#but APPARENTLY i listened to COMFORTABLY NUMB the most

[omegasmileyface]

this is the first year since i discovered miracle musical where the mind electric HASNT been in my top 2. congrats to my weird fucking obsession with pink floyd

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[nalyniavadelletargaryen]

{ TWIN FLAME - Aegon Targaryen + Rhaegar Targaryen }

{ SUMMARY/PREVIEW CHAPTER }: Twins carry a shared soul, a force that only exists between them. One may pull, and the other may push, but by fate's hand, they’ve been conjoined by a shared will for power. The elder strays from the path of morality while the younger strides upon it with just as much pride. Both men share a desire: an attraction to what they are forbidden to have.

{ WARNINGS }: MDNI + SMUT + ANGST + TARGCEST + AGE GAP + BLOOD + LANGUAGE + VIOLENCE + NIECE/FEM READER + MATURE THEMES

{ PRESS ▶️}:

"To war then!"

Aegon's voice rang loud and clear through the council room, setting unease on those who sat on either side of him, but one man remained unmoved by his heady announcement.

Rhaegar smirked, a broad amusement in his expression, "Good..."

The two men share a fulfilled grin; the elder is pleased to see his dark-haired half so encouraged by his decision.

They'd never agree on most things, but inciting rightful violence to achieve personal satisfaction was a common interest.

However, you were another exception to their differing worldviews.

Aegon slid down into his chair, glancing away from his second younger brother to eye the men and his mother, who sat in tense silence. "You are all dismissed..." he left no room for debate on the command. Alicent swallowed hard, holding back the words of wisdom she knew neither man would listen to, and with a slow exhale, her anger dwindled to plain discouragement.

Rhaegar did not shrink under her turning gaze. Unmoved by her silent plea for help, he was firmly comfortable in his seat as she and the rest of his brother's councils rose from their seats.

"Arrogance.." she mumbled bitterly, walking past him with a swiftness he and Aegon had learned to overlook.

"They refuse to act and fear a war that's already started," Rhaegar spoke freely when the last council member had stepped out, the doors to the room slammed shut by the king guard on watch, and a moment of shared silence short-lived between them. Aegon scoffed loudly, a smirk plastered on his face, "That's quite obvious, brother. Our mother intends to be timid about bloodshed. It's quite pathetic." He tossed his hands up in apparent disbelief, shaking his head at the thought of the woman who'd so proudly pushed him to be sovereign now seeking a quick end to a great conflict, and Rhaegar shared his disdain for the anomaly that was their mother.

"She'd sooner trust the gods with our fate than be reasonable. I don't see why you keep her at this table.."

Aegon eyed his twin, his face dropping to a callous frown. "As relieving as it would be to put her aside, you know well how our mother would never cease prying into our dealings with or without permission."

A more accurate statement had never left his elder brother's lips, and Rhaegar was impressed by him for a solemn second.

"Hm. It's surprising to hear you, of all people, see my side of reason." He chuckles, taking a brave gulp from his wine chalice. "Need better spirits at a time like this," the brunette bit out, tongue-numbing from the dull sting of alcohol in the wine, and his observation drew an offended reaction from Aegon

"It's the best drink to my taste." His amusement faded quickly on the premise of his preferences being questioned. "Do you take issue with me-"

Rhaegar laughed, a hearty sound that eliminated anything his twin was apt to spit out, "Oh, don't you dare twist my words, brother!" He set his cup down with a firm shake, grinning wide as Aegon glared at him directly.

"You speak too freely, Rhaegar.."

His laughter halted, grin falling to a closed smile as he relaxed into his chair at the end of the unoccupied table, "I speak what I think, Aeg. Which is much more than you can offer..."

The silence returned, filled with mounting animosity between a brother of pride and another of worthy praise.

A king and a warlord.

A rake and a hidden saint.

Made of one blood but with many contrasts in life.

Silence and lingering hate connected them.

Aegon poised to further it with a heady retort, greedy for triumph in a conflict many knew to be brotherly rivalry, but a solid rap of knocking on the closed council doors stopped him.

Rhaegar raised a brow at the sound, intrigued rather than annoyed as his brother seemed to be.

"They've come back for another debate so soon?" He chides out loud, unbothered by Aegon's grimace.

"Bothersome imbeciles..."

The knocking came again, quicker and louder. Each tap was executed with an exciting pace, different from the slow, solid thumps of a man readied to spill his thoughts on warfare.

Aegon hesitated to allow the visitor entry, glancing at his brother, who already had his eyes on him.

"They seem eager.." he mumbles, finishing his wine without care for his brother's exasperated sigh.

"Enter..!" Aegon announced, taking a gulp of his drink and sucking his teeth at the bitter taste.

The king's guards swung the doors open, nodding their heads to the culprit of the sudden interruption. "Thank you, Ser Lanis and Ser Daleon." Your gentle voice cut through the air in a familiar cadence, alerting the two men of your presence before you came into their direct view.

Both knights showed you a grateful smile, quick to shut the doors again as you paced up the steps leading to the nearly empty table. Rhaegar greeted you first, smiling as he reached a hand for your own. You gave him the courtesy, slipping a hand into his open one, returning his smile as he placed a chaste kiss on the back.

"Niece..." he muttered against your skin, his voice tender and hardened eyes softening completely as you swipe your fingers along his jawline affectionately. "Uncle," you greet him back, chest tightening with pure delight when he chuckles upon hearing it. However, your shared moment abruptly ended as Aegon called you.

"You'd leave your King unnoticed, sweet girl?"

He did not attempt to mask his jealousy, and you yelled at it with practiced grace. "No, my King. You'll always have my attention." You show him a smile, not afraid to roll your eyes at him as you step away from Rhaegar and stride towards him.

Aegon is far less cordial when greeting you, standing from his seat to look down as you bow to him. You are respectful in your initial approach and stand up straight when he rests a hand under your chin. "I'll hold you to that, princess," he lowered his voice as if to tell you a secret, and you merely hum sweetly in response, accepting the lingering kiss he placed on your cheek. Unlike his brother, Rhaegar could hold his tongue to some restraint, seeing you receive affection from his counterpart.

However, it did not last long as Aegon stepped closer to you, clearly set on keeping your attention on him and him alone.

"Why have you come here?.." Rhaegar poised the question in earnest curiosity, satisfied to see it gain your focus and ruin his brother's apparent intentions. You shifted away from your eldest uncle, looking between him and his nearly identical half before divulging why you'd found your way into the council room.

You never seemed to stay away from either of them long enough, with little motivation not to when your mother had urged you to do so longer than you could recall. By consequence, you'd been left in their care at the turn of your grandfather's death, present at his side the night before he took his last breath in hopes of keeping him company since your mother could not manage it. Still, with little warning, you'd found yourself in opposition with your closest kin by association.

You found your position to be a cursed blessing. I'm glad to be within reach of the men you cared about most besides your older brothers; you were highly aware of the danger the nearing conflict of birthright claims would surely bring.

You tried hard not to reminisce about the war's aftermath, keeping yourself observant yet pliable in the grip of the Green faction.

Even as you stood in the presence of the men you'd grown to trust despite all outside protests, their very existence reminded you of fate's tricky hand.

"I've come for your help." You tread carefully with words, pacing them to carry on your voice softly, knowing well what a simple change of tone could do to either man. Rhaegar sat up straighter, eyes never leaving you as he inquired for a better understanding of your intended words.

"Our aid for what, ..?" You paused, hearing the doting nickname he'd chosen to call you since your first encounter, resolve to melt a little as he followed it with a reassuring smile.

Feeling Aegon resting a hand on your lower back did not keep your heart racing slower, his firming touch stealing your train of thought for a split second, but one glimpse at the head seat he'd been sitting in only a moment ago brought your sense back to you.

They had been your weakness for far too long, filling a craving for experience and attention you couldn't satisfy in your mother's household, but now the time for a stronger mindset was needed.

Your mother deserved the seat Aegon so proudly claimed now; no matter your love for him and Rhaegar, you intended to see her in it, and with a steadying inhale, you continued with your mission to do so.

"I've been...having some trouble finding peace as of late. Especially at night, the masters can't find a remedy for my issue.."

Sleep. You hadn't been able to rest since the coronation, and it was no help that both men had made it a point to create boundaries with you that hadn't existed before. You'd grown accustomed to seeking one or both out for a good night of sleep, never having to exchange any flesh for the security they provided, but not above laying your head on their pillow to dream of it.

Aegon smiled at you, his hand on your back sliding in a small circle as if to ease your strife as minimal as it seemed to him, and you flashed him a grateful upturn of your lips in return.

"I...I had hoped that either of you would give me peace of mind. I'm aware of many things but still am left in the dark in the light of the most important knowledge."

Your heart sank as the faces of your brothers, mother, and father crept past the forefront of your mind. Every single one of them dawned an expression of distant concern, so clearly betrayed. Imagine their reaction to the news of your lingering presence with the side of the family who had no right to the throne, which made your stomach twist with knots.

You wanted to get back to them, to be beneficial even if they'd never considered acknowledging you as applicable. Yet, as you implemented a plan to find your way back to them, you couldn't feel entirely confident in their presumable welcome when you did return.

Jace might be the only one who'd be genuinely happy to see you again and not hold a dormant grudge towards you for staying at the late King's side and inevitably supplanting yourself as a hostage for the Greens.

Rhaegar studied you, sensitive to the minor details of your request, discerning every word you spoke on instinct to hang onto each one.

"You wish to know of your place in..." he waved a hand, motioning to the air of war that loomed closer and closer with each passing day, and you nodded tentatively at his gesture. "Yes...or at least if I'm to be used as leverage..."

Your blunt reply cuts through both of them differently. Aegon glares, momentary anger consuming him as he inches closer to you, head lowering so that his voice reaches your ear directly. "You are safe with me. Here in my..." he hesitated, meeting Rhaegar's observatory gaze before finishing his quiet declaration, "...in our protection. That I can swear to you with certainty ."

His noticeable overconfidence peaked through his tone, and your anxiety was anything but calmed by his promise. Your chest lightened from relief, knowing he still harbored adamant devotion to your well-being rather than wishing to use it as an advantage over your mother.

Rhaegar held a similar attachment to you, expressing it with less egoism than Aegon did through an even response. "Our opinion of you has not changed. You shall be kept here in fair respect."

He stood from his chair, leaving his chalice with it as he came to stand on your unattended side.

Your gaze automatically shifted to him, struggling to stay there as Aegon's burned into you with unabashed envy. "You have the King's word and mine," he passed a thumb over your cheek, speaking directly to you as if his brother did not exist inches from you just as he did. Your breath caught in your throat, heat rising to your face and spreading to your lower belly as he took his time gauging your reaction.

"Let that be the answer to your questions. War plans are nothing for a young girl like yourself to be concerned with, understood?"

Rhaegar pressed you into submission with a tailored ease, pairing the underlying demand with a lazy smile that never failed to make your head spin. You bit back your own, nails digging into the draped sleeves of your dress as you clasped your hands behind you.

Of course, he'd seen right through you, cut off your prying for knowledge like any intuitive man of his nature would, and you desperately wanted to push past the restrictions he intended to set up. Still, the possibility of appearing too apt for valuable information made you hold your tongue.

You swallowed the pride, bubbling up to spill from your lips, pressing them into a small smile as you nodded in agreement. "I understand, uncle."

Rhaegar hummed in satisfaction, not bothered by his brother's palpable disdain. "She knows better than to ask us for such details, brother. You needn't mold her to be compliant." Aegon tugged you closer to him, hugging your side and making no move to let go.

You went still in his embrace, familiar with it, but not all pleased with how he spoke of your intentions or concerns.

Stupidity and obliviousness were never your strong suits, and having been pushed to the side and ignored by so many throughout your life made it easy for you to play on those faults better than most.

