#<-since the feelings mostly. come from this

[scartale-an-undertale-au]

So... I see this a decade after i decided to simply... Stop instigating conversations because i felt like im simply burdening others with my presence and that they actually felt annoyed having to hear from me and wished i wouldnt send messages.

The thing is that none of them ever approached me afterwards. When we saw each other after a while we would be ecstatic but there was a wall between us already and i dont know if its simply life going on and us being very different than back then, or that they truly didnt see me the same as i saw them (as my besties).

One time i met one of them (this one specifically was my best friend from first grade until twelve basically) on the street and i see that she's married and walking with her husband. Turns out the wedding was that sunday and i wasnt even notified of it happening or of the engagement. I wasnt mad about not being invited, but i was hurt for not even being notified! She then turned to her husband and said that im a friend of her from high school.

Its been a decade from high school so i can see why she said that, but that hurt me so badly that the moment i waved them goodbye and they disappeared around a corner, i collapsed and just sobbed. I was so heartbroken. It seemed that i was the only one who still thought of her as my old school's bestie or had thought of including her in any future milestones simply because she was so important to me.

So i dont know how i feel about this post. I understand where you guys are coming from and its in good intentions, but the main issue is that many kids who become the sole instigators were never shown that they can be vulnerable in front of their friends about this matter. It felt like its your duty and how you contribute to the group. And when it became harder and harder, the friends never questioned why you pulled away or asked for your wellbeing. It turned into a situation when you feel more like a nuisance than a leader.

Fortunately, i have now friends who instigate so much more than me and i keep telling them how i appreciate it and apologise for how terrible i am at texting back and that its never because i dont want them to text me. Its simply because texting or answering messages had become so hard for me and so mentally taxing i sometimes shut down when i see messages i need to reply to.

So rambling aside, as much as i appreciate your sentiment, i think a different approach would be helpful.

My approach (which is not better or worse, just a different approach) is to get comfortable with a 'friends for one day' reality. I go so many times to so many places and meet so many amazing people, we always say we'll contact one another and keep in touch and then never contact one another again, and that's alright.

You have to be comfortable with being friends without focusing on the 'keeping the friendship going' let people come and go. Those who truly want to stick around will stick around, and they usually have a much deeper connection with you that isnt dependant on who instigates the conversations.

My friends are those that mostly text in memes and reels since we dont see each other often. And i do the same in return. Its easier and relays so much more. We have proper conversations here and there, but our actual interactions happen physically. And they instigate meetups much more than i do and i always make sure that they know that i appreciate it. One of my friends and i also have some differences in opinions, so we have some long discussions.

I also have a friend who i dont text to at all but invites me to shabbat meals once in a while and i come over and its like no time had passed. I invite her back for bbq or shabbat as well, but thats also once in a blue moon.

Another friend is across the ocean so its mostly photos and small comments and talks about our lives and since the war began, she keeps checking if im alive and well.

Another friend is also across the ocean and we mostly speak about our realities of being jews or squeal over her precious daughter or make plans for when she finally comes to Israel.

So my friends arent part of one group but many branches of different aspects of my life. I would say i have around seven/eight of them that arent my current co workers (work friendship is also temporary and i accept that fully and enjoy our time together) and im truly blessed because i had let go of the desperate need to keep my friends together.

So please dont call us a bitch for not willing to talk about it. And we're certainly not mini community leaders, we're just people who are friends with those that never cared about reaching out first or affirming our friendship in any kind of way. Its not fair to put the expectations of reaching out onto the one who constantly did that. Friends who truly want to keep up a friendship will attempt to do so when they see that the other side isnt as present as previously.

Sorry im all over the place, im on my phone and its harder to articulate on it

every now and then the internet decides it should revamp the ole “stop texting first and see how many friends you lose” when in reality you could literally just communicate that u feel bad that ur the only one texting first

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich is a morning person and Rook is only a morning person under duress, which becomes only a minor issue after the gods are finally dead because Rook's ideal wake up time is roughly noon, and Emmrich's up at the asscrack of dawn every day whether he works or not.

It's six thirty AM and Rook's face-down on the bed, titties out and hair splayed across three pillows, and Elgar'nan breathed this last breath less than a week ago. Emmrich gave the various factions of Thedas exactly three days to demand Rook's attention and, on the morning of the fourth day, grabbed Rook with one hand and Manfred with the other and asked the Caretaker if there was an Eluvian that might deposit one anywhere in the area of the Cumberland countryside.

Emmrich apparently maintains a small country house here, for 'Whatever occassion might arise' (demented) and it's modest but pretty. Manfred trampled straight into the rose garden when they got here and hasn't emerged since, but Emmrich claims that's normal for him. Rook personally believes that Manfred, even, is still processing their mutual ordeal, but she's content to let him do it with the caterpillars and the rose petals. Not like a skeleton can be pricked by a thorn.

The moment they arrived, Emmrich sought out the housekeeper and told her that her services would not be required for the coming week, and to stand by on the subject of next week as well.

"Go celebrate the world not ending, Helga!" he'd said, maybe a bit too loud and manic, as he closed what was surely much more than a week's salary into her hand. Knowing Emmrich, there was already a very robust system in place to assure that his housekeeper received her generous salary every week--this was merely some sort of consolation pay for the very difficult task of being given a week of vacation.

Helga was Elven, at least as old as Emmrich and blinked at him like a vaguely surprised cat. She swept her gaze over Rook as well before leaving. She'd been smirking, Rook thought, as the door closed behind her.

Thus, they've been alone in the house, and Rook has been sleeping, staring vaguely into the distance, sleeping, reading from Emmrich's extensive collection, looking at the ceiling while trying to forget the sight of Bellara's blighted eyes, sleeping, bouncing on Emmrich's dick like it's her job, and sleeping sleeping sleeping.

They've been here for two days, more or less 48 hours, and many of those hours were spent in his lap. Fucking him, yes, but also just clinging onto him like an extra limb because right now, she feels like she might disintegrate if he isn't touching her. He reads to her. Smiles and laughs through so many stories from his life. She thinks about Solas disappearing into the Fade, maybe never to be seen again. The last God of her people.

When she goes too quiet, sometimes he tells her a joke or puts a little chocolate in her mouth. Once, he ate her out while humming the Nevarran national anthem and she laughed as she came. Sometimes he joins her in melancholy and they lay together and cope. Sometimes she cries, mostly from exhaustion and relief and grief, and he kisses her face. Sometimes he cries. From exhaustion and relief and grief, probably. She tucks her head under his chin and rubs her small hand up and down his broad back, and then she swipes the snot and tears out of his mustache with her very own thumb because she loves him, she loves him.

This morning, she flutters her eyes open and enjoys the texture of the silk sheets against her bare body (Last night, and for lack of a better term, Emmrich fucked her to sleep--apparently, when the world isn't in active peril, he's very into the whole tantric thing. Hours of crazy hot, dragging sex that destroys braincells, but only the ones she's better off not having.) and she does that for about thirty seconds before she realizes it's just barely light outside, blue and cool. Then she starts wondering why the fuck she's awake right now.

The answer becomes apparent immediately: Emmrich is in the ensuite bath, running water and making the weirdest, loudest noises. She thinks at first that he's managed to gag himself with his own toothbrush, but then he sneezes, blows his nose with a honking noise like a malfunctioning horn, and clears his throat so thunderously that Rook thinks he must somehow be drowning.

She rolls out of bed and wobbles into the bathroom, birthday suit and all, because clearly he's become sick in the night and it's now up to her to guide him back to bed and care for him. She's surprised, then, to find him looking hale and healthy in front of the sink. He's wearing nothing but silk pajama pants and down slippers. He's making an absurd clicking sound and swirling a finger inside his ear.

"Are you okay?" Rook demands, propped on the doorjamb.

Emmrich jumps a foot on the air, winces as he jabs his own eardrum, and says, "Ow! Darling, please don't sneak up on--"

"You are being so loud," she says, because the polite section of her brain hasn't woken up. "Are you choking? Are you sick?"

"No," Emmrich says slowly. "I just--oh, the door must have fallen open. The floor isn't terribly even here. I'm sorry, darling--sound does carry in this old house." He twirls a finger behind his ear and clinks again. "I fear I suffer seasonal allergies, dearest, and it's been a long while since I slept more than a night or two outside of the Necropolis or the Fade. There's quite a bit of...mucus..." He clears his throat.

"Gross," says Rook, and then, "It's dawn, Emmrich."

"Mm-hm." Emmrich is now leaning across the counter, two inches from the mirror and examining his mustache like a jewel appraiser.

"Why are you making heinous old man noises at dawn?"

His eyes veer towards her reflection in the mirror, and they make eye contact in the glass. Very neatly, and with a raised eyebrow, he says, "Heinous old man noises."

Rook starts making hawking, gutteral noises in the back of her throat. It's a pretty faithful imitation.

"Dearest," he yells over the sound. "I apologize for waking you--"

"I cannot believe," says Rook, "that I'm going to spend the rest of my life being woken up at dawn by the hacks and sneezes of a man who wears wing tip shoes."

She's halfway through a half-asleep snicker at the hilarity of her own statement when Emmrich fixes her with a surprised look in his wet eyes and she realizes she's never actually voiced the idea that has become an unspoken certainty in her mind: That he's the love of her life, and her life may not be as short as she was thinking it might be this time last week, and that she wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her ambiguously-numbered mornings waking up to him.

She also realizes the truth of the situation. The baths in the Lighthouse were communal, and one never knew which companion they might encounter during their morning routine. Emmrich is fastidious and spends a great deal of his energy in broadcasting the image of a man who is utterly put together in everything he does. Never a hair out of place or a thread loose. It's a privilege of the highest order to witness him this way. Sleep-mused hair, shadow on his jaw. The bleariness of sleep in his eyes and, yes, even the throat-clearing and nose blowing.

Emmrich clears his throat and whispers, "Forgive me. I've...lived alone. For a very long time."

Rook's eyes water as she croaks, "Not anymore. I don't...want you to."

A smile spreads his face. It is wobbly, boyish, and so so beautiful. The absurdity of the situation finally reaches her--she is very naked and he's only slightly more dressed and there is a perfectly warm, perfectly comfortable bed steps away.

"Come back to bed," Rook says. "Please?"

He does.

[chanelnumbermine]

2024 f2 boys when someone else compliments you | f2 grid picks x gn!reader

since u liked the previous part so much, i decided to write a little more and added franquito! he has a special place in my heart after this season (mentally i’m still in imola sprint). i’m very open to learn about more drivers and add them to the list! have a nice read!

pairing(s): ollie bearman x gn!reader, kimi antonelli x gn!reader, zane maloney x gn!reader, paul aron x gn!reader, pepe marti x gn!reader, luke browning x gn!reader, franco colapinto x gn!reader;

warning(s): itty bitty possessive behaviour, mostly cuteness!!

ollie bearman | prema —> haas f1

squeezes your hand and smiled politely

"thank you. they really do light up every room."

he says dryly and tries to shrug off this weird feeling in his chest

becomes a little stiff and after a while he asks

“do random people compliment you like that often?”

you shrug and smirk, seeing he’s a little jealous

“they were right, you look stunning. i should say that more often”

andrea kimi antonelli | prema —> mercedes amg pertronas

he’s already a little flustered because you came over to see his family

you click with them instantly

"uh, thanks mom. i say it every day."

to him you’re the sweetest prettiest person ever and he sometimes forgets that other people can also see that

it’s just hard to remember about the whole world when he’s in your presence

you’re his and he’s fully yours, and he’ll spend the rest of the day clinging to you

he’s nott that good with words, but very good at making you feel loved

paul aron | hitech —> bwt alpine reserve driver

i bet it was one of your friends who complimented you

and paul? tries to outdo the other person with compliments

"you're not just radiant, darling, you look literally ethereal. you know, your eyes ere like the moon. so big and shiny."

thinks he's smooth

he's not

but he's adorable as hell, grinning like and idiot and spewing nonsense just to make you laugh

you'd have to kiss him to shut him up

“i was supposed to make you blush, not the other way around…”

zane maloney | rodin —> formula e

awkward as hell

could be even a little insecure

why would anyone dare compliment you? do they think they have a chance with you?

he tries not to show it, but is not good at it

"aww, are you pouting?" you teased him

he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck nervously

"what, me? you're seeing things"

please reassure him!! he’s the sweetest bunny

pepe marti | campos, red bull academy

"yeah, of course my baby looks beautiful tonight."

goes full on protective mode

could become sarcastic, maybe even passive-aggressive

"i knew this day would come. i have to fend off other admirers."

you laugh and poke his arm

"must be so hard having a beautiful partner, huh?"

huffs playfully and kisses your forehead

luke browning | hitech —> f2

he was joking around with his friends when one of them made an innocent cute comment about your looks

“i know, right? they make me look better just standing next to me”

tries to divert the attention from you

on the outside he seems quite normal, but inside he’s seething with jealousy

like, why would anyone feel the need to point out the obvious???

sneaks his arm around your waist

peppers your face with kisses when you have a little time alone

franco colapinto | mp —> williams racing

whatever the circumstances, he goes into full yapping mode

franco takes seizes every opportunity to brag about who he managed to pull

"right!! you see, mom, they bake the best cookies. one time, when we were in madrid, we ate those cinnamon buns i like so much and..."

he just wants everyone to know you're the best person he's ever had the privilege to meet

he wants to share all the best memories with his family! and has no filter

"no, sis, we weren’t drunk that much… oh, you’re totally right amor, we were, sorry”

the compliments are flowing from both sides, its very natural and franqui doesn’t get worked up at all

masterlist

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 5)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Part 5 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for general warnings.

