#i love how the answers just get progressively longer

[rindreamery]

the apartment we won't share.

it just wasn't meant to be— a bitter sentiment you and itoshi rin had agreed on. you two deserved better, wanted better, but it doesn't change the fact that you two will always love each other. you'll stay stuck, thinking of him, in an apartment you will never share.

itoshi rin x reader - angst, no comfort - w.c. 2k

“it gets better with time,” you always tell yourself.

but the world continues to move around you, and you still feel like you’re frozen in time. your mind is trapped in its own prison— drifting off to a place you can never return to, dreaming of a time when you had everything you wanted. 

you feel like you’re stuck in an empty apartment in winter. the walls are white and barren, and the world outside is covered in a blanket of snow, and it’s like you’re staring at a blank slate. the wooden floors are aging terribly, cracking and lifting, but that doesn’t bother you. it doesn’t make you like it any less. you could always repair it, or maybe you could simply throw a rug over it and pretend that everything was okay. 

it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours, and you guys were going to fix it together. 

it was a blank slate filled with dreams and promises about the future— dreaming of what kind of people you two would turn into, dreaming of what it would look like when it was no longer winter. imagining, as you stared out the window, what the world outside would look like as the snow faded away into a new season, into something else. would the trees outside bloom into cherry blossoms? or would they bloom into peach blossoms? 

“i think they’ll be apple blossoms,” rin had answered, then. “what do you think?”

“that wasn’t even one of the options,” you frowned at him, playfully nudging his side. he frowned back at you, staring at one another— but neither of you could fight the urge to smile. “to answer your question, though, i think it’ll be peach.”

the trees outside were now starting to bloom. the petals were light pink with a cleft on the tip, they looked like hearts, a singular flower on each stem, smelling faintly of fresh sap and honey. the sweet scent wafts into the open window, but you feel anything but. bitterly, you realize: you were both wrong. it was a cherry blossom tree, blooming softly against the fresh green of the grass around it, the remnants of winter having melted away into a fresh spring. 

the world is renewing itself; a rebirth. and it makes you feel somewhat spiteful, it makes you feel as if you’re falling behind. as if the world isn’t giving you enough time to grieve what you’ve lost. and then you start to wonder, it makes you start to think of him again, and you lose all your progress. 

you think of him because you know rin. he overthinks, gets lost in his thoughts, as often as you do. so, does he feel the same way, right now? is he thinking of you too? does he miss you as much as you miss him? but you stop yourself— it’s unhealthy. 

you just find it funny, how time works— how, one day, you could go from planning your future around one another, together. and then, the next, he’s gone and you’re alone. you’re left to sit by yourself in the empty living room, boxes of furniture remaining unopened around you, because they were things you both had decided on. things you both wanted. you couldn’t bring yourself to open them.

and then a flash of green catches your eyes from your peripheral, sitting on top of a box.

“i think this would look cute,” you had tugged at his hand, grabbing his attention, to show a potted cactus. it was short, stubby, in its early stages of maturing. it was perfect. “i wanna watch it grow by our window.”

“yeah,” your eyes remained fixated on the cactus, but his eyes had remained on you. you didn’t see the small smile on his lips, the look of love swirling in his eyes, unconditional then. “let’s watch it grow, together.”

the cactus never really grew, you realize. 

it’s wilting, leaning against its pot for support, the once-vibrant green now fading into a muddier green. it was never placed on the windowsill, always tucked away in a dark corner of the room. stunted by the neglect as you had both grown busy, as you had started to drift away.

time heals, people had always said to you, but you now know that time also has the power to tear things apart.

it's a victim to time. (and maybe, you think to yourself, you were too.)

you’re staring at it until your eyes begin to blur, and then you simply blink away the haziness. you turn your head away, trying to suppress the memories, the questions. willing the what-ifs that lingered in the corner of your mind to go away. but it doesn’t work, and the thoughts keep pushing and pushing, until it's at the forefront of your mind. 

what if i hadn't let him go? what if i asked him to stay? what if we fought harder? what if we had become better for each other?  your mind keeps asking all these questions, but you have no answers. what would this apartment look like right now?

happier— that, you know that answer to.

as you sit on the floor, you think of how it used to be, of what the two of you used to be— images of happy smiles and secret, shared moments float around somewhere in your thoughts. the echoes of soft laughter still bounces around the walls, sometimes, but it's no longer from you. just from a hallucination of a distant version of yourself, dancing around the room. an unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your heart. it feels weird to miss him, but it feels even weirder to miss yourself. is that even possible?

you begin to wonder where it all went wrong. and your mind starts to snowball.

truthfully, you couldn’t pinpoint it, the moment when you realized he was slipping through your fingers— or was it you? or was it neither? maybe just the space between two of you, growing with each day, until the two of you could no longer get to one another. until neither of you could reach each other’s hearts. to feel so distant, with a man you loved and lived with, was a different type of loneliness.

this room, you realize as you sit in the center of it all, has always felt so much larger without him. 

“how many kids do you want?” you were both lying on the floor, staring at the empty ceiling. your legs were intertwined, your head placed on his chest, listening to the constant thrum of his heart. you felt him hum, at your words. “do you even want kids?”

“i don’t care, honestly.” his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “as long as it’s with you, i’m happy with whatever.”

“gross, who even are you? this is not the rin i know.” you joked, and you felt him pinch your side. “i’m just kidding… me too, though.”

the life you imagined sharing with rin, the plans you both made— all of it fades into a hazy, but somehow vivid, dream. you always find yourself wanting to slip into it, to fantasize and live in it for one day longer, to remember how it felt. but you remind yourself: there’s a reason why it ended.

you both deserved more— more than whatever the two of you could provide. 

“i’m sorry,” you remember hearing rin’s distant voice through the phone. “i know i said i’d be able to make it back for christmas, i just— i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you stood there, phone pressed to your ear, as you stared out the window as the blizzard covered the world in snow. you felt cold, despite the walls surrounding you, bracing you from the harsh winds. you felt cold but you understood why, all too well. “most of the planes wouldn’t even land in this weather anyways. besides, i was supposed to go with you, but i couldn't.”

you knew what dating someone like him meant. you knew it would mean having to spend time away from him, thousands of miles between you, and infrequent phone calls. you knew— but you didn’t want to get used to it. you didn’t want to know what it felt like to be constantly disappointed, to sit by your phone as you sat through the radio silence. to feel guilty everytime you wanted more from him.

you just wanted him there. (but you knew that was too much to ask for.)

“i still wish i was there with you,” he had said after a beat of silence, and his voice was softer. “i miss you.”

“me too,” and maybe in a sick moment of clarity, you realized he deserved someone who didn’t need him; not as much as you did. i wish you were here too, but you never said it.

you both deserved more— something the two of you would never be able to give to one another. 

what if i had tried? another question, straggling after the torrent of many others you had asked yourself.

but you shake your head, because you know the answer. trying wouldn't have fixed anything.

you still wished it was different. words would never be able to explain how you feel; the deep stinging in your heart, the tugs at your heartstring, the feeling of pain that shoots through your fingers when you think too deeply of him. words would never be able to explain how much you wish that it didn’t have to be like this. 

you think that maybe the weight of the future was too heavy for the both of you, maybe you two just weren’t ready for whatever you had dreamed of. rin, driven by his ambition, his thirst for greatness, and you—stuck between wanting him to be everything he dreamed of but also wanting to be the one he chose. 

you didn't want him to choose, so you chose for him.

it was at the peak of winter when it all fell apart in your hands. “i think… i think it’s been a long time coming, honestly.” you had laughed bitterly, you laughed even though your heart felt like it was being ripped into two. your voice was soft and broken, like you were already grieving, and the raging blizzard outside threatened to drown you out. “i just want you to be happy. but, i want me to be happy too.”

you both stand in the middle of the room, still as unfurnished as when you had both bought it.

“i’m sorry,” was all rin could say. but he couldn’t even look at you. his fingers were intertwined with yours, hands shaking as he held onto you, but he couldn’t meet your eyes. “i’m sorry i couldn’t be enough for you.”

you couldn't look at him either.

you stared out, blinking away the tears that pooled in your eyes. you wanted to speak, you wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just him— but the words all felt like they were stuck in your throat. constantly gulping back the barrage of tears, soothing yourself, too afraid to cry in front of him. 

afraid that if you did, he would want to take it all back. to take you back. to hold you in his arms and tell you that this was a mistake. 

and that you would cave, and repeat the cycle.

you knew, then, that love wasn’t enough to hold you both together— not when you were both chasing different versions of happiness for one another.

maybe, your dreams had never aligned to begin with.

but that’s what made it hurt more. the fact that you could never truly hate him for leaving like he did, because you did too. you could never hate him for wanting better, for reaching for something more than what you could give him. because you wanted it too. maybe not the same dreams, but you wanted to be someone who could stand beside him, strong enough to handle everything he was destined for. you wanted to be the one to hold him when things got tough. but you couldn’t pretend to be that somebody for him. 

so you let go.

not because you stopped loving him, but because you loved him enough to let him go. you still love him, and maybe always will, even as you learn to live without him. you'll always think of him when the snow first comes around, and when the trees start to bloom. it’s a kind of love that doesn’t fade, the kind that sticks with you forever, no matter how much you wish it would. 

the world continues to move around you, as it always does, indifferent to the memories you carry. maybe you’ll always wonder what could have been, dream of an apartment you’ll never share, for the future that was never for you two to have. 

the world will continue to move, and you know that, eventually, you will too.

note. i was listening to "the apartment we won't share" and "seasons" non-stop while writing this. i just needed to write something sad LMFAO

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[forcebookish]

cher going from barely able to answer "do you like me"

to projectile crying about how much he cares for and wants to be with gun

to scolding himself for being so in love

that boy is never finding his way back

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[gojoest]

CRAZY ABOUT YOU — gojo satoru

tw: MDNI, f! reader, she/her pronouns used, pregnancy (reader is expecting), established relationship (you’re married), pregnancy freak!satoru, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, love, sweetheart), very very brief mention of somno & oral f receiving, reader wears a dress, he’s a freak, not proofread, wc: 2.4k

synopsis: your husband fucks you during one of your prenatal visits

your husband is a freak, you know that. but what you didn’t know was how big of a one he could be, for you. you found out — when you became pregnant with his child.

when satoru found out that you’re carrying his child — because he did before you, saw it with his six eyes — he fucked you differently. with a primal urge unheard of, like a man that’s impregnated his wife and is now claiming her again, confirming the fact that you belong to him by slamming it deep inside you. after the fifth (?) orgasm he dragged out of you that night, you asked him through a weary chuckle — “huh, where did this come from?” — and his answer began with a motion of his fingers hugging his balls — “it came from here…”, followed by his other hand caressing your belly “…and went there”, while slowly leaning in to meet your lips, “and i might just lose my mind because, baby — you’re pregnant”

a rather unconventional way to find out you’re pregnant.

if he had any semblance of decency in him before (which is rather questionable) and could keep his hands to himself (to some extent) during certain times and in certain places, it is completely off the table now.

when he wants you, you will know; others around will know it, too. he doesn’t shy away from making it obvious, or more so he doesn’t care if other people notice. what’s there to be embarrassed about? after all, you’re a couple, you do things. it’s only natural. and that pretty baby bump is the perfect proof of it. in all honesty, it gets him off when others know that he’s about to fuck his beautiful pregnant wife once he takes her home.

he's a freak like that, it can’t be helped. even more so now with the way your skin glows differently, with the way you smell, the way you carry yourself and the way your body is undergoing the natural changes as the pregnancy progresses that he finds so beautiful. it all messes with his head. brings out the real freak in him that can no longer keep his urges at bay, not when knowing that he himself brought this upon you. it makes you so undeniably his, for everyone to see and acknowledge. his chest swells with pride…

…but sometimes pride also gives way to greed, to a freakish desire for more of you.

during the rare times you go about to shower without him, he slips into the bathroom. sits on the toilet seat and starts jerking off to you, watching your swollen belly and breasts, moaning loud and clear for you to come to his aid. sometimes you wake up to him holding your hand wrapped around his cock, rubbing himself into your palm, audible pants seeping from his lips as he slowly lifts the hem of your shirt (his shirt that you wear to sleep) — preparing to splatter his load on your pregnant belly; or alternatively, you open your eyes to his face buried between your legs, devouring you like a starved animal… other times, as you make dinner in the kitchen, tenderizing the meat with the mallet on the counter, he comes from behind and presses his hard-on against your ass, shamelessly asking “would you mind beating my meat, too, baby?”

and when you go about to scold him, call him a jerk, a perv, a freak, insufferable while hitting his chest — playfully, because you secretly like it when he can’t contain himself around you — he blames you for it. tells you that you’ve severed him so abysmally that he’s having a hard time now keeping it soft around you (he’s not lying). that you broke him and should take responsibility for it. chuckles fill the room and mix in between your kisses that later turn into breathy moans and pants mixed in between countless of i love you’s and you’re mine and mine only’s.

but sometimes, such as today, he takes things a bit too far…

like,

—you can’t simply fuck your wife during one of the prenatal visits just because the doctor left the examination room for a bit and your dick is rock-hard from seeing your wife’s belly out in the open.