Rhaegar had grown wiser to your act sooner than Aegon, mentioning nothing of your love for secrets and manipulation to anyone in the simple efforts to bring you to heel at the direst times.

This was the perfect opportunity, and if his all-powerful brother could realize your intentions too, he could have the chance to relish in the delight Rhaegar did seeing your innocent facade falter. Aegon remained unwise to it, resting his chin on your shoulder after placing a ginger kiss on the exposed skin as a wordless apology for his younger's implication.

"No soul in this castle is out to get my throne, Rhaegar. Not my darling girl, anyway..." You shuddered against him as he kissed behind your ear, feeling the smile on his lips as he hugged you tighter. A blush painted your cheeks as his hands kneaded your waist through the fabric of your dress. This openly lustful action brought butterflies to your stomach and agitated Rhaegar to the point of impulsivity.

"Pawing at your niece is unbecoming of you, brother..." he made no effort to mince his words, mirroring Aegon's glare as you lowered your head in slight embarrassment. "She has yet to tell me to stop. It seems to bother you more than it does her..." Aegon chuckled at his blatant mocking, nipping at your ear to earn a soft whine and solidly his claim.

Rhaegar held his stare, failing to withhold an equally rousing laugh before lowering his head to meet yours. He found your eyes with his own as he spoke to you softly.

"Come to me.."

He says it only once, and you react with little thought, longing to feel him like Aegon held you. Your body shifted toward him, one step eliminating the space he'd maintained, and your lips found him with little hesitation or shame. Aegon grunted a scathing curse as you reached for his dark-haired twin, leaning back into him as the younger wrapped a hand around your throat, deepening the kiss with the slip of his tongue into your mouth. Rhaegar peered at his brother as you moaned against his lips, a smirk tugging at him the entire time.

"Bastard..." Aegon grumbled, refusing to show the shreds of amusement he felt seeing you crumble at the simplest pleasures, drooling trickling down your chin, and your weight pressing against him as the emanates of sense left you. It came as no surprise to Rhaegar when the older raised a hand to tangle in your hair, pulling on it so you had no choice but to break away from the heated kiss and his low whine of pain.

You let out shallow breaths, afraid to look into either of their eyes as you tried to compose yourself and ignore the needy warmth culminating in your belly. Aegon turned your head to him with subtle force, taking in the dazed expression on your face, the gradual swell of your plush lips, and the gloss of combined spit that lingered on them.

"Open." He commands in one breath, smiling when you do just as he asks and part your lips for him. He steals a glance at Rhaegar, smug as ever, and spits into your mouth with natural ease, turning his gaze back to you as it slides down your throat with a quiet whimper of his name. His lips come to meet your then, slow and harsh. A complete contrast to his brother's swift and sweet approach. He bites at your bottom lip, drowning in the muffled groan you give at the blooming pain he inflicts, returning it with a timid nip on his.

Your lungs burn for a breath. Aegon won't let you catch, so you peek at Rhaegar for help. You are torn between gratitude and confusion as he tightens his grip on your throat before using it to pull your lips away from his brothers and back to his.

He lets you go when your eyes water with tears, allowing Aegon to turn you around in his arms and hug you close. "It's been some time since we shared you, little one..."

It's a statement. It is a clear fact that you have no will to deny. Too lost in your head to respond appropriately or notice Rhaegar sitting in the nearest council chair. He lounges in it leisurely, head resting on one hand as he watches Aegon's hands begin unlacing your dress strings with unconscious finesse. You find your bearings then, feeling increasingly vulnerable as the eldest of them unties your bodice and steps forward until you have no choice but to be within his twin's reach.

"You've been so faithful and well-behaved for us, too. We'd hate to see you left unrewarded for that. Wouldn't we, brother?" Aegon eyed the brunette over your shoulder; a bittersweet smirk reflected as he nodded in agreement. "Wouldn't be very fair to her at all..." he speaks lowly compared to his brother's boastful tone, deeply embedded in his desires at the sight of your bare skin being exposed to him as your bodice slips to the stone floor.

You shiver as the air douses your skin, breasts pressed to Aegon's clothed chest, and the warmth he emits prompts them to be sensitive and pertinent. His hands find your sides again, steadying you in his hold while Rhaegar rips the fabric of your skirts. He does the same to your small clothes, letting them fall atop the torn clothing. "Wouldn't be very fair to us either."

A/N: A cliffhanger on a smut?... yeah, I know. I'm sorry, but I must lead you guys on before giving you the complete filth of it all...

{ BONUS CONTENT + }

Credits to creator and I literally watch this edit on repeat …it’s so fucking good ;) 🖤

[starqueensthings]

Extra large, black, no sweetener!

Summary: the most random little ficlet that’s ever come from my brain. I likely should have saved this for a coffee shop AU, but the threat of it disappearing amidst my 2767634 other google docs is too high. So, please enjoy a soft lil, gender neutral, all ages welcome Cody ficlet about caf and muffins.  

WC/Warnings: 2356 words, 2nd POV (you/you’re) | brief mentions of pregnancy and labour (readers relative)

A/N: not proof read. If you happen across a passive verb or run on sentence, no you did not. 

ao3 here

Others may have found the cacophony inside the caf house somewhat obtrusive. Those accustomed to the traditionally calm ambience of a secluded bistro where they could simply lose themselves in the pages of an old book or sip their favorite elaborately prepared caf, would have been utterly aghast at the throng of patrons lined up outside of Renee’s, most  laughing loudly with their adjacent neighbour, or chatting uninhibitedly in languages you’d never heard before. 

Perhaps it was the welcome emergence of radiant sunshine this morning that had such an array of Coruscanti citizens seeking the comfort of a fresh scone and blue milk latte. Or, sadly, maybe it was the promise of cold and desolate weather tomorrow that had many seeking out the succor of a treat before that uncomfortable emergence of a fall drizzle. Or, perhaps, it was simply always this busy; with the Grand Republic Medical Facility in such close proximity, it was perfectly logical that such a diverse clientele, and a vast number of them, would visit the nearby caf house. Regardless of why, the sheer din of voices inside those four austere walls was a welcome change to the rhythmic beeps! that had relentlessly assaulted your awareness for nearly two full rotations. 

41 hours to be exact since the shrill chime of your holopad had roused you from your slumber, though it was the sheer panic immediately apparent in your sister’s voice that had sent you leaping earnestly from your bed and pulling on the nearest disjointed pieces of clothing. 

“My water broke!” she’d cried, her voice wavering beneath the surging anxiety of her imminent labour. “Can you meet me at the hospital?” 

41 hours since you’d pulled your speeder hurriedly into a parking space and sprinted through those hospital doors. 41 hours of sporadically having your hand squeezed to the point of simply wishing it would fall off. 41 hours of trying to doze in that creaky hospital chair, while the luminous barrage of Coruscant’s skyline kept you from truly finding the reprieve of sleep. 41 hours of the nurse droids rolling into the room at infuriatingly regular intervals, blinding her with an infrared beam of light as they scanned her vitals before disappearing again. 41 hours of listening to your sister, who’s anxiety was already exacerbated by the imminent reality of raising a child alone, whimpered amidst endless rounds of contractions, those excruciating cramps wracking her entire body with no relief. 41 hours… and still no sign of that baby. 

The hospital caf had been largely digestible for the first rotation, yet as sleep deprivation sunk further into your bones and apprehension continued to fester in those quiet minutes between contractions, just the thought of attempting to force that sludge down your throat saw your stomach churning anew.  

So at daybreak this morning, as the FX-9 medical droid finally conceded to numbing the lower half of her body and permitted your sister the solace of some much needed rest, you departed that stuffy hospital room in search of some real sustenance. 

Renee’s was the first door you’d found on your limited travels, its myriad of somewhat rickety bistro tables scattered both inside that congested space and across the front patio seemed a perfect place to mentally decompress before the need to rush back into the whirlwind of labour reemerged. More so, the thought of a nice baked good had you nearly drooling as you pulled the door ajar and filed into the line behind two bickering Ugnaughts. 

“‘Scuse me.” A voice broke into your wandering thoughts moments later, shortly followed by a thick purple arm reaching daringly across your chest. 

“No worries,” you offered that Devaronian man as he apologized for invading your personal space atop the need to deposit his used fork into the trash beside you, though even attempting a small step to the left neath an effort to grant him more space was a task near impossible thanks to the expanding crowd around the Pick-Up counter. 

“EXTRA LARGE, BLACK, NO SWEETENER!” 

How such a tiny body could have emitted such an assertive sound had you stifling a chuckle as you made your way through the throng toward the petite Pantoran woman placing a large kraft paper cup on the counter, yanking her askew apron back into place before disappearing again. You eyed that waiting caf near-possessively as you stumbled forward, stammering apologies to those you accidentally trod on in your efforts to reach it through the crowd. The promise of that hot, freshly brewed, steaming caf now felt like a talisman against the stress and anxiety awaiting you back on the 8th floor of that medical building, and you’d be damned if you didn’t savour every single sip—

“Oops, sorry…” 

An armoured hand knocked gently against yours as you reached to retrieve your blessed order, those gloved fingers instantly retracting as they collided with yours.

“No no, I’m sorry,” you asserted, looking upward at the person whose caf order perfectly matched yours.  

Even more shocking than the boisterous voice of the tiny blue woman, was the notion that you hadn’t initially noticed this man’s presence upon entering that cramped and crowded space. He stood out like a sore thumb amid that crowd in his dominating suit of white and orange plastoid, the deep scar wrapping from brow to cheek rendering him instantly imposing despite the softness behind those golden eyes.“I, uh… I assumed that was mine,” you continued somewhat breathlessly as his gaze found yours and momentarily froze the air in your lungs. “You’re a ‘black, no sweetener’ too?” 

He nodded, lips tensing under the first signs of smile. “The only way to drink a caf, if you ask me.”

“Agreed,” you grinned, trying to determine if the relentless hammering of your heart against the walls of your chest was the result of that unexpected confrontation, or the tingly feeling left in the wave of his eyes dancing across your features. “I can’t get behind this new trend of weird vegetable-spiced creams and chemically altered sugars. My molars hurt just thinking about it.” 

“You should hear my brother when he orders his,” the man answered with a laugh, those soft creases atop his forehead deepening as his amusement tugged his eyebrows upward slightly. “It’s some ‘non-fat, flip-it-back, no fuzz, extra cold’ …thing. Doesn’t even look like caf by the time they’re done making it.” 

You could only offer a small snicker in response, too distracted by how the small roll of those gorgeous eyes entirely lacked the contempt you’d expect to see when complaining about a sibling’s needless opulence, instead twinkling with something near a suppressed affection. 

“Well,” you started, feeling your face begin to flush under his soft gaze. “Feel free to take this one. I’m not in any sort of hurry.” 

“No no,” he argued, instantly protesting your offer by taking a small step away from the counter. “You go ahead. I’ll wait for the next.” 

“No, honestly,” you argued, retrieving the cup and giving him an encouraging nod as you pushed it against his worn and abraded chest plate. “I was going to wait around a little and see if they put out more muffins anyways. I was eying the last meiloorun one, but someone nabbed it before I could order.” 

“Ah,” he uttered, suddenly lifting a tiny wax paper bag to eye level and looking at you apologetically. “Guilty. Apparently we’re stealing each other's caf and breakfast.” 

“Apparently…” you teased amidst a feigned disapproval, heading shaking slowly while that persistent smile crept further across your lips. “You’re lucky you have a blaster at your hip or I’d be giving you a lot more attitude.” 

“Tell you what,” he proposed after a snort, “Since neither of us are in much of a hurry, I’ll take this caf and go grab us a table outside. Once you get yours, come find me and we’ll split the muffin. How’s that sound?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed with a nod. “As long as I get the bottom.” 

“The– the bottom?” His brows furrowed instantly, eyes widening while the tips of his ears reddenned. 

