#will never get over it until it's resolved

[greengoblinswifey]

Symbol of Love— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based off sofia and rafe’s cute moment in s4 ep 9 so slight spoilers. rafe is on mission to catch groff and he gives you something to treasure before he leaves.

warnings— spoilers, fluff, mentions of death.

a/n— saw the scene and immediately decided to write this, my heart is melting omg ugh that should be me and him. these new batch of episodes have been such a roller coaster, can’t wait to finish and see how everything plays out <3

Rafe’s hands were tense as walked around the sand, jaw tight as he tried to process what he’d just learned. Chandler Groff had stolen his money, and he boated off the island. You leaned against the tree, eyes wide as you tried to absorb the news. Hollis’ death had hit you harder than you let on, and whispers were circulating that JJ Maybank might have been involved. Nothing felt certain anymore, but what you did know was that Rafe had always been the one constant—until now.

“Okay, but listen,” Rafe said, his voice sharp and urgent. “Unless I catch up with Groff now, that money is long gone.”

“Where is he, Rafe?” you asked, your heart pounding. You didn’t want him to go, especially not alone, but you knew you couldn’t stop him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, his gaze fixed somewhere past you. “I’ll track him down. I’ll get it all back.” There was a steely resolve in his voice, a familiar determination that reminded you of just how far he would go to keep what was his.

But before he could take off, he turned to you, his eyes softening just and took a deep breath. “I want to say something first.”

You opened your mouth, the confession about Hollis and everything that happened burning on your tongue. “Rafe, I- I need to tell you something too.”

Before you could finish, he startled you by dropping to one knee, pulling out a beautiful ring from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly you felt like the world was spinning.

He held it up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “It was my mom’s,” he said softly, his voice breaking just slightly. “Been in my family forever. I know it’s some kook bullshit, but I just- I wanted you to have it before I left. So you’d know this, us- we’re real.”

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I- I did something. It’s about Hollis. There’s more I didn’t tell you—”

He cut you off, shaking his head and cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “Don’t. There’s things about me you don’t know. And trust me, they’re way worse than anything you could say. I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care to know.” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed intense. “I want you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You could barely breathe, tears leaving your eyes and he slipped the ring on your finger, his eyes pleading.

You were crying now, overwhelmed by the depth of his acceptance. You could feel his hands tremble as he slid the ring onto your finger. “Say yes,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s no more pogue bullshit, okay? No more of that. I want you to quit that job and move in with me.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a promise, and you nodded, barely able to find your voice. “Yes, Rafe.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands cradling your face as if you were something fragile he had to hold onto. You kissed him back, fingers curling into his jacket, your tears mixing with his warmth.

When you pulled away, he pressed a key into your palm, closing your fingers over it. “It’s to the house. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Stay there for me, okay? At my—no, our place.”

He brushed a kiss across your forehead, and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And with one last look, he turned, walking toward his boat as you watched him go.

The salty breeze whipped around you, and you looked down at the ring, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. It was beautiful and strange, the symbol of a life you were about to share with him, a life you’d always dreamed of. You traced the ring with your thumb, marveling at its age, its history, a part of him that would stay with you even as he left.

Tears blurred your vision as he boarded the boat, but you stood there, rooted, until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon, clutching the key and the promise he’d left behind.

As you watched Rafe disappear over the horizon, a wave of fear washed over you, heavier than the ocean air around you. You knew how dangerous Groff could be, how far he was willing to go to keep what he’d stolen. And now, Rafe was chasing him down. Your heart twisted, the thought of something happening to him tugging at every corner of your mind. But then you shook yourself, forcing the doubt back. Rafe was tough, stronger than anyone you knew. He could handle himself. He’d be okay.

He’d come back.

You took a deep breath, letting the thought settle over you like a warm blanket. He’d come back, and when he did, you’d spend the rest of your lives together. There would be reward, there would be sunshine after the storm. Your love, this wild, all-consuming love, could survive anything. It had to. Everything was going to be okay.

You glanced down at the ring he’d placed on your finger, feeling its weight, its history pressing against your skin like a quiet promise. Your fingers tightened around the key in your other hand, holding onto it as if it could anchor you to this moment, to him. This key was a piece of him, a piece of your future together, the home you’d share, the life you’d build once he returned.

With one last look out at the horizon, you whispered a silent promise of your own. Then you turned back holding the ring and the key close to your heart, holding onto the hope that soon, he’d be back in your arms.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the alternate emmrich romance path

dissecting emmrich graveyard romance scene here

Emmrich Romance | Choosing the Lich Path

we begin -

please do

oh this line. oh this line has to be my top 3 favourite in the game. the delivery is beyond perfect. Not only is Rook being direct with Emmrich, which he desperately needs in this moment, it encourages him and instills confidence in him. as emmrich is established as a bit of a coward, this is so important to me.

Rook once again inspiring and encouraging Emmrich to achieive his dreams of lichdom, even at the cost of our precious son, manfred. I do believe Rook is setting their feelings aside here and is being the person Emmrich needs in this moment.

okay vorgoth

as stated in my previous post, desire becomes a big part of this romance. emmrich becomes concerned that Rook will no longer find him desireable or attractive once he turns undead.

case and point as above

should also note that emmrich is predisposed to believe that Rook does not feel as strongly about him as he does, which doesnt really get resolved until Act 3. despite him being so wrong, imo this has alot to do with Emmrich being so blinded by love that he can't see past his fear at the moment, which again changes after the point of no return.

and here we have rook reassuring Emmrich that they do in fact love them an absurd amount. im teling you, its the equivalent of soulmates for necromancers.

man i love this part so much. 'we'll figure out the rest'. is just another way of saying 'our love knows no bounds'

At the end of this scene Emmrich tells Rook that he will never be too busy for them, inferring that Rook is a priority despite his yearning for lichdom.

chosen witness excuse me i have goosebumps

so you're saying, there's a chance that the Lich lords will notice rook later on - i am delusional, or am i

i am dead. at this point I just sobbed. uncontrollably sobbed. 'You are the most magnificant thing to ever happen to me"

no notes, perfect. emmrich establishes that rook is the best thing to ever happen to him. this man loves rook so much. so much it hurts him.

the first i love you for them. and of course its the 'in case you die love you'. this is such a huge moment for them.

the fear in their eyes as they say goodbye. because they both know this is something emmrich has to do, rook can do nothing but be supportive and hold it together as usual

rook, waiting to see if her love makes it out alive

the delivery, the emotion, the choking in their voice. 'do you still love me, please still love me'

sobbing

I feel an incredible amount of grief and joy over this romance, it is, I am almost speechless for how meaningful it is.

I know Emmrich's romance isnt as full bombardement of an emotional warcrime like Solas was on us, but Emmrich's is so, so full of angst. and regardless of that dread, it is real, for both of them, forevermore.

bonus:

see you soon for the dreaded argument scene and then the romance scene breakdown

[delilahsturniolo]

i love you, i’m sorry

— m.s

in which . . . matt accidentally confesses something he shouldn’t have in the heat of an argument.

genre/trope . . . enemies to lovers, angst. (resolved)

warnings . . . arguing, kissing & more.

written by . . . @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or re use my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first. happy reading! :)

“lay on the horn to prove that it haunts me.”