A/N: Hang in there friends. I will ease your pain soon ��

The next day you were, for the most part, unconsolable. Marlene let you lay around in her guest bed while you faded in between sleep and numbness. 

The pain was unfamiliar. Hurt because it was so unexpected. Amplified because you were falling so hard for him and thought he felt the same way. Hurt by the immense weight of betrayal and deception that he dumped on you last night. Hurt by the thought that he didn’t want you to know. Hurt because despite the pain you still felt a longing and prayed to just wake from the nightmare like it was all just a bad dream.

The early afternoon sun gave its best attempt to bring some life to you, but you simply rolled away from the window and wrapped yourself up in your warm cocoon. Your phone screen lit up on the nightstand for the umpteenth time and you ignored it.

The apathy you were feeling was weighing you down, paralyzing you from moving from your safe haven. It felt like time wasn’t moving either, and you were just trapped in this moment and helpless to do anything about it.

The 360 your emotions took in the span of 24 hours was unprecedented. It took everything out of you and you can’t stop ruminating on what was and what could have been. Where do you go from here? 

Last night, you don’t remember much of what happened when you left Coppers. You were inconsolable and Marlene felt too responsible for you to let you go home by yourself in your condition. She insisted you get in her car and she brought you to her apartment which was not too far away. 

She didn’t ask you any questions, and you could only assume what she could possibly be thinking about you now. You felt embarrassed and sick to your stomach whenever flashes from the night before popped into your mind. 

How could you have been so stupid?   

A tiny knock on the door caught your attention and Marlene meekly poked her head in. She wandered over to the bed and sat at the edge.

“Come on. I made us lunch and you are going to eat.” She patted your bundled up shoulder and got into your face to glare at you. This request was not optional at this point. You owed her big. She placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and you saw her eye your phone lighting up.

“Fine. Give me a minute?” You didn’t sound very convincing. “I promise.”

Marlene left you some clothes to borrow while you were there. An oversized long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. Comfortable.

Marlene had lunch fixed for you both and slid over a hot cup of coffee as you approached the kitchen table. 

She was being far too kind to you. On the way home you remember little beyond the haze of being drunk and your breakdown. You remember sobbing and telling her you didn’t want to be alone. She ended up bringing you back to her place in town and babysat you through the night.

You were grateful to have made a friend in her and her kindness was the light guiding you through the turmoil. 

You manage a few bites from your sandwich out of consideration but don’t touch your coffee. The awkward silence is broken after a few moments, you knew the conversation was coming.

“So…” She pauses and then just comes out with it. “You and Joel, huh?” She attempts to drop the topic casually and friendly.

“Not anymore.” You feel your eyes well up again. Tears from anger, sadness and heartbreak. A trifecta of emotions that you don’t recall ever feeling before. Everything about Joel was intense and had been from the moment you met him. 

You realize that since meeting him it had all been mostly bottled up inside you. Except for some vague chatter at work, your life with Joel was mostly a secret. Something you kept private because you were shy about being judged for falling for a man so much older than you.  

You tell her everything. 

“Babe, he isn’t worth the tears.” she said so confidently, like she had so much knowledge about him that you didn’t know. 

“I had no idea about Tess.” The words spill out. “I just assumed it was only me. I would have never… How stupid-”

“Joel is an asshole” she cuts you off. Her tone is getting more heated as she gets frustrated that you are blaming yourself for anything in all of this. “What he did was wrong.” Marlene tried her best to keep her judgements to herself, but she always had been very outspoken. You knew she would be an open book if you would just ask. She seemed to harbor some resentment that was starting to slip out.

“How long have they.. You know. Been together?” you choke on the words.

“As long as I’ve known them.” she catches the way you react and takes a step back to explain. “They used to be close. Really close. Over the years they have grown apart. I think nowadays they just fuck around with each other when they are feeling lonely.” 

Your heart is in your throat and you want to throw up. You go to speak but can’t find the words, only more tears. 

“Sorry. I mean, you should know this.”

She's right, you should know this, and Joel should be the one telling you. You think back to how he was so quick to push you away at the bar and wanted to talk later. You knew something was up and he wasn’t ready for you to find out. Even if you never really defined anything between you both, he led you on. He used you. 

“Tess isn’t a saint either.” She interrupts you as if she can hear your thoughts. “This has been a long time coming. They are both toxic.” 

You wanted to know what she meant by that, but your mind couldn’t get past his wrongdoings. From where you sat last night, it looked like Tess was caught off guard by him too. 

You felt sick to your stomach the moment you realized you were the other woman. Tess didn’t deserve that.  

The tears were flowing again. You drag the back of your hand across your face to quickly wipe them away. 

“You deserve better.” She reassures you.

Do you, though? You wonder. 

You never had the best luck with men. The way Joel made you feel was not something you would be able to replace or move on from easily. He awoke something inside you that you needed to feed. He had a darkness that you were drawn to. A sexual energy that you never sought out before. It was so perfectly hidden behind some neighborly deeds and a tired man’s body.       

“Despite it all, and I know how stupid this sounds. How stupid this is. I still… can’t stop thinking about him.” You confess out loud. 

You were not a stupid person by any stretch, but you were feeling blinded by how he had been making you feel up until last night. Even after you confronted him, before you really learnt what was going on, you still felt like he was doing this for you. He wasn’t acting like the same person, but you could feel the Joel you knew was still there inside him. Like the face he was putting on was for everyone else, but your Joel was waiting in the wings.

When he had you alone by the bathrooms you could feel how much he wanted you. See how much hurt there was in his eyes when you were crying. He told you it wasn’t about you and you really wanted to believe that was true.

When he held your face in his hand and wiped your tears you knew that whatever was going on, his feelings for you were not something to question. He wanted you on a primal level and you wanted him to take what he needed from you. 

You weren’t in a formal relationship with him. You never had that talk with him. You never asked if there was anyone else. These thoughts were creeping in and making you feel stupid and partially responsible. Your conscience was desperately looking for any excuse to help Joel’s case. 

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Joel is nothing but bad news. Look at what he already did to you. Forget him.” 

Easier said than done, you think to yourself. The truth is that up until his performance he had been the first guy in your life that made you feel truly desired. It couldn’t have felt so real if it wasn’t true.

He needed you, but you also needed him.   

“Marlene…” You pause, trepidation in your tone. “I was falling for him. I think I was in l-”

“Stop.” She cuts you off. “You liked his… handsome charm, don’t confuse it for something more.” An annoyance peaks in her voice. 

You had fallen for people before and had relationships based purely on lust and attraction, but this was not it. It was something so unique that you couldn’t even put into words or feelings. A high that he gave you that you had to chase because you needed that next fix so badly. 

“And…” She pauses before cautiously saying more. “He is old enough to be your dad. Come on, this wasn’t going anywhere!” She was trying to make you see the obvious things without sounding too critical. 

You actually liked that he was older. It was so attractive if not a little bit taboo which just made it that much more exciting. He was worn on the edges but he was so confident and capable with everything he did. Not to mention no one had pleasured you like Joel Miller. You were absolutely smitten by everything he gave to you. He made you insatiable for him in every way. 

You brushed off her comments about his age. It was something you loved about him. Something that turned you on that you didn’t feel like defending.

Still, by all counts she was right. You knew the right thing to do would be to move on with your life, without Joel. 

“I’m sure whatever you had was fun, but that is all it was ever going to be.” Her matter of fact way of stating things helped to make the reality hit a little less hard. 

Maybe the reason it felt so good with Joel is because you wanted it to be something more than it was. The pit in your stomach reminds you of its presence and how this whole ordeal makes you feel sick.

There is a long silence between the two of you, and she no doubt can tell how heavy the words are hitting you. She finishes her coffee and clears the table, taking away your hardly touched plate. 

You sit with your thoughts for a moment before joining her at the kitchen sink. You hand her your mostly full coffee mug to pour in the basin.

The elephant in the room is getting too big to ignore.

It didn’t matter how you felt or what you wanted when there was someone else involved.

“What am I going to do now?” You ask her with teary eyes and a meek voice.

“I know Tess pretty well, and she can be scornful. I don’t think she knows about you and Joel, and you should keep it that way.” 

You feel yourself disassociated and want to just disappear. Go back to your Boston life and pretend you never met Joel Miller. Find a new job.  A new place to live and start fresh, again. 

“I like you, and I think you got put in a real shitty situation.” That was an understatement. “I’m not going to say anything to her, ok?” 

You nod, and believe her words.

“You are done with Joel, right?” She looks at you for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” You look away from her as you answer and the tears flow again. You weren’t sure if you were lying to her or lying to yourself, but you knew it wasn’t truthful. Whatever path you carved out next would be wrong if it wasn’t leading away from Joel.  

“Then cry as much as you need to now and put this behind you.”

She brings you in for a comforting hug and you sob into her shoulder.   

The worst part of it all is that you still have feelings for him.

—

JOEL POV - The Night Before

As he walked towards the stage to play, he was a wreck inside. Looking calm and composed was just a facade. He was nervous enough to be playing tonight with his carefully thought out song, but now knowing you may very well still be around was tipping him over the edge. There was no turning back at this point and he had to stay the course. He had to get this off his chest and had to wash his hands of Tess. Whatever comes next he would have to take it as it comes. 

The thought of hurting you in any way made him sick. 

Taking his seat he was grateful for the bright lights on him, making the audience look like anonymous shadows. At least in his mind he could pretend it was a room of nobodies. He never was one to have stage fright. He was a talented enough musician and most of the audience was drunk. He didn’t care what they thought anyways.  

He drags his hand along the neck of the guitar, feeling the strings under his calloused fingertips. Taking in a deep breath he adjusts the guitar in his lap. The light reflects off his watch and the shiny, polished wood of his instrument. The stage feels lonely as the room silences with all eyes on him.    

He strums his guitar and flexes his hand to loosen up. There is no turning back now and this is something he has to do. 

“This one’s…. for Tess.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. 

This moment the only thing that mattered was that she heard this. He never was one with words or talking about his feelings, but he always had been able to lean on music when it mattered. It was the only time he truly let himself be vulnerable.  

As he started playing, he blocked out everything around him. His mind was just filled with the memories of Tess. What he loved. What he wanted. What he never got and never will. What he would always mourn but no longer desire. His time with her was over for him. He could feel his heart aching as he sang, but also getting lighter, not realizing how heavy this all was weighing on him for such a long time until he was letting it go.

As the song progressed it felt cathartic. Letting some of his anger slip into his tone and fade out into the ether, taking along his frustrations. Confronting all the feelings he had been holding in for so long. The sadness he felt was mourning, and he knew it would only get better now that he was moving on. He had already been mourning her loss for a long time without truly acknowledging it. Until now.       

Living in the memory

   Of a love that never was

He was feeling bolder and confident that his decision to be done with Tess was the right one. It didn’t erase their history or make her impact on his life any less significant. What they had was special and always would be. It didn’t have to overstay like it was in order to preserve that history. It was time to move on and stop feeding the resentment that was overtaking everything left that was good.

He would always love her for their history and she had to know so that she could move on too before the damage between them was too great. He knew she would understand and accept it; in time. 

Then you crept back into his mind. Finally he was giving himself permission to allow it to, properly. 

You filled in all that empty space that was vacant for just mere moments. Another realization that he wasn’t giving everything to you and how much he wanted to. He had been indulging in your companionship with trepidation. Reluctant to open himself up and fearful that it would be another road to nowhere. 

Afraid you might not want him and his darkness that came along once you really knew him. 

His eyes were finally adjusted to the lights just enough to make out the details in the shadows in front of him. 

He couldn’t help himself to look up and scan the audience, searching for you passively. Deep down, he knew you were still out there. He could sense that unexplainable feeling when someone is watching you intently. It made his heart race as he struggled to fight the distraction and finish his song. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

As if by instinct, he zeroed in on you standing towards the back of the room with tears in your eyes. An invisible rope tethering you together against the odds in the sea of shadows. 

When he caught your eyes he had to look away in shame. Disgusted with himself that you were collateral damage in his situationship. He choked on his final words, and they came out low and shaky.  

For a long, long time.

He strummed the last chords of his song and fought back the feeling in his throat that was bubbling up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and the weight of his actions was crushing him. The silence in the room filled him with dread and it felt like time was standing still, like he was in front of everyone naked with his emotions raw and exposed before them. His chest was tight, bursting with an anxious heart beating rapidly with heavy thuds.  