“Of the muffin,” you clarified instantly, feeling your own cheeks flush. “The bottom part of the muffin.” 

“Oh– right,” he answered, an apologetic smile peeling across those supple lips before a small snort shook his shoulders. “Okay, I’ll head outside.” 

It was only barely that you suppressed the embarrassing grin doming your cheeks in earnest as that unknown soldier disappeared through the front door and into that glowing sunshine, hands drumming anxiously against the outer parts of your thighs as you attempted to refocus your attention on the serving staff bustling around behind the counter. Seconds felt like hours, minutes like days. Would he actually wait for you? Save you a seat? Split his breakfast? Or had he already taken his wares and left, too polite to grant you a true rejection whilst surrounded on all sides by others?

With something near-impatience welling in your chest, you chewed on your lip and stared intently at every staff member that approached the counter with a kraft paper cup in their hands, heart lurching anew with every order called loudly atop the din of that growing crowd until finally… 

“EXTRA LARGE, BLACK, NO SWEETENER.”

Muscles seizing briefly as the shriek of that tiny Pantoran server took you by surprise, your feet took you hurriedly toward the counter, hands scooping up that steaming cup and wreathing it near-protectively as you thanked the woman and turned on your heel. 

That orange paint was immediately apparent some half a dozen tables from the door, gaze downward at the cup wreathed by his left hand, while his right drummed somewhat thoughtlessly against the tabletop next to an equally worn and distressed looking helmet. 

“Made it.” 

You’d hardly reached to place that cup down on the table and shove your wallet back into place before he rose from his seat to greet you, the legs of that aged and wobbly iron seat scraping loudly atop the stone below atop his sudden motion. 

That unexpected chivalry nearly froze you in your tracks as you nudged your own chair away from the table enough to lower your aching body down, offering him an appreciative smile as he waited until you’d situated yourself before mirroring your action.  

“Just sat down when I realized, I didn’t even ask your name,” he spoke amidst a dazzling smile, wasting no time passing that wax paper bag across the table for you to claim your part of that baked good first. 

“To be fair, I didn’t ask yours either,” you chuckled, extracting that glorious looking fruit pastry from its slightly crumpled container and quickly separating the top section from the bottom. 

He repeated your name under his breath as he took his half from your grasp and placed it on a napkin he’d spread across the table top in front of him. “I’m Cody,” he advised, glancing upward to gift you another near-dismantling smile. 

“Thank you for sharing your breakfast, Cody,” you spoke, tearing off a small piece of that fragrant pastry and plopping it in your mouth. “I really appreciate it. Don’t have any proof, but I’d bet any amount of credits the hospital food is slowly poisioning me.” 

“Uh oh,” he answered gravely. “Hospital? You okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” you answered, dismissing his concern with a casual wave. “My sister’s having a baby. She’s been in labour for nearly two days and both of us are going a little nuts. I had to escape for a while.” 

“A baby,” he repeated. “That’s gotta be exciting. Worth the wait, I’d think?” 

“It is…” you agreed slowly, unable to hide the apprehension neath your tone. “She’s on her own though, so she’s a little more anxious than excited right now. What about you? Usually the clones we see walking around here are Reds. Are you posted here, or just between missions?” 

“Neither really,” he answered, brushing crumbs from his fingers and pausing to swallow a mouthful. “My corps and I are technically assigned to the warship my General commands, but he’s a member of the Jedi council so we’re planetside pretty often, though it usually only lasts a few hours.” 

“That sounds kriffing exhausting,” you exclaimed with a frown. “To never get a break from battle?”

“It definitely can be,” he admitted with a shrug. “But sometimes having a break makes it tougher to get back into the action. It's almost better to stay on the combat base where you’re still immersed in the thick of it, though I have a feeling the food in the hospital might be the same as the food in the mess hall, so it’s nice to get out for a real caf every once in a while.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, lips compressing into a disconcerted grimace as your gaze danced warmly across that battle worn, plastoid kit hugging his body like a rigid second skin. “Well now I’m even more sorry I almost stole your caf.”  

“Don’t be,” Cody protested instantly, leaning back in his chair and shifting to rest his arm casually across the backrest. “I’m not. Not at all. In fact, I was going to ask yo—” 

A sudden chirp erupted from your holopad, it’s cry ringing loudly from the depths of your bag. You gasped, fingers releasing the last of those muffin remnants atop their haste to collect that singing device. 

“Maker!” you cried, eyes quickly scanning that interrupting message. “It’s baby time! I have to go. Um… thank you. This was really lovely, and… I wish I could stay, but… I… it’s time… she’ll kill me…” 

“Well let’s go then,” Cody answered atop a genuine chuckle, instantly returning to his feet and collecting their discarded napkins and wrappers from the table. “I’ll walk you back. And maybe we can talk about… I don't know… splitting another muffin next time I’m planetside?” 

“Sounds like a plan, as long as I get—” 

“Bottom. I’ll remember.” 

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @somewhere-on-kamino

Other written works here

[pseudowho]

Hello Dearest Haitch!

Hope this finds you well, and that you’re having a perfectly normal day sans any injuries!

This one’s going to be a bit personal ;; because I kinda get this feeling that you would understand me or atleast listen to me.

I feel like, I might be the most ungrateful human to exist, because I am surrounded by such loving and supportive people, and yet there are moments when I feel so lonely. I feel like I don’t have any one I can truly…you know… talk to. Openly, freely…for hours on end, without this constant worry that maybe I’m exhausting my welcome, or maybe the person is only with me because they have to be.

Like I said, this fluctuation happens so suddenly that , one moment I would be laughing out loud and then the other I’d feel like I am in the deepest of ocean beds, alone and floating. But I’m deceivingly good at hiding it. I’ve gotten better actually. To the point when I onetime fleetingly mentioned to someone that I’m feeling low and they said, “you? You’re the happiest and brightest person to ever exist!”

I have one of those loud laughs, and I giggle quite easily. But inside I would be feeling nothing. Extreme moments of happiness leave me feeling that maybe I don’t deserve this.

(One such incident—which no one knows about— that baffles me still is when I went to a concert and i ended up sobbing, feeling that loneliness creep in again)

While there is nothing wrong with my life, I don’t have anything to stress about, I live comfortably, well cared for, and extremely doted over. But this constant gnaw of feeling down or low, or overwhelmed doesn’t truly leave.

Sometimes I have even gotten vindictive and lashed out for no apparent reason, having arguments just for the sake of relieving this weird tension in my mind.

Simply put I’m exhausted because of this emotional roller coaster and wish I could control this better.

That was all.

Have a great day!

And much love❤️

Hi!

I'll absolutely listen, and read intently, and take it seriously, too.

Now, I think I'm right in what I'm about to say...but if I'm wrong, tell me, and I shall promptly delete this:

So what you're telling me, in truth, is that for better or for worse, there is a doctored version of you that takes charge of almost all of your interactions. It's still a version of you, sure, but the truth is, you've maintained it for so long now that almost everyone around you believes that this doctored version of you is the real you.

But it's not, is it? It's not the actual, unadulterated, nitty gritty raw exposed and vulnerable you, the truest comfortable you. That version is too naked; it has true joy, utter empathy perhaps, but also anger, anxiety, ugly bits.

As such you, like me, will be the happiest, most gregarious person in the room, often being the glue that holds others together, and the social lubricant to make others get along seamlessly...and you'll feel deeply, intensely lonely the whole time.

Most of the time that I'm in a room full of people, at least at one point in the gathering, sound will start to drown out around me, everything will go numb, and it's almost like time slows (like being at the bottom of the ocean, for you; for me, I find myself stuck inside a slowly moving clock)...and you're intensely, unequivocally, unbearably alone.

I quite relate to this lyric from Halestorm's "Can you see me in the dark?" And I wonder if you will too.

In this crowded room alone In the search of things unknown The face I wear is not my own So don't you forget

Gets hard being the doctored version of yourself, though. Lonely, and depressing. The longer that everyone believes the doctored version of you to be the true one, the deeper the depression gets, and that anxious spiral of hiding everything in gets worse.

So what do you do? You snap. And you're good at being vindictive because you understand people well, and when you understand how to make them happy, you understand how to hurt them too. It feels grimly satisfying, to have these arguments, but you just feel ashamed after because really, it was just all your unaddressed needs coming out sideways.

I have a single person in the world who I can be undoctored me with. Anyone else gets varying concentrations of me.

At this point, I'm not sure I'm able to help you, so much as able to help you feel seen.

Now I've typed all this out, I fear I've absolutely missed the mark, but I'm not sure I have. If I have, I'll delete it.

Anyway,

Let's see.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[terapsina]

I Missed You - elejah fic

Happy New Year, @vorpalmuchness (sorry for missing Christmas).

- ao3 -

For Elena, being without humanity was very much like being in a house that had burned down around her.

All the comfort and warmth of a home replaced by blackened beams and scorched walls; with broken, half-destroyed photo frames encircling nothing but ash.

It was numbness. Darkness. Silence.

There was no emotion.

But there was... instinct; and hunger. The ever-present rage that kept her foot firmly on that switch. And a strange fascination with playing with fire.

This was why Elijah's sudden appearance and the kiss that had driven the breath from her lungs and sent a simmer of resentment to warm somewhere in the very depths of her chest, did not quite make Elena want to run.

It should have. Elijah was a threat.

"You listen very carefully to me, Stefan, if anything whatsoever happens to Katherine, I will descend upon Elena."

Elena rolled her eyes. Bored.

He was a threat but not because of the reasons she was sure Stefan and Damon were probably freaking out about right now. Not because he could "descent upon her" and tear her to pieces before she could so much as flinch back - she wasn't sure if she'd care if he did and it was moot anyway, he wasn't going to. She knew what it looked like when Elijah made a genuine threat and this here was as empty as it came.

Likewise, he wasn't a threat because he could compel her humanity back - no, Elena knew he wouldn't.

Elijah wasn't a threat because of who he was. He was a threat because of who he'd become to the Elena that was at the moment safely buried under the burned-down remains of her humanity.

That other, more foolish Elena might have done her very best to remain ignorant but the Elena she was right now did not bother with the guilty white lies she'd told herself then.

Elena had always been a little bit too aware of Elijah; had seen a little bit too much behind the curtain. Found herself just a little too defensive of their interactions.

Found it just a smidge too hard to look away.

It was the way her name on his lips felt like a caress; the way she'd felt his eyes like a touch even as she did look away; the way his letter had gotten tucked in a dark little corner beneath her mattress so that it was close at hand and yet safely out of view from accidental discovery.

Most of all Elijah had been the one person around whom everything within her had sharpened into bright, sharp focus. Their negotiations - a dance between two players, the threat of the consequences she'd face if she failed to see the hidden pitfalls in their deals making her mind run on all cylinders. But also the breath of fresh air that was his respect of her as an opponent, - or an ally, or a person, - making her feel like she actually had agency over her own choices for a change.

Even during the moments when everything had inevitably gone to hell again and their gazes slashed betrayal and regret into the other...

Elena knew where her heart had been slowly heading.

Where it might have landed if things had been different. If he hadn't left, if she hadn't gotten entrapped in a sire bond so all-encompassing that the only breath of freedom she'd felt in months was after she'd followed that last command and the voiceless scream Elena had not even noticed in the back of her head had faded into gray alongside her grief.

And all this meant that Elena should be trying to get as far away from Elijah as fast as possible.

But something spiteful and rattling made her want to poke the beehive more.

"You're both idiots," she informed him.

"Excuse me?"

She exhaled loudly to show her annoyance. "What happened to you, Elijah? I mean, I thought you were supposed to be a man of honor. And yet you've been hooking up with Katherine this entire time?"

