#I need to go back to writing fanfics to cope

[melsmodernlife]

Can we talk about this?

I feel like this gets so overlooked due to the whole “Rescuing me makes him so happy” bit. But I absolutely adore how Crowley says he won’t leave Aziraphale and almost before he’s done saying this Aziraphale is already saying “I know.”

Look, our ineffable duo kind of fail at communicating well (it’s basically the whole theme of season 2 and a consistency of the series so far), but they do trust each other.

I think this is partially why Aziraphale was so shocked by Crowley not following him to heaven. There’s push and pull, but Aziraphale trusts Crowley to play a protector for him and to always come back.

Just look at their fights so far. In particular, they fight about the holy water but Crowley later shows up and saves Aziraphale from the Nazis. They fight twice about running off together during season 1 and both times Crowley comes back to see Aziraphale. They fight about what to do with Jim and Crowley storms off saying Aziraphale is on his own only to return and apologize.

But part of the problem is Aziraphale takes that trust for granted. He constantly pushes Crowleys boundaries, but returning to Heaven was a hard limit. This demon who has put his life on the line multiple times for Aziraphale because of love and trust says no and Aziraphale constantly pushes past that to get his way with the expectation that Crowley will fall in line with him again.

And I say all this to say, Crowley comforted Aziraphale saying he wouldn’t leave him and Aziraphale implicitly believed him. But when has Aziraphale done that for Crowley?

[cereusblue]

Well boy howdy, getting back into hyperfixations with lamb game, excited for the upcoming update. Been chatting with my lovely friend about it for a while now, having dragged them back into the game with me lol.

Also, most definitely did not get back into writing again just because of lamb game, no, course not. Something I don't know when it will be posted but the document grows each passing day.

Just some doodles of my lamb that I did while chatting with my friend. You know who you are.

[soft--dragon]

Brother From Another Batch

First Bad Batch fic!! I love the show sm :D This features Echo and Crosshair, and I shouldn't have to say this but I will: SHIPPERS DNI THESE GUYS ARE BROTHERS. DONT BE NASTY >:(

This is set before the official Bad Batch series, about a month after Echo joins the team!

Word Count: 2512

Warnings: Semi-detailed self deprecation, past trauma, and panic attack but it gets fluffy pretty quickly :)

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

It was one of those tougher days. 

Echo was sitting on the edge of his rack, elbows pressed into the chilling metal of his legs, one of his heels bouncing against the floor. His hands were intertwined and resting in front of his mouth, thumbs pressed on the underside of his chin. It was a mirror image of what Tech did when he was lost in thought. Due to living with this new batch of clones for about a month and a half now, it made sense that Echo was starting to copy some of the Batch’s behaviours. The first time he did Hunter's signature 'I am too tired for this™' speech to tell off Tech and Crosshair for squabbling, Wrecker laughed so hard he almost cried, and Hunter light-heartedly accused him of being a copy-cat. 

Currently, the others were all out; "A mandatory supply run," they had said before departing. Well, everyone except Crosshair who wasn’t in the mood to deal with anybody at the moment. So that left Echo alone in the sleeping quarters, subjected to his spiralling mental health that had been a swinging pendulum as of late, never remaining stable for longer than a few days. He hated it, and he hated inconveniencing the Batch even more. They had taken him in and given him a place amongst a group of misfits, but he doubted they counted on his mental state being as terrible as it was. 

The chill of his legs was leeching the warmth from his one organic limb, making Echo bring his arms away from his knees, gripping them together against his chest. The metal prosthetics felt too cold against his scarred skin, and his thoughts were spiralling faster than he could control them. 

The Techno Union, the Citadel explosion, his lost batch mates, the regs no longer trusting him, the weird looks, the whispers, the night terrors… 

Echo gripped at his head, wincing at the feeling of the cybernetic tech piece wrapped around his skull. Wrong. It was all wrong. He wanted out. Out of the metal prosthetics, out of this body, out of this suffocating room- 

Something heavy and soft suddenly dropped over his shoulders, wrenching a startled gasp out of him as he jolted to look up. Crosshair was standing at his side with a flat expression.

“Breathe Reg, you’re going to pass out,” he sniped, crouching down beside the rack that Echo was sitting on. “I don’t want to have to catch you if you fall.”

Echo stared at the sniper, his one hand curling into the fabric draped over him, then it clicked; it was a weighted blanket. Hunter’s one specifically for when his senses overwhelmed him and he needed a way to ground himself from the harsh stimulation. His grip tightened on the material immediately and he bowed his head, forcing himself to take in air that sounded horribly wheezy. 

“Breathe in for four seconds.”

The quiet instruction made Echo look at Crosshair who had his lips set in a hard line, eyes studying the ARC trooper in an equitable manner. He huffed out a short breath when Echo still hadn’t listened and pointed his toothpick at the clone.

“Breathe in for four seconds, Reg,” he repeated in an anodyne voice. “You actually will pass out if you don’t.”

Realising how tight his chest had become, Echo choked and took in a trembling breath. Crosshair held up his fingers in time with the seconds passing, and upon reaching four, he spoke again. “Hold for seven seconds.” 

Crosshair counted down with his hands again, keeping them in Echo’s view so he could count with him. Upon reaching zero, Crosshair murmured, “breathe out for eight.” 

Echo followed the instruction, hearing the tremble of his breath as it was released and worriedly glanced at Crosshair. The sniper gave a small nod. “Repeat it.” 

Wordlessly, Echo did so, going through the breathing exercise the best he could. Crosshair kept counting on his fingers, hearing Echo’s breathing to maintain the pattern, though his gaze was on the floor to give Echo some privacy. When Echo’s breaths became smoother and lost the wheeze, Crosshair dropped his hand and lifted his gaze to the cybernetic clone. 

Echo had his eyes squeezed shut, teeth obviously clenched together. “S-Sorry for this, I don’t mean for it to happen… I don’t mean to be a b-burden.”

Crosshair was quiet at his side for a moment, watching with half lidded eyes and a toothpick between his teeth. “You’re fine.” He replied quietly. “It’s expected after what you went through. No one is mad at you for having justified reactions to trauma.” His nasally voice was an anchor for Echo to latch onto, keeping him on the Marauder and not into the pit that was his mental consciousness. “Just keep breathing, Reg, Hunter will kill me if you die.”

A stuttered chuckle left Echo and his eyes fluttered open, tipping his head to give Crosshair a weak smile. “D-Don’t worry, I’ll save you that trouble.” 

“Appreciated,” Crosshair answered back cooly, not drawing attention to the stutter in Echo’s voice. He interlocked his hands together from where they were draped over his knees. “You dizzy at all? Any headaches?”

The ARC trooper gave a small shrug, exhaling slowly and taking a big breath in before he responded. “Not really, just kinda floaty. I’ll be okay.”

Crosshair was quiet for a moment then dipped his head to the side as he next spoke. “What spurred it this time?”

