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icallhimjoey · 1 month ago

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Almost, Always

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric.

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer.

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he’s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

The Taglisted

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#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #rpf #almost always

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t-a-a-1 · 1 month ago

Text

Dandelion: Prequel

4k Words

One-Shot

Summary: Optimus loves you. You love him. The two of you are too stupid to realize each other's feelings.

But following a conversation about the afterlife, you realize how much he means to you.

...

A/N: Yearning. Love confession. Jealousy. Optimus confesses but doesn't realize it. You are dumb. Angst and Fluff. Enjoy!

Dandelion: Prequel

.....

Optimus thinks about you.

A lot.

And more than he likes to recognize.

Optimus has learned many things about Earth. You showed him music, art, poetry, literature, and movies. He enjoyed them, mostly because you shared them with him. The archivist in him was hungry for knowledge and you were the chef who satisfied his craving.

He also enjoyed sharing things with you. Of everything he could of Cybertron. The arts, the poetry that sometimes you didn't understand. The history and legends of his people.

He had thought many times of the things he would like to show you once Cybertron is restored. You would love it, he was sure of that. He could take you to see a play or maybe show you the beautiful cascades of Energon or the resting place of the Primes.

Optimus also thought of building you a home. You would be coming to Cybertron often after all. Maybe if you were comfortable enough, you could live with him. That way he could take care of you, just in case you woke up scared from a nightmare. He would cradle you until you fall asleep again and if needed, you could share his berth with him. Cybertron is naturally cold, he could keep you close to his spark to keep you warm.

"I won't live forever you know?"

You were waiting for him to roll into your driveway. He had promised you to do this for a very long time now and there's no way escaping it.

"I am aware," he says as he swiftly moves forward. "Your life expectancy is rather short."

"The more reason I have to clean you up," you walk towards him. "I may die tomorrow and you may live on without a proper bath? Not in my watch."

You had two buckets of water and a hose ready to be used. Some soap, sponges and rags. The buckets were heavy as you struggled to pick them up, you somehow still managed to whistle a song as you made your way to him.

He didn't understand how you could look so content while talking about your death. Optimus couldn't even phantom the idea. Much less imagine a day when you won't be with him. He had grown too accustomed to your presence. His spark had grown too fond of you.

In fact, you had occupied so much space in his spark that he knew that it wouldn't be able to function without you.

What will he do once you are gone?

"Where will you go?"

He asks as he feels the warm water impact his windshield and hood. It was nice to think you took the time to heat up the water just to make him comfortable.

"What do you mean?" you ask as you put soap on the big sponge and start rubbing it around. You had to use a small stool to reach the top of his hood. This is the first time you were doing this and you were trying to be extremely gentle. You had to remind yourself that Optimus is still a biological being. His body may be made out of metal but he still feels everything.

"Once I stop functioning, I am certain my spark will become one with the AllSpark," he makes a small pause before continuing "But what about you? Where will you go once you die?"

You stop and look at him.

"Will it be a place where I can meet you? See you at least?"

Contemplating what to do, you look at the sides to make sure no noisy neighbor is listening to you talking to a truck. You look back at him and wonder if you should tell him the truth or lie a little. He sounded worried. It is no wonder that he perceives death differently. For him, it was just another transformation. To you ... Well, you didn't know nor could explain the finality of death. You didn't want to worry him.

"Human souls work differently," you say as you go back to wash him. This time more delicately, trying to feel each inch of scratch he has ever gotten. War was written all over his body. "We don't go to a specific place. But I think we become one with the universe."

"Whenever you feel the wind on your faceplate," you lie to him but there's enough hope in your voice to comfort him. To make him believe you. "Whenever you see the rain or snow, when you see a rainbow, a flower or star. That's where I will be. Always."

It's comforting to know that everything beautiful the universe has to offer, is because of you. Of course, it would be. How couldn't it? When you smile the sun becomes brighter. When you laugh, the sound becomes a melody. You were alive and made life so breathtaking because of it. He imagined your death would be the same. Eternally beautiful as you become one with the universe.

He ex-vents in relief and you smile. Your lie was good enough. He believed it.

Nothing else was said but spent the rest of the time in a comfortable silence. You took your time to really study him. He has many scratches, some parts of his paint were even gone and you wonder if he had insecurities about them.

After all, if humans did, what made Cybertronians different?

You ran a finger through a large scraping on the top of his hood, feeling each small bump. The scrapped metal is rough against your fingertip, wondering what had attacked him to make this much damage.

"Are they not of your liking?"

For a small second, you could hear the doubt in his voice.

"Oh, no, I-"

As soon as you are about to respond, a sports car passes by, honking loudly and making the sound of its motor as loud as possible. Although you were uncomfortable you didn't want to give the guy the satisfaction of receiving attention. But you were now self-conscious of what you were wearing, Shorts and a dirty old black shirt. You wonder how was this even attractive.

"Hey, beautiful!" the guy rolls down his window and you feel the urge to wipe the smirk off his face. "Wanna ride this instead of that old rusty truck?"

You were about to defend yourself until you heard Optimus's engines turn on, the sound of his motor was so piercing that you felt your entire being vibrate. He turns his headlights as well, bright and powerful, almost blinding the guy.

Turning to look at Optimus, you see his holoform taking the pilot seat. You hated that holoform but it will do.

"Sorry, but my husband is quite overprotective."

You tell the guy, hoping he will take the hint and leave you alone.

