#i think just actually seeing it instead of just replaying it in my mind might help

[uwuspaceboy]

hello, i made a deal with god and so i watched one (1) episode of shameless today after my 2 month long ban from the shameless factory. here are my thoughts on 10x8

first things first, i fucking called it i called a mickey ian marriage for spousal privelege from testifying against each other like 4 fucking seasons ago, yes it was for a different thing but i called it none the less

i feel bad for mickey bc he has problems with not feeling like anyone loves him (fuck u terry!!!) and ian hesitating to sign the marriage license after realizing they didn't need to to stay out of prison must've been just like hell for him i'm so sorry

i also totally understand why ian's hesitant about marriage!! his parents are........you know. his sister got married once after knowing a guy for like 4 hours, had a messy divorce, got engaged to another guy at the divorce lawyer meeting, then the wedding got called off moments before the alter bc her fiancee had been using meth again for months without telling her. like, that's not a great endorsement for marriage. it's a big deal i get it, but maybe step outside the marriage license office to have this conversation lol

although i'm not surprised mickey punched ian about maybe not wanting to marry him for all of the above reasons, you can't be punching him mickey!! when yall were teenagers and just fought everyone it was like, yeah okay, they're dumb teenagers who just fight everyone, but you're adults now! use your words mickey! if you want to wife him up you can't be punching him jesus christ

i also thought this was a pretty good lip episode. he's kind of wanted to be a dad for a long time and i think he's pretty good at it, helping taking care of 4 younger siblings really helped you out man

debbie getting sugar momma slay

the face young frank made at the guy whose life he ruined was really funny ngl i laughed out loud

liam is on levels of grift that high school lip could only dream about good for u bud

carl is a sicko. we all know this. also him trying to do the same grift that ian did to get into the army but rolling a nat 1 was great the parallels

also i love kev and v. i have nothing of significance to say about their storyline this ep, but just know that i do in fact love them.

also i miss the other milkovich brothers, idk who all these other milkoviches are also fuck u terry

[writing-for-marvel]

Right Here, Waiting

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

PART 2 > >

Summary: You’re pining after your insanely attractive roommate, but are convinced he doesn’t feel the same way.

Prompts: Roommate AU for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration & you can’t lose something you never had for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge 🎥

Warnings: strictly 18+, talk of sex, TRIGGER WARNING internal monologue references reader having issues with weight & eating, sucking in her stomach, VERY insecure reader, angst in the form of belief of unrequited love, jealousy, idiots in love

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: as the winner of this very close poll, here is a little roommate AU with our beloved Bucky 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“You’re telling me you share an apartment with a man who looks like that and you haven’t fucked him?” Natasha stares after your roommate as he heads to the bar to grab the drink he promised to purchase you for losing a bet the weekend before.

“Men and women can just be friends you know.”

“If my roommate looked like yours, I’d be jumping his bones every chance I got.”

He’s way out of my league, and as much as I might want him, he doesn’t think of me like that, is the rather depressing thought that has been replayed on loop in your mind since the devilishly attractive yet sweet as an angel Bucky Barnes moved in with you.

But instead of voicing aloud your insecurity, you simply hum in agreement. It’s easier than trying to explain your one sided crush that’s only ever going to end in heartache.

“Well if you’re not interested, do you mind if I go for it? Pretty sure he’d be the best sex of my life.” Your heart drops through your stomach like an anvil. The thought of Bucky being intimate with anyone, let alone your best friend, is enough to send you into a spiral.

Nat’s much more the type he’d go for anyway, beautiful, skinny, quick witted. Everything you’re not. She’s always the one who gets attention from guys at places like this, whereas you’re the ‘approachable one’ who gets asked if Nat’s single.

No one’s ever interested in you, especially not when you’re sitting next to your much hotter, thinner best friend.

“C’mon, there’s lots of guys here you could take home. You really have to make things awkward by sleeping with my roommate?” You try to sound as calm and collected as possible, but the lump in your throat betrays you.

Nat gives you a knowing look, seeing straight through your weak facade. She is your best friend after all, and knows you better than practically anyone in the world. “Of course I wouldn't, darling - I’m just trying to get you to admit you like him.”

There’s something almost worse about Nat knowing you’re crushing on Bucky - she can be so incessant, honing in on something and making it her mission to see it come to fruition, even if it’s to a bitter end. Which is exactly how your one sided crush will play out if she tries pushing you together.

You have an understanding which she hasn’t grasped yet that Bucky would never be attracted to you like that, and you’d rather spare your poor heart from his rejection and find a way to be content with friendship than risk hearing you’re too big, too unattractive, too much not his type for anything to happen.

“Can we just drop it. We’re roommates, nothing more.” But you know Nat’s incapable of letting something go once she’s got her claws sunk into it. You mostly love her for it, but in this one instance, it’s a right pain in the ass.

“You know if you give it a chance, you might find he likes you too. He’s got a smitten little smile for you.”

This is what you’re afraid of. Hope.

The buoyant feeling in your chest which swells as you picture what dating Bucky might actually be like. How soft his lips would be against yours, how he’d mumble sweet devotions against your skin before tasting every inch of you, how in a room packed to the brim like the bar you’re in now, his eyes search for yours and everyone else in the periphery fades into nonexistence because you are the focal point of his entire world.

But it’s that blind belief which will tear your heart to tatters. Hope will be your cause of death in the end. The expectation of a happy outcome despite all available evidence which will be your ultimate downfall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, look at him, there’s no way he’d ever be interested in me.” But yet, despite how much you tell yourself you’re destined for heartbreak, you can’t quite snuff out that last ember of hope deep in your chest when Bucky turns around with your drink in his hand and smiles reflexively as his eyes set on you all the way across the room.

“I hate it when you put yourself down like that.” There’s a glint in Nat’s eye like she wants to say more, but she notices Bucky returning from the bar and the words die in the back of her throat.

“Here you go, Sunrise.” His nickname for you ignites a flame in both your cheeks, and you’re forced to look down at the table in attempts to hide your reaction. He started calling you that within the first week of moving in, realising your love for staying up to read all night, until the sun came up the following day.

You try not to read into it too much that you are the only person you know of that Bucky has a nickname for. He’s just being friendly. A nice roommate.

“That’s the last time I bet you anything to do with food. Clearly you can eat and drink me under the table any day.” You know he’s just teasing about your bet, who could eat more spicy Indian food without needing to take a drink to subdue the burning heat on your tongue, but any comment related to the amount of food you eat or your weight always hits a little too close to home.

“Thanks Bucky.” Taking your drink from him, your fingers brush, sending goosebumps shivering down your arm, and his dazzling blue eyes regard you with what your hopeful heart believes is warm adoration. “At least you’re not being a sore loser this time round.”

“Excuse you, I’ve never been a sore loser. You just like to bend the rules to suit yourself.” He retorts before taking a sip of his beer, and you find it impossible to look away from how his perfectly plump lips cover the opening and his Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a sip.

You are so far gone for him.

“Sore loser.” You call in a sing-song voice that makes him chuckle in that way you can feel down to your bones. “Don’t blame me just because you can’t handle the heat, Barnes.”

His finger traces a light trail down your bare forearm which lights your skin on fire. You’re not even sure Bucky’s aware he’s doing it, it seems so casually intimate, such a soft touch as his eyes bore into yours, but it sends your brain into a meltdown.

“Oh Sunrise, you don’t know the kind of heat I can bring if I really tried.”

His face is so close to yours you can smell the beer on his breath and see how he wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue. He’s got these freckles scattered along his high cheekbones which reach the tips of his ears, that you want to place delicate kisses to, learn the constellations of pigmentation over his body so you could point them out blindfolded.

And those fucking eyes, they’re impossible not to fall in love with. Those saxe eyes which hold so much wonder and tenderness, which seems to pool in the slightly darker flecks at the centre. You really would be perfectly content if those eyes were the last you ever see, being lured underneath the waves of blue to your doom, but like a siren's victim, you’d dive in with a smile on your face.

There’s a cough from your left which breaks the trance Bucky’s eyes have you in. You would never admit it aloud, but you’d forgotten, just for a brief moment, that your best friend was at the table with you.

Nat’s looking at you with a bold grin and you know before she even opens her mouth that she’s about to say something cheeky and probably completely against your wishes to keep your yearning devotion a secret.

“I’m gonna go up to the bar and see if I can flirt my way to scoring a shot.” She announces as she stands, a shameless look passing between you and Bucky. “Some of us don’t have sex personified living in the next room we can flirt with to buy us free alcohol. You kids have fun continuing whatever that was. Just make sure to use protection.”

Nat walks off without another word, but after her quip, you find you can’t look Bucky quite in the eye.

You’re positive in this moment he’ll laugh at the insinuation that anything remotely romantic or sexual exists between you two and you brace yourself for the puncture to your heart.

But instead, he just looks at you with those big blue eyes and smiles warmly, as if Nat had simply commented about needing to use the restroom to excuse her absence.

“Sex personified, huh? Is that what you two were whispering about behind my back before?” You might just burst into flames if you actually admit that to him, but the cocky smirk he shoots you suggests he is already fully aware how much sex appeal he has.

It feels like your heart is beating in your throat as you answer and you pray he can’t hear the difference in your voice.

“No, not that it’s any of your business, but don’t act like you don’t know how gorgeous you are Barnes.”

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he smiles and scrunches his nose in that way which makes your tummy somersault. You could be fooled into thinking you were back in your apartment alone with him, the only girl within a hundred miles with the way his pupils grow wide and fixate solely on you in this bar crowded with people much more alluring than yourself.

You shake your head, almost imperceptibly, trying to rid your mind of sanguine thoughts that are just setting you up to be greatly disappointed.

You can’t get your hopes up.

There’s a dartboard which becomes available beside your table and you stand with your drink. “C’mon, last weekend you told me you’d show me how to play this ridiculous game and I’m holding you to that.”

It’s not that you don’t already understand the principle of darts, but when Bucky promises to spend more time with you, you’re not about to turn him down.