“i love you i’m sorry.”

you and matt have known each other your entire lives, which was unfortunate for the both of you. you may be asking yourself, if you’ve known each other for so long shouldn’t you be best friends?

well, it was quite the opposite actually. you and matt have hated each other for whatever reason, it was a rivalry between you two. you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without bickering, when your family and matt’s family hung out it was absolute hell for you.

all you wanted was to avoid matt at all costs, no matter the circumstances. however, you always got along with matt’s brothers.

you and matt never had a reason to hate each other, in fact you tried being nice to him sometimes. you both just never got along, bickering and complaining about each other 24/7. if you got a dollar for how much you both piss each other off everyday, you’d be filthy rich.

but, matt wasn’t a complete jerk. he didn’t completely despise you, sometimes he held the door open for you. other times, he would slam it shut in your face. matt absolutely adored teasing you, and doing small gestures just to make you annoyed at him. that was something he never failed at.

you had sort of a mixed and unsure feeling about matt. you were confused, you didn’t know how he felt about you. did he hate you, or not? even better question, did you truly hate him?

yes, of course you did. you were supposed to, you can’t love him. but…you felt something different over the past few weeks. as much as you hated to admit it, nowadays you didn’t mind his presence. just a few months ago, you’d rather get hit by a bus than be near him. but other days, he pissed you off more than anything. you hated him…but you didn’t at the same time.

you didn’t know what this feeling was, it made you sick. falling for your childhood enemy? it was impossible, it couldn’t happen. you hated it, you couldn’t make it stop. all you could do was push down your true feelings, and keep pretending.

so now here you were, in the present. it was pretty late in the night. you were at the triplets house, in the kitchen. nick was out for a space camp photoshoot, while chris was sleeping in his room.

you leaned against the counter, scrolling mindlessly on your phone as you popped a potato chip in your mouth, feeling the salty sensation sink on your tongue. quietly humming to yourself, you took in the peaceful silence. that is, until you heard the front door open.

matt walked in the house, going right into the kitchen. he huffed as he saw you, rolling his eyes. you bit your lip, not even acknowledging him.

matt walked over to the counter, shoving you over with his body so he could get by. you grunted, your phone clattering to the floor.

“dude, can you not?” you scoffed, pissed off as you picked your phone up from the floor. matt turned on the sink, beginning to wash the dishes.

“can you not with the attitude?” matt mocked you, not even batting you an eye. usually you would just flip him off and leave, but you didn’t this time. you wanted to confront him, show him that you weren’t a pussy.

to the both of you, arguing was a competition. you would just keep going on and on until one of you backed down, and usually it would be you. however, not this time.

“i don’t have a fucking attitude.” you crossed your arms, the back of his head facing you as he aggressively scrubbed a plate. you were testing his limits, and you found pleasure in that.

“whatever floats your boat.” matt shrugged, laughing to himself. “do you always have to be so annoying?” he continued, which only provoked you more.

you rolled your eyes and sealed the bag of chips shut. “do you always have to be so mean to me all the time?” you shot back at him. matt turned off the sink water, wiping his hands before turning around to face you. “i’m not mean, sweetheart. come on, is that all you got?” matt teased you, knowing it would make you annoyed.

“shut up!” you raised your voice at him slightly, making him scoff in disbelief.

“what the fuck is your problem?” matt raised his voice back at you, you weren’t in the mood for this right now. your frustration was building up by every passing second.

“you, matt! you’re my problem!” you shouted back at him.

“my fucking goodness, y/n. you’re always starting shit, aren’t you?” matt complained, throwing his hands up in the frustration. you simply said nothing.

“what? cat got your tongue?” matt darkly chuckled. you rolled your eyes, starting to walk away. matt only followed after you.

you stomped outside into the driveway, it was the dead of night. you suddenly felt matt grab your arm, turning you around to face him.

“let me go, matt.” you spoke fiercely, trying to yank away from him. his grip only grew tighter, he completely ignored your protests.

“y/n, stop it. listen to me.” matt told you, you only shook your head.

“get away from me, matt. i hate you.” you remarked, matt shook his head. “no you don’t.” he pulled you closer.

the cold wind blew in your hair, matt’s eyes pierced into yours. “what are you talking about?” you questioned him.

“you don’t hate me.” matt shrugged, you weren’t even trying to pull away from him anymore. something was drawing you to him, and you didn’t mind it for once.

“yes i do! you don’t care about me!” you argued back, matt completely snapped at you.

“of course i care, y/n! how could i not care? i care more than anything in the world.” he shouted.

“since when did you start caring about me!?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“since fucking forever, you idiot!”

and those exact words, the moment they came out of his mouth silenced you. which by the way, was a rare occurrence. your lips parted slightly. “what?” you murmured.

matt let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i love you, okay? i love you so fucking much, goddamnit! i’m sorry i fell in love, i can’t do shit about it and…i didn’t want it to happen, y/n.” matt blurted out. what? this was the absolute last thing you were expecting.

“you…what?” you spoke softly. your mind was racing with a million thoughts at once. matt was in love with you? your heart began to beat faster as you looked into his eyes.

“you think i wanted this to happen? trust me, i’m just as confused as you.” matt’s voice broke. you both stood across from each other, goosebumps raising onto your arms.

“i love you too, matt.” you whispered. matt’s gaze immediately softened.

“but…the thing is i can’t. i can’t love you. it won’t work out. we can’t be together and you know that.” you muttered, looking away from him as you said that.

“you don’t get it. it’s not that easy to lose feelings for you, if i could i would. i can’t lose feelings for someone i’ve loved for so fucking long.” matt’s voice came out shaky as he expressed all of his emotions.

you sighed, stepping closer to him. he looked down at you, his eyes growing glossy. your hand traveled up his chest and to the side of his neck, matt’s breath hitched at this action.

before he even knew what was going on, you leaned in, pulling him in for a kiss.

both of your lips connected, your heart felt full, as if you had been needing this your entire life. matt groaned against your lips as the kiss grew more and more passionate, more hungry.

you both wanted this badly, you craved each other more than anything. this felt so wrong in your brain, but yet so fucking right in your heart.

matt’s hands gripped your waist tightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips continued to dance with his, you felt his soft and supple lips crash against yours once more.

matt pulled away from the kiss, not letting go of you though. you looked up at him, a smirk creeping up on your face.

“mmm..you’re not so bad after all.” matt hummed, his finger lifing your chin up with dominance.

“i’m gonna murder you, sturniolo.” you teased, matt only chuckled, his hand moving to your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

“you wouldn’t.” matt smiled down at you, before leaning into your face once more, his lips colliding with yours again.

maybe loving him wasn’t so bad after all.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here! ✉️

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[nayedoll]

You’re all I want

joost klein x fem!reader

description: Joost and reader experience the hardships of a relationship, until their biggest fight yet— which is resolved by some much needed make-up sex

word count: 2.7k

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut; f!receiving oral, protected piv,

───────────────────────

The moonlight creeps in through the window, your only source of light in the dark room. Not that you needed much light anyways; for the past twenty minutes you’ve been staring at the wall across from you, your thoughts filling the emptiness. All the hurtful words Joost said, all the blame he put on you; all the things you said to him, things that you didn’t mean but in the heat of the moment, didn’t care to think twice about them— it’s all there, eating you alive, digging holes into your heart.

