#but hopefully you get the idea as to how badly I want their relationship to be tested

[multicolour-ink]

In response to the tags in your answer to the ask about Luigi reacting to Mario’s guilt, how do you think the bros make up if they both think they’ve ruined their relationship with their argument? Would a third party try to step in and help (maybe Yoshi, I feel like he’d be a good emotional support companion for the bros in the sequel)?

referring to this

I think a third party would step in during all this to add moral support (like Yoshi), but I imagining this all playing out while the brother's are adventuring together in the sequel. Another obstacle they have to overcome on the journey.

One of the themes of the sequel that I really hope to see explored is the concept of change. The bros have lived a pretty normal life in Brooklyn, working hard to build a business and become somebodies - all while having each other as their greatest support. However now with the responsibilities of a kingdom on their shoulders, there is a new pressure put on them that they have never experienced before.

All of this added stress and change in their lives causes them to find it harder to lean on each other. They are both experiencing practically the same feelings about the situation, but they want to help each other. And in turn that causes a rift. I don't have a solid idea as to how exactly the journey from A (the start of the tension and argument) to B (the resolution) would play out...but I do like to imagine a moment where they have gone through a very intense battle (perhaps just before the third act) and they have to rest up in a safe spot. All the while they are conscious of the fact that not long before they put each other down in a way they never wanted to in all their lives.

And as they sit there one of them (probably Luigi since he's the more level headed) starts to talk, and then Mario does and all their regret and guilt over the way they have been acting comes spilling out. Mario especially is frustrated because he wants to protect Luigi but also the kingdom. While Luigi is just trying to come into his own and support his older brother. At some point the two come to the realisation that their relationship is changing because of the new life they both decided, and I think Mario would panic and cry about the idea that they're drifting apart. And Luigi would take Mario in his arms and firmly tell him that they'll always support each other, no matter what they do.

Cue all the hugs and tears and the bros saving the day in the final battle ^^

[sunrizef1]

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[runa-falls]

my turn

part 1 | part 2

pairing: marc spector x reader (a bit of steven grant x reader)

summary: marc has had enough of watching you take advantage of steven and not him...

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading words, pining omg so much pining, angst, creampie, fluff?, ft. steven

wc: 3.4k

a/n: long time coming (cumming) -- i just realized i barely have marc fics so hopefully this holds up to expectations!

masterlist

----

You know Marc. But you wouldn't necessarily say that you're friends. And even if you were, you're definitely not 'friendly' with him the way you are with Steven.

If you were to ask him though, it wasn't for the lack of trying.

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

"No, Steven. I-I'd love to be your girlfriend."

[allllium]

Could I request a one shot with Simon Riley, where he is in a secret relationship. And one night when he was on a mission, at their shared home, one of their enemies (that they are hunting down in that mission) comes and kidnaps them. When they find the base where the enemy was, Riley went in to see his girlfriend being tortured? She gets rescued by him and seeks medical attention, as she passes out? But when she wakes up in the hospital it turns into a really fluffy moment? Maybe he gets on one knee?????

Not so Secret

~ I really hope I did your idea justice 🤞 I'm the best at writing for Simon yet or angsty hurty stuff so hopefully you enjoy this sweet little moment

~ Fluff, Torture (Mentioned), WC: 1,559

~ Simon can't live without you

Simon can feel his heart beating out of his chest. You're gonna be fine, he keeps reminding himself. No one on the team has anything in the last couple hours. Good thing. Simon might lose his mind if they try to make small talk in this situation. You're gonna be fine, he reminds himself again, leaning his head against the wall.

You were taken by the enemy team on what was supposed to be a perfectly safe mission. Get the information and get out. Simple. It only took an hour before they found you but in that time you were badly injured. You're alive he mutters under his breath. He can feel Price's eyes burning a hole into him but he still doesn't say anything.

Simon practically jumps out of his chair when the doctor comes through the door. Ignoring every word that comes out the doctors mouth, he pushes his way past and into your room. Price can deal with all the details, right now Simon just needs to see you. Just confirm that you're alive.

You're sleeping when he walks in. More like knocked out with drugs but either way you look peaceful. As peaceful as you can with bruises covering your face. He carefully takes a seat next to the bed. He lets out a deep breath as he sits there watching you. Thinking over everything that happened that day and everything he could have done to stop it, which was nothing.

He sits there long enough to doze off, something he rarely ever does when not in the comfort of his own home. You're presence just has the ability to make him feel comfortable anywhere.

"You're lucky it hurts to move or I'd have drawn a mustache on your face." You voice draws him awake.

"No one would see it through the mask." He responds, keeping his eyes closed. It's a weird feeling, having someone you love in the hospital. He doesn't want to open his eyes, he doesn't want to believe you got hurt.

"I'd know it's there and that's enough for me. Look at me Simon." You demand. He listens, opening his eyes to the brightness of the hospital room. The white walls, white lights, and white ceiling don't strike him as the best thing for healing patients.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, looking into your eyes.

"I'm alright, and you?" You sit up in the uncomfortable bed as an attempt to get more comfortable.

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed." He whispers. Eyes darting all over the room.

"True. It's not the funnest." You crack a small smile. You know exactly how he thinks, how much he blames himself. You know it's a result of trauma and you want nothing more than to be able to reassure him in times like this Unfortunately, words aren't enough to undo this way of thinking. "Join me?" You pat the empty space on the bed.

"No." He replies instantly, immediately worried about injuring you further.

"Okay I might have phrased that like a question but it wasn't. Get on this bed and sit with me so I can feel better."

He stays silent. Debating the options he has. Or more so the options he doesn't have.

"You have two seconds or I'm coming to you."

That gets him moving. At this point he knows better than to dismiss your threats. Before moving however, he takes a moment to take off his mask, something he never wears when it's just the two of you.

"Fine, you know you're not supposed to leave that bed yet." He tries to keep a demanding tone but to you it's just laced with concern. You have a wide grin on your face as he scooches in the bed with you. You end half way on top of him with how small the bed is.

"So what happened while I was sleeping?" You ask, absentmindedly tracing the tattoo on his arm.

"I have no idea. I've been here." He keeps his sentences short and simply. A habit he's picked up over the years.

"The whole time? Aw you big softy." Your heart flutters at his confession.

"M' not."

"Mhm. Whatever you say." You chuckle softly.

"Do you need anything? Water? Food? Drugs?" He kisses your forehead.

"I'm alright. Now stop it."

"Stop what? I'm trying to be helpful."

"No you're blaming yourself. I know you." You lean up in order to look into his eyes. He may be secretive but his eyes aren't.

"I'm not. I'm just thinking of all the ways I can protect you in the future."

"Okay let's say that I believe you. How would you stop this from happening again? You weren't even there." At this point you're sitting up as much as you can, putting an arm on Simon's chest to keep you upright.

"Well right now I'm thinking of locking you in my house so you can never leave and therefore never be hurt." He tells you, being completely serious.

"I'm gonna ignore that because you would like a stalker." You laugh. "Where's the rest of the guys?"

"Outside. I locked the door when I came in."

"Simon! Go unlock the door." You want to say you're surprised but not even a little bit of it is out of the ordinary for Simon.

"No. I'm comfortable here. And I don't wanna go back to acting all professional."

"Simon, you've been in here for what I'm guessing is hours considering it's now nighttime with the door locked. I don't think our secret is much of a secret."

"Maybe not. But I want you all to myself." The look on his face reminds you of a sad puppy. Which is a face he makes very often.

"And you say you're not a softy." You scoff.

"I'm not!" He exclaims, trying hard to protect his reputation that you don't believe for a second.

"Whatever you say, sweetie." You smirk as his face lights up a shade of red. Here we have a massive, cold, military man, blushing at one simply pet name, it's enough to give anyone a huge ego.

After you're little period of talking, you fall into a comfortable silence. With you laying back down onto his chest.

"How are you feeling?" He asks after just a few minutes.

"I'm okay." You quickly reaffirm him. "How about you."

"I'm fine."

"Nope tell me the truth. You've asked me that many times now."

"Just checking."

"Simon."

"I love you." He says out of nowhere.

"I love you too."

"Can we get married."

"What?!" You shoot up, wincing in the process.

"I wanna get married."

"Now??" You practically yell. Of course you wanna marry him but you're really confused.

"No I mean later. I just wanna know that we will."

"You mean be engaged?" You can't stop the strange expression that your face makes as you try and decifer what he means.

"Is that not what you want?" He asks, the fear evident in his voice.

"That's not what I said. But we've never talked about marriage I mean not as deep as we should have. I don't want you to want to marry me just because I got hurt." You start to ramble, talking so fastcyou don't even know if he can understand you. He can. He's gotten used to your nervous rambles.

He smiles bigger than you think you've ever seen him. "I've wanted to marry you since the moment we first met."

"Okay you sound more and more like a stalker the more you talk."

"Is that a no?"

"No, it's a we can be engaged as long as you're being serious. And we'll stay engaged for a while because we're not ready to be married anytime soon."

"So next months not gonna work for you?" He laughs, genuinely laughs.

"No I think I'm busy then." You retort. You want to marry him, you know that for sure, but not until you're healed, and not until you both get better at being together.

"I can wait."

"Can you go let the guys in? Cuz the way you're staring at me is making me nervous."

"I love you."

"Door, Simon."

You try to surpress the wild grin on your face as he gets up to open the door for the others. They all walk in with matching suspicious smirks.

"What have I said about eavesdropping?" You immediately question, looking right at Soap.

"Not to do it." He looks down at his feet like a child being scolded.

"That's right, yet here you are."

"It's not my fault!" He immediately defends himself and points to Price. "He's the one that walked by the door and talk me you were talking about marriage."

You turn your sharp gaze over to Price, "and here I thought you were the responsible one." You shake your head in disappointment. You can hear Simon and Gaz laughing behind them. Being more than amused at the scolding you give you captain.

"You're right. I will reflect on my actions and do better in the future." He jokes.

Also shaking his head, Simon makes his way back to your bedside. Sitting beside you and putting an arm around your waist. You have a feeling now that your secrets out he won't keep his hands off you. But you're okay with that.

[cameronluvr]

BRUISES — toxic!rafe cameron x routledge!reader ; john b x sister!reader

summary: your brother sees a bruise on your neck, but it isn’t a hickey. he questions you about it, but it quickly turns into an argument when he discovers exactly who hurt you.

warnings: mostly john b x reader, mentions of choking, DV, toxic/abusive relationship, not much rafe x reader directly, angst, reader and john b arguing, name calling, mentions of jealous!rafe, toxic!rafe — lmk if i missed any! ✮

: ̀��➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you sneak into the chateau at 10 minutes past midnight, only to be greeted by your brother who had turned the light on which made you jump. “where have you been?” john b asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“out.” you say, looking down to hide your face from him. you had been crying, but he’d already noticed your red-stained eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asks, frowning with concern.

“nothing, just don’t worry about it.” you answer with your head still down as you attempt to walk straight past him, but he stops you, lightly grabbing your forearm to turn you back around.

“what, john b?!” you snap at him, yanking your arm out of his grip. you don’t mean to be mad at him, but you just want to be left alone after a stressful day. “what’s the matter with you? why are you acting like this?” he raises his voice at you, wanting to know why you’ve turned into a bitch all of a sudden.

“i’m not!— oh my god. just leave me alone!” you yell at him, turning around to rush to your room, slamming the door shut after you. john b stands in the same spot as before, loudly sighing at you.

he decided to leave you alone for the night. even though you’re older than him, he still liked to look out for you ever since your dad went missing. he went to his room to go to sleep, hopefully you’ll talk to him in the morning.

༉‧₊˚. the next morning arrived faster than you’d hoped for. you cried all night feeling guilty for the way you spoke to your little brother, but he really has no idea of the situation you’re in.

you got out of bed and slowly exited your room, seeing john b up and awake already, sitting on the couch and watching tv. “hey…” you say, walking past to head to the kitchen. “hey…” he responds, just as awkwardly as you did.

you open the fridge and grab a snack, before turning to look at your brother. “uh— i’m sorry for last night. i didn’t mean to act like that… i just…” you explain, closing the fridge door and sighing. “you’re good. it’s fine. y’wanna talk about it?” he asks, switching the tv off to divert his full attention to you.

“uh, i don’t know…” you hesitate, knowing you’re hiding a kind of huge secret from him. you had been secretly seeing his biggest enemy, rafe cameron, behind his back. you knew how badly he tormented your brother and his friends, but for some reason, he was different around you.

you hadn’t personally dealt with rafe for yourself, until now. he saw you at the beach a few weeks ago, and thought to himself about how pretty you looked in your bikini, how tanned you were, how contagious your laugh was… and that was it. he introduced himself to you as a completely different person, despite having heard all the stories about him from your brother and the rest of the pogues, including rafe’s own sister.

rafe was kind, sweet and funny at first. ever since you saw him after that, your heart skipped a beat. he was so handsome, you liked him so much, but you couldn’t do this to your little brother. your brother who had been threatened by rafe, bullied, tormented, fought with…

you knew you had to keep it a secret, because once rafe cameron claims somebody, he really claims them. and this time around, it’s you. a pogue, a routledge, someone nobody would ever expect to be rafe’s.

— “cmon, i’m here for you. you know that, sis. what’s goin’ on?” he asks, patting the space on the couch next to him, motioning for you to come sit. you sigh, knowing you won’t be able to tell him without him getting upset that you’re dating rafe.

you know that no matter how or when you tell him, he’ll be angry. after thinking for a second, you walk over to him and sit down. he frowns at you as you sit down, noticing something on your neck. “what’s that?” he asks, putting his hand on your face to look, but you push him away. “nothing” you shake your head, trying to brush it off.

“is that?— that’s not a hickey,” he looks into your eyes with nothing but concern. “just— leave it.” you look at him with widened eyes to show that you were serious. “y/n, what the hell happened? who did that?” he asks, raising his voice in frustration now.

“nobody, john b, god!” you yell as you stand up again, “don’t walk away from me, and don’t tell me to leave you alone either like you did last night. you’re acting weird lately, what are you hiding?” john b stands up too, trying to get an answer out of you. your brother is genuinely concerned for you.

you sigh, turning around to face him head on. “john b, i— ugh.” you begin to say, but cut yourself off, not knowing where to even start. “what?” he asks in annoyance, needing to know who hurt his sister.

“who?” he asks one last time.

“… rafe,” you hesitate, looking around the room to avoid seeing your brother’s reaction. “rafe?” he asks, not sure if he heard you correctly. “…yes” you nod, looking at him now with teary eyes.

“rafe did that?” he asks, getting visibly mad now. he reaches his hand over, forcing your head up by your jaw but not enough to hurt you. he looks at your neck again, before you push him away, again.

