#see them and brain just *avoid at all costs*

[kate-m-art]

Okay so like,,, am I the only gamer who lowkey hates boss fights? I'm not big on combat in general and would run away sooner than face something head on but like idk ajskddk love playing zelda games and ik bosses are a huge part of it and theyre amazing but they always frustrate and stress me out to no end akddkdl just wanna see more of the story TvT

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[daisymbin]

do you still love me? (I still love you) - choi seungcheol

warnings: mentions of insecurity, slight use of profanities, car accident, hospital, mentions of a needle (IV drip) & mention of anxiety attack.

pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader (use of she)

genre: exes to lovers, angst-ish, happy ending

word count: 2.3k

a/n: wanted to write for wonwoo but lollapalooza choi seungcheol won't let me, he is stuck and imprinted on my brain fr. I will do anything for that man....also this fic is loosely inspired by seventeen's happy ending.

requests open!

check out my masterlist!

“what? no! don't call him! are you crazy?” your hands frantically reached out to grab seungkwan at his hand that was holding his phone. “crazy? who's the one being crazy here? I can't believe this happened and you didn't even think to call me, if i hadn't call and asked to hang out I wouldn't even have known you'd gotten into an accident. are YOU crazy?? you just plan on lying on this hospital bed waiting to recover alone??” seungkwan whisper-shouted at you. “seungkwan please we already broke up, I don't want to bother him or give him any more burdens. besides, I don't even know if he will still care and to be honest, I don't want to know. I don't want to find out that he doesn't anymore so just let me live with my what ifs.” it's true, you'd rather not find out that he's moved on and doesn't care anymore than to know for sure that he doesn't care anymore. you don't think you have it in you to bare another heartbreak.

“you do know that he is still madly in love with you and that he asks me about you everyday still right? he is literally going to cuss me out if he finds out you're hurt and I didn't tell him. I don't even know why you broke up with him in the first place, you were both so good together!” seungkwan's words only filled your heart with more regret. you had broken up with seungcheol a little over 2 months ago but you both decided to stay friends for the sake of the boys. you had all been friends for too long, too many years to let them all go. seungkwan has been your best friend for over a decade and so was he with the boys, it was inevitable that you'd run into each other even if you tried to avoid him or them so this was your compromise.

it wasn't decided easily of course. when you first broke up, you had tried your hardest to avoid seungcheol at all costs, if he was going to be at a hangout, dinner or lunch, you would stop yourself from going bu seungcheol was persistent; begging that you'd at least be friends for the sake of the friend group & for his own sake as well, he couldn't stand not being able to see you or hear from you for too long. why the break up? to put it simply: you were insecure but that was just an understatement. every date you went on with him, every time you went out in public with him, pictures would inevitably find its way online. the comments were sweet, well most of them. for the rest? they were not so good & they started to eat at you everyday. you started to feel like you weren't good enough for him & that he could choose anyone and I mean anyone other than you, you just can't help but feel like he was settling for less with you. & slowly, this small insecurity grew so big that you started to distant yourself from him, avoid his hugs, his touches. when seungcheol finally had enough & asked you what was going on, you had decided on a whim to simply lie to him & told him you fell out of love with him.

you still remember the look of hurt that he had on his face that day and it haunts you every night before you close your eyes. almost immediately, you had wanted to take back what you had said, tell him whats really going on, you had so badly wanted to hug him so tight and to kiss the hurt away and yet, you didnt have it in you to continue being less for him when he deserved so much more.

“seungkwan you know why, just stop please just don't call him. it's just a small accident, I'll be fine once my leg heals.” you tried your absolute hardest to assure him, to convince and persuade seungkwan, but he's your best friend afterall. he knows you're not okay. “it's not just a small accident! you literally fractured your foot in a car accident and you have 3 stitches on your arm! you can't walk that's for damn sure, what, are you just going to not let any of our friends visit you for i don't know a few months? and not come to dinner and not expect anyone to ask about you? you know i can't lie for shit.”

“just… just tell them I left the country for a bit. for travelling or something I dont know just make something believable up. Just don't call him, I don't want him to see me like this. god, I look and sound like a loser. I don't want seungcheol to-”

the door to your ward swang open so hard a loud thud rang from the wall. “don't want me to what?” seungcheol asked as he panted; trying to catch his breath. your eyes widen at the sound of his voice, “cheol…what…” it seems for a minute, your brain had shut down., nothing was coming out of your mouth. “h-hyung,” seungkwan who was as shocked as you are, stuttered. “what are you doing here?” seungkwan had voiced his question for you. “y/n's hurt. you're hurt.” seungcheol answers as he looks back at you. seungkwan watched your face, clearly still shocked and struggling, “y/n is fine, she's just-”

“she doesn't look fine with a fucking needle up her arm. why didn't you call me?” you couldn't tell if seungcheol's question was for you or for seungkwan but you decided to speak anyway, “cheol-ah I'm fine, i-i just fell down the stairs.” what a stupid fucking excuse seungkwan thought to himself. what happened to making up something believable??? seungkwan tried to hide his face of unamusement. “you fell down the stairs?” this time seungcheol fixed his squinted eyes on you scrutinisingly. his right eyebrow raised in disbelief and he started walking closer to your hospital bed. while you tried to hide your casted foot out of sight as much as possible. “yeah I just, I tripped over my foot and fell down the stairs, just had a few cuts here and there and some stitches. no biggie.” you tried to sound as lighthearted and careful as much as you could while trying your best to hide the pain from having to move your foot out of sight.

“don't move, god, the hospital called and said you've gotten into a car accident, you still have me as your emergency contact.” oh. oh. well fuck. seungkwan sensed the already existing tension rising rapidly and decided it's best to go, “okaaay I should probably go and let you have some rest-” seungkwan almost feels invisible in the way seungcheol keeps disregarding his words and interrupting him, “why'd you not tell me? is this fun to you? the same way you fell out of love with me and just didn't tell me until I asked? why do I always have to find out things in the worst way possible?” seungcheol knows he's being harsh but he doesnt mean to, he's just so angry and hurt. so much anger in him towards himself for not being better for you. how bad must he have been, how much was he lacking for you to fall out of love with him? is it work? but he did try to make time for you, bringing you out for dates but you would reject those dates, movie dates at home were also always getting cut short, you no longer wanted to fall asleep on him shoulder or lap, you just went your way to the bedroom after announcing you're tired even before the halfway mark of the movie. was he doing something wrong? there's so much he still hasn't gotten the chance to ask you before you walked out on him.

and now seungkwan, seungkwan was a lot of things but patience? that man has very limited patience and he definitely doesn't have patience for the way seungcheol is speaking to you now. he has had enough of you running away from seungcheol when you still clearly have feelings for him. “hyung,” seungkwan reached for seungcheol's wrist, trying to get his attention. “come with me.” he started tugging and pulling at seungcheol's arm, dragging him out the ward. “she got into a car accident because she was having an anxiety attack because our song was playing on the car radio…your voice.. anyway…she's still in love with you.” seungkwan let out a deep breath he didnt know he was holding, he watches as seungcheol's eyes widen and dilate in shock, “im not trying to butt in your relationship with her or take her side but…just go easy on her. she's- just talk to her, give her some time, she'll open up to you again. you know what she's like when she wants to be stubborn. I'm going to get going, tell her bye for me.”

for the next 5 minutes, seungcheol stood by the door with his back slumped against the wall, replaying the words seungkwan had said to him. you still love him? you're still in love with him? how? but didn't you… didn't you tell him you don't anymore? if you still love him, why did you say that? he gently opened the door to your ward this time, making his way to you. he pulled the vacant chair closer to your bed before taking a seat, “cheol-ah, you don't have to stay here, i was just about to get some sleep anyway, im good on my own. I know you're busy-” “do you still love me?” the room turned so silent you swear you could hear if a pin were to drop on the floor. when you said nothing, he continued, “I have so many questions but i-i just need to know if you still love me... do you know how much I missed you?” tears you were so badly trying to hold back only cascaded down your cheeks, betraying you. both his hands come up to cup your delicate face inbetween his hands, both his thumbs working to wipe your tears away, “don't cry, pretty. you're breaking my heart.” his own voice cracks and his own tears starts showing themself around his brown orbs but you watch as he blinks them away. “tell me you love me." he whispered so quietly, your head now facing down, eyes closed as you start sobbing. “i can't cheol…if I tell you, if I tell you I love you I don't think I can let you go again.” the room fills itself with the sound of your sniffing and crying.

“you don't have to let me go, just tell me you love me and I won't let go of you, not again.” he placed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, bringing your face to his chest as he hugs you silently. “but cheol,” seungcheol doesn't think he can take it anymore if he hears you call him cheol one more time, he's growing putty and puttier in your presence. “yes, sweetheart?” he asked as he started stroking your hair. “im nobody and you're…you. we’re so different and we’re of two different worlds. you're doing so good in life and you're so handsome and im just…” his heart only breaks further at your words, “you're beautiful. you're the most beautiful person my eyes has ever laid on. you have always been beautiful to me and you still are. & we’re not that different, my love, even if we are, isn't that what we both love about us? so different yet so similar. you have qualities I lack and we compliment each other so well, no?” seungcheol pulled away slightly only to look into the eyes he had missed so much. “if there's somewhere or something im lacking at, tell me so I can be better for you.” he assured you again. “you're not lacking at anything at all cheol.” seungcheol notes how this is the loudest and clearest you've spoken since he's gotten here and he doesn't miss a beat when he says “you're not lacking either, you're doing so good my love. I wouldn't change anything about you, you know that? I love you just as you are, everything about you, I love you at your best and I love you just the same at your worst times. you just need to let me in when you have bad thoughts, let me love and reassure you hm? can you do that for me?” he asked as he patted at your head gently again. you had merely nodded lightly & said “im sorry cheol.” with more tears running down your cheeks before he spoke again, “it's not your fault, princess. I'm sorry I didn't notice it back then, it's my fault. I'm sorry.” a light peck of a chaste kiss placed on your cheek as you shook your head in disagreement, “it’s not your fault cheol.” cheol cheol cheol he couldn't take it anymore; bringing your face closer to his, he looks into your eyes again, asking for permission, at the small nod of your head, you fluttered your eyes close and he wasted no time in bringing his lips to yours gently, afraid of hurting you. his heart overwhelms in love for you, lips and tongue exploring each other in lost familiarity, oh how much you both missed each other.

“you still haven't answered me, princess.” another kiss to your forehead this time, “do you still love me?” his eyes searched yours again, looking for a hint of anything. you caught him by surprise when you pulled him in for another kiss, “I still love you. I love you, cheol, so much."

[nian-7]

CRUSH, CRUSH, CRUSH!

In which they have a crush on you.

Various HSR x gn!reader

-> fluff, bonus w/ luka cause he's cute, blood & fighting, first time writing luka so possible ooc

a/n: i wanted to try a new layout because i see so many people who have such pretty layouts for their posts... mine have always felt very blocky and boring so i am trying out this style instead. sorry this is kinda bad, i'm trying to get back into it. this was planned to be short fics but i manage it yet.

The Obvious Ones.

they are so obvious with their crush. everyone our them just knows they have the biggest crush on you. it's like they're not even hiding it! whether they're obvious on purpose or not, they continue to wave off the teasing from their friends and say it's just friendly! no romantic feelings are attached at all... deep down, they know they have a big crush on you and they can't help themselves!

-> March 7th, Gepard, Robin, Guinaifen, Luka

The Show Offs.

whether this is on purpose or not, they feel the need to impress you. they want you to praise them and impress you with their skills. this can be very obvious to their friends who are forced to stand by and watch as their dear friend tries their best to impress you with silly tactics that you haven't caught on to yet. they hope to woo you with their skills and hopefully one day it'll be enough to make you theirs.

-> Boothill, Yanqing, Luka, Serval

The Subtle Ones.

they are subtle with everything they do. you'll never know they have a crush on you because they are just so good at hiding it. whether their reason is because they don't want to ruin their friendship with you or because they're in denial, it doesn't matter. they might subtly flirt here and there but they usually are too friendly to pass as a flirt.

-> Jiaoqiu, Acheron, Bronya, Himeko, Jing Yuan, Feixiao, Luocha, Welt, Gallagher, Hanya, Natasha, Xueyi, Yukong

The Flirty Ones.

they flirt with you relentlessly. it's not often they find someone they truly want to pursue so why not make the most of it? they love seeing your adorably flustered expression when they throw a flirty comment your way. while you may think it's just how they are, they truly are trying to get the point across that they are in fact very in love with you.

-> Argenti, Aventurine, Black Swan, Jade, Kafka, Sampo

The Avoidant Ones.

they try to avoid you at all costs. whether it's to keep their feelings from growing more or because they don't want to hurt you, they'll keep it a secret. whenever you show up, they always are trying to find an excuse to leave as their heart aches. as much as their heart tells them to stay near you, their brain is in too much denial to accept the fact that they have a burning crush on you.

-> Blade, Jingliu, Silver Wolf, Dan Heng, Moze

The Nervous Ones.

they're so nervous around you. a blushing mess, a stuttering mess, whatever kind of mess you can think of, that's them. they can't seem to get a grip on themselves when you flash a smile and they suddenly are stumbling over their words, all nervous. it might be unlike them but they can't help it when they're so hopelessly in love with you! it's only natural that you make them nervous.

-> Firefly, Robin, Yanqing, March 7th, Sushang

Luka -> The 'Show Off'

" Come see me at the fight club later, okay?! "

" ...Okay? "

You were a little confused to say the least, but you were never one to turn down an invitation from a friend. Especially Luka. And even when he looked so excited! Sure, it was confusing but he looked so excited so how could you turn him down?

Awkwardly, you stood within the loud crowd of people who were cheering on the fighters in the ring. Although you were too far into the crowd to see who was fighting, you relied on the announcer that you barely hear over the roar of the crowd to let you know when Luka was taking the stage.

The crowd seemed to grow louder as the fight went on and while you knew he was popular, you didn't realize the extent of his popularity until that moment. It grew hot in the crowd as they continued cheering for the fight as you were getting shoved farther away from the cage, leaving you only able to see his reddish hair flying about as he attacked his opponent.

As you heard the announcer call the match, you tried to squeeze out of the crowd to stand near one of the walls. Soon after, you saw Luka rushing out, waving at you. A tissue shoved up the side of his nose, you could see a little blood leaking onto it.