Deep down, you know this fight was bound to happen at some point, it had to. Joost working endlessly from day to night for the past month, being gone for hours, along with your already packed schedule that never seemed to overlap with his— it had definitely created a certain tension in the air. If you were lucky enough, you’d only see him in the early mornings and late at night. Naturally, all the pressure, all your worries, the exhaustion of it all would lead you both to take it out on each other— you didn’t mean to, but after a long day, every little thing seemed to irritate you, before it turned into yet another fight.

But this— this had been your biggest fight yet. It had started out as per usual, one of you complaining about something you can’t even remember now, before in a matter of minutes, it had turned into a meaningless competition about who “works more” , who’s “more tired”, who “cares more” about the other one; it was so meaningless but so hurtful at the same time. Joost’s voice still lingers in your mind, the heavy silence in the room after he accused you of not caring about him, of not loving him. Then of course, all the awful things you said in return, trying to fix things by defending yourself but making them worse in the heat of the moment.

Joost eventually left; presumably off to the balcony to smoke a cigarette like he always does when he’s stressed out or mad. Usually, you’d leave him be and ask him about it later but now… now you know exactly why he’s upset, and to realize that you’re the reason for it makes your chest hurt. Your eyes start getting watery again as you take a deep breath to calm yourself down, when you hear a knock at the bedroom door; you don’t bother to reply, already knowing who’s the one knocking.

The door opens reluctantly, the yellowish light of the hallway peeking into the room as Joost steps in, in his grey sweatpants, the graphic hoodie you’d gotten him for his birthday that probably carries the scent of his camels now.

He stands by the door for a second, “Were you sitting in the dark this whole time?” His voice is calmer than before, strangely comforting even after everything.

You ignore his question, turning your head to gaze at the cloudy night sky out the window. Hearing him walk over to you, the bed sinking as he sits down facing you. He opens the bedside lamp with a faint click noise, painting the room in a dim yellow light.

You feel Joost caressing your thigh, immediately drawing your gaze back to him,

“You know I didn’t mean those things, right?” He gives you a weak smile, a hint of regret hidden in his eyes.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Did you?” You try to make your voice firm, but the sadness is obviously there, indicating that you’ve been crying.

“No,” He shakes his head repeatedly, as if he’s scolding himself. “No, of course not liefde,” Liefde. At least, he still calls you that— hadn’t heard it from him in what feels like forever.

You stare at him, images from your argument flashing through your mind; all the things you called him, asshole, douchebag, selfish, ungrateful— but at the end of the day, he’s still your Joost, walking into your bedroom to apologize, like a kid asking their parents to sleep in bed with them.

You purse your lips, attempting to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Okay. I believe you,”

Joost also smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he hugs you. You wrap an arm around him, stroking his back, allowing yourself to melt into his touch. “I’m sorry,” He mumbles, his lips grazing your ear as he caresses your hair, leaving another kiss to your temple.

You smile, letting out a dry chuckle. “It’s okay. I wasn’t any better either,”

His kisses don’t stop, but rather his lips wander off to your cheek, then lower to your jaw, before he’s fully kissing you again. You kiss him back slowly— it feels somewhat different, in a good way; like all the doubts and fears have left and the only thing present is pure love, just you and the Joost you fell in love with, his lips on yours.

He pulls back shortly after, leaving you to take a deep breath. “Lie down for me baby,” His tone is soft, yet compelling and you can’t help but do as he says, wordlessly leaning back onto the pillow. He slightly hovers over you, takes his shirt off in a quick motion as you stare up at him; perfection, that’s what he is to you. And it hurts to think that he doesn’t realize how much you love him, and how precious he, and this relationship is to you.

“You’re so pretty,” You say as your fingers stroke his hairy chest.

He chuckles, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Not as pretty as you,” He leans lower to kiss you, propping himself up on one hand, burying himself in your neck. There, he kisses you more, open-mouthed kisses and soft bites on your skin that are sure to stain your neck with hickeys. You sigh in pleasure, opening your legs to give him more space. Joost wastes no time as he adjusts himself atop you, until his crotch is right above yours. You can feel him through his sweatpants, his hard-on evident even over the soft fabric of your pajama shorts. Breathing deeply when the tip of his cock brushes against your crotch, an action than repeats itself, causing you both to let out a mixture of sounds that fill the room.

“Missed this,” Joost mumbles, his lips still roaming around your neck. “Missed hearing you like this,”

“I know,” You breathe out. If only he could hear your thoughts right now; he’d see how much of a toll this situation had taken on you, having him be so close to you but so far at the same time.

You feel his cock twitch, the sensation coaxing a sharp breath out of you. He raises your shirt up to your collarbones, cupping your boobs in his soft hands; his touch makes you dizzy, the way he handles your body. Wet kisses on your pulse, your moans getting louder and harder to suppress with each thrust of his body.

“Fuck,” He laughs against your neck, “Need you,” He draws back from your neck to look at you; you probably look like a dumb puppy looking up at him, unable to suppress your smile— you really did miss him that much, and now it feels so good having him this close again, almost like it’s not real.

“What?” You laugh.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

A sudden heat rushes through you, a pinkish color spreading across your face. “Nah, you were too busy fighting with me for that,” You tease.

He laughs, “Fuck you,”

“That’s what I’m waiting for,” You protest.

Joost clicks his tongue before he finally pushes himself back up, now stabilizing himself on his knees on the mattress, “You horny woman,” He chastises, shaking his head in feigned disapproval as he begins to take off his sweatpants.

You stare at him wordlessly, only a soft smile lingering on your lips. He’s breathing heavily as he lowers his grey sweatpants down to his knees, before he does the same thing with this his boxers, his cock springing free.

He pats your thigh, “Let’s take these off,” You slightly lift yourself up so that Joost can slip your pajama shorts off, tossing them somewhere on the floor. Your panties feel wet, momentarily sticking to your skin as he begins to lower them down your legs, and suddenly, you’re both so exposed, yet so comfortable in each other’s presence.

“The most beautiful body,” Joost coos, a smirk tugging at his lips as he places a kiss to your belly. “And face of course,” Another kiss to your cheek.

“Oh please,” You scoff at the cheesiness, despite how much you secretly love it when he gets like this.

Joost chuckles, parting your legs a little more. He presses two fingers on your clit, gently rubbing it in circles, causing your breath to hitch. Smirking to himself as he nuzzles his face against your thighs, his hot breath on your pussy.

You take a look, the mere image of Joost snuggled up between your legs enough for you to abandon any hesitation or grudge against him.

You tousle his hair, fingers entangled between his blonde locks. His tongue teases your clit, your legs jerking at the tingling sensation before Joost hooks his arms around them, keeping them parted and steady.

“Relax,” His deep voice vibrates through your core, and you sigh; relax? Was that even possible in this scenario? Weeks of fighting, of not touching each other, and you’re supposed to relax? You feel so vulnerable, so sensitive that even a soft kiss to your clit is enough to make you squirm under him.

“Go on,” You say, your voice whiny.

A smirk tugs at his lips; you feel his tongue delve inside you, gently at first before his lips fully envelop your pussy; you watch as Joost eats you out, keeping his eyes locked in yours the entire time. Your moans get louder, quicker before you’re full-on whimpering with the way he handles you.