A conflicting wave of emotions tears through him and it takes everything not to lose his composure. He takes the deepest breath, closes his eyes and it isn’t Tess that comes to mind. 

It’s you. 

With his final strum of the guitar it felt like he was releasing himself from Tess. Free after so long and fighting so hard for their relationship. Free to bring his full attention to where his heart was calling him.

Finally the room erupts in applause and he feels the tiniest pang of relief wash over him and snaps him back to reality. He sneaks off the stage and makes his way towards the back. He needed to hold you and tell you how sorry he was and at this point he didn’t care who saw him.

Familiar faces and acquaintances slapped him on the back and boasted to him about how great he did and the gauntlet of drunken patrons slows him down significantly. When he manages to break away and gets eyes on where you were standing you are nowhere to be found. 

A hand grabs his sleeve and he turns but his heart sinks when it’s Tess.

“Joel..” she whines through a shaky voice and pulls him to look at her.

He didn’t want to be cruel to her or disregard whatever feelings she was going through but he also didn’t feel obligated to her anymore. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on her leash. He was done putting her first.  

“Tess, not now.” His voice was low and gentle. He really did feel for her out of habit, but he also knew he couldn’t let her try to reconcile. Not yet, anyways. He was open and hopeful to remain friends with her, but she needed to get over him first. He knew her reaction would be anger until she had time to cool off. 

“Really? After that you are going to ice me out? What the hell, Joel?” Her anger was increasing with every sound leaving her lips. The last thing he wanted was a blow up with her and he wasn’t going to let her control this narrative any longer. 

“Stop it.” He unintentionally uses his size to intimidate her as he steps closer. Silencing her as the remaining empathy leaves his eyes. He was never confrontational with Tess, and this was something new that she did not expect or know how to react to.   

A few nosy people nearby get quiet as they try to watch the drama unfold in front of them and pretend to be minding their own business. Joel takes a step back from Tess and furrows his brow.  

“I told you. I’m moving on. We’re done now.” He says firmly and sharply points his finger towards her. The tears in her eyes almost make him soften, but he holds firm. “Done.” He reiterates through gritted teeth.

He hated being so cold, but he had to or else nothing would change.  

Tess bites her lip and for the first time has no words. She was so used to being the boss and calling the shots and for the most part Joel let her. Not this time. She wipes the wetness that starts to fall from her eyes and walks off, angry and hurt.

“What are you looking at?” He snaps at the prying eyes watching him be a total asshole and then proceeds to walk towards the exit to continue his search. He was quickly running out of fucks to give by this point in the evening.

The bar was starting to clear out a little now that the live entertainment was done for the night. He doesn’t see you and starts to worry you left without allowing him a chance to explain himself. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he needed to see you. To apologize at the minimum and beg you to hear him out. There was so much you didn’t know that he needed to tell you.

He collects his guitar, dons his jacket and makes his way outside. There is a gentle snow falling and a coating on the cars and walkway. Footprints heavily littering the path into the parking lot and fanning out. It would be a fool's errand to pick out your prints or your car under the blanket of winter. 

He makes his way to his truck, and carelessly brushes off his windshield with his sleeve. 

He pulls out his phone and calls you, but it goes unanswered and to your mailbox. He sends you a text.

Joel: Im so sorry baby

Joel: Please can we talk? 

He leans on his truck, ignoring the cold and tries to call you again. And again. The relentless ringing is only silenced by the robotic voice of the generic voice mail operator.

After the 3rd call he left a message.

“Please answer the phone baby girl. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to talk to you. Please.” His message was delivered with a low, calm tone, barely masking that he was afraid. 

Afraid he lost you.  

—

READER POV - Saturday Afternoon

Marlene dropped you off at the bar to pick up your car. No one was around this time of day and it felt surreal being back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. She gave you a hug and just nodded to you as you left. Urging you to believe you would be ok, and you had to move on. 

When you got home you didn’t even dare look to see if Joel was home. You went inside, took a shower and wrapped up in a blanket to watch TV on your couch.

Whatever was on you didn’t really pay attention. Your mind was just filled with Joel. You wanted to wake up from this bad dream. 

You had been vulnerable with him. You were ready to give yourself to him so quickly because you craved that intimacy only he could give. He worshipped your body and made you feel something you never felt before. 

Was that enough? Surely not to a self respecting person. It makes you feel sick to be so hesitant to do the obviously right thing.  

You so badly wanted him, and knew you couldn’t just let him treat you this way. You felt guilty about still wanting to give him a chance.

You finally gave in to looking at your phone. 

You had 34 unread messages from Joel. 9 missed calls and 3 voicemails. You fought the urge to see what he had to say and instead gave notice to your other missed calls. Your mother. She had tried to call you 3 times. You had barely talked to her this past week and didn’t really want to but you also knew she would worry if you continued to ignore her. You were afraid she might also reach out to her precious neighbor too if you gave her any reason to panic. It didn’t take much with her. 

You called your mom, lied that you were sick with the flu and that you just wanted to sleep. She didn’t make you talk long thankfully and she didn’t say anything about her handyman neighbor.

The night was getting late and you mustered up enough energy to move into your bedroom. 

Seeing Joel’s flannel shirt laying at the foot of your bed hit you hard. You had been so happy and flirty just a few nights before and you wanted that back. It felt like it was taken from you unfairly.

You hugged the shirt to your chest and breathed in his masculine scent that still lingered. The scent that drove you wild with desire.  

How were you going to get over this man who made you such a mess?

You tossed the shirt into your dirty clothes pile and got into bed, lamenting how cold and empty it was and wishing you were wrapped up in Joel’s navy blue sheets and stealing his heat. Feeling his heartbeat against your cheek as he holds you close. The ghost of his touch on your skin makes you tear up again. 

Fuck you Joel Miller. You mumble out loud to yourself. It wasn’t fair.   

You lay there for what felt like hours, your mind firing on all cylinders with no hope of slowing down. 

Curiosity won in the end, and you opened up the text thread with Joel. You scanned it quickly and saw a recurring theme of him asking if you were ok, apologizing and worried that you were not home.  

Joel: Please just tell me you are safe

Joel: I’ll leave you alone just let me know

Joel: Where are you? 

Those were texts from the morning. After your car was back home and signs of life his messages were back to apologizing and what you can only imagine to be a descent of drunken texts from this evening.

Joel: I’m so sorry

Joel: We need to talk

Joel: Please n

Joel: I m fucknig srry

Joel: Just let m tel you and ill stpo

Joel: /

Joel: I ned to talk to you

You wanted to talk to him. You needed some clarity, but you also didn’t want to be tricked into forgiving him because of your body betraying your mind. There was a nagging you could not shake that his actions at the bar didn’t undo the way he made you feel. There had to be more to it or else it would be so easy to wash your hands of him and never turn back. 

You started typing a reply and deleting until finally settling on just leaving him on read. 

You listened to his first voicemail, and hearing the pain in his voice made your heart break more. He was worried about you and he sounded like he was doing his best to be composed, but you could see through it. That southern drawl makes you melt when you hear him call you baby girl.

You slammed your phone down and regretted giving in to his attempts. It only made it harder to be mad at him.  

As you drifted off to sleep with tears leaving wet stripes on your cheeks you decided that tomorrow you would go see Joel. You would go in person and get a true gauge of where things stand. You would also try to do the right thing.    

—

JOEL POV - Saturday Night

Midday and he was worried about you. Not only were you not answering him or reading his messages, but you also had not been home. Of course you were an adult and clearly could do whatever you wanted, but he felt entirely responsible for whatever you were up to. 

He paced to his bedroom window, looking out through the blinds to see the same snow covered drive. Untouched. He was getting restless.  

He flips through your messages and can’t help but look at the pics you sent him during your bedtime photoshoot.

He could feel himself harden and palmed himself through his denim to get some relief. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t control the way his body reacted to you. He unzips his jeans to let his cock breathe as he takes a seat in the living room. 

Scrolling through the photos you sent and seeing more and more of your body made him swell. The pressure in his groin became too much to handle with a casual touch. 

Fuck he mumbles under his breath. 

He spreads his legs wider and slides a hand inside his boxers to stroke himself, imagining it was you and your gentle hands wrapped around his shaft. 

The guilt of what he did weighed heavy on his mind but didn’t hinder him from getting aroused. He needed to have you again. Feel your tight pussy gripping him and listen to your sweet moans. 

It eats away at him. It was wrong to get off to you especially after what he had done to you. 

But it didn’t stop him.

Settling on the second picture you sent, he focuses on how deranged and needy you looked. Hungry for his cock. Your breasts were perfectly in view and still partially clad in his shirt. His scent was all over you in that moment. You were his.  

His labored strokes quicken as he fucks into his fist and he comes with a stifled groan. 

Sitting alone with his release dripping over his knuckles made him feel like a dirty old man. Getting off to a woman that didn’t want him anymore.   

He woke later that evening, awkwardly slumped against the arm of his chair. The house was completely dark except for some embers from his wood stove about to give it’s last breath. He was groggy and sore. His neck ached from the awkward position. 

After getting his wits about him, he opened his phone to see you still had not replied. He stumbled over to his window and to his relief your car was parked in the yard. 

At least you were home. You were safe. Clearly you did not want to talk to him yet. 

He wanders off to his kitchen to pour himself a stiff drink and downs it way too fast before taking a shower and drinking again and again. 

As the whiskey clouds his mind and fills him with nothing but remorse for what he did, he sloppily sends you some desperate texts before passing out for the night.

—

READER POV - Sunday

The Sunday afternoon energy was heavy. You had been avoiding Joel in every possible way since Friday night. The exception being your moment of weakness and reading his texts. Instead you buried yourself in a book trying to focus your mind on another world with characters struggling with simpler problems.

The time spent alone had given you some peace to think about what your next move was going to be, but you were still battling with what to do.

If you were not so smitten with him it would be so easy to just walk away. You never questioned his character before and now it’s all you can do. Weighing the damage he did with what you had come to know about him before was not an easy task. It also made you question your own character. What kind of a person would it make you be to continue on with this? Maybe you battled with failed relationships all your life because you never found the one to balance who you really are. Maybe you are just hopelessly lusting over Joel Miller and telling yourself anything that can make it feel ok. 

Your anger and hurt was stinging less and making you feel more numb than anything. Marlene’s words of advice were lingering in the front of your mind constantly. You felt guilty for entertaining the idea of talking to him and even more guilty for settling on actually doing it. 

Looking out your front window you see his truck parked in his driveway. No fresh tire tracks and covered in snow. You had not seen any signs of life since you returned home other than some smoke from his chimney and a light or two.

The text messages from him did still trickle in at a slower pace, but you continued to ignore them. Wiping the notification off your lock screen.

Marlene also texted you periodically to check in and you assured her you were doing just fine and would be ok. 

You made an impulsive decision to go over now before you changed your mind again, not sure what you were going to say or do, but you couldn’t ignore him forever. The more you thought about what your gameplan was the more you started to talk yourself out of it.  

You freshened up in the bathroom, applying some light makeup to mask the bags under your eyes and hide the fact that you have been crying for days. You knew deep down you also just wanted to look really good for him. You wanted to spite him and make him want you but not let him have you as some sort of punishment. At least that is what you told yourself.     

You bundled up in your boots and winter jacket. Wrapped a scarf around you and put on some mittens and a hat. Your hair falling loosely around your face. You looked cute but completely covered up. 

The sun was just starting to set, but there was still plenty of light left to venture outside.

You wandered over to your mailbox and picked up the scent of burning wood. A smoky, campfire smell. It smelled inviting. You heard a chopping sound coming from the direction of Joel’s house and guessed he was outside working. Typical Joel behavior to be outdoors. 

As you make your way to his house the campfire smell intensifies and you see some smoke coming from the side of his house. There is a footpath going from his driveway and you decide to follow it to the sound.

As you round the corner, the sight is enough to make you forgive all his wrongs.

Joel’s back was to you and his silhouette is bright and familiar. You could recognize his figure in a lineup with ease. Broad and commanding.  

The frame of his body was muscular but not bulky. Toned from his manual labor lifestyle. His broad shoulders and tapered waist were perfectly illuminated by the burning fire next to him.  

He was dressed in some dirty jeans that hugged him perfectly and heavy work boots. His torso clad in a rustic, plaid flannel not too different from the one you stole. The sleeves are pushed up and bunched on his forearms and his hands protected with leather gloves. 

You see his jacket discarded on a pile of chopped wood and a small brush pile burning next to him, keeping him unnecessarily warm. It looked like he had more than enough body heat radiating off him. Uncomfortably toasty.  

The area between his shoulder blades was damp and dark with sweat. The curls in his hair were an unruly mess, especially where they met the hot perspiration on his neck. 

Seeing Joel in lumberjack mode unlocked something inside you that you didn’t even know existed. He was so primal in his ability to handle whatever task was at hand. Just as he had been when intimate with you. He could take you away and live off the grid someplace in the wilderness and you wouldn’t bat an eye. He was more than capable of taking care of all your needs.  

