#and ending up in misery. loneliness. and regret.

[theplotdemandsit]

When Five finally makes it back home with his siblings, finally makes it back to the right timeline, he finds he’s still holding his breath. 

“Is it really over?” He thinks out loud. 

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” comes Luther’s response. 

So they do. And everything seems…normal?

But as much as Five wants to sleep for ten days straight, he can’t help but feel on edge. He spends his time visiting each sibling, popping in for dinners or briefly making sure they haven’t felt anything out of the ordinary. One day Allison asks him if he actually wants there to be an approaching apocalypse. His eyes fall onto Claire who’s catching him up on High School Musical the Musical the Series.

“No,” he answers. “I really don’t.” 

They make time for family dinners every Sunday. They still bicker and maybe swing some fists every now and then, but everyone is fast to apologize and laugh again. With room to breathe again without high stakes, the hurt finally begins to heal. They had been family before, but it slowly begins to feel like a real family. 

And for the first time, they really get to know each other. For all the crap they gave Luther about the moon, they listen as he shares the misery and loneliness and betrayal he felt. Allison describes her time as a Black woman in the 60s without her voice. Literally. Viktor tells them about what it was like growing up powerless only to end the world twice. How he lost his memory and found the one he loved only to lose that too. 

Klaus manifests Ben (who is still a ghost but as alive as he could get) and together they tell of their adventures growing up and the cult Klaus accidentally created. In between laughs, they also learn about Klaus’s harrowing experiences with drugs and death.

And Five? He has over 40 years of stories, and at first he doesn’t want to share any of it. His time in the Apocalypse, his time in the Commission, murdering for the sole purpose of survival in order to get back to his family—it’s not a side to him he wants his family to know about. 

But at the same time for reasons he can’t explain, he does want them to know. For the first time, he wants to talk to his family, the family he worked tirelessly to save. 

Little by little, he does just that. Every now and then he will start a sentence with, “Back in the Apocalypse…,” during dinner or his visits with them. Silly ones at first, like the time he had the nasty Twinkie. The time he sang all the Beatles songs he could remember and pretended he was having a concert. The time he found Umbrella Academy action figures and reenacted missions with them. 

When it’s just him and another sibling, he starts sharing some of the hard stuff too.

He tells Allison how he starved during his first winter alone and hallucinated that she had helped him find food. When he woke up he found himself in a storage house full of canned goods and bawled his eyes out.

He tells Diego about the first time he killed someone. How the scariest thing was that he wasn’t shaking. 

He tells Viktor how he sometimes still wonders if he deserves everything he got for messing with time in the first place. How he’s afraid that one of these days he’ll wake up and be alone again.

He tells Klaus about the time he thought about giving up and ending it all. 

He tells Luther about Dolores. About how even though he knew he was crazy for talking to a mannequin, Dolores was the better part of him that salvaged his sanity.

He tells Ben (and Klaus, by default) that his biggest regret is not being there. That he tries not to think about how things might have been different if he’d stayed.

Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, the tension eases from his shoulders. He stops worrying so much about the world ending and how to keep everyone alive. Instead, he spends his time going to the park with Claire, helping Diego and Lila with the babies, having midnight food outings with Klaus, and listening to Viktor play his music.

At their weekly family dinner, Luther tells Five he has a present for him and pulls out a box of Twinkies, saying, “I know you want to try one.”

Five gives him a practiced glare and says, “I would rather swim in a pot of boiling oil.”

Before, his family might have stared at him like he grew two heads, but now they laugh and think his retort is hilarious. Luther opens the box and pulls out a bag of marshmallows instead, and Five can’t help but crack a smile. 

One day they ask him what his plans are—what’s next for the oldest sibling.

Five warms his hands on a hot mug of coffee. “I’m tired of thinking about the future,” he tells them. “Right now, I just want to spend time with my family.”

That earns him plenty of “aww”s and “You’re such a softie, Five.” He waves them away and tries to duck out of their hugs, but they get him in the end. And even if he could teleport, he doesn’t want to.

He hadn’t been looking for happy, but he found it anyway.

Now cross-posted on Ao3 under the same handle!

[moon-ttokki-x]

The angst fic you just did of skz reacting to your death was soooo good 😭😭😭def think you should do a pt 2 if you ever consider it :)

*throws heart-wrenching, sob-worthy angst in your face and runs away cackling* SUFFER ! YOU ASKED FOR IT, YOU GET IT !

don't go, please - skz maknae!line x reader (part 2)

pairing: ot8!skz maknae!line x reader

summary: skz maknae line reactions to when you d*e.

genre: so so heavy on the angst like hyung line's, mentions of pushing people away, heavy grief themes, denial, mentions of manic disorders, deluded illusions of happiness, fading personalities, mentions of graves and headstones, mentions of blood and scissors in felix's, jeongin's almost made me cry (oh, my sweet, sweet innie), han's is also super sad

a/n: yeehee part 2 of the angstiest fic i've ever done. why is it actually kinda fun to write sad stuff . . . ? anyway div by @carnage-cathedral

if this content makes you uncomfortable, please skip it . the last thing i want is to make people upset, so don't read this if it's triggering for you. proceed with caution and be safe, my loves <3

skz masterlist | part one (hyung!line)

Han whose mic clatters to the floor as the news sinks in. Can't believe it for a good week or two. Not until he realises that when he comes home, there will no longer be something simmering on the stove, there will no longer be the love of his life standing at the counter with sauce-smeared fingers and a cheeky grin. Spends hours and hours listening to all the love songs he wrote for you and that you never heard; cries over his keyboard and breaks the electronics with his misery. Refuses to rap, because like Changbin, he just can't get the words out of his mouth anymore. Becomes quiet and reserved; is aware of every single word that comes out of his mouth, every move he makes, he scrutinizes. Cries for you in the dark every night.

Felix who storms to the bathroom and immediately begins cutting off all of his hair. Hacks it relentlessly; tufts of blonde fall around his feet and collect on the tear-soaked cotton of his shirt. Nicks himself with the scissors in the process, but he doesn't care. Leaves spots of blood in the ironic shape of a heart on the dimly lit bathroom floor. Stains one of your photo frames with the scarlet; kisses it off, and then kisses the delicate depiction of your face behind the glass, setting it down on the bedside and burying his head in his hands. Refuses to dance or sing; the light goes out of his eyes and doesn't seem to return, an odd, almost eerie look taking over his once effortless and joyful exuberance.

Seungmin who pretends not to be affected; lives in denial of what happened, and goes about his life wondering if it's true. Refuses to look at news articles and completely shuts down when one of the members gently tries to help him open up; it always ends in an argument and slammed doors. Sits on his bed wondering if you'll ever come back, and if you left, was it because of something he did? Often regrets not being nicer to you, and jokes to himself about little things he sees that you would have hated; like incessantly hot weather where it melts his skin like pale chocolate, or the whirring of his laptop fan, which you always complained about. Lives the rest of his days in a sort of deluded happiness; he doesn't really believe you're gone.

Jeongin who chases after you in the crowd, only to come up short holding the sleeve of someone who looked the same as you from behind. Is bewildered when he wakes up every morning and places a hand next to him on the bed, expecting you to be there; he finds only a cold-empty loneliness, your soft indent in the mattress rustling under his shaking hands. Still wears your matching jewelry, and visits where you lay often, burying the rings and necklaces in the soft dirt so that you might be able to see them again one day. Scratches little pictures into your headstone and sits with you for hours, talking about anything and everything. Doesn't move, even when it's pouring down like the sea is crashing down from the sky, and holds and umbrella over your buried being to shield you from the wetness.

a/n: so this one is a little longer but it just flowed out of me i guess

[fligniuz]

oh baby

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ your cute tutor cheers you up after a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

word count: 5.2k • part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @nephris , @mashkatzi , @straw8berry

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; hurt/comfort; oral (f! receiving); L-bombs; very fluffy :-)

notes : title frommmmmm:

It’s already been a long, long day, and it’s barely even started.

Your breakfast this morning was practically nonexistent—just an apple and a water bottle from the communal kitchen, grabbed in a hurry on your way out the door. No time for something more substantial. You woke up late. Again.

You seem to do that a lot.

In your defense, it’s hard to get up on time when you spend most of your waking hours thinking, pacing, waiting, forgetting. Rinse and repeat. You are not often at peace, and even the natural rise and fall of the sun each day fails to end your cycle of self-appointed misery. Your mind is an endless doomscroll; one long, rambling, borderline nonsensical mash of worry, regret, and the occasional funnies, complete with absolutely no paragraph breaks or accurate reflections of reality to spare. Relentless. Hateful. This is what getting unlucky in the brain department earns you: a lifetime of fret and insecurity, only slightly helped by daily pills that you work what feels like endless hours to be able to afford.

So, you don’t sleep well, nor do you wake well.

And about that work thing…you struggle to do that well, too. But can you really be blamed when a degree and a hopefully better job are also part of the equation? Can you really be blamed if you spent the past two weeks on a paper your professor will look over maybe a few times and never think about again, all for an imaginary number of credits to be added to a total of more imaginary numbers that will ultimately grant you a piece of sturdy paper with your name and a fancy new qualification? At times the days you spend working towards goals on a checklist just feel pointless, because some sixty or so years from now—and let’s be honest, the outlook re: The Climate Thing is much too grim to allow you even the promise of an average lifespan—you’ll be six feet underground, or one with the elements, or fucking compost (thanks technology!), depending on whatever the hell you’re going to write in your will.

Nothing matters, and yet everything does. And everything is connected; you’ve got bills to pay, because you’ve got student loans to pay, because you’ve got to get a nice degree and a steady job to make it in this greedy, fetid, embarrassing nightmare you call a homeland. And even then, even later in your life when you’ll be older and wiser and stronger than now, with a complete education and a likely less than perfect career, there will still be bills to pay. Probably student loans, too. This fucking country.

In your defense—you’re feeling real defensive today, aren’t you?—life is just too fucking much. Right now, yesterday, tomorrow, and the day after. You’re tired, and hungry, and sad, but late stage capitalism doesn’t care about your feelings, and so you stroll into work just barely in time for your shift. Your boring, boring shift, at your boring job, so you can make some boring money. Only to go home to a boring apartment that always feels empty, even with friends inside. When you carry loneliness with you it never ever wants to leave.

You need a cuddle. Or a fuck. Or both. And you know just the guy to call—if his roommates won’t be around, that is. It’s likely that they won’t. Frat boys are always busy doing frat boy things.

Not your tutor, though. Luigi is never too busy for you.

The moment the clock strikes 6:00 you’re filing out of the building like there’s a fire drill.

And fuck. It’s fucking raining. Guess who didn’t bring an umbrella?

This day just keeps getting worse.

You decide against surprising Luigi and find his number in your recents, and he picks up halfway through the second ring.

“Hello, Padawan.”

You roll your eyes. “Ugh. Don’t start with that. Are you home? What are you doing?”

“Well, the answer to your first question is yeah, and as for the second question…guess!”

Fucking Luigi. “I’m not doing that. If you’re not busy I’m coming over. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says without a hint of hesitation. “Are you bringing that attitude with you? Actually, never mind, I like you grumpy. But don’t expect to get any real learning done, because it’s hard to focus on being angry and doing math at the—”

You hang up on him before he can finish that thought and throw your hood over your head, making your way to the bus station.

The ride takes a little longer than you’d hoped with the after work traffic, but you pass the time with your headphones and the raindrops on your window, watching them trickle down, down, down. You start betting on which droplet will beat the other to the windowsill just a few minutes before you’re back on campus, dredging through the weather and finding yourself in front of his dorm. It’s only then that you can feel the adrenaline and stress and exhaustion all pumping through you at once.

Luigi greets you with the cutest curls and a warm smile.

“Hiya, mopey. Forget an umbrella?”

When you kiss him he seems to jump inside his skin before he melts into you, hands capturing your face to hold your mouth steady and at pace with his. He hadn’t expected you to be jumping his bones after showing up so suddenly, but when he feels you start to cry he’s second-guessing your visit altogether, eyebrows raising in alarm.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, cautious, tentative. You bury your face into his chest and sniffle.

You whimper, “I had a really bad day.”

Oh. His heart surges at that, sparking something protective, almost fraternal, and right then he wants to hold you tight and never let go. He wants to bundle you up in his warmest blanket and bring you sweets, kiss your little face and rub your back and tell you that he’s here, right here, waiting for you whenever you need him.