“why the fuck did he do that?” he asks, huffing through his nose with anger, looking back and forth into both of your eyes, trying not to go insane. “it’s, uh— we were… having an argument last night.” you slowly explain the story. “an argument? about what?” he asks, not seeing a reason for you to even speak to rafe in the first place, let alone fight with him…

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᴸᴬˢᵀ ᴺᴵᴳᴴᵀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

“i saw the way you were laughing and giggling with topper, don’t lie to me!” rafe argued, turning around to point in your face. he had walked away from you and the rest of the kooks, causing you to follow him.

“i wasn’t flirting with him, oh my god!” you argue back. rafe had somehow come to the conclusion that you were flirting with his best friend, even though you were just having a conversation. yeah, maybe you did laugh once or twice, but since when aren’t you allowed to laugh?

“yeah, sure, whatever you say.” he scrunches his face up, sarcastically nodding at you. “you are so strange, rafe. now you’re insecure about me talking to your friends? what, do you want me to just sit in the corner by myself?” you raise your voice, however he doesn’t like your attitude.

“don’t raise your voice at me.” he demands with a threatening look on his face. “jesus, rafe, we aren’t even together! who cares if i was talking to other guys, it’s not like you want me to be your girlfriend” you shrug, trying to act smart but he reached over and grabbed you by your throat, shoving you into the wall.

“oh, so you were flirting with him?” he asks, choking you to the point where you can’t breathe. you try to say no, but nothing comes out, so you shake your head drastically.

“you sure? cause i’m almost certain you just admitted you were.” he tuts, acting so casual whilst he’s got you pinned against the wall. his grip on your neck was intense, it felt like all of his fingers were slowly digging into your neck.

…

“nothing. i just… i don’t even remember.” you lie to your brother, shaking your head. “y/n, don’t play games with me. why did rafe choke you? those are clearly finger—” john b says, leaning down to look at your neck again, “stop!” you cut him off. “look. i don’t wanna’ talk about it. we were just fighting over something petty. it doesn’t even matter.” you shake your head.

“it does matter when it’s turned you into a whole different person,” john b sighs, making you sigh too. “are you seeing him?” the dreaded question comes. “what? no…” you give him a look of disgust. “are you sure? because pope told me he saw you with rafe at the golf course like… what, 2 days ago?” your brother catches you out.

“… i wasn’t with him. i just— saw him there.” you try to make an excuse.

“oh really? since when do you normally decide to hang out at the golf course, where all the kooks are?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at the word kooks, reminding you of where you came from, and that you were a pogue. not a kook.

“does this whole kook vs pogue shit even matter? i mean, seriously, how long is it gonna’ last?” you raise your voice, making him shake his head at how much you truly have changed.

“y/n, you were the one who always hated the kooks. you hated rafe, topper, kelce… and now you’re on their side? now you suddenly wanna drop the whole kook vs pogues thing, too? you are definitely fucking rafe. no wonder you’ve turned into such a miserable bitch lately.” your brothers words hurt you deeply, but he was right.

he shakes his head at you, giving you a look of betrayal. he was upset, and it was all your fault. “where are you going?” you ask as he walks away, grabbing the keys to the twinkie.

“to find rafe” he says, before walking out and slamming the door shut after him. you sit and sob for a minute, realizing you might have just ruined your entire relationship with your brother. as his big sister, he trusted you, but for you to go behind his back and chase the one person he despised, it hurt his feelings. but you are still his sister, and nobody hurts his sister.

“J. HUNTING DOWN RAFE. U COMING WITH?„

john b sent a text to jj, who answered almost immediately.

“HELL YEA MAN„

jj doesn’t even know what rafe did this time, but he’s always down to beat him up.

this was angstyyyyyy 😩 as u can see, i love to write arguments and toxic stuff lol. hope ya enjoy pretties ᥫ᭡ ᥫ᭡ WILL DEF BE WRITING A PART 2 TO THIS ; )))

@cameronluvr

[lynxiesblog]

It’s been almost a year since my last upload, so here’s a list of things I manifested since then 💖

Hii my luvs <3 here’s a list of things I manifested in the past 11 months ! Hopefully this helps you stay motivated about your desires because everything will work out .

This is also inspired by @youalreadyhavefullresults

・an iPhone 13

・money being given to me just because — literally got 160$ last week in CASH 🥰

・straight A’s in all my classes

・people complimenting me a LOT more — like every time I go out someone is either complimenting : my scent (my perfume), my makeup, my face, body (in a good way and non-creepy way), etc.

・braces — I had my braces at the time when I posted my 3dolc X Roe challenge but I’m still going to say I manifested them 🙄

・more friends — so many people that were in my grade and class last year that I didn’t talk to became my friends. My overall friend circle grew bigger

・more guy friends — most of my friends were girls which I love but I wanted to have some guy friends too and I got some 🤭 many of them added me to their close friends on Instagram and we hung out a lot during school (low key miss them)

・multiple people having a crush on me — I don’t know how to word this without it sounding weird but yeah😭. I had 4 dudes tell me they had a crush on me and they were low key attractive but my parents are kinda strict so no boyfriend for me (yet)

・my teachers liking me / being one of their favourite student — one of my teacher boosted my grade on my final report card, I didn’t even do any work that could give me extra credit.

(Pro tip : always be nice to your teachers like it’s so beneficial on the long run. Even when they’re low key assholes don’t hold a grudge)

・my anxiety whenever I have to present a presentation or speak out loud — I used to be so scared whenever I had to make a speech or just talk in front of people at school but I my fear went down. I’m still kinda nervous but so many subliminals helped me get over it.

・HUGE GLOW UP - OH MY GAWD, you guys I became so much prettier since I was last year no joke. I’ve had so many people stare at me in awe and compliment me. Like two weeks ago I was going grocery shopping alone since I have a store really close to me and I had to take the bus (I don’t have my drivers license yet 😔) and this lady that I sat next to full on turned and kept staring at me. When I looked at her she just smiled like kanaosj’akah!/&/$/78[•\*£\’s pls 💞

・acrylics — my mom wouldn’t let me get acrylic nails unless it was for a special event but she’s been letting me get one every month and I’m so so grateful

・a better relationship between my mom and dad — they have gotten so much nicer to one an other like my dad started buying gifts for my mom. It doesn’t happen very often but it’s a start

・my mom’s health

・a fun summer — compared to last year this summer has been way more exciting, even though I took summer classes for the month of June I still had so much fun and I still have a whole month to go

・finding lost items — you have no idea how many times I lost my AirPods because I sleep with them on overnight and whenever I wake up they are no where to be found 😭😭.

・getting a second ear piercing on each ear — my mom told me I could only get a 2nd piercing when I’d be 18 but I didn’t feel like waiting that long so I manifested she let me get them and she did 🙈. I got them last year during the time I posted my last post

・getting a KITTENN and a CATT — I’ve been wanting one so so badly and I’m finally getting one

・getting more clothes — I already have so many clothes and my mom said she would stop buying me some for a while , but she still bought me some and they are on the way 💞

・my parents finally getting their dream house 😩

・cute moments between me & my crush 🤭🤭

・greener eyes — my eyes have been getting lighter and look more green

・prettier 😽 (iykyk 😭😭)

・toxic people out of my life — specifically my old “friends”

[iamthatonefangirl]

unrequited - harvey specter

now that i'm getting back into the hang of writing hopefully my work quality will improve from whatever this is

send fic ideas!!! all the love on my recent harvey posts is what's keeping me going

also i can only write angst because i am still desperately crushing on my coworker oops

~~~

Your relationship with Harvey was like a ticking time bomb. 

You knew that you couldn’t keep this up forever; your feelings for him were too intense. They kept you awake at night, and they kept you from being able to date other men you knew you could like if not for him. Your feelings boiled up inside you day in and day out, and you were forced to suppress them. Harvey Specter was not the relationship type. 

You loved him too deeply to think the feelings would just go away one day. No, you would have to cut them off at the source. And that meant leaving not only your firm, but also the city in which you had built your connections, your career, your entire life. All to get away from the one thing you wanted so badly it was beginning to destroy the rest of your life. 

He had so easily turned into the main character of your story; it was time to reclaim your position as the protagonist. But that meant outcasting him for good. 

~~

When you first started at Pearson Specter, now Specter Litt, you were one of the few associates who Harvey had ever chosen to work directly with him. Years of watching and picking up on how he operated allowed you to grow to your full potential as an attorney at the firm, and for that, you couldn't be more grateful. Which is why even though you no longer worked very closely with him, having been promoted to junior partner, you knew he would be upset to hear your news of departure. 

You didn’t want to think about how you would eventually have to quit returning his calls and effectively ghost him to get on with your life. 

You expected him to ask what you wanted in return for staying at the firm, and when you would turn down the offer, he would lash out at you. You would leave the office and wouldn’t hear from him again until he called you a month later to check in. This was how it always went with him; it wouldn’t be any different this time around. 

Monday morning came around eventually, no matter how much you willed it wouldn’t. Stepping into his office, you were rightfully nervous to broach the topic. “Harvey, do you have a minute?”

He glanced up at you from his desk before replying, “Do any of us around here have a spare minute?” You chuckled at his response and shut the door behind you. 

“I’m serious.” He shut his laptop and turned to you. You sat down in front of his desk, hands fidgeting and eyes darting back and forth between him and the files on his desk. 

“I’m here to give you my official notice.” 

The half-smile he wore when you first walked in shattered. It pained you to see, but you steeled yourself. You knew what to expect next; you just had to grit your teeth and bare through the conversation. 

“I’ve been working on finishing up my recent cases over the last few weeks, and so I’m giving you my two-week’s. I’ve already spoken to some of the other partners who have agreed to take over my cases going forward, and I’ll be giving notice to my clients this week.” 

He didn’t say anything at all. Now that was uncharacteristic of him. 

He soon gathered his thoughts. He averted his eyes as he told you, “No need. I’ll waive your non-compete. You can take your clients with you to wherever you’re going.” He shifted his gaze back to you. “Just answer me this, what did they offer you?”

You didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean?”

He had that serious look on his face, the one he always sported when he realized he was caught in a bind. “The firm you’re leaving me for. What did they offer you to get you to leave?”

“Harvey, they didn’t– I’m not–”

“Senior partner? A higher salary? Because all of those things can be arranged for here, you know that. Just say the word.” 

He may have been upset, but he could not possibly have understood how difficult this was for you. His words the firm you’re leaving me for couldn’t have been more true, you were leaving him; no matter how you tried to tell him, you reminded yourself he couldn’t know that.

You paused a moment to exhale before telling him the truth.  

“I’m not leaving to go to another firm, you don’t need to waive my non-compete.” 

His lips parted ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“I’m going home, Harvey. I’m leaving for San Francisco.” 

~~~

He had no idea what you were talking about. Home? How hadn’t this city become your home? This firm? Him? 

You rendered him temporarily speechless. He tried to offer you more and more incentive to stay, but you refused. 

“I’ll double your salary. I’ll give you a bigger bonus than you’ve ever seen in your life.” You declined. “I’ll promote you. You can be elected a senior partner within the week, and I’ll pay your buy-in fee.”

Why was he trying so hard to get you to stay?

No matter how enticing the offers he made you might have been, you had one goal in mind: protecting your peace. Protecting your future from a man who would continue to take more and more parts of you until you were nothing apart from him. You had to leave before you couldn’t find your way back without him. 

“Harvey, I’m leaving, That’s final.” You stood and began for the door. 

“How dare you?” You heard from behind you. 

Suddenly angered, you turned back to him, “Excuse me?”

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re leaving, just like that. You’re going to drop everything just for some nostalgic memory of where you grew up?” 

“How dare you! Don’t you speak to me that way, Harvey. You have no idea why it is that I’m leaving!” You yelled back at him, finger pointing in his face. 

“So tell me!”

“You want the truth, Harvey? I’m in love with you. And I will never escape you any other way. So forget my two week’s notice. I’ll handle all my affairs from home. You’ll have my letter of resignation within the hour.” 

With what little dignity you felt you had left, you walked out of the room with your head held high. 

~~~

He had no idea, obviously. Of course he felt a connection to you; he trained you, taught you how the world of corporate law worked. 

How long had you felt that way? Is there something he could’ve done to avoid this whole situation? His most promising junior partner was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was his own fault entirely.

He was determined to get the chance to apologize when you came back with your resignation letter. He would straighten out the situation, explain that you could still work there. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

Of course, he got called away from his office for a period of time. The letter was there when he returned, and his hopes of keeping you were gone. 

~~~

You knew that in the books, the idea of people saying things in the heat of the moment were common occurrences. You didn’t think it could ever happen to you in real life, though. You intended for him to never discover this truth you hid from him. It was simpler that way.

But of course, you were wrong, and it all came out before you had a chance to bite your tongue. Now you had to clean out your desk quickly and say your goodbyes quietly. 

~~~

Three months later, you were settling into your new position. Since you anticipated spending another two weeks in New York, you had a whole month between your resignation and the time you were expected to start in California. 

You were finally starting to live your life more for yourself. You thought about Harvey less and less each day, until you could go out and meet another man without feeling like you were cheating on him. Crazy how you never got to call him yours, but still felt disloyal whenever you tried to go out with someone else while you were still in New York. 

Although you didn’t have the close relationship with your new supervisor that you had with Harvey, you felt welcomed and supported by your coworkers. You hated to admit that life was dull for a great number of weeks as you went through Harvey withdrawals, but it was true. Things were finally starting to get better until you got a knock on your door one day. 

~~~ 

You’d blocked Harvey’s number on your phone for a great many number of reasons. You never expected him to just show up at your new place, though.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Can I come in?” You allowed it.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he pointed out to you, to which you replied, “I blocked you, Harvey. Why are you not in New York right now?”

“I needed to see you,” was his only response. And with just those five little words, all the work you’d done to get over him was erased. It allowed your mind to flood with ideas of him wanting you in any way other than professionally or platonically. Damn you, Harvey, you thought. 

“For what?”

“I want you to come back.” Unhelpful answer.

“Why?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I want you to come back because I trained you, and you’re an asset to the firm that we’re losing out on.” 

“So you’re only here for a return on your investment in me.”

As you said that to him, he realized he fucked up. 

“Look, I didn’t mean–”

“Yes! You absolutely did! You show up here, out of nowhere, telling me that you need my skills to benefit the firm, not that you might just want me to come back. Not that maybe I myself am beneficial to the firm, or even that you just miss me! God, can you really not acknowledge what I told you the last time I saw you?” 

He paused. “Look, I know what you said. Yet still, I came.”

“And what does that mean, exactly? That you’ve suddenly come to terms with it and realized that you love me too?”

He didn’t respond at all. 

“I’m not coming back, Harvey. I need a life separate from you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” 

He shook his head in agreement. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be.” He turned towards the doorway and saw himself out as the tears started welling up in your eyes.  