There’s this gleam in his eye you can’t quite place as he stands and follows you to the dark corner of the bar. You want to believe it’s something of endearment at calling him ‘gorgeous’, a fondness he reserves only for you, but you try reminding yourself that’s the kind of false hope you’ve been desperately shoveling out of your chest and you have to be stronger to not allow such optimistic concepts to penetrate through your defences.

Bucky quickly goes through the rules you were vaguely familiar with already, then shows you how it’s done by throwing two darts into the single twenty score area and then hitting a bullseye. He looks proud of himself too, and it brings a smile to your face just how cute he looks. Is he trying so hard to impress you?

Pushing that thought from your mind, you step up to take your aim. Your first throw goes very astray, not even hitting the dartboard at all, but instead sticking into the wood panelling about a foot below it.

You feel horrified that you’ve just embarrassed yourself, not only in front of Bucky, but the entire bar. Looking around with a sheepish grimace, you find fortunately no one is paying any attention to you, and when your eyes land on Bucky, you can’t help but both burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that lasts so long you’re cheeks start to hurt.

“It takes a special kind of talent to miss by that much Sunrise.” He snickers, but his eyes still softly gaze at you even as he teases.

“Shut up, it’s my first attempt.” You playfully rib back.

“C’mere, let me show you.” He stands at your back, so close you can smell his aftershave, a spicy cinnamon that reminds you of home, as his touch ghosts along your arms.

He fiddles with your fingers, delicately directing them where he wants them on the dart. You’re pliant to his every command, conforming to the stance he wants you in, you even tilt your head up when he uses two fingers under your chin to carefully guide your eye line to where he wants it.

Holding the small projectile in line with your eyes, you’re extremely aware that Bucky’s examining you, gazing at your profile, the curve of your nose, the undulations of your lips. You feel exposed, like he’s critiquing you, but when the outcome of that is him beaming a besotted smile in your direction, you feel like you must have done something right.

You let the dart fly, barely able to concentrate on where it’s going, too caught up in how close Bucky is, how his hand rests on your waist like he was made to hold you, how his broad chest behind you is as solid as a wall, yet would be the perfect place to rest your head as you fell to sleep every night.

It punctures into the board this time, scoring a measly four points, but it’s sufficient for Bucky to wrap his arms around your middle, rest his head on your shoulder and give you a squeeze as he lowers his husky voice in your ear. “There you go, great job Sunrise.”

You try not to think about how large your stomach is as he holds you, sucking in slightly, instead trying to savour the feeling of being in his arms. If he recognises how fast your heart is now beating against his chest, he doesn’t mention it.

The two of you continue to play your game, forgetting all about the hearty atmosphere of the bar, just enjoying each other's company, and your atrocious attempt at beating Bucky in a game he’s had far too much experience with.

You suspect he downplays his skill - you hope to spend more time alone with you, but more than likely just so you don’t feel completely embarrassed by your endeavours.

Once he’s beaten you for a second time, you find a free table to set yourselves, before you go up to the bar to order a second round. You can’t seem to shake the smile off your face as you give the bartender your order. A sense of light optimism builds in your chest, Bucky’s just given up his night to spend with you as you make a fool of yourself playing darts.

He could be out with anyone, giving them all his attention. But instead he’s with you. Eyes softening and an enchanting smile spreading on his features as if he’s already precisely where he wants to be.

You turn to look back at Bucky to find the one thing in the world that could dampen your high spirits.

He’s sitting at the table where you just left him, chatting up one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.

It’s as if someone’s poured a bucket of ice cold water over you. This devastating, borderline nauseating, chasm cleaving your chest in two is exactly why hope is the most dangerous feeling to cultivate unchecked.

She’s absolutely stunning, with shoulder length blonde hair, a glittery, low plunging top that brings out the radiance in her light eyes and accentuates her fit figure. She’s everything you’re not, everything Bucky deserves, and everything that makes you so acutely aware of how much physical space you take up in the world.

How someone as beautiful as Bucky could never be attracted to the likes of you when women like her walk on this earth.

It feels like there’s a cyclone wreaking havoc in your stomach as you watch their interaction. It looks sort of casual, at least given how far they are seated apart in such a noisy room, but there’s an axe carving your heart into splinters at the mere thought of what flirty chat is bouncing between them, the smile curving on his lips, and you find yourself needing to turn away.

You know you can’t lose what was never yours in the first place, but then why does it feel like your soul is disintegrating and being sucked out of your body through a hole in your sternum?

Bucky’s single, the two of you aren’t even remotely dating, you are purely roommates. You just so happened to have a spare room available at the same time he broke up with his ex and needed somewhere to sleep. You were a convenient solution to the awkward situation he found himself in.

And you’ve never been anything more.

He has every right to flirt, fuck and date whomever he pleases. Which decidedly isn’t you.

You search out Nat who’s over by the other side of the room, your extremities almost feeling numb as you walk past so many groups of friends and handsy partners, knowing that the one person who consumes your entire world simply views you as just someone whom he shares a bathroom with and occasionally bets wagers of buying a round of drinks.

She’s flirting with some handsome, tall stranger who appears to have bought her a couple drinks. You don’t want to ruin her night either, but you know she’d be irate if you disappeared without telling her.

All you want is the comfort of your bed, snuggled underneath a mountain of blankets where you can escape into a world where Bucky isn’t flirting with someone who is both much prettier and much thinner than you.

Should you even go home if Bucky brings her back to the apartment where you’d be subjected to listening to the entire affair?

Probably not, but at this point you just need to get out of here, as far away as possible from the scene which is causing your throat to constrict and tears to sting behind your eyes.

You touch Nat on the upper arm to pull her attention. “Imma head home.”

Her line of sight specifically redirects to the table you were seated with Bucky at, to find the source of your crushing heartbreak.

“Alright, then I’m coming with you.”

“No, please stay, have fun, I’m fine it’s just getting a little loud in here.” You lie through your teeth, but after pretending all night you're not about to start admitting your feelings now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The look Nat gives you is a clear indication she doesn’t believe your fib, but you simply turn away from her piercing eyes and stalk towards the door, trying to avoid bumping into the crowd of people in your path.

What you don’t realise as you make your hasty exit, head down to avoid watching Bucky flirt with the beautiful blonde, is that he watches with an aching heart as you take every step without so much as saying goodbye - because he notices everything about you, in every scenario, hoping for any fraction of your attention in return.

He swiftly grabs his jacket to chase after you, muttering a quick apology to his coworker he really doesn’t mean. He sees enough of her Monday to Friday for her to consume his weekends as well, especially when it's taking time away which could instead be spent with you.

“Sunrise, wait up!” You hear a very familiar deep voice call from behind you just as you’re about to put on your headphones. You’d know that voice anywhere, even if he hadn’t used your nickname.

“Bucky? What’re you doing?”

“You think I’m gonna let you walk home alone this late at night?” He says with such an ease, as if it were the only possible outcome given the situation. Like he didn’t have a drop dead gorgeous woman in the bar waiting to take him home and do downright pornographic things to him.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your fun. It’s only a couple blocks, I can walk it myself.” You can’t find it in you to feel guilty about pulling him away from the woman inside, especially not when he looks so content having followed you out into the cold night air.

“Firstly, you're daft if you think I’m letting you walk that far by yourself. I’d be worried about you the whole time.” He tilts his head to the side and it reminds you of a sweet puppy gazing at their owner with fondness, willing to pursue them anywhere. “Secondly, you’re not ruining anything. It’s no fun without you there anyway.”

Warmth blooms in your chest that even though it’s just as roommates, you’re the one Bucky’s returning to the apartment with. He’s not going home with Nat, or any other stunning girl he could pull with a single flirty glance. Instead it’s you who he drapes his jacket around when he notices you shivering and slows his large strides to allow you to keep up as you walk casually back home. Taking your time to extend your conversation and absorb the scent of his coat as you pull it tighter around yourself.

Dammit, there’s that incessant hope again.

You really are too enamoured with him for your own good. Even if it wasn’t tonight, you're just setting yourself up for a more agonising downfall in the end.

Part 2 > >

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[lilianne-tarot]

⋆.˚PICK A CARD: "What Are They Really Feeling About You" ⋆.˚

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I. II. III.

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⋆✮ Pile I

"I have so many feelings for you, but I don’t know how to handle it."

These cards are laid out in front of me, and whew—the energy is giving emotional confusion and major mixed signals. Like, imagine someone typing out a long-ass paragraph to send to you, deleting it, and then hitting you with a dry "hey" instead. That’s the vibe we’re working with here. typical situationship situation. There’s this undeniable connection between you two—the kind which makes y'all go like, "what are we?" . But something between you is incomplete or not quite where it should be. Maybe y’all had an almost-relationship, or things just never fully clicked into place the way they were supposed to. OR—they’re still caught up in past issues, cycles, or even other people who are messing with their perception of this connection. And then—BOOM—the Queen of Swords Reversed—This person sees you as intelligent, sharp, and perceptive, but also a bit intimidating. They might feel like if they were to step to you, they’d have to bring their absolute A-game because you don’t fall for weak, half-hearted energy. (And tbh, they’re lowkey scared of getting called out if they’re moving weird). They could also think you’re a bit distant or hard to read at times—like, do you actually like them back, or are you just naturally that cool? (Spoiler: they’re dying to know).

Okay, but what’s holding them back? The Five of Cups is coming in here , showing that this person is stuck in regret, sadness, or some kind of emotional baggage that’s stopping them from moving forward with you. If this is an ex or a situationship, they definitely still think about you, but they’re too caught up in the "what went wrong" instead of focusing on "what could go right." I just feel like this spread is mainly for people who are stuck in a situationship or are pondering over an ex. So yeah, they feel something deep and nostalgic for you, whether you’ve known each other forever or not. They might replay certain memories, old conversations, or even compare new people they meet to you—because you set a standard, babe. There’s something pure about how they feel toward you, even if their emotions are a hot mess express. They might fantasize about simpler times between you two, or even wonder if there’s a way to rekindle or repair things if you’ve grown apart. They feel drawn to you in a way they can’t ignore. You’re on their mind more than they’ll ever admit (probably even to themselves).

At this point, it’s their move. Will they break free from their past and step toward you? Or will they keep living in the land of "what ifs" and "almost"

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˙⋆✮ Pile II

"They are literally perfect, I’m obsessed."

