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juletheghoul · 3 days ago

Text

dignitas

a/n: I don't even know what to say, honestly. I made a really honest post a few days ago about some hardships I've been experiencing and the support I received brought me to tears so many times. I don't think I can ever really put into words how grateful I am for this community, all I can say is thank you, and that I hope you all know what you mean to me. Hope you enjoy 💕xo (ps. I googled wedding practices in Ancient Rome, and girls used to be married off as young as 14-insane I know-)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, parental fluff, Marcus being a total suck for his daughter, pregnancy and baby stuff, childbirth and some graphic descriptions of pain, brief mention of infertility, **character death / grief** allusions to underage sexual abuse (typical of the time), sexist violence against a slave, **angst / hurt / comfort** Girlwife is putting her foot down, and her husband is here for it, bullshit politics, let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 7.3k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist Ko-fi

He crouches down, heart in his throat at the sight of her standing on her own two feet.

“Come, that’s it my little flower–” He holds his hands out, shifting to his knees before them, his wife holds her up, keeping her steady. He claps his hands, getting her attention and when she smiles big his heart melts.

“Go on Diana, go on–” Her mother encourages, helping her with the first two steps before carefully letting her go. He watches her little form sway, watches as her mother hovers behind her. Diana looks down at her feet before toddling over, taking her first steps. He holds his breath, nodding and smiling at her until she makes it into his arms. His body fills with light, pride and emotions swirling wildly.

“You have done it!” He gets up, twirling her. Her mother, his wife, stares at them in awe, tears shining and he goes to her, gathering his whole world in his arms.

She’s running, it felt like not a moment ago she was small enough to fit within both palms of her fathers hands and now she’s running!

“Diana! Slow down little love, you will hurt yourself.” Her giggle echoes through the house, setting the dogs to chase after her as she covers much of the ground in the peristyle.

Marcus beams at her, crouching down and holding out his arms for her as she speeds up, stumbling and falling down but getting back up just as quick before the dogs can lick her face and crashes into his embrace. He burrows his face into her neck, kissing and tickling her until she screams with joy.

“Papa!” She screams, joyous and happy.

“Yes my little sunbeam, look at you, running! Gods above, where has the time gone?” his eyes glaze while she squirms within his grip, already eager to be back on the ground. Her attention lands on you then, turning from her father who watches in awe as she runs towards you, little robes and brown waves rustling.

With a huff of laughter she collides with your legs, her arms outstretched and you lift her up, resting her on your hip. The dogs chase each other, excited and happy.

“You are a wild little thing, my feral child.” You kiss her full cheeks, relishing the sounds of her voice, the giggles that escape before she yawns. “Time for your rest–” Marcus has reached you then, and he presses his lips to the crown of her head again before you hand her to Sabina–the matronly woman who has become her nurse.

Marcus watches her go, curled up against Sabina, head resting on her shoulder.

“She is getting too big, growing far too quickly.”

“She is indeed, getting wilder and bolder every day. She is too like her father.”

He huffs out a laugh, wrapping himself around your back to lay his chin upon your shoulder. You can almost hear the crinkle in his eyes.

“Is she now? And here I thought she was the very picture of her mother.” He presses his lips to your neck, “I have some matters to see to, but I will try to be very quick. Shall we take advantage once I am finished?” His hands squeeze at your waist and you cannot help but sigh, and turn in his arms.

“If you can be quick, then taking advantage sounds like a wonderful idea.” Your hand slips down, sliding over his robes until you cup his manhood, giving it a little squeeze. The low rumble that comes out of his mouth makes your heart race.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” You press a chaste kiss to his mouth, so innocent compared to where you hold him and he smiles into it.

“Understood, my Sun.”

When he finds you after having completed his work, Diana screams in your arms, wriggling to be let go. He grins, resigned to have missed his window of opportunity.

“Yes yes, very well.” You put her down and she runs to him once again, warmth fills your whole being to see them together. She is a tiny little slip of a thing in his arms, her hands barely cover his cheeks but he looks at her as though she hung the stars.

He speaks to her softly and presses kisses to her temple, he listens to her baby babble, the words she can speak clearly now and the ones she cannot yet pronounce.

“You had a very short rest today my little love.” His words are soft, but you laugh at them when his eyes find yours. He smiles and a little sadness creeps in then, sadness that you cannot give him more of this, more babies, more little ones to carry on his name. It is a tragedy that you cannot give him a boy.