Those were the last words you heard from him for a very long time. 

~~~

masterlist

[mochamamii]

yandere!nct: you try to unalive yourself.

▹ a/n: hello loves, I can’t remember if I’ve written something like this before but I wanted write something a little darker today but soon I will force myself to write some fluff I promise lol.

▹ pairing: yandere!nct x reader

▹ triggers: self-harm, readers attempts to unalive themselves, kidnapping, forced relationships

▹ warning!: I can’t stress enough how triggering this might be, I get descriptive at certain parts and I strongly urge you to consider whether this is something you want to read, this is dark and not my normal writing. please prioritize your own well-being and do not read this if it will influence you in anyway, I have lots of other lighter reads 💕

Taeil won’t let it get this far. Taeil loves you deeply and wants only the best for you no matter how demented it appears to others. He dotes on, and nurtures you like his life depends on it, carefully crafting your meals and your routine to keep your mind and body healthy. If something like this were about to happen, he would be able to foresee your declining mental state and hopefully prevent any attempts. Taeil would do everything in his power to keep you safe and he’d do his best to make you as comfortable as possible. He’d even consider letting you go if it meant saving your life.

“How could you do this to yourself? Don’t I take care of you well?”

Johnny is always calm and collected, even when he’s pissed off, a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, he always keeps the same mask on, never giving you any idea of what he’s thinking inside his head. Until now that is…He comes home to find you on the bathroom floor. At first he thought you must’ve slipped, hitting your head and knocking yourself out in the process, not that it had been done intentionally. Johnny is at a loss of what to do, it’s one of the few times he’s not sure what to say or do to fix this. He usually has a witty comeback to lighten the mood but he knows now isn’t the time. He helps fix you up, cleans the wound on your head, and tucks you in bed. Anytime you part your lips to speak he’ll shush you. The two of you will probably sit in silence for a while until he can figure out how to address this.

“It’s okay, shhh…Just rest, save your energy. We’ll talk about it later.”

Taeyong is an angry mix of emotions. He’s known for at least a week now that you somehow managed to obtain poison. He theorized that you must’ve used cleaning supplies to mix a cocktail of chemicals, he found you hiding your stash under the bathroom sink. He assumed your plan was to use it on him, simply out of curiousity and amusement he wanted to see if you were actually capable of trying to kill him so he didn’t address it. He wanted to see how far you’d go to leave him. He waited and waited, but he never noticed anything different. He already had cameras installed in your shared apartment to watch you while he was away, he hoped to find you tampering with his food in a botched attempt to poison him. But still, nothing ever came of it. Until suddenly, you were the one who fell sick. His worry turned to anger as he arrived home one night to find you on the floor of the bathroom, the mixture of poison lying next to you.

“Are you insane? What were you trying to do, kill yourself? Do you think that will work, because I promise you, nothing…not even life itself will keep me from you. Don’t ever do something stupid like this again.”

Yuta feels remorse. It’s one of the few and probably only times Yuta will ever feel this way. Out of everyone, Yuta is one of the most intense and dangerous yandere’s, but he still loves you in his own twisted way. He likes to push your buttons and torture you a little but he’d never kill you…probably. For Yuta, part of the fun is seeing how badly you want to live, how badly you want for him to release you and return to your old life. When he arrives home to find you on the floor, a dark crimson pool of blood surrounding you he panics, all the color draining from his face as he sees your barely conscious body. He’ll clean you up, bandaging your wounds, he’ll monitor you for a few days wondering if he should take you to a hospital. In those few days as he waits to see if your condition worsens he’ll be super gentle, much more gentle with you than he’s ever been. His hands will run over all the old scarred skin where he’s cut you in different places before, a deep pang in his chest screaming at him for doing that to you. He’ll be soft with you, but he can’t help but still poke fun at you in an attempt to get you to talk to him.

“Hey, couldn’t you wait for me? At least I know when to stop, clearly you’re still an amateur…You could’ve really hurt yourself. What would I do then, huh?”

Doyoung is angry. At you, but mostly himself. He likes to believe that he knows you better than you know yourself. To come home and find you in the middle of attempting to harm yourself he will realize just how little he truly knows about you and your condition. Initially the only emotion he can really process is anger, the thought of coming home a second too late and losing you enraged him. Even while angry, he was solid as rock, never giving you much of a clue about what he was thinking. He will carefully nurse you back to health, never leaving your side not even for a second. Once you begin to recover he will experience heartbreak and grief over what could’ve happened. Doyoung won’t address the incident much and will from then on refer to it as the ‘incident’ he wants to pretend that it never happened. He’s a stubborn man and his behavior towards you might not change much, if anything he gives you less freedom, afraid to let you leave his side.

“Never do that again. Hate me. Hate me all you want to, but never do that again. Please.”

Jungwoo is distraught after finding you in such a state. He’s in disbelief and this is a rare occasion in which he is truly afraid. Afraid of what could’ve happened to you and what might happen again in the future if he’s not careful. It flips a switch in him and forces him to realize something that he cannot shake. That he might not just need to protect you from the world but from your own self too. He becomes distrustful of you, scared and afraid that you might try to hurt yourself again. There’s no amount of convincing or promises in the world that will put his mind at ease. This fear will drive him to act irrationally, he’s not above strapping you to a bed all day while he’s gone if it means keeping you safe. In his mind you forced him to take these measures to keep you safe.

“You know why I have to keep you locked up like this don’t you baby? I can’t risk you doing something like that again, what would I do without you?”

Mark is shocked. He never expected it, he doesn’t necessarily make your mental health a priority for him. He knows you probably hate him and that you’d do nearly anything to get away from him. He just never thought unaliving yourself would be on the table for you. In fact, he probably expected you to try and kill him before you ever tried to hurt yourself. He will feel shameful and for the first time a little guilty about taking you. I don’t see him ever letting you go but he might be willing to talk and see what changes can be made to make you more ‘comfortable’ in your new life.

“Don’t punish yourself for the decision I made. If you wanted to kill someone it should’ve been me. Not you, never you.”

Haechan’s response might come off as cold and heartless. That’s only half true. Initially he might try and make himself believe that it wasn’t you who did it to yourself but that an intruder broke in and attacked you. When he realizes what you tried to do he knows that nothing he will say will comfort you or inspire you to never do it again. You hate him, so much that you’d rather die than be stuck with him another second. What could he possibly say to change your mind? His approach is a little brazen and risky but he wants to test your will to live. How badly did you truly want to be free of him? He used the only thing he knows for sure works in keeping you in check. Fear. Your fear of him and what he might do.

“What? It’s okay for you to go around taking lives but I can’t?” He asks with a quizzical expression as he holds a knife to your former friend’s throat, his icy eyes piercing into yours.

[abitterberryblog]

TWOTM Emissa Corenius : An Over-Analyzation

Major The Will of the Many spoilers and random theories ahead !!

Okay, so when I first read The Will of the Many, I wasn’t reading properly, and I just kinda assumed that Emissa was just a kinda blandly written character in such a well-written world. That was, of course, until the whole twist thing. What I liked was that it wasn’t a complete 360, and that she didn’t end up as extremely bad, but flawed enough for me not to be annoyed with her existence, and for her to not seem like only a Mary Sue 'love interest' character.

The thing is, I don't think she is at all.

First of all, I’m starting this with an analyzation of her relationship with Vis, and her not-so-role as a ‘love interest’. Was it real? Was it fake? I think she eventually did grow to be fond over him after a while, but I’ve always known she was going to betray him somehow. Something about the vibes.

It all started with the glass of water at the infirmary. I know there’s a chance that maybe she’s just, idk, kind or whatever, but after the ending, I’m not so 100% sure.

Not only that, but Ulciscor  constantly nagging about how suspicious he was of her. (Normally I'd pass it off as Ulciscor  being obsessed and hyper-anxious about the mission thing, but this was Emissa, and that caught my interest.)

There’s a really fat chance that she was, somehow, working with Veridius. This does not mean that she’s evil or whatever, and I'm still trying to figure out of Veridius is good or not, but it does make her a lot more interesting and complex.

Towards the end of the Iudicium, Emissa uses Will. You can’t use Will during academy stuff without some sort of source, or somebody allowing to use it. It's simply not possible?? Veridius? He’s literally the Principalis of the academy, after all, and during the infirminary scene at the end of the book, its implied that the Principalis spoke with Emissa beforehand, when he says to Vis that ‘she’s distraught’ and tries convincing Vis to talk to her.

What I noticed in this book is that the author, James Islington, is very careful in what he keeps in the book. Details. Hints. No matter how small or useless they seem. There are MAJOR spoilers, but : Here's a funny example I found.

See? Everything is littered in little details to be explored upon later. Even something as simple as a background detail of Aequa flipping coins.

ALSO, and something that I don’t see talked about for some reason, is the fact that Emissa knows that Indol was planning to deflect from Military to Religion. Indol never told her this. He’s shocked that she knows. Guess who may know??? Veridius???? That's right!!!

The question is, why would Veridius tell Emissa this? No idea from me here. But something else during the Iudicium arc catches my attention, and it’s the fact that Veridius PRIVATELY tells everybody what prize they would get if they won the whole thing. As implied by Eidhin (after he cancels on the Iudicium thing for Vis’ sake), Veridius often tempts them with something they really, really badly want,  and something that would drive them to want to win. 

I’m surprised not many people talk about that scene where Emissa asks Vis for the Heart of Jovan in the Iudicium, so she could win. She’s upset by this, obviously, since she cries and stuff, but I notice that she says “I can’t let us get separated.”

When I first read, I assumed she was talking about Vis, but that wouldn’t make sense, since she basically stabbed him as he fell off a tower (?) like, five seconds later. And also, her and Vis being separated wouldn't be related to her winning the Iudicium, (unless she's in a scenario where she'll have to leave forever or something if she doesn't win, which isn't really likely), Which makes me wonder, who was she really talking about?

Hopefully, we’re find out in the next book. Someone she really cared about? Relative? Family member? Am I missing something? Will this be important?

After all, we don’t exactly 100% know why Veridius planted Vis near the Callidus-Eidhin punchy debacle. He obviously knew Vis would step in.

At first I wondered if he was trying to kick Vis out and expel him, which is probably more likely, but right now I’m running on four hours of sleep and I am high on theories.

I think I’ve read this theory somewhere on the Hierarchy subreddit, too, but what if Veridius planned this whole thing, not to expel Vis, but to plant Vis near the stables as his punishment, maybe for Emissa to keep an eye on him? Or woo him for secrets or whatever the fuck? 

At the very least, whether Veridius did purposely plant Vis there for that sole reason, or as an afterthought after Vis worms himself out with the Threefold Apology, I do think that Veridius did make Emissa watch over Vis on purpose.

Otherwise, I think it’ll be a little random with Emissa just casually joining Vis to scoop horse dung, and I do not care how cool or attractive or fascinating he may appear, I still think it’s important. Hopefully? And why do I think so, you may ask?

I do not really think Islington deliberately wanted Emissa and Vis to be like, endgame, endgame. Like, The EndgameTM.  Maybe Emissa was trying to get more information on him. I don't know. It’s plausible. Emissa is top of the academy after Indol, and besides Indol being of course the smartest (as told by Vis), Emissa is FAR smarter than most readers deem her to be. I don't think everything as simple as this. Emissa simply cannot be this blind and radiant and carefree. She isn't in a perfume ad. We've established, from the book itself, that twotm is LAYERS upon LAYERS and twist after twist.

First of all, I’m so sorry, but Emissa and Vis have like no chemistry (imo). They do have maybe like a teeny, tiny bit, but the thing is that Vis has more chemistry with LITERALLY every other character his age BESIDES Emissa. I know, I know, every writer isn’t perfect, but there’s something so suspicious about Emissa and Vis’ dynamic.

As mentioned once on a Hierarchy Series subreddit post, Emissa and Vis have a strange dynamic that is unlike the others characters. With literally every single other character/friendship/relationship that Vis is in, there are details of each interaction, each feeling Vis has with them, what they do, bla bla bla, snippets of the scene, dialogue, ect.

But with Emissa, it’s sort of just…speedran? Like, besides the whole Suus island romance debacle and theatrics, their interactions just sort of go…

“Emissa visited me in the stables and we talked. For a long time. She helped me. She's nice. Also, her eyes are really green.” 

“Emissa sometimes studied with Callidus and I in the morning, sometimes not. Blablabla, she’s great and funny.”

“Emissa talked with me during Suus after noticing that I was uncomfortable with the politician people, blabla. ”

“Emissa and I trained together. In Three. Emissa helped me study. In Three. Wow, she makes me smile. Haha.”

Obviously, I'm exaggerating, but I'm definitely NOT wrong. Open the book and reread it. I DARE you to tell me I'm wrong.

See, there’s no real scene with them. Is it just me who noticed this? Just a time jump where Vis summarizes everything he did with her and how awesome and fun it was. There’s no way an author, writing a book with this much description and detail, just fumbles a romance by writing it like this.

NOT ONLY THAT, but even the CONFESSION scene isn’t anything as theatric as the rest of the book. Not even a SMIDGEN. Even the whole kiss can be easily forgotten. It’s not some dramatic confession. It's not romantic. It's not even sweet and heart-warming in that subtle, simple way. It's just a really lukewarm 'maybe i like you' and then boom, and it's over in an instant.

Vis mentions Indol and the secret that Emissa accidentally exposes of Indol, and then Emissa (suspiciously) changes the topic to how much she likes Vis and kisses Vis. And then boom, romance. A quick end scene, as if it wasn't ever important.

Isn’t it like, hella SUSPICIOUS? She changed the topic. Kissed him. Distracted him. And then the scene ended like it wasn't a whole Vis-Developing, Emissa-Developing, HUGE relationship moment.

Which, yeah, maybe she did like him at some point, but it sure as hell is convenient, isn’t it? I’m super invested in her character now, which is ironic because I used to not be able to STAND her because I just thought her character was just a really poorly written love interest.

I’m convinced Islington has the writer ability to write a confession/kiss scene much better, and much less random than that. Which means that I really don’t think he INTENDED to make hearts swoon. Just to distract.

Emissa is very fascinating, and few people acknowledge that, and I am EXTREMELY excited for The Strength of the Few to release.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Hi sorry to bother you or bug you but can you please write a fanfic or maybe a short post about how would the mail Justice League members would react to female superhero reader while she's on her period apparently I'm on the starting stage of having my period cramps are the worst and I need comfort you can make this however you want it's up to you I understand if you don't want to that's fine but if you do want to do this thank you so much you're an awesome person and an amazing writer and also I think you're writing is awesome never stop loving yourself and never stop treating yourself also don't forget to have a self care day 😇

 Hey! You’re not bothering me at all! 

You know what I don’t normally take requests (refer to my pinned post), but screw it. I’m having a shitty time with my own uterus so why not? Nothing makes me feel better than reading and/or writing fluff when I feel bad and hopefully this’ll make you and other people feel better as well 💜

I’ve already done a post similar to this featuring Bruce (you can find that here) so for this I’m just going to be doing Arthur, Clark and Ollie* since I know them better than I do the rest of the League. I hope that’s okay! 

And thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so glad that you like my writing! I hope that you enjoy 💜

