#lets ignore my sad attempt at a background

[avalencias]

home can be a person too

shoutout to @kienava for just suggesting drawing them in bed

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟐

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

Days had passed, and the tension between you and Chan grew unbearable.

You had tried contacting him, but he’d buried himself in his work, refusing to answer your calls or texts, and every attempt to approach him in person was met with cold indifference.

It was as if he had sealed himself off from you completely, and the guilt gnawed at your insides like a festering wound.

It wasn’t until one late evening, when you found yourself standing outside the studio again, that you realized something had to give. You couldn’t let things end like this - not over a misunderstanding, not when you cared about him so much.

When you loved him so much.

Pushing open the door, you saw him sitting at the same desk, headphones on, eyes glued to his laptop screen. The music played softly in the background, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.

You cleared your throat, and when he didn’t react, you took a deep breath and spoke.

"Chan, please. We need to talk."

For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you again, but then he pulled off his headphones and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were tired, and there were dark circles beneath them, evidence of sleepless nights.

"There’s nothing to talk about," he muttered, turning back to his screen.

“Please,” you said, your voice pleading. "Please."

He tensed, when he heard the hurt in your voice, and then sighed, pushing the chair back but not looking at you, his shoulders tense. He turned to you, his brown eyes tired and sad.

"I’m sorry," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. Afraid if you spoke any louder it might shatter.

“I didn’t realize how much you were carrying, and my words...I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t see everything you do. Because I do, baby. I see and appreciate everything."

He flinched at your words, but remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. You sniffed and wiped the tears you had so miserably failed to keep in. You missed him. Even if only for a few days it felt like eons.

“I know you’re the leader, and I know you have the weight of so much responsibility on your shoulders,” you continued, wiping your eyes, as more tears fell. “But you don’t have to do it all alone. You don’t always have to be strong. I can be strong for you too if you just ask.”

You hiccup, trying to control your shaky voice. "I want you to ask I don't want you to hurt anymore. Please...you can ask for help too. You don't always have to take everything on yourself. I only said what I said because I wanted to convey how upset I was seeing you tire yourself out, Chan-I...I don't want you to be tired anymore."

You were furiously wiping at your face, feeling like a child not able to properly convey their emotions.

“You don’t have to carry that burden by yourself. You’re not alone in this. The members, your fans, me...we’re all here for you. Please just ask us. We'll do anything for you.”

Chan's hands fidgeted in his lap. You felt the urge to run into his arms- you selfishly wanted to have him comfort you. When he was the one who needed comfort in this moment.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-" You weep. "I miss you, Channie...so much...I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I'm sorry. I really am..."

For the first time in days, his eyes met yours, and the raw emotion swirling within them took your breath away.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking, muffled by the sleeve of his sweater, which his face was buried in. “I’m scared that if I stop, everything will fall apart. That if I’m not there, something will go wrong, and it’ll be my fault. And that if I ask for help and things go wrong; you'll be to blame when you've done nothing wrong.” His voice was low and sad, and you could tell by the tightness of it he was trying to hold back tears as well.

Your heart ached as you listened to his confession, realizing just how much he had been hiding behind his calm exterior. How he took on stress to make sure any possible stressors wouldn't arise for those he loved and cared for.

"Oh, baby..."

He closed his eyes, his body trembling as the weight of his fears and insecurities finally crashed down around him.

He then looked up at your eyes that mirrored his own.

It seemed like the sadness in yours took his breath away too. Seemed like it shattered all the resolve he had left as he stood up and you launched himself into your arms, pulling him so close that your bodies would have melded together if possible.

You hiccupped out more sobs as you clung to him.

For a moment- a split second he wanted to remain angry, and he resisted -but then he collapsed against you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your shirt. His tears wetting it. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I never mean to do that baby, I'm sorry.”

You held him tighter, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “It’s okay. I promise.”

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding each other in the dimly lit studio as the walls between you slowly crumbled. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders was, you would always be there to help him carry it.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

The next morning, the air between you and Minho was still thick with tension. You had barely slept, and when you shuffled into the kitchen, you found him already there, making coffee in silence. He didn’t even look up when you entered the room.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. The weight of last night’s conversation hung between you like an invisible barrier, and every second that passed without him acknowledging you made the distance feel even greater.

He slid over a cup of coffee to you without as much as looking at you, and as you held the warm drink in your hands they began to tremble.

"Minho..." you began, your voice hesitant, unsure how to approach him. “Can we talk?” Your fingers tapped against the cup nervously.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his coffee, his throat working, and eyes fixed on the countertop. For a moment, you wondered if he would ignore you altogether, but then, without turning, he spoke.

“What exactly do you want to talk about?” His voice was flat, and that cold edge you feared had settled firmly in place.

You bit your lip, nervousness and guilt warring inside you. “What I said last night...it came out wrong. I didn’t mean-”

“You think I’m cold,” he interrupted, finally turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the hurt in the brown eyes you loved so much was impossible to miss. “It’s fine. I get it. I’ve heard it before. Its nothing to take to heart.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “No, you don’t get it. I don’t think you’re cold. I know you’re not.” Your fingers gripped the cup to the point your hands were hot, and you set the cup down so you wouldn't drop it.

Minho bit his lip now. “Really? Because that’s not what it sounded like last night.”

You took another step toward him, your heart aching at how distant he felt, even when you were standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn't mean it al all.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not about what you said,” he muttered, his voice low as he looked at his coffee. “It’s about the fact that...maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s all people see when they look at me. Thats all they ever say so when you said it- the person I love most in this world...it made it feel...true.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the vulnerability in his voice - the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as something he wasn’t. Because he truly wasn't.

And suddenly, you understood how deeply your careless words had cut him.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his arm. This time, he didn’t pull away, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor. He set his coffee down as you searched for words to say.

“Love, look at me,” you said softly, your voice trembling. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Something sparking when he saw the shine in yours.

“You’re not cold,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “You're - not cold at all." You swallowed the knot trying to form. "You’re kind. You’re thoughtful. You care about the people around you more than anyone realizes. And maybe you don’t always show it in the way people expect, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I see it. All the time.” The knot was relentless and made a home there, your voice breaking slightly.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if your words were getting through. But then, slowly, his shoulders slumped, and the tension seemed to drain out of him. He allowed you to hold his hands.

“It’s just...hard sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I'm not cold I just...aren't feelings a precious thing? I don't know how to not be the way I am. It feels normal to be 'serious' and 'cold' like people say. I don't feel that way. I feel loved and loving. I just don't show it off in...big ways...” He swallowed. "Maybe that makes me mean and cold."

Your heart broke at his confession. You had always known Minho to be one who kept his emotions in check, one who always seemed to have everything under control. But now, standing in front of you, he seemed so vulnerable, so...human. Which you had always seen him as.

“You’re not mean or cold,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You pursed your lips to keep yourself from crying, but it didn't work. “You’re human. It's okay to have different ways of showing emotions and letting people in. I'm sorry I made you feel that way.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble. “I forgive you, lovely. I was just being petty...I’m sorry I shut you out,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “I just...didn’t know how to deal with it. I don't want you to ever see me that way.”

You pouted, you bottom lip jutting out as you cried silently, your brows furrowed to try to stop yourself mid cry.

For the first time since last night, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips and Minho chuckled quietly. He moved his thumb to your lip and looked at you.

"It's going to get stuck that way, Darling." He kissed them and then pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he rested his chin on top of your head, rubbing circles on your back gently as you sniffled into his chest.

“It's okay my love,” he promised softly. “I’m sorry I scared you by ignoring you.” He said guessing the exact reason why you were crying. "Shh, it's okay. It's all going to be okay..." He cooed softly as he rocked you back in forth. "I love you. So much. I love you." He placed a soft kiss on your head, and you buried into him further earning a laugh.

In that moment, everything felt right again. The weight of the misunderstanding lifted, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet understanding that, no matter how sharp his edges, you would always find a way to soften them.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

The next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. Changbin hadn’t come out of the bedroom since last night, and you had spent the night tossing and turning on the couch, unable to shake the guilt that weighed heavily on your chest.

You knew you had hurt him, but what made it worse was that you hadn’t even realized how deep his insecurities ran. Changbin was always so strong, so confident - but now, you saw the cracks in the armor he wore every day. And it hurt you that you had hurt him.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage before walking to the bedroom door. You knocked softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Changbin?” you called out quietly. “Can I come in?”

There was a long pause before you heard him say, “Come in.”

When you opened the door, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He didn’t look up when you entered, and the sight of him like that broke your heart all over again.

You sat down beside him the bed dipping, close but not touching, waiting for him to speak first since it seemed all the words left your mind.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry for last night,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I overreacted.” His voice was sad and quiet and you felt the power of the initial guilt amplify tenfold.

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill making it hard to speak. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do, Binnie, please believe me.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, still not looking at you. “It’s not your fault. I just...I’ve always felt like I have to prove myself, and becoming an idol made that even harder, you know? Like I have to be the best since everyone is watching now. And when you said that...it just hit me in the worst way. Because it's you.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “You’ve always been hard on yourself.”

Changbin let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, maybe too hard. But I don’t know how to be any other way. I feel like if I stop, if I’m not constantly pushing myself, then...I’ll lose everything. I tried so hard to get.” His eyes met yours.

Your chest tightened at his words. You knew how much he put into his work, how much he cared about being successful, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the fear and vulnerability in his voice - it was almost too much to bear.

“You won’t lose anything, let alone me.” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. You had noticed the look in his eyes and wanted him to be assured that you would never leave him. “You’re already so much more than enough, baby. You’re talented, hardworking, and you care so much about everyone around you. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Especially not me. Or the guys. Or your family. We all see how much you put in everything.”

He finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “Sometimes, it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And when you said what you did...it felt like you were confirming it. And you're the...last person I would want to hear the from.” His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he put his forearm to his eyes. "Damn, I didn't want to cry." He mumbled. "Give me a second."

You squeezed his hand and waited for him to collect himself. Once he did you spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I never wanted to hurt you. You mean so much to me, and I think you’re incredible just the way you are. More than I deserve, BinBin. Truly.”

Changbin’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. “I know you didn’t mean it. I was just...in my head. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a while.”

He let out a long breath, the weight of his insecurities finally surfacing. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially you.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You could never disappoint me, Changbin. I love you for who you are, not for how hard you work or how much you achieve. You’re enough, just as you are.” You look into his eyes. "You may not be perfect, but everything about you is perfect to me."

His eyes shined, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to break. But instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. You held him close, feeling his body relax against yours as the tension finally melted away.

“I’m sorry I shut you out,” he whispered against your neck. “I just didn’t know how to handle it.” His lips brushed against it softly and you felt a warmth wash over you.

You pressed a kiss to his temple just as gently, your heart swelling with love for him. “It’s okay. I'm sorry as well.”

Changbin pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I'm going to talk to you more about this stuff. I don’t want to keep shutting you out.” He kissed you again, but this time on your lips, and you felt a wetness.

