#and then i was too sad to go back and fix it

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! 👋 Thank you for your writing and effort. Can I request a story about reader and Donna having an affair? Maybe reader is Cassandra's gf but Cassandra doesn't treat her right like she flirts with other girls in front of reader and stuff like that? In the process of Cassandra sending reader to run her errands to her aunt Donna house they fall in love. Considering that Donna is super possessive and jealous everytime she sees reader they make love and is a struggle letting reader go back to the castle

One day Donna finds a hickey on reader's neck and goes mad because reader had promised it that Cassandra and her weren't intimate anymore (Cassandra was busy with other girls). Reader tries to explain her that she didn't enjoy it but Donna in her madness and jealousy kicks her out. After that when Donna comes to her sense she realizes she can't live without reader and is willing to fight for her so she goes to the castle and lady dimitrescu thinking her sister has just come to visit her invite her to have dinner. At the dinner table she sees reader and Cassandra but reader looks sad and pale. At one point in the night Donna notices Cassandra and reader fighting and Cassandra about to raise her hand on reader so Donna sees red and punches her niece. That's all the truth comes out and lady dimistrecu having noticed how her daughter treated reader scolds her terribly in front of everybody and let reader go with Donna. G!p Donna is that's okay?

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the delay, and the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Your arms, my safe place

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, castle maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, a bit of smut, Minors DNI, angst, dark themes, (Y/N) is Cassandra's gf, but things don't go well... mentions of abuse?

Word count: 9,796, too long, sorry

Summary: You wanted to be with her, but fate has another plans for you...

N/A: HELLO AGAIN PEOPLE!!! I'm back as you see!!! Thank you for all your support all this time, you're wonderful!!! I'm here again, but I'm afraid I'm unable to update everyday, but I'll do it when I can, I guess maybe 3 times a week!!! So... Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :)) Oh, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!

Donna's hands slipped under your uniform, untying the ties that held it to your body while you worked on the buttons of the blouse of her dress. Your head spun and the excitement was overwhelming.

Determined to leave behind anything that would interrupt the moment, you broke free from your thoughts when your hands brushed her skin, when your fingers unclasped her bra with a quick movement.

Donna began to become wild, dominant, as if the simple act of claiming you, of making love to you, reminded her that you were one step closer to stop being Cassandra's, to being only hers.

After all, feeling like you were hers wasn't the same as being so. Donna knew that, and it tormented her.

A few intense kisses on your neck brought you back to reality, making you moan, close your eyes, and forget about your worries. Her lips felt soft on your skin, her teeth barely grazed you, but made you tremble.

“D-Donna, b-be careful,”  you said, making the brunette move away from your neck to slide her hands under your legs and lift you romantically, placing you gently on the bed.

“Mm?” she murmured distractedly, bringing her hips closer to yours, making you notice her imprisoned erection pressing against your body and forcing you to emit an involuntary moan.

“N-not the neck, okay? You could leave a mark on me and Ca…” you said with a slightly clearer voice, putting your hands on her shoulders and causing her expression to suddenly harden.

“Shut up,” Donna snapped at you with a cold, angry look, hitting the mattress with her fist. “D-Don't say her name,” she hissed, looking away and accelerating her breathing.

You rushed to fix things as best you could: cupping her face in your hands.

“Shh, darling, forgive me, I didn't mean… Donna, my love, I'm sorry, okay?” you said tenderly, to which the lady closed her eye and let the air out of her lungs slowly.

“I know, I… It's just that I…” she stammered without looking directly at you.

“Come here,” you said, bringing your lips closer to hers, kissing the lady to distract her from the uncomfortable truth of the situation, one that seemed increasingly difficult for the doll maker to assimilate.

The insecurities were silenced with the wet sounds of your kisses, with gasps and sighs that increased with each look, word, whisper, caress…

Your hands sought the warmth of her pale skin, her perfect breasts, her arousal struggling to free itself from the black fabric of her underwear… That was more than enough for Donna to roar anxiously, grabbing your legs and freeing her shaft, bringing it closer to your wetness.

Donna was in a hurry, her body was in a hurry to claim you and her thrusts began to move your body while you closed your eyes, noticing how your walls stretched and pleasure began to invade you.

Your hands moved erratically as she claimed your body desperately, moaning in a very low voice, grunting every time she felt you squeeze her. They were quick movements, but when you opened your eyes you felt relief; relief to see her eyes looking at you as always, with love, with tenderness, in a way Cassandra never did.

You could have lost yourself in her perfectly controlled thrusts, in all the sensations that ran through your body, but something prevented you from doing so, forcing you to focus, to finish that forbidden act as soon as possible.

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” the lady whispered, stopping to kiss you slowly, to check that her haste, her eagerness wasn’t hurting you.

“I love you, Donna,” you answered, with a melancholic smile. “D-Don't stop, please.”

She obeyed with a timid nod, resuming her movements as she separated your legs even further, taking absolute control.

The moans, the creaks of the bed accompanied your feelings until the pleasure was too intense, releasing an orgasm, revealing that your body was ready to enjoy the woman you loved, without thinking about anything else.

Her release came soon after, warming your body, caressing your walls in a wet and lustful way. Afterwards, Donna pulled away with a grunt, lying down beside you to begin your favorite part of those visits.

Yes, sex was incredible, but what you really enjoyed were those moments embraced, naked, those tender smiles of Lady Beneviento looking at you, those kisses soaked with the sweat of the effort of loving you… Yes, that was your favorite part.

After a few comforting moments of silence, you inched closer to her naked body, burying your head in her chest as her delicate hands lovingly caressed your hair.

“I could lose myself in your arms,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the passion that seemed to still reverberate off the bedroom walls.

Donna laughed softly, pulling you closer to kiss your forehead, to brush your hair away from your face as you sighed. You wondered if maybe that was her favorite part too.

Your hands tangled together, absentmindedly playing with each other as the lady in black hummed an unfamiliar tune. Your gaze focused on her soft, fine hands, contrasting with the roughness of yours.

“You know? I find incredible that we have come to this…” you sighed, losing yourself again in her gaze. “I remember the first time I came… You closed the door in my face…”

“Mm, it's true,” the brunette said, amused, with a touch of shame in her voice. “I wasn't used to visits.”

“Oh,” you continued joking, sensually bringing your lips closer to hers, without kissing them, leaving the lady frustrated, teasing her.

“Now I can't live without them,” she answered, thus beginning a fight of kisses.

“Donna,” you said, trying to get away from her addictive lips with amusement.

 “(Y/N),” she said shortly after, sitting on the bed and looking away from you for a moment.

“What's wrong?” you asked, noticing how her body separated from yours, creating a horrible feeling of cold and abandonment on your skin.

“Mm, niente, io…”

“Hey! Are you done yet?! Angie doesn't like to be alone…” A sing-song voice sounded from behind the door, breaking that tense calm, that moment of lucidity from the lady in black, those words, which, surely, would start a conversation that you didn't feel like having, not that day.

“Angie…” Donna hissed, shaking her head and rolling her eye. “Go away!”

“I don't want to! Come here now! I'm bored!” the doll shrieked, with a mocking melody in her voice.

You laughed at the doll's always irreverent attitude, and at the embarrassment that it produced in its owner.

Donna looked at you and her smile also widened, joining you in a tender and soft laugh, resting her forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), you know the way she is,” she said amused, shaking her head and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Poor Angie,” you mocked in a low voice while the doll tried to get your attention with soft knocks on the door. “Besides, I…” you said, immediately staying quiet.

“What?” the lady asked, suddenly nervous, her gaze reflecting the fear of hearing that phrase, the phrase that always stabbed a knife deep into her heart.

“It's late and…” you whispered unsure, looking away and uncovering yourself, searching for your clothes. “I have, I have to…”

“Don't say it, please,” Donna interrupted, shaking her head, grabbing your wrist.

“I'm sorry, Donna, but I have to go,” you finally said, disobeying that silent plea, making her hand gently leave your skin. “It's going to get dark.”

“But, but,” the woman said, shaking her head and searching in her mind for an excuse, some words to make you reconsider your decision.

It wasn't really a decision. Your heart ached at the thought, knowing how much it hurt Donna to see you leaving, something that was becoming more and more difficult.

In silence, you both dressed again, without looking at each other, without doing or saying anything. The tension slowly increased; a tension that couldn't be dispelled with an apology or an empty promise, not anymore.

“Can I brush your hair?” Donna asked in a whisper as you looked at yourself in the vanity, searching for a mark, anything that could give you away to your true owner.

You nodded, letting her take a brush and gently run it through your hair as you both looked at each other in the mirror. Her bright eye betrayed regret, sadness, and yours betrayed lack of sleep, tiredness, laziness…

It was an overwhelming sight, but somehow it had its own sparkle. She was at your side, her beauty accompanying you, her hands caressing you as she gently combed your hair. Donna was with you, and that made you feel complete.

“Are you two deaf!? I'm here...” the doll joked, but without causing the same laughter as before.

It was a sad moment, the only moment you hated when you were with Donna.

“(Y/N), you don't have to do it,” Donna said softly, checking the result of her movements in the mirror and bending down slowly, surrounding your waist with her arms. “Please, stay with me a little longer, please.”

“You know I can't.” It was all you managed to say, shaking your head and pushing her hands away as you got up from the chair.

“We could play chess, or, or I could teach you to cook my recipes… Or maybe we could read in silence, with the fireplace sheltering us from the cold and…” the brunette insisted, pulling your body back, holding you tighter again.

“I can't, Donna,” you said, moving away abruptly, regretting it instantly. “Don't make it more difficult for me, my love…”

“You make it difficult for me,” she replied, giving some room and moving away. “You don't know what it's like to see you leaving every week, to see you going back to… to her,” she whispered with a cold look, with her teeth clenched.

“Donna,” you reprimanded, cupping her face in your hands, fearing that the tension would suddenly explode, embittering the moment. “I'll be back, you know I always do.”

“What if one day you don't?” she asked, grabbing your wrists, hurting you.

“Honey, please let me go,” you said in a calm voice, being released instantly. “I promise I'll be back. You're the only thing that makes my life worth living.”

“But, tesoro...” she insisted, grabbing your wrists again, this time more gently. “Io...”

“Shh...” you hissed, putting two fingers on her lips before kissing them softly, noticing the salty taste of a tear that came out of your eyes involuntarily. “Donna...”

“(Y/N), don't leave,” the brunette said again, lowering her gaze, blinking erratically.

“I'll be back, darling,” you repeated like a mantra that relaxed, but at the same time, distressed you.

Finally the lady in black nodded, keeping her hand in yours, but accepting the reality.

With a passionate kiss, you pulled away from her, walking towards the bedroom door, something you couldn't do, as her grip refused to let you go.

“Donna, please...” you said, increasingly nervous, pulling on her arm. “Donna, let me go.”

She did so with an angry growl and a dark expression, turning to give you her back, making her dress dance hypnotically as she sat at the vanity, unable to watch you walk away.

“Just be patient, my love,” you said quietly, opening the bedroom door, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“It's about time! Let's play!” Angie shrieked as she saw you walk past her. “Hey, silly, are you leaving?”

“I'm sorry Angie, but I have to go back to the castle,” you said, putting on your coat, refusing to look back.

A loud noise startled you: Donna's fist hitting the vanity furiously. It was time to leave, you couldn't leave her like that, but you had to.

“Cazzo!” the brunette shrieked as she hit the furniture over and over again.

“Oops,” Angie sighed, looking at you accusingly. “It's your fault, silly.”

“I, I just…” you said sobbing, knowing that you couldn't even help her, that you couldn't stay to ease her madness. “I-I have to go…”

“Yes, go! I'll fix your mess, like always!” the doll scolded you, walking gracefully towards the bedroom. “Donna, Donna, don't do that... Donna...”

The brunette's screams and sobs echoed in the walls until you went up the elevator, turning them off like the end of a movie, the end of a melancholic symphony that split your soul in two.

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, my love,” you sighed quietly, closing your eyes and walking automatically towards the exit, towards the cold of that place, far from the comfort and warmth of your lover's arms.

Born and raised in that forgotten village, your future was written. You couldn't be what you wanted, but what you had to be. Being just another maid was your destiny, and you had no choice but to accept it.

The castle always gladly hired any young girl who was willing to work, to serve its mistress, but the work wasn't as hard as you expected.

Alcina Dimitrescu was an imposing woman, but elegant and even kind. Little by little you got used to being there, to sharing your existence with the lady of the castle and her daughters, who, on the contrary, didn't have much in common with their mother.

Crazy, free and unhinged, yes, that seemed like a correct statement for the three Dimitrescu sisters. Bela, Cassandra and Daniela were like mischievous agents of chaos who broke the harmony and elegance of that place.

After a year working in the castle, things improved before getting worse. One of the three sisters, Cassandra, seemed to have some interest in you. You never thought that those three creatures had interests beyond blood and chaos, but for a moment, you thought you were wrong.

She approached you, laughing evilly, looking at you while you did everyday chores. Habit made your body miss those eyes when they weren't looking at you, miss that laugh when there was only silence in the castle.

An "I like you", a slight blush on her cheeks and a quick kiss were the closest thing to a confession of love that came out of her lips.

Scared by her presence, and despite yourself, attracted, you let her lips kiss yours, you let your body experience what it was like to kiss chaos itself, and you liked it.

Little by little you began to feel that beyond the blood there was a heart beating desperately for your attention, that those looks and laughs were the expression and confirmation that even the daughters of a Lord were capable of love.

You lived happily for a while. Cassandra paid attention to you, all the maids began to respect you and even the lady of the castle granted you certain privileges for, according to her, having captured the interest of her daughter.

You were in a dream, in a fairy tale. You became a wandering smile that began to see the light at the end of her dark future. But it didn't take long for you to realize that fairy tales were just that, tales.

When you couldn't be more in love, Cassandra began to lose interest.  Maybe if you had opened your eyes earlier, you wouldn't be in that situation.

But your eyes needed to see what your intuition was saying, and so it happened. You saw that the suspicions your mind was screaming at you were true.

Cassandra said you were hers, she did, but she had no qualms about flirting with other maids, whispering in their ears, chasing them down the halls, and, of course, not being careful that you didn't see her.

You believed, she said, everyone thought that Cassandra Dimitrescu was your girlfriend, they really did, you really did.

But the concept of commitment and fidelity was far from the chaos inherent in the young Dimitrescu. Deep down you didn't consider that way of thinking as evil or bad-intentioned.

You knew that she didn't make you suffer on purpose, she was just like that.

You tried to bear it, not to look at the marks on the necks of other maids. You tried to ignore it, to forget that you were hers, but she would never be yours.

The pain became unbearable and the love you felt for her began to fade away.

At that moment, just when you thought your life would be a curse, that there was no other solution than to wait patiently for Cassandra to pay attention to you, you met Donna.

The first time your girlfriend asked you to take some supplies to the old estate you even thought of running away, of never coming back. That thought left your mind as soon as it arrived; you would gain nothing, and you would lose everything.

Instead, you decided to fulfill the errand and approach the old mansion.

The rest of the Lords weren’t a mystery, but shadows that you never really managed to see. Of all of them, the village especially feared the inhabitant of that old house, Lady Beneviento.

You knew what she was capable of doing, you knew that her mind was sick, seriously injured, and that she was dangerous, very dangerous. The villagers often said that they no longer feared nightmares but the lady in black.

That day you arrived there trembling with fear, only to find a woman dressed in mourning, a woman who hid her face with a black veil, a woman who didn’t speak, whose presence evoked the night and the darkness itself.

You completed your task with a kind gesture, which was answered with a soft nod and a sharp slam of the door.

Even with that brief encounter, your head began to wander, to wonder. While you were washing dishes, cleaning a hallway, or while Cassandra was taking you, you could only see that black figure and theorize what kind of creature was hiding behind that black veil.

Over time, it became increasingly difficult to get the lady out of your head, and everything got worse when those errands became frequent.

You were unable to find out anything about her, but the slamming of doors was no longer common. Instead, Donna remained silent, looking at you, as if she were studying you, as if she wanted to check that you didn’t want to hurt her.

That apparent vulnerability sparked much more interest on your part, and you began to talk, to ask, to address that stoic figure.

Little by little those conversations moved inside the mansion. Your almost childish insistence on communicating with the lady was clearly a cry for help, a cry to forget for a moment the place you had to return to, and it worked, it worked too well.

The doll stopped being her speaker and her lips uttered a word for the first time, almost a whisper, a melodic one, impregnated with a soft and attractive accent: your name.

