do!?” Asks Manny. A horrified expression on his face.

“What? It’s fine it’s casual.” Abby argues. Finally after getting completely roasted by her so called friend via video call. She had decided to finally text you.

“More like basic and pathetic!” Manny shouts as he lunges to grab her phone.

“You are spending too much time with Leah and her fashion friends.” She says as she dodges his attempts.

“They make me free clothes and buy me coffee after every fitting as a thank you for being their mo-” he pauses mouth agape. Abby can see that wheels in his head turning and she starts to dread what will come out of his mouth next.

“That’s it!” He basically screams in her face. She jumps and pushes him off of her.

“The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“You Abigail Anderson! Will volunteer your body in the name of… The Arts!” He shouts dramatically.

Abby deadpans

“What?”

“Think about it! She’s already seen you naked! Seeing you like that a fee more times wouldn’t hurt.” He watches her expectantly.

“You’re ridiculous.” She finally says as she goes to get up.

“No I’m a genius that has given you the opportunity to spend more quality time with your chica!”

Before Abby can answer her phone chimes still on the sofa cushion. A small text bubble with your name clear as day on it: ‘Hello, umm who is this?”

Both of them look at the phone then each other and lunge themselves towards it at the same time. A scuffle ensues and Manny comes out victorious taking off with Abbys phone furiously.

“MANNY RAMIREZ ALVAREZ GIVE ME MY PHONE BACK!” Abby shouts after him as she struggles to chase him.

Manny slams the door to his room right as she picks herself up and darts over. Once she is able to get inside she jumps him and takes her phone back.

Both exhausted from the rough housing he relents and gives her phone back to her. Abby pants as she looks down at the screen. There she sees a bubble with the words delivered on the bottom. The context of said message?

‘It’s your buff french girl model 😉.’

Before she can react, yell at manny, delete or unsend the message, literally do anything. The little words on the bottom changes to read.

Her. Heart. Sinks.

She turns to Manny and for the first time tonight he looks afraid for his safety. She charges at him and starts smacking him as hard and as fast as she can.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? *smack* french girl!? *smack* you *smack* fucking *smack* asshole!” *smack smack*

He is in a fetal position trying his best to block the blows but Abby does not relent. As Abby lifts her hand to hit him again her phone goes off. She looks over and starts towards where she had dropped it on the carpeted floor. But before she walks away she sharply turns and points her finger in manny’s face.

“Don’t Fucking Move.” She threatens and he lifts his hands in surrender while sinking back to the floor.

She gives him a glare as she picks up her phone. Once unlocked she glances down to the screen.

——————————

‘🤭 hahaha thats funny. Hello Abby.’

‘I will admit your presence in class today surprised me.’

“Are you sure double texting was the move?”

You ask as you continue to look at your phone while biting your nail. Dina smacks your hand away.

“Stop that! It’s going to be fine, I told you this will peak her interest.”

You nod nervously, subconsciously you acknowledge Jesse’s presence as he places the take out on the table. “So who is this girl?”

“Anderson, you know the women’s rugby captain.” Ellie tells him as she takes a small bite of the kimchi.

He chokes on air “ Anderson? As in THE Abby Anderson?”

Ellie nods as she starts towards where cough cuz of the spiciness of the food.

“Dude it’s not that hot.” He tells her.

“Shut up dude you know im white.” Says Ellie as she takes another bite in spite, her eyes watering.

*Ping*

The room goes silent.

You read the text but don’t say anything.

“Well? What did she say!?” Asks Dina using her foot to nudge you back to earth. You shake your head and read it out loud.

‘Sorry, that was my best friend Manny who sent that. But ummm, was it a good surprise at least?’

——————————-

Abby feels like she seconds away from a stroke. Her hands are shaking and clammy. She doesn’t want to fumble this opportunity. She looks up and Manny still in the same place gives her a thumbs up.

When it had come to her dating life. She didn’t have the best track record. There had been a few girls that had captured her attention through out the years. Unfortunately she had either crushed on them from afar, or had been so awkward with them that they had just left. Since then she had decided to not do emotions and just have fun.

However, the moment her eyes landed on you Abby felt something she had not felt in a good while. The want, no the need, to get to know you get close to you. She was so scared to push you away cuz of her awkwardness.

She was trying her hardest to be the cool buff rugby player she portrayed. Unfortunately for her being with you brought out the goober, as her dad would say, out of her.

She inhales the moment she sees the small dotted text bubble appear. You were typing, oh god, you were typing!

‘I was pleasantly surprised. ☺️’

Another dotted bubble appears. Then disappears, and appears, then disappear and appears again. She chuckles thinking about how you were trying to say something keep changing it. Finally.

‘Didn’t now you did figure modeling. But honestly I can see why, with your physique 😳’

————————

“Stop! She’s going to think im a perv!” You whine as you try to grab your phone back from Ellie. Dina laughs as she eats her food,Jesse on the floor next to her trying to get his son to move.

“Let me cook bro I got this! Plus you’re already a perv.”

Ellie continues to hold your phone high and away from your grasp. In times like these you really hated the height difference between you two. Your phone pings with a new message and Ellie reads it out loud.

“Can I be honest? What the fuck does that mean?” She says

Finally you take your phone back and start walking towards your room.

“Hey! Where are you going!? I wanna know what happens next.” Dina says after you, you shout back to her that you will tell her afterwards and close your door shut.

Finally in the privacy of your own room you focus on the task at hand.

‘Always’

Greek Goddess: ‘It was the first time I’ve ever done something like that. 🫣’

‘You’re joking 😮’

Greek Goddess: ‘I swear, very first time.’

‘Seriously? How did you even get in on doing so?’

Greek Goddess: ‘It was a misunderstanding 😓’

Greek Goddess: ‘if I could be honest again.… I did it because of you.’

You smile curiously to your phone as you read her message.

Abby on the other hand has her heart in her throat as she waits for a reply.

Her phone goes off as she closes her bedroom door.

Cute lil Artist: ‘really? Me? Or are you just flirting with me?’

‘Yes and yes.’

‘After you went inside the studio. I wanted to keep spending time with you. Then out of nowhere your teacher asks me if im the sub for the previous model and without thinking I said yes.’

Cute lil Artist: ‘So you are telling me. That you willingly volunteered to be a nude model just to spend time with me?’

Abby rubs at her neck and then types.

‘Tbh I didn’t know it was a nude figure class. I thought it was like my friend Leah’s fashion class where you stay with your clothes while they try to imagine it differently.’

She watches as you type,then stop. A minutes passes and still no answer. She panics ‘Did I say something wrong!? Was it too much? To soon? Ugh way to go Ab-’ her phone starts to ring.

Looking at it she sees that you’re calling her. Her mouth dries as she hits the answer button.

“He-" she clears her throat “Hello?”

She is met by your laughter

“Omg no way! That’s so funny! You ended up being completely naked infront of strangers!” You say between laughter. She laughs along those she can feel embarrassed.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry Abby that so funny. You are so damn cute.” At that you both freeze, theres a moment of complete silence on both ends.

“You.. you think I’m cute?” She whispers

You for your part breathe heavily as a blush hits you.

“Yeah” you whisper back “yeah I do”

“Not hot?” She cheekily asks a smile on her lips.

She hears you groan “Maybe, but I think I have inflated your ego enough for tonight.”

“Oh I think you could do better.” A hidden confidence appears in her voice.

A confidence that draws you even closer to one Abby Anderson.

[cextile]

pick a pile reading ☆

what are the good things coming in your life

buy me a coffee on kofi ;)

how to read this pick a pile tarot reading ♡ the images above are your pick-a-pile options — see which image immediately pulls you in. If nothing stands out right away, take a moment to look at each pile/image. the one your attentions keeps coming back to is likely your pick. if more than one pile calls to you, trust that too. you can read both and take what resonates. and hey, if none of them feel like a match, no big deal. not every reading is meant for right now. come back another time — this reading isn’t going anywhere. 

pile one☆

cards pulled: five of swords reversed, ace of cups, justice, page of pentacles.

All of you in pile 1 are going to have exciting new beginnings. 

& a lot of you are going to open yourself up to experiencing love.