" (name)! (name)! You're here! I didn't see you in the crowd, but did you see me?! " His eyes were bright as he looked at you with anticipation, waiting for you to respond. He sort of reminded you of a puppy... And you can't lie to a puppy, right?

" ...Yeah! I saw you fighting that- " What was he fighting? You couldn't see at all... " ...In any case, you were cool! " You assured him, placing your hand on his shoulder, his face lighting up. You could feel the guilt itching at you as you lied to him. Best not to dig your grave any deeper, right?

" Alright! " He pumped his mechanical arm in the air in celebration as you turned him around, nudging him back to where he had come running from.

" I think it's time for you to go get those scrapes bandaged up though, Luka. " You let out a quiet laugh as you heard him let out an 'aw' in response.

[chilschuck]

Hello! I don't know if requests are open, if not just ignore this. am not sure if this makes sense, but I had this idea where the reader's succubus takes straight up the form of Chilchuck. They are very self-concious of this, and since i see them as a calm and reserved person they will try to avoid them like the plague. They don't want Chilchuck to know at all costs, mostly because they fear to be turned down. But at some point, they both get separated from the party running eventually into a succubus. If it's too much information just take what it feels right for you!!

✦ AAAA i loved this idea so much that i had a bit too much fun with it, LOL! it ended up being more than a drabble somehow, so i really hope you enjoy it!! i hope it flows okay and doesn’t seem too rushed, as it’s been a while since i’ve written this much!! lots of love to you!! <3

— HYPOCRITE: chilchuck x gn!reader

꒰ warnings: ꒱ hurt/comfort ?? fluff + sfw! use of they/them for reader!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.8k (holy hell…..)

✦ if this is rough i am so sorry, i kinda let my brain take over and this was the result! nervous to post something this long since i’ve only ever posted lil tidbits, but i really hope you like it!!! <33

The walk back was deafeningly quiet. You couldn’t bear to even look in his direction, cheeks still hot in mortification at just what you had seen earlier. Usually you were stronger than this, but the idea of him knowing just what exactly you saw had your stomach in knots.

It wasn’t like you had never come in contact with a succubus before, but for it to take this particular form had your mind reeling. The heavy pit of guilt and shame kept twisting in you, and the more you thought about him, the more you felt sick. Even so, you could feel eyes burning into the back of your head just waiting for you to spill.

“What’s gotten you so quiet?” Chilchuck questioned, his brows raised at your current show of behavior. It was unlike you to shut yourself up like this, especially since you were known for being cool and collected in any situation. He would never admit it, but the lack of your voice amongst the others made him nervous.

You waited a moment to reply, the shakiness in your voice not getting past him. “It’s nothing, Chilchuck.”

And like hell it wasn’t, especially if it had you clamming up and avoiding his gaze. Knowing it would be better not to pry, he stayed silent. You were thankful for this.

“Everyone’s together now, right?” Laios called as you caught up to the rest of the party, your eyes still downtrodden. Not able to bring yourself to look in his direction, you kept your head down when motioning in the direction of the half-foot behind you. “Yeah, Chilchuck and I managed to find each other.”

Marcille was the second to notice your lack of enthusiasm, the calm air you usually exuded gone. Worried, she called out your name, pulling you out of the state you were in momentarily.

“Everything alright?” She whispered as the rest of the party walked ahead of you. Knowing how much it was killing you to hold everything in, you gave a frustrated sigh.

When you were sure everyone was out of hearing range, you spilled everything on your mind. How your succubus took the form of Chilchuck, how you’d been fighting off the feelings you held for him, how scared you were that he’d find out. Her head nodded with every concern you aired, but there was a certain sparkle in her eyes when you admitted to having feelings for him… Great.

“You’re certain he didn’t see?” She asked softly as you caught up to everyone else, and you gave her a nod of your own.

Her advice had been simple: maybe this was a sign to tell him how you truly felt. You wanted to scoff in that moment, knowing just how repulsed by inner party relationships the half-foot truly was. Telling him what happened seemed like the least intelligent thing to do, but you admired Marcille for her ability to see this in a hopeful light.

Envy coursed through you, wishing you could look at it hopefully, too. It just didn’t seem realistic, so you’d keep to yourself and try not to talk to him until these feelings died down inside. Certainly they would, right?

Days continued on, your relationship with Chilchuck turning into remorseful smiles and awkward silence. The tension was building, and he was convinced he couldn’t take much more of it.

The fact you hadn’t been seeking him out like you usually did struck him hard. You two would often spend nights chatting, voices soft and warm as you talked about everything that you could think of. He’d just started coming to terms that maybe he didn’t have to keep so much away from you, away from everyone else. This hit him harder than he’d like to acknowledge, and his attempts at reconciling whatever he did wrong fell flat.

Chilchuck only ever saw you talking to Marcille lately. He knew you two shared a friendship somewhat akin to his with you, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary at first. But that, paired with the fact you wouldn’t even lay your bedroll down near his, nearly drove him to insanity.

Gritting his teeth, he rested his cheek in the palm of his hand. This was getting nowhere, and if it continued he was sure he’d never let himself hear the end of it.

Laios, as softly as he could muster, called his name. “They’ve been ignoring you, haven’t they?” He spoke, brows furrowed as he studied Chilchuck’s expression. “Do you know why?”

He huffed, glare turning to focus on the blonde across from him. “If I knew, I’d tell you. But I don’t have a damn clue.”

Laios hummed, tapping his chin as Senshi listened in on their conversation. “Maybe you should try asking them. It never hurts to be honest with how you’re feeling, too.”

This was going to drive him up the wall. Every time he did try and corner you, you came up with some excuse as to why you were needed elsewhere. Chilchuck was left watching you leave him behind every single time. It only proved to make him feel even more scattered.

Before he could open his mouth to retort, he heard you stand up, wishing Marcille goodnight. Chilchuck begrudgingly noted that you seemed even farther away from him than usual. He sunk into his neckwarmer.

Looking down at his hands, he debated on just what he could have possibly done. This all happened after that damn succubus incident, and he wondered just what exactly you saw. You seemed not only distant from him, but from the whole party. Being an integral force in the group, having you seem so far away from everyone only served to build up rifts.

You were headed to the water fountain to wash your face, and Chilchuck assumed this would be the one chance he had. Following behind you, he called your name once enough distance from everyone had been built up. You took note of the aggravation that was laced in his tone.

Immediately you tried to think of a way to get out of talking to him. There had to be some excuse you hadn’t used, and as he approached you, you found yourself more and more cornered.

“Are you just planning to ignore me the rest of the damn time?” Chilchuck asked plainly, but you could hear the hint of concern. He continued to walk towards you, not giving you much of an opening to scatter. Panic settled in.

“You… Wouldn’t get it.” You whispered, finding yourself looking everywhere but at him. Chilchuck found this increasingly frustrating.

“What do you mean, ‘You wouldn’t get it?’ How am I supposed to get anything if you don’t tell me? I can see how you’re acting. Is whatever you really saw worth separating yourself from the entire party?”

His words cut you like a knife. You could hear the aggravation in his voice, chest seizing knowing it was because of you, because of your stupid fear. You swallowed harshly, trying your best to build up the courage you just couldn’t seem to find.

His body, caging you in and causing your back to hit the wall, continued to grow nearer. It felt like all the air left your lungs, struggling to gather just what you wanted, needed to say.

“You always say how you don’t want inner party relationships to ruin things,” you muttered, finding his closeness increasingly difficult to handle. “The last thing I want to do is put everyone in jeopardy like that.”

Chilchuck scoffed, confusion etched into his expression. “What? You saw a party member as the succubus or something? Don’t tell me—“

That tension that had been suffocating you before built itself back up to the point where you struggled for air. Before he could say just what had made you so ashamed the past week, you felt it bubble up in your throat.

“Yes, Chilchuck, it looked like you! Are you happy?! I didn’t want to tell you, couldn’t tell you. I…” Your hands shook, as if in shock of all that you were laying out in front of him. “I’ve been holding everything down inside for everyone’s sake! I’m not as strong as you, as strong as everyone else, okay?! I had no choice but to distance myself! I’m in love with you, and I know you don’t feel the same, so I just wanted that part of myself to stay hidden!”

You had hoped when, if, this had all finally come out, a weight would be lifted. Instead, you felt ten times heavier at seeing the realization in his eyes. Biting your tongue, tears welling up in the way they never could before, you pushed past him.

“I’m going.”

Yet he did just what you didn’t want him to do; grab your wrist and pull you back to that moment you tried so hard to forget in those few seconds. So he was going to reprimand you now? Tell you how irresponsible you are? Before you could spit out what was on your mind, his hands had wound around your collar and pulled you down to smash your lips against his own.

Everything was still in that moment. It was rough, deprived, filled with emotions that made your mind stutter. You tilted your head further into the kiss, still letting him take control. Despite the suddenness of it, you couldn’t help but pull him closer into you. After a beat, he pulled away, panting and cheeks rosy in what you could only guess was sheer relief.

“You’re so frustrating.” He whispered, still clutching onto the collar of your sleep shirt. “Hardheaded to no end. Drives me insane.”

You couldn’t form a sentence, still trying to catch up to what exactly just happened between you two. Was that… his way of telling you he felt the same? Even if it was sudden, it was very like Chilchuck. Blood rushed to your cheeks.

“So…?” Your voice began, matching the softness of his own. He clicked his tongue, and you could tell by the exasperation on his face that he was about to just up and groan at your cluelessness.

“I… have feelings for you, too. I know what I said before, about prioritizing work over everything else.” Chilchuck spoke, his voice having a slight wave to it. “I’m a damn hypocrite…”

“Apparently.” You replied, hearing him grumble under his breath, and for the first time in days, what felt like weeks, you laughed.

The sound made his head buzz. His heart beat in his ears, and for the first time in a while, he let himself smile too. Maybe he could get used to this being honest thing, if it meant staying close to you like this.

“I’m glad things worked out the way they did,” you hummed, the two of you walking back to where your party had decided to settle for the night. “Strange to think it’s all thanks to a succubus. Maybe I should give them more credit.”

Chilchuck rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure. Tell me more about that next time, though. I want to know how handsome you really think I am.”

You couldn’t get back to camp fast enough.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

[guppybibi]

Late WIP Wednesday ..

(aaa km not sure if i should finish this, it started off strong but just fell off and now my brain isnt working)

Simon’s home & marriage was his refuge, until it wasn't. He knew something wasn't right when you were coincidentally prepared for his return, all dolled up when you greeted him with an “I miss you” kiss. No, he was sure it wasn't you when he saw that the dinner table was prepared with a generous spread of food on it.

There was no reason for you to come this prepared, everytime he comes home from deployment is a surprise. So..how exactly are you this ready? It didn't sit right with him, the whole thing felt like it came out of a painfully obvious scripted reality TV show.

But food was food and after countless weeks spent eating barely edible MRE’s, a home cooked meal was all he needed. Sluggishly, he sat down at his unsaid designated spot at the dinner table. He closely watched if you would sit down at your designated spot, if you didn't; that’d explained a lot. You do end up sitting at your spot, it wasn't all that hard to do though. Dinner with you was unsettling to say the least, all of the small talk you were making felt forced, it’s barely been an hour and he already feels like he's going crazy.

He knows more than to question you upfront though, having gone through enough interrogations to know that he should take his time and that you could get hostile if things don't go your way. You could be a threat for all he knew, and it's better to be safe than sorry. Unsure if it was the right decision, he starts out some sort of small talk himself, asking you some seemingly innocent questions.

“What were yer up to while I was gone, luv?” He asks mid chew. “Oh not much, I just picked up a new hobby actually. Clay sculpting! I've been watching online tutorials, I could say I’ve been getting the hang of it if I do say so myself.” Liar, was all he could think while he subconsciously nodded to your words. You hated clay, not fond of the texture it had and the way it’d get stuck under your nails. Perhaps it was another one of your impulsive decisions, jumping into conclusions should be the last thing he should be doing. It could cost him more harm than good, so he lets it slide. For now at least.

“Sculpting eh? That's new, have ye finished any?” He pauses, swallowing his food. “I’d love to see them.” A spark lights up in your eyes, but it didn't look right. There's a lit candle in there but it's far, far away. The lack of life in your eyes makes his stomach spin like there's a guinea pig rolling around in their wheel in there, it made him want to puke. He wasn't the biggest fan of prolonged eye contact anyway, so he’ll just avoid looking you in the eye to prevent making a mess. “Oh yeah I actually do! They're already displayed on top of our shelves, I’ll show them to you after.” You exclaim, if that was you anyway, which it wasn't.

Dinner passed at an uncomfortably slow pace, Simon swore he could hear each individual tick and tock of the clock, the scraping of utensils against the porcelain plates and each chew you took. He’s gone through debatably louder things than this, the booms of the explosions were unforgettable after all but this somehow takes the cake. Wanting to distract himself further, he helps with washing the dishes which you normally did but you specifically chose today to help do the other minor chores. Water, that was your weak point. He noticed it, you didn't drink water after dinner either. What kind of monster doesn't drink water to hydrate after eating roasted pork?

To test out this thought of his, he decided to ask another question. “I'm heading to the shower, luv. Care to join me?” Meekly, he suggests to you, deep brown eyes staring intently as he awaited the already expected answer. “Oh I..actually already showered earlier dear. Maybe next time.” A dishearteningly dismissive reply, just like he expected. “Alright, suit yourself luv. I'll be back.”

He thought about it, almost forgetting about the bubbly soap running down his body from how deep in thought he was. There was no doubt about it anymore, everything about you being you, pointed away. At this point, he didn't care what the fake you was anymore, rather where you actually were. You could've been dead for all he knew, replaced by the soulless woman that now roams around his home.

This was beyond cruel, beyond the pain physical torture could've caused. It was like the universe was a cat and he was a yarn ball, being played by it meticulously. The whole thing was definitely planned out by a certain someone he knew, the both of you are fairly private so it couldn't have been a random person. He couldn't handle this alone, as much as he’d hate to admit, the situation was way bigger than him to do alone. So, he decides to call a trusted someone.

“You tellin’ me ye think your wife got abducted or something..and a doppelgänger replaced her?” A gruff voice questions, lightly tapping his cigar against the side of the ashtray. Price, him and Kate are the only members of the Task Force so far that Simon allowed you to meet. Well, it unfortunately looks like the sergeants won't get to meet you under these circumstances just yet. Strangely enough, the clocks inside the pub weren't working. Must be a malfunction. The masked man nodded, sighing through his nose when he got a whiff of the alcohol-filled air in the bar.