It was impossible to resist staying a little longer, to listen to her hoarse voice a little longer, and you simply let it happen.

She offered you tea, listening to any nonsense you had to say and answering briefly but nodding with interest. You didn't know why you were so interesting to her, until you eventually realized how alone she had been all that time.

You couldn't deny that you began to feel, to notice something more inside your chest every time you approached her, every time her pale hands touched yours when she served you tea.

Without wanting to, but without stopping it, you were falling in love with the lady in black.

One day, a day of tea and chat like any other, that black veil fell. It was removed with a gentle movement of her hands. Donna trusted you. She wanted to show herself as she was because it was inevitable to deny that she also felt something for you.

Donna was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her face was not stained with blood, her lips were not painted black. Her only eye shone without that yellowish evil you saw in Cassandra's. She was a truly beautiful woman.

The scar that the will of the Gods left on her face was one of her most horrible fears, one of her greatest insecurities. Her revelation was also a plea, a vote of confidence, of knowing if those feelings were worth it, or if you would end up falling off the cliff like her family did.

Your answer, your only answer, was a kiss. A tender, desperate kiss, the sudden capture of her lips with yours.

Knowing the consequences of entering someone else's territory, Donna accepted that forbidden relationship, just like you.

You may have felt these visits as an escape valve from your hardships at first, but you refused to see it that way. No, Donna wasn’t an escape from a place you didn't want to be, she was the place you wanted to be.

Yes, she was sick, she was crazy, but she was loving and attentive too. She smiled, she listened to you, she hugged you, she caressed you, she loved you.

You saw in her everything that Cassandra didn't have. You began to believe that it was what you really deserved, that Donna was yours, and you were hers.

The furtive kisses and caresses didn't last long. Something inside Donna made her resemble her adoptive family: jealousy, possessiveness.

She wasn't jealous of the world, she wasn't jealous of anyone who looked at you, she knew where the root of her sometimes abrupt and erratic behavior was: Cassandra.

Feeling displaced made her feel frustrated and, after making another confession to you, she took you for the first time.

Her face wasn't the only thing the Gods changed. Her body did too, enough to make her even more self-conscious. For you it was never a problem, for her, your natural reaction and your slightly mischievous smile was one more reason to love you madly.

For the first time in your life, you didn't squeeze your eyes shut. You didn't feel the need to repress the pain of some unpleasant scratches on your bare skin. All you felt were soft caresses, playful tickles on your skin, kisses that ran over your lips while your bodies moved anxiously.

Cassandra was the first, or so you thought until that moment. In reality, the first woman who truly loved you was Donna.

She made you feel comfortable, she gave you more pleasure than you could ever have felt, she told you she loved you, she whispered it in your ear while she took you slowly, not wanting to hurt you.

At first you felt guilty, you cried on her bare chest after your first time. A few kisses didn't mean that much to you, but having Donna inside you, making love with her for the first time, knowing what it was really like to feel loved, broke one of your emotional barriers.

Donna comforted you. She didn't scold you for having ruined that moment, for you feeling remorse. She understood you.

Time kept passing and the visits kept increasing. Any excuse was good to melt into her arms, to make love calmly or wildly, to feel like you had never felt before and to forget that you would have to return to the castle, that those arms wouldn’t always protect you.

After walking through the snow, without even realizing it, you returned to the castle. All the thoughts about how you met Donna and your miserable life with Cassandra had made your return a simple formality.

“(Y/N), you're back,” one of your companions, Irina, said. She was your best friend for a long time. Now, she was just another maid. “The lady was getting worried.”

You rolled your eyes, closing the doors and taking off your coat.

The heat of that castle, one that at first seemed pleasant to you, was uncomfortable, oppressive, and even more so after that tense moment with Donna, a tension that was increasingly common in your visits.

“I'm sure you all were very worried,” you said ironically, glancing sideways at the red mark on her neck, one that indicated that Cassandra had passed by there, probably tired of waiting for you.

The girl noticed what you were looking at and quickly covered herself with an apologetic smile.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry, she came over and…” she began to explain, making you snort and shake your head.

No, you didn't need to know what your girlfriend had done with her in your absence. It would probably be Cassandra herself who would tell you if she got bored.

“Cut the crap, Irina, I'm not interested,” you said in a dark voice, pushing the girl away with your hand.

“Yes, of course,” the young woman nodded, with an absurd bow, as if you were something more than her, as if you were a maid who has to be respected.

How ironic, not even your girlfriend respected you.

“Oh, there you are, I thought you had gotten lost, dear,” a deep and sensual voice appeared behind you, freezing your steps: Alcina Dimitrescu, lady of the castle.

“My lady,” you murmured with an elegant gesture, fearing that running away to your room and crying wasn’t going to be possible.

“You've taken your time, my dear, have you had any problems with Donna?” the tall woman asked, putting a hand on your back to gently push you to walk beside her.

“No, my lady, she...” you said, stopping to think about an answer, one that wouldn't raise more questions.

To Alcina, the relationship that seemed to exist between her daughter and you was real, pure and sincere. You didn't quite understand why Cassandra pretended in front of her mother. Maybe she was afraid of her, or maybe she was trying to protect you. You didn't want to know.

“Mm?” Alcina murmured arching her eyebrows, urging you to give an answer you didn't have.

“Well, she's had a breakdown,” you said without thinking, blaming poor Donna, blaming her mental illness.

You felt horrible for doing it, but you had no other choice. You didn't know the consequences of your mistress finding out about your affair.

“Gods…” the lady in white whispered, shaking her head. “Poor woman.”

“Um, I decided to stay with her until she was calmer. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds, my lady,” you said in a formal tone, looking down at the wooden floor, with the images of the previous passion sending confusing signals to your head.

“Oh, not at all, dear,” the woman said, with a grateful smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you, my lady,” you whispered, wanting to run, to insult yourself for having lied, for having accused the woman you loved of your delay. “Excuse me, my lady, I would like to retire to my room, I fear I have caught a cold,” you lied again, looking for any clumsy excuse to get away from her, from any Dimitrescu who got in your way.

“Of course, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you got sick, but... (Y/N), when you are done, I would like to ask you something,” the vampire said, walking faster, confirming that you had gotten what you wanted, to be alone.

“Fine, my lady.”

The bath you took was a blessing. The heat penetrated your body naturally and the water eliminated any remaining evidence of your infidelity.

Feeling the sweat leave you, how her kisses disappeared from your skin in the soapy water was more painful than other times. The lavender disappeared to impose on your skin the sweet aroma of the castle soap, making you forget every single sensation you felt when making love with your lover, her smell, the humidity of her home, the mark of her fingers caressing your skin…

Love, forget, serve, pretend, that was your daily routine. You could only do one thing: wait for the next week, long for Donna's hugs, for her body warming yours.

If you could bear the situation, it was because you knew you would return to her but… for how long? Was Donna right and one day you wouldn’t return?

The days passed slowly, too slowly. What Alcina wanted to ask of you was simple, but you were deeply grateful for it. She wanted you to have the privilege of tidying up the wine cellar, a place where no maid was allowed to enter. Of course, you weren't just any maid.

The task was especially pleasant. While you were down there, you wouldn't have to look askance at the necks of other maids looking for Cassandra's mark on them, and even better: she couldn't bother you.

It was too cold in that place for her to bear, which made your stay down there even comfortable.

But of course, what seemed like an advantage, a respite, a longed-for relief in your daily life, would bring unexpected consequences.

One night, in your privileged room, the atmosphere was heavy with uncertainty and a bad feeling prevented you from thinking about Donna, from longing for her.

“Wakey, wakey…” a shrill, yet whispering voice stalked your ear as a lump slid under the sheets.

The ferrous scent of those lips gave her away and her childish laughter confirmed your fears: Cassandra.

“W-what are you doing here?” you asked, startled by the intrusion, by some uncomfortable kisses that were beginning to run down your neck.

“What? (Y/N), I'm your girlfriend, remember? I've come to see you,” the young Dimitrescu said, sensually dragging her words while she moved the fabric of your pajamas aside to look for more places to play.

“Hey, I don't want to be rude but… why now? Didn't you say you wanted to have fun with other maids?” you asked delicately, without altering or removing her lips from your skin.

“Oh, don't be like that, silly, you know you're special,” Cassandra purred, pulling you a little closer to her.

Your heart was beating fast and your conscience was screaming to be heard.

You didn't know how much time had passed since she got into your bed, since she physically claimed you, but you knew it was enough to affirm that there was no kind of intimacy between you two, not anymore.

That lack of interest in having sex with you relieved Lady Beneviento. Knowing that you would never be physically hers again served as a consolation every time you had to leave. You promised her you would never sleep with Cassandra again.

Of course, to make that promise was a mistake. Chaos couldn’t be predicted, and you should have known that better than anyone.

“So you suddenly remembered that I exist?” you asked again, pushing her away, just as her teeth sank into your skin, making you hiss in pain. “I thought you weren't having fun with me anymore.”

“Don't be a whiner, (Y/N). I want to take you,” she said, climbing on top of your body, dominating you with kisses that weren't reciprocated, at least not voluntarily. “Hey! Why aren't you paying attention to me? Oh, you're not mad because I had fun with Irina, are you?”

“No, but…” you denied nervously, stopping her hands from scratching your skin under your pajamas while her hips moved anxiously. “Listen, Cass, I'm really tired and…”

“What's wrong? Has Mother made you work too much?” the young woman asked, it almost seemed like she cared about you.

“No, not at all, but I would prefer that…” you murmured, fleeing from her kisses and provoking a childish moan from the vampire.

“Hey, don't move! What are you doing? Are you rejecting me?” she asked impatiently, analyzing your gaze as if she could see behind it.

“No, I...” you said, containing the trembling of your body, the irrational fear that direct question and the answer your heart had produced in you.

Even though Donna was your lover and Cassandra was your girlfriend, you didn't feel infidelity in that way. Letting Cassandra take you was much worse than having sex with Donna. It was cheating on the only person who truly mattered to you.

Breaking your promise was for you the worst of deceptions, a betrayal of the doll maker's trust, a true infidelity.

But the pressure of those chaotic eyes looking at you, demanding answers, answers that would please her, made you forget any attempt to refuse and you simply sighed, staying silent.

“That's better, hun, hun,” the young Dimitrescu laughed, amused, breaking the straps of your nightgown with a quick movement and insisting on sucking, licking, biting your skin.

You closed your eyes so as not to see, but you couldn't help but feel. Every scratch, kiss or movement was terribly painful. She was having fun, but you only suffered, you could only think about Donna, that every second that passed, every hysterical moan that came out of Cassandra's lips, was one more stab in Donna's heart.

You could only act in that way, reciprocate, obey and let yourself go.

None of Cassandra's movements unleashed pleasure in you. Her kisses weren’t hot; they didn’t provoke sensations like Donna's did. Cassandra’s fingers inside you didn't feel like Donna’s erection sliding comfortably into your walls.

It was a rough act. You just wanted it to be over soon, for Cassandra to get what she wanted, and leave you alone.

Luckily, she didn't take long.

After noticing her absence, you ran to your private bathroom naked, looking at the marks your girlfriend left on your body, washing your hands, your face, everything her lips had touched. Unlike when you took a bath after seeing Donna, that time you hoped that the smell of blood and Cassandra's perfume would disappear from your skin.

You rubbed your arms, your neck, your lips, but it didn't disappear; she couldn't disappear from you.

Crying, you went back to bed, looking for a new nightgown to spend the night in, searching for some memories with Donna that would make you forget what you had done.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst thing was that the next morning you would have to go back to the Beneviento estate, you would have to see your lover.

You thought you had the strength to do it, to force her to close her eye while she made love to you and ignore the new details of your body.

You knew you couldn't do it, you just knew it.

“I've missed you...” Donna whispered when her arms protected you again, when her lips rested on yours again. “Tesoro...”

“Me too,” you answered, letting that romantic hug comfort your wounded conscience and make you forget what happened the night before. “Um, um... Donna...” you said unsure.

“Mm?” she asked, brushing your hair away from your face as she always did, smiling at having you in her arms again.

“I was thinking… that… that…” you stammered, deciding that maybe you should suppress your desires and not have sex, at least that day. “Well, the other day you told me that you wanted to play chess or teach me your recipes… how about now?”

“I thought that before…” she murmured, looking at you confused, blinking erratically. “I would like to make you mine first, tesoro.”

“Yes, well, I know, but it's that… well, it's that… I'm on those days, you know, and…” you lied without knowing how to do it, causing the lady in black to frown, suspicious of your words.

“Oh, you're talking about your period… I-I don't remember the last time I… well, I…” Donna hesitated nervously, with a slight blush on her cheeks, cheeks that you caressed amused.

“Don't be nervous, my love,” you joked, whispering in her ear, inevitably biting her earlobe. “Just think about it. It will be much better when I come back next week.”

“Mm.” She nodded unsurely, playing with your hair, with an air of disappointment in her eye. “Fine, let's do something different.”

“Good…” you said, sighing in relief, perhaps too relieved. “How about chess?” you proposed, clapping your hands in the air and approaching the corner where you used to have tea.

“Va bene,” the lady answered, smiling distrustfully.

“Hey! Chess? Come on! Let's play hide and seek!” Angie protested, comically tugging at your dress as you walked.

“Angie, lasciala estare,” her owner ordered, making the doll cross her arms with a snort.

“Hey! What happened to you?” Angie asked, pointing at you, pointing at your neck.

The puppet's tugs had shifted your uniform dangerously, revealing a red mark on your neck, one you wanted to hide.

“For Gods’ sake, Angie, shut up...” you growled, moving your clothes to hide the mark, something that of course didn't deter Donna from slowly approaching, removing the fabric again with a moan of shock.

“What's that?” she asked.

“What's what?” you asked back, nervous.

“I-it was her, wasn't it? She wasn't supposed to touch you anymore,” Donna murmured, clenching her fists on either side of her hips. “You promised me she wouldn't touch you anymore!”

You closed your eyes, feeling the pain of guilt, the sadness of a broken promise.

“Donna, it's not what it seems, I…”

“It's exactly what it seems, (Y/N),” she said, hissing, getting dangerously close to you and grabbing your arm tightly. “You fucked her.”

Vulgar words didn't usually come out of her mouth, Lady Beneviento was losing her mind, and that time, she was right.

“You don't understand, it's not what you think, I don't…”

“Lie to me again, come on,” Donna threatened, with a hatred in her gaze that made you shudder.

“What did you want me to do?” you protested, crossing your arms, letting a childish defensive attitude take over you. “Do you think I had another option?”

“There's always another option,” she added, shaking her head. “You told me that there was nothing physical between you two anymore.”

“You don't understand, Donna.”

“I don't understand? You've fucked her, you promised me that...”

“You think it's easy?! Huh?!” you yelled, frantic. “What right do you have to judge what I do? You don't know how things are.”

Donna laughed sarcastically, with her eye wide open and her knuckles white from the pressure.

“You're right, I don't know how things are, I don't know what happens when you leave, when you go with her,” the lady in black murmured, pointing at you with her finger, her breathing becoming more and more agitated. “But it's quite clear.”

She turned her back on you, but you grabbed her shoulder, which was pushed away with a grunt and a quick movement from the brunette. You desperately tried to reassure her, to make her understand that the night when Cassandra played with you didn't mean anything.

“Listen to me, Donna, please,” you said in a less brusque, more pleading tone. “It didn't mean anything, I didn't enjoy it, I didn't want to, I…”

“Shut up! Cazzo… shut up, shut up, shut up!” Donna shrieked as she kicked the floor furiously.

“Donna, you're scaring me,” you sighed, moving away from her little by little. “If you'd just let me explain…”

“I don't want to hear your explanations!” she shrieked again. “You've deceived me, you're a bitch.”

Anger and helplessness forced you to act irrationally, slapping the lady in black, causing a painful silence to reign in the old house.

“Shit, I…” you said regretfully, trying to get closer to her again. “I didn't mean to, I couldn't… Donna, I…”

The words tried to come out of your mouth, but you weren't successful, you had reached a dangerous limit, you were walking on the edge of a cliff, and the only hand that could save you was further away than ever.

Donna stared at you, mouth agape, with a hand on her cheek, without saying anything, transmitting all her hatred with a look, one that you would never, ever forget.

“Get out of my house,” the lady murmured, looking away from you while you looked at your hand, shaking your head. “Sei una bugiarda! I don't want to see you again!”

“Donna, please, listen to me, I beg you,” you pleaded, grabbing her shaking arm, being pushed away by a rough push that almost made you lose your balance.