You smiled softly, brushing away stray tears from his cheeks and lips. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. And I mean always baby.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss, as if sealing the promise between you. Then moving into a slow and lazy kisses as he pulled you down onto the bed with him.

You stayed there, cuddled together and kissing until the early afternoon, everything just as perfect as the man beside you.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

The hours dragged on painfully after Hyunjin had left you standing in the kitchen. The apartment felt too big, too empty without him, and your mind kept replaying the argument over and over again, picking apart every word you had said, every hurtful implication that had slipped out.

You hadn’t meant to wound him. Whenever you had wounded him, you never did it intentionally. You loved him too much to do that.

You had only wanted to comfort him; to let him know he didn’t have to bear the weight of perfection like he thought he had to. You didn't want him to continue working himself to the bone; making himself tired trying to fit a mold that others wanted to fit him into. But instead, you had used your words to unintentionally cut deeper into the very insecurities he worked so hard to keep hidden.

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft sound of the bedroom door opening. Hyunjin stepped out, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that broke your heart all over again.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his voice so small it made your chest tighten with guilt.

You nodded quickly, standing up from the couch. “Of course. Of course.”

He walked over to you, sitting down on the couch beside you, though there was still a noticeable space between you. Hyunjin seemed hesitant, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his oversized sweater. He then laid his head into your lap. You hesitantly threaded your fingers through his hair, until he leaned into your touch, letting you do it freely. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotions.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he began, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I was...I was scared.”

You blinked, surprised by his confession, your hand pausing. “Scared? Of what?”

Hyunjin swallowed hard, his eyes half lidded as he spoke. “Scared that you see me the same way I see myself. Flawed. Not good enough. I’ve always had this fear...this feeling like I’ll never be able to live up to the version of me that people expect. And when you said what you did, I thought...I thought it was proof that even you felt that way. And I don't want you to feel like that about me. At all.” He whined quietly.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you listened to him. You had known Hyunjin struggled with self-doubt- struggled with the fact that people only saw him as a pretty face- a perfect face, but hearing him lay it all out like this, so raw and vulnerable, made your heart ache for him.

“I would never think that,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand with your free one. “You’re everything to me, Hyunjin. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, or your weren't fitting the mold others want you to fit. I only said what I did because I hate seeing you push yourself so hard. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to see yourself as flawed. We all are- but how is that any different. I love you. I don't want you to be perfect- I want you to be you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with so much pain that it made your breath catch in your throat. “But what if I’m not good enough as me?”

Your heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and you squeezed his hand tighter, shaking your head, swallowing. “You are more than good enough, Hyunjin. You are so talented, so kind, and you work harder than anyone I’ve ever known. You don’t have to be perfect. Again, I love you for who you are, not who you think you should be.”

Hyunjin’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, it looked like he might start crying again. But instead, he sat up, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away.”

You held him just as tightly, your own tears falling freely now. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don't have to apologize Jinnie...”

For a long time, the two of you sat there in each other’s arms, the weight of the argument finally starting to lift. Hyunjin’s breathing eventually steadied, and you could feel the tension slowly draining from his body as he relaxed into your embrace.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still red, but there was a softness in them now, a peace that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I’ll try to be better,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try not to let my insecurities get the best of me.”

You smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I'll try to be better with my words as well. We’ll work through our issues together. You don’t have to do this alone.” You touched his cheek and smiled.

Hyunjin nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He kissed you gently. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much sincerity that it made your heart swell.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your hands gently cupping his face. “More than anything.”

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@redstayrosie @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @courtnort455

@modesttiger @night-storm7 @ka0ila

@loveyouamory

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[sylviathejester]

TIRED.

maybe it’s time to say goodbye, ���cause i’m getting pretty fuckin’ tired.

PLATONIC!JOHN PRICE x TEENAGER!GN!Y/N

warnings: mentions of death, foster care (this is my first time writing about foster care, excuse me if there’s any imperfections), attempted suicide, slight swearing

author note: this is separate from the poll. please tell me if the spacing is a turn off, it’s for aesthetic purposes in this oneshot, slowing your reading like Y/N’s world momentarily stills at the thoughts.

word count: 859.

Death. You’ve been thinking about it for days on end, what does it feel like? Your foster father, Jonathan (or as everyone calls him, John), says it’s Cold. Chilling. Scary. But what if it isn’t? Some people die with a smile on their face, so perhaps it could be the same for you?

Foster family after foster family. Abusive, neglectful piece of shits who only foster for the money. You’re afraid John might be the same.

The poor man, however, actively tries to convince you he isn’t like them. He does movie nights every Saturday, he actually listens when you talk, every word you say doesn’t go unnoticed. And his efforts don’t go unnoticed by you, not at all. He’s gentle. He’s a gentle man.

But you’ve had enough.

You’re scared shitless, some families acted like they were “mental health advocates” until you showed signs of burnout, depression, and even a tinge of anger issues, that’s when they threw you away.

And you’re just at your limit with John. The mask is.. slowly.. cracking.

John’s been a sweet guy, and he does everything in his power to make you feel okay, safe, happy. But you don’t budge. But you don’t show that you’re not budging, you show him a happy person, someone you’re not. And you’re getting tired.

”Mama was a bit naïve, and her daddy was a blinded thief. He went and stole away what was left of the remains of a family. “ Another Empty Bottle by Katy McAllister plays, you forgot the last time you heard this song, but it was one of your favorites when you were younger, more innocent, unaware of the shit going on between biological Mom and Dad. Unaware of the abuse. Perhaps your soul always felt like something was wrong, and your brain caught up later.

You sit on the couch, the TV on. You briefly look at the movement, the show must be some silly romcom, how cute.

Your phone’s music and the TV served as background noise, initially done to shut away the thoughts, but they’re.. lingering..

John was out of the house, buying groceries. He tried to persuade you to tag along; “You haven’t been out the house for a couple of weeks now, Y/N. you better go out!” He said, in that sickly sweet and kind voice of his. But you insisted on staying. Being tired from staying up was your excuse, and he let you off.

You paused the music and turned off the TV, and laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It wouldn’t hurt to.. at least try. If he comes back before you actually do it, you can act like you never even tried, it’d be fine.

And if you succeeded?

But wouldn’t he be upset? Sad? He’d feel like he failed you. He never did, he never will.

He’d understand, surely he will.

Suddenly, you find yourself in the kitchen, in front of the knives John kept hanging on a shelf. For some reason he leaves them out in the open.

You grab the sharpest one, or rather, the newest knife. You look at it, and your reflection stares right back, as if to plead with you to not do it, think about it.

You ignore its pleas.

You slowly place the knife right under your wrist. Your breathing’s heavy, your heartbeat’s accelerated.

Should I do it? Should I do it?

Should I-

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Your shoulder? Is it the grim reaper paying a visit?

You look over slowly, and your stomach drops. It’s John.

You look behind him, the grocery bags are on the floor, the different things he bought scattered across the floor.

“Hey.” He speaks a little louder, which causes you to look at him. He puts two fingers under your chin, keeping it in place.

He slowly takes the knife from your hand, sliding it across the counter; away from your hands.

“Are you okay?” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Your eyes? You must be going blind.

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Throughout your body, are you in Heaven?

No, you’re in John’s arms. Maybe that’s your own, twisted little version of Heaven. Isn’t Heaven the place where you feel eternal peace? John gives you peace, albeit not as eternal as Heaven, but he’s your Heaven on Earth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ You sob into his chest. He merely shushes you, running his hand up and down your back.

It’s 11PM. You and John are on the couch, you’re holding onto him like a koala hugging a tree. It’s been silent.

“What made you want to do it?” He breaks the silence as he whispers the dreaded question.

“John, do you- will you still want me here?” You look at him.

Silence.

“Pardon?” He raises a brow.

“Will you still want me here? You won’t- give me back, right?” You look at him: expectant, hopeful.

“Of course not, Y/N.” He hugged you a little tighter. “You’re stuck with me.”

Maybe he won’t leave like the others did.

At the realization, the world felt a little brighter.

[seonghwaddict]

in your arms — choi san

request by @sankatchu. “Just saw ur seonghwa angst and it absolutely destroyed my heart but since I am a wreck for angst could you write the most heart breaking angst (with a happy ending bc as much as I love it I can’t deal with no comfort 😍) for my man sannn <3 ?”

pairing. choi san x reader. genre. heavy angst, comfort. warnings. argument, car crash, injury description, a lot of crying, hospitalisation, pet name (my love). wc. 1117 words. (i would usually write 1.1k but this was too cute sorry not sorry).

[ listening to . . . ] lovememore. by dosii.

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

your whole world shattered within a day and there’s nothing you’ll regret more than letting it happen. it was a day like any other, but soon enough small irritations that accumulated over the course of months finally snapped and caused an argument with your boyfriend and the love of your life, choi san.

the relationship you two had was always very loving and despite being together for nearly a year, you were proud to say you never had any serious fights with him. until today, you supposed. there wasn’t really a point to the argument but you figured he must’ve been stressed from work—comebacks were always a bit hectic—and neither of you had been getting much sleep.

“just stop being so selfish and so self-righteous and leave me be for a seco-”

“get out.”

his anger faltered for just a moment before it was back, much more visible than before; his shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. “what?”

“i said get out. you said you wanted me to let you be, so leave. get out and come back when you’re ready to talk this through properly.”

The subject of it didn’t really matter anyway and you couldn’t even remember everything that was said, just the way your heart shattered when he walked out of your apartment with a slam of the front door behind him. even though the sadness of it all hit you as soon as he was gone, your rage never settled. how dare he talk to you so harshly? san was a painfully soft man—gentle words and tender touches. you’d never seen him like that.

san wasn’t sure where to go at first, but soon enough he was in his car, driving down the nearly empty streets at one in the morning and heading to the dorms he shared with his members. buildings rushed past him and soon enough his rigid posture relaxed, his hands on the steering wheel loosening as he sighed deeply. he contemplated turning the car around to go back and apologise, but before he could he felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as the screech of tired ripped through the air.

for a moment everything was silent, san’s ears ringing as he slowly started to figure out his bearings. the car was flipped sideways as his left shoulder was pressed against the shattered glass of the window and the concrete of the ground. his thoughts were slow, a sluggish attempt to keep him awake as he tried to move his limbs. he ignored any injuries he had, his hand reaching for his very cracked phone as he called the first person that came to mind. you.

but you didn’t pick up.

so he left you a voicemail, the high pitch of sirens already approaching in the background. with a final “i love you” he ended the message, coughing just after as he clicked his seatbelt off and slumped against the ground. after a few more breaths, he let his eyes close.

you were positively hysterical once you finally listened to the voicemail, hot tears running down your cheeks as you rushed to the nearest hospital that they must’ve taken him to. after talking to the receptionist and figuring out where his room was, you burst inside the room and stopped in your tracks.

his members were there, looking pale scattered around the room in varying states of distress, but you barely registered them as your heart sank. there were a few cuts and bruises blossoming on the sharp features of his face, a small plaster taped on his forehead. his left shoulder was wrapped in bandages as well as his right wrist. someone hugged you tightly as they cried into your shoulder, you didn’t really care who, though you figured it was wooyoung judging by the familiar smell, but your eyes stayed fixated on the unconscious, fragile body of san, the monitor next to him beeping at a steady pace. 

once he let go of you and told you they had to leave for schedules since the company didn’t want fans to worry too much, you took some tentative steps to the hospital bed. even though he looked quite beaten up, he still had that tenderness about him. with a frown and small furrow to your eyebrows, you let your fingers trace of the scratched on his hand.

before you knew it, you were sitting on chair you pulled next to the bed, holding onto his hand for dear life as you laid your head on his lap, not caring that your tears were staining the pristine white blanket. eventually, you fell asleep like that.

the next morning you stirred awake, a familiar hand brushing through your hair. a small noise leaving your lips as you turned your head and looked up. suddenly you had the energy of five redbulls as you jumped up and embraced him tightly, ignoring the fact you were probably suffocating him as tears began streaming again.