*And a bonus w/ Diana since the idea came to me while I was writing the boys and I could not resist and just had to include her.

Warnings - F!Reader. Established Relationship. Period mentions (Obviously). Comfort. Fluff!

Clark keeps track of your cycle so that he can always make sure you’re stocked up on the things that you need. Chocolates, sweets, sanitary products, pain medicines, his mom’s special homemade cookies. You name it, he’s already stocked the cupboards and fridge with it. 

Definitely a bit of a mother hen. Likes to dote on you and make sure that you’re fed and hydrated, but isn’t overbearing or condescending in any way. He knows that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. He also knows that there are times where you just want to be taken care of and cuddled in bed until you’re feeling better, he’s more than happy to do so. He’s also a walking furnace so no more waiting for a hot water bottle or heat pad to warm up when you’ve got Clark right there instead.

Arthur is a lot of like Clark. Keeps track of your cycle, makes sure you have everything you could possible need. You don’t even need to lift a finger as he will have the palace staff bring it straight to you. 

Obviously, as king of Atlantis, he has duties he must attend to, but the ones that he can pass off to others he does so that he can be there for you while you need him. When he is with you be ready for lots of kissing and cuddling as he makes it up to you and does his best to make you feel better. 

Oliver can be… a little bit forgetful. He doesn’t keep track of your cycle like Clark and Arthur, at least he doesn’t in the very beginning of your relationship. Definitely makes the wrong joke at the wrong time and the glare that you give him is more than enough for him to realise he’s messed up and badly. He’s quick to start making amends though!

Waits on you hand and foot. Anything that you want he will run and get it for you. To the point that it’s like he’s trying to compete with the Flash for the title of fastest man alive. Still makes jokes, but now they’re so ridiculously corny it’s hard to not laugh at them when you’re still trying your very best to be mad at him. Is more than happy to snuggle with you (once you have forgiven him and will actually let him).

Bonus!

Diana, of course, knows just how much periods can hurt. She sympathises with you greatly when she finds you curled upon the couch and she hates to see you in such pain and discomfort. She makes sure that you have eaten, drunk something and had some pills before she is pulling you to lay on top of her, strong muscular arms wrapping around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. She won’t be leaving your side until you’re feeling better so if there is anything that you need she will order it in for you instead.

[dreadsuitsamus]

May I request sfw prompt #39 and nsfw prompt #53 for Gohan where he falls in love with the reader after they have a one night stand but she's initially cold to him because she had been hurt in the past?

#39- "why are you scared of loving?"

#53- "you're more than just a one night stand"

author's note: this has been in my inbox since january of 2023 💀 but i have finally found my inspiration to get it done! there's no explicit smut but there are some nsfw mentions. this is also written as a prequel to my story protect!

pairing: gohan x fem!reader

warnings: talks of a past abusive relationship, mentions of reader's ptsd, nsfw mentions

A sigh quells the silence in your room as you dress after a shower. While not at the lowest point in your life, you're still not far from rock bottom. Living with your mother again, only a year and a half removed from that day your ex beat you to a pulp and left with all your money and all of the problems of his absence are still keeping you from flourishing. Ruined credit score from a broken apartment lease, incalculable debt from the hospital bills that your insurance refused to cover, and frequent nightmares of him coming back to finish destroying you into nothing give you constant anxiety and each day is a new struggle.

Safe to say, you haven't really been okay.

You glance at your phone with shame, nervous for when the inevitable text comes from a man that's far too sweet and far too good for you to deserve you skipping out on him in the middle of the night following the mistake of a one night stand. You met Gohan through a friend, and he offered to guide you through ridding yourself of the medical debts and this is what you've done to repay him. Hook up with him and then run for the hills the second he was asleep.

You close your eyes to calm yourself, centering again before the bad feelings of anxiety and depression can come creeping up your spine. Gohan knows about your past, and he's a grown man. Surely one as attractive as him has a few notches on his bedpost and would understand your absence.

But the way he looked at you last night, like you were heaven-sent and perfect has you doubting such an idea. Son Gohan could be a man like that if he wanted, but your heart and your mind alike know that's not who he is. He's a pure, old fashioned good boy. He wouldn't have slept with you if he didn't romantically like you to some extent…

And you certainly wouldn't have slept with him if you didn't want to reciprocate so badly it makes your chest ache with all of the want you harbor. To have a man love you, truly, and treat you as you deserve has been on your mind for years, well before your former boyfriend finally left you. But you had that kind of hope in Tyler, at first. He was kind, he was sweet and attentive… Though it only took moving in together for his true colors to show. Lying, cheating, stealing—  That's who your ex was after all.

Your heart can't take that chance again.

You hang your towel on the back of your door, gazing at nothing in particular as you settle onto your bed. For the last few years it's as if you've had so much to plague your mind that you can't think of a single thing. It's strange to feel so empty, just entirely devoid of direction or purpose. You've got yet another set of paperwork to fill out for your medical debt, and then a few job applications as well that hopefully will last longer than a handful of months— all of these places only hiring you on as a temp is a god awful look on your résumé.

Your old laptop awaits, but you can do little more than flop back against your pillows and close your eyes. The war in your mind is something you're used to, but the usual stress on your body is gone.

You bite down on your lip as you remember the way Gohan touched you. The way he lit you up with his lips on yours, how gentle he was with your body and feelings, offering to stop or slow down— even when you were on the cusp of orgasm! He's a perfect sexual partner, and if it wasn't for how damn sweet he is you may have even thought to make it a routine thing.

You drift off to a blissful sleep that's heavy enough for you to miss that dreaded text.

I hope you made it home safely.

Gohan absentmindedly worries his lip between his perfect teeth, typing in a frenzy as he shoots back an email to the hospital that wracked you up with an inhumane amount of debt. He's got plenty to get done today, mostly for his actual job, but he just won't allow himself a moment to make any progress until these firmly-worded emails get the message across: you will not be paying them hundreds of thousands of dollars for fighting for your life!!

The huff he lets out after sending his email doesn't ease the anxiety that's been bubbling in his chest all morning. When you came over last night to work on a résumé, Gohan had absolutely no intention of sleeping with you. You're a woman in a bind and he's here to help, that's all! Disgust crawls over his skin anyway, shame buzzing his insides as he remembers everything that led to your passionate hookup.

You smelled so nice and looked just so damn pretty… He just wanted to sit a little bit closer, that's all. But then you looked up at him (and he'll die on the hill that you batted your lashes at him!) and he was nothing but a fool for you then. He doesn't know who leaned in first or who started what, but he certainly only had the mind to end it after it was too late to stop and he was balls deep.

A shudder wracks Gohan's body as he remembers the feeling of slipping inside of you. Even with a condom on, he could feel the heat and the wetness of your silky walls as they gripped his lonely shaft and sucked him in for as many inches as he had to give. And thank goodness he even had a condom on hand, all thanks to the people fundraising outside of the grocery store that included them in their donation goodie bag!

You were so sweet beneath him, so pliable and warm and perfect. He feels his cock stir in his pants, jumpy at the memory and unfortunately eager to experience such a lovely time again. Alas, you've been through quite a lot, and he shouldn't get his hopes up for anything like that.

You walking out on him last night already dashed his hopes anyway.

It wasn't exactly surprising to wake up alone, though it did sting all the same. You're just so amazing and kind and beautiful… Gohan would have to be a real piece of work not to see how special you are. Only a waste of space like your ex could be blind to everything that you are.

Gohan checks his phone for what feels like the thousandth time, no text message back from you. He's starting to worry now, which isn't good for his nails that he habitually bites when stressed. It'd probably do him well to go for a training session, but he also feels so frazzled as his blood races through his veins that training may not yield any productive results.

He pulls his glasses off and runs his large hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until he starts seeing stars. Blinking until the room clears, Gohan glances at his phone once again before standing with an indignant huff.

He's fine, all of this is fine. And fretting over nonsense won't make you text him back any faster. You need your space, and he's going to give it to you. No fussing required.

He does go make use of Vegeta's gravity room, though when the Saiyan himself shows up and he's left in the face of a full-blooded, battle-hungry Saiyan, he can't help but think that perhaps he should've stayed home.

At least he's not stuck with Vegeta in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber like Trunks was.

Gohan's text message remains unanswered, haunting you as you cook yourself dinner. You'll have to face him eventually, and soon, but what do you say? 'Thanks for the sex, it was great!'? No! Do you ignore it??

Do you have a choice?

Hooking up again isn't an option. Pursuing something more with him, something romantic and fulfilling, definitely isn't either. He's been a wonderful help to you and for absolutely nothing at all in return; you don't have any extra money to pay him anyway. The kindness of Gohan's heart isn't even something you can repay, not after what you've done to him. A sour feeling crosses your mouth, your appetite fading as your mind races.

He's a good man. Too good for where you're at in life, and there's always some kind of catch with nice guys. It's too risky, all of it. Will he demand more sex for more of his help, now that he's already gotten it once? You need his assistance to whittle down the medical bills— his stubborn insistence with insurance and the hospital itself is astounding, and runs deeper than anyone else you know. Left to your own devices, you'd have given up a long time ago.

He's not like that. The reminder scolds your terrible line of thinking. Gohan would never leverage your quality of life at all, let alone with the ultimatum of sex. He's not your ex, he's not a bad person in the slightest.

But you didn't know your ex was your ex at first either.

Your plate of eggs and toast nearly run cold by the time you've found it in you to send a response. Typing and erasing it several times over, you finally end up with a passable response message over twelve hours since his text to you in the first place.

I'm alright, thank you. Would you mind sending the copy of my résumé? I forgot to download it onto my laptop.

You are such a dick.

But the job applications are just sitting pretty without it right now, and you can't afford not to include the carefully-crafted résumé Gohan spent so much time on. He made it for you, it's literally yours, and the shitty little paycheck you got just a few days ago is already about gone. You're cold, and it'll surely throw him for a loop at minimum, but it's the best way to protect yourself.

"Chase a check, never chase a bitch." You murmur the cold lyric to yourself and bite into your dinner, waiting for Gohan's timely response. He's a busy man with a career of his own, but he always messages you back in mere minutes. He's a great multitasker like that, and you certainly aspire to be as efficient as he is.

Though you begin to doubt things when hours pass and there's no response. Ice slowly frosts your veins with every further minute that Gohan doesn't respond with your résumé; surely there's a good reason? He wouldn't have thrown it out or be the type to withhold it— your friend would never associate themselves with Gohan if he was like that, much less connect the two of you if he were the sort of man to manipulate things in such a way.

But the cold, paranoid dread doesn't let up even in the morning. Your phone has no notifications at all, and you even check the chat to make sure the message is sent. It has, and he's seen it.

Anger bubbling beneath the surface of your chest is overshadowed by the trembling of your bottom lip. How foolish could you be?? If there was ever going to be a hookup, you could've at least waited for your shit to be in order! Now it's all lost and you're on your own again, left to navigate debt that's threatening to swallow you whole and job-hunt in a market that doesn't want you.

Your mother's gone for work already as you begin your routine; your scheduled shift at work is a short one and not for several more hours, but to sit around and do nothing in the meantime will only spell certain doom. If you're given too much time to think, lord only knows what sort of outburst or meltdown you'll have. You're fresh out of the shower and part way through brushing your teeth when the doorbell rings, confusion etched to your features. You're not expecting anyone, though perhaps your mother has a package that needs signing for? Dropping your head, you quickly spit and rinse with mouthwash before jogging to open the door.

On the other side stands a damp man with crooked glasses, a dazed look in his eye and all the anger in you fizzles out. He's here. And the look on your face must scare him with the way his lip nearly trembles when he speaks.

“I am— I— Sorry!” Gohan stumbles over his words and you sigh softly as the trickle of relief siphons through the rest of your body. Gesturing him further in, Gohan slips off his shoes and hands over a folder.

“I got busy with my uncle,” Busy being a bit of an understatement; the moment Vegeta caught Gohan with his phone as he was reading your message and forced him right back into the gravity room for another training binge. “And I went as fast as I could to get this to you. I am so sorry about this.”

Your eyes soften and you carefully wipe a few suds from his hair. “I appreciate it… But you could've finished your shower first.”

Gazing up as if he can see the soap in his hair, Gohan’s cheeks redden as he laughs nervously. “Uh… S-Sorry.”

Reluctantly dropping your hand once you've fixed his glasses, you open the folder to find a physical copy of your résumé alongside a flash drive that presumably has another copy downloaded onto it. “Thank you.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Gohan bites his lip. “Um… Can we talk for a second?”

“A-About what?”

Oh no.

“I… Think you have an idea.” Gohan says softly. He can't leave it behind or anything unsaid; one night stands aren't his thing. “Listen… What happened between us was…”

“Sex. It was just sex.” You murmur, setting the folder down on the coffee table. “People have sex all the time… It happens.”

Hurt penetrates Gohan's chest. He knew you were jaded, knows exactly why and he does understand… It doesn't mean it can't hurt him. He likes you, appreciates your mind and admires your strength in a way that may have a bit to do with his Saiyan heritage. “Sure… Other people do that. But I don't. And… And for me, I…”

Tears start to well in your eyes. This man, this wonderful, caring, smart and lovely man is about to cross that line, isn't he? The one that can't be crossed again, the one that's going to end this friendship on a burned bridge and broken hearts. “Gohan, don't—”

“You're more than just a one night stand.” He says it anyway, taking your hands and holding them so warmly, protectively and securely. “To me, you are… Inspiring, and beautiful, and… And someone I really, really like. And that night was so great, and I was on top of the world until I woke up and you were gone.”

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, screwing your eyes shut tightly and ducking your head. You just can't stop messing up, can you? “It's not you, Gohan. You're a great man and there's a woman out there that will make you happy and take care of you.”

“The woman I want is right in front of me.” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, brushing away the salty tears that fall when you meet his gaze.

“Gohan… You don't want this. Do you know why I left that night?”

Gohan’s other hand comes to the other side of your face, cradling you like the daintiest china. “You had your reasons.”

Your hands come to his wrists, not tugging his touch away as you feel his warmth bloom within you, lighting you up in unfamiliar but pleasant ways, encouraging the leap of faith that your hopeful heart cries out for. “Because I get nightmares. Nightmares so bad that my momma has to come and wake me up almost every night and hold me to stop the panic attacks. I'm broken in so many ways Gohan…” Your lip trembles, and Gohan gently swipes his thumb just below the curve of it, mesmerized by every inch of you.

“If you only knew just how much I understand being broken…” Gohan whispers, his “eventful” childhood flashing through his mind from his kidnapping and all the way to his father's most recent death. “Then you would understand me more than anyone, and I’d get to understand you.”

“You don't want this.” You whisper again, and Gohan leans in for the softest, warmest kiss to your forehead. It clears the rain, just a bit, and you lean into it.