“Don't touch me, bitch,” she hissed in an even darker voice. “You broke your promise... Get out of my house! Get out, get out, get out!”

“Donna, Gods...” you sobbed, shaking your head as she walked towards you threateningly.

It was the first time you were afraid of her, truly afraid.

“Donna, please...” you stammered, being grabbed by the arm and letting yourself be led towards the exit.

The lady pushed you, making you fall into the snow.

“Donna! Don't treat her like that! You're stupid, listen to her!” Angie protested, hiding behind a piece of furniture, avoiding the wrath of her owner.

“I thought we were something, that I was something to you,” the lady in black growled, with her hair moved by the winter wind, while you checked that you hadn't been hurt.

“You are, I, I love you...” you said with difficulty, shaking the snow off your body. “Donna, I love you.”

“Liar! Liar, liar, liar!” the lady screamed, stamping her feet again, out of her mind, completely mad, slamming the door shut with a thunderous noise that echoed in the mountains.

“Donna…” you sobbed, tears warming your cheeks.

Just as you expected, it was all over. You had broken your promise, you had condemned yourself to a life without Donna, without the only thing that kept you fighting, and it was all because of you, because of the fear of being brave, of confronting Cassandra, of asking the lady in black to take you in her arms, and rescue you.

That fleeting thought that maybe Donna would come for you, to fight for you, was the last hope that kept you going the following days, but she wasn't going, she wasn't there, there was only you, alone, with a woman who didn't love you, with the only one who did betrayed by your lies, by an infidelity that Donna wouldn't be able to forgive.

“Remember to label the wine correctly, (Y/N),” Alcina said, on one of the endless afternoons in the winery.

What was once a refuge became a prison, one in which you would be alone, far from Cassandra, but with your thoughts and regrets as your only company.

You were no longer the same. Your complexion had turned pale, dark circles adorned your sickly presence, since, at night, your only protection against your girlfriend was to keep the window open, to let the cold in.

Over time you became a ghost of what you were, the ghost of another ghost, a long and sad shadow that didn’t want to see the light if Donna was not next to you.

Alcina's soft voice caught your attention, but unfortunately you could only emit a sad sob. It was getting harder and harder for you to pretend, to act as if you hadn't lost anything, as if everything you wanted and needed was in that castle, and not behind the forest, in the old Beneviento Estate.

“Yes, my lady,” you murmured, earning a serious look from the lady in white, who left a bottle on the table, walking towards you slowly, threateningly.

“My dear... I can't help but feel that something is wrong with you,” she said in a low voice, putting a large hand on your shoulder, forcing you to hide the tear that was welling up in one of your eyes.

“No, my lady, everything is fine,”

No, nothing was fine. Without Donna, nothing would ever be fine.

“You lie terribly,” Alcina sighed shaking her head and pulling your wrist to bring you closer to her. “Gods, look at those dark circles under your eyes, you look awful, dear.”

“I'm sorry, my lady.”

“Tell me (Y/N), has Cassandra done something bad to you?” she asked, making you be alert again.

She had never asked such a thing, your nerves were about to explode.

“Of course not, my lady,” you answered with a false smile, which tightened her grip even more while she frowned, knowing, being convinced that, again, you were lying.

“You know I hate lies, young lady, now, you are going to dry your tears and tell me…”

“Sorry, my lady,” a saving voice appeared in the cellar, making the lady of the castle growl, making her finally let you go.

“Damn it, Olga, you know that you are completely forbidden to come down here,” Alcina protested, putting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sorry, my lady, but it's just that…” the girl apologized, looking down, with her hands shaking in front of her body.

“It's just that what!?” your mistress shouted, echoing off the old walls, causing you to automatically shrink.

“Lady Beneviento is here, my lady,” the maid explained, as best she could, with her voice trembling, just like her body.

Lady Beneviento. That name made you look up quickly, your eyes suddenly opened and you let out an involuntary gasp that caught Alcina's attention for a moment, making her look at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Donna,” you whispered.

Luckily, you managed to avoid your boss's inquisitive gaze by turning around and pretending to place the bottles correctly.

“Gods, why did it take you so long to say it? You are more and more useless every day,” the tall woman protested, rubbing her eyes with contempt.

“Sorry, my lady,” Olga apologized again, pointing to the stairs. “What do I do?”

“What?” Alcina insisted, with an arrogant tone. “Has she told you what she wants?”

“W-Well, her doll was talking about some unfinished business but…” the maid murmured, making you freeze in place.

Had she come for you? Would that be possible? No, it couldn't be, she hated you. She kicked you out of her house…

“Oh, I understand,” the lady in white sighed, with a soft laugh, but looking at you out of the corner of her eye again. “Always so shy… Gods, what does it cost her to call me to say that she wants to have dinner with me? Anyway, tell the others to prepare food for one more person.”

“Yes, my lady”

“And you… go for a dress, dear, we have visitors,” she said looking at you with a different sparkle in her eyes.

“My lady, I…” you said trembling, not wanting to face Donna, not wanting to be in her presence. Not in that castle, not where she would never be yours. “I would rather not disturb and…”

“Nonsense, you are family, dear. Go on, be good and put on something nice, I am convinced that Donna is very happy to see her… errand girl…” she said with her usual irony, one that you mistook for an accusation, making you feel guilty.

You had no choice but to obey, you couldn’t do anything else.

There, in the dining room, there she was: Donna, covered with her black veil, following you with her gaze while you sat in front of her, asking with your eyes, wanting to know the reason for her unexpected presence.

The Angie doll, unlike her owner, had no problem greeting you effusively.

“See, silly? We've come... Hey, what happened to you? You look like a ghost,” the puppet whispered to you in an indiscreet manner, but just before you could ask or speak, the three Dimitrescu sisters appeared next to their mother.

“Hello, hello...” Cassandra sang while the others politely greeted their aunt. “But what do we have here, my elusive girlfriend... It seems that you can't escape from me today, huh?”

As she spoke, your blood boiled more and more, her unconsented touch on your cheeks made you burn with pain, with shame, while she sat on your lap hastily, without the slightest decorum, kissing you passionately in front of your lover.

It couldn't be worse.

“Ahem, Cassandra, darling, show some decorum, will you?” Alcina corrected, causing the young woman to wink at you and stand up, letting you see how Donna tightly gripped her fork, and how Angie tried to soften the pressure.

You’d had awkward dinners, but that one, without a doubt, was the worst of all.

If it weren't for Alcina's pleasant chat with her sister, everything would be silent. You knew that Donna wasn't paying attention. She only saw how Cassandra made fun of you by feeding you dinner with evil laughter, or speaking to you in indiscreet whispers about what she was going to do to you as soon as Donna left.

The sound of a piece of cutlery falling to the floor interrupted that tense calm. Donna had dropped her spoon and you, as helpful as ever, bent down to pick it up under the table.

You discreetly handed her the fallen object, realizing that there was something in her hand, something she left in yours and that you squeezed tightly.

A note, or so it seemed. You didn't know what it contained, what it meant, whether it was an explanation, an apology, or an insult. You were dying to know, but you couldn't, not with Cassandra beside you.

Your brain worked very hard to ignore her non-consensual assault on your privacy, focusing on the best way to find out what that piece of paper contained.

Okay, the idea was stupid, but it was the best you could come up with given the circumstances.

“Oh, wow,” you said falsely, regretting having let the glass of wine spill on your formal dress.

You were a terrible actress.

“Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom,” you said hastily, abruptly removing Cassandra's hand from your leg and getting up from the table.

Nervous, you ran through the halls, pretending to wash yourself so as not to raise suspicions until, finally, you opened that paper.

I have come to fight for you, to take you home in my arms, amore mio.

I don’t want, nor can, live without you

I love you

You read it once, and again, and again. The smile lit up your dull face when you understood what Donna was doing in the castle.

At last, because of Angie or her own conscience, she had come to her senses. Donna had understood that you needed her, that you never wanted to hurt her.

It didn't mean that she had forgiven you for having cheating on her, but it was a written proof of what she felt for you. She would not give up easily and she had found the courage to fight for you, even risking invading Cassandra's territory.

“Oh, Donna...” you whispered, pressing the note to your chest. “Donna, Donna, Donna…”

The sound of distant footsteps brought you out of your euphoria. Was it her? Could you finally love her, really be hers?

“Donna?” you asked out loud, getting the echo of your voice as an answer.

“Mm, no,  wrong,” a mocking voice said, one you knew, one that made you quickly put the note in your pocket. “Are you blind?”

“Cass, I…” you said as you saw your girlfriend licking her lips, coming closer while laughing, like a predator stalking its prey.

“If you wanted to see me, you didn’t have to stain that pretty dress.”

“It was an accident,” you lied, moving away from claws that were going straight for your waist. “We should go back.”

“Why the rush? It was a very lucky accident, don't you think?” she purred, forcing you to crash against the wall, with no option to escape. “Mother and the others are busy with Aunt Donna, so... well, you and I can play...”

Her tongue on your neck burned like a hot iron. The love you felt for Donna forced you to feel disgust for your girlfriend's actions. No, she wasn't going to get what she wanted that time, not when you were so close to getting the life you deserved, a life with Donna.

“No,” you said in a whisper, opening your eyes and standing firm.

“Excuse me?” Cassandra questioned, as if you had said something extraordinary, something she never thought she would hear from your lips.

“I said… No!” you screamed, pushing your girlfriend back, forcing her to step back sharply with her eyes wide open.

“What!?” she screamed angrily. “What do you mean by no? Listen, you silly girl, you are my girlfriend and…”

“No, not anymore,” you hissed. “I'm sick of you… of you making fun of me every day. It's over…”

“Why do you say those mean things to me? You don't have to… You can't say those things to me!” Cassandra yelled kicking the ground angrily, like a capricious child.

“It's over, Cassandra,” you said confidently, holding the note tightly in your hands, gaining all the courage you never thought you had.  “You are a spoiled, pampered and capricious brat… you think you have the right to play with people, with their feelings… well, I'll tell you one thing… You won’t play with me anymore!” you said furiously, trembling with fear, but without faltering.

“How dare you…” the young Dimitrescu hissed in a dangerous tone, her gaze darkening more and more. “Well, I've been very patient with you, pet. Do you think I don't know that you leave your window open to avoid me, to laugh at me? You can't avoid me! You're my girlfriend! You're mine!”

“I'll never be yours!” you shouted back, with all your strength.

Those words were too much for the young woman, who approached roughly grabbing you by the collar of your dress, almost lifting you into the air.

“You're going to pay for it, pet… You're going to…!” she shrieked, raising her hand, about to punish you for your insolence.

Something prevented her from completing her action, a pale hand wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from moving, Donna’s hand.

The lady in black appeared to save you, pushing your now ex-girlfriend away from you with a furious growl.

“Donna!” you sobbed in the middle of a desperate cry.

“What are you doing? Stay out of this, Aunt Donna,” Cassandra said surprised, to which your lover paid no attention, walking quickly towards you and cupping your face in her hands.

“Tesoro... are you okay? Did she hurt you?” the lady whispered, checking your condition while you clung to her, shedding a sea of ​​tears on her shoulder.

“I'm fine, I'm fine because you came... you came for me...” you said sobbing, finding the comfort you so lacked, the pleasant warmth of her arms.

“Of course I came... Oddio... I'm so sorry... I behaved like a fool...” she whispered in your ear, melting into you in a sincere, strong, safe embrace.

“Hey! What's going on here?” Cassandra asked, with a disgusted look at you. “What the hell…? Oh, no, it can't be true…”

“Get away from her, I won't repeat it,” Donna threatened, placing you behind her body in a protective gesture.

“You? Are you trying to snatch what's mine? Mother!” the young woman shouted, moving nervously and trying to grab you again. “You bitch… you've been cheating on me! Now you'll really pay for this and…!”

The lady in black moved quickly, pushing the young Dimitrescu aside and slapping her with a blow that left everything silent, lost in the echo of the walls.

“But, but…” Cassandra protested, incredulous at what had just happened. “You hit me!”

The sound of fast heels alerted you. Of course, that commotion alerted the lady of the castle, who was running towards you, causing a sinister smile to appear on Cassandra's wounded face.

“Mother, mother, come, come!” her daughter shrieked with childish satisfaction, pointing at you. “Aunt Donna hit me.”

Alcina looked at you briefly, studying the arms that held you, your tears, with a cold face.

“Now you are going to pay for what you have done... you are going to... Ah!” Another slap crossed the young vampire's face, but it wasn’t Donna's, but her own mother's. “Mother?”

“You stupid spoiled brat...” Alcina hissed, with her teeth grinding, with a visceral hatred towards her own daughter. “How dare you treat a girl like that?”

“What? But, but, but she…” Cassandra protested, embarrassed and terrified.

“Oh, come on, do you think I'm stupid? I know perfectly well what you were doing to poor (Y/N). Tell me, girl, what have I done wrong with you? Haven’t I educated you on how to treat ladies?”

“But…”

“Silence!” Dimitrescu shrieked, making you shrink even further into the arms of your lover, who remained stoic, ready to protect you. “Gods… (Y/N), are you okay?” she asked in a motherly tone, but visibly upset.

You simply nodded, moving away from the hand that rested on your shoulder.

“Mother, it's not fair,” Cassandra protested, with tears in her eyes, tugging at her mother's dress.

“Shut your mouth and get out of my sight! It's clear that you need new lessons… Until then, you're grounded! Go away!” the matriarch shrieked, pointing down the hallway, where the young woman, turned into a tangle of flies, fled in terror.

The tall woman sighed and seemed to calm down, turning her gaze towards you and sighing exhaustedly.

“Donna, how disappointing…” she said in a kind but accusatory tone. “I must confess that I never imagined that you, of all people, would be capable of such a thing…”

The lady in black didn’t respond, she simply hugged you tighter. She wasn’t going to let you go, she would never let you go again.

“And you…” the lady in white said. “Oh, my dear… how could you? Cheating on my daughter with Donna… no, no, no, that is not right, my dear…”

“My lady, I…” you stammered as best you could, with a sore throat, with your heart about to explode.

“Shut up,” Alcina ordered you. “You are fired. Take your things and get out of my castle… Oh, and Donna, I'm sure you won't waste the chance to have a maid like her, will you?”

You both looked at each other. You didn't know if Donna was smiling, but you were; your face regained its full brightness when you realized what was happening.

Alcina wasn't firing you, she was setting you free, allowing you, and Donna, to form the life together you dreamed of so much. It was all too good to be true; you even feared it was just a dream.

But as you left the castle in her arms, in Donna's arms, as she promised you, knowing that you wouldn't come back, that you would finally be free to be with her, you realized that it wasn't a dream, but reality, a reality you finally wanted to be in.