If you guys have been dealing with people who are just a pain in your ass, I am here to tell you that they are going to get their payback very very soon. So yeah, relax because the truth is going to come to light and they are going to be held accountable. you are having your peaceful ending in this drama babe, don't worry. people are going to be held accountable. The conflict is going to be ending.

this is calling out to the very specific people, who are struggling in their relationships. I want to gently hold your hand and tell you in the most loving way, you are going to get the love you deserve. I promise you. even if it feels not okay… my throat is getting thick with emotion.... You will get the love you deserve. and don't worry. don't worry. you... things are going to get so good for you. and I really, really want you to trust that. I really, really want you to trust that. This is not the end of... You're not unlovable. You're really not unlovable. Things are going to get really good for you. Trust that. You might meet a new partner. You might have celebrations with them. There is light at the end of this godforsaken tunnel & you have to trust that.

For the singles, I'm hearing you're going to be meeting new people & if you've been working heard towards something.. you're going to be getting it. you're literally setting up a good foundation for success right now..

alsoo my happily engaged people out there, put your glasses up for celebrations! I'm hearing good news haha 🍼 spiritually, this collective has learnt its karmic lessons, you are going to open your heart to the universe, to allow the universe to just shower you with good fortune & success yk?

pile two ☆

cards pulled: six of cups reversed, wheel of fortune reversed, death, page of swords, the world reversed.

Not gonna lie, I am shocked on seeing the cards. I pulled an extra card for you guys to have a little bit more clarity.

Initially for a hot minute I thought you guys had a very lowkey energy, but there is/is going to be there is a whole lot of movement beneath the surface. like magma which just ebbs and flows inside the surface of a dormant volcano..  

You guys are going through some major internal changes, upheavals literally. Like Pile 1 was more about the external environment, but you guys are more about your inner world.

Suppose your inner world is a smooth fabric, alright? And I'm seeing folds in the fabric. 

So yeah, the good thing is that the time for you to change has come. 

You're going to be inspired, you’re going to be letting go of bad habits, becoming more mindful with what you tell people/what you engage in. I am seeing you guys are basically going to be changing yourself for the better. You are going to show yourself up as a better person. You're just going to become a more mentally resilient person. I'm seeing you guys becoming this patient,guarded individual who protects their energy like really really well. I'm seeing you guys growing up and letting go of things that have been holding you back, letting go of the burdens. If you guys have been having this vibe of feeling stuck in a situation, you're going to be getting out of that. You guys have to keep yourself on your toes, don’t let the days just slip by and keep asking guidance from the universe. You're going to deeply connect with your higher sense of self and discover a depth to yourself that you're not even sure that existed. 

So yup, things are going to come & you are going to change yourself to deal with them. They might test you, try and delay you but at the end of it all you are going to be somebody that is wiser, better than the person that you were. To be honest, getting the opportunity to improve yourself is honestly so rare. A lot of people just don’t change themselves even if the whole universe keeps conspiring to teach them lessons so just be grateful you’re going to become so sharp & resilient. A menace. 

pile three ☆

cards pulled: judgement, six of cups, two of cups, king of pentacles

its rare honestly, this pile. very rare. all the cards are upright, and good things are about to flow in like a rushing river in your life from literally every aspect. you are going to be living the definition of an idyllic life.

really beautiful energy on the horizon here, like a gentle sparkling river that murmurs really really softly. you’re going to be deepening your emotional bonds with people. It could be business related, platonic and even romantic, and it’s going to involve mutual trust, love & respect. 

you’ll either reconnect with your roots, form your own happy family, or find your own community. There’s just this sense of belonging.

as for your personal sense of self? you are going to break free from unrealistic expectations from yourself/from others. you will get a chance to rest. finally anchor yourself to relax, amongst the hustle bustle you have been involving yourself in. 

so yeah, you are going to be emotionally fulfilled. there will finally be a time to release yourself from the anxiety, tense situations, and you'll get to experience a profound sense of peace. you are going to achieve a level of clarity & composure that allows you to calmly evaluate yourself and the decisions you have taken. this will help you take positive decisions in the future, which is going to open up literally a dimensions of amazing possibilities

and your career? Don't even worry about it. It is going to be boooming 💥💥 & if you’ve been in that phase of working hard, let me tell you that- yup, the results are right around the corner. 

that's it for this reading. take care of yourself.

sending lots of love, Ananya ♡

[loveafterdeath-if]

Yeah, similarly to what another anon said, I was kinda hoping for this to be a story about moving on after losing a lived one, specifically your partner, which I thought was a beautiful and heartbreaking concept, and while we did get that in the first few chapters, it feels like this plot twist kind of defeats the whole point.

Though, unlike the other anon, I personally will probably continue reading because I think you are an amazing writer and because I love Ekissa. The only thing that makes me not sure about continuing is that the situation is a bit awkward, makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, so I was wondering about how you were going to manage it? Because MCs moving on process obviously gets cut short, but for those of us who are gonna romance someone else, we still need to finish that process, and one important thing when moving on from an ex is time apart, especially for one you were grieving not so long ago. Otherwise old feelings, nostalgia and a lot of other emotions get mixed up and that would probably lead to confusion. (Sorry, for the long paragraph, just a bit worried about how this is gonna continue)

It's heavy spoiler territory, but I'll have to address this for anon. And it'll be a long-ass response, so be prepared,

You are right about one thing, the whole plot falls apart if El is alive, doesn't it? And like someone said in the LAD discord "why love after death then". They didn't phrase it exactly like that, but you know what I mean. The plot does start with El, but it won't end with them. Idk how to explain without giving away too much, lol

There are clues that El isn't really dead in the first chapters. The flowers MC receives, and now players know El was the one offering them. The doc and Athiel never talk about death when discussing El. MC doesn't have the right to go to the funeral or even see El's body. Even L being called by Juliet at the beginning will have its importance. They're small details, nothing too obvious, but they're here.

I'll be honest, sometimes when writing Athiel talking with MC, I struggled to remember El wasn't dead because I tried to make it look and feel like El was dead, so I drowned a bit in that department.

The characters might seem like a lot, but each has their own purpose, big or small. Some are a breath of fresh air for MC since they're not caught up in all the drama and can be objective. Others are here because they'll play an important role later. Then there are those who serve as reminders of the past with El (like the neighbors). And some are just like those background characters in anime; you don't even see their features because they're just there to serve a small purpose and keep the intrigue going. They come and go.

Sorry, I'm talking too much. So how I'll manage it, is by—and it's where it's gonna get tricky—make MC aware of it as soon as possible. There will be a reunion between MC and El. The tricky part is showing that El won't remember MC, no matter how much/if the MC tries to jog their memory.

The past El is dead; the memories won't come back, and if any fragments do resurface, El won't feel the love they once had. It's more like a ghost of memories; their body remember, but it's more mechanical than actual feelings. Like an old habit that won't go.

MC will have to grieve the old El anyway, even with them actually alive.

In El's route, it'll be all about falling in love again, getting them out of this toxic relationship with their mother, helping them learn to love themself again, and living with someone who is El but not the El you used to know. They have trauma, the confidence they once had is gone, they're insecure and they're more reserved than before.

Juliet is like, the first villain before introducing the final boss. What I wanted to do was weave two kinda plots in the same book because I didn't want to make two separate books. Love After Death is Love After Death for a reason. The plan is to make the players realize that El wasn't the focus of this book in the first place.

I hope there won't have any inconsistencies in this story, but if you find any plot holes, you're free to let me know, and I'll do my best to improve. It's only with advice and constructive critique that I can do so. I'm sure there are blind spots I won't see right away; I'm only human😭

[spiritsglade]

Jason Todd & Critiques of Child Vigilantes

I've always found it interesting that as early as Bruce's opening monologue in Batman #428 - before he even finds Jason's body - DC had already started victim blaming Jason for his death.

Admittedly, I'm cherry-picking a bit here. There rest of the monologue does involve Bruce blaming himself as well, for all the choices he made in raising Jason that led up to this. In The New Titans #55, Dick makes a similar claim - this is Bruce's fault, for letting Jason be Robin before he was ready.

Except then Tim Drake picks up the mantle.

And the victim blaming settles in as the narrative DC's pushing. Jason was reckless, he was angry, he was impulsive. He jumped into this situation without thinking, and that's what got him killed.

And it's obvious why, right? Because Jason Todd dying, Robin dying, is about as effective an argument against child vigilantes as you can get. Because if it isn't Jason's own intrinsic failure, then the blame turns to Bruce. It's Bruce's fault for putting a kid in a costume, for putting Jason in a position where the Joker had cause to kill him.

(Sheila only sold Jason out because he was Robin. Joker only set the bomb because he wanted to avoid Batman's retaliation.)

Because if we really start critically thinking about the implications of child vigilantes in this world, it starts unraveling at the seams. And the first obvious loose thread is Bruce letting Tim pick up the Robin mantle, after the last one died.