“We will need to get you more robes soon, you are already getting too big for these. Shall we go to the market?” He holds her up above his head and they are mirror images of each other, his hands holding her up towards the heavens, and her arms outstretched towards him, both bursting with the same smile.

“What say you, my love?” He lowers her, smiling at her screaming giggles.

“I say yes, she is growing very quickly indeed. We should get more of the oil I use in her hair as well.” He nods, and after the preparations are made, you set out with your family.

She grows like wheat, one minute she is a bundle at your breast, and the next she is up to your hip, arguing with her father over a horse.

“But, I need one.” She pleads, seven years old and determined.

“Do you?” He smiles, entertaining her. You know in your heart he will give in, he always does, but he requires her to give him a good reason before inevitably spoiling her.

“You have asked, you have begged, and now you tell me that you need one, but you have not yet given me a reason as to why.” He sits at your table to your left, breaking his fast as he looks over some letters. She sits at her own place to his left across from you. She looks to you and you can see your own frown on her face but you shake your head.

“Do not look to me, Diana, it is your father who decides.” You smile, it is all a game that she will eventually win. She lets out a sigh and your smile widens.

“Father, you know I am learning, and I would like to learn on a horse that knows me. If it is my horse and not yours then I will learn all the quicker.” He nods sagely, setting his letters aside and picking at his bread.

“Yes, that is a good reason but will you care for it? You must feed it, brush it and bond with it.”

She nods as he speaks, hopeful.

“It is not just about getting one, riding it for a few days and then leaving it in the stable for others to care for it. It is a living thing, and it requires love and attention and food and I expect you to do your part.”

You reach for his hand and his eyes find yours, you give him a look, one that you hope he can read as ‘remember her age’, he takes a breath, smiling to himself and you know you have been together long enough that he understands what you are thinking.

“I do not think to leave the sole care of this horse to you Diana, you have your studies and lessons, you have your duties with your mother and you are still quite little.” She frowns and he laughs, “You are but seven, not seventeen. If I were to get you this horse, you must promise me, swear to me here in front of your mother, that you will feed, brush and water it daily. This means you will wake up with me, we will go to the stable together for your lesson and once you are done, you will brush, feed and water it.”

She grins, despite herself and he narrows his eyes, the game still very much afoot.

“Diana.” He tries to be serious, tries to put the steel into his tone and for a moment it works, she straightens up and wipes the grin away, nodding at him with her big brown eyes.

“You must swear it, little love. You must swear that you will do as your father says.” You chime in gently, and she nods faster.

“I swear it father, I swear it. I will do as you say. May I please have a new horse?” She pouts, and the deal is sealed. He sighs, the corners of his mouth lifting and you catch her eye, gesturing for her to go to him and she does, flying out of her chair to hug him tightly. He laughs, all of the toughness leached away by her little hands, by her smile and by her kiss on his cheek.

“Very well, we will go by the end of the week.” He relents, letting her hug him, and hugging her in return. “If you are finished breaking your fast, you may go and start your lessons.” She nods, skipping away, laughing loudly.

“You are a cloud.” You smile at him, pushing your plate away.

“When did it happen? I used to inspire fear and unquestioning loyalty, obedience.” He shakes his head, half laughing, half astounded. You take his hand in yours, and press it to your mouth.

“She has made a lump of honey out of you Marcus, there is no other way around it.”

“She? I think you will find that you have your own part to play in this.” He lets a bark of laughter out at the shocked expression on your face, pulling you from your chair to sit across his lap.

“Do you not think yourself spoiled? Do you not realise that you yourself have turned me into this?” His arms wrap tightly around you, and you roll your eyes, goodnaturedly.

“Have I? Have I tamed you, General?” You run your fingers through his curls, more grey than brown now. His eyes are soft, kind and full of love. He doesn’t respond right away, instead his gaze bores into yours, the same honey brown as Diana.

“I would say more than tamed.” Diana screams laughing from somewhere and he smiles wide, his soul fed by her happiness for a moment before his hand cups your cheek.

“I do not have the words for what you have done to me, for me–I do not have the words to describe the depths of my love for you.”

You press forward, kissing him with all of the words you yourself cannot speak, pressing your love into him. His hands sweep softly along your back, your lips skimming against his when you pull away to breathe.

