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#just the sheer amount of talent
starstaiined · 9 months
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you know those plaques that some zoos have for penguins? where it's like the "star penguin/naughty penguin" and then the reason for the rankings?
yea the yellowjackets have that in the locker room pre crash
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pridepoisoned · 1 year
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👍 - Something you like about the Pokémon RPC?
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[What I love most about this RPC--the only one I've ever known--is just the sheer amount of variety and representation across everyone's muses! I think I can comfortably say that every generation is accounted for and proudly repped by at least somebody in the RPC--from Kanto to Orre to Hisui to Paldea--I love how willing people are to pick up characters (or design their own wonderful OCs) in every region and make them their own within the wider Pokemon world.
Traditionally, I feel like GameFreak has never been one for intense character development across their Pokemon titles, but I think that's good here. As a result, I have seen so many different interpretations, worldbuilding ideas, and headcanon deep dives for characters and environments that routinely blow my mind in the best way possible. (For example, nowhere else do I feel comfortable writing a small novel on the inner workings of Team Galactic, or taking Jup on her Eris Evans route!!) GF provides the framework, and everyone in the RPC just takes it in different, fantastic directions. You all are so wonderfully creative, and I know that the collective eagerness to write different interpretations, minor characters, and OCs will never fade from this space.
In the end, I suppose I can narrow it down further to me just treasuring the sense of passion that I've always felt here! It's GREAT!!]
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jrrtolkiennerd · 1 year
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Galadriel deciding to gift her hair to Gimli was really to just ensure that Fëanor got severly burned in the afterlife as well as in death.  
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noelleeee · 1 year
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when you see art that makes your dopamine receptors go
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL. IT IS TIME TO DRAW, HUMAN
that's impressive cause I have adhd and my dopamine definitely doesn't work right
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feyascorner · 2 months
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Astarion would never admit it, but the charming lines he uses as a constant attempt to seduce you are not all his own.
He’s talented, he knows, at coming up with the heart skipping lines, describing in detail the massive amount of so-called ‘adoration’ he says he can give. He knows how to flirt, and he knows even better that despite the way you roll your eyes, he’s starting to wedge his way into your heart.
But sooner or later, ideas come to an end. And he’s starting to think you’re incapable of falling in love if he’s used all his lines and you still haven’t approached him. Perhaps you just don’t do romance. But hope wavers. Why he’s so adamant on wrapping you of all companions around his finger, he doesn’t know. He knows you’re the most difficult to seduce, yet he can’t help himself.
You’re almost like a drug to him.
So, unable to quit, he turns to his books. They’re sappy romances, and many of the lines even manage to make him scrunch his nose, scoffing at the sheer disbelief of how unrealistic some of the scenarios are. But hours upon hours later, he picks out some of the most upfront lines, because he’s sure you’ll just ignore him otherwise.
He knows you have little interest in romance, but he wants to entice you. He wants to be good enough for you to look at him.
“I must confess that the moment I laid eyes on you, everything in my body and soul told me you were the one.”
You stare at him, eyes lidded and barely fazed. Puzzled, he has no choice but to continue.
“My heart beats terribly, my beloved, whenever I see you bathing in the glory of the sun. My breath quickens, but vanishes when you get a step closer. My very existence, it seems, is meant to yearn for you,” he rattles off the lines of the book, as enticingly as he can, with eyes so seductive that they almost appear to glow. “Your beauty is unmatched with any other. If you asked, I would die—“
“—a million times in the thorns adorning my own desire,” you cut in, and his eyes widen. “The skies could fall and I would use my bloodied body to hold you up again, against the starry nights as a star gleaming brightest in its competition.”
As you finish the line, he blinks, completely and utterly confused. “How did you-“
“It’s my favorite book,” you confess sheepishly.
Astarion, for the first time, sees you as you are. He sees you as the being who yearns for love, just as a young maiden would yearn for their prince—perhaps even more innocent. He’s read you completely wrong, and he feels his throat close up. “It’s…it’s a childish one.”
Your cheeks burn, and he thinks you almost look cute. He rips away from the thoughts though, appalled at what he just considered. “I think it’s romantic.”
“No kind of love is so ideal.”
And while your face falls, you lift your head to look at him with squinted eyes. “…next time, just make your own lines—-or, at least, don’t choose ones that don’t fit you.”
“Don’t fit me? How so?”
“I doubt we would’ve fallen in love at first sight. You had a knife to my throat.”
“A loving knife.”
You stifle a laugh, and he swears he can’t take his eyes off of you. “Well…if you want, I have other books in my tent if you want to see…I have a few you might like, or at least, help.”
He just stares at you, only realizing moments later that you were awaiting an answer. “Ah, of course, darling. I’d love to accompany you. Perhaps I’ll learn a new line or two, though I doubt any writing has as much charisma as myself.”
You smile softly, nodding. “Okay then. Come over tonight after dinner, and I’ll show you.”
And as you walk away, he thinks that rather than him doing the charming and you falling irrevocably in love with him as it should have gone, your interaction has left him charmed instead.
It seems the romance novels are more than just effective at their jobs.
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fanfics-posts · 3 months
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I’m Just Tired | Leah Williamson x Reader
warnings: teeny bit of angst, disgusting amount of being in love🥴
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With that final whistle, you fell to your knees. Your chest heaved in and out as your body finally went lax and your muscles got a well-deserved break. Against all odds, England had beaten you 2-1 in the Euros final, and instead of you lifting the trophy today, you would watch from the pitch as your best friend hoisted it into the air.
“Hey.”
You could recognise that soothing voice from anywhere, even in the pit of despair you currently found yourself in. When you didn’t even attempt to look up, Leah, who was honkered down beside you, brought your gently sobbing frame into her chest and rubbed circles on your back.
“You did your country proud.”
She knew you better than anyone. She knew that in this moment, your family in the stands weren’t who you were crying for. You were crying for your country, for the little girls watching you who didn’t get to bask in the glory of someone like them winning. 
“I have to gather myself. Please let go, I can’t do that when you’re hugging me.”
You felt her flinch at your words. She steadied herself before rising to her feet and giving you a pull up. Within a few seconds, she was gone, finally taking the time to celebrate her own achievement as you watched on with a barely visible smile on your face but a huge grin on the part of your heart reserved for her.
After various hugs, handshakes, and comforting your own players, you were whisked away for media duties. Being captain was the best feeling in the world until you had to give an interview with tears pooling in your eyes and a painful lump in your throat.
You smiled when you realised the interview was with Alex, a friend of Leah’s that you had come to love. She was nearing retirement when you arrived at Arsenal, but she passed the baton of best friend to Leah over to you on the day that she left, telling you that as long as Leah was around, you would always have family in your new hometown.
“You must be so proud of your team today?”
“Of course we wanted the win, and we didn’t get it, but I am so proud of this team. We came into this tournament with a target on our backs; we had pressure from all angles, but those girls just put their heads down and got on with it.”
“What do you think went wrong today?”
“I think it’s football. Some days you win, and some days you don’t. When you face a team like this England team, you have the belief that you can win, but you don’t take their skill, determination, and quality lightly. We knew this wouldn’t be easy, and unfortunately, it hasn’t been the result we hoped for, but we will keep fighting.”
“Do you think the home advantage played a part for England?”
“Home advantage is called that for a reason, but it doesn’t guarantee a win. England are a phenomenal team, and I’m sure this day will change the course of England’s women’s football community forever. To say the home advantage was part of the reason they won would be underselling their talent. I play with these players at Arsenal, and home or away, they are so good at what they do.”
“You mentioned that you play with some of these players at Arsenal; we know your best friend is the captain of the England team. Will you two be falling out now?” Alex giggled at her own question.
“Oh, we’re done.”
“You heard it here first; the best friendship in north London is over, guys.”
You chuckled before speaking again. You didn’t know it at the time, but almost every household in England was talking about the way your eyes lit up at the sheer mention of Leah’s name.
“All jokes aside, as much as this loss hurts today, the only thing that makes it any easier to take is that she’s the one lifting that trophy instead of me.”
“Words of a true leader. We know this German team will bounce back. I’ll let you get back to your teammates.”
“Thanks, Alex.” You smiled a heartbroken smile.
True to your word, you clapped for your best friend as she lifted the trophy you so badly wanted to be your own. You watched as she shared the lift with Millie, your heart warming at her kindness. You saw that glint in her eye—the one you knew she dreamed of displaying in Wembley. For a second, your eyes moved away from her to the stands. You could see her mum wiping away her tears, one arm wrapped around Jacob and the other battling to stop them.
“Well done, my Leah.”
You weren’t sure if you whispered that or just heard the words from your inside voice, but you meant it. Her journey hadn’t been easy; from the moment she was made captain, the eyes of the nation were confused as to where she came from. She had just six minutes under her belt from the last major tournament, and no one could understand why Sarina would make such a rash decision to make her captain when people like Lucy Bronze or Georgia Stanway were on the team.
Now they did.
Sighing to yourself, you wrapped an arm around a broken Lena as you shuffled her towards the changing rooms. The atmosphere was awful; that was the only way you could describe it. The sound of muffled sobs were echoing around the room as you headed for the showers, too upset to make any kind of announcement just yet.
You thought you would say something when you returned, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t just that you, the leader of your country, couldn’t utter the words, but also that they weren’t ready to hear them yet. They didn’t want to hear that you were proud. What did you have to be proud of? Second place is another word for not good enough; that’s how they felt right now.
It wasn’t until you were back at the hotel, sat in the lobby with a thoughtless television playing the breaking news: It’s home banner over and over, and fucking over again, that you realised you did have something to say. 
“We came second.”
Your words drew the attention of a few players.
“We came fucking second.”
With your more aggressive approach, the heads of every player swung your way. It hurt at first—it hurt to see them hang their heads in shame, thinking you would ever be so cruel as to tell them they weren’t good enough.
“Why are we acting like we didn’t qualify? Like we showed up there today and got kicked out in the quarterfinals. We came fucking second. We are the second-best in Europe. What do we say? You can only go up. So, where do we go? If you can only go up from second, where do we go next?”
They were silent.
“Where do we go next?”
For a few more seconds, they stayed silent. When your eyes fell on Popp, who cruelly didn’t get to play that day, she knew what she needed to do.
“We go top. We stop feeling sorry for ourselves, and we celebrate that we can only go to the top from here.”