You tug at his hair strands, too drawn by your own pleasure to apologize for possibly hurting him. Your legs begin to shake, squeezing Joost’s head even tighter, back arching at the overstimulation; you’re close, so close actually that before you can even say anything to him, you reach your orgasm with a loud yelp. Joost persists, the lingering sensation of his mouth on you making your brain go numb.

He hums against your pussy, lapping it with his tongue one final time before he pulls back, lips glossy and his cheeks a vibrant pink; he smiles, blue eyes lighting up at the sight of you, blissed out, trying to catch your breath. Smiling because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this, bring those sweet sounds out of you, make you feel so good even after breaking your heart.

He sits his face on your stomach; now he’s the one who looks like a puppy. You chuckle, furrowing your brows,

“What is it,”

Joost’s eyes flicker to your boobs, then to your face again as he groans. “I need to fuck you,”

“So romantic,”

“Always,” He rises up from his position, reaching over to the bedside table, in hopes to find a condom in one of the drawers; lucky for you both, there’s a last one in there, tossed between other things. Joost takes the condom, using his teeth to tear the wrapper open before he slips it on.

You once again bend your knees, a new wave of arousal washing over you at the thought of what’s to come.

Joost grabs the base of his cock as he comes forward, lining himself up with your entrance, not before he swipes his shaft over your folds in a quick motion, earning a small moan from you.

“Ready?” He asks in a soft voice, thoughtful of your sensitivity.

“Yeah,”

With that, he pushes himself inside of you at a slow speed. You gasp, your back arching as his cock moves further into your core.

“Feels so good already,” His tone is low, breathy, it makes your head dizzy. He once again slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is teasing your hole, before he sinks into you at an unprompted speed that draws a sharp moan out of both of you.

He continues the pattern, sweet nothings muttered in between each deep thrust. You can’t help the choked sobs that fall from your lips as he fucks you so perfectly, with so much care and love behind his strong grasp on your waist. One of his hands reaches up to cup your boob, softly playing with it as leans forward to press a kiss to your jaw. He feels sweaty, his shallow breaths hot against your skin.

You hear him mumble something incoherent from between your neck, slightly straining your neck to look at him. “Huh?”

He raises his head a little, propping himself up on his hands so that he’s able to look down at you,

“I love you,” He says, gritting his teeth as he picks up the pace, “I’m sorry liefde,” Guilt lingering on his voice.

You smile, “Joost it’s- it’s okay,” You breathe out, hardly getting the words out with how fast he’s thrusting his cock into you; if his words weren’t so sweet, you’d think he was mad at you given his unforgiving pace. “It’s over now,” You reassure him, kissing him sloppily.

“My baby, I love you so much,” He says in your ear, his voice strained. You embrace him, not caring about how suffocating his heavy body feels atop you. The room feels even hotter than before, the air sticking to your body like a magnet.

“Fuck Joost,” You blurt out, a loud cry slipping from your lips as he hits the most perfect spot inside of you, your climax unmistakably close. “I love you- too,”

Joost’s cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppier, “Yeah? Say it again baby,”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” You repeat as you’re hit with a sudden wave of pleasure, erupting in loud moans. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself ride out your high, incoherent words expressing all the love for him along the way.

Joost is breathing heavily against your neck, groaning as he uses every last bit of energy to push himself into you, the dirty sound of slapping skin filling the room. At last, he comes inside of you, his drawn out, breathy moan ringing in your ears.

He pulls out of you, before returning to hugging you. Your strenuous breaths fill the silence of the room, as you drink in your afterglow. You take this moment to cuddle him, your chin touching his hair as he lays his head on your chest, taking a moment to think.

“I’m so lucky to have you,”

A smile graces your lips, “Me too,” Playing with his hair as he plants soft kisses along your collarbone. “Please, let’s not let it get this bad again,” You whisper, caressing his cheek.

He nods, smiling softly. “Okay,” Letting his head rest on your chest again as you drown in your thoughts.

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tysm for readinggahhhsg… this is honestly not the best thing I’ve written, but its okay 🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ looking back at this now, i feel like the smut should have been longer ughhh

[koiiiji]

lets dance

author's note ; heavily inspired by this and “what is love” song

tw ; fluff, a little too vulnerable Jonggun, might be both romantic or platonic!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

summary ; Jonggun suddenly can't dance, but it's fine

night was warm, almost lazy in its softness, and the four of you lounged comfortably in spacious living room. the dim light from a single lamp in the corner mixed with the faint glow of city lights through the windows, casting everything in a golden haze. an easygoing playlist was looping in the background as you all worked through a couple of drinks, laughter filling the room as the alcohol began to soften edges and loosen moods.

music pulsed in the background, an irresistible, driving beat that filled the room and made it impossible not to move. Jungoo and Crystal were spinning around, laughing freely, their faces flushed from the drinks and the warm glow of the room. you joined them in their infectious, carefree dancing, swaying to the rhythm as the world around you softened, the warmth and laughter blending into something that felt a lot like pure joy.

and there was Jonggun, still rooted to the couch, his usual composed expression unreadable. his arm was draped lazily over the back, his other hand holding a half-finished whiskey, his gaze on all of you like he was observing something foreign, almost surreal. it was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face was perfectly blank, his mouth barely quirking at the edges as he watched.

moment later you broke away from the other two, heart racing from the dance and the thrill of the moment, and took a step toward him, your eyes bright with a mischievous glint. you knew he would refuse, that he’d stubbornly resist, but that made the challenge all the more tempting.

“Jonggun!” you called out, voice lilting with laughter. “get up! come dance with us!”

he met your eyes, his usual cool, steady look unwavering. “no,” he replied, his voice calm and even. “i don’t dance.”

“oh, come on!” you grinned “don’t be shy.”

you took a few steps closer, still swaying with the beat, until you were standing right in front of him. “not shy,” he murmured. “i just don’t dance.” there was a calm resolve in his eyes, the same steadiness he had when faced with any challenge. but there was something else, too — just a hint of reluctance, like this was territory he’d never dared to tread.

but you didn’t give him a chance to resist. moving quickly, you reached for his hands and caught them both in yours, your grip strong and insistent. he hesitated, caught off guard as you pulled him to his feet, his body stiff and reluctant.

“too late to argue,” you teased, grinning as you backed up, tugging him along with you, your fingers tightening around his. “just follow me.”

with a faint sigh, he finally met your gaze, and for a brief moment, he seemed to let himself relax, to fall into the rhythm of your small, shared dance. your movements were bolder, more rhythmic, and you started to circle around him, pulling his hands with yours, guiding his stiff steps with your own fluidity. you felt him loosen ever so slightly, his focus shifting from his own discomfort to the feel of your hands in his, when you lift them, so you can spin around under his hand, and each time you did it your laughter warming the air between you.