“My sweet girl,” he coos, petting your hair. “Is that why you came to see me?”

Nodding, you wrap your arms tight around him, feeling the weight of all your worry already starting to meld into the void of space around your entwined bodies. It’s a little embarrassing to admit that he’s this much of a comfort to you, but Luigi doesn’t laugh or scorn you; he welcomes you into his embrace like he’s been waiting all day for you.

“Well, would you like to hear some good news?” he asks, looking down at you. You raise an eyebrow, utter a little mm?

Luigi smiles, soft but tainted with something impure. He tilts your chin up with one finger, announcing, “I can think of quite a few ways to cheer you up.”

Of course he can. Why else would you be here?

“I’d like that,” you say, kissing him again. Need bubbles up in your psyche, fizzing, waves crashing over rocks on the coast. You think you’d much sooner swallow barbed wire than be forced to forget the feeling of his hands on you, holding you close, searching the most private corners of you.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to take care of you?”

Fuck. You’ve never gone from defeated to horny so quickly but it’s a new experience you’ll gladly be marking under the Hottest Things Ever Done to Me tab in your brain. Luigi knows you so well, knows just what you need to hear after such a nerve-wracking past few weeks. Knows just how to let his lips linger on yours to make you chase him. Through the haze of such sudden arousal you aren’t entirely sure you’re moving much at all, but you sense your adamant nodding and his responsive giggle distantly.

He’s picking you up, then, carrying you to his bedroom while you mouth at his wide neck, making sure to leave marks he’ll have to cover later. Before you know it you’re laid down beneath him, his hips fitted between your thighs and your hands tangled in his hair. When his growing erection presses against your clothed sex your clit throbs and you mewl into his mouth. The friction his body creates with yours is fucking delicious.

“Shh, ‘s okay, sugar,” Luigi murmurs, propped up on his elbow so that he’s hovering right over you. “You worked so hard today. It was shitty and you hated it but you worked so hard and now I’m going to make it allll better, yeah? Gonna take good care of you, baby.”

All you can manage is please, please, please, fingernails piercing his bicep.

You still have your jacket on, and so he helps work the zipper down and slides it off your shoulders. For a while he just kisses you, hands roaming: drawing shapes with his long fingers on your back, your flanks, the inner thigh, the curve of your breast through your shirt. You sigh and run your fingers through his curls, basking in the warmth of his affection. It’s a relief that only his presence can provide you, a unique kind of respite—Luigi always takes his time with you when he can, both when he helps you with your homework and when he’s alone with you, teaching you the ins and outs of this intimate, loving, endlessly fulfilling side of him. And to know that only you get to learn about him this intensely, this hands-on; to know that only you get to feel his touch and hear the noises he makes when you tug on his curls; to know that you are his only student that he’s ever connected with like this drives you mad, makes you feel accomplished. It’s a proud and well-earned victory. Your own little slice of heaven. For your eyes only.

Kissing him is nice, grounding, even, but it’s not enough to settle the pressure building up in your stomach and so you buck your hips and moan into his mouth, needy and high-pitched. Luigi brings his hands to the front of your jeans, popping open a button, then your fly, and then tugging them down your hips. He dips into your panties, grazes your throbbing clit, and feels through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingers.

“You’re so wet I can already taste it,” he groans against your mouth.

The thought of him tasting is more than enough to have you writhing beneath him. You try to push up into his hand, craving more of his touch, more of his fingers on you, inside of you, but he pulls his hand away just as quickly as it found you. “Not yet,” he whispers to you. “Not yet, bella.”

Bella. Pretty. You feel like your brain is melting, like it’s seeping directly out of your cunt.

Patience is perhaps most virtuous to your tutor. He has emphasized as much to you many, many times, often to your frustration. But his assurances have always been based in the pure goodness of his heart; quality time is most valuable to him, especially when he’s with you. You seldom appreciate his stalling—but you lack his innate enjoyment of building you up, feeling you quiver with arousal, exploring every crevice and nook of you and avoiding your neediest spots until he, too, has to consider his own appeasement. It’s simple: Luigi knows that anticipation is crucial to satisfaction. A dog is only allowed his meal with his owner’s approval. A man, no matter how famished, must exercise the art of waiting with respect, make peace with its inevitability. Much like most humans, you are a slave to your own desires; but he is teaching you, slowly, to make do with not enough, to take what he gives you, each tease of his tongue or teeth against skin. He has always been a minimalist. It pays off exceptionally in all other areas of his life, but it seems to have shaped an ignorance inside him towards your philosophy that time is of the essence.

“Luigi,” you mewl, grabbing his hair roughly. He has to pretend to not love it, you can tell.

“What is it you need, sweet girl?” Luigi asks. “Use your words.”

“I want—” you start, but you trail off, losing your confidence when you catch his stare. He has tried continually to teach you how to find your own voice, how to ask for what you want, if not just because he believes it to be a valuable skill then for the simple fact that he loves when you’re direct with him, when you tell him exactly how you want him to touch you. He must have no idea how difficult it is to be so frank when your tutor is this ravishing.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, baby.”

Fuck. He has to know what he’s doing to you.

You breathe in. “I want your mouth on me,” you whisper, adding, “and your fingers inside.”

Luigi fucking grins, all teeth and glowing pride. “Good girl. Wasn’t that easy?”

Rolling your eyes would be your go-to response here, but he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and all you can do is moan in relief as he starts to peel them off of you. With your leg over his shoulder, he leans forward to snatch one of the pillows behind your head, towering over you—and then he lifts your hips and wedges it under your ass, so that he has you at an angle he can experiment with (and, presumably, so that he doesn’t strain his neck too much. Nifty.) He kisses your ankle, then down to your knee, and then he’s shifting so that he’s laying on his stomach with his head between your thighs, just what you’ve been remissly lacking for the past week or so of nonstop responsibility. Just what you needed. He would never lie to you.

And then his fingers brush against your cunt. Two digits explore ridges and slick lips and spread you apart, trying not to pay too much attention to your clit—he hasn’t even started yet, after all. You think he almost looks like he’s working on one of his robots, playing with your most sensitive parts, assessing the situation and planning solutions in his head. Always methodical. He’s so close to you and you’re so turned on and you start to feel a little insecure with him so focused on you, but then he breathes, “you smell fucking perfect,” and suddenly your mind is spinning too fast to even think of things to worry about.

His kisses move to your thighs, then, and his hands settle on your hips, squeezing, reassuring. Lips and tongue embrace plush skin, leaving blooming bursts of purple and red underneath, marks that you will undoubtedly be tracing with your fingers in more private times, by yourself, when you can’t help but think of his flawless mouth all over again. He comes so close to where you want him, just centimeters away, and then is right back to where he started, kissing your inner thigh. You thread your fingers in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He sinks his teeth into a particularly sensitive patch of flesh and you keen.

“You needed this bad, didn’t you, baby?” Luigi coos, circling his thumb over your hip.

You’re sobbing. “Yes, fuck, please, I need it, please!”

He bites again, this time your other thigh, a subtle but motivating commendation for using your words. “Shh. I’ve got you, bella.”

With his two fingers spreading you he leans forward, fixing his eyes on yours, and then flattens his tongue and licks you firmly from your hole all the way up to your clit. It’s warm and wet and the most perfect thing after god knows how long of neglecting your poor pussy. The tip of his tongue tweaks you, working back and forth over your clit before he moves further down, plunging into your entrance just barely.

“Gi,” you gasp. Your hand is still in his hair, grasping tight.

Luigi eats pussy like it’s his favorite thing in the world. And with you, it probably is; his enthusiasm certainly says as much, his lips leaving not an inch of you untouched. He licks you all over, up and down your slit, your labia, that little portion of sensitive skin between your cunt and your asshole—but he keeps his attention to your clit mild for now, soft, just kitten licks and occasional brushes of his stubble. With the angle you’re in right now, his tongue probing you and lavishing the grooves of you with attention, his nose grazes your clit every so often and it feels perfect and you need more of it soon. The hand in his hair holds his head steady so that you can grind your hips over his mouth, and when you move like this his nose strokes your clit just right, so you do it again and again and again.

“Good girl,” he pulls away to praise (and breathe), his big hands gripping your hips. “Take what you need, baby.”

He lets you just use his face like this for quite a few minutes, sticking out his tongue, groaning as he drinks in you. And when Luigi thinks you’ve had enough of a fill he holds your hips still with both hands and then begins to lick at you again, this time drawing nearer to where you want him the most. With saliva he wets his tongue and presses the middle of it against your clit, using firm pressure to stimulate you, and then with his hands still keeping you steady he starts to shake his head, side to side motions on your clit, practically motorboating your cunt. It drives you fucking wild. The vibrations that ring through you each time he moans into your heat send white-hot pleasure through your nerves, a feeling deep in your core that only Luigi has ever been able to stir up in you.

“Fuck,” you hiss, back arching and toes curling. “Oh my god, that’s so good, fuck, that’s so good—”

You reward him with your words and your fingers raking against his scalp and he takes it selfishly, rejoicing in how good he knows he can make you feel. He keeps up his movements, tongue still working over your clit; when he sneaks a look at you above him he sees you sliding your hand underneath your tank-top, grasping one of your breasts under your bra and pinching your nipple, and right then he swears he could eat you alive. He wants to taste every single surface of you that his mouth can reach, memorize all the little things that make you tick, make you tug his hair or cry out for him in that breathy, raring voice that he loves so much. The sound of his name in your mouth is almost enough to have him finishing right here, in his khakis, with his head between your thighs while he laps away at your sweet cunt.

With you all worked up and bothered under his touch Luigi decides you’re more than ready to come all over his tongue. He tries one of his best moves—with his jaw stretched he seals his mouth over your pussy, like he’s kissing you, and when his lips reach your clit he sucks, quickly, relishing in your squeal. You’re plenty wet enough for his fingers, too, so he teases the opening of your cunt with his thumb, pressing inside, just to feel how you stretch around it; at your whine he guides one finger into your hole, then another, working them deep inside of you. They’re long and much quicker and more filling than yours have ever been and you almost wish that the world around you was meaningless, that only you and him could matter—that you and him could simply forget about your jobs and schoolwork and all the heavy demands of life and spend your time just like this, with him bobbing his head up and down just slightly as he sucks on your clit and opens you up with his fingers.

“Gi, I can’t, s’ good, I need to come,” you plead, biting down on your bottom lip. “I can’t hold it.”

Over the sound of your heart beating hard in your ears you almost miss his quick, reassuring response:

“You don’t have to, sugar. I want you to come for me.”

So you do, legs trembling, hips stuttering against his face. Luigi helps you ride it out, still licking you gently by the time you’re beckoning him up to you for some kisses. But he just smirks, stroking soothing circles into your hip, whispering heavy praise to you: “My good girl,” and “There she is,” and “You look so gorgeous when you come.” At your whines he presses open-mouthed kisses to your thighs, sucks with his lips until you’re splotched with fresh, vibrant red between your legs. Marks for his eyes only. Just the thought of it makes his cock jump in his shorts.

For a moment you lay back and watch the ceiling, enjoying the feeling of his tongue and lips claiming purchase wherever he sees fit. And you stir from your post-coital bliss at the sound of his voice again:

“Babygirl,” he starts, licking the crease between your pelvis and your thigh. “Maybe you weren’t planning on it, but you’ve convinced me that I want to taste you again. If you’ll let me. Is that okay with you?”

You laugh, exasperated. “Isn’t your mouth tired?”

Luigi shakes his head with a cheeky grin. “Never,” he breathes, lips hovering over your fluttering center. “I could do this all day, bella.”

He presses a careful kiss to your cunt as if to prove his dedication to your pleasure, giggling when you jolt, and right then you decide that you would give him the entire solar system in your hands if physics allowed for such a thing.

He means it. You’ve never been more sure.

Smiling, you murmur, “go get ‘em, buster.”

You’re still sensitive from your orgasm, so Luigi is especially cautious at first, starting again with the tip of his tongue sweeping back and forth over your clit. He starts to discover something new about you; now that he’s already made you come once, you shiver and twitch at even the slightest touches, and the fucking sounds you make are quite possibly the closest thing to paradise he has ever encountered, even after countless adventures across countless days in countless destinations. It’s almost an impossible accomplishment, he thinks—he could have never imagined that he’d find even more unexplored range in the treasure of your body.