“Exactly. So I don’t want to hear that we weren’t good enough today. I want to hear that they were too good. But we were the only other team in that competition that made it to play them. Us. Germany. Our fucking country.”
Suddenly, the darkness faded, like a lightbulb being switched on during a winter night. You could see the cogs turning in your teammates heads, all of them now realising that your team was simply heading for being the best.
* * * *
You didn’t return from Germany for two whole weeks. You spent time with your family, saw some of your hometown friends, and even managed to fit in an appointment to get your hair dyed dark, something you would regret when you realised your entire club team had decided to go blonde.
In that time, you had heard nothing from Leah. Not a single text message had graced your phone, not a single interaction on any of your social media posts, not even a like on the post you tagged her and your other English teammates in to congratulate them.
“We’re going to record you walking out with your medals on.”
The media team were gentle as they told you of their plans. You knew what this was: a marketing ploy to raise awareness of what England had achieved in order to boost WSL sales. You knew you would likely have a small snippet in the video because, let’s face it, who wants to see a silver medal when you could see a gold one?
“Whatever you need.” You sighed.
As you lined up with a proud Lotte, a hyper Beth, and a silent Leah, you couldn’t help but feel completely let down by your best friend. It was potentially the hardest moment you’d had since that fateful day, and while the other two were trying to make you smile, the closest person to you in the world was scrolling through her phone.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
You turned to walk off before two comforting arms surrounded you. Lotte was more tactful, a gentle rub of her hand against your back, whereas Beth was like a giant puppy, throwing her arms around you and swaying you side to side.
“You have as much of a right to be proud as we do!” Lotte insisted.
“And even if you don’t believe it now, you will when you inevitably nutmeg me in training tomorrow.” Beth added.
“We’re changing the game. The four of us, together, right Leah?”
That wasn’t a question from Lotte to Leah; it was more of an insistence that she be aware of your need to be comforted right now.
“Yeah. Changing the game, becoming household names, blah blah blah.” Leah grunted.
“What is your fucking problem? You won! You won and I was fucking happy for you!”
Before Leah could answer you, the cheers rang out from outside, forcing the four of you to fake a smile and walk towards the waiting crowds of people. As expected, you were the last pick for handshakes or a well done. Actually, you didn’t even get a well done. What you did get were sorrow-filled looks and hugs that told you they felt awkward around you.
Leah didn’t come near you.
* * * *
Later that evening, you sat on the grass at the training ground. The sun was all but gone now, and there was something about the late summer sky that captivated you when you took the time to look at it.
It was quiet by now. The cheering had long ended, and the last of the cars had left the building to return to their happy homes.
Leah hadn’t, though. She tried to. She tried to drive on by your car and pretend she didn’t notice it was still there, but her heart forced her to do a loop around the car park and return to the grounds.
After almost an hour of talking herself into approaching you, Leah finally made her way onto the pitch in hopes of repairing the damage she knew she had caused.
“Hey.”
Even now, her voice made you smile inside. She was looking down at you and asking for permission to sit beside you, like the grass you were sitting on was yours to have a say over. You nodded silently, afraid that if you spoke, the pain she had put you through might come out in tears.
“We finished two hours ago; why are you still here?” She asked softly.
“Didn’t want to go home.”
“Why not?”
“Just.”
“Okay.”
Leah knew she had messed up. Despite your reluctance to air your feelings to anyone else, she had always been the person you could speak to without needing any kind of encouragement. Yet, here you were, clamming up on her like a fish out of water.
“I know I should’ve called you, but I didn’t know what to say.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She sighed, and you shook your head in annoyance that she felt she had a reason to feel bothered by your silence now.
“Do you remember the last time we sat here? We were what? 19. You told me you cleared it with the staff, and I believed you until the sprinklers came on.”
“Yeah.” You giggled at the memory.
“You knew I needed someone to talk to because I was so confused about who I was. People think I just accepted that, but in the background, it was you who helped me know I was okay to be me.”
“And then you took it a step too far.”
“Sorry?” Leah furrowed her brows.
“You started wearing those god awful loafers.”
Leah chuckled, biting her lip to stop it from turning into a belly laugh. Eventually, it fell silent again as the gentle breeze blew both your baby hairs around.
“I didn’t know what you needed. I didn’t know what you needed me to say or do, or… well, just anything really. I knew you needed me to be strong, though, and it felt selfish to tell you that I feel anything but strong right now. I mean, we just won the Euros, and…”
“Did you? Hadn’t heard.” You teased.
“Okay, I deserved that.”
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t want to make it about me.” Leah protested.
“You were what I needed, Leah. I needed you.”
You couldn’t see it, but inside Leah’s shoes, her toes had curled at your words. Her insides felt like they were on fire as she held her breath for fear you’d be able to tell what was going on if you heard her exhale. Her silence forced you to elaborate more on what you had meant.
“I think I’ve always needed you. I think… maybe… I didn’t realise that. I needed to hear your voice, I needed to hear that you hadn’t forgotten about me because you’re… well, bigger than the Queen now.”
“No one is bigger than the Queen.”
You finally glanced at her, locking eyes with her in the best way and giving her a comforting smile.
“I think I needed you too. I think I wanted to tell you that I hate this. I didn’t know how to do that, though.”
“You hate what?”
“Everyone’s looking at me. All the time. They want to know where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m wearing. I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m not going to be me anymore. I didn’t know… never mind.” She sighed.
“No, tell me.”
“It won’t sound how I mean it to.”
“Tell me. Please.” You whispered.
“I didn’t know how to say I’m glad this isn’t you. I knew I should’ve been saying I’m sorry, but I’m not. This invasion, I’m so fucking glad it hasn’t happened to you. I’m just so tired.”
You now realised that she wasn’t coping with the fame. She wasn’t coping with the world wanting to know what she was about. You knew it was because she never felt like she was about very much anyway. Blink and you’d miss it, but Leah wasn’t the confident person everyone took her for. She didn’t think she was interesting or funny; she didn’t think she had any personality at all.
But you thought you realised something else too.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Why were you able to be around everyone but me?”
“I… I don’t know.”
You took a deep breath, ready to say the thing that could’ve sent your friendship in either direction.
“Maybe the reason you couldn’t be around me is the same reason I wanted you around.”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
By now, Leah’s lip was trembling and her words were shaky. You see, the realisation of her feelings for you came when the final whistle was blown on that fateful day. Leah sank to her knees, and the world called it passion for football, they called it relief, they called it a celebration. Leah called it love. Sinking to her knees was the only way she could take a few seconds to herself to deal with the agony her heart felt because she and her team had just ended your dream.
And it didn’t stop there.
Good sportsmanship they called it.
While everyone else celebrated, Leah found you. She wanted to hold you. God, if she could’ve taken your heart out of your chest and mended it she would have.
Pride. That's what they called it.
As she lifted the trophy into the air, the world spoke of that glint in her eye, the same one you witnessed, that would be pictured in every newspaper. The media called it pride; Leah called it realising she was in love.
Her arrival at the England hotel after the game was different from yours. Hers was filled with music, laughter, hugs, and kisses. And yet, in the corner of a lively room, Leah found time to put in her AirPods and listen to your post-match interview.
“All jokes aside, as much as this loss hurts today, the only thing that makes it any easier to take is that she’s the one lifting that trophy instead of me.”
In that moment, Leah finally found belief. She finally believed that you might love her too.
But then came the paps, the interviews, the social media hype, and the claustrophobia inside her own body. She wanted you. She needed you. But the her that she suspected you fell in love with was gone.
England hadn’t just taken your trophy that day; they had taken the person you loved. And she didn't think she could deal with you telling her that.
Perhaps if she had remembered how to feel all those emotions—love, pride, and belief—she would’ve known that your love for her was unconditional. It didn’t matter how many cameras were in her face, how many interviewers were asking her to recite the positive emotions she felt that day, or how many medals were between you.
You had loved her since you last sat with her on this same patch of grass at 19 years old.
You, too, realised that now.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“They can only invade the things they can see.”
“They see everything.” Leah sighed.
“They can’t see us right now.”
Leah closed her eyes for a second. Every part of her body told her you might be about to do the very thing she dreamed of, but she couldn’t let herself believe it.
“Leah. Look at me.” You whispered.
“I can’t.”
“It’s me.”
Everything after that felt like slow motion. From the flutter of her eyelashes when they opened to the way your hand came up to cup her cheek.
Closer. And closer. And closer again.
When your lips met hers, Leah finally found that feeling everyone presumed she had when she lifted the Euros trophy.
And you finally found the feeling of winning the one thing you wanted most in the world.
Leah.
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otaku553 · 6 months
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Hello! It’s me! And I’m back on my crossover bs again
A few years ago I had an idea for a Kirby demon slayer crossover but at the time my ideas for Meta Knight weren’t fully fleshed out. You can read some more of my ideas in the read more!
So originally my idea was that Kirby was an extremely talented young urchin that Meta Knight picked up in a town or a forest somewhere. Meta is the last remaining member of the Star Estate, a group of talents swordsman in the Corps that was nearly completely wiped out within the last century. Meta Knight, finding Kirby, saw not only extreme power and raw potential, but also a way to revive the Star Estate through a young talent that may grow up to be even stronger than him.
This inevitably happens, but happens much sooner than Meta expects, when Kirby is only 10 years old. Kirby learns the Breathing Style of the stars that Meta teaches him, but also has a terrifying talent for mimicry, and is able to temporarily copy any Breathing Style that he witnesses. Having surpassed Meta Knight in power and rank, Kirby takes Meta Knight’s official seat among the Hashira. That said, Kirby doesn’t have much of a mind for the more tactical and official side of the Corps’s duties, so Meta tends to take over for him during meetings.
Reactions to Kirby’s presence are mixed. Many of the Hashira bear some amount ill will against Meta, believing that Meta took in a child and trained him just to revive the seat of the Stars. They dislike that a child is fighting their battles for them, but have to begrudgingly acknowledge Kirby’s sheer strength. This results in a lot of people being rather surprised at just how tenderly Meta Knight treats his little ward, buying him little gifts and souvenirs wherever they go and making sure that he is healthy and safe.
Similarly to Urokodaki, Meta wears a mask to conceal his face, since he has been told that his face is too kind or too soft for his profession. He has offered to make Kirby one as well, but a mask would not do much to hide Kirby’s height and age anyways. Meta also carries two swords but only uses one— the second one is one of Kirby’s spares, just in case Kirby accidentally forgets or loses his own. (This happened about three times before Meta Knight started carrying the spare around.)