Echo’s wince was obvious. “Just a bad day.” He offered stiffly. 

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Y-Yeah. Should be.”

“...Good.”

Though he hadn’t spent very long with them yet, Echo had started to pick up on the Bad Batch’s mannerisms, and that included speech patterns. He thought he caught a slight touch of relief in the man’s voice. He glanced at the sniper, his lips perking slightly despite the mellowness of his mood. “Are you worried about me or something, Crosshair?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

His expression was as flat as ever, but Echo could see the slight concerned flicker in his eyes. Echo’s smile became more genuine and he exhaled a small laugh, looking at the floor to avoid Crosshair’s gaze that instantly turned to him at the sound. 

“Something funny, Reg?” His eyebrow lifted in question, toothpick shifting to the opposite side of his mouth when he spoke.

Echo shook his head, his grip on the weighted blanket loosening so his knuckles weren’t going white from the pressure.  “No,” he hummed, his gentle grin remaining despite his words. “Just didn’t expect you to be a big softie is all.”

Crosshair’s eyelid twitched marginally, and the toothpick went still. “Pardon?”

Where this big surge of confidence came from, Echo had no idea, but he was gonna ride it out while Crosshair was still in a good mood. “Wrecker said you were a sweetheart, but I didn’t believe him.”

The enhanced clone was silent for a moment, then he answered snidely. “...He’s wrong.” 

Oh, in the name of the Force, Crosshair couldn’t lie for shit. Echo looked him straight in the eyes, his mood taking a surprising turn into ‘chaos lane’, which he definitely preferred instead of ‘depression road’. 

Innocently, Echo inquired, “You sure? Cause I thought you hated Regs.”

“I do.”

“Then why give me Hunter’s weighted blanket and help me out of a panic attack?”

“I’m not a complete asshole I’ll have you know.”

“So I’ve realised, shocking isn’t it?”

Crosshair held his gaze for a long while. He then slipped the tooth pick out of his mouth and flicked it away. “Are you still in heavy discomfort, Reg?”

Echo arched a brow in suspicion. The concern was gone, and there was a new glint in Crosshair’s eyes, he couldn’t place what it was though. “No, not anymore,” he replied warily.

Crosshair smiled, and it sent a chill down Echo’s spine. “Good.” 

And then, without warning, he lunged forwards and tackled Echo down onto the rack. 

Ah. That glint in his eyes was for murder.

Echo immediately went on the defensive, a startled laugh bursting free as Crosshair tussled with him, trying to pin him down. The sudden playfulness was unexpected from the stoic trooper, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It threw Echo back into the old times with Fives, and it was a good distraction from his spiralling from earlier. 

“Crosshair, what the hell are you doing?!” Echo wheezed, his laughter blending with his words and making his movements weaker than they already were with the added weight of the blanket still covering him, and fatigue of his previous anxiety attack. 

“Take back what you said about me being a softie,” Crosshair hissed, a smirk lifting his lips as he tried to not let Echo’s contagious laughter spread to him. 

“I’m not wrong though!”

“Do it, Reg. I am not above using heinous methods.”

Echo grinned, locking hands with the sniper and trying to push him off, while his scomp pressed flat against the man’s chest. ”Give it your best shot, Crossy.”

Crosshair’s whole face screwed up like he’d eaten a lemon and that only made Echo laugh harder, his strength sapped further from the force of his cackles and allowing Crosshair the upper hand. 

“You’re gonna regret that, Reg,” Crosshair growled, and to Echo’s surprise and horror, the sniper’s hand holding the scomp dropped to drill into the clone’s underarm.

The sound that left Echo was downright unearthly, his startled shriek falling into a wild fit of laughter as he tried to curl into a ball and fight Crosshair off at the same time. The reaction was a surprise to the sniper, he’d expected some ticklishness, but this was about enough to rival Hunter or Tech. Echo was reduced to a state of laughter and squirming limbs, a complete mess due to his nervous system being attacked mercilessly. 

“You best hope our enemies don’t find out about this,” Crosshair snarked, his playful smirk unable to be hidden now. “You’ll be Sarlacc food in an instant.”

“P-Pihihiss ohohoff!” Echo retorted through hysteric giggles, trying to push Crosshair back with his hand that was still locked with the sniper’s. 

“Oh? You’re trying to fight back? Trying to get away? Heh, nope.” Crosshair’s hand slipped out of Echo’s and dropped to prod quickly along the ARC trooper’s ribs, tweaking some here and there. Echo yelped loudly at the sudden attack, his free hand now torn between shoving Crosshair’s fingers away and trying to shove at the man himself.

“You’re a strategist right, Reg? This counter attack doesn't seem very tactical.” Crosshair’s dry commentary only served to make Echo more giggly, his chest lighter in a way that it hadn’t been in a long time. 

“Crohohoss! Shuhuhut ihihit!”

“You never learn do you?” 

Crosshair’s hands shifted to test out Echo’s stomach and hips, dragging up his civilian shirt to show the pale skin just before where the prosthetics started. Echo was too busy giggling to realise the fate about to befall him, which caused Crosshair to smirk wickedly before he lightly dragged his nails across the soft, exposed flesh. Instantly, Echo’s legs kicked out and he threw his head back, bright, youthful laughter bursting free. 

“Hmm. Bad spot then?”

“YEHEHES!” Echo wheezed, smacking at Crosshair’s fingers desperately to try and get rid of the horribly tingly sensations crawling all over his waistline. 

“You do have a way out of this, remember?” Crosshair reminded, scratching quickly at Echo’s hip and snickering when the ARC trooper gave a screech, bending in a way that did not seem possible to try and avoid the sniper’s nails. “You’re only trapped for long as you choose to be.”

Echo managed to get in a smack to Crosshair’s forearm, just to be a little shit. He didn’t want to admit it, but this kind of messing around, it made him feel… human. He thought the Techno Union had robbed him of his humanity and everything that came along with it. Being able to process things, feel things, the ability to exist, they had all been altered in some way or another. But this? This felt normal. It felt just like it used to with his old squad, and Echo couldn’t be happier about it. 

Although… he was reaching his limits because Crosshair wouldn’t leave his goddamn soft spot alone. He finally cracked. 

“Mercy! Mehehehercy! Cross plehehease!” He gasped out, his stamina lacking from what it used to be after all that time with the Techno Union.

Crosshair’s hummed in contemplation, though he did lighten his touch to simple tracing and pokes. “You gonna take it back?”

Echo wheezed and nodded, grinning up at the sniper through watery eyes. “Ihihi wihihill! Juhust stohop!”

Crosshair chuckled and eased up entirely, getting off of the ARC trooper and pulling the weighted blanket back so it wasn’t keeping the clone down. Though Echo remained flat on his back, trying to pull in great gulps of stolen air while giggles intertwined with his efforts.