“Why are you so scared of loving me?” Gohan murmurs against your skin. “You've never said you don't want it… Me. Just that I won't want you, like you're a used car or something.”

You come to hide your face in his chest and he wraps you up tightly, his strong body anchoring you from your fears. “I'm afraid to get hurt again. When you didn't answer my message, I thought the worst of you! That you were some asshole that was only gonna help me if I kept sleeping with you! All because you didn't text me back. That's just the tip of the iceberg, Gohan!”

“Honey…” Gohan whispers, swaying gently as he holds you, one arm wrapped tightly around your middle while his other hand rests at the back of your head. “You’d know my heart if you knew your place. So come find yourself… I'll wait for you.”

The fog breaks, and your smile is brighter than a thousand suns and Gohan has never seen anything more breathtaking.

[starzblvd]

Somethin’ Stupid |pt.1

Ellie wasn’t one to do sports but she sure as hell was when you started cheering for a certain blonde soccer captain

AN; To preface reader isn’t a cheerleader, more like someone who goes to a game with those huge signs, decked out in the teams merch. Sorry for being gone so long, but I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while so hopefully I executed this well, and thanks to everyone who’s been reading/reblogging my work I love it knowing other people enjoy what I make 💕 bsf!ellie, modernau, soccercaptain!abby, Nora!abby!bsfs

Assignments this semester were laying it thick with the load, so much so you’d been missing time you could’ve spent with your best friends specifically, Ellie. You knew she would’ve been understanding just like she typically is with you, yet you undeniably failed to ignore the sting of guilt when you had to excuse yourself from meeting up with her through the week. Tonight your time and attention was dedicated to solely her, before arriving at her dorm you prepped up a “sorry I was so busy” snack basket. Usually Ellie’d be stuck to you even in the most mundane tasks, you felt homesick from her presence after the first couple days of being separated.

Had you known each other before uni you’d choose a dorm haul closer, walking across campus every time got bothersome fast, but the process you followed before seeing her was fun. It was fun picking a cute outfit to see Ellie, wearing that one shirt she likes so much since the fabric hugged you so right. No matter how long Ellie’s known you or how comfortable it’s gotten around her it never hurt to try dressing up a bit for her. The sickeningly sweet feelings when she’d do anything were always there, present, sincere, and bitterly inducing thoughts of it being just that, feelings sickening the relationship you cherished with her.

The walk wasn’t so bad when the sky became tinted with the pink and orange hues of sunset, until you took a forceful nudge to the shoulder by someone in a rush, some of the snacks even pooled out from the edge. Are you fucking serious, immediately the girl spun around lifting her hands up apologetically.

It was her, Abby Anderson. You’d recognize her from Instagram stories of other peoples posts from going to the soccer games. She was always deemed the star of the team, being phenomenal at the way she played and looking the way she did made it understandable why she had such a fan base.

“shit, sorry, let me help you,”

Not taking another second to wait Abby picked the snacks from the ground, it was noticeable she was anxiously in a rush, seeing you burned her paced down a bit.

“Thanks, I guess.”

She’d already ruined the perfect alignment you placed the snacks into for Ellie so you weren’t waiting around to have a chat with her.

“Wait, let me make it up to you.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t do anything that bad”

Abby’s face hesitated on letting you go or choking the words out she was fumbling to find through her mind.

“No it’s just, it would make me feel less guilty about hitting you so suddenly.” Abby looked right at your blatantly confused look and she wanted so badly to curse herself for not rehearsing this better.

“look I really need to get somewhere,”

“at least take my number, wouldn’t hurt right?”

Even if you weren’t crazy for her or the soccer team Abby was undeniably good looking, so spending some time with her wouldn’t be unbearable. After all she did seem nice and she helped you after shoving you to the side, her making it up to you would be a small free gesture.

“Fine, just please hurry,” the small smile you handed to her along with your phone was a relief to Abby’s anxious heart, once it sunk in that you were insinuating for her to save her number into your contacts she quickly complied. You didn’t want to come off too harsh so the smile was more a polite gesture. She memorized your number to put into her own phone after you left.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

Standing outside of Ellie’s door was nerve racking each time, the way her eyes strike contact with yours instantly after opening the door. Even then it was always comforting sharing the bed coddled by the star quilt on nights you stayed over.

The doorknob rattled opening the door, leaning on the door, wearing her tank top with no bra noticeable by the way her nipples are lightly lined through the fabric, you loved when she wore her tank tops.

“you didn’t have to” Ellie’s eyes soften taking you in and the basket you made, she missed you, clearly. She opens her arms to take the load of the basket from your hands, slightly grazing on the tips of your fingers,

“I wanted to, missed you,” the grin your lips formed into couldn’t be helped with her.

god stop being delusional she’s just being nice.

Ellie trailed right behind you into her dorm, smelling the remnants of your perfume wafting back at her, she always loved the way you smelt even when she doesn’t admit it. Thinking it might be weird to comment on your scent.

You had called her prior to coming so she cleaned up and set up the same quilt on her bed facing the TV, situating the basket wedged between her legs after sitting down.

“I have the perfect movie for tonight”

“you say that everytime then fall asleep els,”

“Trust me, it’s gonna knock your socks off.” Ellie was always so cocky when it came to her interests, she sounded a bit like a dork but in an endearing way.

Ellie patted the spot next to her inviting you right next to her, wrapping you in with her the moment you do. Loving the way the heat radiating from you touched her cold skin. There was a line drawn out as friends but it never stopped you from indulging in moments like these. Ellie right beside you and nobody else, at times it felt like the line had disappeared, never too sure what this was. Chalking up every longing stare out to normal staring was all you could do with the doubt that clouded over you constantly.

“if you fall asleep during this one im so choosing next time.”

Ellie scoffed acting offended flipping through the selection with the remote, her other hand was busy playing with the hem of the blue cotton shorts she wore. Right above her desk she’d pinned the photo of you with the familiar tattooed forearm slung across your shoulders, the photo was placed right next to the photo Ellie, Dina, and Jesse had taken at the fall fair last year. Knowing Ellie kept your face so close to somewhere she’d devote so much time to, somewhere she’s around so often, felt nice.

Following your trail of gaze she’d figured you’d been staring at the newly added photo, a soft pink frosted the tips of her ears as the words of her explanation spoke, “I put that up couple days ago, because, you know.” The you know was suggesting itself to be friendship, friends are supposed to have photos of each other. Regardless, a small tinge of hope stood for the idea that you meant as much as you did to Ellie as much as she did to you.

Just like the prediction you warned her about, Ellie was out. The side of her head had found its way onto your shoulder, happening in the middle of the movie while still awake, leaving quick little comments on different scenes.

“no way they actually fell for that.”

“see, if that was me I would’ve seen it coming.” Every small remark began having a longer gap between them reflecting how sleep slowly lulled her away from her dorm. Eyelids gently blanketing the eyes that wore such an alluring shade of green, always reeling you into her deeper. Ellie was in such tranquil sleeping propped up against you, you’d hate to wake her up, but you’d hate for her to wake up with neck pains. Holding in your breath while handling and making it so Ellie’s situated to be laying down on her back was probably being overly safe, she slept through multiple alarms, she can sleep through being plopped onto her pillow.

Right when you were free a ping came from your phone, it was obvious who it was. Had she not been so insistent you’d ignore Abby and continued walking to Ellie’s. You never payed much attention to Abby, it was so hard to come across her at campus let alone get to know her. Most you knew she was good at what she did and stayed on top of everything, and her last name carried some weight with higher ups.

She totally dodged my question

Disregarding that, you felt slightly nervous now with a set official meet up. Not clear as to what exactly has you stirred up, maybe it’s the fact she’s pretty or the fact that a girl so prominent was practically begging to spend time with you. Nevertheless you were currently more focused by the sleepiness hitting you as well. Right next to Ellie. You were equally nervous with Ellie possibly even more, but with her there was sense of security, homey feeling when you were together. That made up for any sentiment of the chance this is as far as you’d ever go with Ellie.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

5:00pm on the dot, Abby was standing against the wall hesitantly looking around knowingly for you. She had beat you there by showing up 10 minutes earlier, clearly dressed up a bit. Seemingly not a single fly away separating itself from her braid except a few loose strands in the front. The moment your eyes locked with hers she walked right over to you, almost speed walking.

“Hey.” The smile Abby gave looked so genuine upon seeing you.

“Hey.” You were unsure how to initiate the outing so the both of stood staring the other down until Abby got the hint.

“Let’s go inside yeah? I preordered our drinks so there’s no wait. Pretty sure you’ll like what I got you.”

The question she dodged yesterday night, did she see you here so often she memorized your drink too? Obligingly you follow right behind her, reluctant on the decision to ask the question again or not. Abby seemed happy doing this for you so at most you knew this outing wouldn’t be so bad.

She picked a table next to a window, pulling the chair out for you. After waking up in Ellie’s dorm you briefly mentioned meeting with Abby, Ellie’s response was a cold look and “Are you seriously going?”

Why she sounded so bothered by Abby’s insistency to makeup for a simple accident was something you were clueless too, a little too clueless. Pulling you back to the girl in front of you Abby puts a straw in your drink for you. Working out of your reluctancy you shoot your looming question.

“How’d you know I go here?”

Abby’s face was stricken with slight surprise, she chuckled a bit before giving a proper response this time.

“I walk by here a bunch, and you just, stood out, you know?” No, you didn’t know, but you went on either way seeing how the confidence she wore so heavy was being melted right in front of you.

“What about me stood out?”

“Nothing in particular,” there was something in particular, but her eye contact with you was becoming scarce under your further instigation, not wanting to bring down the mood you move on for now.

“You play soccer right? I’ve seen some posts of you here and there.” Taking the straw into your mouth and letting the drinks taste hit you, it became apparent she did memorize your drink, down to even the milk you preferred for lattes.

“Yeah, I’m team captain, never seen you in the crowd but If you wanted to go I could help you with that.” Talking about something she was good at made her slip back into her confident state. She knew she was good, anyone detesting that clearly hadn’t seen her play.

“Pull some strings? What do you have special privileges as captain?” The conversation was easier to jab at, now teasing her both of you grinning subtly leaning into each other over the table.

“Course I do, front row seats, just for you.” In all honesty as soccer captain she could’ve allowed a couple of your friends to come to a game for free especially as an Anderson, but she didn’t want to see your friends there, she wanted to see you.

“give me a time and date, I’ll be there. Waving a sign cheering for you and all.” Giggling you were invested in this now, setting aside the fact that you didn’t really care for sports, soccer not being an exception. On the other hand you weren’t watching soccer, you were watching her.

When you’d hit the bottom of your drink after conversing with her longer about more mundane things you got up to toss your cup. Talking with Abby was easier when you discovered how much her personality was refreshing to be around, conversation full of laughter and lengthy discussions.

Abby sprung up alongside you, “If you’re walking back to your dorm I can take you back.”

“Are you sure? We’ve spent like 2 hours here just talking already.”

“My dorms close to yours anyways,” she held the door open for you, so nice to you since the beginning of meeting you. Visibly content with the smile that wouldn’t leave her face for practically the entire time.

The walk was quieter than the 2 hours spent at the cafe, enjoying each others company in a more relaxed atmosphere.

Abby’s voice interrupts the silence abruptly, “Hey that girl you’re always with isn’t your girlfriend right?”

The question was simple but you continued a few steps further before answering, Ellie as your girlfriend? Replayed in your mind before you did, the thought alone had you thrown off.

“No we’re just uh, friends.” You shoot Abby another reassuring grin similar to when you passed your phone to her the first time. Trying to evade the tinge of unsureness of the ‘uh’ mixed into your reply.

Abby’s shoulder dropped to relax from the subconscious stiffening they did in the few seconds it took you to give a response.

“Always saw you two together just assumed, anyways I look forward to seeing you again.” Reaching the door to the halls entrance you turn back to look at her one last time.

“Not coming in?”

“My dorms somewhere else but it’s, close”

“Well thanks for walking me here and for the drinks, had fun hanging out with you today.” You were genuine telling her this, Abby’s smile only grew wider with her rosy cheeks making an appearance at your words.

“I did too, see you.”

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

After showering you open your phone up to an absolute slew of messages from Ellie, forgot I had my phone on silent, shit.

30 minutes pass by and no reply, did she really fall asleep so early? Early for her anyways, looking at how much she’d sent you couldn’t help the creeping feeling of guilt. Tomorrow you’d make it up to her, again. Missing Ellie’s texts stung more than you’d like it to, missing her in general always did this to you. It was unavoidable.

On the other side is campus a brunette stared at the texts Dina had sent her, eyebrows hugging closer to her eyes on her face she wore anger and jealousy. Jealousy over her friend. Dina passed by The Firefly and filled Ellie in on how you and Abby were connecting so well. Ellie hated it, hated it completely. What could she do, you’d ignored her texts to talk with Abby of all people, what did she have that Ellie didn’t, was she lacking something so bad you had to go to Abby for it? She was just concerned for you, not jealousy, yeah that’s what it is, is what she convinced herself to draw up her emotions to. Dina was even able to eavesdrop a bit, enough to know you’d agreed to a soccer game, now Ellie knew too. You didn’t even like soccer and she knew that. At some points Ellie knew more about you than you did yourself.

if you were going to see a soccer match she was set on making it so you didn’t only focus on her at the game. Ellie was prepared to do something to distract you away from Abby. After all, how could she let her best friend let herself associate with the obnoxious blonde soccer captain.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

[strawdool]

Let me tell you Straw, your Modern AU has given me an immense amount of inspiration. At one point I would have liked to write some fanfics around it but it wasn't really in my right to do so, so I didn't. I think I like this AU in particular because in order for Lamb and Narinder to even remotely make it work they have to fight through a ton of issues. I like seeing characters get completely broken by the consequences of their actions and then learn how to fight their own demons. It's also a bit of hit or miss on whether people like this relationship development, but I really like the kind of relationships in fiction where the characters have to really fight for it. It's all well and good to have a story where the characters fall in love instantly and after maybe one calamity or two, they set off in the sunset. But for me, I like the relationships more where you aren't sure where things are going. There's clear signs but the two characters really have to want that relationship to make it work and fight through a lot of problems. It can suck seeing the characters stumble but in the end to me, it's very rewarding that once they have (hopefully) solved said issues, they will probably have a stronger and healthier relationship than most. To me, any kind of foundation that has seen struggle and survived it will always be stronger than one that has never experienced conflict. In other words, a relationship that could survive its issues and find compromise and resolution I think is more likely to last in the end. This is not always the case but in fiction we can force happy endings right? That said though, I have to really wonder if your modern Narinder and Lamb will ever get their act together to actually forge a peaceful and successful life together. I don't know if you have a full story planned out or not but if Narinder has already screwed up to the point of a breakup then there may be no recovery from that. The path forward I see is him finally addressing his problems and trying to turn his life around. As the Lamb, hopefully they can find a life where they're not in threat of the outside world. Maybe the two could eventually reconcile and form a long lasting friendship even if it never fully repairs. I'm just always hoping that characters will learn from their mistakes even though often in real life some people never learn and will constantly do the same horrible things. If I had to say what the most appealing part of your au is, it's the hope aspect. It's the hope that someday Narinder will realize what a trash bucket he is and do something about it. It's the hope that the Lamb can realize their self worth. Maybe it'll end with Narinder, a fully cleaned up man with a plan, formally apologizing to the Lamb for everything he's done and after a cordial conversation he disappears, on to a new life. The Lamb doesn't really know what becomes of him but hopes that he will do some good with his life. Maybe somewhere in the back of their head they'll lament too that Narinder figured things out too late. I don't know, thinking out loud at this point. But hey, this is a very interesting AU and it has sparked far more ideas than just those. So have a good day and I very much look forward to more if you happen to do so.