"Well, if you ever want a good time, I am always available," his words disgusted you but you are glad he is finally leaving. "That truck got nothing on my car anyways."

Optimus moves forward in an aggressive manner. You are surprised at his behavior but don't question it.

"Thank you," you say as you step down off your stool.

You made sure that Optimus was covered in soap before taking the hose and letting the water flow.

"I don't know why every guy with a nice car has to act so weird."

"Oh, so you did find that car to be visually appealing?" He asks. "I would understand. After all, you might prefer an automobile with more agreeable qualities for someone of your age."

"Is that jealousy I hear, dear husband?"

You liked to tease him and even flirt with him from time to time. Mostly, you knew that nothing would ever happen. It was stupid to think that a Cybertronian and a human could ever be something more than just close friends. You assumed Optimus thought the same.

He had to.

"Just mere curiosity," he says as he feels the water running through his body, watching off all the dirt. It felt nice. "And what is a husband?"

"A life partner. Husband and wife usually take care of each other until the end of their days," that was the simplest way you could explain such a concept. "And I prefer Cybertronian men if you ask me. Even old rusty trucks."

"Can I conclude that you know other Cybertronian males who are old rusty trucks besides myself?

"No, just you."

Although you couldn't see his faceplate, you knew he didn't mind the comment. The two of you had joked around before and Optimus can definitely take a joke.

"So, you do indeed believe me to be an old rusty truck?"

"Yes, but you are my old rusty truck."

Optimus didn't know why but he enjoyed the sound of that.

"And that makes all the difference."

The hospital wasn't like you remembered. You had grown used to being in a military facility and being taken care of by soldier medics. Not only because of the Decepticon attacks you had faced before but because you had seen your fair share of war while reporting for the news.

"OH YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE NOW!"

The last person you expected to see was Agent Fowler. Stepping inside your room, with a suitcase on hand and documents on others.

"I am fine thank you," you say as you sigh heavily. "The car crash didn't kill me and no Autobots were involved... so why are you here?"

"Because I have a very bothered Prime demanding to see you, saying that as your husband he has a right to know of your well-being."

"... What?"

"Look, I knew you and Prime had something going on but this has become a national matter," he shows you the documents he was holding but your head still hurts and don't feel like reading at all.

"If you and Prime are indeed married then by law I have to let him come see you. Do you know how hard we have worked to keep the Autobot's existence a secret?"

"And since when does the government of the United States care bout following their own laws?" you look around your room. You hoped to see another change of clothes but nothing. You were in desperate need of a shower. "Look, this is all a misunderstanding, I'll talk to Prime."

"It better be. We don't want to deal with court cases about deciding which constitution laws will apply to non-human beings," Fowler was moving the documents very aggressively and you assumed those were drafts of new laws to be reviewed. He works fast.

"Do you know how many laws we would have to re-write if you and Prime were to be married? Don't even get me started if you two were able to conceive a child."

"You better than I know that's never going to happen."

"I don't know the way Prime was begging to see you didn't seem normal," he put the documents in his suitcase and for once you were glad to see him go. "If I was you, I would hurry up. I don't want Prime to cause a commotion because he can't see his wife."

"I am not his wife," you say again, the term annoying you a bit.

Fowler just rolls his eyes and opens the room's door.

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up Mrs. Prime."

The drive back to the base was unexpectedly quiet. When you saw Optimus parked outside the hospital parking lot, you thought you would be bombarded with questions.

Instead, Optimus just opened his pilot door and let you in. Nothing else. You didn't even dare to ask him to take you home. You just let him do what he pleased.

You two arrived at the base's tunnel. He stopped before reaching the hangar. He opened the door and you assumed he wanted you to get out. You were worried by his strange behavior.

As soon as you got out, he changed back to his normal form. He didn't hesitate to kneel in front of you. His optics look at every inch of your body, examining you.

"How are you feeling?" He asks you but there is a certain coldness in his voice.

"I am fine, thank you."

He stands up, his optics still on you.

"You shall remain here until the next sun cycle. To make sure of your well-being."

He turns around and starts to walk away.

"Are you alright?"

You run towards him, your head still hurts but you want to talk to him. His indifference hurts more than you imagined.

"You lied to me."

You were confused. Speechless. Has he found out? That the only reason you were helping the Autobots to find the ancient relics is because you were waiting for the right moment to expose them? That you had a notebook in your home, with all the evidence you have so far of the existence of robot alien life? That every day you were waiting for the final piece of the puzzle. The last thing you need before revealing the truth to the world.

"While at the hospital, Mrs.Darby approached me and briefed me about your status. We talked, and she informed me that there are no scientific conclusions on Earth that your soul can become one with the universe."

You weren't expecting that.

"She said that your soul may be going to an unreachable dimension or just become nothing."

You didn't know what to say. There was a certain hurt look on his optics that you couldn't believe. He is grieving. It's the closest thing you have seen him in pain. But you couldn't say a thing. You weren't expecting this would affect him so much.

"Prime, I just ... I just didn't want to-"

"My apologies," he stops you and turns around. He didn't want to see you. That made your heart sink. The thought of disappointing him, of inflicting any type of pain was unimaginable to you.

But why?

"I just need a moment to myself."

A few days had passed. You hadn't talked to Optimus. But today was Friday and as per usual, you made your way to the rooftop, outside of the base. It has become a spoken agreement between you and the leader of the Autobots. To meet every Friday and just enjoy each other's company.