The enhanced clone huffed another chuckle in amusement. “You’re still laughing, Echo?”

There was a gentle kick to his leg from one of Echo’s metal prosthetics. “Shut uhuhup.”

Rolling his eyes, Crosshair settled against the wall of the ship, waiting patiently for Echo to get himself under control again, though he could tell it might take the clone a while. Out of pure curiosity, he asked, “Did this kind of thing happen a lot with your old batch?”

Echo huffed a small laugh, rubbing at his eyes that had gathered moisture from the laugh attack. “All the time,” he admitted, smiling at the rack above his own with bittersweet nostalgia. “The boys would gang up on me constantly, it was completely unfair.”

Crosshair smiled. “Oh don’t worry, the others and I will make it a habit again.”

Echo slung his arm over his eyes with a protesting groan, but Crosshair saw how his smile was still there. He leaned over and prodded Echo’s side again, taking satisfaction in the high pitched yelp that burst from the clone. 

“You still haven’t said it, you know.” He didn’t really care about being called a softie if he was being honest, he knew his actions spoke more than words, but he wanted to drag this out.

Echo glared at him, and then lifted his scomp up horizontally to point at Crosshair. 

The sniper looked at it in contemplative bemusement. “What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m flipping you off.”

That startled an incredulous laugh out of the sniper, his eyes playfully narrowing once more. “Okay you motherkriffer, apparently you need a round two.”

“Wait- wait, it was a joke- CrosshAHAHAIR! Nohohot agahahain!” 

Crosshair, who had slung an arm around Echo’s neck and yanked him against his chest, clawed at Echo’s sides and stomach again, smirking at the peals of bright laughter that spilled free of the trooper. 

‘You’re gonna be just fine with us, Echo,’ he thought, fondness bleeding through no matter how much he tried to ignore it. ‘You’ll never have to be afraid again.’

[theloveinc]

It’s so funny how rereading one single ya dystopian series has made all my daydreams go from something mundane and beautiful to like… “me and Bakugo are surviving a war against reproductive rights🙂” and I’m genuinely having a good time

[thebibliosphere]

In case you were wondering how deep down the Batfam fixation hole I am, it's something I've actually been talking about in therapy a lot.

Not like, in a worried way, more just when my therapist asks me what I'm doing in my downtime, my answer always used to be either "sleeping" or "I don't have downtime. I have too much work to do."

Now my answer is "playing my Batman game" or "watching Batman show/reading comics/writing unhinged Batman x Muppet fanfic."

And my therapist is delighted. She's fucking ecstatic. She's like, "You have interests again!" and I'm like !!!! Because here's the thing.

Almost dying in 2019 kinda irrevocably fucked up my brain, like, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And I've been grieving over that for the last few years as well as recovering from the physical aspects of it. And to cope with it, I threw myself into work even though I wasn't physically or mentally well enough, and that made everything worse, and well, if you've been here, you know.

My brain has not been kind to me for a long time. It still isn't. But I do the work. I do multiple types of therapy a week. I piece myself back together on the daily and try to remember what it means to be human and not just this numb static void that sometimes sounds like shrieking if you listen too closely.

And then randomly, a few months ago a friend bought me Gotham Knights on Steam, and it was like a light turned back on. The engine that'd been refusing to turn over for years suddenly sputtered back to life, and something in my brain went, "Hey, I remember this... this is fun?"

And then I started tentatively searching the tags here on Tumblr, and yeah, actually. I remember this. I remember enjoying this. I can dip my toes into this. This is safe. This is a childhood interest from Before the almost-dying-trauma. And besides, it won't get in the way of my work. This isn't going to consume me. Nothing consumes me like it used to. I'm too broken for that.

Except, haha, jokes on me because, for some fucking reason, Brucie fucking Wayne and his gaggle of chaotic crime-fighting children is what reached into my brain, picked up my trauma, and started shaking it loose like a category 7 earthquake.

I actually laughed about that with my therapist a few weeks ago. Of all characters, of all pieces of media, it's Batman that's helping me process a significant chunk of my emotional trauma in a healthy way.

The most emotionally constipated vigilante in superhero existence, and I'm weeping like a child every time I get an achievement in Gotham Knights, and it says some bullshit like this:

ID: a purple steam achievement icon that says: He'd Be So Proud Of You. Reach the maximum level as any member of the Batman Family. 6.3% of players have this achievement. /end ID.

(for context, Batman is dead in this game, and you are playing as his emotionally devastated children trying to keep it together. Wailing, gnashing, crying, throwing up etc, etc.)

And my therapist, who has sat with me through EMDR sessions and a multitude of other shit designed to rewire your brain, just shrugs and says, "Sometimes we need to externalize our emotions through safe media. For you, right now, that safety is Batman having a relationship with the Muppets."

And like... okay, yeah. I'll take the win on that one.

[orcelito]

Maybe part of what gives me the assurance of writing fic for a thing is knowing almost everything there is to know about the thing. So even me being 👀 at shadowgast, I don't think I could write fic for it bc the critical role universe is so fucking big & I will literally die if I ever get any detail wrong

And so instead I write for a video game I've known for 5 and a half years, which I've played 3.5 times (and largely watched playthroughs for Another time!) which belongs to a game series that I've played every installment of (minus eternal punishment)(& no I didnt actually finish innocent sin Nor persona 1, but shh) so that I can have the assurance that YES I know any lore that could possibly be relevant to this thing, and EVEN THEN I will accidentally have the characters go to school on 2 days when they were not supposed to go to school & I will lie down and weep bc inconsistencies r the bane of my soul and I will now perish

[withleeknow]

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 06.05.2024]

[ventismacchiato]

i imagine people would write those “omg my mom sold me to delusion or windblume!” fanfics 😭

“Y/n! Get down here!”

You groaned and threw your hair into a messy bun and made your way downstairs. You were wearing an old Delusion merch shirt and some shorts, you were never one for skirts. Unlike most girls.

“Yes, mom?” you asked, always walking on eggshells around her. Ever since dad left she’s turned to drugs to cope.

“We’re broke. I sold you to have more money for hard drugs. Pack your things.”

“Ugh! This is just like you!” You scream, stomping your foot as your emerald orbs stare into hers. Yours were full of life while hers had dulled out.

“Just go, I never wanna see you again.”

“Hmph,” you carried your petite 4’2 20lbs body up the stairs and packed a small bag. When you came back downstairs and left there was an expensive car waiting outside.

“Here, let us help with your bags,” a voice said. You turn to see the hit boy band Delusion step out of the car!! Wow they were sexier in person. Suddenly you felt on display in front of your idols.

“Cute,” Scaramouche smirks as he eyes you up and down hungrily.

“I call dibs,” Childe smiles, taking your bag.

“I want her first,” Kazuha says, stepping out from behind them.

“You wish,” Aether snickers, winking at you.

“You bought me from my mom?” You ask, shaking in their presence.