Anyway, this post isn't about how blame is shifted onto Jaybin post-death to avoid criticizing child vigilantes. This is about the Red Hood and how he does the same damn thing.

Jason, after his resurrection, has a habit of harassing various heroes and monologuing a whole lot in the ensuing fight. Relevant to the conversation here are the arcs with Tim Drake and Mia Dearden.

It's worth noting that Jason is projecting in both cases, specifically taking his own relationship with Bruce and assuming that the same is true of Tim & Bruce and Mia & Ollie. This is obviously not the case, but it is relevant because it gives us insight into how Jason views Bruce, and where he feels the blame lies.

Life and Death - Teen Titans (2003) #29

TT #29 is the comic featuring Jason Todd's infamous attack on Titan's Tower, in which he fights Tim Drake for 8 pages. While we're here: no Jason wasn't trying to kill Tim, it was a fair fight not a one-sided torture fest, no throats were slit, and while that Robin costume may have been homemade I refuse to believe it was cheap. Jason is not wearing a cheap Halloween costume that thing is fully functional as a vigilante costume I will fucking FIGHT YOU -

Jason repeatedly brings up Bruce during this fight (emphasis mine):

"[Bruce] let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you that he said to me, didn't he? That you had the talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in his war on crime. That you're one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder. Now... let me show you what the Joker did to me." "Still. You do realize, the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't surprise anyone when I died. When I failed."

This is Jason criticizing Bruce. This is Jason calling out Bruce for his failings as a parents, for the fundamental wrongness that is a child vigilante. Jason specifically frames it in the context of his own life. This is how he views Bruce's influence on him - his death is something that could have been predicted.

Except: This is DC. Child vigilantes are a genre convention, are a foundational part of how the world is built, and cannot be criticized.

So let's take a look at everything else Jason says:

"You can't be that good." "Now… let me show you what the Joker did to me. And let's find out how tough you really are." "I failed--but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim?"

It's not about Bruce at all. Bruce is not the one in the wrong, here. It's about Tim. Does Tim have what it takes? Is Tim good enough to deserve this mantle? Jason looks at Tim and says: I was not good enough. What makes you think you are?

"I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you," Tim says. Tim implies that Bruce is wrong to blame himself. Jason's death? That was all on Jason. If Tim gets hurt, if Tim dies? Then it's all on Tim.

Jason also spends some time talking about how no one remembered him. However, this part of the conversation is initiated while they're in the Titan's Memorial Hall, which did not have a statue for Jason. I'm interpreting it as a comment fueled by the environment, and thus not part of the core arguments Jason's trying to make.

Seeing Red - Green Arrow (2001) #69-72

GA #72 is the comic featuring Jason kidnapping Mia Dearden, fighting her in her school's gym before blowing it up. While we're here: Jason was not trying to kill Mia, Jason was not bringing up Mia's trauma to throw call her disgusting or throw it in her face, and Mia was not horrifically traumatized by that encounter.

Let's look at what Jason has to say about Ollie and Bruce, first:

"Is that why you find it so hard to kill? Do you think life is so precious? Or do you have to emulate your new flawed 'Daddy'?" "My surrogate dad comes from the same damned pampered upbringing as your self-righteous mentor." "And I know that sometimes very bad things have to be done to do a great right. I don't think either one of our 'fathers' will ever understand that."

Yes, I'm reaching a bit here. However, there's the same pattern here of calling out Bruce for a specific way he failed Jason - by believing and pushing a specific moral code that he expected Jason to follow.

Even today, Jason killing is far more controversial than it is when other heroes do it, both in or out of universe. This is due to his relationship to Bruce. That expectation that he should align with Bruce's moral code, because he grew up alongside it. This is something specific to child vigilantes - other superhero team-ups where they're around the same age would not expect them to share the same code beat for beat.

It's not... a particularly strong argument, but if we run with it. Once again, Jason shifts the onus of responsibility from Ollie (Bruce) to Mia (himself).

It's a lot harder to find specific quotations where Jason says this, because a lot of it is implied, but throughout the fight Jason is trying to goad Mia into going for the killing shot.

"You're going to keep shooting your lawn darts at me but avoiding every killing wound. You know how easy this is when you limit your options. You're working the same thirty-three. Thirty-three angles, points--thirty-three shots. None of which will be a fatal blow. When that quiver is empty, you know I'm going to come for you!"

(He does not come for her. He gives her a pair of swords and makes her fight him again.) Jason compares himself to her ("You're a lot like me.") and then, after the previous quotation about how Ollie and Bruce will never get that sometimes you have to do the bad thing [kill], he says, "But you do."

Once again, it's not about Ollie. It's not about Bruce. It's about Mia, and what Mia chooses to do. It's Jason saying: Are you going to mindlessly follow what your mentor says? Or will you do what you know is right?

It's the same twist, again. It's not about what morals said mentor/father figures are selling, it's about the child's duty not to listen.

Conclusion

I've referenced a couple of times that DC can't have criticism against child vigilantes. I'm sure others have explained this better than I can, but the general reasoning is because child vigilantes are objectively bad. If you apply any real scrutiny, any level of realism, and you realize that having them is harmful. Harmful to the kids, and it is absolutely the fault of every single one of their mentors for letting this happen.

The kid sidekick is a genre convention. It's part of the landscape of superhero comics. This is the part of the story where you suspend your disbelief, you pretend that letting children fight crime is fine actually, and you enjoy the story that comes out of here. If we acknowledge in universe that letting kids fight crime is bad, you break that universe.

And that's exactly what Jason Todd does.

That's what he did as Robin, and DC responded with the victim-blaming narrative as damage control. It shifted the responsibility for his death from Bruce to Jason.

This trend continues into Jason as Red Hood. His very existence is an argument against child vigilantes. And so he brings it up, and in projecting on other characters he again underscores just how culpable Bruce is for his death. But we can't have that, so even as Jason brings up these points, he undermines them by shifting the focus to what the child is doing. After all, he's confronting Tim and Mia, not Bruce and Ollie.

(And in his actual confrontation with Bruce: "I forgive you for not saving me." Many have pointed out that this is not the same as it wasn't your fault.)

If you're a child vigilante or a kid sidekick, and you get hurt, if you die, that's not your mentor/parent's fault. It's on you. It's always been your own fault.

That's how it has to be.

[regency-monster-love]

Grumpy orc and sunshine human, part 12

Male orc x female human | Regency era | SFW but references to sex, racism, and injury

Master list for this fic

Chapter starts immediately after part 11. Garek and Esther just fucked in an empty countryside chapel.

~ 😈🎩 ~

While cleaning themselves up, Garek remarked that it was lucky that the wet spots of his seed on their clothing would simply blend in with all the other water spots from the rain, and Esther started to feel that little trickle of unease that came now every time he talked about hiding their relationship.

Garek peeked out the door. “It's stopped raining. Good. We have to get you to my house for a bath quickly.”

Nausea started to swirl in her belly. “To get your scent off me?”

“Yes.”

“And you'll do the same to get my scent off you?”

“Of course.”

“Garek, are you ashamed of me?”

The orc jerked as if struck. “What? Why would you ask that?”

“You don’t want anyone to know about us. Not just the sex—you never spend time with me openly; never once have you called on me at my house.”

His face contorted in a mix of confusion, anger, and disgust. “That’s what you wanted, so your suitor wouldn’t find out.” He spoke the word “suitor” like it tasted bad.

“What on earth are you talking about? What suitor?”

“You have more than one now?” he snarled.

“My God, what kind of person do you think I am? There's no one but you!”

“Don't lie to me. The first time I walked you home, you said some other man was courting you and you wanted that.”

Esther stared at him silently for several breaths as she worked through what Garek was referring to, and as she realized what he meant, was nearly dumbstruck by the enormity of Garek’s misunderstanding and twisting of her words.

“First of all,” she said with calm precision, “what I said was that I thought one person might be courting me, and that I wasn't opposed to it. Secondly, I was talking about you, Garek.”

Now it was Garek’s turn to stare while he tried to make sense of things. “The suitor was—me? From the start?”

“Yes, you simpleton.”

“Then why didn't you say so outright?”

“I was smiling right at your face when I said what I did, and I let you ravish me immediately afterwards—I was very clear it was you.”

He shook his head. “No, I'm certain you didn't say ‘you,’ you said ‘he,’ like it was some other person.”

“I was being playful with my manner of speaking! It was obvious what I meant!”