You two usually go on patrol night before and end up talking until sunrise. But today Optimus had left the base early, leaving you unattended. You took the time to go to the closest gas station and get yourself a pack of cigarettes and Optimus's favorite brand of oil. With the hope that he will still meet you.

But the hours passed and you had waited. You started a bonfire and lit up a cigarette.

More time passed and you became worried. Was he still upset? The day had become dark, the night was cold and you missed him. Stupidly so.

And you feel pathetic.

You were about to give up until Optimus finally showed up. He looked surprised to find you there. Probably thinking that you didn't want to see him either. When, in fact, it was all the contrary.

He didn't say a word as he sat next to you. You quietly put a small bucket of oil next to him. Of course, he noticed you and accepted the gesture.

You are about to take another puff from your cigarette when you see Optimus' servo reach out towards you. Using two digits, he takes the cigarette from your hand and throws it on the bonfire before you.

"Hey, I was-"

"Ratchet has informed me that this object you inhale from can reduce your lifespan significantly," Optimus slightly lectures you and you can sense some anger in his voice. "I see no meaning in you engaging in such activities."

"I am here for a good time not a long time," you say as you search in your backpack for the cigarette box. Marlboro wasn't your favorite cigarette brand but it was the only one that had menthol flavor at the gas station. "A very, very short time compared to yours."

You wanted to somehow go back into the topic of the afterlife. Anything that could open the conversation so you can have an opportunity to apologize. You wanted to hear him too, his thoughts. You wanted to know if he still finds your company enjoyable. If things were right between you two.

"You know, it kinda makes me sad that you'll probably forget me one day," you use a lighter for the cigarette, feeling piercing optics coming from Optimus. "And there's nothing I can do about it."

"I don't believe my processor will ever be capable of erasing memories related to you."

"How are you so sure?"

"I'll always have you in my spark," Optimus doesn't look at you but rather stares into the bonfire. His optics follow the dancing of the flames. He speaks freely.

"Even after I rust away and turn into nothingness. Once my spark has joined with the Allspark, it will still remember you. Even after the last star in the universe bursts into oblivion, my spark will reach you and it will call your name."

You are about to take another puff from your cigarette but his words stop you. Eloquence was not unknown to the Prime, he speaks it rather fluently but you didn't imagine it like this.

"I remember you now and I'll remember you then."

It seems he was on autopilot. It wasn't Optimus speaking but Orion Pax.

The bot who once knew how to love, the one who had dreams and hopes and was free to be himself. Without the pain in his shoulders, without responsibilities. No. This was not Optimus Prime. It was not Orion Pax. It was someone else.

His spark.

It was talking directly to you.

"My spark will look for you and I'll know it's you even if I was blind and deaf. Even if I ripped off my sense of smell and touch. I'll know it's you because not even time or death could take you away from me."

It's like he came back to himself. He blinks repeatedly after staring at the flames for too long. It was as if he was in a trance and when he turned to look at you, he noticed your cheeks. A little more redder than usual.

And all you could think of was him. Of the purity of his words. Of his beautiful being, of everything of him. His kindness, his truth. How he had changed your world with simple words. It was just him and this moment. United in this time. And you thought that maybe the reason you had been born was only to meet him. To hear those words that will forever be engraved in your heart. Will he ever know how much it means to you?

You weren't a believer. You used to be, when you were younger and less experienced. Before you witness war. Now you don't believe in anyone or anything.

But you believed in him. If anyone could make the impossible happen it was Optimus.

If he says he will find you in the afterlife, you know he will.

He made you believe.

You feel relieved to know that your existence meant more to the universe. That there's more than just finality, your soul will travel somewhere and have an impact on the bigger scale of things.

And if not ... then at least you could spend all of eternity with Optimus.

Your heart had finally begun to feel hope again.

And maybe something more than that.

Oh.

"Are you alright?" He asks, concern in his voice. "It seems you are overheating-"

"YOU GUYS CAME HERE ON A DATE WITHOUT TELLING US?!"

You shake a little and Optimus immediately moves closer to you in a very protective manner. The unknown voice startled you both although Optimus is always alert in a different way.

He immediately relaxes as his optics lay on the known small figure. You kinda wished he had stayed closer.

"Miko, leave them alone!" Jack comes out of the rooftop door, following Miko close behind. "Besides that's the whole point of a date. Let them enjoy it."

"Oh, no, you actually missed it!" you decide to amuse the kids, knowing that Optimus probably wouldn't mind you playing along.

"Prime just proposed and I said yes! We are getting married and having a bunch of human-cybertronian hybrid sparklings!"

You giggle a little, saying that out loud sounded ridiculous.

"Aha! I knew you two had a thing! Optimus always cleans his windows when he knows you are coming!" Miko turns to look at Jack and points at him. "You owe me a free meal!"

"She's not serious!" Jack says with a hand on his hip, frustration is clear. "Besides Ratchet said Earth didn't have the necessary resources for (y/n) to conceive."

"Wait, wait, wait," you throw away your cigarette into the bonfire, not wanting to be a bad influence and smoke in front of the kids. "You two talk to Ratchet about us?"

"Well, yes," Miko says. "He also bet cleaning duty-"

"Ahh, tsk,tsk!" coming from the rooftop door, the medic bot pops out. "Not talking behind my back! I did not bet on anything!"