“Yeah, we need someone to FUCK whenever we want,” Childe says, “So hope in the back of the car, we’re going to our sold out concert.”

a/n 😈😈 like and comment for chapter 2 sorry for the late post i got hit by a bus and ran over and a dog bit my arm and also i almost drowned and went to jail

[wosoragebaiter69]

death is a funny thing

alexia putellas x fem!reader

prompt: alexia angst on 10/10 out of angst scale - for madres bday

A/N: happy birthday madre @greynatomy ! 🥳🥳 you are now stuck at the restaurant

i cried while making this. i dont cry while writing or reading fanfic.

TW: Death, hurt/no comfort, the thought of me not making a part 2 for this

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

2 weeks. That's what the doctor said. 2 weeks until you're dead and you soul is gone from the earth. How does one hold that infomation? How are they supposed to take it? It's not like anyone's alive to really tell you how to cope or react.

So, you sit in silence. Being taken back to the memories of playing football as a child, being in your national team for the first time. Playing for your senior team for the first time. That first kiss with Alexia which was unlike any you'd had before. The first time you'd told her you loved her, and how she immediately said it back.

All of it would come to an end.

You knew you should've been here weeks ago when you first started feeling off, but you weren't one to go a doctor when something felt bad. Just hoped it would go away unless you knew it was an injury that'd affect your career. The only reason you were in the room was because Alexia dragged you there.

What would have happened if she hadn't?

You stare at the wall in front of you, mind without thoughts. Just the shell of someone who used to be there. You feel bad for Alexia, how would she cope? You knew she had plans of proposing, you just didn't know when. That will all be a dream in only a fortnight.

How much will change by then? Will she push you out like she does with most others? Or will she hold you close, thinking that if she did you wouldn't leave her when you both know that won't happen.

When you do look at her, there's tears streaming down her face. Staining her shirt and falling onto the floor. The doctor leads you both out giving a form of all legal action needed before you die. Who to give your money to, how you want to be buried or cremated.

You wonder how they can say such news then proceed to hand papers while being devoid of any emotion. Maybe they've done it too many times to really feel.

- - - - -

Alexia drives home, eyes still leaking with tears. You're not quite sure how she's driving but you both make it home. You watch her mundane and robotic movements, until she's in the living room. That's her breaking point.

You immediately go to her, wrapping your arms around her without saying a word. This makes her sob harder.

"I can't live without you. Please no." Is all you hear over the sound of her breaking down.

"Alexia." You say, but she shakes her head.

"Alexia look at me." Again, it's no use.

"Ale please." She finally listens, looking up shaking as her lip wobbles.

"When I am gone, you will be sad yes but I trust you'll get over me. I trust you will be even better than you are now. You are the greatest woman I've ever met and you are the strongest. I will be with you here until the end and even when I'm not here physically..." You pause and touch her heart with your hand. "I'll always be with you here, remember that. And if heaven or the afterlife is real, I'll watch over you. I promise." You whisper resting your forehead against her own.

She whails into the evening, you cry along with her. Reality and the fear of death finally sinking deep into your bones. You will die. You can't be here forever.

- - - - -

The next day when training is supposed to be on is when you tell everyone at the club, sadness lingers in the air as you hug your friends. The ones who had become a new family for you. The young players like Salma and Vicky whom you'd baiscally 'adopted' when they joined the senior team. You consoled them along with Caroline (your best friend) the most. Those apart from Alexia being the ones you were always with.

It was decided a farewell dinner would be hosted. The last memories and last time to be with you.

- - - - -

Alexia wouldn't leave your side, you didn't want to leave hers either. The weight she'd carry on herself after this is too much for your own failing heart. You wanted to be with her for the rest of your life, and by that you meant grow old. Not die at 27.

The dinner was as much as anyone would expect it to be. Teary eyes and frowns painted on everyones face. The mourning had started before you left, and somehow that was even more painful.

Your will was mainly going to the football club, with no family left to give it to. Part of it went to investment in womens sports and some went to Alexia. You'd asked to be cremated, 1/3 of your ashes in the new Camp Nou, 1/3 of your ashes to be washed away by the heavy winds at the beach you loved so much, and a third to be with Alexia to do as she pleases. Whether to keep or give to people you held so close.

The end is near, it's relieving in a sense. That all this anxiety toward the date will just go. Everything for you will stop. But, you hate being the reason people are upset. All you'll leave is pain and anguish until one by one your friends heal. Alexia heals.

- - - - -

Today was the day, you're not sure how you know but you do. You wait with Alexia, remembering all good times. No words are said, she's trying to remember every detail in your face. Fearing the she'll forget you.

"Alexia." She takes a deep breath, nodding at you to continue.

"I love you, I love you in everyway possible. I love you in every universe. I love you to the moon and saturn. Never forget me, as I'll never forget you." You whisper, breath shaky as you feel yourself drifting away.

"I could never, forget you amor. You're safer wherever you are next. I love you. More than words could ever convey." Her voice breaks.

You don't want to leave her, why did it have to be like this?

She places her lips against yours one last time. Your eyes close, one last time.

—————————————————————————

well... no part 2. reader will not come back from the dead like melanie martinez

but last night i dreamt i kissed taylor swift so theres that

[happilykrispypirate]

The Mistake

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x fem! Nott! reader

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mentions of sex, every detail of a probably awkward looking makeout shesh and my shitty writing.

Summary: Pansy invited Y/n out to a local bar with Blaise, Pansy then decided it would be a good idea to invite her brother and his best friend.

A/n: This is based off of true events that have recently happened to me and I am unsure how I should process it or how I really should be feeling about it. I know how I should feel about it, but I don't. So, writing fanfic is my only coping mechanism at this point.

-

"Alright, everyone got everything?" Pansy asked as she and Blaise walked hand in hand with Y/n right next to her into the bar.

"Yeah, my brother said they would save us a table so long," Y/n said as she searched for her brother. She saw them, finally, at the way back near the bathrooms.

Good, she thought, I'm going to be spending my whole evening in there listening to Pansy rant about how annoyed she is with Blaise and how in love she is with Mattheo.

"What's up, fuckers," Y/n greeted.

"What's up, you little shit," Theo smiled as he hugged his sister.

"Hey Matt," Y/n greeted as she gave him a hug.

As soon as everyone greeted everyone, they all sat down. Y/n knew it would be awkward if she was third wheeling with Pansy and Blaise, so she's thankful her brother and Mattheo decided to join.

"So, how pissed are you two?" Y/n asked as she looked between the two boys.

"I'm good, but he's gone," Theo said pointing at Mattheo. He was staring at Pansy.

The two of them met a while back on Y/n's birthday. Even then she and Blaise were a thing, she knew it was a disaster waiting to happen.

Blaise, of course, doesn't know anything.

"As always," Y/n said laughing, and shifting uncomfortably as the seat she was sat on had to be shared by two other people.