It wasn't jealousy, with the switch turned off she was safe from that. She didn't - couldn't - care that he'd apparently been shacking up with her doppelganger since leaving Mystic Falls. But the idea that he was yet another man who couldn't tell the difference between her and Katherine grated against something sharp, leaving a metallic taste at the back of her throat.

Irritation? Yeah, that was it.

Being without emotions wasn't quite like being without feelings.

It's just that what feelings were there were surface-level and mercurial. And right now they were spite and irritation and the urge to scrape a bloody claw over some of the soft tissue Elijah had exposed to Elena when he'd run his fingers over the strand of hair encircling her face and told her he'd missed her while thinking her someone else.

She wondered how long it had taken him to lose all common sense.

Katherine did always seem to work fast; had a curious knack for inserting herself in the spans at just the right moment for maximum personal gain.

She could almost admire it were it not for how it also likewise always ended with Elena needing to deal with the consequences of Katherine's actions.

Or with her brother cold, and dead, and gone forever.

"Well, I suppose this man of honor always shared a connection with Katherine. She contacted me when she learned about the Cure. We thought we could be of mutual use to one another." Elijah’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact, his turned back making it impossible for Elena to read whatever the true thoughts behind the words.

She wondered why it was that he seemed to be avoiding Elena's eyes now. Guilt for kissing the wrong woman? Shame for not having recognized that she wasn't Katherine? And damn if that alone wasn't encouragement enough to keep her own humanity well and truly dead.

Guilt was useless. Pathetic. And had been one of the bricks she'd laid in the path that led her straight down into the hell that was her sire bond to Damon.

"Of mutual use," she mocked him with sudden mirth. "Please. You fell for her trap just like every other one of those idiots."

"You underestimate me, Elena. I know who she is. I know what she's done." There was something about the way he was straightening his cuff-links, about the way he walked past her, forcing Elena to turn on her heel if she wanted to keep her eyes on him. Something about the way Elijah still kept his head turned, that made her think there were thoughts he was trying to keep concealed.

"And you think she's changed?" Was he really that blind? She looked into his eyes as he finally stopped in his circling and faced her. "She's playing you, she lied to you, Elijah."

"She didn't lie to me about your transformation," he contested, something sad flickering briefly over his face.

And then he seemed to truly look at Elena, with eyes that in any other circumstances would have pinned her in place and made nervous little butterflies flutter their wings in her stomach. In these circumstances however all Elena felt were faint echoes of hunger that reminded her that she hadn't ended up snacking on that redhead Katherine had compelled and Elena and Rebekah had used to find her.

"You're not just a vampire, though, are you?" he said and stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them until they were nearly as close to one another as they'd been when he'd slid his fingers over the back of her neck and pulled her face against his own. When he'd kissed her mid-word and she'd felt blood roar against her eardrums; felt his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair. Sensation running through her nerves, lighting them up like Christmas lights in December and--

...a flush of heat from within the heart that should be frozen over reminded Elena that playing with fire was only fun as long as she didn't let the bitter burn ignite into a fire.

Elijah stared at her like he could see straight through her into that wall protecting Elena from her pain and... Elena went blank, pushing even harder against the switch, smoothing annoyance into apathy - attraction into boredom - until all Elijah could possibly touch would be the frozen surface of a still lake. Cold and smooth, without cracks to be exploited.

"There's... something else. You're not yourself. You've abandoned your emotions, why?"

Because she'd died with Damon’s blood in her system. Because she'd become a walking, talking doll that did what she was bid. Because her sire told her to and the poor, sired fledge that she was, she'd had no choice but to obey.

She would never allow herself to become that again. She wouldn't let them win.

"My brother's dead," she said instead and finished vindictively in a monotone meant to cut. "Your girlfriend killed him."

Real shock crashed over his expression and Elena felt a vague twist in her stomach. Relief? No. She was free of relief, and why would it bring her that particular feeling anyway? "You didn't know?"

Katherine hadn't told him.

Then she snorted, surprised by her own surprise. "Of course you didn't."

Why would Katherine have said something that might make Elijah see exactly how little it was that she'd changed?

"She lied." There was anger in his eyes now. Disappointment. But strangely no hurt.

Something snagged against that last observation; something minor beginning to nag at the back of her brain.

'I missed you,' Elijah had whispered against Elena's lips.

But the Cure that was giving Elena such a headache recently had only shown up on the scene in the past few months. How long ago could Katherine have called him? How long could it have possibly been since the last time Elijah saw Katherine?

Mind whirring she kept herself still, staring back into Elijah’s eyes and not letting a hint of her thoughts through. Letting Elijah see only that absence of humanity as she answered with words that would give him nothing. "I hate to say I told you so but... duh."

Who exactly had Elijah thought he was kissing when he'd joined her under the roof of that gazebo?

Katherine? Or... Elena?

[im-gonna-squeet]

I still dont know who you are, I only know that I'm still lonely chap 2

Donnie has a bit of a late night breakdown, but all is well when they take care of their family, and theyre rewarded with twin cuddles (chap. 1) (chap. 3)

Donnie couldn't sleep.

They should be excited. But they just felt numb. It's not fair.

Just a few hours ago they were fine. They were so excited! Happy!

But now they can barely feel anything.

Whilst they struggled with identifying emotions, they still felt them, in fact they were a rather emotional person, so it was very noticable when they were gone. And they didn't know what to do.

This has happend throughout their entire life, but has become far more frequent since The Technodrome.

You would think that having an issue for your entire life would mean youre able to cope with that issue. Especially having a sibling as well-versed in psychology and emotions as Michael is. But apparently, that isn't how it works.

Having awful emotional permanence surely didnt help. It's very hard to keep a diary of your feelings when you forget about them immediately after you stop feeling them. Which makes it really hard to ask for help.

Emotions are exhausting and confusing, but Donnie thought they preferred having them to not.

The only time they didn't want to feel was after Shelldon... NOPE! No. He's back. Hes ok. Hes alive. No need to go back there ever again.

They decided to go and get a drink... and maybe check on Shelldon on the way. And their siblings. And Papa. But only because they couldn't sleep, and they were heading that way anyways.

They swung their legs over the side of their bed to get up, realising their mistake a moment too late.

"SHIT!" They exclaimed as they fell to the floor, legs unable to hold their full weight.

They covered their eyes with their palms as they let out a shaky breath.

Fuck.

Why do rhey keep forgetting about that.

They let out a quiet sob as tears started to wet their palms and the shock made their emotion flood back. Desperately trying to comfort themself, they pulled their knees to their chest, grabbing their plesiosaur plush from their bed and holding it close, burying their face into the well-loved stuffed animal.

Its not fair. Its not fucking fair. They just wsnted to be a normal-ish teenager. Sure, they can still technically do most of the things they used to be able to do. But it was diffrrent. Which meant that they were different. And they didnt like change.

They cant skateboard anymore, and they might never be able to again. They loved skateboarding.

Logically, they knew that with their enhanced healing, they would more likely recover than not, but it had been a fucking year and they'd made barely any progress.

And sure, their family were very accommodating and understanding, but they didn't get it. Not in the way Donnie needed them to.

It made them angry, and they hated themself for it. Because its not their fault.

They would never want anyone to see what they saw, to feel what they felt. But it just sucked sometimes. It was so isolating and lonely. They just wanted someone to understand. To really, truly know them. To listen to them and go 'yeah, i get it'.

But they never would.

Because if The Technodrome was to be beleived, and they see no reason why she would lie, nobody else had seen what she showed them. Or if they did, they didnt survive to tell their story.

But they all went through horrific trauma that night. Raph was literally mind controlled and Leo was trapped in the prison dimension with Prime for fuck's sake! There was no way they were talking about this and risking bringing back those memories, they wouldn't do that to them. No matter how painful and isolating it was.

They stayed there for a little longer, breathing deep, shaky breaths and listening to their own heartbeat.

Now they really needed a drink.

Thankfully, they had created a new, more comfortable battle shell for prolonged use. Though it wasnt really a battle shell more like a get-around-the-lair shell. They kept it next to their bed so they could put it on when they woke up.

After taking a second to put their glasses on, they put their battle shell on, securing it.

They released the spider arms and made their way to the door (after tucking in the plesiosaur plush, of course).

The kitchen light was on when they got there, which wasn't surprising as the others tended to forget to turn them off after getting snacks.

Donnies hands shook slightly as they took out a glass from the cupboard, then the cordial from thr cupboard below it. The shaking persisted as they made their drink and put the cordial away. Thry took a sip. Then another. Then downed the whole thing. They hadn't realised just how thirsty they were.

They left the glass in the sink, far too exhausted to wash it right now.

Since Papa's room was closest, they decided to check on hin first, then Raph, then Mikey, and then check on Leo & Shelly at the other end.

Their dad always left his door open at night so that he could hear his children and they could hear him. Donnie stuck their head through the door and listened out for a moment, some of the tightness in their chest dissipating as they heard him snore. They didn't feel the need to check any further and turned to their next destination.

As they approaced Raph's room, they could already hear her snoring, but decided to go in and check on her anyway. Walking further in, they saw that Raph had dropped a couple of her stuffed animals in her sleep, and took moment to put them back properly.

Pulling the blanket over her a little more, they gently stroked the side of her head with their thumb, snoothing out the creases in her brow. Once Raph had settled down and started to smile slightly, Donnie got up and made their way out of the room and towards Mikeys, feeling lighter than before.

Mikey was a very quiet sleeper, so Donnie couldn't hear anything outside of his room.

Making their way in, Donnie made sure to tidy Mikeys desk whilst still leaving everything out and in view so he didnt forget about anything.

Mikey was sound asleep in his bed, completely sprawled out with the blanket tied up in ways Donnie wasnt sure they could do if they tried. Nevertheless, they managed to free Mikey from the blanket without waking him – thank you extra arms – and lay it over him instead so he didn't get cold.

They stayed for a moment longer, just watching him breathe, until they felt secure enough to leave him alone. It was truly incredible how much calmer they felt now compared to when they first got up.

Donnie, Leo, and Shelldon all had rooms on the opposite side of the layer, with theirs on the end closest to their lab, and Shelldons between them and Leo.

Leos room was on that side because of twin reasons. As much as they loved to make fun of eachother and get in dumb fights, they really were part of eachother. If either one needed any sort of comfort or help, the other – no matter how angry they may be, will always be there for them. They understood eachother like nobody else. And they will do anything to keep it that way.

Gently pushing open the door to Leos room, they made their way over to his bed. Leaving the haphazardly stacked comic books just the way he likes them. From the looks of it, Leo had fallen asleep on his phone, so Donnie made sure to put it on charge, gently removing Leos mask and fixing his blanket. But Leo was a much lighter sleeper than everyone else, and opened his eyes, blinking a few times before letting out a scratchy "Tello?"

Shit.

"Yeah, its me, Lee, sorry for waking you Ill-"

They were cut off by Leo gently grabbing the sides of their face, his face scrunching up in concern, " 'v you been crying?"

They cringed. Ah. Right. They didnt wash their eyeliner off. God they probably looked like such a mess right now. "Yeah, im- im- im okay now though. Go back to sleep."

Leo grabbed their hand and pulled gently, clearly inviting them to join him.

"Sigh. Alright, fine, but I have to go check on Shelldon first, ill be right back. Promise." They gave Leo a kiss on the head and stood to leave after he nodded.

Well, they were spending the night in Leos room now, they supposed. They were grateful for it to be honest, they didnt really want to be on their own right now.

As they entered Shelldon's room and saw the droid charging, they felt the last (biggest) bit of their anxiety melt away and they were so releived they could cry.

They quickly made their way to his bedside, lowering themself to kneel next to him.

Then they did start crying. He was there. Their son. Their baby. Safe and comfortable and alive. They gently caressed his face and neck, careful not to wake him. Leaning over, Donnie gently kissed him on the top of his head. He's right there. And he's okay.