Like, this person thinks about you way more than they probably should. Your person doesn’t just think of you in passing—nah, you stick in their brain like a catchy song they can’t get rid of. There’s something fated about this connection in their mind (Wheel of Fortune is SCREAMING destiny vibes, and especially when I RARELY get this card in my spreads so you just KNOW). Whether they admit it or not, they feel like you’re significant in some way. They don’t know why, they don’t know how, but the thought of you feels important—like a turning point in their life, even if nothing has happened between you two yet. But here’s where it gets messy (and a little spicy). The Judgement card is staring me in the face like 👁️👄👁️, and I’m telling you right now, your person sees you as someone who forces them to self-reflect. You’re triggering something deep in them. This person sees you as someone who’s put together, maybe even out of their league. You give off an "I know who I am, and I don’t settle for less" vibe—even if you don’t feel that way inside, that’s what they’re perceiving. They might assume you have high standards that makes them second-guess how they should act around you. (Like, are they worthy???)

And the funny part? They think you have your life figured out. But seriously, you project this energy of wisdom, tradition, and stability, and it’s making them think twice before approaching. "What if they don’t take me seriously?" is a VERY real fear they have. They don’t want to come at you wrong and fumble before they even get a chance. This person is struggling internally when it comes to you. They admire you, they think you’re lowkey untouchable, and they are absolutely not treating this as just a casual crush or just lightly. Whether they realize it or not, And let me be real with you—they’re not going to approach unless the universe forces them to. They’re waiting for some kind of cosmic push (Wheel of Fortune) to make things happen because right now, they’re paralyzed by their own overthinking. THEY ARE TIED UP IN KNOTS ABOUT THIS.

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˙⋆✮ Pile III

"Who are they?? Why do they live in my head??"

Ohhh, Pile 3’s situation is mystery, intrigue, and a whole lot of overthinking on their person’s end. If this is someone who only sees you from a distance—like a coworker, a classmate, or someone —then whew, the way they have created an entire personality for you in their head is actually insane.

To them, you are literally the hardest puzzle they've ever encountered, and it's driving them nuts. Like, you know how in movies, there’s always that one person who walks into a room and suddenly the main character is hyper-aware of their presence? That’s you to them. Even if you don’t talk much, or at all, your energy is too loud to ignore. They probably observe you a lot but feel like they never get the full picture. It’s giving “they seem so cool but I have no idea what’s actually going on in their head”. You might be quiet, reserved, or just really selective with who you engage with, and that makes you feel even more untouchable to them. If you are talkative or social, you still confuse them because you might act differently around different people. One second you’re laughing with someone, the next you’re in your own world? It’s throwing them off. 😂 But here’s the thing: this isn’t just curiosity. No, bestie, this is a full-on obsession. They don’t just want to know more about you—they NEED to. Their brain is playing detective without their permission. The Magician here is interesting because it means they think you’re in control, while they feel completely out of control around you. It’s giving “they probably don’t even know I exist, but I can’t stop thinking about them” energy. due of 10 of cups here, I can say, they’ve already mentally placed you in a soft-focus fantasy movie of their future.(just marry yall😭😭) They don’t just see you as someone cool—they see you as someone who could be the perfect person for them. even if they’ve never spoken to you, they already imagine what kind of relationship they’d have with you. You are the “dream person” in their head, but here’s the problem: they have no clue who you actually are. It’s like they’ve created a whole storyline about you without fact-checking it first 😭. Basically, their mental image of you is 50% real, 50% a fanfiction they wrote in their head.

Bestie, listen… If you’ve ever caught them staring at you like they’re trying to solve a crime, that’s exactly what they’re doing. They’re dying to know who you actually are because right now, you exist as a walking mystery and a romanticized daydream in their head.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[totallybakedcake]

"Of course!"

You saw your friends, your only family, die in front of you.

It repeated again and again. Their deaths, the blood, the pain, and the trauma.

Everything was too tough, every single thing reminded you of the incident.

How you all crashed out in your home and how they convinced you to become a hunter.

Going on trips, shopping, eating out, being each other's emotional support, and whatnot.

It was terrifying, the monsters coming endlessly and blood being shed every other second. Your mind stopped, your body couldn't move, and everything was in a haze. By the time you were back to your senses.

Everyone dead.

It was pitiful, no one to go to, no one to call, no one to comfort you or get you back up on your feet.

Stomach pain, headache, body ache. It was getting to you, but not an inch did you move from the bed. Just replaying the scene over and over again.

But someone was watching this.

"How is she?" Jinwoo asked as he sat on the couch, he knew you were in pain, after all, he was the one sent to complete the dungeon after things went wrong.

He vividly recalls the scene. You were sitting there, eyes practically dead as there was a sea of blood and lots of bodies scattered everywhere. Jinwoo, at first thought you were dead by how lifelessly you sat there, not blinking or moving an inch.

He had to touch you to see if you were alive.

Beru, Jinwoo's shadow soldier, quickly came out to check. "She is alive, my liege, just unconscious while sitting."

Jinwoo felt angry, mad, upset, and guilty for not arriving earlier. He even can see the image of you having a panic attack over and over again when you woke up and heard everyone was dead. It reminded him of when his mother experienced the same panic attack when his dad went missing.

He wanted to check up on you, but it was weird, you both never talked, and suddenly he pops up to see your condition. Perhaps it was not too odd, but Jinwoo had his shadows, and he would much rather use them instead.

----

"My liege, lady (name) has not done anything but just lie on the bed and look out the window. She does not eat well or drink enough water. Her phone keeps going off, but she never picks it up."

Damnit, the situation is so terrible, and Jinwoo needs to help you. Whatever you think or others think, he just wants to help you.

Huff, you can do this, he encourages himself as he rings the doorbell.

One time

Two times

Three times

Four times

No answer.

"(Name), I know you are in there and are not okay, just let me come home, and I will not be trouble." He yells from outside and continues to ring the doorbell.

A loud groan escapes your lips as you get up lazily to open the door.

"Hunter Sung, please, I am not okay and-"

He barges inside and starts to work, taking out the groceries he has bought to make you a good big meal, his shadow soldiers make you sit on the sofa as they clean the mess your house is in.

"Excuse me, you cannot—" Jinwoo swiftly shushes you up, not letting you say anything as he asks you to go take a nice shower and not argue a single bit with him.

How can you describe this? Being forced to bathe and let a man you've never had a conversation with take care of you like a mom.

Jinwoo made you sit on the couch as you came out, grabbing your chin and making you eat stew.

No words were exchanged between both of you for a good while. Well, words were not needed, so why talk?

Both of you knew that this was great, you liked it how Jinwoo took care of you, and Jinwoo enjoyed taking care of you.

After chewing, you both ask at the same time.

"Do you want to stay?" "Can I stay here for a while?"

"Of course!" Both of you replied energetically.

First of all I want to give credits to @kgymz for the adorable divider. Thank you, I love this.

I actually wanted to do a valentine series (which i mentioned in my other fic) but writer's block hit and i couldnt do it but i had another jinwoo fic planned which now might take a while to upload but anyways this makes me think if im going to do an event, should i start 2 months prior so that i can upload them even if i get a writer's block in between?

[adumbratrapedme]

Gaara x ftm!reader | a wonderful date

anyways, daily reminder that my requests are always open here! and check out my ruleees here!

This is a pt.2 to this.

The Sand siblings had lingered in the Leaf Village a little longer than expected after the Chūnin Exams, assisting with diplomatic discussions and finalizing alliances. Gaara hadn’t minded—especially since it meant he might have a chance to see Y/N again. The apology had gone better than he expected, and while Y/N’s words still replayed in his mind (Just think before you speak next time), Gaara couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he wanted to say.

That’s how he found himself standing outside the training grounds where Y/N was sparring with Naruto. Temari and Kankurō had told him to “stop moping and do something,” so here he was, awkwardly watching from a distance as Y/N dodged one of Naruto’s clumsy attacks.

“You’re staring again,” Temari muttered from behind him, startling him slightly. She smirked, crossing her arms. “Just go talk to him already. You look ridiculous.”

Gaara frowned but didn’t respond. Instead, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his presence immediately noticed by Naruto, who dropped his fighting stance and pointed dramatically.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Naruto shouted, his voice echoing across the training grounds. He moved to block you from hom again, arms stretched out protectively. “Didn’t we already settle this?”

You turned around, confused at first, but when you saw Gaara, your expression softened. “Calm down, I don't think he’s here to fight.”

Naruto narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know that! He could—”

“Naruto,” you cut him off with a sigh. “Go practice your Rasengan or something.”

Naruto grumbled but eventually walked off, muttering something about “sand freaks” and “bad vibes.” You turned back to Gaara, raising an eyebrow. “Is there anything i could help you with?”

Gaara shifted awkwardly, his hands tucked into his pockets. He didn’t know why this was so hard. He had faced enemies in life-or-death battles without flinching, but standing here in front of you, he felt somehow… vulnerable.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Gaara said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilted your head in confussion. “Okay. What is it?”

Gaara hesitated for a moment, then spoke quickly, like he was afraid he’d lose his nerve. “Would you want to spend some time with me? Alone. Outside the training grounds.”

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “Are you… asking me on a date?”

Gaara felt heat creep up his neck, but he forced himself to nod. “Yes.”

There was a beat of silence before your lips twitched into a small smile. “You’re… surprisingly straightforward, huh?”

“It seemed like the most efficient way to ask,” Gaara replied honestly, though there was a faint hint of nervousness in his tone. “If you’re not interested, I’ll—”

“Wait, I didn’t say no,” You interrupted, raising your hands. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Gaara stared at you, hope flickering in his eyes. “Then…?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over and over. “Hmm… Well, I guess you did apologize. And you’ve been less scary lately. So yeah, sure. Why not?”

Gaara blinked. “You’re agreeing?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m agreeing. But I’m picking where we go. You don’t seem like the type who knows what a fun date looks like.”

Gaara frowned slightly, but he nodded. “That’s acceptable.”

Your smile widened, and he clapped Gaara on the shoulder. “Alright, it’s a deal then. Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Tomorrow,” Gaara agreed, his voice firm despite the slight nervousness he felt.