In this au, Dedede is a prefectural governor who continued ruling over his land after the daimyo-ruled han were abolished for prefectures. He comes from a long line of aristocracy, and is aware of demons wandering around at night but doesn’t get involved much with the demon slaying side of things. Meta is an old friend of his, and keeps him updated on recent local happenings with the demons.
Here are the two of them separately!
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highball66 · 1 month
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Remake!Leon Model & Texture Details
With how detailed Leon's 4R model was, especially when it came to skin texture, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who was curious about the extent of these details. Through sheer determination and power of will I managed to find a ripped file of his in-game model and get Blender to cooperate (a process made more difficult by the fact that my laptop is definitely not meant for this)... boy oh boy are they're a few little interesting details (and, spoilers, some of them are visible in his 2R model as well)!
To start, I'm sure a least a decent portion of people reading this have seen the screenshots from the game's photo mode floating around with zoomed in pictures of his face and people talking about acne scars, but I can confirm that they are in fact acne scars and not just little red splotches or something else. With good lighting and with more control over the model, you can see that he does in fact have numerous acne scars, primarily his cheeks.
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He's also got a fair amount of stubble right below his chin, which isn't really visible unless you get the perfect angle and the perfect lighting with the game. But if you look under his chin, he absolutely sucks at shaving. All those little red marks appear to be scars from the razor, and it's obvious that he's missed several spots since the rest of his face is clean-shaven-- I think it's safe to assume he was either never taught how to properly shave or otherwise just isn't good at it. It's grown out some too, which means it's probably been a few days since he's last shaved. Also, note that scar under his chin!
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Out of curiosity, I found a ripped version of his 2R model as well so I could compare them. Interestingly enough, despite the many changes made to the 4R model, it uses the whole of 2R as a base, even down to his skin texture. As you can see, he's got the same scar under his chin, same missed stubble, and what looks like razor scars too.
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And in addition to all of that, he's got the acne scars as well! So these details have been in 2R all along, but they weren't as visible in the game due to graphics (which isn't to say the graphics were bad, but 4R's are undoubtedly more advanced). That, coupled with the fact that there was no photo mode on 2R seems to have made them less talked about and known as a result.
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Another interesting detail I found looking at the 2R model is that it looks like he might have a scar on his left hand. Since his hand isn't a complete mesh in 4R, I have no way of seeing if it carried over to that model. Only his fingers are actually a mesh, the rest of his hand is just the glove mesh, or at least that's how it is in the ripped file.
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Last but not least, this one is more of a cute observation than anything, but in 2R, he's got a very tiny waist and more of an hourglass figure. While his body doesn't exist beneath the clothes in the in-game model, you can still view the mesh for his pants and his shirt, which are fully rendered, and that gives you more of an idea on his proportions.
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(Side note about this: the shirtless mods use a different mesh for his body that wasn't made by Capcom, that was just something created by the talented modder. This is why he seems to have a different look with all the mods-- it's not his "canon" body.)
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anxiousgoddest · 2 months
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Since in the game it doesn't explain whats the evol of the MC, then I took the liberty to abuse this blank space and made a blub about MC having a fire evol.
Or...
MC has a Fire evol but because of the Aether Core it makes their Evol unstable, so whenever they use it too much it burns their insides, but gladly Zayne is a blessing that seems that his existence was made just for this.
Tags: Pinning, fluff? MC is low-key dumb but they don't really understand Zayne, Long post, L&DS has me in a choke hold (I like it tho.)
No use of Y/N, gender neutral (first gender neutral fic I've ever made I hope it's good!)
Days in the Hospital are nothing but chaotic, as expected from Linkon City and it's increasingly numbers of Wanderers attacks, Zayne doesn't need to see the news to know this, his days have never been more busier with cases of Wanderer attacks.
He doesn't have much free time to catch up on the rest he needed depending only on sheer will and an unspoken amount of coffee and sweets, but his mind still wanders to one espefic patient.
You.
He's aware that you're more than capable of handling yourself, although you have quite the talent to attract trouble, you were always punctual in proving him that you were strong. Although he never approved the idea of you pursuing a career that evolved using the same power that could burn you alive if you abuse it, it's not like he could really stop you.
It was easier teach a cat how to cook than get an idea out of you head, he remembers clearly the day that you told him you were accepted in the UNICORNS.
"Zayne!! I got accepted! Are you proud?!" They spoke excitedly showing their brand new UNICORNS ID. Zayne kept his face stoic, he knew that they would list themself to it, just didn't expect they would be accepted despite their condition.
"..." Zayne sighed "Congratulations for you entrance, please don't get yourself killed."
"Ight ight doctor I know! I'll take care of myself, I already prepared an especial training for my condition!" They spoke, the "training" made him curious but by their mischievous glint in their eyes he could only roll his.
"Just don't forget that to achieve proper results, proper rest is necessary, you must sleep early, stop watching reels of kitties on Instagram so late."
An audibly "oops" was heard by Zayne and he had a feeling that this would be another recommendation that they wouldn't listen, he sighs and prepares to go over another speech based on proved research on how sleeping is important but he watches you leave bidding him "good bye" and that you supposedly had to "water your fish"... What did he do to deserve this?
So, back to the present he doesn't feel shocked to hear that you're his next patient, when the nurse give him the clipboard stating your condition his face is stern and cold, as expected, as always but only a very keen eye would tell that the steps he takes towards your bed was a bit larger and quicker than other patients.
He feel the heat before he sees you.
When he opens the door he quickly notices that the nurses had opened the window for you. You hold your hair up fanning yourself with you hand, you were sweating and your heart was beating too fast, the clipboard just said "Overheating temperatures, the patient was found hallucinating and hyperventilating." Zayne approaches you watching the monitor, you needed to be cooled down immediately.
You were entering the vaporizing process, in which you could see the vapor leaving your hot skin, your temperature were currently reaching 46 °C, a normal human would be dying already but at the same time your Evol could damage you, it gave you great resistance to heat and a certain level of cold immunity, you hardly felt sick because it's near impossible for any disease to survive in you body, the downside was this sort of situation, any miscalculation of effort can leav you like this.
As you looked desperate around you looked at the man in front of you, took you a while to see him but you recognized Zayne.
"Zayne!" You got up letting you legs hang from the bed trying to get up but Zayne stops you.
"Please help me it's too hot " you said your voice hoarse and whiny, it felt like death.
"We need to cool you down, I'll call the nurses to bring ice packages for you-" but before Zayne could reach for the button near you bed you snached his hand with a little bit too much force, you couldn't wait any longer.
You delirious state was not a proper representation of how you would react, you would never hold Zayne like this so boldly, afraid that you excited personally could bother his cold one, you didn't get why Zayne was so serious all the time, but you respected him nonetheless, after all you wanted to be cool like him one day!
But that's out of the window by now as you grab now both his hands "Please turn up your Evol, I need you". Before Zayne could tell that that's now how Evols work or how dangerous it was to use his evol or think about your use of word or simply just taking his goddamn hands back you place his hands on your body.
Zayne freezes at the sound of your moan in relief, he knew his body run colder but why must you react like that? What if someone walked in and saw you moaning while his hands were on your neck like this? This is extremely unprofes-
"Please... Zayne help me... it hurts..." you beg, he come back at the sound of your begging, his eyes are wide and he feels his heart beating faster, you sweaty red face looking up at him with your big eyes and pouty lips, your heavy breathing and the way you voice sound frail and in pain.
Zayne uses his Evol.
You moan again, you push one of his hand to the inside of your shirt, his breath get stuck in his throat, but to his relief you leave his hand at the middle of your chest, he tries not to focus in the acidental sounds you make of relief nor the heat creeping up his neck and ears.
He's a doctor. Your doctor. He must help you, and he's the only that can do it right now.
As you finally cool down and come to your senses you take a deep breath, your regular toothy grin back on your face.
"That one was the worse crisis I've had, I'm so lucky I have you around Zayne!"
Zayne clear his throat and looks down at you.
"Ah! Oops my bad I forgot them there!" You said finally letting go of his hands, Zayne remove his hand that was on your neck and under you shirt, you both look away, you still look disheveled.
"Uh... It would be nice if I had a pocket Zayne huh? So I would always have a cold pack with me that gives doctor advice!" You try to lighten the mood, but Zayne turns and take you clipboard and sign his name.
"Take a shower when you get home, and be more responsible with yourself, I can't be here all the time as you personal Ice pack." He says coldly, you feel embarrassed at being scolded like that, sometimes it seems that you can never win with him, you always do something stupid and he looks mad.
You look down and say a meek "Okay..." before you could apologize for the trouble he has already left...
01:24 am, Linkon City, at Zayne's Office.
Zayne fills in the last reports of the day, as he watches your report, he take off his glasses and sigh massaging his temples.
He could still feel your fervent skin on his hand, how soft the valley between your breast was and how your heart beat felt like thunder underneath his fingertips on you neck.
The look in your eyes, your pleas...
Your lips...
He groans sinking his head onto the table, how can you be so irresponsible? How can you be so oblivious all the time? (Even though he's also at fault for not properly demonstrate his feelings).
Now he's left here, with thoughts of you haunting his mind, he reaches for his face again, it seems that now he's the one that needs cool down.
Sigh... What did he do to deserve this?
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Lmaoooo it has been ages since I wrote, I just love stoic man in love and excited dumb girl who's also in love, hope yall liked it tho lmao.
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morallyinept · 3 months
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What a year it's been for fic writing!⭐️
There have been soooo many stories I've read and enjoyed this year, that's it's been super hard to pick favourites, and I've spent a good amount of time this year trying to narrow it down to just 25.
Listen, every single story I've read this year has been absolutely amazing. I am blown away by the sheer amount of talent and creativity we have in this fandom!
If you're not featured here on this particular list, it's not because I don't like your work or didn't enjoy it - far from it. I've simply put together a list of my personal favourites this year, based on how they made me feel, how often I re-read them, and some that have completely floored me.
And if you want more than just the 25 fic recs I've mentioned here, then please check out my Pedro Character Fav Fic Rec List where all the stories I've read/want to read and come across are featured. My TBR is through the roof, let me tell you, but it's a great problem to have!
And if your story isn't on my fic rec list, it's more than likely because I haven't found your work yet, so please yell at me to check it out! I'd absolutely love to!