You feel it deep inside you. That intense heat building that only Joel can make you feel. An arousal coiling up inside you and ready to burst out if given the chance.   

He turns to place a section of wood in front of him and makes a grunt sound as he lifts it into place. No doubt it was heavy and judging by his pile, and the sweat on his body, he had been at this for a while. His outstretched arm had his flannel tightly choking his bicep as he moved to adjust the log in front of him. It was obscene to see his body flex and demonstrate his strength. The desire to have his arms on you in this moment and feel the full force of his body against you.

He picks up the axe and throttles it down again with a grunt, wood splintering in front of him as the force from his axe splits the wood into two.

He is nearly panting from the exertion, moving the split wood over to the pile only to repeat it all over again. He pulls his shirt up to wipe his brow. The hard ridges of his muscles taunt you as they shine in the light of the fire. As he wipes his sweat and pauses for the briefest moment to rest against his axe you decide to make your presence known before he realizes you are watching him.

“Hey Joel” you announce softly.

He is startled by you and turns quickly, letting his shirt fall back over his stomach. His expression softens when he meets your eyes. He tosses the axe next to him and pulls off his gloves as he steps towards you. 

The heat of his body and his smoky scent hit you all at once as he stands just in front of you, unsure if he should touch you or not.  He hesitates but you can see the desire in his eyes to touch you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m–” he pauses, and rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m so glad to see you. Lord knows I don’t deserve it.” He gives a side smirk and his best attempt at looking innocent. It almost works.

He steps towards you but you reluctantly hold your hand up. He ignores it and pushes his chest into your palm. His innocence was replaced with cunning intentions. His damp and hot chest sending a wave of desire through you, making you even more wet. You were certain he could sense it too despite your attempts to act put together.  

Before you can protest he has his hands on your waist. His fingers wrapping around you and positioned to pull you in close. His needy energy is not something you have seen before. Not like this. Assertive but stepping over a line you put out. 

“Joel, stop.” You weakly protest and take a step back from him. His hands slide off your hip as you step away and you can see some panic in his eyes that he misread what this was. 

He could clearly see how mixed you were feeling. He was letting his raw desire take the lead and hoped it would help sway you to give in to him and soften your resolve. Whether it was wrong or right, he knew that sexual tension you both had was not going silently.

He also knew that he cared about you more than just as a hookup. Truthfully you had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was so scared to lose you before he even got to properly have you. His fear was making him act stupid and desperate and he didn’t know how to reign it back. Especially with you being just within your reach. He was tailspinning.      

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pauses. “I should have told you about her. It’s not what it looks like. I mean, it is complicated and–”

You swallow back your feelings and look him straight in the eyes. How much more cliche could he get?  

“It’s too late for that now,” you countered, realizing that confronting this now was not something you were ready for after all. 

Joel chewed his lip, wiping his hand on his chin as he fought back the urge to unleash some of his anger that he had been harboring. Anger he had towards himself that needed to escape. He was getting agitated.

He knew you were right, but he knew he couldn’t just let you go. He lets out a deep breath as he pinches between his brows, releasing a little tension as he exhales and composes his next words carefully.

“I want you to… need you to know I never did anything with her while I was with you.” His words come out desperate, pleading with you to understand. To forgive him even. 

You weren’t sure if you believed that. You couldn’t exactly trust him anymore now that the trust had been broken.     

“I swear it. There is a lot you don’t know about Tess and-”

Hearing her name on his lips is the last straw and it enrages you, reminding you that you are not here for second chances and apologies. You are here to tell him to leave you alone.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” You declare coldly and emotionless. 

Joel stares, he looks like he wants to speak but he isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t sure he heard you right, or didn’t want to believe that he did. 

You go to turn but he grabs your sleeve and holds you to face him.

“Please, I need to… don’t go.” He stumbles over his words, grabbing you harder than he meant to, desperate to make you stay.  

“You hurt me.” The tears start to fall again as you speak your truth to him. You look him straight in the eyes so he can see your pain from what he did. There was no misreading your tears. 

“I know. Never meant for you to get hurt. I can explain-” He panics, realizing you are leaving him and his chance is fleeting.

You struggle to pull your arm away but he isn’t listening and just brings you closer with his strength. He was blind to your obvious demands to stop. Clouded by his panic.  

“I owe you an explanation. Let me-” His eyes penetrate into you, begging you to look at him. 

“It's too late.” You cut him off. “Lose my number.” Your words bite. 

You pull your arm away sharply and continue to walk away. You feel him staring at you and you swear he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. It took every ounce of restraint to hold firm with what you set out to do. You were not going to let him talk you into changing your mind.

With tears welling up in your eye you continue walking forward. You hear him begging you to stop and listen to him. 

“Sweetheart, please.” he calls out after you. Pleading with you but you put more distance between him and his words as they get quieter.

Under his breath, Joel whispers “I’m sorry.” When your pace quickens and you don’t look back you swear you can hear him speak those words again and again, but you keep walking. 

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated 🧡

Thank you to @magpiepills for being my wonderful beta, ily 🧡

Taglist // Friends // Joel Enthusiasts

@legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @youandmeand5bucks @604to647 @ashleyfilm

@syd-djarin @sawymredfox @yxtkiwiyxt @untamedheart81

@pearlessance @lotusbxtch @toxicanonymity @joelmillerisapunk

@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @littlemisspascal @sp00kymulderr @pedropeach

@gintheginger @guiltyasdave @itwasntimethatdidit40 @pedrospatch @katiexpunk

@deansimpalagirl @fanficlover1414 @getitoutofmymindwrites @sin-djarin

@mermaidgirl30 @missannwinchester @pascalssbabyy @pedroswife69 @schnarfer

@joelsdagger @bonezone44 @wethairjoel @evolnoomym @strang3lov3

@r4vens-cl4ws @survivingandenduring @thischarmingmandalorian @whocaresstillthelouvre

@moonlitbirdie @jolapeno @penascigarette @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy

@beefrobeefcal @almostfoxglove @beardedjoel @hellishjoel

Please follow my notifs account and turn on notifications so you never miss a chapter! The taglist is limited to 50 and I just add a mix of Joel girlies! I can't tag everyone, I wish I could 🧡

[rindreamery]

NISHI BFF !!!! ( ≧ᗜ≦) congrats on 300 followers !! <3333 u really deserve it since all of ur writing are good :3333 anw ! i'd like to place an order w itoshi rin !! (shocking, i know) i'd like the flavor to be sweet with the 🍨 and 🍦 as toppings !!! hehe that's all, thank u for ur service <33 CONGRATS AGAIN & LOVE U LOTSSS !!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶 - totally not miro

ORDER 6: READY TO GO !

rin + sweet + kiss on the lips + fake dating w.c. 1.5k+

note. THANK YOUU SO MUCH MIRO !! (idk if i should tag, but @choccorin) whew i got carried away writing this 👩‍��� rin kissers and those with the rin yearning agenda, this fic is for you guys !! (me included LOL)

interested in more? check out the lounge !

luck just never seems to be on his side, rin concludes. 

the overhang on the roof does nothing to shield you two from the downpour— the raindrops feel like they’re coming down in sheets, hitting from an angle that renders the overhang absolutely useless, and there seems to be no end in sight. the storm seems to only roar louder the longer you stay out, and you’ve both come to terms with the fact that you’re bound to get sick after this. 

you’re both drenched, shivering from the cold seeping through the fabric of your clothes, and the only warmth you can feel are your shoulders pressed up against each other. he’s glaring at the sky, as if cursing it in his mind, and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the situation is.

he eyes you from the side, with no real malice. “this is insane,” rin grumbles under his breath, wiping away the stray droplets that slide down his face. it's useless; the rain is relentless, his hair is already soaked all the way through, and his bangs are sticking uncomfortably to his face. “all this because you wanted some damn ice cream.” and now you’re both stranded, waiting out a storm for who-knows how long. 

“hey,” you frown at him, voice laced with offense. “i didn’t ask you to come with me. you tagged along on your own!”

he doesn’t refute, partly (mostly) because he knows you aren’t wrong. but he doesn’t bring up the fact that it was bordering nighttime, the sun on the verge of setting right as you were about to leave, and that he was not going to let you walk by yourself. so he sulks instead, face still as displeased as ever, and looking off to the side as his ears and face flood with heat.  

it doesn’t stop you from feeling guilt, however. you look at the side of his face, lips pressed into a tight line as you think of what to say next. “let’s try to look on the bright side,” you nudge his arm, trying to get him to look at you. “it’s kind of perfect, right? this feels like something straight out of a coming-of-age movie. i’ll drag you to the street under the rain— and you won’t complain because we’re both drenched already anyways— and we’ll dance like our lives are stress-free and perfect.”

“absolutely not.” there’s an incredulous look on his face as he shoots you a glance, before he’s shaking his head and scooting further away from you. you both shiver at the loss of contact. “stop watching those rom-coms, they’re giving you stupid ideas.”

you roll your eyes, playfully, though he doesn’t see. you won’t take no for an answer, though, and there’s a glint of determination in your eyes before you’re abruptly standing up. his eyes shoot to you, a look of concern washing over his face as he realizes what you’re about to do. before he could protest any more, your hand is already wrapping around his wrist, tugging him along with you toward the empty street.

he tells himself that he at least tried to yank you back under the “safety” of the overhang, but he’s never really had the heart to be rough with you, so he doesn’t stop you.

“what are you—” he starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your laughter, blending with the sound of the rain falling around the two of you. the words get stuck in his throat, and he mentally reprimands himself for thinking about how pretty your laugh sounded just now. it concerns him, the fact that every little thing you do seems to have such a big effect on him. 

you’re blissfully unaware.

“come on,” you say, dragging the last word, voice on the precipice of pleading with him. but, he thinks to himself, you really would never have to plead with him. (he’d say yes to you, in a heartbeat, if he would allow himself.) 

the lack of resistance allows you to drag him in front of you, and your arms find their way onto his shoulders and your hands clasp behind his neck. he stiffens visibly against you, unfamiliar with this feeling of being this close to you. at least, not like this— not when it’s just the two of you and everything feels more real. as if you actually like him, but he pushes that thought into the back of his mind. he tells himself to push you away. “dance with me, just this once. please?” 

rin just doesn’t know how to say no to you, and he folds. so he lets you spin the two of you around the wet asphalt, feeling the rain fully soak through your clothes, ignoring the chill that settles deep under your skin and into your bones. it’s cold, but all he feels is the warmth of your skin on his and the blooming warmth that spreads through his body. it’s cold, but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel so cold around you. 

though, this is the most awkward dance imaginable; you’re constantly stepping on his toes, and his hands feel robotic as they cling weirdly onto your waist, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. neither do you, so he supposes you don’t mind. there’s no fluidity in his movements, and he’s sure dancing with him is the equivalent of dancing with a mannequin, but oddly enough, you seem to enjoy this.

you cling to him in a way that’s closer than necessary, and you’re smiling at him, looking deep into his eyes with an emotion he’s never really seen before. it makes him wonder: how is he looking at you right now? 

deep down, he enjoys this too, and it shows in the way he doesn’t push you away. instead, holding onto you tightly, fingers digging into your waist. it’s his first chance at seeing the real you— 

rin’s gazing deeply at you right now, face flushed and hot as he takes in the sight of you. there’s a carefree and truly happy smile on your face, and your laugh repeats like some melody in his head, and you look beautiful. even with your matted hair and clothes sticking weirdly to your skin, his opinion of you never changes.

he’s thankful for the small distance between you, scared of his own thoughts and how he just can’t seem to think clearly around you. he’s thankful for the distance, until he isn’t.

there’s space between you one second, and then it shrinks; you’re pulling him by the neck, even closer to you as you try to whisper something into his ear. it’s inaudible, he doesn’t hear a word you’re saying. not when all he can focus on is the proximity, or lack thereof, between the two of you. you stay like this, until he hears you vaguely call out his name, and then silence. his breath picks up, the same with yours when you both realize just how close you’ve gotten.

you make an effort to pull away. but he acts before he thinks. rin holds you in place, and just as quickly as the thought comes, he kisses you— awkward, clumsy, and urgent.

it’s not slow, but pouring with an unexpected passion. your teeths clash and you both fumble around as you try to find harmony, until your lips finally move in sync with his. it’s sweeter than expected, and he likes it more than he would ever admit. he can feel your lips subtly smile into his own, and he’s sure he is too, but he ignores it as he chases this unnamed feeling. the feeling that makes him feel weird, fuzzy, happy?

your hands find their way to the hairs at the nape of his neck, burying your fingers in the strands as you pull him in, and his arms wrap themselves around you. it's overwhelming, and your minds feel like they've gone into overdrive. you’re both trembling— from the cold or from the rush of it all, you’re not really sure. 

the rush doesn’t stop the alarms in his head from going off. 

do you like him too? is this real for you too? because, as far as he’s aware, you don’t do this in a fake relationship. at no point should it ever include kissing like you meant it. at no point should the thought, “i could stay like this,” pop into his mind.

but it did, and this kiss was very much real, and he meant it. 

as you pull away for air, your breaths mingle, and you stay frozen in each other's arms as you wrap your head around what just happened. he looks horrified, eyes widening, like he’s just realized what he’s done.

you’re out of breath, and your face is mirroring his. like the reality of the situation had just sunk in. and for a second, he panics. he’s about to pull away from you, unravel himself from your hold and mumble out an apology, and maybe pretend this never happened—

“i think i’m in love with you.” instead, the words come tumbling out of your lips. rushed, raw, full of emotion and feeling. as if they've spilled from your heart. “like, for real.”

rin’s heart stutters, and he breathes hard. it’s a pattern with him, because once again, he acts before he thinks. the words, "i think i'm in love with you, too,” falls from his lips. “like, for real, too.”

