#i just want more content of sparkling on his own instead of just being someone to ship herb with

[yuzukult]

crush 04 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 04 pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 5.9k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: lmfao idk when the last chapter was or if you've long forgotten me but i have arrived... i'm praying that this is good enough :(

The air is cold.

The stiffness of your cheeks and the tinge of pink on Seokmin’s nose speaks volumes, the thin cardigan you decided to run out with wasn’t much help to combat the briskness. You’d been so quick to grab him out of the restaurant that you didn’t get a chance to snag your coat—why the hell did he just show up here? It’s almost like he’s asking for a fight. 

You huff. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your location,” he says calmly, almost like it’s a normal thing to do. He shows his phone to you, the screen bright and displaying the maps feature with a little icon of a picture of you by the restaurant, the blue dot beside it being his own. “I figured I was in the area, so I decided to stop by and surprise you and your friends. You know, as… boyfriends do.”

You grit your teeth. Seokmin is far from being your boyfriend, especially with the acts he’s been performing lately—so pulling out this ‘boyfriend’ card just because he sees the back of Wonwoo’s head feels low. The location you shared with him was for the time you were stranded on the side of the road, the car battery completely depleted. You must’ve forgotten to turn it off, but nonetheless, it wasn’t something for him to take advantage of. “I thought we weren’t dating.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. Eyes skimming the area, he shoves his phone back into the front pocket of his jacket. If he truly was your ‘boyfriend,’ he should’ve offered you his coat by now. (Well, he also never said he was a good one either).

“We aren’t, but in the future we will. We agreed,” Seokmin’s gaze is on you now—those irises that used to sparkle underneath any light, including the stars in the sky, are suddenly dull. “I just don’t get it. I thought you said you’d wait for me. Why am I finding you with him?” 

Him. There he goes again, the bitterness he has for Wonwoo is practically seeping out of his skin. The pronouns used to identify him even got a taste of the hatred. 

“He’s a friend,” you state, arms crossed over your chest. It’s freezing out here. “I’m allowed to hang out with friends. Plus—does it really matter if I date around? You’re doing it.”

Seokmin scoffs. In disbelief, too! He contradicts himself more frequently than not now, especially with Wonwoo in the picture. “You’re kidding, right? I told you why I’m like this.”

You sigh. Truthfully, it’s becoming emotionally exhausting when it comes to Seokmin; your heart doesn’t seem to palpitate as it used to when he looks at you, instead you feel it racing from all the anger pent up. You still long for him from the distance, wishing it was you who made him laugh and smile in that way that makes his eyes twinkle as you feign ignorance to his irresistible charms, but the reality sinks in and the clouds cast their shadows when it smacks you in the face that Seokmin isn’t doing that for you. He’s doing those things for another girl, someone who he hadn’t promised his end game to, and it leaves you wondering if he actually means when he says you’re the one he’ll finally come home to.

“I just…” There’s a part of you that wants to end all of this, end all the suffering he’s caused you and the feeling of suffocation in your chest. It’s like he’s got your heart chained and locked, himself being the only person with the key, and you’re stuck in this position until he tells you to go. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to tell me how to live my life while you get to freely live yours.”

“You could’ve had anyone else,” he retorts with a soft whisper this time. “Why’d it have to be him?”

“He’s nice to me,” you shrug your shoulders. “And… right now, maybe I just need someone like that to heal me.” You don’t really know what you mean by heal, but something in you felt like… that was the right word to describe Wonwoo. He’s caring, sweet, and he tends to you when you’re having a rough day—no words exchanged, just quick glances and he just knows.

“Heal you?” Seokmin’s voice raises this time around, his brows furrowing in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking, right? A guy like him? He’s an asshole—he keeps secrets and hides shit from people. People he’s close to, people who he claimed to be his family. And he goes behind my back and steals my girl? Do you see how he is?”

He—what? You’re the one confused now. “What are you even talking about?”

Visibly, his vexation lowers along with his stance. “Nothing, just—I don’t trust that guy. I need you to wait for me, just a while longer—”

And before you could ask, ‘how long?’ with smoke whistling out of your ears, a pretty gal with bleach blonde hair and lashes that touch the clouds in the sky eagerly grabs onto Seokmin’s arm.

“Minnie, our table is ready! Oh—” her face brightens at the sight of you. “Hi! Are you Minnie’s fan? I’m Kaykay!” she extends her arm eagerly as you shake her hand gently with an awkward smile. “Well, we have to get going, do you guys want a picture together?”

Your jaw twitches.

There’s something worse about being identified as ‘the girl who Seokmin keeps on the backburner,’ and you’ve never run into it until today. A fan. You’ve been demoted to a fan. You’ve chased him around for so long, in hopes he’d throw away his current lifestyle for you, despite what he says about how he’s so grateful that you’re waiting for him.

All to only be downplayed and lowered to the level of a fan.

“Actually, it’s okay,” you wave her off politely and glance over at Seokmin before slowly making your exit. “He gave me his autograph earlier, but I appreciate it.”

Truthfully, Seokmin knows he fucked up. 

He knew from the moment your lips curled into that warm smile, an effortless laugh erupting from your chest, and when you dip your chin bashfully at a compliment thrown your way without him being the one responsible for it. He messed up big time. And if he’s too late, he’ll never forgive himself for it.

The best solution is to give you up—and in reality, if this was another person, he’d straight up tell them that they missed their chance and it’s time to move on. Yet, he looks himself in the mirror every time and the words never come out. He can’t do it. He can’t let you go. In the forefront of his mind, he’s fully aware of how selfish he’s being for asking you to wait for him without a timeline. 

But he can’t help himself.

He wants you. 

It can’t be anyone else but you.

In all honesty, he ponders if this exact scenario played out with a different love interest would have him this angry. Would he be equally as fueled? Or was there something more because of his own personal history with Wonwoo? Either way, that didn’t help, and putting you in the middle of it was doing more harm than good.

The history that the two of them have is one that’s been inscribed in his brain—he remembers it as if it was yesterday when a group of intimidating men enter the garage that both of them worked at. The leader snickered at the sight of Seokmin, spitting the toothpick that hung on the side of his mouth with a smirk dressed upon his face. “Is this the fresh meat?” he asked, dark eyes observing Seokmin’s face as he grabbed his jaw between his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo said coolly, wiping his hand off a rag before tossing it onto his tool cart. “He’s still fresh, so don’t scare him.”

Seokmin relives the feeling of fear—his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and his hands began to perspire. “I’m the boss ‘round here,” he spat. Hair slicked back, doused in so much gel that the lights reflected on the strands. Clean shave, smelled like expensive cologne (although he definitely squirted half the bottle), he wore a tank top that displayed the plethora of tattoos that decorated his skin. “That’s all you need to know. I’m the boss.”

Wonwoo lied to Seokmin; he told him that he’d take care of him, help him earn some money and make an honest living.

Working for a guy who has done more illegal things that Seokmin is aware of doesn’t sound like making an ‘honest living’. 

He felt embarrassed, finding himself in a position where he could’ve been just any old regular mechanic but instead as a front of a fucking drug lord’s secret business. When the nights came around, the sun disappearing along the horizon, he smelled the stench of cigars and weed permeating through the cracks of the walls and doors. The hollering of gamblers were faint underneath the concrete floors, but the evident line of expensive vehicles that hid behind the building were enough to give it away. Any idiot would know what was happening there.

But the city was so corrupt; a newly graduated high school student who severely needed a job had to settle for a shady ass job couldn’t even go to the cops about it. He recalled frantically waving his arms to express his story at the local police station, only for them to scoff and turn the other way.

It earned him slashed tires the next day. A threat. A warning. Lee Seokmin would then go as Dokyeom at the shop, just in case they wanted to go any further.

Seokmin spent years trying to cut ties with them. 

“Hey baby,” her soft voice spoke, reaching out from under the covers to lay her hand on his chest. “What’s on your mind?”

And here he is again.

In the sheets with someone else.

She interrupts his thoughts and she only stirs them more. He can’t remember her name, only that when she says it and calls you a fan, the expression on your face made it clear that you didn’t want to stick around any longer. Seokmin hates how he pains you every time he does stupid shit like this, but some masochistic part of him can’t seem to stop. He needs to stop, especially with Wonwoo at arms length to you, ready to catch you when you fall.

“Nothing,” he replies curtly. She’s not you. He wishes he could tell you all the things that happened, all the things that run through his head, and how much he wants to break out of this cycle but even you, the girl who has his heart, can’t even take him out of his own despair. 

Just your luck.

Dodging potholes should be something you’re familiar with considering how frequently you drive in and out of the city, but it’s evident that it’s still a skill you need to improve on.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. The gash on the side of the tire is so big that you felt the hissing of the air blowing into your face. “You can’t even patch this.”

You’re supposed to meet up with Wonwoo in fifteen minutes. The traffic had gotten heavier, and Google Maps suggested taking the local route but of course it had to be the street with the most unpatched potholes you’ve ever seen. Where the fuck were your tax dollars going into?

You sigh in distress. Running your fingers through your hair, you puff out another heavy breath. Maybe you should do what you learned—yeah, after all, Wonwoo taught you for a reason, right?

Just then, your phone dings twice.

(2) New Messages.

One from Wonwoo, and one from Seokmin.

Both said the same thing, coincidentally, reading: “where are you?”

It’s easier to copy and paste the text in return, letting them both know where you were and had a flat. 

As you pop open the trunk, you roll up your sleeves. Thankfully, Wonwoo’s first date idea is more useful than you thought. Although, there’s a part of you that ponders if Seokmin would ever come. He promised, you think to yourself, because the charming words he spewed always meant that he would be your Knight in Shining Armor in any time of need. 

Would he come?

You sort of wish that he did, just to feed that little glimmer of hope still in your heart but a huge part of you knew he wouldn’t. He’s different now, not the same Lee Seokmin you once knew. So why are you wondering if he’d be here?

There’s a latch inside the trunk, and just when you’re about to flip it open to grab the tools and your spare tire, someone’s lights shine from behind.

Is… Is this your Knight in Shining Armor?

Turning around, the headlights are blinding, and it makes you squint in the direction. The door opens, and a figure comes out—brown hair, built frame, and driving a sedan, you wonder if it’s really Seokmin that comes to your rescue.

With the slam of the door and the figure coming in closer, that’s when you feel your stomach churn and your heart drop.

“Hey, pretty,” he says, voice deep and smooth as honey. “I saw your text. I was on the way, and I spotted your car on the side and recognized you. I guess you could say it’s fate.” That cheeky smile already has you swooning.

It’s… Wonwoo.

“How’d you even know it was me?” You laugh, arms crossed over your chest. “What if you were wrong and it wasn’t?”

“Then I’d have to let you know that I ended up having to help someone with a flat,” Wonwoo grins, tapping your shoulder to move you aside. “But I knew I wasn’t wrong. How could I forget the silhouette and the car of a girl I’m crushing on?”

And with that, Wonwoo makes you forget.

There’s something about Wonwoo walking out of the fog (in this case, blurry and bright headlights) that makes you feel like he’s bringing you with him because at the end of the day, he’s here and not Seokmin. 

Should you set strikes for him? Things that Seokmin does that has you reconsidering even waiting for him anymore, and if it was worth your time being put on the backburner for a man you didn’t even know anymore. Did his dreams and goals even align with yours? Did he still want to settle down and have a family? Did he still want you to meet his mom?

Did he love you or did he like the idea of you?

“I can help, you know.”

“Yeah, but I only really taught you so you’d know. Not so that you can do it yourself. Now hold my tools and don’t stand too close to the lanes, gotta make sure you’re all in one piece so I don’t have to eat alone tonight,” he winks playfully.

Maybe… Maybe being with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ma’am, are you sure?”

You blink blankly at the boy who stands behind the counter.

Recently, you’ve come to terms that your Toyota had little life in it left and with your current promotion salary, maybe it’s time to turn in the fella in exchange for something new and durable. 

And maybe slightly flashy.

The dark grey Lexus IS 350 F-Sport is a complete 180 from your aged Toyota; an affordable, casual, everyday car that took the cheapest gas option and for the most part, fuel efficient to a luxury vehicle of the same parent company. Sleek interior, leather beige seats, tinted back window—there’s even a functional Apple CarPlay! The Toyota’s radio didn’t even work, and the air conditioner was a gamble to get running. But the new car had heated and cooled seats, an entire class upgrade.

Wonwoo had the car sitting idle in the yard of his auto shop. It was barely used, to the point where the temporary tag taped to the rear window was still there, crisp and clean just like it was just bought off the lot.

Because it was.

“Look, I’m so over this car,” you remember hearing while eavesdropping from inside the auto shop. “Plus, I’m selling it to you for cheap. Get rid of that Honda Fit and take this instead. Boss would kill me if I couldn’t convince you to take it.”

Wonwoo raised a brow suspiciously to the man with long luscious blonde hair that stopped at his shoulders. “I drive a Prius,” he clarified and the other male just rolled his eyes. “You’re charging me $2k for a brand new car, Jeonghan. I’m not doing that. And I’m not paying what the market price is for this car.”

Weird. At the time, you pondered why this guy Jeonghan was working so hard to convince Wonwoo to buy the car, but with each attempt, Wonwoo kept rejecting him.

That is, until Jeonghan saw you peering out of the garage opening.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asked in a teasing tone, nudging Wonwoo jokingly before waving in your direction. “You might as well buy this off of me so you can show it off to her—but also get Boss off my back.”

Who the hell is this Boss they’re talking about?

But before your thoughts could go on any further, Wonwoo was shoving Jeonghan away with a head nod in annoyance. “OK, OK, fine fine I’ll buy it off of you, maybe you can get off my back.”

Little did you know, he only really agreed to buy the car because of you.

Not in the way Jeonghan had suggested but rather for you to buy off of him because he had reached the point where he felt like the Toyota wasn’t sustainable enough anymore. “You’re gonna end up spending more on this car than if you just bought this car off of me,” he warned. “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor ‘cause the longer this stays on this lot undriven, it’s gonna fucking mess with the battery and engine.”

So, you finally agreed after some more convincing. He suggested you to get new tires, mostly because they were low-profile tires (and, you quote “Even though it’s gonna look funny, at least you won’t get a flat tire every time you a hit a pothole.”)