[ilysungho]

hiii what do you think about the boynextdoor members + sad sex?? maybe they're aware you two are going to break up soon or know there is something wrong with the relationship (i honestly love angst)

i actually have some ideas but itd be great to hear yours too since you write amazingly

thank you so much for your compliments love! this is so different from all the other asks i've had, thank you for asking me this! i'd love to hear your thoughts too so please feel free to leave them any time, and let me know what you think of mine as well~ i wrote short scenarios for each of the members as i thought that was the best way to express the emotions. they aren’t as focused on the sex, but rather the emotions. leehan’s is inspired by this post!

contains: a lot of angst and sadness and tears, sad sex, husband!sungho x wife!reader, situationship!leehan x fem!reader, everyone else is in an established relationship (bf/gf), sungho/riwoo live with reader, lowercase intended

sungho - fixing a breaking marriage

there would be a lot of tears from both you and him, though not a lot of words are being exchanged as he holds you so impossibly close, yet still pulling you closer. bruised lips would show how much one means to the other as he gives you slow, deep strokes. eventually, he would be the first to break the silence, his words cutting through the sadness as he utters three simple words: i love you. and at that, you’d be crying harder than you already were, nodding while repeating those words back to him. he’d crack a small smile at you, relieved to know that you still care for him, at least enough to say the sentence back to him. you both know that both of you messed up somewhere along the line, but neither of you were ready to admit it. and as days went on, it felt like both of you were walking on eggshells around each other despite being married for 2 years, together for 5. his strong arms held you close as he started to be more vocal, asking you how it all feels so he can be better, not only at the moment but also as your life partner. he wanted nothing more than to stay as your husband, and he knows you reciprocate those feelings. so you tell him everything, through actions and words, for better, but not for worse.

riwoo - words that should've been left unsaid

"let's just break up then!" riwoo's voice echoes through the room as he stood up to leave. it was pretty normal for the two of you to have disagreements over small and meaningless things, the occasional arguments making way. yet it had never been as big as the current one you were both having. a little nagging turned into a course of reasons why he isn't being a very good helper around the house, which then turned into a screaming match between the two of you. neither of you knew why the argument became this extreme. he roamed around the park nearby as you sat on your shared bed in shock. you processed your pain and anger, ultimately deciding to take a leave for a couple days to really think things through, getting up to pack a light suitcase. about ten minutes after you began, riwoo comes back and is standing by the door frame with his eyebrows arching high. "babe i didn't actually mean it." he'd say as he tries to get you stop, only getting you to do so when he pulls you to him. "you're not going anywhere, you got that?" you're glaring at him the entire time, anger through the sky at the thought of that sentence slipping out of his tongue. he notices your expression at him not faltering, leaning in then to kiss you, apologizing to you continuously as he laid you down to properly convey his sorrys by giving you unforgettable pleasure.

jaehyun - closing the distance

he'd be very sad, hearing you say some things he never thought would come out of your mouth. jaehyun knew his schedule was too busy, yet he always tries to make time for you. days turned into hours, hours turned into minutes, and minutes turned into nothing. the distance between the two of you grew exponentially as he tried to juggle so many things at once. when you said that you were thinking of potentially breaking up with him because of how the relationship didn't even feel like what it's supposed to be anymore, he's on the verge of breaking down. it wasn't until you were at the door, questions with unanswered motives hanging over the two of you when he hugged you from behind, sobbing into your shoulder. jaehyun didn't want to let go of you, pleading you to stay with him as you tried to get his hands to loosen up. you turned around to face him, giving him a hard kiss full of requited pain and emotions. he'd kiss you through the tears, following your movements into his room as the kiss turned into more. you both hadn't been so close in a long while, but it felt like the right place to be in as he showed you his undying love for you in any way he could for the rest of the night.

taesan - instincts on point

if a relationship with you was something he didn't want to keep anymore, then he would've made it very clear. you know he would've told you that he can't be with you while also juggling all other aspects of his life. you know that, yet you still find yourself begging him to spend more time with you, to give you more attention, to properly communicate with you even. and the worst part of it all is that taesan knows it all. he knows it and that is why, the second before you could hit the send button asking him to break up with you, he's standing outside your main door, drenched in the rainwater and breathless. as soon as you open the door, he comes in and slams the door shut, kissing you hungrily against it before you could utter a word. he's pulling you in with him as he discards his wet clothes along with your nightwear. as you both reach the main bedroom, he's pinning you against the mattress as he says how he could feel something was wrong and came to ask you himself. you'd be shocked to see how strong his senses are, not saying anything as you pulled his face to your own to kiss him through your tears that finally spilled out, turning you both over so that now you are straddling him. "let me do this please," you say with a breaking voice, inserting his length into you while he pulled you down to kiss you again, unable to keep himself apart from you for too long.

leehan - end of an era

leehan held onto your figure, hugging your shoulders as the faint sound of the tv reverberated through the room. “let’s not meet anymore. this should be the last time we do.” well, those were the exact words leehan expected yet didn’t want to hear. he was… stunned to say the least, absolutely quiet as you looked at him to see any reaction he’d put on his face. being in a situationship was the hardest thing for you, especially when it was with someone like leehan who was practically perfect, yet far from it at the same time. “ok… i understand.” those weren’t the words he wanted to utter, yet he was afraid of fighting for you. he knew that if he stayed, it would all end up going wrong eventually. he had convinced himself of it and doesn’t even want to try to salvage what’s left of it. he knows he fucked up, he always does, but you are only doing what’s best for you and he respects your decision. he’s too in love with you for you to not choose what’s best for you. he’d hold your body close as you both share such intimate moments for the last time, kissing and letting sounds of painful love show through instead of direct words signifying the end of an era. an end of an era because of his denial of needing you, tears falling as he holds you one last time before letting go of all traces of you.

[luvst4rc0r3]

HII so idk what's going on with the whole pregnant reader thing but I feel like u stabbed me bcz why u gotta make it so sad😭 but I thought about the idea that after reader's miscarriage and Jinx takes in Isha, she gets a taste of what it's like to be a mom and it gives her the hope to try again. But then after Isha dies, everything all goes to shit again (events of act 3 play out), but then after Jinx gets out of jail and teams up with Ekko, she goes to reader and says something like "once this is all over, we're getting out of here." And they move to bildgewater together and have an actual child there in a more healthy and happy space :)) maybe for a time skip part but idk lol, anyway just thought I'd leave this here!! Live laugh love Jinx

request: Your “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

It was super interesting.

And also made me cry😭😭

Can you write a happy ending for it?

TY if you do

request:I'm gonna need a good ending where Jinx and r have the baby and live happily ever after because that last ask fucked me up😭😭😭😭

"But good things don’t always last forever"

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: DEATH, MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE!! WC: 3165

NOTE: erm I hope yall are ok now.

Summary: After a heartbreaking miscarriage, you fall into despair, but Jinx—determined to bring light back into your life—unexpectedly finds a little girl named Isha, who needs a family just as much as you both do.

PT.1

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The hideout was quiet. Too quiet.

Jinx hated it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing her leg as she watched you, curled up with your back to her, shoulders trembling under the blanket. You’d barely moved in hours. Days. It felt like weeks.

Jinx wasn’t great with words, but she knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make it better. The grief sat heavy between you, thick and suffocating. She wanted to tear it apart, blow it up, do something—but this wasn’t something she could fix with bombs or bullets.

So, she stayed. As much as she wanted to run from feelings, from pain, she stayed.

She reached out, brushing her fingers over your arm.

“Hey, toots…” Her voice was softer than usual. Hesitant. “Y’wanna get outta here? Just for a bit?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even stir.

Jinx sighed. She pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder before getting up.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered.

You didn’t respond.

Jinx wandered the streets of Zaun, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She hated seeing you like that. Hated knowing there was nothing she could do to take away your pain.

She needed to find something. Something that could help.

It had been weeks since everything fell apart—since the baby was gone. Since your heart had shattered into something unrecognizable. You barely left the bed, barely ate, barely breathed.

Jinx never said it, but you knew it scared her.

She’d always been the reckless one, the impulsive one, the wild one. But now, you were the one slipping away.

And Jinx? She didn’t know how to stop it.

So, she did what she always did when the world felt like too much. She ran.

Jinx wasn’t looking for a kid.

She was looking for a fight, for trouble—something, anything to pull her out of her head. Out of you and the way you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

But what she found was a girl.

Small. Filthy. Silent.

Fell on top of her while some guys chased her.

Once Jinx shot off the guys she crouched in front of her, frowning.

“Hey, shorty. What’s your deal?”

No answer.

The girl just stared.

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Oh, great. You’re broken too.”

Still nothing.

Jinx was about to leave—she wasn’t in the business of picking up strays—but then she saw it.

A fresh bruise, deep and purple, blooming along the girl’s cheek.

Jinx’s stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

She wasn’t good at this stuff. She wasn’t you. But you… you would’ve stopped. You would’ve helped.

And maybe, just maybe, if she brought this kid home, you’d look at her again.

Jinx sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“follow me or not. I don’t care”

She followed.

She studied the kid. Dirty, scared, alone. Just like she used to be.

Maybe… maybe this was it. The something she’d been looking for.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You didn’t know what to think when Jinx came home with her.

You sat up in bed, blinking blearily as Jinx strolled in, dragging a small, silent child behind her.

“Babe, meet Isha. Isha, meet Babe.” Jinx grinned like this was normal. Like she hadn’t just brought home a whole person.

You just stared.

“…What?”

Jinx flopped onto the bed beside you, throwing an arm over your waist.

“She fell on me. Didn’t say a word. Figured, y’know, she could use some better company. We could use some better company.”

You looked at the child.

She was thin. Too thin. Her hands were curled into tight little fists, her lips pressed together in an unreadable line. She looked… wary. Not scared, not trusting. Just waiting.

For what, you weren’t sure.

But you knew that feeling.

Jinx sighed against your shoulder. “You’re not mad, are ya?”

You swallowed. No. You weren’t mad.

You were just… tired.

But when you looked at Isha—really looked at her—something deep inside you cracked.

Maybe it was the way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Maybe it was the way she stood, stiff and defensive, like she expected you to tell her to leave.

Or maybe it was the way, despite all of it, she still stayed.

“…She can stay,” you murmured.

Jinx made a triumphant noise.

Isha didn’t react.

But when you got up and grabbed a blanket, draping it over her tiny shoulders, she didn’t flinch away.

That was enough.

For now.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first few days were quiet.

Isha barely made a sound. You barely spoke. Jinx bounced between watching you both like a hawk and blowing things up in the dead of night, like movement could stop her from thinking too hard.

But, slowly, something shifted.

It started small.

You’d wake up in the morning, roll over, and instead of being met with an empty bed, you’d find Isha sitting on the floor, drawing.

She wasn’t great at it—her little hands were too shaky, the colors smeared—but it was something.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you wanted to do something, too.

So, one day, you sat beside her.

She tensed—always waiting for rejection—but when you picked up a crayon and started drawing next to her, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she handed you a blue one.

That was the first good day.

Jinx practically vibrated with excitement when she saw the two of you, sprawled out on the floor, doodling nonsense.

“Holy shit, progress!” she cheered, flopping onto your back. “Babe, you’re alive again!”

You snorted, nudging her playfully.

“This is a miracle!” Jinx gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Someone get me a camera—this belongs in the history books!”

Isha watched Jinx’s antics with wide eyes, and when you turned to her, you swore you saw something flicker on her face.

Something close to a smile.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You couldn’t sleep much anymore.

ever since everything.

And tonight? Tonight was bad.

She woke up to the sound of you breathing too fast, fingers twitching in your sleep.

She didn’t hesitate.

Sliding closer, she brushed your fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Babydoll,” she murmured. “Wake up, love.”

you gasped awake, eyes darting wildly until they landed on her.

She didn’t say anything. Just held you.

Your arms wrapped around you tight—desperate, grounding—and for a while, you both  just stayed like that.

Then, small movement.

You looked up.

Isha stood in the doorway, blanket clutched in her hands, staring with wide, uncertain eyes.

Jinx let out a breath, forcing a smirk. “Hey, shortstack. Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Isha hesitated, then shook her head.

You lifted the blanket, silently inviting her in.

For a moment, she stayed frozen. Then, carefully, she climbed onto the bed, curling up between you both.

Jinx snorted. “Well, well. Looks like we’re officially outnumbered.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s hair.

And for the first time in forever, you slept through the night, peacefully.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with a rainy day.

Zaun’s skies were always grim, but today, the rain came in heavy, flooding the alleyways and making the apartment feel even smaller.

Isha sat by the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. Her little fingers traced them, following each droplet with quiet concentration.

Jinx groaned dramatically, sprawled upside down on the couch, legs hanging over the backrest. “I’m bored.”

You smirked, looking up from your book. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” she shot back immediately, flipping onto her stomach. “Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my job.”

Jinx gasped, hand over her heart. “Wow. Rude.” Then, she perked up, eyes gleaming. “Wait. I got it.”

She jumped to her feet, startling Isha, who turned and blinked.

“Pillow fort.” Jinx grinned, pointing dramatically at you. “Right now.”

You raised a brow. “Aren’t we a little old for—”

Jinx was already tearing cushions off the couch.

Isha watched her with wide, curious eyes.

Jinx caught her staring and grinned. “Whaddya think, shortstack? Wanna help?”

Isha hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Jinx let out a victorious whoop! and tossed a blanket over her head. “Welcome to the chaos, kid!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Within half an hour, the living room was transformed.

Blankets draped over chairs, cushions stacked like castle walls, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It was warm, cozy, perfect.

Isha crawled inside, eyes wide as she ran her hands over the soft fabric.

Jinx flopped down beside her, arms behind her head. “Not bad, huh?”

You sat across from them, watching as Isha slowly, carefully, curled up between you both.

For the first time all day, she relaxed.

Jinx smirked, nudging you playfully. “See? Told you it was a good idea.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. You win.”

Jinx puffed out her chest. “Damn right I do.”

Isha watched your banter, something soft in her expression. Then—carefully, hesitantly—she reached out and took your hand.

Your breath caught.

She turned to Jinx, then did the same.

Jinx’s eyes widened.

Neither of you spoke.

You just squeezed her tiny hands, warmth blooming in your chest as the rain pattered softly outside.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with Jinx.

Because of course it did.

She thought it would be hilarious to put blue dye in your shampoo.

You stepped out of the bathroom, dripping wet, staring at her with murderous intent.

Jinx, sprawled on the couch with Isha in her lap, burst into laughter.

“Oh—oh my god—babe, you look—” She was wheezing, wiping tears from her eyes. “I—I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Isha, sitting innocently beside her, covered her mouth, eyes shining with amusement.

You crossed your arms. “You think this is funny?”

Jinx gasped for breath. “Babe, c’mon, you’re literally blue!”

Isha let out a small, breathy giggle.

You smirked.

“Alright, Powder,” you said sweetly. “Game on.”

Jinx’s laughter stopped.

“���Wait.”

By the end of the week, it was war.

You switched Jinx’s sugar with salt.

She short-sheeted the bed.

You put hot sauce in her morning coffee.

She filled your boots with glitter.

Isha, watching the chaos unfold, was delighted.

And then—

The prank truce.

Because somehow, somehow, Isha got caught in the middle.

Jinx had set up an elaborate bucket trap for you, but you weren’t the one who walked through the door.

Isha did.

The bucket tipped.

Flour everywhere.

A long, long silence followed.

Jinx paled. “Oh. Shit.”

Isha, completely dusted in white, blinked.

You braced for tears.

But instead—

She grinned.

Then, the softest, most mischievous giggle bubbled out of her.

Jinx gasped. “Babe.”

You were already smirking. “She’s one of us.”

Jinx wiped a fake tear from her eye. “I’m so proud.”

And just like that, Isha became the ultimate prank war champion.

You had created a monster.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Your life finally feels complete again.

For weeks you felt alone and scared. 

Scared that you failed Jinx.

You saw Jinx actual feel like she has a purpose again.

But then—

when you both were finally settling in your guy’s new life.

she was gone.

But now—

you guys have Isha

finally feel full again.

but good things don’t always last forever.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It happened too fast.

One second, you were all together—fighting, running, surviving.

The next—

Isha was holding a gun.

Your breath caught in your throat, legs moving before your brain could catch up.

Jinx screamed.

“Isha!”

Jinx lunged.

She almost made it.

Almost.

Isha’s eyes met yours—And then—

She was gone.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

And then—nothing.

Silence.

it wasn’t fair.

Not again.

Not her.

Not your baby.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Everything burned.

Piltover was drowning in smoke, fire licking at the streets, sirens screaming in the distance. The air was thick with dust and blood, and the world felt like it was cracking apart.

And maybe it was.

Maybe you were.

Jinx stood beside you, gun smoking, eyes wild. Her fingers twitched on Fishbones, but her grip was steady. It always was in a fight.

She turned to you, breath ragged, face smeared with dirt and sweat.

“Once we’re out,” she rasped, voice raw from screaming, “we’ll get the life we always wanted.”

You swallowed, gripping your own weapon, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Jinx—”

“I mean it.” She reached for you, gripping your wrist like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “No more running. No more fighting. Just us, babe. We’ll leave. Start fresh. We’ll have—”

She choked on the words.

But you knew.

She meant Isha.

She meant family.

She meant the life that was stolen from you both.

Your throat tightened. “Jinx…”

“I swear.” Her eyes burned, desperate, pleading. “Just hold on a little longer. Please.”

You exhaled shakily.

Then—slowly—you nodded.

Jinx let out a breath, pressing her forehead to yours.

For a moment, just one, the war didn’t exist.

It was just you and her.

Like it used to be.

Like it could be again.

If you survived.

If you made it out.

Jinx pulled back, smirking despite the blood on her lip. “C’mon, babe.” She lifted Fishbones. “Let’s finish this.”

And so, you did.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The war ended in fire.

You made it out.

Barely.

With nothing but your weapons, the clothes on your backs, and the weight of ghosts in your hearts—

you both flew away.

Flew away from the wreckage. From the war. From everything.

And when you stopped running—

You were in Bilgewater.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first thing you noticed was the salt.

Bilgewater smelled like the sea—like salt and spice and damp wood. The docks groaned under the weight of ships, traders shouting over each other as people bustled past.

It was chaotic. Loud. Messy.

It was perfect.

Jinx stretched, arms high above her head, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Smells like fish and crime,” she said, grinning. “I love it.”

You snorted. “You would.”