"Yes, you did!" Miko points at the Autobot leader as Ratchet fully steps outside the door. "You said Optimus would never confess!"

"Is that true, old friend?"

Finally, Optimus speaks. He doesn't seem angry but confused.

"I-umm," Ratchet stumbles with his words until the realization hits him. "WAIT, YOU DID!?"

"No," Optimus says. "My feelings for (y/n) are strictly platonic."

"Ha! I win!" the medic turns to look at the kids. "You two will be doing cleaning duty."

Optimus sees you laugh with the kids. A scene that warms his spark. He can't guarantee tomorrow so he will treasure the now. Then maybe, if the stars align, he will gift you the strange flower he found.

A/N: Sorry for any mistakes I made, I don't proof read lol.

In this story, I originally intended for Optimus to have this big realization but Dandelion was already too long and rushed for my liking.

But, I think he has loved the reader for way longer than he realizes and when he does realize it...

Uff. He feels like a complete idiot and begins yearning for you like crazy.

I think Optimus would be devastated at the thought of one day losing you. He just doesn't know he would feel like that.

But I think my version of Optimus and Reader is that both of them are very oblivious to each other's feelings. Because in their mind, there is no way a Cybertronian and a human could ever share intimate feelings.

So they just go around each other thinking, 'Oh, this is a person whose company I enjoy very much' and 'Caring so much for this individual is absolutely normal ... Right?"

Dandelion was supposed to be a one-shot story but due to the support given I decided to write a prequel for it.

Sadly, I don't think I will write a continuation of the story. This is to prevent any more spoilers for the current fanfic I am writing 'The Darkest Hour.'

This prequel already gave out too many spoilers as it is and as I was writing this I had to stop myself from integrating certain scenes I wanted to write.

For example, Optimus finding out that human souls actually go nowhere goes completely different.

He can't understand the finality of death and he grieves for months at the thought he may not see you in the afterlife. He makes his research, anything, any sign that your soul and his spark might reconnect again.

And one day he sees you throwing away some of your things (you were cleaning your house) And he goes through the trash and asks you if he can stay with the things.

You tell him no because those things were trash (to you) they were like old used notebooks, empty boxes, pens, old clothes and make-up. He starts gathering things up but you take them away and he very anxiously tells you:

"Why are you so cruel to me? I only wish to preserve your memory once you are gone. You have taken my spark, do you also wish to take what's left of my sanity once you leave my side?"

Of course, he later on realizes that his love for you is so intense and real that he is certain his spark will meet your soul once again.

Dandelion may have come to its definite end but if you really want to read more then I do recommend reading 'The Darkest Hour' although it is a slow burn, it will have this type of content but more improved and polished.

ALSO

Requests are open so if any of you have any prompt ideas, you may inbox me or send me a message on this account. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, everything is welcome! I can write small drabbles and other stuff.

And once again, I want to thank you all for your kind support! I am very new to Transformers and I didn't think I would be good enough to write fanfiction of it. But all of you have been extremely kind and I'll continue to write things that make me and all of you happy. Thank you for reading!

And I'll see you next time :)

Dandelion Pt.1:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/768702467874684928/dandelion?source=share

You can also read my other stories in here or Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandream

Thank you!

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lukolabrainrot · 3 months ago

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“Coughlan is keenly aware of how fans’ interest in Polin transcends the small screen.”

What an open to interpretation question that could have so many other possible answers.

Something easily reduced to BTON only: “Penelope and Colin’s love story seemed to have touched many people. I am happy and proud about job done on this season by everyone,” polite, simple, professional, sidestepping any other possible second meaning;

Or still giving shout out to L professionally and otherwise: “I think that is because me and L are just very good friends in real life, who have lots of affection and care for each other. It, I think, translates into our acting and so audience picks up on it. He has been the best costar and supporter for me during this entire process,” clear, generous, sweet, giving an answer not open to interpretation;

Something a bit more direct, to really nip it in the bud, even if the question had nothing to do with shipping now is the perfect moment to put all dots on “i”: “Yes, I am aware of some people’s feelings, but it has always been just very real friendship between L and myself. While it is sweet that people see it this way, love between us while deep and real is just platonic. We appreciate each other as friends and costars and are very happy about Polin’s season success”;

And many other ways that answer could have been given. But what did we get? Talk about marriage, not even between Colin and Pen, but her and L. Talk about gorgeous RELATIONSHIP between a man and a woman. That is unlike anything she ever expects to experience again in her life?? What is it exactly that you don’t expect to experience again N? Because it certainly can’t be anything about another costars, your career is just taking off. Do some people really think that a serious article like this is a done in a fluke, that it hasn’t been edited and revisited multiple times, that if N wished to give any other answer or sidestep that question all together she wouldn’t have? I, personally, am as hopeful as ever, and willing to wait as long as THEY wish to. (lord please let it not be too long or my impatient self is going to burst 🙏 )

Exactly!

Like I mentioned, he is going to very likely live forever in this very important and serious article about her. Just keep mulling that over 👀

And they wouldn't have agreed to this statement (N OR L) in the article if they were about to publicly announce a relationship with someone else. The only other person besides L in her personal life she mentioned was her late father. Like y'all, keep mulling this over. She VERY intentionally chose these two people from her personal life to be included in this important article about her story and accomplishments. It speaks VOLUMES to how she views these two men and the impact they have had on her story and accomplishments. And that is where I will end it.

