#ic: feeling so incomplete | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bloodreinasbathwater · 20 days ago

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Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

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GIF by wyattjohnston

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HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

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animeyanderelover · 5 months ago

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Anon: Soulmate AU headcanons for Akashi, Murasakibara, Aomine, Satoru Gojo, Illumi, Draco Malfoy and Inumaki Toge. I don’t have anything specific in mind besides probably a couple of details: can I ask it to be 1)meeting his soulmate for the first time for Gojo(maybe there was a prophecy when he was born) and Illumi, and 2)finding out that their s/o is the soulmate for KnB boys after they started courting them? Will they use this fact as an excuse for their actions or they can finally become less anxious and paranoid, because they “own” their darlings by fate?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive relationship, toxic relationship, obsession, delusional behavior, stalking, clinginess, manipulation, blackmailing, guilt-tripping, isolation, abduction, paranoia, threats, violence

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @lovley-valentine7

Soulmate AU

Illumi Zoldyck

🤎A newborn baby crying, the pause of the nurse holding him as she held him before her eyes glazed over, her Nen suddenly spiking up before she spoke with a voice that didn't belong to her, declaring the boy to be incomplete for his other half, his soulmate, is not with him. A prophecy that has been following Illumi's life since he could comprehend words. It is the first story that was ever told to him, his first memory he could ever recall in full detail. The notion of a soulmate has always confused him and since he is one of the few individuals born with it, no one from his family could help him as neither one of them was born with one. He has never understood it. Is he incomplete? Is his current condition the feeling of imperfection? How will he even find his soulmate? How will he know that they are the one? What will it feel like? So many questions yet so little answers, the phenomenon of soulmates bound together by fate a rare instance that no one could give him throughout his youth any useful information.

🤎Time flies, Illumi becomes an adult and infamous assassin yet he still remains without his destined soulmate. Though his expressionless face may not give it away, this bothers him deep down. Whilst he still doesn't know what it will feel like when he finally meets them, he only knows that there is someone out there who belongs to him and who isn't by his side. His soulmate isn't with him even if destiny has molded him and them to be made for each other. When he has free time he likes to spend it searching for hints to find a person who was also claimed to be born with a soulmate as soon as they left their mother's womb. His real attachment is limited though as it is simply the possessive courtesy of it all that pushes him to go on. Still unaware with the feelings he is about to experience, Illumi considers to take his soulmate simply as if they were an object specifically designed for him. There will be nothing wrong with it either as his soulmate is his and for that he can do what he wants to do with them.

🤎People screaming, guns being fired, needles embedding themselves into the skull of the shooters, bodies dropping, fighting and killing. All of it is background noise to Illumi on another mission. No survivors are to be left. Black eyes dart around the room, counting all of the people attempting to flee before they are also stopped by his needles. Then his eyes land on you, the long and cold needle already in the palm of his hand. All he has to do is throw it and watch your lifeless body dropping to the ground. He has done it already hundreds of times before. His body doesn't move though. It is like every muscle in his body has turned to ice, the world suddenly narrowing down until only you and him seem to exist, even if only for a few moments. You remain leaning against the wall as he strides closer to you, walking through the bodies littering the ground all whilst black and captivating eyes do not pull away from you. The silence is thick as soon as he stops, his body only inches away from you all whilst his eyes seemingly try to glimpse into your very soul.

🤎Cold hands suddenly grab your face, guiding your head so that your gaze is focused on him. His hands are cold and rough as if not knowing how to touch someone gently yet even if you feel the cold dread sending shivers down your spine, you find yourself unable to break eye contact with him. The man in front of you is still not saying anything, the silence thick and awkward yet you are too overwhelmed to speak up yourself. Until he finally seems to take pity on you and states bluntly that you must be his soulmate, a discovery he seems to tell himself more than you. Upon hearing those words you feel dull shock zapping through your veins. Really? This is your soulmate? You don't know how to react to the news but you don't need to think for too long either. Illumi simply knocks you out, your world submerging into darkness as he catches you whilst your legs lose their strength. He instantly returns to the Zoldyck mansion and gathers all possible information about you that he can get his hands on. As soon as you wake up, he'll already be waiting for you to explain your new situation to you. You'll stay with him. You belong to him after all and now that he has found you, he won't let you get away.

Aomine Daiki

💙Aomine gets to know you through Momoi as the pink-haired girl has befriended you outside of school and insists on you getting to know her childhood friend. You've heard of Aomine before as he is rather famous due to his aptitude in basketball. You won't lie, he has always appeared as a rather intimidating individual on TV but Momoi assures you that he has a good heart under that rough shell. She has to drag his lazy ass to the meeting as he is initially quite unmotivated to come and simply tags along because he knows that Momoi wouldn't give him any peace otherwise. That bored attitude of his disappears the moment he catches a glimpse of you though. Almost immediately he seems to be starstruck and he is so thoroughly unprepared for it that he nearly trips when you turn around and look at him. It's only thanks to his reflexes that he saves himself a big embarrassment on that day. Overwhelmed with the way his heart suddenly goes crazy inside of his chest though, the normally intimidating man turns rather flustered on that day but still manages to pay attention to your every word.

💙The tables turn from that day on as he is suddenly the one bothering Momoi. He wants your number, your address and if he can't reach you Daiki turns to his friend and asks her if she can try so that he can meet you again. The fact that you attend a different high school than he does is messing with his mind daily. He's simmering with frustrated irritation that has caused his temper to worsen dangerously and on some day he skipped school completely only to turn up in your school. You're always slightly scared but you can't deny that a part of you has longed secretly for him as well. You only wish that he would be less aggressive whenever he sees you interacting with other classmates or being more touchy and friendly with your friends. It's not a secret that he wants you for himself, he has bluntly told you that much one time, promising you that he'd make you his. His words left you stunned yet you couldn't help the feeling of your heart pounding against your chest after his vow, a strange excitement rushing through your veins.

💙You do not rush things though as you make it wordlessly clear to Aomine that you aren't that easy. You still have your own pride after all. As frustrating as that is for him at times, he'd be damned to back away from your silent challenge. Fine by him. He'll show you that he's going to fight for you. It is no surprise for Momoi when Daiki approaches her and asks her for advice on how to court you properly. She has been watching the development of you two for a while now after all and she is all too eager to help him. For a while things work out just fine as Aomine courts you like you wanted him to court you and in return you stay away from any other romantic involvement. It's during a date that things take a more dramatic turn. You felt particularly bold on that day and initiated the first kiss. The moment your lips touch his though, your mind is suddenly spammed with memories and emotions that do not belong to you. It's too much at once and frightens you. You pull away and stumble back in shock, your vision blurred as you try to comprehend what just happened.

💙You don't get far away though as Aomine suddenly grabs you by your arms and yanks you back to him, instantly pulling you back into a rough and hungry kiss. This time there are no memories at least but your mind is still trying to recover from what you just saw all whilst your oxygen is cut off by Daiki who seemingly tries to devour you through the kiss. Only when you hit his biceps urgently does he finally pull away, giving you some time to gasp for air before he presses you against his body and keeps you there, wrapped in his arms whilst murmuring in a rumbling voice that you really are his. You are his soulmate. After that realisation settles in, Daiki sees no reason to not make your relationship official. Both of you were born for each other after all. His irritation if someone should every try to make a move on you will only increase as you belong to him in ways their shitty minds could never comprehend and he's more prone to use violence which is why you always have to stop him before he breaks someone's jaw.

Murasakibara Atsushi

🍭Born a normal and healthy baby, things took a unique turn when Atsushi was only a few months old. A peculiar birthmark appeared right above his pelvis in the shape of a bonbon. Its shape has always been unique and nowadays Murasakibara wonders if perhaps it is this strange mark that has made him crave sweets so much the older he grew. He may have displayed some mild interest in this birthmark of his when he was younger but as he grew older, he kind of starts to forget about its existence. After all it is just there on his body without posing any risk to his health like his parents initially fretted it to be when it just randomly appeared overnight. He doesn't really care when other people notice it either when he changes and address it to him as he treats it nonchalantly. It is strangely enough in college that for the first time he feels something going on with the birthmark. The spot starts getting hot, especially when he passes a convenience store. It isn't painful though, just noticable for him so Atsushi brushes it off. The only reason he visits the convenience store is to buy sweets and ice cream. Well, and to see you since you work part-time in there.