As you walked back to rejoin Naruto, Gaara turned on his heel and started walking back toward his siblings. He didn’t need to look to know that Temari and Kankurō were grinning like idiots from their hiding spot nearby.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Kankurō said as Gaara approached. “You actually did it.”

Temari smirked. “Looks like our little brother is growing up.”

Gaara ignored them, but he couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

The next afternoon, Gaara stood at the entrance to a quiet park in the Leaf Village, his heart racing in a way it never had before. He had fought in life-or-death battles, faced unimaginable threats, and survived, but waiting for Y/N to arrive had him on edge. He adjusted the strap of his gourd on his back for the tenth time, though he had already decided he wouldn’t need it today.

When you finally appeared, wearing a simple but relaxed outfit, Gaara felt his chest tighten. You looked casual and confident, the same as ever, though Gaara thought there was something particularly captivating about the way your smile lit up his face as he approached.

“Yo,” You greeted, waving a hand. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“You’re on time,” Gaara said, his voice calm but softer than usual.

“Good,” you replied, grinning. “I’ve got the whole day planned out. I figured we’d start with some snacks, then check out the market, and maybe end with watching the sunset. Sound good?”

Gaara nodded. “That sounds… nice.”

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The first stop was a small street vendor selling dango. You ordered two sticks and handed one to Gaara, who stared at it for a moment before cautiously taking a bite.

“It’s sweet,” Gaara said after a moment, tilting his head.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you said, watching him closely. “Not bad, right?”

Gaara nodded. “It’s… pleasant.”

You laughed. “I’ll take that as a win. Come on, let’s keep going.”

Both of you wandered through the market next, the bustling atmosphere a stark contrast to Gaara’s usual environment. For Gaara you seemed to know everyone, greeting vendors and cracking jokes as they passed. Gaara stayed quiet, but he found himself watching you closely, drawn to the way you carried yourself with such ease.

At one point, you stopped at a stall selling small trinkets and accessories. You picked up a simple bracelet made of polished wood beads.

“This looks cool,” you said, slipping it on your wrist. You glanced back at Gaara. “What do you think?”

Gaara stared at the bracelet for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “I’ll buy it for you.”

You blinked, surprised. “Wait, what? You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Gaara interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He handed the vendor the payment and turned back to you. “It suits you.”

Your felt your cheeks getting heated slightly, but you smiled. “Thanks, Gaara.”

By the time the sun began to set, both of you had made your way to a quiet hill overlooking the village. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the perfect backdrop for the end of your day.

You flopped onto the grass, leaning back on your hands as Gaara looked out at the view. “This was a good idea,” he said, glancing at you. “I’m glad we did this.”

Gaara sat beside you, his hands resting on his knees. “So am I.” you answered back, a soft smile plastered in your face.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the village fading into the background.

Eventually, you decided to break the silence. “You know, I wasn’t sure how today would go. You’re not exactly the… ‘dating type.’”

Gaara tilted his head. “Was I that bad?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, you were great. A little quiet, but that’s just you. It was… nice. Really nice.”

Gaara looked down at his hands, his expression thoughtful. “I didn’t know what to expect either. But I enjoyed spending time with you.”

You smiled, leaning back to look up at the sky. “We should do this again sometime.”

Gaara’s heart skipped a beat. “I would like that.”

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, you glanced at Gaara, your smile soft. “Thanks for today, Gaara. It meant a lot.”

Gaara turned to meet your gaze, his teal eyes sincere. “Thank you… for giving me the chance.”

You chuckled, leaning back again. “You’re not so scary once people get to know you, huh?”

Gaara didn’t respond, but for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace.

@sirenofthesand Hope you enjoy this part as much as you did with the first one! (┐「ε:)

[explodingchantry]

Anders isn't my problematic fave because he isn't problematic. I think the wider concept of anders being 'wrong' the fandom has is a clear example of how biased the writing has been in the games. It's the same reason why people hate Jowan, or why they think the kinloch hold mages were stupid. There's a clear bias in the writing and framing of it all that guides the player towards feeling negatively.

The majority of answers you can give Jowan in Dao are negative, mocking, or downright insulting. The ones who aren't are just... Neutral. You can be a bit sympathetic to him in the circle origin but by the time you meed him in redcliff most of your dialogue choices are so fucking mean. In my replay I was trying desperately to be nice and sympathetic to him but the best you can do is be neutral and let him go but for every rude dialogue option there is no "you've been through something horrible, I'm sorry" or "you were manipulated, loghain took advantage of your vulnerability, I'm sorry" it's soooooo.

Likewise, I always make sure to speak to every single npc in the mage origins and the One mention of uldred before the broken circle quest is from the one mage who tells you about the different political faction enchanters are in, and it's with absolute disdain. That mage thinks uldred is annoying and it's implied that the other enchanters think so, too. Uldred who was an activist for mage liberation is treated as annoying for being an activist.

Then he turns out to be a blood mage and to have killed the majority of the circle, turning them into abominations. The message is clear: those who seek liberation are wicked. In the first game of the series, thus in the game which introduced the concept of circles at all, their existence is justified by the text. It overtly says: look at all those foolish mages, how dangerous they can be when One of them is wicked. Can you imagine if they were free? Can you imagine those abominations' destruction if they were out in the open?

Something similar happens in the mage origin, with Jowan. Through the whole origin, whilst Jowan is painted as annoying, he's definitely seen as a victim. Up until he uses blood magic, that is. Suddenly, the player is likely supposed to think "oh, so they were right to want to make him tranquil after all". Instead of being a way to show that the circle will often turn innocent mages tranquil, it shows you that greagoir was right to distrust Jowan, because he was indeed a blood mage. Instead of showing you how paranoid those in power are about mages, the writing justifies their fear and hatred.

Bear in mind this is the first game and likely the very first thing that happens to a lot of new players. The game does not expect you to know the intricacies of its lore yet, doesn't expect you to understand that blood magic is actually fucking neutral unless you sacrifice people for it. You might be tempted to argue that it's setting up for that realisation later and for you to feel bad about Jowan later, realizing he was led to blood magic because it was his only solution, because he and all other mages are caged like dogs (except this is ferelden, so the dogs are better treated than them). But then you've got the redcliff fiasco where it's obvious the writers expect you to fucking hate his guts

And while dragon age 2 is more overt in its depiction of mage suffering, it also tries to pass on the idea that kirkwall is a special case, that it's only the gallows that are this bad. That it's just Meredith whose craaazeyyy 🤪 and not just Meredith being a product of a corrupt system. The writers expect you to think of Anders as an unstable extremist, or as his writer puts it, a "bipolar terrorist" (note that ofc there's nothing fucking wrong with being bipolar, but I don't think his writer cares!)

With different writers and the exact same set of events, Anders blowing up the chantry would be easily recognized as a positive, as an act of justice, of rightful rebellion. Instead it's seen as a tragedy, a mistake. Instead Anders is categorized as a villain, morally grey even though Hawke themselves has a higher death toll than he ever will.

It's a lesson, I think. In narrative bias.

[leggerefiore]

What is the most embarrassing thing each pokehusband was obsessed with a child? (roblox, one movie on repeat, a funny toy, etc.). My personal opinion is Cyrus watched a childhood cartoon on repeat but he would never admit that to his S/0... he hides his red face when replays are on I also wanted to ask, are you and the new admin dating? A comrade in arms perhaps? Thanks so much!!!!!!

she's one of my best friends, anon, haha

she's actually been the secret shadow admin for a minute in helping shape a lot of AUs. (Bugtlers, Dragon AU, Fox God AU, most Cyrus things, a few Grimsley things.) we just share a lot of interest in the Same Guys.

cw: fluff,

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Lear, Cyrus, Nanu, Colress

▲Ingo▼

● Embarrassing? Ingo struggles to think of anything that he would necessarily deem as embarrassing. Buuut, other people might find his collection of stuffed toys a little embarrassing. Emmet certainly made some faces at the growing pile on his bed during their younger years. He simply enjoyed how cute many of them were and felt comforted by their presence. It was not the most masculine of hobbies, but Ingo was not the type to be overly focused on that kind of stuff. Of course, he still has this collection, but it is a little more hidden away. They all were things slowly given to him over birthdays and various other events. The memories attached to them meant the world to him.

● Though, as an adult, he does show them to his partner, despite whatever feelings may linger about possible judgement. Really, if they love him, they would not care. But, there is a bit of hesitation in his heart mostly related to being perceived as childish. Granted, after he does, he would feel relieved if they asked pleasant questions about them after picking one up. The lack of judgement puts him at ease as he speaks about the history of each one. The most surprising thing is that he is still building onto it. They are truly important to him.

▽Emmet△

○ He blinks at the thought of something embarrassing. He is far too confident… Well, until someone sees his collection of figurines. Somehow, he got very much into video games and animated shows and started collecting various characters that he enjoyed. Why is he embarrassed? Well, because he feels that he outgrew most of them, but also simply because he remembers getting strange looks during his youth from his classmates. Really, he cherishes them for what they are, but those feelings from his development struggle to leave. They are kept hidden away in his room on a shelf, and he will admit to forgetting to dust sporadically.

○ Will his partner find out? Yes, absolutely, to his dismay. They likely poke around his room and find it. He tries to pretend that it is something he has been meaning to get rid of, far too embarrassed and flooded with memories from his younger years. When they instead ask about a show or game character they recognise, Emmet feels more at ease. A discussion begins, and he realises they are not judging him at all but rather interested. His front breaks, and he happily chats with them. It seems he finally feels that stigma is broken in his mind – At least with his partner.

👑Lear💎

🪙 The prince declares he has nothing embarrassing about him. It is also no one's business. Except, maybe… No. He refuses to even consider such a thing embarrassing. No, he will not say it. The answer? Well, he had a blanket he was quite obsessed with as a child. Of all the things he could take to his horrible school, this was one of the few. It brought him such comfort through the worst of it all. Yet… It is not very kingly to derive comfort from such a thing. So, he keeps his lips closed about such a thing still being present in his quarters. The blanket was one of the few things he could recall his mother gifting to him, so he never will truly let it go.