Jonggun fell quiet, and for a moment, his gaze softened. as he let you lead him through the rhythm, he found himself watching the way your face lit up with each laugh, the way you smiled at him as if he wasn’t awkwardly stumbling through each step. there was something magnetic in the way you danced, something so full of life that it almost made him forget his hesitations.

he glanced toward Jungoo and Crystal, watching them sway and laugh alongside you, their faces flushed and open in a way he rarely saw. somehow, in the course of all the late nights and shared drinks, you’d all carved out this strange, unspoken bond — a closeness he’d never expected to have. he’d always prided himself on his distance, his ability to remain detached. but in this small moment, it hit him that you, Jungoo, Crystal… you’d become something he hadn’t even known he wanted. you’d become a little dear to him.

he almost couldn’t believe it — he, Park Jonggun, who had always valued control and restraint above all, was letting himself be led, letting himself be swept into this odd, rhythmic dance with you, feeling your warm hands in his and hearing your laugh right next to him.

you circled him, moving with such effortless joy, guiding his movements until he felt himself fall into a rough, hesitant rhythm with you. his gaze fell on your joined hands, and for a fleeting second, he felt a small, quiet warmth settle over him, a sense of ease he never felt. it was strange and almost dizzying, this fleeting happiness, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

your smile was bright and easy as you continued to move, drawing him deeper into the beat, into the energy of the room, and he felt himself soften further, his grip on your hands tightening instinctively. it was as though everything else faded for just a heartbeat, the world narrowing to this small, imperfect dance, the feel of your hand guiding his.

maybe he’d never admit it aloud, but in that moment, with the music filling the air and your smile lighting up this world, he thought… maybe he could be happy here, too.

[heesimp]

fic/drabble request 🤲🏻 bc ive been thinking abt this (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSjSGw7Rg/) jake 😣 wanna tie him up and tease him until he cant anymore and js fucks me Hard

hot hot

-

Jake tries his best not to push against the rope you’ve got around his wrists that tie his hands together behind his back on the chair below him. The material is a bit loose around him despite your best efforts but he loves you and will do anything you ask of him. It’s not like he could really break free anyway.

This is the first time you’ve seen Jake like this too. Usually he’s taking command or praising you through your orgasms in ways that makes you feel like you might as well be a princess, but something about watching Jake become constricted by your hand is incredibly arousing and you feel yourself gush the more you look at him sitting before you.

His cock is so hard and so wet from the labor of love your mouth gave him, kissing his warm dick until he’s flexing his thighs in pure need and want. Your mouth waters at the memory of pushing him towards the brink of his orgasm until pulling it away from him completely like he’s done with you a few times. It’s all so erotic and so hot.

You swing your leg over Jake’s lap and hover above his cock, allowing it to slide against your wet folds every now and then. He tries to buck his hips upward to breach your hole but you’re much faster, pulling your body up and away from him.

“You look so good underneath me,” you whisper to his ear before kissing his neck. Jake is warm to the touch and hearing him try to regain a steady breath turns you on even more. The sight of his hands bound behind the chair is enough to make your eyes roll back.

“Wish you’d just let me fuck you,” he mutters beneath his breath. His cock jumps when you brush over the shell of his ear before kissing just underneath it. “I liked seeing you tied up.”

“Yeah, but you always get your fun.” Jake watches you pout as you lean back to get a good look at him.

“Don’t you like it when I fuck you senseless? Don’t you want that from me, baby? Hm?”

You clench at his words but ignore him nonetheless. “Later. I wanna have fun with you.”

Jake’s wet cock provides the kind of stimulation you need. He moans when you put your wet pussy right on top of him and tries to put his arms around you but is bound by the rope, moaning in frustration when your folds envelop his cock. You situate yourself in this position and roll your hips back and forth, pushing your tits up against his hard and toned chest while your hands grip his shoulders for stability.

The sound of filthy. Wet echoes permeate throughout the room along with wanton moans and subtle whimpers coming from your throat. Jake’s hair is pushed back from the sweat building off of the hour he’s been in this chair and his balls are so hard that he feels like he could come like this.

His tip repeatedly pushes against your clit and you try so desperately not to lose your composure. Your hips rock back and forth and his dick keeps breaching your tight hold, which tempts you into sinking right down onto him, but you hold back.

Instead, you lift your lap off of him and ignore Jake’s whining to grip him by the base of his cock and rub his cock head over your swollen lips. He looks up at you with wide eyes and open-mouthed moans the faster you rub his tip against you and your own resolve is crumbling. Your body feels like electricity is running to your toes and jolting right back into your warm hole. He feels so good like this. The precum splashing against your folds tempts you in ways you never knew imaginable.

But that’s the thing. You keep rubbing and rubbing but don’t offer him any real resolution. The rest of his cock remains untouched and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on like this. Seems like you have the same idea.

“Jake.” His names comes out like a breathless whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me,” you concede, pushing only his tip inside of you.

“Gotta untie me, baby.”

And you do in a hastily fashion until Jake’s wrists are no longer bound. He flexes his fingers before hoisting you up by the waist to wrap your legs around him as he plunges his thick, wet cock into the place you need him the most.

It’s loud and it’s messy with his precum dripping everywhere while he pushes your back against the edge of the bed, watching the way your breasts bounce underneath him. Jake pushes and pushes against you until you feel his swollen balls clap right up to your ass, and the feeling makes you come immediately.

Jake doesn’t stop his ministrations and grunts louder when he sees your come covering the entirety of his cock. It spurs him to fuck you even faster to the point where your hands grip anything you can find—his arms and the blankets below you—because he rocks your body in such a way that makes you wonder just how horny he really is.

He comes deep inside of you but he doesn’t stop either. Jake pushes his hot load deeper into your pussy the louder you moan and swears he could go another round or two.

[phantomyre]

As their eyes met, an exchange of mutual mysticism between them, Vincent detected very little from Sephiroth in terms of his response. The man was difficult to read, understandably so. Not only had the pangs of war rendered him emotionless, but so did all of the experiments and lack of human affection. Devoid of feelings, much like himself. Only difference was, one was born into humanity while the other had theirs revoked upon conception.