"Y/n, I need to go to the bathroom, come with me," Pansy said as she suddenly pulled her away.

Here we go...

"I can't do this," Pansy said once they entered one of the bathroom stalls.

"I knew this would be difficult for you," Y/n said as she slid down the door whilst Pansy sat on the toilet.

"I don't want Blaise, I want Mattheo. I mean, we've been talking for hours almost every night, he makes me feel, I don't know, special?" Pansy said as she sighed and held her head in her hands.

"Maybe you should just leave Blaise, if Mattheo makes you happy then go for it," Y/n said.

"At this point, I think he might like you more than he likes me, and I'm totally fine with that, if you want to go for him, do it. As long as you're happy," She said.

"Dude, I don't even know the guy, and he doesn't know me either. Besides, I highly doubt that he'd ever want to do anything with a chubby girl who hasn't even had her first kiss yet," Y/n said, trying to make her best friend feel better, when she only made herself upset.

"You're beautiful, stop saying those things," Pansy said, "I do think I need to talk to him though."

"I'll try to get him over to the bar inside, whilst Theo keeps Blaise distracted," Y/n said, "I just hope you're sober enough to talk to him, I know you've been drinking long before you even got here."

"I'm severely tipsy," She said giggling as she headed out the bathroom.

Pansy quickly told Blaise that she was going to go pay for the drinks they'd bought so far. Y/n just disappeared to find Mattheo, he was talking to someone else.

When she finally got him away, she told him to follow her into the bar, and that Pansy wanted to talk to him.

She stood off at the side, looking at the two talking, not hearing a thing they're saying because of the music. She looked away when he grabbed her face and kissed her. Making sure that Blaise couldn't see them, and also not wanting to feel the lonely feeling that she feels whenever her friends tell her they've kissed someone.

After a few minutes, she walked back to them, "Listen, as cute as this is, we need to head back to the table, Blaise will get suspicious," She said.

"Right, Matt, you head out first, we'll come after you," Pansy said. Mattheo smiled at her lovingly before walking out.

Pansy hooked her arm around Y/n's, "Holy shit, that was the best fucking kiss I've ever had," Pansy said excitedly, only earning a light hearted chuckle from Y/n.

When they got back to the table, Y/n saw that the space where she had previous sat had grown smaller. Leaving her no choice but to sit next to Mattheo who had the whole seat to himself.

His jacket was on the table, and without thinking she laid with her head on top of her arms on the jacket.

"Oi, wake up," Theo said once he saw his sister laying on her arms.

"I'm awake you fucking dickhead," She said rolling her eyes. She noticed from the corner of her eyes that Mattheo was looking at her.

"Hey, leave her alone," Pansy said, and she just chuckled as she saw the two starting to argue.

"Wow," She heard Mattheo say when he was looking at her.

"What?" She asked confused.

"You're really beautiful," He said.

"You're really drunk," She said shaking her head.

"If you say so," He said causing her to roll her eyes.

"Focus on one girl, please, I'm not worth it. Focus on Pansy," She said.

"I'm trying to but, Blaise is getting in the way. I mean look at her, she's beautiful, but it's a big turn off that Blaise is with her," He said rather loudly.

Blaise heard this and he glared at Mattheo.

"Shush, he might hear you," Y/n whispered turning to him, she didn't fail to notice how his eyes kept trailing down to her lips.

She instead turned her head to lay on his shoulder so it looked a bit less suspicious.

Mattheo then put a hand on her leg and rubbed circle's on her thighs. She didn't do anything. She knew she needed to, but she couldn't.

She then moved away from him, noticing Pansy's look.

After a while of them drinking, Y/n had moved back to her previous spot. She was talking to her brother when she saw that Mattheo was trying to tell her something. She couldn't hear him over the music so she got up and moved over to their side to sit between her brother and Mattheo.

"You okay?" She asked once she sat down.

"Yeah," he said nodded.

"Alright," She said, before yawning, "Jeez, I'm going to fall asleep."

"Now, sleep here," Mattheo said patting his shoulder.

Y/n knew she shouldn't but she remembered what Pansy had said earlier: if you want to go for him, do it.

So, she laid her head on his shoulder and he placed a hand on her thigh while he laced his other hand with hers.

"I think we're going to go and sober her up before we head home," Blaise said referring to Pansy who was way past drunk.

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit," Y/n said, pulling away from Mattheo completely, before they walked off.

"Hey, Theo, please go talk to Pansy for me," Mattheo said.

"Alright," Theo said before getting up and leaving them alone.

Y/n laid her head on his shoulder again and he rested his head against hers.

Next thing she knew Mattheo tilted his head and placed his lips on hers whilst holding her face.

What the fuck are you doing! She internally screamed at herself as she continued to let Mattheo makeout with her.

She didn't expect the tongue at first but before she knew it he swirled his tongue around hers. She didn't move her lips, unsure that if she did that she'd be doing it right.

The position he held her in was awkward and painful for her, so she pulled away from the kiss and sat up straight.

"Holy fuck," She said, "You were my first kiss."

"Let me be your next one as well," He said before attacking her lips again. The same happened this time, just as it had before.

Only this time when she pulled away he hugged her tight, he moved her hair away from her neck and started kissing her on the neck, making sure to leave a hickey.

She then quickly realised what was happening so she pulled away again.

"I can't do this to Pansy," She said as she held her face in her hands.

Mattheo put an arm around her and pulled her close. He kissed the side of her head, her cheek, her nose.

Before she knew it, he was leaning in to kiss her again. When their lips met she, for some odd reason, glanced to the side and saw Pansy looking at them.

"Fuck," She said as she saw Pansy run away. She immediately stood up, "This was a mistake."

"What happened?" Mattheo asked.

"Pansy saw us," She said.

"Shit," He said.

-The next part I wished would've happened because it would've made this whole situation a whole lot better-

Y/n quickly ran after Pansy.

"Wait!" Y/n said grabbing her arm.

"How could you?" Pansy yelled, tears running down her face.

"I'm sorry, it was a mistake," Y/n said, tears threatening to fall.

"I don't ever want to speak to you again," She spat before walking away.

Y/n took deep breaths, trying to contain the tears, when her brother walked up to her, "What happened?" He asked.

"Mattheo kissed me and Pansy saw," She said, Theo had known about Pansy and Mattheo ever since it happened, "And now I have no ride home. And my best friend hates me."

"No, you know what fuck her," Theo said, as he took the crying Y/n into his arms, "You're single, Mattheo's single and Pansy is technically in a relationship with Blaise, because they've slept together, more than once and they're always together. You're not wrong, she is."

She knew he was trying to make her feel better but she, in some way, regretted Mattheo's being her first kiss. She knew it was a mistake.

Mattheo came running to them, "What happened?" He asked.

"Pansy saw you two, and told Y/n she never wants to speak to her again," Theo said.