🍭You're pretty cute, he'll admit that much. Normally Atsushi takes longer to warm up to people around him but one flustered grin from you the first time he visited the store was all it took for his heart to beat out of his chest. The both of you seem to instantly connect with each other and the relief he feels when you tell him that you actually attend the same college as him is unspeakable, though you two have different subjects. From that day on you have this giant of a man following you around everywhere on campus but you truly don't mind as you have also struggled a bit to make new connections in the college. You always bring him snacks and sweets you could get for a discount in the store you work in since you know how much he adores such things and he always wants you to feed him the food, pretending to be too lazy to open the packages and eat them himself when in reality he just wants you to give him the attention and affection. His birthmark is noticably warm whenever he is around you, his hand sometimes subconsciously placing itself over the spot.

🍭It is during a hot summerday that he sees it. A strong breeze sweeps through the hot streets and you stretch out your arms, relishing in the cooling wind as the weat is gathering on your temples. Your shirt is lifted up enough to show off a sliver of your skin and Atsushi's eyes are instantly drawn to it, lazily observing it before his gaze is glued to a spot right above your pelvis. You let out a startled shriek when large hands suddenly grab your waist and hold you still and you start struggling when one of his hands lifts up your shirt before tugging your pants down a bit. As soon as his fingers brush over the bonbon-shaped mark, he feels a zap of heat going straight to his own mark all whilst feeling the own drum of heat gathering on the spot on your skin. You let out a gasp when you feel it before you somehow manage to push yourself away, stumbling back before catching your balance. One of your hands clasps your birthmark before glancing at him with confused fright. As a response Atsushi wordlessly lifts his own shirt, showing off the identical mark that he has on his skin.

🍭In hindsight it now makes all sense. The birthmark was a soulmate mark all along and appeared on the day you were born. Perhaps it's because the notion of soulmates used to be always somewhat ridiculous to him that Murasakibara never considered the mark on his body to be an indication that he had one himself. Even the instant attraction he felt upon seeing you for the first time now makes sense and through heated cheeks you admit that you felt a similar pull to him when you spotted him for the first time. The only difference seems to be that you ask for more time to come to term with the changed situation whilst Atsushi is instantly willing to skip a few steps and start a relationship. Your hesitation confuses him. You admitted to feeling the same as he does and in all of the fairy tales regarding soulmates both people almost always end up falling in love with each other and getting together instantly. Why do you want to do it differently? Both of you are going to be together anyways so you two might as well start now.

Akashi Seijuro

🏆Shy glances thrown in his direction, hesitating eyes always glued to his back as soon as he lets you believe that he is not looking your way all whilst being very aware of the way your eyes keep on being drawn to him. From the very first day you found out who he is, Seijuro has taken notice of your frightened curiosity in regards to him. You've never talked to him nor approached him yet he knows that you keep on looking at him only to quickly glance away as soon as his gaze meets yours. You are not the first person who has admired him like this, from a safe distance but it is the first time Akashi has found himself equally as invested. There is just something about you that demands his attention even with the writting of the first sentence his soulmate will say to him tattoed on his abdomen ever since he emerged from the womb of his mother. It's utter nonsense what is written on there, a sentence which makes absolutely no sense as if the person chose random nouns and verbs and tried to construct a sentence out of it. He has often wondered in what state of mind his soulmate must be in when conjuring up these words to him.

🏆Recognising that you seem to be satisfied watching him idly from the distance, Akashi decides to make the first move and approach you. He waits though until he knows that you are alone before he suddenly emerges, introducing himself once more to you now that all of your attention is on him. The moment those words leave his lips and he stands in front of you, you freeze like a deer caught in the headlight. Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock and surprise. His eyebrows furrow a tad bit when he sees your peculiar reaction but just as he is about to ask you what is wrong you bow wordlessly before fleeing the scene, leaving him standing there stunned. Soon Akashi learns that this seems to be a common thing you love to do as soon as you spot him. The moment you spot him you turn the opposite direction as if both of you are like poles of a magnet who repel each other. Another thing he notices is that you never talk to him directly. You either shake or nod your head or talk to one of your friends whilst answering his question without speaking to him. It's an insult and low-key disrespectful, only adding to his growing frustration.

🏆He feels his darker self slowly emerging as you keep on avoiding him, scheming and wondering if he should perhaps resort to other methods which would get him to his goal even if it means blackmailing you. One last chance. He decides to give you one last chance by using the school principal and convince him to tell you to visit the office later. The moment you are inside and are slightly confused when finding no one inside, he also steps into the room and locks the door up. His gaze is sharp, a contrast to his deceivingly soothing words as he assures you that he just wants to talk with you. Your eyes dart nervously around as you look in that moment more like a cornered animal than anything. You grit your teeth as he demands in a soft tone that you talk to him as Seijuro can almost see the way the gears turn in your head before you ball your hands into fist and open your mouth, spitting out whatever random words your mind produces in that moment. Deadly silence befalls the room and when you dare to hesitantly open your eyes and glance at his face, you nearly scramble away as you see his pupils quivering whilst he stares at you with gleaming eyes.

🏆He doesn't say anything, instead his fingers unbutton his uniform. You ask him frightened what he is doing before he reveals his abdomen to you, your eyes landing on the writing etched onto his skin. You are in utter disbelief that the jumble of words you just spat out is actually engraved on his skin. His voice slices through the room as he demands you to show him your own writing, leaving no room for objection. You hesitantly tug down your own uniform to show him the tattoo on your collarbone and he clenches his jaw the moment he sees his own name engraved on it, recalling instantly that this was the first thing he ever said to you. You knew. Even before both of you had spoken a word to each other you had already known about him being your soulmate. Why did you never tell him? He doesn't allow you to leave the room until you have told him everything, anger and disappointment tightly woven into each other. You find yourself unable to lie anymore and just admit to him that his status as well as the rumors you heard of him intimidated you. He can only let out a dry chuckle as he grasps your hands and presses a kiss against your knuckles. Now, who filled your head with such nonsense?

Inumaki Toge

🗣️There has always been a voice inside his head, an internal voice that organised his thoughts and held his inner monologues. He's been told that a lot of people have such an internal voice yet he has always wondered if his internal voice is supposed to be one that doesn't belong to him. He has never heard the voice inside of his head before yet it is still there and always holds his inner monologues and thoughts for him. Toge knows this voice in his head better than he knows what his own voice sounds like as he rarely speaks and if he does, he does so in only short words by using ingredients to not endanger anyone with his abilities. At one point he decides that perhaps the voice really is just a product of his own mind or he did actually meet someone with that voice before but simply forgot whilst his mind somehow still remembers. As he grows older, the voice inside his head also matures and he wonders if that is simply because his mind is trying to tell him that he has also matured.

🗣️Then one day he hears the voice in his head. Only that this time it isn't confined to only his own mind. No, his ears pick up the soud of a voice that he is more familiar with than with the sound of his own mind. A sudden urge to turn around overcomes him and as if he were possessed he acts on this urge as he suddenly walks through the streets, desperately trying to find the source of the voice. Then he spots the source of the voice and his body instantly stops. Only a few feet away from him are you, on your phone as you busily discuss something with someone without even noticing his presence. A weird warmth washes over him as he hears you talking energetically whilst you walk through the street and without noticing it, Inumaki starts following you. He loses any feeling of time as he slowly walks behind you, his eyes never leaving your back. Apparently you notice him at one point though as you suddenly turn around, your eyes narrowing as you spot him. That's when he suddenly seems to regain his senses and leave his trance as he bows sheepishly before turning around and leaving.

🗣️The voice is gone from that day on. There is no familiar sound inside of his head anymore and the emptiness almost overhwelms him. He blasts music into his ears all in an attempt to blend out the silence that rings louder than anything else he has ever perceived and he finds himself missing the sound of a voice, a voice that has belonged all of his life to you. Toge knows that he has to see you again, knows that he somehow needs to find a way to discuss with you what is going on. If he has been hearing your voice inside of his head for his entire life, do you perhaps still experience hearing his voice inside of your head? He stopped hearing his internal voice when he heard the real source of it but you haven't heard his voice. Does that mean that you still can hear him inside of your mind? He spends days wandering through Tokyo in desperate attempts to find you yet finding the infamous needle in the haystack would have been an easier task than finding you between millions of people. A lump of anxiety and stress rests in his gut as he feels himself growing quite anxious. Until he finds you one day in the same spot where he found you first. It's almost as if you have been waiting for him...