Keep on writing, writers. You're all amazing!
So, without further ado, please find my top 25 Pedro Character Fics that I've really enjoyed reading this year! 🖤
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☝️In no particular order, and includes a summary from the writer, where provided. Some series may still be ongoing. Please check the specific triggers/warnings on each story individually as some may not be suitable to your tastes:
• I Am Touchin', I Am Grabbin', Everything I Can't Be Havin' - @chronically-ghosted Dieter Bravo "A storm and a dead phone leaves you at the front door of your uncle’s mansion in LA. Thing is, you haven’t seen each other in over a decade and neither of you quite remember the other one looking like that. But what’s one night gonna do? Well, as it turns out – as Dieter spirals at a breaking point in his career and you’re so lost in life you can’t see up from down – a whole fucking lot."
• Rock Bottom Series - @ghostofaboy Frankie Morales "Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of."
• Palomino Series - @fuckyeahdindjarin Agent Whiskey "Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you’d booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need."
• Stepwise @the-scandalorian Din Djarin "Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this."
• It Pours From Your Eyes - @the-blind-assassin-12 Joel Miller "Some things don't need to be said. Until they do."
• Transplant Series - @marisferasiop Joel Miller & Ezra "You are a resident and the only trained doctor in Jackson. You're bubbly and sweet, outgoing and friendly, and also in an unlabeled "situationship" with the town scrooge, Joel Miller. He won't say you're together, but he'll scare anyone else off. When Tommy drags back a half-dead man and girl from a patrol, you dutifully patch them up and help them settle into their new slotted house - across Rancher Street from yours and Joel's houses. Ellie and Cee get on like a bonfire, and when Joel sees how often you talk to your newest patient, his insecurities make him draw up and away from you. As you slowly give up on him and start something with Ezra, Joel's pining turns to frustration. Tommy convinces him to see if you'd be interested in being a throuple. Surprisingly, you and Ezra are both open to the idea. But can Joel's insecurities and possessiveness withstand such an arrangement? Or will the blow of another loss be what finally breaks him?"
• I'll Know It When I See It Series - @bageldaddy Joel Miller "It's the golden age of porn. Sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name Texas."
• Compulsion Series - @iamskyereads Ezra "Beatrice is a Drifter, a member of that oft-maligned, enigmatic subsection of workers on Baylor Corporation’s long haul expeditions. Ezra is a man with flowery language and a dark past, but he plays guardian to a strong willed, soft spoken teenager. In a madcap scheme to steal precious gems from the corporation’s mining operations, Ezra and his ward, Cee, form a reluctant alliance with this lone Drifter."
• Left In Lincoln Series - @toxicanonymity Joel Miller "After you were orphaned by the Outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort and protection."
• Summer Schooled Series - @boliv-jenta Dave York & Joel Miller "Needing some cash before college, you start babysitting for Mr Miller and Mr York. When you decide to spend the summer teasing them. They decide you need to be taught some lessons."
• I Urge You, Bite Me - @netherfeildren Joel Miller "Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that. Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too."
• Sex Worker Frankie Series - @prolix-yuy Frankie Morales "Francisco “Catfish” Morales, a former sex worker at Pope’s escort service, takes on a final client and is met with something unexpected."
• Said The Spider To The Fly - @blueeyesatnight The Thief No summary provided by author, and I won't spoil it, however this is an awesome little fic which I urge you to check out if you haven't already!
• Catalyst Series - @ezrasbirdie Frankie Morales & Joel Miller "You've been nursing a crush on one of your closest friends, Frankie Morales, for a year now. At his 40th birthday party, you finally meet his new friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, who Frankie hasn't been able to stop talking about. You hit it off a little too well."
• Just A Piece - @palioom - Dave York "Dave only married you to keep his life as a hitman hidden. But when he comes home one day to you having cooked one of his childhood meals, he is doubting if he only married you out of necessity."
• This Charming Man - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Frankie Morales "Frankie’s wife kicks him out and files for divorce following a second trip to retrieve their money. He feels lost and hopeless until he meets someone new. He falls hard and fast for her. He’ll do anything to have her."
• Lemon Cakes & Lust - @thetriumphantpanda Oberyn Martell "Just a lowly kitchen girl, that’s all you were. A life of struggle behind you, masked by the facade of the palace. A tray of lemon cakes holds your fate with Prince Oberyn and you are only too happy to oblige his wanting of you."
• Headshots Series - @secretelephanttattoo Marcus Pike "You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots."
• Starving Season Series - @wannab-urs Dave York "You and Dave York are two people with nothing left in this world. You find yourselves starving for each other, trying to fill whatever void you each have in yourselves."
• Akrasia - @sp00kymulderr Ezra "Ezra quarantine smut that focuses much less on the lockdown and much more on the smut."
• Sequins - @trulybetty Joel Miller "On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you."
• Kill Shot Series - @magpiepills Ezra "A lonesome prospector comes face to face with a dangerous stranger. What happens when you can’t resist his charm?"
• Send In The Clown - @covetyou Dieter Bravo "You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown."
• Precious Possessions Series - @exquisiteserotonin Dave York "Work conferences were supposed to be boring. A meeting with a mysterious man sets your life on a very different trajectory."
• Rumour Has It Series - @senorabond Marcus Pike & Javier Pena "You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left."
Thank you so much to all the writers for writing such amazing stories this year!
⭐️And as a bonus, I've picked a fic from my own writing that I feel is my absolute favourite piece that I've written this year:
The Pit - Ezra - "Ezra and you stumble into an ominous pit on a prospecting mission for coveted azure diamonds on the Narillan moon, and find more than you bargain for."
🖤
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PEDRO CHARACTER FAV FIC REC MASTERLIST
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rosewaterandivy · 5 months
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got lovesick all over my bed
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Summary: it might be worth it for once.
Warnings: facetime shenanigans, rockstar!gf had one too many glasses of merlot, my usual brand of filth™️
a/n: be a slut, do whatever you want!
🎶 everyone wants him, that was my crime, the wrong place at the right time 🎶
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It was stupid.
Borne of desperation and one too many glasses of red wine, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Steve was off filming for the next few weeks and you were back in an empty house in Laurel Canyon. You tried, unsuccessfully, to not be a bitter Betty about it all; oh, woe is me! My incredibly talented boyfriend has to go back to work.
Were you even his girlfriend? 
Jesus Christ.
It’s been what, less than two weeks and you’re already spiralling. 
Shuffling from the couch you pocket your phone and try to ignore the desire to double-text.
Hey
Could you be any more pathetic? Hadn’t even “defined the relationship,” whatever that meant, and already slipping. You know he’s busy, on-set, and suffering through night shoots in the desert somewhere.
Leaning against the island of your kitchen, you uncork some wine and pour it into a glass. Watching as the crimson liquid sloshes against the curved glass, you idly wonder if you should seal the deal and live your best Olivia Pope fantasy by having popcorn for dinner.
Before you could think better of it, you felt the subtle vibration of your phone in your pocket,
S.H.: Hey yourself
wow, so clever
wow, so bratty
You bit your lip and took a sip of wine in an attempt to quell the low swoop of your stomach.
The texts were intermittent for the next hour or so before he was called back to set. It was a nice distraction from the utter lack of plans you had for the evening. Your producer had sent over the final mix of your new album that you needed to proof and sign off on, so that was the plan while Steve was off filming for the next few hours.
He’d asked if he could call you later, once filming wrapped for the evening and you’d agreed not realizing that it would be nearing  2 a.m. and you’d be half a bottle in. 
Settled back in your bedroom freshly showered and laptop atop the duvet cover, you’re only briefly startled when the FaceTime ring trills out.
“Shit!” 
You quickly pause the song you were listening through and hope you look halfway decent before answering Steve’s call. Mussing your hair, you minimize the image of yourself and enlarge the one of him.
“Hey sweetheart.”
Steve smiles slow and sweet, huffing a laugh at your poor attempts at primping.
“Stop messing with your hair, you look great.”
“Uh huh,” you brush off with a smirk, “Watch me make red wine drunk the next trendy TikTok look.”
He looks to be back at the Palm Springs house, settled against the headboard of the bed that you swore was going to fall off the wall from the sheer amount of times he’d fucked you into the mattress the last time you visited. 
Your skin warms at the thought.
“Can’t wait.” He smiles and takes a screenshot as you flip him off, he’s always doing shit like that— his iPhone or one of his many film cameras or, your least favorite, FaceTime. Says he has to have up-to-date photos of you for the Missing Person posters he'll make once the coyotes finally get you out in the Canyon.
What a dork.
“How was your day?”
“Oh fine,” you say with a sigh. “Did a whole bunch of nothing, showered, I was proofing the final tracks for the album and then you called.”
“Oh,” he pulls a face, grimacing because he thinks he’s disrupted you at work, “I can fuck off if you—”
“Harrington, if you finish that sentence I swear to god—”
“Fine, fine,” he relents with a chuckle and runs a hand through his hair, knocking the glasses off of his head. “So that’s where these went.”
You roll your eyes, this man, honestly.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, just tired is all.” He heaves a sigh. “These night shoots are the fucking worst.”
You hum, “I can imagine. The cold desert at night?” You blow a raspberry, “And you’re worried about coyotes carrying me off?”
“I have a vested interest in your safety, y’know.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.” You tease, taking another sip of wine. “I got thick thighs and a fat ass, and the only person I want to eat me is you.”
“Aww, I’m touched.” Steve laughs, hand to his heart. “Look at you, gettin’ all sappy and borderline cannibalistic over FaceTime.”
“I know,” you demure and bat your lashes. “I’m so emotionally mature.” Setting the glass on the nightstand, you lean forward inadvertently giving him a generous view of your tits.
“Anyway,” you sit back against the pillows of your bed. “What’re you wearing, honey?”
It’s like his brain glitches for a moment or two, and he needs to reboot. 
“Uh,” he glances down with a furrowed brow. “Boxer briefs.”
“Thrilling.”
Could it be that Steve’s never done something like this before? It hadn’t been exactly discussed between you, but he was looking so delectable and you missed him so much.
Fuck it.
“What about you?”
A slow smile splits your face, a waggle of your brows. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Instead of a verbal reply, you pan the camera down to display your latest lingerie acquisition— pale pink and adorned with tasteful floral embroidery, because Steve is a sucker like that. You can hear him swallow and his shallow breaths from the speakers.