"Fuck, Y/n I'm so sorry," Mattheo said.

Y/n looked at him and slowly shook her head, "It's not your fault," She said, before she looked at Theo, "Can I maybe get a ride home?"

"Sure, you're just going to have to sit on Mattheo's lap," Theo said.

"Oh fuck," Y/n groaned causing Theo to chuckle.

"You're never going to live this down," Theo chuckled.

-

Y/n sat on Mattheo's lap looking out of the window. She hated the fact that her brother's car only has 2 seats. Yet she didn't mind it one bit.

Mattheo kept staring at the bruise on her neck, he felt proud of himself when he knew he shouldn't be.

He wasn't going to lie, he's liked Y/n since he met her. Pansy was a distraction, and it obviously didn't work.

When they arrived at Y/n's apartment Mattheo followed her up the stairs to her front door.

"I don't think it was a mistake," Mattheo said, catching her attention, "I've been wanted to do that, ever since I met you."

"Really?"

Mattheo nodded.

"Took you long enough," She said.

Mattheo rolled her eyes and leaned in and kissed her again.

It was a mistake at first, but mistakes make good stories, and good stories, have a happy ending.

[phantomrose96]

Jumping on the Prometheus gushing! It's more understated but I really like how you write the other human characters. Their reactions really help ground the situation. I especially liked Tucker's exasperation in the beginning and Valerie staying with Danny and Jazz pulling together the search party after her parents told her what they had done (which is horrifying in its own right)

(Prometheus)

Thank you!! And 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Sometimes I like working with unstated facts in fanfic. Stuff that's like "At no point am I stating this explicitly, but it's a fact at play and it's influencing the story."

And in this case... Danny feels bad about being a burden to his friends while he's healing 🙃. He's quick to back-pedal and apologize for his joke when Tucker doesn't receive it well. He asks Valerie to stay with him, and not "Can you go get Sam/Tucker/Jazz" because he's worried about making this ask too many times of his friends. When he can, he copes with injuries by watching the television alone rather than bother anyone.

And it's complicated because staying awake through the night with your disemboweled/skull-gouged/actively-leaking-gore friend IS stressful and scary and traumatic. And needing to be support every time is hard. And Sam/Tucker/Jazz would never say no to Danny! Like they would absolutely help him every time because of course they would! But Danny's not stupid. He can see what effect it has on them. And so if he can suck it up and handle himself for the night, then he'll be fully healed by the time any of his friends see him. And he won't burn his friends out on him needing their help, he hopes...

It means they get shut out from the full severity of what's happening to Danny, and how badly it's affecting him. They do notice something is making Danny lose his grip--the newscasters notice it, of course his friends do. And Jazz sees these cracks coming through in the scene before the final ones. But it's not enough time to do anything for him before it's too late...

Danny's not the only victim of this whole thing. Especially given how it ends...

[exaltedfuzz]

Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Elks Version 2.0

My fanfiction writing journey began in February of this year. Prior to that, I had never written anything akin to fanfic or fiction for my own enjoyment. On March 19 I was finally able to shush the anxiety and second-guessing of stepping into the world of sharing my words. Thanks to @ohheypedrito’s steadfast enthusiasm along with @justagalwhowrites’ kind words and guidance I hit post on Golden Walkway. Since then I've shared over 100,000 words and had the support of countless kind souls. Some of those kind souls have looked through my writing and marked it up making me better at the craft. With all of this newly acquired knowledge, I look back on some of my earlier works and really see the holes that needed to be filled by more practice. If I'm being honest, that's why it's been so hard for me to continue on my first multi-chapter fic; the ugly voice inside my head wants me to just call it quits and give up because the writing doesn't match the caliber I hold myself to. I can't allow that to happen. So, with all of that being said, I have made the decision to go back and re-edit my first multi-chapter fic Elks. Soft Jackson Joel meets a shy, artsy girl who loves music and has somewhat of a smart mouth and wooow they fall for each other? Shocking, I know. This story means a lot to me, and is definitely me coping with what just might rear its ugly head during season two. That's what I love about fanfic, we can choose any new adventure for our blorbo.

My plan is starting next week, on the 9th, I will repost the edited *first* chapter of Elks, along with a small ficlet from Joel's perspective, moodboard, and playlist for each selected chapter. Each week you can expect the same thing, until I catch up to the unpublished chapters my Google Docs hold. I've never done anything like this before and I'd really love to have y'all participate if you'd like. One of the best parts of this whole journey has been meeting so many new friends and sharing in the fun of the PPCU. I hope you'll join me. Comment, reblog, send me a DM, stick a post-it note to my back, and I'll add you to the taglist. You can participate as little or as much as you'd like, so much of this is just me thanking scared-to-post past Mallory for stepping foot on this new journey that has turned into a fun and fulfilling hobby. As always, thanks for reading. 💕

[soshadysoquiet]

TUA S4 alternative options for the Five *event*

Spoilers below, not meant to be taken seriously FYI

Now, I like my Five as AroAce as I am (extremely). But given that TV shows and society has this bullshit propaganda that 'romantic love simply Must occur for a complete being!!' Here's some alternatives that they could have gone for that might have been just as bad but I'd have hated less. (BTW no hate if you write romantic Five Fanfic, not for me but you do you, just wanted this one character to be safe from canon romance)

Bring The Handler back: That would be one fucked up relationship, don't get me wrong, but given they wrote a destined-to-be-fucked romance, have Five struggling to adapt and being coerced into a relationship by her and then realising it's shady and he DOESN'T need this sort of connection because his FAMILY is enough for him and have him kill her.

Make him and his colleague have a thing. True, potentially also problematic as mentally depending on your POV he's 60 or 13 or some mingle-mangled nightmare of the two. In the favour of this pairing I have only that I liked (was it Derek??'s) character design, they've clearly got some similar interests as they work together, they will have therefore spent some quality time together in a Safe space where they could have made a reasonable connection.

Dolores is real in this timeline, or Five somehow birthed her into being. (honestly I thought his colleague was going to turn out to be Dolores and of all the possibilities I would have accepted that the most) For this to work I think Dolores would have needed to be one of the 43 all along and maybe someone who can transplant their consciousness who did similar to Five and got stuck like that, went comatose and mad with it (therefore staying around 13) until Five found her. There, with that, you can fudge around the problematic age thing, they grew up side by side. Thus she and Five really did have a connection, really could talk, and now he gets to live into his old age with someone both mentally and physically the same age as him.

Give him a therapy dog in Pennycrumb that's better than a romance surely who doesn't love a pet?

Kenny's Mom. Idk it would have been whacked AF but I would have laughed my head off and know Five had just lost the plot completely.

He falls in love with another version of himself he meets on the subway. Hell, why not make this a Five that changed gender in the apocalypse and met a mannequin named Donnie, that way we also get more queer representation. Yes, this would also, in fact, be weird AF. But legit hilarious and someone who can match his experience and intelligence. And age.