“i’m s-so so sorry, are you okay?” you told him through sobs and sniffles, “god, i’m so stupid and you’re right, i’m selfish and i should’ve just shut up, t-this is all my fault.”

san lifted his right hand to pat your arm gently before grasping it and pulling you away from him with the same slowness. as your tearful eyes looked into his strikingly soft ones, his hand moved so he could wipe away your tears. “i’m okay, none of this is your fault. i never meant a single word i said, you’re not selfish and fuck i would never want you to shut up. i should be the one apologising, my love.”

you lips trembled as you nodded slowly. “b-but if i never made you leave this wouldn’t have happened, it is my fault.”

“whatever happened, happened. please, don’t beat yourself up over this.” he pulled you close to him and his lips pressed heartfelt kisses to your hair as you buried your face in his uninjured shoulder, one on the nape of your neck and the other rubbing your back. “it’s okay, i’m okay, love.”

“i should be the one comforting you.” 

he chuckled and moved his hand from your neck to your cheek, guiding you to face him before leaning up to press his lips against yours. it was a firm kiss, wordless reassurance that he knew you needed as you melted against him and pressed yourself closer. his lips left yours too soon for your liking as he pressed more fluttering kisses on your cheeks, stopping your tears in the tracks, leaning back as he pressed one last kiss to the tip of your nose.

“i already find comfort in your arms.”

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] this ended up being a lot sadder than i intended but i hope you like it sankatchu!! writing angst is honestly so much fun but sometimes my heart can’t take it

　　[ network ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

[sirdindjarin]

A Ghoul and a Vault-Dweller Walk Into a Bar

Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x Lucy MacLean.

TAGS: Fluff, pining, introspection lol.

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol consumption.

Based off of this post ! I loved the idea and couldn't get it out of my head.

AO3 link 🤠

A few days after the events of the last episode, the Ghoul and Lucy take solace in a quiet saloon, only to find their dynamic is changing.

“Ain’t this a peach,” the Ghoul muttered, taking in the New Vegas saloon. It was a postwar attempt to recreate what no one still walking had ever experienced, but it was faithful enough to send the Ghoul back to the set of a movie some two centuries earlier. He could smell the burn of the stage lights, hear the staccato of studio executives arguing, and see PAs stumbling over cables in the background. 

His bittersweet reverie ended when - what else - the Vault Dweller opened her mouth. Again. 

Bouncing on her tiptoes, her wide smile was interrupted only by her exclamation, “Wow! This place is right out of a history book. Oh, gosh, look at that!” 

Hanging from the ceiling was a myriad of materials in various stages of rust and decay. Grimy, glaring patrons grumbled as Lucy rushed past their tables to examine some memorabilia plastered to the wall. She gingerly ran her gray forefinger over the rusted farm equipment. “See these? They used to pull these behind a tractor, or a horse, and it made furrows in the ground. That made it a lot easier for them to plant things like corn, tobacco, wheat -” 

The Ghoul ignored her lesson. Let the history buff have her boring version of fun, it’d give him some peace. After the past three days, he needed it. He strode toward the far end of the bar, spurs clinking.

Lucy had been silent after the revelation with her father. Downright catatonic, almost. The following morning, still in sight of the Hollywood sign, and out of the daggum goodness of his heart (truly, he’d been a saint to even think about it) he’d offered her a hit of an upper, but she’d curled her lip in disgust. No skin off his nose, he’d thought humorously, he would just let her stew. 

Before the sun had set that next day, however, the girl abruptly flipped from traumatized silence to her usual non-stop chatter. He hadn't asked what changed. The Ghoul assumed she'd come to terms with her father being an evil sonofabitch. He expected her trauma would rear its ugly head at some point, but that was a future problem. Once she started talking again, he had again been a saint - he’d only thought about shooting her once. And that only because she had asked him a stupid question. 

You mentioned finding your family. You have kids?

Sidling up to the bar top, his ragged coat slapping gently against the stool, the Ghoul’s attention was drawn to a jukebox against the wall to his right. Colorful lights flashed, dimmed by a layer of dust; but the old machine advertised it was ready to sing. He glanced curiously at some of the songs, felt a flicker of some emotion he wouldn’t put name to, and turned away. He drummed his gloved fingers on the wooden counter, impatient to have something to smother the spark of sadness. Here, the weight of the past was literally hanging over his head.

The Ghoul had directed his focus on the other end of the bar, where the barkeep seemed to be pointedly ignoring him, when a dull scraping sound alerted him to someone sitting beside him - between him and the mocking jukebox. 

“Hi! Barkeep?” Lucy beamed and motioned between herself and the Ghoul, “Could we get a drink, please?” 

The gruff man looked more like a patron than a bartender, all heavy gait and uninterested stare, but he raised his eyebrows at Lucy. The Ghoul laughed under his breath. 

“What?” She asked in a whisper. Grimacing, she worried, “Oh… is that not how you’re supposed to do it?”

“There’s a laundry list of things you shouldn’t be doin’, Vaultie, but flaggin’ down the bartender ain’t one of ‘em.” 

Lucy straightened her posture. “You know, we have established a mutual goal and I would appreciate mutual respect. I don’t think being laughed at is-”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t laughin’ at you; quit bein’ so sensitive,” the Ghoul stated flatly. “Don’t we make quite the damned pair? A Ghoul and a Vault Dweller walk into a bar…” he trailed off with another chuckle.

Lucy relaxed her shoulders, still feeling awkward. “Oh, haha.” 

“All we got is distilled water and tequila. Which’un you want?” The bartender interrupted, though he spoke only to Lucy.

“Uh, I would like to try the tequila. I still have some water leftover and it’ll be fun to try something new.” 

The bartender sucked on his teeth, turned, and left - resenting serving a peppy Vault Dweller and outright refusing to serve the arrogant ghoul seated beside her as though it was a person.

“They don’t much like my kind here, darlin’,” the Ghoul grinned lopsidedly. He tapped his holster with his new forefinger. “I’ll have to get my drink a different way.”

Eyes wide, Lucy nearly stood on the rung of the stool as she shouted to the bartender: “Make that two glasses of tequila, please.” 

The barkeep went still for a brief moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. He’d seen some weird shit, but if this wasn’t the strangest duo he’d ever served, he’d eat a radroach. He sent the shots sliding down the well-worn wood counter with surprising skill, and they stopped directly in front of Lucy. She nudged one of the grimy glasses toward the Ghoul, who grunted. 

In those old movies, the characters often clinked their glasses together. Excited to perform a toast in a real saloon, Lucy raised her glass toward the Ghoul. Her eyes sparkled so earnestly that the Ghoul briefly considered indulging her. Instead, he tipped the shot glass into his parched mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction.

“Ah,” he hummed. This was nothing like the chems he used to stay sane, and tequila wasn’t his favorite, but damn if it didn’t feel like the alcohol stripped off some of the layers of the past week's shit.

Upon opening his eyes, he was surprised by the mix of amusement and regret in his chest at the way the girl’s face had fallen. It was childishly funny the way he could disappoint her so easily - as though they kept the same standards of behavior - but the pleasure of her disappointment only took the Ghoul so far. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he goaded, his voice deep and persuasive. “It ain’t top-shelf but it ain’t lizard-piss, either.” 

“I don’t know what either of those mean,” Lucy mumbled as she brought the glass to her lips; she winced as fumes burned her nostrils. Abandoning caution, she threw the clear liquid into her mouth and swallowed as the Ghoul had. The liquid stung as it slid down her throat; her mouth puckered. Fighting the urge to cough, she cleared her throat instead. Lucy refused to let the Ghoul have anything more to bully her about.

Lucy blinked away the wetness in her eyes. The Ghoul was watching her. Lucy couldn’t discern the look in his eye, but it wasn’t one she’d seen before. The Ghoul had made certain of that. 

“That was, um, so good,” she grimaced. But the warmth in her chest and stomach was pleasant. “You want another?”

The Ghoul chuckled, “If you’re buyin’.” 

***

“No, I only meant it as a compliment,” Lucy slurred, blushing furiously. She was only four shots in, but the Ghoul was starting to get concerned that she would throw up on him. Lucy wobbled on her stool. “Really, they’re nice eyes. No, ‘m okey dokey. Wow, this stuff is strong.” She held her hand out in front of her and wiggled her fingers, fascinated by the way her vision seemed to be a half-second beyond reality. 

“Must be. You,” he pointed in her face, “can’t handle your liquor.”

"Hey, it’s my first try," she steadied herself. 

“It’s gon’ be your last if you paint my boots. You look a little green, Vaultie.”

Her big brown eyes refocused on the Ghoul. “Okay, well, distract me. I know you won’t tell me anything about yourself.” 

He tensed. 

“And that’s okay. But I don't even know your name." Lucy threw him a frown, "What if I have to call for you - what am I supposed to say?” 

The Ghoul chewed at the inside of his cheek, tearing away some skin as he considered. He’d had twelve shots. She wasn’t asking anything too revealing; and she had saved his life. And maybe all her “Do Unto Others” bullshit wasn’t bullshit, but he still wasn’t about to crack open like a can of biscuits. The Ghoul gazed down into her doe eyes, then he and the tequila made a decision.

“Cooper,” he answered after safely looking away, his voice rough over the word.

Something scratched at the back of Lucy’s brain. Tipsy as she was, she knew this was important - she did not want to ruin whatever progress they seemed to have made. She nodded and replied politely, “That’s a good name. Cooper.” 

Lucy watched the rainbow of lights as they reflected off the shiny bar. She slid off the stool and leaned over the jukebox, flipping idly through the songs. 

Cooper held his thirteenth shot in his gloved hand as he stared ahead at the blank wall of the now-empty saloon. After they had collectively purchased nearly twenty shots, the bartender had lost all sense of distaste for either of them; he now sat in a chair, dozing, waiting for the Ghoul and the Vault Dweller to ask him for more. 