Which brings you here—standing in front of Wonwoo’s new hire. 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“These tires aren’t what is spec’d when you buy ‘em off the dealership lot,” he says, watching you warily. “I’un know about selling you these. I mean, they already installed them and all, but… I’unno how it went through.”

“It’s fine,” you clarify again, resting your arm on the counter. Slightly frustrated, you close your eyes momentarily before taking in a deep breath. You’ve been at this for ten minutes now and he still keeps coming back with the same responses. The tires are on the car now! “Let me pay for it. I got exactly what I requested—let me be the one to face the consequences if it gets fucked up.”

“I get that,” the new hire doesn’t let up. “But if my boss finds out that I went against my judgment and something does happen, then that’s my fault.”

“Your boss was the one who recommended this to me in the first place!” you exclaim, but he stays stoic. “Listen, I just want my car, go home, and—”

“Jonathan, what’s going on here?” Wonwoo comes out from the back; in his navy overalls with his name tag that reads WONWOO in blue stitching to match, he’s wiping his hands off on a used rag with oil and dirt stains all over. He looks over at you with furrowed brows in confusion, tossing the material over his shoulder. He’s… kinda cute like this. “I thought you said you gotta go.”

“I did,” you emphasize, eyes darting lasers at the new hire. “Something came up.”

Wonwoo pats the new hire to move over and he takes over the computer. 

Then, that’s when it happens.

“What’s wrong, love? Let me clear this up so you can get going. Can’t have you miss your client presentation, can we?”

All the anger dissipates immediately. 

The storm above your head clears, and your gaze is glued onto Wonwoo.

Did… did he just call you ‘love?’

And why did you like it so much?

“I-I-um,” he’s got you stuttering over your own fucking words. Shaking your head from the thoughts, you regain yourself again. “Jonathan said the tires I wanted installed weren’t the styles you get at the dealership. He said he didn’t trust it.”

In the midst of it all, Wonwoo reaches for a lollipop from the candy bowl, unravels it and pops it in his mouth. The stick hangs out from the corner of his lips, sucking and shifting as it makes clacking sounds against his teeth. “Oh, alright,” he begins, turning to look at Jonathan. “Is that so?”

Jonathan gulps with a slow nod.

“Good job, kid,” Wonwoo grins, turning back to the computer. “I want you to be honest if you don’t think something is recommended or preferred. But for this situation, I made the call so we’ll just let this one slide, yeah?”

The new hire’s face heats up. 

And somehow from the exchange, he makes your heart tighten too.

“Alright, pretty,” Wonwoo hands your keys over to you. “Your car is out front. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

You tilt your head. “But—I didn’t even pay yet.”

“On me,” he’s got that slick smirk on his face again. “I just want you to be safe.”

“You’re gonna go bankrupt if you keep having to pay for me. Let me pay—”

“For you, I’ll go bankrupt. Now, head off to your presentation and give me a call after.”

Uneasy, you check the analog clock over their heads that ticks obnoxiously loud. It’s so close to 10, and your presentation starts at 12, a solid 1.5 hours away. If you head out now, you’ll still make it.

“Fine, fine, only ‘cause if I stick around any longer, I’m gonna be late,” you narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. “I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” Wonwoo counters, hands in the pockets of his overalls. He knows how flirtatious he is, he does it on purpose but you brush him off to prioritize getting to your meeting on time.

And faintly in the back as you push the front doors of the auto shop, you hear the new hire ask Wonwoo if you were his girlfriend.

Oddly enough, you… sort of wish you were.

“Can I show you how cars are more than just a means of transportation? Or just a fast toy you can play with on a racetrack?”

He looks so sweet when he asks; the fronts of his brows curl up in question, in hopes that you’d agree to his proposition. 

“Mm,” you hum, fiddling with the pen in your hand. It’s mostly teasing when you hesitate, only because an eager, anxious Wonwoo is adorable. He wants to show you his perspective of things, how he portrays beauty, and the excitement that rushes through his veins when he convinces you to give him a chance to share is wholesome. “Sure. Where are you taking me?”

When Seokmin introduces you to cars, they’re fast and flashy. The need for speed is a priority and so is how exorbitant they are. Whenever you’d ask, the value he discloses had an obligatory minimum of six zeros behind the first digit. “They’re sexy,” he describes them, their aesthetics and price a main concern. “Who wouldn’t want a car that drives like the ones on the track?”

Although when it’s Wonwoo, the discernible way he illustrates his cars verbally is different. He doesn’t brag about the acceleration or shares the name of the brands—he talks about the drive, how he loves how the wind blows through his hair and it hits his fingers when his arm hangs out the car. Cold starts in the winter, there’s something familiar about the loud roar of the engine; it brings him back to the old days where his dad would toss him the keys to warm up the car when it snows. A silver 1993 Ford F-250 with an open truck bed for him to hop in on summer days, sleepovers on cooler nights, and a place to sit underneath the stars to draw out his dreams that once felt unattainable. He romanticizes moments with cars while Seokmin showcases adoration for the vehicle itself. 

“My favorite thing about old cars,” he begins, unlocking the doors to a champagne beige 2003 Honda Accord before slipping into the driver’s seat. “Is the wind-up windows. They don’t make those anymore, and this car unfortunately doesn’t have one, but I love them.”

“What do you love so much about it?” You ask, following in suit in the passenger seat. “It’s so inconvenient. You’d pull up at the last second at the drive thru, try rolling down your windows while the worker asks for your order but you’ve barely made it halfway down.”

“Because the lack of tech makes time slow.”

Wonwoo makes this point detectable when he’s going through a drive thru, and you could hear the workers snicker through the speaker. He takes longer than usually anyone would these days just to get the window down, but the expression on his face shows enjoyment instead of frustration.

Then with a turn of his head, your heart nearly stops at the sight of his charming smile and sweet voice. “What do you wanna eat?”

There’s something so familiar about sitting in the parking lot of a burger joint; food sitting on the dashboard, windows down and the sun roof pushed open, the sun sets in the horizon in blends of different hues or oranges, pinks, yellows, and blues. The colors remind you of an old summer love, one that’s so in-the-moment, you get lost in someone else even if it’s for the season and you’d have to part ways after August. The shared ice cream cones, hands linked on the boardwalk by the beach, and never forget the romantic Pier rides and attractions, where you’d hold their arm in fear and they’d squeeze you for reassurance.

Wonwoo makes you feel… homey.

“I know we’re not dating, but this is my favorite kind of date,” he admits cheekily, warmth rushing to his cheeks. “No crazy distractions. No drama. Just… me and you. And of course, the High School Musical 2 soundtrack,” Wonwoo smacks the player a couple times. It’s been stuck in there since the last owner. “I don’t have the heart to actually uninstall this because this CD is a banger.”

You snort. “Is this your favorite?”

“Mm, only ‘cause it’s the origin of Fabulous. Otherwise, if we’re talking about the whole soundtrack, I’d say HSM3 is my top.” 

Wonwoo makes you laugh—genuinely laugh. He says what’s in his heart and in his mind, regardless of how he’s depicted. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you felt as light as this and you wonder if this is how people come out of meditation like.

Cars used to be just a means of transportation to get from point A to point B to you. Either that, or an ostentatious hunk of metal that Seokmin loves to flaunt.

Wonwoo… gives you the perspective of cars in a different light these days.

Another day, another car.

This time, it’s a white 2009 Volkswagen Beetle.

When Wonwoo lets you sit in the driver’s seat, the smoothness of the leather underneath your fingertips is a reminder of what he says about cars. It’s the experience, the feelings that you get during those fleeting moments in your life and how they're so easily forgotten with the daily work grind taking up most of your thoughts. 

With an early 2010s Spotify playlist blasting through the speakers, the vibration brings you back to a different place. Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men on a CD was in the background, your irises melted into a boy’s who sat in the front seat of his car, palms cupping your jaw as he leaned in, nose bumping into yours amateurly. Your hands were sweaty, breath stolen from your lungs because of all the nerves, and keeping your gaze locked with his was harder than it seemed. He was your first love—now your first kiss. 

The fog of your childhood memories dissipates; that boy you fell for in high school with his long dark skater hair and cheeky braces smile is replaced with the view of a boy from today. Eyes that curl into the shape of moon crescents, voice sweeter and thicker than honey, he goes, “how do you feel?”

Happy.

Nostalgic.

You sort of want to kiss him.

There’s this sudden shift in the air when Wonwoo is around; the weight on your shoulders abruptly lifts, allowing you to stretch and move freely. You never once noticed how prettily the sun peers through the sheer white curtains of your apartment on those Saturday mornings where you get to sleep in for a couple more hours after slamming the snooze button once more. His presence at your front door, a bag of groceries in hand as he offered to cook breakfast—everything about him gives you a new outlook on life.

As he sits beside you, in a car that Seokmin would never let you behind the wheel of, Wonwoo watches you eagerly with no hint of fear that you’d hurt the most valuable thing to him… you want to kiss him.

“Can I…” you hesitate, but he’s patient nonetheless. 

Wonwoo furrows his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinks blankly. “You… You wanna kiss me?”

Quickly, reality sinks in. What’s wrong with you? Why would you ask him that, especially sitting in the driver’s seat of his car like that flag girl would’ve wanted, asking him to make out with you like some horny teenager?

Before you could apologize, Wonwoo places his hand underneath your jaw gently, pulling you in close. “I thought you’d never ask,” he whispers against your skin, eyes hooded as he leans in more. 

His lips are soft, pillowy, and they’re minty from the Altoids he had earlier; his touches are delicate, gingerly moving down toward your neck to bring you in, head tilting to the side to avoid bumping noses. Wonwoo even smells good. Being this close gave you a whiff of his cologne; notes of peach, blood orange, subtle hints of rum and patchouli leaves, you think it’s the Witch’s brew for a love potion, falling victim under his spell.

Drawing back just barely, your bated breaths ghosts over each other’s faces. Forehead pressed against yours, his hand reaches to push back a couple strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“I know what you think this means,” Wonwoo says softly, almost like he’s sharing a secret but the words that spill are nothing but obvious to everyone. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to jump all in this with me. If you decide after this that you don’t want to be with me, I’m okay with that too. Just… take your time, okay? We’ll go at your own pace.”

But I’m scared, is what you want to admit but it never comes out. The silence fills the air, the whooshing of cars driving over the wet asphalt being the only noise, it’s strangely soothing despite the current event. Wonwoo makes your heart stutter, and it’s been a long time since you’ve felt this nervous around someone. Not even Seokmin.

He pecks your lips cautiously, thumb rubbing against the softness of your cheeks. “I want you to resolve your relationship with Dokyeom.”

That’s when you retreat.

“What?” you furrow your brows frustratedly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wonwoo sighs, leaning back in his seat before pushing his hair back. “Whether or not we pursue this thing between us, I think you need to figure out your situation with Kyeom.”

“I just asked to kiss you,” you retort. “That’s a clear indication that I like you. Why did you have to bring Seokmin into this?”

“Because I don’t just like you, I love you.”

You freeze.

This drive was supposed to be just a mini trip—a time to get away from the city, enjoy the fresh breeze by the shore, and try out driving his Volkswagen for the first time. The stickiness of the air accumulates a layer on your skin, tacky and sweaty, oftentimes causing discomfort but nothing about now feels uncomfortable.

Did… Did Wonwoo just tell you that he loves you?

Maybe it’s an oversight, you think, because he spills it so naturally. Sometimes people accidentally say things outside of what they mean in the spur of a moment, especially this moment, because you found yourself asking him for a kiss just seconds before. 

“I mean it,” he adds. When he turns to look at you, his irises are like pools of warm hot chocolate, bringing the same satisfaction as holding a cup of it by a lit fireplace on a cool day. “I love you. And I know you’re barely just figuring things out, but I think for you to fully move on, you gotta talk to Kyeom.”

“This is sudden,” you pause, fiddling with your fingers. “Why are you saying this now? I barely confessed, we even kissed, and—”

“Why couldn’t you tell me you liked me?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Why,” he reiterates, gaze never leaving yours. “Why couldn’t you tell me how you feel? Why do you feel like… you have to apologize for wanting to kiss me? Even though I’ve clearly stated my feelings?”

Rolling your lips, you turn to look at the horizon.

“You’re holding back because of Kyeom. If—If I’ve been overstepping boundaries, you would’ve told me by now. That's the kind of person you are. You wouldn’t lead me on, kissing me, coming by my shop, and taking all my advances if you didn’t feel some type of way. But you’re holding yourself back.”

“Seokmin doesn’t control my life. He doesn’t need to know anything about us. He doesn’t deserve that.”

That’s when Wonwoo reaches to hold your hand. 

“And you’re right, he doesn’t. But… you’re letting him… own your feelings. Own your love. You’ve been sitting here with me, and your heart is with him. I’ll take whatever—I’ll give you all the kisses you ask for, I’ll take you on all these drives, you can be behind the wheel of every car I own, but I can’t… I can’t have you because you’re still with Kyeom.”

“So… what now?”

“This kiss was a reality check for me,” he discloses, tapping his feet against the mat on the floor. “Not that I want to push you away, but… to make things clear between us. I love you, and I’m not gonna pressure you to date me. But if you’re gonna kiss me like this, like you’re in love with me too, I need to establish my own boundaries. I’m your friend, but if you want anything more, I need you to fix this thing with Dokyeom.”

And somehow, it always goes back to Seokmin.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 44: Full Circle

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.5k

Last chapter, friends. 🥹💕

This is a song that my husband and I love, and it’s so pretty, but the lyrics aren’t quite what I was going for this chapter, just the longevity of love. 😊 Death Cab For Cutie - I Will Follow You Into The Dark +Lyrics (youtube.com)

. 

A number of months later…

"The balmy sea breeze ruffled the tablecloth and made the string lights dance merrily above the jovial scene below as the clinking of silverware on plates punctuated the steady hubbub of conversation that rose and fell with the emotion of what was being shared. Some overly-optimistic sea birds hovered above on a swell, fastidiously watching for any dropped crumbs before swooping gracefully into another updraft. The setting was the same, the voices and faces different, but a shared sense of gratitude and contentment prevailed over all."

“I know,” Wrecker said dramatically, gesturing broadly with the drumstick of meat he was holding. “Right after I finish my porch, he comes up with this.”

“You cannot assume that his timing was intentional–” Tech protested fruitlessly.