“I feel so.” He grumbled. “Couldn't she be just having an off day? We all have those, Simon.” John opposes it, it was an unquestionable possibility they couldn't simply ignore. “No, I know my wife. In my years of being with her, she's never acted this way.” Ghost hissed back, a hint of crystal clear impatience seeping out from his words. The lack of respect in his tone wasn't intended, but what could he do when his wife is apparently kidnapped and replaced so seamlessly? “I guess you have a point, but you need to confirm it Simon. You shouldn't make any decision on impulse, if the woman in your home really isn't your wife then this is a bigger issue.”

Then the plan was set, still a little all over the place but there really wasn't any time to lose. Simon would further observe the woman who's allegedly ‘you’ to make sure he isn't making things up, then if he was incredibly sure it wasn't you, he’ll head to the police and file a report for a missing person. In all honesty, it wasn't hard to do, having gone through missions more intense than this. Yet the fact that you were involved made the bugs inside of him crawl, this was totally his fault.

He didn't hide you away from the world enough, he should've just kept you locked inside a cage like the little birdie you were to avoid any danger coming your way. Simon wasn't stupid though, that was inhumane, you were one of the only few people who has managed to make Simon feel less of a ghost and more of a human. So doing such a thing to you was unethical and out of the books, but how could you blame him for subconsciously letting his possessiveness and worry take over when you're literally so far from his grasp? Being so near before that he could easily grip at the back of your top, now so far that the trace of your scent is long gone.

It makes Simon feel sick, his core being left to rot. He comes from the pub to what felt like an empty house, not home because nothing would feel like home without you there. He’d rather be living in a pile of rocks and plywood with you than in a giant mansion without you, that would be the real hell. “Bloody hell..where are you?” He murmurs under his breath, stressedly rubbing his creased forehead. If he could, he’d pry at every surface that comes up within his sight just to find you.

“I’m back.” He whispers, unsure if the fake you was asleep or not. Anyone, human or not wouldn't be happy being woken up from their slumber. “Welcome home, hun. You alright?” Looking up from your cup of tea, you ask. “Yeah, just spoke with the Captain. That's all, no alcohol.” Simon was so used to you being a worrywart about his alcohol intake, telling you that he didn't have any alcohol is practically ingrained into the wrinkles of his brain. But the woman in front of him didn't seem to care less about his health, let alone him in general. The lack of nagging that usually filled his ears to the brim didn't feel right, he would've much rather gone through another one of your yap sessions about how constant alcohol intake affects him in the long run than..just silence.

He feels the desperation inching up on him, eating him whole. At this point, he's willing to admit he doesn't want you. He needs you. He needs to hear your fretful complaints about him getting deployed, knowing you’d shut up because you were used to it by now. He needs you to tell him to include more vegetables in his diet because he's not some kind of carnivore to be eating that much meat. God, he just needs you with him. Whatever bloody thing came with you he’d take like it was on a stupid Black Friday sale.

“Not yet..” He’d think every single night, eyes wide open as he prevents himself from making a rash decision. The woman sleeping soundly right next to him, if that was you..But it wasn't, even if he stared at the unfamiliar woman for ten hours straight, she wouldn't just magically turn into you. Well sure, she was a carbon copy of you from head to toe but she simply just didn't scream ‘you’. Whatever and whoever you were anyway.

“When all is said and done, I think it'll end well Simon. My gut feeling tells me so, it's rarely ever wrong so I’m pretty sure we should trust it.” You ramble on and on, the little amount of alcohol taking over your lightweight self. Simon was still courting you here, yet he remembers it like it's been replayed in his mind like a broken record. He trusted your gut, and he could consider that as one of the best choices he's ever made in life.

But..trusting you now? While you're probably out, all shivering & teeth clattering from the immense cold night? Impossible, he’s fully aware that you're a capable strong woman however..how far can his trust go? How far do you have to venture into someone’s soul to gain their fragile trust, something that can be easily broken with your own bare hands? Ghost doesn't trust you, but Simon does.

“You're a strong gal, you can hold on for much longer.” He supposes, deep in thought while he flipped around in bed. The fake you hasn't set off any red flags yet, acting normal. Too normal. He knew ‘you’ had a purpose for being here, one with malicious intent, though what exactly? One wouldn't simply come in here and replace his wife with a fake one just out of spite, unless they were a little cuckoo. Tossing aside to check the time, he presses the ‘on’ button on his phone. Weird, the time didn't show up. Maybe it's just a glitch in the system.

“Simon, Hey? Simon, wake up. Hurry, you need to get up.” A voice shakes, lightly nudging him in order to awake him. It's your voice, he can instantly sense its meekness. With one eye and another, they flutter open, still full of sleep in them. “Oh thank goodness, you're awake! But you seriously need to wake up, like right now.” You crooned, hoping he’d fully wake up to the sound of your voice. Groaning, Simon sat up, a few joints popping in the process. “What..? Yeah, I’m awake luv. Whad’ya need me for?” He questions groggily, eyes opening further once he gets a closer look at you. It's actually you, he can tell! The way your eyes meet his, connecting like a bee landing on a precious flower. The way your voice lilted to him like a mother bird nursing her hatchlings, it really was you.

“Wait–luv? You're here? Bloody hell, you actually are–Did you see the other gal who looked just like you? Tell me I’m not losing my shit please.” Then you shushed him, convinced he’ll continuously go on and on if you didn't. “Please listen to me closely, Simon.” You pause, noticing how his eyes bask in yours like it was long overdue. “You need to wake up, hurry.”

[yandere-sins]

I feel like omegaverse has some untapped yandere potential. Of course there’s alpha and omega but I had this idea of like an omega going yandere for a beta, like it’s literally never going to be but by god they’re gonna do whatever it takes

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Uff! It's such a dreadful madness. I can't describe it otherwise.

An omega that knows you are their one true love, their one and only, the soulmate that every omega craves on a deeper level than just what their brain or body needs. But, oh, the misery when they go to your appointment with you to find out you're not the alpha they will need to survive their urges (as they have naturally assumed) but a mere beta they can have as a friend for a while at best. Once they are bound to an alpha, there will be very little time to invest in you, and that's something the omega has to prevent at all costs.

See, normally, an alpha would take care of their omega. Would feed them, clothe them, house them. Make sure they are always satisfied and well-satiated. But if the yan wants to keep you, specifically, they'll have to step up to the position of caretaker. Society doesn't want their precious omegas to go unmated, and if they learn of the predicament of your role, they'll undoubtedly keep you away from your omega. It scares the yan into sleepless nights and even panic attacks, making them fearful and desperate because they cannot survive without you. You yan might be bound to a knot but die of a broken heart either way. They can't even imagine forgetting you and leaving you behind to be with any other disgusting, ruthless, leering alpha. They want you. Only you.

You, you, you.

So they do what they must. Suppressants here, hiding their scent there. They learn to avoid the questions and hide from potential mates until they reach their goal—money. Lots of it. Whether through legal means or much more nefarious ways, they'll save up so much that they can spend the rest of their life comfortably with you, somewhere hidden and secluded, just you two. The world always needs more videos of needy, begging omegas, and it's a small price to pay when it means they can create the life of their dreams. You don't even realize the reason behind the omega's sudden lack of time. That's how well they are hiding their identity on the internet as they become famous for your sake.

It's not a surprise that after your diagnosis, after learning your purpose in society, you slowly start to make amends with it. While your yandere is so obsessed with creating a life for you two, you just try to move on from how you envisioned your life to go. Because you know you two can't be together. And your previously best friend is never around to support you at this challenging time, so you start to find other people who care about you.

The heartbreak for the poor omega seeing their beloved beta living your life apart from them is immeasurable. Infuriating. Maddening. Here they were trying so hard to do this for you, and you just replace and discard them? Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable!

But their plan is already underway. They already have more money than they know what to do with, even after buying a mansion for you two somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle of this annoying society you two live in. Once you're there, no one will hear you scream. And your omega knows you won't deny them when they ask you to go on vacation with them "for old time's sake". Why would you? You love them, they know it. Even if you hesitate, you are so easily persuadable when they plead a little, just like all those followers they have accumulated over the past few months that fall for every crocodile tear and every sway of the omega's hips. But while many may adore the yandere, they only have eyes for you—and now you're walking into their carefully laid out trap.

Because as soon as they lock the door behind them, there's no way out for you. You may not like your new living arrangement initially, but the yan has already severed all your ties to the world outside of this sacred haven they created. Everything is gone—your job, your friends, your family. No one will come looking for you. Everyone believes you left of your own free will with the person you have loved since childhood.

You may be confused, crying, and refusing the omega's touches. Begging them to let you go and even lash out, but they'll endure it, whether it's your tears staining the designer carpet or your palm print on their skin. You'll surely come to your senses and realize the amazing effort the yan put into this. But even after days, you're still rattling on doors, trying to jump out of locked windows, and at that point, it's not like the yan is too innocent to drug your food and chain you in their basement love nest. Nothing will get in between you and them—not even you. This change may be hard, but they had to sacrifice a lot for you, too. It's only fair if you have to do the same for this perfect life. And if you're not willing to give them the love they want, they have viewers waiting upstairs in their new and approved 'office' to release some steam with and clear their head before they do something that will upset both of you. Viewers who can't wait for the special 'surprise' the yan has promised many weeks ago.

Because everyone knows that the omega's heat will come, even with the suppressant. They will need their release when the medicine doesn't work anymore. And why would they need to keep taking it when they are secure and in the company of their one true love? They don't need an alpha to do it. They have you. What more could they want?

You'll have no moment of peace from them once their heat starts, cameras set up, and chains secure you into their nest. There are toys for all the needs they could possibly have that you can't fulfill as a mere beta. And when they inject you with so many pheromones that your body can barely handle the rut they will force you into despite being the wrong person for it, you'll almost be like the alpha they need, desperately humping and grinding on your omega like a bitch in heat. Wild and only held back by the chains, but still their adorable, beautiful darling beta, even when you two make a mess out of the nest and yourselves.

All on camera, of course.

The omega doesn't even care when they scream your name, revealing your identities to the world. No one will ever come for you two while the tips and memberships just come flowing in naturally, demanding more. And the yan gladly obliges. There is no greater happiness than finally having you right how they want and need you.

It's happiness shared amongst everyone.

Everyone except you.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 175 }

heartbreak feels so good.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: mentions of physical intimacy, but nothing too explicit.

{ we could cry a little, cry a lot | don't stop dancing, don't dare stop | we'll cry later or cry now | you know it's heartbreak | we could dance our tears away | emancipate ourselves | we'll cry later or cry now, but baby | heartbreak feels so good }

anonymous said: HELLO!! ⭐ anon here and I have an idea. I literally can't stop thinking about it. It's gonna make my brain hurt so I won't hide it any longer ☹️

GAHAHAHAHAHAHA imagine Jinwoo who had a one night stand with reader. It was like after a party and they decided to hook up for one night, but reader regretted it afterwards bc of how shameful she thought she was—like bravely being involved with the Sung Jinwoo in such field??? Also what—he agreed and looked smug too or was she mistaken???

Jinwoo already knew reader and had been eyeing her for a while but didn't say anything about it. Before he even woke up, she was already gone and he was instantly reminded of the night they spent together.

Pookie got awkward after that and started to avoid Jinwoo. Meanwhile, little did she know, he actually liked to observe reader from afar. He'd often find it cute when she'd take one step away from him sideways as the tip of her ears go red.

Idk man one day Jinwoo just said "fuck this let's go on a date" and then boom their relationship bloomed. I'm so into this trope 😭 no toxicity, just two people being awkward and slowly exploring their actual feelings for each other. I'm sorry if this is too long, but still, if you saw this, thank you for reading. I hope you have a good day! I just can't help but yap every single change I get. ♪⁠～⁠(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

this had to be the biggest mistake of your life-

but truly, how could you have possibly even try to think straight when you had wanted nothing more than to just play pretend for one night? to actually feel like you were cherished and loved by someone who meant a lot to you?

the party you attended was, of course, thrown as a celebration for hunters and healers alike. the chairman had gone all out for everyone who had worked hard for the nation and wanted to give everyone a chance to de-stress and enjoy themselves.

from the fanciest bottles of champagne and wine that cost more than your salary to the perfectly catered food that seemed to suit everyone’s cravings and needs-

admittedly, you felt a bit out of your element.

the fact that so many people were here at this venue made you feel incredibly overwhelmed. in hopes of trying to maintain your sanity, you head over to the waiters and waitresses serving glass upon glass of expensive liquor, downing each of them while praying that the liquid courage would take effect and you could properly mingle with everyone else.

after downing just a few glasses of bubbly champagne, you could feel the heat against your cheeks coupled along with a slight tipsiness as the alcohol courses through your veins. yet, in the midst of your increasing drunken stupor, the strange sensation of being watched was what ultimately made you face him-

the tenth s-rank hunter, sung jinwoo.

he was leaning against the wall, tending to his own glass of red wine as his grey eyes remained rooted to your form. an almost mischievous grin was felt spreading across your lips, noticing how a certain blond hunter wasn’t latched on to him like a leech.

jinwoo is an incredibly fine specimen… i could work with this.

the alcohol in your system gave you the much needed courage to sidle up to him, your lips turned up in a smile as you casually smoothed out your dress. “hey hunter sung, funny seeing you here. you have always remained so elusive during gatherings like this.”

a look of pure amusement was shining within his grey eyes. “well, i figured it was time to change that, since it would be rude not to show up to at least one of the chairman’s events.”

you hum at his answer while sliding your hand up his dress shirt, earning a choked sound from him. “hm, you know, i was shocked to not see hunter cha clinging to you tonight. she’s the type that can never seem to leave you alone…”

“ah, w-well, she doesn’t always wish to hang out with me now that i’ve- wait, what are you doing?”

wow, his skin is so smooth… i can feel his muscles from beneath this flimsy dress shirt.

jinwoo’s breath hitches when your press the palm of your hand against his chest, purposely trailing your touches down to his abdomen as you leaned up to whisper in his ear. “the chairman said he rented out some floors of the hotel in case his guests got tired. shall i keep you company instead of cha hae-in tonight?”

you never got a chance to hear jinwoo’s answer or see his expression. simply grabbing a hold of his hand, you took the elevators to one of the booked floors, taking a card key from one of the hotel staff before shoving jinwoo into one of the rooms.

all you wanted was a chance to experience this type of intimacy with a man you respected and admired-

but you weren’t expecting jinwoo to be so gentle with you throughout it all.

you didn’t expect him to kiss every inch of your skin, filling you with so much pleasure that you became sensitive to his every touch.

you didn’t expect him to slowly make love to you, tangling your limbs together like he never wanted to let go of you.

and you certainly didn’t expect to experience such an intense release throughout your night together with jinwoo.

with the post lovemaking (and post champagne) quality kicking in just a few hours later, you awaken in the middle of the night with a start, feeling cold as the night air pricked at your skin, sending goosebumps down the length of your arms. your heart was a pounding mess as you ran a hand through your tangled hair.

recalling the ache felt between your legs, you look behind you to see jinwoo still sound asleep. he lay on his stomach, with the sheets just barely clinging on to his muscled back, making your mouth water in response.

your lips itched with the sudden desire to latch against his skin;

your whole body was screaming at you to just lay next to him and bask in his warmth;

but it was the more rational part of your mind that stopped you from acting on those irrational urges.

he’s going to wake up and regret sleeping with you.

with a purse of your lips, you allow your bare feet to touch at the carpeted floors. you slowly began to pick up the remnants of your undergarments while hastily putting them on along with your now wrinkled dress.

never once did you avert your gaze from jinwoo.

never once did he awaken to try and stop you from leaving.

it’s for the best.

giving the sleeping jinwoo one last look of yearning, you silently left the hotel room with every intention of never seeing the famous hunter ever again.