“you have to be kidding me”, you raise your brows in absolute surprise as you watch your husband unbuckle his pants, “now? HERE?”

“please?”, he looks at you, cheeks flushed and eyes of a pleading puppy.

you knew he was up to something from the glint in his eyes as he kept staring at your exposed belly earlier, completely transfixed, only his eyes following the ultrasound probe as the doctor pressed it over your tummy.

“the doctor’s going to come any moment, you know right?”, you try to confirm he is aware that this can go very wrong.

“yes, but so am i — you don’t want me walking around in cum drenched pants, right?”, he purses his lips into a pout, one that’s obviously fake (but it works on you, even if you refuse to admit it).

“it’s not like you’ve never done it before”, you mock.

“that was only one time”, he pouts (this one’s not a fake), “okay, maybe two or three times, but it happens even to the best” (it was more than two or three times)

“aha”

“oi. whose fault do you think it was? you make a man go crazy. i mean, look at me right now, just look — i am standing here with my dick almost out for you, in the doctor’s office”

“so you realize this is absolutely crazy but still you won’t pack your dick away?”

“no, i will not. i’ll die if i don’t get to fuck you this instant. and i mean it, it hurts so much. and the authorities will suspect you did it, you know. because it’s always the wives anyway…..and they won’t be wrong about it”

“you’re hopeless, satoru”, you sigh, giving him a roll of your eyes.

but still, leaning on your elbows you slowly rise yourself from the examination table and sit at the edge of it, removing the towel covering your thighs. spreading your legs for him, you think that you really made the right choice to wear a dress today — less in the way for your husband and another one of his “if i don’t get to fuck my wife, i’ll die” episodes.

“i am”, he saunters over to you, biting his lower lip at the sight of your thighs and the beautiful belly hanging in between, “but i can’t help it when you’re so pretty for me like this, i go crazy”

and fuck, if it doesn’t make you wet the way he looks at you right now as he stops to stand between your open thighs, invading your space with such ease because that’s where he belongs to be. all the signs hint at that, too — the ring on your finger, the baby in your belly and the wetness dripping from your cunt, ready to welcome him in.

“yea, you really do”, you pull the front of his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, earning a low hiss from him upon your hand making contact with it.

“all because of you”, he places his hands under your ass and slightly pulls you to himself. you’re immediately met with where he’s hard, it’s poking and rubbing against your belly.

a moan crawls up his throat and breaks out into a satisfied groan. part of him wants to cum just like this — by rubbing himself against your belly. but god, you smell so good down there that it shifts his desire. now that he’s so close to you — standing right in front of your doors — he can smell it so much better. your scent wafts up from your heat and goes straight to his nostrils, letting his brain register in the most primal of ways that your body is ready for him.

you know he’s noticed the dampness of your panties by the way his smile’s faded into a grin, you can smell yourself in the air around you, too.

“fuck, baby…can cum from this alone, you know? rubbing myself on that pretty belly that i made on you”, satoru whispers as he leans forward to take your mouth into his. his lips are loaded with such intensity that they suck the air from your lungs, leave you moaning into his mouth. the grip he’s got on your ass tightening, his fingers digging into your flesh. “but that won’t do now, so hold on tight”

you comply in silence, wrapping your hands around his neck as he lifts you up just enough to peel your panties down to your thighs, then sits you up again and drags them down your legs and onto the floor.

“just so you know—if someone comes before i do, i’ll just keep fucking you”, he grins at you as he positions himself back between your legs. his words might sound like a joke, an exaggeration of some sort to make it clear how much he wants you right now, but you know better than anyone that he’s pretty serious about it.

“then hurry up, you freak”

his fingers swipe over your cunt — to confirm that you are indeed as ready as your scent gives away — and collect your arousal before rubbing it all over the length of his throbbing cock, mixing your wetness with his vigorously leaking pre.

“open them a little bit more for me, baby”, he coaxes, hands back on your thighs, tapping softly on your skin as a signal to spread them just a little bit more and give him way. you lean back on your hands and push your legs open as much as you can. the motion causing your belly to bump against his cock, squishing it between the two of you, pressing it against his stomach.

“s-shit, baby”, he hisses at the sensation, his body jerks a little and his hips buck forward, against your belly, to deepen the friction, “i can really cum from just rubbing it on you….fuck, that’s crazy”, he laughs.

but satoru stops himself.

his hand moves away from you to get a hold of his cock and help it against your entrance, pushing the head towards your folds before slowly sinking in the entirety of it, bottoming out in you from the very start. there’s no time to waste and he’s got no patience left in him, once he’s in — he’s going all the way.

“nghh, s-satoru”, you whimper at his needy intrusion, but swallow him so easily that your wetness starts to spurt out as he’s starting to dart in and out, trickling down the crack of your ass and dripping onto the examination table.

“fuck, love…look at the way you take me”, he breathily chuckles, head thrown back as he picks up the rhythm of his thrusts, “and you call me crazy, huh…haha, fuck, f-fuc-k” — if his voice was a tad bit louder just now and could keep a steady note, he would’ve sounded maniacal.

“s-shut up….don’t compare me to yourself”, you protest, trying to deny the fact you want him just as bad but the way your walls clench around him proves the other way around. you become who you surround yourself with. he’s crazy to do this to you here of all places. and you’re just as much crazy to let him have his way with you.

you suck him in so deep that his body, caught off guard, jerks and bucks forward. it makes him forget where he starts and where he ends. he wants to let go but also to never stop, he’s fighting so hard but it’s a battle he’s slowly losing. as his pace is growing faster his thrusts are getting sloppier. “shit”, he curses under his breath. his balls are sizzling and he wants to bust so bad but not before he makes you cum.

the tension, the pulsing of his cock and the ridges of his throbbing veins — you can feel them like a heartbeat inside of you, and each time he slams against that sweet spot your clit responds with a beat of its own.

you try to hold your voice back but pants leave through your parted lips as you gasp for air.

“nghh, ’toru…’m gonna cum”, you whimper incoherently as you throw your head back, eyes shut close.

“yea? go on, baby—cum for me. come on, sweetheart—i’ll help you out”, he breathes.

his hands grabbing onto the plush of your thighs with a deadly grip, pulling you closer to help fuck himself into you better. the bottom of your belly is flat against his rock-hard abdomen now and he keeps it that way while ramming himself inside you, rubbing his cock around your sensitive walls, without pulling out. over and over until you squirm and come undone. face grimacing in pleasure and hips jerking from the electrifying sensation as you keep chanting “fuck, fuck, fuck” under your breath as quietly as possible so your voice doesn’t make it past the walls of the examination room for others — doctors, nurses and patients — to hear.

you glance your eyes to him, all disheveled and sweaty as his hips live through the last few thrusts left in them before he implodes inside of you. you hear him grumble how he’s about to fill you up while peering at you with a desperate face.

“f-fuck”, he growls throatily, charging one last time into you before spurting his load inside you. his body shudders from the release he’s been holding back. and he’s pouring too much, his heat spilling and filling your insides. you can feel it all — he’s making a frothy mess of your cunt.

it takes a few seconds after he’s done pouring his seed that his body reigns back control and he stops shuddering. he then looks at you.

“if i pull out now it’ll all spill out, you know? so maybe we should stay—?”

“no.”, you dryly interrupt. “don’t force our luck. put that thing away before someone comes and help me put my panties on”

“but it’ll spill out”, he insists.

“i’ll hold it in, don’t worry”

“oh? you know just the thought alone is doing inhumane things to me all over again, right?”

“satoru. don’t you dare.”

[suiana]

(yandere! doctor x gn! patient) (cw: nsfw, yandere stuff, drugging, bribery, dubcon?)

your doctor is a little weird, you think.

he's a nice guy, yeah. does his work well, always smiling and constantly reassuring you that nothing's wrong with you. sending you off with a nice pat on the back as he emails you your prescription yet again.

but he's nowhere near professional.

his hands linger on your body far longer than what would be considered appropriate. eyes dark and unreadable as you tell him about your lovely significant other that's waiting for you outside of his office. how he'd try and talk bout his own life in an attempt to get you to stay in his office more...

if anything, he acts more like a possessive boyfriend than your doctor.

though you suppose he's just a little eccentric like that. he's a reputable doctor. everyone loves him, and so do you! he's treated you numerous times and his checkups are always so thorough. surely you can just let his... odd behaviour slide.

today you're coming in for a body checkup. lately you've been feeling dizzy and warm despite it being the middle of winter. you wonder if it's because you've gotten ill or someone's poisioning you. after all, there's been some weird holes in your arm whenever you wake up lately.

your excellent doctor has scheduled you in at 4.30 in the afternoon. he was busy earlier today, he says. you understand, he's a busy doctor. your spouse hasn't ended their shift yet so you came in alone. they haven't been answering your texts since they left home earlier today. you can only hope that they've been busy, you'll ask them when they come home.

entering his office, you are met with his polite smile and his melodious voice.

"please sit."

you obey, sitting down in the seat in front of him as you fiddle with your fingers. your doctor looks rather... distracted today. his usually tidy hair is a mess, his glasses wet as though they had just been cleaned.

"it seems that you are feeling warm and under the weather. do you have any other symptoms, my dear?"

"yes... i've been feeling rather..."

you pause, not knowing how to say it.

"aroused?"

you nod. your doctor seems to know you so well.

he hums, going back to his screen before putting on a pair of medical gloves and gesturing for you to lay down on the bed nearby. you oblige. hopefully he'll figure out what's going on with your body.

he starts off normally, prodding and pressing against certain areas of your body. you answer accordingly when he asks you whether they hurt, whether you feel weird or not. it's like any other medical examination.

"so how's your lover been?"

small talk. you realize he's always been a big fan of small talk. asking about your life, humming and smiling as he replies with answers about his own life too. sometimes he says something personal about your life, like how you go shopping on saturdays with your lover or how you sleep with the lights off. you wonder how he knows, is he stalking you? but you shake your head at the thought. you must've told him and forgot.

"they've been... fine. haven't texted me back yet unfortunately."

"mn, i see."

silence washes over the two of you as he continues prodding and touching you. his touches linger, soft and almost as though he was yearning to touch you even more. his tone of voice was nonchalant, like he didn't care.

you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"um..."

"hm?"

"i-i... i guess i'm worried about them. ever since they went out to work in the morning they haven't replied..."

"i am aware."

you remain quiet after that, pursing your lips as you ignore the way his touches have you growing progressively more turned on. you figure it must be a side effect of your condition.

"my dear, can you tell me what you feel what i touch you here?"

"huh? w- h-hey..."

you let out a soft moan as his gloved hands caress your clothed thighs. calm down, he says. it's just a part of the examination. you shudder slightly, squeezing your eyes shut. you feel the warmth in you grow as he continues to gently caress your thighs.

he's right, it's just a medical examination. he wouldn't touch you like that. plus, you have a significant other already. you shouldn't be feeling like this because of his touches. it's wrong.

you exhale shakily, fluttering your eyes open as you stare at him.

"i-it feels nice..? it makes the warmth worse, doc."