#lukola theories #just some thoughts

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directdogman · 6 months ago

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Dogman, how do you write SO WELL!?!? I love all your characters and I need to know what/where you find inspo from...

Ha. Every writer is just someone who apes the creative processes of their inspirations. For video game writing specifically, there's two answers for me.

Toby Fox is always gonna be a huge inspiration for me. I've written plots and characters before and had to abandon ideas after realizing I'd accidentally written part of UT again. Even some of the ideas I used were undeniably inspired by UT in a subconscious way and ofc, I included several explicit references to UT in my last series. Toby's a very clever guy who likely pays very close attention to the art he consumes and tries to figure out how to maximize how much his work connects with his audience. Whatever his process is, it works.

The other answer is a lil funnier: Scott Cawthon, but specifically the legend, not the man. For context: Back in the earlier days of the FNaF fandom, people had a hyper-inflated view of Scott Cawthon's writing skills that largely came from how little of a presence he had back in those days. In the vacuum of Scott actually explaining his own process in detail, people got caught up in his genuinely creative way of hiding exposition in his games using cryptid and (then) unexpected methods, and a narrative formed (one that he's since refuted.)

While he never implied it tmk, fans broadly believed that he constructed these sweeping and complex narratives with tons of cohesive moving parts, with the games essentially acting like the mere tip of his lore iceberg. People even thought he wrote so much that he had whole games worth of lore outlined from the beginning! In the first Dawko interview he gave, he clarified that this wasn't the case and explained roughly what his process was (basically just outlining rough theme ideas + aesthetics for future titles.)

However, that legend made younger-me's mind run wild and any time I wrote a story, it became very difficult for me to not keep writing down ideas while completing the grunt work that followed me finishing my scripts. When I finished DSaF 1, I already had DSaF 2's draft written and by the time 2 was done, I had enough lore for a 3rd game on paper (and a lot more stuff that I didn't use.) By the time three was out, I had pages upon pages of unused concepts/story ideas and more or less just had to decide to call it quits or else I'd be pumping out entries forever!

That's why if you go back to those older games, there's references that directly refer to future plot-points in pretty casual/easy to miss ways. (Like Henry's mention in DSaF 1, Dave being heartless in DSaF 2, Jack being soulless in 1, and even Blackjack being Jack's soul in 2. Most of 3's major plotpoints are implied somewhere in 2 and some of 2's in 1.)

DT is much the same. By the time I finished writing it, I had fairly detailed drafts for arcs for each of the characters, some early material ended up getting completely recontextualized (and even modified in small ways to not conflict with the wider ideas I came up with.)

I get really into writing my stories/characters and I always wonder exactly how things ended up where they are, what characters think about but don't say, etc etc. This is why I have an obscene amount of Crown lore that I have very little to do with rn (since he impacted the whole world so deeply.)

This extra stuff also includes plenty of sequel material ideas, though I didn't think I'd even get a chance to use them since DT performed pretty meagerly before the big release and I was expecting to have to move onto something new. Though it turned out that Scott didn't actually write his games this way (by his own admission), it's the correct answer for what my core writing inspiration for writing game narratives is.

Hope this helps!

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chaichaiiskai · 1 year ago

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Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.

If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.

notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.

warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.

The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.

However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.

As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.

One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.

"He's there! There!"

He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.

And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.

With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.

The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.

From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.

The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.

You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.

After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.

Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.

Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.

Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.

Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.

For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.

The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.

. . .

Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.

But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.

Consuming a wasp.

The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.

Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.

Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.

Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.

. . .

The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.

Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.

Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.

And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.

You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.

To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.

Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...

#— chai’s asks. !!#— chai rambles. !!#— anonnie. !!#male reader #x male reader #amab reader #baki smut #baki the grappler smut #pickle x male reader #pickle x y/n #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle baki #baki pickle #yandere baki hanma pickle

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deathbxnny · 8 months ago

Note

Ok so can i tell you something? Im in love with the Halovian species from Penacony. Idk why but they just look so pretty and I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM. I WANNA HOW BIBLICALLY MESSED UP THEY ARE BECAUSE THE FAMILY ARE GIVING ME CULT VIBES! I even have 3 halovian OCs that im in the middle of making rn. Im not satisfied with them rn since i wanna wait for more lore about the Halovians.

With that being said, can i request Fontaine men (Neuvillette, Wriothesley, and Lyney) with a Halovian s/o?

Context:

The halovian reader somehow got isekaied from Penacony to the Genshin Impact universe and just suddenly appeared in Fontaine. Do what you will with that small backstory ^_^

Hope you have a good day/night and take care of yourself!

- Flower anon 🌸

Hey there, Flower Anon!! I absolutely relate to the Halovian obsession, and thank you for the great request! I hope you'll like this!<33

Content: Reader is a Halovian, isekai troupe, established relationship, reader has Halovian wings abd a halo, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

》NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette immideatly knew at first sight that you didn't belong to this world. And yet, he treated you like everyone else when you two met. He didn't push you on your past or what you really were, but made sure to protect you from prying eyes or people that may want to harm you due to your rather unique appearance.

He finds your little wings and halo absolutely adorable, even if he doesn't show it often due to not knowing how he should express himself. But he definitely lights up when you allow him to pet/touch them. Neuvillette also doesn't allow anyone to bully or hurt you the same way he did it with the Melusines. He practically makes it law, and who would dare to oppose him anyway?