“Oh, god, Luigi, baby, fuck…”

And you discover something new about him, too: Luigi likes it when you call him baby. He groans as you smooth your fingers through his curls and comes closer, spreading your thighs apart, licking around your entrance and then settling one hand over your pelvis, using slight pressure with his palm to pull back the hood of your clit. With you spread out for him he tilts his head to the side, so that he’s almost resting against your thigh, and then he takes as much of your clit in his mouth as he can and sucks hard, hard enough to have you clawing at his hair and trying to squeeze your thighs around him. He would gladly let you crush him—but right now he has a mission, and it’s difficult to make you come with your legs closed, so he mutters, “stay fucking still,” and dives into your cunt with an intensity that only your vibrator could possibly match. This time, with his lips sucking you tightly, he tweaks you with his tongue, stroking the shaft of your clit, and it’s too fucking much—

“Gonna come, gonna come, oh my god,” you cry. Luigi hums into you, a drawn out mhmmm rumbling through your clit, and it’s over for you, then. Your second orgasm rushes up on you quickly but he’s there to coax you through it, holding your hips steady, lips and tongue working you with unbearably arousing effort. As you breathe through the chaos of pleasure and find your senses coming back to you Luigi kisses up your body, his talented mouth embracing your tummy, your sternum, your neck, and then your mouth, softly and sweetly. He tastes entirely like you.

He must realize then that you’re still partially clothed because he practically jumps at the opportunity to fix it, helping you out of your tank-top and unclasping your bra. With your chest bare to him fully he spends some time kissing you here, too, and you lay back and let him shower you in his care, back arching off the bed each time he nears dangerously close to a nipple.

You exhale emphatically and sink back into the pillows, murmuring, “d’you wanna fuck me?”

“Shit,” Luigi groans, rolling his hips into your bare, wet cunt. “Would you let me, gorgeous? Is that okay?”

Your hand is on his cock, palming him through his khaki shorts, and you feel a fresh surge of excitement rushing through you as his jaw goes slack. You would never leave him hanging. And he knows, knows by the way you whisper, “it’d make me real happy,” nodding and biting your lip and wiggling your hips like a greedy little thing, like you didn’t just come twice from his mouth and his fingers alone. He doesn’t even bother to pull his pants off, just shuffles them down his hips along with his boxers and leaves only enough room for his dick to have full access to you.

That’s when you realize just how hard he is.

It almost looks painful, the way his cock is straining, veiny and leaking an obscene amount of pre. He’s monstrously hard for you, all from a few rounds of his tongue on your pussy, and the thought of what it must do to him to please you makes your head spin, makes you question life itself for bringing such a perfect boy into existence and allowing you to drive him mad with your body and the taste of your arousal.

Luigi hisses as he strokes himself with one hand, reaching over you towards his nightstand to grab a condom. You hardly give him enough time to roll it on before you’re wrapping your legs around his firm hips.

Dragging the tip of his cock through your slick, he proclaims, “I love taking care of you, baby.”

Good god. You love it too. You tell him so, through your words and through your wet pussy grinding against him, and when you kiss him hard and bite his lip he pushes into you, slow, unprecedented in how he fills you.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, does that feel good, sweet girl?” He’s balls deep in a matter of seconds, trying hard to be merciful, but you’re so wet and you’re squeezing him like crazy, like you never want him to leave your body. All you can do is nod and cry out as he starts to fuck you, deep and long strokes that send his cock so far you start to worry that he’s gonna break you, and that turns you on so much that you wonder how his sheets aren’t soaked with the evidence of your activities. He’s holding you down to the bed with one hand splayed over your ribs and the sound of your cunt taking him echoes throughout his room.

You’ve never been more glad to have had a shitty day, you realize.

His eyes are on you. You feel like you’re burning alive, like the whole dorm is on fire and he’s trapping you under the smoke and the flames, and you’re trying to roll on the ground but he’s holding you so tight and you’re not going anywhere.

“Gi, oh my god,” you sob.

“Yeah?” The headboard is getting noisy from all his effort. Not that it isn’t already quite loud in Luigi’s bedroom. “You deserve this, bella, you deserve to come. This is all yours.”

He’s perfect.

“Who’s dick is this, baby?”

“Oh, fuck, it’s—it’s mine—”

His thumb finds your clit, pressing down lightly, working slow circles into you. “That’s right, sugar. That’s my good girl.”

You feel a bit delirious, feverish, still sensitive from coming back-to-back, and Luigi tries with everything in him to be gentle but, alas, the hot grip of your pussy and the little sounds of struggle and pure ecstasy that you make when he pounds you are just too much for any strong-willed man to bear. Your clit is throbbing, all swollen and puffy from his ministrations, but you can’t get enough of the sensations that rock your nervous system each time he puts even the slightest pressure on you.

“Fuck,” he growls, teeth teasing your neck. “You’re being so good for me, letting me fuck you like this after taking so much.”

And he’s right, because it is quite a feat—it’s Luigi Fucking Mangione. But you love how he pushes you to your limits, how he tests you, sees how far he can go. How much you’re willing to take. He’s found that you’re certainly something to write home about.

You’re his good girl. You’d take anything he gives you, as long as it’s his.

“Luigi, I think…oh, god…”

“Shh, I know, baby,” he nods, reassuring, still fucking you deep and continuing his assault on your clit. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you now. You had such a bad day and you worried and stressed but you’ve got this dick now and that’s all that matters, babygirl. This dick is yours. It’s all yours.”

Just a little more—

“You feel so fucking good, bella.”

And that’s the last time you come, tears brimming in your eyes as you hold him tight and swear so loud you worry that your dead and gone ancestors can hear you from whatever void they occupy now. Luigi follows shortly after, his mouth on yours, his hands stroking your waist soothingly.

For a while the two of you lay there, entwined in his bed, him softening inside you and pressing saccharine kisses to your face. You could probably fall asleep just like this if it weren’t for the sweat sticking to you both, but after a few minutes Luigi pulls out of you, tidies up, and then kisses you, this time much less heated but all the more passionate. Loving. Maybe a bit domestic.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” he asks. You shake your head.

He collects your clothes from the floor and then scoops you up into his arms, setting you upright. “Good. Because I haven’t exhausted all my ideas yet.”

You make an inquisitive chirp, a little mmm?

“Oh, yes,” Luigi smiles wide, kneeling in front of you with his hands cupping your face adoringly. “I’m going to start the shower for you, and you’re going to clean up and get comfy, because I’m going to have something to eat for you once you’re done and you’re going to have some food and crawl back in my bed and fall asleep in my arms. How’s that sound?”

Oh, man.

You beam. “I like your plans.”

^ dividers by cafekitsune

[vitalverstappen]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - C. Leclerc

summary: after Charles broke your heart... again... you figured it was time to get your life together

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: drinking, swearing i think?, simping for a man

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

the tortured drivers' department masterlist

You walked into your apartment to find your on and off boyfriend, Charles, sitting on the couch, staring at the TV. It was the third time you two were together, and things were going great up until recently. Up until the past week, the two of you clicked, just like two puzzle pieces. But now, the dates were few and far between, the texts were one or two words each, and the spark wasn’t there like it had been a few months prior. 

“Hi” You greeted as you set the groceries on the counter.

“How was shopping, amour?” Charles asked,his eyes still glued to the screen and his voice seemed to lack any real care. 

You chose to ignore it, knowing if you questioned him, it would lead to another argument. “It was good. I got everything we need for dinner tonight” 

Silence overcame the two of you as you put the groceries away. The only sound in the room came from the soccer match on the TV. Once you were done with the groceries, you sat down on the couch next to Charles. 

“Who’s playing?” You asked 

Charles motioned to the screen in front of you “Monaco and Lyon” He huffed 

You nodded, clearly getting the message he didn’t want to talk. The two of you were quiet until the half ended.

“I think we need to talk” Charles spoke, breaking the silence as the players rushed off the field. His eyes were much softer than before, with his face covered in concern.

Here we go again. 

Those six words were always the beginning of the end - a tell tale sign he was going to pull the trigger. 

“We’ve both been so busy the past few months, we’ve barely had time for each other. The spark isn’t there anymore. I think it’s best if we end it.” He said 

And there it was. 

As much as you wanted to argue and fight for the relationship like an army doll, you knew it would be in vain. You had tried to fight for your relationship before, all to end up separated anyway. So, as you barely fought back the tears forming in the corner of your eyes, a small plastic smile formed on your lips. 

“Yeah, I get it.” Was all you were able to get out 

“Thanks for understanding. We’ll both be better off”

Within the next two weeks, Charles had moved his things out of your apartment and loneliness filled the air instead. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. In fact, sulking just as you did the last time you two broke up, was almost comforting. 

You were laying on your couch in misery, watching your favorite rom-com and nursing a carton of ice cream. Was it stereotypical? Yes. Did you care? Absolutely not. Your head turned to the door as you heard a key rattle in the lock.

Charles?

“Alright, that’s it y/n. You’ve been sulking in here forever” y/bf/n said as she swung open the door to your apartment. 

It was times like this where you regretted giving her a key. A sigh escaped your lips as you sunk back into the couch cushions. The sound of her footsteps echoed as she made her way to you. 

“Being sad for this long isn’t healthy. You haven’t left your apartment in weeks. We’re all worried about you.” She continued

“I’ll be fine” You mumble “It’s just the worst thing about a break up is losing your best friend” 

“Yeah, the ‘best friend’ that wants nothing to do with you. I’m still here. The worst part is that you’re not gonna see his dog,” She said. You didn’t respond as you took another spoonful of ice cream. 

“Is that LEC?” Y/bf/n grabbed the carton out of your hand. “Why are you eating LEC?” 

“I didn’t wanna waste it” You mumbled. Even though Charles was the creator of the brand, it was really good ice cream. 

“Whatever” Y/bf/n mumbled as she handed you the carton again. “This isn’t the gym rat, adventure seeking, life loving y/n that we all know and love” 

“And who knows if she’s ever going to come back” You said as you turned your attention back to the movie that was playing 

Y/bf/n grabbed the remote and paused the movie, causing you to let out a groan. “No. We are getting her back, whether you like it or not. We are not letting a boy break you like a cheap toy.” 

The wheels started to turn in your mind. Charles did break you like a cheap toy. But once something’s broken, it gets fixed. And once it gets fixed, it gets used again. 

You sit up and look at your best friend. “Yeah, I need to fix myself.”

The progress started slow and with physical changes in your life. Instead of binge watching romance movies, you were taking a walk everyday. Instead of ordering takeout, you were making dinner at home. 

The changes then began to be mental. You had started journaling and going to therapy. Talking out your thoughts and feelings about the “on and off” again tragedy helped you get to a better spot. What started as fixing yourself to get him back, ended with you finding yourself again. 

It wasn’t easy and it sure took a long time, but finding yourself was the best thing that you could’ve done. 

A few months later, your group of friends decided to go out to Jimmy’z for the night. Clubbing wasn’t really your thing, but your friends had insisted you join them just once. 

And so you agreed, which is how you found yourself at the bar, a few vodka crans deep. As the bass boomed through your heart, you found yourself dancing like there was no tomorrow. Nothing, or no one, could ruin your night. 

Or so you thought. 

Hours after you had entered the club, you saw a group you knew all too well. Only four of the twenty possible guys were there but that was four more than you wanted. 

It was only a matter of time until you saw them - a handful of them did live in Monaco afterall. However, you had managed to avoid them for the past year, you were hoping you could push it one more night. 

You watched as the four guys made their way from the entrance, all the way to the bar. They practically parted the crowd as they walked through the packed club. Everyone knew who they were. 

“I’m gonna go outside for a minute. I need some fresh air” You told y/bf/n. You didn’t even wait to see her response as you turned and headed towards the patio. 

The chilly air sent a shock through your system as you walked outside. Even though it was summer, the sun was long gone and the sea was close, making it much colder. Only a handful of people were outside, which you were thankful for. 

It was the week between races, and Charles, Max, Lando, and Pierre all decided to pay a visit to their favorite club in Monaco - Jimmy’z. They made their way to the bar, and one by one, they got their drinks. 