"i see... what about over here?"

you let out a gasp, eyes widening so wide you were sure they'd pop out of your skull. where... were his hands touching? surely you're dreaming?

but you weren't. when you looked down, you could clearly see his hands on your nether regions, gently groping and caressing the area.

"w-what are you-"

"i am merely testing to see which parts of your body react to my touch. please do not worry, my dear. this is all medical procedure."

"but it's my-"

"shh... i know. does it feel good? what do you feel?"

you shiver under his touch, whimpering softly as you try sitting up. were you overthinking it? he's just your doctor. this is part of the examination, it's fine.

yet you feel as though his touches have a deeper and more sinister meaning behind them.

"please don't-"

"why not? i've seen your significant other touch you like this multiple times. you've always reacted wonderfully under their touch."

"h-huh?"

your doctor pauses, eyes widening slightly before he lets out a chuckle. his hands continue palming and caressing your privates, almost as though he was... toying with you. with every touch you feel yourself getting more and more worked up, cheeks flushing even more.

"oh dear, i haven't told you have i? i've been keeping a close eye on you... i thought you'd have figured it out by now. your lover certainly has."

you squeeze your eyes shut as his touch, your mind growing fuzzy. what.. did he say? you can't quite understand... all you can feel is how bothered you're getting and how you want him to touch you even more.

"i am pleasantly surprised with how well you are reacting to my touch. i never expected you to react so positively to the drug."

"d-drug? ah... no... don't grope me like that..."

he continues palming at your clothed privates, a calm smile on his face. you can faintly make out the way his cheeks were turning red and the hardening of his pants.

"right, i did tell them not to tell you... my dear, your significant other has left you."

"no... what are you... talking about doc? hah... how would you know anyway..?"

"oh, because i told them to. i gave them some money a few months back and they've been working for me up until... today."

if you were a little more sober, you would've pushed him away and ran for your phone. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had been injected with last night has reduced you into a needy thing desperate for his touch.

"what did you do-"

"well my dear, didn't you notice the injection marks in your arm? your significant other had been administering you with tiny dosages of this particular drug i've given them. it's supposed to make you feel good."

"g-good..?"

you hear your doctor chuckle, his hands moving away from your sensitive parts. only to quickly undo the buckle of your pants and slip his hand down on your newly exposed skin.

your breath hitches, hips instictively bucking against his hand as you let out a low whine. you can't think anymore. your brain is so muddled with feeling good that you aren't even worried or disgusted by what he's saying. all you want is him, him, him. he makes you feel good.

"yes my love, good. aren't you feeling good right now?"

"mn mhm!"

you nod your head eagerly as his hands gently toy with your sex, rubbing and fondling you gently. he continues smiling down at you, pleasuring you with his fingers before pulling away. you whimper, face hot and red as you desperately try and pull him back. why would he do that? he was just making you feel so good...

"haha, you want me to continue touching you?"

you nod again. your doctor grins widely at your words, taking off his gloves before you hear the clink of his belt hit the floor.

"well, i suppose i'll get on with my second part of the medical examination now then."

[vandijkwrites]

sorry if you've already answered this 700 times, in which case totally feel free to ignore. but how do you lengthen your attention span? is it as simple as watching/reading progressively longer things?

First of, I am by no means an expert, but I'm happy to help as much as I can! There are a lot of great articles, books, and podcasts on the topic if you want any further info.

The most important thing to realize is why are attention spans are getting worse:

Information overload and distractions make it difficult to focus. (Ex. social media and text notification going off while you are doing other tasks)

Intentional multitasking gets your brain used to doing more than one thing at once so it becomes very difficult to make it do only one thing (Ex. having the tv on in the background while doing other tasks)

Consuming a lot of media focused on having minimal downtime and immediate gratification decreases our patience and ability to do slower tasks (Ex. watching a lot of action packed movies and short TikToks)

Getting constant small hits of dopamine from social media decreases our ability to do tasks that don't give us dopamine hits (Ex. getting likes from a post or messages from friends)

The solutions to most of these come down to two things: (1) Do only one thing at a time (2) Limit distractions from that task (3) Reduce immediate gratification

So some example of ways to do that would be:

Read a book without your phone being on hand to distract you.

Watch TV without multitasking.

Reduce time on social media, especially social media focused on short videos.

Spend a day or part of a day without technology.

Spend time with friends without looking at your phone.

Watch slow-form content like unedited lecture or panel videos where people are just speaking at their normal pace without cutting pauses.

Listen to music albums all the way through instead of shuffling and skipping.

Eat meals without multitasking (ie mindful eating)

Make yourself a cup of tea and sit on a park bench or by the window and watch some birds.

People-watch at the coffee shop.

Write long emails or letters to friends and family instead of short texts.

Call and have a conversation with a loved one without multitasking.

Meditate.

Take a walk and enjoy nature.

Don't scroll through your phone while waiting in a line.

Read long posts when you come across them on your dashboard.

Have an ebook on your phone to read whenever you would normally scroll through social media.

Don't go on your phone/online for a certain amount of time before bed.

If you are having trouble doing these things, try to do one tasks but increase the stimuli of that task. For example, read a book while listening to the audiobook at the same time. Or listen to music while watching a lyric video. These are great baby steps!

Another great baby step is (like you said in your question) doing things for progressively longer amounts of time! Set a timer for a certain number of minutes and then read without distraction for that amount of time. That way it won't feel like it is never ending and you can track your progress.

Obviously not all of these will be for everyone and some of these are too hard for people with ADHD or serious attention issues, but they are a good place to start!

I hope that helps 💕

[webbluvrsugar]

Spencer finally gets back from prison, first thing he does is go and see shy!reader.

cw: tiny angst with fluff, fools in love.

You didn’t know Spencer was out. He didn’t tell you, — which is weird considering you thought you were finally making progress when he started sending you letters — the team didn’t tell you, not even Garcia, you only knew he was out when he came to your house and knocked on your door. Two knocks. It was familiar, only he knocked that way, but it could be a miss understanding, at least that’s what could’ve been if he wasn’t standing right in front of you when you opened the door.

You thought you were hallucinating, fair for an FBI agent, but you weren’t, he was standing right in front of you, face still roughed up, brows slightly furrowing when he saw you.

“I know I didn’t — tell… I was coming, or that I was even out, and I’m sorry.” His voice is low, no longer as hushed as it was when you went to visit him, you feel like you can’t breathe for a single moment because… he really is here.

You stay silent for a while, his eyes roam over you, it’s late at night, you’re wearing a fluffy oversized sweater, white slippers and your hair lightly messed up, he can’t help but just think of how much he missed you, how pretty you look even now.

“Can I come in?” He asks, almost pleading, wide eyes staring into yours.

You nod, finally taking a breath, stepping to the side as he comes in. He closes the door behind him and you sit down on the couch, he remembers your apartment, small but cozy, still neat as the first time he ‘slept’ here, it makes him want to go back to make it up to you.

“I know I was a dick, didn’t write, didn’t.. respond to your letters, didn’t tell you I was out but —“ he sighs, slightly approaching you further. “I didn’t mean any of it, it was rough and I —“ he tries to finish, you cut him off.

“Spencer.” Your voice echoes through his ears like a hum, makes his shoulders slightly relax, makes him feel more relaxed.

“Yeah?” He answers, his eyes going away from yours.

“It’s fine.” You reassure. Yes, you may have been a little hurt, but he’s hurt more in there, you don’t know the things he’s gone through, you can’t blame him for any of his behaviour even with how rude it was. “Do you — want.. coffee?”

“Tea.” He chuckles.

“Tea?” You ask and he nods, maybe he needs the peace way more than he needs the energy. “Okay.”

So you stand and brew him the tea, grabbing the mug with both hands before blowing softly on it, handing it to him. This is more than he ever could ask for, and he wants to thank you for the hospitality, for the way you don’t judge him, for the way you’re so nice. He doesn’t need to say it, you can see it in his eyes.

He appreciates it all.

And he especially appreciates the way you welcome him into your bed as if nothing has passed between you.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Better, Not So Hidden Half

Part 2 of The Better, Hidden Half

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: After Tim decided he didn't want to keep you hidden any longer, you meet the rest of his friends (colleagues, as he prefers), but not the way he planned.

Warnings: depiction of minor injuries (Tim), fluff, grumpy!Tim, Smitty, mentions of drugging

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When Tim was infected by an unknown biological weapon, he told you that he wanted to stop keeping you separate from the rest of his life. You’re his better half, and he cares deeply about you and your safety, but that doesn’t mean you should be his hidden half. During his short stay in the hospital, Wade introduced you to Lucy Chen, Tim’s rookie, and John Nolan. Since then, however, Tim hasn’t done proper introductions or made any real changes. He has started wearing his wedding ring to work, though, rather than leaving it on a chain around your neck. Baby steps, maybe, but it’s progress.

Your phone rings while Tim is at work, and your breaths grow shallow when you see Wade’s name on the screen. The last time something happened to Tim, Angela called you; any time you see Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, or Talia Bishop’s names appear on your phone, your heart drops in fear for your husband.

“Hey, Wade,” you answer softly.

“Can you please come talk some sense into your husband?” he asks.

Wade's tone and accompanying sigh are all you need to hear to know he’s tired. Sirens have surrounded you all day, so you’re not surprised that something happened.

“About what?” you reply.

“Sorry for the surprise call,” he adds, “I know those can be concerning, so I’ll go ahead and tell you that Tim was in a minor accident, but he’s refusing to get looked at.”

“Shocking,” you joke. “I’ll be there soon. How is he?”

Wade begins to answer, but you hear Tim yell, “If I need a break, I will take one!” in the background.

“Sounds about the same as usual,” you say and answer your question. “See you in a few.”

“Thank you. You’re the best honorary cop I’ve got.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Sergeant Grey.”

When you walk into the Mid-Wilshire Station, Tim and Wade are nowhere to be seen. You see Angela waiting nearby, and she rushes to hug you after you wave.

“Are you finally here to meet everyone? Since someone decided that he needed to talk to you alone to heal last time?” she asks playfully.

“I’m here because Tim is injured and stubborn,” you answer.

“And he’ll still be injured and stubborn after you meet the boots who can’t stop talking about you.”

“Is he okay?” you whisper.

“He’s fine. Barely injured, I promise.”

You nod and thank her before she leads you toward a small crowd of officers. Talia says hello, and the three in long sleeves stand up straighter when they see you.

“Mrs. Bradford, nice to see you again,” Lucy greets.

“You too, Officer Chen,” you reply.

“Lucy, please.”

“You’ve met Lucy and Nolan – however brief Tim kept it. And this is my rookie, Jackson West,” Angela introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer with your handshake.

“So, you married Bradford?” he asks. “Why?”

You chuckle at the question but can’t answer your cliched answer of because I love him, and he’s really just a big softie under the sarcastic eye rolls and grumpy yelling before Nolan asks another question.

“At the hospital, you said less than five words to Tim, and he listened. No complaining, no hateful looks, just immediately obeyed. How do you do that?” Nolan inquires.

“Wait – how did you meet?” Jackson adds. “Let’s be chronological.”

Nolan nods in agreement, and you prepare to answer.

“Then I want to know your first thought of Tim. Before you met, just saw each other, whatever… what did you see that drew you in?” Lucy asks.

Angela and Bishop smile as your eyes bounce between the rookies and their never-ending questions. You can’t answer one before the next one is asked, and though you don’t feel the same, you can understand why Tim didn’t want you to meet them all at once.

“No!” Lucy exclaims. “Where did Tim propose?”

“The place where they met,” Talia answers.

Nolan turns quickly to yell, “You knew Tim was married! Why didn’t you mention her?”

“She’s not my wife,” Talia replies sarcastically. “Not my story to tell.”

“I would have talked about her because she’s my best friend,” Angela interjects. “But Tim threatened me.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Bradford,” Jackson says. “We’re just excited and shocked and have so many questions.”

“Mrs. Bradford?” a passing officer asks. “You’re too young to be Mom Bradford, and you’re not his sister…”

“I’m Tim’s wife,” you finish.

“This is Smitty,” Angela tells you.

She winks quickly, and you nod in understanding. You’ve heard plenty of stories about Smitty, and more than enough complaints when you’re alone with Tim. He seems unique, to put it lightly (and kinder than Tim does).