Though Vincent had easily dismissed the offer to engage with Jenova, Vincent found it curious how Sephiroth persisted. It wasn’t out of courtesy as there was no need for Sephiroth to be cordial towards Vincent. Had it been anyone else, Vincent would have assumed the extended offer as merely an act of common courtesy. But this was Sephiroth—the man who had been playing mind games with all he had to affect. Instead of giving Sephiroth any response to his offer, Vincent’s frown only deepened before turning to gaze outside into the open field once more. Perhaps Sephiroth was being authentic, or it was a trap. Only time would tell. While resolved to go and investigate on his own, Vincent hadn’t expected for Sephiroth to draw his sword, let alone offer him the first blow. Turning his eyes towards Sephiroth again, he glanced from the long steel metal in Sephiroth’s hand up to the pair of mako colors, his eyes slightly narrowing. Judging by his drawn out sword, Vincent knew Sephiroth wasn’t going to let him go alone. It would be a good mile before Vincent could get close enough to close in on the drone and whatever reinforcements it may have had. A faint scoff left Vincent’s lips, turning his attention back towards the distant drone, securing his gun in hand. “Hmph. So now I’m your entertainer as well” Vincent dryly retorted, never taking his eyes off the drone, calculating the distance and speed in his mind. “There could be several more. Can’t be sure until we investigate.” Without waiting for another response, Vincent left the shelter of the cave and ventured out into the harsh cold winds, the snow once again beating upon his form. The drone was scanning close to their area and was beginning to draw closer. The only form of hiding place they had were small mounds of snow and rocks. Not a tree in sight. He quickly slipped behind a rock and pressed his back against it just as the droned passed by, the red laser barely  touching either Sephiroth or Vincent. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a silencer rifle. He had to confirm the drone was alone. Once clear, he looked over the edge again, choosing to move forward. He then heard the sound of another drone approaching from another direction, and he quickly backed himself against another hiding place, ensuring Sephiroth was also doing the same. There had to have been at least 8. Just as they had done so, Vincent could hear a helicopter at a long distance, causing Vincent to sigh. Likely the Turks. The drones would be child splay to take down. But the Turks were another matter. And if they saw him with Sephiroth, he knew the reports would sooner or later hit Cloud and the company. He had to act quickly. “As suspected,” he muttered more so to himself, the wind hardly carrying his voice. He knew the gunshot would attract the other droids which would allow him to round them up for the final blow. However, if they weren’t subsequently taken down, the Turks would likely catch a glimpse of their faces over the wavelength. Moving out from his hiding place, Vincent aimed at one of the drones that had just passed by and shot right through the body of the small spy drone, causing it to crash down into the snow in a small pile of smoke. The four remaining drones were alerted and began to scan the area close to them, all of them beginning to shoot at anything that even remotely looked like a shadow. One caught sight of Sephiroth and began to dart towards him with rapid bullets. Vincent opened fire and shot the drone before it could get too close to scan Sephiroth. “Be my guest," Vincent nodding towards the remaining drones. "But we have to get back to the cave as soon as possible,” Vincent stated, waiting to see what Sephiroth would do.

Skepticism was all but obvious in Sephiroth’s response. Calm though he appeared, Vincent knew Sephiroth’s mind was anything but. Although Vincent was aware that Sephiroth could come at his question from many angles, he wasn’t surprised Sephiroth had chosen to settle on the one that was contingent on Vincent’s actions.

With an inaudible sigh, Vincent lowered his gaze from the horizon to the snow collecting a few feet away from the ground in front of him, watching mini snow-devils pick up particles of snow dust and cast them aside. With the way Sephiroth answered his question, and the forceful adherence to ensure his service would be conducted accordingly, he couldn’t pick up any hints as to whether or not Sephiroth was aware of the consequences Jenova had laid out, or if he was speaking on his own behalf. But then Sephiroth posed a somewhat concerning question towards Vincent.

Lifting his head and turning to look towards Sephiroth, he caught sight of those serpentine eyes staring into his own, searching for the meaning possibly hiding behind crimson spheres.

“…I made a promise,” Vincent equivocated. “And I intend to keep it.” Should Sephiroth recognize the double speak, Vincent would have had his answer when it came to his knowledge of Lucrecia and the nature of the punishment. And if not, well, then perhaps it was for the better Sephiroth wasn’t aware.

Second thoughts…? If only. At least that would have meant he had another option on hand. But alas, it wasn’t so. Nevertheless, the question was a red-flag.

Vincent furrowed his brows with slight unease. If Sephiroth was already anticipating Vincent to become defiant, it could grant Jenova a reason to not even wait for him to carry out his mission. Although Vincent understood Jenova wasn’t hellbent on destruction as opposed to manipulation, he wasn’t about to take that chance. Vincent was no stranger to clandestine activities, manipulation, spying, and antagonization. After all, he used to be a Turk. But no amount of training or experiments could help him surpass Jenova’s mind-games. Vincent had to not only be on a much higher alert, but he also couldn’t give Sephiroth the slightest impression that he had something planned. Because even if he did have a plan, there was nothing holding Jenova back from executing her punishment early.

Speaking directly to Jenova was the last thing he desired. It was bad enough having four demons competing for his thoughts; but it was worse when it was an alien profaning his mind. He had heard of Jenova affecting the scientists those many years ago. Some, like Tseng, hypothesized that Hojo’s immorality was the result of excessive exposure to Jenova. Though it was merely a theory, and Vincent was no longer a mortal, he didn’t want to take his chance.

“Hmph. Thoughtful. But I’ll pass this time.” He would avoid speaking to her as much as possible.

The gunslinger looked away once more out towards the open area, catching a glimpse of a dark speck floating around in the air. It drew his attention from Sephiroth for a moment, and he unfolded his arms in anticipation, watching the object’s movements. Upon closer inspection, he could see the lights flickering, and the overall shape became more recognizable. It was a Shinra Spy drone, a couple miles down the snow-capped mountains, possibly looking for Sephiroth. Vincent’s glare returned. It seemed to be alone, but he knew that wouldn't be the case. There would be several.

"Of course..." Vincent groaned with a hint of annoyance, pulling his gun from his holster. Regardless of how he felt about his new 'assignment', Shinra spy drones were not welcomed, either way.

[stevenose]

for anonymous - thank you for voting!! and for the good prompt hehe

contains: gender unspecified reader; reader with a vagina; teasing; edging (reader receiving); kind of mean!steve; slight overstimulation; this one kinda got away from me and was not supposed to be this long 😳

“Steve - Steve —!”

“Aw,” he says flatly. “Do you want to cum or something?”

“Yes,” you grit.

He hums, applying harder, steadier pressure on your clit before going back to feather-light strokes. “Not coming with that attitude.”

He’s brought you close twice now, leaving you right on the cusp before pulling back. With the little resolve you have left, you reach down for his arm, trying to stop him from moving away.

“Hey,” he warns, grabbing your hand and pinning it above you. “Hands up here, remember?”

You huff.

“There you go,” he encourages. “Just gotta be nice to me and I’ll give you what you want, okay?”

His thumb presses down on your clit and he stops his movement all together. You jolt, twisting your legs beside his, slotted between yours. Your hands grasp the sheets under you and you curl the soft fabric up in your fists.

“You’re never nice to me,” you pant.

He pinches your clit. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

You do know it. He can be so tender with you. But he’s not right now, and you want to cum so badly, want him to move his fingers again until you’re shaking.

“What do you want me to do?”

He grins down at you. “You’re so easy. Want you to beg me. That’s not below you, is it? You’ve begged me for things before.”

You swallow your pride and ignore his comment. “Please let me cum, Steve.”

“Oh, not like that,” he says, his thumb moving, keeping the pressure hard. “Want it to be organic, you know? Instead of talking back while I’m making you feel good.”

His thumb really does feel so good. You moan breathlessly, hands still curled, your toes clenching. You want to grind, but you know that’ll get you farther away from what you need.

Steve kisses down your neck and collarbone. “Uh-huh, there y’go.”

His lips find a nipple, tongue laving over it. You moan louder, squirming. You breathe harshly, your orgasm quickly coming to the precipice. “Please,” you whimper.

White teeth scrape against your sensitive skin, catching on your nipple. “I’m gonna need a lot more than that.”

“Steve, please.” You’re coming undone. “It’s - it feels so good, I need more, I need to feel it.”

A finger slips down to your entrance while his thumb keeps rubbing at your clit. His lips resume their work, his finger never entering.

“Yes, please!” you pant. “Please, please, finger me.”

“You’re wet,” he says against your skin. “You love this.”

“I love this,” you agree mindlessly. “Steve, I wanna cum, want you to feel me.”