A gasp came from Cooper’s right. His stool groaned as he turned, and he saw Lucy grinning up at him.

“Look at this song: I Walk the Line. It’s from one of my favorite movies -” 

Cooper's stomach lurched. 

“A Man and His Dog.” Lucy selected the song. “And the main character’s real name was Cooper. Used to watch those old Westerns with - with my dad all the time. The best ones are the ones with him. With Cooper Howard, I mean. He was always the good guy. He never hurt anyone. Well, unless he absolutely had to, of course.” She began to wax poetic about ethics, and her audience of one tuned out. The gruff croon of Johnny Cash filled the otherwise silent building.

Cooper Howard debated whether or not he should tell her the truth. He didn’t know how much she knew about his life as an actor - some of her questions about his family could be answered if she knew about his widely-publicized, definitely-public-record divorce - but seeing her face when she learned that her favorite cowboy movie star was the radiation-ravaged monster sitting beside her would be hilarious.

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Well, would it be hilarious? Cooper wasn’t so certain anymore. Lucy’s disappointment in him was rapidly losing its luster. Her cowboy had fallen a height that would’ve killed anyone else - had killed almost everyone else. The good man she idolized was dead. He wouldn’t resurrect him just to kill him again in front of Lucy. 

For the second time that afternoon, she pulled him abruptly from a reverie. 

“I wonder what it was like. Everyone in these saloons… with a jukebox playing while you dance with a handsome stranger,” Lucy gazed out at the empty room. “It must’ve been incredible.”

Cooper didn’t correct her about jukeboxes and saloons. Instead, he took his thirteenth shot, allowing it to burn away what was left of his judgment. 

“Well, come on down, darlin’.” He held out his hand - the one that was one-fifth her.

Dubious, distrustful despite their fledgling partnership, Lucy’s eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his dark eyes. This man had cut off her finger less than a week before. He’d tried to sell her. 

But this wasn't a desperate game of cat and mouse, and he no longer believed she was a lying murderer. (That conversation had been a hoot. One of the few times he’d asked her a question, Cooper had wondered what possessed her to cut off Wilzig’s fuckin’ head, and, after she told him Wilzig had left her no choice, she tearfully described the sound of his spine severing and nearly vomited. The Ghoul had laughed.) She was here of her own choice. Lucy chose to follow the Ghoul - Cooper - into the Wilds and the Wasteland. She trusted him now, and he her.

“It’s alright, Vaultie. Y’know I won’t bite,” he drawled with a smirk. “Of the two’ve us, which one has bitten the other?” 

“Wh-?” Lucy started to ask, then decided better of it. Cooper had given her his name and his trust. He had been as kind as summer by Wasteland standards, and she would be damned if her manners were the poor ones. She took his hand.

As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

The room was spinning, and Lucy wasn’t sure if the blame should be placed on the tequila or the Ghoul who held her so gently. This was a far cry from the lasso he’d thrown around her last week. She opened her mouth, fully intent on telling him See, the Golden Rule is golden for a reason. But when his hand slid slowly from the curve of her waist to the small of her back, she found that the words were missing. 

He guided them in a small, slow circle. Cooper’s chest was pressed up against her own, and it was though his centuries-deep layers of leather and cotton, and her pristine, thick Vault-Tec suit were non-existent. The vulnerability set his teeth on edge, but it relaxed Lucy. She let the music, the alcohol, and the Ghoul take her. Uncharacteristically shy, and somewhat nauseous, she laid her head on his shoulder. 

Cooper hummed along with Johnny Cash, letting himself feel a modicum of peace in this improbable, inexplicable bubble. He could feel Lucy’s heart beating rapidly beneath her garish suit. His own heart felt like the tattoo of a horse’s hooves. Cooper’s jaw tensed as he wondered how she’d feel to know that. He found himself hoping. 

Hope and contentment were as foreign to him as a nose and hair, now. Yet he felt the gnaw of yearning. Lucy was a reflection and a time machine. Maybe that cowboy - the one who deserved both hope and contentment - could live again. 

And happiness I've known proves that it's right

Because you're mine, I walk the line.

[kit-williams]

Sickeningly Sweet

The culmination of mine and @sculptorofcrimson's mega post about Valdor... you should probably read that to get an understanding of what is going on.

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon

As always thank you @squishyowl for the divder

tw: smut. yandere valdor. mindbreak or at least mind broken

This was written in like an hour

She hardly recognized herself in the mirror anymore... the slightly golden tinge to her eyes stared back at her with such sadness that was uncommon for her given her background... she made the most of everything... she really tried with this... as she could feel the way the comb just glided through her long brown hair... something happened when she got scared.

He had stumbled back when she let out that final desperate scream before she devolved into sobs... her eyes and her hair changed not long after that... but now no one came to visit... no one came to check up on her... she felt so sad and empty for the first time in her life... she covered her face and let her tears fall for herself for a moment before she knew he was there licking them away like a dog. And she once more felt the weight of the laurel upon her head.

The days felt so numb... and at times she felt like a doll being preened over and kept clean and loved... but she felt so achingly lonely. Ever since Valdor had come into her life... everything went insane... suddenly the Inquisition was doing its best to interrogate politely ask her what was going on. Suddenly there were machinations that she wanted to be ignorant about thrust into her face... then the Enemy was moving around, as Valdor had told her about some of the things that attacked the ship. They knew he was guarding something... he swore he wouldn't let them get her Him.

Her last attempt to pull away to get away from the golden nightmare ended in so much death and it was all her fault. She wept again... and once again his tongue lapped up the tears. Time was a blur for her as she tried to stop eating but while it kept him at bay for some time... she should have remembered he wasn't fully against hurting her and the subtle threats he wove got her to eat once again....

She hardly noticed the change in room as Valdor shuffled her around again... but all she could do was look up at him pleadingly to not kill them... silently praying to the Throne that she wouldn't have to watch him butcher people who were simply trying to treat her as human because that is what she was! But time still blurred for her and she couldn't take it any more... the crushing silence he held only to hold her so devotingly and whisper such praises... perhaps that is why she turned so inwardly with her own fingers as company. And still he watches even as she finishes even as she licks her own fingers clean... she can't even feel something alone.

How long has it been? She wonders as she hardly leaves her room anymore and feels herself wilting as the thought of that... "Valdor." Her voice cracks from disuse and there he is.

"Yes my Emperor?" He says with that calm voice.

"I feel lonely." She admits letting the tears flow. When he kneels and leans in to lick up her tears once more she presses her mouth to his and pushes her tongue against his. "Please... Valdor... Please... I need." She begs as she wraps her arms around his neck not knowing exactly what she was begging for. Perhaps for something carnal... as she remembers when he first appeared she felt that lust as who wouldn't?

"What do you need of me my liege." She feels his breath against her cheek and ear as her mouth moves desperately against his chin and throat... eyes closed tight to not break the illusion of her not thrusting desire onto him.

"Please touch me." She mewls at him and once more feels his mouth against her own as she moans eagerly into his mouth. The tunic she had been given now coming into play as his warm finger just brushes against her sex. She jolts at the contact moaning as she feels the digit sinking into her.

Pulling open her top she plays with her own breasts just to feel something just to feel the high in this as she keeps her eyes closed or stealing timid glances... but his gaze at her is terrifying in a way... so overwhelming.

However the slow pumping of his digit wasn't doing enough for her right now. "Valdor please I need you." She whimpers rubbing a foot against his inner thigh trying to encourage a reaction from him as she looks up at him with those eyes.

The ghost of a smile on his lips as his eyes hold some predatory look in them... as if she was a rabbit caught in a trap, "My liege is in need and removing my armor will take time... let me please you now." He pulled his finger out and tasted it... she watched him close his eyes for a moment savoring it before leaning in and licking the lips...

His name was a ghost on her lips before she suddenly screamed it out as he dove in with a hunger that sent a jolt of life into her. Her thighs squeezing his head and her fingers gripping the dark hair of his mohawk. She didn't see or chose to ignore the way he watched her writhe against his mouth... the way his eyes focused on her own as they flashed a bright gold... each lick pouring life back into this shard of the Emperor that was becoming like tarnished gold... dull and lifeless.

His tongue cupped and pressed against her bud as he wrapped his dearest liege shard in the finest golden chains of his devotion... she craved such companionship... it was something he had to discourage at first as who else but a loyal servant could bring their liege such pleasure. His tongue moves deeper and she screams with such desperate pleasure, "Valdor! Valdor please! I'm so close!" She sobbed as her faithful servant held her thighs gently just watching her come undone with a final shriek.

He made sure not a drop of her was wasted... she flushed as she could hear the wetness of his licks and laps as he cleaned her with such devotion. He knew her routine having seen her with a paramour before he knew for certain she was his Beloved... it was all a bonding ritual that would bring him into their good graces again. The concern that entered her gold eyes... "Do you need to be taken care of?"

"Do not worry about me." He said watching her nod as she got as comfortable as she could to snuggle in the afterglow of that sensation. And as Valdor played his role in her post coitus bonding ritual he knew... he knew his Beloved shard would be less... and less... and less... and oh so very less likely to pull away from him again like they tried to.

[connorsblog]

you're gone, but im still here. | c.g

genre : angst

summary : after carls death, you feel lost.

warning : hallucinations & semi-graphic gore description

do not continue reading if you have not seen 8x09 !! spoilers ahead

i sat infront of carls grave, the mere dirt pile was all rick and michonne could do while alexandria was burning down to the ground.

a pang went to my heart as i ran my fingers over the ashed dirt. it was a mix of grey and brown now, just reminding me all over again how my home burnt down.

"i shouldve been able to save you," my voice cracks as i attempt to talk to carl. it doesnt work very well.

i try to talk again, but all that comes out is a cracked "sorry." it wasnt enough and i knew it.

i tried to focus on the background sounds, but the soft chirps of the cicadas didn't suffice for carls voice.

i tried to imagine him there, sitting next to me in silence and holding my head on his shoulder.

i guess i imagined too far, as when i turned around he was there. in 3d.

"carl?" my voice came out soft and broken.

"you don't have to be sad," he got straight to his point. almost like he was about to disappear any moment.

"i died to save someone. he's going to be good for the community," he continued, "his name is siddiq."

i guess i forgot about him, since he hadnt been here very long. i had seen him maybe once, maybe twice?

"it's not your fault i died," not even allowing me to talk before starting up again, "it's not your fault."

he kept saying that but some part of me, buried deep inside of me, thought otherwise.

"it is my fault," came out without my consent. i didnt want to speak, i wanted to relish in his voice and presence until i couldnt see his face anymore.

he gripped my wrist. some part of me wanted to rip away and continue to believe he was dead. but he was right there, in front of my face.

i began to talk again, but as quick as he came he left. nothing was there besides the dirt mound.

i heard ricks gravely voice from somewhere behind me. i ignored it, hoping, somehow that carl would come back.

forty-six beats of silence later, i felt a hand on my shoulder. bristly cold.

shortly after, i realized it was carl again.

i didn't speak, not that he'd let me, and waited for him to say something.