“You married Tim Bradford? Was he by any chance in possession of narcotics or mind-altering drugs when you met? Because it’s pretty easy to convince a woman to do something these days, just a little powder in an uncovered drink, you know,” Smitty continues.

“Smitty, have you drugged a woman before?” Nolan asks. His suspicion is evident in how he asks and the narrowing of his eyes.

“Well, Officer Smitty,” you begin. You nod at Angela, and her smile grows when she realizes you plan to play along.

Tim stands with a quiet grunt of pain. He stretches to the side to fight the growing stiffness and sees Lucy talking to a group of people. Smitty approaches the side, and Nolan steps back to reveal the focus of all of the attention. Tim doesn’t think twice and races out of Wade’s office to save you from the boots.

You address Smitty but don’t say anything more before Tim wraps his hand around your arm while the other grips your hip and pulls you backward. Tim moves you away from Angela and ignores the protests that follow your sudden departure. You don’t fight him as he leads you into Wade’s office. Wade looks up and mouths a relieved thank you.

“Tim, as much as I love meeting the people you pretend not to care about, would you please stop getting hurt and giving me an excuse to drop by unannounced?” you ask.

“I didn’t get hurt,” Tim argues.

His hands are still on you, so you turn in his hold to look at him. Several scrapes litter his left cheek, and you run a gentle finger under them. You can see that his shoulders are tense but you're grateful that his injuries seem to be limited to some stiffness and scrapes.

“What did Wade tell you?” Tim whispers.

“That you were being stubborn and not listening,” Wade mumbles behind you. “I’m surprised she believed me.”

Tim keeps his eyes on you but doesn’t comment further on his injuries or the rookies you just met. He looks down, and you follow his eyes to his hands. His left hand is wrapped tightly with gauze and bandages as he slides his right hand into his pocket.

“Had to take this off,” he tells you.

You extend your hand to accept his wedding ring and curl your fingers around it. After unhooking your necklace chain, you slide his ring on and keep it safe against your chest. Tim nods once it’s secure with you and pulls you to sit beside him. You lay a hand against his right cheek and smile as he leans against your hand. He leans in and kisses you quickly before glancing at Wade to ensure he isn’t watching.

“He’s seen us kiss before,” you remind Tim.

“And I will never let you forget it,” Wade agrees, focusing on the paperwork before him.

“No mind-altering drugs required,” Tim says with a small smile.

“Now I understand why you didn’t want me to meet Smitty.”

“I warned you.”

“Luckily, Angela introduced me to the rookies first, and I invited them over for dinner on Sunday. Wade, you and Luna are welcome to come, too, if you’d like,” you say.

Tim groans as Wade promises to pass the invitation on to Luna. You sit back carefully as Tim leans against you. He’s grumpy about your new connection with the boots but loves you. Tim meant it when he said he didn’t want to keep you hidden and risk wasting his life by separating from everything else that matters to him.

“Lucy won’t shut up,” he realizes with a dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, because I’m sure you carry half of the conversation as it is,” you tease. “Don’t forget how well I know you, Bradford.”

“As long as you don’t forget that I don’t like these people, Bradford,” Tim counters.

“You let Angela come over all the time. And don’t give me the whole ‘she scares me’ thing; you love her.”

Tim moves closer to you to whisper, “I love you more.”

“Then go get a full physical examination. Make sure all the handsomeness is still put together like it’s supposed to be.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Then maybe you don’t love me like you claim to. That’s why you leave your ring with me, right? Easier to bring women in when no one knows you’re married.”

Wade fails to hide a laugh before he covers it with a fake cough. Tim shakes his head but kisses you again before standing. You follow him to the door and thank Wade for the call. Tim waves everyone over, and Lucy beats the rest of them by a solid three seconds.

“Hi again,” she tells you.

“I’ll go see the medic if you rescind the dinner offer,” Tim tells you.

“You’ll go see the medic either way, so no,” you reply.

“We’ve decided a better way to ask questions, and we’ll give you time to breathe in the future,” Jackson says. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Jackson. I understand the excitement; not the shock because, I mean, look at him," you wave toward Tim and continue, "but it’s not every day that you meet Officer Grumpy’s secret wife.”

“Did you just gesture to me like I’m a game show prize?” Tim murmurs.

“Tim and I will be happy to answer all your questions at dinner. It was very nice to meet all of you, and if Smitty asks again, I was absolutely drugged.”

Tim drags you away once again, and Angela only hears him ask, “Officer Grumpy?” before the door closes behind you both.

You turn and place a hand under Tim’s chin. One touch, a smile, and a kiss turn Tim back into your loving husband. He didn’t realize that keeping you separate from his work life gave you a unique power over him because he’s never had to hide his love for you or the physical affection he’s grown to crave.

“Be careful,” you request softly. “And call me if they find any other injuries.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim answers.

“Don’t,” you warn.

“You kissed me first.”

“Thanks for letting me be part of your life, Tim.” He nods and kisses you slowly, but you push him away to warn him, “Ask Angela to tell you about Smitty before he says anything about our relationship.”

“You talked to Smitty, too? Maybe I should start leaving you at home again.”

“I love you,” you call over your shoulder.

“I love you,” Tim replies.

He walks back into the station with two things on his mind: learning what Smitty thinks about you and Tim that was worth a warning and getting home to you. Your touch, kiss, and the soft return of his ring will always be the best part of Tim’s day, and even though he wears his ring more often now, you still pull him in because he needs you more than he’s ever needed the ring.

[jjunieworld]

#WIP ⟢ THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤 ⨾ 박종성 ▸  part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing and mentions of reader’s dad passing, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, arguing, semi-public sex, size training, corruption kink full smut tags in actual post . . . !

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this was a long time coming lmao i’m so so sorry to everyone who has been waiting (◞‸◟；) with my month long break and adjusting to writing again i’m finally ready to start working on this series again! this is my main priority so i will try to get it out as soon as i possibly can!! this post will be updated as i work on it! ^^ all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

release date ⸝⸝⸝ sept 20th, 2024 ⋆ progress updates here!

∿ [ teaser wc: 0.7k ] ∿ [ current wc: 26.1k ] ⋆ [ continue to . . . wips , masterlist ]

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

⟢ READ HERE!

your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.

you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.

when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. one one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.

it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.

but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.

to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.

and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.

“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.

you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.

“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.

your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer?” what was his name? jacob?”

“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.

your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.

it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.

getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.

jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and still you could barely wrap your head around it.

“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”

it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.

you: meet me at our spot.

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[apomaro-mellow]

some time travel shenanigans

Eddie thought the hardest part about time travel would be convincing everyone of that fact. Turned out he didn't need to do much convincing. Perhaps that was due in part to the fact that he was only from a few years ahead and thus didn't look too different from the version of himself lying comatose in the hospital.

His hair was just a bit longer and he had a beard now. But everything else was about the same.

No, the real struggle was holding back certain truths of the future. Of course, many of them had questions and the more logical ones reasoned that they shouldn't know anything unless absolutely necessary. So thankfully Eddie was spared from a constant barrage of questions. But even that wasn't the hard part.

The biggest challenge, the most difficult part of being here, was having to pretend that he wasn't head over heels in love with Steve.

To have to watch him from across the room and not be able to kiss, him, to embrace him, not even being able to hold his hand. And it cut him every time their gazes met. There was a question in Steve's eyes that he longed to answer.

The first night he spent in the past, Eddie could only think of his Stevie. How easily he'd been allowed to touch him in his own time. But he couldn't now. He had to wait. In a few days his younger self would wake up and the near-death experience would give him the guts to tell Steve that he was gay.

And then a few days after that, he'd reveal that he had a crush on someone. And then about a week after that, he would find Steve about to kiss another man and find the nerve to cut in between and confess.

Now that Eddie thought about it, he guessed he had to thank the guy who tried putting the moves on Steve. Having his feelings out in the open had made him feel more confident, stronger. And that passion helped aid in defeating Vecna's second coming. Eddie almost wished he knew who the guy was.

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

Everything had been going just as Eddie remembered it. The Harrington house had become the base of operations, even when Steve's parents returned. The military set up too and while they helped stem the demodog population, they did very little to help with Vecna.

His younger self woke up, injuries healed thanks to the bat venom now coursing through his veins. His return came with a message from Vecna. One that was a riddle that Eddie already knew the answer to.

"I can tell you what he's planning and how to counter. But some of you won't like it."

"Um, hey, who the fuck are you?"

Both Eddies stared each other down and it was so quiet you could hear a cotton ball drop.

"Who was supposed to tell present-Eddie about future-Eddie?", Robin asked.

"I'm sorry, who!?", Eddie exclaimed.

"You from the future, try to keep up", Dustin said.

Eddie's eyes were glued to his so called future self. And then only tore away when he caught a movement on the side. Steve shifting his balance. Steve.

"Okay, if you are me from the future, I have some questions."

"Most of which I can't answer. Especially that one."

"So you're useless then."

"Give him a break", Steve said, coming to the older man's defense. "If he told us everything that'd mess with the whole space-time whatever."

"Continuum", about three voices said for him.

"Yeah the whatever."

"...How long has he been here?", Eddie asked, wondering just what his future self, someone who seemed more bold and comfortable in his body, got up to with Steve.

Older Eddie just shook his head and chuckled in a way that reminded him too much of Wayne. "I haven't been here long enough for what you're imagining."

And then things progressed just as he knew they would. He knew his younger self was about to go and tell Steve about his crush. He could recall it happening during a supply run and even remembered that Steve had been wearing a camo jacket with a soft blue shirt underneath.

Seeing them get closer just made him long more for his own Stevie. Was he thinking of him now? Sometimes Eddie met the gaze of Steve from now and wondered if he could see the future they had together.

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

Steve knew the other Eddie was hiding something. At first he thought it might be how the venom was effecting Eddie's body. But once present-Eddie woke up, that had been made apparent and he was still acting weird. Steve didn't think it was malicious anymore. But it was definitely something.

Sometimes he caught the other man staring at him. Other times they had to hand things to one another and his touch lingered, like he wanted to touch Steve more. Steve knew yearning when he saw it. He just didn't understand why it was being directed towards him.

He got an opportunity to seek out answers one night. A lot of people were housed at the gym as a shelter after the quakes. But life was more dangerous now and that meant a lot of patrols in a lot of areas. So when someone reported odd noises outside, Steve, future-Eddie, present-Eddie, and a few well armed citizens went to check it out. It was about half a dozen of them in total and they broke off into groups.

Nancy's group was the one to find the thing, kill it, and radio in that everyone should get back inside before it got too late. Steve grabbed older Eddie's wrist, stopping from following orders. They were alone now, having split from the group. There was no better time than now.

"You keep acting weird. Especially around me", Steve said.

"Well someone thinks they're special", Eddie grinned.

There was just a sole light on this corner of the building and it mostly shone on Steve, which was fine by Eddie. He was having a hard time schooling his expressions now that they were alone.

"Something happens to me in the future, doesn't it? Do I die? Is that it?"

"No, no Steve you don't die", Eddie assured him.

"It's not just the way you act. You say my name weird too. Do you really hate it that much? Hate me?"

"No", Eddie bit out, turning his body half away.

"I thought we were really becoming friends. You-he's told me things. Secret things. But the way you're acting now it's like things change between us. I wanna know why. Is it me? Did I do something?"

Eddie heard his voice hitch up and then clear and knew that was how his baby sounded when he wanted to cry but held himself back.

"Stevie, sweetheart, baby", Eddie breathed out and held his face and it felt like a weight lifted from him. Calling him just 'Steve' had felt like walking with dumbbells attached to his ankles.

Steve's shoulders relaxed too, like he had also been carrying a weight. "That's what you call me, then? All that?"

"All that and more, my love." Eddie's voice was hushed, afraid someone or something might overhear.

"So that crush Eddie told me about is...?"

Eddie nodded, eyes closing for a moment, glad that he could at least have this about being apart for so long.

"Then you know how I feel", Steve said.

Eddie's eyes opened and he looked into Steve's. There was that question. One that Eddie longed to answer but he feared it wasn't his to reply to. Not at this time. Not now. And yet....