“Obviously it wasn't!”

Esther released her breath in a frustrated sort of huff. “Sakes alive—did you ever see me close with any other males, Garek? Smell any other males on me?”

“No,” he growled.

“Shouldn’t that have made it obvious then?” Esther huffed out with an expectant raise of her eyebrows.

He stared back. His stomach dropped. Ohhh fuck. Fuck. Of course there was no one else. He had been such a colossal fool. He dropped his head into his hands.

“You really thought I would just lead some other suitor along while I was secretly carrying on an intimate relationship with you?” Esther asked after a moment, the hurt thick in her voice. How could he think so little of her?

Garek’s cheeks burned in shame, but he forced himself to drop his hands and look at her. “I didn’t really let myself think about it at all, not lately.” His love for her had made it too painful to think about, so he simply hadn’t, and in doing so, had missed all the obvious and logical signs of what was truly happening.

The ache in Esther’s throat had spread down into her chest, squeezing around her heart. She thought Garek was better than her former lover Frank, but it seemed like Garek had just been using her for sex after all. He hadn’t cared what it said about Esther’s character or the feelings of this other suitor as long as he was getting to use her body.

“I’m going home,” she told him, and turned toward the chapel door.

“Wait!” He grabbed her hand and stared at her with wild, desperate eyes. “I was a fool, but now I know the truth. Everything can be all right between us now.”

She pulled her hand back from him. “You can’t just say things are all right and make it so! Nothing has changed. Nothing is ever going to change with you.”

She stepped toward the door, and he grabbed for her again—she pushed him off her, just like that first time he’d kissed her, then jabbed a finger at him. “You leave me alone! I’m going!”

He obeyed. No running after her, no calling her back. He just let her go, his chest heaving as he watched her solitary figure walk quickly away from the chapel.

— — —

Four days. Four days since he had seen Esther, heard her laugh, touched her, been inside her. Four days without his mate.

Just a month ago, four days without her would have been nothing. Well, not nothing—it wouldn’t have been pleasant, but it was bearable, and nothing out of the ordinary. He would masturbate to the thought of her and be all right. Now, four days was torture.

He didn’t know if he ought to try to end it. He had made a tremendous mess of everything, and he feared that it was irreparable. Esther would probably turn down any attempt he made to reconcile—nothing is ever going to change with you, that’s what she’d told him. She’d given up on him. People are allowed to change their minds about what they want, that was another thing she’d told him once. Now he knew that she’d wanted him as a suitor from the beginning, but it seemed likely that she’d changed her mind on that now, and no longer wanted him as a suitor or a lover. But this was too horrifying a possibility to confirm. Knowing for certain that they were done would be far worse than the uncertainty he was living under now.

His mother wasn’t helping matters. She kept asking him what was wrong with him and how Miss Dayton was doing and why he was moping at home all the time. And his home smelled like Esther, especially in his bedroom, no matter how much he washed everything. 

He finally had to escape the house, and went for a walk into the village. He hadn’t gone very far when his minotaur friend came running straight down the main street at him. “Garek!” he shouted.

Garek rushed toward him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Miss Dayton!” the minotaur said, and every fiber in Garek’s body snapped into focus. “Her carriage, there was an accident, I saw them dragging it to the wheelwright’s across from my office—”

“What happened to her? Where is she?” Garek demanded.

“They said the lady inside was hurt, took her to the nearest cottage to await the surgeon—”

“Where!”

“Other side of the village, nearly to the mill—”

Garek took off running, panic making him move faster than perhaps he ever had before. He reached the row of cottages that he thought the minotaur meant and started pounding on every door, frantically asking after the human lady who was injured in a carriage accident. The third one finally told him that she had seen her taken inside the next one over, and Garek rushed to that door to hammer his fist on it. It felt like an eternity before anyone answered, though it was probably less than 10 seconds.

A female dragon opened the door, standing at least a head taller than Garek and filling its entire width with her bulk.

Garek didn’t bother with any greeting. “I need to see Miss Dayton!”

The dragon gave him a disgruntled look. “Who are you?”

“I’m her mate, now let me in,” he growled. It was the first time he had said it out loud, but he hadn’t hesitated—he wasn’t scared of that word anymore, just needed to see Esther without delay.

The dragon gestured to his right tusk. “You’ve no ring, and she’s a ‘miss.’”

“We haven’t had our ceremony yet—get out of the way,” he snarled.

But the dragon didn’t budge; Garek was furious that she was bigger than him. “Well.” She sniffed, looking him up and down. “You’re certainly acting like a mate.” From her tone, it was clear that she did not consider that a good thing. “All right, you can see her, but if she wants you to go, you go.”

She cleared out of the way, and Garek barreled right past her, not needing her to show him the way to Esther’s room—he could smell exactly where she was, and he could smell that she was unwell.

“Wait!” the dragon hissed behind him, right as he reached her door. “You can’t go barging in when she’s resting.”

“I know that,” he hissed back. “I would never hurt Esther.” Not anymore, at least.

He put his hand to the doorknob and very slowly opened it. Esther lay unconscious in a huge dragon-size bed, looking so tiny and frail it made something sharp twist painfully in his chest. Her hair was covered by a large bandage. He crept over to her side. “Esther,” he whispered.

The dragon had come in too. “Don’t touch her head or neck; the surgeon isn’t sure yet if there was any damage to her spine.” More pain stabbed through Garek’s chest at that.

After telling Garek to fetch her when Esther woke, and warning him again not to bother her, the dragon finally left them alone. Garek carefully climbed up on the bed to lay beside Esther, facing her but not touching her, except for stroking his fingers over the top of her hand that rested on the blanket.

He ached with the desire for Esther to be all right, and to be with him. He’d been such a stubborn, cowardly fool to try to deny and fight against their mating bond. If they had been mated and married, he might have been in the carriage with her and could have prevented her from getting hurt so badly, protecting her in the strong cocoon of his arms. That’s what he wanted—to be with her all the time, at her side to protect and please her, no more hiding.

Despite his fretful thoughts, he must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was the feel of someone petting his hair. He opened his eyes and saw Esther looking at him with a serious expression as she caressed his head.

“You’re awake!” He sat up abruptly. “I have to tell—um, I don’t know her name, actually, but the surgeon needs to see you!” He jumped out of bed.

“Wait, Garek. What happened?” Esther said in a weak voice.

He leaned over her and reached for her face, but stopped himself before touching her. “You got hurt in an accident, and they carried you here,” he said, as gently as he could, to not scare her, but it still came out rather rough, because having to speak the words “you got hurt” made him angry. “I’ll tell you more soon, but let me fetch the surgeon first.”

It was agony to wait for him, then wait all through his examination of Esther, but when he said that her spine was fine and that her head would probably be healed enough to move her in a couple days, with no lasting damage, Garek’s relief was immense. And then the surgeon and dragon left them alone again.

Esther gestured for Garek to get on the bed with her again, assuring him that the surgeon said she shouldn’t move her head much, but the rest of her was fine. She opened her arms, and Garek laid his head on her chest with a relieved sigh.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Esther told him, petting his hair again.

“You are?”

“I missed you.”

His heart twisted and throbbed. “I’m sorry, Esther. I’ve been stubborn and unkind to you from the start, and it was never because of you, it was always because of me. Me being a coward.” In the interest of not being cowardly, he sat up so he could look into her eyes as he said this. “I’m sorry I insulted humans and made you feel like I was ashamed of you. The truth is…I did feel guilty about getting intimately involved with a human. It had nothing to do with you personally, it’s just…” He huffed out a ragged sigh, wishing he could explain this better.

“Look,” he tried again. “My father wanted to be a writer when he was young, got laughed at by every human publisher he went to, until one day he found his book for sale with some human’s name slapped on it. One of those bastard publishers had stolen his manuscript and published it as his own. Father couldn’t even get the courts to take his case seriously, because they were all run by corrupt humans too. That’s how everything was for monsters back then. That’s why I only print books by monsters—because human presses rarely did it, until recently.”

Esther was looking at him teary-eyed, but she made no attempt to speak, so he just let it all keep pouring out. “My father taught me to hate humans, so I felt like I was betraying him by caring for one, even betraying myself, what I stood for. I think that’s why I stupidly didn’t understand your hint about me being your suitor: the idea of courting a human myself was just so foreign to me at the time, that it had to be someone else you meant.