me when anon goes into a full rant about my au i feel so happy that my au had make you have a lot of inspo <33333

anyway answering your question, Narinder and Lamb spiral after the breakup: lamb bc they were betrayed at their most vulnerable and Narinder trying to justify his bad action with "they deserved it" but deep down knowing he fucked up badly but he doesnt want to accept that and so he doubles down and he gets into a very bad place mentally.

but while Lamb finally opens up to their insecurities and their situations to goat and ratau after all. Narinder had already pushed everyone away; no family, no friends, nothing.

it takes a while until one day Narinder finally comes to the realization how badly he is and starts getting his life together. (i like to say that it all starts with cleaning his apartment lol)

he doesnt contact lamb for a whole year at this point he even got a job and is now reconnecting with his kids, until he remember Lamb and finally accepts that the way he treated them and all the blame the put on them wasnt right.

And so he tries to find them to talk things throught (goes to a point he kinda starts stalking them for a bit) and when he finally gets to them Goat is the one who interrupts him with punching him in the face. but mf doesnt give up which results in him getting his ass beaten many times.

For Lamb and Narinder to finally get on good terms it takes a while, if reconstructing their friendship already took them months, rekindle the romantic relationship its another can of worms that both try to take it slowly and not rush things. Narinder in that he becomes really nervous, afraid to hurt them again and Lamb tries to takes things step by step specially for trusting him again.

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch. 3

A/N: here's a continuation of the pain lol hopefully next update will come quicker and I hope you all enjoy! Be warned here and the series as a whole is pretty heavy emotionally, so heed all warnings and put yourself first! Also as usual shoutout to my lovely beta reader @rapline-heaux who read this forever ago lol ily

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect/academic neglect, talk of stitches, wound description, panic attack, acrylic nail slips on a keyboard but doesn't break, brief suicidal thought, lip biting until it bleeds, abandonment by male parental guardian, lots of crying

Silence threaded into the air, making it that much harder to breathe as Jungkook’s hands limply slid from you and back to his sides. The bubble of ignorance you shrouded each other in, now effectively popped as the world was de-muffled as your hands were now clasped in front of you. Tears welled in the back of your eyes, stinging more than usual, and no matter how much you blinked to keep them at bay they just came back. Nothing could shroud the horror that was your reality. 

It’s funny, really, you remember learning about how to create a safe space for your patients in college. You learned how important it was for children to feel safe in development. You studied all the reasons safety was so vital to survival, and yet, you never once felt safe growing up. It was only in this moment you realized you had found your safe place. 

It was only as you watched the weekly dinners, cramming sessions, and mutually intoxicated affection go up in smoke that you realized you had just lost it. Everything you never thought you could have was in flames, and one would think you would be used to the feeling of your life on fire by now, but your throat still burned with the agony of it all, no matter how familiar the taste was on your tongue. 

Hurt flooded your eyes along with tears that Jungkook wanted nothing more than to gently brush away. But he knew shouldn’t, and now more than ever, he couldn’t. He didn’t know how you knew what it meant to be the head of Bangtan, and it was so hard for him to care as your fear and sorrow burnt a hole in his heart in the very space he kept the friendship you both shared. The gaping wound was only furthered by how much it took over his being. You both cared about each other much, much, more than you both let on to one another properly, and it’s only now he’s regretting that with his entire being. 

Finally, he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, not when he was part of the reason you were looking at him like that. He looked at the beaten faux hardwood of your apartment and could feel an ache when he noticed the scratch from when he helped rearrange your living room furniture. Truly, he’d give anything to go back to that day, or even to when he got here so he could turn off the TV and delay the inevitable. 

He didn’t even get a chance to try and pretend there was no reason to be scared. He wanted so badly to pretend he was a sugar baby who has no idea who he was dating, but he just couldn’t. You both have lied to each other enough to last a lifetime, and he knew it was too late. What you both had has already slipped through his fingers before he even had a chance to try and catch it.

You exhaled a shaky breath, and he looked at you again. There was not even a semblance of hope on his face, and it made the part of you he revived die all over again, “...should probably go, huh?” Your voice was too mangled for Jungkook to hear the first part of what you said, but it certainly didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

Your form grew blurry as tears clouded his vision, preventing him from committing your feature to his memory properly before it was too late, “You’re right.” He settled solemnly.

Neither yours nor his tears were helped when you each noticed the other was crying. You wanted so badly to be angry at him for lying to you, but you weren’t nearly that much of a hypocrite. You both used the other as an escape from the ugliness of reality. Around Jungkook you were nothing but his friend and vice versa. It was a sweet escape, a nice vacation, but certainly nothing more than that, not anymore. 

You had to figure out if you should disappear or if you could survive with simply moving out of the building. You had phone calls to old contacts to make, you had a million and one things to figure out, a million and one pieces to move and yet you threw your arms around the man in front of you. 

Jungkook wasted no time in holding you to him with an intensity you’d never felt before. No one had ever wanted to keep you this badly, and you didn’t know what to do other than ball your fists around his shirt and silently cry into his shoulder. Your arms tightened around his neck as you counted down the mere minutes before he also figured out who you were. You knew he would leave you, replay each moment leading up to this, and figure out who you were talking to. You just didn’t know what he would do with that information. You didn’t even know for sure how much it meant to him, but it was so hard to focus when his body shook against yours with a silent sob that you echoed with ease. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be gracious enough to look the other way for just a little bit so you could touch the bedroom wall you both shared and pretend it wasn’t there tonight.

You don’t know how long you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, soaking in the finality of the embrace, bones heavy with melancholy. You only remembered the look you gave one another, filled to the brim with tears, longing, and an insincere hatred of everything beyond the four walls of your apartment. Slowly, you leaned up and pressed a quivering kiss to his cheek. 

A harsh breath left Jungkook and you could feel his tears on your lips when you pulled away, “Close your eyes.” He pleaded, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want you to see me leave you.” The plea for him to not leave was on the tip of your tongue, but you choked it down with another cry.

You nodded, and he granted you one last smile before you let your wet lashes touch each other. Your world was shrouded in darkness and part of you knew it would remain this way long after you opened them to an empty apartment. Still, you squeezed your eyes shut, not too keen on seeing Jungkook leave you either. You swallowed back a cry when he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips as you counted the steps he took to your door. Your body quaked when you could feel him giving you one final look. Your lips struggled to give him one more smile, and then the door closed. 

Your knees hit the floor with no one there to catch you anymore. The shock waves slid up your thigh as you cried into your hands, wondering how many people were going to leave you before you stopped letting them in.

—

“Let go of me, please,” It was the first time you had heard your father say please, and it was one of the last things you would hear him say. Byungyeol looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of pity and sorrow that you couldn’t decipher if it was for you or the empire that lay in ashes. Regardless, it was an order and you weren’t raised to disobey, so you finally relented and released his torso from your arms with a trembling lip and a river that flowed freely from your eyes. The last time you cried in front of him like this had been when your age was in the single digits, but he didn’t patronize you this time– he no longer had any reason to. 

“I can’t… You can’t… Please, stay with me.” You begged, very becoming of the heir to nothing as you clung to the last person who could prove you were even alive before today, “I’m so scared of being alone-” You sobbed into your hands as you both sat in a car outside of a restaurant owned by a family friend. You had nothing but a backpack with cash and two days worth of clothing, but your biggest fear was leaving this car. 

“Daughter.” His voice commanded, and you straightened up. You looked at him, eyes bleary and wide, still a puppet waiting for orders. He regarded you with a sharp glare, “We do not show fear.” His tone was finite, it alway was. He always spoke in simple commands, because even now, he didn’t expect you to say anything in response.

However, you sniffled, “I am scared.” You admitted, the closest you’d gotten to defiance in over a decade, “I can’t do this alone.” 

“And yet, you will.” His voice was the same amount of cold it had always been, but it burned you nonetheless, “You must.” Something in his voice tapered off that made you look at him a little closer. He looked so… old. You could see the years in his eyes and in the deep rivets that framed his frown, and it made something in your chest twist. 

“Should’ve left me with them, huh?” You asked, and he looked at you with confusion, “Should’ve never taken me in, I bet?” You tried to ask again, but he couldn’t understand you. It was often hard to understand if you were asking if that’s how he felt or if you were admitting that’s how you felt. You were never taught how to make it clear, after all. No one ever cared for your words. 

Instead of prying or correcting you, he shook his head. His hand on your head quieted you. “I love you,” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, and the notion made your body freeze. The feeling was foreign, and the action was something that was usually reserved for holidays, “I rarely ever say it, but know that I do, my daughter,” He said softly, but he opened your door all the same, not wanting to entertain this goodbye for any longer, “We will see each other again, I promise, give me three years and we’ll be together again, a normal family.” 

—

You knew now it had all been nothing but a lie to get you out of the car so he could watch you grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until you dissolved into nothing but a memory. You didn't think your father was even really capable of love in the first place. You’d give anything at the moment to be that cold, but you could certainly fake it. You let in a shaky breath as you looked to your fingertips, your ring one brushing along the scratch on the floor you were not looking forward to letting your security deposit go to. Brushing away the tears away from the streaks that have undoubtedly dried on already, you took one last moment to be upset, to be human, before you stood to pick up your phone. 

The line only rang once before it clicked, “Thank you for calling The Rose Palace, how can I help you?” A sweet feminine voice hardly touched with the age she was filled your ears.

“Eunhwa?” You breathed, wanting more than anything to feel her maternal embrace but settling for the concern in her voice.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” Your eyes fluttered closed when your one last tie to your previous life spoke.

“No.” Your answer was far too honest, but you grew so sick of lying today, “I, uh, need you to tell me how fucked I am.” You sniffled, pressing your eyes shut so you would stop looking at that damn scratch on the floor.

—

Jungkook was thankful when he found his apartment empty as he slid his back down the door, slumping against it on the floor defeatedly. His head hung low as he rested his arms on his knees. He shook his head, wanting more than anything to wake up from this nightmare already. 

Every moment with you this morning circled in his mind like a broken record. It was torturous, but it was all he could do to face the reality of the situation. If he couldn’t keep you in his life, he had to at least figure out why. Had Bangtan done something to hurt you? Or had they hurt your family somehow? Did you even have any family for them to hurt? Fuck, where did it all go wrong?

He got himself stuck in this loop of questioning for an indeterminate amount of time as he ran through every millisecond of his time with you today. Every time he circled back, he always got stuck on that phone call. That phone call was the catalyst of the ruin he was in the throes of right now and something about it just… didn’t sit right with him. How often did coworkers call you for it to make sense? Sure, you could’ve lied, he’d hardly be in a place to judge, but then who else could it have been? 

Suddenly keeping as much of yourselves private from each other felt like a mistake. Now that the people you both became in the presence of one another have effectively died, he’s left with nothing to do but cling to the you he never got to know. It’s an addiction, really. He should just be mourning the civillian distraction of his real life, but he knew you were so much more than a distraction, it’s just the first time he’s really feeling it. He couldn’t let you go, and he refused to even if he had the ability. He needed to figure out why it all went up in flames before he even considered mourning. 

—

“I won’t lie to you, darling, but I will ask, do you want the good news or bad news first?” Eunhwa finally spoke after listening intently to your panicked word vomit.

You blew out a shallow sigh, “Bad news.” It would be pretty difficult for your day to get any worse at this point. 

“Right.” Your former nanny had a nostalgic lilt to her voice before speaking, “Since the capture of your uncle and with the anniversary week in full swing, it would be pretty difficult to find someone in the underground willing to help you… in the way you may need help.” She spoke delicately, “The whispers suggest Bangtan isn’t going to stop with your uncle, and the whereabouts of your father and even you are… well, high ticket items, if you understand what I mean.” 

“Yeah.” You struggled out. You knew all too well what she meant. In a world where the most important currency is power, almost anything was for sale in the Underworld’s market, especially information. You knew firsthand there were few things people wouldn’t do to get in the good graces of the syndicate in power, and you were more thankful than ever that the only active tie to your life before wouldn’t sell you out. Not that she would ever need to. Eunhwa was and always has been a well-respected figure in the underground, and she’s mastered the rare skill of neutrality while maintaining respect. 

“And unless you have your father’s whereabouts to offer, it wouldn’t be wise to voluntarily come forward.” Or else they’d kill you on the spot. She spared you the detail, but you understood what she meant, “Good news is, after all of the mayhem of anniversary week cools down in a few weeks, we’d most likely be able to find someone to help.” Her weak attempt at trying to sound joyful was comforting regardless of how not effective it was on you, “Plus, Jungkook may not even add two and two together before then. I doubt he would be too keen on putting his best friend to death.” 

“Except I’m no longer his best friend.” Your voice cracked with your heart, and you couldn't help that pitiful laugh that left you at how childish you sounded, “So I’m not sure if that would help me.” 

Eunhwa sighs, and you can hear the pity in it. It should make you sick, but this was your last human connection in your personal life, so any care towards you was welcome right now, “Feelings don’t just go away the moment they should, you know that.” She softly chided, “We’ve all loved people for longer than we should’ve, and that might be the fact of life that’ll buy you the time you need.” 