“I’ll sit on your porch for you so someone can enjoy it while you're out working,” Echo interrupted, flashing a grin at Tech to release him from the increasing indignation Wrecker was goading out of him. “It’ll be great. I’ll put one of Hunter’s dusty old quilts over these creaky old legs and just watch the birds fly from tree to tree.”

“Your prosthetics are hardly creaky–” Tech returned, having gotten no more than two words out in a side conversation with Phee before being lured back in by his brothers. “Nevermind,” he said, more slowly now. “I see the caricature you are attempting to paint.”

“Paint? Oh, that sounds good. I’ll paint on the porch too,” Echo continued, undaunted. The Zygerrian beside Crosshair was smiling broadly at the interchange, his distinctive leonine face relaxed into inquisitive openness. Finally, he spoke up.

“You can paint?” His sibilant tone caught Echo’s attention, and he pointed an unthreatening scomp in his direction. 

“Anyone can paint, Ky’tal. Might look like kark, but–”

“Language, Echo!” Omega teased, giggling from her seat beside Breslin. His eyes sparkled with unspeakable depths of affection as he met her playful gaze for a moment before flashing a rude hand signal in her direction, much to her delight. Echo looked at Hunter, who was staring at him with an entirely flat affect, and opted to return to the main conversation. 

“Anyway,” he said, taking a leisurely sip from his wooden cup. “If you and Crosshair want to come paint on my porch, you’re welcome anytime.”

“It’s not your porch!!” Wrecker laughed, smacking the table with a bit too much gusto and causing a few utensils to clatter off their plates. Lyra jumped, her hand quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment – she still wasn’t unfazed by Wrecker’s jubilant outbursts. Hunter’s hand found her leg, giving her knee a soft squeeze, and she covered his fingers with her own, casting him a grateful smile. 

“Well it sounds like it’s my porch now…” Echo was relentless, and as the two of them dissolved into pointless arguing, Ky’tal shifted his gaze back to Crosshair. 

“What do you think? Want to paint the sunset?” He chuckled at the faintest of blushes that tinted Crosshair’s cheeks, then quickly rearranged his features into seriousness as the sniper fixed him with an entirely harmless glare. “Or perhaps we should paint guns instead…”

“Now wouldn’t that be just precious…” Phee interjected as Crosshair snorted, relaxing into his mirth and allowing the warmth in his eyes to show. “We can hang them all over our walls. Right, Brown Eyes?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hmm. Well, I tried,” she sighed, shrugging and offering a belabored sigh of solidarity. Ky’tal laughed, a rich, deep sound, and draped his arm across the back of Crosshair’s chair. Hunter kept his mouth in a straight line to restrain his smile as he watched his brother’s shoulders relax a few inches.

“...a good find in a relatively abandoned sector,” Phee was saying, continuing her conversation with Tech.

“Allow me to gather some supplemental information and we can leave in two days, if that is acceptable?” he offered, trying and failing to hide the spark in his eye that always appeared at the opportunity for exploration and discovery. 

“Sounds good. I’ll prep the ship and update MEL’s interface,” she nodded, patting the back of his hand. 

“More pirate adventures?” Hunter asked, watching Tech’s eyebrows lower a bit as he regarded him from behind his spectacles. 

“It is not piracy,” he objected. “It is–”

“Liberation of ancient wonders,” chorused half the table.

“We know,” Omega added with a grin.

“If you’re looking for some more ‘respectable’ work, you can expand your module for the Defense Training Academy,” Echo interjected. “There are a handful that seem to be particularly interested in that field, and the more well-rounded they all are, the better.” 

“That would be enjoyable,” Tech answered, perking up again quickly. 

“Yeah. It’s been great getting more of our brothers here, where they can live their own lives and pursue what they want instead of being puppets,” Echo said.

“They do seem to thrive in their autonomy," Tech agreed. " "You’ve created an excellent opportunity for them to continue in their desired purposes while also allowing ample rest and rejuvenation.”

“Well thanks,” Echo said, a touch of surprise in his voice at the rather effusive praise. 

“Have you showed them the new armory yet?” Lyra ventured. Hunter chuckled, giving her a wink before turning to Echo for his response. 

“Armory??” Wrecker interrupted. “Where?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Echo feigned innocence. “Well… Lyra had an entire room of long-range communication equipment as well as a ridiculous amount of weaponry, remember? Apparently she’s not going to need it for her gardening and baking or whatever she does… So she passed it on to me for the DTA.”

“What! I’ve gotta see this…” Wrecker’s face was alight with glee, and he rubbed his hands together as though he couldn’t wait to get them on the goods. 

“You can look, but no touching,” Echo teased. 

“I would also like to inspect the communicators,” Tech added, index finger in the air.

"Sounds like getting conned by a pirate worked out in the end..." Crosshair's comment slithered across the table, and Lyra laughed, meeting his gaze with the tiniest flash of a smirk.

"Listen... He was very persuasive..." she began, but gave up quickly at the chortles that broke out. "Alright, I know... Silly mistake. But hey -- if you all think it's so funny, I can take back my arsenal."

Wrecker gasped loudly, and whether it was feigned or genuine, it was difficult to tell. Hunter laughed, resting his arm across the back of Lyra's chair and giving her opposite shoulder a little squeeze.

"Okay, Wreck. You can keep the goods," Hunter grinned.

"Oh, now they're yours to give?" Lyra teased, beaming as Hunter's eyebrows climbed up his forehead in surprise and admiration, and he lifted both hands in temporary surrender.

"Alright, alright... I guess I'm just--"

"The snack. The eye candy. The trophy..." Lyra interrupted, trailing off at the end as she wasn't sure what word to use there.

"Hunter is the trophy?" Crosshair mused, peering across Ky'tal's broad chest to peer at her again.

"Hey. Eat your peas," Lyra returned, earning a guffaw of delight from a few of the group. Hunter shook his head, eyes on the plate before him but mind far away as he marveled at the depth of her personality that had been gradually unfolding in the safe, steady comfort they continued to build.

"Yeah, Crosshair," Omega joined in. "Got to get your vitamins!"

"It's true," Tech interjected, a touch of mirth on his solemn face. "Peas are a fantastic legume made up of complex carbohydrates and quite a variety of vitamins and minerals. They also offer a significant amount of fiber, which can be helpful with digestive issues--"

"Ohhhh, so that's what's up his--"

"I wasn't finished!" Tech was unstoppable, brimming with the incredible nutritional breakdown that he was far too eager to share. "While often considered vegetables, they are obviously not, as I previously identified them as legumes. But they do stand out from vegetables with their high protein content--"

"You've got to be kidding me," Crosshair muttered.

"Furthermore," Tech continued, "They are rich in polyphenol antioxidants, which--"

"Okay, Tech," Hunter stepped in. "Why don't you save that kind of talk for the bedroom?"

"Peas and polyphenols?" Phee said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "We might need to leave right now..."

"I'm losing my appetite," Echo muttered.

"Alright, alright," Phee grinned. "You give us something better to talk about, then." And off they went.

“Hey, thanks again for all your help at the cottage.” Lyra turned to Wrecker, offering a warm smile as the group's conversation continued without them. “I can’t believe how easy that seemed for you. You’re incredibly strong!” Wrecker blushed and grinned bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Aw, it was nothin…” 

“Are you kidding?” Lyra continued. “To combine two rooms, maintain the structural integrity, AND make it look even better than before? It’s a huge gift. Really. Thank you.” Her face was earnest, voice sincere, and she rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment to convey the depth of her appreciation. 

“I’m strong too…” Hunter muttered, shooting her a roguish grin behind lowered brows. She laughed, leaning toward him instead and resting her head on his shoulder before looking up at him with unabashed admiration. 

“So strong,” she purred, only partially teasing. 

“Ha! I could throw you from the docks to the Archium!” Wrecker snorted.

“That is a physical impossibility, Wrecker,” came Tech’s taunt from the other end of the table, but Wrecker ignored him. 

“Besides… How are those office ladies doin?” Wrecker asked, waggling his eyebrows at Lyra as Hunter rolled his eyes with a groan.

“Oh, you left quite an impression,” she smirked. Hunter had brought a large crate of steaks, sausages, and roasts to the school for the end-of-term staff party with Lyra proudly on his arm. He’d given them one last opportunity to get all of their innuendos and flirtation out of their system.

A few of them had taken him up on it, but when they’d laid eyes on Wrecker carrying the huge crate on one shoulder with a single arm around it, Hunter had been instantly forgotten. They’d mobbed the large clone like gaja birds on a pile of mantell mix, squawking and fawning over how massive his muscles were and how wonderful his charitable generosity was, and Hunter’s allure seemed to vanish as quickly as the selection of meat.

His undecipherable mutter about their fickleness had been quickly quelled by the shock of Lyra grabbing both his arms and kissing him firmly, and when she’d released him, she hadn’t been able to stifle her giggle at the dumbfounded expression on his face. 

“Guess I’ll have to make deliveries more often then, eh?” Wrecker grinned. 

“Well you can find your own stuff to deliver now,” Hunter muttered with a harmless scowl.

“I’m sure they’ll find plenty of ways I could help out,” came Wrecker’s playful jab, resulting in a sigh from his brother. 

“Do you want their attention?” Lyra said, poking Hunter in the side so unexpectedly that he jerked in his chair and turned his joke of a scowl onto her. 

“No…” he said, softening as she reached up to stroke the backs of her fingers along his cheek.

“Maybe I’ll just have to keep finding ways to show you…” she drifted off, casting a surreptitious glance around the table, too embarrassed to finish her sentence. He leaned in, nudging her cheek with his nose. 

“Hmm? Go on… You were saying?”

She turned to nestle her face against his, whispering something in his ear that made him press his lips together tightly in a barely-restrained smile, but he couldn’t hide the faint redness that colored his cheeks. He pulled back to look at her, equal parts desire and love on his face, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing his plate away. 

“I think we’re gonna call it a night,” he announced, winking at Lyra, who dropped her head to hide her own blushing grin. “As Tech would say, we’re going to tackle a new endeavor together.”

A cacophony of responses broke out, everything from “gross!” to “oh yeah!” as Hunter pulled Lyra to her feet, ignoring the hoots and taunts as they made for the door.

They began their stroll down the familiar path, weaving through the homes of the island, and when they came to a flat, grassy knoll that overlooked the sea, they came to a halt. Lyra’s questioning glance was mollified as she watched him gazing far into the distance, both present and far away in his thoughts, and she leaned into his side, snuggling her arm through his and resting her cheek on his shoulder. 

He sighed contently, as though years of stress and turmoil were gently being washed away by the sea. Wave after wave settled his shoulders more and more, and he was struck by a sudden flashback of his encounter with a native Xyloan upon their arrival to the island. "Fragmented," she had said, assessing him with a keen eye that saw much more than just the surface, and she'd left him with some rather cryptic words: But even shattered shards find smoothing and settling in the steadiness of the sea.

A bit of mirth touched the memory as he remembered Tech’s delight at the “astonishing alliteration” when he’d shared the details of the encounter, and he continued watching the waves in silence, Lyra leaning lightly against him in quiet solidarity. He hadn’t understood it then, but now the sentiment seemed to settle into his soul, a comfortable, familiar weight that grounded and reassured. The sea was never still; it was constantly shifting with the winds and tides, and yet it was consistent, dependable, beautiful. With a steady roll between sand and stone, it softened the edges of even the sharpest fragments of glass, pieces that had been broken by the abrasive relentlessness of life.

Like him. 

And yet, throughout a process that seemed arbitrary or tumultuous at times, something was being formed. Something with a new purpose. Something to be treasured. 

A light breeze caressed him, brushing tendrils of hair out of his face and providing a cool contrast to the balmy rays of the setting sun. He closed his eyes. Inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. Let it out slowly through his mouth. Then opened his eyes with a relaxed smile. 

He turned toward Lyra, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and regarding her fondly. She said nothing, simply gazed at him with radiant affection, and moved her arm to rest around his waist. He pressed his lips to her hair in a long, lingering kiss, murmuring gratitude and love before pulling away. 

Perhaps he could allow himself to settle into a new purpose. Perhaps he could allow himself to be treasured. Perhaps he could rest in the deep sense of reassurance that invited him to be at peace. 

Their eyes met again, and with a simple, small nod from each of them that spoke volumes, they continued on their way, hand in hand. 

Hunter found himself looking forward to the future, whatever it held, knowing that he was where he was supposed to be. Beyond the shadow of a doubt.

.

A little animation from one of my favorite artists, @thattoothpick, that I thought of when writing this:

. The End.

Previous Chapter ~ Master List

.

Y'ALL. It has been SUCH a treat sharing this with you after working on it for months. 🥹 THANK YOU for all the reblogs, comments, delight, and enjoyment along the way.

If you enjoyed this, I have two other full-length fics: a Howzer x OC and a Tech x OC. Both are PG-13 and similar to this one. I also have a full-length spicy Crosshair x Reader over on @spicy-clones.

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[vintagepascal]

I have an angsty/fluffy request!!!!! I feel like P has been getting more annoyed with the paps lately and I feel like if they stressed out his love he would get so po'ed, so maybe something about him getting mad or anxious about it (thats the angst), and reader comforting him and then some type of fluffy ending? I don't know if that makes sense but I think it's a fun concept. Ty if you decide to write it!!

LETHAL

AN - thanks so much for requesting love! hope this does it justice :) I used the inspo from that article where Pedro says his protective side is lethal hehe

word count - 3,200

rating - mature

content warnings - angst, no smut, fluffy ending, paparazzi involvement, slight catcalling, but literally the sappiest shit you've ever read how tf did I even conjure this shit oh my god

summary - pedro just wants to take his girl out for a nice date night, but someone at the restaurant sells you out

----------------------------------------------------------------------

No one was supposed to know. The two of you had done everything right - called ahead with specific instructions but not given your real names, gone at non peak times, asked for a private table in the back of the restaurant away from the windows, taken your car instead of Pedro’s because it was less recognizable. And still, as Pedro scribbled his signature at the bottom of the receipt, you cautioned a look outside and you realized that what you suspected was true as yet another car pulled up to the curb. 

“Pedrito,” you used your softest voice, reaching across the white tablecloth for his hand. He wrapped your fingers up in his automatically, eyes finding yours. The sparkle in them dulled when he saw the look on your face. “We should probably go.”

“You haven’t finished your wine, amor.” His voice was tight, and you saw him crane his neck to get a view of outside for the first time, though he didn’t have a clear view like you did. It wasn’t hard to guess why you were ready to end an otherwise perfect date night early.