She turned to you, nudging your side. “You sure about this, babe? New place, new start—no more blowing stuff up for fun. You ready for that?”

You exhaled, looking out at the ocean.

The wind was soft here. The sun actually touched your skin instead of hiding behind smog.

You turned back to Jinx, taking her hand in yours.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m ready.”

Jinx’s grin softened.

She squeezed your hand.

“Then let’s go home.”

It wasn’t much.

Just a small shack near the docks—rickety, barely standing, but yours.

Jinx spent weeks fixing it up, scrounging for parts, muttering about “engineering genius” and “making this place badass.”

You just watched her work, heart full for the first time in what felt like forever.

Because she was happy.

You both were.

No more war. No more running.

Just waking up with Jinx tangled around you, her hair messy, her breath warm against your neck.

Just late nights on the rooftop, watching the waves, talking about nothing and everything.

Just peace.

And one day, as Jinx lay beside you, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm, she whispered—

“We made it.”

You turned to her, brushing blue strands from her face.

“We did.”

She smiled, soft and real, and for the first time in a long time—

There were no ghosts.

No war.

No grief.

Just you and her.

And the life you always wanted.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Bilgewater had been home for a couple months now.

The war was a distant memory, just a story told in whispers between you and Jinx when the nights stretched too long and the past felt too close.

Life had settled.

Jinx still tinkered, still got into trouble, still stole things just because she could. But she was happy. She laughed more, slept easier, held you like she was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

And you?

For the first time in your life, you were at peace.

But something was missing.

Something you and Jinx didn’t talk about out loud—not for months, not after what happened.

Then one night, as you both lay tangled on the couch, a storm raging outside, Jinx spoke—soft, hesitant.

“…Do you ever think about it?”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant.

You turned to her, fingers brushing absentmindedly through her blue strands. “Every day.”

Jinx swallowed.

She sat up, looking at you—really looking—and her voice was barely a whisper when she said—

“What if we tried again?”

Your breath caught.

Jinx rushed ahead before you could answer.

“Not—not to replace her,” she stammered. “Never that. Just… I dunno. We had a good thing. A great thing. And I think we could—” She exhaled sharply, eyes darting away. “Forget it. Dumb idea.”

You caught her chin gently, making her meet your gaze.

“It’s not dumb,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

Jinx blinked.

Then—slowly—her lips curled into a small, hopeful grin.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

BONUS!!!!!

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It took time.

But one day, finally, you held her.

Tiny. Fragile. A weight so light it barely felt real in your arms.

You stared down at the baby, throat tight, heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Jinx hovered beside you, practically vibrating.

“D’you think she’s defective?” she muttered.

You snorted. “Jinx.”

“She hasn’t said anything.”

“She was literally just born.”

Jinx huffed, poking the baby’s cheek. “Still. I expected more personality.”

The baby let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

Jinx melted.

“…Okay, that was kinda cute.”

You shook your head, smiling. Then, quietly, you whispered—

“Isha.”

Jinx froze.

The boat went silent, save for the distant sound of the waves against the docks.

You looked up, meeting Jinx’s eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—slowly—Jinx exhaled, her lips curling into something small, soft.

She reached out, tracing a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny fist.

“Isha,” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Like it was something sacred.

You nodded, eyes stinging.

“She deserves to be remembered…both kids need to be remembered”

Jinx swallowed, blinking rapidly.

Then, suddenly, she grinned.

“Well,” she said, nudging your shoulder. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t start a prank war.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s tiny forehead.

“No promises.”

Jinx smirked.

Then she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours, whispering—

“We made it.”

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “We did.”

And as Isha let out a tiny yawn, curling into your chest, the past finally let go.

The war was over.

The ghosts were gone.

And the life you always wanted?

It was here.

It was real.

And it was yours.

I love making angst and fluff stories!! They are so fun to craft!!

I want sleep.

[random-blurbs]

Lingering Feelings

caleb x reader

Laying down you heard his soft breaths right across from you. You couldn't believe he was right in front of you.

Your hand hovered over his mouth slightly agape as you felt his breath meet your palm.

He was alive and healthy. Yet he was different. So different than your Caleb. He still made sure that you were well taken care of. The bedroom you two share he fixed it where it resembled the one you had in your previous apartment. Living in a familiar room with the man you grew up with and love its strange. The feeling in your chest wouldn't go away. You are happy and you know it. But the pit in your stomach wouldn’t go away. And you desperately want it to.

Opening his eyes you pulled your hand back quickly as a knowing smile grazed his lips. “How long were you awake for?” He whispered out letting out a small yawn. “Not long just thinking.” He raised his eyebrow already catching the stress on your face. The furrow of your brow and as you bit your lip nervously he reached out trying to give it a rest. Already seeing the cuts littering them as he sat up concerned cradling your face. “Obviously not. Why don’t you tell me?” Even though it was a question it was more like command. Fitting his new persona.

A persona that is confusing you. He’s concerned for you as always but the commanding tone he takes. It scares you. “I still can’t believe it’s you.” You mumbled out holding onto his hand tighter as you took in his face. The same eyes that always held care for you. “What would make you believe me?” He tried helping your process in accepting him but your body wont let you.

Shaking your head you slightly pulled away from him leaving him hurt as he reluctantly put his hands away from you. “I don’t know it’ll probably just take awhile. I mean you understand right?” You cautiously said. He shook his head as he gritted his teeth. “I’ve been trying y/n.”

“It’s been months and you somehow refuse to accept me.” He was desperate as he tried looking for a in. But you had to look away if you saw the sadness in his eyes you would somehow cave. And he knows it.

“But you were supposed to be dead!” You finally yelled out. Frustrated that you had let it go months ago when you first saw him glad he was in front of you. “Don’t you get it! I grieved for you, I couldn’t sleep, eat, function, because I lost you!” You cried out as you see the flurry of emotions pass through his face. Your body felt too hot to be laying finally getting up, to get away from him. Your mind was reeling as you felt your breathing quicken. “You were gone, I lost my best-friend, my lover…”

It was strange.

On that day of the explosion you knew what you wanted. And you were tired of beating around the bush with him. You were practically always by one another’s side keeping any potential lovers away from one another. Kissing his cheek on graduation day was the seal that you thought he would take advantage of. But no he stayed at that. Just best friends helping each other keep potential lovers interests away.

“Do you not see me as anything more?” You had asked him tugging at your torn arm sleeve nervously.

“Hm? What’s gotten into you.” He jokingly said looking back at you. You bit your lip nervously as you thought of the consequences that might follow if you actually go through with it. “I’m not kidding Caleb! I actually want to talk to you about this.” You desperately said which he immediately fixed his attitude for. The playful glint left his eyes as he carried a concerned expression. “I’m sorry y/n. You can tell me I’ll listen.” You were grateful he was able to make you feel heard but feeling heard right now might be the death of you.

“Do you think we can be something more?” You nervously said as your expression fell to the floor not wanting to see anything disappointing on his face. “W-what do you mean?” Letting out an exasperated sigh you couldn’t believe he wasn’t getting it. “I want to be your girlfriend you idiot or at least try dating!” You finally confessed gathering your strength to look at him. His expression had you stunned.

The confident Caleb you had always known who was never thrown off by your quick remark.

He was standing there his ears tinged red as he had one of his hands over his face trying to hide his expression. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Getting more confident you got closer to him as he turned his head away from you. “I do! I’m 100% in I just need to know if you are-umph!” Stumbling back you were surprised as you felt his soft lips against yours. The taste of iron had filled your tastebuds as you realized you made yourself bleed earlier. He didn’t seem to mind as he tilted your head back deepening the kiss not letting you have any control. And you didn’t mind. You love him. You learned that way too late.

The craving he had for you was unstoppable. He just needed the confirmation from you all these years. He was glad you did it now he didn’t know how long more he could’ve waited. But as he felt every part of you the warmth he craved is right in front of him now.

Finally pulling away from him you were breathing heavily as you felt your face hot with embarrassment. “Dammit!” Hiding your face with your hands you hear him laugh at your antics. “You can’t be embarrassed now, we’re going to do so much more than kiss-.”

“It’s not that!” You cut him off as you got annoyed that he thinks you couldn’t handle a simple kiss. “It’s the fact I wanted a cute confession or something from you but you just had to take your sweet time!” Laughing at you again he pet your head lovingly as you see him openly look at you with so much love. The sight filled your own heart with even more love.

“Ok I’m sorry I’ll set up an amazing jaw-dropping confession that you’ll forget that you even confessed me in such a desperate way.” Rolling your eyes you shoved him forward towards the house as he continued to laugh. “Whatever it better be the best thing I’ve seen.”

“Don’t worry I don’t plan on disappointing you. Now hurry up or you’re not getting anything!”

You wanted the feeling to last forever. You got practically everything you’ve wanted.

And just as quickly it was ripped away.

You couldn’t believe it. You had him. You were holding him. He was so close to you. And yet you lived. That thought had you wailing in pain as no one can bring you comfort. You lost those you wanted to protect. You lost your future with him and you just had him.

“You wouldn’t get it Caleb! I thought I lost everything, you became my everything!” You cried out as Caleb stood there guiltily.

Logically you know you shouldn’t be mad at him he told you the reason why. But everything that came after, that man you confessed to is gone. And that killed you because you still love him.

“I’m so sorry y/n if I had known everything from the start things would be so different. You wouldn’t be hurting like this.” He took careful steps towards you as you held yourself trying to soothe your shaking body. The anger, the guilt, the despair was tearing your body apart. He pulled you into his chest as you weakly grabbed his body not wanting to let go. Scared that if you push him away again he’ll leave. “But I’m here now and I’ll make it all right ok? I promise you y/n I will never hurt you like that again.” You shake your head at his words knowing where it’s going.

“Don’t make those promises Caleb, if you make that promise I swear-.”

“But I am.” Cradling your face he lifted it towards him the pain in his eyes were unforgettable as he tried soothing you. “I promise you I will never leave you like that again. I will do anything to keep you safe. I’ll do anything you want and I’ll get you everything you want.” Pressing light kisses over your face you closed your eyes trying to take everything in. Ingraining it into your memory as you remembered that the kiss you once shared was leaving your memory, you no longer remembered the feeling, his eyes, his smile and the thought had you dying. You want to remember it all.

“Don’t do that.” His voice was firm as the determination in his eyes was familiar. He knew you too well. “I won’t leave you with these memories. We’re going to make new ones over and over again. And you’ll remember it all.” You smiled at him sadly as he pinched your cheek pulling you out of your sadness monetarily. “What the-.”

“Let’s go.” Pulling your hand towards the closet he pulled out a sweater and threw it at you. “What are you doing?” You asked but without missing a beat you put it on. “We’re going out. We’re starting this right now.” He said confidently with a cheesy smile. He fixed your hair for you quickly smoothing it out as he tugged you towards the door. “Caleb it’s 5am what’s even open?”

He looked back at you and that smile of his. You forgot how much you missed it as your eyes widened. “Have I ever disappointed you-.”

“Yes.”

“Let me talk!” Chuckling you smiled at him fondly as he seemed disappointed that you messed with his speech.

“We’re going to make memories every day, every hour, every minute, and I promise you I’ll make up every minute of pain I brought you.” His hand left yours as he brought up his hand towards you. And he was standing there sweetly with his pinky up. “Really?”

“It’s not a promise unless we seal it.” Wiping your tears away sweetly with his other hand you interlocked your pinkies as he smiled at you not planning to let you go. No matter what he’ll keep you away from the painful world and keep you here where you can be happy; with him.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Lmk au idea.

Wukong isn't MK's teacher. At least, not in the same way he is in the show.

In this idea I had randomly pop into my head I'm thinking that Wukong had gone above and beyond simply vanishing for 500 years and hiding out on FFM. He straight up changed his identity and went into hiding as a mortal. He says fuck off to being a demon god, fuck off to all the gods and celestials and all his titles. He retires, fully and completely, passing his crown off to his Stalwarts and just becomes a wanderer traveling around, doing odd jobs and never staying in one place too long.

At some point over the centuries he ends up back in the village that he left his staff in, or rather, whay it became. A sprawling metropolis of a city that a person trying to disappear can easily do so. He set up shop, having had many hats over the years he's able to easily pick up a humble job nobody would blink twice at. Mechanics are always sorely needed in large cities after all.

One day at his shop a hauntingly familiar fave appears at his doorstep. Pigsy's truck had broken down while he was out with baby MK on a supply run and Wukong's shop had been the closest mechanic they could find. Wukong could sense something was special about MK, but not what or why and after he fixed up the truck he spent the next hour or so reminding himself that he is not Sun Wukong anymore, he is not part of that life anymore. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wukong's mechanic work was something Pigsy liked, a lot. The truck was running smoother than if ever did before and the price was a steal! Wukong quickly became the favorite mechanic shop for Pigsy's Noodles and MK began to show up more often at the mechanic shop (he crashed a lot of stuff ok). Wukong ends up becoming the cool mechanic dude who helped teach MK how to mod his hoverboard and would often drop cryptic but helpful advice to the kid, Wukong having settled with the idea that he can look after the kid at least since it doesn't look like Zu Baijie's decendant or the kid were going to go away anytime soon. This led to meeting Tang and Mei, which were... experiences. And Wukong just ends up being a family friend to the Noodle Gang who likes cold vegetarian noodles.

Then a Hero is Born happens. Wukong hadn't been there for that experience. He was "on a supply run" when DBK was freed, he was in a different town entirely. So he wasnt physically present when MK became the Monkie Kid. It doesn't mean he wasn't completely uninvolved, though. Wukong isn't stupid, he knows DBK would eventually be freed, and he also knew it was possible someone else would pick up his staff. Afterall the staff had chosen him, not the other way around. It isn't unfeasable to imagine it'd pick another now that it's owner has put it down. Plus it isn't entirely impossible to imagine whoever it is would seek him out, he was the last known person to wield the Ruyi Jingu Bang after all.

He left a series of visions and astral projected recordings in his cave. The first being triggered should anyone breach his cave, the vision MK first sees when he enters Water Curtain Cave, only it doesn't stop at Wukong just running off. The projection speaks.

Wukong's recording. Looking as laid back and amused as can be: If you're seeing this, congrats! You got past my unstoppable barrier! Unfortunately I'm afraid that you won't be able to find me, as I would have been long gone from this place and am retired! So if your here for an autograph I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.

MK: WHAT!?

Wukong's recording, becoming serious and almost sad: If you are a friend, however. I want to say I'm sorry, but please don't go seeking me out. I am hanging up my crown and title as the Great Sage and the Monkey King, and I don't not wish to be disturbed. Over the centuries I've come to realize my whole life I've done nothing but hurt the people I care about, so... for everyone's sake... I'm disappearing so that I can't hurt anyone again. Ever. And if you find my staff, I'm sorry I can't be there to help you. But I'll give you a piece of advice I learned, believe in yourself. Even just a smidge can make all the difference.

MK is gobsmacked at the thought that Sun Wukong had just up and left like that, that he's been gone for a long time and won't be able to help. He decides if Wukong wasn't there to be a hero anymore, he'd do it for him. Just a smidge makes a difference, right?

And so the Monkie Kid becomes the Monkie Kid. Over the next season or so he struggles a lot with his powers, not having a proper mentor. See, unlike the rest of the Noodle Gang, since Wukong wasn't physically present when MK became the town hero he isn't ever explicitly told it's MK. MK literally just forgets to mention it to him, but he does his best to help where he can. Giving advice where he can.

Most everything else was done without his input, altho MK did find it weird that the Calabash seemed to think his mechanic friend was the Monkey King. It's the first hint he ever has that Wukong was not as he seemed, but he write it off as him simply thinking of Wukong as a mentor figure since he's always been supportive and gave helpful advice and the Calabash substituting the Monkey King for Wukong.

Even the Macaque episode was done mostly without his input, altho a certain black furred monkey was not happy that his attempt to lure Wukong out didn't work at all. Wukong had been busy with renovations to expand the shop at the time, thus where the "step into the strike" advice came from since MK had been helping Wukong with tearing down the wall.

The big reveal about Wukong being the Monkey King only happens during Revenge of the Spider Queen, when Wukong has no choice but to step in as the Monkey King. And believe me, he is absolutely not happy about the matter. He doesn't run away once everything is done and over, but it's very clear that he is upset by the way he avoids everyone and jsut sits curled up on the rooftop. When asked why he never told them, especially knowing MK was using his staff, he first points out MK had never explicitly told him about the whole Monkie Kid business so he had no reason to "know" anything about it. Then he jsut points to the destroyed city.