Lando was the first one to spot your group of friends from across the club. You were nowhere to be found, but Lando was still a blabbermouth. 

“Y/n’s friends are here” Lando yelled over the blaring music to Max and Pierre

Max’s eyes widened and he glanced at Charles, who was still at the bar, then back to Lando, almost asking if you were with them. 

“Haven’t seen her” Lando continued “Just her friends”

“We should still be careful though.” Pierre chimed in “She could be in the bathroom or something” 

Charles finally got his drink and joined the three boys “Shall we go outside?” 

The second Charles got out to the patio, he wanted to turn around. He knew your silhouette like the back of his hand.The other guys seemed to notice as well, with all of their eyes on the Ferrari driver. 

“I didn’t think y/n would be here” He said 

You found yourself staring out at the sea, watching the waves crash on the shore as you tried to think of a plan out of here without seeing the guys. 

The train of thought was cut off by the feeling of an arm snaking around your waist. One you knew a little too well. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone out here?” An all too familiar voice slurred. 

Here we go again. 

You turned to find yourself face to face with Charles. The three other boys were off at a table on the patio, completely oblivious to what was going on. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest as you took in the Monegasques features for the first time in a year. He had the same tousled black hair and charming smile, but he clearly put on more muscle and carried himself with the confidence of a god.

“Hey Charles” You said trying to calm yourself 

“Y/n, it’s been a while” He replied as he took in all of your features “You look amazing.” 

The two of you chatted about your lives since the split. Work, friends, traveling: the usual. It was a matter of time until the inevitable was asked. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been good. I can’t really complain.” Charles said and a lull formed between you. He took a careful breath before speaking again “Are you seeing anyone?” 

There it was. 

“No, I’m not. I haven’t really been focusing on dating” You answered

A small smile formed on Charles’ lips. You could see his wheels turning as you returned the question, solely out of politeness. 

“I’m not either.” He paused, his green eyes meeting yours and his hand taking yours, “I realized I had made a mistake letting you go last year. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left. Would you be willing to give me another chance?” 

You had imagined the day you would see Charles and the rest of the grid again, but that was when you were still miserable on your couch. The plan was that once you “fixed yourself” he would see how much better you were and how he was an idiot for leaving you. You imagined him admitting his mistake and asking to try again. But now that you were in that moment, you realized you didn’t figure out what would happen after. 

A year ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity to try again with him. No hesitation, you would have said yes. 

But that was then, and Charles is asking you a full year later. A year of tears, therapy sessions, working out, and reconnecting with friends. A year of finding yourself after the rollercoaster that was Charles Leclerc. 

“Look Char,” you began, taking a breath, reassuring yourself this was the right decision. “I had so much fun when we were together. I truly thought we were playing for keeps each time we got back together, but it ended up destroying me. I finally found myself, and I can’t stand to lose her again.” 

Charles nodded, taking in your words. “I get it. I’ll see you around, y/n” 

He began to turn and walk away, but something possessed you to reach for him. 

“Charles, wait” You grabbed his wrist, causing him to stop. His full attention was back on you.

“What?” He asked, annoyance filling his voice 

“We can still be friends. I do miss having you around.” 

“I’d like that actually. Start completely fresh” He replied, reaching out his hand

“And whatever happens, happens” You agreed, taking his stretched out hand and following his lead to his friends. 

The next morning, you found yourself back in your apartment, tucked in your own bed. Pounding filled your head, proof that last night wasn’t a dream - you were starting fresh with Charles. Last night replayed in your head, from getting to the bar, all the way to Charles walking you home. Reaching for your phone, you noticed a text from a certain Monegasque. 

Charlie: It was good seeing you y/n/n. Let me know when you’re free, summer break is around the corner.

You: Same :) I’m free most evenings and weekends, so keep me updated!

It took a half hour of battling the headache, but you eventually got yourself out of bed. Once you got to the living room, you found y/bf/n, along with all of your other friends lounging. 

“I really need to change the locks” You muttered to yourself 

“What the hell happened last night?” Y/bf/n asked “You say you’re going outside and all of a sudden Charles is walking you home?”

“It isn’t what you think” You said 

“What happened to the healing girl plot?” 

You threw your hands up in defense “Look, we were both drunk, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at me” 

“Y/n…” Was all that came out of your best friend’s mouth 

“We didn’t hook up or anything. We’re starting fresh. As friends.” You explained 

The next week consisted of you and Charles constantly texting, catching up on the year that the two of you missed. You finally got the chance to congratulate him on winning in Monaco, while he finally got the chance to ask about how your family was doing. 

Summer break finally came, and you found yourself constantly spending time with Charles (and Leo of course). Grabbing coffee, yachting, and clubbing became a routine of sorts, always ending with him walking you home, but never staying over. 

As the break progressed, you could see how much Charles had changed over the course of the year, just as you had. He was more open with talking about his struggles in F1, and more comfortable with showing his softer side in public. He was even more respectful to not push the limits, no matter how many times you saw him staring at you in your bikini. This wasn’t the same Charles who had broken up with you over a year prior. 

He knew you were a die hard Ferrari fan, long before you even met him, so he flew you out to Monza and even gifted you with a paddock pass. Though you had spent plenty of races in the Ferrari garage, being back after a split always made you nervous. Carlos, Fred and the rest of the garage always made you feel welcome, but the nerves seemed to spike more now that you and Charles weren’t even together. 

“If the fans see me, they’re gonna start saying we’re back together” You told him 

“I know, y/n/n, but remember how much you love Monza. Don’t let some petty rumors ruin your experience.” Charles reassured you “If you need anything, or need to rant, don’t hesitate to come get me,” 

“You have a race to win, I’m not going to distract you” You said 

“This race is nowhere near as important as your mental health. Come get me if you need anything” He repeated “I mean that”��

“Thank you Cha” You said, giving the driver a hug. After you wished him well on the race, you watched as he went about his day, just like you had time and time again years ago.

Sure enough, the tweets about you rolled in, ranging from support that the two of you were back together, to extreme hate that you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemies. None of it mattered though as you repeated the words that Charles spoke to you in your head and watched as he drove the race of his life. 

With the rest of the Ferrari garage, you found yourself running to the barricade to watch Charles celebrate his victory. After jumping out of his car, he ran to his team, but the second he pulled away, he spotted you a few feet down, and he darted over. 

“Congrats Char!” You smiled 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming” He replied, overjoyed with emotion 

He engulfed you into a hug that you had grown so familiar with the past few weeks. With the TV broadcast and the cameras flashing, you knew that you were going to get attention and hate for being here, but you didn’t care. Your best friend won the most important race to him and the Tifosi. 

That night, you found yourself scrolling through social media, looking at all of the photos from Charles’ win. Eventually, you found yourself on Charles’ profile, where there was a post you weren’t expecting:

charles_leclerc: While I’m blessed to have a passionate fanbase, I ask that everyone respects y/n’s and I’s privacy. Our private life is just that: private. Thank you.

Years ago, Charles wouldn’t have made a statement. He would have told you that it’s a part of his job and to move on. But again, that was years ago, and this was a completely different Charles. 

The rest of the season came and went, with you and Charles calling, texting, and seeing each other as much as possible with his busy schedule. Before you knew it, he was back in Monaco for the next three months. Going out for coffee, yachting, and clubbing all picked back up. 

One night after going to Jimmy’z with the grid, Charles had walked you home like usual. The only difference was that this time, he was the one who drank a little too much and was stumbling his way to your apartment. 

The two of you got to the lobby of your building, and Charles was getting ready to get himself back to the streets of Monaco to find his way home. You knew you couldn’t leave him like this though. Guilt would consume you if you didn’t know if he was safe. 

“Do you wanna stay the night, Char?” You asked 

His glossy eyes softened at your invitation, as if he knew he couldn’t make it home in the state he was in. “Only if you don’t mind, chérie” He slurred 

“I insist, I need you safe” 

And so the two of you made your way up to your apartment, just like the two of you had done years prior. Except this time, there was no tension between you. No messy makeout session in the elevator, and no plans on what exactly would happen the second you got to your unit. 

Even though drunk Charles argued it to no end, you insisted that he take your bed. He was worse off and needed the better night’s rest. Eventually he obliged, and you found yourself falling asleep on your couch. 

The next morning, you woke suddenly to the clanging of metal. Jolting up from your spot on the couch, you saw Charles frozen in your kitchen with a pan in his hand. 

“I am so sorry” He whispered “I wanted to make you breakfast as a thank you” 

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “Only you would even try to cook. Here, let me help you” 

The two of you worked in tandem as you whisked up homemade pancakes for breakfast. As you manned the stove, you found Charles wrapping his arms around your waist. As if it was muscle memory, you leaned into him, getting a whiff of his leftover cologne from the night before. Though you had sworn off getting back with him, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

SInce that morning, you could tell something had shifted in both of your heads. Charles began to make the hangouts more “date-like” without the label. And even though you had a feeling he was planning something, you didn’t dare question or bring it up. Whatever happens, happens. Remember?

The next week, you found yourself on the rocky cliffs on the outskirts of Monte Carlo with Charles. He had planned a picnic just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Charles packed your favorite foods and even brought your favorite type of flowers. 

“I can’t believe you remembered all of this” You said as you popped a grape into your mouth 

“I never forgot it, y/n/n” He replied “I know we started this whole ordeal as ‘just friends’ and ‘going with the flow’ but the past few months have been the most amazing months I’ve had in a long time. I was wondering if you felt the same”

Your eyes drifted out to sea as you processed his words, underlying meaning and all. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the past few months. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling back in love with your best friend. 

The past still haunted you though. The fear that Charles would flip a switch and the whole ordeal would crash and burn still lingered in your mind. 

But then you turned to face Charles again and saw a completely different man. The man that was sitting in front of you begging for your love was not the same man who had broken your heart years prior. You may have changed and healed from the past, but so did he. 

You broke the silence with a chuckle, catching Charles slightly off guard, “Charl, I’ve had the time of my life getting to know you again. I did miss having you around so much”

Hope sprinkled through Charles’ eyes as he asked the question you were expecting to hear, “So would you be willing to try again? May I be your boyfriend”

“I would love that” You replied but then stuck a finger up “On one condition” 

“Anything, ange”

“This is the last time we’re trying. If it works, we’re staying together. If it doesn’t, I don’t think I can handle being treated like a broken toy again” 

“Deal” He smiled “Anything to make it work this time” 

[snk-warriors]

Can't Stay Away

Levi Ackerman x F! Reader

Summary: After the war ended, Levi finds himself at a familiar doorstep.

Warnings: Bittersweet angst, smut, not proofread

A/N: This blog is still officially inactive, but this story is a little gift for my dear friend @antivan-dragon. It was a joy to write it for you! <3

This is wrong.

He shouldn't be here - not after everything that had happened.

How long has it been, ten years? More?

It's hard to tell when you're used to live from moment to moment. Never knowing whether the current day might be your last really messes up one's perception of time.

All Levi's sure of is that the brief time he had allowed himself with you was the happiest he's ever been - than he ever thought to be capable of.

And yet, from his very first breath, his fate was clear: To him, living had always been a fight. Whether it was in the underground for food and safety, or against titans and humans alike under the clear sky mattered very little in the great concept of things.

The only home he's ever known was on the battlefield - until he met you, at least.

And still, Levi went back to the frontlines again and again and again because it's all he's ever known, the power he's born with a burdening duty upon the weak...

...but what place does a soldier have now, in a society without war?

This is what he fought for, right? To achieve peaceful times. Avenge his fallen comrades, honor his commander and protect as many people as possible from the unnecessary suffering this cruel world eventually provided.

Protecting you, first and foremost.

Your wellbeing has always been his greatest priority, and yet at the same time Levi was the one responsible for so much misery. Back then he convinced himself it was for the better, that he was doing you a favor by removing himself from your life.

In the end, all that's left for him now is the bitter feeling of regret.

Levi was aware that you would've waited for him, no matter how long it'd take until his return...

...but he was certain that his death was inevitable - a sacrifice he'd gladly take if it'd meant ensuring you a long and fulfilled life. And even if the impossible case of his survival would occur, he'd be a different man by then.

Ultimatively, he has become exactly this: Unlike you remember him, and definetly nothing close to what you deserved.

Maybe even in different circumstances he could never live up to the expectations he had set in himself - at least when it came to you.