{ … }

to say you were embarrassed after that night would be the understatement of the century.

you had little clue as to truly how much time had passed, since your mind kept giving you flashbacks of how drunk and needy you were-

and also how caring jinwoo was when he willingly spent the night with you.

this embarrassment was what fuels you to continue avoiding jinwoo like a damn plague, with you taking on much lower leveled raids, raids that jinwoo wouldn’t pay the slightest attention to while slowly burying yourself with your duties.

you never sought to join any guilds and made it your life’s mission to stay far away from ahjin’s building, never once wishing to run into jinwoo.

in fact, you were perfectly fine with acting like your one night stand with him never happened at all.

however, unlucky for you, jinwoo himself didn’t seem to share that same sentiment.

{ … }

the moment you left him that night was the moment jinwoo had his first taste of true regret.

he felt so happy and excited when you approached him and invited him to spend the night with you. you never knew it, but jinwoo was achingly in love with you. he had hoped that with this chance, he could spoil you rotten with pleasure while taking great lengths to worship you; to love you like he had always wanted to.

when he could feel the pleasure washing over you with each and every stroke, jinwoo had gone a little crazy over you. the poor hunter had to bite down on his lips to prevent his words of utter love and devotion for you from spilling out.

but instead of choosing to tell you with words, he tells you with his actions alone.

yet still, it wasn’t enough to keep you by his side-

which was frustrating, to say the least.

jinwoo was no fool; he could tell that you were taking great lengths to avoid him. each time he would try to find you (whether it be during raids or just in general around the city) you would find ways to avoid ever meeting him by either switching out with another hunter / healer, or using the crowd to hide yourself away from him.

whenever this happens, jinwoo could only manage to let out an exasperated sigh in response. his hair would become a mess from the sheer amount of times he had run his fingers through them, trying to think of new ways to talk to you and finally confess.

throughout it all, jinwoo was left feeling a little listless, his mind always managing to go back to you…

by now, jinwoo had become desperate to finally have you.

while staring blankly at the ceiling of his office, jinwoo leans back against his chair while whispering your name.

if jinwoo couldn’t get to you by fair means, then he would have to start playing dirty, using his abilities as the shadow monarch to finally get through to you.

{ … }

so far, everything had been going according to plan on your end.

you had been successfully avoiding jinwoo for close to 4 months now, and when you were certain his lingering presence was no longer felt or seen within your periphery did you finally decide to head out for the night.

you were dying to get out of your apartment, wanting to try that new café or head to your go-to bookstore to read a new novel or two. yet your desire to always avoid jinwoo made you turn into a bit of a hermit (albeit unwillingly, but still.)

basking in the night air and the bustling sounds of seoul, you walked with a bit of a bounce in your step, thinking about your plans for the night. while you walked, you kept your gaze forward, and was caught off guard by the strangest phenomenon.

one minute, the sidewalk was free of any pedestrians, and the next, a man wearing an expensive looking coat appears just a mere inches away from you.

you recall letting out a gasp, hands already outreached to try and avoid face planting against the man’s broad back-

however, when he turns around was when you felt all of the air leave your lungs.

sung jinwoo was now facing you, his height still towering over you as his arms remained open, casually catching you within his embrace as your face landed against his chest. by now, your heart was pounding, making the blood rush to your ears as you began to feel dizzy.

“looks like i finally caught you.” a rich chuckle fills your ears when jinwoo places a lingering kiss against the top of your head, causing you to let out several sputters of his name.

“h-how did you-“

“did you forget who i am… and what i can do?”

his question successfully makes your heart skip beats, thinking back to the rumors that pertained to jinwoo and his ability to summon millions of shadow soldiers. along with this ability, you also knew that he could place many of those soldiers within anyone’s shadow while exchanging places with them on a whim.

“what? w-when did you manage to place your soldiers within my shadow?”

jinwoo hums, placing a hand beneath your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. “when you came up to me at the party and lead me back to the hotel room.” a sly smile paints his handsome features when he leans down to whisper against your ear, “but you have to understand, even before that night, i was already half in love with you. i couldn’t help it when you gave me such a perfect opportunity.”

his sudden confession nearly makes you fall to your knees, but jinwoo manages to catch you in time, wrapping his arms around your waist while holding you even closer to him.

“so tell me, my beloved treasure, why you were so dead set on avoiding me?” he meets your gaze then, eyes filled with a subtle look of pain. “do you know how much it hurt me, seeing you ignoring me so blatantly like that?”

your breathing comes out as uneven, with you avoiding his gaze as you played with the front of his shirt, “i’m sorry, i thought that night was the only way to experience that type of intimacy with you. i convinced myself that i was nothing to you… and i-“

you hear jinwoo let out a hiss of your name before crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. it was enough to make you swallow your words as you moaned into his kiss, shyly kissing him back as jinwoo tightens his arms around you.

“shut up.” he manages to hoarsely say against your lips. “you drive me so fucking crazy all the time, but i still love you this much. never talk down about yourself in such a way ever again, because from this point on, you’re mine.”

you look into his eyes once more and see them burning a deep purple for you. there wasn’t a hint of a lie within the depths of his gaze, and the truth of his confession was finally beginning to sink into you.

“o-oh…”

your heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute now, racing so much that it overwhelmed you with its rapid palpitations.

letting out one last sigh of your name, jinwoo brings your head back into his chest, hugging you tightly. “when i’m done holding you like this, i’m going to take you out on a much needed date, and you are finally going to give us a chance. if you try to run again, just know that i will keep chasing you while chipping away at the walls you stubbornly built around your heart.”

you let out a tiny squeak, but couldn’t help but grin in response to his passionate words. “your plan is already working.” you murmur against his chest.

moving away from jinwoo, you look up at him with bright eyes all while giving him a genuine smile. “my heart is already yours, so-“

jinwoo interrupts you yet again, this time by picking you up and spinning you around in happy circles, hands clutched tightly against your sides when he brings you back down to him. nuzzling his nose against yours, you watch as a smirk paints his gorgeous features.

“it’s about damn time you finally admitted your feelings for me.”

and with yet another kiss shared beneath the city lights, you no longer felt the pangs of heartbreak filling your veins, feeling it slowly morph into the requited love you had always desired with your beloved sung jinwoo ♡

a.n. - and i’m so happy to finish this. this should be my 40th jinwoo oneshot, which is insane to think about 😭 currently unedited but, i hope you enjoyed this @ ⭐️ anon 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[vershl]

Okay I think I made y'all wait long enough LOL

SORRY THEY'RE ALL UNCLOTHED BTW, I HAVENT FIGURED OUT OUTFITS YET- 💀

I don't really have a lot to share tbh in terms of lore/plans. This AU is very VERY fresh in my brain atm. But I will fill in some details for you guys so you somewhat/mostly understand the current characters I have for now.

---

Shadow

He is a red diamond (ultimate lifeform yada yada), and as stated, a "blood" diamond. I mean this somewhat in modern terms, but not entirely. In real life, diamonds mined in a war zone and sold to fund the costs, hence "blood". In this case; Shadow was created by the other diamonds (primarily white) as a weapon, the plan was to have a gem on equal footing in terms of strength and power that they could order around to do their bidding and do their dirty work.

Clearly, that didn't work out the way they wanted. Shadow pretended to be obedient, following white, and the other diamond's orders. He shattered other gems for whatever reason the diamonds deemed fit (among other things I haven't decided on yet), only doing so to avoid the risk of being deemed defective and shattered himself, or the gem being shattered regardless by someone else.. he at least knew he could give them a swift end without pain.

Once Shadow gained the diamonds trust to wander around as he pleased, the moment no one was looking, he stole a ship and left Homeworld. Going as far as he could into the universe until he found Mobius and crash landed there. It wasn't very long before Sonic found him, and eventually became allies, inviting Shadow into the Crystal Gems, to which he accepted, and chose the name 'Shadow'. He didn't want to be called 'Red' or 'Red Diamond' anymore. He was free now. (This is as far as I got with him, sorry y'all HAHA)

Sonic

Sonic is a yellow prism in the shape of an isotoxal star (the yellow is a nod to super Sonic). In my AU, because offical SU lore with gems is relatively limited, different colored gems even if of the same type, give different abilities/powers. In Sonic's case, yellow prisms give the ability of super speed, because of course, and he chose his name based on that fact as well.

Lore wise with Sonic-- He's the leader of the Crystal Gems (makes more sense considering the CG's signature symbol is a yellow star, so I just ran with that but changed the normal star to the isotoxal). But that's all I have for him.

the rest of these characters have 0 lore at all, i will just try to explain their gems a bit- sorry

Amy

Amy is a Mimetite, a heart stone which helps with emotional stability, inner balance, serenity, joy, and adventure (according to google). Because Amy is basically canonically that 'therapy' friend, mimetite fits perfectly with her personality. As you can see, there are only a few designs that have weapons currently, Amy's being obvious because it's her signature weapon and just works here in the AU as well.

Tails

Tails is a yellow peridot, it's obvious why, and I don't need to elaborate LOL. There isn't much different between peridot colors, it's more-so personality traits than abilities. Green peridots are quite egotistical and arrogant in themselves, while yellow peridots are more adventurous and selfless.

Knuckles

Sorry for his naked hands btw. Honestly, I don't think I have to explain why Knuckles is a garnet. It just tracks. (Reminder that in the show, Garnet isn't a real garnet, it's just what she decided to call herself. In this case, Knuckles IS a real garnet.) Is his signature gem weapon gauntlets/gloves, yes. Did I steal the idea from Garnet? Shut up. :] Besides, Knuckles needed his usual gloves somehow, and he fights by punching shit anyway, so why not? Star on the back of the gloves ofc for obvious reasons.

Rouge

GOD this stupid bat bitch, aaaanyway, ahem. In my AU beryls are information gatherers, either by stealing it or manipulating their way into obtaining it. Beryls are generally under diamond control and report back to their assigned diamond with information they demand for, obviously Rouge is part of the Crystal Gems, so she gathers information for them. And more often than not...is her usual self, and snoops around, digging up dirty secrets/information about her comrades and teases them to no end with it (Shadow being her favorite to torment for... reasons.)

Silver

I chose Silver to be a sapphire simply because of the fact that in the Sonic universe, he can time travel. So instead of time travel in this Steven Universe AU, he gets future vision. I mean it works, right?

Blaze

We can talk about her gem right.. right? It's really tasty and I want to eat it. So; opals are very, VERY rare (which fits with her whole being a princess thing or whatever). She was originally going to be a fire opal... that is until I found out about dragon's breath opals and changed my mind. Blaze is an absurdly rare gem, who knows, maybe even the only one of her cut. :]

Her gem gives her the ability to control fire as a weapon, and her unique cut gives her fire more power as well as makes the flames an unusual pinkish hue.

---

And that's everyone for now! I'm doing some little doodles that I might post a bit later on to compile together, but you can have the two I made of Shadow for now. eats him

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

How would the Tmnt bros (2003) react to a best friend who has a crush on them and at first they don't feel the same way, But way later on they develop feelings for their friend but theres that bit of awkwardness in that they already rejected said Friend's prior confession.

And like the friend took the rejection well and is trying to move on, though theres a bit of tension as the friend is subtly trying to avoid like being alone or like to close physically with their turtle crush so as to not make them uncomfortable and even gets on a dating app (with 0% success there lol) They atleast hide their still very much there feelings and are good at not being obvious they are still down bad for the turtle.

Also I cant get enough of your writing! I love it so much Always looking forward to the next post, Hope your having a wonderful week!

Hey anon! Sorry for the long wait! Thank you so much for your kind words <3 I really hope you enjoy this one!

Awkward…

🐢💙❤️TMNT ‘03 x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 642

CW: Gender-neutral reader, referred to as ‘you’, a bit more on the angsty side for some, for others they get a bit of fluff. The boys and Mikey don’t know how to healthy deal with their emotions. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo feels like a huge dick. Like, seriously. He felt really bad having to reject you, now he feels really bad that suddenly he feels those same feelings. Like, man. This is NOT what he wanted.

💙 Will actually avoid you at all costs because he feels so bad, he’s trying to focus on other things. He luckily feels better in a group setting so it’s just not you and him.

💙 He misses old times quite a bit, and when he sees the obvious signs that you’re still into him, he’s a mess. Man is just a goddamn mess. Like what’s he supposed to do in this situation? He’s heavily considering talking to you about this but he’s also very scared too.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Despite your confession, you and Raph remained rather close, I mean he wouldn’t ever let little feelings like that ruin— And he’s caught feelings too. Right after he’s rejected you. Oh he feels awful.

❤️ Taking his frustrations out on the punching bag and sparring lately, RIP Mikey. He’s just really upset, because not only did he reject you, but he’s seen those dating apps on your phone too. He wants to sincerely make it up to you.