Wukong: This is what happens everytime the Monkey King appears. Destruction, death, and chaos. I didn't want to be that anymore.

This spun off from a convo on how Wukong likely felt abandoned by his mentor(s), beginning with Subodhi, the allies he made in Heaven before the war, Guanyin, and even Tripitaka when the monk passed.

Wukong, going by just "Wu", drifting along the centuries living a mortal life. Packs up and leaves whenever conflict or war breaks out, or when people start to get suspicious.

His number one rule? Never get attached. Never again...

He becomes a mechanic (a real "grease monkey" if you will). Although he loves medicine and herbalism, it simply has too many paper trails. Also cars are fun to tinker with and don't talk back most of the time. Less likely to make a connection.

He eventually returns to the village where he lay his Staff down for good. Just seemed right coming up to the 500 year anniversary of one of his biggest regrets. The village has since become a sprawling mega-city, open to humans and demons alike. There he plants his roots.

The biggest shock of his life comes when he sees his brothers faces and souls all over again. Three in new bodies, and one in the same. A certain fish demon had pretended he didnt recognise him, and Wu returned the courtesy - seems he wasn't the only one from the old days to retire.

He wonders if it was the right decision to settle in Megapolis...

Until the day Pigsy knocks on Wu's shop, breathless and carrying a wiggly baby human (?). His food truck had given up the ghost and the cook desperately needed repairs asap! Wu simply couldn't turn him away.

Through the conversation and the repair process, the wiggly baby maybe-human had stared at the monkey demon with absolute wonder. Wu isn't sure why until he overhears the cub blabble something into his father's ear.

MK: "Mon-ken." Pigsy, fond sigh: "No MK, that's not the Monkey King. He just looks like the drawing in your Baba's book." Wu, nearly drops the truck on himself: "Eh?" Pigsy, little embarassed: "Oh! Sorry. The piglet is convinced that you're the Monkey King. My partner researches mythology and stuff, and he fills the kid's head with all sorts of ideas." Wu, rolls out from under the truck with a cheeky smile: "It's no problem. You'd be surprised how often I get mistaken for him! Think its the fur." (*Wu shares a glance at MK, the baby human is still staring at him unconvinced. Wukong makes a unsubtle shush motion and winks - causing the little human to wiggle once more with joy. Pigsy sighs fondly once more, knowing that the boy will most definitely hold this moment dear throughout his childhood*)

With that one chance meeting, Wukong breaks his number one rule; Never get attached.

It's not his fault he fixed the truck so good that Pigsy became a loyal customer! And the pig demon began tipping him with free cold vegetarian noodles. And that the scholar at the shop and him started info-dumping together! And that the little human began seeing him as a beloved uncle...

Oh yeah. Wu is in too deep. Hopefully nothing too chaotic happens within the next few years or so >:3

You can say a certain monkey demon nearly had a heart attack when he learned that someone had finally taken up his Staff - and that it was his little buddy!! Also Sandy is back in the gang, so they can't pretend that they dont know each other for long.

Wu would *like* to step up and reveal himself as the Monkey King to MK - but he feels that would just make things so much worse. The kid's trust in him would shatter immediately. So it's better to leave his projections on FFM to do the physical training, and for Uncle Wu to provide him with much-needed emotional guidance.

Sharing this dm you sent in particular based on the "Macaque" episode cus it's a tasty piece of dialogue:

MK: "Is it really better to focus your power into every attack?" Wu: "Hm, that's a lonely way of thinking. And dangerous. Look at this hammer I use for example, it's strong but if I'm not careful an just bang away at metal, it'd hit hard but it'd cause more damage to myself and the people around me. But if I were to... step into the swing so to speak and not depend on the hammer but rather my own strength, it's easier to control and has less risk of hurting myself."

He had been doing renovations on the wall to expand his business at the time, thus why he was banging at the wall with a hammer.

Eventually the episode ends with Macaque calling desperately out to the battlefield - almost begging for his king to reappear. The shadow monkey is so occupied in his despair and anger that MK manages to slip free and reclaim his power.

MK promptly bullies Macaque into actually mentoring him. Macaque chuckles at the nerve of this kid, and agrees - but only as a truce until Wukong returns. After that, Macaque expects a rematch.

Unironically loving this AU

[pumpkinpenguin]

okay so i was talking to my sister abt this but i'm kind of heated over it now and must share it with the 10 of u that i keep in my echo chamber

i love evil 2012 donnie aus. he's such a creechur and i think he should be able to commit crimes. as a treat.

however.

i HATE evil donnie aus where he's emotionless and/or turns on his brothers.

donnie is emotionally driven and he doesn't hide what he's feeling. excitement, anger, sadness; if he's feeling it you'll know he's feeling it. a lot of his mistakes/the trouble he gets into is because he's having an emotional outburst of some kind or he's thinking with his heart over his head. he's also incredibly anxious and high strung. if something goes wrong it could ruin his whole day. if donnie were to be evil and not hold back anymore, he'd be the most unhinged villain ever with emotions that switch faster than a spirit box surfing through radio channels, and they'd be intense as well. this could be said for rise donnie as well, to be honest, and there's a conversation to be had there about autistic characters who are awkward and standoffish getting turned into emotionless and stoic villains, but that's not what i'm here to talk about atm.

when it comes to why he would snap, i think it would probably have to do with feeling rejected by humanity. donnie didn't ask to be the way that he is, a mutant turtle, but he's punished for it anyway. it's probably hard for him to rationalize. a big part of his character is his insecurity about being a mutant, which is also part of the reason i think he tries so hard to get april's affections. i DO NOT condone his behavior towards april, but it does kind of prove my point here. april rejecting him, to him, confirms that he'll never be accepted by humans. again, not april's fault at all and obviously she doesn't care that donnie is a mutant, she just doesn't like him that way. but like i said, donnie is emotionally driven and it would be very easy to spiral into that line of thinking. some people say that his brothers not appreciating him or asking too much of him would make him snap, hence why they have evil donnie turn against his bros. but i don't think thag would make him evil? to donnie, his brothers are all he has. they annoy him and pick on him and get a little too entitled to his tech skills, but i doubt he'd ever be motivated to hurt them. and if, IF, by some small chance he'd turn on his bros, leo is going first LMAO

raph teases donnie a lot and says mean things sometimes, but at the end of the day, i feel like he's still closer to raph than leo. not only that, but leo is one of the main contributors to donnie's stress. there's a problem? donnie, fix it. make some invention for the team. work harder. don't you know we're all counting on you? you know how much this means to splinter. don't even get me started on the metalhead situation. leo is on screen more often than not telling donnie what he can and can't do. not to mention he can be kind of a hypocrite sometimes. he judges donnie for his obsession with april, but he's just as obsessed with karai, more often than not putting his brothers in danger for her time and time again. i hate leorai with a passion but i cannot deny that it gets brought up in the show frequently. even if you ignore the romantic implications, i would still argue that leo is a hypocrite in this situation. also, through subtext, we can kind of infer that donnie and raph are closer than donnie and leo. i also feel like raph gets got first in these aus because there's an inherent bias against his character within the fandom, but i have a video essay in the works for that.

but again, if anyone were to be the victim of villain donnie's wrath, it'd be humanity. ESPECIALLY after the don vizioso thing (which is ANOTHER thing leo is hypocritical about??? "meh meh meh donnie killing ppl is bad ur stooping to their level meh meh meh" *literally TWO OR THREE EPISODES PRIOR decapitates shredder and carves his skull from his helmet* ?????!?!?!??!!?) he'd grow frustrated with how he can't do normal things. he's punished for something he has no control over. he feels alienated. why not give them the monster people think he is?

obviously ppl can write what they want, but so can i lmao. i usually don't care if something is OOC (it's funny a lot of times tbh), especially in something like a villain au, but when it comes to the turtle bros hurting each other?? that's the one thing i CANNOT stand 💀 of course i'm not telling ppl to stop writing it, but these are just my thoughts! lol i tend to avoid those fics/aus like the plague bc of what i'm personally comfortable with but!!!! i can see how they're fun to explore

i'll probably reblog later with an evil donnie WIP i haven't touched in three months when i have my laptop on me 👍

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Twenty Eight)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks..

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Twenty Eight: Cillian's return to the hotel room threatens to ignite a second round of battles, and Y/N does her best to keep her cool. When the options she suggests rock Cillian's bad temper, it has a shifting effect on both of their moods. Y/N makes the decision to put a little distance between them, ato allow Cillian to focus on his final period of filming without added pressures. He doesn't want to let her leave at all, but definitely not without being completely sure that she knows how he feels, and that she's secure in what lies ahead for them. [Angsty/Anxiety themes. Sexual scenes]

@cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @strangeions @watermeezer @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @borntodiemp3

Use of the word “fag” for cigarette: Cillian himself uses this word a lot, and generationally it's a common word for cigarette in the UK and Ireland. It's definitely less used these days, but older generations (I'd say early 90s and back) do still use it, myself and family members included. It is absolutely not meant in the derogatory form that the same word can be used. Please, please, don't take offence.

---------

You're showered, dressed, and blow drying your hair at the large mirror fixed to the wall when Cillian returns to the room, just over an hour after he had disappeared. Where he's been all this time in his pyjamas, exactly, you don't know. You look at him with as neutral an expression as you can hold as he shuts the door behind him and stands at the door, with his hands in his jacket pockets, staring at you with a firm frown and gnawing on his bottom lip. You flick the switch on the hairdryer and toss it down to the floor beside your suitcase. You feel hot - stuffy in general and made worse by drying your hair on the highest heat setting - and your nausea has been building for a while, too, and you fear actually vomiting up the cup of tea you forced down could be a real possibility. “I'm going to go home.” You say, and you try hard not to have any edges to your tone. “I have work to do, and some of it is better done in the law office. You're busy, and focused on work. And, frankly, it's no good for either of us, me being in the middle of your job.”

He flares his nostrils and sniffs, then nods his head slowly. His brows rise up his forehead just as slowly, and he tilts his head to the right a little. “Okay,” he says. His voice is a little husky, and you wonder just his many cigarettes he'd smoked whilst he was being a mardy arse wherever he'd sulked off to. You're a little hurt that there's no further words on your decision - no stay, no agreement with a little sadness, nothing. As you continue looking at one another, he eventually shrugs his shoulders and sort of frowns, and pulls an infantile face that makes him look like a grumpy teenage boy. It's almost like he's saying ‘’so what?’ and you want to slap him! He drops his shoulders and draws his hands from his jacket pockets so that he can undo the zip and pull it off. He throws it forwards and it lands on the unmade bed. “Booked the flight?” He asks.

You scoff at his coldness, and take a deep breath. “Not yet - but there's an Aer Lingus one at two.” you say softly. Your throat feels tight and you can feel the threat of tears in your eyes - you blink quickly, willing them away. “My passport is in your travel wallet so, um, I'll need that to book…”

“It's in my case.” He says, and there is zero emotion as he speaks. He's still standing by the door, and his arms are folded across his chest. He turns to the side and braces his left hand against the wall in front of him as he kicks off his trainers. They thump against the baseboard as he fires them towards the wall, and his face is still firm when he turns again. He walks towards the bed and picks up his phone from the bedside locker. You'd realised he hadn't taken it with him about a quarter of an hour after he had left, when you called him to talk and it had vibrates noisily beside his pillow. tHe silently occupies himself with it for a moment, standing with his back to you, then places it down again before he turns around to you. “You can't run away when the baby arrives, you know?” He swallows hard, and his Adam's apple visibly bobs in his throat.

���Like you just did?” You ask, and immediately realise that you've broken your promise to yourself not to take a tone with him. “You've been gone for over an hour, Cill. You didn't even take your phone and I didn't know where you were. Don't stand there with the pout and the fucking eyes, and tell me I'm running away.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip then noisily breathes in and out through his nose, and you anticipate his reply anxiously. “I just went out for a fag.” He says, and you can hear a subtle softening of his sharper tone - but it hasn't vanished.

“It takes an hour to smoke a cigarette?” You shake your head. “Bollocks, Cillian. Complete bollocks!” You purse your lips angrily, then calm yourself with two deep breaths. “Cill, I don't want to leave in a fight.” You sigh. You bring both hands up to your face and push your hair back from either side of your face. “I don't want to fight full stop.” You shake your head slowly as you lower your arms again, and you place your hands on your hips. “I know you're freaking out about this. I am, too. But I don't want to fight…” you clamp your lips together as your chin begins to quiver. You bring your right hand up and push against your eyes as you lose the determination to hold off your tears. You sniff as you bring your hand down, and the tears continue to roll from your eyes and down your flushed cheeks. “I know we have to talk all of this through, and you'll want to talk to Malachy and Aran - and Yvonne. And I know that's stressful to think about. You've still got work, and obligations here, and back home when you're done, and I know that you don't need the added stress. But we're gonna have a baby, because I will not terminate. And I want to have this baby, our baby, Cill, even though it's scary and it's going to cause…God knows what kind of shit storm.” You sniff and bring your hand up again, wiping your eyes and nose in the arm of your long sleeve t-shirt. “If you don't want a baby, then we need a serious talk about where you and I go from here.”

“Stop,” he shakes his head immediately. “Y/N.” He purses his lips and noisily blows out a long, hard breath. “Fuck,” he shakes his head again. “I don't want you to have an abortion, you know that. I am fucking petrified here, and I know you are too, but that would never make me want you to do that. Are ya listening to me? I don't want that. I want you, and if we're going to have baby, then we're gonna have a fucking baby. And it is stressful, and I don't know what's gonna happen going forward now, but I am not even fucking considering going anywhere else in my life without you. D'ya hear me?” He drops his attitude a little more, and he walks towards you. He stops a foot in front of you and you can smell the cold air from outside and cigarette smoke off him. “And it's gonna be you, and me, and that wee one in there. And yeah, sure it might well be a fucking nightmare for a while, and telling the lads and Yvonne is probably going to rock the fucking boat, but I still don't want you to have a fucking abortion. Okay? I am stressed out, and I'm an arsey prick, I know - and I'm sorry - and I know I upset you with what I said before, but I didn't mean to. And sure, you lost the head, and I lost the head right back at ya. I am sorry. But please, don't be talking like that, like you want to end it with us, because I can't cope with that, with the idea that you even think that, or think that I want that.”

“I don't, I just… I don't want you to be trapped by something you're not sure you want.” You shrug as the words come out quietly.

“Y/N I have never felt trapped with you, with us, right - never.” He insists quickly, and his face is animated. He reaches out his right hand and cups it against your cheek, and thumbs away the tear that falls. “I love, and we're gonna love this baby. It isn't gonna be easy, and while I'm shit scared about that, I'm prepared for it too. And I know I've to grow up a wee bit here and accept all the shit that's gonna change.* You sniff and smile a little as he laughs at himself..”Ah, Y/N,” he sighs, bringing his hand down from your face. “C'mere, will ya,” he opens out his arms and steps closer again, and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you in, one hand in the back of your head as you nestle your face in the crook of his neck, and the other around your back. “We're gonna have a baby,” he says as he gently rocks your two bodies together, a slow side to side, and then hums softly. “Jesus, Y/N - you're going to be a Mammy and you're gonna be brilliant. And whatever the fuck happens, I am going to be right fucking there. I promise.”

You nod your head against his neck, “Thank you,* you whisper against his skin. “I'm sorry - I know I'm difficult, I don't mean to be.” You draw your head back slightly. He doesn't restrict your movements, but he keeps his hand on the back of your head. You lock your eyes to his, searching for the honesty you can always find there. “I'm not naive or deluded about this, I know there are going to be things that are difficult or upsetting. And I'm really scared. But I want to be happy, Cill. I'm having your baby. I want to be happy with you over that.”

“I want to be happy with you too - and when the shock wears off, I'll be praising my bollocks, I promise,” he smirks, and you're actually thankful for the comical tension breaker. He smiles a little brighter, and you can see the glint of tears in his tired eyes. “We're having a fucking baby,..” he whispers. He moves his head forwards and presses his lips gently against yours. It is a featherlight kiss and your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you close your eyes. He kisses you again, applying a little more pressure, and turns his head slightly as he parts his lips just a little.