Let him just have one night stands, that's midway happy right for TV? Just don't make me watch any intimate scenes. You have a Whole other cast, use them. Hell, be brave, do a Klaus / Dave Ghost sexscapade instead.

He has re-found mannequin Dolores. Man has never dealt with his issues that we know of - the show never tells us he does. I thought when they first turned up in the apocalypse from the trains and the sunlight was shining on Dolores that Five was going to steal her. But he could also have just found her again because he couldn't cope.

I think that's exhausted all my awful joke options (though honestly the Dolores two aren't even that bad) would love to hear which your favourite out of these awful options is.

Please reblog for votes, I'm having way too much fun here.

[yaesnovels]

Hiiiiii if it's not a trouble to ask can I request a smut fanfic for Al Haitham with a gn reader who's really stressed out with school and isn't coping properly and Al Haitham knows when his baby needs some good spike chilling soul crushing sex go calm them down <3 squint to see the daddy and praise kink fjdjdndn thankyou<3333

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ coddled

✧. ┊    cw; fembodied!reader w no pronouns, no mentioned protection, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, creampie, slight pregnancy kink ?!? idk, sweet to rough alhaitham

not proofread or anything, didn‘t have the energy to. lmk if there‘s something off tho, i‘ll correct it :] also, hope u don‘t mind that i didn‘t add the daddy kink, i don‘t really feel comfortable with writing that specific kink so </3

cuddling with alhaitham whenever you were insanely stressed always helped you calm down. his arms engulfing your body, sitting on his lap on your bed while he was whispering sweet nothings and pressing soft kisses on your forehead made you melt into his arms even more, eyes closed as you stopped thinking about everything akademiya related. 

“shh, baby, relax, i’m here, yeah? do you want me to help you relax properly?”, he then asked, making you look up to him. for a moment you were – once again – absolutely mesmerized by his beautiful face. your eyes focused on his lips for a moment, the urge to kiss him was so big in that moment. alhaitham couldn’t help but smile at how easily distracted you were. 

“eyes up here, my love. i asked you a question”, he mumbled, wanting your attention on him. alhaitham had noticed before that you were insanely stressed out at the moment because you had to hand in your paper for the akademiya and despite him supporting you in any way possible, you were still visibly struggling. even though, you didn’t want to admit this to him. 

“mhm, please distract me”, you buried your face against his neck, just wanting to be coddled by him until you just focused on him and you. 

alhaitham didn’t hesitate to lift your head up a little to finally kiss you properly like he wanted to do for a bit now since he had convinced you to take a break from studying. he continued by softly peppering soft kisses over your jaw and neck, making you giggle at how it tickled. you were feeling so secure in his hold and it managed to distract you enough from your work for the akademiya. 

“how do you want me to distract you, darling?”, he murmured. he already had an idea of how he was going to make you go brainless to the point that you’d forget all about the akademiya, hell about anything outside of your shared bedroom. 

you didn’t reply, feeling too exhausted to even come up with anything. alhaitham always had been a very observative person so he noticed that quite quickly. after discarding your top, he carefully turned you both around so you would be laying underneath him. 

when he started kissing down your body, you arched your back and shivering, fingers entangled in his already messy hair and pulling on the strands. when he finally reached the waistband of your shorts, he looked up, pausing because he wanted to make sure you were still with him and okay with him proceeding. 

“please, baby”, you mumbled. he smiled up at you, carefully untying the knot of the shorts before he pulled them down your legs, followed by your panties. not able to help himself, he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on your clit, giggling at your body twitching at the surprise. 

“you’re so beautiful, you know that right?” 

before you were able to say or do anything, he finally dived in, licking up a stripe over your cunt. one taste and he was – as usual – absolutely obsessed with your taste, unable to stop. “sweetheart, you taste so wonderful”, he whispered while he continued with his tongue’s movements. the sweet moans you let out were like music to his ears and he absolutely adored it. “how did i end up so lucky with you darling? you’re the most stunning person i ever met in my life.” 

his words made your cheeks warm up as you got shy. at the same time, you were trying your best to conceal your moans in embarrassment by holding your hand over your mouth. he didn’t like that, of course. he wanted to make you feel good and make you stop worrying and thinking. 

“stop that, darling, or do i need to tie your hands again?”, he smirked, making you remember one of the previous .. ‘sessions’ you had with him. that one time where he made you cum over and over again, even making you squirt once – you didn’t even know you could do that – all the while he didn’t allow you once to touch him. 

you immediately shook your head as a no, wanting to feel him as close as possible to you. “good”, he mumbled against your thighs, where he was leaving soft kisses, while he was teasing your entrance with his index finger, slowly pushing it in. he didn’t wait long until he added a second finger to stretch you out a little. 

“oh, sweetheart, those sweet whimpers you let out. you sound so, so sweet. don’t worry, baby, you can cum if this already gets you close. you can cum as many times as your body can take, no need to wait for me to let you. just make sure to tell me when you can’t take it anymore, baby, because i will make sure you go completely brainless.” 

his fingers’ quick thrusts and his other hand’s thumb softly stroking over your most sensitive point had your legs shaking in pure pleasure. “i’m close”, you whined, not taking too long after until you were creaming on his fingers. before you could even calm down after that, he was already back leaning over your body, softly sucking on your neck. 

“felt good, sweetheart? you came so well for me, baby. don’t worry, we’re not even close to be done. i’m going to make you cum so many more times, till you beg me to stop”, he was smirking knowingly. him praising you like that made your heart flutter. 

he was quick to discard his clothes, hands next to each sides of your head while looked down on you with lidded eyes, indulging in your beauty. once you gave him the ‘yes’, he didn’t hesitate to align his tip to your entrance and gently pushing his thick cock inside of your hole. 

“fuck”, he moaned out, not expecting you to still so tight. “you feel so good, baby.” he was slowly pushing more and more in until you finally felt him hit your spot, eyes widening in surprise. “you okay?”, he checked in with you. 

you nodded only in reply, arms tightly wrapped around his broad shoulders. “please, please, please”, you were basically begging him already but you couldn’t even care less of how pathetic it was. not with him deep inside you, hips still. 

“shh, shh, i know it feels so good to be so full of me, baby, don’t worry, i’ll make you feel so good”, he promised. with that, he finally pulled out until only his tip was inside of your hole and pushed back in, hard. 

alhaitham was quick to build up a frantic pace. this was supposed to be all about you, but he couldn’t help but fuck you desperately for his own high. he just needed to come deep inside of you, paint your tight walls all white, make you come over and over. 

all he wanted was to make an entire mess of you both together until you were at the brink of passing out from the overstimulation. 