“A lump of honey–” You laugh when he digs his fingers into your sides, euphoria thrumming through your veins.

He finds you teaching Diana how to sew, the both of you hunched over a torn robe, Sabina in tow and the expression on his face gives you pause.

“Diana, my little flower, your mother and I have some important matters to discuss.” He gestures to Sabina and she steps forward.

“Why don’t you come with me, little one, let us go and raid the cellar for some honeycomb.” Sabina smiles, urging her to follow but Diana frowns, sensing the wrongness of the situation. She looks at you for a moment, clutching at your arm.

“Go on, let me speak to your father.” You smile, keeping your composure for her benefit despite the way your heart races. She nods, carefully handing you her needle and thread and you put everything aside. Sabina holds her arm out for her, Diana gives her father a quick hug around the middle before leaving the room.

“What is it? What is the matter?” A fear grips you, some unknown danger lurks through your lungs, threading through your ribs and curling around your heart.

“Peace, do not fear.” He takes your hands in his, pressing them to his lips and you take a deep breath.

“Is it another war? Will you leave me again?” Memories of his injury resurface, the wound that almost took him from you, the scar that greets you whenever he undresses. Tears gather at the thought of him going off to fight once more, with him older now, they threaten to fall but he shakes his head and pulls you close.

“No, Gods above, no my love. There is no war–” you sigh into his neck, relief pulling a few tears down your cheeks. He wipes them away, but the frown on his face remains and the relief is short lived.

“Tell me then, what troubles you?”

“There is a man, a Legate, who is known to have a heavy hand with his slaves. I am not on friendly terms with him but there are some in this house whom I purchased from him.” He sighs, squeezing your hands in his. You follow along, grateful all over again that he treated the people in your house with dignity.

“I have been informed that he has a child on the way by a slave, a child he does not want.” He frowns and again, you try again to understand his meaning.

“I have purchased her.” He comes out with it.

“You have purchased her? A slave?” You feel nothing, it isn’t something you ever question, from personal experience you are aware of the way they are treated in your home, of the respect afforded to them by both you and your husband, and by your daughter. Your confusion is in why he feels the need to explain himself to you.

“Yes, I have paid a hefty sum for her because I feared for her life.” He lets out a heavy breath, “Sabina saw her in the market not a day ago, and not only is she quite young, she also had…injuries.” His gaze turns steely, and the implications hurt you.

“You bought her, to spare her.” He smiles under your hand, but it is a tired, weary thing.

“I could not bear the thought of this young girl fearing for her life, it made me think of my own daughter, of you when I first saw you.” Your heart melts a little, the softness of him, the anger he has for what has been done to this poor girl.

“I just want her to be safe, I want her child to be safe.” You don’t respond, instead you pull him in, pressing your face into his neck.

“You are a good man, Marcus. My heart fills with joy that she will be safe here, that her child should survive.” Your fingers thread through his waves and his expression softens, “did you imagine I would be angry with you?” It’s not an accusation, more so a need to understand him.

“No, but you are my wife, this is your house and I would honour your wishes,” He kisses your wrist, “and the purchasing of a girl expecting a baby, the prospect of there being another child in this house warrants your consideration.”

“It is thoughtful of you to consider me, but I see no harm in it. So long as this girl is here for her safety, it is not as though the child is yours. It is not as though you have feelings for this girl—“

“Gods above, no my love. You know that is not my way. You know that you are above all others, that you alone hold my love and my interest. She is practically a child herself—“ You laugh, calming him with soft touch.

“Yes Marcus, I know. I trust you, implicitly. Let the girl come, let her be safe and let her child live a good life here—it would be good for Diana as well.” You press kisses to his cheeks, the relief of knowing there is no war is too great to worry about anything except the tight squeeze of his embrace.

She is so much younger than you had imagined and the sight of her almost brings tears to your eyes. Quietly she stands, her little belly just starting to show, her eye purple and bruised and anger only adds to your heartbreak.

“Sabina will show you to your new quarters–make sure she rests, bring her fresh water and food.” You can feel the anger coming off of Marcus in waves, the state of her, the obvious fear–when you’d first entered into Marcus’ service you had been fearful too, but Sabina herself had assuaged you of it. Marcus had been cold, but never cruel.

“I can work Dominus, I can be useful–” He stops her, shaking his head.