© rindreamery, 2024

[flowery-moth-angel]

Oh boy I got answers.

1: Reconnecting with Yahweh. I grew up christian and became very traumatized and felt abandoned. I suffered a lot and religion played a part too. I rejected God fairly early on. Because on of the energies I felt was distant and uncaring, that I had to just trust him for no reason. But over time, listening to other religions and people that genuinely have a relationship of some kind with him, started to heal. And I also just always talked to him. But when I talked to him, he felt so different to the God I felt before. Like they were so vastly different. And recently I decided to just start learning about Yahweh. I learned a lot already. About him having a wife, how he was worshipped long ago, the way Christianity and Catholicism came to be. And how much was also lost due to them trying to erase Asharah as well. And the energy I feel lines up with the more neutral/calm energy I felt from God.

It makes me proud because it is bettering me and the energy I feel from him now is what I always wished it was to be. I don't believe the other energy I felt was God. I have felt intense or heavy energy of some deities that are more serious or even distant. But that other energy was just awful. Yet it was what was "God" in my childhood and with my parents. One theory some have is it's an egregore that evangelicals really believe in which is pretty much I believe. Cause it is so vastly different from the God I am closer to now. It just makes me happy seeing a heavy spot that was so traumatic to me is becoming better and that I'm learning a lot about what he is really like and a lot of history too. Religions and beliefs and faiths and practices are a special interest too outside my practice so I also just like learning about it.

2: Reconnecting to my roots. Since I was young, any time I asked my parents about our ancestry or lineage, I got told we were just American or that we don't know and it doesn't matter. I hated feeling so culturally separated. It's clear our family has been in America for a good while now and let a lot of our cultures go from the past. And it's been something I've never liked since I was a kid. While I don't know everything that I have and want to do a DNA test, I already try to learn about a lot of my roots. I'm mostly focusing on Celtic/Irish now and had German a bit ago. But there's also English, French, and Scottish. I want to really reconnect to those old roots that were left forgotten or colonized and left behind. That old magic and ancestral importance that was forsaken for how it is today. I'm just starting with Celtic/Irish since I feel the largest draw, but I'll get there one day too. A lot was lost through colonization and all since even before they colonized many other nations, white nations very much did colonize themselves first. And so I want to learn about that history and ancestry and come to have it as a part of me. It's gonna be a lot of work, but like. It's important to me. Whatever lineage I have that dates back before many many many eras, I wish to honor it the best I can. So much culture has been lost due to colonization and christianity/catholicism so I feel it's important. It's a shame really. But still. It's especially not going to be easy for like English history either because just a quick look into it and yeah. A lot of it was very much lost to time and to the roman influence and anglo-saxons as well. And it is a shame seeing how much history, culture, and beliefs are lost due to so many influences throughout time. Again, I've only really focused on Celtic/Irish for now so that's the one I'm most well versed in currently. But I know it's going to be a journey with how far back it'll need to go and how much truly was lost. But even if it's not much, I'll do what I can to give it some form of life in today and through me. So little is known about our family and it really shows how much we conformed and paints an ugly history too. We don't know much beyond great grandparents and great great grandparents and I know even less about my dad's side of the family. I barely know anything about his grandparents or his life. So with that and having always wanted to understand my culture and my ancestry, I really want to focus on it with studying and learning what I can and incorporating parts of it into my practice if I can. It's been a strong draw since I was young. This strong pull and desire to know where we come from. Even if I'm the only one in my family, it makes me proud to know I'm gonna do it. And I've already begun to do so.

3: Coming into my own. Lately been feeling Marquis Andras a lot. And he has been helping me for sure. But I feel more renewed strength and learning to trust myself and communicate. Even if his lessons are very intense and painful since, ya know, he's a demon associated with sowing discord. He's not the easiest teacher, but I appreciate that. But even at the start of my journey years ago, it helped so much with my trauma and delusions and hallucinations then. I'm prone to paranoia and I'm schizospec and psychotic so like. I have issues. But since becoming a witch and feeling protected and understanding more of what I feel, it's been better. A lot of the trauma I dealt with back then has eased a bit to where I'm not always angry or scared. And I'm far less frightened at night or in the dark. I feel less powerless. And right now, I'm working on better communication and trusting my gut. I usually downplay my abilities when telling signs or feelings the presence of deities and stuff like that. So. I'm learning to trust it. And to go with my gut more. Cause I am often right. But I'm pretty insecure and have low self esteem and low confidence when doing things myself. And it's been better. Marquis Andras is one of the focuses right now, but all of the deities that have helped me and will help me even if I do not know them yet or can identify them or feel them yet makes me very happy. They have shown me more love than I have ever received. They're important to me. So just. Really becoming more confident and self assured, figuring out what works for me as a really disabled and traumatized person that is financially dependent and not well off, what I'm drawn to, learning to trust myself, and so on. It feels like I really am growing. That every single time, I become a better version of myself. And that makes me proud.

Pagans and polytheists, what are you most proud of in your practice? Lessons you've learned, new methods of worship you've implemented, offerings you've given - that sort of thing. 🧡

[krops-spork]

Hispanic Jayce head cannons (Master list?)

Since my last post, I'm now thinking of head cannons for Jayce

(my family is from Mexico and El Salvador so this will mostly be based on that culture and stuff from my family)

Jayce has definitely been trapped in one of discount stores (Ross, TJ Maxx and Marshalls) with his mom for hours and hasn't recovered since

His mother is supportive of the creation of hextech but she's very superstitious and it's definitely rubbed onto Jayce.

His mother has also given him many blessed objects and now he has a shelf full of them in his apartment and lab

Jayce has definitely heard a noise in the Lab and said fuck no and uses incense to cleanse the place and one time Viktor walked in on him cleansing the place and is like "what the fuck"

The heat from the forge will never compare to eating hot ass caldo on a hot ass day in his opinion

He definitely did the lining up chairs and sleeping on them as a child and still does it as an adult (naps like that always hit)

His mother has scared him with the tale of La Llorona and it lives in the back of his mind every time he hears a drunk woman crying outside when he's having a late night in the Lab

He invites Viktor to come with him to his mom's place and eat a good home cooked meal

Speaking of Viktor visiting, he gets kinda concerned when Jayce and his mother talk in Spanish because they talk really loud and to Viktor it sounds like their arguing

Jayce knows how to dance and tries to get Viktor to dance with Spanish music when it comes on the radio

Jayce has definitely slipped into his native tongue when forgets the English word for something

Vi snapped a belt as a joke and jayce dead ass had war flashbacks

Jayce and his mother celebrate Día de los muertos (or arcane equivalent) and share the tradition it with the kiraman family (Caitlyn and vi do it to honor her mother, Jayce, Viktor, isha, Vander and jinx/powder)

When Jayce is getting intimate with Viktor, he calls him Carino and mi amor, and talks to him softly in Spanish, even though Viktor doesn't understand it

Jayce has tried to teach Viktor a bit of Spanish but dies everytime at Viktor's attempt because of his accent

Caitlyn knows some Spanish and calls him pendejo when he does something stupid, jayce regrets it every time

This is technically canon, but when Jayce talks, he moves his hands to further express what he is saying (Idk if it's a Hispanic thing but a lot of family members do it when they talk sooo)

Jayc still has his gold baby bracelet with his name engraved on it (I still have mine tee hee)

I'll probably think of more later and make pt 2 but this is all I could think of for now, feel free to leave suggestions at well 😊

[back2bluesidex]

The Undisclosed Reason: Murder - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Contract Husband!Yoongi X Contract Wife!Reader 

Theme: soft yandere, mystery, smut, morally grey characters

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary: Min Yoongi is mysterious, beautiful and scary. Min Yoongi is also the primary suspect of instigating his ex-wife's suicide.

Warnings: SMUT!! explicit sex, sex on a kitchen counter, yoongi is chilling in here, mentions of suicide, death, murder.

First installment of One Last Contract

Inspired from kdrama The Trunk.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are open

Next installment: Curiosity Killed: None Yet

“The undisclosed reason…” His voice echoes in the mostly empty dining place, “you know what it is, don’t you?” from the way his voice sounds so distant, you know he is facing away from you. 

Your hand momentarily stops wiping the dishes. Your mind tricks you into thinking that he is testing you. 

He is testing if you are afraid of him or not. 

He is testing if you will break under his pressure or not. 

And you won’t. 

You’d only be afraid of dying if you were living. Death doesn’t scare you anymore, not when you are a walking shell of a human who has long accepted her demise. 

“I do.” you reply briefly, resuming your task at hand. 

And then you let your mind divert, let it go wherever it wants, let it land wherever it sees fit. 

“Why did you say yes then? To this marriage?” suddenly his voice is close. When you look up you see him standing at the other side of the kitchen counter. 

His eyes pierce through yours. For the first time in a week of knowing him, you see life in those eyes. You see fire. 

“The money is good. And saying no to a project reflects negatively on performance review.” You keep your focus on wiping the dishes. 

Min Yoongi stands there, staring at you as if you are an alien that has suddenly teleported to his house. 

If he expects you to shrink under his scrutinizing gaze then he is wrong. You are not that fragile. 

“Also… I am not scared to die.” you add, as quietly as possible. For a moment you wonder if he has caught you spilling those words or not. 

Maybe he has not. 

But then you hear him chuckling. 

A low, rumbly sound that resembles tiny pebbles rolling down a rocky path. 

When you look up again, his eyes lock with yours for a second time - you know he hasn’t looked away for a moment even. 

“Then what are you scared of?” Yoongi takes a dangerous step towards you, his voice dips down an octave lower. 

“Nothing.” you reply as confident as ever. 

Yoongi takes another step and crosses the thin kitchen counter to stand right before you, towering you with his figure. His body casts a shadow on yours - you are in the dark now. 

“Not even what I might do to you?” He raises his hand. With his index finger, he traces the contour of your face. “What if I do something bad? Dirty? Something worse than killing you?” 

As soon as his finger comes in contact with your skin - you feel tingles all over your body. 

It’s been years - years - since you felt something akin to this. 

Your last husband was asexual. The one before him was gay. The one before that had an affair with someone of his mother’s age. And the previous two were terminally ill. 

Min Yoongi is your first totally normal project. You wondered what had made the man cave in - to seek the assistance of a contract marriage while he could have anyone in this world within a snap of his fingers. That was until you came to know the secret. 

Min Yoongi was investigated for his ex-wife’s death. Although that was a suicide, she wrote his name in the note. 

But now as he stands before you, under the extremely dim light of the kitchen, you are not sure - of what, you don’t know. 

Anyone in the world would find him scary, especially with that scar running down on his face. But to you he looks beautiful - especially with that scar running down on his face. All of sudden, your heart is overwhelmed with an urge of tracing his scar and wishing for it to tell tales - what happened, how it happened. 

“Do you want to do something bad, dirty to me?” you find yourself challenging him. 

His lips stretch in a smile, “does your company allow that? To have sex with the contract spouses?”  

“If both parties want, then yes.” you inhale a sharp breath. The proximity, his scent, his droopy eyes, slightly parted mouth and that long dark hair cascading to his neck make you feel dizzy. 

“Do you want it?” he asks, pushing himself closer to your body. 

“As long as you use protection, yes.” Even before you could finish your sentence properly, Yoongi winds a hand around your waist and pulls you towards him. 

Your body presses together. Electricity runs around like a pair of close-knit open circuits. 

“If you regret your decision later, it’s not my fault.” he breathes down on your mouth before closing the remaining gap. 

His mouth molds on yours as you kiss him back instantly.

Again, years - it has been years - since you have shared a kiss. 

His big hands trace the path of your lower back, down the valley of your arse. Planting his palms there, he gives you a squeeze. 

Arousal gushes out of your cunt. 

The kiss is bruising. It translates how hungry both of you have been for any kind of physical action. 

Yoongi backs you on the counter, nibbling down on your lower lip and breaking the kiss while pulling the muscle of your lip with his teeth. 

He wastes no time in attaching his mouth to the angle of your jaw, leaving marks all over the column of your throat and then on your collar bones. 

His hands now travel underneath your sweater, Touching the expanse of your skin that is hidden from his eyes. When his hands reach the underside of your bra, he detaches his face from your throat and looks at you intently. 

You know he is asking for permission, which you didn’t expect from someone who was booked for instigating his ex-wife’s death. 