“That’s okay, we have more at home,” you smiled, moving your napkin nicely off your lap and onto the table. The first flash of a bulb went off and you swallowed hard. At the table to your left, you saw your favorite security guard, Mateo, stand up. 

“Time to go,” was all he said. 

You saw Pedro’s hand ball up into a fist, and he sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“No one was supposed to know we were here. Someone must have tipped them off.” 

You reached for his hand, smiling when he opened up and offered you his fingers to lace your own through. 

“It’s alright.”

“It’s really not,” he countered. You knew he was at his wits end, considering the paps had managed to find him every day this week. He didn’t have much choice since he had to go to the gym each day for training, but he’d begged you to stay in the house as much as you could so they’d leave you alone with the promise of a nice date night on Friday to make up for it. 

“Hey.” You ran a thumb across his cheek quickly, hoping no one had a zoom lens where they could find you somehow. “Let’s just get home, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.” He looked down at you, some of the stone softening in his eyes as he did. He squeezed your hand twice before looking over at Mateo who dutifully began to walk forward. It wasn’t lost on you that he stood in front of you rather than Pedro. 

It was more than you anticipated. As soon as the front door opened you were practically blinded, flash after flash going off. You wove your arm around Pedro’s bicep, trusting him to guide you in the direction the car was in. You walked as quickly as you could in your heels, only slowing slightly when you realized your dress was starting to ride up your thighs a bit. 

You could barely make out most of the words that were being yelled at you, but one voice stood out above the rest of the frenzy.

“Nice legs sexy, let us see em!”

And you weren’t the only one who heard.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Pedro turned, and he would have stopped walking if Mateo’s strong grip on his shoulder hadn’t kept him moving towards the car. 

“Get in the car Pedro,” he said matter of factly, opening the door. Pedro waited for you to slide across the backseat first, blocking the opening just in case your maneuvering revealed anything you didn’t want on display.

“I want his name,” Pedro demanded.

“In the car,” Mateo repeated, shaking his head. Pedro looked at you quickly, saw that you were tucked back into the seat as far as you could be and felt his chest tighten. It didn’t matter then, all he needed was to be closer to you. He ducked in and the door shut behind him.

Mateo was quick to circle around to the driver's seat and you were on the road almost immediately, the crowd already scattering behind you in search of their next victim for the evening. 

“Fucking assholes,” Pedro growled, eyes trained out the back windshield for only a moment before he turned to you. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” It couldn’t have taken more than 30 seconds for you all to get to the car, but your pulse was racing and your ears were ringing and despite your best efforts, your eyes were watering just slightly from the adrenaline. You fought it and won, determined not to cry and add any more fuel to Pedro’s fire. Very little made him mad, but when you were mistreated, there were no bounds he wouldn’t cross. 

“Are you sure?” He found your hand against the leather, eyes hardening when he felt how clammy it was and realized you were hiding how upset you actually were.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, trying to play it off. “That was just a lot.”

“I’m sorry, so so sorry.” His voice was small again. 

“Don’t apologize for them, amor. You didn’t ask for that, it’s not your fault,” you reminded him, lifting his hand up to your lips and kissing his knuckles softly. This wasn’t a new conversation.

“You wouldn’t have to deal with any of that if you weren’t with-“

“Pedro, stop. You know I don’t care about the pictures.”

“The fucking nerve of that guy to say that shit to you…” You could feel the anger roll off him in waves.

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard some shit like that, it’s not the last-”

“And that makes it okay? That’s supposed to make me feel better about it?” He looked at you, exasperated, and somewhat confused that you weren’t as upset as he was. 

“No, of course it’s not okay, but I can handle it. I’m fine.”

You saw him open his mouth again to argue and you knew it would be futile, so you used your last line of defense. You leaned over and kissed him, bracing your hand on his thigh and molding your lips to his. Of course he kissed you back - he’d never had that much self control, but his lips were unrelenting at first, words unsaid keeping his mind racing and away from you. 

“I’m okay Pedrito,” you murmured, kissing along his jaw, smiling when your lips found the smooth heart shaped gap in his beard. “I’m safe, I’m happy, I’m here with you.” 

Your words pulled him back a fraction, your lips helping his jaw to unlock from where he had it clenched. He ran a warm hand along your thigh, trying to ground himself. 

“Bésame,” you asked. His eyes softened - something about you speaking Spanish always got to him and he obliged you, leaning over to kiss you sweetly. He cupped your face gently, getting lost in you for a few minutes of the drive until you were both satisfied. You settled afterwards, with your head on his shoulder, smiling each time he pressed a kiss to your forehead or your hair. 

But you could still feel the tension in his posture, see it in the way he led you into the house when Mateo parked the car, and you knew the storm hadn’t passed. So it wasn’t a total surprise that Pedro stopped in the living room instead of following his usual path to the bedroom. 

“Hey,” you tried. “I’m going to go change, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You watched him pull his phone out of his pocket, mind already on his next task. You didn’t push it - his heart was in the right place. Always the protector. And so you went about your evening, changing out of your dress (though it would have been easier with Pedro there to help with the zipper) and into a cute matching pj set, perching in bed and waiting. 

And waiting. And waiting. 

Your patience waned after 15 minutes, and you peeked your head out of the bedroom doorway, only barely able to make out the outline of your boyfriend standing on the living room balcony, the sliding door half open and his agitated voice flowing in. 

You settled yourself with a deep breath and moved back into your room, then to the bathroom and over to the clawfoot tub, starting up a bath. When all else failed, you always turned to water. You took your time doctoring it up with all your favorite products until the bathroom resembled a bit of a spa. The only thing missing then was Pedro. 

So you went in search of him, again unsurprised to see him still on the phone. You caught the tail end of his conversation as you pushed the sliding door out of your way. 

“- had to be someone there… Yes, I can respect that you don’t think it was, but I am very respectfully informing you that you’re fucking wrong. Someone within that building sold us out to the paps, and you’re going to figure out who it was, so I can figure out who the hell was outside harassing my girlfriend and who the fuck they work for.”

You slid your hand up Pedro’s back as a way of announcing your presence, coming around to his side and ducking under his arm that was braced against the railing. You wedged yourself between him and the metal, facing him with a smile that he briefly returned, phone still pressed to his ear. With a wiggle of your fingers you motioned for him to hand it to you, your other hand resting on his hip. 

With a small sigh he gave in, passing you his phone. You could hear the restaurant manager babbling and you muted the mic for a moment so you could speak freely.

“I’ll be right there expired a while ago amor,” you teased.

“I’m sorry baby, I just-”

“Don’t let that dick steal any more of our night. We’re okay. I’m okay. I’m safe, I’m happy, I’m here with you,” you repeated your words from earlier, getting up on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his. His resolve was fading, but there was still a dull fire in his eyes, aching to defend you.

“We don’t get enough time like this as it is, let’s enjoy it, yeah?” You hummed, kissing him only once before checking to see. As expected, it worked, and your Pedro was back, all traces of his anger gone from his face. He took his phone back, hanging up without another thought and slipping it away into his pocket.

“Sorry cariño, I got carried away.”

“Apology accepted in the form of you, in the bathtub with wine in the next two minutes,” you grinned, kissing him again and ducking under his arm before disappearing to the bathroom. 

He didn’t disappoint. You had barely stripped and sunk into the water when he returned, two glasses in one hand with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket in the other. 

“Looks like I missed the show,” he teased, looking down at your pile of clothes on the floor. 

“That’s what happens when you’re late. But hey, I’m in my seat and ready for the next act.”

That got a chuckle out of him, paired with a blush that warmed your heart. He took care of you first, pouring two glasses of wine and passing one to you before he got to work taking off his dinner clothes.

You attempted to dog whistle for him, which only ended in you breathing aggressively on your two fingers with a bit of spit ending up in the bathtub, and Pedro giving you a look of pity before you were both laughing. 

“I’ve really got to teach you how to do that love.”

“Oh shut up and get in here.”

You offered him a hand, scooting up so he could settle in behind you. As soon as he was in the water he was guiding you back to lean on his chest, arms coiling around you to hold you to him as he kissed your temple. 

“Does this mean we’re never going to that restaurant again? Cause my capellini was really good,” you ran your fingers up and down his arm that crossed your chest. 

He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I can make you good capellini.”

You leaned to the side until you could look back at him, quirking an eyebrow. 

“I… can hire you a chef to make you good capellini,” he grinned sheepishly, laughing as he held you against his chest. You relished in the sound as it echoed off the tiles, kissing his skin. 

“I’m kidding baby, we don’t have to go back,” you reassured him. Deciding you’d spent long enough unable to see his face, you maneuvered so you were next to him instead, resting your cheek on his chest with your legs intertwined under the bubbles. It was blissful, and you only sat up to sip your wine or kiss him. 

You enjoyed the silence and soft kisses, light traces of each other’s skin under the water through your first glass, but your tongue loosened up by the second one. 

“Can I ask you something kinda serious?”

“Anything amor,” he hummed, interest piqued.

“Would you ever trade it? The fame, for getting your privacy back?”

“If you’d asked me that before I met you, I would have said no. But I think the answer now might be yes.”

You pushed up off his chest so you could see his eyes, waiting for him to explain. 

“It comes with my job, and my job is all I ever wanted. It’s been my dream since I can remember. I worked my whole life for it, and somewhere deep down I always knew that there were downsides that would come with it if I ever made it big. You hear the horror stories of the crazy people, the stalkers, the paparazzi. And when you’re just trying to make it, it almost makes you jealous in a way. It’s like ‘damn, well if anybody gave a fuck about who I was maybe I’d have to worry about that’. And then you get your break-”

“And people are asking to put their thumbs on your eyeballs in the streets of NYC,” you grin.

“Yeah, yeah exactly. But when it was just me, I could always stomach it because it was also a reminder of like ‘hey, you made it. This is happening because you made it into the big leagues’, you know? But it’s not a fun or glamorous part of it. And now it’s affecting the people I love, and I can’t do normal fucking things, like take you out on a normal date night without us getting swarmed. And you deserve that. You deserve to get your capellini in peace, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to give you that, because that part of my life is always going to be there.”

The sadness on his face brought tears to your eyes, and you turned his face to look at you.

“You’re worth it Pedro.” 

The sadness didn’t budge.

“I mean it,” you continued. “You’re worth all of it. You’re worth more.”

The next kiss was deeper. His lips caught yours with a new appreciation, his teeth catching your bottom lip making your breath freeze in your chest. His arms moved under the water, shifting your body around until you were straddling his thighs, your elbows braced on his shoulders, fingers in his wet hair. 

When you finally broke free to catch your breath, he was looking up at you as if you’d hung the moon. 

“I need you to remind me of that. On the bad days,” he whispered. It wasn’t often that he asked you for reassurances, and the entire premise of it made you melt. 

“Of course baby. Of course I will. You’re always going to be worth it to me, because I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You shook your head at that, folding down to rest your head on his shoulder. He traced his finger over your spine, back and forth slowly as he kissed your skin. 

“You know, we don’t have to stay in LA when you aren’t filming,” you mused after a few minutes.

“Where would you want to go love? I’ll take you wherever you like.”

“No, I don’t mean a vacation. I mean, we’re in the worst city for privacy in the world. Even New York is better than here, and we already have your place there.” 

He pondered it for a moment, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time in New York. Don’t know that it would solve our paparazzi problem though, they’re still pretty bad there.”

“Then we could go even further. Not long term, but I mean hell. Oscar has that second house in Hawaii he always offers to us, you know he’d let us stay. Or we could go to Chile, see your family.” 

“Chile? You’d go to Chile?”

“Why not?” You asked. “I mean, I don’t know that I’d want to move that far away, but of course I’d love to go for longer than just the few days we got to go last time.”

“You’d do that for me?” 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine, or the pure bewilderment on his face, or maybe the realization that he just couldn’t fathom how much you truly loved him, but you began to laugh. 

“What do I have to do to get it through that brain of yours hmm?” 

“You’re worth it-” you punctuated it with a kiss before you continued. “I love you-” another. “I’d do anything for you.” He was smiling then, leaning up to meet you. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“Yeah?” He murmured against your lips, chasing you in a bid to kiss you longer. 

“I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked.” The words stumbled off your tongue before you could stop them, but you didn’t care, you were too wine drunk and in love to think about them.

Pedro caught them though, kissing you again with a smile and waiting for you to lean back. 

“Tomorrow huh?” 

You blushed as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well in that case I need to call the jeweler and see if they’re still open this late.” He dramatically pretended to check his watch, making you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Ah yes, nothing like a Friday night ring shopping escapade.”

“Who says I still need to shop? I bet they’d let me pick it up, it should be done.” 

You felt your mouth drop open, but you couldn’t quite find the muscles to close it. Pedro kept his smug smile for a moment, basking in it as he reached up with his finger on your chin. 

“You’re worth it,” he returned your words, leaning up to kiss you again. “I’d do anything for the future Mrs. Balmaceda Pascal.”

[wonderlandwalker]

To Love or To Lose| Finnick Odair X Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wishes he could just simply make up his mind about you, but in reality he was in a constant rotation of emotions. He knows it could never be, but that doesn't mean it's easy to let go.

Content Warnings/Tags: Slight fluff but mostly angst, look I tried writing fluff but it's simply impossible, this is once again not proofread, no use of y/n, no character descriptions.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: Ask and you shall receive. Still recovering from the writing mush my thesis put me in but slowly trying to get back to it, hope this is good. Let me know if you guys have any requests! (Once again divider by @saradika-graphics who was sent to tumblr by the damn gods themselves)

He wanted to hate you, his life would be so much easier if he could just hate you. And every once in a while, he could convince himself that he did, that when you looked at him with that sparkle in your eyes the feeling in his stomach was disgust and not butterflies, that when he saw you all dressed up at a party the haze clouding his mind was annoyance instead of jealousy, but as soon as he would actually talk to you the masquerade fell down quicker than he cared for, and he would have to confront it time and time again.

If he was honest with himself he knew what this feeling was, he knew the fact he wanted to crumble to his knees and ravage you until the melody of you moaning his name graced his ears wasn't contempt, but actually facing reality was much harder than upholding the illusion. Because you were everything he stood against, you were everything he had devoted his life to destroy, you were part of the capitol. And yet he found himself wanting to devote himself to you, found himself desperate for your attention.