"Please", Steve whispered, eyes flickering to his lips.

Eddie wasn't strong enough to deny him. Not as a dying man in a drought being offered a drink of water. Just as he was about to give him, he was shoved back. Hard. He saw his own familiar curls and bolted, and odd sense of deja vu hitting him just as hard as the shove.

"Steve!", present-Eddie unknowingly took his older self's place in front of Steve. "I have to tell you something. Something really important and I need you to listen, okay?"

"Eddie?"

"I'm a goddamn idiot. An absolute fool for you and it shouldn't have taken some other guy trying to kiss you for me to get the gumption to tell you but it did and there it is and I...and I..." His expression pinched. "Wait, who was that guy?", he turned slightly to look for him.

Steve touched his cheek and brought his attention back. "It was...it doesn't matter who it was. You're here now."

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

When Eddie next opened his eyes, it was immediately followed by his Stevie kissing him all over the face. Everything came back to him, as well as new pieces of information.

"Wait, so that guy who was putting the moves on you that night-"

"Was you, yes", Steve confirmed, face splitting with how big he was smiling.

"And you just sat on that for years? Wait, how does that even work, you knew it was me but it couldn't be me until I got back to do the time travel and-"

"Don't think too hard about it, babe", Steve kissed his temple. "Just be grateful something gave you the kick in the pants to do it."

[ghostface001]

Broken Bottles

March is falling for you, but he sees how you act around Olric and knows you'll never return his feelings. His solution is to bottle up his emotions and drop kick it as far away from him as possible. Somehow, he doesn't realize what happens to glass when you kick it.

March x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), assumed unrequited feelings, minor swearing, drinking as a coping mechanism, a slightly toxic confession scene

Note: This took a lot longer to write than I thought it would, but I love it, so that's okay. Please let me know if you like it! Tagging @atoltia because she asked so nicely

The bell ringing above the door of the blacksmith’s prompts March to turn from his spot at his desk to see who entered, greeted by your bright smile and sack of ore from your latest trip down to the mines. He ignores the clenching in his chest as you beeline to him, procuring a perfect piece of iron ore and holding it out to him. 

“Hey, I found this and thought of you.”

He hates it when you talk to him like you want to see him. It could be so easy for him to trick himself into thinking that’s the case. The increased visits to the shop when you don’t need any new tools, the gifts, the attention — when he’s feeling particularly delusional, he wonders if it truly is all for him. But the illusion breaks after he takes the ore and gives the only response he’s capable of under your expectant gaze, something lukewarm to disguise the warmth rushing to his cheeks, and you move on to who you’re actually here for. 

Olric. 

It’s annoying, hearing Olric tell the same stupid story about his most recent part-time shift around town for the third time in two days. It’s even more annoying when he has to hear you laugh at it, because now instead of focusing on his work, he’s distracted by coming up with ways to hear your laugh for the rest of his life. 

“I’m trying to concentrate. Don’t either of you have work to do?” His voice comes out harsher than he intends, but he can’t bring himself to amend it. His position at his desk is a convenient cover from your gaze as you pause. Do you see the white-knuckled grip on his pencil? Do you notice the redness in his cheeks?

He doesn’t have to look at you to know your expression. Raised brow, a wrinkle of confusion and annoyance. He hasn’t snapped at you like that in a while, hasn’t deemed you a nuisance. You thought you were past this with him.You purse your lips and side-eye Olric, who only gives you a guilty shrug. “Sorry, March. I’ll get out of your hair.” You shoulder your bag and say goodbye to Olric, pausing at the door. “I’ll see you both at the inn tonight?”

“Yeah, totally!” March gives a flat grunt following Olric’s enthusiastic answer, and continues scribbling out blueprints. 

The door closes behind you, leaving a tense silence as Olric decides whether or not to question him. Before he can, a gasp escapes him. “I have a shift at the general store!” He rushes out the door, and March turns in his chair to see him walk past the window with you smiling brightly at him. 

The rip of paper brings him out of his thoughts. March looks down at the blueprints to see a large tear where the pencil had ripped through the paper. With a frustrated sigh, March balls up the paper and tosses it into the wastebasket before pushing himself up from his desk, grabbing his hammer and heading out the door.

Get a grip. 

Why do you care who the stupid farmer talks to anyway? 

Why do you think they’d ever smile at you like that?

Each passing thought is channeled into March’s swing, punctuated by the loud banging of his hammer against metal. The shop needs a new sword on display after he gave you the last one in exchange for all the ore you’ve been handing over. He can’t let himself be in debt to you. Can’t let himself owe you anything. Because then you’d just give him that smile you have whenever you think you’ve made progress with him, the one that drives him insane. You drive him insane. Every laugh when he brags about his skill, every smile as you hand over a gift from the mines, every new scar from your journeys down there… he can’t tell if he admires you or is worried about you when you act like nothing happened after passing out in the mines. Seeing his sword strapped to your back as you run around town helped after the last time Valen had to heal you — it also made it worse. It made you keep talking to him; it made him keep responding. And now… now it just makes him confused. Frustrated. Annoyed.

Angry.

Angry when you smile at him as though he deserves it. Angry when he messes up and snaps at you. Angry when you just roll your eyes and give it back to him, making his stomach twist in guilt — both because you don’t deserve his attitude and because he likes it when you return his energy. You don’t coddle him like Olric does. You don’t defend him when he’s being a jerk. You don’t insist he’s secretly better than he is. You see him for who he is, and you like him for who he is. 

But you like Olric more. You like Olric in the way March wishes you would like him. Not that he blames you, though he can certainly pretend to. Olric is better than him. Maybe not at blacksmithing, but at everything else. Everything you deserve. And it pisses him off.

“Are you, uh… trying out a new technique, bro?”

March forces his glare away from Olric to the anvil. The sword he’d been taking his anger out on now sits in pieces, the metal ruined from sitting in the forge for too long before he started working on it. He sneers down at his failure. “No. I’m screwing up.”

“I’m sure it can be reused… somehow.” Olric reaches up and scratches the back of his neck as he attempts to be reassuring. 

“It can’t.” March swipes the metal into the scrap bucket that’s been steadily becoming more and more needed the longer you’ve been living in his head. Maybe it’s for the best that you like Olric. That way, he can finally force his feelings to the back of his mind and get back to his standards of perfection. Maybe it’ll actually work this time. 

Olric is saying something about not worrying about the waste of metal when him saying your name brings March’s attention back. “— and I are going down to the tide caverns of the mines tomorrow, if you want to join?”

The offer makes March roll his eyes. He’s never been a miner. After the earthquake, sometimes he’ll go a few levels down in the upper mines for copper if he’s really desperate, but otherwise, he relies on Olric and Balor for supply. Not to mention, he’d rather look for worms after it rains than be a third wheel to you and Olric in the mines, working together, protecting each other with his sword on your back—

“March?”

He grits his teeth and tears off his gloves. “I’ll pass.” He storms past Olric into the shop, slamming the door behind him. 

~~~

As soon as you walk into the inn, March feels the room brighten, and he watches you make your rounds. You first visit the Dragon Guard, who are conspiring on their next hit — March overheard them ‘whispering’ about Juniper earlier, the kids aren’t subtle. Next, you check in on the latest session of Dragons & Drama that Celine is running, and after that, you stop for a round of cards. March observes you sitting next to Olric, consulting each other about your hands to the annoyance of everyone else playing. And when you win instead of Olric, he cheerfully congratulates you, his arm around your shoulders causing March to grip his glass tighter.

You finally sit next to him at the bar, and the sinking feeling in his gut disappears with your smile. Hemlock slides a drink to you over the bar, and you thank him before turning to March, your voice low. “You seemed a little off this morning, are you feeling better?”

“Now that you’re here,” He drawls with a smile, propping his head up with his hand, his elbow resting on the bar.

You bite back a smile, and March suddenly has the strong urge to cup your cheeks in his hands as your face takes on a warmer hue and you laugh softly, hiding behind a sip of your drink. “Did Olric ask you about the mines tomorrow? I wanted to ask you myself, but thought you might still be… moody.”

He frowns — if he’s being honest, it’s more of a pout. “‘S’not fair.”

Your brow furrows. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“You are bothering me.”

Your face twists in confusion and offense. “I can leave—”

“Noooo.” It begins to occur to March that drinking does not make him magically better at expressing himself. He reaches forward as you start to get up, but you’re closer than he’s prepared for, so he holds your wrists when he means to take your hands in his. “I mean… ‘s’not fair that you hang out with Olric all the time. ‘S’like you like him or something.”

“I do like him.”

You say something else, but the blood is already rushing in his ears. “You… you do?”

Your confusion doesn’t let up. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

No. There isn’t. Because Olric is everything March isn’t. He’s nice, and humble, and respectful. His compliments aren’t backhanded, and his praise doesn’t have to be earned. Olric doesn’t have to hide behind alcohol to express how he feels. He doesn’t have to drink to be happy. 

You like Olric. March already knew, but to hear it from your lips makes the sting burn. The warmth of your skin under his hands turns to ice, and he pulls back quickly. Too quickly, as his elbow hits his glass and sends it crashing to the ground. 

Everyone turns at the sound of glass shattering, and March’s face burns under their gazes as he pushes himself to stand. You reach out to steady him as he stumbles, avoiding stepping on broken glass. “I’ll pay for it,” He manages as Josephine approaches, ready with a broom and dustpan. 

 “There’s no need. You didn’t get nicked or anything, right?” Josephine waves him off with a smile that he can only read as pity.

“I’m fine.” He backs away, keeping his head down, and shoves his hands in his pockets before leaving. The cool night air does little to help the burning in his cheeks as he stalks over the bridge to get home. 

On the way, a hand is on his shoulder. And he turns to see you, your concerned gaze under the moonlight doing nothing to help his inner turmoil. “March? What happened?”

“I said I’m fine!” He wrenches himself away, glaring at you. “Just go be with your boyfriend!”

You hold your hands up to placate him, only angering him more. “What are you talking about?”

“Olric!” He steps forward, closing in the space between you. “You said you like him, so how about you go do something about it instead of being a useless coward?”

Your face falls for a moment before hardening, and you straighten. “Get some sleep, March,” You say coolly. “It seems like you need it.”

You head back to the inn, and March glares over the side of the bridge, debating the merits of a night swim when Olric finds him and brings him home. 

~~~

March is occupying himself witht he inventory books the next morning when the bell above the door rings. He looks up to see you enter, dressed for the mines, with his sword strapped to your back. Despite the pain relieving tonic from Valen, his head throbs. “Olric left already,” He bites out, forcing himself to look down at the book.

“I told him I’d meet him there.” You set a paper cup on the sales desk and push it towards him. “Fresh from Darcy. She said she hasn’t seen you today.”

There was no chance in hell he was going to the market today. Everyone would just ask him how he was, and what was wrong, and he might just throw himself over the bridge for sure. His headache forces him to take the cup, despite never wanting to accept anything from you ever again. It’s a mocha. At least he can pretend it’s from Darcy knowing his order instead of you. You watch him expectantly as he takes a drink, an edge in your gaze. You’re expecting him to lash out at you again. He just might. “You should go. Wouldn’t want you to be late for your date.”

Your eyes narrow, and he pointedly returns to the inventory lists. “It’s not a date,” You reply. 

“But you want it to be.”

“No, I don’t.” You reach forward and close the book, bringing it over to your side of the desk. March glares at you, but you don’t waver. “So, let’s talk about it.”

It’s times like these when March wishes you would treat him like everyone else. Give him a wide berth when he’s upset, only bother him when necessary, and treat him like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off. Stop being so… you. Maybe then he wouldn’t like you as much, and you wouldn’t be forcing this conversation on him in the first place. “If you want to talk so bad, then talk to Olric,” He grits out.

“You are such a child!” You round the desk, removing the barrier between you. “I’m not dating Olric, I don’t want to date him—”

“You said you like him—”

“I thought you meant as a friend!” You throw your hands out in exasperation. “And you know what? Even if I did like him romantically, why do you care? Why is it any of your business?”

He balls his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “It isn’t.”