“D’ya like it?”
“Fuck.”
There was a rustling sound as he settled more comfortably on the bed. The room lights were dimmed casting shadows across his bronzed skin, an errant lock of hair falling in his face. His voice was so low when it came through the speakers that it sent heat straight to the pit on your stomach, “Wish you were here.”
“Me too baby,” you purr and set the macbook further down on your bed. “Tell you what,” you say taking a final sip of wine, “Why don’t you go ahead and record this for those lonely desert nights, hmm?”
His eyes nearly fall out of his skull. “Y’sure?”
“Course I am handsome.”
He was leaned over in front of the camera, undoubtedly attempting to prop it up on something and hit record.
“Gonna be good for me?” you rasp when he comes back into view, “Let me take my time with you?”
Steve nods, eyes finding yours as his breaths even out. You watched him hook his thumbs into the band of the boxer briefs and drag them down his toned thighs on screen. His hard length sprung to his stomach once the waistband passed his tip, hard and thick where it lay. You licked your lips.
He took himself slow, his fist tight at his tip as he slid down his length at an excruciating pace. That was how he usually slid into you, savoring that first push as you surround his cock in your warmth.     
Your core fluttered in time with the stroke of his palm, slow and deep passes up and down his length that would no doubt feel like ecstasy inside you.
“Feel good baby?” 
You own hand skates down your torso, lingering here and there before ever so gently brushing against your clit. 
“Thinkin’ about my pretty mouth wrapped around your cock?”
He let out a moan, eyes rolling back at a particularly good stroke. 
Fingers stuttering over your clothed clit, your free hand snakes behind you to unclasp the bra and let it fall down your arms. 
You watched as he fell back fully on the bed, his hand picking up pace as the other reached down to cup his balls. A choked moan came from the screen followed by even more hushed words. 
“Miss you daddy,” you whine. “Want your big cock fucking my mouth n’ gettin’ me all messy.”
Barely able to swallow around your dry mouth, you watched him lift his head and watched his hand stroke his length. Steve’s face was obscene; eyebrows furrowed deeply and mouth hanging open in pleasure.
You were overstimulated if anything, never imagining you would have such a visual of him getting off while you were beyond wet, almost uncomfortably so. Your clit pulsed as you caught on screen Steve moan a choked fuck as he writhed on his borrowed bed. 
Fingers pressing headily against your clit, you rubbed tight circles around the slick bud at the sight on the screen. Couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this wet for long-distance sex, no matter the hour. Dipping your fingers beneath the lace of your underwear, the slick of your slit wetting your fingertips. 
A small whimper left your lips as the contact, wishing that they were Steve’s fingers slipping through your folds instead. 
“Fuck, I’m so wet for you.”
He cursed deeply as he slowed his pace, mostly likely trying to hold out from coming too soon. Everything made it hard for you to articulate what you wanted at that moment.
On screen Steve brought you back, his head tilted back as he pumped his length beautifully. You could see his stomach tensing. You could see the tops of his thighs jumping before they disappeared from the camera’s view where they hung off the edge of the bed. You could see his jaw clench every time his tight fist circled his tip. The sound of him spit slick and stroking himself was so lewd paired with his pants and moans. 
While you were enamored with the screen, the fingers of your free hand brushed your nipples. You couldn’t stop your gasp if you wanted to. Every touch had your cunt clenching and begging for attention.
You could tell he was close, and kept teasing your skin but refrained from dipping a finger into your slit. Your breathing was labored, soft whines elicited from the back of your throat as on screen Steve moaned your name. 
“So pretty daddy, wanna see you come so bad.”
He was breathless at hearing your words, the low rasp of your voice filtering through the speakers. Fuck, does he miss you. 
You sigh again, whimper like a little punctuation, sheets rustling. “Thinkin’ bout your tongue and how wet you make me,” and your voice is so low, so needy, “I wish you were here. Touching me all over.” And the picture in his mind of you, so pretty and open, wild at the mere memory of him—
“Keep going. Think about me riding you, baby. Slow at first, how you like, taking you a little bit at a time. You’re always so hard.”
There it is, egging his own fist on to match the pace of a subtle and steady sluiced-up rhythm, your fingers working over, inside, back out, twisting and turning.
He’s lost in the way his heart pounds all the harder at the sounds you make because it means you’ve let yourself go. How you’d scramble for his fingers next, lacing them through yours, squeezing him there and everywhere.
And oh, how exquisite you look with that sheen of sweat across your chest. Hovering over him like a goddess and fucking him like a wet dream.
“Baby,” red lip pulled pale between his teeth, hands working in tandem—imitation and imagination constructing a well-oiled machine in your absence. “Baby, fuck. Miss you on me—miss you fucking me. God–”
“Yeah? Gonna come?” You’re panting, too, noises high and obscene, the background echo of your hand growing more frantic and unrestrained. “Me too, pretty boy. I want to do everything with you—have all of you. Your hands, your mouth, your cock.”
It’s all too fast. Your words, his words, your hands, his hands. Feels like he’s barely started when his eyes roll back against his lids. He’s spilling out, over his fist, up his clenched abdomen, body pulled tight, panting heavy and hard as he tugs at himself a few more times, breathing and listening, heart rattling against his ribcage when you whimper one last time.
Watching him come was enough to bring you hurtling over the edge, fingers pumping messily in and out of your sopping cunt, imagining yourself there and clenching around him instead. Your eyes flutter close, your release drenching your hand.
Steve aches then. His eyes flutter open. Heat smothered cold and lonesome like the embers of a dying fire. His neck hurts. His heart hurts.
“Babe,” you say and he hears it in you, too—the same ache, the same want. Like at the end of every call you’ve made to him since you’d left Palm Springs.
“When you get back,” you sigh, the telltale mantle of sleep falling over you, “I’m gonna let you know just how much I miss you.”
He’s hot all over, chasing the ghost of your doting kisses, the phantom touch of your skillful hands. “Jesus, sweetheart.”
A cheeky wink followed by a sleepy wave, and then you’re gone.
He closes out of FaceTime and types out a text to Robin.
Need an appointment with Lorraine Schwartz ASAP pls.
And if he peruses the jeweler’s instagram studying engagement rings for the next hour, well, no one needs to know.
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justauthoring · 11 months
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hiii megumi fluff where reader is gojos lil sister 🥹
headcanon that megumi likes shy, sweet girls :) also, obviously this isn't general -- reader looks like gojo.
sometimes, megumi forgot you were gojo's younger sister.
the two of you were so completely different.
where gojo was sarcastic, you were kind. where he was teasing, you were gentle. megumi knes gojo cared, in his own way, but it was never hard to tell with you -- you were always just there, smiling with a warm gaze, reaching out for him.
he'd grown up beside you, went from thinking you were just some annoying girl with bright blue eyes and stark white hair that was too loud and too happy for him to thinking you were the sun above the clouds and every good thing in his life. he was in love with you, that he knew even if he'd struggled to come to terms with the realization.
in everyway you were infectious and megumi had fallen ill for you when he simply old enough to understand what crushes really were.
because you'd always been there. the second gojo had saved him from the zen'in clan and brought him and his sister home, there you were. you'd shied away from him at first while gojo had tried to coax you out, telling you they were gonna be living with you both from now on; only for you to shy awya from his hand and promptly lock yourself in your room.
a week later and you were practically clinging off of his arm. no matter how much he'd tried to pretend he hadn't liked it, he had, and no amount of him shrugging you off or glaring at you made you leave. even gojo had been shocked by your clinginess to megumi but he'd simply thought it was cute that his adorable little sister had made her first friend.
if gojo knew how close you two were now... megumi was sure he wouldn't feel the same.
"gumi," you whine, tugging on his arm to pull your attention on him and away from his thoughts. he blinks at the jeer, body jerking slightly from your sheer strength before he slowly tilts his head, letting his eyes fall on you.
you beam having his attention at you, rosy cheeks and sparkling gaze; "c'mon."
and he pauses, confused; "wha--"
"you said we'd train together, remember?"
like you needed training -- megumi wanted to snort. you didn't just look like gojo, your power was almost as powerful as his and megumi had constantly found himself amazed by the sheer pure natural talent you'd been born with.
and yet, somehow, you never seemed to recognize your own strength.
"we trained all morning," megumi reminds, quirking a brow down at you. "you should rest."
pouting, you tug at his arm; "i'm so close to nailing this new move, gumi. c'mon, don't you wanna help me?"
you knew megumi too well because the second those words leave your lips and your head tilts with that pretty little pout of yours, megumi is all but putty in your hands. he struggled to deny your wishes on a good day, but he could never deny you in the end run.
"just for an hour, okay?" he calls, glancing down at you. "i don't need you passing out again and gojo-sensei lecturing me to take better care of you."
giggling, you shake your head; "you're the best, gumi!" and without another word, you lean up to the tips of your toes, pressing a kiss against megumi's cheek that has him freezing in place at the touch. your lips are warm, slightly wet, and when you pull back from the chaste kiss, megumi swears he can still feel the kiss.
but you don't pull away completely. still leaning on your toes so you're slightly taller, you meet megumi's eyes briefly, the air turning thick in a way that has megumi choking on his breath. he watches you, watches the way your eyes flicker down before back up to his own, and then, suddenly, you're pressing your lips against his own.
it feels exactly how he'd imagined it, but megumi curses the way he's too shocked to return the kiss -- hands stuck to his sides in complete and utter shock as he feels those same warm, wet and soft lips that had once been on his cheek on his lips instead.
and when you pull back, you're grinning ear to ear; "thought i'd give you a proper thank you gift."
and megumi can't say anything. he's sure he's red in the face, can feel it in how warm he is, and he wants to say something but doesn't know what and is sure he'd make a bigger fool of himself if he tried.
but, you're unphased, taking megumi's larger hand into your own and squeezing.
"c'mon gumi," you cheer, "i feel like the today is the day!"