🗣️He leads you to a more isolated place where the both of you can enjoy more privacy before he tentatively speaks in the only language he can use to not activate his abilities. Your face morphs into confused shock when you hear him suddenly saying the name of an ingredient but above all it is the sheer familiarity in his voice that completely catches you by surprise. Once again your eyes narrow as you observe him and the hint of apprehension and distrust in your gaze almost breaks his heart. He does not want you to look at him like this. You ask him who he is and Inumaki knows that he has a lot of explaining to do, especially since you are a non-sorcerer. He tries to be gentle and careful as he slowly introduces you to a world you did not know of prior to meeting him as well as the concept of soulmates that is more commonly known amongst people who are able to control and use cursed energy than normal humans like you. He finds himself longing for the sound of your voice since he's been listening to it since his youngest days and tries to communicate more with you as well since you probably feel the same.

Gojo Satoru

🩵Gojo Satoru has always been the special one. From the moment he was first born into the world, he was gifted with power that would be feared by everybody. Perhaps it is because fate already knew of the lonely future he would be burdened with as the strongest sorcerer of his time that he was given a soulmate. A prophecy that befell the eldest of the Gojo clan who proclaimed that his soulmate would be the only one who Gojo would be able to truly see and that his soulmate would likewise be the only one who would be able to truly perceive him. The prophecy was strictly kept as a secret though, even from Satoru as no one knew what would happen if information would leak outside. From his youngest days on countless people tried to murder him, to restore the balance of the sorcerer world that had been thrown out of bounds the moment he had been born. Only when Satoru was deemed to be old enough did the clan decide to tell him the truth of the prophecy that had appeared when he was born and he was warned to strictly keep it a secret as he was reminded that other people were just waiting for a weakness they could use against him.

🩵Satoru, who had already been disillusioned from any innocence from a very young age on, complied surprisingly enough with the wishes of his clan. He knew best after all how many people wanted him dead and to what lengths they were willing to go to murder him. They wouldn't bat their eyelashes to spare an innocent person or even non-sorcerers. He sometimes wonders what it would be like to meet his soulmate and what the prophecy meant by proclaiming that his soulmate would be the only person he would be able to truly see. Another part of him hoped that he would never find you as he grew older and experienced the true loneliness that came with being Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer and tool of his world. Perhaps he'd never meet you in the first place and as much loneliness that thought brought him sometimes, even more than he already felt deep down, he tried to come to terms with that thought. It would be best for his life as well as your life if the both of you would never meet.

🩵A gasp of air is heard behind him as someone collides with his body, bags carrying groceries drop to the ground as he feels smaller arms wrapping themselves around his waist so that that the person doesn't lose their balance. Such a simple touch yet his whole body reacts. A warmth he has never felt before prickles his skin as he can perceive his own heartbeat speeding up as waves of feelings pulse through his body. He turns around, removing the sunglasses he is wearing as his eyes land on you who is still clinging to his torso before your gaze also moves up and you instantly let go. You apologise, embarrassed and sheepish as you bow over and over again all whilst Satoru looks at you in disbelief. He sees you. Not his Six Eyes. His actual human eyes see you. And you touched him. You broke through his Infinity as if it was nothing and touched him, stumbled against him and now panic whilst apologising over and over again, unaware of who he is. It's like he experiences a tunnel vision as he blurs everything out, only perceiving you with basic human senses as he experiences something that is incredibly hard to explain with words.

🩵It's only when he feels your hand grasping his shoulder and shaking him carefully that he is suddenly brought back to the real world. You look worried at him and when you ask him why he is crying, Satoru suddenly realises the wetness dripping down his cheeks. He's crying. Whatever it was he just experienced, it was enough to bring him to tears. You offer him a tissue to wipe his tears away before you gather your bags that fell on the ground again, not minding your surroundings. But Satoru does. Suddenly the noises and the liveliness of the city is anxiety-inducing. Blue eyes dart back and forth, trying to perceive anyone or anything that could pose a threat to you whilst you innocently collect your bags, oblivious to the inner turmoil he experiences. It is only when you stand up again and awkwardly bid him your goodbye that his hand reaches out and wraps carefully around your wrist, forcing you to stop and turn around to look at him again. You want to say something but one glance into those bright blue orbs punches all air out of your lungs, too many emotions staring back at you all at once.

Draco Malfoy

You've always despised Malfoy from the very first year of Hogwarts. Slytherin students have already a reputation for being arrogant and evil but he has always been an especially big pain in the arse. His family is pure-blooded and rich and he embodies everything you loathe about the ideologies of some wizards and witches in this world. You're in a different house than him and you are immensely proud of that yet share a lot of classes with Draco and are constantly submitted to his condescending remarks and his pathetic tries to get your attention. No matter what you do, he always seems to just wait for the next chance to embarrass and provoke you, especially once you befriend Harry and his circle of friends. He scoffs at you, jokes within earshot of you how fitting it is for you as a loser to join the group of weaklings. Ron and Hermione had to stop Harry and you more than once from throwing spells with him and his friends, Hermione always reminding you that this is exactly what Malyfoy wants.

You think he just hates you but that could not be further away from the truth. In fact Malfoy actually is utterly infatuated with you but is clueless and overwhelmed with those feelings. He wants you to love him yet you can't stand him and instead have chosen Potter and the mudbloods over him. Why? What do these people have that he doesn't? Insulted and hurt with his feelings he started to spite you to release some of the bitterness he feels due to your decision but mainly because deep down he is just desperate for your attention. Worst of all is that throughout the years you learn to control yourself better. Instead of hating on him you now just glance at him as if he was a slimy worm under the heel of your shoes and it drives him mad when you observe him with such a cold gaze. How dare you... How dare you to look at him as if he were no better than an insect?! Do you even know what his family is capable of?! The more indifferent you treat him, the more extreme his attempts to get your attention get. Look at him! Just look at him for once with all of your undivided attention!!

Then he goes too far when he targets your friends. The very same day he receives a note from you where you challenge him to a duel, furious and fed up with his attitude. Your anger is only fueled when he brings Crabbe and Goyle with him. You lash out, call him a wimp and a coward before he hisses at you to shut up. Please...he just wants to talk with you. He knows that this is a rare chance, to have you all alone like this so he uses it to do the unlikely. He confesses to you. He admits to you how he has been feeling for all those years, insults you by openly telling you how he feels about the friends you chose over him. You're dumbfounded by the end of his rant, your mind utterly stunned for a moment before your face twists into a disgusted sneer that Draco feels to the marrow of his bones. You opt to just leave instead without even saying anything, only angering the desperate boy even more as he grabs you, his skin touching yours. A sharp and burning pain suddenly cuts through your wrist and Malfoy feels the same as he stumbles back and lets out a string of curses, clutching his wrist before his eyes widen as he looks at your name being etched onto it whilst you stare at his name being etched onto yours.

You threaten him on that night with your wand pressed against his temple to not tell a single soul about this. The very next day as you walk into the hall for breakfast you are instantly flooded by other students from all houses, one of them tugging the sleeves away from your wrist to reveal his name written on it. Some are shocked, others jealous and you receive a punishment later that day for chasing after Draco and firing spells at him. You're enraged beyond words. Of course he'd run his pathetic mouth to state to everyone that you are his simply to feel like he has any sort of control over you. You avoid him like the pest from that day on and as a result he only gets more unbearable. Some of your friends approach him and tell him that just because you two are soulmates you do not belong to him and he flips out and hisses at them that they don't know anything. You are his. If at all, they should stop acting like you belong to them. Eventually you find yourself with a letter in your hand, the name Lucius Malfoy telling you all you need to know even before opening it and reading the content where you are 'friendly' invited to visit them during the holidays.

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starleska · 2 years ago

Text

The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?

content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!!

The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.

It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!

The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, you’d baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, “It’s good, I suppose,” when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.

'I needed this,’ you think as you look around at your new friends. You’ve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time you’ve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Right now, they’re dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdy’s busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.

It’s a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.

A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, it’s an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. He’s holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. It’s an odd expression - you aren’t used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.

“Hello,” says Wally, in his simple way. “I’m happy to see you.”

Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, it’s like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.

As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. He’s a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wally’s neckerchief is coming loose, and though he’s long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.

“Same to you!” you say. “Aren’t you hungry? All the food’s down with the others.”

That unusually pensive look on Wally’s face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. “You’ve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?”

Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. “That’s very nice of you…but this doesn’t work for me. You should keep it.”

When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.

You don’t know when this… thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights you’ve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. There’s a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.

But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.

“If you’re sure.” You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. “The offer’s still there.”

“It’s tempting,” says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. “I’d like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isn’t worth the risk. I trust him to know.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but the look on Wally’s face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you don’t feel it’s polite to pry. Wally’s always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wally’s inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.

Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.

It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesn’t know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, “Do you want me to look away?”

Wally’s fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. You’ve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.

“Actually,” says Wally, now looking at you properly, “I’d like to try something.”

He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and you’re suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.

It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.

Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.

You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wally’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. You’ve only known Wally a week, and yet you’re utterly charmed by everything he does.

A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: it’s Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.

“You like hiiiiim, ” she teased, her voice all sing-song.

“What?!”

You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. “No! I don’t know where you got an idea like that-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t need to pretend.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrong…even a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.

“I know a lot about flowers,” she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “What kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.

“When you arrived, you looked…wilted. Like you’d been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didn’t want to ask why. I think everyone else could, too…and we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.”

“You’ve all been so lovely to me,” you said, by way of thanks.

Julie nodded. “Sure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.”

You swallowed. “You see a lot, for a gardener.”

Julie smiled. “When you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, you’ll have a flower who has everything in the world…but they’re still curling up, and shying away from the light.”

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

“Wally brings the colour back to your petals,” said Julie. “Do yourself a favour. Don’t hide from your sun.”

Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

For anyone else, you would’ve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.

Slowly, you feel Wally’s hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.

“I have a question,” says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

“Uh…” What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, you’re thrown entirely for a loop. “...So I don’t die, I guess?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. “You’re so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?”

This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wally’s voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when he’s setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times you’d seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.

With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.”

A soft chuckle from Wally. “That’s right. You haven’t.”

Wally’s grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. It’s as if you’ve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you can’t feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.

“But…maybe you should.”

With Wally’s words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you can’t: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. You’re stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

And you can’t make sense of what you see.

The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhood’s comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.

Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but it’s like he’s sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. It’s like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.

Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wally’s hands. “What’s happening?!”

“Don’t worry,” says Wally. “You’re safe.”

“There’s nothing here,” you whisper. “Where is everyone?”

“Back Home,” says Wally. “They can’t see us right now. They’re not ready.” His smile turns coy. “But I think you are. Watch this.”

Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wally’s hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wally’s face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.

Without warning, Wally’s eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wally’s stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.

Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and you’re scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror you’ve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.

“What happened?!”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. “This is just how I eat.”

“How - did you - do - that?” you gasp.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always eaten this way.” Wally inclines his head in sympathy. “I am sorry if I’ve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I don’t interrupt them. I don’t want to be rude."

You suck in a huge gulp of breath. “Wally, this is…impossible,” you manage. “I want to leave - I want to go Home-”

“You can’t.”

Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wally’s hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.

“You understand me so well,” says Wally. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.” Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wally’s, but you can’t - and you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Wally’s thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. “I love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But you…”

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

You’re split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wally’s touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.

“I do,” you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wally’s impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.

Now, Wally’s eyes are not a source of terror. They’re a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.

“I think you’re special, you know,” says Wally. “The way I feel when I’m around you is…different, than with the others. You’re the absolute most.”

Wally’s words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. You’re no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.

This is why Wally’s next question confuses you so:

“Do you think if our friends saw me like this…they’d run away?”

Wally’s words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though you’re sure that you’re fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wally’s eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wally’s scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and you’re slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.

“Oh, Wally,” you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, ‘Waaalllllyyyy.’ “We love you so much. You can’t make us run away.”

Wally smiles, and you think it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“How I wish that were true.”

Suddenly, Wally’s eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse you’ll feel.”

You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wally’s touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.

“We don’t have much time,” says Wally. “But…thank you for this. You can’t know how much I appreciate you.”

The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wally’s - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, ‘Wally, I love you- ’

But then he looks away.

The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.

“Hey, you two!”

Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadow’s slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.

“Eddie wanted me to tell you we’re packing up,” Julie chirps. “Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.” She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wally’s, and grins. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just some good old-fashioned fun,” says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.

The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.

Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if you’d just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They would’ve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.

“Just hungry,” Wally says with a smile. “Let’s get you Home."

Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if you’re okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that you’ve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.

Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and you’re thankful it’s only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.

“You need to tell us if you get this again, okay?” says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined you’ll be more than fine in Wally’s care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Wally. “Julie is a good friend. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. “I feel the same way about you,” he says.

The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.

“Wally…I don’t really understand what happened today,” you say. “But…I know it doesn’t change how much I like you."

The beam that dawns on Wally’s face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You can’t help but return the grin. “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.

Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.

When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.

“Always know,” he says softly, “that I love you very much.”

Then, he’s leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wally’s back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.

You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your home…with the warm memory of Wally’s kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.

#wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #poppy partridge #barnaby b. beagle #sally starlet #howdy pillar #starleskawrites #welcome home fic

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tonightweroam · 1 year ago

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"To all Vanessas, Vannies, Vannys, or whatever the hell you go by in the world-"

Glitchtrap raised both middle fingers.

"Fuck you, and not in the fun way. Sincerely, me."

#ic: feeling so incomplete #he's not happy about the PQIV ending #help wanted 2 spoilers

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stall1iion · 5 months ago

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champions love - five

Liked by f1wags, y/nupdates, maxverstappen1, y/nofficial, redbullracing and many others

f1 and there is our ice queen, arriving in fashion to her first race of the season in Spielberg! 🇦🇹 A new fashion queen on the grid perhaps? 👀

#F1 #Formula1 #AustrianGP

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username1 oh she looks beautiful

⤷username4 right? Like can Max fight??

username69 so we're gonna ignore that f1 admin is a figure skating fan??

⤷f1 of course I am 😼

username15 f1 fashion game is SO BACK

⤷username27 lewis and her are about to show up slaying 🫡👏🏾

⤷username9 no literally, Fashion Queen and King of the Grid

username90 I met her! She’s genuinely so nice!

username62 lewis has some competition fr

username12 she flew to austria for a MAN?? 🤨

⤷username44 to be fairrrrrr that man is MAX VERSTAPPEN and her boyfriend so….

username8 of course she’d be more focused on an outfit then supporting max

⤷username7 relax?? She’s literally wearing a flowy shirt and some jeans, just because she got dressed doesn’t mean she’s not there to support

username37 ice queen? Ice flop maybe

⤷username35 oh yes, a two time olympic champion, truly embarrassing of her 🙄

username3 great another american ruining the sport

⤷username77 surprised she isn’t fat like all the others or is her shirt hiding that?

⤷username98 I was trying to ignore your blatant xenophobia and sexism but like I genuinely can’t, one: her and logan aren’t ruining the sport at all and two not all americans are fat, you see fast food and automatically assume and it’s crazy when one good click on the comment above and you’d see she’s an olympic figure skater and better than you’d ever hope to be

⤷username35 let them hate, they find every little thing to hate on because they can’t be them. See how many hoops they have to jump through to say anything offensive

liked by bsf1, bsf2, maxverstappen1 and many others

y/n.jpg time to see my first ever vroom vroom race in person but at least I have my newest pookie with me 💗

tagged: lilymhe

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bsf1 pookie we miss you 😢

⤷y/n.jpg i miss you too 😢it’s time for me to watch men go vroom vroom in fast cars

bsf2 why didn’t you take us??? 😭😭

⤷y/n.jpg because you had work pookie?? 😞

⤷bsf2 oh…yeah….like i wouldn’t quit to go to a race 😞😢

⤷y/n.jpg yeah no…keep that bag, I promise i’ll take yall when you guys are free ♥️

alexalbon omg is that where my girlfriend went???

⤷y/n.jpg sorry she’s my girlfriend now 🫶

⤷lilymhe I know where home is 🫶

⤷alexalbon UMM???

maxverstappen1 was the meme necessary?

⤷y/n.jpg yes it was, my vibe was incomplete without it

⤷y/n.jpg expect more btw 😋

⤷maxverstappen1 oh god 😐

⤷y/n.jpg good luck on your race ☺️

liked by landonorris, bsf1, bsf2, and many others

y/n.jpg …so that was a tough loss um…how do you feel after that?

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landonorris how the fuck you think I feel?