"siddiq is good people, you know," he lifts his head a bit, finally allowing me to see his gaping gunshot wound in his head. but it wasnt bleeding, just a void of flesh that was on the side of his head.

i resisted the urge to scream, that all-too-familiar pang in my heart back. plus, if i did scream.. i'd look crazy. nobody was there, right?

"you'll be okay without me," he continues. i didnt know why he continued to talk, i hadnt said anything for the past few minutes.

"are you sure?" i finally spoke up. my throat hurt from the words, they felt like lava bubbling up and threatening to blow any second.

"i'm sure," he whispered before his eye closed and he disappeared for the last time.

"i dont want to live without you. but i will anyway," i sigh out as i brush my fingers over his grave for the last time for a while. i cant mourn him for too long.

[corpsebasil]

hiii could i pls request something w modern prince nikolai?? i’m dying to know how they get back together😭

YES

Modern Nikolai part 3 I think!

The cafe is quiet at opening hours, but then again it always is now that it’s public knowledge that Nikolai avoids your former workplace.

The multitudes of ‘princess-hopefuls’—a term Oliver coined that refers to the women who think a casual run-in with Prince Nikolai could be the beginning of their own royal love story—have long since stopped haunting the corners of the coffee-scented establishment, the gentle hum of an espresso machine and the soft music in the background replacing excited whispers and gossiping.

That’s why when Nikolai, clad in a baseball cap and a sweatshirt from the university he graduated, sits across from you, the elderly patrons and younger customers that tend to mind their own business barely bat an eye. Only the currently working barista, a girl named Margery who replaced your own position, lifts her eyebrows briefly before going back to her work, the prince a minor distraction in her routine of grinding coffee beans and steaming milk.

“Y/N.” He starts immediately, his familiar voice raw and soft as he sits across from you. Your fingers, already wrapped tightly around a warm cappuccino, tighten further. “You look…I mean, I missed you. You..”

When you allow yourself to meet those sad blue eyes, so vivid even under the slight shadow of his visor, a feeling of longing overtakes you. You still love him. Of course you do. But he hurt you.

“Switzerland.” You say, ignoring his statement as you move forward. “Oliver invited me.”

He’s quiet for a second. His jaw twitches—the only sign of his irritation.

“He told me.”

“And?” You ask. You’ve always been able to read him like a book. Seeing him become slightly annoyed by his brother’s actions is only another reason on your rapidly growing list as to why you shouldn’t go. “You don’t want me there. I don’t want to be there. Olly—“

“I do want you there. Christ, Y/N.” His hand darts out to touch yours upon instinct before he squeezes his eyes shut, clearly frustrated with himself as he tucks his hands together under the table, safe in his lap. It’s too late though—his warm fingers have already brushed your knuckles and now you want to hold his hand again. God, you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle after a dry spell. “I’m sorry. I—Jenna misses you. Olly won’t stop talking about how excited he is for you to come. My mother—” Nikolai pauses. “My mother would be…absolutely relieved to see you.”

“Your mother, lied to me.” You say, eyebrows furrowed as you let go of your cup and tuck your own hands into your lap as well, mirroring his actions. Two sides of a coin, the two of you are. Two halves of one soul. Inseparable. Irreplaceable. “And Jenna, and Olly. And you.” Your voice catches and you both seem to tense at the same time. “You lied to me. You said you loved me but you—”

Oh shit, your voice is doing that thing where it sounds a bit croaky before you start crying.

Not here. Not here.

“Y/N,” Nikolai murmurs, reaching out again. His jaw is clenched tight as he splays his fingers, laying himself bare for you if you want him. “I’m sorry. For everything for—“ he squeezes his eyes shut. “I never should have lied to you. I know that. But I love you, okay? That’s real. I’m real.” When you don’t reply, only watch him with misty eyes, he swallows roughly. “I love you.”

Hesitantly, you take his hand. It sends a jolt through your body, the both of you taking in a slight inhale.

“I’ll come.” You say, trying not to tense when his fingers curl instantly around your own, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. His blue eyes are soft and full of relief.

“Thank you.” Nikolai tightens his fingers on yours for a moment, his voice tight. He clears his throat when you tug away, a forced, slightly nervous smirk on his mouth as he relaxes into his seat. “So…matching boards this year?”

You snort, remembering his awful attempts at teaching you to snowboard a year or so ago during a similar trip.

“You have to stand up.” Nikolai laughs, lifting the visor of his helmet as you crouch in the snow, gripping the board below you for dear life. “It’s not a sled.”

“It’s whatever I say it is.” You grumble, raising an eyebrow at the prince. He reaches down and, as if you weigh nothing, scoops you up under the arms and sets you down in the powdery snow.

“You didn’t even bother to strap in.” He scolds as you beam, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Nikolai’s helmet taps yours in a semblance of a kiss before he’s guiding you towards the warmth of the resort, the prospect of hot chocolate and fireplaces raising your spirits.

You smile involuntarily at the memory and shrug, fidgeting with the gold bracelet on your wrist. The both of you seem to realize it’s one he got you at the same time but, thankfully, he doesn’t comment. Pride still lingers in his tone when he speaks, though.

“I’ll pick you up for the airport, then?” Nikolai says, tilting his head to the side in that boyish way of his.

You bite your lip, worried you’ll regret this, but nod.

WELLLL WHAT COULD HAPPEN ON THIS TEIP?

[heartfullofleeches]

I live vicariously through your voice actor reader because voice acting is my dream profession, so may I have a small snippet or something?

Perhaps something along the lines of VA reader trying to record their lines but they have to retake them over and over again because Baron (I miss him) keeps messing things up. He’s touch starved so he won’t let reader record in peace, and he stubbornly refuses to sit anywhere but in their lap (or, alternatively, reader sits in his lap).

Maybe…. Just maybe…. The thing that’s messing up readers recordings is the sound of Baron purring in the background…. :0

"Y/n? Hey, Y/n, let me in. I stepped on my tails and I need your attention or I will die. The two are unrelated, but I need sympathy points. Y/n, are you listening? Come on, its been like ten minutes. Y/nnn."

You throw off your headphones and stop the recording as the demon whines and bangs on the bathroom door. This is what you've had to deal with the whole day. A studio had requested you record some updated test reels for reference and Baron, on his usual needy streak, decided today was the day he'd dump the week long build up of his love on you.

The oversized pest forced his head onto your lap and began purring up a storm during your first attempt; refusing to move and literally chucking your computer monitor safely on the bed as he asked about your day. He followed you from bedroom/makeshift office to closet to the kitchen; disturbing your recordings with little chirps and nipping at your fingers for ignoring his demands. You finally locked yourself in the bathroom using the sink drawer as a barricade. Your confidence with its security grew weaker by the second as the drawer slowly fell off its hinge with each hit.

All falls silence as it gives way and crashes to the ground. You wait for him to break down the door - he comes through the window instead."

"Y/n!" Baron squeezes his large body through the tight space and jumps in the bathroom beside you. He pulls you into his lap as his tail coil around you; horns and warm tongues knocking against the side of your face as he rubs his head against it. "I missed you so fucking much. Kinda sad you're not taking a shower, but I'm still so happy to see you!"

"Baron! I'm busy right now. I just needed twenty minutes."

"Twenty?! I barely lasted five. Stop sending your voice to people who probably get off to it and cuddle me!"

His pitiful whines rumble against your back. Baron reaches for your computer, but you manage to save what you've recorded so far and set it outside the tub. Your finger missing the pause button by an inch, but you don't have the time to notice. Forgetting about it almost immediately, Baron slathers kisses over your face and neck as he pulls you closer, growling softly.

"Mine. No one else's. If you do this to me again I'll kill whoever's taking you away."

You thrown an arm around his neck. "You always say that. I managed to get some work done, so you can stay for a while."

You and Baron end up spending the rest of the afternoon in the tub. He cradles you from the hard porcelain with his body, but you're still sore from the position and the bites he leaves all over you. Tired and wanting to get things over with, you send what you have without going over with editing.

You get the part, and questions on whether the gruff voice in the background as an agent.

[multifandomplushie]

Here's my take on Weeper.

I used to plan on only tagging him as "reimagined" and "semi oc", but thought I can consider him an OC, similar to @bluetortoist and her own OC, Scream Queen, who is also based on the Brave and the Bold portrayal of the character.

Below is the info about him.

Real Name: Mortimer Gloom

Aliases: Weeper

Nicknames: Weepy (by Joker)

Occupation: Criminal

History:

Mortimer Gloom has always been a gentle and sensitive individual who was often mocked for his emotional nature. Since childhood, his favorite activity was swimming because being in the water helped him hide at least some of the tears he shed to avoid being rediculed.

Although his heart is arguably much bigger, his mind is quite great in size as well and, despite all the emotional turmoils, he managed to get a degree and become an environmental engineer, brilliant but very idealistic.

In his elderly years, he worked on a groundbreaking project that aimed at increasing the volume of drinking water to solve water scarcity. However, during the course of his research, while experimenting on guinea pigs, which always took a toll on his heart throughout his career, he discovered a dangerous flaw in the formula: the properties of the experimental liquid that were added into the drinking water would enter the system and affect the water level in the body to the point of drowning those who consume it from the inside. He tried to warn his superiors, but they ignored his concerns, leading him to steal the formula and equipment. Unfortunately for him, Mortimer was spotted by the research center's security who attempted to stop the elderly man and the chase resulted in him falling into the very formula he discovered. Not only did it affect his body's water level but also caused other mutations inside of his body that have given him the ability to induce sadness by temporarily altering a person's brain chemistry through physical contact.

The day of the accident was a turning point for Mortimer as this is when his deep sadness for the world's injustices reached its peak. He came to a thought that he's not the problem, it's those who encourage hardening one's heart and shame people like him for expressing natural human emotions in response to hardships in life.

Using his power, he makes people cry, symbolizing their emotional pain and his own. This act is motivated by his desire to show the world that emotions should not be suppressed or ignored. He believes that this way he is giving others a cathartic release and freeing them from their repression. This goal is a way for him to channel his own sensitivity and feelings of being misunderstood into a form of twisted altruism.

Powers and Abilities:

• Tear Generation: The experimental liquid increased the amount of water in Mortimer's body to a dangerous degree, but his tendency to cry so often came in handy as letting the water out of his body through tears turned out to be a reliable regulator for his water level and his lacrimal glands managed to adapt to the enormous amount of water coming out of his eyes.

• Sadness Inducement: Due to the formula altering the neurochemical makeup of Mortimer's skin and mutating his neurosystem, whenever he touches someone while he's in a sad state (which, at this point, is his default state), his brain sends electrical impulses that cause his skin to transfer a chemical compound into the person's body that affects their brain's emotional centers, which induces a feeling of sadness and activates tear production.