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cyxnidx · 4 months
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WANDERING EYES !
character: simon 'ghost' riley x colonel!reader
genre: uhh thirsts..? idek man, just some hcs & scenarios of simon being thirsty for big, muscular, strong women
a/n: the idea of simon being hands and knees down bad for muscular, dominant & stronger women plagues my mind. also: we've made it to 1k followers <3
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simp!simon, who worsens his gym habits when he notices you in the weight room around the same time as himself.
you let out a deep sigh, dropping the heavy weight you were once lifting before throwing your hands onto your head. catching your breath, you look over and smile when you see simon entering the weight room. "why, hello, Lieutenant."
simp!simon, who feels his knees buckle when hearing you address him by his rank.
simp!simon, who admires the way your muscles tend to flex out your shirt while doing pull-ups.
small, snuffed out groans continue to leave your pretty mouth as you pull yourself up over the bar. you were far past your usual amount - simon had counted for you, he memorized your sets and all. he knew you were far beyond your usual amount - so why were you going beyond your limit? finally, you drop from the higher pole. "god damn." you groan, clapping your hands together, looking and giving him a smile. it amazed him with the amount of sheer femininity you could still show despite being so masculine seconds ago.
simp!simon, who adores the way your eyes look when you're focused.
walking by your desk, simon peeked over not-so-sneakily, taking in your features. your resting face - eyes narrowed in on the object at hand. lifting your head, you leaned back in your seat, almost startling poor simon. "anything i can assist you with, Lieutenant?" you ask, smirk crossing your lips while your eyes traveled his body. you could swear he looked light headed.
simp!simon, who loves the way you look after being tired from lifting so much.
eyes heavy, breath harsh and body almost glossed in sweat, simon admires you as you pick up your towel, bottle, and begin to make an exit. "heading out for the night, Lieutenant. Ciao!" you call.
simp!simon, who almost gains a boner when watching the way you seem to easily over power your opponents.
after slitting a man's throat, simon looks up to see his one-and-only flipping an enemy soldier over them, finalizing their fate with a gun shot to the throat. "good one, colonel." he praises, hoping it wasn't obvious he was watching for too long. you pat his helmet, continuing to pave your way through the mission.
simp!simon, who can't help but remind himself that he shouldn't feel this way, but it's intoxicating.
watching you from the side of his eye, simon sighed to himself. he knew it was wrong - deep down he did. lieutenant and colonel, together? dating? hooking up?? that was beyond inappropriate. almost criminal.. but he couldn't help but admire you. your muscles, sheer strength, agility, and all the other talents you have that made you, you.
simp!simon, who's chanting your name almost every night, hoping one day you'll hear and intervene.
hand around his cock, simon rests his head against the pillow on his bed. he's been like this for the past hour, edging himself, something he thinks you'd do. he moves his in hand in a motion he imagines you would, with fantasies of your voice flowing through his head, guiding him. when he feels his orgasm approach once again, he can't stop himself - imagining your pretty body and pretty voice, pretty hands around him, even if it's just his imagination - it feels good. cumming into his fist, your name falls from his mouth, almost like it's the only thing he really knows how to say - almost like he's trying to summon you. after coming down a bit, he sighs to himself before going to clean up. such a pervert!
simp!simon, who just loves you for so many reasons.
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frantic-fiction · 9 hours
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Hi!! I love your astarion stories so much, you are such a talented writer!
I have a bit of a weird request for an 18+.
I've heard theories that if a vampire like astarion drinks enough human blood that there's a slight chance he's able to get someone pregnant 👀 ...
I'm wondering if you could do a smut like something along the lines of astarion having a huge breeding kink, so he and Tav are experimenting with him drinking maybe more than he should of her but it's worth it if they have a chance at having a kid or something? Basically just asking for a smut about astarion having a breeding kink🥺
thank you so much for all you do!! Once again like I said you are so talented, and if you do decide to do something with this I'd love to be in the tag list.
Okay first off, this comment is everything thank you. You are just too nice I can't 🥰....and well I had so much fun writing this so I hope you like it lovely!
I Want 18+
Warnings: SMUT MDNI, Breeding kink, fingering, dry humping, slight daddy kink if you squint, Astarion being lovesick, slight dom/sub maybe? idk
Word Count: 2.5k of pure filth
Mastarlist
It started with a chapter in an obnoxiously repetitive book about vampires and their spawns. You had gifted it to him with a poorly concealed giggle on your lips. 
Most of the content was either incorrect or exaggerated, and Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at the foolishness of it all. He was ready to throw the damned thing into the fireplace when his eye drifted over a passage.
Dhampirs: Creatures born from the union of a human and a vampire. The conception is incredibly rare, but the likelihood increases if the vampire indulges in a significant amount of the human's blood prior to sex. 
Now, it can't seem to leave Astarion's mind. The idea of you being pregnant, being able to watch your stomach swell with his child, witnessing your breast grow and your hips fill out. How sensitive would you get as your pregnancy progresses? Would you crave him more than you do now? These thoughts alone have him throbbing in his trousers.
However, what sealed Astarion's fate was seeing you with Gale's newborn baby girl. The way love filled your heart the moment your eyes landed on that little girl sleeping soundly in the wizard's arms. How delicate you cradle the young one's head as soon as she's in your grasp, softly cooing down at the little bundle, stroking the smooth pink skin of her cheek. 
And when you turned to him with that sweet smile that never fails to make Astarion weak in the knees, asking if he wishes to hold baby Dekarios. How could he say no? 
Astarion never cared for fatherhood, but the moment that baby girl was in his arms, opening her eyes with that dopey, toothless smile, he was done for. And when she grabbed his pointer finger with her tiny hand, gripping it lightly with all her strength. Astarion knew he wouldn't stop trying until you were carrying his child.
You were finishing up the dishes, hips swaying to a tune only you could hear. The summer heat had you in shorts that fell just below the swell of your rear and a sheer top that revealed your lack of a bra. It's been a week since the visit to the Dekarios, and Astarion can no longer hold back the desires that burn deep in his body. 
Astarion approaches silently, a predator stalking his prey. You rub your nose on your shoulder, trying to scratch an itch while your hands are covered in suds, groaning in annoyance when that fails to help. 
Gods, you're adorable. 
You're so carefree and relaxed, looking so soft, warm, and delicate. All open to his wandering hands and his greedy mouth. Astarion can already feel himself stiffen just from the knowledge of what he has in store for you.
A startled scream leaves your lips as Astarion's cold arms snake around your waist and pulls you against his hard chest. It does make him feel bad for a moment, but the delicate sigh that follows as he kisses up your jaw is enough to make up for it. 
"Hello, my love." Astarion hums against your skin. His nimble fingers trail over your stomach, teasing the valley of your breast, taking careful movements to ghost his thumb over your sensitive nipple. A gasp leaves your sinful mouth, and you arch your back.
"H-hey," you breathe, and when Astarion grinds his tented pants against your backsides, you let out the most delicious whimper. "What are you up to, Star?" 
His only response is a breathy laugh as he turns you around and pulls you into a kiss. Signing into his mouth, you hook your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. It's messy, with soapy hands and mingling tongues, but it leaves you breathless. Astarion teases your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away to bite your jaw playfully, relishing the surprised yelp you give him. 
Astarion quickly lifts you onto the countertop, where he can nestle between your plush thighs. Your wandering hands move up to tangle into his curls and give a tug. Astarion obliges your silent request and resumes the kiss, licking deeply into your mouth. He's lost in the subtle floral scent of your shampoo and the taste of your lips.
You pull him away with your chest, heaving in deep pants. "Astarion, what are you--" He smirks when you trail off into a breathy moan as his teeth nibble at your ear.
"Darling, do you remember that book you gifted me?" Astarion's hands trail down your side, and you part your legs more for his reaching fingers.
"Y-yes, the one you scoffed at and threw in the corner?" Still having the sense of mind to tease him, he chuckles when your quip spills into a moan when the pad of his thumb presses against your covered clit. 
Astarion is pleased with the dampening fabric of your shorts. Your responsiveness never ceases to leave him aching with need. He begins to move his finger lightly back and forth against the fabric. It's not enough to give you what you want, but it has you whining for more.
"Well, I must admit the poor excuse for educational text did have some interesting information." Astarion moves his thumb a bit rougher against your clit.
"What -fuck- what interesting information are we talking about?" 
Astarion doesn't respond immediately, slipping his hand under the band of your shorts. He swipes his deft fingers through your dripping folds and begins to tease your entrance while he continues to rub tight circles against your sensitive bud. You gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, rolling your hips into his palm. Astarion cups the back of your neck with his spare hand and tilts your head back. You meet his heated gaze with lidded eyes and mouth agape. 
"Dhampirs." Astarion purrs, plunging two of his fingers into your dripping core, curling up just enough to have you gasping his name. 
Your fingernails dig into his forearm, clinging for anything to ground you. Astarion waits for you to react, loving the way you roll your hips in time with his fingers, desperate for all that he gives you. It seems you're lost in your pleasure or not quite catching on to what he's implying because you're looking at him, clearly not following his words. 
"Half-vampires, my sweet."
You clench around his fingers, letting out a soft whimper that would have gone unheard without his heightened hearing. He smirks, picking up the pace. Astarion grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him.
"Does that excite you, darling?" 
"Gods, shit," You breathe. "Please, don't stop."
"You would look so beautiful carrying our child. Hells, imagine." 
Astarion trails his fangs over the skin of your neck, sucking on the pinprick from the previous night. His hips are now rutting against your leg and the edge of the counter, only enough to ease the ache in his groin. Astarion can feel you getting close just by the little jolts of your hips and the tight squeeze of your cunt. 
"Do you want my child, love?" Astarion hums against your skin. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim with my seed, fuck you until you're a dripping mess? Until there's a little one growing in your womb."
"Please! Fuck, I'm going t-" 
"Come for me, my sweet girl."
You cry out his name, and just as your orgasm rakes through your body, Astarion sinks his teeth into your neck and begins his feed. You're lost to the pleasure, your walls spasming around his fingers. He helps you ride out your release, never unlatching from your neck.
 Astarion takes large, greedy gulps of your blood, far more than his usual fill. The book said a significant amount of blood was needed, leaving much to be interpreted. Astarion only stopped when you nudged him on the shoulder. 
When he pulls away, you wipe the small trickle of blood that dribbles down Astarion's chin. Delicately he grabs your hand and sucks your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.
"Astarion, let's go to our room. I think we have some things to explore," you say with a tempting smile.
Astarion is carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall without another word, his lips locked onto yours. 
You're giggling against Astarion's mouth as he kicks the door open and tosses you carelessly on the bed. You bounce on the mattress and watch the vampire hastily tear at the buttons of his shirt. 
Tossing the fabric away, Astarion looks at you and unbuckles his trousers. The sight alone nearly has him cumming in his pants. There you are, lounging with that devious gaze, biting your lip and groping your breast like the tease you are.