❤️ Isn’t sure if he should shoot his shot or just let it be and wait and see if these feelings go away or get stronger… He chooses to wait. He chooses to see if these feelings just happened because of the confession and they’re a short time thing. Will shoot his shot a year or two later if you’re both still feeling the same and you’re still single.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 Poor Donnie’s brain is going haywire. It was about three months later that he rejected you that he suddenly caught feelings, and it suddenly occurred to him while he was working on his latest invention. And he could not stop thinking about it either.

💜 Dude was panicking a lot when he first realized, and honestly felt himself wanting to cry. He was overwhelming himself at the moment and ended up going to Master Splinter for comfort. After that fiasco, he’s very distant. Like, he’s worse than Leo, kind of distant. He’s just drowning himself in his work and it takes a toll on him mentally.

💜 You end up catching him one day and forcing him to talk, and he finally kinda admits that he’s been feeling like shit because he’s rejected you, and that he randomly caught feelings as well. You two certainly talked for hours, trying to get it sorted out. And if either goes: You two remain friends and try to move past this. Or, you both give a possible relationship a chance after spending more time together.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 To say he didn’t expect this was an understatement, the feelings just kinda hit him out of nowhere. When you helped him patch up after a skateboard trick gone-wrong, it hit him. Mikey liked you, but he already rejected your confession. Uh oh.

🧡 He definitely thinks on it, for once, instead of going in and flirting with you. For once he was thinking about this, as he felt guilty about it. When he’s thought about it, he’s probably gonna be the only one who’s open about it unlike the rest of his brothers, only one that has really healthy communication.

🧡 When he’s open and honest, he’s extremely nervous, I mean, who wouldn’t be? Rejecting you then telling you how he feels about you is pretty messed up. Luckily, the two of you talk it out and try to reconcile and work it out. Luckily, your feelings were still there and blazing, and it’d take a bit before you could completely forgive him, but you both worked it out. You’re giddy to say you have a date on Friday and you’ve deleted all the dating apps off your phone within minutes after you and Mikey’s big talk.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Moi Devochki: NSFW Alphabet, Omega Wanda

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Moi Devochki Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

She is quite clingy, and often worries about coming across as overbearing due to this. But she need not worry, both her mates adore seeing her all soft and cuddly. She is a big fan of soft touches, hands in her hair, and gentle words. Add a bit of praise to the mix, and she's as content as could be.

But all that's not to say she neglects her mates. She's sure to check in and make sure both are feeling alright, and she will eagerly give whatever is needed. Kisses, praise, warm words or  affirming touches. Your comfort means just as much as hers does to her, and she delights in caring for her mates. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Her hands are definitely her favorite. Even before getting her powers she felt drawn to them. She’d adorn them with rings and paint her nails to make them look even nicer, and to hopefully draw your attention. Then, when her powers took hold and they became capable of such incredible feats, she felt even more drawn to them. And the fact that she can bring you and Nat such pleasure with just a few touches and movements of her fingers, drives her wild.

Her favorite body part of yours is your neck. It may sound silly, but at the start of your relationship this was a bodypart she had to avoid at all costs. Now that she can safely show her affections, she hardly moves away from that area. She's always nuzzling it, inhaling your scent or kissing your scent gland. She also loves adorning it with hickies as well as tracing over her and Nats marks with her fingers. 

Her favorite part of Nats is her arms. They're quite muscular, so watching them flex and drip sweat while the Alpha works out is a quick way to get her heart rate going. And it amazes her how something so strong can also be gentle enough that she never feels at risk while being in their embrace. Quite the opposite in fact. They offer a safety she's never quite known. And now that she does, she never wants to go without.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Before the two of you had begun your relationship, she would often daydream about getting to eat you out. The question of what you must taste like twirled around her brain more often than she would have liked to have to admit. When she finally got her chance and her tongue was able to swipe through your folds, she swears she almost came from that alone.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you were all still unmated, your rooms were close enough together that she could smell your scent when you were in heat. Oftentimes, she found herself pleasuring herself when your smell was strongest. She just couldn't help herself. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you the only experience she had was with her toys. Once she got with you though, she began to gain some experience. She knows how to pleasure you, what spots are your favorites, what movements elicit what sounds and so on. With Natasha, she's still learning. But despite that, the Alpha praises her for how good she is with her tongue. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. She loves being able to look into her mates eyes, letting them watch her expression change as she watches theirs. It also allows for her to easily wrap her arms around her mate to hold them close, which is something she really enjoys.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depending on the situation, she can be either. She enjoys being a bit of a tease to her mates and so in turn doesn’t mind when they tease her for being needy. She also is fine with a bit of joking around from all parties. But do these things at the wrong time (aka, when she's in heat) and she will not be very forgiving.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Having hair down there doesn’t bother her, she just keeps it neatly trimmed. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

She's quite romantic. While she absolutely enjoys sex for pleasure, for her it's also all about the bond formed between her and her mates in those little moments of bliss filled intimacy. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She honestly doesn’t partake in masturbation often. You and Natasha leave her pretty fulfilled sexually, and she finds it rather hard to finish without at least the presence of one of her mates.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

She hasn’t really looked too much into it but she's sure she has a praise kink. She just melts whenever Natasha makes a comment on how well she's taking her, whenever either of you comment on how good she is at giving oral, or whenever either of you call her a good girl.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Her nest by far is her most favorite place. Afterall it is an Omegas safespace, and it's not only the first place she got to be with you but also is where Natasha claimed you both. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you and Natasha train together gets her worked up pretty fast. There's just something about watching her mates muscles flex as they tussle with sweat dripping from them that she finds very hot.

Any groping done by either of her mates coupled with the dirty words they whisper in her ears instantly have her turned on. She just loves knowing how she worked the two of you up by more than likely just doing normal activities/actions.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She is absolutely not up for partaking in anything rougher than how Nat handles her during the Alphas ruts. She's seen how some Alphas have treated their Omegas, and while she irrefutably trusts that Natasha would never be so cruel or careless, she finds herself afraid of allowing anything other than soft romantic encounters. This is likely due to the way the Alphas at Hydra pushed both her boundaries and yours while at their facility. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She enjoys receiving oral of course, having your head or Natashas buried between her thighs is a truly incredible and very enjoyable experience. The way that either of you can have her squirming and approaching orgasm with just a few sucks/flicks/thrusts leaves her lightheaded.

But she also really likes giving it. She loves being able to use her mouth to bring pleasure to either of her mates, and she especially enjoys being able to swallow either of her mates cum after she works either up until release.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She prefers slow and sensual, but when her Alpha is in rut she happily indulges in things a bit more rough/fast. She doesn’t mind the possessive holds or harder thrusts.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She loves quickies, especially when in heat. In regular life she indulges in them a fair amount, as she finds it very hard to keep her hands off her mates. When in heat its not unusual for her to indulge in several a day through her heats duration.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

She does take risks, her forbidden relationship with you is proof enough of that. She’s down to experiment to indulge in her own kinks or either of her mates, as long as she is comfortable with whatever could occur during that indulging. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Her stamina is pretty good as she can go a couple of rounds without being worn out should she wish to indulge. Or even more than that if the rounds are spread out throughout several hours. During her heat her stamina is upped incredibly, and she can easily go for hours before finally succumbing to exhaustion.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She does have toys, but not many. She has a dildo and a vibrator that she uses on both herself and her Omega when either feel so inclined. Which is usually when Natasha is unavailable.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She occasionally likes to tease, but honestly she doesn’t usually have the patience to keep it up for very long. When she wants one of her mates, she doesn’t like to wait.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

At first when she was only with you, she had to control her volume. She didn’t allow herself anything more than small gasps, whimpers or stifled moans. But once Natasha enters the picture she's able to let her pleasure be known from either of you. She still tries to not be at full volume as she's sure the rest of the compound wouldn’t appreciate being able to hear her. But she's no longer as shy about being heard.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She often thinks about what it would be like to be in between you and Natasha. Either with the Alpha fucking her while have her eating you out or you wearing her dildo and making her suck it. Or with Natasha in front of her having her suck her cock with you behind her fucking her with either your tongue or her dildo. Maybe one day she'll actually bring up the idea with you both.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

She has a couple barely visible scars from her childhood encounter with Tonys missile, and a few larger less faded ones from her time in Hydra. On either side of her neck, where it meets her collarbone are her claiming marks from you and Nat. And her pale Slavic complexion shows off her few freckles.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Quite high. As stated before she can be quite needy, is turned on by quite a few things her mates do easily, and is very romantic. She finds it hard to keep her hands to herself which is fitting because her mates find it hard to keep their hands to themselves as well. She honestly finds it hard to contain her horny urges, and is thankful that as long as the three of you are in her room, neither of you mind.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually she falls asleep pretty quickly as going a few rounds with each of her mates does tire her out. But she tries her best to stay awake long enough to either help her mates clean herself up, or help clean her mates up and care for them. Unfortunately she isn’t always able to do so, but you and Natasha give her credit for trying and hold no grudges against her.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2 @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @mommyluvu @404-almostdone @tarathia @ayoungexwife @loki-laufeyson68 @elle161989

[shuenkio]

Admire not from afar | Enha Hyung line

Paring: hyung-line x male!reader

Genre: Suggestive.

Cw: swearing, fantasize.

Pov: Co-workers having obsession admire at you.

Wc: 400+

Non proof read/ English is not my 1st lang.

Lhs: Nerdy-quite guy who would stalk your social media, having your face on his wallpaper, while bragging to his friends that you're his one and only boyfriend, even though it's not true.

 

It's getting out of hand when you realize that he's the one who left those unknown, randomly given gifts in your locker every single morning. Eventually you started to ignore and avoid him at all costs, to the point that when you went home from work one day, you found him there, sitting while crossing his leg as he lean against the wooden chair inside your apartment. 

 

"Hello, baby boy, I see you avoiding me, so I'd like to pay you a visit. How do you like that?" 

Pjs: Everyone praises him not because of his potential or talents in the workplace; it's because he's related to the CEO of the company. You hate people who are overpowered by their money and not their own work, so you're brave enough to say what comes to mind when they make a mistake. 

 

Finally, you just got yourself into trouble; however, since he liked you enough to spare your life, he had another plan. 

 

While going to the bathroom to wash your dirty hands, you suddenly feel a pair of hands grab your forearm before pulling you inside the bathroom stall, locking the door at instant. 

 

"You've been a really bad boy lately, Mn! How dumb are you to not realize I'm your crazy secret Santa? Now you're going to pay for your consequences, darling." 

Sjy: The happiest guy is everyone's lifesaver and lover. Whenever there's a problem in the company, he'll always be there to fix the issue using his sexy brain in a blink of an eye. As a new employee, you were impressed at how much the other workers liked him, and the answer is quite obvious. 

 

Little did you know, not all good guys are innocent and nice; Jake also had his dark side too. He likes to take advantage of new employees like you, and at the end of the day, he'll throw them out as if they were some pieces of used trash. 

 

Nevertheless, when he laid eyes on you, it seemed like he couldn't stop thinking about you; you're that special to make him head over heels for you that bad. 

 

Late at night, as you take the elevator to the ground floor, Jake is also in the elevator, and you never know what will happen. 

 

"Mn, you might think I'm all bright and amazing, but did you know that every time I see you, I love fantasizing about you being under me?" 

 

Psh: This guy was cold as ice; no wonder he's the best employee of the month almost every single time, despite how hard he's working alone. Regardless of being friends with him for so long, you still don't know his personal life, his daily routine, or his inside. You couldn't care much since you respect his decision to keep himself.

 

But the reason why he won't let you visit him at his apartment is because all your pictures that he's captured every chance he's gotten were pinned and spread all over his room like a crime detective investigation. Not only is he obsessed, he already had plan B if you said no to his confession one day. 

 

"I'd give up heaven if I had to make you mine, little man." 

 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ I can't imagine makenae line going to work like what 🤓 Anyway this is my last updated this week, since I have another exam next week, so I'll come back once I'm alive again!

[cyberrose2001]

Can we pretty please have some angsty fluff?

Maybe Optimus Prime from TFP returning to Earth because he missed his s/o. (Let's pretend RID never existed. Please.) Maybe he left on a bad note and they told him that they'd never forgive him. And once he's back, she's completely ignoring him and she's trying her best to avoid him at all costs

You can choose what to do in the end. I want to see your mind wander :DD

Unforgiven Goodbyes

TFP Optimus x human! gn! reader

whoops

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury/blood, mental struggles, just straight-up angst.

Word count: 2,475

You're pissed off. No, you're more than pissed off. A tangle of emotions that would take a lifetime to detangle in your mind. You are pissed off, heartbroken, angry, yet excruciatingly relieved to see him.

But you can't bring yourself to face him again. That beautiful, other-worldly sculpted face seems to torment you whenever you close your eyes. That moment when he looked back at you before he plunged himself into the Well of Allsparks, the look of apologetic heroicness. It burned into your brain and left a nasty scab that you can't help but pick at. But the scar has healed. You've disciplined yourself to stop scratching it, but watching him walk through the hangar doors ripped it open once again.

You've distracted yourself as much as you can. Doing pointless chores around the new base the bots have made themselves at home with, going for long walks outside by yourself, hiding around every corner when you hear that rumbling voice. You tried everything to keep the wound closed, to pretend that he's still dead, to justify all the mourning you've gone through all these years.

Another reason not to face him was how you reacted when he told you his plan. You were the first to know, and you've never felt your heart sink so fast. It was like he had struck a dagger to your stomach and kissed you as you were bleeding out. You had exploded with anger you couldn't control and stormed out before he could do anything about it. You screamed at him as he collapsed onto his knees that you would never forgive him, and so far, you've kept that promise. The next time you saw him was before he made his great sacrifice, and you had nothing else to say to him. You couldn't say anything else.

And you won't for a long time, not when you have headphones on to block out the world. You stand at the sink in the human kitchen. It's semi-exposed to the main base, with a half-wall shielding the stove and sink. You're not sure why it's exposed; it must be concerning the lack of rooms in this old military bunker. You don't care anyway. You only care about scrubbing the dishes beyond clean and slamming them onto the drying rack before you break the delicate ceramic plates from gripping them too hard.

While cleaning the dishes, you don't realise how much of a racket you're making with your music blasting and capture the attention of the one bot you were trying to avoid.

Optimus.