You hummed, not able to say much as her words soaked into your wet cheeks. You loved your father for much longer than you cared to and with Jungkook… Well, the pain would be one you were sure you’d feel for ages.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, her voice going up an octave now that the logistics were out of the way, “Right now, just keep your head down and live your life like normal, okay?” 

You hummed again, defeated, “What if I just packed a bag and left?” You mused, looking out the window. You knew why that wasn’t an option. There was no such thing as leaving the underground, especially not on your own. Not with the trail of bodies you’d have to leave behind. All it took was one call, and it would shatter you completely. How would you pay for anything? You were only given enough of a payout for school, everything else was given up. You’d be caught before you even made it to the airport or snuck onto a ship.

“You know better.” Eunhwa breathed, “You would be calling even more attention to yourself, and that would piss Jungkook off and tip him off to who you are at the same time.” You nodded. She always had a point. The fact was that Jungkook didn’t yet know who you were, but you feared it was only a matter of time, “I’ll call you when it’s time.” Was all she said before the line clicked. You almost laughed at the fact that before Jungkook, you were convinced your interactions with Eunhwa was the highest form of affection. Not that she didn’t care about you, it’s just the world she knew was one of keeping those she could love at an arm’s length. It was safest that way, and no one, not even you, was worth jeopardizing her safety. You couldn’t blame her for that, and you could only hope Jungkook would feel the same if he did find out about who you were. 

Even more, you hoped you were long gone before the day came.

—

“I hear you, Sohee, I do, but you cannot just punch at full force everytime you get upset.” You looked at the 16-year-old as you tossed her ice, which she caught with ease and a pout in your direction. Kang Sohee was someone you’d consider a regular in your office. She was a bright student with poor emotional regulation– like most high school students already had– add that to the pressure of being in the top percentile in the nation, meant she was routinely in for her ibuprofen or a pack of ice. 

“Would you rather I hit people?” She challenged but shrank when you gave her an exasperated look as you sat at your desk to type up the incident.

“Raise the bar, kid.” You sighed, “I’d rather you take those deep breaths we’ve rehearsed or punch a pillow or a folded hoodie like we’ve also rehearsed.” You gave her a pointed look, “I don’t want you to break your hand or split your knuckles to the point of needing stitches.” She winced at the thought and you nodded, “Exactly, it would be gruesome and only make you more upset in the end.”

She sighed, nodding, “It’s just…” She trailed off, and you nodded empathetically even though you had no idea what going to high school was like, from what you could tell it was no different than any other cliquey group with a hierarchy. There was significantly less bloodshed, which you were thankful for. 

“I know.” You sighed, “Exams are coming, and emotions are running high.” She nodded at this, “And I’m glad you’re allowing yourself to feel those emotions, I just want you to express them in a way that doesn’t get you or anyone else hurt.” 

She nodded once again, but snorted, “Okay, school counselor.” You sent her another glare as you paused your typing, making her smile. 

Even though you rolled your eyes, you were just glad she was feeling better. These kids had a million different stressors that landed them in your office and led you to need to provide some kind of emotional support. You never figured yourself as good with children, but the students liked you well enough, so you figured you were doing something right. Maybe all that therapy you did during college came in handy, just not in the way your therapist might have thought. 

“You have any significant others, Nurse L/n?” Sohee asked, making your typing cease. 

Your eyes bulged as you blinked at her, “Now how did we get here?” You asked, making her giggle. Truthfully, you should’ve been used it by now. These kids rarely had any sense of decorum or minding intrusive questions.

“So no?” She tittered, chipping at your flimsy dignity a bit. 

You snorted, “How mean, but no, Ms. Nosey, I am not… involved with anyone.” Jungkook’s face flashed in your mind for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint nor wanted to entertain. Especially not now. He was a friend and nothing more. Keyword: was.

Sohee thought for a moment before speaking again, a true rarity for her, “Well, Mr. Kang totally has a crush on you.” She blurted, and your fingers tripped along the keys, making your nail sink in the space between two of them.

“Sohee!” You gasped, erasing the series of semicolons that populated the page, “Wh- I-” You took a moment to breathe, “Mr. Kang does not-”

“Well, thanks for the icepack!” She called as she slipped out the door, leaving you with your mouth agape, “Oh, hi Mr. Kang!” She sang loudly, making your chest seize. 

In walked Changhyun Kang, the history department head and advanced history teacher with a smile on his almost unnervingly handsome face. Living in the city on your own as you navigated adulthood came with many culture shocks, but one of them were how pretty some of the people you came across, Changhyun being one of them. He was nice though, because of course he was, and he came in every day to steal some ice for his mid-day coffee. He could very well go to the cafeteria for some, but your office was closer– barely. Regardless, you were in no state to pry into why he insisted on coming to your office. Jungkook had done his best to give you a rundown on how to talk to your fellow coworkers, but you elected to only use that advice when absolutely necessary. Now you couldn’t help but wonder how he even knew to coach you on that. 

Changhyun’s eyes darted to the door, giving you a questioning brow, “Sohee is awfully chipper today.” He observed, “Especially for a Monday.” He chuckled. You never understood the fixation with announcing the days of the week among your coworkers, but you played along nonetheless. Right now, it just served as a reminder that you had a mere two days before anniversary week would reach its crescendo. 

You sighed, “That she is.” You simply left it at that before changing the subject, “Thank you for reminding me it is nearly my lunch time.” You chuckled, continuing to type up the report. 

He nodded, thinking for a moment, “Are you ever able to take your lunch early?” He asked curiously, before moving to get some ice.

You didn’t look up from your screen as you spoke, “Well, sure, I guess I just keep my usual time for the sake of routine.” You responded thoughtlessly. 

“I see.” He spoke and the typing off your keyboard suddenly sounded way too loud. 

You gulped, not sure how to fill the sudden awkward tension, “Why?” You asked, insistent on looking at your computer still. 

“W-Well, I was just thinking maybe we could have lunch tomorrow or something?” He rushed out, and you paused, blinking for a moment. The urge to overthink the invitation was strong, especially since you weren’t sure how long you were even going to be here with everything else in your life going on. However, that was all the more reason it didn’t matter. Plus, who’s to say he was intending anything other than friendship. Changhyun was a good-looking guy, so it wouldn’t make much sense for him to be so bashful when asking for a date– not that you would even think to count an in-work lunch as a date in the first place. Obviously you were overthinking the situation anyways and for a bit too long as he continued, “I mean I bring my lunch, and you bring yours, and I come in here anyways, so we could just eat in here? –But if you prefer not–”

“Sure.” You turned to smile at him, “I could use the company.” You did your best to brighten your smile, and he returned it tenfold, “Maybe then the students will stop asking me if I have friends.” You tried to joke lightly, and surely Jungkook would be proud of you as Changhyun let out a hearty laugh. 

“Same here.” He chuckled, but it did little to simmer the sting of Jungkook on your mind. Just before your coworker could notice your smile fall, you phone started vibrating. You looked down at it with a frown, “Well, I’ll let you get that. See you!” He gave a polite wave that you mirrored just as Jungkook told you to do. 

Changhyun was kind enough to close your office door, which you were thankful for as you picked up the phone, too nervous to check the caller ID, “Hello?” 

“Was it Byungjoo?” Your blood ran cold as Jungkook’s voice sliced through the receiver. 

You’d seldom heard him sound like this before, but you can hardly register his tone when the name he uttered slices through your skin. 

“Wh-What are you–” You tried to say something, but Jungkook couldn’t bear to hear you try to lie anymore. 

“Who you saw at the fight. It was Byungjoo, wasn’t it?” He demanded, but something about his voice sounded… off. Like the way it would sound during finals week when he’d join your marathon studying. Has he… been up all night? Or longer? It’s Monday now and you both ended things Saturday morning. 

Suddenly, Byungjoo fades from your mind and you’re just a friend again, “Jungkook, have you… slept?” You asked, and flinched at the sound of his sharp exhale, letting it sink in that he’d no longer be your solace from your past. 

“Answer my question.” He demanded, but you pressed your lips together. You can’t answer his question, so that left you with one choice.

“I don’t know who–”

“Aren’t we done lying to each other?” He snapped, making your eyes widen, “Here, I’ll go first: I’ve watched every fucking frame of the crowd footage of the fight and cross-referenced them with every teacher in the goddamn city, and the only one’s that were the only ones that were in that footage for even a second hadn’t called out of work that day.” 

It was like the air knocked out of you. Why? How? It didn’t make sense. What the fuck did Jungkook do for work? Is Namjoon more than just a boyfriend? The thought was too much to bear, “Please, it’s– it’s–” You had to take a semi-stabalizing breath, “Don’t do this.” You whispered. 

“I wish I didn’t need to.” He spit, “But I can’t fucking do this without you–”

“Yes, you can–” You cut him off desperately despite how much you wanted to agree. He had no choice. Neither of you did. “Well then I don’t fucking want to!” He yelled, making your throat nearly close, “Look, you don’t have to worry about Byungjoo anymore–”

“It’s not Byungjoo I’m worried about.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to hear about your uncle’s fate any further,  “It’s… not safe for me to be around you, Kook.” You admitted and it felt like pouring hot wax down your throat.

There were a few beats of agonizing silence before he spoke again, “I can make it safe for you.” 

You shook your head before sighing, “You can’t.” The crack in your voice mirrored your resolve. It would be so easy to just say the full truth, but you let your mouth close, hoping it would stau that way, “This is… it’s bigger than just you, okay?” 

“No.” He deadpanned, and you sighed,  “No, not okay. This… nothing is too big for me…” He all but promises before adding, “...not when it comes to you.” 

Your heart ached in your chest. How many times had anyone deemed you worth much beyonf what you could give them? And would anyone else do it in the future? Jungkook was all you had and how much that meant to you teared you apart as you spoke, “It’s not worth–”

“Yes, you are.” Was all he seethed before hanging up.

You were stuck there for a moment, frozen with your phone to your ear. Had you not seen the call log yourself, you could’ve convinced yourself that whole thing was just a horrible nightmare. You wished it had been. The last thing you needed was Jungkook to tear open the wounds that haven’t even begun to heal properly and incidentally signing your death certificate. Then again, maybe his tune would change once he found out who you were. You weren’t some unsullied reprieve from his life in the Underworld, and maybe once he realized that, he’d turn his back on you. He’d realize you weren’t worth much at all. Just like everyone eventually does. 

Bitterness filled your mouth and it’s only then you realized you gnawed on the skin of your lips for too long. You huffed out, opening your compact mirror to asses the damage only to find one small red sliver. You placed a small piece of tissue on the oozing blood and put on your mask for the rest of the day. 

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

If you enjoy my work, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi (also pls send me an ask, I love to hear from y'all!)

Masterlist

[dojunie]

MESSENGER, HRJ [PT 8: SHH!]

➥ PART 8 OF MESSENGER; a small smau about a stranger, a whole lot of animal pics, and a relationship you would never have expected to come from texting a random number written on a public bathroom mirror.

➥ WC: 3.4K

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

a/n: double update AGAIN bc i took forever to update 🤠

current tl: @matchahyuck @theboyz-jacob @hoeshi17 @neoteez01 @hibernatinghamster @luvvsnae @shwizhies @skynightgalaxy @ihrtnyu @kunvibing @liliansun @txpxwxk @is4b3ll3s @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @she-is-dreaming @chenfleur @haedgaff @twogyuu @jeongintwt @rinrinslovebot

.

.

.

RENJUN HAS NEVER WANTED TO STRANGLE SOMEONE MORE THAN HE DOES RIGHT NOW.

There were almost tangible beams of heat drilling into the side of Donghyuck’s head as Renjun glared at him from across the table, while the man in question smiled and flirted and chatted with his girlfriend like absolutely nothing was amiss. Birds were chirping. The sun was shining. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and students were wandering around in the quad outside without a care in the world—

—And yet, he still felt like he was seconds away from being executed.

Had Renjun’s mind not already been obliterated from the test he’d just taken in his last class, he might’ve been more suspicious of Donghyuck’s text. Because Lee Donghyuck? Asking him if he was free to study? On a Friday? 

However, a few hours of studying simply didn’t sound too bad after just barely escaping English Lit with his average intact, which meant he didn’t smell the blood in the water until it was too late— when he’d stumbled upon the rather quiet corner that Donghyuck told him to head towards instead of their usual spot on the first floor. (And this should have been another clue, as Hyuck has only ever wanted to study near the vending machines on the rare occasions Renjun could convince him to open a book, but like any normal human being, he wasn’t thinking that this random change in scenery would lead to this.)

He rounded the corner, saw Donghyuck, saw Doyeon, and then saw you, and instantly felt like he'd just walked into the universe's idea of cruel joke.

Why? Well. Because the only logical solution after realizing how badly he'd fucked up by not immediately telling you who he was after the volleyball game— the double life he’d accidentally started by being too embarrassed to tell you in fear of… everything, really— had been to just... never see you again.

As stupid as it sounds, like some plot from a teen movie, it was the only thing he could think to do that wouldn't make things worse.

Renjun would quicker die than tell you this, but he'd gotten used to you. He'd grown familiar with always having you in his head, accustomed to your endless exclamations, used to how his mood would shift for the better every time your message bubble appeared on his screen— and the idea of losing you because of something so stupid made his stomach squirm like nothing he'd ever felt before. To keep you in his life as Duckboy he'd have to stay out of your way as Renjun, and if those were the stakes then he'd take his chances.

He'd just avoid you like the plague. That was fine. He could do that.

(Since he's never seen you in real life before this week, it probably won't even be that hard, he thought. Right?)

Right.

Hence the reason his heart just about exploded in his chest when he saw you sitting in this library seat. 

A few minutes have passed since then, original panic ebbing into tightly-wound stress as the seconds ticked by with you not even a foot away from him. 

He initially thought that if he just acted really serious about studying, you might keep your distance. If he glued his nose to his textbook and said nothing, pretended you weren’t there, entirely at the expense of looking like an uptight dork but hopefully putting you off from wanting anything to do with him— he might get out of this unscathed.

He felt you looking at him. He’d even caught you nearly say something to him once, watching you open your mouth out of the corner of his eye, before you thought better of it and slouched back down in your seat, frowning.

For a while it worked. But as he honestly should’ve known about you by now, if your messages were anything to go by— your curiosity could only be so subdued.

“What course is that for?”

You leaned into Renjun’s side of the table. 

He tore his eyes away from the textbook he wasn’t focusing on to look at you, and is wholly embarrassed by how easily his indifferent facade cracks.

The worst part of it all is knowing that if he wasn't such a coward, you might've been halfway to being friends by now. Maybe this would have been it. But instead he set himself up for this: You, sitting at his side, asking him questions and talking to him and entwining yourself further and further into his space with the obvious intent of getting to know him better, without the slightest idea that you already knew him. You know where he was born. You know his hobbies, his favorite animals and least favorite foods; you know about the difficulties he has with brother, and because it’s easier to tell things to strangers on the internet, you know things about him that not even his own family knows.

Except you don’t really feel like a stranger to him anymore.

“I can’t recognize like half the words on that page. This is math, right?”

“Applied Statistics,” he replied feebly. 