But he felt as if you were like pure sunlight and he was a moth, drawn to it. No, he was the moon - selfishly absorbing and covering your brightness.

So, in order to make things easier for you, he pushed you away despite his soul screaming for him to stay at your side until humanity would reduce itself to ashes.

When no words would dring through to your devoted self, he announced an engagement to Petra, efficiently shattering your heart in the process.

Nothing Levi had ever done was as hard a task.

Given time however you'd find someone worthy to give you the life he longed for so deeply but never could, at least that's what he thought...

...yet when he heard that you never married even after all this time, his rationality stands no chance against the aching of his own loneliness.

Just to look how you've been he told himself on the way, and for an overdue apology.

Your little cottage on the outskirts of Wall Rose still looks as if he never left. It always smelled of lavender and honey, and whatever you were baking at the time.

Levi switched from the wheelchair to his cane, still able to walk by himself at least for a short distance. Only a few stairs separated the two of you, and it was the longest he's ever took - not because of his disability, but rather to gather all of his courage.

Facing his enemies was a piece of cake compared to this right now.

Though it felt wrong to do so he peeked through the window, his face twitching into an almost-smile as he finally laid eyes upon you again. The inside was cleaned spotless as always, neatly yet minimalistic decorated. You on the other hand were currently preparing some pastries, contently humming to yourself.

It felt like he never left.

What about you, he wondered. Had there been others after him? What was your life like these days? He wants to know everything.

That goddamn cat was still alive as it seems, curiously pricking up it's ears as it recognized the familiar - altough mangled - face. You and him had argued a lot about letting feral animals into your home, due to Levi's concern for hygiene and especially that damn fur everywhere in the house.

One glare from the man and it hissed, jumping down from the front porch and bolting into the forrest. Shit.

Living alone and isolated from civilization was dangerous, especially for a single woman. So it was no wonder how hyper-aware you still are, immediately swinging the door open with a clocked rifle.

Oh, how much he missed that side of you. The perfect combination of cute but deadly.

"Levi..." His features immediately softened at the sound of your voice. To him that name had been reduced to a battle cry, something for his enemies to curse and his superiors yelled to wield their human weapon around.

But coming out of your mouth, he could listen to it all day even if it was just to hurl insults at him.

Instead you put your welcoming arms around him before the weapon even dropped to the ground, heartwrenching sobs echoing against the pinewoods. "God, Levi, you-you're back. You're finally back...I-I knew you'd come!"

The former Captain should be relieved, and frankly, he is - nevertheless, things shouldn't be this way.

He had left so you could live...and you simply didn't.

This wasn't fair. And it drove him insane. There was an immense fury at the pit of his stomach at the realization that his withhold was for nothing, that you had wasted both of your lifetimes through your stubbornness.

You should have found yourself a man that could give you a family, a stable life, goddamn it the whole fucking world shall you ask!

However the sheer fact that he was finally able to breathe the same air as you again overshadowed any grudge with pure gratitude.

His whole life Levi had been was a dedicated, dutiful combatant, unquestioning to his orders. Now that the war was over, there was nothing left for him to do, nowhere left to go.

This one time, he'll allow himself to be selfish.

A hand on the back of your neck pulled you to close the remaining distance between the two of you, sealing his mute promises with a longdue kiss.

Levi had kissed you before - always rough and demanding. That's how things were between you, after all: He came to your home solely to get a taste of what normalcry, being human, was like, just to disappear after having realized his mistake.

If it meant he'd stay in your life, if only feebly, that was more than enough for you.

But this kiss...it was different. Tender, savouring, unwilling to pull away even tor so much as breathing air.

When your lips finally parted, you placed another, small peck to the corner of his lips. Your hands reached for his face, cupping it on both sides as if to make sure he's really there.

For a moment he pulls back, doubting his decision.

After all, the man in front of you was a shell of his former self, old and disfigured and broken. Petra was long since dead, you'd heard about the tragic circumstance.

He never wanted to give you the impression that you were just a last resort for when everyone else had forsaken him.

Noticing his internal struggle - an amazing talent only you possessed, since his expression was as still as a statue - you clutch the fabric of his shirt, gently tugging him inside. He has to lean onto you for support, stumbling into the all-too-familiar room.

You feel calloused hands on your body, caressing every inch of your exposed skin and sliding under your clothes. "Tell me to stop" he speaks breathlessly, sternly, "And I will."

Instead you frantically shake your head as you moan into his ear, one leg wrapping around his waist as he pushed you against the wall, busying yourself with rising blood on the skin of your neck. Fuck, he's missed your scent.

"B-Bed" you manage to wring out as his hand slips under your skirt, fingertips tracing the wet spot between your legs. He was eager, intoxicated one might say, but you could clearly feel how his own legs were close to giving in.

The thrill of the moment was briefly overshadowed by the humiliation of his new reality. In the past he would've taken you anywhere in the house, would've been able to lift you up and throw you onto the mattress if you so desired.

Another jab at his conscience that he'll never be good enough for you. If only he knew this was the way you'd always wanted him: Slow, passionate, caring...

"Don't worry about me" he speaks nonchalantly, yet the determination in his glare makes you shiver. Levi dropped to his knees just like that, his hands wandering upwards each of your legs. "Let me worship you."

You half-laugh, half-whine when he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your upper thigh, remembering how much he loved leaving little marks like love-letters on your skin. Old habits die hard, even when trying to be gentle.

Without hesitating, Levi twirls his fingers around the hem of your already dripping panty, pulling it down just enough to put his mouth to work. His teasing made you a whimmering mess, taking his time tracing kisses around the area close enough to feel his breath on your clit.

"Shi-it, Levi!" you let out a scream as his tongue slid along your folds, muffling your own noises by a hand on your mouth until Levi tugs at your arms. "I need to hear you, love. It's been too long."

And so you did, begging and moaning shamelessly as Levi ate you out like a man starving, palming himself through his trousers with eyes never leaving yours.

Hearing you like this made something in him snap, and yet you tugged on his hair, tugging him away just before you'd fall apart in front of him. "Not like this" you pant heavily, head spinning from lust, "I need you. Completely."

He simply nods at the request, unable to keep his hands from you even the short way to your bedroom. Your gown fell to the floor as he watched, a low groan escaping his closed mouth at the sight.

Time sure had taken a toll on both of you, he thinks as his knuckles brushed along your cheek, diving in your features that had slowly faded in his memory over the years...

...but your eyes, those damn beautiful orbs that showcased the love you held for him, they didn't change a bit.

And their effect on him was also still the same.

Before you first met he was sure that all those hardships had turned his heart into stone, but now this yearning had become a dagger he desperately wanted to pull out, make his heart bleed in reverence.

Levi was a man that spoke through actions, however.

Your fingers intertwined when he aligned himself with your entrance, searching your face to which you gave a permissing nod. He entered you carefully, adoring every microexpression, every reaction of yours when he started at a slow pace.

Even in his current state, his skill lacked nothing from his former peak: It was as if you could feel his hands and lips were everywhere at once, hitting all of your weak spots as if your body was a map he had learned by heart.

"I love you."

Your pupils were blown wide at his declaration, those words you had already long since made peace with to never hear coming out of his mouth.

A look that could only be described as pure affection plastered on his face, kissing along your collarbone up to your ear. "I love you, Y/N" he speaks again, more firmly now and smiling sincere as never before now that this self-inflicted weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. "Always did."

Tears dwelled in your eyes, vocal cords lost their ability to form anything else than sobs and moans as your lips found his again, smiling against his mouth.

Words were never needed when it came to the bond of you and Levi, after all.

As his thrusts became more clumsy, ragged breaths whispering sweet affirmations barely audible to your ear, burying his hips against your pelvis as he rode you through your high. He followed closely after you came undone, stiling above you without any intend to leave this sweet escape he found in your arms.

Your hands rested on his shoulder blades when he felt safe enough to collapse in front of you, his head lying on your chest as your heartbeat soothed him just like back then.

He was alive. And you were his.

"Please" you sniveled, anxiety preventing you to endulge in the afterwaves of your ebbing high, "Never leave again."

You clung to him for dear life, limbs entangled as if he was just a pleasant dream that would disappear as soon as you dared letting go.

That moment Levi made an oath to himself: No matter his insecurities, for the rest of his life he'd dedicate to become the man you see in him.

There was a lot to make up for.

"If you'll have me."

[rottiens]

hi sorry for coming in your asks again lol but I'm thinking about endeavor..... like idk he's just always in the back of my head

anyway have you considered divorced detective endeavor??? like he's completely neglecting his family & responsibilities as a father, his ex-wife is shacking up with his younger (hotter) subordinate, basically drowning himself in alcohol and cigarettes. the one routine he's kept all these years is coming into your bar at the end of the week, getting a little too drunk, and letting the alcohol flirt with you (but you've always brushed it off knowing he's married). you've listened to him vent countless times and had to call a cab to take him home just as many.

you can clearly see the ways he's fucked up (it's pretty much always his fault) but you also see the regrets washing through his mind. he wants to be better, but he keeps slipping into the same habits.

he's been coming in a little more often lately, he hasn't mentioned the wife and kids in months, and he's not wearing a wedding ring anymore. He doesn't flirt with you as often as he used to, but not because he's not interested, because he is. because he's afraid of it going somewhere. because he's afraid he'll ruin your life like he has done to the rest of his family... and because he's convinced he doesn't deserve you.

i'm sorry i'm just so obsessed with a divorced detective au ok and i cannot believe this thought has not entered my head....

You really put me in a difficult situation here. Because I'm torn between the idea of, what would he really do? Would he walk away from you completely or would he continue to indulge a little more in the idea of flirting with you, knowing he shouldn't have you?

You miss him. You miss the Enji who would come to talk to you, babbling on about work problems without getting to anything specific because, of course, he can't discuss such topics with a civilian. But you are so full of life and hope, unlike him and everything he touches that he can't help but want to spend a little more time with you and Enji hates the bitter taste the hangover brings along with your image the next day.

After the divorce, he keeps wearing the ring for a few more long weeks, hoping that his failed marriage could be mended again. He knows he did it wrong, he knows he's been careless and a bastard, but he also knows he's selfish at heart and that the idea of having a happy family is so appealing.

Yet he lets it go. He lets go of his wife and his kids who are leaving with her, and you. He cuts off every shred of happiness in his life because he is tormented by the idea of being truly happy. Enji convinces himself that he doesn't deserve it. After all the bad decisions he has made throughout his life, he only deserves to sink into his misery, into the boxes full of items his wife never went to pick up from the house, into the loneliness of the cold walls, and into the ghosts his children's laughter left behind.

Enji refuses to go back to the bar, to see you. But he has no choice but to accept when one of his subordinates invites him for a beer, something to relax for the weekend.

Like every Friday, the bar is full of people. Pop music he dislikes is blaring from the speakers. I should go home, is what he's saying to Keigo just as he catches your gaze behind the bar. Your fingers greet him animatedly, sealing the words he was about to say and walking, as if spellbound, to where you are.

Enji can't believe you look prettier than the last time he saw you. You have a different haircut, a new uniform and your smile is so warm and genuine that his chest hurts; he couldn't remember the last time someone greeted him with such joy to see him.

Immediately, guilt grows like weeds inside him, weaving through his insides and creating roots.

You pour him the same old drink and his cheeks heat up at the thought that you remembered exactly which beer he likes.

"Thank you," he says without looking at you, picking at the foam dripping off the rim of the glass with one finger.

Your warm fingers cover his for a moment, drawing his attention to you. His fingers are still trapped on his lips, the gesture of tasting the beer foam.

"Is everything okay?" you raise your voice above the music.

Enji hesitates for a moment. "Work keeps me busy."

You purr away from him and turn your back on him, clearly not believing the half-truth he just told you, but you don't probe further.

Other customers approach the bar and you continue to prepare the drinks. Enji feels your gaze on him, which he avoids at all costs, gulping down the beer as fast as he can and eyeing Keigo on the dance floor, enticing some dance partner to accompany his peculiar moves. As he comes back to the front, you're smiling at him again, placing another full glass of beer in front of him.

"I thought you forgot about me," you comment innocently, leaning a little into his personal space.

Enji doesn't pull back, but you see him tense under the white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and suspenders that cling to his broad shoulders. His lips quiver not knowing what to say. Pathetic. Maybe you do the same with the other customers, and yet you still have him trembling with your mere presence.