He looks at you curiously, a hint of longing in his optics. Optimus knows you're avoiding him, and it's so blatantly obvious that everyone notices, too, creating tension through the base you could cut with a sharp enough knife. He wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. And so far, this is the only opportunity he's stumbled upon that could make it possible. Though, he doesn't want to frighten you and scare you away. He needs to be gentle and cautious in his actions, but it's difficult when you can't hear or see him.

Optimus reaches out, his servo twitching at how gentle he's trying to be. He touches your shoulder with a single digit but retracts his servo quickly when you jump out of your skin and drop a plate on the floor, shattering the ceramic in all different directions.

You scream then seethe, ripping your headphones off to face whoever dares to lay a finger on you, "Why the fuck would you-"

Frozen in your tracks, you stare at Optimus, the longest you've looked at him in a long time. Your heart snaps in two again, and the wound in your mind festers with flashbacks before you try to make a run for it. You don't get far, though, before you step on a piece of broken ceramic and cry out in pain.

"Ah!" You fall back on the ground, clutching your lower leg, "Fuck it-"

"Y/n, I am so sorr-"

"N-No!" You practically spit in his face. You let go of your leg and scramble backwards into a corner. With nowhere else to go, you turn to face him again and watch how his grip tightens on the railing before him. If looks could kill, Optimus would still be dead. Maybe you secretly hoped it was possible, "Get away from me."

"Please, you're hurt," Optimus looks down at your bare foot, now bleeding heavily onto the floor from a deep gash.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, not giving a damn that you're bleeding. You've been through worse, after all, "Oh, so now you care?"

Optimus tilts his helm, "What? I have always cared-"

"Oh really? You're really going to do this, Optimus?" You growl, grabbing the bench above you to pull yourself up, "You didn't seem to care about me when you sacrificed yourself! No, scratch that," You point a bloody finger at him, "When you fucking abandoned me!"

Optimus's shoulders sink, his grip on the railing relaxing as he feels like you've plunged a knife into him, "I did not-" He sighs heavily, like he cannot find the words, "Please... let us get you to Ratchet."

"I don't need his or- or your help," You hobble on one foot, hissing in pain as you make your way to anywhere else on the planet. The blood smears on the floor with every misguided step as you pass by him with a cold shoulder, "I've managed just fine on my own, Prime." You sneer at him.

Optimus watches you hop down the stairs, and he slumps his frame down on the railing. His vocaliser rumbles with regret and pain at how you're treating him. And it's not like he can blame you. Optimus would probably be stricken with the same grief if a lover of his decided to sacrifice themselves; he'd be absolutely distraught. And all that distraught just for them to return like it was a mere week-long vacation? Well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He thought you would be overjoyed and run up to him with that beautiful smile on your lips, perhaps even beg for one of those joyrides he always loved taking you on through the desert. He thought you would've missed him, the bare minimum for someone who has lost a loved one.

Optimus sighs and lifts his helm from the railing before turning on his pedes to look for something else to distract him from you. He looks down before he takes a step and sees your trail of smeared blood on the concrete. His optic ridges furrow, a look of determination and apprehension as he steps to follow your crimson breadcrumbs out of the hangar doors.

Before he reaches the hangar doors, a soft touch plants itself on his shoulder, and he jolts slightly. Optimus turns his helm down to see a gloomy look on Ratchet's face, his servo squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Let them go, Optimus," He speaks softly, "They need some space."

Space is the only thing he's given them so far.

-

"Stupid fucking dishes. Stupid me. Stupid him."

Your fingers tremble as you rip some of your shirt off to wrap around the gash in your foot. The minor hit of adrenaline quickly left you like a hit of nic as soon as you slumped down on the other side of the hangar outside. The dull throbbing turns into sharp pain as you tighten the fabric, causing a small whimper to leave your throat. You relax your head against the concrete wall behind you, wishing you could slam it against it instead. But anger slowly drains from your frame, and you bury your face into your dirty hands, and you sob—a heartbreaking sight to anyone that were to stumble upon you.

But you find that the tears weren't mourning from him, but for yourself.

How selfish are you? Are you so dense in the head that you're blindsighted to how much he loves you? How much Optimus missed you that even after facing the hereafter, he came back for you? How awful must the afterlife be for him to want to come back to you, of all people? These questions come flooding into your mind with every tear-jerking sob that wracks your body. But the one question at the forefront of your mind terrifies you, making you want to slump further into the self-deprecating aura you've swallowed yourself in.

Do you still love him?

You bite your lip hard. Do you still love him? That's a stupid question to ask yourself. Of course you still love him. You wouldn't be the person you are today if you never did.

Then why the fuck do you push him away?

You don't know. Maybe it was how you spoke to him before he took his own spark, being so ashamed of yourself that you could barely look at him. Or perhaps you've become too comfortable in your new adjustment to life without him, and for that to all come crumbling down so suddenly with no warning has shaken you to your core.

That's very selfish of you.

You know that. You've always known that.

Maybe you just weren't ready to let go.

A deep, trembling breath leaves your parted lips.

...

Yeah, you know.

-

Optimus stealthily follows the trail once again after Ratchet leaves. He just can't walk away after that encounter. And as much as it hurts him to see your reaction, he must ensure you're okay despite whatever you spit in his face. Optimus did not beg at the throne of Primus himself for another chance at nothing. He needs to make amends, no matter how much of a fight you put up at your wishes to be left alone.

Soft steps of his pedes lead him on a wild goose chase. It seemed as if you had stumbled around in circles for quite some time, the trail of blood looping around before overlapping itself to follow the edge of the hangar. Optimus become increasingly concerned about your welfare, worried you have lost too much blood. But he knows that you are tough if all these years on your own have anything to show for it.

His pace replaces stealth for hastiness as he continues on the trail, rounding the next corner of the hanger. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, and his eyes soften with pure broken-heartness. His servos clenching in regret.

He carefully approaches your slumped frame and stands before you. He first notices your foot, half bandaged and leaking slightly. You weren't wrong after all. You could take care of yourself. He smiles softly to himself at this.

Optimus carefully kneels in front of you, still a fair distance away. All he wants to do is pick you up and tell you that everything is alright, that he's here and not ready to leave again anytime soon.

He keeps his servos to himself for now.

"Y/n," Optimus begins softly, "I know you are upset," This seems like an all too familiar conversation, "And you have every right to be."

No reaction from you so far, a few sobs and hiccups. His spark clenches.

"I did not get a chance to tell you how truly thankful I am for you," Optimus continues, fidgeting with a digit in his lap, "How I still reminisce on our long-forgotten time together, even whilst I was merged with the All Spark."

Optimus takes a chance. He shuffles closer to you and gently pries your hands from your face like you were a pretty piece of wrapping paper he wanted to keep. His optics drag over your sodden face, how your eyes begin to focus on his. It wasn't the fiery look of anger he had seen just earlier but one that looked of surrender; you had given up a fight he wished he could've helped you with.

Optimus moves one servo from your hands to gently caress your face, a gentle digit brushing over your cheeks, "My, just look at you," He cups your chin softly, tilting your head to look up at him, "You are still as beautiful as ever."

He watches as the tears well in your eyes again, a small glimmer in your eyes that's more familiar to him than the dull. You grip his servo and pull it into a hug, resting your forehead on his wrist, and you cry.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry...I-I'm stupid... I shouldn't have..." You sob, clutching onto him with every fibre of your being, "Oh god..."

Optimus's spark fizzles and cracks at your heart-breaking apology and the tears dripping onto his servo. He gives you a sombre look before carefully pulling you into his servos, picking you up to press you against his chassis to return his long-awaited affections.

"Shh," He hushes your cries, pressing a gentle kiss to your head as he rocks you softly like a slumbering sparkling, "It is alright; nothing you say could ever make me resent you."

You sniffle, burying your head into his chassis. His familiar scent of motor oil and fumes fills your senses and relaxes you deeper into him. You try to speak, to say anything other than hiccuping pathetically.

"I-" You stutter, ripping your face away from his chassis to stare up at him. A shaky hand reaches up to touch him, a tiny 'tink' as your fingernail grazes against his face plate. He's real, he's here, and he's not mad at you. And the best thing is, he forgives you.

And you forgive him.

"I missed you," You take a sharp breath, "I miss you so much."

Optimus' sombre frown turns into a small smile; a weight lifts off his frame at your admission. The worry he put himself through all seems to melt away as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hoping to melt away your grief with the kiss along with his.

You gasp softly. Far too much time has passed since you've felt those gentle dermas meld into yours, and as much as the past you wanted to forget how his touches felt, you find yourself kissing him back with as much need and passion. A few fleeting moments pass before you're forced to part for a much-needed breath. It feels like life has returned to you, like after all this time without him you were holding your breath in fear of drowning.

Optimus closes his optics, softly pressing his forehead against yours, leaning into the warm touch of your hands that he oh so craved. He knows you still love him, he never once doubted that deep down inside you always did, even after he had regretfully abandoned you.

"I miss you too."

Finally. He felt good to say that.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

What's your opinion on Yan! Pantalone (this man has been rotting my brain since the trailer came out😩), with a darling who just outright refuses his gifts (necklaces, dresses...) or maybe even breaks them?

Also could I be 🍂 anon? :D

Of course you can be 🍂 anon :D i love having new anons! welcome to my blog :3c

Warning: this post contains mentions of yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of being forced to wear things, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

It frustrates him to no end, to him money is everything and it was something he worked all his life to achieve. Seeing you break things that cost a fortune, one-of-a-kind items worth more than your own life, it takes every ounce of strength in his body to not strike you. It’s even worse to see you just refuse them, not even caring enough to destroy them, simply turning your head and crossing your arms. 

Pantalone will try alternative methods, instead of simply presenting you with the gifts, he just sneaks them in with the rest of your things. Sometimes he even asks the other Harbingers to gift them to you just to see how you’ll react. It’s subtle at first, a ring or pair of earrings tucked in with all your other jewelry, it’s a perfect fit amongst everything else, looking like it belonged there.

It only escalates from there, with more obvious things like shoes and clothing items making their way into your wardrobe, a new decorative piece for your bedroom, large ornate jewelry that you know for certain wasn’t there the day prior, and much more. It’s almost suffocating the way he slips things into place as if they had been there all along.

Pantalone stares at you with a blank face, all emotion voiding his gorgeous features the second you raised your arm, launching the new necklace he had bought you at the pristine floor below. He had been expecting this, hence why the first he had given you was a fake, once intended for you to take your anger out on. He’d already visited your bedroom before coming to greet you, tucking the real one in amongst all your other jewelry. He knew you were likely to smash that one as well, but at least this way he got the small satisfaction of knowing it made it to your bedroom and sat in with all your other decorative pieces.

Your best bet to avoid further punishment is to just let him place these items in with all your other belongings. Even if you never acknowledge them, just letting Pantalone put them in your room is enough to satiate him. If you should continue to refuse, you can expect things to escalate. 

Pantalone will take to more permanent measures, buying jewelry with locks or latches that you can’t undo without a key so that you cannot remove it. Try as you might to get out of it, but Pantalone will leave you walking around in broken jewelry for a week just to prove a point. That or he’ll buy exact duplicates to replace the first one with until you grow tired of breaking them.

[physalian]

Plot Holes and How to Fill Them (Or, The Hidden Potential in Your Mistakes)

“But why didn’t they just do that earlier!”

“You can time travel – so time travel!”

“Doesn’t X have Y spell? Why aren’t they using it to escape?”

“You. Have. Telekinesis! How are you this stupid?”

Plot holes! The bane of every writer’s existence. You think you’ve polished your beautiful manuscript, you have it all sent out for the masses to consume and praise and shower with compliments and adoration… and then they start tugging at a thread that may or may not begin to unravel your entire story. You’ve read this thing top to bottom, forwards and backwards and upside down, so many times the letters are burned into your brain. You mumble your monologues in your sleep — how did you not see this? How do you fix this?

See this post about beginning the writing process that might help you avoid opening a plot hole entirely with a solid enough script and outline.

Types of Plot Holes

Your magic system’s established rules have just been broken for TeNSioN

Your Deus Ex Machina really did come out of nowhere and is quite out of character

Why doesn't Character just run away from a fight they can't win?

Characters forgetting they have superpowers, extreme intelligence, handy tools or weapons, survival skills, common sense, or crucial information to escape and/or solve a situation

Characters dying for the above mistakes when said death could have been avoided

The entire story could have been avoided had Character A just told Character B the truth

Character X should have known ___ all along given their profession/backstory/friend circle/education/personality

And variations of the above, I’m sure I’m missing a couple. Fixing plot holes generally come in two camps: Those you can fix by rewriting the existing manuscript that contains the hole, or those you have to work around from a previous manuscript that’s already been published.

Why Plot Holes Happen

Plot holes happen in reality. Expecting your first, second, or 15th draft to be completely foolproof is utter nonsense. Real people forget stuff they’re supposed to know all the time, tools that would be useful are left behind, GroupThink makes very bad decisions.

The difference is: You are writing fiction. Your goal is to be entertaining, not necessarily realistic. A character simply *forgetting* Macguffin X at the climax of the story does not make for an entertaining read, no matter how likely it might be to happen in the real world.

You’re making this entire world up as you go and that alone is an impressive feat millions of others can only dream about – cut yourself some slack, okay? Everything is fixable.

Plot holes also happen because we’re so engrossed in our own story that we forget it’s all made up. You’re 22 chapters into a 24 chapter novel and you’ve just realized your psychic hero would never have been caught unawares like this. “But that’s just how he is!”

No. Stop. That’s not just how he is. That’s just how you wrote him – and you can go back and un-write him. Any excuse you can dream up you can un-write, and unfortunately, you’ll likely have to do a fair bit of it if you still have the opportunity.

Plot holes generally open long after the inciting incident that causes them. If you’re going to fix it, duct-taping together a solution in that very same scene isn’t the way to do it. You have to figure out why it’s a hole at all, then go back and fix its foundations.

Finding Your Own Plot Holes

Sometimes you’re lucky enough to stumble upon them before it’s too late. A fair bit of the time, though, your audience has to tell you. Finding your own plot holes requires stepping back from your work and looking at it like you’re just a reader, not the author.

Read your plot out loud to yourself and keep asking questions like:

Does this make sense for the scene?

Does this only exist to look cool at the cost of logic?

Are these rules I wrote too easy to break or contradictory in any way?

Is there any other way for this character to escape this situation?

Is the only solution here too contrived?

That, and having an army of beta readers who should show you flaws you’ve overlooked. Even then, some things just aren’t obvious at all until someone too smart for their own good points out something no one else considered before.