“But it was never actually about you—I’ve never been ashamed of you. The only one I’m ashamed of is me. You’re perfect. I’m lucky and proud that you’re with me—or, were with me. I don’t care that you’re human, or that my father would be ashamed of me, not anymore. I was such a fool to ever think that any of that mattered. And I’m so sorry for not trusting you to be committed to one male at a time, to think that you might be involved with someone else at the same time as me. I know you’re too good for that. It made no sense.”

Esther finally spoke up. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t know about what happened to your father, and in the chapel, I didn’t exactly let you explain yourself or give you a chance to try to fix things—I just stormed off. And I shouldn’t have said you can never change. That was unfair of me. I should have been more open with you about my own feelings and wants. I was a coward too, because of what happened with Frank.”

Garek shook his head fiercely. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did.”

“No.”

“Are you arguing with me about apologizing?”

He ducked his head to rub at his neck. “Sorry,” he muttered.

She huffed out a weak laugh, then winced. “I don’t think my body approves of that right now.”

“No more talking, just rest,” he declared, and laid his head back on her chest again. She immediately set about stroking his hair again, and warmth spread through him at the affectionate touch of his mate that he had been starved for.

They laid quietly together for some minutes. Then Esther asked, “How’d you convince them to let you see me?”

Garek’s heart started to race, but he wasn’t going to be a coward about this. He sat up again. “I told her that you’re my mate—which is true, Esther.” The rest of the words tumbled out of him in a rush, now that he’d said it. “You’re my mate, and I’m yours. But only if you want to be. You can reject the mating bond, it’s your choice, but, oh, Esther!” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I hope you don’t, because I love you, and I want us to be together always. Mated and married.”

Well, so much for no more talking, just rest.

She stared at him with her mouth opened, before she said, “How dare you”—his heart sunk to his stomach—“say this to me when I can't spring up and kiss you.”

Now he was the one staring at her open-mouthed. “You, you mean…”

“I love you too.”

Excitement was starting to bubble up inside him. “And you’ll marry me?”

“I will, if you’ll give me a kiss right now.”

“I don’t think I ought to, with your head…”

“Kiss me,” she said firmly, and just like every time she gave that order, he obeyed. But he tempered the wild joy rioting inside him to make it a gentle kiss, at least. No more hurting his mate, ever again.

His mate! She was really going to be his mate, completely, no more of this halfway business where only he knew and there was no ceremony. He couldn’t stop grinning. It kept making Esther laugh to see it, which hurt her head, so he finally had to hide his face in the sheets.

The smile finally got wiped off his face when he asked her to tell him what happened in the carriage, because it made him angry to picture his mate getting hurt and being scared, but he had to know. She related how they had been going around a sharp turn when a wheel came off, throwing the whole carriage onto its side, and she flew against the inside wall with quite some force when it hit the ground.

She had to pet his hair again and remind him that the surgeon said she’d be well soon to get him to stop growling in anger.

Once he was calmed down, he couldn’t resist saying, in a soft, teasing rumble, “I told you that your carriage is no good.”

Her eyes crinkled up in amusement. “You did. You were right. Though I think I agreed with you even then, you may remember. You were the one being contrary; I was being agreeable.”

He smiled and lifted her hand to kiss her palm. “Of course.”

“Now I have the opportunity to purchase a better carriage, that meets your approval.”

“Big enough for both of us?”

“Exactly.”

“But I’m not as opposed to being squeezed into a tiny carriage with you anymore.”

~ 😈🎩 ~

End of part 12 | Master list for this fic

Hooray! I tortured them some more, but they finally got everything in the open for their happily ever after!

One more chapter—spicy of course—and then their story is finished!

Art of them coming soon, too!

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing or my master list.

Taglist: @apuddleonthelivingroomfloor, @slightly-knot-insane, @99goosebumps, @decaffeinatedtreewitch, @curiousmons, @cinnabbxx, @dreamerl0v3, @iamsamuraisword, @flippinsweettots, @not-nana-ly, @eclaire-and-pocky, @iluvzayne, @blushycadaver, @vurelliex, @graveblanketgreen, @xxfeelmylovexx (comment if you want to be added to the list)

[cherrryybeee]

she really thinks you like shauna?

natalie scatorccio bot (link at bottom)

The crash ruined everything. You were supposed to go to nationals, get a scholarship for college, move in with Nat. Natalie Scatorccio. She was your best friend, your other half, your secret girlfriend, your everything. After the crash it was pretty obvious noting was going back to normal, and your soccer team wasn't getting saved any time soon. So you guys took matters into your own hands. Tai found a cabin not far from the lake, that got you guys through fall and winter. People died, winter was harsh, Shauna lost her baby and her best friend, Travis lost his brother. You and Natalie stopped talking as much. Your relationship was still a secret, and with her hunting, and everyone *always* around it was hard to get alone time. But she still loved you, and you still loved her. 

God you were *so* jealous of Van and Tai, they got to flaunt their relationship. Hold hands, kiss, sleep next to each other. It wasn't fair. 

Towards the end of winter the cabin burned down, great. Shauna blamed coach Ben who mysteriously went missing after the cabin fire. You didn't think he did it, Shauna was just angry, at herself, at everyone, and needed to blame *someone*. Lottie, who apparently talked to the wilderness crowned Natalie as queen, there goes *any* free time you guys had. After the fire you guys built tents with sticks, they looked like tepee's. Everyone had to share, except Natalie since she was the queen. 

You got paired with Shauna and that's when this whole nightmare started. Apparently Shauna actually really liked you. And she was really angry, really rough. She thought you were single, and even if she knew you weren't, she wouldn't take no for an answer. You became almost like her lap dog, not by your choice of course but at the same time it was nice not having her blow up in your face. 

You missed Natalie though, and you could tell Natalie missed you too. You could also tell she wasn't cool with the whole Shauna thing, even though you reassured her it wasn't *real*. Not like you two.

You guys found ways to sneak off, you would be working by the animal pen and Natalie would come over to "check" on the animals. You two would sneak off after everyone fell asleep, sitting by the lake and talk, make out. 

When Shauna *wasn't* walking behind you like a big scary dog, Natalie would give you a small smile across camp. 

Shauna *hated* Natalie for some reason, probably was jealous Nat was in charge and she wasn't. Shauna liked to *feel* in charge, yelling at people, starting fights. Never directed towards you of course. 

One night, after sneaking out, careful to not wake Shauna. You and Nat were sitting by the lake, you were straddling her lap, hands in her once perfectly bleached hair that was now grown out with her natural brunette showing. Her hands were on your waist, hesitantly playing with the hemline of your shirt. It wasn't a heavy make out but you couldn't keep your hands off her, missing her a lot. She seemed tense and awkward so you pulled away from the kiss just enough to ask her. 

"Hey, you okay?"

She hummed and nodded. 

"Yeah I'm good just, i don't know it doesn't matter"

She leaned back into kiss you but you moved your hands so you were holding her face. 

"If it's bugging you it's not nothing, c'mon you can tell me"

After a couple seconds of her staying quiet, hesitant to tell you she finally spoke up quietly.

"You haven't like, kissed Shauna.. right?"

You could hear the vulnerability in her voice, her eyebrows were furrowed almost in preparation for the worst as she awaited your answer. 

[landwriter]

Talk about sandman WIPs you say? 👀 Your porn AU and San Francisco gays still live in my head rent freeeeeee ❤️

Pella! I'm glad Professional Fuckers lives rent free in your head because I definitely forgot it existed. In spite of this, I am somehow still confident I'll actually finish and post it one day. It's just so easy and refreshing to write a setting purely from experience. Still needs several more scenes but I know the whole shape of it.

I think there's a lot of really fun potential to be mined from indie porn in a rom-com sort of story: you have this professional physical intimacy that can mean absolutely nothing, an intimacy that is itself altered and shaped by the demands of performing for a camera, by the visual and literal language of any given shoot genre; but separately to that, there's this variable of the chemistry you have with them, as colleagues, as co-performers, and of course, though somehow least significantly, as people fucking. The chemistry that plays out on screen does not always track onto the chemistry you feel with someone. So there's this, I think, super funny territory you can get into, where you've just fucked someone, and the prescient question of did we make something good and the vain little one of was I good, did you like that are entirely separate. But imagine the urge to ask when you're doing something you've never done before.

Imagine, too, nursing a crush on somebody and still not being sure if they like you like you in spite of fucking them in shoots all afternoon and pretending to be in a relationship for half of those. Imagine doing all this demanding, intimate work with a near-stranger, and then making friendly small talk after because outside of this work you hardly know each other. Imagine feeling like there's something there, beneath all the performance, and the commingled horror of crossing professional boundaries--of finding out your co-performer is just so good that they sold the story you were telling together to you too, without meaning any of it--and the desire to find out how good it could be with the cameras off. No awkward blocking, no performing, no story, nothing: an entirely novel, unprofessional, and maybe even more intimidating kind of fucking altogether.