"I couldn't forget you. You guys are my favorite."

You purr, reaching out to touch his hand to the watch hugging his wrist. The hand reads 11:35 at night.

"Are we your favorite or am I?" You look up at him through a slow blink.

Fuck. Something beats in his chest and in his pants. He'd forgotten this: the thrill of flirting with someone, with you, of feeling wanted. Of feeling desired. When was the last time someone touched him? He doesn't remember the last time he came in someone.

Enji clears his throat and, against his will, pulls his hand away from yours to toss a few wet red locks back.

"I think I should go."

"So soon?"

Enji had to get up and run before anyone else noticed the visible bulge against his thigh, smothering between the fabric of his pants and his now damp briefs.

"Yeah, I-"

"Stay. One more beer, on the house," you smile at him. Enji barely notices that you had clung to his forearm before he could escape. "Please." You lean in, and he takes a peek at your cleavage. Your lips find his hot cheek and leave a fleeting kiss there. Enji feels his whole body boil with heat.

He knows he's going to ruin you and hates himself for it. But he can't think of the consequences when that pussy wraps around his cock like it was made for him.

"Slow down, it's been a while.."

But you cling to him like you don't want to let go. Your nails on his back, mouth open gasping for air.

The bar is already closed, so your moans and his grunts are the only thing accompanying the music now. Your hips buck desperately as he thrusts you upright against the counter.

"Easy there.." growls enji, burying his fingers in your hips to keep you still. "Hold still. Just feel it."

Enji rolls his hips deep, his pants puddling at his knees. His curly hairs meeting your bare clit.

"Like this… nice and deep. Take it like a good girl."

His heart beats so fast, his balls tight around your drooling pussy. Every time he thrusts deep you lose the rhythm of your breath for a moment, the full force of his body and thighs pushes you against the counter, weakening your feet off the ground and you can only look at him with eyes full of eagerness as you split on his fucking thick cock.

And when you ask him to cum, to cum inside you; enji has no doubt. He's going to ruin you. And he hates himself for it.

[malarign]

who they were written by

contains: enhypen | genre: angst, comfort | tw! mentions of death, mention of major injury, lack of confidence, family problems, loneliness | wc: 1,0k

author’s note: let’s just say i chose violence 🫣 who the hell let me write this?

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ an elder lady who reminiscents her past lover

Love never felt so blissful and serene as with him, making it hard to forget his small but meaningful gestures, like fresh morning coffee, his contagious laughter, and jokes that never failed to make her laugh. There was no day she didn’t miss him, death taking his beautiful soul too early, along with hers too. She felt like her life ended the day she lost him forever. Wanting to have at least a little substitute for feelings that accompanied their love she wrote Heeseung, who just like her late lover, is impossible not to love. Heeseung who is a pure example of chivalry and a true gentleman, who treats everybody with empathy and sympathy.

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ a man who regrets not letting his son pursue his passion

Watching how his son gets drowned in the huge corporate world that surrounds him. How there’s no sign of the spark in his eye that used to light up whenever he picked up his guitar. The boy who found such relief in playing his favorite songs and felt proud of mastering different riffs was long gone, now somewhat replaced by constantly tired and dispassionate about anything and everything. Regret filled his heart and decided to somehow find a remedy in creating Jay, who thanks to his burning love for music and the wonderful people surrounding him, achieved his dream, and performed his songs on big stages, igniting passion in his fans’ hearts.

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ a boy who always felt lonely

Ever since primary school, he never had a friend to rely on, always feeling lonely and not heard. Nobody ever paid attention to him, neither at school nor at home. His parents invested their time mostly in his younger brother’s education and hobbies, driving him to his after-school football practices and maths tutoring and leaving the older one alone most of the time. To feel at least a tiny bit wanted and liked he wrote about Jake, as his older brother he never had, but always dreamt of. Days spent alone at home started to get more bearable and gradually he couldn’t wait to be left with him and his new best friend, with whom he played football and who helped him with his homework.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ girl who lost her confidence in sport

Injury is the worst fear of any athlete including her, but once it happens it turns out to be much more. She never even imagined a day she would have to experience the pain of a twisted ankle, but now daily rehabilitation has become her reality. Even after complete recovery, her foot felt like it belonged to somebody else, not listening to her like before. Things that she had been doing easily now were her biggest enemy. All eyes of her teammates were filled with pity, and even her coach stopped spending her time helping her, increasing her misery. What helped her ease her mind was a boy she imagined named Sunghoon, who was the only male ice skater among all the girls, they isolated him by whispering to each other and watching his every fall. None of this stopped him from mastering every jump and technique he found hard in his tempo. If he was able to do that, she would too, even after a painful injury.

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

➶ girl who always wished to have a boy best friend

She always knew boy-girl friendships weren’t particularly the easiest - it’s easy to catch feelings and not every boy is trustworthy enough to be considered a friend. That’s why she desired it so much. Her every male friend ended up being a freak who had a bunch of weird opinions, turned out to be even misogynistic, or simply caught feelings for her when all she wanted was to have a companion. The more she tried the harsher the disappointment. To compensate, she started to imagine one, who she named Sunoo. Hanging out with him was just as she wanted, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in her head. Both of them had their weekly tradition of doing face masks and watching old romantic comedies, judging wrong doings of the characters but also simping to them, just like it happens in movies.

Yang Jungwon |  양정원

➶ a grandma who lost her grandson

Nothing could ever prepare her to lose him, who just like cherry blossoms sweetened her old days with his pure smile and eyes full of curiosity, after years of endless winter. But, the thing about cherry blossoms is, it doesn’t last long. Her grandson, contrary to pink petals, wouldn't be back in a year, he would be gone forever. That pure smile and curious eyes disappeared, or should I say, were ripped off her arms so brutally, so pitilessly. Her life came back to the excruciating dullness and silence. She couldn’t stop thinking about how her lovely boy would grow up, what hobbies he would pick up, and who he was going to love, since he didn’t have a chance to experience any of that, subconsciously creating Jungwon, who lived surrounded by love and gave it to others. Who never lost his pure smile and curious eyes, just like her grandson.

Nishimura Riki | 西村力

➶ girl who always danced alone in her room

She always knew her destiny was on the dance floor. Even her tiny bedroom she had to share with her two younger siblings. Or the daily nagging and lack of support from her parents. Even the fact that she had to do that all by herself. None of that stopped her from doing everything to achieve her dream of standing on stage, in blinding spotlights with crowds watching her moves. Her main inspiration was Riki, a boy she imagined had the same dream as her. In contrast to her, Riki had everything she ever wanted and needed to make things easier - a family full of great dancers, who also owned a dance studio and great teachers and mentors from whom he learned not only different techniques but also to love dancing.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation, @candewlsy, @jaelaxies

[kuinntanass]

"i hope you it brings you bliss" choosing to stay with wizard only brought misery, loneliness and a false sense of security in glinda . "I hope it brings you bliss" she has to pretend every day for the rest of her life that she hated elphaba while thinking she is dead " and you don't live to regret it" by the time for good came glinda regretted everything she has done to hurt elphaba, not supporting her when she should have, spreading malicious rumours about her, accidentally revealing how much neesa means to her "i hope you are happy in the end / i hope you are happy my friend" Glinda after staying with the wizard got everything she truly wanted, she was loved and admired, she was the most popular and she had a fiance yet in the end she ended up alone, the two people she loved and knew her true self her dead while elphaba got her well deserved happy ending.

"I hope you don't regret it / Goodness know the wicked die alone."

And all of this was because of her own fault

[devbox]

Hello again

I see some people like my poorly written ABO AU stobotnik fic. Thank you so much (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

And i have more. Much more...

But the next chapter gets kinda dark. Nothing to bad, but that perception can be relative.

So i dont know if should post it here or maybe make an ao3 account. I have to think about it.

But... I can give you a peek

Warning: Adult content and themes

Only read if 18+

Contain: Intimidation. Unwanted advances. Threats.

Sneak peek-

Chapter 4: Nightmare come alive

And then his misery was alone. His symptoms more noticeable his loneliness.. But his toughts clearer..This is a bad one.. i almost begged Stone to take me... He would groan in humiliation if he wasnt so weak. Bound to the bed it seemed... Most times he manages to move about.. Pitifully offcourse... But he succeeded to care fore himself.. Waited it out with hardned determination..

Now he had to rely on Stone.... An alpha that had lied and conned him. That now could do horrible and degrading things to him..

But it seemed Stone didnt want to?

In fact he seemed set on helping Robotnik instead of what any other alpha would do to an omega in these circumstances.

Why?

It didnt make sence.. Robotnik had never gave Stone a reason to. Their interactions had never been companionable. Robotnik made shure of it...

As he found no answers his mind wandered to Stones scent.. How it made him feel. That had never happened before. It was kinda euphoric.. Made him filled with a sense of beeing safe and loved. Both alien feelings to him.. But he somehow knew them there..

Its just chemicals.. He reasoned. Your heat making you feel good so you want to mate and breed.. Nothing else...

Must be.. Has to be!

What about fated pairs tough? It did remind him of the myths of old he read about in his youth.. Superstition offcourse... But maybe they were rooted in science? A way fore the body telling you this is the best genom suited fore yours to mix with?

He pondered on this hypothesis to distract himself mostly from the increasing pain as the door slowly opened..

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

"Ivo... There you are... I was sooo worried about you.."

It was Benson. Staring at him with a downright evil grin.

Panic shoot trough Robotnik like train out of nowhere. His nightmares had come alive. And they were here to harm him.

"No-". He shot out and tried to get up. To fight..

By sheer willpower he managed to stand. Tried to look the role. Touch me and you die!

But Benson only chucled at the display. He knew better... The laughter hurt something deep in Robotnik and he felt smaller in some way... His footing harder to maintain. But he wasnt down yet. He still had cards that could bring Benson to a loss.

"Dont you dare-". He said trying to hide his sluggish tone from extortion.

Benson closed the door. Setting a new code.. And Robotnik stomach sank...

"There we are... No one to distract us... You made this so easy fore me Ivo.. Coming to me in a heat? Its like you want this? Guess the omega nature does apply to even so called geniuses...."

Benson making his intentions clear like he's casually explaining trivial protocols to Robotnik made his panic switch into high alert. Why doesnt he fear any repercussions?

"Benson. Il- destroy"

"Ah..Yes your information about me cheating on my wife.. Doesnt matter anymore as she recently found out by herself... My life is pretty much ruined without your input. I got nothing to lose.."

No..

Robotnik wobbled. Beginning to fall. Benson caught him. Held him in a tight grip..

"Opsie daisie.. Seems like your having trouble here.. Downright defensles i'd say... Benson stated with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Kill you-"

"After im done with you Ivo its you who will wish fore death. Im going to run your life to the ground.. il show you'r rightful place as an omega.. By the end of it you will regret the day you ever dared to dream of a life climbing the ladder with alphas. The dirt will be your new home..."

"But first! Pleasant buisiness.."

Benson picked him up like he weighed nothing. A sick smile spread across his face as he looked down on Robotnik.

And it was happening. This was really happening

[screams-in-writing]

:)

Hey, wanna see if I can make some tears happen?

Because here’s some depressing angst from a much later chapter of the fic.

FYI, it’s 1st pov Mr. Puzzles, with some Smg4, 3 and Mario cameos. No context but for the fact that Mr. Puzzles screwed up badly by making some poor decisions. Also, typed this up on the phone, but since it was flowing really well kept going; so possible typos.

-

There was something of a numbness that had fallen over me the moment my neck suddenly, and quite miraculously, no longer ached terribly as it had before. 

The enormity of what had just happened…

What had just been done, and just where it was I was now…

I could not make sense of it, even if I knew all of the pieces that had led up to this point, and it was only my fault that it had happened due to foolishly believing I could het away with one more passenger to my mind, without malicious intent for once. 

I understood why I was here, even if it hurt me more than I thought possible to know that it was because of a misunderstanding I doubted I would ever have a change to explain, or make up for. 

I’d been at rest, so I’d been within my mind when I had been forcibly (painfully) dragged back to my home world. 

As much as I didn’t want things to end between us like this, there didn’t appear to be much hope that I could get back to your world without assistance, when I still wasn’t at my best.

There were a number of things that could have been done in that moment. 