🪙 He struggles to admit such a thing to a partner. The idea of being judged for his possession bothers him. Though, it does clearly stand out among the other lavish gatherings on his bed. It is more of a small quilt than anything, made of varying fabrics and patterns. The homely-ness of it seems out of place to his tastes. Picking it up results in him panicking and snatching it from them. A simple explanation of it being his and important leads to more questions. Eventually, he breaks and explains the history of it. This results in them likely finding it sweet and telling him that it is adorable. This makes his face turn red and him stomping off. While still holding the blanket.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Cyrus's embarrassment is quite simple... A certain toy robot is on his desk. It is brought between work and home, but it is always there. The toy is simple and cute, likely made by a child. There is no function of it anymore, but he will never toss it out. Why? Such fond memories are attached to it. Memories he will never admit to, yet linger in his mind when he least wants them to. A simpler time in his life where he dared allow himself to be playful and to have… He stops himself from remembering. It hurts too much to recall.

☄️ So, when his partner comments on the toy sitting on his desk, he tenses up. Embarrassment floods his heart for having something so childish linger around him. Yet, when they just ask about it without any clear judgement, he simply explains that he has a few memories attached to it. This intrigues them more, naturally, but he is simply biting his tongue with little interest in going into the specifics. All he says is that a friend used to play with him with the toy. More questions than answers. Cyrus never really feels able to elaborate, not with the intense, horrible emotions in his chest. The toy robot remains, at least.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 When he was a boy? That far back? He struggles to recall anything. Well… A certain cute cat character unfortunately pops into his mind. It was mostly popular among women and girls, but he simply found himself interested in the simple design. He had quite a few figures in his home as decoration and maybe a charm or two on his bag. Nothing is overly noticeable. He could never admit to enjoying it. It was far too embarrassing and almost seemed like a waste of money to him. Yet, he still picked up a few items.

🌑 As an adult, the brand is still around, and he notes that Acerola quite enjoys it. Under the guise of getting gifts for her, he often buys himself one or two things while giving the rest to her. Granted, he gets flustered when his partner picks up one of the figures sitting candidly in his home. His immediate excuse for it being for Acerola falls through when they mention having seen it a few times during their visits. It is then that he admits through gritted teeth that he just likes the design. He expects to be teased, but when they just nod and admit it is cute, he feels shocked. Then, he gets immediately over it and realises that his partner would be the last person to judge him over his interests.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 His obsession when he was a child? Mostly mad scientists. Is he embarrassed? Only about the incorrect science. Really, looking back on his fascination, he feels more flustered about the incorrect concepts used than the fact he was fascinated with villainous characters. A testament to his future nature as someone who does not necessarily align themselves with morality. Sporadically, while in public places, old movies will play on displays, and he finds himself taken back. Silently, he tries to pretend not to be mildly annoyed with the inaccuracies present. That is more annoying than his own previous fascination.

🧪 He simply tells his partner about it while some old movie plays on the television. It really is not some shocking revelation to anyone who knows him. Really, he could almost fit the archetype if he did not keep himself within the basis of reality. He does mention something about wanting to make more hybrid pokemon, which gets a stare from them. Later, he will admit with little embarrassment that he outgrew the interest because he could not stand the lack of actual science. He feels confident in speaking to them since he has already established a bond with them. Once again, they are not surprised since it is Colress.

[yoichiue]

𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒

❤︎ — ꒰ isagi yoichi x f! reader ꒱

ᦾ sfw ﾉ fluff with a smidge of angst + comfort ﾉ fem reader ﾉ depictions of anxiety (isagi) ﾉ established relationship ﾉ mentions of reader being a ballerina ﾉ oc added for the plot ﾉ cursing ﾉ he calls reader bambi ﾉ yumeshippie coded . . .

୨୧ . was feeling very soft for my baby blue so this was rather self indulgent .. T T — 𝓚 .

falling in love with your best friend was easy. it felt like it was the most natural relationship in the world actually, as if you and him were supposed to happen, it just felt right that you two were together. two perfectly slotted puzzle pieces that were always tethered to one another. two peas in a pod, steamed milk to espresso.

at least that's what your friend says.

her exasperated expression pulls a wry smile onto your features as you mindlessly trace the rim of your glass gently, familiar pools of twinkling baby blue’s that held a lavish amount of adoration for you manifest inside of your head like a cinematic record—replaying isagi’s honeyed gaze and silk-like touch when he had cradled your face oh-so-gently and murmured a low ‘be safe’ before you left to meet with your friend. his words felt like the soft cashmere sweater you decided to wear, fine and delicate, warm to the touch as the simplicity of his intentions enfolded your skin and left a lingering fuzziness that never faded away despite the biting cold.

you're so deep into your head that you barely even hear her voice until she lets out an overdramatic whine that pulls you out of your stupor. echoes of her voice reverberated throughout the walls while the mental picture you carefully painted onto the canvas you call your consciousness ebbs away, your focus now on her.

“are you even listening? i asked you a question!” your friend, yuki, gazing at your visage crinkles her brow in disbelief at your lack of attention. you realize that you've been swimming in the depths of your mind, enamored by the psyche of the keeper of your heart and you start to chuckle because her expression has morphed into a childish pout, her lips jutted out dramatically and you rub her knuckles in apology. offering up the last piece of your tiramisu, you hope she accepts your peace offering to satiate her growing impatience.

“i’m sorry! i just got caught in a daydream that's all. what was your question kiki?” your smile was coy as you made sure to use her favorite endearment to soften her edges, voice lilted with sugar when you start to see the corners of her mouth turn upwards and into a shy smile.

“i just … i was curious about you and him–isagi i mean. don’t you ever find yourself getting tired of being with him for so long?” her sheepish grin had stayed despite the serious question, the words weighing heavily.

funnily enough, you've heard this question a million times throughout the years you've dated isagi and you still could never find a way to find the right response. the obvious choice was of course to always say, ‘no, never!’, sometimes even feeling the rooted seeds of guilt planting itself into your heart like a disease when you think you might be tired of him. you like to mediate that your instant response will always be your answer, at least most of the time anyway. you'd jump over the moon in triumph if he would stop leaving his socks scattered across the floor of your bedroom or forgetting to clean the kitten’s food bowl.

but there was no doubt that isagi yoichi was a good boyfriend to you, the envious gazes and whispers from everyone that always inundated your head proved it so. he always remembered your coffee order, never missed an opportunity to make time for your performances—even remembering the tradition of bringing you your favorite flowers instead of the trademark red roses after your bow on the stage, and dragging you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall cafe where you both shared a steaming plate of golden chicken katsu and a large serving of caramel custard pudding decorated with a dripping dark brown molasses crown.

he let you do skincare nights with him, read all of your favorite books and curated a private playlist with all of the songs you currently liked listening to simply because they were your favorite.

he felt like a lovesick fool as he adored your visage like a painter to a muse, eyes softening when your eyes glimmered with joy when doing, listening, or touching anything that brought out your smile. hence why he never failed to praise and leave you little gifts or trinkets that reminded him of you, making you hum in fulfillment. your radiance in the mundane joys you indulged into was what made him feel akin to a moth drawn to a flame, and he was never going to forget the undeniable way his heart sang an indescribable melody for you every time you were near, a symphony that was unique to your sturdy bond.

nonetheless, what was perfect isn't exactly what it appears like on the outside. you were no stranger to isagi’s defects and you weren't afraid to admit that. you can't count how many times where you've had to pull him back from the rabbit hole of his burdens, the anxiety of not being good enough corroding away at his fickle heart and the prickling sensations etched deep into his skin as the sensations make his brain pound with dizziness.

there were some nights where he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of the glowing screen of his phone, the seeds of insecurity planting themselves into his psyche as he tries his best to mask the festering feeling of trepidation that was close to erupting like a bubbling volcano.

he can feel his organs twist into knots, his hands furled into tight fists as he paces around your shared apartment while he tries to calm the overwhelming sensation of having what he believed, to be the most shittiest match ever.

it's too much–it was all too much. the incessant talking on the TV he used as background noise clashed with the loud pounding of doubt that clawed at his brain, the temperature of the apartment suddenly felt too hot, and the endless stream of comments about his recent match had his palms sweating while he tried to inhale a deep breath. fuck it was too difficult to even breathe. it felt like someone or something was stepping on his chest, like his lungs were being crushed.

where were you? where were you? where were you?

he felt like his legs could give out at any second the more he paced, fingers weaving through his dark hair in an attempt to try and ground himself but nothing seemed to work. was this finally his breaking point? fuck why did it feel like he was having a heart attack? why did it feel like his whole being was going to explode? just before he feels like his heart was going to rip from his chest cavity he felt it—no, he smelt it.

the heady fragrance of warmth and cinnamon, spiced gourmand was burned deep into the membrane of his soul as the familiar scent eased his nostrils, a soothing balm that allowed him to focus on nothing but you. his body slumps as tension melts away from his muscles like fleeting, melted sugar. his safe space was here.

he peers down to look at you, blinking away the dark spots that clouded his eyes like broken curtains as you swiftly lead him to the couch. did you just get home? he doesn't bother to ask when he already feels his shoulders relax, your hands slithering to the back of his head as you gently—silently press his ear to your chest so he can hear the rhythmic thumpthumpthump of your heart, the organ pumping you full of life.

now that he's calmed down and he's broken free of the chains of doubt that haunted his being, you were the only thing he wanted to capture, get his senses to hold onto you in a vice-like grip. your soft words of comfort, an anchored thumb lifting to stroke a silken touch to his cheek that tickled his skin, and hands that cradled his head to your chest in a reassuring embrace had his voice cracking with drops of distress.

“is that you bambi?” his words were hushed, whispered into the still air as he can finally feel whole again. breath slowing, heart slowing into a calming rhythm. you move a hand from the back of his head to cradle his cheek, lightly tilting his head up so that you can lean down and boop your noses together. an act that you two normally did to establish that the other wanted their attention. the confirmation that it was no one else but you, forces him to bring his body back into reality, his baby blue's glimmering with unshed tears that overflow from behind his eyes. his hands shakily rest onto the small of your back, fisting your sweater as the material spills out from in between his fingers.