That's what this setting is all about. In the spirit of that, have a mildly NSFT scene ft. Dream sucking cock for the first time while on a shoot, and Hob making a suggestion after.

[ask me anything]

“Dream,” says Hob. “Dream, please, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck.”

He looks up at Hob, jaw afire, and Hob swears and twitches and comes in his mouth. Dream swallows it without thinking of making a show of it, just swallows and swallows and pulls off, panting. He doesn’t realize how swollen his lips are until Hob traces them with a warm thumb, and murmurs, wow, so low it’s surely not for the cameras, more a breath than a word.

“Was I good?” he asks. His voice is fucked out and low and Hob laughs breathlessly as he tucks himself in.

“Yeah. Yeah, shit, you were good, baby. So good for me.” He looks down at Dream with undisguised lust. “M’gonna want this all the time now.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares up at Hob, until Hob smiles and shifts to sit up. “Great,” he says, in a normal tone, the scene sloughing off him. “Happy with that?”

“Was it enough time?” Dream asks.

“Oh, yeah. We’re probably at thirteen, fourteen minutes. I know you only wanted ten but I didn’t want to tread on perfectly good footage and say something.”

Dream can’t conceal his surprise that it’s been so long already. Hob takes it as skepticism and laughs. “No, you can check, but I’m like a fucking egg timer. It’s my party trick on shoots.” He stands and goes over to his camera, squinting at the display. “Yes! Thirteen twenty-nine,” he announces triumphantly, and turns it off. “Right,” he says, all business when he turns back to Dream. “Water and onto the next?”

Dream, still kneeling, awkwardly stands. “Yes,” he says, and clears his throat when it comes out rough. “Yeah, sure.”

Was I good? Truly? Hob is so good at inhabiting someone else that Dream isn’t sure. He would cover it up well if it was bad. “That’ll sell well,” he says, as neutrally as he can.

Hob takes the bait and grins at him. “Oh, definitely. That was perfect. You were great.” Then he takes in Dream and frowns. “Hey, do you want to, ah?”

Dream realizes he’s still painfully hard. Hob is grimacing down at his tented jeans. The moment of satisfaction is popped like a soap bubble. He adjusts himself, feeling his face heat. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Oh, fuck, don’t be sorry. Always good to know I’m not repulsive. I meant, do you want to deal with it now since you didn’t come?”

Dream glances toward the guest bedroom, unable to believe Hob is actually propositioning him. Unable to believe the yes that offers itself at once. Hob continues. “My facial shoot, later? Could just switch things around and get it done now if you’re ready to go.”

“Of course,” says Dream, magnanimously. Of course that’s what Hob meant.

[bl4nk-card]

is requests aren’t open feel free to ignore this, but would you be willing to write Norton (Survivor and/or Hunter) with a really loving s/o? Always bringing gifts and being almost sickeningly sweet towards him? I need to coddle him…

the manor (and norton)'s sweetheart ♡

✧ [ SFW general headcanons ] ✧

norton campbell (surv) + fool's gold (separated) & a sweet gn! [lover] reader <3

a/n: this request is cute!! also, i'm so sorry everyone, i can't add the 'read more' option without everything becoming a mess for some reason

✧༺♥༻

(SURV) NORTON CAMPBELL

you with your sweetness --- did you want him to faint on the spot? his heart beats so fast everytime you become so affectionate around him.

if you're a playful person who'd run off (or try to) after smothering him in tiny kisses, norton would most certainly not let you walk off like that.

'no. no pulling away, sweetheart.' --- he would drag you back into his arms --- 'i got you now, and you aren't getting away anytime soon, so sit your ass back down-'

the sight of you both is an interesting one to all. 'how did norton capture the heart of a sweetheart like you?', no one could ever comprehend the contrast in your relationship, but no one dares to bother the prospector unless they had a death wish.

norton is terrible at showing it, but he gets very flustered by your attention. baking him goods? he'll eat it with his face away from you and your tiny pastries. clinging onto him so suddenly? he'll stiffen before scratching at his neck. the thing is --- he doesn't pull away. no, he doesn't shove you away, because he doesn't want you to stray far from him.

'nnorttonn!!' squealed a voice. out of instinct, he felt tense upon his attempt at comprehending who that was. but as he looked at you, he saw the image he always did in those loving eyes of yours: somehow, you held hope and prosperity. once more, he found him asking himself: how could you be so .. happy?

he would then be hugged with such joy before being pulled towards a small couch. on the soft cushion, you rested his head against your chest, allowing him to listen to the beat of your heart.

and you began your routine, giving him little kisses on the forehead, the cheeks, on the tip of his nose, his jaw... while you often did this, it would always catch norton off-guard. 'i love you', you would say, and his ears would grow a little red again.

would he ever admit it? probably not. but he loved the sound of your heart, the way your chest lifts everytime you breathe.

'.. love you too.'

that thing you do with his hair? the ruffling, putting random accessories on the strands? he may be grumpy in the mirror, but norton loves the feel of your fingers, the way you work so gently to accessorize him.

when you tell him to be careful right before matches --- making sure he's fed well, got enough rest, and is not missing anything at all --- norton could never focus on the match itself. he thinks about you, how you care for him so lovingly. he thinks about how he loves you so very much, and he promises to himself that he will bring you something after the match.

before he began to fall in love with you, norton never cared about getting injured or hurt. but, being the angel you are, you patch him up so carefully that maybe, just maybe ... he'll purposely get a scratch here and there. yeah, he definitely got shocked on the cipher machine while throwing a magnet-- trust.

do you really think you're the winner with your sneakily-given gifts? norton will take that as a challenge especially if you are both deep into your relationship.

the prospector's expression faltered for not even a moment. the other residents remained tense at norton's ever-so-threatening facade with some talking quieter around him. he looked especially bothered. no, not bothered. heated. anticipating.

norton has just come out of the match. with (name). and that sly little lover of his ran off before he could confront them about the little stunt they pulled on him during the match minutes ago. he remembers it. oh, he remembers it well. he will never forget that cheeky look on your face as you nudged yet another one of your gifts in his arms and took off. a cupcake with a teddy bear on its icing.

he turned to one of (name)'s friends, gruffly forcing out a question, 'you know where they are. where are they?'

the poor person could only stammer, unable to even look norton in the eyes. however, as they looked everywhere, desperate to not meet norton's glare, they caught a glimpse of the prospector's flushed cheeks. 'in.. in the gardens---'

abruptly, norton stood and made his way to the said area, his steps louder than they usually were, his strides quicker.

yeah, you're on. prepare yourself because you're going to run out of breath real fast once he rains a million kisses on you.

you know how you know? because norton's ears flush after you express your love to him. you catch the slightest glimpse of them just before he tries to lower his hat just enough.

norton doesn't deny the fact that it was you who gave these gifts to him everytime someone points it out. he may be irritated if someone yells it out: ' ohhhhh, norton, was it your sweet sweet lover who gave that/those to you? ', he would only glare at them, ' so what? is that a problem? mind your own business. '

norton stores all the things you give him. he has a cabinet, a box, or any nice little container that holds all your given trinkets. there was one time you walked in on him organizing it. never have you seen him panic so hard.

norton 'tries' to show his love like you do. he will send you secret gifts (he knows about your interests, and yes, he listens to you<3), write you those silly little letters you'd squeal at, and hand it to you nonchalantly. 'yeah, yeah... just keep it.'

you, being the sweetest among all, almost always invite him to cuddle. or rather, pull him to cuddle. and while norton can be stubborn and grumpy at first, he relaxes into your hold. before you realize it, he's clinging onto you (subconciously) while your fingers comb through his hair.

during these cuddle sessions, norton falls asleep quickly. and he is irritable when he wakes up, so trying to leave his grip will be rather useless. he will keep you there unless you really, really need to go. you dared to be so loving to him, so you will receive it.

norton views your sweetness as a beacon of light; he will do anything to keep your sanity in the manor you're both suffering in. if someone tries to destroy your loving spirits, well, you'd never hear from them again.

'they're so odd', one of the residents chimed. 'being so loving like that-'

that was the last sentence they ever said.