• Swimming Abilities: Since he frequently swam in the pool to mask his crying, he had a lot of time to practice and develope very impressive skills in that activity.

• Genius Level Intellect: Weeper has a strong background in biology, chemistry, and environmental science, as well as knowledge in areas such as hydrology, water treatment, and water management.

Trivia:

• The chemical reaction Mortimer causes is only temporary and does not cause any lasting psychological harm, but it is strong enough to cause immediate emotional responses in those he touches.

• The properties of the water volume increasing formula aren't transferred when Mortimer cries as they are neutralized by the salt in his tears.

• Joker is the one who gave Mortimer the name Weeper, which happened by accident when they first met and escaped the crime scene together.

• Weeper made his hideout into a series of pool rooms to prevent the building from beind flooded by his tears.

[balkanradfem]

Your story about that man attempting to groom you was so sad, and I know it doesn't work like this, but you really shouldn't blame yourself. Predators are predators because they're good at hunting.

As a slightly cheering story, I wanted to share my exact opposite experience as a young woman that a man attempted to groom. It's extremely long, so start at your own risk.

When I was eight, my family moved out to a remote farm. And on one hand, it was awesome, because I got to spend years wandering forests and fields so remote that I only saw other humans a few times each year.

On the other hand, I was (and still am, lol) an pretty autistic woman who was receiving zero social feedback during critical formulative learning years. And my mother, who was a lesbian who had married a man because it was expected of her, was really my only major human contact since my father was always at work.

So when I went to college at eighteen, I was very feral and had zero respect for men as a sex, thinking of them as mainly bumbling idiots that you only interacted with if you wanted babies.

Shortly after I started living in the dorms at college, an old man (60s) came up to me in the library and started talking to me. And he was actually pretty fascinating, mainly because he owned a fox and my immediate plan was to befriend him in order to pet his fox. So we exchanged numbers and he immediately he starts calling me every day and would drone on for hours about his life. And I could not care less, so I would let him blabber on in the background while I played video games and ignored him. He started calling so often, that I actually unplugged my phone and then plugged it back in a few days later only for him to call at 3 AM. And when I picked up the phone, he identified himself, and I told it was 3 AM and demanded to know why he was calling at such an hour. He said he just wanted to hear my voice, so I replied "Well you have." and then hung up.

Days later, he calls again and asks if I would like to go out for food and shopping. I respond with deadpan no, and tell him I have no money. He responds he'll pay for everything. And it never occurs to me that there will be expectations from him, because that was just never anything that had occurred in my life. The only adults I knew often bought me food and clothing for no discernable reason.

So we go out, and right away he gives me a ring with a gemstone in it. He blathers on and on about how expensive it was (like $90?) and tells me he knows it's too soon but that I deserve it. And I'm nodding along because this is all true and correct, I am amazing, I am incredible, and people should give me tribute for no reason. (Growing up feral, your ego will never be checked once, so you grow up with iron self esteem.)

We go out to eat, he only talks about himself some more, I eat a delicious chicken plate and then he drives me to some mall. He then tells me to get whatever I want.

And in his head, I imagine he thought that the social expectations would have been set up, that I would pick something cute and made for his gaze, because I'm spending his money and he already paid for my dinner.

But instead, I beeline to the thickest working man's jeans, grab six pairs, and then go straight to the dressing room before slamming the door into his following face. I then try on all six by myself, before coming out and announcing them all adequate and that I will take them all.

He's completely crestfallen and tries to stear me towards the underwear before holding up a thin gauzy thong and recommending them. And I look at him with such distain, like he is the world's stupidest fucking idiot that just fell off of the slow truck, before responding, "Stop being stupid, those will be uncomfortable." I then demand he buys me a six pack of durable cotton granny panties.

After he purchasing everything, we drive back to my dorm and I hop out with my bags. But for some reason, he gets out too. So I turn and face him and just stare at him, waiting for him to explain himself. And he kinda falters and stammers that he thought I was going to invite him up. I inquire why in a severe tone, starting to suspect that I have befriended the village idiot.

He responds that he thought the date was going well so he wanted to come up and see my dorm. And my look of distain, disbelief, and disgust is so severe, that he looks shocked before I even respond: "Why would you think this was a date? You are so old. Older than my father. And ugly. And fat. And I am so young. Why would you ever think this was a date?" And my outrage is so strong that I stride away towards the lobby door without waiting for an answer. He shouts "I want my fucking ring back." and I tell him no, you can't take a gift back, before walking through the door and locking it after me.

I never saw him again and I disconnected my phone, but he did send me an increasingly deranged series of emails where first he attempted to blackmail me into returning the ring by threatening to tell my college that I was defrauding innocent men and get me expelled, and then eventually started writing fan fiction erotica about me and exactly what I did when I had sex with them. But none of it bothered me because you can't taunt or hurt someone with something that isn't true, so I continued to ignore them and eventually he stopped.

So I hope that experience made him too wary to try grooming any other women in the great that he would encounter another autistic farm girl.

By the way, I never got to pet that fox, and that's the real tragedy of this story, that I listened to his annoying voice for so long and didn't even get to touch it.

Noo you didn't get to pet the fox!! Do you think the fox was real, did you see pictures? Maybe it was fake, because that is a perfect pull. If someone came up to me with the information that he has a fox, that would also work on me, I would want to pet that fox so badly.

Other than that, you are incredible, I wish we could all download your mindset and live like this. Amazing, unstoppable, unbothered, cannot be guilted, unafraid, will look a m*n in the face and tell him exactly whats up.

The funny thing is that I thought the same about my creep! I thought he was so old and ugly and boring and stupid and how could he in any realm of possibility even attempt to think he could date me? It was so inappropriate to even imagine that! I just couldn't say that, it would seem unforgivable for me to hurt his feelings by speaking my mind on the issue.

Anon I admire you so much, I can't believe you weren't bothered by all of the insane things he did (calling, trying to blackmail you, writing erotica about you) because I would be at the end of my nerves, changing my name and address, living in hiding for 20 years.

You did the completely right thing by ignoring him, wait if he knew where your dorm was, would he ever wait for you or try to physically assault you? That would be my first fear. You must be so strong to be this brave. I can't even imagine.

[writers-ex]

“are we muted…?!”

gamer gf!reader x gf!chaeryeong

word count: 930

warnings: dom!reader, sub!chaer, strap-warming, exhibitionism(?) but like others can hear you bc of a voice call you're on...? needy chaeryeong is a must, you're stupid to leave her getting off by herself like ????, nudity, teasing, being called baby and babe?

i created this with the help of @wannabe-icy and all thanks to this ask i hope you enjoy a needy chaeryeong <3

chaeryeong wouldn't call herself needy but rather...she sees the amount of time you spend playing games and wants you to look at her sometimes instead, today was no different. after coming home from getting some lunch she finds you sitting on your gaming chair scrolling on tiktok, hearing her footsteps you turn around and see your lovely girlfriend. getting up to greet chaeryeong almost drops your soda as she sees that you're leggings have a particularly large strap on top of them. 

"i know how much i've been playing my games and chaer don't think i hear you whining earlier. i put it on and have been waiting for you to come home to help you with that little wet patch on your pants and baby i know it's not from my soda you're holding so tightly."

placing the food down in the kitchen chaeryeong immediately strips off her clothes and drags you to the living room for some long-awaited loving. "where did you even get that? i've-" kissing her lips chaeryeong can feel just how needy you have been as you kiss her sloppy. a low moan escapes her lips as she starts to grab your neck pushing you close to her and feeling the strap rub against her slit. you take the hint and position it near her entrance when your computer's discord group chat starts ringing. you ignore it and start kissing down her neck reaching her collarbone when your phone starts ringing three times in a row, annoyed you get up leaving a pouting chaeryeong, and see that the other girls have been calling you to hop on and help them on a game.

"stupid discord giving away what i was doing...chaer baby i'm so sorry i have to help them, just this once and i'll be yours for the rest of the evening." kissing your frowning girlfriend you make your way to your chair and connect to the ongoing call with the girls. "hey guys!"

arms crossed chaeryeong watches you get into the game shouting commands at your friends while she's lying on the couch needy and naked. if you weren't going to do anything then she was going to have to take measures into her own hands. your sad smile turns into a gasp as you see your lover slide herself onto your strap gripping your desk as you wait for the next battle to commence. relief washes through your body when you see that you opted to answer with your video off for the call, you give her a warning look silently telling her to behave and be patient....

but chaeyeong also has been known at times to not behave, and you should’ve known better when she started to quiet down as your screen lights up with the countdown to the match. getting used to the feeling of something so big inside her chaeryeong's small mewls are muffled against your hand as you attempt to cover her mouth but soon stop as she nibbles and sucks on it softly. you call out instructions and shift a little in your seat making her gasp at the sudden movement.

heat building up inside her she tightens her grip on your desk and starts to rock her hips back and forth feeling the strap fill her up nice and good making her gasps get louder and more frequent. the girls in the chat assume it's random background noise in the game as the enemy getting slayed by your latest battle tactic and continue playing while you do your best not to focus on chaeryeong's arched nude back and her ass jiggling against your lap. 

"ok we're going to scout the area ahead while you hang back, we'll let you know if anyone else shows up to-"

finally having a gap in the game you throw the headphones to the side and grab your needy little strap warmer heading toward your bedroom watch her body shake in confusion as her head is placed against the pillow. fingertips pressed firmly on her hips you see her shift a little and make eye contact as you give her that one look that causes goosebumps to go down her spine.

"what- b-babe i was just-" screaming out loud with chaeryeog's face pressed against the bed you take this moment and pound into her perked-up ass, her hole and loud moans begging you to stop but you don't. within seconds chaeryeong cums all over your strap and legs making you drip at the fucked-out look she has. her face scrunched up from pleasure chaeryeong's soft slow pants are replaced by the loud noise coming from your headphones.

realizing you forgot to mute yourself when you took her to bed you quickly pull out and rush to the office. leaving the call you rub her back as her legs twitch as she calms down from her high. lifting her up you mumble her sweet words and place her against the couch in the living room, shivering a bit before you grab your blanket and wrap her upper body before heading to the bathroom to get things to clean her up. 

"i'm sorry chaer i'll never let the girls interrupt our time again. i'll break my phone if i have to." a soft chuckle comes from hiding inside your blanket as she pokes her head out to nod at you.

"if it means we can have rough sex like that again i'll allow it, but um... were we muted the whole time? we were... right...??"

bonus: 

chaeryeong wakes up from your evening cuddles, you had gone to take a shower when she reaches for her phone you left it to charge on the table and immediately toss it to the side upon reading the messages of your friends spamming her with thirst memes and messages asking how would she rate your strap skills on a scale of 1-10.