You nod. 

Yoongi takes his time in pulling your sweater up from your body and discarding it somewhere around the vast dining place. He, then, stares at you, with hooded eyes full of last. 

Your arousal dampens your underwear. Fuck. you absolutely didn’t expect this. 

Reaching out for your bra, you unclasp it and let it pool down on your shoulders. 

Yoongi stares at you. He doesn’t move just yet. You follow his eyes as those lower from your face to your exposed chest. 

And then he moves. Grabbing you harshly by your waist he hikes you up and sits you down on the kitchen counter. 

The cold steel top sends shivers through every corner of your body. Your already erected nipples, stands for attention even more. 

Yoongi wraps his lips on one of your nipples in a long, languid suck. You can’t help but moan. 

His one hand holds you tightly by your waist and another rolls your unoccupied nipple between his thumb and index finger. 

A gush of pleasure flows out of your core. 

Your fingers find their way in his dark locks. You take time to enjoy raking your fingers through his silky-smooth strands. 

He sinks his teeth on your nipple, making you curse out loud. Your toes curl. 

Leaving your tit alone, Yoongi dives inside your sweat pants, right through your underwear and touches your slick cunt. 

His index finger runs along your slit at first and then his thumb joins to stretch out your fold and enter your hole. 

“So wet already, huh? Seems like your previous husbands were no good.” Yoongi comments in a fleeting way. 

You can’t object. He is right. 

He enters two fingers in you without any warning. The stretch burns at first but as he scissors his fingers slowly, you find your eyes rolling backwards. 

Yoongi’s bulge presses down on your stomach and you decide you want him. You want him now. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me already.” you murmur in his hair. 

You can feel him smirking against the skin of your throat. 

“As my wife says.” he detaches his body from yours. You stare at him as he stips off of his clothing. 

Once he is out of his underwear, his dick springs up and slams against his belly. He rolls down the condom that was hiding somewhere in his pockets - you wonder if he planned his earlier. 

You get even wetter. 

Within a second he is back at where he was. He takes off your remaining clothing in a haste and lines his cock to your entrance. 

Giving you a quick stare, he enters in you, smooth and swift. 

Your breath hitches. 

Five years. After five whole years you are being pleasured. 

He goes slow at first, gives you time to adjust and then picks up his pace. 

Min Yoongi, your contract husband fucks you in his kitchen. Fucks you so good that you can’t remember what brings you here - with him, under him. 

Fucks you at an inhuman pace. 

When you cum on his cock, he grunts loudly and that’s one of the most attractive sounds you have ever heard. 

He moans again when he cums inside the condom. 

As you both try to catch your breath, he looks at you with a smirk playing on his lips. 

“And what if I kill you now?” he asks, voice hoarse with all the moans and groans. 

“Will you?” 

“Maybe.” 

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

[rxmxa]

The Leo-Aquarius Axis Redefined pt. 2 ⚡ 🧪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Part One on the Leo-Aquarius Axis (Good to Read for Reference)

I was watching some intense video footage with my friend after something really brutal and chaotic happened in my neighborhood. Watching it alone was overwhelming because there was so much violence and chaos happening back to back. But then I re-watched it with my Aquarius stellium friend. And when I say stellium, I mean stellium. This girl is an Aquarius Sun, Mercury, Mars, Venus, Rising, with a Capricorn Moon and Uranus in the 10th house. She is genuinely the smartest person I know.

What I didn’t fully realize until that moment was just how good Aquarius energy is at processing information. Aquarius is an air sign, which means it thrives on mental challenges and intellectual stimulation. But it’s also fixed, which gives it a steady and sustained focus that doesn’t waver. Symbolically, Aquarius is the Water Bearer. It pours out knowledge, deep and distilled, offering it to the world. In moments of chaos, it feels like Aquarius processes everything at light speed, distills the important parts, and hands you the answers in such a breezy and nonchalant manner all like, “Oh, you didn’t notice that incredibly specific detail?”

While we were watching the footage, she kept pausing to point things out. She would say, “Look here, see his hand? Notice how he flinched.” Then she would rewind and say, “Listen again, did you hear what he said? He said ‘xyz.’” By the end of the night, mostly thanks to her, we had pieced together the timeline of what happened.

It was a heavy experience, but it also got me thinking about something I had written before about the Leo-Aquarius axis.

In that post, I said:

“If you are struggling to shine and develop your self-expression (Leo), look at the opposite of that (Aquarius), where you might need to release and let go of pressure. Especially internal pressure, since air sign energy is so connected to our thoughts and intellect. This sets the stage for success that feels aligned with your most genuine self.”

At the time, I was so focused on this idea of detachment leading to success that I wrote:

“The 11th house (Aquarius) rules your profits from your career, while the 5th house (Leo) rules your creativity and hobbies. Think about how many people have created art (5th house) without worrying about success or money, only to find widespread acclaim and rewards (11th house). In interviews, they always say, ‘I never imagined this would happen. I never imagined I would reach so many people.’ Why? Because they had detached. And that mindset can take you far.”

While that’s absolutely true, I realized I hadn’t fully considered the depth of this axis.

Aquarius isn’t just about letting go and hoping for the best. You don’t magically detach and suddenly see success show up in your Leo house.

Yes, you need to release expectations in your Aquarius house. But Aquarius isn’t about not caring. It’s about caring deeply for the process itself. It’s about learning for the sake of learning. Aquarius is the mad scientist energy, the inventor, the one who experiments and explores because it’s fascinating and because it feeds them.

Wherever Aquarius is in your chart, that’s where you need to step into that energy. It’s where you become the mad scientist, endlessly curious and driven to learn and discover. You absorb information, try new things, and gather knowledge for the sake of it. That process becomes the fuel that allows your Leo house to shine.

Aquarius prepares and strategizes, and Leo performs and shines. Success aligns when both energies are flowing together.

Aquarius builds the blueprint. It is the blueprint. Then Leo distributes it to the world. That’s where success or even monetization comes in. But it’s always at your pace, and always through doing what you love.

How I Applied This in My Own Life

This realization hit me on such a personal level because I have struggled with 6th house themes my entire life. My weight, my routines, building habits, staying consistent. etc. No matter how hard I tried to force structure into my day-to-day life, it just never clicked. I would start strong, burn out, and then spiral into frustration.

But when I stopped trying to force myself into systems that didn’t fit me and leaned into my Aquarius 12th house energy, everything shifted. I stopped seeing my habits as rigid checklists and started treating them like little experiments. I became curious, open to trial and error, and focused on the process instead of the outcome.

Suddenly, my 6th house started to thrive. My health (gut health, mental health, lost 15 pounds) improved, my daily routines felt sustainable (set boundaries at work), and consistency became something I didn’t have to force anymore. It became second nature to be this new version of me.

The Leo-Aquarius Axis Guide

If you’ve ever felt torn between wanting to shine like Leo and strategize like Aquarius, my guide will show you how to:

Identify your Aquarius Lab and your Leo Stage in your chart

Create a sustainable cycle of preparation (aqua) and performance (leo)

Use both energies to create confidence, clarity, and success

get the guide here: ✨ [Mastering the Leo-Aquarius Axis] ⚡ 🧪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Con mucho amor, Ramona 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[slime-hoe]

You mentioned you didn’t know how Steve would survive I figured I’d try my best to give ideas. Use or discard as you please. Also I tried to write in the present tense but that backfired so now it’s all screwy I’ll fix it later I guess. I promise I understand how to write I’m just too tired to care rn.

Max notices Steve headed into Eddie’s trailer. She may not be fully present but she’s heard enough to realize that this is capital ‘w’ weird. So she begins to snoop. Using her walkie to contact Lucas who breaks away from the party at Benny’s to talk to her. She peeks inside the boy’s conversation just barely audible through the thin metal wall and single pane window. She’s filling Lucas in when the lights suddenly flicker. She would brush it off if it weren’t for how still Steve seemed. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. The Upside Down is about to take another brother away from her kind of wrong.

She starts banging on the glass but seeing as Steve is currently Catatonic and Eddie is too busy freaking the fuck out about the floating guy in his living room to notice the window remains shut and the front door remains locked.

She calls a code red and begins to pick the lock using a long forgotten paperclip or hairpin she found in the dirt around the trailer. Meanwhile Lucas steals a bike from the trunk of one of his teammates trucks and begins to bike to forest hills with a desperation that he hasn’t felt since Will disappeared.

When Max finally tumbles through the door she tries everything she can to get Steve’s attention. This mostly entails her shouting, screaming, slapping, scratching and when he floats too high to reach throwing shit at Steve’s floating body.

She’s frantically looking for something else to throw when she notices Wayne’s radio. On the counter. Remembering how El used static to focus she turns it on cranking the volume all the way up and tunes it to a station she knows doesn’t come through clear this side of Hawkins. As she holds the blaring static above her head standing on the Munson’s coffee table the static begins to clear right as Steve’s body slams flat against the ceiling “No no no!” She screams her face ruby red and streaked with tears her arms shaking as she continues to hold the the radio aloft desperately trying to get the static to return as Queen’s Hammer To Fall comes into focus.

Steve is cornered by Vecna in Tina’s bathroom. It started off exactly the same as it had two years prior. At least until Nancy’s face begins to morph into Eddie’s, and her voice distorts and deepens into Eddie’s voice. The words change but the message stays the same “You Steve Harrington are undeserving of love” he backs up pleading for them to understand, to look at him to see him. But their faces continue to change melting into an abstract mess of curls and teeth before the lights above the sink burst and the faces are consumed by suffocating darkness. Panicking Steve tries to open the door but it’s locked and the thing is pressing its cold slimy body against his pinning him to the door. He can barely make out its shape in the darkness and is unsurprisingly blindsided by the cold fingers caressing the side of his face. “Poor thing all you ever wanted was to be loved.” Sharp nails traced their way along his jaw “Such a shame I can’t provide that for you.” The monster’s hand changed corse once again using a single bony finger to tilt Steve’s chin up until he could feel its stale breath hit his face. “But at least I can take your pain away” in a flash the finger under his chin was replaced by a monstrous hand gripping the lower half of his face.

He becomes aware of hammer to fall playing outside the bathroom door and inspired by the pounding drums and screaming guitar (and the claws creeping closer to his eves) grabs ahold of Vecna’s hand and lifts his legs to his chest before using his body weight and momentum to drop to the floor Vecna snaps his arm part way through but the maneuver still works sending Vecna headfirst through the door. Steve breaks into a sprint and narrowly escapes.

(My original very detailed fight/escape was deleted by tumblr 🖕so I hope this is acceptable)

Steve’s arm snapping is barely audible above Max’s screams and Freddy Mercury’s staticky Voice. Steve’s eyes fly open just before he falls to the ground landing face first into the Munson’s orange shag carpet. (Thank god for that extra bit of cushion)

Steve’s sudden collapse startles Eddie enough that he runs. He runs because holy shit there’s a dead guy and a murderous ghost in my house oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Luckily it’s right about now that Lucas makes it to the trailer (let’s imagine Benny’s is close ish to Forest Hills). Putting 2+2 together and ending up with 5 aka He assumes Eddie got possessed and did something to Steve Lucas jumps off the “borrowed” bike to chase and tackle Eddie to the ground. Eventually they figure shit out when a very shaken Max and Steve (and a few neighbors) come to see what’s going on. Also if you decide to go way off cannon and keep hopper alive and in Hawkins post starcourt he can also show up around this time for some added comedic relief

Regardless they end up camping out in the back of Eddie’s van to talk things out and you know eventually drive Steve to the ER.

Yeah. It occurred to me that there’s only one possible path for this that fits the narrative tentpoles I’ve been building. I looked for others but nah. This is right.

Steve in that AU def goes to Eddie for drugs before Spring Break, asks for more than what Eddie has on him. Says he wants to sleep. Eddie is planning to upcharge the hell out of him, but money is money, even if the customer is a prick. Repeats it again at Eddie’s place, and for whatever reason, Eddie hears it differently that time, enough to make him pause and listen for real. Eddie is smarter than his grades. So he catches the way ‘sleep’ sounds like a stand in for something else, connects it to how Steve said he wanted more than a dose or two. Decides immediately he won’t sell him anything at all.

Eddie is listening now because he can’t stand the guy, but Dustin and the others would be destroyed by this. He’s not sure how the fuck he’s going to help or stop Harrington, but paying attention seems like the first step. Prompts Steve to talk more, explain why he wants the ket. So he catches a phrase that sounds familiar. A reference to a story that he knows from the letters he still rereads on rough days. A reference that only one person could know.

Eddie figures it out all at once.

Eddie finds out who X is, connects the dots on why the letters stopped, and before he can speak, or apologize, or cry, or connect the letters to the guy who just wants to ‘sleep’, Steve’s eyes roll back in his head.