He finds it comforting to know that both of you have a secret identity you have to hide from the world. One only the other truly and really knows about. It makes him feel less lonely, and he's thankful for that.

》Wriothesley

He becomes suspicious of you at first, hiding his interest behind teasing words and narrowed eyes. But over time, he finds himself becoming rather obsessed with your look and the mystery that lies under the surface. Although it's hard to tell that he feels this way, considering his naturally secretive nature.

With that said, he is obsessed with your little wings. He's always gently pulling on them or fixing up your feathers for you. He won't let anyone look at you weird or bully your appearance either. He thinks you look divine, absolutely adorable. Anyone that disagrees is ofcourse very much wrong.

Wriothesley doesn't pry into your past, mainly because he'd know best how annoying that can be. If you never want to tell him, then so be it. And even when you do one day, he'll be there to support you and reassure you that it doesn't matter anymore down here in the fortress anymore. Life has restarted for the both of you, together.

》LYNEY

Lyney was absolutely fascinated by you at first sight. He couldn't help himself when he asked you too many questions, eyes never leaving your unique features that made his heart beat a little faster. If it wasn't for Lynette forcing him to have some shame, he would've never looked away from you. He definitely called you "angel" ever since your first meeting, and that never changed even after getting together. It felt wrong to him not to call you that.

He fusses over your appearance all the time, mainly over your wings and halo looking perfect. It makes him happy that he's the only one allowed to touch you this way. With that said, however, he knows that you being with him, considering who he belonged to, would end up causing you trouble. He'd protect you with his life though, that's for sure.

He understands if you aren't necessarily willing to share your past with him. He's patient. He'll wait forever for you to tell him, even if you never want to, which is fine too. You'll make enough new memories together to replace unpleasant, old ones. He promises you that.

Alrightttt... I hope this was alright, Flower Anon, and thank you again for the great request!!<33

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette #genshin wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin lyney x reader #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin

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just-jordie-things · 2 years ago

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Hi hi, just so yk i absolutely love you.

If you havent already do you think you could do how jjk men would propose to you (or just gojo i dont mind)

thanks :)

yes i need to be wifed up by these men :3

GOJO SATORU

contrary to popular belief, i don't think satoru would go all out with a fancy restaurant and a huge public display. i think the proposal itself is going to be so casually intimate that it throws you totally off guard when he does it. i'm also convinced that he'd surprise himself when he proposes too.

with both of you having a free night (a rarity!) he'd suggested that you order takeout, sit on the couch in your pajamas, and watch the soapy drama you liked that he had also gotten hooked on.

while he goes to pick up the food, you're at home making the living room the coziest place in the house. he'd only tasked you with grabbing your favorite blankets for the sofa, but you thought it'd be nice to throw up some fairy lights rather than use the too-bright living room lamp. it wasn't much extra work, but it definitely added to the atmosphere.

so when you're boyfriend returned home with your food, he was quite surprised at the romantic, cozy setting you'd created for you two. and maybe it was the dim twinkling of your beloved fairy lights, but there was just something about you that made you glow. and the little box that had carried around for two months now never felt heavier in his pocket.

your back was turned as you washed your hands, babbling on that it was always a special occasion when you both had a night off, and what better to make it special than some string lights and a bottle of wine, and satoru could barely focus on a thing you were saying, too focused on the velvet box in his hand and how he just had to stop carrying it around.

when you turn around to find him on one knee and a twinkling diamond outstretched towards you, there's a squeal of excitement that gets caught in your throat as your shock chokes you up instantly.

"that's- that's a ring? that's an engagement ring? for getting engaged? you want to be engaged? you want to marry me?"

you're speaking so fast that you're stammering, and satoru can't help but laugh a little at your total state of surprise.

"you gotta let me ask, sweetheart-"

"yes!" you've leapt into his arms, almost sending him to the floor at the sudden impact. "yes! yes! yes!"

satoru blinks, holding tight to the small box in his hand, afraid that your erratic movements might knock it out of his hold. although he can't complain as you shower his face in kisses, strawberry lipgloss smearing everywhere you can reach.

"i don't know what people are talking about," he teases as he finally presents you with the ring, sliding it perfectly over your finger. "that was easy"

for the rest of the night, your attention is caught between him, and the sparkling jewelry sitting on your finger. ___

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi, sweet, romantic, adorable megumi, is a fucking disaster.

if he'd had it his way, he would have proposed to you months ago. but it had taken him far too long to settle on a ring (none of them were good enough for you!!) and then of course he had to have a whole plan for the actual proposal. and again, he ran into the same problem. nothing seemed good enough.

where would he even do it? your favorite restaurant that you two frequented so often the staff knew your orders? in the comfort of your home during a quiet moment? the beach at sunset? should he order a pair of doves to release at the exact moment he dropped to one knee?

safe to say, megumi is overthinking the hell out of it. even though he had the ring and knew in his heart he wanted to marry you, and that's what really mattered, he just wanted it all to be perfect for you. he wanted you to be so swept away by it all that you'd remember it forever as a picture perfect memory. he wanted to portray every ounce of love he had for you in this one moment, so you'd never forget how he felt.

noticing that megumi had been on edge for a few weeks now, when a nice night came along and you both had the evening free, you asked him to take a walk with you. megumi wants to stay home and work on the massive speech he was preparing for you, but he's practically incapable of saying no to you, so that's how he finds himself walking hand in hand with you under the stars.

it's a surprisingly warm fall night in Tokyo, with just enough of a breeze here and there to tousle your hair around your shoulders. you both comment you're not sure when the weather had been more perfect.

you're looking at the stars and talking about your days, complaining just a little about an assignment he had coming up that would take him overseas for a few weeks, but megumi tells you he doesn't want to dwell on the future too much, and instead focus on the present.

you giggle.