[socdarlings]

I was wonder if u take fics/hcs/imagines etv u wanna call them if so if u don’t mind me 😭 could ya do the gang as your boyfriends (separately 🤞) ty my loveee

i don’t really do requests normally but i’ll jump at any opportunity to study my boys

words: 1.9k

warning: slight self harm mention on dally’s part

what the gang would be like if they were in a relationship:

Ponyboy:

Honestly I feel like at first he’d be one of those quiet types, the ones that occasionally ask to go to the movies and just sit at one with you to cuddle.

But as the relationship goes on, I think he’ll be more and more devoted to his s/o’s needs

Also very touchy. Not in a bad way, but he shows his love more in a physical sense than just shouting how much he loves you.

Will also write his s/o poems.

Once, he tried to bake you something and the whole house almost burnt to the ground. Didn’t feel guilty about the fire per se, but man was he sad he never got to finish that treat for you.

Will also just be content with hanging out, reading and listening to music in the background with his s/o.

Johnny:

He’s never been successful with any of his crushes so imagine his shock when you actually reciprocate. This kid will lose his fucking mind.

Johnny’s love language I feel like is acts of service. He’ll do your laundry, cook you meals (he is not a great cook at all but he’ll try), wash the dishes after, doing groceries, all those stuff. He’ll fall on his knees for you, he’ll do anything.

Like Pony, he’s also very touchy. Not great at saying he loves them (he’s too shy) but he hopes his actions speak way louder than words.

Doesn’t really have much money but trust, once he gets the cash he’ll attempt to buy them something real nice.

Will be in denial that you actually like him for a long time. He’s convinced himself he’s unloveable and will still be constantly afraid you’ll leave him for somebody better.

Overall. He’s a precious boyfriend and you better treat him right.

Steve:

I think Steve is not in tune with his emotions or what they even mean. He’s not great at reading people either. That doesn’t mean he’s stupid, despite popular belief. He’s actually pretty smart, he just… can’t read the room.

His s/o will be the one confessing first. I feel like if Steve finally knows he’s in love, he’ll be too scared to even mention anything in fear it’ll ruin the friendship they got going on.

But once you two do get together, get ready for this dude to show you off to everybody. If his s/o’s a dude, he’ll hold back from doing that because obviously the time period, but boy will he be excited.

He’ll take you to bars, races, derby’s, drag you to his job, anywhere. He’s just happy you’re there, even if you hardly say anything. He’s living off of of your presence alone.

Sodapop:

I’ll admit I don’t really have a grasp on Soda as a person yet, but I’d imagine he’ll be ecstatic the person he likes actually reciprocates, like Johnny. He’s usually the one who falls in love first, and he’ll do it real fast.

He’ll be showering you with gifts and hugging you, telling you how much he loves you, will often surprise you at work, tells you how pretty/handsome you look everyday, all that stuff. He’s an expert at letting his s/o know what he really feels.

In fact I think him being overwhelming is what made him and Sandy break up. He’s just way too into you, dude. I think he tries to put all of his energy from ignoring all the things happening in his home life right into his relationships, which is why it usually never goes well.

Either way. If you need a pick me up when you’re feeling sad, he’ll be there.

Dallas:

Oh boy. Oh no.

This dude cannot fall in love normally. He is a mess, both in his life and his emotions. Like Steve, he won’t even know he’s in love but eventually when he does, he’ll be a fucking wreck.

When he gets together with you, all his rage is focused inwards so you don’t see his bad side. So he turns to self harm, drinking, blaming himself for every bad thing that happens in his life, even if it’s not his fault. He’s fucking screaming for help but pushes you away everytime you try to, because he doesn’t think he deserves it. That good ole catholic guilt.

I think abandonment is Dally’s worst fear, despite him constantly having a lone wolf attitude. The idea of him being utterly alone in this universe scares him to death. But he constantly pushes people away because he doesn’t wanna be hurt.

Anyway I could do a whole separate post all about Dally and his problems but that’s for another day.

He’d sweet talk you when y’all get together, but his love language is a combination of both Johnny and Pony. He’s clingy, very clingy, and he’ll do all of your chores (he’s surprisingly good at cleaning).

He’s always looking forward to cuddling with you in bed, even if he’s a stomach sleeper and the best he could do is use his arm to hold you close.

Also loves music so he’ll give you records of artists that remind him of you. Will also play them when you guys hang out. Also the type to make a mixtape for you.

If he’s in jail he’ll be on his best behavior to get out so he’d see you again.

Darry:

This Barbie wants to make sure you’re happy and healthy always.

With worrying about his brothers, to the gang, to the bills, he’s got a lot on his plate. Which is why it’s a huge relief if his s/o can handle themselves and doesn’t need to be looked after. Will also be a massive help if they can wrangle the gang together.

Doesn’t stop him from worrying about you though. Expect a phone call from him when he hasn’t heard from you or seen you all day.

His love language is definitely acts of service. He’s already doing the most anyway, why not tack on more things to that list?

Is the type to come up behind his s/o while they’re making coffee and hug them real tight. He’ll eventually let go once y’all have to eat.

He just dreams of a domestic life. Not having to worry about bills, his family, his friends, any of that. Like that one line from Everything Everywhere All at Once, he would be content just doing laundry and taxes. And nothing else.

Two Bit:

Despite contrary belief, I think Two-Bit is very serious about his relationships.

Sure, it’s nothing but flirting at first but once you two start to get committed, he’ll drop everything and rush to your every need. Need to get groceries but y’all don’t have money? He’ll get that food somehow. Whether he plans an elaborate heist, or if he just pickpockets somebody, he’ll get that stuff you need.

Need to drive to Eufala but your car broke down? He’ll drive you there. Don’t ask him where he got the car. But he’ll get you to where you need to go, no questions asked.

Sure you two fight sometimes, and he might just resort to humor instead of taking you seriously, but he’ll definitely apologize later. You guys will not go to bed until this thing is resolved.

Yeah he might not have a job so he can’t get all the stuff you want, and he’s too lazy for chores, but he’ll spend all his time with you. Doesn’t have anything better to do anyway. If that means he’ll take a road trip with you, he’ll do that. If it means running with you from Tulsa all the way to Texas, he’ll do it.

Also is a cuddly drunk. Be warned.

Tim:

Now this guy is. Ah. Complicated.

Like Darry, he’s got a lot of things already piled on his back. So he’d welcome an s/o that he doesn’t have to worry about all the time.

Not that great at articulating his words, especially his feelings. He’s a quiet guy who watches people constantly, and has a loooong death stare to pair with it. But he knows he’s in love, and like Steve, he’s scared to ruin what you guys already have.

Like Dally, Tim’s worst fear is being alone. Even if he’s standoffish and he looks like he can and will kill you. It’s a defense mechanism in his case, and once you get past and get to know him really well, you’ll see that just like a turtle or a porcupine; he’s soft. Incredibly so.

Surprisingly, like Soda, he’s the one to fall first. Good god, he loves you. So much.

But all of his words of affirmation’s all in his head. He can’t really get out that he loves you. So he hugs you, kisses the top of your head, bends over to rest his head on your shoulder. Holds hands. He’s absolutely nothing like how everyone else portrays him to be, when you two are alone.

Like Darry, he daydreams of you two retreating somewhere far away, not having to worry about anything. Lord, does he wish he could leave Tulsa behind.

Curly:

I think the Shepard siblings are emotionally constipated. Curly is not, but he definitely has the Irritable Feeling Syndrome.

He typically uses violence to get what he wants and his entire being is full of turmoil, but like his brother; he’d rather die than be alone. This dude will start a fight with you and then start crying towards the end cause he thinks he’s done something irreversible and you’re gonna leave him.

He’s constantly afraid he’ll hurt his s/o, one way or another. Not physically, he’d rather die than touch you, but unintentionally being an asshole and saying something he doesn’t mean.

Gets into fights a lot and gets patched up by you a lot.

Won’t leave you for anyone else. Once he falls, he falls hard. I feel like it edges towards an obsession at one point, but that’s something he had to figure out on his own.

But once he actually has you in his grasp, good luck. It’s real hard to leave.

Angela:

She’s a hard one to read. She’s flirty, and sometimes it might come off as a joke, but when she means business she means business.

She’ll literally approach you when she gets off class and ask you on a date, stone face and all. If you have feelings for her, yay! She took the lead. If you don’t, oh well. But she’ll still follow you around (not creepy at all).

When you two get together, she’ll have people watch you when you’re not with each other, just under the guise of keeping you safe. If you tell her to stop, she won’t understand why and will be kind of hurt but she’ll do as you say.

She’s intense. She’ll be scared to fully unveil the extent of her devotion towards you, but if you welcome it she’ll be so, so happy. She’s never had somebody actually accept her as she is, besides her brothers.

Is the type to come up with nicknames, no matter how corny they are.

Will go all starry eyed if you initiate going on a date instead of her. She’ll feel like she’s gonna pass out if you kiss her first. She’ll fall over if you insist on staying over her place instead of yours.

She’ll go on and on about you to her brothers, and while they both’ll get worried for her obsession loyalty towards you, they can’t really stop her. She’s Angela. She’ll always get what she wants.

Overall you won’t have to worry about her seeing other people or cheating. You’re on her mind always.

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

14: “Please. Please don’t leave me. I need you.”

17: “Why can’t you understand that I don’t love you anymore?”

Tag: @motorcitygem

Themes: angst

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating

Word count (Copeland): 676

Word count (Cage): 742

So we have a two parter here! Copeland will be first, and then Cage. I’ve made this full of some wonderful angst (broke my heart in the process). You want sad? I give you the ✨sad✨

Happy reading 🖤

Link to masterlist

Copeland:

The house was quiet when you returned, almost too quiet. The tv wasn’t even on which was strange as Adam would have it on in the background while he did other things such as attempted cooking, or reading. Strangely enough he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Adam, baby? I’m home, are you upstairs?” You called out, removing your coat and shoes by the door. No response.

‘That’s so weird’ you thought. Normally he’d, at the least, call out to you in acknowledgment that he heard you. But absolutely nothing! From upstairs floated a suspicious sound down to your ears. A sound that you heard in your nightmares. It was a faint noise but it was just loud enough for you to understand what it was; you could hear him crying hysterically. Rushing up the stairs and half falling over yourself, you got to your bedroom as quick as you possibly could, swinging open the door to see him sat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, body shaking. When you walked closer to him, he didn’t even look up. He knew you were there but it looked like he was afraid of letting you see him in this state.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You tried to encourage him to look at you by gently lifting his chin with your cupped hand. But as soon as his eyes met yours he let out a strangled sob before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing his face into your tummy to avoid looking up again. Just hearing him cry was enough to shatter your heart, let alone hearing him sob. You rubbed your hands on his back in an effort to console him, whispering gentle words of comfort. It took a good five minutes before he had calmed down enough to explain why he was in such a state. And as he explained, the mood began to turn sour.

“I’m so so sorry, I should have told you sooner. It’s just…I thought it would be a one…one time thing but I just. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve slept with another woman…and we’d been talking for the last few weeks. I’m…I’m so sor-“

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” you interrupted, stepping away from his desperate arms, “you’ve been talking to some woman for weeks and you slept with her?!”