[djarins-cyare]

(Angsty) WIP Weekend

Thank you to the following lovelies for tagging me in various WIP posts over the past month (you are all wonderful 💚):

@ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@secretelephanttattoo @the-blind-assassin-12 @the-mandawhor1an

Once again, I’m humbly offering up a snippet because I’m still eyeball-deep in the writing stage of my (now several months late) Secret Relationship fic for the Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge. It now stands at just over 57k words, but I swear I only have two more chapters to write. Happily, I have a whole 3 weeks off work over the holidays, so I’m aiming to release it next month.

I won’t bore you with why I had to expand it again, but let’s just say angst fans will be well-fed.

In fact, since my previous WIP offerings from this fic (see here, here, and here) have mostly been smut-adjacent, I’ve decided to give you a taste of the angst for a change…

(Sorry it’s shorter than my usual snippets; it’s tough to find a decent chunk I can share without spoiling anything)

You fight for a week. Each day, he comes over, imploring you to calm down, eat something, see his point of view. He tries every tactic – soft words, hard orders, pleading eyes – but every attempt only feels like salt in a wound that will never close. Each day, you hurl back insults, curses, and even whatever objects are within reach. A glass shatters against the wall near his head. A boot catches him in the gut. You hope each impact carries a fraction of the pain he’s inflicted on you. You scream a lot. You scream until your throat is raw and you taste blood. Sometimes, your screams are molten with fury, blistering the air. Other times, they collapse into broken, keening wails, your voice trembling with the weight of all the misery you can’t contain. You cry a lot. You cry until there’s nothing left – until the tears burn instead of soothe. The memories torture you whenever your eyes close, echoes of your dreams being torn apart in a single evening. With every tear you try to blink away, your losses replay on the back of your eyelids with excruciating clarity. Your body can’t handle the strain. Your hands tremble constantly, whether from exhaustion or rage, you no longer know. Your chest feels tight; every breath is an effort. Sleep offers no relief; it’s a battlefield of nightmares that leave you thrashing and gasping awake. Yet you don’t stop fighting. You can’t stop. It’s the only shield against the endless void threatening to swallow you whole. Fighting is all you have left now.

The high level of angst will be balanced by an equally high level of smut, don’t worry 😏. But the good stuff needs to be earned.

As usual, if you’d like me to tag you when I release the chapters, please raise your hand or communicate your wish however you see fit. You can also join my tag list if you like.

Apparently, Tumblr is now limiting the number of links per post, which includes tags 😡. Since my WIP posts aren’t particularly frequent, I always try to tag as many people as possible, so I guess I’ll just put them in a reblog…

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-two of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Please,” he manages again, and it’s so fucking hard to not just–to not just ride him exactly as “too much” and greedy as he’s trying not to, and so fucking hard not to think about Bernard’s mouth nipping at his chest and Bernard’s hands on his ass, making sure–making sure Tim can really see just how “inspired” Kon got him and just what they’re both doing about it, and–and–“Feels so good, feels so good, wanna come, wanna make you come, want you to do it inside, please do it inside, don’t pull out, fuck–” 

He hears Tim take a very careful, doors-blowing-in breath, and Bernard laughs raggedly and then buries a groan against his collarbone and grips his ass tighter. 

“Hey,” he says, just as ragged and sounding like he’s had the air knocked out of him, which makes Kon feel pretty good about how he’s doing, even though he’s not even really all that good at, like–riding somebody like this. “Gimme your hands, alright? Keep ‘em behind your back, just–” 

“M’kay, I–yeah, ‘kay,” he stammers, letting go of his wrist and dropping his hands down towards Bernard’s own, since he assumes that’s what the guy means and all, though he doesn’t know what he wants with– 

“Good boy,” Bernard says, letting go of his ass to catch his hands. He gives them both a squeeze, which Kon melts a little over and also feels stupidly horny about, and then he guides them down and puts them on his ass right where his own were and gives them another light little squeeze. “Make sure Tim gets a nice view, alright? Show him how much you like it.” 

“A-alright,” Kon manages, and actually fucking blushes over the fucking idea, which is fucking ridiculous, but–but he definitely does, yeah, even as he grips his cheeks just like Bernard did and lifts and spreads them up a little again and–and definitely blushes about it, fuck. “I–like–?” 

“Yeah, like that. Good boy,” Bernard says again, pressing a little kiss against his collarbone as he lets go of his hands to skim his own up his hips and sides and ribs. Kon shudders roughly, mostly in his thighs, and clutches up tighter around the other’s cock. It feels–good to. It feels really, really good to. 

Bernard maybe agrees, he thinks, given how the guy groans over it. 

“Fuck, seriously, so cute,” he says both breathlessly and feelingly, curling his fingers against Kon’s ribs for a moment and then pushing his hands up under and over his pecs and pushing them up a little too. Kon feels way too into how it feels to have someone just pushing his body around, even just in little ways like that. “Jesus, you ride dick like you want the whole thing first thing.” 

“I do want it,” Kon begs, which is maybe kind of stupid since he’s the one doing the work here and the one forcing himself not to be greedy, but–“Want it, want the whole thing, lemme have it, please lemme have it, m’tight, right? Your dick feels so good, does my ass feel good too? You like it? Like me? Really want you to, you’re so nice to me, I don’t get it, you’re so nice and you’re so fucking hot and I want you to like me.” 

“I like you,” Bernard says a lot more feelingly, and rolls his hips up to emphasize the point as he slides his hands up over Kon’s chest. It definitely, definitely does, and Kon’s gut burns and his cock throbs. “I like you a lot. And my dick really likes you. My dick is now actually seriously considering the ‘become a pink kryptonite-themed supervillain’ plan, in fact. I assume the other Supers might not be into that but I figure they’ll just let you handle me, all things considered.” 

“They would absolutely have to lock me up in the Fortress to keep me from being the one to do literally all of that ‘handling’,” Kon laughs breathlessly, feeling warm, warm, warm. Bernard’s just–he’s really funny, and he’s cute, and he maybe gives “instructions” more than “orders” but he gives them so easy, and Kon doesn’t get why he’s being so nice to him. 

He is absolutely the opposite of complaining about the “nice”, obviously, but it’s just–he doesn’t know. It’s not like he thought the guy wouldn’t be nice or anything, just–just he’s being nice to him. 

To–him. 

Kon doesn’t even really know what’s going on in his head about that right now, but . . . but there’s definitely something going on in his head about that right now. Just–something. 

“Hmmm, I might need to be a little sneaky, then, wouldn’t want ‘em doing that before I got you all collared-up and warmed-up,” Bernard says with a little grin, giving Kon’s pecs an appreciative little squeeze and then rubbing both his thumbs across both his nipples. Kon bites his lip and stutters–just stutters his hips a little, maybe. “Aw, that’s cute. Did you like that, boy? You got really tight for it.” 

“I like it,” Kon says, then bites his lip again and digs his teeth in a little harder this time, and maybe pushes his chest just a little more into Bernard’s hands. The jokey fantasy idea, yeah, but also–“I–just feels really–” 

It’s not even that the actual, like, physical part feels that good, though it definitely does, just–Bernard paid so much attention last time he was touching his chest, and he seems to, like, really like his chest, or at least keeps coming back to it, and that feels . . . 

That’s the thing that feels “really”, Kon guesses. And also the thing that makes him maybe wanna get a couple of those piercings after all, and get to wonder if Bernard is looking at his S-shield to see if they show, next time he sees the guy. Which is probably a stupid thought since it’s not like he’s even gonna find that idea hot once he’s done being gay, but also–also he just likes the idea of getting admired anyway, sue him, and also, like . . . 

Well. Bernard would still think it was hot, right? And Kon really doesn’t think he’d mind making himself a little bit better eye candy for the guy, after how fucking nice he’s been to him already. And like–maybe Bernard would think it was hot he’d gotten those piercings specifically because of him, too, and not just the eye candy part. 

And maybe Tim would like it, if Kon did something like that for his boyfriend. 

Alternately, maybe that’s weird and insane and way, way too much to actually seriously do. But–well–Tim already said he could ask once he wasn’t gay anymore, so like . . . Tim would tell him if it was too much, Kon figures. Right? Like–he’d tell hiim if it was okay to do or not. 

And if it was okay, maybe he could also tell him if Bernard would be more into gold or stainless steel. 

Or, like–if he thought there were maybe a couple other piercings he should get too.

[mrs-kodzuken]

early christmas ⟢ rintarou s.

synopsis: you get an early christmas gift from your boyfriend and love it beyond no end, timeskip!suna x fem!reader, christmas time, fluff, short fic

“You've been on that thing forever, at this rate you’re likely to forget me soon.” Rin deadpanned, almost regretting buying that damned thing for you.

Almost.

He could see how happy it made you, especially now that when he got on the game with his friends, you weren’t completely lonely with your new switch lite.

Of course, Christmas was coming up but with being stuck in the house for days due to snow and not being able to make it to work, he knew the best solution for his dear girlfriend.

He watched carefully as you concentrated on digging perfect holes to place trees in, your face was definitely one to remember. He loved seeing your joy filled face as you explained the animal crossing terms to him, even though he'd probably forget half of them within the next hour.

"Uhh, nuh uh." you retorted, not even looking up at him from where he was standing. After Rintarou surprised you with an early Christmas present, even though the big day was less than a week away, you could not stop playing. It was like an excitement that was slowly becoming an addiction.

You took your nintendo lite with you everywhere, to the bathroom when taking long, relaxing baths, to the bar in the kitchen where you both eat breakfast.

And even so far as playing it in public during downtime if you both were able to leave the house. You loved every minute of your new game console, especially since it was in your favorite color too.

However, Suna had to draw some lines when you pulled an all-nighter playing your game because you 'just had to get something done'.

"I think it's mostly your fault though, you let me open it early, so." you trailed off, sticking your tongue out wherever you thought he was from your peripheral.

Your eyes stuck to your little character as she ran around the plaza trying to talk with every villager. You couldn’t help but to get so happy when you saw the Christmas decorations around your island. As well as hounding on your game for so long, day and night, you were able to make lots of progress.

You barely noticed that Suna sat down beside you on the king sized bed, his PS5 left on and if you really paid attention, you could hear his friends calling for him.

"Love, at least give me a kiss before you leave off into the island of Y/n." he joked, you tore your eyes away from the screen and started to feel bad in the way that you were ignoring your boyfriend.

"I'm sorry Rinnie, I just really love the game, but I'll be sure to take breaks and spend actual quality time with you." you promised, saving and putting your game console away.

The relief basically melted off of Suna, now he finally understands the other side of the story when he used to not pay enough attention to you when gaming.

"Thanks, love." he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, relishing in the fact that he could taste the leftover dark chocolate crumbs on your lips from when you snack as you play.

"You're such an angel, you know that right? My angel." he couldn't help the smile that broke out across his face when you laughed and rolled your eyes. You were such the purest sight ever to him, this is what he missed. Of course he loves when you have an enjoyable hobby but physical contact was so much better in his opinion.

"Want to ditch the games for the rest of the night and watch a Christmas movie with me?" you giggled into his black sweatshirt, it smelling of his fancy body wash that you gifted him as a 'just because' gift.

"Obviously, anything to spend more time with you love." he hopped up, turning off his own gaming console and sending a text to his group chat before lounging with you in bed.

After a small discussion on which streaming service, you both finally decided on Hulu to watch Elf.

As the movie played and the lights were dimmed in the bedroom, you got sentimental, watching Rintarou’s handsome features being lit up by the movie.

"You know, I'm really grateful for my gift. I love it." you said quietly, hiding your face even though you both have been together for almost four years now.

He squeezed you tighter to him, loving your small confession, his heart felt unbearably warm at the act.

"I'm glad love, only the best for you." he kissed your temple knowing that his small confession would ring true when he got the balls to get the ring box out of his sock drawer and pop the question.

But for now, he smiled and watched your reactions to the movie, wondering how he got so lucky. 

a/n: hihi! i've been obsessed with animal crossing lately, so sorry i've been inactive!! i hope you enjoy, and requests are open! <3

[tinkywinkyschauffeur2]

Ooh long post warning! There’ll be a TL;DR at the end but I feel in the mood to ramble.

There’s a neat little book called 101 Things I Learnt In Architecture School by Matthew Frederick that i fell in love with many years ago. I found it again recently and I was surprised at how many of the principles applied to writing and world building. There’s one part in particular called Being Process Oriented which I find myself coming back to whenever I feel hesitant to make any changes that will affect the canon and I find that it helps a lot.

(Below is a direct quote from the book. If it sounds like something anyone would be interested in there’s a copy on the internet archive, or you can support the author and buy the book too! :) )

Being Process Oriented

1. Seek to understand a problem before chasing after solutions

2. Don’t force fit a solution to an old problem onto a new problem

3. Remove yourself from prideful investment in your projects. Be slow to fall in love with your ideas

4. Make design investigations and decisions holistically (addressing several aspects of a design problem at once) rather than sequentially (finalising one aspect of a solution before investigating the next)

5. Make design choices conditionally - that is, with the awareness that they may or may not work out as you continue toward a final solution

6. Learn how to know when to change and when to stick to previous decisions

7. Accept as normal the anxiety that comes around not knowing what to do

8. Work fluidly between concept-scale and detail-scale to see how one informs the other

9. Always ask what if regardless of how satisfied you are with your solution

OC wise, these will apply mostly when you’re making deliberate choices in their story /major world building but 5 and 7 I find can apply pretty much all the time. 3 frustrates me but more often than not is true. However if something isn’t sitting right with your OC you’re more than welcome to change it. No one will change it if you don’t. You are ultimately the only one in the world who knows the complete extent of the lives that you hold in your head. Think of it like sculpting. Things will start out rough but eventually once you really know your OC I find that they tend to just tell you their story themselves, and all the fine details start slotting into place.