He fought the battle with himself for so long, but every time you had snuck away from a party to your apartment you would become so gentle, you would reassure him and care for him and it would make him question everything he thought he knew, because capital citizens weren't good people, he knew that, so why were you?

And tonight had been different, he had dreaded the event since he first heard of it, and tried everything he could to get out of it, but President Snow wasn't one to easily budge. It was a night in honour of something he could not remember, something he didn't care to remember either way. His stylist had dressed him up less provocatively than usual, a three-piece suit adorning his frame letting him know it was at least a high-profile occasion, therefore letting him know you would be here.  He was scanning the crowds of people he so desperately wanted to destroy, desperately seeking for you among them. And the moment he saw you he remembered why he put himself through all this turmoil, why he couldn't simply stay away. The blue dress you were wearing put the oceans at home to shame for daring to think they were beautiful, it made him wonder if the skies above knew they were being humbled by you tonight, and once again he couldn't help but walk over to you the second he caught someone else noticing the same thing. And he knew, logically he knew that it was his own doing, that if only he could get over himself and tell you the intricate rambles of his mind he would have no need to feel threatened. Because that's what this feeling was slowly creeping its way up to the surface, the threat of someone else realizing what he was taking so long to come to terms with, and he had no one but himself to blame.

And as he woke up the next morning he forced himself to forget everything he learned once more, just as he did every time he spent the night with you, because this sense of peace was nothing but a well-constructed time bomb. 

The way you would so perfectly fit into his arms as he lay beside you, as if someone had found the mould of his body and crafted you to complement it made him melt every single time. The soft tilt of your voice as you invited him in without fail made him wonder if perhaps it was possible because you did not ask what others did, you did not demand more than he was willing to freely offer, the only thing you wanted was to be with him. And maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t sure how to process the concept, but maybe he was still too scared to even try. 

And as he attentively removed your soft skin from his and got up to get dressed he knew he was creating his own destruction, that he was reconfirming his own fate. And if he truly let himself he knew he would love you, he knew he would love you until the world was cruel enough to rip you apart, but he also knew that he would convince you to join the cause without even meaning to. Because if loving you was what he would do, he wouldn’t hold back, he would share every part of himself with you, including the one that would lead to destruction. You were smart, you were smart enough to survive on your own in a world that was out to get you, bright enough to climb to the top and remain there, you were respected enough that he knew Coin would utilise it, she would be foolish not to. And no one would make it out of the war unscathed, but he wasn't about to contribute to the harm of it, not willing to risk it.

So stuck with the alternative it was, stuck pondering over the what ifs and the distant possibilities, wondering if he would be able to remember the feeling of your lips against his until the moment he died, wishing to forever recall your sweet whispers. He would come back to it as long as he could, as long as he could stand the guilt of exposing you to the exact same thing he would spend the rest of his life recovering from

They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but what about the scenarios that run rampant in his head as he looks back at you, the internal screaming of doubt as he closes the door behind him to return home, careful not to wake you as the lock clicked in place, because if he knew he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eyes if he had to see yours shimmer back at him. He would have to love without ever being able to lose, because you would always be in the back of his mind, receding with an infatuation that would be his undoing one of these days.

[abibliophobiaa]

My sweet babes I'm so sorry allergies are kicking your butt rn ! My dear Luna , Can I pls get a small little look into what our gourgous buttercup and Eddie are up to ??

from the daylight universe

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader

requests are open (general requests for any eddie/steve and scenario, not just daylight ones)!

——

You tried everything.

A choo-choo train. A helicopter. An airplane. And none, absolutely none of the aforementioned options, intrigued your six-month-old. In fact, most of his mushy peas ended up everywhere but his mouth. Coated his high hair tray, his bib, his cheek — even his curly head of hair.

Because every time you went to offer a spoon to your son, his head turned at the last second, whiny cries spilling from pouty lips framed by chubby cheeks. Instead he was too interested in everything happening over his shoulder to even attempt trying a new food for the week, where mere feet away his older sister was playing air guitar with your husband.

“Eddie,” you grumbled, stirring him from his little concert, drawing his attention your way, “help?”

“What? Benny Boy doesn’t like his peas?” Eddie mused, slipping into the adjoined kitchen to press a loud kiss to Benny’s cheek, earning a gummy smile and the cutest giggle. Baby boy was enamored with his dad. “Someone is a little messy.”

He gestured to all the encrusted peas on every surface area of baby Benny’s feeding area. You huffed out a grunt as Elena barreled into your lap, never wanting to miss out on the extra attention of her parent’s.

“He’s your son,” you laughed, pinching at the bridge of your nose as Eddie dragged over a chair in front of Ben, “he doesn’t like anything green.”

“Mommy is being silly, isn’t that right?”

“Mommy always siwwy,” Elena giggled, earning a little tickle from her father before he turned back to his baby and waved the spoon near Ben’s pursed lips.

Ben, knowing what his father intended, pushed his head as far back as he could into the cushion of his high chair. Pushed his face into the furthest corner, eliciting an elongated whine.

“Daddy, sing song,” Elena said brightly, leaning forward in the circle of your arms to grasp at her baby brother’s hand currently waving angrily in the air. “Benny, vegebles make you grow big!” And then she turned to you as Benny broke into a louder cry of anger, “Mommy, why is he yelling?!”

Your hand glided down her head, brushing away some messy curls, “He’s just a baby; he doesn’t know any better. You used to cry when I tried to feed you foods you didn’t like.”

“I did?”

“All the time, sweet girl,” Eddie said, holding up the spoon to his son one more time. “Aww, Ben, come on, buddy.” Eddie cleared his throat, muscle in his bicep shifting as he tried one more time to spoon feed the baby, singing quietly, “Come crawling faster.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled at the sound of his father’s voice, head turning to face him. You grunted out a laugh, because both of your children danced away while they were still on the inside whenever Eddie sang to them. Figured now he recognized it and stood at attention.

“Obey your master.”

“I can’t look at you right now,” you laughed, bouncing Elena on your knee.

“Your life burns faster,” Eddie sang, and Ben giggled, bright and joyful, mouth opening wide enough for Eddie to shovel a bite in.

The moment of truth came in the form of Ben staring at you both, brows furrowed, a little bit of extra peas spilling out from his closed lips. Baby boy’s mouth moved, worked over the contents of his palate, and both of you waited on bated breath to see if peas would be on the menu for the foreseeable future.

Your answer? Food splattering from puckered lips, the sound of his normal bubbles he’d make, paired with the force of his breath sending green sputtering into his father’s face. Eddie closed his eyes, your own laughter unable to be stifled as Benny bursted out into loud, rising giggles.

“Da-ddy,” Elena trilled, her own laughter like little bells in your ears.

Eddie jerked his head over his shoulder, a little glum, sticky with baby food, grimace on his lips. “Not a word from you, Buttercup.”

“Got a little something…” you teased, thumbing at his stubbly jawline, “right here.”

——

“I feel like I still have peas in my hair,” Eddie grumbled later that evening, when both children settled down for a nap.

“Baby food is like glitter.”

You laughed, walking across the bedroom as he rubbed a towel over his wet hair, chest bare, gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Fingers slipped up and over his torso, forging a path over his shoulders, before your arms draped around the back of his neck to hold him close.

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning up just the slightest to press a kiss to his lips, “I’m happy you’re home.”

It had been a long couple of months. He’d barely made it in time for the birth of Ben, your contractions starting while they were just getting on stage for a concert, ramping up much quicker than they did with Elena. By the time you were allowed to push, Chrissy was there to hold your hand, moving out of the way only when your husband rushed in, still sweaty from his show, hair a mess, cheeks reddened like he’d ran from the venue.

You’d tried to come along to as many local shows as possible, but doing so with a newborn at the time proved difficult. Eddie had missed a lot of those first six months, a fact he grieved every day because neither of you planned for your second child to come a few weeks earlier than anticipated. But now he was home, and you couldn’t be happier.

“Missed me?” he teased, voice a low rumble against the curve of your neck, lips seeking out the places he knew had you preening for him in seconds. “Thought about you all the time while I was gone. My best friend, my wife, the mother of my children.”

His fingers dragged up the edge of your silky shorts, toying with the hem of your panties, along the wet spot already forming there, dragging a slow circle along your clothed clit. “Thought about you like this too,” he practically purred, forehead dropping against yours as you gasped against his lips, “when did Steve and Chrissy say they’re taking the kids?”

“Five,” you huffed out an exasperated sigh, craving nearness to him too. He’d only gotten back the night before, had walked over to your bed and face planted into it after holding both your babies tight until they’d gone off to bed. “And then it’s just us. And…a teeny tiny gift I might have gotten you.”

“Are you pregnant again?” His eyes twinkled at the thought, and you shoved him jokingly at the mere notion, though you’d love one or two more in the future.

“I’m going to need at least another year before we think about that — but no, it’s…” You paused, grabbing his hand to lead him toward the garage. “Remember how we’d both said we always wanted a dog?”

“Baby…” He couldn’t help the excitement in his tone, the way his eyes softened and then widened when he saw the golden poof of hair hidden in a box, a giant red bow around his furry neck. “You got me a puppy?”

“Shhh,” you giggled brightly, insides melting as your husband reached down to pluck the puppy from its box, “I haven’t told the kids yet. I wanted to show you first.”

Said puppy wiggled in his new dad’s arms, pink tongue rolling across his chin, his cheeks, his nose, making your husband burst out in laughter at the influx of pure love.

“Welcome home, Eddie,” you said, folding against his chest and patting at the puppy’s head. “I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head as the puppy leaned over to lick your nose. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

——

[glitch-after-dark]

Ekidocksos i am in LOVE with your account!!!!!!

Just..Rodimus completely stuffed and bred with Drift & Ratchets sparklings from a drunken one night stand? He left before they woke up and dodges them for weeks on end not knowing they want so much more of him & his hot plush valve.

They get the drop on him when they find him rubbing his tanks & eating sweet energon mini cakes in his office.

They know right then he’s sparked & soon they have him bent over, stuffed with their spikes & trying to add a couple more for a clutch

I would have answered this sooner but I’ve been gardening so exhaustion prevented me from having the energy. I just found your account as well and SoundRod content is very exciting to see! I need to do more with them.

Anyway—this idea is brilliant. I love some Dratchrod angst+horniness+babies.

Just Rodimus hanging out with his best friend—they are officially Amica now, yeah drinks for everyone—celebrating the latest adventure on their Forever Adventure and well into giggling drunk that both Ratchet and Drift are as well. He’s been very cuddly grabby, draping himself over Drift—who is definitely over! He’s very supportive now—and instead of huffing Ratchet just tells him to shove over and when he’s moving too slow picks him up and sits under him making Rodimus half in Ratchet’s lap while still draped over Drift and Ratchet’s telling jokes and laughing at Rodimus and he’s lost track of whose hands are whose at some point. Then Dratchet kisses and Rodimus whines about not getting any so Drift kisses his cheek which Rodimus pouts and says isn’t the same so Ratchet huffs and grabs his chin to lay one on him that has him squirming especially when Drift is petting his spoiler and he’s panting when it breaks. Drift, of course, protests that Ratchet cheated and Drift was supposed to get the first move, making Ratchet laugh and before Rodimus can figure that out Drift is turning his head his direction and kissing him deeply. Rodimus is just a squirming mess not having to be moved and just moving back to the other with someone constantly petting him or grabbing his thighs or holding his waist until Swerve finally throws them out for “public indecency”.

Which gives Rodimus enough of a moment of fresh air to go oh wait what and start to think up an excuse to dip out only for the hands to come back and the three of them to stumble back to Dratchet’s room to resume the sandwich and kissing, which quickly escalates once they have Rodimus shoved in the bed between them. Rodimus catches bits of “wanted you here” and “thought we were going to take him to dinner first” teasing between the kissing and moving around each other and realizes what is going on. Drift and Ratchet are clearly wanting a threesome and intended to ask Rodimus who feels guilty how immediately into that he is for both of them and distracts himself by opening his own panel and mouth descending onto Ratchet’s hands to suck them in remembering how sensitive they are.

He is being passed back and forth between them and responding very eagerly, if a little clumsy which slowly peters out into more smooth movements when the overcharge fades through multiple overloads leaving him clear minded but unwilling to leave when Ratchet is holding his thighs thrusting up into him and Drift is petting him laying over his back, spike pressed against him waiting for his turn, telling him how pretty he looks taking his Conjunx’s spike and look how happy he’s making him and Ratchet is growling out and agreement that sends Rodimus toppling into  another overload that makes him bluescreen a bit only to wake to Ratchet kissing him sweetly, Rodimus sprawled out on his front, Drift slipping inside behind peppering kisses on his spoiler with Ratchet’s hands steadying Rodimus’s hips.

He's too tired to leave immediately when it finally finishes and they clean each other off, nuzzling and kissing, this time slow and sweet without the expectation of it leading to anything, and shove him in between to cuddle. He wakes up with Drift having shoved between him and Ratchet, wrapping around their arms and carefully manages to slip out painfully sober and aware of what he’s done and flees cold and horrified by how much it aches to leave them.

Rodimus is panicking because he thought—had lied to himself—he was over Drift and now not only is he wrong he’s developed a crush on Ratchet—reliable, stern, stubborn, kind, smart Ratchet—his Amica’s Conjunx. And he knows very well it is unrequited. Even if they are wanting to be adventurous and invite someone new to sleep with them, Rodimus is going to be devastated when they finally close their bed again.

One night he could laugh off as a drunken fun time, but he will not be able to disguise how clingy and emotional and needy he’ll be if they make it a frequent thing. That’s why Rodimus didn’t do multiple nights with people! He “misunderstands” and thinks more is going on than it actually is. He refused to inflict that on Dratchet.

He’d just gotten better at not shoving his way into Drift’s way and asking for things because Drift won’t tell him no! Ratchet finally tolerates him enough to not protest them being Amica—not that he’d said anything before but Rodimus knew he thought Drift could do better—which Rodimus agreed but was selfishly glad he hadn’t.

So he avoids them, helped by arranging the schedule and a few emergencies, always ready to offer an excuse even if it did make Drift look at him sadly and Ratchet look suspicious. And if he starts to feel weird afterwards, at first sick and tired, falling asleep in his office and achy, and then horny and starving and can’t stop eating sweets that’s his business. He has successfully managed to scrap their interactions down to the bare minimum which he will continue to do until he’s unrequited feelings fade, which would be a lot easier if they’d stop trying to corner him and Minimus and Megatron stopped judging him every time he made the schedule.