“Y-yes but-“

“And on top of that, you weren’t going to tell me that you’d been talking with this bitch until you realised ‘oh shit, I might actually lose my girlfriend of three. Fucking. Years.’ Did it ever occur to you at any point that I might find out? Whether it was in two weeks or two years, the truth was going to come out?”

“I mean…please, I can explain-“

“Nah, nah you don’t get to explain shit to me,” you spat out, “I think you’ve said enough today.”

You stormed out of the room, disbelief and heartbreak settling in with each step back down the stairs. The sobbing started back up, and the pleas began spilling out his lips: “Please! Please don’t leave me! I need you…”

You chose to ignore them as you pulled your shoes back on, yanking your coat off the hook. It hurt so bad to hear him break down and you barely had the courage to turn your head to face him, half hanging out the now open front door. He knelt on his knees near the entrance, babbling incoherently to you. The only thing you could make out was the repeated words of ‘please’ and ‘don’t go’.

“Go to hell.” Was all you said as you slammed the door and walked away from the life you both had built. As you walked down the street, unsure of where to go, the tears started. Was it the right decision? Should you have heard him out? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that in that moment you needed to be as far away from him as possible.

Cage:

It had been three weeks of hell since you and Christian split up. A massive part of you still needed him in your life. This wasn’t something you were ready to give up on. He had told you that he felt that your relationship had hit a natural end, that he just wanted to be friends. At least for a little while. What had kept you hanging on was that little comment he made before you departed from each other for the last time: “maybe one day…we could pick this up again. But for now I think this is it for us.”

You never realised you could miss someone so bad but here you were. It had been an hour since you texted him, asking if you two could talk. Preferably in person. You could see he had read the text and you assumed he was on his way. But as your phone buzzed in your hand, you realised that wasn’t going to happen. Instead he chose to call you. Feeling disappointment in your chest, you answered after a few rings. As you brought your phone up to your ear there was a moment of silence before you asked if he was coming, a part of you hoping he’d tell you he was nearly there with flowers and chocolates.

“Look…I know what you’re hoping for but I’m sorry. I’m not going to come and see you. Not right now.” He answered quietly, sadness and guilt lacing his tone. He felt bad as he didn’t want to hurt you, but he knew if he saw you then he might do something he’d regret later: he’d re-enter your relationship. And then he would have to break your heart all over again, because his feelings had not changed.

“Oh…I see. Christian listen. I…I just wanted to say that…”

“Don’t say it.” He interrupted, voice becoming sharp, “I know what you’re going to say, so please don’t say it.”

“No, I have to. It’s eating me alive, please-“

“You really don’t have to though. It’s not going to change how I feel, it’s not going to make it better. So it’s better if you don’t say it. Save yourself the heartbreak-“

“But I still love you!”

Silence. It didn’t even sound like he was breathing. For a moment you wondered if he had just hung up on you but there was no sound to signify that happening. Your mouth went dry as the realisation of what you had blurted out meant now. By doing this, you had managed to push him even further away. Deep down you knew this would hurt him so why you did it, you couldn’t say. Or justify for that matter.

“I’m…Christian I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“Why can’t you understand that I don’t love you anymore?!” He snapped, voice cracking on the other line. “You’re always doing shit like this where you go against what I say, even though I tell you not to do it! If you had fucking listened to me and left me alone, we wouldn’t be here! But no. You had me call you just to confess a known fact. Why? So you could hurt me? Is that it?”

“No, no Christian! It’s not like that!” You begged, “please don’t think that, I would never intentionally hurt you-“

“Oh no, sure! Not intentionally! You only have good intentions for me, don’t you?! But I can’t get mad at you for saying you still ‘love me’ because you didn’t mean to hurt me!”

He went silent, breathing hard. Something he would do when he would try to calm down during arguments. You could imagine him rubbing his forehead with his eyes clenched shut as he tried to regain composure. He hated getting angry and arguing but…you deserved it. You knew you did.

“Christian…” you started but decided against continuing. Perhaps it was best you just left him instead of trying to keep talking to him tonight. But you wanted to apologise, to admit you were wrong and he was right. As tears began to stream down, you went to apologise.

“Christian, I’m. I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t hear your apology as he had hung up the moment you said his name. Leaving you in a crying heap as you sat and had to deal with the fact that he was gone. And something told you it was for good.

[beevean]

Lenore, Hector and Alucard are by far the biggest victims of the sudden 180 in direction done by Season 4, both due to the team probably wanting to give everyone a "happy ending" at any cost after Season 3 got criticized for being glorified torture porn, and also due to Ellis leaving mid way, which most likely caused other writers to have to fill in the gaps

I'm particularily convinced that the Lenector stuff was added by the other writers because it literally has no sense of organicity with the dynamic as it was written by Ellis in S3, which was still shit, but this feels like a completely different kind of shit. Ellis liked his misery porn, he doesn't strike me as the type to suddenly turn and write a cutesy fluffy ship between an abuser and her victim, even considering his...background. You'd think he'd have doubled down even more on the edgy bullshit, but Lenector as it is in S4 feels like the kind of stuff a stereotypical crazy shipper on social media would write, which leads me to imagine that Lenector was added after the asshole's departure because some folks at Powerhouse really thought the two looked so cute together

Alucard's and Isaac's stories give me the impression that the writers needed more time to bring their vision to fruition, but for one reason or another they rushed things. Alucard takes one episode to get over his trauma and the implication that he'd be grappling with mistrust and misanthropy is never addressed, Isaac becomes Jesus overnight and then peaces out in the middle of the season after an epic speech. However, if I imagine being a viewer who has just finished S3 and has to wait a year to see how it ends, I can imagine their development happening, just not this sloppily.

The Lenector plotline is too jarring. Part of me still believes that this one screenshot:

was meant to echo Hector's "flashback" of him killing his parents, and be a hint of him going on a blazing rampage.

Which, in theory, happens! But 1) it's for the sake of resurrecting Dracula, after two seasons spent getting beaten over the head that he lied to him and wanted to destroy mankind (which makes his horror at Carmilla's plan of conquering the world immensely hypocritical); 2) despite having complete control of his Night Creatures, he still leaves the "epic" flight to Isaac, who at this point has ascended to the status of Creator's Pet; 3), most importantly, the scene makes a fine point that Lenore is special to him and she must be protected, after the previous six episodes showed them "bonding" and conveniently ignoring all the abuse, forced BDSM and treachery she used to trap him. All together it feels like a subversion for the sake of a subversion, like they kept the original idea but made it less dark at the last minute. And I could have accepted it as a subversion of expectations, if there was more focus on Hector's character (hah) and less focus on how ✨cute✨ they were or how 🥺sad🥺 poow widdle Lenore was. Considering that from what I heard she became a fan-favorite overnight, in theory because of her "nuance" but let's be real it's because she's "hot", I can absolutely see the writers deciding to make her more sympathetic in an attempt to make them happy. If S3 feels like an amateurish torture porn fic on FF.net, S4 def feels like a coffee shop AU lmao.

I don't know what happened in S4. I don't know if they had planned a 5th season, but were forced to condense everything in one: perhaps with one more season, the transition between "I made you into my pet! :D" and "This is why I like you. You're capable of actually listening to me 🥺" would have made more sense. I don't know if other writers entered the fray, even though Ellis is the only one credited in S4. I don't know if Ellis himself was strongarmed into writing fluffy shit because the executives heard the complaints that S3 was poorly received due to being a cynical waste of time - ironically, erasing all conflicts made that season even more of a waste of time.

We can theorize. But much like a rushed game is still a faulty product not deserving of full price even if you can pity the working conditions of the devs, the final result of NFCV is of a rushed, poorly paced, poorly thought-out mess that ended up making an offensive joke of the serious themes it wanted to include.

[nightfall-1409]

Writer's Update

Hi everyone <3 sorry things are taking a bit of time, I'm going through An Ordeal and that has regrettably been the case of late. I don't like to publicly air too much, but it's led to some delays. Not dead, but, just some updates under the cut with some snippets <3

So I, As My Mother Before Me

Obviously my mother's day side story for sabine missed the deadline, I'll get that out ASAP (as soon as its done), and the teaser for it is that it covers Sabine's 'missing' time in the fic, and threading the needle wrt Ursa, Myles, and those sorts of background elements in the fic, as well as letting me, Nightfall, meditate on what exactly I want to have the connective tissue be for her background. It's probably for the best it got delayed so much, as it'll contain some spoilers for later content in (Re)Convene, depending on how long that takes me to catch up.

Snow makes the world quiet, still, and then she interrupts it. Sabine gasps as she feels it against her flight suit, cold, and sudden, and wakes in a horrible instance. There is snow and trees all around her, and the forest is quieter still.  She knows this forest, but it’s an impossibility. She stands, barely needing a moment to collect herself before she’s calling for, “Ahsoka!”  There is no one around.  She lowers her rangefinder, scans her surroundings, ignores her gut screaming at her that she knows this place. Hu-Yang or Ahsoka would chide her, tell her that she should at least make the attempt of meeting her surroundings, connecting with them.  But that is not her way, it is not the Mandalorian way, and in an emergency scenario where she didn’t know what was happening, she’d not out herself to their enemies.   She’s bringing Ezra home.  She’s not here.  This place isn’t real.  This place is gone, and they knew that it was being destroyed when she... Her rangefinder interrupts her thoughts, and tells her that she's on Krownest, and she bangs her hand down into the soft snow of her home again in a fist.

(Re)Convene Ch. 41 (Ezra) The Flash Of the Dark

hahah I do apologize for leaving you lot on that cliffhanger...im working through it :) In the meantime, the opener.

He finds that his teacher is in the library, and there’s an older woman next to him, grave and sad.  Quinlan’s expression too is serious.  Ezra responds by shelving any and all irritation about how many different places he’d looked in before finding the Shadow here.  “Ezra.  About time,” Quinlan jabs anyway, clearly intending to be playful and Ezra bites his tongue.  “This is Master Kostana.”  Quinlan introduces; and Ezra straightens further— this is who Obi-Wan had mentioned. “Master to Sifo-Diyas.  The council asked her to visit the Archives, to aid in the investigation of the Sith compulsion.” “Oh,” Ezra pauses, piecing together what all that means, before he softens his expression.  “Thank you for your aid, Master,” He bows his head forward slightly, and she waves one hand.  “I ought to thank you,” she says after a moment.  “For bringing his lightsaber home.” Woof.  Ezra can feel it at her side.  It is not a happy thing to know, though, and further… Ezra’s not exactly good at handling those sorts of conversations.  “Well, I wasn’t the one who…”

Other fics: Things are progressing, but perhaps not as quick as I'd like... on account of the fact I'm aiming for the clone bang sign ups at the end of June! No Spoilers yet! 😘 But I look forward to revealing it in good time. I hope to get it to the 10k mark by sign ups close on the 30th, I'm about halfway to that point rn.