"Fuck, sweetheart," Astarion breathe, practically ripping the rest of his clothes from his body. "Take your clothes off for me."
You do as you're told and quickly strip until you're bare and spread out like a feast just for him. Astarion now kneels naked at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, giving a gentle kiss to your calf. 
"I've thought about nothing else but getting you pregnant since I read that foolish book," Astarion says, kissing his way up your leg. "Watching your stomach grow round with our child," He kisses and licks the soft flesh of your abdomen. 
"Astarion," you sigh.
"To get the pleasure of taking care of you. Rubbing your swollen feet, and massage your aching back, even fetching every one of the disgusting cravings your pregnancy gives you."
"Says the blood drinker." You scoff, glaring down at Astarion between the valley of your breasts. 
Astarion ignores you and bites at your chest playfully. "You would make such a lovely mother, darling. Please, love, let me make you a mother." 
Astarion's words are laced with a tone of desperation. He might have been embarrassed if not for the need that consumes him: a need to see you nod at him with your beautiful smile, a need to hear you say you want this just as much as him, that you want to start a family with him, however unlikely it might be.
And then you nod your head and frantically pull him up into a kiss, and Astarion feels like he's alive once again.
"Gods, yes." You mumble, slinging your legs around him and pulling him down against your body.
Astarion licks into your mouth, kissing you like a man starved. You're just as desperate, grinding up against him, seeking friction, and letting out little whines against his mouth. Wandering hands trails down his back and between your two bodies, and Astarion lets out a pathetic moan when you grip his leaking cock, giving him a few teasing pumps. 
"You're going to be such a good daddy, Astarion." You whisper sinfully in his ears as he fucks your hand. "Going to take good care of me and our little one."
"Hells, you wicked thing." Astarion grunts. 
You run your thumb over the head, giving him a playful squeeze. Hot, open-mouth kisses are littered across his chest and up his neck until your mouth is right against his ear. Your warm breath floats over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Astarion love, I need you to put a baby into me." 
Astarion nods, seemingly breathless, as you line him up at your weeping cunt. He presses in, and the room fills with debauched moans. You grab his neck, slamming your mouths back together, tongues back into their messy dance. Saliva coats each other's lips, but neither can get enough. Astarion grunts deep in his chest when you scratch your nails over his scalp.
"Oh my love, I'm going to fuck you until you're leaking with my cum. Filled to the brim until you can't take anymore." Astarion grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders, and you cry at the change in angle. "Then tomorrow I'll do the same, and the day after. Until we know for sure our baby is growing in your womb."
"Yes, Star. Wanna baby." You slur against him, pressing warm kisses wherever your lips can touch. 
Astarion was fucking you as if this was his life goal. As if nothing else matters but the delicious feeling of his cock thrusting against your walls, pressing deep against your cervix. Seeing all of you with your cheek flushed and your chest rising and falling with rapid pants of breath, knees against your chest. Your eyes lidded, gazed over in pleasure, and your hair a mess against the white of the pillow. It was the sexiest display Astarion has ever had the pleasure to see.
"You're so beautiful. Gods, I love you." 
"Love you," You try to say but choke on a moan. Your hands wander down his back and across his chest, seeming not to know where you want to touch.
Astarion is close but determined to feel you come around him before finding his release. Thankfully, he won't need to wait long because you're on the edge. So close. He can tell just by the way your gummy walls spasm around his cock, and the way your hips are jutting up against each of his thrusts.
"I know you're close, darling. Can you come for me? I want to feel you squeeze me while I fill you."
And with those sinful words, it was almost like you were waiting for his permission because as soon as they left his mouth, you were falling over the precipice. You clench down on him, a pleasured sob breaking free of your throat. The feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over, and he quickly found his release spilling his seed deep into your abused cunt.
The room stills, the scent of sweat and sex clings to the air. Astarion lets your legs fall to the side and maneuvers both of your bodies so that he's lying on his back and you're resting on top of him, head on his chest. Astarion rubs your back and kisses your hairline as you catch your breath. You trace lines across his skin, lost in thought at what had happened.
"So should I expect a little vampling running around soon?" you ask, looking up at him.
Astarion huffs a small laugh through his nose and kisses your forehead. "Human and Vampire reproduction is unlikely but not impossible," Astarion explains without the rush of arousal clogging both of your minds. "But I think we've done many remarkable things together, wouldn't you agree, my love."
You smile brightly and kiss his chest. "Yes, we do have a knack for doing the impossible. And I'm very, very eager to keep trying." 
Taglist
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mingoooossii · 1 month
Text
Love.
Yunho x reader Synopsis: so reader gets shit from work and stuff happens and they make up. Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, insecurities, fear of abandonment(?),self-hatred(kind of). fluff at the end and some kisses. Might be a Lil awkward since I can't do emotions. Also it's long, idk how many words but it's long. Typos maybe?
"Babe!"
The soft glow of the television flickered across the room as Yunho entered.
"Have you seen my hoodie? The grey on-"
But his question died in his throat as his gaze landed on his partner.
You sat huddled on the couch, the phone pressed tightly to your ear, brow furrowed in a picture of distress. Yunho's smile faded, concern gnawing at him.
He stepped closer, his voice soft. "Everything okay?"
You flinched at the sound of his voice, quickly ending the call. You took a deep breath, trying to mask your distress with a weak smile. "Yeah, just work stuff." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.
Yunho wasn't convinced. He knew you better than that. Your "work stuff" rarely left you this visibly shaken. He sat beside you his hand hovering over yours, offering silent support.
"What happened?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.
You hesitated, then sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "They called," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "About the project."
Yunho's stomach clenched. He remembered how much time and effort you had poured into your current project, how excited you were about it. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them pleasant.
"It's gone." you said, voice cracking. "Deleted. Apparently, a system glitch. And now I how to redo it in 3 days."
Anger sparked within Yunho. "That's ridiculous! It's not your fault, and expecting you to pull that off in that time…"
His words were cut short by a sharp look from you. "Don't." you snapped, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You wouldn't understand."
Yunho recoiled, his heart sinking. "What do you mean I wouldn't understand?" His tone softened, replaced by confusion.
Tears streamed down your face. "You're good at everything, Yunho." you whispered, voice laced with self-hatred. "You're talented, it's all natural to you. I'm not like that i..." You paused, wiping your tears away desperately.
"I'm not talented like you and... this is the one thing that I'm good at and...if I can't even do that, then what good am i?" You sobbed, wiping your face, frustrated at the non-stopping tears, breaking his heart further.
Your words hit him like a physical blow. He had never realized how you perceived him, or how it made you feel. The truth was, he admired your dedication, your resilience, the sheer amount of effort you poured into everything you did.
"That's not true..." Yunho started, a hint of desperation as he reached out to you. "You're wrong. You're much more than you think you-"
"I don't need you to appease me." You cut him off with a bitter tone, picking up her laptop. "Yunho, leave me alone." You looked away from him, reserving yourself to the office room. He watched as the door shut close with a sickening thud, resonating with his heartbeat.
Three days crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing the growing distance between them. You were a whirlwind of activity, fueled by adrenaline and exhaustion. Your eyes, once bright with passion, were now shadowed with determination, bordering on desperation. Meals were quick, silent affairs, your focus solely on the screen illuminating you.
The frustration gnawed at him, but he knew pushing wouldn't help. This was your battle, and you had to fight it your way. Instead, he chose to show his support in quieter ways.
He stocked the fridge with your favorite snacks, left a fresh mug of tea outside your door, and even attempted to fold a few stray shirts (with predictably disastrous results).
He knew deep down that you weren't shutting him out, you were shutting yourself in. All he could do was be the ground beneath your feet, a constant presence even when you couldn't see him.
'i did it...i actually did it!' Three days. After 72 excruciatingly long hours, you finally did it. You finally pushed back from your desk, your eyes stinging from exhaustion but a flicker of triumph lighting them. The project was done.
But the elation was short-lived, choked by the hollowness that echoed within you. Guilt, suffocating and heavy, settled on your chest. The memory of your cold words, the slammed doors, the silent treatment you had inflicted on him all came rushing back. Shame burned your cheeks. In your single-minded pursuit of finishing the project, you had pushed away the very person who loved and supported you the most.
With trembling legs, you walked towards the living room, your voice thick with fear and regret. "Yunho?" You called out, voice barely a whisper. Silence. You tried again, louder this time, voice laced with desperation. Still nothing.
He usually came back from the company at this time except for...today.
Then he left...you?
Panic clawed at your throat at the thought. Tears streamed down your face, carving hot tracks on your cold cheeks. You sank to your knees, the weight of your actions crushing your spirit.
'He finally had enough of your selfishness and left you..' Your mind spun, conjuring scenarios, each bleaker than the last. You sobbed into your hands, not noticing the door opening.
Yunho stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. The grocery shopping took longer than he thought. He hummed a low tune as he walked into the living room, freezing when he spotted you, on the floor.
Panic settled within him at the racking sobs that escaped you. Dropping the bags, he was instantly by your side, cradling you into his arms. "Baby, what's wrong?"
Startled, you whirled around expecting the worst but instead, you found his concerned eyes.
Relief washed over you, a tidal wave threatening to drown you. But before you could speak, Yunho's face crumpled with worry, holding your face gently. "Honey, What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
His concern, so genuine and unwavering, broke the dam of your emotions. You collapsed into his arms, the sobs returning with renewed intensity. All the guilt, the fear, the shame poured out in a torrent of broken words. "I thought you left me..."
"Why would I leave you?" He asked, voice gently but you could see the confusion in his eyes.
''I thought you got sick of me and left." You sobbed, your voice barely a whisper. I'm so sorry for being so selfish and i pushed you away and I-"
Yunho cupped your face, cutting you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. He wiped away your tears with his thumbs. His gaze was soft, filled with love, so much love.
"I was worried sick, Y/n. " he admitted. "But I understand. You were going through so much, and I…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I just wanted to be there for you, but I pushed too hard. I should have listened more."
He held you tighter, his heart clenching at the fear in your embrace. "You must've panicked because I was late."
He pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there. "I just went grocery shopping to stock up. I should've told you earlier, I'm sorry, love."
You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, but all you saw was love and concern. Shame washed over you, hot and prickly. How could you have doubted him like this?