Rodimus’s sweet intake leads to his density increasing making him way more as protoform is building up and he doesn’t notice the difference, difference until he has the subtlest belly budging out just above his array. Ratchet finally pegs what is going on when he notices the anti-nausea, the glow, and the belly and way Rodimus’s hips are rounding out and chest is subtly swelling. He puts his foot down and he and Drift finally corner him by using privileges to be put on the graveyard shift with Rodimus.

Rodimus, who’d been getting gentle pep talks (Minimus) and just do it pep talks (Megatron), allows himself to be lead away. Accept apparently him carrying has gotten Ratchet and Drift very hot and bothered and instead of the conversation they are kissing him and pushing him over his desk to stuff him full and Rodimus is ready to go at a moment at this point, constantly horny, and is immediately distracted by this and also can’t get away and is sober enough to actually hear them saying they want him to stay and how thrilled they are to have a clutch and the phrasing is with the intention of a future together. After Drift, who has to be responsible because it turns out Ratchet’s breeding kink is making him thoroughly distracted pushing Rodimus against the nearest surface so he can cup his belly and fuck him, calls Megatron and Minimus to take over their shift.

Rodimus wakes up the next day to a grumbling Ratchet getting out of bed and kissing Drift goodbye and soothing him back to rest and then seeing Rodimus looking up at him sleepily kisses him and tells him to keep sleeping too. And Rodimus gets to, still not entirely sure what is going on, but the possessive grasp Drift makes on him when he rolls back over to sleep and Ratchet’s firm stay here with his own instincts finally relaxed and sleeping good from a night in between them helps.

They do eventually talk and work things out in between a lot of makeup sex and now Rodimus basically living it while getting bent over or crowded up against a wall to make sure he gets enough material to make their clutch. Drift is more slow and sweet about it taking his time and gentling Rodimus through it, savoring every moment, but Ratchet is rougher and very into the breeding aspect, prone to picking Rodimus up and shoving him against the wall or desk or bed (if they make it that far), and filling him up, fucking him until Rodimus’s is yowling, still carefully and hand always gently petting over Rodimus’s swelling tank. Ratchet is also the one who is now the most prone to spoiling Rodimus at the slightest pout. The carrier of the clutch deserves everything is Ratchet's stubborn response everytime he has a happy purring Rodimus pepper his face with kisses and Drift tease him about it.

Happy pregnant Dratchrod sex and babies for the win with Rodimus getting pampered.

[kybercrystals94]

Focus Up

Read here on Ao3!

Angspril 2024 | Day 15 | Prompt 15: Confrontation

Rated: G | Words: 816 | Summary: A training exercise doesn't end the way the siblings expected. | Character Focus: Omega, Hunter, Echo

Slight content warning...someone gets a bloody nose.

“Focus up, Omega!” Echo calls from the sidelines when Omega’s gaze drifts again to the sparkling white beach and frothing surf. 

Omega turns her head to look at Echo and misses Hunter’s quick sweeping motion that knocks her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling forward across the soft, silty ground. Pushing herself up, Omega spits out a mouthful of grit. “That isn’t fair,” she growls, “Echo distracted me.” 

“You distracted yourself,” Hunter chides gently. “Do you think your enemies will wait for you to be focused before they strike?” 

“No,” Omega huffs, rolling over into a sitting position. “But why do we have to train today? I’ve never been on a beach before, and Wrecker promised he’d show me how to build sandcastles.” 

Hunter smiles at her and holds out a hand. “There’ll be time for fun after training. C’mon, let’s go again.” 

Omega takes his hand and Hunter hauls her up to her feet.

“Get in position,” Hunter says.

Halfheartedly, Omega changes her stance. Hunter adjusts her left elbow and right shoulder, and lightly kicks the heel of her boot to make her bring her foot up. “Good. Now bend your knees a little more, keep your center of gravity low.” 

“Will my enemies wait for me to get into position?” Omega snarks irritably. 

Omega is slightly annoyed when Hunter chooses endless patience instead of reacting. “With enough practice, getting into position will be second nature.” 

Once her brother is satisfied with her posture, he stands in front of her, slipping into his own familiar placement. “Start!” 

Omega is a flurry of frustrated movement, going through the maneuvers she’s been taught while Hunter easily blocks each strike. With a surge of adrenaline, Omega decides to try something different, wanting to catch Hunter off guard. She goes for an uppercut, which Hunter starts to block; however, she aborts the movement just before making contact and dives for his knees. Hunter isn’t ready for the sudden attack, and is nearly toppled; however, he moves to recover his balance. As he disentangles himself from Omega’s grip, his knee comes up and catches her hard in the nose. 

Omega lets out an involuntary yelp of pain, her vision going black for a moment as her body registers the blow. Falling back, she cups her hands over her nose, already leaking blood. She isn’t crying, but tears run down her face and blur the image of Hunter kneeling in front of her. 

“Move your hands, let me see,” his voice is saying over the roaring in her ears. She gives a tiny shake of her head, but Hunter gets more insistent. “I need to check if it’s broken, Omega.”

 Gingerly, Omega lowers her hands, being careful not to touch them against her clothes. Not that it matters with blood dribbling down her chin and neck. 

Hunter inspects the damage, gently prodding the cartilage. “Doesn’t seem to be broken. That’s good. Here, lean forward a bit and pinch here.” He guides one of her hands up to do as he says. “Echo’s getting a cold pack.”

Omega groans, closing her eyes as tears continue to escape without her permission. “I’m not crying,” she tells him, her voice sounding funny with her nose plugged. 

“I know you’re not,” Hunter soothes, patting her shoulder. 

“That’s one way to get out of training for the day,” Echo’s voice says beside her. 

Something soft and chilled presses lightly against the bridge of her nose. Omega hisses in surprise. “I didn’t do this on purpose!” she protests weakly. 

“We know, kid,” Hunter says. “And good job. You almost got me there.”

Echo chuckles. “Getting an injury during training is like a right of passage.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Omega,” Hunter mumbles. 

Omega grins behind her hands, peeking one eye open to look at Hunter. “But I almost knocked you down? Really?” 

“You should’ve seen his face,” Echo says. “If I had taken a holo, we would’ve gotten a good laugh out of that for years to come. I guess we’ll just have to settle for describing it in great detail to Wrecker and Tech later.” 

Hunter frowns over Omega’s shoulder where Echo is situated. Omega giggles, the pain and tears of her injury nearly forgotten. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega adjusts Eva’s left elbow and right shoulder. She nudges Eva’s heel to prompt her to shift forward. “There,” Omega whispers. “Keep your knees bent. Good.” 

“This will help us to fight?” Eva whispers. 

Omega can’t train these children as her brothers trained her. She can’t teach them to throw a punch, or hold a blaster, or how to avoid detection. However, she can give them a foundation, as small as it might be. She can teach them to slip into position until it’s second nature, until her brothers find them and rescue them. 

Smiling grimly, Omega puts a reassuring hand on little Eva’s shoulder. “It’s a start.”

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 😱 This is the halfway mark??? YAY! Go team!! 15 more angsty prompts to go 😇

(Make sure to check out all of our stories this month for ultimate heartbreak!)

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[alecsalamander]

for @unloneliest, who wanted to learn more about wendy's daughter (and then of course for @agrabitches and @displayheartcode, who are always down for more witchhunters content)

edit: GOD i know you’re gonna be so mean that i didn’t include you @postsfromshayolghul the love of my life my raisin detra

enjoy a series of moments where lacey is absolutely cat's daughter instead

“Shut the fuck up,” Cat growls from the bed, voice sharper from the tubes and the medicine, and then from the pain when Wendy pinches the skin of his elbow. “Watch your language,” he warns, but his voice is the softness of defeat. His words like his hands retreat as soon as they emerge, as though he cannot bear to be touched right now, and without words or space to do so both Cat and the girl shift to allow him. She grins, pointed at the corners like a knife. Like Cat’s. “Yeah,” and whatever her smile is of Cat’s, the rest of her - smooth voice, soft eyes - is someone else entirely. “There’s a fucking kid here.”

“Will you do princess braids today?” At some point in his three hours of sleep a stuffed cat has been tucked beneath his arm, and there’s a nest of pillows at his feet that weren’t there before - Lacey is sitting on his legs, toes tapping against his stomach to wake him, and she’s already turned the volume of the cartoons to low. “Course I will.” He’d spent three weeks perfecting his technique through Youtube videos and a very accommodating mop, but had still been too scared he’d hurt her the first time he took a brush to her curls. “Did you paint my nails?” “Course I did,” she grins around a missing front tooth. Gold glitter, just like hers. Gold glitter, just like King Midas. She’s not his daughter but she may as well be, and he hesitates as he reaches for her with sparkling hands. (“Kaski san?” The question drips like honey from his grandmother’s lips; whose are you, she asks, which bloodline? “Mine,” he feels the growl long before he hears it, feels the way it scrapes at his chest like broken glass; Lacey squeezes her hand harder around his, presses harder against his legs. He can feel the butterfly beat of her heart through her ribs where she leans against his thigh. “She’s mine.”) In the moment of pause, he wonders if he’ll ever stop being terrified of turning her into someone like him - someone too busy ripping their very being to shreds to notice all the people they’ve caught with the back swing. “You’re such a brat,” he hides the shaking of his hands in the start of a six strand waterfall, and loses sight of his own edges in the gold of her hair. “Yeah,” she agrees, and turns up the volume on the show he hates most. “I get it from my dad. He’s sort of a brat, too.”

Cat looks at the barely seven year old in the back seat of his car that he’s lived and breathed for over three years now and tries to find the words to explain to either of them exactly how she’s not even a little bit his. That, more and more and more, he wishes that she even a little bit was. “So,” and he takes a breath to ground himself against the injustice of it all, to squeeze just a little bit of the frustration and desperation he feels out against the steering wheel so it doesn’t leak out in his voice. “When’s it gonna be?” She hiccoughs in that way that means she’s trying as hard as she possibly can not to cry, and she kicks the back of his seat. “When’s what gonna be?” “We’re making a new holiday,” he grins at her, feels the tightness in his chest loosen when she finally grins back. “Not-Father’s Day.” The thump thump thumps against the back of his seat take on a familiar, devastating rhythm. “Today,” she tells him seriously. “It’s today.”

“I taught you how to pick locks,” she doesn’t look up. He’d made enough noise in the kitchen to let her know he was home, but she doesn’t seem to care. “And this is what you’re doing?” Metal scrapes against metal like the slide of her lips, one against the other as she pops the final sound annoyingly. “Yep.” She’s fifteen now and too much like him for him to be able to sleep at night, too many of his angles and lines drawing complex battle plans between her and the world. All of his sharpness, but none of his anger. He leans against the open door frame of her bedroom and watches the rusting lock box open beneath her practiced fingers, revealing an unexpected treasure. It’s her diary from, well, from Before, and he doubts there’s anything in it beyond stickers and scribbles (but he’s been surprised before). “Why did you go through all that effort for a shitty notebook from second grade?” Sometimes he actually forgets whose child she is - she’s his, got his smirk and his stupid sense of humor and his fists up approach to life, but she’s not. She’s Wendy’s. When she stares at him like she does then, the same quietness in her jaw and question in her eyebrows, the reminder is like cold water down his spine. “Why did you teach a kid to pick locks?” He gets it. Because they can. “Because I teach you to get into trouble,” and he grins away horror of all the trouble she could get into, if she’s even anything like him, “and your dad teaches you to get out of it. It’s in the custody agreement.” Teal nails tickle his skin as she pats his cheek. “There is no custody agreement,” she reminds him gently. Carefully, with softness in her face and steel in her eyes. There is no custody, but there is agreement; she’s so much like him that it terrifies him who she might be if he couldn’t be around. “You guys aren’t even divorced.” We aren’t even married, he thinks his response should be, but it terrifies him even more to acknowledge the borrowed place in her orbit he occupies. Sometimes he feels so much at home that he forgets his entire life is on loan, accrued on a price he can never pay; sometimes, he thinks the reminder that they’re no longer forced to keep him might be how he loses them both.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Can I get setting prompt 29 for Finny or Snake please?

absolutely! I went with Finny bcus sunshine baby excited about flowers <3

↪ 𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

The greenhouse on your property is something you’re very passionate about.

It really is the envy of many other households; while your estate itself is nothing overly grand, your garden and greenhouse are what you’re known for. You can definitely thank your gardener for that, but to say you don’t spend a lot of your time here tending to it as well would be a lie.

While your brother talks business with Ciel Phantomhive, you’ve been able to slip away to the garden. The greenhouse in particular is where you feel happiest and most at peace, lying on the ground among the bushes and potted plants. It’s quite warm inside, so (much to your brother’s and the gardener’s exasperation) you often end up taking a lovely midday nap there on the dirt amid the flowers.

You’re there right now, although you haven’t fallen asleep quite yet. You’re simply relaxing, soaking up the sun and breathing in the exquisite mix of fragrances the flowers give off.

Sometimes you feel a bit trapped in the manor, having not found the talent for business that your brother has, and with no other hobbies. You think you’d be rather more content to just stay out here and garden. Who cares if you get your clothes and hands dirty? If it makes you happy, then why not do it?

The sound of the glass door opening jolts you gently out of your lazy daydreaming. You push yourself up, though you’re mostly hidden by the plants to whoever’s come in.

However, you can see him. It’s a young man with short blonde hair, tucked back with hair clips in a few places. He’s got a wide-brimmed hat strung about his neck, dressed in very casual, revealing clothes, and… those eyes. They’re bright teal and sparkling as he looks around the greenhouse.

“Incredible!” he breathes, almost a whisper of disbelief. He takes a step forward, only for his focus to be pulled in every direction all at once. “Stargazer lilies… Lenten roses… gladiolus… chrysanthemums… daffodils… look at them all…!”

Oh, this sweet thing! He’s named every flower he’s looked at perfectly. You can’t remember the last time a person got one of these right, unless they were looking at a common rose or tulip. Most people aren’t half as interested in plants as you are.

He’s a visitor, isn’t he? Maybe he’s with Lord Phantomhive. Even if he’s some kind of intruder, he’s the most pleasant one you’ve ever heard of. The idea of a burglar who breaks into a house just to fawn over someone’s plants makes you giggle.