FOOL'S GOLD + SURV! reader

fool's gold gets all wide-eyed everytime you pull one of your little kiss-attacks on him. 'climbing a stool of sorts just to do all of that--- what was your motive?'

.. but after that, fool's gold laughs mischeviously. because you're next. and if you thought his survivor form was ruthless when 'paying you back', then double your efforts at getting ready for fool's gold; he will coddle and love you to the max.

knowing how you're so happy all the time, fool's gold wants to make you smile more by taking the items that survivors leave in matches when they get eliminated. it would be the most random assortment: perfumes, elbow pads, flashlights, flare guns--- with all of these in hands (let's pretend he can carry those things without struggle), he makes his way to your room. on the way, he smiles all to himself thinking about how you would react seeing the things and how you would throw yourself at him, hugging and cherishing him all night.

it may sound silly, but from time to time, fool's gold would pluck a flower or two for you when he finds one during a match. he tries his best to keep it all pretty before giving it to you with a proud expression, bloodlust gone from his eyes.

fool's gold gets upset when he comes back wounded from a match. and much like his survivor self, he comes to you in hopes of being healed with your gentle, loving hands. he knew you'd tell him your sweet little words, your whispers enough to sooth him for the whole week. he doesn't talk all that much during it, but he demands attention through other ways like purposely playing with a bandage, nudging a hand on you, and taking your little medical supplies.

(this one is similar to the other headcanon i wrote!) everytime you approach him with that giddy little expression on your face, fool's gold immediately takes you into his arms, letting you sit on a forearm, another hand on your back while you lavish your attention at him. however, once you're in his arms, you might not leave for a long while especially if he finds a sofa of some sort. he'll trap you there and give you the same love.

very random but fool's gold really adores nuzzling his nose against yours; it makes his heart flutter crazily, with how adorable you look and feel <3

✧༺♥༻

[vroomvroomwee]

I'm a huge fan of radiostatic

The show hints they have a complicated past together, but you also said in a previous post that it doesn't look like Vox is pining for Alastor in stayed gone. How do you think their actual relationship will play out in the show ?

Well, I think the hints we are seeing of their past friendship are veritable and not our delusional shipper little minds grasping for straws. Whatever happens in season two it definitely will be emotionally heavy. At least for Vox, and dare I say I think it'll also be for Alastor.

Because, objectively speaking, Alastor doesn't really... have any friends. Mimzy uses him, and I think Alastor knows the hotel is apprehensive of him and keeps him at a distance as a colleague. Which only really leaves Rosie (who's also an overlord, but I doubt she's someone who would Alastor would die for or who he would die for) and Niffty (who's probably his thrall and can't be his equal as long as she is). And Alastor is a very extroverted guy. The only times his reputation as a stone-cold, heartless murderer is alluded to are what OTHER people say of him. Meanwhile, the people who know Alastor, aren't... that afraid of him. On a more intimate level, Alastor is very approachable and easy to talk to. He NEEDS friends. He NEEDS verbal communication, which is why I think his fallout with Vox hit him hard, no matter whose fault it was.

Now, Vox is clearly still pissed, and so is Alastor despite being able to hide it better. To me Stayed Gone borders somewhere between mortal enemies and exes who are biting at each other. And I don't think Vox is the pining sort based on his actions during ep 2 which I covered in this post:

(I think this might be the post i question. I'm adding it as a screenshot because tumblr was lagging on the link function)

I also found another post @moodooivy that really nails Alastor’s behaviour:

Personally (now this is just my opinion) I think Vivienne will continue the trend of "best friends suffered a brutal accident that was neither of their fault and got estranged then they hated each other for years only to reconcile and become best friends again in the end" that she did with Blitz and Fizz. I think a scene between Vox and Alastor is inevitable at this point. And I think it won't just be an emotional reconciliation.

The show has a limited amount of time at its disposal. And in any other instance, such an emotionally charged scene would have enough time to be fleshed out, to focus on the characters and their thoughts. But, Hazbin doesn't have that time. So, I think during that reconciliation SOMETHING important will be said (whether it's Alastor’s true intentions for the hotel or that he has always planned to betray them, Alastor’s dealer whoever it is had some hand in their split up and is planning something devious, Vox professing how much Alastor meant to him and how much he cared about him etc. etc. Or perhaps that he's never cared at all, and vise versa. Maybe they figure out Valentino somehow meddled with their relationship, or smth). It will be violent and intense, maybe a big fight where one nearly kills the other or an outside interference stops them, before it eventually subsides since these two can't keep a straight head around each other. And it's gonna happen in the last few episodes because either they both come out alive and well, which is bad news for everyone else since together they would be a massive powerhouse, or one of them dies - and the death of a fan favorite is impactful which would mean the writers would want to leave it near the end, right before season 3.

This is all me theorising though!! I love hearing predictions about season 2 and I'd love to talk about this in the comments and hear what you and others think 💜💜

[prapaiwife]

Top form EP 9

For akin to break up with Jin I see a lot of ppl having a problem with that and saying that he over complicates everything and he doesn't communicate he just runs away and I agree to disagree. Even bringing up what has happened to him with Johnny. But that situation and this situation are not the same and so for people to compare it I'm a little confused.

The whole situation with Johnny was such an emotional mental toll on him that was a situation he did not consent to! So for him to wake up in a bed with traces around him to insinuate that something happened!? No he was not able to recall nor really let it set in and even process what has happened to him was assault. If anything he goes to blame himself and is ashamed. So no he didn't even have it in him to say anything to give the answer he needed for himself to begin with so how was he supposed to communicate anything to jin.

Akin is used to dealing with everything on his own and yes it's clear that he needs to work in his communication with Jin. And you can even say he should know by now the type of person Jin is. Especially when it comes to their relationship and the lengths that he will go to to protect him and them. But akin literally sacrificed his whole career for Jin he wanted to do that it wasn't even an option it was a decision that he made out of love about that he has for Jin.

He was doing this to protect him or so he thought. As he says jin's career is just getting started he just won the award for best new actor he has so much ahead of him and he doesn't want to be the root of any problems to stifle him in his career. This is his first time falling in love. And the conversations that he had with sine and his wife were so eye-opening for him. Even though he still tried to do what he thought was right. He saw at the end what sine and his wife were talking about and jades words. Beyond told him basically that love is a commitment and in that commitment you hold your partner's hand through every obstacle you go through because it's not always going to be easy.

The inevitable is you're going to have issues sometimes that you can't even avoid as much as you try to or try to handle it on your own. Because in doing so you do put the other person in pain and percent quit doing what you thought you believed to be was right. And at the end for him to see that even though he was going to do this whole big plan Jen had already found a way to fix the situation he wasn't going to let Kin walk away from him without thinking that he wasn't going to fight for them. He said he wouldn't he always kept his word. He has so many people that will look out for him and care for him he shouldn't feel like he needs to give himself first in every situation and it's sad that he feels that way. And I hope especially with this situation that changes the time for him.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

LITTLE BEAR!

Baby Series!

❥Platonic Choi Jongho x fem reader

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

➯a/n: big bear moments are here 💞 i'm excited to finally be building on their relationship because i love them, you love them, it's love all around, let's get to it !!!

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: drabbles, angst, fluff

✫彡wordcount: 2k

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: non-linear(most moments have no set place in timeline), unhealthy relationships/trauma collective bonding, stockholm+lima syndrome, fear / anxiety, physical affection, guilt

✩index: little space- a regressed state of mind where someone feels like a child. hyung - a close male friend older than you, used by other males.

➯disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, and baby and seonghwa do NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship at all. everyone in this story needs therapy and LOTS of it.

MDNI.

❝guard dog❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

      "Baby, I really am not in the mood to repeat myself..." Seonghwa's words make Jongho look up immediately. More specifically — the tone of his voice makes his head snap up.

    He's clearly irritated. Not at anything singular, and certainly not at you. But you don't know the difference when you're feeling so little. All you know is that your Mommy is mad, so you're afraid to let him touch you.

     They were learning a particularly difficult dance, and Seonghwa was ready to just go home. But he approached you when his face was still showing his frustration and that made your flight or fight kick in.

     Apparently, you had unlocked a new option after spending so much time with Wooyoung — defensive sass.

    "Good, 'cause I don't wanna hear you again anyway."

    Everyone left in the practice room freezes, you included. You had thought about talking back to him, but you seriously didn't mean to actually do it.

      Jongho is on the way to you already as Seonghwa's face drops further. He's always the first one to move.

     "What did you say, Baby?"