It’s okay. It’s not the end of the world.

Filling Plot Holes

Fix your broken magic system

A “magic system” broadly describes any type of powers/abilities/supernatural entities that function in your world. They can be in high fantasy, urban fantasy, sci-fi, or any genre really. The Force is a magic system, as much as is bending in Last Airbender even if no one calls it “magic”.

For example: Force users are telekinetic… and yet don’t simply repeatedly spam the “chuck my enemies into a wall/off a cliff/anywhere that is away from me” button. It’s what you’d call a “soft” magic system, it doesn’t have explicit rules on how and when it can and should be used. It just *is*.

Fixing holes in your magic system first demands examining why you wrote it the way you did, why you gave it these specific rules, or why you didn’t, and all the ways characters should otherwise be able to use it when your story demands they get creative.

For soft magic systems — never let the magic system win the day. It invites far too much scrutiny. Gandalf from Lord of the Rings is a Wizard. He can do an undefined number of spells and has an unclear number of abilities and limit to his reach. Gandalf’s magic is never the saving grace of the Fellowship. So asking “why didn’t Gandalf just do X” isn’t ever a question people have because success never depends on Gandalf doing X.

Everyone hates on the time turner in Harry Potter, as they should. Time travel is essential to the plot of Prisoner of Azkaban, without it the heroes fail. And yet, because it is time travel, why it never existed earlier and why they never use it again to solve more massive plot problems is a valid question. As goes with many spells and abilities in the series.

For hard magic systems — remember that you wrote the rules, you can go back and change them at any time before it’s published. Bending in Last Airbender is rarely the focus of any conflict. Yes, two benders will fight each other, but it’s not “who’s the stronger bender,” it’s “who’s smarter with their element”. Who better uses their environment? Which one is racing against a clock before reinforcements arrive and overwhelm them? Which one runs the risk of exposing themselves if they start bending? Whose mental state is crippling their bending today?

These are all character-driven explanations for why certain abilities do or don’t manifest in a given scene… until the finale when it really is just a clash of red and blue aura lasers.

There is never a scene where a character is trapped when they shouldn’t be. Never a “why didn’t you just X” moment, because it’s never about the bending, it’s about the bender.

Turn plot-reasons into character-reasons

This means taking a “why don’t they just do X” and making the reason because one of the protagonists is morally against doing it, not because the hand of the author demands it.

In Last Airbender, Aang is vocally against simply killing the Fire Lord. It would be easier, it would risk far less casualties and carnage, it’s fastest. And yet. Aang doesn’t do it simply because he’s not strong enough or he doesn’t have some magical super weapon, or the stars have aligned and now he’s lost a very convenient ability – Aang doesn’t want to take the easy road because that’s who he is as a person.

He’s been raised as a monk to value the preservation of life above all else (ignoring any accidental casualties over the course of the series). Him being desperate to not simply kill Ozai is central to his character and even when he has the chance in the climax of the fight, he still doesn’t take it.

Now “why didn’t you do that earlier” does, still, concern the “energy bending” established out of nowhere just for the finale so Aang doesn’t have to compromise his morals to win… but the show is so damn good and Ozai’s just desserts so damn sweet it doesn’t really matter.

Making these plot decisions character decisions, so long as they are in-character, gives some juicy potential for schisms within Team Protagonist as fan favorites clash over ideals and morals and whether or not the greater good is worth them sacrificing something so central to their being.

This also applies to characters not sharing crucial information with each other. Make them distrustful of the others, or let them attempt it anyway and have some other consequence for the effort. Anything is better than a character sitting on valuable info simply to maintain the mystery.

Avoid Deus Ex Machinas

The “surprise reinforcement cavalry charge” is one of my favorite deus ex machinas in fantasy. Everybody cheers, it looks amazing, the music is swelling, our heroes on the battlefield realize they haven’t been forsaken by their friends, etc. In Lord of the Rings, yes, Theoden could have arrived 30 minutes earlier and saved even more lives, but we already knew he was on his way moving as fast as he could without exhausting his horses. Theoden’s army also took care of the bulk of the battle so when Aragorn arrives with the second surprise reinforcements, it’s less a decisive blow that comes out of nowhere and more the victory lap.

In “Battle of the Bastards,” Game of Thrones has its third surprise cavalry charge of the series, only this one much more explicitly comes to save the day. The difference between this scene and Theoden’s charge is: Audiences had no idea Littlefinger was on his way, and neither did Jon Snow. Had Sansa told him she had a plan, Jon could have waited. He wasn’t backed against a wall and forced to fight right then and there, he could have stalled an extra hour by just not showing up to the battlefield to wait for his cavalry. With Sansa inexplicably not telling him, she risked his life and the lives of his entire army because the hand of the writers wanted to keep it a surprise. Worst of all, when the battle is over, he compliments her decision, despite all the blood on her hands.

Surprise reinforcements, saviors, powers, and abilities always run the risk of “why didn’t they do that earlier” and you should be asking yourself the same question. If you can’t come up with an explanation other than “because it’ll look cool” go back to the drawing board.

Or, have your very own characters pissed that the savior didn’t just do that earlier. Have your characters ask where this special power was, have it mean something to them and the story at large. Had Jon been angry with Sansa, given their incredibly pyrrhic victory and the potentially avoidable death of their youngest brother, it might’ve made for some interesting character drama.

Give your saving graces deadly costs

“Why didn’t they just do X earlier?”

“Because doing X would have killed Character D, dummy.”

Giving your super special magic, mutant, super, or supernatural powers costs, drawbacks, and limitations forces the characters who use them to not resort to them every single chance they get. Their magic drains their physical stamina, or the demon they made a deal with camping in their brain threatens to overtake their psyche, or the sword is cursed and every time the hero raises it in battle, they lose a little piece of themselves. Or, using this creepy power strains their relationship with their friends or community.

Without risk and consequences, you cannot avoid “why didn’t they do that earlier,” because the only answer you have to give is “because I, the author, said so.” The only time a character is allowed to have selective amnesia about their superpowers is if it’s been established beforehand as a potential problem. Then it’s not “this came out of nowhere.” Then your audience is dreading the entire time waiting for that chekhov’s gun to fire.

Don’t compromise your story for sensationalism

I can complain about ~subverting expectations~ in another post, but what I mean here is this: Are you writing this scene purely for shock value, for the sake of a twist, because a story this grim demands at least one character death, or because it’s going to look epic?

In this post about pacing and this post about how to write tone, I talked about making your scenes pull double duty. You can write a scene for shock and awe, but if it’s at the expense of a character’s integrity or intelligence, come up with another way to make it spectacular.

You want the villain to monologue to give the heroes time to save the world? Then write a villain with an ego and personality that would monologue. You want the hero to be a one-man-army? Then write their personality as the lone wolf type and have it be a flaw of theirs that they keep striking out alone, consequences be damned.

You absolutely need the hero to not take the easy road and fight the bad guy without using their most effective weapon? Give them a reason to stall this fight. Maybe they really do need to simply run out a clock, or they don’t actually want to kill/subdue their opponent, or in doing so, the villain’s death is what causes the Bad Thing to happen.

If I write a character that can kill with just a look, every time I put them in a dangerous situation I need to then justify why they don’t do that over and over again, unless it’s by their own stubborn integrity that they choose not to.

If I write a villainous plan so devious and well thought out, the only thing standing in the way is living protagonists? I need a reason the villain doesn’t just murder the heroes every chance they get. Maybe they’re internally struggling over actually going through with it, or their ego demands the hero doesn’t get a quick or honorless death, or they do actually need a living hero for the plan to work.

Fixing Plot Holes in Sequels

All of the above is advice for issues within the same manuscript. What happens if you’ve already published and have the chance to address a known plot hole in the sequel?

About the worst thing you can do is slap in a throwaway line or hasty explanation to cover your ass. Everyone reading and watching will notice. Saying nothing is better than saying that.

See the duct-tape in Rise of Skywalker when the heroes explained that they couldn't just hypersspace-jump another ship into the enemy fleet because it worked so horribly effectively last time. Doesn't matter that they could have put it on autopilot or sacrificed a droid, or that, at any point in the history of Star Wars, someone else could have and should have done this desperate maneuver. For the sake of "looking cool" it opened an entire sinkhole.

Less a “hole” and more an inconsistency — the pegasus Blackjack in Percy Jackson is explicitly a mare, a female horse, in one book, and then inexplicably male in later books. Why? Well the author made a mistake, simple as that. He did *not* attempt to explain this error away or dig the hole deeper. It just is. Though I’m not sure why Blackjack couldn’t just stay a mare and how he didn’t reference the previous book when writing the sequel is a bit baffling.

If your heroes can no longer use the Deus Ex Machina they used before – have them attempt to use it, and then come up with a solid reason why it’s not possible. Maybe it was one-time use, or the savior simply doesn’t want to, or the cost/risk is too high to attempt it again, or it simply can’t be found and it’s very frustrating.

Have the heroes be morally opposed to doing what they did before, or overconfident, or skeptical that it will even work again only for that choice to bite them in the ass later. Have the magic item all used up, the recipe to recreate it lost to history. There’s a hundred better excuses than the hand of the author simply saying so.

—

If you aren’t going to write a sequel and you accept living with the plot hole unfilled… chances are people are going to love the story despite its flaws. Harry Potter is the poster child of “why didn’t they use X spell to solve the problem” or “they have a spell for X, yet they don’t have a spell for Y?” and how many people love that story?

In the end, a plot hole can be tiny or massive and chances are the story you told is entertaining enough to make up for it. It’s just a story, it’s just fiction. Learn from your mistakes so the next piece you create is even better.

[icallhimjoey]

Explain Us

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help!, language

Author’s note: yea joe fucked up. not talking is fixing exactly nothing between the two of you. but we can be adults about this, can't we? (we can't)

Wordcount: 4.1K

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

You’d held on extra tight all night.

Squeezed with your fingers, your arms all tense, because what if Joe wasn’t joking and this was the last time you’d get him all to yourself like this? There was this shared invisible way of being that you’d created together which you had always pretended was just normal flatmate behaviour.

It wasn’t.

Of course it fucking wasn’t. And now that Joe had casually said he was moving, your brain seemed to have shut down.

Just touch. Keep touching.

What would you even be to each other if not flatmates? If forced proximity wasn’t working in your favour anymore?

Just friends?

You had to swallow down bile at the mere suggestion of being just friends with Joe.

Flatmates was such a safe way to describe each other.

It just meant, yea, we live in the same space. We share our comfort zone. We see each other a lot and are kind of like family a little, just because of that.

People never asked questions.

There was no need to explain how well you knew each other. How much time you spent together. People would hear 'flatmate' and would assume.

They would assume wrong, because there definitely was more there. But it wasn’t weird when they witnessed you laughing at inside jokes together. Or if they heard you ripping each other to shit until you ended up in a weird wrestle that didn’t stop until someone knocked an elbow to a table top too hard. Or if they heard you casually talk to Joe through a door whilst he was sat on the toilet without acknowledging that he was, you know, actively sat on the toilet.

The term flatmate was safe.

But it was also scary.

Because how many of the other flatmates you’d ever had did you still speak to?

Precisely none.

Not that you’d had many previous flatmates. But still. You didn’t speak with any of those people anymore. They were now merely vague acquaintances that held a spot on your Facebook friend list, which was utterly meaningless, because who even still used Facebook these days?

They’d been chapters in your life that you’d so easily moved on from.

People who, if you’d see them down an isle in a shop, you’d avoid them at all costs and pretend you hadn’t seen them.

You’d never even fully considered that Joe would also one day turn into a chapter of your life that you’d have to avoid in a supermarket and wasn’t that just the most fucked up stupid thing you’d ever even heard?

You knew you were avoidant.

Didn’t really dabble in foolish shit like confrontation.

So it made sense that you weren’t exactly doing so great now that you were being confronted with how avoidant you actually were.

Joe said he was going to move out.

The pile of clothes outside of his wardrobe suddenly made sense.

Had he not said anything before? Had you just not paid attention? Not registered what you didn’t feel like registering? Was your brain working against you with that much conviction?

Felt wild.

But it took you maybe five seconds to decide that you were not going to freak out.

You could be totally cool about this.

Have a night of cuddled up sleep like Joe hadn’t just said he was going to leave you after you’d properly fucked for the first time and, if you wanted to freak out later, you could do that by yourself in a locked bathroom with the shower running after he’d moved out.

So you tried to sleep.

Couldn’t. Because your mind kept going.

But you tried.

Tried relaxing every time you noticed that your fingers were digging into his flesh.

Couldn’t.

But you tried.

And Joe’d just fallen asleep like he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb into his bed. Like everything wasn’t suddenly shattering all around you. Wasn’t all falling apart. Wasn’t forcing you to slip on your armor, your mask, your disguise. The one you’d wear when you and Joe were around others. Where you pretended to be normal and helpful and friendly and not touching and kissing and essentially licking each other all over.

You’d have to wear the disguise for Joe.

What a disgusting turn of events.

Could you blame him? Yes.

Were you going to? No.

You could be the cool girl. Keep Joe around. Not scare him off with questions like, “How long have you known about this?” and, “Is this legally even allowed?” and, “What the fuck do you even think you’re doing?”. Questions that definitely all needed answers, but you weren’t going to ask them.

You’d learn the answers along the way, you were sure.

Cool girl.

Come dawn, you had managed to stuff your own emotions down somewhere deep. Hoped they’d stay down there until you decided they could bubble back up.

You also hoped that where your cheekbone pressed into his hair would somehow leave a bruise there. On both of you. So he could feel and see how fucked up this was.

Joe’s alarm went, and you swallowed all feelings even further down.

Closed your eyes and felt Joe stir.

Felt him remove the arm that had stayed in place around your waist to turn the alarm off.

Heard him groan and move back to snuggle up close again, and for a minute, you decided to fully just enjoy it for what it was. Closeness with the guy you liked.

Fuck.

The guy you liked.

You let a hand snake into his hair as you felt him burrow back into your neck. Classic five-more-minutes move. When you softly scratched at his scalp, Joe moaned.

All drawn out.

All sleepy.

“Gon’ make me drool,” he croaked, voice hoarse and low. “Fall back asleep.”

You could burst at the seams with how much you wanted that.

Tightening up a leg around his, you used your other hand to lightly stroke fingers up and down his back and felt how Joe sank deeper.

Was this not the nicest thing ever?