“No.” You step forward again, closing the distance between you. “It’s not rhetorical. Why do you care so much about who I like, March? Because I have a feeling, but I’m not gonna make it easy for you after you’ve been treating me like shit for no good reason. So how about you do something about it instead of being a useless coward?”

For the first time in a long time, he does something about it. The kiss he pulls you in for is bruising and awkward, but that doesn’t stop you from returning the intensity with equal fervor. His drink sits forgotten on the table as he holds the back of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip. You clutch the front of his shirt tightly, arching your body closer into him. His lips part, and you capture more of him, causing him to gasp against your mouth.

When you finally part, neither of you let go of the other, both breathing heavily. “Why… why did you think I liked Olric?” You ask softly, still catching your breath. 

He knows his face is red, but he’s close enough to see that your cheeks are a deeper hue as well. “You always come by to see him.”

“I always come by to see you.” Your palms flatten against his chest and you laugh. “Do you seriously need me to tell you how disgustingly obvious it is that I like you? Because I will. And it will be disgusting. And slightly stalker-y. And you’ll feel really stupid that you got it wrong.”

He purses his lips to hide the smile threatening to surface. “So, what, you’re so smart that you’ve known I liked you all along and did nothing about it?”

“I had no idea until you freaked out on me last night.” Your hand trails up to his cheek. “So I guess we’re both a little stupid.”

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, dipping his head down. “I didn’t do it right the first time.”

“It felt alright to me.” Your gaze falls to his lips. You can still feel where your teeth had knocked together, and your lips sting. 

“‘Alright’ isn’t good enough.”

“You’re such a perfectionist,” You laugh, leaning in so your lips graze against his. “But I’ll allow it.”

He closes the distance, and vows to perfect his technique as long as you’ll let him.

[fallingdownhell]

Genshin men w/ vampire!reader? Like, reader fought in the Archon war as a cold-hearted general, but as time passes on they mellowed out and is now a (bat full of sass n rizz) humble traveler. Perhaps even looking for someone to call a mate~

Yes! I love me some vampires! Characters Included: Diluc; Neuvillette; Heizou Content: gender neutral reader; vampire reader; mentions of blood; general headcanons; some own made up headcanons about vampires that I like Word count: 2k words Enjoy<3

Diluc

okay, I don't know if I'm the only one on this, but I think Diluc fits so well for the whole vampire astethic

he's got his own mansion, multiple staff, he's got fame and wealth, and he's good looking on top!

he just fills all the checkmarks you could wish for, so there's no reason not to pursue him

from the moment you first ran into Diluc, you were mesmerized by this human, the smell of his delicious blood tempting you

you were originally planning to travel through Mondstadt, maybe stay for a week or so. That quickly changed and within the week, you found a place to stay for a while longer

You started going to Angel's Share on a regular basis. Not to drink, but to flirt up that good looking redhead bartender

Diluc was not at all used to someone flirting so shamelessly with him, he felt embarrassed, but also enticed by your advances. He's never met such an eccentric traveller like you

one particular night, you were shamelessly flirting with him again, he finally decided to do something about it, asking you on a date

happily, you accepted and since then, the relationship with him has been moving forward

being with Diluc was everything you imagined it to be, and so much more. He's a romantic lover, one that constantly looks out for your wants and needs. He always prioritizes your comfort first, always so gentle and, especially at the start of you two dating, very coy

as the relationship progresses, Diluc also grows into it, getting more and more comfortable around you and expressing his feelings to you truthfully

One day, when he told you about his past and the things that had happened to him, you decided that it was time for you to be truthful to him, as well, so you told him about the secret you had kept up until that point

he was shocked at first, he certainly didn't believe you. Surely, he would have noticed if his lover was a bloodthirsty monster that could only survive off of human blood

but when he saw how serious you were about it, not the faintest hint of a smirk or anything else indicating that this was a joke, he grew a bit wary of you

definitely needs time to process the information and will have another talk with you were he asks you questions about your existance. Like, how old you really are, what you experienced throughout your years, how you survived off of blood without him ever noticing, etc.

you're being completely honest with him, answering all of his questions and in the end, he nods and accepts you with open arms again. He loves you too much to care about a not so minor detail like that

but his curiosity is peaked and after some time, he would approach you with the offer for you to drink from his blood, because he wants to know what it feels like

for a second, you're taken aback, staring at him, and Diluc gets nervous, wondering if he crossed some sort of line with his question

you then have to explain to him that you would love to drink from him, but for a vampire, drinking the blood of someone you love means to claim them as yours. You would basically mark him as your mate with your bite.

first, he's shocked by this new information, but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes it. So he tells you to go ahead, even tilting his head a bit so you have better access to his neck

if it's possible to fall even more in love with him, then you just did, seeing how he presents himself to you like that is truly adorable to you

it's a passionate night you two spend, and the next morning, Diluc wakes up, covered in your bite marks all over his body. Some just for the sake of marking him, and some where you had fed from him

looking at himself in the mirror, he traces the bite mark on his neck tenderly, smiling as he's reminded of your gentle touch

and when he thinks about the claim you now have over him, being marked as your "mate", as you called it, he couldn't be any happier. Diluc is looking forward for the rest of his life at your side..

Neuvillette

being an immortal being himself, I like to think that he has a vast knowledge about other immortal or long living beings and can easily tell them apart from humans

so when he first notices you in a crowd, he knows that you're not just your average human, but he didn't close enough to actually confirm his suspicion before you were gone again

he doesn't mind different species visiting or passing through Fontaine, but he has to make sure that they aren't a threat for his citizens

he's actually quite a bit surprised when one day, you approach him and begin to compliment him on his appearance

he answers in kindas he tries to figure you out, which you soon notice. The chief justice isn't exactly as sly as he may like to think of himself

reaching for the opportunity, you tell him that you'll gladly answer all his questions about yourself if he's willing to go out to dinner with you. To your surprise, he agrees

Dinner goes well and you're surprised to find out that you're actually older than Neuvillette is, but neither of you bothers that fact very much

he figures you out as a vampire rather quickly as well and from that point on, you share a pleasant time with him, conversing with Neuvillette feels so easy and natural to you

the two of you continue to meet up from then on, but the relationship itself starts out years later. Even though you keep flirting with him and dropping hints that you're interested in him left and right, he either doesn't pick up on them or he just doesn't have the courage to act on it

only years later, once you've finally had enough of this game, did you confront the Chief Justice about your feelings for him

You've gotten the Iudex flustered quite a few times with your flirting or some pickup lines, but when you confessed your honest feelings to him, that was the first time you genuinely saw him blush

you decided then and there, that you'd do anything you can to see him like this again

from the beginning, there are no secrets whatsoever between you two. He knows about you, and you know about him. He supports you with whatever he can, like finding discreet sources to cover your need for blood, for example

since he's got quite a bit of knowledge about vampires, he's also familiar that vampires, not all, but most of them, like to take long term partners as their mates, since this species tends to be very territorial towards those people

he can't deny that he's thinking about it from time to time. You claiming him as yours, and him claiming you in return. Forever bound, spending your lifetime together for however long it may last

but yet again, for a long time, he doesn't bring it up to you, fearing that he might scare you off, that you don't want to be bound to him like that, knowing how much you enjoy your freedom and to travel around Teyvat

and over all this worrying of his, he completely ignores the fact that you basically live now in Fontaine, your travels having come to a stop a long time ago to be with him, since you know that he can't and won't just leave his nation behind. And you're perfectly content with your decision

but, if you really want anything like that to happen, you'll have to be the one to bring it up to him again

and as soon as you do, he's all smiles, all his worries fading away, he's the happiest he's been in a long while. Knowing that you want to spend the rest of eternity with him, bound to him like he'll be to you.. it's more than he could have ever hoped for in life

when you drink his blood for the first time, he can't help but to ask you what it tastes like and wether you enjoyed it

will insist that you keep drinking his blood from now on. He will get jealous if you drink any other blood, at all. It's actually quite cute to see him pout like that, but please reassure him that you still love him very much, you just can't always drain him of all his blood the entire time

Heizou

from his first interaction with you, he knows that something is up with you

he can't quite explain why or what it is that sets him off, but his intuition is telling him that something is wrong. And he's learned that his intuition is always right

so he does some digging, and soon finds stuff that just doesn't add up to him

before you can leave Inazuma to continue your travels across Teyvat, he confronts you about his findings, pestering you until you give up and confess your secret to him

he's surprised, since he didn't think it'd be something so out of the ordinary. And yet, his instincts tell him, that you're speaking the truth. So he decides to believe you

keeps following you around and asking questions whenever he can. His interest about you has peaked, and he wants to figure you out and learn everything there is to know

it's from that point on that attraction begins to settle in between the two of you and soon enough, Heizou invites you out on a date

you accept and the date goes surprisingly well. More dates follow and soon enough, the two of you are actually dating

each passing day spent with you, Heizou learns more and more about you and how you operate as a vampire

will one day ask you to drink his blood, which you refuse, claiming that you already got enough souces to get your blood from. He'll ask you why you refuse to drink his, but you avoid his question and continue to do so, no matter how much he keeps prying

eventually, he'll shut up about it, but still keeps the question in the back of his mind

will ask you stuff like, if you ever plan to turn him into a vampire as well. To that, he's also not granted an answer

at one point, Heizou will have enough and just straight up ask you why you refuse to drink his blood

with a bit of prying, you end up telling him about the process of mating for vampires, how it's done and what it entails. Hearing you explain, he can't help the blush that rises to his cheeks. He can't believe he asked something like of you so casually!

He's mortified, but you laugh it off, reassuring him that you didn't mind it at all

but after hearing your explanaition, he can't stop thinking about it. He actually likes the thought of belonging to you..

so, after a passionate night shared between two lovers, as you lay there cuddled up to him, he asks you again to drink his blood, but seriously this time

looking up at him, you see the determination in his eyes. This time, he knows what he's getting himself into, and he still asked you to do it. How could you possibly still deny him?

So you nod, leaning in and gently kissing the juncture of his neck for a bit, before you bite into the soft flesh. It hurts quite a bit as your teeth pierce his skin, and he can feel the blood rushing out of his body, and your tongue lapping it all up

euphoria runs through his veins at the feeling, he finally belongs to you, completely. His mind, body and soul, all yours

will insist that you only drink his blood from here on out

will definitely ask you, later down the road, to turn him inot a vampire as well. One lifetime with you just isn't enough for him. He loves you, deeply, and if there's a possibility for him to spend even more time together with you, he would be a fool to pass it up...