“just me yoichi, no one else but me.”

solace. that was what it all was to him. silent solace where you stood in between the lines of heaven and earth for him when he felt like they were too blurred, grounding not only him but you. he couldn't bear to imagine the fear and uncertainty you must feel when he gets like this.

wasn't he a burden? what if all of this amounts to nothing and you’re just wasting your time on his fickle heart and soul, no one else seems to really believe in him… not understanding the sheer weight his shoulders now bear. why… why are you staying with him? he didn't even manage to let another doubt slip from his lips again before you shush him gently, cradling him close as you bury your face into the soft tufts of his hair, desperate for him to know–to feel that you would never once, and never will, think so lowly of him. you understood him, he needn't explain any further.

you both stay curled up against each other for what seemed like hours, the act of staying so close to one another while the both of you lay your burdens to one another, was similar to the act of two cats licking each other’s wounds, finding solace and interlacing fingers to create a silent promise.

you are mine, and i am yours. i’m with you because no one else makes sense.

now, to answer yuki's question,

isagi was undoubtedly a good boyfriend to you, but it was you that stayed with him and taught him that it was okay to be afraid. he wouldn't have to worry about falling into the dark tunnels of his burdens now that he knows you would be right there to tug him back into the light. and that was more than enough. all you had to do was stay.

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

-

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 27

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1000

Masterlist

———————————————————————

My brain was an open construction site, impossible to organize. I had completely lost control of the situation, Lucy’s words replaying endlessly in my mind.  

I tried to avoid Alessia as much as possible at the start of the week, guilt gnawing at me from the inside. I had pretended to be at a construction site far from the city.  

And then came the climactic point: Thursday, the day we were to sign the papers to buy the house, marking the beginning of a new chapter together.  

Lucy had sent me a message on Monday:  

 "How are you today?"   

I should have replied with the truth:  "I have a knot in my stomach, I can’t stop thinking about what you said, I feel awful."   

Instead, I typed:  

 "I’m fine, thanks. And you?"   

A pitiful response.  

 "I see you’re not in the mood to talk. I’ll wait until you’re ready. And I meant what I said yesterday."   

I didn’t reply.  

I didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or even what to do. As usual, I fled from the problem, refusing to face it head-on.  

The days passed, consumed by painful questioning and endless self-doubt.  

By Thursday morning, I was utterly exhausted. I hadn’t slept a wink, spending the entire night thinking.  

I convinced myself that I needed to grow up, that my relationship with Alessia was solid, and that I couldn’t throw it all away for a fleeting passion. Lucy had confessed that it was more than just sex between us. Fine, but where would that lead? Nowhere.  

I also decided not to tell Alexia about my lapse. She would never forgive me.  

 "You look awful! Still not over your food poisoning?"  Alexia teased as she arrived.  

I had lied about food poisoning to explain my absence from the presentation in Lyon on Sunday morning. She gave me a playful wink and added:  

 "So, today’s the big day! You’re officially becoming a responsible adult with this house purchase!"   

If only she knew. I had wanted to tell her everything so many times, to confide in her. But I couldn’t. Lucy had asked me not to speak of our affair. And deep down, I was afraid of disappointing my friend.  

So, I stayed silent, bottling it all up.  

 "Yep, first purchase for a new life!"   

I delivered the sentence in a flat, monotone voice.  

 "Cheer up, Ona! At this rate, the notary might refuse to let you sign those papers!"  she laughed.  "I’m so happy you two are together. You’re perfect for each other!"   

Her words warmed my heart. She was right.  

That afternoon, I was supposed to have lunch with Alessia at the main square before heading to the notary’s office. It was the first time I’d seen her since the weekend, and I felt a deep apprehension. Could I lie to her, hide all this?  

She arrived with a radiant smile—the smile I loved so much, the one that always eased my doubts and instantly loosened the knot in my throat.  

 "Hi, my love! I missed you this week! Tell me everything, I don’t even know how it went in Lyon! Judging by your face, it must have been exhausting,"  she laughed.  

I was so ashamed.  

Still, I recounted the weekend briefly, changing the subject quickly. I was lying to her, something I had never done before. Our relationship had always been built on unwavering trust in one another. But I couldn’t tell her about this—it would destroy her. Destroy us.  

The lunch passed quickly. Alessia talked about her latest surgery, an open-heart operation on a newborn. She always impressed me—such a talented surgeon, yet so humble.  

As we sipped our coffee, my thoughts were interrupted by a laugh behind me, a laugh I recognized all too well. I turned.  

It was Lucy, seated at the counter, drinking coffee with two other men.  

My throat tightened. What were the odds of her being in this café?  

Actually, quite high, I realized. We were in the main square, opposite the town hall, in the most popular café-restaurant. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?  

Lucy caught my eye. She looked surprised.  

She stopped talking, excused herself from her companions, and walked toward us.  

No. Not this. What are you doing, Lucy?  

 "Hello!"   

She stood in front of us, a wide smile on her lips.  

 "Hello, Madame Bronze! Nice to see you again!"  Alessia replied warmly.  

 "Likewise! How are you?"   

Alessia answered, politely returning the question. I didn’t say a word—I couldn’t speak.  

 "What brings you here?"  Lucy asked.  

She was constantly seeking my gaze, while I desperately avoided hers.  

 "We’re going to the notary’s office! You’re looking at the future homeowners of your town!"  Alessia beamed. Proud. Beautiful.  

Lucy’s face darkened slightly.  

 "Congratulations. I wish you both much happiness. Goodbye."   

She turned on her heel, throwing me one last fleeting glance before walking out the door. A glance that electrified me to my core.  

 "You could have at least said something. I know you don’t like her, but still!"  Alessia scolded me.  

I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable—clammy hands, a heart pounding uncontrollably. I felt hot and dizzy. The knot in my stomach that had plagued me all week was now unbearable.  

 "I’ll go pay, and then we can head out!"   

She got up to leave.  

I grabbed her hand abruptly, suddenly.  

I looked at her now.  

 "I can’t, Alessia."   

[sandorsubs]

How to "actually" reprogram your mind

INDEX

Introduction

Code System

Master Codes

Replacement Codes

How your brain is gonna use new codes

Coding Style

Notes

Do you have limiting beliefs? You don't think you can have your desire or accomplish things? Even can't manifest stuff how hard you try? Then you might heard about reprogramming your mind. They say change your beliefs, affirm, don't use old story...Yeah but it's not that easy, we all know that.

If you don't know what reprogramming your mind is, it's basically changing your old belief with new one that has more benefits for you. I saw couple exercises for it: making a list for what you believe and adding your desires in it. Robotically affirming everyday. Choose your method. But if you are struggling and searching for more efficient way to reprogram your mind, take a look at my method.

Code System

I take affirmations as codes. Every code has an emotion that will be released before or after your brain runs the code. Some codes have prominent memories attached to them. I know it sounds complicated but let me give you an example of a negative code.

You are going to make a presentation but you had a similar experience before when your classmates made fun of you. Your brain instantly runs the code "i can't speak in public". You feel emotions such as anxiety, fear, worry, shame etc. You keep replaying that experience you had in your mind and feel even worse. This what a code is made of, you can call them affirmations if you want.

(Stop reading now and think for a code you use frequently. It could be simplest thing, look around i promise you'll find one.)

Master Codes

There will be two section in our method: master code and replacement code. Master code is a dominant code on top of code hierarchy. Remember when we feel in danger and make crazy scenarios in our minds but most of the time, they don't happen. Because our brain chooses master code over any other negative assumption. Everyone has master codes, they are just not aware of it.

"I am always protected" is a master code. Even you are in a dangerous situation and feeling extreme fear, your brain is going to choose this master code over a negative code such as "something bad is going to happen". As you can see, master codes are general and strong because you used them a lot in your life. Now write down master codes of your reality. "I have control over my 3d", "i manifest whatever i want", "i am extremely lucky", "everything always works out for me" whatever you want.

Now attach a memory to this code. If you don't have one, first of all think again. Sometimes it can even be a memory you thought it's bad.

For example if you almost had a accident and you feel bad when you remember it. But that's an example for how you were protected. If your master code is "i am protected" when you think about that moment you'll also feel gratitude.

Btw don't force yourself to feel good about a memory, i am just saying change your perception but if you still feel uncomfortable leave it. And take your lessons from a bad experience even if you are still going to revise it, loves

Replacement Codes

So what is replacement code? Brand new code for your brain to use instead of old usuless one. I see a cup of coffee, my brain runs a code "coffee is not healthy". I remember how scientists says coffee damages your brain and ruins your sleep cycles. Then i feel sad because i like coffee and i want to drink more. This is how i unwillingly affirm coffee is unhealthy. Let's replace this code because it doesn't serve me. I want to drink coffee <3

If you have a bad memory attached to it, try to revise or assess a positive memory just like what we did in master codes. I used to drink a lot more coffee back then but i kept saying myself that caffeine doesn't affect me (which was clearly an affirmation lmao). My assumption worked like a charm but i started to read about how coffee is unhealthy then it really became unhealthy. I replaced my assumption with a negative code unconsciously. To replace this negative code everytime i drink coffee i run "i am okay with consuming caffeine as much as i want" code and remember the times i wouldn't get affected even if drank 5-6 cups.

(Btw that's why overconsumption is dangerous because we keep hearing new things, unlock new fears everyday. Be careful about the contents you consume.)

Also I want to remind you don't have to say this code in your mind. Think them like a button that your brain presses. This process will happen in seconds, all you gotta do is realize if you are still using a negative code over master code or replacement. And reverse it.

How your brain is gonna use new codes

Disclaimer: This is my theory, if it doesn't align with your experiences just ignore and jump to next part.

I don't know if you guys realize this but when you affirm something at first you keep seeing the opposite of it in your 3D. If I affirm i am lucky, i find myself in unlucky situations. I used to think i need to persist, i see the opposite because i put my desires on pedestal. Then i realized this is how my brain tests me to see if i really believe i am lucky.