Donnie stayed there for a few minutes, just watching him. They wanted desperately to hold him. To take him in their arms and never let go. To make sure nothing can never harm him ever again. But they didnt want to wake him.

Soon enough, they felt almost all of their anxiety leaving them, so they left back to Leos room.

When they got back, Leo wasnt asleep, and was clearly trying very hard to stay that way.

Donnie sat down on the edge of his bed where Leo cleared the blankets for them. They took their battle shell off very carefully so they didnt hit Leo and placed it next to the bed. Then they took their glasses off and put them on the bedside table before moving themself to lie next to Leo, resting their head on his bicep and wrapping their arms around him. "G'night. Love you." Leo managed to get out before immediately passing out. "Night Leo, I love you too." Donnie replied, feeling warm and safe and secure for the first time that night before they joined their beloved twin in sleep.

reblogs > likes

[fuckyeah-dragrace]

Sashnetra!! 😫🫶

32. “Are you always this oblivious?”

to make up for the angst i put y'all through also @sweetestberryofthebunch this is my apology to you my lovely and beautiful business spouse <3<3

32. “Are you always this oblivious?”

Anetra didn’t know how she got here in the first place. One minute she was trying to keep her head up while listening to the most mind numbing lecture and the next, Kerri is dragging her down the hall to their dorm.

Apparently she made the mistake of mentioning she didn't have any plans for spring break and her roommate took that as a sign to drag her along with whatever she had planned.

"It'll be fun! I promise!" She smiled at her and how could Anetra say no.

That's how she ended up at some resort with Kerri, her girlfriend and her mother. It was by no means an awful visit, quite the opposite. The water was beautiful and they had a great view, not to mention the people staying at the hotel were hot too.

They'd gone out every night and even with the amount of people giving her looks and drinks, she'd end up back at the hotel in her room.

Kerri's mother, Sasha as she pushed everyone to call her was always back at the room, welcoming her in and asking about how the night went. She'd pat her back and give her some sort of comfort which made it better and worse as Anetra lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

One night, she decided to stay in and head down to the pool. No one was down there at that hour so the peace and quiet was welcomed. She kept a towel around herself as she opened the door. She sat down and sat down on the edge of the water, adjusting the strap of her bikini top.

She sank into the water and sighed, relaxing and closing her eyes. This was what she needed, not girls, not booze, just peace and quiet. She closed her eyes before hearing the door open. Mother fucker.

"Nice to see a familiar face down here." Her eyes snapped open and she craned her head to look at Sasha, standing in her own bikini and smiling at her. Her heart jumped into her throat as her whole body went hot all over, staring at her before snapping out of it.

"Miss Colby." She said with a tense smile. "I thought you were asleep."

"So did I. Something keeping you up, hun?" She asked in a sweet and curious tone, making Anetras head spin. Her green swim cover was draped around her shoulders, not at all covering her tanned at all.

“Uh just clearing my head. Been a long day.” She swallowed and turned her eyes away from her.

“You did look a little tense. Something on your mind?” Anetra could hear the footsteps behind her. The older woman moved and sat down on the edge of the pool. She dared to look over and nearly choked on her tongue.

All she could see was Sasha’s toned body, barely any of her body covered in her bikini. The fabric was holding back her bust, still allowing portions of her breasts to spill out.

“Just things you know.” She said nervously, scooting a little further from her. “Always worrying about something.”

“I know,” she chuckled, shifting closer to Anetra as her throat dried. “Kerri tells me how hard you work. It’s quite admirable, Anetra.”

Fuck. It felt so good hearing her say her name like that. She swallowed and dared to look over at her and instantly regretted. Sasha was smiling at her so sweetly and her body was right in front of her. Her eyes raked over the Brody hungrily before she snapped her head around, turning a deep scarlet.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Colby.” She rushed out. “I-I should go.”

“Honey, wait.” Sasha’s hand came to one of Anetras shoulders. The younger woman stilled and looked at her. Warm eyes and a gentle smile, holy shit. This wasn’t real. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. You’re my friends mom. I can’t look at you like how I was. Oh my good I’m awfu-“

She went silent as a warm hand cupped her chin tenderly. She must look like a fool for how wide her eyes were and how open her mouth was.

“Honey, are you always this oblivious?” She said in a syrupy sweet tone that made Anetras head spin and heart skip millions of beats. “I want you to look at me.”

She blinked a few times before responding. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention this whole trip but you’re a tough one.” She laughed, hand shifting to cup Anetras cheek.

She stammered for a moment. “Me? You want me?”

Sasha nodded, shifting closer and having her other hand rubbing over Anetras shoulder. “I do.”

Holy fucking shit. This wasn’t real, she had to be dreaming, she had to be. But Sasha’s hands stayed on her cheek and shoulder and she could smell her sweet perfume. She locked eyes with her and finally spoke out the one thing she’s been thinking this entire trip.

“Kiss me.”

Sasha grinned and her nails brushed against Anetras cheek, sending shivers down her spine. “With pleasure baby.” She leaned down and connected her lips and it was so much better than anything either of them imagined.

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Most-Listened of December 2023

(via stats.fm/spotistats)

This was finals month, and a particularly rough set of finals, too. But I always tend to enjoy music as a whole more in December, as everyone takes time to appreciate their favorite songs of the year! So, though there weren't a whole lot of new releases, this was a great listening month for me, hence all the five-star songs :)

[last month]

1. The Very First Night -- Taylor Swift

This is an exuberantly painful song--just how happy Taylor Swift sounds, as she dreams of the impossible, breaks my heart and then brings me back for yet another listen.

2. Elevarte Caer -- Xoel López, Repion

This song is so powerful, hit after hit after hit of melody. The headbanging goes WILD whenever this one comes on.

3. Pierre -- Ryn Weaver

Soundtrack to my (requisite) finals breakdown, and WOW is it catchy. The bittersweet feeling chokes me up every single listen!

4. Closer -- The Chainsmokers, Halsey

Of all the songs Todd in the Shadows has featured on his yearly best lists, I don't know why THIS is the one that has made my own monthly list twice. But here we are!

5. Like I Can -- Sam Smith

Sam Smith angst is something special. I still like "Stay With Me" more, but "Like I Can" has the bite I needed this month.

6. Lean On -- Bely Basarte

I got really sick around Christmas, and Bely Basarte's soft covers of songs from my childhood helped comfort me through it :)

7. Numb Little Bug -- Em Beihold

Thanks @embroselu for the rec! When the instrumental go CRASH I go SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE (the texture is fantastic we love it)

8. Blame Brett -- The Beaches

This one is so much fun!! It brings pop euphoria to rock music just as excellently as my favorite Yena tracks!

9. Favorite Crime -- Olivia Rodrigo

Yeah, none of the GUTS ballads have managed to match this one, or "1 step forward, 3 steps back", for me.

10. Temporary Fix -- Dirty Blond

This is exactly what winter gloom feels like.

11. Una Sonrisa -- Repion

I've taken this on as sort of personal theme song, I love it so much!! AL FINAL, TE CANTARÉ, PARA SI SENTIRME BIEN &lt;3 AL FINAL, TE CANTARÉ, PORQUE ME HACE BIEN A MIIIIIIIIIII PORQUE ME HACE BIEN A MIIIIIIIIIIIIIII <3

12. Royal -- IVE

This song is fine, I don't mind it! I left it on repeat while speedrunning a final essay, and apparently that was enough repeats to get it on this list--I don't think I've listened to it in any other context.

13. Heavy Lashes -- Ichiko Aoba

Accidentally clicked on this while looking for "Heavy" by Linkin Park & Kiiara--no regrets! It's mysterious but also tender, a ballad that's full of surprises. One listen, and I knew it was going to be on the five-star songs list.

14. Piklu's Vacation Dream -- Abeer Khandker

Every list needs a random meme song! Thanks to Pinely on YouTube for bringing this song into my world <3

15. All-American Bitch -- Olivia Rodrigo

Me when Olivia Rodrigo lyrics...

Five-Star Songs This Month:

BIBI Vengeance -- Bibi (i didn't realize how great this one is until it showed up on my spotify wrapped top 100 this year. bibi & the song work SO well together, it's captivating!! and there has to be something in that chorus, because its shock value still hasn't worn off)

Bruise -- Jo Yuri (this was overshadowed by the other songs on the album, but i fell hard for its delicate atmosphere this month. jo yuri's vocals on love all really are something else!!)

Call My Name -- Sunmi (yet another flawless sunmi bside. i really hope she releases another mini album--or an album, if we're lucky--soon!)

Elevarte Caer -- Xoel López, Repion

Heavy Lashes -- Ichiko Aoba

Peach Blossom -- Yuju, sokodomo (another song i underestimated earlier in the year. i'm so glad yuju's solo songs have been centering her vocals so heavily, moving away from gfriend's dramatic, showy instrumentals--she really can carry a song, and i'm so glad for the chance to appreciate her singing more!)

[ishiwritesstuff]

Memories Come in Waves (Tonight I'm Drowning)

A/n:- This was a very notes app type of story that i found while digging through my actual notes app. This story is partially based on things that happened to me when i was 16 so take it w a grain of salt pls :3

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman And in every other *sighs* universe, it doesn't... end well.

16.

Isn't 16 the year where every netflix or disney main character goes to their beautiful coming of age journey, with a boyfriend, newfound academic and mental strength, along with a sense of belonging? Well I thought I was on that path too, moving to a new school always brings back that sense of hope and innocence.

But, all of that, derailed, because of that one person I thought would be mine, that one person, who, if he wasn't mine, I knew I'd stay friends with, with shared inside jokes and short looks that always showed comfort, and understanding.

Fuck Harlow Vincent.

The first time I met him, I forgot he existed. That's not even exaggeration, I truely forgot he was a person I talked to. Meeting him, with a short introduction from my best friend, in the badminton court, was nothing but a fleeting thought of meeting a new acquaintence.

I met him again, in school. Apparently we shared the same psychology class, which I failed to notice since the start of the new school. When a task of decorating a pinboard forced us in the same proximity, he came over and introduced himself again, where I remembered him again. Extending my hand for him to shake, and feeling his firm, confident, and warm hand on mine, is my most vivid memory of him. I remember just... talking to him, the ease of the conversation shocking me, as i've never been a very open person with people I just met, though i can hide it well. The time flew by, and the period finished, but I felt just a good platonic bond with him.

My next memory involved me, a few months after, just emotionally numb, sitting on the stairs where I first met him. I'd found that, my spiralling mental health might be due to the fact that, the subjects that I chose to study, I started dreading to pick up, having random breakdowns over them. My parents found out, and my father made the decision to switch them to the subjects I always liked studying. That... didn't sit well with my mother for a few days, which led to us not talking for those few days, just complete radio silence. Those feelings, I just told my best friend on those stairs, and from the badminton court, out came, who else but Harlow. He sat, and listened to me rant as well, patiently, and offered me advice, his mountain dew, and cracked a few jokes, which... helped me. I followed through on the advice, and, a few tears later, everything was fine back home. He also helped me switch comfortably, as i'd coincidently taken the same subjects as him. This led to us having more meaningful conversations, and him opening up about his problems as well, which I (hopefully) helped him in. That connect, made me fall for him, because, for his flaws, he truely tried to be a better person, tried to work on himself, and I liked that more than I thought I would.

Now comes the painful bit, the part where he found out. A walk, with my entire friends group at the time, and an offhand comment, with our names attached together, just froze him. Froze as in he very, truely stopped moving. Me, being painfully oblivious to it, asked if anything was wrong, He said no, and we moved on; but he made it a point to leave my side and stand somewhere, anywhere else, as long as it wasn't beside me, and talked to everyone else beside me. I only realised the reason later that night, in bed, hurt on why he'd do that.