He moans now, slipping his middle finger inside of you. You clench around him and he whines.

Your hands tug the sheets, desperate. Your chest rises and falls, breath heavy. “Please, I’m so close, please don’t stop, Steve, please don’t stop!”

“Who’s making you cum?”

“You, you, you —“

“What’s my name, honey?”

“Steve,” you squeak, stomach tightening.

He pauses. Your eyes sting with tears, thinking he’s not letting you, but his pace continues with hard strokes and you’re cumming. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, legs wrapping around his hips. You cry in ecstasy, shaking, pussy refusing to let him go until you’re overstimulated.

“Ah!” you whine. “Too — too much.”

Steve hums, eyes locked on yours, his thumb moving lightly against your twitching clit. “It’d be fun to keep playing with you, don’t you think?”

[nightwonder7]

NORTON GHOST AU.. NORTALICE PLESSS??

Okay I'll indulge fghdsjfkgsjka

Norton would be one of the ghosts who'd be more pessimistic about Alice at first. He had no faith in her solving their predicament and just wanted her to go away so they could be left in peace. And when the other ghosts agree to ask for her help (he was against this), he became reticent and tried to avoid her.

At first Alice respected his wishes of wanting to be left alone, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was something she had done to upset him because of the way he acted towards her. She wanted to resolve any issues that may be between them as they are practically living together for an undetermined amount of time. Otherwise things will just be uncomfortable all around. Unfortunately, Norton is one of the more stubborn ghosts and would act cold towards her and push her away. Still, Alice is curious about Norton. She doesn't know exactly why, but something about him seemed enticing in a way. Perhaps she could sense there was something more to him than this brick wall he presented as.

Norton could often be found outside alone in the forest near by or in the court yard. He seemed to prefer the open sky over the enclosed spaces in the manor. While outside he would just wander around, like he is searching for something, inspecting the rocks on the ground. Or he would lie sprawled out on the grass and stare at the sky. Alice had on several occasions tried to approach Norton when she sees him out and about alone, but as soon as she closes in on him, he would just give her this dead look and vanish before her eyes.

Once it becomes apparent that each ghost needs to resolve their trauma in order to lift the curse, they have no choice but to work together, much to Norton's dismay. He did NOT budge at first and tried avoiding her even more. I can picture this scenario where Alice keeps finding him again and again after he vanishes whenever she approaches him, and he becomes increasingly frustrated that she seems to know where he is every time (she had taken a mental note of all the spots he frequents and used that to track him down). It becomes this slow, wild chase until Norton is fed and tells her to leave him the heck alone. But Alice is insistent; working through this together will make it easier for the both of them. It needs to be done.

Norton begrudgingly agrees at last, and the two of them finally sit down to talk. He is uncooperative with her and gives her super vague, short and snarky answers to her inquiries. After hours of this, Alice finally has enough. "Please, Norton! I'm begging you!" "What you want me to do?" "Give me more to work with, for a start." "That's all I've got." "I don't believe that for a second. There's more to your story. The records-" "Then use those! Everything you need to know is already there." "Firstly, the records don't have the full picture. Secondly, you're the one who needs to remember, not me. That's why I need you to walk me through-" "You don't need anything!" "... I'm trying to help you. Why won't you let me?" "I never want your help to begin with!" "This isn't only about you, Norton. Everyone's affected by this entangled mess. Take some responsibility, please. I know this is hard for you. I want to understand, I really do. But you have to help me to do so." "..." "Maybe I'm not the right person for this, after all."

Alice would then leave Norton alone while the others berate him for ruining their chance of getting out of this place. He acts like he doesn't care, but deep down he feels really bad about it all. He wanted her off his back, and now that he finally got what he wanted, he wasn't so sure anymore. Especially seeing Alice's spirit so broken. While he tries to think of a way to rectify things, he finds Alice one night, sitting in the parlor in her night gown and staring out the window. She doesn't acknowledge him as he hesitantly approaches her and sits down next to her. Before he manages to say anything, she begins to share a personal memory with him without quite knowing why. Maybe it is her lack of sleep? Or her feeling of hopelessness. The memory is about how she was unable to help her parents when she was young, and that she thinks she is the reason why they died. She spent all her life as a journalist trying to help others in order to repent for this. But it looks like she is still as useless and unable to help others, in her words.

Norton listens intently and starts reflecting more over Alice and the time spent with her. He realises that she is nothing like what he thought she was. She might be just as broken as the rest of them, but she has a heart of gold, and she is honest and genuine; a breed of people he was not used to having around in his life and death. He reassures her that she is nothing of what she said she was, and that he was wrong about her. Slowly he opens up as well. Deep down he actually wants help, but is afraid to face it. She in turn reassures him that he doesn't have to face it alone and that she will help in every way she can. He just needs to be open for it.

They agree to try again; really try this time. But for the rest of the night, they just talk about everything and nothing. They talk until Alice falls asleep on the sofa. Norton stays with her for a while longer, studying her features in silence. He wished he could drape a blanket over her so she wouldn't be cold. He then beats himself up for even entertaining the idea that she is pretty. Eventually he leaves her in peace, but doesn't stray far away. They both feel better after this, and from there on out, their bond becomes stronger slowly over time.

[whyarewecalledtheshipname]

rambled this before but MAN that riku is paralleled to terra who's dad was so extremely aligned with Light that he basically nearly fell to darkness/evil out of his /extreme/ intolerance of it??? Eraqus who totally doesn't remind me of MoM??? GUH RRAHH

[canichangemyblogname]

==================================

Now, I want to start this off by saying that I don’t think they could narratively redeem what’s been done BECAUSE of the excuses they wrote in for the breakup.

This follow up is just to talk about narrative resolution or conclusion, and how a character break up can be narratively satisfying.

When characters break up in media, it is either the resolution to the character conflict or it is just the start of it. And I’m going to give you two in-show examples. The first is Buck and Taylor. They faced enervating effects leading up to their split. Arguments. Differences in worldview. Communication issues. Trust issues. Infidelity. The show really drove home that Buck and Taylor do not see eye-to-eye when it comes to how they see their own places in the world. Buck is very local. Taylor is more global. So, with each new bump in the road they faced, the tension increased. Until it reached a boiling point, the narrative climax that segues immediately into the characters’ decision to split. That split is the resolution; it provides closure for this narrative. The character conflict is no more.

However, sometimes the breakup IS the tension. 911 LS was notable for this with an (imho—lazy) off screen hiatus break up between TK Strand and Carlos Reyes. We then spend several episodes learning what went wrong as the characters are tense and awkward with each other. It resolves after Dream!TK admits he cares for Carlos and ran away from the relationship out of fear. When he wakes up, the characters—emotionally devastated by TK nearly dying—decide to give their relationship another shot. In this case, the break up was the character conflict.