"i can't help but think of the future when it comes to you," you're teasing, but the words are so sweet that megumi's heart melts a little. "is it so bad i want us to be together all the time?" you stick your tongue out at him playfully.

he squeezes your hand.

"careful what you wish for" he half-jokes back.

again, you laugh, and when he looks at you, there's a warm smile on our lips and a sparkle in your eyes that makes him forget about the cloudless night. staring at you still made his face feel warm, even after all this time together.

"i wish on every shooting star that i can spend forever with you," you tell him, dropping your teasing tone for a softer one.

megumi's heart is officially melted into mush, victim again to your ruthless loveliness.

"you're my favorite person in the whole world," you continue, your smile only brightening when you see a blush rise to his cheeks. "I love you, 'gumi"

he stops walking, and you show no irritation or confusion as he stands before you, staring at you with nothing but adoration.

"you really mean that?" he asks, his voice more of a mumble than he means to be, but with his heart coming back to life and pounding in his ears, it's hard to speak clearly.

"of course" your voice is nothing but genuine, punctuated with an affirming, curt nod of your head.

you effectively make him throw every plan in his mind out the window, and he's speaking before he can even realize this.

"marry me"

his voice is still a whisper, but it's clear nonetheless.

your smile drops as your lips part, and your eyes rounding, unblinking in your surprise.

with his free hand, he reaches into his pocket, and retrieves a black velvet box, only solidifying that he meant what he said.

your eyes travel from the box in his palm, to his again. he chuckles at your frozen features, before pushing the box towards you.

"open it" he murmurs.

as though willed by his command, you reach for it, and flick the top open. there sat the prettiest ring you've ever seen in your life, just your size and just your style. your eyes well with tears, both from the overwhelming happiness and the fact you haven't blinked.

you blink now to will the waterworks to stop from coming.

"what do you think?" megumi asks, his heart thrumming in his chest harder the longer you stand in stunned silence. "forever?"

your lips split into a wide grin, before you lean up to press your lips against his passionately. you're both smiling into the kiss, which makes it a little messy, but you're holding onto each other so tightly and your hearts are beating in sync that it's the most beautiful kiss you've ever shared.

when you finally part, your tears have slipped down your cheeks. megumi wipes them away before helping you try the ring on.

"i love it," you admire how perfect the jewelry sat on your finger. "i love you"

"i love you too, favorite person" he hums, kissing the crown of your head as you're still distracted by the ring.

"i'll have to think of a new wish now" you tell him as your hands intertwine again and you continue your walk.

"i'll make that one come true, too" he winks at you, sending the both of you into a giggling fit. ___

OKKOTSU YUUTA

yuuta had thought about proposing for a long time. he's known he's wanted to marry you since pretty early on in your relationship actually, he's a total romantic like that, but your lives are pretty chaotic so he holds it in and makes himself wait until the timing is right.

even still, it's not exactly a huge ordeal.

you were both lounging, reading your books in near silence together, but it was comfortable. at some point you went from sitting on the couch beside him to laying in his lap, propping your book above your face. he'd been more than happy to be a little more cuddly, his fingers playing with your hair while he continued to read.

but it didn't take long for him to get distracted, until he completely forgot about the book in his hand and was just staring down at you while you read.

yuuta liked watching you read, he even asked you to read to him sometimes. you always seemed the most at peace, your features soft until something exciting happened in the plot. he could almost guess what was happening in your story depending on your face. if something romantic or steamy happened you would blush, if there was a betrayal or major character death your mouth would hang open and our eyes would flit across the page a little faster, and if your favorite pairing had a tragic ending, you'd always be teary eyed. yuuta thought you were just so pretty when you were lost in a book.

he's not sure how long he'd sat there staring at you without you noticing, but you'd turned the page a few times now, too immersed to even feel his gaze.

maybe he shouldn't have sprung such a question on you out of seemingly nowhere, but he couldn't help himself. you were so pretty, and so comfortable with him, that he could pass away and float off into the sky right here. so he speaks his mind freely.

"i want to marry you"

it comes out in a dreamy sigh, and you think he's just being a softie and messing with you, so you giggle, not even looking away from the page you were on.

"sure you do, sweetheart," you murmur, shaking your head just a little. "you just bein' sweet to me because your leg's fallen' asleep?" you ask in a hum.

"no, i mean it," yuuta declares. "i want to marry you. i want to get married to you," he clarifies as if he wasn't already perfectly clear, but you obviously think he's playing a joke on you.

finally, you drop your book, holding it to your chest as you stare at him, studying his features just to be sure he's genuine.

"i want to move in together and decorate our place together and be together all the time," he continues, the lovesickness in his heart reaching his brain and making it all hazy with adoration as he stares at you. "i want to plan a wedding together and invite all our friends and your family and i want everyone to see us get married, and we'll have a huge party after and we can dance together all night. and then when it's over we can go back to our own place, together, and i'll be your husband and you'll be my wife"

your cheeks are gaining more color with every word he speaks. it's more romantic than any book, or any piece of poetry you've ever read.