I could have done a dramatic emergence from my metal head, all dramatic flair with a showman’s smile to hide all the pain and regret and grief that had not yet had time to settle in.

I could have just come out and faced whatever consequences for my actions in my world and your adjacent one, as I figured you’d been the one to ask Smg4 to bring me back home.

A home where I would only ever be alone due to my actions that had sent me careening through the air into your world. 

I could have run; been a coward and faced nothing but loneliness and a loss to do much more than just exist, now that I wouldn’t be actively dying in another world because a man with a tv for a head shouldn’t have been able to survive there.

I chose…to do nothing. 

Attempting to do anything, whether for good or my own purpose, led me to here, so I just wouldn’t come out from my mind. If I didn’t do anything, then I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and I could be left to my misery if what could have been if I had just stopped and thought about anyone apart from myself. 

There wasn’t even a plan to have my screen turn on to face anyone who’d be there upon my rather dizzying return to this world. 

Not even that plumber’s grating voice, which normally would have had me on the defensive, did anything to draw me out of hiding.

Nothing, until there was an incessant tapping on my metal head, and with memory of the last time (dratted trash compactor and its nightmares) I reluctantly, and wearily, turned on my screen. 

Smg4 was there, standing a healthy distance away from me, while wearing a nervous expression as if expecting me to do something. 

“Ugh, great, you just had to try and talk to the tv freak.” Smg3 was a little closer, glaring at me and were it possible, bristling as if he were holding back a tirade of words and possible desire to get into a fisticuffs situation. “I could have already gone back to my cafe but no, you had to bring him back right now. My poor little Eggdog is all alone at the cafe!”

“Don’t you have any customers?” Smg4 appeared grateful for a distraction.

“Yes.” Smg3 turned his ire on the other man. “My cafe had lots of people when I had to leave there, and come here, with you.”

“Mario doesn’t think he saw anyone.” 

Ordinarily, I would have grimaced, but upon seeing that my screen was on, Mario, who, up until said screen turned on, brightened upon. “TV man! Hello! Play Mario some telletubies!”

I don’t say anything to that.

I say nothing at all.

I merely waited for one of them that wasn’t Mario to address me, already resigned, if pained, over the idea that he was likely never going to see you again. And then, Smg4 unwittingly drove that point home with a remarkably reasonable question. 

“Why did you do that?” 

I shut my screen off before any of them could see the broken expression that was about to take the place of the more weary one. When I spoke, it was soft, nearly inaudible, all bravado and spark gone. “None of you would believe me, so I won’t waste your time.”

Smg4 was quiet.

“Are you kinnfing me?” Smg3 scoffed. “Oh that’s rich. You love to hear the sound of your own voice, so why not boast about all the lousy tricks you used on someone that trusted you there.”

I…said nothing, nor did I do anything.

For all intents and purposes, I likely resembled a simple old television that was turned off.

There was some murmuring, but that wasn’t enough for me to bother to turn my screen or to even listen in as I allowed myself to drift within my mind. 

It was a cold comfort. 

Artificial.

There was no one here but myself, and the countless tvs that surrounded me, floating and doing nothing. 

Much like I, myself, was no longer doing anything. 

I didn’t even look or question way that someone had picked up my metal head and carried me along for quite some time. 

It was relaxing, in a way. 

I didn’t have to do anything, because if I did, I would only make things worse.

Everything was already such a mess.

Were I to attempt to explain myself, after what I put Smg4 and his friends through, the explanation would only be hollow words to those them; they didn’t have the whole picture, so how could they judge me without that?

…but they could.

Smg4 and the otheres already had enough to judge me for, no matter the progress I’d made in the world adjacent to this one. 

It didn’t matter that this was all a horrible cluster of connected misunderstandings, but I wasn’t a fool. 

I knew that trying to talk about what really happened in the other world with you at present wouldn’t go over well. With what I was perceived to have done, and how quickly Smg4 and 3 had been to devise a plan to wrench me from your world back to my own…it was too soon to try and mend what had clearly been broken by my own arrogance by believing that things would be just fine, and that there’d be no consequences other than a light scolding.

Perhaps I was a fool after all, to believe that I could experience one of those happy ever after endings I’d watched of so many shows. 

The long walk ended when I felt my metal head being placed in some quiet place.

As before, I didn’t bother to turn on my screen. 

I didn’t want to see where I was.

It was cold.

I could sense it distantly.

There were footsteps that receded from me, as Smg4 could be heard calling out to someone else farther away. 

He’d said nothing to be.

I thought I may have heard the sound of a door close.

That was it, then?

Nothing else was said or done to me, apart from placing me somewhere like an unwanted piece of hardware?

I wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or disappointment, but if even Smg4 had no need for any further conversation with me, then I would remain exactly where I was. 

Within my mind, I curled my body up as tightly as I could. My wrapped wrapper firmly around my legs as I tucked my long limbs up to my chest. I pressed them to my chest snugly.

A static, glitching noise slid out of me.

With a fumbling hand, I forcefully muted myself  before burying my screen into my knees. With the extra silence I tormented myself with the fact that even my mind couldn’t block out the pathetic tears I could no longer even shed.

I would stay here, in my mind, where I couldn’t bother anyone trapped in any of the channels either. 

It had been made abundantly clear, over and over, throughout everything from first finding Smg4 to being punted into your world, and all the way to now, being back here that…that…

Curling my frame up into as small as a ball as best I could with my lanky limbed body, I kept kept my face pressed to my knees despite my whole body being wracked with tremors from unalloyed the emotions battering into me at once. 

Unshed tears were witnessed by no one. 

Anguished, despairing screams of grief, anger and self-loathing were locked behind a muted voice, unheard by none but myself. 

Because even muted, I could internally hear everything in this place that I’d created within my own mind. The tv screens all around me went dim, and the vibrancy of everything in my mind dulled. 

My shoulders slumped, even as I kept my arms wrapped around my legs beneath the knees. Screen staring at nothing, I felt a squeeze within my chest I’d not felt before, as I came to a concussion I’d been avoiding for some time now. 

No one needed me.

No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how much I attempted to understand…to try to see more than just myself and my need to meet perfection by any and all means.

I had nothing to show for it.

I was alone again.

The area around me grew dimmer than before, greying here and there in place of the vibrant colors of before. 

I just…stopped. 

Tv head and screen sagging against my knees, I made myself as small as possible while something seemed to crack and shatter into pieces within me as I finally just…stopped moving. 

Hanging suspended in my mind, my face eventually shut off while still muted, as I drifted.

It was safer for everyone that way, wasn’t it?

It was safer you and your roommates; for your whole town.

It was better for Smg4 and his crew, to not be reminded of the bad times that I’d orchestrated and been a part of toward the end of it.

It was better for both worlds if I just stayed away, and didn’t bother anyone anymore. That way, no one would have to put up with me any longer.

The channels that people were trapped within when I came here within my mind?

Gone.

I released them back to their homes, since this world would accept them and because, much like Smg4 and the others, they didn’t want nor need me. 

And you…

You…

There was a traitorous twinge in my chest, of unfamiliar grief yet bitter understanding of your actions due to my foolish assumptions and decisions I’d made so carelessly.

After all was said and done, my own arrogance and confidence led me to the same conclusion as before, despite the struggles to have it be otherwise. 

No one…

…wanted me.

[gamegirlx]

just to remind you guys of the pain of the Hollow Knight had to go through once again: (not little ghost, the other guy)

They watched themselves be the only once chosen to live out of their thousand other siblings who die.

Knowing they were held up for the high expectations of being "the pure vessel", they chose to hide the fact that they knew they were imperfect and couldn't hold the infection because they didn't want to fail their father or their already dead siblings.

They were left alone in chains to hold in the infection as he watched himself implode into the infection, knowingly failing their father in utter loneliness and misery.

They have "world sense" which grants him the ability to know what happens outside the Black Egg, therefore they were able to watch Hallownest fall into the infection as well as their father just abandon the kingdom. :D

They had to be killed off* by his only other sibling, probably without the proper conclusion he deserved for their misery and pain and regret. (*he doesn't die if you get the true ending so GET THE TRUE ENDING PLS IM BEGGING)

[mindhealing]

Changing Things Up!

Standing alone, strong and powerful is better than standing with people who hurt you, who want to use you for their own selfish and self cantered interests or desires. You may dread to stand alone because of loneliness, but you need to understand this - it's ok, because in the end by standing your ground and choosing you first, the law of life will come to your aid and bring that which you want and desire to you. So, No fear, No limits, No excuses.

Your worst days may bring sorrow, pain, misery and unhappiness, but they teach you patience, understanding, humility and love for yourself,  enough for you to go back within yourself to understand better, so you can now make much better, wise and informed choices.  Your best days though good bringing joy and happiness, helps you realize your connection to the divinity and power within yourself and the Divine Source of all life. All your difficulties are only platforms for the manifestation of God's grace, power and love.

There is a time to let things happen by themselves, let life flow and be what it will be, and a time to make things happen but be divinely guided by the divinity within yourself. Like a crab growing out of its shell, expanding and exploring, real growth requires you to shed what no longer fits you, nor fits your purpose and mission in life: the wrong people, the wrong beliefs and belief system, the wrong habits and attitudes that are holding you back as bravery comes from being vulnerable and the willingness to learn from your mistakes. 

When you are vulnerable, your emotions come to the surface to be looked at, processed and worked through so that they vanish and you come out of the experience a new and different person and with a brand new mindset and way of seeing and thinking about things and life. But suppression only keeps you further chained and incapacitated in the abysmal depth of the mind and that's not in your best interest.

When some things go wrong, take a moment to be thankful for the many more things that are going right, still going right and will go right, whether or not you are conscious of them. Sometimes the bounties of the Divine Source of all life are kept away from us because we didn't ask, forgot to ask or assumed it will be given, so you get a second, third and many chances to change the wrong into right, life is truly magnificent.

Remember you don't always get what you wish for, only what you work for, stand for, are vibrating and projecting out to the world. Helping people gives you an amazing life purpose, don't ever regret doing the right thing, helping people and doing good even when you are rewarded with evil or negativity. Doing the right thing has a way of coming back to you many times over as blessings and miracles of life.

If you want something good and fast, it won't be cheap, come easily or be readily available because life doesn't work that way, everything must be earned in the true coin. If you want something good and cheap, same thing as above and it won't be fast, and if you want something fast and cheap, it won't be good or what you want. Success will never lower its standard to accommodate you, you must brace yourself for it and move at its pace and time and everything will work out right.

More to come!

[galaxygolfergirl]

Some of my favorite Helsa fan arts I’ve done throughout the years (dates are in the alt text).

I’ve been thinking about this ship recently, especially its place in the fandom, and I have some thoughts (read below)

Ever since I was roped into this franchise 10 years ago, I think I’ve almost always drawn Hans with a beard. Primarily, it was because I felt that if he ever did show up again in Frozen media, he would be more weathered and unpretentious about his appearance since dropping his facade in the first film. Also because I just thought he would look better with more facial hair (it’s a me thing).

As for Elsa, I’ve never been consistent in drawing her, as it was hard for me to read her animated model, what with her huge eyes and baby nose, as normal, so that’s evolved over the years to a happy medium where it still reads as Elsa, but also reads as human with normal face proportions.

As to why I’ve shipped helsa all these years? Hans and Elsa are two sides of the same coin to me, the main difference being that one of them succumbed to their worst intentions and desires, while the other freed themselves and learned to embrace love and peace in their life. Both were isolated during their childhoods, resulting in years of loneliness, misery, and bitterness; both try to appear poised and reserved, hiding their inner self-loathing; both are intelligent and cunning, both have a definite aggressive streak, and both have interesting chemistry in their very few scenes together. Hans seems to be the only one on equal footing with Elsa who can get through to her throughout the film, mainly for his own ambition, of course, but it intrigued me to see even all these years later how compelling their interactions are.

Why would he sympathetically plead, “don’t be the monster they fear you are,” and stop her from killing those two guards? If he was planning on killing her, why would he go to her and ask if she could stop the winter? Why does he look shocked, almost sad when she tells him that she can’t, like he’s regretting having to kill her? It’s moments like these that paint these characters with more nuance than meets the eye.