Our talks became short, and dull, lacking all the emotion it had previously. He still hung out with me, but only if I was present, and didn't initiate anything. It hurt still, and it was delusional on my part to even THINK he liked me, but it was a rub of a wound in salt nonetheless.

In one of those hangouts, I got my little brother, 6 at the time, excitedly talking about marvel, pokemon and roblox (that is a things kids do now, dont judge), and him, fucking Harlow Vincent, just standing here, hearing my brother go on, and talking to him in such a respectful and nice tone, that I have not heard people use with my brother, and that... that tipping point, made me fall head over heels for him, for 10 solid months. His heart, his understanding nature, his 'not afraid to tell you where you went wrong' characteristic, and his absolute resolve in healing himself didn't help my situation.

Lord knows that fall would lead to an injured heart, and an unexplainable void in my feelings.

I dont know what happened, but in the span of those months, I just had enough. I was over him, and, with some introspection, thought that the only reason I fell for him was because I attached my emotion well being to him, which wasn't healthy at all. My friends pointed out every last thing I dismissed and glossed over about him, while wearing rose tinted glasses, and I was... appalled at how i'd missed them. I realised that while he did have his good parts, other people who was better suited for me did have those characteristics too, and that he had done things that I couldn't just let go.

That was the point I decided not to text him again, because thats the only time we even used to talk. Even birthday texts were devoid of any emotion. I was the one who wished him, he never wished me, knowing full well when my birthday was, and that 17 was a big year for me.

All we are now, are strangers with memories. Memories that physically pain to revisit. But occasionally, I do fall in the rabbithole of those memories. I sometimes, joking call him my period crush, becauee I only think of these things on my period. But it does pain.

Its been a year, this month was the month I refused to talk him. The only contact we have now is through forced interactions, or second hand interactions, with a person usually being in the middle, while we pretend not to listen to what the other is saying. Its... not ideal I know. We sometimes accidently lock eyes for longer than a second, and those waves of memories take me under, leaving a lump in my throat, and I look away. In an MUN, he held a position higher than me in the organising committee, and while he gave me instructions, he sometimes stepped closer for comfort, which led me to always stay two steps away from him, and his slightly disappointed look never failed to make me feel guilty and so fucking confused.

Those memories are like riptide waves, which will, without fail, take me away from the things that ground me, to the dark side, which i refuse to let happen. Except for tonight. Memories like these come in waves, and tonight darling, i'm drowning.

[vee-thebee]

while i’m over sharing about my teeth I just want to say that I really feel blessed and truly lucky that my dentist is just like…. not an asshole?

my sister is disabled and highly anxious and i am her primary caregiver so i go with her to appointments and such and even though they work in the same office at the same practice her dentist is just so,,,, bad. at being comforting.

dentists are one of the most nerve wracking places to be, yknow? like absolutely nobody wants to be there at any given moment. before i started building a rapport with my dentist i would have preferred going to a gynecologist to get a fucking pap smear.

but my dentist is like really fucking cool. The first time I went in for an appointment his technician was so comforting and gentle while also being relaxed and casual. she joked around with me and had me laughing in the chair. and then my dentist came in after my x-rays and cleaning and broke the news that my teeth were hurting so bad because of my wisdom teeth and the next words out of his mouth were “this is crazy, but stay with me.”

i knew i’d need fillings which i was terrified of because my sister’s dentist is a straight up bitch. my sister had a filling fall out and this woman held my sister down and blasted her raw exposed tooth and pulp with sand without any numbing at all. you think i’m exaggerating but i swear i am not. so when i was told i needed so many fillings i was petrified.

the first words out of my dentist’s mouth after letting me know i’d need fillings were:

“would you like nitrous?”

is that an option?

he gave me nitrous at all of my appointments. he let me listen to music. he even gave me a fidget out of the toy bin because he could see how nervous i was (bright pink koosh ball, i got to keep it because according to the techs i was very brave). he laughed and joked with me while working on me and checked with me every minute or so to make sure i was comfortable and wasn’t feeling any kind of pain. after my last appointment, he let me keep the mask. apparently they rarely use that size so they’d been reusing the same one over and over and told me to take it home with me in case i needed another filling done, they could keep using it.

then i didn’t see them for six months because i was all done. i had my six month cleaning a few days ago. i wasn’t dreading it when i walked through the door. i need fillings again, but my wonderful tech assured me that it wasn’t my fault—they were probably there the whole time, but my enamel hadn’t chipped off yet so they couldn’t see them. they’re teeny tiny anyway and the only reason that they’re hurting me as bad as they are is because of where they are on my teeth.

apparently my dentist wrote in my file that i always need nitrous for procedures.

a little kindness goes a long way when you’re a professional like that. because for some reason dentists make a person feel very vulnerable and scared, and when you’re kind to them as the source of their anxiety, you could cure a lifelong fear.

(pic of the emotional support koosh ball that still comforts me when i get nervous)

[cedrictheprettyboy]

One Winter Day (One-Shot)

Summary: Harry comforts Ginny after her breakup with Michael Corner. (Kinda OOC Harry, Ginny, and Michael but nothing crazy!)

Notes: Characters are kind of OCC sorry in advanced, but I don't think it's too bad! This takes place in Harry's 5th year, it doesn't exactly follow the events of the books or the movies. Also, this is a one-shot, it's not very long and it's full of fluff! :)

Characters: Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, and Michael Corner.

Warning(s): Little bit of angst but quickly turns into fluff and two kisses nothing crazy tho!

Rating: K+ and Teen audiences

Hope you all enjoy <3

Ginny’s POV

Michael asked me to come with him out by the black lake, I cannot believe how naive I was. Anyways, I was distracted by the glittering snow at the time, admiring the beauty of it. Looking around smiling as the snow fell elegantly, I suddenly had a childish thought, why not stick out my tongue wouldn’t that be fun? While I was smiling, Michael frowned. He must have been deep in thought, but he was thinking of something very different, not so much happy things. At least in my case, you’ll see. 

“I think we should break up.” Michael said, looking up at me.

“What? I look over at my boyfriend, Ex-Boyfriend apparently, heartbroken and confused but not for long.

“I’m not feeling it.” Michael replied.

“You're not feeling it? Oh that's just rubbish, that's the most lame excuse I know you're still angry over the fact that Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw. I could feel my temper flare, how dare he? First of what lame excuse, second off is seriously breaking up with me over quidditch? 

“I have three words for you, In Your Dreams Weasley. I’m just bored.” Michael smirked and walked off. I just stood there motionless, numb. We had initially stopped at the large oak tree, I fell back towards the tree sinking to the hard cold ground, tears streaming down my face sobbing quietly. 

Harry’s POV

I honestly thought Ron and Hermione’s fights had come to a halt or even a stop. But they haven't, they've resumed again, I hate seeing them fighting but there’s not much I can do. Why can’t they realize they like each other? Uhhhhh they are so oblivious, well I’m one to talk. I know I’ve been pretty oblivious to girls, especially to a certain redhead. But that's besides the point, I thought, shaking my head trying to push that thought a way.  After a few minutes I start walking towards the oak tree by the black lake. I heard something that was inaudible at first, but then I realized it was crying. I slowly walked closer and realized it wasn’t just anyone, it was Ginny. Huh, ironic karma’s a funny thing isn’t it? But that’s not what’s important, what’s important is if Ginny’s okay. 

“Ginny?” I called softly bending down. “What’s wrong?”

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” I said, slowly moving beside her. “What happened?”

“Michael broke up with me over quidditch or the fact he’s bored.” I looked down, deep in thought. “His loss, you're an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to call you their girlfriend. Michael is just a jerk and clearly a sore loser. And he definitely doesn’t deserve you. And you're way stronger and a way better person. I softly brushed away her tears, she looked at my hand and blushed a soft deep red and then I pulled her in for a hug. She was surprised but gladly hugged me back. She started to cry again “Just let it out, it’s okay.” I said, rubbing her back. After a few minutes she pulled away slowly her face was red from crying, it hurt seeing her so heartbroken. 

“Ginny, this is the worst possible time but please listen I understand if you don’t feel this way but I like you and I mean I really like and it hurts knowing he hurt you and how I was oblivious I was for so long and how I missed my chance, I just needed to tell you this. I know this is the worst possible time, but forgive me.” For the first time in a while she finally smiled, so bright and warm, she then blushed looking down.

“I’ve waited so long for you to say that.” Ginny said, looking into my green eyes. I smiled, mischievously as I placed my hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her smiling the whole time. I then placed my other hand on her waist, while she placed her hands on my cheek and in my messy black hair. It felt so right, we melted into each other, it was like two missing pieces finally finding each other. The kiss lasted for a minute, but it was so sweet and soft, perfection. I don’t understand Michael Corner. Ginny Weasley is amazing in every way, her personality, her looks, everythings perfect about her. After a minute I pulled away smiling softly and vice versa. “So, Ginny, will you be my Girlfriend?” She smiled brightly and said “Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend!” And then this time she leaned in for a kiss, wrapping her arm around my neck. 

THE END

Link(s):

[luckandstrange]

I would like to add some of my own due to the fact that the length of time I have dedicated to this band is really taking a toll on me at the moment. I'm struggling a bit to think about the mass of it...

I chose them as the subject for my 8th grade final project in music class, thus changing the trajectory of my life forever. Said project is rife with inaccuracies.

First picture of Roger I saw shocked me because he looked so strange (apparently a universal experience)

I would spend every night of the rest of 8th grade scrolling the Pink Floyd search results on Deviantart, mostly just regular art, but it overwhelmed me with so many emotions that I had to frequently tab out.

Got into an insane amount of intimate discord drama in a chat with some of the most renowned Floyd artists at the time. I remained partial and got invited to the discord chat with the splitting individuals as well as staying in the original.

I jumped at any opportunity to detail the band's entire paraphrased history.

Classic case of "I was born in the wrong generation" and all its fix-ins.

Dogs was one of the first I listened to, both shocked and intrigued by its length.

I slowly realized that I had been hearing their music all of my life, so getting into them was even more fun.

I kept begging my parents to watch Live at Pompeii with me.

I fully convinced myself that this kid talking about the #NotMyRodgerick meme from Diary of a Wimpy Kid shortening it to #NotMyRoggie was talking about RW

I got so obsessed with Roger and Nick's friendship that I started shipping them and couldn't keep it subtle so I psyopped my friend into making these character versions of them where Roger was an Easter island head named Ouch and Nick was Bloo from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. I still have the clay figurine of Bloo Nick that I made. (don't ask)

When I went to see Roger in 2017 I was almost certain that I would've had the opportunity to run into him after the show. I didn't.

My friend and I went to a carnival, and while she was trying to talk to someone else on the same ride as us, I was singing the entirety of Comfortably Numb out loud.

The first time I heard Summer '68 I think I replayed it at least 30 times.

Same with San Tropez.

I got a sunburst fender precision-bass for Christmas, think the same look as the one Roger played in Live at Pompeii, which I have admittedly rarely picked up. I'd say I'm at the very least intermediate.

Drawing the band was my introduction to drawing people other than dragons more regularly, so in my drawings faces tended to have awkwardly large noses and small foreheads. (I wonder who's to blame for that...)

I was drawing them at a fourth of July party and someone came up to me and asked "Is that The Beatles?"

At the same party, Comfortably Numb came on and I crouched down to fully immerse myself in the song while rocking back and forth.

I was one of the artists for a Pink Floyd ask blog in 2017.

My friends and I embarked on an unserious "Classic Rock RP" that consisted of us roleplaying as Roger and Dave going to Japan with JPJ from Led Zeppelin. Once the friend playing JPJ went to bed, the two of us ended up getting pretty.. intimate.

We made a discord chat to do our watermour roleplay in. We started calling it g1interphase as a codename because we were both learning the cell stages in Biology class.

This lasted for

Eight

Months

Straight. Every single day.

I can still hardly believe that. The majority of it has lapsed from my memory.