⤷y/n.jpg I have a gift for you

⤷landonorris stop I’m supposed to be mad rn

⤷y/n.jpg what he say fuck me for? 😟😔

username2 😭wtf? why is she so unserious

bsf1 how was the race in person?

⤷y/n.jpg loud as fuck 😭

⤷y/n.jpg it was like going to a hotter, louder monster truck show

charles_leclerc the meme?

⤷y/n.jpg your very memeable charlie, it’s a talent really and one that will be showcased on my page way more often

⤷username99 CHARLIE??

lilymhe we still on for drinks?

⤷y/n.jpg of course

⤷username5 max didn’t win and literally caused Lando to crash, what does you need to get drinks for?

⤷y/n.jpg see I don’t know if you know but it’s called, I’m my own grown ass person who can get drinks whenever I want

username4 not her making fun of Lando after her boyfriend ruined his race

⤷username7 *liked by author*

what are you talking about? Lando quite literally responded and he’s obviously not mad at her nor is she making fun of him

username9 both were scrapping and made mistakes. We’ll get em next week!

username23 just wait till next weekend, those guys are going to boo every chance they get, don’t be discouraged!

⤷username44 oh you must’ve missed it but they already started making comments towards her, apparently a fan of hers asked for a autograph and some butthurt fans called her all kinds of names

⤷username23 oh wow, yeah I would’ve never guessed from this post

⤷username1 y/n is not new to getting hate, after her first championship some commentators were calling her a possible “one hit wonder” and fans were saying her coach was better off coaching others

Y/N L/N Talks All Things Sport-Like, Relationships And Careers

The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon 163,713 likes

View transcript

“Our next guest is an expert on skating and ice, her olympic career on the rise, please welcome Y/N L/N!”

[Inserts Y/N with cheers] “Welcome to the show! Uh you look fantastic, thank you so much for being here”

“Thank you for inviting me, Jimmy! And for the food!”

“No problem! Figured it was the least I could do after the flight here, um…so y/n your career has always been eventful but it's currently exploding right now and everyone’s talking about Y/N L/N and so I wanted to show you this photo and tell me if you remember how growing up in figure skating was” [shows a picture of younger y/n in her first competition]

“Oh….this was when I was 12, I had just started competing after begging my mother to sign me up for a skating academy for like a whole year [laughter]”

“Did you win this competition?”

“No [laughs] I got like fourth place and was convinced I wasn’t made out to be a skater and went home that night and cried the most i’ve ever cried I think”

“Wow, here’s you like what..six competitions later and look you’ve got a gold medal” {shows a different picture of her on the podium with a bright smile] [insert cheers and laughter] “I’m so happy for you, what did it feel like?”

“Um, well it felt like I was right all along, that my mom and coach were right and it just gave me a huge boost in confidence after that”

“And- I mean- look at you now two time olympic champion back to back, that is amazing- absolutely amazing. Uh- a little birdie told me that when you first signed with Team USA- um you were in a Chick-Fil-A drive thru when you got the call”

[laughter] “Um..yeah! I was actually at work- um, i worked in a chick-fil-a like ten minutes down the street from my house and I got the call from the recruiter and I was like “oh god, I can’t be on my phone at work but I have to take this…screw it” and i picked up the phone and if you ever watched the draft for the nba then it’s kind of like that, I remember I squealed and dropped to the floor as I accepted and I just could not shut up about it for the rest of the day”

[laughter] “yeah well that must’ve been an amazing feeling! To know your accomplishments have been recognized and that you were about to go to the big leagues”

“Oh yeah, I was riding on that high for like a week, it felt like- yeah- i did it. I mean, I felt like I kind of made it already when I won the rest of my competitions growing up but that call was the little cherry on top, you know? I was 18 years old at the time of the phone call, just out of high school but then it was like a massive dump where I was unsure of myself and if I really was that good. Hate really got to my heart during that time, I had already reviewed a large amount of misogyny that I had almost given up too many times to count”

“I had to push myself and remember why I was there, first and foremost my passion for the ice, and I wasn’t going to toss away my dream due to bigoted men around me. They wanted to see me fail and I wasn’t going to let them succeed”

“Beautifully said. I know recently a few fans have reacted poorly after the results of the most recent grand prix in Austria..how do you feel about that?”

“Well um, I get that they're mad, you know? No one wants to see a driver forced out of a race following a collision but again, I had nothing to do with that, you know? [laughter] Um..just because I’m dating Max does not give them that excuse but again, there will always be haters and so I do what I do best and ignore them the best I can; I know not everyone can respond maturely and things can be said in the heat of the moment so I try not to hold it against them”

“Right, well what are your plans for the future? Is another championship in the cards? Another career even? Maybe a more serious relationship outcome with Max?”

[laughter] “Um well figure skating is definitely the dream, you know, a lot of people will say I’m too old to be on the rink but frankly, there is no maximum age to figure skating, i’ll retire of course when I’m ready but um, that’s no time soon [laughter] um growing up I was really into psychology. Obviously as an athlete I know the importance of mental health and how it can truly affect your performance and career but I was obsessed growing up, probably from all the late night reruns of crime shows like law and order and 48 hours {laughter}’

“and um I don’t know about the last one, we haven’t really talked about anything like that, I think we both enjoy our lives together but i wouldn’t be opposed to any sort of change”

“Great! Well um, Max if your watching, there’s your sign right there [laughter] um…I googled you today to see what pops up and um..”

“Did you not know who I was beforehand?”

“No [laughter] no- i can do..I know all your poses and I can do it”

“Oh can you?”

“I can do it, no- no I just wanted to see what pops up and it says did you mean: ice queen or ice princess and I think that’s kind of fun, tell us about that”

“Um, I definitely didn’t do that- I guess someone at google loves me or something [laughter] but the nicknames ice queen or princess is from the 2018 Olympics when I won my first championship and that day I was wearing a white and silver costume that I was absolutely shivering in [laughter] but um- yeah, the judges and everyone liked it so much and I think the name came from one the judge's comments on my performance actually and everyone just ran with it and i liked it so much that I kept it [laughter]”

“Can I just tell everyone some of the stats you have right now, because wow. You are currently the highest paid figure skater at a net worth of 90 Million dollars. You are a 5 time US champion from 2011 to 2016 and 6 time World Champion from 2017 and 2023, you have countless endorsements with brands such as Disney, McDonald’s, Starbucks, Visa, Campbell’s Chevrolet, Coca-Cola, Kraft, and United Airlines. You’ve been given the James E. Sullivan Award for ‘Best Amateur Athlete, U.S. Olympic Committee ‘Sportswoman of the Year’, Readers’ Choice ‘Figure Skater of the Year’, Teen Choice Award and ‘Cosmogirl of the Year’” [takes in a deep breath] “phew…that was a lot to read [laughter] but yeah, that is all you’ve done since you were 12, that’s amazing!”

“It sounds so much grander and shocking when you read it all out like that! [laughter]”

“Yes well it was lovely speaking to you and wearing out my vocal cards reading all that [laughter] this is Y/N L/N, everybody! [cheers and applause] Thank you for coming! Stay tuned for our next guest after the break!”

→ Face claims: (completely forgot to do these but we have: Lori Harvey and Zendaya)

→ y/n and lily left the grid while waiting for the race to start to get food (she wanted authentic local food)

→ in the interview y/n did shade both lando fans and lando himself

Author's note!

Hey guys! I worked hard with this one lol! Could not figure out how I wanted to do the interview and just decided to type it as if it was like a little youtube clip of the show so the brackets are like youtube captions. I wanted to wait until after Austria since I finally got the story aligned with recent events (obviously a fictional version of them). Plz don’t send any hate for the shade I threw in here, I love Lando and in fact do have his merch but his response to today’s race was slightly immature and dare I say whiney, plus i did steal some actual comments from instagram posts under red bull so :/ also had to include the weird thing europeans do where they hate on americans for seemingly no reason? Like I've gone to Europe and the hate I get is actually mind boggling. ANYWAYS! Hope you enjoy this chapter, maybe put in some request for what you’d like to see in the next because i have NO IDEA.

Taglist: @boiohboii @ale-522 @ietss @theseerbetweenus @jaxx-7 @sainzluvrr @the-untamed-soul @ashy-kit @hc-dutch @nichmeddar @delululeclerc @sweate-r-weathe-r @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @luvsforme @samantha-chicago @theblueblub

༉‧₊˚ CHAMPIONS LOVE ༉‧₊˚

⤷ Following the messy breakup between Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet, Max’s manager comes up with a solution to divert the attention – a fake relationship. His new girlfriend? Two time olympic gold medalist figure skater, y/n for the USA team. Easy? Well…

#f1 smau #champions love ♡#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula one x black reader #first time writing

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allfearstofallto · 10 months ago

Text

Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #childe #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #mdni

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eoieopda · 4 months ago

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FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept.