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 ꒱ 박성호

summary : your boyfriend was beginning to get distant, and you didn't know why

genre : angst, fluff at the end, sungho x afab!reader tws : language, angst, mentions of drinking and neglect author notes : for my requestor, this is our man don't play word count : 2.3k

at first it wasn’t anything big. really no big deal at all. and if you weren’t an overthinker by nature, you wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong.

it started out with simple no’s; denies of affection here and there, progressing into i’m tired’s, and ending with a text.

texts which stated that he would no longer be coming over after practice—that he’s sorry he missed your date because of work, he’s too tired to talk to you after doing promotions all day, he didn’t want to be a bother because he couldn’t give you what you wanted.

but you respected him. you respected him so much you didn’t think the flags were tinted at all. however, you also respected yourself too—knowing there’s only so many lies you’re able to believe—so, that’s where your dilemma lied: how much more could you take? how far were you willing to let it go?

you never would have imagined weighing the pro’s to the con’s, trying to decide if it was good enough to not debate a full-on breakup. you were sick to your stomach, a headache booming against your skull.

it was killing you slowly; as if you were going down in quicksand—which was all but quick.

you wanted a clear answer from him, but to get that you needed clear questions. you needed clear conversation, which would be easier if he didn’t reply to your text hours after you’d send them.

apologies were sounding more like i love you than the actual statement. but, you did love him. you loved him so much you could burst at the seams. you loved him so much you felt him flowing in your veins. he infiltrated your dreams, your heart, your every last thought; and maybe that’s why you hurt so damn much right now.

your eyes were puffy and red, you barely recognized the person you had let yourself become for him. someone complacent. someone so love-drunk you found yourself drinking just to feel something—anything at all.

another shot, and another shot to the heart.

you found yourself, in this state of blurriness, reminiscing the only memories that made you happy anymore: the old park sungho, the boyfriend you had fallen in love with some time ago. you felt a slurred-smile plaster your lips, leaning back against the couch cushion with the shot glass still in your hand. your head fell against the cushion, eyes drifting closed.

you debated the other night if staying in love with him would be harder than letting it wither out like a tulip; getting planted in the ground during fall, dormant all winter, just to bloom for a couple of weeks, then die.

you thought maybe heartbreak would be better than letting this relationship—that felt more like a situationship—cremate itself.

you've been in convenience relationships before; you've been with a man just because you didn't want to be alone, even if he only ever wanted to see you at night. its said loneliness is the most deadly drug. and now, your so-called boyfriend isn't making you feel any different than someone of superficial feelings; to look good on the outside, when you felt rotten on the inside.

you felt unwanted, and that's taken you weeks to admit. you thought you could lie to yourself better than that. you thought you could convince yourself that this is what love feels like, that this a give before the take.

it was a sacrifice you made, but it was never something you had mentally prepared for, simply because you never thought he'd become someone not quite like a stranger but not like an unconditional-lover either.

you honestly didn't know what to call it anymore.

you hated being so unsure, fighting to win love from someone who could say the word so easily. he had your heart in his hands, and you didn't know if him dropping it or putting it back in your chest would hurt more. you hated yourself for being the only reason you're still able to call him your boyfriend, because has he ever really felt like yours in the past couple weeks?

you've sat on his backburner for some time, just waiting for him to come around and stir the pot. you felt lucky, yet appalled to be in the situation you were in, because at least you got to love him—even if it was only once in a blue moon—shouldn't you feel grateful for that? the shooting stars you wished upon only worked so much in your favor before you thought that, maybe they couldn't hear you anymore.

if this was meant to die, why was it taking so long? after all, you were only getting older.

maybe you just loved him too much to stay in love, knowing that maybe it was time to throw up the white flags. he knew everything about you, but even strangers can find out fine-details about someone's life.

sometimes you just wished he'd put you first, only if just once. that would be enough, wouldn’t it?

however, you couldn't blame him. he was being the man he thought he needed to be, the one he thought he wanted to be. maybe if you hadn't opened up, loved him in a way you knew he couldn't love you back, you wouldn't have to argue with yourself. you wouldn't have stayed up all night waiting for the familiar chime on your keypad, you wouldn't be in the stage of denial, pretending that it was just a fluke and would pass. you wouldn't pretend that you could breathe when he was around.

you gave him the key to your heart, but you couldn't make him stay. you couldn't make him want you like you wanted to be wanted.

he was the man of your dreams, everything you've ever wanted... what an oh-so-lonely view.

maybe the picture you painted inside your head was enough. maybe the person who held you in your dreams was enough. maybe if you tried harder he would think you were enough. maybe if you smiled harder it would hold to your face like a sticker. maybe if you changed yourself to be who he wanted down to a T he wouldn't find excuses to tell you he didn't want to see you. maybe this whole thing was just embarrassing. maybe not being loved by him was just so fucking pathetic. maybe he didn't want to be with you because neither one of you had anything good to say to each other anymore.

you can't even remember the last time he gave you a compliment, but he isn't the compliment type, right?

how, in reality, were you supposed to take all of this? you looked in the mirror and told yourself it was dramatic to be upset about something so trivial as a couple words and missed calls, but he swore that he'd never hurt you.

you hadn't realized the tears that began slipping through your closed lids until you felt the soft touch of someone you couldn't decide which side of the fence to fall to because of.

your eyes shot open like it was a nightmare, and for a second he was just a stranger to you; wondering how he got into your apartment.

you could recognize the voice, but you couldn't decide if the sentiment was there, if he was even really standing in your living room looking as jaded as a ghost.

he stared at the bottle, and then your relaxed posture and tears stained cheeks. he wasn't dumb, and he obviously put two-and-two together.

maybe neither one of you could ask the question that kept circling your brain like the ceiling fan you relied on for sleep: should we end this?

"should we?" he asked, the statement sobering you to the core. "...if that's what you want."

you had to laugh before you started to cry harder. "w-what i want?" the empty glass found its way back to the coffee table with an audible thump. "what makes you think i want to end this, sungho? you'd have to see me to know anything about what i think."

"you never made the effort." he shrugged, but he didn't know why he said that. “you should’ve tried harder.”

but you knew his pride was bigger than his heart, and playing this game would only end with a losing screen.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you acted faster than your brain could keep up with, standing up and approaching him. you didn't know what you were going to do, but anything for him to understand how much he hurts you — anything at all. "will you come over? sorry, i'm tired. did you eat? yes. should i bring you guys the cookies i made today? sorry, we're not at the dorm. i'm here, let me know when you arrive. i'm so sorry, i completely forgot about my schedule today, can we do something when promotions are over? can we talk? i miss you. sorry, busy." you used the back of your hand to wipe the tears away. "do you — no, did you ever love me, sungho? do you even fucking care that i only hear you when its your voicemail telling me you're unavailable? do you even know how stupid i feel staying in a bed for two when it's just me every night? i call you my boyfriend but i don't know what that really means. what am i to you? what am i really? because i don't feel like you know either."

the looks on his face could be described as none other than horrified, confused, maybe even a little bit of anger and sadness. he was a mix of emotions, but you couldn't say you were exactly clear-headed either.

you just wished you could read his damn mind.

"tell me! t-tell me i'm wrong." and you couldn't decide if that was a desperate plea to hold on subconsciously making itself known. all it was missing was a broken please, a not-so-silent beg for all of this to just be wrong. incorrect. so far from the truth.

god, you hated him, but that's why you loved him so fucking much.

he made you so angry, so hurt sometimes. he challenged your peace of mind. he made it very known within your psyche that he was different. he was like nobody else you've ever loved. nobody you've ever had the pleasure to touch and be touched by. you were heading full speed for the edge of a cliff with broken brakes. you were so out of control, a one-in-a-million change that you'd survive, but if it meant you could rebuild the house you'd once converted into a home with him, you'd take those odds. those terrible odds that didn't ease your anxiety. but there was always something about him you were prepared to fight for—and maybe that's why you've held onto the edge for so long.

"do you even know how embarrassing it is to be stood up by your own boyfriend, having to cancel your reservation in front of everyone? to have to beg to hold your hand? to have to repeat yourself a million times because you were busy reading texts?" not when the road has ended and you've been exploring the wilderness alone; mapless, in the middle of a thunderstorm. you loved him, you really did, but did you only say that to hold onto any form of comfort you used to not have to fight to get? "i love you so, so much, sungho. i just want you to understand that everything we've built feels so fragile and uncertain. i don't want to end this, but i don't know how far i can go. i-its killing me."

and you could only dig the grave so deep before you hit rock-bottom.

is it too late? well, maybe that's what you feared the most. maybe you feared that he wasn't hearing a word that you've said. maybe every little thing you've overthought was just a regular thought. maybe you weren't being dramatic. maybe it was all okay now that you've finally gotten it off your chest.

so, why did you feel violently nauseous as he stood in silence? why did you regret stepping waist-deep in the mess you've made? if you were making the bed, you had no right complaining that it was too hard.

maybe you should stop blaming yourself...

if it was out of your hands, then why'd you feel the sand slipping through your fingers? why would you feel the shake from the chill that crisped the air? if this was how it was supposed to work out, then why'd you have to meet at all? did he really add that much to your life?

yes.

he brought too much to your life, you were scared to have to figure out how to live without them.

but, maybe you already had?

your mouth opened once again, maybe it was to prompt him into answering you, or maybe you didn't know what you were going to do. nonetheless it didn't matter, as you were shut up before a syllable dared leave your throat.

you had questions haunting you, but with the way his lips touched yours, it made you draw a blank. you wanted to know if he cared—even if only a little—however the beat of his heart, that you could feel through his thumbs against your cheeks, told you a different story. a story you hadn't thought of the ending to yet.

was this just a page you hadn't turned? was this just a dreadful chapter that had been dragged out? was this just a word you couldn't pronounce, much less describe that kept you stuck rereading the same paragraph?

was he finally turning off the burner? was he finally going to either, let you let him go, or tighten your grip?

he pulled back, tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. "i'm sorry." and that was more than any stupid explanation or excuse could ever have offer you. "y/n, tell me how to fix it—i-i don't want to end this."

you wrapped your arms around his neck, caging him into a long awaited hug. “just love me.” and his stuck firmly around your waist, squeezing tighter every time he felt a minuscule movement.

“i do.” he whispered back through quiet sniffles, right next to your ear, it gave you goosebumps. it was something you wanted to hear, needed to know. “i really, really love you.”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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[samkerrworshipper]

After seeing the pics of alexia at the Barça basketball game could you do one where she is finally playing the wag role for reader? Just overall enjoying being readers number one fan

on the sidelines

alexia putellas x reader

just a lil fluffy blurb that i wrote in half an hour… defo no proof read or spell checked so sorry in advance xo

desperately working on getting some more reqs out for y’all but i’m so overhauled with coursework that it’s taking me way longer so sorry if your request gets ignored as of rn mid terms are killing me ☠️

“A triple double, Y/n, one incredible feat, how do you feel knowing that your team is through to the play offs?”

You were buzzing, still coming down from the endorphin high as you tried to focus on the reporter who had been the first to attack you as soon as you’d finished shaking hands with your opponents, not even giving you the opportunity to leave the court.

“Every game is a team game, I’m obviously wrapped, but half of that wouldn’t have happened without my teammates. I’m obviously elated that we’re through to finals, the job starts now for us, everything we’ve worked for this season falls down to the next few weeks so we work hard, it’s not over until the final siren.”

The reporter smiled at you and you gave your signature smile back to the camera, trying to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

“The modesty is appreciated, but how did you feel about coming second in the league MVP poll earlier in the week?”

You bit down on your lap, it was a rude question, but you had been prepared for it.

“Obviously I would have loved to come home with the trophy, but it wasn’t meant to be. I have so much respect for Stewie and she deserved the award just as much as anybody else who we were contending against. Honestly, I couldn’t give two shits about individual awards, what matters to me is this playoffs series and maybe I can bring that trophy home instead.”

You smiled once again at the reporter and camera, slowly becoming more uncomfortable with the conversation the longer it went on.

“Now, we all have some questions about the trip down under you took a few weeks ago, any particular reason you decided to go home?”

You began to haphazardly fiddle with the microphone in your hands, willing for this interview to conclude so you could just enjoy your win.

“I missed home, the few days that I spent their were really nice and the team can tell you that since then I have been in much better spirits, sometimes you just need a reset and it was just really good timing that we had the two week break.”

The reporter smirked at you and you could feel the underlying question under her smirk.

“So nothing to do with your visit aligning with the World Cup final and one particular Spanish player who’s here tonight, sporting your number?”

You felt your face flush a little bit at the unforgiving blatancy of the reporter, very quickly trying to remember everything they’d taught you about avoiding questions in media training.

“A good friend of mine, Sam, extended the invitation and gave me some tickets to the finals games so how could I refuse? I mean the sheer pride for the Tillies that I held watching them progress was insane, nothing better than seeing women's sport be elevated at home.”

You could tell the reporter was nagging for you to answer the part of her question that you were ignoring.

“So just a coincidence then that you happened to spend a few days in Barcelona on a layover before returning back to New York?”

You bit the inside of the cheek, this wasn’t what you’d been expecting after winning one of the biggest games in your career.

“Are you implying something, Jackie?”

Your eyebrows rose in mock sarcasm, trying to laugh off the situation and make the reporter understand the message that this wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Simply wondering whether you had anything to do with the presence of Alexia Putellas, or as we all know her, La Reina at tonight's game, and if she happened to be the person you were looking up at tonight everytime you scored?”

You shivered at the mention of her name.

“Alexia and I are good friends, and I will leave it at that.”

You smiled at the camera, enough of a smile that it was genuine but not enough to lead anybody on, because that wasn’t what you wanted to do, you wanted to leave them hanging.

“Good friends that wear each other's jerseys to each other's matches?”

You smirked at the camera, the annoyance of this situation slowly getting to you more and more.