We shipped Snowy White and Dick Parry at one point.

I was a pissed off little shit when I saw Nick in 2019 because the literal show BEFORE that one in New York, Roger showed up because he was in the area. Suffice to say he didn't show up a second time.

Every New Year's Eve since 2018, I've perfectly timed the Careful With That Axe, Eugene scream to land precisely on midnight when the year changed. Except I didn't do it for this year, so I think I reanimated the Pink Floyd curse.

Thank you for enduring me. Have I changed very much? Who knows...

Calling my younger self out for all the embarrassing things they thought/did when I first started getting into Pink Floyd (I just think I was endearing albeit annoying)

Initially confused them with LED Zeppelin because for some reason my brain put them on a similar tier

Went to watch the Pulse tour DVD … promptly realised it was post-Waters, cried, shut it off immediately, and haven’t seen it since (I actually own a DVD and a VHS tape of the film…both of which were gifts actually)

Saw that Live at Pompeii gif of Roger blowing the smoke rings and just stared at it for a long while promptly falling in love

Didn’t know the Wall was a double album and just assumed the second disc was demos so I never listened to it and would only listen to half the album. Eventually I decided to play the second disc and realised how stupid I was (In the Flesh confused me)

Had an entire wall in my room dedicated to The Wall (I painted out the brick design and had these posters)

Didn’t really care much for the WYWH album (and now it’s my favourite Pink Floyd album..)

FUCKING GAVE AWAY THE IN THE PINK NICK SEDGWICK BOOK BECAUSE I WAS GOING THROUGH SOME SHIT AND ROGER WAS MAKING ME FEEL GUILTY AND HORRIBLE

Would listen to the Wall at least once a day for months on end especially while sitting alone at lunch

Used the fact that my mum desperately wanted me to make friends to go to a Roger Waters concert with this boy who had a crush on me and then promptly started trying to convert me to Catholicism once he found out I’m atheist, bisexual, and non-binary. Roger Played the Gunner’s Dream for the encore so no regrets there

Had a long and unhealthy obsession with The Final Cut and would play my LP of it at least once a day

Read something about Roger calling the rest of the band “the muffins” and promptly dubbed David “greasy muffin”…and got the rest of my online friends to join in

Wrote endless HCs with a friend about Watershend (Roger Waters x Pete Townshend)… I stand by this one. Sorry

Did a 10 minute presentation on the Wall for a history class when I was…14

Called in sick to school even though my teachers knew I was going to watch Roger Waters in concert

Found a copy of Rick Wright’s Wet Dream on vinyl at a market… had no cash in the moment … asked my friend if they could give me cash and then I’d pay them back later… my friend agreed thinking it was for food (I wasn’t trying to deceive them I promise I just didn’t communicate what that money was for as clearly as I thought I did… but I did pay them back plus a bit extra!) I did get my record tho

Went to Battersea Station…. DIDN’T REALISE IT WAS A FUCKING SHOPPING MALL ON THE INSIDE BECAUSE I FAILED TO DO MY RESEARCH AND DIDN’T EVEN ATTEMPT TO GO INSIDE BECAUSE I AM AWKWARD AS HELL… so instead I opted to awkwardly stand around the outside and check out the nearby shops (this is recent ;-;)

I used to draw and would just fill my notebook up with drawing of Pink Floyd (mostly just Roger…)

I am just now remembering how much of my fanart was nose-centric

You know that common trans experience of “trying desperately to live as your assigned gender one last time so you overcompensate before you come out”… well that overlapped with my “ukulele and Syd Barrett let’s dress psychedelic” phase

Have bought way too many pieces of clothing because they remind me of something Roger wore once (I think I’ll make this into it’s own post perhaps)

That’s all I can remember for now. Just feeling nostalgic. I could make a second part of all the most recent cringe shit I’ve done. I’m not laughing at myself I’m laughing with myself. Honestly my younger self was iconic, gotta love her

[bokubear]

THE HQ BOYS FORGET ABOUT YOUR DATE

featuring ; matsukawa issei, kuroo tetsuro, bokuto kotarou, akaashi keiji

warnings ; slight angst/hurt, eventual comfort, crying

notes ; it’s been a while since i updated you guys, think of this as my check in. i hope you’re all doing well !

MATTSUN experienced that uncomfortable feeling of dread filling his senses at around six thirty, approximately an entire hour late from your scheduled dinner date. the restaurant he picked out, the outfit you had bought specifically for this rare occasion. wasted. yet he didn’t realize until he happened to open his messages, your pinned number causing him to leap from the loveseat in terror. he messed up big time. your beautiful face crumbling with sadness sent him dizzy in distress. the frazzled man disregarding his usual belongings to run to the place, evening lights twinkling with the dimmed lighting; elevating the romantic atmosphere. “baby i’m so so-“ however, the apology was cut off when you shoved past him—soft sniffles heard. “if you have time to apologize, you surely had time to show up.” you hissed, not sparing a single glance at issei. after that, he trailed behind you on the way home—downcast. the sounds of your crying haunting him from the living room. he was giving you space, but this was killing him. “i made your favorite dish, come out so we can talk-“ once again, the words frothing in his throat dissolved upon impact. your face hidden in his t-shirt. “you jerk, don’t you ever do that again or i will not hesitate to cut off your hands and feet.” he stood in stunned silence. “alright then, am i forgiven ?” — “not a chance.”

KUROO was fully immersed in his job, and you couldn’t be happier for him. except for the portion which required him to be away for long periods of time. apparently, the at-home movie date was long forgotten. because tetsuro was a no show. the thought of calling him left your lip quivering. this could possibly be one of the only times you get to see him this week and your patience and resilience was running thin. finger pressing the call, listening to the dial tone with absolute silence—emotions in an overflow. but the anger bubbling quickly dissipated when the fluid and ear numbing voice was heard. his. “..how could you forget ?” your voice cracked, crucially unhelpful. “that’s it ! tonight was the movie night wasn’t it ?” he bit his lip, guilt eating his heart alive. “it was.” you finished, hands shaking as you held the phone—struggling to keep it together. “it’s okay kitten, i hear you, i can’t even explain how sorry i am, let it out i’m here.” he hushed, easing your choked sobs. he stayed on the phone with you all the way to the door, enveloping you in his arms while gently rubbing your back. “how about my neighbor totoro ?” you gasped in air. “that sounds okay.” he smiled weakly, kissing your lips. “anything for you.”

BOKUTO grinned form ear to ear, this smile was most definitely not as large as it was when gazing at you—but impressive in the least. his power was phenomenal and this practice was proving simple. kotarou’s gained skill over the years bringing him to this moment. he was obsessed. although no matter how deeply he adores volleyball, you took first. today though the ace was fully charged. mind straying from the picnic date set up forty minutes ago. “that one was the best !” he shouted with glee, fists clenching pridefully. his mini celebration cut short at the gym doors being opened. there you stood, gorgeous as ever in your newly purchased sun-dress. “how’d the practice go ?” you quietly exclaimed, eyes saddened. automatically he ran to you, noting the picnic basket in your hands. “sweets i forgot i’m sorry honey i—“ the look on your face unreadable. “can we start this day over ?” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. “just take me on a date you oaf, and if you forget next time i’m not going to your next game.” he brightened first, then paled at the later add in. “that’s easy peasy then.” he smirked triumphantly, hands on his hips. “mhm i bet it is.” you hummed, brows lifted in amusement. ‘honey.’ you haven’t heard that one before.

AKAASHI is a busy man. from filing reports to his editing career, his life at the moment is an endless loophole of assignment after assignment. spacing out hardly any time given to spend with you. today was a breakfast day. a day he reserved especially for you, only for you. to go out and eat early and to return to your comfy abode to lay in bed, simply conversing. nevertheless, his internal alarm clock filtered on his job, waking up beside you to leave a peck on your forehead before walking to the subway station. regular routine. funny enough, this one was a close call. a very close call. seated in his office chair, your text affirmed on the screen. ‘where are you ?’ the memories drowning keiji in a huge tsunami. recollections of yesterdays excitement crashing into him. ‘went to the store, hang tight love.’ and just as fast as he’d entered the building he exited. with the small white lie discarded. déjà vu passing by at the familiar bedrooms entities. “you weren’t actually at the store we’re you ?” surveying his coat with a sleepy smile gracing your angelic face. “no, but i’m here now.” he puckered, glancing away from embarrassment. “close call.” he hovered above you, breathy kisses devouring your neck. “but i made it.” you chuckled, his lips tickling your jaw. “that you did.”

-maak

plagiarism, repost, and editing is prohibited

[getlostsquidward]

hey, can you pls do where dark wanda is going after y/n who is also a witch (kinda evil but not super bad/she is also agatha's girlfriend) and agatha is there to protect her and fight together against wanda? maybe in the process y/n puts herself in front of agatha to protect and she takes a full blust from wanda? with a happy ending please where they beat wanda and heal each other's wounds and cuts?

It's About Damn Time

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

A/N: I don’t know how to feel about this one… but I hope it’s okay that I diverted on some details from ur request. This is kinda canon-divergent (as reader-insert fics get) to Multiverse of Madness.

Summary: It seems that a near-death experience was all it would take for your relationship with Agatha to go to the next level.

Warnings: morally-grey reader, canon-typical violence (magic battles), mind control, hurt/comfort

The Scarlet Witch is coming for you.

You should have listened to that warning the sorcerers had sent you yesterday. Prior to that, they informed you of another being that has the actual powers to travel through the multiverse and hop into multiple realities but hasn’t mastered her abilities yet, so the Sorcerer Supreme and Strange had come to you in hopes to teach the young woman to harness her powers. You immediately agreed, curious and eager to meet the multiversal traveler, America Chavez.

The theory (well, it’s not a theory anymore) of the multiverse had always fascinated you. Countless different parallel universes, different parallel realities, a world without end… And because you know frighteningly little about it, you sought ways to study the multiverse. Your hunger for knowledge knows no bounds, and it led you, no, rather the Book of the Damned had led itself to you. You knew damn well what would happen if you used and read the Darkhold, but you didn’t care.

Your pursuit for knowledge had you cross paths with the equally power-hungry witch, Agatha Harkness. To make the long story short, many decades later ­– the two of you had been side-by-side as you quest through your respective desires.

The use and possession of the Darkhold and your affinity with Agatha Harkness haven’t been taken lightly by the Masters of the Mystic Arts and kept you on the close watch lest you try to do something dangerous.

You and Agatha tried to be off the radar most times, but the immense power that you both sensed in a quaint town in New Jersey was too intriguing not to take a look into for your inquisitive natures. The moment you arrived, the two of you felt the crackles of cosmic energy enveloping the town, and right then and there, you had to see for yourself just what is this and who is the powerful person behind all these many spells cast all at once.

The journey resulted in Agatha being trapped in her mental prison. As for you, you have no idea that the older witch had no intentions of bringing you to their fight. Did she not want you to help her? Did she think that you'll have a change of heart and steal Wanda's powers for yourself? Did she do it to protect you? These questions remained unanswered. Your memories came back a week after the Maximoff anomaly had ended.

Apparently, the witch had you pretend until the end that you were a mere innocent civilian made puppet by Wanda. She had infiltrated your mind and made you leave the town along with others. As soon as you regain your autonomy, you came back rushing to Westview as you felt her presence still in that place. Enraged and worried about Agatha, you were prepared to berate her – but all your words died down as the woman who welcomed you back is not the one you were expecting.

Agatha–Agnes, has all but squeezed you into a hug, rambling about how she thought her wife had left her in this godforsaken town. Her lips were curled into a face-numbing smile, but her eyes were screaming for help. You stood petrified, racking your brain for possible answers as to why her nosy neighbor persona is here, and not your stubborn as a mule witch… witch.