Passion grows quickly, and your raise both of your hands to cup around his cheeks as he starts to introduce an insistent tongue. His hand around the back of your head tightens a tad, gripping into your hair, and he hungrily assaults your lips with kisses that emit tiny sounds each time they break and recatch. His left hand on your back is moving steadily downward, and it doesn't take long to to cup around the cheek of your arse over your leggings. His fingers knead gently, and he draws your pelvis closer, kisses unrelenting. The feeling of his steadily stiffening penis against your groin is clear through the flannel material of his pyjamas, and the boxer shorts you know that he has on beneath. The feeling of your body against his obviously sends pleasure-filled pulses through his body, as he pulls you harder against him again with that still kneading hand on your arse, subtly humping you through all of the material. Make up sex, you consider, would be the perfect breakfast - and perhaps will send him to set in a couple of hours in a more relieved and relaxed mood. He removes his hand from your hair, but still he seeks out his desperately needy kisses. His mouth seems loathe to leave yours, but you're not at all put out. The softness of his pillowy lips and his shyly wandering tongue are a definite turn on, made even better by the hum-like sighs and eager huffs through his nose as he refuses to stop the snogging to breathe deeply. His free hand moves down your back and, for a moment, assists his left hand in cupping your arse and pulling your pelvis to his. He's harder now, and it's as much of a tease for you to feel it as it is a stimulation against his aching erection for him. He moves his right hand again, though, and begins lifting the hem of your long t-shirt. You move your hands from his cheeks to allow him to drag the top off your body, and smile against his lips as he immediately seeks out his kisses once again.

You mirror his actions and pull at his pyjama top, freeing him from it quickly, and drop it to the floor. You place both of your hands against his chest, cupping over his defined pecks, and feel a small swell of arousal as his small nipples harden against your palms. His hands are gone from your backside as his fingers fumble at the clasp of your favourite orange and white bra. You're surprised when he willingly removes his mouth from yours so that he can peer over your shoulder to watch his fingers as he finally unhooks your bra. You chuckle as he paws at your shoulders for the straps, and tears the satin-like bra away from your body, immediately grasping your breasts in his hands. He cups the weightier teardrop shape of your boobs in his palms, and kneads gently, his thumbs moving back and forth across your nipples until your mouth falls open and those little nubs are teased to attention. He smirks as he captures your open mouth, kissing fiercely, and moves his hands around your back. Your love the feeling as your breasts are forced between your two bodies, nipples kept alive as they graze over the skin and light smattering of hair over his chest. He brings his kisses along your jawline as his hands sit at the waistbands of your leggings and knickers. He peppers light kisses up towards your ear before he slowly bringing them down your neck. You know immediately that he knows what he is doing as you raise your shoulder when his light kisses move along your neck, into the crook and down along your shoulder before slowly working back again. Each airy kiss against your neck makes your skin pucker with goosebumps and makes you squirm and giggle a little, as you grow ticklish under his lips and tongue. He huffs a breathy laugh against your moistened body, and doesn't relent in teasing your stimulated skin. His light kisses move back towards your shoulder again, and once again he draws back towards the crook of your neck, and laughs more intentionally, finally lifting his face away, as you squirm more, pushing your body against his, as he sends ticklish delight coursing through you.

He stands looking at you with a cheeky, half-lidded expression. He's arousal drunk, and his hands on your hips and soft, slow, horny-teenager thrusts against your pubic area - though you're both still clothed from the waist down - aren't needed to tell you that. “Take me to bed.” You say in a whisper, moving your face close to his. His mouth opens and his chin moves forwards, hungry for more of the kisses he so desperately loves, and you hover your lips just millimeters away from his. “Take me to bed,” you repeat. “I want to feel you on top of me…and inside of me…”

You don't know if it's your teasing over the kisses, the tone of your voice, the words you'd shamelessly uttered, or the fact that he was tipping himself closer by all but dry humping you, but something lights a fire under him. He moves his hands from your hips and takes your hand, dragging you with wide strides over to his claimed side of the bed. As you stop at the edge, he stands immediately in front of you and hastily pushes his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and knickers together, pushing them down past your buttocks. He doesn't bend to take them further, but he captures your mouth with his and slides his right hand down your abdomen and courses straight down over your neat thatch of neat pubic hair and curves his fingers over, cupping his four fingers around your entire shape. While you gasp at the contact, he sighs hard into your mouth as his hand is filled by your vulva. His thumb moves in small circles over your already tumescent clitoris. You reach up your arms and snake one hand up into his hair whilst you grip against his shoulder with the other. He twists his wrist slightly so he can angle his hand better, and he slowly slips his middle finger into your vagina. The sensual assault is total - his thumb still on your clit in slow circular motions, his hand cupping around your vulva, and his middle finger moving in and curling delicately upwards to stroke against the one spongey spot he knows will weaken your knees. Your fingers grip tighter in his hair and this time it is you who has a fever in the kiss. He's clearly enjoying pleasing you as his mouth drops open, ruining your ability to kiss him as deeply as you want, and he speeds up his hand a little. You gasp as his hand moves, and you can feel the ability in your legs to hold you up beginning to dwindle. Then, just like that, he stills his hand. He withdraws his finger and simply keeps his hand cupped over your shape once again. You tug at his hair and push your lips to his again, claiming the kiss he'd broken a moment before. Then he takes his hand away completely and, with his other hand, pushes lightly against your shoulder to encourage you to sit down onto the bed. Once you're seated, he crouches down onto the balls of his feet, knees spread out wide, and drags your leggings and knickers down off your legs entirely, tossing them to the floor.

He rises back up and, as he stands before you, you reach out both of your hands and pull the cord on his pyjama bottoms to loosen the waist. You push them quickly down his thighs and they drop down to his feet. You run your hand down from his bellybutton, trailing your finger along the line of dark hair that begins to widen its thin streak as it disappears into his underwear. The light grey Calvin Klein boxershorts that are always tight to his skin are puckered into a firm tent, and his cock strains inside them. There's a telltale darkened patch off at a diagonal angle to the left side where he's leaking desperately, and his penis has twitched itself into any space it can find as it swelled and grew. You peer up at him with raised eyebrows, and trace your index finger along the shape of the underside of his penis. He hisses a breath in through his teeth and you watch his cock attempt to jerk against the tight fabric. This won't do, you think to yourself, poor thing needs its freedom. Still, you tease him once again and run your entire hand up along his length, stopping at the darkened patch; with keen eyes, you watch it darken further as he leaks again. You take pity at last and push your fingers in along the waistband by each hip and slowly push his underwear down. That happy trail of hair gives way to a patch of dark hair, and as his underwear is finally pushed away, his firm, thick penis twitches and stands hard and lightly curved. His foreskin is still in place but it is screaming against the new thickness, and the darkened and glistening head of his penis is visible at the tip. You push his underwear all the way down his legs, joining the pyjama bottoms, and then you take his proud erection in your left hand and begin to stroke slowly. You give his head the exposure it's been craving, dragging his foreskin down with your second stroke, and the groan Cillian huffs out is astounding. You slide your thumb over the stickiness at the head and allow it to aid you in gliding your hand up and down his cock. You move your hand quickly, though you're going to be careful not to just end this in a handjob or giving head - you want him inside you, you want his body on top of you. You need that intense intimacy after the morning you've had. This is reunifying, and you need it. Bringing your hand to the base of his penis, you arch your back to lean forwards and you take him into your mouth with your tongue cupped around the underside of his firm shaft. He immediately groans again, and he involuntarily thrusts into your mouth. You move your hand, and place your hands on his hips as you bob your head back and forth, licking and slurping, paying attention to the underside of his head with the tip of your tongue each time you pull back. He's mumbling and thrusting in a completely uncontrolled attempt to fuck your face. Giving one last sink down onto his entire length, you draw back completely and allow the cool air to hit his wet cock.

You place your hands back onto the mattress and sort of crab walk backward until you're in the centre of the bed. He doesn't take his time in kicking the clothes off his feet and climbing up onto the bed. With no fear of consequences now, you know he's looking forward to fucking you freely and you're desperate to feel that ridiculously arousing sensation of his semen pumping into you. You lay back as he moves on his knees. You're unabashed in your openness as you spread your knees when he comes closer. He crawls between the legs, his hands either side of your body as he hovers above you. He leans down and pushes his lips to yours, and for a split second you wonder if he can taste himself on your mouth. He sighs as he pushes his nose against yours, and draws a circle with the tip of his nose around the soft tip of yours. You smile as you bring your arms up around his back and shoulders, and you prepare yourself for the feeling of fullness you've been wanting since he kissed you first. He reached his right hand down between your bodies and guides himself up and into the vagina. You close your eyes and breathe out a shuddering sigh as he pushes in immediately deeply - he's slow and careful, but he goes all the way. You wrap your legs up over his lower back, your feet crossed at the ankles and resting at the cleft.of his arse. He quickly starts increasing his movement speed, but he isn't slamming into you. His mouth is open and his eyes are fixed on your face, but you can see he's blown out completely in his mind at the feeling of his cock against your soft walls after so long with a barrier. He thrusts deeply and you can feel his balls against your vulva each time he pushes in. His hips aren't snapping wantonly, and instead he moves his entire body to allow him to keep his steadier pace and prolonged depth inside of you. The way his body moves on top of you draws a quickly achieved clitoral orgasm and you moan and bite your lip as you feel yourself tightening against his gliding cock.

He captures your sighing mouth with his and kisses the last of your moans into his own mouth. And he's sighing those ‘’getting so close' higher pitched moans into your face. He continues to move, controlled and deep. Each move he makes slides the head of his penis against that wonderfully magical area inside of you. You're not sure if he'll last long enough for you to cum again this way, but it feels so good that you don't even care. His sighs are breather and louder, and you slide one hand up higher, up along his neck and onto the back of his head. He pushes harder into you with each deep thrust and you know it's now. In a rare, more vocal display, he groans loudly as he pushes into you again, and you hold him tightly as his cock twitches inside of you whilst he holds that deep position. He groans long and loud into your face, eyes close tightly and mouth slack, and he empties into you. It's all very intense for him, you can tell, as his body begins to tremble viciously. By the way it feels inside of you, he's emptying just as intensely. His penis jerks wildly up against your sensitive walls, and you find yourself soothing him through the overwhelm. He rests his sweaty forehead against yours and he's gasping for air.

“Holy shit…” he sighs and sort of laughs. He groans as his body shivers randomly, and you can't remember a time when he's cum so hard before. “Shit, Y/N.” His chest heaves against yours before he slowly pulls himself backwards then drops into a pile of languid limbs beside you.

You chuckle a little, “I've never heard you like that before.” You say, not daring to move though you're desperate to be on your side and lie face to face with him, just to drink in his sated face.

“I think I'm empty.,” He breathed raggedly, then laughs. You turn your head as he giggles, smiling at the sound. His tongue sits against his lower teeth as his melodic and cheeky laugh lingers for a moment. “My legs are fucking jelly.” He laughs again, and he blinks sleepily. “I'm not fit to fucking fart, never mind shower and get out on set.”

You smile at his very sleepy face, and know the risk of him nodding off after that display is very real. “Cill, love, you can't sleep.* You reach out and tap your hand against his hip. “Get up! And get me a towel or something…” It's quiet for a moment before he laughs, and reluctantly pushes himself up from the comfort of the inviting duvet. He groans as he stands up, beside the bed, and he swallows hard around his sticky dry mouth. You watch him run his tongue around in an attempt to moisten it. “,How's the stress now?” You ask, only half serious.

He reaches to the floor and stands back up with his pyjama top in his hands, and hands it to you with raised eyebrows. “I couldn't care less if a bomb went off.,” He grins, and he throws the top at you. “Use that.”

“Cill, that's disgusting.” You grimace.

“It'd be worse if you get it all over the sheets and then we've to sleep in them.” He points at you, and his sense of humour is back to the man you know and love. “Because you're staying, aren't you?”

Still lying, spread-eagle on the bed, you smile at him. You nod your head, “Nowhere else I want to be.”

.

[bbearthyy]

cocoa butter kisses

cw: none, not an x reader, mostly fluff, insinuation to sex at the end but it doesn’t go into detail, boys kissing😱

none of my works are ever proofread btw🫡

jj maybank loved to kiss. not in like a romantic way, though he did love a good make out with his partners and sometimes preferred it over sex. he just never knew any other form of expressing his love that didn’t involve fighting.

~~~

jj and john b were 7 and 8 years old, sitting close together on the brunette’s soft couch. it was cold outside and the two boys had sat with their sides pressed to each other, sharing a warm blanket. they were watching a movie jj couldn’t remember the name of, and he honestly hadn’t been paying much attention to it for the last 30 minutes. until it happened.

the characters on the screen reunited at last, and in their moment of relief, they shared a passionate kiss. jj made an affronted noise at the scene, causing john b to pause the movie and turn to the blonde beside him, a confused look covering his face. “somethin’ wrong?”

jj shrugged, shoulders tensing up out of fear that he’d bothered his friend. “nothin.” but john b knew better, so he softened his face, placed a hand on jj’s arm, and tried again. “are you okay? it’s just a kiss.” the blonde sighed, knowing he couldn’t lie to john b, “i just don’t get it.” upon seeing the confusion appear on john bs face once more, jj continued, “why do they kiss? what’s the big deal? i think every time we watch a movie somebody’s kissing.”

but now john b was even more confused. what was wrong with kissing? “it’s just how people show love. like how mommies and daddies love each other.” john b regretted his explanation immediately however, when a sad look flitted through the younger boy’s eyes. “how do mommies and daddies love each other?”

8 year old john b felt his heart split in two that day, and unknowingly handed half of it to the blonde he pulled closer, pressing jj into his chest as he hugged him. “well,” john b began, “it’s not just mommies and daddies. you’re s’posed to kiss anybody you love.” jj lit up at this, he liked that idea, he liked it a lot. “really?” john b nodded affirmatively in response, but was baffled when jj swiftly moved.

before the routledge boy knew it, his best friend had his lips pressed against his. john b’s eyes grew wide, and he immediately pulled away from the boy. “what did you do that for?!” john b cried out, but before he could continue, a lump grew in his throat as he saw the pained look on jj’s face. “i thought,” jj began, clearing his throat and blinking hard to get rid of his tears of embarrassment, “you said we’re s’posed to kiss people we love. and we’re best friends. ‘n i just thought…” jj’s voice trailed off, sniffling sadly as he furiously rubbed at his eyes with his fists, trying desperately to get rid of his tears.

john b didn’t know what to do. on one hand, his heart was burning after the kiss, and he was confused what it meant. on the other hand, he’d accidentally made his best friend cry, and didn’t know how to fix it. so, the little routledge did the only thing he could think of. he kissed jj again.

reaching forward with gentle hands, john b cupped each side of the blonde’s face, bringing him forward slowly and pressing his chapped lips softly to jj’s. they sat there for a moment, slowly figuring out how to kiss as the tears dried on the younger boy’s face. eventually, john b pulled back, using his thumbs to wipe away jj’s tears before dropping his hands into his own lap.

jj watched his best friend curiously, hoping he’d have something to say, as jj was at a loss for words. “so, it’s okay that i kissed you?” jj had to ask, he was seriously so confused. “yeah,” john b said, “i guess so. i mean my dad did say you kiss people you love. i guess that means friends too.”

after a moment of just looking at each other, the boys returned to their previous position. jj pressed his cheek into john b’s shoulder as he pressed play on the movie, their hearts finally calming as they settled down for the night.