You are free to retcon as many things as you like. Things that I have retconned and then look back on are like artefacts of a person that I used to be that suited my artistic tastes at the time but I’ve since grown and they no longer fit. If you find yourself changing things it could be because it works better in the story or in the design, but also it could be that you’ve grown, and your understanding of character development has grown too.

Your OCs accompany you through this life, and naturally they’ll pick up some of the debris. Let it happen. Backspace and erase and wash away and crumple up as much as you need. Recycle the things you cut off and make the most beautiful sculpture of odds and ends. A scrapbook, a time capsule, of you and them.

TL;DR - Don’t be afraid to change things, because you’re the only one who can. Your OCs won’t draw or write themselves :)

I have a question for people with ocs cause I have this weird thing that’s blocking me from creating any art with mine, that if I don’t have their story finished then I’m afraid to draw anything related to the current story cause what if I change it? what if I change the characters designs again and then all the previous art is outdated? so the question is — does it bother you too or do you just go with the flow and draw them regardless? it might be a stupid thing really but it’s always in the back of my head when I think about my characters and universe that if it’s not finished then it’s not worth sharing with others

[jessiexflem]

– the black dog | jessie fleming x reader

Part 2 to So Long, London!

warnings: angst, happy-ish ending?

As you push open the heavy wooden door to your favorite North London pub, the smell of malt beer and greasy chips infiltrates your nose. Leah waves you over, her and Emily having already found a four-top near the bar. Ignoring their choice of specific table, you hug your teammates in greeting. Emily slides a pint toward you, and you smile at her in appreciation. Bringing the glass to your lips, you nod toward the empty seat next to you as you take a sip of your drink. You lick the layer of foam off of your top lip, savoring the sweet, carmelly taste of your favorite beer.

“Beth’s running a few minutes late,” Leah glances at her watch, “but she should be here soon. You settled back home okay?”

You nod, taking another swig of your beer, the cold liquid a stark contrast to the August heat. It was by no means sweltering in London, but the humidity after this morning’s rain and lack of air conditioning in the pub made your legs stick to your barstool. You had a few days off between the end of the Olympics and Arsenal’s preseason tour in the States, so some of the girls wanted to have a casual night out prior to your long travel day this weekend. Despite having only gotten home from Paris the other day and a nagging gut feeling that you should stay in, you missed your club teammates and wanted to catch up with them off the pitch.

Leah fills you in on her prior conversation with Emily, which had been an update of what the two of you had missed while you were at the Olympics. You laugh as the Englishwoman narrowly misses a passerby as she’s flailing her arms while recalling her and Keira’s trip to Ibiza. 

“Keira almost fell off of a wha–?” Emily, who’s clutching her stomach laughing, gets cut off by a frantic Beth scurrying toward the table.

“9-1-1, 9-9-9, red alert, red alert!” Beth blurts out with a panicked look on her face. Your eyes follow hers as she nervously scans the crowd behind her. She turns back toward the three of you, looking like she had seen a ghost.

“Red alert? Beth, what’s wrong?” you ask, noticing Emily’s posture straightening and Leah’s face hardening out of the corner of your eye.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls your name from behind you. A too familiar voice. A voice you hadn’t heard in months. Your eyes shut closed as heat rises in your chest. You take a deep breath and mentally count to three, fog already threatening to cloud your head. Exhaling, you turn toward the voice and open your eyes to confirm your fears.

“Jessie,” your voice wavers as you take in the sight of her. Though she fundamentally looked the same as she did that night in January, you noticed how her cheeks were dotted with a greater amount of freckles, and how her curls were more defined from her growing her hair out. Her eyes were soft, unsure of how you would react to her showing up unannounced.

Every feeling you had pushed into a corner in the back of your mind came crashing back at you full force. You hadn’t seen Jessie since you left her apartment in a haste – the second half of last season was spent nursing a nagging hamstring injury, so you were left off of the national team roster for the Gold Cup and SheBelieves. The United States and Canada had avoided each other on the Olympic bracket, so you didn’t cross paths in France either. Contact was limited between you, mostly short messages wishing each other “Happy Birthday” or Jessie texting you to congratulate you and the team on winning the Conti Cup.

You open your mouth again to speak, but nothing comes out. For months, you had practiced what you wanted to say to Jessie when this inevitable reunion occurred, but it was no use; you were at a loss for words.

“Hey,” Jessie chews at the corner of her thumb, a nervous tick you’ve seen her do since you’ve known her, “Could we, do you think we could talk? Outside, I mean?”

“Actually, I think you should leave,” Leah snaps, shooting the Canadian an icy glare.

“It’s okay, Lee,” you look at her in reassurement, before turning back toward Jessie, “Um, sure.”

Before you can stop yourself, your brain goes into autopilot, and you hop off of the barstool to follow Jessie outside. She leads the two of you to a bench a few meters away from the door, gesturing for you to sit. She sits down on the other side, making sure to leave a bit of space between the two of you. A beat of silence passes, neither of you knowing how to broach the subject. You sigh, deciding to break the ice.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be in town.”

Jessie looks at you apologetically, “I didn’t think you wanted to know. Uh, I was hoping I would run into you though, then I saw you sitting at our usual table.”

Not knowing how to respond, you stare down at your feet, kicking away the gravel under your feet. Your mind races, everything you’ve wanted to say to Jessie flooding into your head, but no coherent thoughts sticking long enough to form a full sentence. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Jessie frowns, her voice pulling you back into reality. She always knew when there was something bothering you, saying she could see it in your face whenever you were thinking too hard. 

“What did you bring me out here for, Jess?” you sigh, cutting straight to the point.

Jessie’s heart tugged at hearing you call her by her nickname. You rarely ever called her Jessie, always joking that it felt too formal. Even though her other friends and teammates used the same nickname, it felt different coming from you. More personal, more intimate. Warm. A warmth she had been missing since January, all from something she could have prevented in the first place.

“I miss you.”

You toss your head back and let out a wry laugh, much to Jessie’s chagrin. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shake your head, ignoring the twinge in your chest. You, of course, missed your best friend more than anything, but you couldn’t help but keep your guard up.

“Y/N,” Jessie turns her body to face you, “I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. I should’ve told you about my transfer as soon as I found out.”

“Why didn’t you? I understand that it’s your career, and I wanted to support you in everything, Jess, but you really hurt me,” you admit, tears stinging the back of your eyes. Logically, you knew Jessie owed you nothing when it came to her decision to leave, but finding out through a letter on her counter after spending the night together felt like a stab in the chest. She was your best friend, and you thought you meant more to her than that. You loved her, and you trusted her with a part of you that you couldn’t take back.

“I–, I fucked up, Y/N,” she shakes her head, “I know it’s not an excuse, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“With words would have been nice,” you bite, Jessie wincing at your tone. You immediately shoot her an apologetic glance, you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. “I guess I just assumed you would tell me something as big as moving countries,” you shrug, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I know, and I wish I could go back and fix everything,” Jessie sighs, “I don’t know why I did it, I was scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what? Jess, you know you could tell me anything, right?”

Jessie squeezes her eyes shut, running a hand through her curls. “I–, I guess telling you meant that the move was real, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to leave yet.”

“Niamh said you requested the transfer.”

“I did. I knew I wanted to leave Chelsea, but I–,” Jessie stammers, “I wasn’t sure if I was ready to leave you.” 

You give Jessie a confused look, furrowing your brows together. You knew she had considered you one of her closest friends, but you couldn’t figure out what she meant by that. You watch the girl take a deep breath before reaching out for your hand resting on the metal bench.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Jessie starts, glancing up at the sky as she tried to formulate what she wanted to say, before looking back into your eyes, “because I love you, I–I’m in love with you, and I knew leaving meant that I couldn’t be with you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as your brain short circuits. She was joking, right? Or, she was saying I love you in the way you had always said I love you to each other, the same way you said I love you to Leah, or Beth, or Emily. She couldn’t possibly be confessing romantic feelings for you, right? But she said in love?

“You’re thinking out loud again,” Jessie gives your hand a squeeze, “Y/N, I’m so, so sorry for how I handled things back then, and I’m sorry that it took me this long to sit down and apologize. I also should probably apologize for using this to tell you how I feel about you because that’s not fair to you, because I really hurt you, and here I am, hoping that you forgive me, but not just because I told you I love you, which I do, but I don’t want to use that as a bargaining chip for your forgivene–”

“Jess,” you cut her off, knowing she would ramble for hours if you let her, “Do you think we could just, uh? Start fresh?”

A hopeful look falls onto Jessie’s face. “Start fresh?”

“Yeah,” you bite your lip, “I don’t want to say start over because what happened isn’t just something I can forget, but if you are open to it, I would like a fresh start, um, to everything.”

“I would like that too,” you watch the weight lift off Jessie’s shoulders as she gives you a small smile, “Pals, again?”

“Maybe a bit more than just pals if you play your apology cards right, Fleming,” you grin. You still had a ways to go before things would be back to how they were, but you were just happy that you had your Jess back, here with you.

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Heya! I was wondering if you could make a lil fanfic of shadow the hedgehog and mobian!reader

where the reader has a fascination with death and everything morbid due to seeing and being in lots of tragedies and shadow is mostly unaware of this but finally starts noticing the reader’s obsessive like fascination with death and wants to confront them about it

Shadow With A Mobian!Reader Who Has A Fascination With Death

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Sorry it took kinda long to do this. Honestly kind of lost motivation to write stuff lately but I think it’s coming back. I don’t know. Regardless, I hope you like it.

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Mentions Of Death + Suicide (Not Actually Committing But Talks About Wanting To) + Spoilers For Shadow’s Backstory⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mention Of Maria

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by CoffeeBearSama on Twitter/X + Banner by salintvll (Edited by me) on Pinterest

———————————

- Honestly at first Shadow never noticed or asked about your obsession when it comes to death. He’s quite the loner so he doesn’t really indulge in anyone or their personal interests. That’s just what he’s like. Not that he’s completely dismissive of any of your interests, it's just his response to you telling him or him hearing about it is just ‘okay’. Maybe you could persuade him to join in but it may take a while but he does partake in it.

- Though eventually he does notice your interest in death. He might have heard it from someone else, maybe from you or he just so happened to discover it himself. At first admittedly he was a bit put off by it not outright it’s just he’s never really seen someone even remotely interested in death unless they’re willingly want to experience it. And to be honest even before he discovers how obsessed you were with it he’s still a little concerned that you want to end yourself so he decides to keep a close eye on you in case you actually do want to end yourself.

- However, his worry does become way worse when he slowly discovers how obsessed you actually were with it. He started to notice how you talked about it. The fact you were talking about it so casually, talking in depth about it makes him more concerned than when he discovered it. In his own way he’s genuinely worried about you. I feel like this kind of evolved from what happened to Maria that he feels compelled to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else especially if he’s somewhat close with you.

- When he does confront you about it you may have to spend most of your time convincing him that you're okay. Honestly with the way you're talking about it he’s thinking you genuinely want to end yourself and he doesn’t want that. To him you’ve still got a lot to live for and you shouldn’t cut it short. It probably took a while for him to be convinced that you were alright. You’d probably have to explain how you gained interest in it, more specifically the shit you had to go through which made you like this.

- When you do tell him about the horrible tragedies that’s when it hits him about your obsessive fascination with death. Now he understands why you're like this. He does feel bad for you for experiencing the things you did and thinks that it must be a coping mechanism for you in a way. Even with you convincing him that it's genuinely an interest nothing more he’d still be concerned for you and tell you that if you ever need to talk he’d be there for you and listen to what you need to say.

- I do kind of feel like Shadow would be kind of interested in a way. Not like how you are, I have a feeling it’s mostly for confirmation or reassurance. It’s not that big of a surprise that he’s greatly affected by the death of Maria, someone who he’s undoubtedly the closest with. Even if a lot of time has gone by since it deep down even if he doesn’t want to admit it he still wishes that she was still alive and misses her greatly. With your interest in death he may go up to you and ask about it. He really would like your opinion about it though at first not going in that great detail about it. Even though he claims he is not interested in it he kind of wants confirmation that she’d be alright and is proud of him.

- Oddly enough, having these talks with you is very comforting for him. He finds himself being more calm about his feelings when it comes to death himself. I think the fact that he doesn’t have to bottle them up like he usually does and is free to just let it out. As soon as he’s done ranting he can feel himself just relax as he thanks you for letting him talk about it. He likes having these moments with you and he really appreciates you listening to him and the other way round.

———————————