I went to hospital to make an x-ray appointment but system was down, assistant told me to come back a day later. But hospital was a bit far from my house so i decided to wait. I was affirming "i am lucky" in back then so i felt a little bit disappointed things didn't worked out quickly. While i was sitting i realized that's why it's not working, because even if i keep telling myself that i am lucky i didn't have that mindset.

I thought i'll make this appointment today because i really believe i am lucky. System got fixed after almost an hour, i made appointment and went home. But that memory stuck in my mind, i felt like my brain tests me to see if i am really believing it. Like little homeworks. I believe mindset/affirmation is 30% how you think, 70% how you act and perceive the situation in that certain moment. And of course affirming it loud or in your mind keeps you on track.

When you are going to use these new codes, let yourself to become used to it. Did you use the negative code again? Don't worry, at least you are aware of it now.

You started to think you are not enough? Oh i am lazy, i am not good at painting, my friends doesn't like me, my grades suck, i'll never have a good career. Stop. Take a deep breath. Thinking like this doesn't help at all. Use your own code, master or replacement, doesn't matter. Remember that certain memory you assesed the code, feel emotions of the memory and relax.

Using your new code is same as how you normally use negative codes in your life. "My mom said i cook horrible so it must be real. So whenever i try to cook, i ruin it completely and i remember what she said." You can find thousands of examples of codes, you have been using since you were a child. They are keeping you from living this beautiful life and experiencing.

Coding Style

You know what they say about affirmations, use present tense, don't say i want or i need bla bla frickin bla. Have you realized, maybe that person assumes they manifest better with "i want xyz". Maybe they assume they are little brat of this universe and they'll be awarded just by ✨ asking for it ✨

This is not to complain but to realize your coding style. What do you value most? Having it, knowing it, loving it? For me i tried a certain code/affirmation style: bitchy one.

"it's mine" or "this will happen eventually" See? I am not even demanding, i am forcing and 100% sure this will work. If this suits your personality, give it a try. It was 50/50 for me. I liked using it but i also felt uncomfortable for being little aggressive. And "i want xyz" is even harder for me because i still have hard times to demand.

Then i tried present tense style "i am, i have" but it was too bland for me. So i asked myself what do i value? What is highest ranking? Knowing it.

I question a lot, suspect a lot, i don't even trust my own knowledge sometimes. But if i can tell "i know xyz" this is in the highest rank for me. Then i started to use my codes in this style.

For example if you value how you would feel when your desire is accomplished, try using "i love feeling xyz".

I see people using "i decide xyz", use this style if you value control.

Or questions like "why i am xyz" if you always want to know "whys" or "whats".

Try and find out for yourself, even you feel like universe is your sugar mommy/daddy and only thing you need to do is *ask* don't give a f about what community says.

Notes

So that's all for now, i know it's long for a first post. Don't mind my writing style, english is not my mother tongue and only thing that matters for me to describe things in my mind. If you have questions go on and ask. I'll also share a reprogramming mind subliminal if you are coming from my youtube channel. Btw i created a table in notion and divided codes in two sections and three categories. Master and replacement code sections both have three categories. Mind, body/environment, spirit. I added emotion and memory to new codes and ponder about my negative codes.

Hey, also this is fun and actually helps me but plsss don't stress like it's actually coding a program and you have to run it perfectly. Give yourself the ✨damn✨ time. I made an observation about how limiting beliefs affect our life and i think "oh negative thoughts have more power☝️🤓" statement is not true. We wouldn't be alive then because i have crazy scenarios and i do actually believe in them for a moment. I just realized negative assumptions have a pattern and we can use it in our advantage!! Yaay (i like how i started serious like putting index or stuff but why the hell tumblr on browser is so shitty??)

[loveislandthegame]

thoughts on todays volume ! well…i can’t say it was uneventful

i enjoyed the podium challenge! i wouldn’t say it was “fun to play” because the entire thing was on rails, but it gave us some reasonable drama. plus MC actually got some wins for once, rather than automatically losing for the sake of a diamond option

next up is some random date, it was mostly just eavesdropping on other couples, and then we have a dance off ??😭 anyways, i danced with lisbeth, it was very cute

then we have spin the bottle! jesse chose to kiss MC and obviously i went all in

for the diamond option, you actually can pick tristan (and interestingly enough, he has hearts. i'm starting to think he really is the enemies to lovers route 💀💀💀) i just couldn’t resist the mess

but then i was considering a replay, because choosing him means i probably won't be able to kiss lisbeth—

sike ! she points the bottle right at MC and we kiss her too. anyways, this was the most fun i’ve had in the villa by far (with that being said, after the results of this volume i might actually replay to choose lisbeth for the diamond scene 😭)

i was dreading whatever gesture hayden had planned for MC, but at the very last second lisbeth swoops in 🎉 unfortunately that means i have to read dialogue about "the LI i'm forced to be with being sad about being turned down" for the one millionth time. i wish female LIs (or slowburns in general) could be a choice early on instead of forcing us into these awkward situations (even if we can't be coupled up for storyline reasons, FB could have one of the girls talk to MC about romantic gestures, give us some "if someone here did a gesture for me, i'd love if it was..." type of dialogue, and then have every LI to choose from. it's not that hard luv)

anyways, lisbeth also has some dialogue about how i also chose her for the hot tub date and the hideaway, i thought that was a cool detail! (and it’s nice to not get treated like you’re automatically on a hoe route as a wlw player, that was one of my biggest complaints with the 2 previous seasons)

we go to the treehouse and catch franki kissing tristan, i would say “clap if you care” but it’s all gonna go downhill from here, so…👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

we go back to the rest of lisbeth’s gesture: looking at the constellations, and it was so adorable ! however, i should’ve known that the line about the pleiades was foreshadowing what happens next

side note before it all kicks off, the new outfits in this volume were giving me life ! putting "goth PLEASEEEEE" in every FB survey question about clothes finally paid off

next up, we got some season 5 energy with everyone dogpiling MC. common sense and critical thinking completely out the window. mind you, everybody that was in the dressing room saw franki steal MC’s perfume. mind you, my MC doesn’t even wear lipstick. mind you, our own LI defends us and somehow we still get dumped (UPDATE: i said tristan didn’t vote for MC but he actually did when i replayed. maybe it’s a glitch, maybe i’m illiterate, maybe it's maybelline) before we go, lisbeth tells MC that she'll wait for her. then we got some season 6 energy with “dumped MC actually being sent to casa” …or coming back to the main villa as a casa girl 🤷🏽

but more importantly, we got dumped for two whole weeks ??? that’s pretty much years in love island terms, im sure our LIs managed to stay loyal but i have no idea how they’d do that without getting dumped (i could see lisbeth and jesse staying together in a friend couple, but idk about hayden/ethan/milo) can't wait for all the "pay gems to learn about what happened" scenes 🙄

speaking of gem scenes, the way i thought the option to open the door was gonna be for one of our LIs 😭 i already said this in my last post, but i have unlimited gems and i still feel robbed. in the game i ended up forgiving franki, just because there wasn’t an option to throw hands (and i do agree with the option that ideally, tristan would’ve been dumped instead lol) but i definitely do not forgive her, choosing to walk after letting MC take the fall is some of the most pathetic bullshit i've ever seen (so what was the point of throwing MC under the bus, you bozo !!!)

overall... what on earth !? i'm gagged, mainly because i cannot believe my prediction of MC getting dumped was correct. granted, we’re gonna be returning, but this is so unserious 😭 i'm sure the game won’t let us be more than mildly upset with the islanders who got us dumped, but trust and believe my MC will be burning that villa down when she returns.

(in case you're wondering, i'm still gonna romance tristan...because i live for the drama and his route will probably be "uncharted territory." in other words, i don't think a single person is gonna be romancing him after this shit, & i'm curious to see what it's like. he's 100% not my endgame tho 💀 i prefer sweetie pie LIs . jesse and lisbeth all the way)

[shiyorin]

#Primarchs x reader but it is modern au

#Well, actually here are some drabbles I wrote for challenge modern au with my friends. I almost forgot I wrote it

#Romcom but actually one is a rom and one is a com.

#Menu: Sanguinius and Roboute Guilliman

Sanguinius

You sighed, gazing idly at the latest abstract sculptures on display. How you had been convinced to come to this event, you did not know. Curiosity, perhaps. Or a desire for something different, however fleeting.

You wandered from piece to piece, managing polite smiles and vague comments when addressed. The other patrons were a study in extravagance, jewel-toned gowns, colognes that announced wealth and status with every spray. You felt woefully out of place in your modest attire, there to observe from the sidelines.

Making to leave, you turned, and found yourself face to face with Sanguinius himself.

He smiled gently, warmly, in a manner that made your ensuing frown seem all the harsher. "I thought that might be you," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come."

What could you say? That you had no interest in his efforts, his wealth, his world of aesthetics and social climbing? Somehow you doubted even your harshest words could dampen that gentle smile.

Instead, you said. "The artwork is…interesting."

Sanguinius chuckled. "You despise it."

You clenched your jaw. Were you that transparent? But before you could retort, Sanguinius continued.

"That's alright. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, as they say." He held your gaze steadily, openly. "If you'll allow me, I think I see a kind of beauty in you that transcends all this."

You blinked, taken aback. This was not the response you had anticipated. Before you could gather your thoughts, Sanguinius bowed his head. "Forgive me. I overstep." And with that, he was gone, lost amidst the crowd.

You stood still for a long moment, pondering this strange encounter. A part of your wished to dismiss it, leave this foreign world behind once more. And yet, something intrigued you about him.

With a sigh, you left the gallery. But your thoughts lingered still on Sanguinius.

*****

Sanguinius sighed, staring out the window of his studio with unseeing eyes. His mind replayed the brief encounter with you at the gallery over and over, cataloging every awkward beat and missed opportunity.

"You despise it." He had said, and he had chuckled, played it cool. As if his heart wasn't pounding at finally being face to face with this enigmatic who held his thoughts captive.

He should have said something clever, charming. Asked your favorite flowers, favorite wine. Instead he offered vague platitudes and retreated like a coward, leaving you in there.

Sanguinius cringed. Had all those years playing the beloved artist prince addled his silver tongue beyond repair?