“you’re doing so good, baby, you’re taking me so, so well”, he kept on mumbling those sweet praises into your ear, making you smile. “i love you so much, you’re going to make me come so much inside of you. do you want that baby? do you want me to fill you up? want me to put a baby inside your belly, sweetheart?” he was gently brushing his hand over your belly at the thought of this. 

you nodded frantically, the image alone had you so excited and you squeezed down on him tightly. you whined his name, crying out in pleasure as you came around him. he let out a groan as he also finally came deep inside of you. he was filling you up, still slowly thrusting in and out of you to ride out both of your intense orgasms. when he looked down to where you both were still connected, he watched his cock get so creamy with your combined slick with every other thrust. 

“feel good, baby?”, he asked, brushing away a strand of your messy hair out of your face. he smiled as you nodded, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. “good.” 

your eyes widened when he turned you around so that your face was pressing against the soft pillows. “surprised? i told you i wasn’t done with you yet, darling. i will fuck you so good that these sheets will be drenched and you’ll be at the brink of passing out. don’t think that me being soft and sweet to you once will change how i fuck you.” he grabbed your arms, pressing them against your lower back with one hand as he aligned his cock with your entrance once again, a hard thrust inside had you gasp and bite into the pillow as pain and pleasure mixed. he promised to make you brainless, after all. 

he intended to keep that promise as much as he could.

[reidmania]

heyyy I saw your fanfic about the mental health and depression things and I would loveeee if you would write one about the reader self harming and Miguel finds out and comforts them🧡 I’ve struggled with self harm and depression and your fics help so much!

JUST HOLD ON

miguel o’hara

summary; miguel’s heart breaks when he finds out what you do to yourself

warnings; mentions of self harm, comfort, swearing, could be very poorly written and im so so so sorry if it is xx

an; thank you for requesting, i want to remind everyone that i am in NO WAY romanticising self harm or mental health problems, i wanted to make this series to help people who dont have somewhere to go or someone to talk to, these are purely just comfort fics

i also want to say, youre not alone, and i know self harm is a coping mechanism for many, myself included, but there is so many other healthy ways to cope and i want everyone to know that if you ever ever ever need anybody to talk to, im always here and i want to do my best to make sure youre all okay.

long sleeves, jumpers, scafs, bandaids, bracelets. you were always wearing one or the other. miguel never asked why, he thought maybe you just found it more comfortable.

the entire time you and miguel had been dating, and in a relationship, it had been the cold seasons of the year, and now with summer coming in quick, you were stressing.

miguel isn’t stupid, he would wonder why you’re wearing a jumper or a long sleeve in ridiculous heat, he would question it, and that set you off in a panic.

it was fine, during the day when miguel was at the HQ doing his spider business, but when he got home, your mind went crazy.

although, to you, you did a good job hiding it.

“im home!” miguel says, your eyes widen as you get off the couch quickly, “one sec!” you reply, running up to your bedroom to get a jumper, quickly throwing on the first one you can find, you go back to meet miguel.

you wrap your arms around him, he does the same, squeezing you tightly. “how was your day?” you ask, as you let go of him, walking to the kitchen to start with dinner.

“not bad.. newbies are always rough” miguel says softly, leaning against the wall in the kitchen. “baby” he says softly.

you hum in response, occupied by cutting vegetables. “why do you have the AC on, while wearing a jumper?” he wasn’t mad, he was genuinely just wondering.

regardless you freak, trying to come up with an explanation, “my top half was cold” you say, shrugging.

miguel laughs, “do you need some help?” he says, leaning off of the wall to come up next to you,

“yes, boil some water”

miguel wasn’t stupid. he knew you better then he knew himself, and he knew your top half was always hotter then your bottom half, you were always wearing pants and rubbing your sleeves over your legs.

so he was confused.

it had been like this for a while now, little things would concern miguel but he didn’t want to bring them up, incase they were nothing.

today was weird though, while you were still asleep, in bed, miguel had to get ready for the day, looking in the laundry for a pair of socks, he finds one of your tshirts.

he ignored it at first, before he saw the red stains along the sleeves, his mind first went to, ‘that time of the month’ but you don’t get that in your arm.

he frowns, confused. deciding to figure it out later.

“lyla, do you know whats up with y/n” he asks softly, trying to stay focused on his work, but concern filled his body.

“what do you mean” she asks back, miguel sighs. “tell a soul, and i will literally end your existence” he says, “okok! just say it”

“i don’t think ive ever seen y/n’s arms”

“you think she doesn’t have arms?”

“no- shut up. like shes always wearing long sleeves, or jumpers, or her wrists are covered in bracelets.”

“oh miguel” lyla frowns. “what- what does that mean”

“obviously i cant be 100% sure, i don’t know personally, but it very much could be her trying to hide something..” she says.

“what?” miguel asks, shaking his head “hide what?”

“this isn’t my place to tell, just talk to her”

when miguel came home that evening, he was even more confused and concerned then he was when he left in the morning. he called out, but didn’t get a response, he hums.

he finds you in the living room, asleep on the couch, he smiles softly before he notices your arm.

no long sleeve, no jumper, no bracelets.

his eyes widen as he looks at the blood stains on your arm, the tissue in your other hand, covered in blood. if it was just one miguel would just assume it was an accident.

but he sees it, all of it, the numerous scas, fresh and old cuts, he can feel his stomach drop. next to the paper he finds a small razor, he picks it up quickly, throwing it out before he comes back, taking a deep breath.

“y/n” he says softly, you were a light sleeper, “mm?” you reply, until something must of clicked in your brain.

you sit up quickly, pulling you arm to your chest, youre pale like you have seen a ghost, miguel is heartbroken.

“come with me” he says softly, you pause for a minute as he starts walking, but when he turns around to you, you stand up and follow him.

into your bedroom, he tells you to sit on the bed, before he goes into the bathroom for a moment. “miguel- im sorry” you finally say.

he doesn’t reply, coming out with a first aid kit, kneeling on the ground in front of you. wiping your arm, so damn gently.

he continues to clean and bandage your arm, without saying anything before he sits next to you on the bed.

you have tears in your ears, and a yuck feeling in your stomach, “come here” miguel says, lifting you onto his lap, facing him, he wraps his arms around you.

“im sorry, miggy”

“don’t apologise baby, you don’t have to feel bad about this okay? you have done nothing wrong”

“i-“

“i want you to know, im here, im going to be here regardless of what happens, okay? this isn’t healthy, baby. but i know its a coping mechanism for you, we just gotta find a healthier one, together yeah?”

“yeah” you say softly, buried in his neck.

“i hate knowing you’ve been hurting yourself baby, someone is hurting my special girl, and i had no idea” he says, looking at you as he moves your hair behind your ear.

you frown, as you look up at him. “no more” you say.

“no more” he agrees.

“i want you to promise me, that if you need me or ever think about doing it again, you will get me straight away, i don’t care whats happening or what im doing, youre my priority, always”

“i love you miggy, i promise”

“i love you too, cmon, lets get you changed then watch allll the rom coms you want” he says, kissing your face.