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose proximity to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant.

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be.

So, he bites his tongue.

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones.

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis.

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various surfaces the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.”

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history.

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely.

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too.

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

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emsartwork · 5 months ago

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Long post ahead!

So if a fairy's pallet changes, it most commonly happens around enchantix because of how inherently traumatic the concept of self sacrifice is.

Flora's colors would dull a little, nothing major but the pinks would look more "aged" as a mental reference to the black willow's time affiliation.

Musa's also are not a huge change, mostly a slight darkening as a symptom of the pain she went through when her wings were shattered (also might be a reflection of the darcy/stormy dynamic and how musa relates to both of them in different ways but she's not ready to unpack that teehee)

Tecna's is a more dramatic change due to the prolonged survival state she had to be in while trapped on Omega. She used her transformation to survive until she was able to scavenge parts to build a warming suit for herself which meant she drained her magic every transformation (via exploring and setting up a safe camp warmth bubble). Every transformation ended up lighter and lighter as a camouflage against the ice-snakes and the thawed prisoners. This would be a more permanent color change, probably only darkening a little as she healed, especially because tecna doesn't base her identity in being a fairy so it wouldn't cause her additional stress.

Stella's colors would mostly shift after earning Onyrix. Stella had the most negative reaction to her nemesis out of all the winx and the episode continued to effect her for several weeks after it was done. However, due to this episode, she did gain a much more balanced look at her sense of self worth, acknowledging that she has bad days and needs to treat herself with compassion instead of catastrophizing. In a way Stella's colors changed not because of trauma but because of growth.

Oh girliepop. Aisha's color change is a pure grief reaction to Nabu's death. It's not a permanent change, because Aisha would come to associate the darkened color with feeling shitty and the longer it stayed dark the more upset she would be (she had a few ups and downs color-wise along this timeline, its not strictly linear). It also wasn't a thing that happened to "her" like, Nabu dying was definitely traumatic, and similar to daphne who had grief involved in her color change, but daphne also underwent torture and other losses of autonomy that left lasting physical symptoms, which is why her color change was permanent.

Bloom has a few changes (because of course she does). Dark bloom dimmed her colors in season 2/3

Bloom's incomplete enchantix highly saturated her colors, and her complete enchantix settled into a slightly more blue tinged set which is permanent.

not so much an actual color change as an affliction, but I thought it would be fun to include. Fairies in core fatigue have scattered, shifting colors and design elements that bleed into each other.

#winx #winxems #askems #sort of #winx bloom #winx stella #winx aisha #winx flora #winx musa #winx tecna #winx club

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heard-nsfw-is-back · 2 years ago

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When the 141 + König try to get your attention.

They'll have extra bandaids, hair scrunchies, socks, and ammo for your favorite guns. Anything you could possibly need as an emergency that you might not get easily. They carry around hygiene products for you too if you need. "Dammit I need." Bam immediately in your hand. "Oh I should have taken extra." Don't worry about it they gave enough for a month. Have an illness or need medication they have the supplies you need on hand always. You're tired and can't sleep because you have watch? Oops your shift has been covered, go get some rest.

Ghost:

You've noticed it eventually. He's always got whatever you need and soon it becomes so regular that you're just subconsciously turning to him when you need something. He's always got it too. Without fail. It's not till Price, smug as fly shit, tells you Ghost is covering your night shift that you make the decision to confront him. In the military a man doing you favors could mean anything positive or negative but it could definitely be used against you. You find him and sidled up next to his side. "What are you doing?" You ask eventually. He grunts, pretending to be confused. "You're always doing me favors on the field and now you're taking my watch. What do you want?" He looks down at you. "Don't want anything." His sentence feels incomplete and you just glare up at him. A sigh and then, "Alright I do want something." Ice crawls through your stomach. You had hoped it was just him trying to make you feel comfortable in the group but no, there was a string. You look out to the range and track in your base. "Name it." You bite the words, trying to shove as much terror as you can in to your sentence. "Go to dinner with me." A beat, you inhale, another beat and you decide whether or not this counts as harassment. "You've been doing this to...get me to go on a date?" Trying to make the situation clear from your perspective. "Can't really flirt to save your life, the only way I knew what to do. I'll still do it. I just want you. You're a damn good soldier and an asset to the team. And you leave your work out of the base. The team likes you." He tilts your head back to him, as gently as anything. "I like you."

You loved your dinner and plan more date nights.

Soap

With Johnny it was harder to figure out if something was going on. He was always carrying extra things for the team. Ammo, meds, clothes, whatever. It's not until you get a smoke grenade to the face and you have to rip your contacts out to flush your face properly that you don't have extra, and your goggles that have your prescription is in your room. Keeping the pillows company. "Fuck all this." You're basically blind without them and there's no way you can fake it till you're back to base. It was stupid and careless. Price was going to have a field day with this after he reams you for an hour at least. "You alright?" Soap slumped down next to your still prone body. "No it's dumb I left my glasses and contacts. I'm going to have to evac. Or just wait." Soap laughs and you're about to get mad before he pulls out goggles for you. It's your old script but it's not too bad. You make it back to base with nothing more than a headache from your aching eyes. There's no reason he should have your old glasses. In fact, it's made you start to question how he always knows where you leave your things. He's genuinely nice and not in a bad way, even Ghost is gentle around him. Still, you need to talk, cause that's weird. Looking around you find him and you ask him to follow you in to the conference room. He does, glancing at you in confusion. You keep your face neutral and when the two of you sit down he's relaxed but nervous. "Everything alright?" "No not really, why do you have my old glasses? Pretty sure I threw those out, plus it's weird that you always know where I lose things." You lay out your concerns and his shoulders drop. "One, yes I notice where you lose things but you're always losing things and it makes you frustrated. So I've just been making sure to pay attention when you put something down or when you drop something. Two, you did throw them out but I had an extra from when your glasses once on a mission. So I've always kept one just in case. I'm sorry I made you unsettled. I really meant no harm. Plus I, wait no, sorry not the time." He waves his hand. "No no go on it's ok." You feel comfortable again and willing to go back to how it was before and hopefully set boundaries better for yourself. He leans forward. "I like you. I've been trying to get you to look at me, actually look at me." You feel your face go hot. "Dinner, maybe? Or something?" He continues, trying not to laugh at your agape expression.

You have dinner and a movie and happily wonder what your next date will be

Gaz

You were so focused on getting your exercise this morning done before it got too busy that you missed the breakfast call. 'Dammit!' There was no way it wasn't packed with people now. All the good food would be taken and you are not going to touch those breakfast bars, more crumb than food honestly. You make your way to your room, hoping that you would have something in your stash of snacks. As you comb through your drawers you find a single bag of popcorn. You had been meaning to go up to the shops and restock but you've been so busy or do tired lately. And now your stomach was growling. Great. You finished your popcorn on the way to the mess hall. The line was long but you slide in and wait. "Hey morning." Gaz bumps your shoulder friendly. "Hey!" You smile, he was always nice to you, and welcomed you to the group easily. "Got your favorites already don't worry about the line." He points over where the 141 was sat and a plate in front of an empty chair. You frown, "Yeah those are my favorites? How did you?" Gaz scoffs. "You eat like the same 6 things it's not hard to remember." Actually now that you think about it, he always makes sure you had your favorite food. Even if he for sure had to go out of his way. He looks over to your concerned face. "Hey you ok?" "No that's really weird. But thank you I think." You pick up your plate and go back to your room. It's too loud and the sound of other people chewing makes you want to scream today. Gaz followed you. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you." You sigh and stop. "I'm good at what I do except this. Let me start over. You, me, dinner?" He asks and you look over to him. Before you can stop it a smile creeps over your face. "You were flirting?" He laughs, sheepish. "Badly, obviously." You shake your head, still smiling. "Ok you know what? Dinner sounds nice."

You both enjoy dinner so much that you end up taking all your meals alone together. It becomes so commonplace that Price sends those fold away tables to your rooms.