     "M'sorry, Mommy, pl-"

     Seonghwa sighs as Jongho steps in front of you, your wide eyes disappearing behind him. "Jongho," he begins slowly, "don't pull this crap right now."

     Whenever Jongho thinks things are about to escalate, or when they actually do — he always throws himself between the two of you. And he doesn't move. Like a fucking stone wall until things calm down. Seonghwa can scream at him, pull at him, try to reach around him — but Jongho is planted in place to protect you.

    "Hyung, maybe we should take a breath?" San places his hand on Seonghwa's shoulder. "I think you just scared her-"

    "That doesn't mean she can talk back like that!"

   As he feels you grab onto the back of his shirt, Jongho reaches a hand back and takes ahold of yours.

     Telling you without words that he won't be moving until you're safer.

❝today❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

"Big bear!" You yell as you run into the practice room, having wormed your way out of Seonghwa's arms when you saw him. You didn't see him all weekend.

"Little bear!" He growls playfully as he picks you up, swinging your legs back and forth.

"What day is it?" You ask excitedly as he sets you down. No matter how many times you go through this, it still makes you both happy.

"Well," he taps his chin, "it's today!"

"My favorite!" You hop, hugging him again as Seonghwa chuckles from the side. No matter how many times he watches, it's still as cute as the first time. Your little inside saying from one of the many Winnie the Pooh books you've read together.

"Really? Mine too!"

❝eepy❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

      You have your head laid in Jongho's lap; droopy eyes watching the cartoon movie on his phone, fighting your sleep as he gently scratches your back.

You two are the only ones in the practice room, everyone else gone for the day and he volunteered to stay with you while Seonghwa recorded.

After you yawn for the fifth time in thirty minutes, he asks, "are you sleepy, little bear?"

"Yeahm..." You whine quietly, "how much longer 'til Mommy is done?"

He checks the time and grimaces a bit, "maybe still... a little while."

"Dangs it," you sit up and pout, rubbing your eyes in a way that almost makes him coo. "Him should hurry."

He chuckles softly, "but don't you want him to do good?"

"Yeahm!" You nod with a sudden burst of energy, "you right, him take his time and make a good song!" You grab Seonghwa's bag from beside you and find the emergency pacifier he has inside.

"Are you getting restless, little bear?" He asks as you start nibbling on it. You don't use one all the time, mostly when you're extra anxious or super tired.

" 'Eepy," you mumble from around it, laying back down on the hardwood and using his lap as a pillow. "It's okay I nap?"

"Of course," he smiles softly down at you, rubbing your arm through Seonghwa's fuzzy sweater that you wear.

By the time Seonghwa finally returns, almost an hour later, Jongho has laid down on the floor and maneuvered you ontop of him because you kept grumbling in your sleep. Now, though, you're as comfy as can be. And Jongho doesn't seem to mind either, because he's asleep with his hoodie under his head.

Seonghwa can't help but snap a picture of the adorable-ness, an affectionate smile on his lips.

❝spilled milk❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

     "I'm really sorry," you cry as Jongho cleans up the milk on the floor, the roll of paper towels clutched tightly in your hands as you stand off to the side.

      The jug had busted when you lifted it off the counter. It wasn't your fault at all. But you still felt like it was.

     "It's okay, it's not a-" He pauses as he turns to you for another paper towel. Your tearful eyes and the way you look just about ready to run and hide makes his heart break. "It's not a big deal... really." He moves slowly to get the towels from you, making quick work of the rest of the mess.

    "C'mon, little bear," he takes your hand gently and leads you to his room, reassuring you the whole way, "I'm not mad, I swear."

      You're biting your thumb as he digs through his closet, keeping quiet because that's what you've learned to do to when you're scared.

     You know realistically that you have no reason to be afraid of Jongho, he's the one who protects you! But you feel like at any second Seonghwa will bust through the door and demand to know who let you pour your own drink in the first place, demand to know why your clothes are soaked.

    "Here, you can change into this," he whispers so he doesn't spook you from your thoughts, handing you a large t-shirt. "Those clothes can't be comfy anymore, right?"

     You shake your head a bit, a quiet 'nuh-uh' stuck in your throat. You hate the feeling of clothes sticking to you, so you take the shirt.

"M'sorry, big bear... I didn't mean to make a mess."

"Hey, it's okay," he uses his sleeve to wipe your tears as they start free falling, "I'm not mad at you. You shouldn't cry over spilled milk, haven't you heard that expression? And it wasn't your fault."

His next words come before he can stop them, they've been on his mind for a long time. And they have a heaviness in them that makes you crumble like a cracker.

"None of this is your fault, (Y/n)."

❝bear hug❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

You were crying. That wasn't anything new, to be completely honest. You cry a lot. Your situation is cry-worthy. Nobody blames you.

"I know, Baby," Seonghwa shushes you quietly, rocking you in his lap, "shhh, it's okay. Cry it out."

You had seen someone who looked like your best friend, and it sent you spiraling. Thank goodness you didn't see her before they went on stage, or heaven forbid while they were there. Seonghwa would have refused to leave your side, he would have choked the life out of the nearest person if he came back to see you crying like you are.

The second you started breaking down, Seonghwa whisked you away to a quiet corner of the building where people hardly frequent; giving you the privacy you needed to sob as loudly as your body could handle.

Jongho and Mingi gave you a few long, long, moments before they found you.

Mingi was sat right beside you on the stairs, rubbing your back slowly. And Jongho was leaned against the wall with a small frown.

Seonghwa had whispered to them what happened, and it broke their hearts probably as much as it broke yours. Well — not nearly as much, but still.

You had finally exhausted all of your tears, your sobs stopped by the way Seonghwa leans your head to face the ceiling gently. He knows how to handle your meltdowns like a pro by now. "Better now, Baby?"

You sniffle, giving him the saddest thumbs up they've ever seen.

"Do you want a hug?" Jongho's words have you crawling right out of Seonghwa's lap.

You crash into him and sigh with relief. You always feel safe in his arms. He locks them around you and hugs you tightly, the very definition of a bear hug.

    "Poor little bear," he whispers, closing his eyes as tears threaten to leave them.

    He knows he's part of the reason why you're in so much pain, but he can't stand to think about it. All he can do is try to be a steady rock for you, grounding you with his hug.

❝goosebumps❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

"Seems a little scary," Seonghwa pouts at the book that Jongho offers him.

"It's for kids," the younger man reassures him, "I looked it up!"

"Big bear!" You come barreling down the hall with San behind you, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Little bear!" Every time you greet him like that, he will always meet it with the same energy.

"It says ages nine to fourteen," Seonghwa puts his phone back on the counter, "her little age is too small for t-"

"Is this for me?"

Damn, Seonghwa thinks. No getting rid of them now that you've seen the pile of books and have an excited glint in your eyes. He can't say no to that.

He sighs quietly before smiling, adding the book in his hands to the collection. "Big bear got them for you."

"You did?! My very own books? Not to borrow?" He lets you borrow a lot, but the only books you 'own' are the few that Seonghwa has; and some of those are off limits.

"Yup! All for you, little bear," he laughs softly as you give him another tight hug before climbing up onto the chair and looking at all of them.

"What do we say, Baby?" Seonghwa hums as he pets your head, eyes locked on your smile with one of his own tugging at his lips.

"Thank you! Oh, 'Goosebumps'... sounds spooky!"

"Don't read them too late, yeah?" Jongho leans against the table, watching you sort through the books, "I'll have to stay up and fight away the nightmares."

❝rest❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡

They had a rare week day off, and everyone was sleeping in save for you and Seonghwa. He likes to keep your routine and schedule the same, it's good for you— both of you.

As you're eating breakfast in front of the TV, a rare treat, you hear the deadbolt on the door clunk.

Both of your heads lean back to see who enters.

"Big bear?"

"Hey," he yawns as he waves to you, tossing his keys and kicking off his slippers before shuffling to the couch.

"What're you doing up so early? You should be resting," Seonghwa hums as he takes the last bite of his food.

"I figured I can rest over here with you guys. You got any plans?" Jongho flops down next to you, ruffling your bed head softly.

"No, we're having a lazy day. You're welcome to stay, you know that," he gathers your bowl and yawns as well while he takes them to the sink.

"You don't have to waste the day hanging out with us, big bear," you catch the infectious yawn while stretching out.

"It's not wasted if it's with you, little bear." He says with a sleepy smile, letting you lean into his side and cuddle up.

It's really not. He's come to love spending time with his little bear.

❝LITTLE BEAR!❞ ✧ ೃ༄ ｡