There were some things that couldn't be translated through a phone, though. Like the clear lilt of your voice without the tin of a receiver. How much you seem to fidget; biting pen caps, tapping the table with your fingers, bouncing the balls of your feet against the carpeted floor. Your lack of respect for personal space. He’s hit by a blast of your shampoo or perfume (Honey, like you told him you put in your tea? Vanilla?) as you bow your head closer to oogle at his side of the table.

“Have you ever seen the Davinci Code?" you asked. "All that equation gibberish that was floating around the Mona Lisa in that really, really, ridiculously long monologue scene near the beginning?”

He has never seen the Davinci Code. He nods anyway. 

“This looks like that. You actually understand this stuff?”

“It’s an advanced course,” Donghyuck cut in suddenly. Both you and Renjun turn to look at him; you in interest, he, with irritation hastily returning. “You have to take a test to even get a chance to take that class because it counts for like, three math credits, instead of the one like the rest of us losers have to contend with. Renjun here is pretty smart, you know?”

Fuck off, he wanted to bite— but then you hummed and nodded beside him like this made sense, and he temporarily forgot his venom.

“Probably why I haven’t seen you around,” you told him casually. “I don’t tend to attract people with more than two brain cells to rub together, if not already obvious by my friendship with these two.”

Doyeon gasped and reached across the table to swat at you, and you flung yourself closer to Renjun to get out of her reach. You’re giggling brightly as you begin to bicker with her, the same laugh that’s been swirling around in his mind since that night you called him— and again, his irritation slips away at the familiar sound. Though, instead of it being recouped by the slushy feeling he usually got when he thought about your laugh— he’s struck by even more guilt.

The only reason Renjun already knows what you sound like is because you called Duckboy that night. 

The reason he’s so sure he’s smelling honey and vanilla is because you told Duckboy that those were your favorite scents. 

The reason he knows that math isn’t your strong suit isn’t because you just told Renjun that you find it hard— it’s because you told Duckboy a few days ago that you flunked two math courses in your freshman year, and that it really knocked the wind out of your sails. It was something you told him in sincerity, the first time he’d ever noticed a waver in your usually boisterously confident persona and the sheepish way you brought him a little closer; how Renjun had to fight to keep from grinning when you got flustered afterwards and made him promise not to make fun of you for it. 

‘I only tell people that I really trust about that,’ you’d texted him later, ‘So don’t go around making me regret it!!!’

And now he was repaying your sincerity by lying straight to your face. If that wasn’t grounds for regret, he didn’t know what was.

His stomach was in knots by the time he was snapped out of it, to the sound of Donghyuck’s muffled wailing. Muffled because Doyeon’s hand is clamped over his mouth, the girlfriend in question staring at him, wide eyed, as if he’s just done something awfully stupid— and judging by the pinched look on your face as Renjun chanced a glance at you, he might not have been too far off.

“Kim Doyeon,” you whispered, betrayed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— Shit, I thought you were kidding! Was your little phone-rendezvous seriously supposed to be a secret?”

What? Renjun lost the plot. He has no idea where the conversation has gone. Donghyuck manages to wrangle Doyeon’s hands from his mouth, enough for him to gasp a needed breath, and then out comes a howl that echoes throughout the high ceilings of the SNU Technical Library.

“You have a cyber-boyfriend?”

Turns out that the corner that Donghyuck picked for his study session was not nearly as secluded and confined and soundproof as you all thought. Ten seconds later and you were being run out of the library by the little, hawkish, very red in the face floor attendant. Twenty seconds later, poor Renjun has somehow ended up saddled with Donghyuck’s bag as you and Doyeon chase him around the front steps of the building, shouting obscenities over his lack of decorum— and another twenty seconds later the four of you are walking back to the dormitory block, Donghyuck’s ears pinched pink and the conversation having shifted back to normalcy.

You hadn’t really been planning to study today. You honestly hadn’t been planning to do much of anything really, besides vedge out in your dorm room with a bag of frozen peas on your ribs (courtesy of Duckboy’s quick thinking, though you’d never tell him that) since only two short days have passed since the game and you were still plenty sore.

But Doyeon, in her text, had offhandedly mentioned that this Renjun guy would be coming, and your sudden openness to cracking open a book surprised the both of you. She, because the last time you willingly agreed to study with her and Donghyuck was… Never, and you because you weren’t expecting the mere idea of seeing Hyuck’s friend again to make studying sound like less like torture.

You’d be lying if you said your mind hasn’t run across him since the game. Nothing nefarious, of course. Just vague curiosity. Interest. Mostly around how, with a face as cute as his, it was possible you’d never noticed him around campus before; or just why the hell he’d been acting so weird when you met. Plus other innocent questions, like what he got up to in his free time if he was allegedly as reclusive as Donghyuck had joked. Like if he read books. Or played an instrument. 

Or if he had a girlfriend. 

(You know. Completely harmless things like that.)

Then he’d appeared in the library corner a little bit after you’d gotten there, looking properly studious in his little denim jacket, books huffed up under his arm and bag slung over his shoulder— but also just as stiff and sickly as he’d been upon seeing you a few nights ago. 

It was like your mere presence put him on edge but you had no idea why, and this little study session confirmed that it wasn’t just a first-meeting-jitters thing. He didn’t seem to relax for a single second back there at the study table, and pondering the list of possibilities began to drive you a little crazy. 

(Did you smell bad? It couldn’t be. You’d showered before you left your room, and even spritzed an extra burst of your honey chamomile perfume since you knew you’d be in close proximity to him today. Were you too pushy? Hopefully not— you’d been trying your damnedest to be on good behavior, only asking the most mundane of questions to hold yourself back from voicing any thought that grazed your brain like you usually did with potential friends; and he’d been responding in kind. He wasn’t weird around girls, since he seemed to talk to Doyeon just fine— So what’s the deal?)

You didn’t get any closer to answering that question like you’d hoped you would before the session was over, but that was no matter. All today had done was cement in your brain that, whether he was just a natural introvert or if it really was something about you that ticked him the odd way— you’d die before you gave up on figuring it out.

Maybe a little dramatic. But that’s just how much you hated being left in the dark.

After Donghyuck had gotten you all kicked out of the library (and you’d socked him good for the ‘cyber-boyfriend’ comment), the consensus had been to just call it quits on studying for the day. Fine with you. You didn’t mind an hour to kill before practice, anyway.

You’ve ended up beside Renjun again as the four of you wandered down the path that led you back to student housing. Hyuck and Doyeon were a few steps ahead, mumbling about something you weren’t quite close enough to hear, until Doyeon cursed. 

“Of course I would remember now,” she whined. It was only when she stopped to turn, eyebrows knit as she found your face, that you even realized she was talking to you. “Statistics. Statistics. That’s what I was forgetting to tell you in the library. I got a text from Guyeon a few hours ago complaining about a pop quiz that her statistics professor set on her this morning, and I remembered you two were taking the same course but on different days— the whole reason I even asked you if you were free to study with us today was to tell you that so you could prepare.”

“Statistics?” you echoed. “Like… Stats 204? Professor Yubin’s Stats 204?”

She winced, damning confirmation, and when it finally hit you almost gasped aloud. You have a pop quiz tomorrow?

“So?” Donghyuck asked. “Just study for it tonight? Aren’t you free for the rest of the day?”

“No, dipshit,” you hissed, dread steadily rising, “Considering that your girlfriend is the captain of the team, you should already know that Doyeon and I have practice in an hour that doesn’t end until six! Not to mention that studying doesn’t really help when you barely understand the material in the first place—”

“Aren’t his quizzes pretty short though?” Renjun asked quietly.

It was obvious that he wasn’t expecting any of you to hear him, from the way he froze when all three of your heads whirled in his direction, but you did. You heard him loud and clear. 

“What was that?” you asked quickly. His face seemed to pale three shades at the sudden intensity of your stare. 

“Have you… Taken? Statistics 204 before?”

“Uh—I… Yes? But it was in freshman year, I mean, it was a while ago—”

“But you took it,” Donghyuck interrupted, voice suddenly very, very pointed. You glanced at him. Hyuck’s face was now the perfect picture of interest, a carefully neat and somehow still nefarious grin tugging at his lips. “Right, Jun? And like I said, Y/N, Renjun here is a real star when it comes to numbers. Did I already tell you he has a 4.0 too? That he was a tutor last year?”

Your eyes widened further. He was a tutor? He was that smart? 

Foolishly you asked in what subject, knowing the answer wouldn’t sway your sudden bubbling desperation either way, but you felt it right to ask— and Donghyuck’s smile only widened further. 

“Math.”

“I stopped tutoring though,” Renjun blurted quickly, as if only now realizing where this was going, and you turned back to him to catch his expression morphing into clear alarm. “I only did it for a few months because the STEM board asked me to fill in a spot, I’m not any authority or anything—”

“The school asked you to tutor people?”

“I feel like that should make you a very big authority,” Doyeon chimed. “Maybe the biggest authority, actually.”

“Well shit,” Donghyuck said cheerily. “And aren’t you free for the rest of the day, Renjun? Isn’t that just the craziest coincidence that Y/N could use a study buddy tonight?”

And for the first time in the very short amount of hours you’ve known this guy, as Renjun whirled to look at Donghyuck, you saw a cast on his face that wasn’t vague discomfort or straight up horror. It was a look you didn’t even know Renjun’s face could make— and the pure, burning disdain written all over his features was enough to snap you out of your blind hope.

His expression couldn’t be any clearer; Renjun did not want to be volunteered.

Which… duh, you suppose in hindsight. If he couldn’t even sit next to you in the library without looking like he was waiting to exploded, then what type of torture would it be to study with you alone? Sure, you were desperate for any chance to not fail this quiz, but the last thing you wanted to do was force the guy into your space when he obviously wasn’t too sure about you yet. Ideally, you wanted to win him over naturally. Not through Donghyuck’s odd meddling. 

Before Donhyuck could say anything and make it worse, you shook your head and forced as big a smile as you could manage.

“That’s alright,” you said, casually waving a dismissive hand, “I got it. I, uh… I have another friend who can help me out, anyway— I’d hate to spring something on someone so last minute!”

You felt Doyeon’s pointed eyes on the side of your face, narrowed in obvious disbelief— because you were lying through your teeth and she knew that you had no friends who were taking Stat 204 this semester, much less any who’d ever volunteer to help you study on a Friday night— but instead of acknowledging her suspicion, you avoided her gaze altogether and restarted the walk back to the dorms.

“What?” Hyuck whined belatedly. He stared at you as if he couldn’t believe whatever he was scheming didn’t work. “But— But Renjun is literally—”

“Forget it,” you interrupted. “I have no interest in taking up his night with the hell that is reversed variables. Doyeon and I have to be at practice soon and I still want to eat, so can we get a move on?”

This thankfully seemed to be the end of the conversation, even if Donghyuck was huffing and puffing the whole way back to the dorms; Doyeon next to you now since your sudden speed walking had shifted you to the front. You knew she had things to say about all of that but you kept your eyes forward. (It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to have an entire afternoon to interrogate you in the gym during practice, anyway. God.)

The two boys paused on the pathway as you and Doyeon branched off towards your own building, Donghyuck making all sorts of crying noises and loud declarations of love as Doyeon walked on and tried to look annoyed about it (clearly failing, if the pink in her ears was anything to go by), while Renjun just stared off after you like the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders. 

Almost as if realizing he was being odd again he rebooted, blinking it out of his eyes and nodding you goodbye in proper quiet fashion, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be too off put by it. 

(Mostly because his lip pulled into the tiniest smile as he waved, and the sight of it was cute enough to make you forget. What can you say? You’re a simple girl.)

If it turned out that there really was a reason for how curious he was being, you were sure you’d figure it out soon enough. You were rather good and sleuthing out secrets— and Renjun was the most intriguing puzzle you’d come across in a long time.

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

[inked-up-gentleman]

"Stop carrying old feelings into new experiences."

That is what one of your posts says.

I'm curious if you follow this advice for yourself? I ask because I have followed you for a very long time and am very familiar with what you post and how you respond to and answer your anon 'asks'

A lot of the time, it seems as though you blame your past for how you are today and why you don't trust. You respond with words that very much say you're doing exactly that.....allowing your past to carry over into your present. It's very clear you've been hurt and/or screwed over and it's been that way for a LONG time now. When are you going start following that quote? To stop carrying old feelings into new experiences."

I know you love the attention, I mean, who wouldn't? And why would someone post as many photos. gifs, writings/thoughts and anon, asks? You thrive on attention. I'd go as far as to say you need the attention. I think the shit from the past is just an excuse to do exactly what you're doing now which garners tons of traffic and ooooo's and ahhhhh's for you. Is it possible you're not ready to give that up so you keep this front/wall up and use the past as an excuse?

None of this is meant maliciously or judgmentally so hopefully all your groupies stay off my ass about it. That's why I won't ask you off anon. (although I have sent a few asks as myself before so we've had interaction.) I just don't trust that your followers won't respond badly and then start that bully mentality because so many of them seem to be protective (and obsessed) with you. Some of them excessively. I just genuinely wonder if when you saw that post, did you pause and say "yeah, you outta let that shit go man"?

Hope you're having a great weekend.

I wasn't going to respond to this at first but I'll lay it all out for you.

First and foremost, I don't see this as being hostile, but you're definitely making some assumptions here that people have made before. That being said, I ask that anyone who responds to this do so respectfully.

Did I follow that advice from that post myself? Yes, to an extent. You're assuming I don't want to be in a relationship due to last relationship and what my ex put me through. Though that's easy to assume, that's not the entire case. Right now my peace is my number one priority and if I deem it suitable to risk it for someone, I will. Until then, I'm completely content with being alone.

I'm still dealing with the damage, sure. But I've slowly turned that energy into productivity for my business and turning my house into a home. It took time, but everything is slowly coming together. That being said, there's only 1 or 2 people on this entire Hell site that have idea of what I was put through. This was far more than just an 8 year relationship that ended. But I will heal how I see fit.

"you thrive on attention" that's an assumption that YOU made. Yes, I post a LOT of selfies and pictures. But if you take the time to notice, they are pictures of what I enjoy doing. Riding the bike, spending time at the gym, relaxing with the pups, reading, whatever else it may be. Not once have I ever posted a nude of any kind. Which, if I wanted attention, that's probably what I would be doing (no offense to those that do post nudes). The closest thing you'll come to a nude is me wearing silkies, but I also go to public gyms in those.

I post what I post here because this and my TikTok account are the ONLY places I can go to truly be myself without it impacting my personal life or my business and I think a lot of you forget that. I absolutely love all my followers and the support they give me here. But nowhere do you see me trying to lure anyone in with anything. I've been 100% transparent from the start and always will be.

Yes, I get a TON of thirsty asks here. Who doesn't though? And though there are plenty of them, you are also forgetting the ones that ask me about working out, losing weight, starting a workout routine, thinking about getting a bike, first time riding tips and tricks, relationship advice or just for wisdom in general. But I digress...

Did I ever tell myself "yeah, I should let that shit go" absolutely. More than once and long before I ever shared that post. But I still learned some very hard lessons from that experience and it was far more than just pain and trauma that I had to let go.

I hope this answered your questions and helped you (and anyone else that was wondering) understand. And I hope you had a great weekend as well.