It took you some time to undo the Scarlet Witch’s spell, being careful enough for her not to feel that someone is trying to overrule the punishment she left Agatha on. You didn’t know where the Sokovian went after leaving Westview, but you were sure she has the Darkhold with her, just a little time and she’ll learn how to properly wield the chaos magic.

And here you are, two years after, about to face the harbinger of chaos.

Wong had hurriedly sent you an alarming message that Kamar-Taj wasn’t able to hold the little witch off, and that Strange and Chavez were sent somewhere in another universe, and since Wanda’s means to go through the multiverse was out of the picture, for now, the Scarlet Witch would be out for you next.

You couldn’t even blame the man for telling her that you have multiverse knowledge. At least he had the decency of notifying you of what was about to come.

Wanda was not aware of your true identity and was surprised when the witch that Wong referred to is the same woman that babysat her children; Agnes’ wife in the hex.

“This is an interesting turn of events.” The Scarlet Witch eyes you amusingly. “I take it you managed to free Agatha, haven’t you? I would ask where were you when it happened but we don’t have time for that. Maybe we can talk it out over lunch, that is if you’ll lend me your knowledge willingly. No one has to get hurt.”

“You’ve gotten bold, haven’t you, dear Wanda,” said Agatha, finally announcing her presence in the room with her dramatic entrance as always. “Asking my Y/N for a date? I don’t like the sound of that. At least invite me over as well, buttercup.”

The redhead smirked as she stared at the two of you. “You were right, Agatha. I do need you. Now, I’ll need you to hand over Y/N.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, her tongue clicking in annoyance. The nerve of this witch bitch.

Before you can get a word in, Agatha–evidently having no patience to get her revenge for what Wanda did to her–sent her magic flying towards the latter.

The movement was too fast for Wanda as well, catching her off-guard as she stumbled to the ground by the sudden attack. Knowing that Agatha could absorb her powers, she was cautious not to attack the older witch directly.

“You said so yourself that my power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. I defeated him, and Strange is not here. I have defeated you before, and I can do it again. What makes you think you can beat me?”

“You’re still way in over your head, Wanda. Don't underestimate me. I can go toe-to-toe with you.”

The Scarlet Witch had an ominous smile on her face before her gaze flickered to you. “She knows how to traverse the multiverse…” hummed Wanda, looking between you and Agatha, putting the puzzle pieces together. “…and she’s your Achilles heel. Looks like I hit the jackpot. Two birds in one stone, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get to her, Agatha.”

“Touch her, and you’re dead.”

One second later, you felt a presence whispering against your ear.

Your eyes glowed red, your mind taken over by the redhead. Terror washed over Agatha–your mind and knowledge have always been your greatest weapon, but it’s also your greatest weakness. Wanda sure had it figured out just like that.

Wanda had you continuously attack Agatha, making the older witch absorb your powers and your life force accidentally. She didn’t want to attack you back, so she tried to evade yours as much as she can hold back.

Before your own magic could run out, you halted your attacks and turned to Wanda. You opened your hand palm up to the witch, and she slipped something into your fingers. Agatha couldn’t make it out from afar until you opened a portal similar to the users of Mystic Arts.

Of course, you had studied the Mystic Arts in your pursuit of knowledge. Even after all these years, you still manage to surprise Agatha. But this is not the time for her to admire you, because in one split second, someone (she didn’t know if it was you or Wanda) had temporarily blinded her. The second she regained her senses, you were gone.

You were gone.

--

Mount Wundagore and the Darkhold Castle.

Apparently, a sorcerer in Kamar-Taj burned the Darkhold down, so Wanda initially sought you out to take her there and help her get her children back.

The older witch, although reluctant to join forces with the Sorcerer Supreme, had no choice as she knew she'd need more hands to face Wanda.

And because you were also at stake. Sure, the punishment that Wanda gave Agatha back in Westview was still merciful at best, but now that the little Sokovian witch is corrupted by the Book of the Damned, who knows what Wanda would do to you after getting what she wants?

Agatha arrived just after a counterpart of Strange had driven away the Knights of Wundagore. As she landed, her eyes widened as she took in the place; the chapter of the Scarlet Witch in the Darkhold made to life in a form of a statue.

There she was, the Scarlet Witch herself in the very throne made for her.

Wanda attacked Strange, while the older witch let them fight each other as she looked for you. America Chavez was placed on the altar helplessly, while you were tossed on the sides after Wanda had gotten what she wants from you. This fueled Agatha’s fury, more so on how exhausted you looked. Not once in your long life had Agatha seen you so worse for wear. She could barely feel your magic.

But Agatha was not as stealthy as she thought as Wanda whipped her head to where she was, the redhead giving her that signature tilt of her head before sending a red energy ball in her direction. She was about to deflect it, but in a blink of an eye, with all your remaining energy, you had managed to put yourself in front of Agatha and conjured a Tao Mandala shield, but due to your weakened state, Wanda was able to pierce through it, making you receive the blast of her magic head-on. The impact had sent you flying, rendering you unconscious. Agatha had never felt more enraged than in that exact moment, sending a barrage of energy beams to the redhead one after another. The souls of the damned then started attacking, overwhelming Wanda, enabling Strange and Wong to contain her.

The zombie counterpart of Strange turned to Agatha, watching her as she clawed her way to you. “Get her out of here,” he spoke, getting the attention of the witch.

She nodded in response, black and purple smoke enveloping both of you away from that wretched place. Agatha decided to come back to the safety of your cabin, creating a protective shield around the area and enhancing it with runes, just in case. In her haste, she hasn't even bothered taking you inside.

“Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me,” Agatha pleaded as she cradled your limp body in her arms.

You opened your eyes to the sight of Agatha looking down at you with fear on her face. You wanted to wipe her tears but you were too tired to even lift your hands. Your gaze was also going out of focus as you swim in and out of consciousness. “I’m so tired…”

“I know you're tired, but you have to stay awake.” You nodded weakly in response, trying your very best not to succumb to darkness. You broke into a coughing fit, groaning in pain as your lung hurts even with the slowest breathing you could muster.

She laid your body gently on the ground, the woman conjuring a comfortable blanket for you to lie on. “I know it hurts, but it will stop soon,” she assured, the older witch’s voice breaking a little as she tries her hardest to hold herself together and not break down in front of you.

Thankfully, Agatha’s healing spell was able to lessen the pain, and you were feeling less worse than earlier. Her magic flows through you, and you could feel every fiber of it resonating with yours. You could also feel your own strength and magic coming back.

“Agatha, did you get hurt? Tend to yourself first before–”

“I’m not hurt, sweetheart. You took the hit for me…” she interrupted. “…why would you do that, Y/N? Why put yourself in danger? You knew you were weak, so enlighten me–”

“I love you.”

Agatha froze on the spot, her heart skipping a beat as her alluring bright blue orbs met yours. At this moment, there was nothing else but you and her, and the purple glow of the barrier which complements the sunset magnificently.

This looks straight out of a movie and it could not get any more cliché, she thought, as her gaze drifted away to her hands. “You almost died and you're making jokes?”

“Do I look like I’m joking? I have followed you and will follow you to the ends of the earth, Harkness. You think I’m only here with you because I’m bored?”

“Possibly, who knows what’s going on in that head of yours,” the older witch could still feel your eyes on her. “Loving me is going to get you killed.”

Carefully, you get up, Agatha’s hand coming to your back to support you. The view sure is breathtaking, the orange tinge of the sky reminding you of the warmth of Agatha's touch. You reached for her hands, giving them a squeeze. You traced every knuckle, the tip of your thumb running over every finger. Upon realization, you noticed that the dark gradient on both sets of hands was slowly diminishing.

“I’m no fool, Agatha. I know that. But you’re worth it,” you gazed back at her face. Life without Agatha was unimaginable, and if you could go back in time, you’d do it all again. “You could ask me anything and I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

The woman stayed silent, but you weren’t worried about her reaction. Whether she feels the same or not, your resolve stays the same. It just feels great to be able to finally say it, but you were sure she had known it already. But of all the things you listed in your head that Agatha would possibly say, nothing had prepared you for this as she gently grabbed the back of your head and captured your lips in a slow, mind-numbing passionate kiss, and whispered:

“Marry me.”

–

tags: @ilovehotactresses @midnight-lestrange @thenastoaster @apricxtt @pianogirl2121 @thenazwife @poetsdeadxo @minszhuo @tr333sus

[writerlyhabits]

“No man I’ve been with has made me finish before…” and the boys' reactions

I've seen this trope before, and I'll see it again, but I'm in love with it. We all love a man who not only knows how to pleasure their partner but makes it their mission. And we have two of them. Beta read by @deceiverofgodss, thanks for putting up with me 😂

Sexual themes below the cut, afab reader, 18+ only

B U C K Y

Let’s just remember who we’re dealing with here. Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, Mr. Written-by-a-women, a golden boy especially during his time, very popular with the ladies…

What I’m trying to say is he’s a whore. Bucky Barnes likes pretty women, and while he’s nothing but respectful and considerate, he likes to sleep with pretty girls.

And they liked sleeping with him. Because he aims to please.

So when 90 years later, you find yourself in an intimate moment with your boyfriend, and you tell him “No man I’ve been with has made me cum before…”

He’s floored

“That’s the whole point?? That’s our job, why didn’t they do it?”

“They couldn’t. I think I’m just-” He’s not gonna let you finish that sentence before he’s calling bs.

“You mean they didn’t try.”

To be honest, the bluntness he says it with is a little startling, but in the most refreshing way. He’s crawling back up over your body so slowly before he’s hovering over your lips, and it’s lighting your body on fire.

“When you listen to your partner’s desires, their wishes, watch their body respond and experiment until you find just the right spot…” He leans down to punctuate with the softest, sensual kiss he’s given you all night, and you can’t help but let out a little moan.

He pulls back with a grin before finishing in a whisper, “You can make your partner unravel in seconds.”

Just the thought of it, mixed with the preview he seemed to be giving you, makes you shiver.

“Will you let me try? Give you the orgasm you deserve? Maybe a few of ‘em if you’ll let me…”

Who can say no to that?

And oh boy does he deliver on his promise.

This man could eat your pussy for hours on end and still ask for more, and he’s got a way with his tongue that just makes it absolutely mind-numbing

And he’s nothing but attentive as he stretches you out on his cock, finding just the right way to angle his hips and have you bucking up against him in no time at all.

Respectfully, Bucky fucks. I rest my case.

D I N

As a Mandalorian, he doesn’t have too much sexual experience. He’s had brief relations here and there, mostly as tension relief; mostly clothed, hard and quick, the helmet stays on no matter what.

But with you? You’re the love of his life, he already knows it.

He loves your touch, he loves taking his gloves off after getting back and getting to hold your soft cheeks in his hands. Loves cuddling with you, and just having you near him. He wants to be as close and connected to you as possible.

More often than not, it leads to conversations rather than actions. Especially with a subject as intricate as this, when he brings up being intimate with you. Both of your desires, expectations, comfort, and experience. And you have something to share that he never saw coming.

“No man I’ve been with has made me cum before…”

"What? Why?"

His surprise shocks you, and you can’t help but snark back; "Well they usually can't find the clit."

For a second you think it’ll shake him.

"That's basic female anatomy." The conviction dripping from his voice makes you light up.

"Well, the rest of the galaxy doesn't seem to be well educated in that area."

"That's a shame. Defeats the purpose." You cock an eyebrow up at him in question, wildly intrigued by your Mandalorian’s apparent distaste for your lack of orgasms. “The idea is to find pleasure in each other. If they’ve never done that for you, they aren’t doing it right.”

"And you think you can?"

"I know I can."

He does. When I tell you this man is so tender. He’s got his bare hands all over your body, not only reaching the sweet spot inside you but massaging your clit with calculated accuracy.

And you know what comes off? The helmet, so he can further prove to you his knowledge of basic female anatomy.

...

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