Price

You were new and the transition from your old squad to the 141 was strange. The base was private, secluded and unfortunately for you the nearest stores were about 15 miles away. It made shopping for hygiene products so annoying so you had to stock up. Until you had been gone for two months on a mission and you came back smelling awful and you had been run ragged and all you wanted was a shower and maybe a two week nap. You walked up to the base and Price walked out. "Good to see you, welcome back." "Good to be back Sir. I'll feel better after I get settled." He laughed and walked you in. "We had a bit of a move around. Your room was moved." Nervous now you followed him. "Something happen?" Shaking his head, Price lead you to a new door. "I should have had this done before but it turns out there's no real way to get plumbing to where your room was so we moved you here." You walked in and your things had been carefully moved. Wait. "Plumbing?" "Built you your own bathroom. Little bit of your own space." "I don't understand. I was fine with the one we already had." You looked under the sink and there was one more box of pads and tampons you absolutely were sure you didn't buy. That was creepy. "Let me know when you need new ones by the way I'll put in the order." Your head was screaming danger. No man in his position of power would just do that for no reason. Danger. No one would build a bathroom for one person and get the exact private things you would usually get. Danger. Slowly you stood up. Option One, get a hold of someone above Price and get out of here quickly and quietly Option Two be nice and grateful, (which you are Ghost and Soap are big fans of bathroom sex and any chance to not see that again was fantastic), but see if you can get out of this room without him noticing you freaking out. "What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your tension. Fuck, option one then. "It's kind of weird you know my order and the things I get. You also built me this. Captain, you have to know how this looks." You turn and face him. He looks at you and the gears start to turn. "Oh shit. No it's not like that I completely understand. I'm just trying to make you feel at ease. Give you your own space. Also your products are coming out of the squad budget so it's not any string I had to pull. I only noticed what they were when it was being packed away." You really think about it. Mull it over and over and slowly nod. "Then.. thank you Captain. I do appreciate it. It's so nice." Your own bathroom. You would have killed for this in your old squad. "Just want to take off my favorite girl." There he goes again. The easy banter. "I thought it was no big deal." You tease. "If I wasn't your favorite girl then you wouldn't do this?" He chuckles. "No I would. I wouldn't have any ideas about what goes on in this shower but I would still make it happen." "What kind of ideas?" You lean on the doorframe and he takes a few steps to you. "Let me show you."

You must have been in there a while because when you both make your way to the kitchen Ghost and Johnny are sitting around looking vaguely impatient. "Thank fuck." Ghost sighs and Johnny laughs. "Finally done? Thought you'd never finish."

König

You and König are good friends coming in at the same time, the two of you bond over trying to figure out your place in the squad. He's got your back and you've got his. When you get stuck in rain or fall in to water puddles too deep and they seep through your boots, he always has an extra pair of socks with him. Or a shirt when you need to rip one for an impromptu bandage. But it's especially odd when he happens to have a belt that is your size that you use to hold up a gun you swipped off an enemy body. "We're gonna talk about this when we get back." You tell him, matter of factly. And you do. You come up to his room and he let's you in. His body language is tense and he's actively making himself look as small and non-threatening as is physically impossible. "You always have spare clothes for me. You always have a hair tie or like today with a belt that I checked and is my size. It certainly isn't yours. So what's going on?" He slumps, and admits that he just wants to take care of you. "I'm not sure why I picked that but. For me it's strange I have to order my clothes or make them so I always like to make sure that you have clothes? I think. I'm not sure what I mean." He stands up and your eyes follow his. "I'm sorry my dear for upsetting you." You scoff and wave him off. "It's not weird you didn't upset me. Besides I think it's kind of cute that's how you show you care." König runs his hand over yours. "I do care. A lot. So much it drives me mad sometimes." He leans down, your head straining back, baring your neck to him. "Show me." You plead. "Not yet. I'm told I need to wine and dine before indulging, no?" You can see his eyes crinkle in mirth and damn if that isn't cute and hot at the same time.

"Ok I'm dined, I'm wined. Can we indulge now?" His laugh, deep and warm, is a balm and a flame at the same time.

Can you tell König is my favorite? None of this is healthy btw. I'm walking through the factory where they make the red flags and I'm asking for the gift shop and menu anyway. I need an exorcism.

Edit: can't believe I forgot Kyle. Ugh. Sorry for the late addition folx

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #könig #könig x y/n #ghost x reader #soap x reader #könig x reader #price x reader #ghost x y/n #kyle gaz garrick #kyle x reader

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worldsover · 1 year ago

Note

Will we ever get a sequel for Heejin's birthday fic? Just asking btw

Sorry. I am allergic to completing tasks to 100%. For example, as I mentioned in its author notes, there was never even meant to be a sequel since this was supposed to be one story, but instead I posted the incomplete version because the alternative was no story for her birthday. That being said, I do at least have a bit more written, so the same thing applies here: it's unfinished, but at least it's something?

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Heejin Birthday Fic cont.

~2.5k words, incomplete draft of the continuation to Transcendence/Pareidolia ft. Heejin

This wasn't fun. Well, it's a little fun. All the games the two of you play.

The best/worst part are all the videos she sends. She starts with the typical: eating an ice cream cone, having cream drip on her fingers; covering herself with oil and rubbing it over her entire body; holding a vibrator to her clit, waiting for your text about what position you want her in; showing her sopping pussy from various angles, and you can tell exactly which angle she sent you and why.

And then her videos get dirtier. There's Heejin on a vertical video, sitting on her bed, dildo deep inside her pussy, just talking. She talks about how she imagines your cock sliding in and out of her pussy, ramming her g-spot and fucking her senseless, while your fingers rub her clit and your mouth suck her tits. You would fill her up with your cum, dripping out of her pussy, down her legs. Then she would get the taste of your cock as she cleans it with her mouth, and how the cum mixing with her juices would taste even better as she slurps it all up. Heejin has a gift for describing things with vivid detail. You never realized just how eloquent her tongue could be. You can't wait until it's on yours again.

There are the times you meet and end up making out and nearly fucking, but you manage to stop. You keep each other on the brink. Sometimes you want to rip each other's clothes off and ravage the other right then and there, and your hearts would race at the thought of all the consequences and dangers involved with doing it outside. But you had to be patient; you were the one who suggested waiting, after all.

But the weeks pass, and you grow restless. You can't wait to claim Heejin as yours, in the most intimate way possible.

And finally, October 19 arrives.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The restaurant is a small, cozy establishment, with warm lighting and ambient music. You and Heejin are dressed in semi-formal attire, and you admire how beautiful she looks in her black dress, with a slit up the thigh that shows off her perfect legs. You're both a little giddy with anticipation. You feel like it's Christmas, ready to open the ultimate present, even if she's the birthday girl here.

As you sit at the table, Heejin's phone lights up with birthday messages from her friends, and you can't help but wonder what they would think if they knew about you two.

"Wow, you're popular."

She giggles. "I know, it's silly. But, it's kinda sweet."

You take a sip of water. "You know, Heejin, it's been fun, these last couple of weeks, edging. I've never gone this long."

Heejin scoffs. "You're one to talk. It's been hell for me."

"I believe you."

You start to eat your food. The flavors are rich and savory, and the portions are generous. The two of you chat about the usual stuff, like work and your family and the newest set of anime coming out, but no matter how you try, you can't resist being glued to her every touch. Her finger absentmindedly twirls around a strand of hair. Her thighs shift in her seat. A napkin wipes the side of her mouth. The candlelight, and the warmth of the establishment makes her glow, and you're hopelessly under her spell.

Of course, her heel brushing against your inner thigh doesn't help.

"You seem tense," she says.

"Great observation."

"You know, for some reason, I don't feel that full, even after all I ate."

"You wanna go to another restaurant or something?"

Heejin rolls her eyes. "That's not what I'm hungry for."

Your mouth rounds to a circle.

She rubs her heel on your pants. "What?"

You throw the napkin on the table and stand up. "Excuse me, I have to use the restroom."

Heejin bites her lip as you walk away. You enter the bathroom. It's its own individual room, fancy and well-kept. You walk up to the sink and splash cold water on your face, sighing.

You use the toilet. Then, you use your phone to find the nearest hotel and its nearest vacancy. Can't even wait to bring her home. You text her your plan for the night.

Seems even that is too much waiting. A knock. She texts you back.

> open the door.

You gulp. You do, and Heejin steps in, her breathing erratic, her smile mischievous. She pulls you by your tie for a kiss, shoving you against the door. Your tongue and hers are tangling, and you reach for her breast. Your knee is lifting her skirt, and she's grinding against it.