"okay" you whisper.

"okay?"

"okay," you repeat, nodding your head as you move to sit up, just enough to bring your face to his. "i'll marry you"

his soft smile is replaced with a face splitting grin, excitement flooding through him in an instant.

"really?" he asks, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes flicker between yours eagerly. you laugh, nodding your head.

"yeah, really" you tell him, and you've barely finished speaking before he's slamming his lips to yours triumphantly.

your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself, because your heart was doing somersaults and the sensation was bound to make you dizzy.

yuuta's hands slide around your jaw when you pull away, his eyes half lidded as he admires every pretty feature of your face. he's so overcome with his love for you that he's ready to plan the wedding now.

"i'm thinking fall" he hums.

you hum in return.

"i think you better get me a ring first, lover boy" ___

INUMAKI TOGE

he says 'mustard leaf?' and you just know what he means. jk. but that would be funny, right?

toge actually spent a long time taking advice from his friends to find just the right way to propose to you. in a perfect world, he'd give you a long winded speech about how you light up his life with your angelic glow, but it's a little hard to translate that to onigiri ingredients, so he'll have to improvise.

panda suggests hiring a sky writer, but it turns out those are expensive. also maki had said that idea was corny and lame.

yuuta said that he should dim the lights, light some candles, play some soft music, and pop the question with some rose petals spelled out on the bed. toge liked this idea too, it was romantic and sensual, but again, maki had said this was lame.

gojo said he didn't even need words, and that he should take you to a fancy restaurant, and after dessert, make a whole display of getting on one knee. he'd claimed the action alone was enough to make his intentions clear, and you and everyone around you would know what was happening. toge thought that wasn't a bad idea either, it wasn't often that you two went on classier dates, so it would be special. once more, maki shot it down with a scoff, saying public proposals were tacky and annoying to those around them.

at this point, toge was annoyed and frustrated. every time he thought he'd found the right way to do it, she would shoot the idea down and tell him was terrible, and he was tired of hearing all the negativity without her actually telling him what he should do.

it's not until they've wrapped up an assignment together that he makes his irritation with her clear.

"you're upset that i don't want you to give (y/n) a shitty proposal?" she asks, raising a brow.

toge's frowning as he nods curtly at her. maki chuckles to herself.

"ikura" he curses under his breath. it does nothing to faze her.

"it's not that i don't want you to propose. i do. i know she'll say yes, you're soulmates," maki tells him the first nice thing he's heard her say in regards to his plan. "but you have to do it your way, dummy," she flicks his forehead to solidify her point. "it's gotta come from you. that's all that really matters, isn't it?"

oh, he thinks, finally realizing what she'd been trying to convey all this time.

"so, you know, just do what's right" she shrugs.

they're picked up at the airport by panda and yuuta, and of course, you. panda shows off the cool pikachu balloon he'd brought just for fun, and while maki's telling him that you're adults now and he really doesn't have to bring a balloon for every mission you all return from, you're jumping into your boyfriend's open arms and hugging him tightly.

"i missed you so much!" you tell him, followed by a sweet kiss once you pull away from the hug.

"salmon" the markings around toge's mouth are stretched out as he smiles back at you.

"how was it anyways? easy, huh?" you glance over him quickly to make note of any possible injury, but you don't find anything, and toge laughs to himself at your little routine every time he comes home from an assignment.

he places his hands on your shoulders, making you take a step back before he reaches into his pocket.

"a souvenir?" you grin when he produces a little box.

the black velvet makes you raise a brow. jewelry wasn't usually your thing, so it wasn't common for him to gift it to you.

the rest of your friends are standing around you with dropped jaws and pale faces. here? now? this is when he decides to pop the most important question in any relationship? was he for real?

"jewelry?" you asked, not picking up on the implication of the small size of the square box at all.

but then again, how could you? the guy is proposing to you in an airport, and it's not like he has words to help him.

toge nods, grinning ear to ear, and then reaches over to open the box to show you the sizable ring he'd picked out. your curious expression dropped to shock once you saw the diamond ring, finally getting what this was about.

"oh my god" yuuta mumbles, before smacking a hand over his mouth to keep any other commentary from coming out.

panda is hiding his face behind his paws, afraid that the lack of romantic display would cause you to awkwardly laugh and turn him down. he shifts around to peek through his fur so he could still see, though.

and maki is stunned frozen, just as you are right now, too curious to know what happens next to look away.

toge smiles at you, his free hand reaching forward and cupping your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. his lavender eyes are crinkled at their corners, before he leans forward to gently tap his forehead against yours.

there was more love in one soft gesture than he could have ever conveyed in words, you think. tears prick in your eyes as you stare back at him with your lips parted.

"i love you too," you murmur, your own hand resting over his, pressing your cheek further into the warmth of his palm. "of course i'll marry you"

your friends all sigh in relief before cheering for the both of you. yeah, they'd all been holding their breaths, but they really shouldn't have doubted toge, because you never have and you never will.

you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him happily, and when you pull away you're bouncing as you tell him to, "put the ring on me put the ring on me!"

you're huddled around with your friends, tucked into toge's side as you show off the ring he picked out, even though they'd already seen it because he'd dragged them with him when he was shopping for it. but it's worth it to see you excitedly show it off.

maki supposed the advice she'd given was perfect after all, even if toge took it in a pretty literal and immediate way. ___

not me getting butterflies writing these hehe

xoxo ~ jordie

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