“There are more over here!” you call. You lift a hand up to wave at him. “We have some gorgeous sunflowers just starting to bloom.”

The boy lets out a squeak, instantly turning toward you with those big doe eyes staring in shock at you. He does step toward you, although his face is starting to turn pink. “O-oh, goodness… I’m so sorry! Lord (Surname) said there was no one in here if I wanted to look around…”

You get to your feet and smile at your guest. “He’s my brother. He probably thought I was in the main garden instead of the greenhouse. I’m (Name), and it’s nice to meet you. If it weren’t a stupid question, judging by the way you rattled off all those flower names, I’d ask if you liked plants. So instead I’ll just say… I’m impressed that you knew them all!”

“O-oh… oh, (Lord/Lady) Name!!” He’s quick to offer a bow, and clutches his hands against his chest when he straightens back up. “I’m sorry! My name’s Finnian, but you can call me FINNY if you like. And… and thank you! I’m… Lord Phantomhive’s gardener. This place is amazin’… your own gardener must be a real dab hand!”

“Of course, she’s great. I spent a lot of time out here myself, though, so… I like to help where I can. This isn’t all my doing, but I love being out with the flowers.” You won’t pretend that your own face isn’t a bit red by this point too.

After all, you haven’t met anyone who likes plants the way you do. You’re actually not even sure the gardener is nearly as passionate as you are. “Actually… I spend a lot of my time out here. It’s a treat to find someone else who’d sleep in a garden if they could,” you laugh.

“Would if I could, certainly!” He beams at you, and though he’s still blushing, he’s refreshingly unabashed about showing his excitement. When was the last time you saw someone smile so big? You’re only too happy to turn yourself toward him, like you’re a flower and his smile is a ray of sunshine. “The best part of my day is realizin’ I’ve been workin’ in the garden so much I got dirt under my fingernails that ain’t scrubbin’ away.”

Just like that, his blush deepens, turning red all the way down to his neck. “Ahah, oh, gosh, no… th-that makes me sound like I ain’t clean or somethin’, though… I just mean…”

You shake your head. “No, I understand! I wish I could just roll around in the garden and get my clothes as covered in dirt and grass as possible without someone scolding me. You’re not alone in the feeling.”

After a few seconds of thought, you hold your hand toward him. “Would you… like a little tour of the greenhouse? I could show you the garden, too, if you like.”

He blinks owlishly at you, as if you’ve just offered him something he never knew he wanted but now he can’t live without. “That… that would be alright?”

“Would I have offered if it wasn’t?” you tease, and quickly take his hand before he has a chance to overthink it. “Why don’t I show you those sunflowers first?”

“O-oh… yeah…” Almost in a daze, he just nods, letting you guide him. “Please. Lead the way.”

Oh, you intend to.

[hitman-two]

Bouquet of Flowers (Grace x Doc)

|| Rushed drabble of a fluffy domestic interaction between our fave ship! Up to you whether you see it as them in a relationship, or them as roommate-friendship but definitely on the cusp of figuring out their feelings. Grace glanced up to see Doc walking in with a bouquet of flowers. Her blue eyes immediately snapped to the colour display of petals and her brows raised as she glanced back over at him. "Why are you holding flowers? You look ridiculous." "You know...most women fawn over a man who gifts them flowers." "Fawn? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a deer-" "Oh I'm well aware." "- And if I wanted flowers, I'd go out and buy myself some." "What do you have against flowers?" "They wilt and die? It's a waste of money, Timothy." "Guess I'll go get my money back then..." Their conversation had been light and there was no dig at one another whatsoever. To others on the outside, it may seem like Grace was being ungrateful but Doc knew Grace. He knew she wasn't allowing herself to be soft. He'd stand his ground and argue with her until he won. Just as predicted, Grace was quick to stand up and snatch the bouquet of colorful flowers of his hand before he could turn around and leave.

"The hell you will."

Doc held back the smug smile but his blue eyes sparkled with that knowing look, watching as Grace sighed softly as her own eyes glanced over the flowers once more. Holding the flowers close to her, she leaned up a little and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "It looks like a fairy threw up." Doc chuckled, half-expecting a 'thank you' and a softer reaction instead of the typical Grace comment. He followed her into the kitchen as she located a glass pitcher for a makeshift vase, undid the bouquet packaging, and situated the flowers in the pitcher. When she finished making sure all the stems were in the water (that's as much flower-arranging as you're going to get from her), Doc came up beside her, placing his right hand down on the benchtop to steady himself, his left shoulder nudging hers. Unlike before, his voice was much lower, "You're allowed to be soft, Grace. It doesn't make you weak." Her hands stilled when he called her out, and she kept her gaze on the fairy atrocity, hands lowering to the benchtop and fingers loosely curling into her palm. "...I know." The two were quiet for a moment. Neither moving from their positions. But, as always, there was nothing uncomfortable about it. Eventually, Doc broke the silence, "Happy Valentine's Day, Grace." Her blue eyes finally met his and she smiled softly. "Happy Valentines Day, Tim." Turning her body to face him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He was quick to place a kiss on her forehead before wrapping his own arms around her and resting his cheek on head. Both content in the embrace.

They don't need much in their relationship. But what they have, their content with.

"Thank you." came the softer reply Tim was expecting. His own lips turning into a soft smile that Grace couldn't see. But she felt it through the way he tightened his arms around her.

|| If you'd like me to tag you in Doc x Grace stuff, let me know! I thought I'd post this now in case I don't get a chance to revisit it with a proper one-shot drabble before Valentines.

Also if you see this as roommates-friendship... think of it as Grace recently having broken up with someone she was seeing. Did Doc do this to cheer her up? or because he doesn't realise he has feelings for her? Or both? You decide.

[yoonsdoll]

a love worth waiting for - chs

content : bsf!vernon x f!reader ; a lil angsty but fluff & happy ending ; 1.5k words warnings : vernon curses like 2ce lol - you are the most important person to vernon, but is it requited? an : i keep going on random writing hiatuses for no reason even tho i have so many ideas idek someone sos!!

vernon has loved you ever since he met you. as cheesy as it sounds, its something he cant deny whenever his friends ask him about, something he rants for hours about to his sister, something he finds himself thinking about more often than not. 

he remembers it like it was yesterday, even if its been years. it was an unusual meeting; seeing a pretty girl on a walk in the middle of summer would usually be normal, if only he didn't trip on a rock and land awkwardly conveniently on your path… and then make a comment on how his sister has the same shoes as you as if you’d care.

but you did. you made sure he was okay and laughed at his comment, then blabbered something about how your boyfriend has a similar hat to him. and, oh. he should've seen that coming.

of course he should have. such a put together, sweet girl would obviously have lines of guys lining up at her feet (or falling, in hansols case). but that didn’t matter - you only just met, you’d probably become friends if he asked for your number, that would be enough for him.

and for the first few months it was enough. you hit it off great, messaging each other often and even hanging out occasionally… well, when your jackass boyfriend let you. he hated your boyfriend - no, despised him. it wasn't even a case of jealousy; more of a genuine worry, at least for a while. he made it vocal on how he doesn’t like how your boyfriend controlled your life, but obviously supported your choices anyway. who wouldn't? you became his best friend, he would do anything to see you happy.

behind the worry he presented, vernon was stuck.

“i don't get it, why would she be with him if he's so.. controlling and mean?” everyday he called his friends.

“she literally looks unhappy, i feel bad and.. i dunno, angry... is that stupid?” everyday he talked about it, about how he wants to help you and, well, about you. “shes so… nice and pretty and forgiving. dude, he really doesn’t deserve her.”

until one day, “i could treat her better.”

he accepted it. he knew it wasn’t fair, for him or for you. everything leading up to that moment that he did, he thought it was simply sympathy. he put on this friendly act to not hurt your feelings, but maybe it was to not hurt his own. you wore your heart on your sleeve. it was obvious you were in love with your boyfriend, not him. and no matter what he did, that wouldn’t change.

soon you noticed the same things that vernon begged you to see in your boyfriend for a very long time. the gaslighting, restrictiveness, the bored attitude, and when you drifted apart it was only a waiting game till you broke it off.

vernon was surprised that the way his eyes sparkled when you came to cry to him didn’t give him away. truthfully, he couldn’t care less about the way it all went down or what he told you while you broke up with him. what mattered was that you were out of the situation you were blinded in. 

“he was a fucking dick,” no brainer, “its unfair - y'know, someone you love being out of reach.” those words sounded awfully familiar.

actually, maybe to him what mattered more is that he finally could reach you.

“i still love him,” you mumbled between your tears as vernon cooed at you.

he should've seen that coming too, and he couldn’t blame you at all - ever. but why did it sting so much more than the first time?

when he searched for your laugh after making a joke, you were laughing out of pity. when he comforted you, you weren’t thinking about him and how he was always there for you, instead you were thinking about yourself. when home to him was wherever you were, home to you was wherever your ex boyfriend was.

you just lost someone so dear to you and he was being so selfish. 

you two breaking up should've been the greatest thing he has heard in months, but instead he suddenly couldn’t help but feel like there was a bigger wall between you both than ever. 

of course, you never had feelings for him in the first place. vernon knew that. but something in him always held onto the possibility of you ending up together. not anymore, not after those four words left your mouth. he felt stupid for ever even having hope.

he paused to think before he spoke - something he rarely ever did when he was with you. “i know you do.” shaking his head gently, he added, “your heart just got broken, its a fresh wound, of course you still love him.” did everything he say have to apply to him too? it was almost humiliating in a way.

“its embarrassing… im the one who broke it off, i shouldn’t like him.” right, you felt it too.

at the end of the day, no matter who he was to you, you recognised him as someone you could trust. you spoke your thoughts freely, you were always by his side, you were his best friend; thats something vernon failed to see. he understood now to expect nothing but appreciate everything. because after all, being your friend would always be enough for him.

vernon promised himself he wouldn’t do or say anything stupid for your sake. he knew breakups are tough, and he knew that feelings don’t change in a day. he loved you, so he never would blame you for anything negative you made him feel. he wouldn’t blame you because you didn’t know.

or so he thought.

because months later when you arrived at his door looking more nervous than usual with a small smile on your face, vernon couldn’t be more confused.

“its almost 11pm.. what’re you doing here…?”

you let yourself in, setting your shoes aside and placing your coat on the hanger before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the couch to sit down.

“is it true?” 

“...is what true?”

“is it true that you have feelings for me?”

was that a trick question? “i mean..” he cleared his throat with a harsh cough, leaving the room silent for a few moments that felt like hours. “is that really what you’re doing at my house at 11 in the evening?”

“stop it. stop avoiding the question. just answer me.” 

“where’d you even get that idea from? dude i mean, you’re my best friend so if you’re asking -”

“you know what im asking..” your hands felt clammy, suddenly regretting knocking on the door after debating if you should for a solid 5 minutes. “i’m.. not mad or anything.” you added.

this was the million dollar question. he felt scared. “ha..” he couldn’t help but scoff to himself, “yeah.” though his tone tried being confident, the lack of eye contact and leg jittering was enough to see how nervous he truly was.

“im… so sorry,” you stared at him with your nose slightly scrunched - a detail he noticed whenever you were upset. “what? sorry? pfft.. theres nothing to be sorry for.” you figured he’d say that.

“im sorry for not noticing it earlier. i feel like an idiot.”

“no.. i feel like the idiot.” he quickly butted in, trying to take the blame, “you shouldn’t have to ‘notice’ anything. i should have told you ages ago so we could get past… whatever this is. i was just being a pussy and i -”

you admired his dedication to try explain but decided to stop him. “no vernon, im sorry for making you wait.” 

making him wait? “what are you even talking about? you didn’t do anything i swear…”

“maybe you really are the idiot..” you suddenly smiled a little wider, catching him off guard, “i meant i'm sorry for not noticing my feelings.. for you.. earlier.”

if he was confused before, he was now completely dumbfounded. the frown on his face wiped into a completely new expression. one of certain shock and hope, but with an equal amount of doubt. 

“agh..” you groaned in fake annoyance, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “i’m telling you that i like you too.”

oh. for once, he didn’t see that coming.

“are you serious?” he mumbled out, struggling to process the consumed information, a million things going through his mind.

“no im lying.” you tilted your head, “obviously im serious, why else would i be here?”

“you’re right.. i don’t know why i said that.” he nodded, a smile forming on his own face, “im just… at a loss of words dude.”

he let go of a breath he didn’t notice he was holding, sighing from relief as he looked at you. no more words were exchanged before he moved closer to hug you. a hug of love, ease and joy.

“so.. can i be your boyfriend?” he whispered in a happier tone than before, the previous fear moulded into delight.

“yeah. i’d like that a lot.”

[cecilebutcher]

New Years OC Interaction Event!

Here's a question from Lance to Najih

"Hey, um, Hi, I'm Lance. Could you be my partner for this poison project that Professor Crewel gave us? Though I should warn you... despite me being in Pomefiore... poisons aren't my strong suit. So please, I just need someone who won't tell anyone from my dorm how bad I am at this!"

I'm guessing people wouldn't really know that Najih is good at making poisons?

Thank you for the ask Axvie<3 and Lance seems like such a cutie I love him! And to answer your question yes, people don’t know that he’s good at potion making.

!!Likes do nothing, Reblog instead!!

Warning⚠️:

For: @axvwriter

“Hmm?” Najih turned around to find a brunet wearing a pomfiore uniform under his lab coat “sure, why not” he said as he placed his own coat on “just, don’t get in my way” Lance nodded and the two of them went to their cauldron. After a bit of Crewel talking he finally told them which potion they were going to make that day. A potion of attention, something a lot of the students need for class.

“Alright Lance, read off the ingredients” Najih said in his usual monotone voice as he made sure the water was the right temperature. “Oh uh” the brunet flipped to the page needed and started reading “an eye and ear of a dead hare, a mirror that has been ground to powder, a sprig of mint, and a bunch of violets” as he read the ingredients Najih placed each one in the pot “then stir clockwise slowly for, 10 minutes” Najih gave a small nod and started stirring it.

After the ten minutes have passed the stirring stopped. Lance looked inside the pot to see that the once crystal clear water was now a light shade of beige with some sparkle to it. “Now what?” He jumped at the others voice before giving a small ‘sorry’ and reading what the book said next “turn the heat off and leave to cool for 5 minutes, then put in bottle and enjoy” Najih gave a small ‘thanks’ before doing just that.