I’ve always thought after the first movie, there was definitely potential for a more nuanced and interesting story if Hans were to return. Not simply for revenge, but rather an “enemy of my enemy is my friend” situation, where Frohana would have to work with Hans somehow to fend off an invading force or adversary, like the Southern Isles, to stick it to his family. He and Elsa would be adversarial, for sure, but through forced cooperation, they could open up and become more vulnerable with one another. The amount of angst and turmoil over their feelings for one another would be doubly engrossing. The drama would be incredible.

Now listen: I don’t really expect any of that to happen. I got off the Helsa or die party bus years ago and I’m just mainly enjoying it as it’s own non-canon concept. Believe me, I would love it if it did happen, god willing and the creek don’t rise. But really, when you get down to it, these are movies marketed at little girls, and I don’t think it would really go that far. It’s not easy to come back from holding a sword over a girl’s head, as quoted by Santino Fontana himself.

I grew up with this fandom, I started all the way back in middle school 10 years ago, and this has been a definite learning experience for me in separating the extrapolated world of fan-fiction and the reality of a pg animated musical. I’ve grown up and my expectations are different, and now I understand that canon doesn’t mean shit. I beg, do not take any of this seriously. Just because it has the Disney trademark slapped on it does not mean it’s the end all be all of a story. Stories are fluid things that adapt and evolve in each of the hands they pass through. No one interpretation of a story or a character or a relationship has to be “the right one,” and not every character has to sit on a black and white scale of moral dichotomy, there are always shades of gray.

I’m not saying all of this to be deep about a ship between a Disney princess and a Disney villain that I got into when I was 13, believe I know it’s not that deep. I’m saying this because I’ve lived through fandom and set myself up with false expectations, only to be disappointed. Hell, I took a break from helsa for a solid 3 years because of how burnt out I was. It’s far too easy to dissociate from the text and treat fanon as canon; you’re just setting yourself up to be disappointed. Just let it be its own thing! Like I said, canon does not mean shit! Don’t take things so seriously! Feel free to tell your own stories!

Anyways, I still love this ship, or at least the version I came up with in my head, because I am a storyteller, and I saw potential in these two that could be realized through other means. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s canon or not. Just enjoy it as it is.

[psicadetterra]

Ended up jabbering with my friends about PN stuff. In this post I will talk about Clem and Crystal's deteriorating friendship (and eventual recovery.)

Crystal gives up the project, and for a while, so does Clem. Clem falls back into old habits fairly quickly though. This puts a strain on their friendship. Crystal doesn't want to be like that anymore, and Clem doesn't seem intent to change (he's too deeply entangled in his negativity.) Their friendship reaches its lowest point when they are 14-15. Crystal tries her best to salvage it, but she just can't anymore. They seldom speak or see each other.

Crystal has other friends (Phoebe, Quentin, Misha, and others.) Clem has no one, so he winds up affiliating with other people just as miserable as he is (misery loves company.)

But throughout all of this, despite it all, neither of them truly "hate" each other.

Going off-track a little, I feel like Crystal has known Clem since she first started going to Whispering Rock (let's assume she's seven when she first attends.) I also feel like their friendship was INSTANT, like Crystal mentioned something and Clem was like "no way me too" and bam (lord I'm not implying crystal was like "lol i wanna die" and clem was like "lol same lets be friends" I'm hoping it was something more innocent BUT PROBABLY NOT LOL. It's fucked up to imagine a 7 y/o girl wanting to die IT'S FUCKED UP IMAGINING A 9 Y/O GIRL WANTING TO DIE TOO NOOO MY BABY. I am getting further off track let me reel it back in.)

I am also certain that enduring de-braining and re-braining with your best friend pretty much bonds you for life lol. When you've known someone for so long and went through so much with them, I don't think you could ever truly "hate" them (at least from my experience. this is partly based on my rl friendship and DON'T WORRY we didn't have a suicide pact when we were kids!! we didn't have our brains stolen either.)

I feel like the deep sadness and loneliness Clem feels from losing his best, closest, and ONLY friend is that one thing that finally wakes him up. He misses her. Even if he can't earn back her friendship, he has to TRY and do better. If not for her, then at least for himself.

Thus begins Clem's recovery. When you are at the bottom, the only place you can go is up (although Clem would beg to differ. He says he hit the bottom and kept digging lol.)

Fast forward to about 4-5 years in the future when they are 19-20 years old. They're both in the Psychonauts and they finally speak to each other after so long. I feel like when you're 19-20 the drama from when you're 15 doesn't matter anymore. Clem apologizes to her, and she apologizes to him (she isn't an innocent party, they were both enabling each other.) He doesn't even really expect her to want to be friends again or even accept his apology, but to his surprise, she does. Crystal was afraid that Clem hated her, but this was never true. Even when they were mad and said things they regret, they never genuinely hated each other. They then spend many hours talking and catching up. They've matured and recovered. They are better to each other.

Later, they give dating a shot. It lasts for less than a week. They found it awkward and prefer to just go back to being best friends. Friendship works best for them.

There is continuity in my drawings (have you noticed it?) Crystal still has the Cheer Bear that Clem and Misha gave her for her birthday. Clem assumes that she got rid of it. He is shocked to see she still has it when they become friends again. Even when her friendship with Clem deteriorates and Misha goes missing (that's a story for another time) she never gets rid of it.

To summarize: Clem and Crystal's friendship deteriorates when they still go to Whispering Rock. Once they "graduate" that is the breaking point and they rarely speak to or see each other. They finally reconcile when they are young adults.

[sophistgaia]

Writing my first fanfiction ever was difficult, and I got so many nice comments that I am now at a point where writing my second fanfiction got even more difficult. It’s honestly because I set the bar too high with Lu Guang’s insane pain and inner turmoil combined with the hospitalization setting. Of course, I can’t know that without writing, but the second fic will definitely be less of a “Hey guys, I am trying soooo hard to make you cry right now.” and more of a “fluff after fluff after fluff but suicidal thoughts among and during them”. I also can’t think of any real romantic scene that goes beyond being queerplatonic right now, so I’ll need to get some real help from my beta readers.

To be completely honest, I never wanted to write a story about how miserable Lu Guang is, my intention was the opposite. But I just dropped the ball by writing the most well-liked paragraph(s) of One and a Million Days in the Hospital and utterly failed my own purpose. Those parts are among latest additions to the story, by the way. I think the LAST thing I added was Cheng Xiaoshi wearing Lu Guang’s glasses, and everything related to it.

Moving on, I had to work a lot to figure out where to put what I call the “funeral daydream” scene without making it forced, since it was so long and heavy. Not to mention, there is actually a very similar paragraph that explores the very same feeling already. I should’ve deleted that part to avoid repeating myself, but I just liked both depictions too much so ended up including both. Talking about the objective flaws in my writing is embarrassing, honestly.

Anyways, the point is, it is kinda sad that I wouldn’t affect people that much without one of those last additions, and even if I am the one who wrote it, it just makes me doubt myself and triggers my imposter syndrome because it wasn’t in my first draft. I doubt I would be able to write that part had I not read Madonna in a Fur Coat throughout the editing and translating process. There is a section in that book where Raif imagines what would happen to him after Maria died. He imagines her funeral for a bit, and describes her graveyard as only a pit to be filled. It got my attention due to how sharp it is, and for a while I’ve been thinking of how Lu Guang really straight up dived back in time without allowing himself to see a small part of what comes next, such as Cheng Xiaoshi’s funeral (and maybe Qiao Ling’s) and his life without them, probably also because of the fear of being capable of moving on, so I thought I really should go for it despite my original goal of depicting “Lu Guang’s life is not pure misery, and there are so many moments he enjoys no matter what has happened and will happen.”

I like to note down good descriptions while reading and think of how I would use them, so I am not sure why am I getting all insecure about this. The part about being able to imagine light in the dark was also inspired by a film called, well, “All We Imagine as Light”. It is about people holding on to small things while trying to cope with the hardships, isolation and loneliness big cities bring. You watch the glow of a burning lamp far away to keep yourself warm at night; and when in dark, you imagine light. It is an Indian film, and it should’ve won Academy’s Best International Film Award, so I recommend it. Currently I have it as one of my favorites on Letterboxd. Also, if you liked the way I talked about Lu Guang’s grief and complex feelings that came out of it, you MUST play Hatoful Boyfriend, go for Kazuaki Nanaki’s route, honestly finish the true route of the game, and maybe hop on the Holiday Star DLC as it is basically Nanaki’s Yingdu. Yes, they are birds. Yes, you MUST still play it. I swear you will not regret it.

The second fanfic will be more “me”, my real writing style with the usage of past tense, less references since I can’t read as many as books and watch as many as films, less emotional, more casual prose since it is now Cheng Xiaoshi who is structuring the narrative. Though, I would say that I learned A LOT and it would be better from a technical standpoint..? I am really curious about the reception, if I ever even finish it and not give in the feminine urge of staying as some one hit wonder, that is. I desperately wish it manages to be on an equal footing with One and a Million Days in the Hospital.

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Frame

I was inspired to write a good ending version to my fic Burn, and I think I've done it.

Actor x GN!Reader, ft. Dark & Wilford, TW: none Words: 730

A century of loneliness can stir something inside your gut when left alone for long enough. Loneliness, regret, rage, a burning desire to change your situation. But you can’t change the past. The deals have been made and the stage was set, starring in the directorial debut of the devil. It wasn’t fair. It still isn’t. 

Mark paces on the floor of the manor, trapped inside with the only breath of fresh air being the puppeteering of the entity within the walls. It speaks into his ears, feeding him lies, mourning, rage, trying to refuel that fire that was burning when he fell into their lap, a perfect puppet for it to enact its misery. But now he’s just a lump of coal, a shell of what he once was, the walls that he now wanders aimlessly a painful reminder of.

He perks up at a knock at the door, waiting to hear the voice of a solicitor, girl scout, or census taker. Waiting for the voice, so he can justify staying hidden in the dark like the monster he’s become should. 

“Mark–?”

Tears came to his eyes as he heard your voice, nearly sprinting to the door to open it, praying that it wasn’t another trick. He tears the door open, looking at you in disbelief. He studies your face, the cracks running deep. A hesitant hand is extended to hold your cheek, but pulls back right before his hand crosses the threshold of the doorway. “Darling…”

You smile up at him, tears in your own eyes as you let out a breath of a laugh. “You’re alive…”

“Yes, I am. I’m here. Come out, Mark. Please. For me.”

“Darling- I– I can’t.”

The fear returns to his eyes as he goes to close the door. But he meets yours again, and keeps his hand on the edge of the door, just looking at you with all of the emotions that have festered over all these years. You know he wants to.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m doing what I should’ve done that night, staying alone in these walls where I can’t hurt anyone. What I’ve done, it’s unforgivable. I don’t deserve to come out–”

You cut him off, which surprises him.

“Did you think I came alone? How do you think I got out, Mark?” Wilford and Dark step around the corner, standing on either side of you, a hand on each of your shoulders. “We know, Mark. We know it wasn’t your fault.” “Damien-” Mark’s hand almost reaches the doorway again, before retreating back. He’s nearly cowering behind the door at this point. You know his acting skills, but this is far from acting.

“I killed you all that night, you deserve to be angry! To want revenge! I’m a horrible monster who hurt his only friends and love of his life!”

“Oh nonsense, we had- oh dear how long has it been-”

“-a hundred years, Wil-” “-a hundred years to deal with all of those, old sport! We’re here to help you.” The whispers start again, but you can hear them too. The heart of the house nearly beats with the waves of darkness that disappear onto the stoop. Dark makes a face, dismissing the dark smoke that tries to latch onto his foot with a wave of his hand. You all look back up and see Mark surrounded in the smoke, silently afraid. “Mark, beloved, take my hand. We will get you out.” You reach out your hand to him, hanging just within reach.

“No- I can’t- it won’t work-”

���Listen to me, not the house. Take my hand, Mark.”

He hesitates once more before latching onto your hand, and you tug him through the threshold, a film of smoke shattering like glass as he breaks through it. He looks around for a moment, then back at the house. He laughs, almost hysterically, before scooping you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“You came back for me. I’m so sorry, I love you…”

Dark and Wilford surround the two of you, happy to have their friend back. They guide you back to Dark’s car, leaving the dreadful house behind as Mark speaks with an energy he hasn’t known for a century. The backseat as he holds you close is filled with a love he thought he’d never know again.