"I'm so sorry." you whispered, voice trembling. "I was awful. I shut you out, and then…my stupid thoughts…"
Yunho shook his head, cradling you close to him,his voice soft. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault. But I'm never letting you go through that again."
Yunho pulled back, gently stroking your hair, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. "But you really thought I was going to leave you? Never, you're stuck with me forever." He said, voice gentle yet firm. "You know how obsessed i am with you."
A choked laugh escaped your lips. "You're impossible." you mumbled, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
Yunho grinned, holding you close. "Maybe. But I'm your impossible, and you're mine. That'll never change."
A weak smile adorned your face. "Promise?"you whispered, voice barely a breath.
"Promise!" He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "And that's a seal! Now..."
He swept you off your feet. "Let's get you something to eat. You haven't eaten properly these days."
As he carried you to the kitchen, the tension that had coiled within you began to unwind. The weight of your insecurities and fears vanishing entirely by the warmth of his presence and the unwavering certainty of his love.
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neiptune · 1 year
Text
easier
c/w: 2k wc, barely proofread, established relationship, nagi needs a fucking break from existing, i need to get all the love i have for him out of my system somehow
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Something is wrong and it didn’t exactly take Reo screaming bloody murder in your ear for the past fifteen minutes to notice.
It was already evident by the slight slump of his shoulders, the lukewarm greeting when you arrived at his apartment, by the way he excused himself after lunch with a kiss to the crown of your head and some mumbling about feeling tired. You know better than to follow him upstairs and pressure him to talk, sometimes he just needs to close in himself and be alone with his thoughts for a while. A concept Reo is not really familiar with.
Although you have achieved your fair share of successes throughout the years (he has stopped sending Nagi venmo transactions whenever he complains about feeling demotivated, he no longer shows up at your apartment unannounced and he finally broke the habit of buying you stock trading books for your birthday), you are still unable to control his anxiety and sheer panic that inevitably turn into scenes of biblical proportions every single time things get out of his control. Like today, which apparently marks a week since his best friend has not only been skipping practice but has also stopped picking up his calls.
Calls being an occurrance that takes place approximately twenty to thirty-five times per day.
So you had to spend half an hour babying him on the phone, promising that no shimmering football dream is collapsing, that yes they are still going to win the world cup and no he will not be abandoned by his best friend right at the beginning of their “very fucking promising” careers.
“You have to talk to him because he won’t talk to me”
“I’m on it chief, just relax”
“Don’t tell me to relax, he’s about to throw his talent away and live a miserable life as an office worker or some shit!”
“Reo, just take a deep breath and leave him be. I’ll talk to him if he wants to talk to me, maybe he just needs some t—”
“I swear to fuck if you’re about to say he needs time—”
“Bye, Reo”
It’s a good relationship, the one you have with Nagi. Just a little too crowded, every now and then.
So you take your time, get comfortable on the couch and scroll away on social media, finding it hilarious how your boyfriend and his friends always manage to come up on your feed in suggested posts and reels. You don’t follow any of their fan accounts but are guilty of having liked one or two fancams and the algorithm has not left you alone since. Which is fine, as it gives you the chance to forward some of the juicy content to the interested parties (mostly Chigiri: he’s the one who will get the most annoyed, has already typed back several send me another one of these cuffing season edits and I’ll block you forever). Isagi usually just replies with blushing emojis, the only one who always indulges you and adds to the fun is Meguru. You’ll send him a video and he’ll like it, leave an inappropriate comment and share it in his stories all in the span of ten seconds.
When you get up and head upstairs at last, a reasonable amount of time punctuated by a non reasonable amount of texts from Reo has passed. You half expect Nagi to be napping but it’s not entirely surprising to find him sprawled on his bed with a gaming headset and a laptop balanced on his lap instead. As you lean against the doorway with a little smile tugging at your lips, his eyes dart to you right away. He pats the empty spot next to him and mouths a quiet just one more game but you shake your head in reassurance as you climb onto the king size bed: you’re not there to rush him or demand his attention.
You make sure not to prevent his hands and arms from moving freely when you rest your head on his shoulder. You recognize the game as it’s one of his favorites, he always plays Ikaruga or any other STG when he’s stressed out. The ship turns white and Nagi moves it around skillfully to absorb as many white bullets as possible to store their power, in preparation for his special laser attack. At the same time, he does his best to avoid all the black bullets fired by enemies and succeeds in destroying an opponent with the same polarity as his ship but ends up changing polarities too quickly and ultimately fails to prevent new bullets from destroying his ship. With a sharp sigh, he takes off his headphones, shuts the laptop and roughly places it on his empty nightstand before the mocking game over writing can even have the chance to flash before his eyes.
“Sorry” he mutters, head tilted back to rest against the wall, one arm finding its way around your waist to pull you closer to him.
“For losing? I forgive you, it’s a hard game” you chuckle and his quiet huff tickles your forehead.
“For Reo. He’s been on my ass for a week and now he’s tormenting you”
“That was taken into account when we started dating, you two are kind of a package deal”
He doesn’t laugh, the stubborn silence following your joke prompting you to peer up at him.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Nagi looks down and meets your gaze.
“About what?”
“Whatever’s on your mind”
He shuts his eyes for a second. Doesn’t question how you know something’s actually up and he’s not just being his usual, lazy self.
“Need a hug” he mumbles and tightens his arm around you, annoyed at how you simply reach over to his shoulder with your other arm “no, s’not enough, closer” you can practically hear the pout as you hum and position yourself in his lap, legs wrapping around his waist the way you know he likes it. Nagi closes his arms around you and buries his face in the curve of your shoulder, nose grazing your neck and thick, white hair tickling your cheek. Your nails gently scrape his nape, fingers playing with the softer locks at the base as your lips press to the side of his head.
“Would you still love me if I stopped playin’?” the question is so hushed you can barely discern the words whispered into your very soul from how hard he’s pressing himself to you.
“Hmm” you fake hesitation “you mean if you didn’t have to be gone all the time? If I could see you every day and you wouldn’t collapse on me from how tired you are when we’re watching a movie together? I think I’d make the effort, yeah”
Again, he doesn’t laugh, but you’re not Reo. You’re not gonna panic about a scenario you know it’s nothing more than an innocent, naive fantasy.
“Lately everything’s such a fucking pain. They’re all on my back, all the time. If I score a goal and it’s not genius enough, if I don’t stay the evening for extra training, if I don’t give enough interviews, if my talent is just blind luck. Maybe I should just stop”
You let the words sink in for a moment, frustration bubbling in the pit of your stomach at the unfairness of it all. Football is the only true passion he’s ever discovered and yes, it may have happened purely by chance, but it still had awakened him. He’s started playing out of boredom and has then found a whole world of prodigies passionate enough to be willing to dedicate their entire lives to the game. He’s allowed their passion to motivate him enough to discover his own. Nagi has become someone who actually cares and strives to set new limits always meant to be overcome. He’s only truly alive when he’s on the field, doing what he actually loves and is talented enough to pursue for the rest of his life. You can’t forgive anyone who is slowly dimming that light of his, you won’t allow them to extinguish that blaze.
“Sei” you slowly pull back because you want him to look at you “yes, you are lucky to be so insanely talented, but may I remind you just how much quite frankly obsessive work you have put into it ever since you came out of Ego’s fucked up dungeon?”
He pinches your hip and you flinch, but don’t mirror his little smile.
“It’s been years, stop calling it a fucked up dungeon”
You roll your eyes.
“What I'm hearing is, you stopped having fun. Don’t let them ruin football for you, Sei. Every goal you score is a genius goal to me, never forget how proud I am of you. Just start having fun again, yeah? You should enjoy it, I want to see you enjoy it” 
“Sometimes I’m scared I’ll just get sick of it” he leans into your touch as you stroke his cheek “m'not good at anything else”
“You don’t love anything else. They locked you up in a lair full of lunatics and instead of getting sick of it, you became one of them. You can do whatever you want with your life but would you love anything as much as you love football?”
Nagi furrows his brows as his features morph into a sarcastic expression.
“I love you. Even if you just called me a lunatic” as your hand is still on his cheek, he turns his head slightly to softly nibble at your wrist, which you retract with a giggle.
“The point being, I believe in you. Chase that excitement again, have fun, tell Reo to shut the fuck up and let you have a break when you need one. Don’t let them drain you, okay?” cautiously, you bring your hand up again to brush some hair away from his forehead. He shuts his eyes again, gentle exhale slipping past his parted lips.
“I have practice in an hour. I know you get bored—”
“I’ll come. If I can wear your jersey”
Nagi opens his eyes again, a slight blush already tinting the tips of his ears.
“But that’s embarrassing”
With fake outrage, your mouth hangs open in an “o” shape.
“Embarrassing? Wow, maybe you’ll get sick of me before you get sick of footb—”
“Never” he’s so quick to cut you off and take your face in his big hands, you don’t really have time to react. His grip is still tight, even as nimble fingers brush hair away from your face, eyes so intently focused on you your pulse taps a little quicker against your skin. “So pretty” he cocks his head a little, inching forward enough for the tip of his nose to gently nudge yours one time, two times “the prettiest. And all mine” he whispers against your lips as he wets his own with the tip of his tongue, still keeping you in place to have complete control. You’re easily deceived by the first, soft touch of his mouth, nothing more than a reminder of how how gentle his love can be. But then his lips chase yours again and it’s wet, messy, pads of fingers sinking into the flesh of your cheeks and jaw, the whimper easing from your throat stretching his pretty mouth in a smirk right before he gently nips at your bottom lip.
“Thanks for loving me” Nagi hooks a finger underneath your chin and lifts your face nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just kissed all the wind out of your lungs “I know how much work that is”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way” you attempt a smile, still busy catching your breath.
Truth is, loving Seishiro does require some work. Sleepless nights, long trips, petty arguments when he’s too tired and takes it out on you, navigating disappointing championships, a mindset so stubborn and frustrating it has you clenching your fists, nails digging into your palms to keep you from exploding.
But at the end of the day, he’s always, always the Sei that melts underneath your touch and presses your body impossibly closer to his. The Sei that runs to hug you at the end of every single game, before entire stadiums. The Sei that will have your favorite flowers randomly delivered to you just because, no matter if he’s in his room or halfway around the world.
At the end of the day, he makes it easy. So, as you press your lips to his forehead and his arms tighten around you once more, you hope you get to make it all a little easier for him, too.
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