The OG 911 did this in seasons 1-3 with Buck and Abby. There was a little foreshadowing that Abby was not happy where she was after losing her mother and needed to process her grief in her own way, and that she felt a little listless. However, there was nothing to suggest that she and Buck’s relationship was going wildly poorly. There were navigable bumps in the road regarding her mother and a catfisher using Buck, but they seemed to handle every very ordinary difficulty with maturity and communication. Until Abby leaves. Buck thinks it’s just a short break; she’s going on a vay-cay to process her mother’s death. But season two then drives home that she is not coming back and Buck needs to let go. He struggles with accepting that Abby leaving was ultimately a breakup, but eventually grows by moving out and getting back into dating, even—much later, season 4—going to therapy to address his loneliness. However, what caused the character conflict in the first place was Abby’s absence. Despite Buck growing around the conflict, Abby haunts his narrative. He’s living in her empty apartment. He’s unable to put himself back out there. He’s lonely. But they resolve this at the end of season 3 when Buck and Abby sit down and talk, Buck asking her when she knew it was over-over and if she’d ever planned to tell him. They go their separate ways after that, still broken up, because that chapter has been closed. However, now the tension of Abby’s absence—in the form of the questions Buck and the audience still had about her leaving—was finally resolved.

So, unless LFJ is not departing permanently—although his farewell interviews and Q&As suggest otherwise—this break up will not have a similar narrative resolution. Here we have a breakup that is intended to be the drama; the tension, and no possibility for resolution. Buck is not going to confront Tommy about Tommy breaking his heart and saying hurtful things. He’s not going to emphatically driving home that he knows what he wants for his life; he’s not a listless 26 y/o anymore, and he had wanted Tommy in his future. And Tommy’s never going to acknowledge that he broke Buck’s heart because he was scared by his feelings for Buck. The tension was created by Tommy’s sudden departure from Buck’s life, and unless they drop this entirely (and it doesn’t seem they will; it seems that Buck’s friends and family find out next episode), Tommy’s continued absence will continue the character conflict. And how do you resolve that? By having the character come back for one last confrontation or communication. But that is not possible here.

THIS is why I stopped watching 911 LS after the first episode of Szn 5. Sierra McLean’s departure from 911 LS means Grace Ryder will not be on the show. And, okay, I guess. Sad, but what can I do about it? I tuned in to see how they handle it, and Grace’s absence is explained as something of a mission trip. Her absence is also then set up as a point of conflict that Jim Parrack’s character, Judd Ryder, has to navigate. Her absence brings about new character tension between Grace and Judd as well as new, complicated feelings for Judd. But how do you resolve a narrative conflict created by a character’s absence? By having them return in some capacity. However, that is not possible in this case, so I decided to cut my losses with the show because I KNEW the lack of resolution would be unsatisfying. And, really, that’s just a consequence of the medium: TV. Contracts change and shows get canceled; producers and writers deal with that in whatever way they can.

“The show isn’t going to cater to your fan fiction fantasy 🤣.”

Yeah… no. See, that’s not the issue. 1.) I don’t read fanfiction; can also barely write it, 2.) the issue 100% is that this was very clearly intended to come out of the blue, but because it seems increasingly likely LFJ isn’t returning to the show, there is a lack of resolution. This breakup is result of Tommy’s insecurities in the relationship. He feels he’s gonna get left behind; have his heart broken. The breakup even surprises Tommy. It blindsides Buck, a character who has long been characterized by a listlessness and a lack of defined vision for his future. When his boyfriend breaks up with him because he doesn’t believe that Buck can actually see him in his future, the narratively weighty thing is for the characters to later—after processing this breakup and struggling with competing wants—confront that. But that seems so incredibly unlikely, so it feels more like they kiboshed this for some external reason rather than a narrative one.

Then there’s an issue with the follow through with themes. If this is the end-end— and that seems likely with LFJ’s departure from the show—there’s a lack of follow through on reoccurring themes in the show, like second chances, making one’s own happiness, and how “our people” make life worth it. If the goal is Buck’s return to a 1.0 era, that would be a stark and sharp character regression instead of growth for a character who has come a long way over 8 seasons, which is not narratively satisfying. And when it’s ONLY the bisexual character who ever gets arcs like this, and it’s explicitly because of some “he doesn’t know what he really wants” or “he can’t commit,” then the story isn’t original; it’s a stereotype. There’s also then a very jarring lack of follow through on changes to structure and style they had been planning to explore, like finding ways to integrate a Love Interest into non-romance and non-relationship storylines, being able to expand these characters through professional scenarios together, and that whole thing about Buck getting off the “hamster wheel.” All of these hinted at major structural changes to the way the show writes secondary characters, which would also have major implications for characters like Karen and Josh. This sort of shift, understandably, gets viewers invested in a new era of an EIGHT season show, and disappointed when these structural changes fail (repeatedly, may I add) to manifest.

It’s disappointing because it seems—due to casting changes beyond their control and of no fault of anyone— there won’t be any follow through on this purposefully sudden breakup. Even some upcoming confrontation between the characters could wrap up the tension left in the air. The narrative doesn’t need tropes or some rom-com ending to be narratively satisfying! It can end tragically and still fee resolved.

Most fans’ issue with this is that they did this for the short-term drama, not for the long-term story telling.

—Sincerely, a novelist (a VERY different writing form) who writes tragedies and recently finished a gay romantic tragedy that ends—well—with a break up.

[noctlas332]

day three,,,, i would have had liked to work a bit more on this but alas, that did not happen,,

[s0fter-sin]

what up it's been 12 years and i'm still pissed there was no consequence to dean being in constant survival mode and fighting 24/7 in purgatory

what do you mean he didn't become a god at hand to hand combat? what do you mean he could still be jumped by random ass demons?

he was - at best - in a constant in-between state meaning he didn't get hungry or tired but that also means he didn’t sleep for a year and was constantly being hunted by hundreds of thousands of monsters that want to eat him specifically, while actively searching for cas

OR he was in a completely normal state meaning he was constantly fighting starvation and exhaustion while all of that was still happening!! it's not like there's much to scavenge in monster heaven!! he would’ve been on the verge of dying for a year!!!

then he comes back and he's just exactly the same? the same level of fighting skill he's always had? if not slightly worse for some reason?? what do you mean he couldn't kill anything he came across with his eyes closed when it's what he's been doing EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR???

it's always been one of the flaws of a show running for so long that after like s6 they never seemed to be getting better? they still got the shit kicked out of them by demons and ghosts and what have you and instead of finding obscure rituals they just got A Better Gun™️

both sam and dean are the peak of what hunters can be; they've been trained to hunt and kill things bigger and stronger than them since they were children, so what do you mean they still get the shit kicked out of them so often? was it just to show how strong monsters are? that even with their level of experience and skill, they're still outmatched?

(or do you just need a way to keep up the tension cough cough what who said that)

but you can't have dean who's been trained to be an elite soldier Since He Was Four Years Old go into a 360 combat scenario for an entire year - a good chunk of which he was completely by himself - then say he didn't improve his combat skills At All

and not even just combat, his senses would've been off the charts!! there was nothing but ambient forest noise and growling, his hearing would've gotten so sharp, it was darker so his night vision would ve been insane and he should've been able to feel a monster coming a mile away after constantly being on guard

post purgatory dean had the opportunity to be a completely different beast to anything we'd ever seen before, to be a completely different kind of traumatised from all of his other trauma

hell broke him but purgatory should've broken and rebuilt him into something Terrifying

[alaskan-wallflower]

how my parents feel after always reminding me how much better my older brother is than me

[dutybcrne]

Making myself sad by wondering if Kaeya had NEVER seen Diluc mad at him before that fateful confrontation