While the two were waiting in, what Lance considered awkward, silence Crewek decided to check up on them. “A perfect color just as I expected from you Mr.Amin” he said to the red head as he observed the color of the liquid “and I have to say Mr. Potsnuis, partnering with Mr.Amin was quite the smart move, looks like the both of you will be getting an A+ on this assignment” he smiled and left.

Lance let out a small sigh of relief at the reassurance, worry at failing the assignment leaving his body. He turned to Najih, who was pouring some of the potion into bottles “thanks” Najih glanced at him with a raised brow “for?” “Helping me pass, I probably would’ve failed if it weren’t for you” he laughed out. Najih gave a small hum before going back to bottling the liquid.

“If you need help again ask, you’re less annoying then the others” Lance beamed at this and nodded his head. He had a feeling that him and Najih would be lab partners from now on.

!!New years event. Ends January 31!!

comments are more than appreciated. but reblogs help the content reach more people so please reblog if you want to like<3 likes do nothing. Seriously, don’t like, reblog.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me A River - Chapter 7 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"Life is the art of drawing without an eraser."

The Unfolding

A wave of spices, fresh meats and exotic fruits filled my senses as I was carried into a majestic room that I could only imagine being the dining area.

It was beautiful.

The floors a clean, white marble.

The walls were covered in intricate designs that seemed to portray different dishes from around the world.

A gigantic sparkling chandelier hung elegantly in the center of the room, placed right above a long wooden table that seemed to be able to house a whole army of knights.

"My mother designed the entire palace."

Alastair's eyes softened.

"She must have been very talented," I said softly with a small smile.

"That she was."

He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

Perhaps reminiscing the past.

'Was'.

He spoke of her as if she was no longer.

Perhaps she was no longer among the living.

I guess that was one thing we share in common.

'I wonder how old he was when she passed.'

"Your Majesty, is there something you need? Supper is not to be prepared until seven," a short, piggish-looking man asked.

He quite reminded me of my father, with his bear-belly and pig-like persona.

Except instead of a five o'clock shadow this man had a thick, curled mustache.

"My love is hungry," Alastair stated, as if that answered all of Curly's questions.

Curly squinted as if that would solve whatever inner dilemma he was facing.

"Very well," he said, turning towards me.

"And what would you like to eat?"

A growl rumbled from Alastair's throat.

"You will address my mate as Your Majesty not you, as if he's on equal standing to you, mongrel."

Curly's eyes widened.

"I-I apologize, Your Majesty, I h-had not realized he was your mate."

'Was he implying that Alastair walking around with someone in his arms was a normal occurrence?'

I whimpered at the thought of another in his arms.

Someone else had felt the warmth of his toned arms encased around them.

Someone else had felt his soft lips on their skin.

I felt as tears began to well in my eyes as vivid pictures of others before me plagued my mind.

"Love, what's the matter?"

'No. No. No. No.'

'Why? Why hadn't he waited?'

'Why had he been with another?'

'Had he not wanted me?'

'Does he still not want me?'

"Love, why are you crying?"

I felt a soft warmth against my skin as he wiped at the wetness beneath my eyes.

Someone else had felt that soft warmth.

"Love..."

I pushed forward, forcing myself from his heat as I ran.

To where? I wasn't aware.

All I knew is that I wanted to be far.

Far from the one I loved more than the air I breathed.

A hard collision interrupted my thoughts.

I felt a set of large hands landed on my shoulders to steady me from face planting into the floor.

"Whoa, careful there..." his hazel eyes widened as he soaked in my drenched face.

"Hey, what happened cutie?" he said softly, his face looks just like...

"River."

I spun my head and saw Alastair running in my direction, his face masked one of complete alarm and worry.

I hid behind the tall stranger before Alastair could reach me.

"Brother," Alastair greeted the tall man as he went to reach for me.

The man grabbed Alastair's hand before he could reach me.

"Uh uh uh, brother, I'm not going to hand this beauty to you. Especially not after seeing him run in terror from you. What did you do this time? You know I always told you to treat your lovers better."

I shuddered at the mention of his previous lovers.

Alastair's eyes widened at my reaction and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"That's why you ran from me..."

He went to reach for me again but his brother stood in his way.

Keeping me securely behind his tall, muscular frame.

"What have you done this time, brother?"

This time his brother sounded upset.

"I understood with the others. Some where quite annoying, bratty, demanding little things. But this one doesn't seem like the usual. He gives off a pure, innocent persona, someone who definitely doesn't deserve to be played around by you."

Alastair's eyes widened at his brothers harsh words.

"This is my mate, brother, I would never play with him," he said it as if the thought of doing so was disgusting.

"Your mate?" he turned towards me then back at my brother.

"Why is your mate running from you?"

Alastair's eyes filled with guilt.

"Aaah, your past conquests finally caught up to you, huh?" his brother scoffed.

Alastair's eyes filled with remorse as he tried to look at me from behind the sanctuary of his brother's back.

"Love?"

My eyes filled to the brim with tears as I turned away from him.

"Please, love, please look at me," his voice cracked.

I't hurt. It hurt to hear him in pain.'

I peeked my head out, slightly, to look at him.

I regretted it as soon as I saw his face.

He looked so sad, so broken.

"I'm so sorry, beautiful, can we please talk about this?"

He looked at his brother.

"In privacy."

'Should I? Would hearing him out make the pain lessen?'

"I think you should at least hear what he has to say, cutie," his brother whispered to me from over his shoulder, slightly crouching down.

He really looked so much like his brother.

They both had the same hazel eyes and black hair with defined cheekbones.

Except Alastair's brother was a bit more muscular and a few inches taller.

I nodded my head.

'It can't hurt right?'

I turned towards Alastair and nodded.

He smiled a small, pained smile before reaching his hand out to me.

I didn't take it.

It hurt too much, knowing who else he must have touched with that hand.

He nodded in understanding, the pain blatant in his eyes.

It hurt.

I followed him in tense silence as he led me back to his room.

My thoughts wandered as I trailed behind him, most of it bad.

Images that made me want to lock myself in a closet for all eternity and cry my eyes out till there were no more tears to shed.

The locking of the door interrupted me from my horrible images as he signaled me towards a cushioned chair beside his bed.

I sat, curling into myself as if holding myself together, which was exactly was I was doing.

Holding myself together.

"I don't have an excuse."

I looked up at him.

"It would be immature and prideful of me if I was to claim what I did was excusable or okay. It wasn't."

"W-why?" my voice cracked.

"I didn't care."

His eyes filled with remorse as he crouched down till I was looking down at him.

"I was stupid. I was trying to be rebellious against my father, against society. I was so angry, so full of hatred towards everyone for being unable to save my mother. I thought I was getting back at them by doing everything that went against them. They told me to be kind, I was cruel. They told me to be humble, I was prideful. They told me to be faithful."

He looked up at me.

"I was... not."

I looked down, feeling the tears begin to well again.

'At least he's being truthful.'

"I'm so sorry," his voice cracked.

I looked up and saw as a tear glided down his cheek.

'He's crying.'

I couldn't stop myself as I launched myself from the chair and into his arms.

I straddled his waist as he cried into my shoulder, arms wrapped around me like I was his lifeline.

'Maybe I am.'

I was silent the entire time, not knowing what to do.

In all the situations I've been in I was usually the one crying, not the other way around.

I softly rubbed his back and laid small butterfly kisses on his neck as he whimpered against my neck.

"I-I'm so sorry, beautiful," he choked.

I didn't answer, as I didn't know what to say.

I couldn't saying 'it's okay' because it wasn't and I couldn't say 'I forgive you' because I hadn't quite reached that point yet.

So instead, I just placed a soft kiss on his neck before pulling away.

A sign of not forgiveness but acceptance.

He looked so broken as he peered into my eyes.

"I'll never touch anyone again, no one but you. I won't even look at anyone else again. If that's what it'll take for you to forgive me," his voice getting desperate.

"No."

I peered up at him through my wet lashes.

"I'm not going to keep you from looking at others. That wouldn't solve anything," I sniffled,

"But just promise me something?"

"Anything," he immediately answered.

"Promise me, if you were to ever bore of me..."

I put a finger on his lip when his mouth opened to interrupt me.

"Promise me, you'd kill me before being with anyone else."

His eyes widened in horror.

"I-I couldn't bare to see you with another."

I felt as a tear cascaded down my face as I released my finger from his soft lips and covered my face as tears began to pour again.

Strong, warm hands covered mine and pulled my hands from my face.

"H-how can you say that?" he demanded.

"How can you think after everything I just told you, after I cried in apology for my disgusting acts that I would then seek another?"

[lunaetis]

@ravntm asked :

"Is there anything else you want to do for your birthday today, Leelee?" Despite his presence to be with her on this special, the raven felt he could do more for her, aside from cake and all. "Name anything, and I'll gladly do it."

happy birthday lenalee ! ( 02.20.23 ) || always accepting

─「リナリー」─  it was a MIRACLE enough for the exorcist to be able to celebrate her birthday with someone she loves instead of being out on a mission. amethyst hues sparkled in absolute delight when she was granted a permission to leave THE ORDER for the day ( despite a complaint and grumbling of her older brother who wanted her all to himself for the day, to which she promised she would be back to spend it with him later. )

                " kioshi-san ... you've already given me the best gift of all, you know that, right ? " sometimes, she wondered if she had said it enough how his presence was more than enough for her to go on fighting day after day. if he realized at all what kind of miracle he was just to be that beacon of light and reason for her to fight and survive in the endless war.

                while the cake he surprised her with was WONDERFUL, how her hands came to take his own and brought them to her lips spoke how much she was yearning for a simple day like this, or something casual and domestic. when you had to risk your life every single day, she was looking forward to a peaceful time away from the harsh reality outside.

                a tender kiss to his knuckle before she lifted her head, and her expression mellowed in a genuine content smile.

                " the only thing i'd want ... is for you to stay with me, just a little longer. you are all i wanted, kioshi-san. thank you for being with me. "

[souredvalentine]

stop giving me boring sparkling only exists for herb twink content

give me nonchalant sparkling give me sparkling whos seen the most insane shit known to man and keeps his bar open give me sparkling secretly changing his customers orders if he thinks they have bad taste give me sparkling keeping his bar open during extreme weather warnings on the off chance somebody needs a drink GIVE ME SPARKLING WHO IS HIS OWN CHARACTER OUTSIDE OF BEING A PARTNER FOR HERB

[navybrat817]

I would love pizza with Roommate!Bucky! To me, would celebrate my first week of backing to college after almost a year without going. My life was a mess and backing is a amazing feeling 😍 - 🍕

I'm glad it's such a good feeling, nonnie! That makes me so happy.

And pizza with roommate!Bucky would be such a treat. What about after the two of you have already started dating?

Pizza and a Movie

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You never make it through a movie with Bucky. Word Count: Over 720 Warnings: Brief sexual content, cockwarming, established relationship, teasing, mechanic roommate!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: We've discussed them a bit on my blog, so let's have some fun with our mechanic roommie and you, AKA Stud and Smartie. Not beta read and written on my own, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @its-just-may. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

“Open up, Smartie. Need to make sure you’re well fed,” Bucky smirked as you tried not to squirm in his lap.

You whined, but obediently opened your mouth as he fed you a bite of the warm pizza. I’d rather be choking on his cock, but I’ll settle for this. Homemade, as always, for your movie nights and they were always delicious. And your favorite because that’s the kind of person you had the luck of living with and falling for. “There, Stud,” you said once you swallowed. “Now can you please-”

“Nope. You’re not done. Eat the whole slice. We’re missing the movie because of you,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with affection.

You made a sound of frustration as you ate some more. Stretched out on his long, thick cock, you fought the urge to toss the slice across the room and ride him until his eyes rolled back. But you knew he’d ruin you before the night was through, so could you really complain? Yes, I can. I can't just sit on his cock and not do something about it.

“If you wanted to watch the movie, why did you get rid of my clothes?” you questioned. He didn’t make it through the opening credits before reaching into your panties. At least he licked his fingers clean before he started feeding me.

“Why did you bother putting any on?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

You did squirm this time, the movement making him bite his lip. “Because you love taking them off. Or ripping them. And… WHY am I defending myself? I can’t even see the movie!”

“I said you could face the tv, but you refused,” he pointed out, jerking his hips up just enough to draw a moan out of you. “And you know you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, but if you’d rather warm me up with that hole instead, I’m happy to fill it.”

If any other guy said that, you’d smack him. Bucky was the exception because he was a good man. It was nice to be with someone you could actually talk to and connect with. Not to mention, he was determined to completely wreck your pussy every chance he had.

It’s a good problem to have.

“You never watch the movie anyway,” you argued, whimpering when he brought his lips to your neck. To be fair, since the two of you started sleeping together, you didn’t watch them either. How does he find that spot every single time? Just like his cock inside me, hitting me right where-

“You’re much more entertaining,” he whispered, lightly biting over your racing pulse, before he leaned back. He still had the damn pizza in his hand. “So, if you think about it, it’s your fault I never get through the films.”

“My fault? How is it my fault?” you asked, his metal hand teasing your breasts as he fed you yet another bite. Your nipples were hard just being close to him, but the extra touch made your pussy tighten in an iron grip. I’m never going to be able to look at pizza again without getting wet. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“Your fault,” he smiled as he leaned his head back, his brown hair surrounding him like an angel. No, he’s a fucking devil. “Prancing around with your gorgeous body. Teasing me.” You sputtered, concern flashing in his eyes when it took you a moment to finish the bite. “I’m fine,” you assured him. And that was one of the many things you adored about him. He would never do anything to hurt you. “Back to the teasing thing. Mister ‘I don’t wear a shirt 99% of the time’ is accusing ME of prancing around?”

“You wore my shirt today. So, yeah… you teased me," he said, pressing his lips to yours before you could protest. It ended far too soon, a triumphant look crossing his handsome face as you tried to kiss him again. "And that’s why I’m not fucking you until after we finish this pizza.”

“...The WHOLE pizza?” you asked slowly.

Is he fucking kidding?

“Yep. The WHOLE pizza,” he declared, winking as he reached for another piece. “Now, sit still. We’re going to make a mess all over this couch later and we don’t need pizza sauce stains on top of that.”

***** Love and thanks!