“Good friends that just don’t pack enough of their own clothes when they visit.”

Your voice was dismissive, enough to tell the reporter that you weren’t interested in broaching the topic any further if she wanted to continue to have a conversation with you.

“So, quite the comeback you’ve made in the past 48 months, double back surgery is certainly an impressive feat, how has it felt returning to the court this season and competing at the same level that you were before your injury, especially after how the injury resulted in you sitting out the bronze medal olympic match?”

You could feel the sweat across your body starting to go cold, a true sign that you’d been talking for far to long.

“I’m obviously feeling great, better than ever really. Sitting out at the Olympics was devastating, obviously but I promised that I’d be back and here I am, I’m still working on my recovery, but hopefully by the time the olympics roll around next year I’ll be back fully and bringing home some hardware.”

The reporter laughed heartily at your weak joke, an action that made you a little woozy.

“I’m sorry but that’s all the questions I’ll be answering, my coach is getting rather antsy on the sidelines and it would do me some good not to annoy her right now, so I’ll have to wish you all a goodbye, and see you later for the playoffs.”

You sent a kiss towards the camera before handing the microphone and headset back to the filming crew before following your coach over to the sideline and then into the tunnel towards your change rooms. Sandy patted you on the back as you made your way back to the rooms, just consciously quickening your steps a little bit so you could make the distance as quickly as possible.

You’d never liked limelight, or any of the media attention. You’d started out playing country basketball with your siblings, out on the court all throughout the middle of summer. Eventually, after joining a club and playing some juniors you got picked up by the Perth team and then had worked your way upwards, but never had you played for the attention or glory, growing up, womens basketball in Australia was severely underappreciated, so you’d never had to really face any media attention. But the WNBA was a whole different ballpark and you were still adjusting after 6 seasons to the amount of ways you were now exposed to the general public.

Your whole body relaxed when you spotted Alexia standing beside the locker room door, hand in her phone, flicking furiously through it. You ran directly towards her, almost bowling her over with your strong strides.

She wrapped her arms around you almost immediately, allowing your to bury your head in her neck as you breathed in the scent of her, and the scent of one of your spare jerseys sitting comfortable across her muscley arms and chest. It was a sight for sore eyes, one that you’d been waiting far to long to see.

“I fucking hate reporters.”

Alexia snorted at you, it wasn’t often that she got to see you after games, both of you having extremely busy schedules that hardly allowed for time to go and watch each other mess around with a ball on a pitch or court for an hour.

“I know bebita, but you did so well.”

She concluded her statement in the very best way possible, plastering a series of kisses all over your face that made you giddy on the inside and had you pushing her off of you. The tunnel was a fairly safe place from reporters, but you could never be too sure who was creeping around and a part of you didn’t need your relationship being revealed right at this moment.

Something about having your number across Alexia’s chest set a fire in your soul and you stepped back from her embrace to take it in, to take in the sight of her standing in front fo you, her perfect shoulders on show, sitting comfortable beside the jersey. A few of her back tattoos peaking out from her shoulders giving you a indescribable view of the ink. Her collection was constantly growing and you swore every time she returned to you there was a new one for her to show you and tell you the story of.

She had paired the jersey with a plain pair of white jeans and her washed out pink hair was sitting comfortably on her shoulders, the strands being pushed out of her face by the Prada sunglasses sitting comfortably on her head, sunglasses you were certain had absolutely zero purpose besides being an accessory. You did have to admit that the pink had been your favourite hair in a long while, in fact you’d been the one who Alexia had convinced to help with the dye when she had one of her midnight crisis’ that had you marching down to the chemist to buy neon pink hair dye to make your girlfriend happy.

“I like it when you’re the wag.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, spinning around to give you a look at your brandished last name, sitting perfectly between the valley of skin that travelled between her shoulder blades, everything about it was so perfect to you, warming your soul from the inside.

“I do have to admit, it was quite fun sitting in the crowd for once and pretending I knew what was happening.”

You chuckled, you’d been trying your very hardest to teach Alexia the rules of your sport from the start of your relationship, and to her credit she had a grasp on the more basic rules, but she was absolutely shocking at much more than that. She watched every single one of your games, and yet she had absolutely zero grasp on how the sport of basketball actually worked.

“Look at that, La Reina admitting that she enjoyed being a wag.”

Alexia rolled her eyes at you, her hand coming to rest on your sweaty arm, providing some pressure to your forearm.

“Don’t you even think about telling any of the Barca girls, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You smiled down at Alexia’s hand, loving the way that her body slotted in so perfectly with you, she knew your body like the back of her own hand and knew exactly what parts of you she should touch in different situations.

“Don’t you worry your little head, this will be our little secret, at least until the girls find my post game interview.”

Alexia nodded concedingly, it was inevitable that your relationship was eventually going to come out to the public, neither of you were particularly stressed about it, it would happen when it happened. You’d gone three years without anybody catching on, only now heading into the fourth year were people really starting to recognise the relationship.

“Go shower, you stink.”

You let Alexia push you towards the locker room door, her face nose scrunching up in faux disgust at you.

“Yes ma’am, La Reina, ma’am.”

The older woman once again rolled her eyes at you, but couldn’t avoid your own hand reached out to hers, silently tugging her into the locker rooms with you. It wasn’t irregular for teammates partners to end up in the rooms after games, and you knew that Alexia would just end up waiting alone in the hallway for you whilst you went about your post game routine.

You lead her towards your cubby, seating her down on the bench before reaching down behind her and pulling out the few items of clothing and toiletries you needed for the shower. One quick look down at Ale revealed to you just how in awe she was of what was occurring around her. There was nothing special happening, most teammates doing similar things to you and beginning their post game rituals.

“Mi amor, I’m going to the shower now, just stay here, bien, and don’t hesitate to ask anybody for something if you need it, si?”

Alexia nodded at you aimlessly, her eyes darting around the room as she took in her surroundings, You took the opportunity to dip out of the room and into the showers, hastening your normal routine so you could return to her as quickly as possible.

You showered in record time, washing your hair and body so quickly you were certain you almost got whiplash from the jolting of your arms and muscles in every direction and you frantically moved around in the shower.

When you returned to Alexia she was in the same spot as you’d left her, her eyes still searching the room and taking in everything happened around her. It was cute to see her so out of place, it was something you’d never seen on her before and something about seeing her like a deer in the headlights made you fall so much further in love with her.

“Cãrino? Let’s go, yeah?”

Alexia’s eyes flashed up to meet your own, her lips falling to a genuine smile as she stood up from your cubby, and before you could pick up your bag she took the honours, collecting the things that you knew you’d need back at the apartment and piling them into your bag before sliding it over her shoulder and starting to walk out, her arm falling comfortably over you shoulder as the two of you met each others pace, walking out towards your car that Alexia had driven you to the game in.

She took care in placing your bag in the boot before sliding into the driver's seat, your keys clanking in the ignition as she started the car.

Almost as soon as she was pulling out of the stadium Alexia’s hand fell to your thigh, a comfortable reminder of the footballers presence.

“You played so well today bebita, I was so proud of you.”

You smiled waterily at Alexia, it was one thing for a reporter to tell you, but for the woman you loved most in the world to tell you that meant something else.

“Thank you, but don’t act like you knew what was going on.”

Alexia cocked her head to the side, frowning at you a little bit.

“Si, maybe, but you got the, what did they call it again? El triple doble, no? Marta said it’s kind of like a hat trick but in basketball lingo, you sunk muchos tres.”

You smiled at Alexia, nodding your head at the Spaniards lack of knowledge over the game you cared for so much, and her attempt at trying to talk basketball to you.

“Yes, I did score a few threes, all of them were for a special person who came out to watch me today.”

Alexia smiled at you, turning her head at the lights to look at you.

“Mm, who might that be?”

You bit your lip, breaking out in a big smile.

“She’s Spanish, and not very good at understanding basketball but she tries and that’s all that matters, she also looks really cute in teal.”

Alexia’s smile only grew at your admission.

“Oh, and she’s a pretty good wag if I do say so myself.”

Alexia silenced your words with a sweet kiss, pressing her lips to yours softly, the two of you having to break apart when the light turned green.

“I’d watch you any day.”

Alexia’s words were murmured quietly, an almost silent acknowledgment of her feelings that was meant just for you.

“I’d watch you any day as well mi amor.”

[honeytonedhottie]

cultivating creativity and a deeper understanding of self⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

PROMPTED JOURNALING ; 

shadow work and prompted journaling is a rly helpful way to get to know urself better. it cultivates not only creativity and a sense of identity, but also healing.

journal therapy is literally everything and i cannot recommend it enough. some shadow work prompts that you can use to start off are listed below.  

what part of myself do i feel disconnected to and why 

how do i let others invade my boundaries 

what beliefs and behaviors did u adopt from ur family that you now question 

what easily triggers sadness or anger from you. and what might be the deeper reason for this sensitivity

are there desires and ambitions that you feel embarrassed or scared to admit? and why?

journaling mainly involves self expression without fear of judgement. it’s like expressing urself without feeling ashamed so i highly recommend it for anyone who feels like they struggle with self expression. 

SELF EXPRESSION ; 

working on ur self expression also helps to kind of cultivate a sense of identity and knowledge of who you are and what u value. like i mentioned earlier you can express yourself in so many different ways. i’ll get deeper into the self expression aspect in the post. 

PASSION ; 

what are you passionate about? what drives u everyday? is it money? academic validation or academic research? maybe it’s romance or a strong desire for something. 

it’s okay. everyone’s answer might be different but there’s no wrong answer. identify what motivates you and what ur working towards. 

BEING BORED ; 

give yourself the privilege to do nothing. give yourself the luxury of being bored. when ur not doing anything, this frees up ur mind to think and cultivate ideas and concepts, most of the epiphanies that i have are a result of my alone time. 

when there’s nothing to do, you’re forced to think. and most ppl look for distractions and excuses to not spend time by themselves bcuz they don’t wanna spend time in their thoughts. they don’t wanna just be in their mind and i understand cuz at one point i was also in that position. 

to break this habit and be comfortable in ur own mind you must first be uncomfortable. start small, dedicate a small amount time to just lay and think, let ur mind wander as far as you want. and the next day let ur mind wander for a longer amount of time and so on until you can do this comfortably. 

CREATIVE OUTLETS ; 

something that i’ve learned on my journey is that having a creative outlet was rly important for me to be able to cultivate who i wanted to be and to be authentic and original. 

a creative outlet is a way that u can express yourself and your ideas some examples of a creative outlet could be 

pinterest accounts - i have so many pinterest accounts and on those accounts i turn my boards to art. lately i’ve been interested in photography and photos in general so this was rly good for me. 

a blog - starting ur own blog about something that ur passionate about/know a lot about or something that ur learning about is a great way to track progress and document ur journey

a journal - like i’ve mentioned earlier on in the post a journal is the simplest one to do in my opinion and i love it so so much

creating art - whether it’s pinterest boards, paintings, sketches, music, poetry, stories WHATEVER YOU WANT. 

DEEPER UNDERSTANDING ; 

process ur emotions in a thoughtful and efficient way and try looking deeper into ur behavioral patterns and habits. why are you the way you are? 

what are you passionate about? etc etc. cultivate a relationship with yourself through self care and healing work. remember that healing isn’t a linear process and in no case will it be, but i think that u owe it to yourself to know and cultivate urself. 

[trauma-express]

“Oh, wow! So, it's a good thing my number's going down? I'm growing as a person?! Thanks, Train! So glad an inanimate object likes me!”

I still love this scene because you know what? Tulip is right. What does give the Train the right to decide exactly how a person needs to progress? I mean I know it becomes pretty clear later through the series that isn’t exactly helpful, so who started it and why?

Also, hey Train, what is the algorithm you use to quantify trauma and the healing process. How does that work?

Also also, healing isn’t linear, so that kinda stinks, you make one backslide and you could get like, another week or even longer.

And again, what about external circumstances! What if they don’t want to go back to their lives on Earth, like Amelia and the Apex, bc whatever made them unhappy there won’t change?

I understand these are questions the series wants us to ask, and it’s depressing to think we will never get those possible answers. I just wanted to appreciate Tulip being sassy and rightfully furious