Was Joe not going to fucking miss this?

Why the fuck was he going to move?

Joe allowed himself your touches for a few more minutes before a forced deep inhale pulled him from your grasp on him. It was still dark outside, and when Joe disappeared for a morning shower, you contemplated your next move.

Go to your own bed, fall back asleep, and then hopefully sleep through the whole day?

Or go wash your face, do your make-up, and get ready for the day?

Or have breakfast now, and disappear into your bathroom when Joe would have his?

Yea.

That seemed smart.

Breakfast now and then get ready for the day when Joe would come in to have his.

You got out of Joe’s bed, let your eye fall on the big pile of clothes and decided that, in some weird sort of passive-aggressive-possessive way of feeling, that you deserved one of his hoodies.

That you could wear that today.

Make him see something.

You didn’t fully know what, exactly, but it felt right.

You fished one out, not even one that sort of looked like one of yours, and took it.

Get fucked, Joe.

You only just finished a bowl of granola when Joe stepped into the kitchen, his phone and a balled up pair of socks in hand.

“Movers should be here soon,” he checked the time on his phone, tried to make conversation maybe, but you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to talk about it.

You watched him hike one knee up to put a sock on, balancing unsteadily on one leg, and then as you walked past him to leave the room, you couldn’t help but let a hand slide across his back.

Last time you got to do that? Maybe.

Shit.

About 10 minutes later the doorbell went and you checked out the window to see a large moving van waiting outside.

When you moved house, you did that by forcing your friends and family to come haul cardboard boxes for you, and you’d thank them by having cheap beers in your new place that didn’t have any unpacked furniture yet.

Not Joe.

Joe got a company to come do all the work for him.

Three men brought in stacked up big industrial strength plastic moving bins and big rolls of plastic sheeting and... it was actually real.

Joe was moving out.

You didn’t even know where to. You could guess. But you didn’t know anything.

You hid in your bedroom for most of it. Made tea with your back turned to all the chaos at one point, but truly didn’t involve yourself in any of the chaos.

From your bedroom you heard Joe pointing out what needed packing. What didn’t need packing. What needed extra care.

It didn’t take all that long. Just as well. Joe was paying these people.

You listened to Joe tell one of them that someone was at the other address, so they were good to head over. Said he’d meet them there later.

The front door shut, and you stared at your bedroom door for a moment. Tried to imagine what Joe’s bedroom looked like now, all empty. And the living room, now without the big cabinet Joe kept old DVDs in that he never watched but didn’t want to get rid of, because teenage-him had begun a collection, and these were the best films.

You kind of didn’t want to see it. The new emptiness.

But then a soft knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yea?” So casual. So laid-back.

Slowly, your door opened, and Joe got to see how you sat on the edge of your bed, heels on the frame, knees to your chest, wearing his hoodie.

Joe leant in the doorframe, head tilted to the side, hands in his pockets, and he looked at you like he felt sorry a little. Apologetic in the worst way. You kind of hated it, but you didn’t want to let him see.

Cool girl.

“Wanna come see the new place?” he asked it like he really hoped you’d say yes but fully expected you to say no.

Which was exactly why you were not going to say no.

“Sure.” you shrugged.

“Yea?”

You got up and grabbed your phone, took it off its charger and pretended to check something, mostly to avoid eye-contact and seem all casual as you said, “Yea, why not. I can help you unpack. Don’t have anything better to do.”

Joe didn’t move aside when you stepped closer, and when you looked up, you were met by his little smile, tongue pushed into his cheek whilst his eyes scanned you up and down a second.

Be cool.

You didn’t know if you wanted Joe to say anything about the hoodie you were wearing.

“Or not, if you don’t want my help?” you shrugged again, face blank, and Joe fucking saw right through you.

He chuckled to himself as he removed his hands from his pockets to grab hold of you by the fabric draped over your shoulders, and he pulled you in for a hug.

One that you didn’t return.

“Don’t have to help,” Joe muttered as he squeezed you tight and, yea okay. So, you didn’t get your arms involved, but you could definitely rub your face into his chest a second.

Feel his strong embrace and close your eyes a second.

Smell him a second.

“Won’t put you to work, just want you to come see.”

Cool girl.

Just friends now.

Future acquaintances.

Strangers, eventually.

Joe hugged you even tighter until it became so tight it was funny.

“Fine.” you sarcastically complained, voice all constricted because Joe wasn’t letting up. “Won’t lift a finger.”

You avoided looking at the empty spaces in your flat that used to hold Joe’s things and then left the flat together.

On your way to Joe’s new place you walked side by side and you kept your eyes on the pavement for most of it. Kept your arms crossed over your front. Made sure you were extra spatially aware, because Joe had said that you always bumped into him when you walked together, and you were ready to prove him wrong, prove that you were actually an excellent walking-partner.

Like that was something that was on Joe’s mind right now.

Like he wasn’t in the middle of moving house.

And then, Joe talked.

And you just listened. Nodded along. Went, “Oh, all right.” and, “That’s cool.” and, “Mhmm.” a bunch.

There were several months left on the lease, and Joe offhandedly said it was taken care off, that you didn’t need to worry, like it wasn’t a huge sum of money he was talking about.

Said it would give you some time and space to find someone else, a new flatmate, no rush.

Said his new flat was really nice, and Joe said that like your flat wasn’t.

Said his new flat was in a really nice area. Like your flat wasn’t.

It was.

But, you understood that this one was likely nicer.

You didn’t comment or ask any questions. It just was what it was and you were going to have to deal with the reality of the situation whether you wanted to or not.

No point in pushing anything.

Best to just go with the flow.

You weren’t enjoying the flow, but you were definitely letting it float you downstream.

Joe’s dad was over at his new place now, and halfway there, Joe got a call from him. The movers had arrived, and was there a way to prop the front door open, did Joe know?

Joe didn’t know, but he said he’d be there soon.

Said he was bringing an extra pair of hands and looked at you as he said it. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and Joe quickly said, eyes.

He was bringing an extra pair of eyes.

However, you were absolutely going to be helping, you knew. Roll up your sleeves and do some heavy lifting, if only to keep yourself busy. And you’d be silly about it, rolling eyes and sighing loudly, all heavy with pretend annoyance, sarcastically exclaim “I thought I was meant to just come over and get a tour?” and then his dad would make fun of Joe for being less of a help than you, and Joe would scoff loudly and stumble through excuses, and then you would flex an unimpressive bicep, and you’d all laugh.

Nothing was going to be a problem unless you made it one.

And then it sort of went like you had predicted.

You walked past the moving van, ended up helping getting furniture into the lift, and the first thing his dad saw of you was your back as he held a door open so you and Joe could carry a cabinet inside.

Then, quickly, before his dad could launch a million questions at him, Joe invited you on a grand tour of the place. Made his dad smile as he listened to his son saying stupid things like, “This is the living room that won’t have a sofa for at least six more weeks because apparently delivering sofas takes for fucking ever...” and, “Here we have a lovely view of, just... other flats, no, don’t actually look, it’s not a nice view, but it’s fine, I didn’t buy the place for the view, looking outside is overrated...” and, “Instead, be impressed with the size of the kitchen, and ignore the mystery drawer that we’ve not been able to open yet.”

Idiot.

Fuck.

Joe was really moving into his own flat. One roughly the same size as yours. Not even that much nicer, you thought, as he showed you ‘round.

But it was all his, and he seemed proud and embarrassed about it, which was devastatingly cute.

You were obviously going to kind about it. Be all impressed. Be a good friend. Postpone the supermarket-avoiding by actually being friendly.

“This is so nice!” you said after you’d gotten to see all rooms. His bed had been taken apart and movers had just placed the pieces of it in a stack alongside one of his bedroom walls, mattress wrapped in plastic stood upright next to it.

Felt stupid, because that wasn’t your bed, but... that was kind of your bed.

“Yea, you think? Not too flashy?”

It wasn’t flashy at all. The bathrooms didn’t look like they’d been redone since 2004, maybe.

“Just that you were able to buy it,” you joked, but weren’t wrong. Buying property in this area of London was absolutely the most ostentatious thing Joe’d ever done. “Everything else? Shockingly normal. There’s Ikea flatpacks in the hallway for fuck’s sake!”

Joe laughed, which in turn made you laugh, and fuck off, you were sort of killing this cool girl thing.

Made Joe laugh when in all honesty you didn’t think he was allowed to feel all joyful right now.

Well, he did.

This was a big deal.

And it wasn’t like you were going to be flatmates forever, were you?

People moved on. People found new phases of life. Next steps. Onto bigger and better things.

In Joe’s laughter, he bent. Leant back with his eyes squeezed shut, reached a hand out to balance himself and it was fine when he just grabbed your arm. You had your arms crossed over your chest, protective and closed off, so a hand gripping a bicep just to keep a body from falling over was fine. You were laughing too, it was fine.

But then Joe used his grip to pull you closer and slung his other arm over your shoulder, and with your arms still folded, Joe pulled you right into him as he hugged you.

You accepted it, but you didn’t.

Wanted to unfold your arms and make your fronts touch, but you didn’t.

Wanted to violently push him away and scream and cry because why hadn’t he fucking said anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead of all those things, you just tensed up in Joe’s hold. Locked your shoulders and bit at the inside of your lip and prayed Joe wouldn’t notice.

Joe immediately noticed.

Without letting go, Joe moved his head back just far enough to get a look at your face. He could easily detect the upset. Could easily see how exhausted you were. Joe saw the anger, the frustration, the sadness all covered in a light sheen of fatigue. And Joe also witnessed from up close how you were working really hard to hide all of that.

Like you could ever hide shit from him.

Like Joe wasn’t fucking trained to snuff it out on you.

Like he hadn’t felt you grasp onto him for dear life all night. Like he hadn’t seen the hunched up shoulders. Like your arms hadn’t been protectively crossed, literally hugging yourself, since you’d left your flat.

And he’d been waiting.

Always waited.

You always took the lead on everything. Steered this ship over dark seas with waves so high, Joe couldn’t see past them until whatever new thing you’d introduced into your friendship became normal and routine. It was safer that way. Have you call the shots.

But he understood waiting had been the wrong move here, and it was already too late when he realised he should’ve said something so much sooner. He just hadn’t wanted to have that awkward conversation. You never talked. But he should have. He knew he should have.

And now seemed as good a time as any to still try his hand at it.

“Hey,” Joe soft said, and gave you a little shake.

You took it as a way of Joe trying to cheer you up and get you to smile.

So you did.

Just smiled.

“No, don’t– you can be honest,” Joe pulled away a little more, getting a better look at you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

An invitation to yell at him.

But your smile only grew, and for a moment, Joe almost believed it was real.

“Well, I’m thinking...” you said it in a humorous way, and stopped the moment before it could even become sincere.

Joe gave it one more try, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how I–...”

“I think that wall needs a splash of colour. Bit of paint.”

You didn’t want to talk about it.

You and Joe never talked.

Not talking felt important now.

You needed the not-talking now more than ever and Joe couldn’t taint what you barely even had right now with talking. You were trying so hard, and having him try to suddenly talk seemed so unfair.

So you looked past him, looked at one of his bedroom walls and changed the course of conversation to safer waters.

You felt how Joe’s eyes scanned your face a second. Saw him give in. Felt like he owed it to you to let you call the shots, because he’d made the mistake of not saying anything.

Joe turned around and looked at the same wall for a second before he turned his head to squint at you, countering lightly, “Do I really need to?”

You squinted right back, “I don’t think you really want my honest opinion.”

You knew Joe was going to keep all his walls white. Keep it safe. Keep it boring.

“But you know what would look really nice? Big palm in that corner.”

You tried to keep the mood fun and playful and hoped you could make him laugh again. Which, he did. Joe did laugh. But only for a second, because, “Oh! That reminds me!” and without explaining what reminded him of what, he walked out.

You hesitated to follow, unsure if you wanted to continue this weird interaction with other people present. The hesitation was only short, because it only took a few seconds for Joe to jog back down the hallway and–

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The small crispy wave plant.

What?

Joe proudly raised the little pot he was holding in his hand and walked it over to place it in the window. Then he stepped back and admired it and–

No.

That was– no but, that was yours now. That had gotten moved into your bedroom and, yea, all right, you kept calling it Joe’s plant, but he was the one that kept correcting that it was in your bedroom.

When had he even taken that?

Had he just gone in and grabbed it in those three minutes you’d gone to make tea?

What the actual fuck?

Then Joe turned to look at you, smiled and said, “It's a start?” as he shrugged one shoulder and, no. It fucking wasn’t. That couldn’t be a start. That plant didn’t belong in here.

And neither did his bed, all taken apart.

Neither did he.

All of this was yours, everything inside of this room belonged to you, and if you had arms big enough you’d grab everything and haul it right back, what the fuck was he even thinking?

But then, “Joe?” his dad called him to the living room. Movers had questions. With a final squeeze of a shoulder, you were left in Joe’s new bedroom by yourself.

With his disassembled bed.

Wrapped up mattress.

And that stupid plant.

Which, not yours, apparently.

But you know what?

If not yours, then also not his.

You stepped closer. Touched a leaf with a careful hand. It really was a nice little plant. So vibrantly green. You knew Joe was so pleased with the pot he’d chosen. It was nothing special, but he’d mentioned it a little too often to know he wasn’t being normal about it.

But if not yours, then also not his.

Like a cat, you pressed a finger to the side and slowly pushed it. Made it slide across. Watched as the sun danced over the wavy leaves until it just... slipped off.

Just like that.

Crashed to the floor.

Potting soil spilled.

Plant pot cracked right down the center.

Good.

If not yours, then also not his.

You left right after that. Walked straight out. Ignored Joe as he called after you and took the stairs instead of the lift. Were quick, moved your legs as fast as they could go without turning it into a run.

A deep frown stayed etched into your forehead until you got home, where you angrily shook your coat off like your coat was the one that told you it was moving less than eight hours before the movers showed up.

Where you then also angrily pulled off Joe’s hoodie because fuck him.

Where you rushed into your bedroom and let yourself drop down onto the bed face first.

Where you let yourself cry in heaving sobs.

Where you heard your phone ring and pushed it off the bed when you saw it was Joe trying to reach you.

Where you finally looked up to look at your window.

And saw Joe’s stupid little plant there.

Unmoved.

Uncracked pot. Soil still inside. Leaves soaking up the sunlight.

And–

Fuck.

So much for being a cool girl.

---

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