Pushing away from the window, he began to pace. He could have told you about the time he sprained his wrist painting your likeness from memory. Or how every sculpture he crafted seemed an effort to capture some fleeting trace of your grace. Or how -

"Ridiculous," he muttered to the empty room. You clearly wanted nothing to do with his affections. And well you should! What had he to offer beyond annoy you?

Still, the memory of your averted gaze and tightly crossed arms stung him.

"Next time," he vowed to the mirror, "Next time, I just need one more."

With a sigh, Sanguinius turned back to his workbench, and began to sketch. Ideas for new pieces taking shape, works that might one day, somehow, win the regard of your heart.

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman jogged up the stairs to your loft, dread pooling in his gut. The half-coherent slurring over the phone signaled trouble, as usual. 

Upon entering, he sighed at the all-too-familiar sight awaiting - you sprawled gracelessly across the couch, bottle of vodka dangling precariously from limp fingers as you brow furrowed intensely at your laptop on the floor.

"What did we talk about this?" Guilliman sighed, bending to retrieve the laptop. He knew before even booting it up what he'd find. 

"I'm verrrrry fine and for sure not drunk!" You protested, flailing an arm wildly. "Why would I need to be drunk, nothing was wrrrong at all. The vodkaaaaa? Naw, that's just...that's just morrrrrral suppppppppport!" 

Guilliman pinched the bridge of his nose, opening the laptop. Yep, there was your popular anonymous venting forum, your anonymous profile clearly hammered as usual. 

"You need to stop getting on the internet when you're drunk, or stop getting drunk when you're on the internet," he lectured wearily. "Jeez, this is...ugh."

You barked a harsh laugh. "You're one to taaaaaaaalk! At leassssst I don't write angry tweets to Landlord Association Presidents about proper...proper ventilation codes when I'm trasheeeeeeed!" 

Guilliman flushed, fishing out his phone. Sure enough, several draft angry tweets awaited deletion in the morning. He coughed. "Regardless, you're dealing with the consequences of your actions this time." 

You groaned as he scrolled. "I say one little thing about Angron's anger issues suddenly meaning he can't handle a puppy and everyone loses their minds!" 

Guilliman read the fiery thread questioning Angron's prospective puppy adoption. Yikes. At least you hadn't doxxed anyone in your drunken ranting this time. Small miracles. 

"Lucky for you, I cleaned it up," he reassured, sparing your the drama. "Now, let's get you hydrated before round two of the vomiting begins."

You scowled but obediently sipped the electrolyte drink he handed your. "You're no fun, Roboute. How am I supposed to vent my frustrations creatively without liquid inspiration?" 

"You could try a journal, or healthy coping skills." he suggested blandly, though they both knew that was pointless. This was who you was - passionate, impulsive, and mysteriously charming even wasted. 

"Ugh, soooo boring. Maybe I'll just start an anonymous YouTube venting channel. What could go wrong?" You mused, raking a hand through tangled hair. 

Guilliman groaned. "Please don't give the internet any more of your drunken thoughts. For now, focus on keeping what's left of your dinner down and get some rest. I'll be here making sure you don't do anything too regrettable offline too."

You flipped him a rude gesture but burrowed underneath the blankets obediently. He chuckled, settling in for the long night watch as usual. Another crisis averted, for now at least. You sniffled miserably from beneath the blanket mound as Guilliman scrolled through the aftermath of your drunken posting. 

"Oh god, you thought about it, didn't you?" he sighed knowingly. Last year's intoxicated vent had sparked such a vicious flame war that his still shuddered at the memory. 

That seemed to be the tipping point as you burst into tears. "I'm trying to change, this shit, people from the outside don't get how much bullshit we gotta put up with, and if lucky hate it, and, and-" 

"Okay, alright, you need to sleep this off," Guilliman soothed, setting the laptop aside. "Come on, up you get."

But you only cried louder, curling in on yourself tighter. Guilliman sighed, recognizing the onset of a full-blown anxiety attack. 

"Look, you know why you're not supposed to use Twitter, yeah?" He asked gently. You nodded miserably into the couch. 

"Because I get like this."

Resigned to damage control, Guilliman retrieved the laptop once more. Glancing at your drunken thread, he frowned. "Ugh..."

You peeked out with red-rimmed eyes. "Is it that bad?"

Guilliman hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. The thread had devolved into the usual vitriol and trash talk, with more than a few personal insults directed at you yourself sprinkled in.

"Well...maybe we should ask Alpharius and Omegon to solve it." he suggested, only half joking. The twin did have an uncanny knack for scrubbing digital messes unseen. 

You hiccuped a watery giggle at the idea of unleashing the secret agents on your trolls. Your panic seemed to ease slightly.

Guilliman couldn't help a small smile in return before launching into maximum distraction mode. "Alright, you've had your fun crying for tonight. Now it's time to plot our revenge against the haters!"

You sniffled but nodded, anticipation gleaming through your swollen eyes. "What did you have in mind...?"

"Well first, we gather blackmail on the worst offenders..." Guilliman began deviously, launching into an absurdly convoluted revenge scheme. 

[nglgfics]

Swerve

All parts are in the Masterlist

Epilogue

You woke up to the smell of coffee and toast.

Which was unexpected.

Mostly because you were fairly certain that Noel Gallagher was not the type to do domestic things like making breakfast.

The man barely believed in emotional vulnerability—surely, he didn’t believe in frying pans either.

And yet…

The unmistakable sound of swearing from your kitchen said otherwise.

You smirked, stretching languidly under the sheets, your body aching in the best possible way, your mind replaying every filthy, toe-curling moment of last night.

Noel.

In your bed.

Multiple times.

Still in your flat.

That last one gave you pause.

Because, really, you’d half expected him to be long gone by now, off doing whatever enigmatic, grumpy rockstars did after a night like that.

But instead?

He was out there.

Battling breakfast.

You bit back a laugh, pushing yourself upright and grabbing the first thing within reach—his t-shirt, rumpled on the floor.

Pulling it over your head, you padded toward the door, already too entertained.

There he was.

Standing at your counter, wearing nothing but his jeans, hair a wreck, brow furrowed in concentration—holding a spatula like it personally offended him.

You stopped in the doorway, arms folded. “This is surreal.”

Noel’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of you. “Morning to you, too.”

Your gaze flickered to the absolute disaster on the stove. “Did you—did you actually attempt to make breakfast?”

Noel scoffed, going for casual but failing miserably.

“Nah.” He waved the spatula accusingly at the frying pan. “Your toaster’s just a piece of shit.”

You raised a brow, eyeing the charred, tragic remains of what was once bread. “Right. Yeah. Definitely the toaster’s fault.”

“Don’t give me that look.” He pointed the spatula at you. “This was going fine ‘til your shitty kitchen got involved.”

You snorted, pushing off the doorframe, crossing the room. “Right, because clearly you’re a Michelin-starred chef when you’re in your own kitchen.”

Noel smirked, resting his hip against the counter. “Dunno, love. Think you were pretty happy with my hands last night.”

Your cheeks went hot, but you covered it effortlessly, rolling your eyes as you reached for the coffee.

“See, that would’ve been a decent line if you hadn’t also incinerated my breakfast.”

Noel let out a gravelly chuckle, shaking his head. “Fucking hell. Hard crowd.”

You grinned, taking a sip of coffee. “So. What’s the plan then? You slinking off into the morning like some rockstar cliché?”

Noel’s expression shifted—just slightly.

Something a little less smug, a little softer.

He reached for his own mug, taking a slow sip before eyeing you over the rim.

“Dunno,” he said. “Depends.”

You arched a brow. “On?”

His lips twitched. “Whether you’re gonna kick me out.”

Your stomach did a stupid little flip.

You tilted your head, watching him. “That up to me, is it?”

Noel shrugged, setting his mug down. “Seems like it.”

You held his gaze for a second. Then, deliberately, you grabbed one of the more salvageable pieces of toast, taking a bite.

Then you nodded toward the pan.

“Right. Well, you’re already here. Might as well make yourself useful.”

Noel huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he picked up the spatula again, muttering under his breath. “Christ, you’re a nightmare.”

You grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

Noel smirked, flipping the eggs with more confidence than was necessary.

“Yeah,” he muttered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Here I am.”

And with that, it wasn’t just a one-night thing anymore.

[wings-of-ink]

Hello! Hope your day is at least half as lovely as you are!

I have been meaning to ask this ever since the last chapter came out but, uh, didn't...?

So, I believe I have seen you, in an ask, mention that in the bathing scene Oswin should be able to react to seeing the scar he had given you in a sword duel sparring match thingy (the one you select in the scar section if your trade is swordsmanship). I, despite my countless, brave, and determined attempts, have not been able to achieve [seeing] this. Is this an issue on my part? Should I keep flustering my dear boy by replaying the scene over and over until I finally get it??

Thank you in advance! Love all your stuff, the RO asks have me far more weak than I'd like - or like to admit. As such, thank you for being such an amazing writer as well.

Hello my friend! My day has been sleepy but good!

You are correct, I remember popping that into an Ask somewhere. And it's funny you ask now, because it has been on my mind recently, lol. You must be channeling to me. That scar specifically I debated about when I was actually writing the scene. The reason being, is that MC keeps their back to whomever is with them and I kept getting conflicted as to if the discussion might come up since it's the visual that prompts the convo. So I left it out...and then here recently I was rethinking that decision, and then I had a different idea anyway.

The scar that did make it into that scene is the one where the MC duels the other kid and they take a cheap swing at them, scaring their back pretty badly. There's also a couple tattoos that get mentioned. There was another scar as well that didn't get any attention, that is around the back of the MC's neck - I haven't decided if I will add that or not.

For the Oswin scar, I think now I'd rather do another segment where that one can come up. One that they can have a more meaningful discussion about it. Maybe Oswin can touch it and things like that if I do it this way instead. So it can be a moment for touch if the MC wants or just to talk about it, since Oswin's feelings are going to be kinda heavy. It can be a whole thing instead of a few passing remarks.

Sorry you didn't get what you were looking for in that scene, though I am pleased that the ROs have you weak in the knees. ^_^

You are too kind, my friend. I am so happy that you have found such enjoyment in this story. It really fuels me to keep at it and make something you can all adore.