"Heejin," you say, "we gotta, we gotta go somewhere else."

"I can kneel here." And she does just that. "We can make this quick."

She unbuckles your pants and frees your cock, your limp-cock instantly hard in the warmth of her mouth, instantly in the back of her throat.

"Heejin, no, wait, we were saving..."

Pop. "Oh, what, like you don't wanna blow your load down my throat and cum all over my tits and face?"

She's pumping, her fingers slick and tight around your shaft, your cockhead rubbing against her face. She sucks on your balls.

"I bet you'd absolutely ruin this fucking dress with your load."

In the next five minutes, Heejin proceeds to slather your cock in her spit while sucking you down with best blowjob you've ever received. Her lips and tongue are tight, and the heat of her mouth and the vacuum of her suction feels so divine around your cock. And her moans, oh, fuck, how you missed her moans around your shaft. The vibrations tickle your skin and your nerves. You're thankful for the door and the weight of your body preventing the two of you from collapsing, because the pleasure is making your knees weak. And if that wasn't enough, Heejin is relentless in her dirty talk and her sucking.

"God, your cock is fucking amazing. I wanna drink your cum forever. I wish you could shoot your cum deep in my pussy, fill me up. I can't wait to get your cock in my cunt."

She bobs faster, deeper, sucking more intensely. You're about to burst. She knows. Heejin reaches between your legs and squeezes your balls.

Then, she pulls back. Pop. "So, where's the hotel?"

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You pay for your meals, and then you're on the way to the hotel. It's a short taxi ride away, and the two of you keep your hands to yourself.

Once you're in the elevator, you hold Heejin's waist, and she faces you, giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," she says. "Just… happy."

You lean down to kiss her. "Have I told you enough that you're the prettiest girl on the planet?"

"A couple times." She kisses back. "I don't mind you telling me more."

You brush strands of hair away from her face. She puts her hands on your face. Your hand slides up her waist to cup her cheek. She runs her thumb across your bottom lip.

Ding. The elevator doors open, and you step into the hallway. Your room is a few steps down, and you unlock the door.

It's a basic suite, and you don't waste time, dropping your stuff, locking the door, and moving to the bed, pushing Heejin down and kneeling to her height.

She giggles. "Gotta catch up, huh?"

You slide her shoes off her feet, then your own. Then, you slip your hands under her dress and hook a finger on her panties, moving them down her legs. All the while, she takes off your suit jacket and undoes your belt. You move Heejin's panties completely off her ankles. They're soaked. She lies down on the bed.

Your cock is throbbing, but you can't stop staring at the view.

She blushes. "N-no, no more edging. Please. I need to cum, so, so fucking bad. I need you in me, right fucking now."

You swallow. "Don't worry. I'll be inside you soon enough. Just, lemme get a good look of your body first."

Heejin smiles. "My body, huh? What, what's so special about it?"

"Everything."

You're on top of Heejin now, caressing her face.

"Everything," you repeat. You lower your head. "Especially your eyes." You lower your head again. "And your lips." You kiss them. "And your neck." You kiss. She moans. You continue kissing downwards, licking along her collarbone, nibbling on the side of her throat, biting her shoulder. Then you lick the valley between her breasts, pull down the neckline of her dress, and lick circles on her nipples. You hike up the hem of dres to reach a hand to her pussy. "And, this." You rub her lips.

She moans. "What… about that?"

You crawl lower, your face between her legs. You spread her lips, already wet, and you stick your tongue inside her hole. "The prettiest pussy I've ever seen." You lick up her slit.

Heejin grabs your hair and pulls you. "I'm sorry, but I can't wait anymore. Fuck me."

You wipe your mouth. "Yeah, yeah, sorry."

"Just… put it in me already."

You get on your knees and rub your cockhead against Heejin's lips, smearing pre-cum. You rub it around her clit, and she shudders, whimpering.

Heejin pushes on your chest. "Wait, hold on, sit up. I wanna watch. Please. Your cock… entering me. I can't wait to see it."

You nod. Heejin sits up too. You grab Heejin's thighs and spread them. Your cockhead rubs against Heejin's entrance again.

"Holy shit, holy shit," she says.

You lick your lips. You push your cock into Heejin's hole, and your head is swimming in her heat, her wetness. Her pussy is already sucking you in, and Heejin is already moaning, and her whole body is already trembling.

"Shit, Heejin, you're already going to cum?"

She nods. "Yes! I'm sorry, it's just, you're finally, finally inside me. I've dreamed about this, so many times, and now it's happening."

"Me too. It's fine, it's fine." You pull back, and then you thrust again, a bit deeper, and Heejin shudders again. "Holy shit."

You pump slowly, Heejin moaning louder and louder, her pussy squeezing you tighter and tighter. Your grip on her thighs is tight, and you push her down, burying your cock deeper. Her back arches, and you start thrusting faster. You grunt. Heejin's pussy is milking your cock, sucking you deeper, and you're pounding her cunt, her moans and your grunts filling the room, until she lets out a scream, a high-pitched, satisfied noise, and her walls are convulsing. And just as you said, you empty your load deep inside her, rope after rope, a thick batch of semen pooling in her hole and leaking past your shaft.

"Holy… shit," she says. Heejin's trying to catch her breath. She looks up at you, a slight smirk on her face. "You're still hard, right?"

You look down. You're still hard.

Even though her legs writhe and her toes curl, she fucks herself into your shaft, covering it in more and more cream.

"Fucking, hell, Heejin, just like that?" You clench your jaw.

"Yeah. Yeah, we just started. I love watching you pump your cock in and out of my pussy, seeing it get all sloppy."

You chuckle. "Slut."

"For you." She wraps her legs around your waist, her arms around your back. "Wreck me."

You can do nothing but comply. Heejin's eyes roll back, her lips tremble, and her nails dig into your back, and you fuck her, you fuck Heejin, hard. Using your own creampie as lube, your cock plunges and slams inside Heejin's pussy, over and over. You pick her up from the bed and pound into her as you carry her around the room, making loud wet slaps fill the air. Then, you set her down on the desk, gripping her shoulders, and the room shakes with your thrusts.

Heejin screams and babbles. You're about to cum again already, and so is she. You love her expression, like she's completely drunk to your cock as she loses herself to the pleasure of it stuffing her, pushing your first creampie out just to fill her up again. You're sure she can feel your heartbeat from how far your cock is in her womb. You slow down, then you pull out. Heejin's pussy is drooling cum, and she lies flat on the desk. Your head is so light that you only just now realize you're still cumming, so you jack off onto her body, mainly covering her dress in cum, though some of it reaches her chin. Heejin promptly licks that clean.

"Why," she says. "Why'd you stop? You're, you're still hard. Please."

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees."

She obeys. "Yes, sir," she says, and you like the way she says that.

You grab Heejin's waist, and then you slam into her pussy. Your pace is just as brutal as when you started the night. Turns out that edging for weeks, then cumming inside a woman's tight pussy, then pulling out and painting her in your cum is more than enough to keep your cock rock hard, and Heejin is more than eager to have your cock pounding her hole as many times as you want.

After the fourth round, your fifth climax, Heejin is a mess on the bed, and so is your cock. It's covered in her cum and your cum and some of her saliva, and her tongue is lazily circling your cockhead while she rests her head on your thighs.

"Do you, do you want to keep going?"

Heejin nods. "Why? Are you tired?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure I have another few in me. But my abs are killing me."

"Oh yeah? You should try doing planks."

"The way you do them? Yeah, ri—" You're interrupted when Heejin climbs up your body and grabs your cock. You flinch. "No, wait, wait, wait. Wait, Heejin."

"Are you afraid?"

You gulp. "Very."

"I promise it won't hurt. It'll be fun."

When Heejin says it, you believe her. "Fine. Go for it."

Heejin grins. "Awesome." As she positions herself over your shaft, the creampie you filled her with starts to leak onto your stomach, and she holds your cock to point it up towards her hole. She lowers her pussy, and your cock enters her again. She rides you, holding your cock by the base so that the entire time, you feel the entirety of her tunnel envelop you, and your cum is squishing all over her insides.

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If I do get around to finishing the story, I will probably delete this and the initial version of Transcendence, post the full version instead. Big if.

#asks #anon #loona smut #kpop smut #reader insert #male reader #artms smut

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