~~~

from then on it became almost instinct for jj. every time he saw john b he gave him a greeting kiss, a kiss goodbye, and sometimes a “i just felt like it” kiss. this became true for pope as well, who unfortunately never grew out of the furious blush he got every time the blonde kissed him.

it took a while for kie to become part of this ritual, as a matter of fact, she had to ask for it

“how come you don’t ever kiss me?” jj froze. he had just pulled back from giving john b a massive kiss after he caught a huge fish. “w-what?” kie, who was laying on the boat sunbathing, repeated herself calmly, “you kiss john b and pope all the time. we’ve been friends for ages now. how come you never kiss me?” jj didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged, reaching over and leaning over top of the girl to press a quick but gentle kiss to her lips. “there, i just did.”

~~~

unfortunately for poor sarah cameron, she was not aware of jj maybank’s love language. they were alone when it first happened. sarah was in the kitchen at the chateau, making brownies with the ingredients she’d gone to the store to buy herself the day before. the rest of the pogues were outside, and she was enjoying the silence with soft music playing in the background. jj stepped inside for a moment to grab another beer, walking up behind sarah. his chest pressed against the girl’s back and she gasped straightening up. jj dipped a finger in the brownie batter, moaning at the taste. staying behind sarah, he leaned down to mumble in her ear, asking if she could spare a couple to make him weed brownies. she nodded silently, and jj whooped, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips, mumbling “thanks mama,” before skipping out the door, leaving the previous kook stunned.

the next time it happened, they were with the other pogues. after spending a long day on the boat nobody wanted to get changed, the girl sat in their bikinis and the boys shirtless in their swim trunks. john b had gone inside to shower, dropping sarah onto jj’s lap before he went. the girl had blushed furiously at the action, ready to leap off of jj, but he just nodded at the brunette boy, wrapping an arm around sarah’s waist. she’d relaxed against him by now, and was beginning to drift off, his soft hand drifting up and down her bare side lulling her to sleep.

sarah was trying desperately to stay awake, and jj took notice. he leaned down towards her ear to whisper, “go to sleep, angel. i’ll pass you to jb when he comes back,” and pressed a slow kiss to her soft lips. sarah was too tired to protest, or even think about the other pogues watching. she kissed back, hers and jjs lips intertwined in gentle kisses before she pulled away, her head flopping on his shoulder. sleep overtook her immediately, so she didn’t notice that john b had already returned, having seen the whole thing. he let the group know he was going to bed, and asked jj to bring sarah to him when he retired for the night.

when sarah awoke the next morning, cuddled close to john b, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. her unofficial husband was still asleep next to her, and she gently traced his features with her pinky. john b’s eyes fluttered open, the brunette smiling upon seeing his girl, and pulled her close. sarah was too overcome with guilt to returned the embrace, and instead sat up. john b followed, sitting up beside her with worry etched into his features. “you okay?”

as if a dam broke, sarah began spilling to john b. confessing what had happened when she was making brownies the other day, and telling her husband about the soft make out that she’d had with his best friend last night before she fell asleep. there were tears in sarah’s eyes and she couldn’t make eye contact with her husband. after a couple seconds of silence, john b broke it, laughter shaking his entire body.

“yo, jay,” john b yelled, his voice echoing through the house. sarah was tense, unsure what was happening. upon receiving a response john b yelled for jj to come to him, waiting silently as the blondes footsteps padded down the hallway. as soon as jj stepped through the door he saw sarah’s tears, and worry ran through him. “hey, mama,” he mumbled, walking towards the bed and reaching out to wipe her tears, “whats’a matter?”

“what’s wrong is you didn’t tell her, dumbass,” john b grumbled. jj turned to him, brows furrowed. “you’ve been kissing her and she feels guilty. you were supposed to tell her, bro,” john b explains. jj felt his heart drop, realizing he was the reason for her tears. “shit.” the blonde turned back to the young girl in front of him, seeing her bottom lip wobble as she look at her husband with worry.

jj began rambling, giving a long drawn out explanation that seemed to be confusing sarah more than she already was. deciding he’d done enough damage, john b cut jj off, putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him to sit quietly on the bed. so jj sat, right next to john b, and leaned his head on his shoulder, feeling incredibly guilty. “in short,” john b said, “kissing is how jj expresses his love. he does it with everyone, i’m actually surprised you haven’t seen him kiss any of us.”

relief washed over sarah, her shoulders slumping as she visibly relaxed. “oh thank god,” she mumbled, crawling over to sit in the blonde boy’s lap. jj welcomed her with open arms, giggling at how easily she accepted the explanation. “i felt so guilty,” sarah mumbled, burying her face into jj’s bare chest. john b chuckled, running his hand over the back of her head, “i’m gonna go make breakfast. y’all come eat whenever you’re ready.”

jj mumbled an affirmative, while sarah silently nodded her head. john b left the room, and the two blondes sat together silently. after a moment sarah sat up, straddling jjs thighs. “that was so not cool jay,” she mumbled, crossing her arms with a pout. “aw, c’mon mama,” jj mumbled, wrapping his arms around her waist, “don’t be like that.”

“and about that,” sarah began, “why the fuck do you always call me mama?” jj raised an eyebrow, surprised at her bluntness. “sorry, do i need to stop?” sarah softened, uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on jj’s chest, “i mean, i didn’t say that.” jj smirked, his hands moving to squeeze her hips and pull her closer. “no?”

sarah smiled shyly, shaking her head no before burying her head into his neck. jj’s hands squeezed her hips again, pulling her into him in a grinding motion. sarah gasped, snatching her head out of his neck. jj smirked, tilting his head, “somethin wrong?” sarah stuttered, “d-don’t do that. jb said you always kiss people, he didn’t say anything about…that.” jj chuckled smugly, yelling for john b.

“bree!” hearing a muffled ‘yea’ in response, jj called out, “you mind if i get a taste of your girl?” john b’s laughed echoed across the house before he responded, “go ahead. but if you fuck her you better wear a condom.” sarah gasped, her breath getting caught in her throat when jj pulls her off his lap, tossing her onto the bed. the blonde boy tugs on the strings of her bikini bottoms, tugging the fabric slowly down her legs. “jb told you i like to kiss,” jj mumbled, kissing his way up her thighs, “lemme show you my favorite place to kiss.”

[erisacolyte]

From my Dark Sun campaign, its Sorcerer-King Lalali Puy. The party hasn't met her yet, just had some mysterious vibes. I'm sure it'll all go well.

Watch on Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@joephilliactheblack/video/7305405089777290529?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7181582400987645445

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[pharawee]

Are you thinking about me now?

[lunarteory]

KiLLKiSS ✩ Ave Mujica 4th LIVE 「Adventus」

[j-esbian]

maybe the real voltron was the friends we made along the way

[flowercrowngods]

making a real post for @rvspecter pls bear with me

anyway harvey hurt fic where after mike is busted and given a second chance at life (or a third, really) and pearson specter litt seizes the chance to instate a pro bono department mike is heading because he wants to get it right this time and harvey will do just about anything to keep him, these two men finally mention this Thing between them and decide to give it a try. and it’s good. it’s fragile and it’s tentative and it’s gentle and it’s the same as it’s always been but with more tenderness, more honesty, more vulnerability (and more sex of course) and it’s good. against all odds, it’s so good.

but then one day, long after hours, donna approaches harvey in his office and her eyes are shining, but it’s not a glow harvey is used to �� he never wants to get used to donna’s eyes filled with tears so he asks her what’s wrong, but he’s not ready for the answer. because she tells him she can’t work for him anymore. she tells him she’s leaving him — to work for louis at first, maybe to quit altogether. the fact do the matter is she can’t be the Donna to his Harvey anymore because she’s in love with him and she thought she had it under control but she doesn’t, okay, she doesn’t and it hurts and she wants to be happy for him and mike because they’re so good but all this time she’d never thought that harvey would ever find someone real, and now that he has, well. she can’t pretend anymore that it doesn’t tear her up inside and she doesn’t want to put that on any of them so she’s doing the mature thing and leaving. to heal. to get over him. to come back stronger.

and she’s so, so sorry.

they listen to gordon one last time, they toast to thirteen years one last time — her words, not his, but they drive a knife into his heart nonetheless because harvey doesn’t do one last-anything and yet here sits his best friend and asks for one last night together and who is he but to give her everything she wants and more. she’s his donna — still, tonight; one last night. she is.

he doesn’t tell mike that night. couldn’t, even if he wanted to; because he doesn’t have the words. but in the secure hold of mike’s arms, he says “donna won’t be working for me anymore, starting tomorrow.” and he doesn’t mention how that means that donna went to jessica and louis first, he doesn’t mention that he was the last to know, he doesn’t explain how he wasn’t given a chance to fix this — not this time. “donna quit?” mike asks, and harvey swallows, shakes his head, shrugs. “just me,” he says. “just me.” and when mike pulls him closer and holds him tighter and tells him “i’m so sorry, harvey,” it’s the first i’m sorry that night that he believes.

unfortunately, sorry never fixed anything.

especially when soon after, mike finds out just why donna left. and he gets all up in his head about it, he allows himself to spiral because he’s so ready to succumb to tunnel vision and obsessing over solutions to problems that aren’t his to fix. and so he tells harvey that he can’t be the thing that comes between him and donna. they’re soulmates after all, mike can’t bear to be the one to sever their bond. harvey doesn’t understand. he’s the one who’s supposed to lose his mind over having lost his best friend and pretend like everything is okay, what right does mike have to make that about himself, to take it upon himself to fix everything when harvey’s the fixer, harvey is the one who solves problems and protects people. but mike won’t hear any of that and tells harvey that he can’t do it like this if it means hurting donna because she’s his best friend, too, and he wants to get it right this time. he doesn’t want to build this new life on decisions that hurt his people — not again. he’s hurt enough people, he can’t keep doing it.

harvey wants to ask him why he’s always so ready to protect everyone at his expense. isn’t this thing between them, their relationship, isn’t it meant to stop them from hurting each other? why is it okay to hurt harvey, but not to hurt donna?

he doesn’t ask any of that, only tells him that they’re not in high school, and that they’re either doing this or not, but he refuses to base their relationship on whether or not his best friend is okay with seeing him happy or not. “you’re either in this with me, mike, or you’re out. that hasn’t changed, and it won’t, because donna will get over it and everything will be back to normal before you know it.”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes i do, because we’re grown-ups and we get over things.”

famous last words, it turns out, because mike just slowly shakes his head, agonising over this and not thinking, clearly not thinking when he says, “i’m sorry, harvey. i can’t to this; not like this.”

and all he can do is watch mike’s back as he all but runs from him, dragging his heart behind him, through the dirt, uncaring as bits and pieces of it chip off with every step mike takes, with every second that passes and allows the words i can’t and i’m sorry, harvey echo in the hollow of his chest.

we’re grown-ups. we get over things. well, tough fucking luck.

and this is how harvey loses the two most important people in his life in the matter of a week. before he knows it, he’s alone, left to fend for himself and hollowed out. his walls are broken down, deconstructed piece by piece by carefully, gentle hands to reveal what’s underneath — only for the hands to retreat, letting in the icy cold and accepting what’s inside to wither and die.

there’s a reason harvey specter makes his own luck; the universe isn’t very forthcoming otherwise. a fact that is proven when he finds a stranger outside his building when all he wants is to curl up and breathe through the cracks of his broken hearts that have pierced his lungs, they must have, surely they must have, because he can’t breathe. and he doesn’t learn how to breathe again when the woman — a kid, really, merely twenty-five — reveals that she’s his half sister. because it turns out the reason lily specter was so ready to up and leave all those years ago; the reason she didn’t fight for her family and instead blamed it all on harvey, was because she was pregnant. and she lied about it — for twenty-six years.

amelia selene specter is the little sister harvey has always wished for — but cancer is a curse that rests on the specter family, and while marcus got lucky twice, selene isn’t. she didn’t have the money for medical resources, and it’s eating harvey alive that he didn’t know, that there was no way for him to help her and that there’s no way now.

but there is. because selene has two kids, seven and four, and she needs his help because they can’t get lost in the system, they can’t live with total strangers or be separated because the system doesn’t actually care about children, they only care about not feeling guilty. and she won’t ask lily. these two angels must be kept from her at all costs because she ruined two families already, she won’t ruin this one.

and harvey is obsessed with the thought of more family, he needs to take care of and be there for someone and he’s ready to take on the world to protect his niece and nephew — but he’s not warm, he’s not available, he’s not even at home most of the time, nor is his place suitable for kids.

he agrees to take them in and find a solution though. he promises selene that he’ll be there for them. he’ll always be there. and when he gets to meet them — a few days before his sister dies way too young, way too alive for something like death to not rip him apart entirely — he gets attached instantly and vows to himself and to selene that nothing will happen to them as long as he’s there.

even though harvey just lost his family — the one he chose, the one he was born into, and the one he never got to meet. even though harvey’s entire world was deconstructed with no one around to put it back together. even though he doesn’t know how, because evidently he got it wrong every single time, harvey gets to build a new family with these kids. and though it tears him up inside, it heals something inside him too — and sometimes they balance each other out, and he can breathe again for just a little while as he reads to charlotte because she’s feisty and afraid of nightmares and not listening when he says she’ll be tired in the morning because “i’m tired in the morning anyway, but now i wanna read” and he trades her going to bed for a bedtime story, and she falls asleep with her face pressed into his side.

it’s so frail, though, so fragile, this little family, and he knows what it’s like when everything breaks. he knows what it’s like to lose one’s family — over and over and over again. and he’s terrified that he’s building himself back up the wrong way. he’s terrified because there’s no one keeping him together but both his hands are occupied holding these children that cry for their mama.

he’s terrified because he’s not supposed to be doing this alone. but everyone else has made their choice and he, as always, is just there to bear the consequences and try to turn it into a win.

one day, he will. he has to. and one day, he’s not alone anymore.

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[quadrantadvisor]

tl;dr: I think being trapped in a time loop would fix him

[Plain text under the cut]

I read like two different jason time loop fics which both featured jason coming to the cave for help or resources when people didn't expect him there which makes me think that the loop helped make jason aware that he could come to his family for help and anyways jason gets stuck in a time loop shortly after becoming the Red Hood bruce is aware or at least suspects his identity but he hasnt communicated that to anyone else yet so for a couple of loops jason tries to figure out what's going on but all of his league contacts are either unhelpful or unreachable within the time frame and he gets frustrated and he spends a while just. living out all of his sadistic fantasies he gets to do every dramatic reveal, he gets to kill each one of them, and they're spitting and defiant and telling him he isn't the jason who died but after a while it stops being satisfying and he gets desperate for a way out he knows by this point that bruce hasn't told anyone about him, so his new plan is to talk to one of them away from bruce and just lie Dick is the obvious choice, and that's how jason finds out that dick has been hallucinating him while he's been gone he is not very useful. it's really hard to convince him that jason is legit and then he just gets really emotional and doesn't pay attention to the time loop at all also jason feels really weird about it

so he tries tim. he's like. okay. he doesn't know you're the red hood. you just have to be civil to him for one loop and when it turns out he can't do anything you try something else but tim is also like. really emotional about him apparently? but when jason tells him there's a time loop he takes it really seriously tim is like "why didn't you go to bruce?" and jason is like "i tried that. when he finds out he makes it worse" which is a very plausible thing for someone in a time loop to say so tim believes him Tim's like "obviously i have to verify" and jason is thinking to himself what a waste of time this all is. but tim gets his permission to bring babs in on things and that's how jason finds out about oracle and the clocktower so thats useful at least they use babs equipment for blood tests and tim grills jason on things only he would know and jason is like. hey. why do you know any of that stuff and by the time that tim is satisfied that Jason is who he says he is and that what he says is happening is happening the day is basically over and jason is like well thanks for nothing

and Tim's like, oh, sorry, this is just the setup. next time just tell me this timeloop code, I'll know that I trusted you enough to give it to you so I'll listen to whatever you say which actually does work to Jason's surprise, tim just asks him how many times and what they've already tried and they get down to business tim always has a freakout over jason being alive but that freakout can come at different times of the day depending on how jason plays it jason is still mad at tim and frequently snappy with him but it takes a few loops for him to just yell at tim that he's the red hood and he's been killing people and he was planning on killing tim (not strictly true originally but like. he has done it, so) and tim is like. hm. that makes it pretty personally dangerous for you to know my time loop code, since it makes me just drop everything and listen to whoever says it. but also i think you do need help so i guess I'm still glad you have it. and jason is like WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

anyways on a later loop tim convinces him to sneak into the bag cave for the tech and bruce catches them there and jason is like well that's this loop shot but bruce is just like ……. jason? 🥺 you came home? anyways the fic is about jason realizing that he never needed to do all that shit, and actually he finds it rather distasteful, and he can just. go home. if he wants on the last loop he has to like leave gotham to go stop whatever is causing this and it takes all day so he doesn't even talk to them so he has to make the real choice to start up relationships with all of them for keeps and by that point he's experienced so much time loop violence that the first thing he says to bruce is, I'm not gonna kill anyone, at least for now. we can talk about the morality of it and stuff and i will legitimately discuss it with you but right now i just don't want to so that can be our truce and bruce is like, sobbing at having his kid back he uses the code on tim one last time and tim jerks to attention but Jason's like nah relax the loop is over, just wanted to say thanks for all the help

[tenspontaneite]

Can you tell us anything about your LttM?

What does she think about Pebbles, Sig, SRS and the others?

Does she blame Pebbles for what happened?

Whats her personality and did it change after the collapse?

Also do you ship SliverMoon?

She's sad, tired, resigned and frustrated. She can see daylight through her cracked open chamber, but no matter how hard she tries can't get the right angle to see the sky. That frustrates her more than anything else does, most days. It seems almost cruel that she could fall so far as to literally have her innermost chamber laid bare to the open air and yet still not be free enough to look at the sky.

At a later point in her life, in memory of that helpless yearning and its eventual fulfillment, she takes the alt name 'Glimpse of Sky' when she needs an anonymous online identity. It seems a fitting choice to her.