“There is no need, you must rest and heal. I will call for a medicus to see to your health and the child, peace, there is no expectation of you.” You stepped forward, doing your best to smile soft, she stepped back slightly and again your heart wilted.

“Peace, when all is well and you have rested, I will bring you some things to help with the skin. Some oils and ointments leftover from when I carried my own child.” She frowns in confusion before bowing her head.

“Gratitude Domina.” Sabina nods to you both, and takes her away.

“Did you see her eye? I fear that is not her only injury.” He practically fumes and you soothe him with your touch.

“I saw, there are some faded bruises on her arms, some poking out just at the bottom of her tunic–”

“She is a child.” He turns, the weariness on his face, the fury. “I fear to know her age. I fear what the medicus will say.” He pulls you close, rubbing at your back.

“We must be gentle with her, assure her that she is not required to serve in that fashion.”

“Sabina will inform her. It was never my way, you were the exception.” He smiles, small and full of fondness, pressing his lips to yours.

When the medicus arrives a week later, her eyes bulge in fear.

“Do not fear, it is only to see if you are healthy and if the child is in good shape.” You sit with her on her bed, comforting her while Diana has her lessons. Although still weary, you can see that Sabina has assured her that you are not anyone that she must fear, that although Marcus has his reputation, inside this house he gives just as much respect as he expects.

“I will stay with you.” She squeezes your hand for a moment, nodding at you before letting go.

The Medicus asks her questions and you learn that her name is Vesta. He asks about her first blood, about when the child was conceived. He asks her age, and when she timidly says fifteen your stomach drops. She should have been married, she should have been courted and treated gently but she is a slave, and slaves are not often afforded kindness. You worry about the toll of the pregnancy especially with the size of her, still so small that the birth would surely be a concern.

You hold her hand as he does his examination, smile reassuringly when he measures her belly and when he does the more invasive check.

“Everything right now is as we want it to be but you must eat more, we shall have to monitor the growth as your hips are still quite narrow, Gods willing everything will turn out.” She smiles, placated but doubts of your own take root within, her hips are small and if the child grows too large, the birth will be very difficult.

The sun shines brightly, shafts of light filter through the olive trees that grow taller and taller within the peristyle. Diana sits with you in a little bit of shade, the two of you continuing with your sewing. She huffs when she does not get the stitch just right.

“Patience, little love, it will come to you with time and practice.” She nods, lip caught between teeth as she continues. Her head lifts when Vesta finds you, her belly growing seemingly by the minute.

“I have brought you fresh water, Domina, and some fruit as well.” The tray is heavy and you frown, taking it from her and setting it down on the little table beside you.

“Gratitude, but as Marcus and I have told you, we do not require anything of you but rest.”

“I must be useful, I cannot just sit idle.” She bows her head, “I am filled with gratitude at the kindness you and the Dominus have shown me but I want to earn my place–”

“Enough of that, your only task is to heal, and grow that child. With what the medicus has advised you need to be very careful.” You guide her to sit, pouring for her, ignoring the protests. “Peace Vesta, this is not new to me.” You smile.

“Is it painful?” Diana puts her sewing things away and moves closer, inquisitive, and it hurts to know they are not very far apart in age.

“Sometimes, my lady. Mostly I feel that I am full of stones.” They smile at each other.

“Is that how it was for you, Mother? Did I feel like stones?”

“You, my child, felt like a storm.” You kiss the top of her head and she beams, she has always loved hearing about her birth. Vesta winces, her hand lands on her belly and after a moment she lets out a sigh.

“Are you well?” Diana frowns, and Vesta nods.

“Yes, it has started kicking and sometimes it startles me a bit.” Her face has healed, in truth she is a lovely girl, hair dark as night, eyes the green of fresh laurel and skin golden as though from days spent in the sun. “Would you like to feel?”

Diana nods quickly, jumping at the chance and the picture of them together fills your heart with something, you are old enough to be her mother. You could almost imagine it then, an older child, one that was happily married to a good man, happiness, the thought of a grandchild. It shocks you, but in an unexpected, happy way.

“I feel it!” Diana smiles wide, her fathers dimple shines on her face and you let them have the moment.

Later on, when Diana has gone riding with Marcus, you sit with Vesta alone.

“Domina, may I ask you something?” She helps with the sewing Diana had not finished.

“Speak freely.”

“I–I would ask about the future of my child, once it is born.” She looks up, worry clear on her face. “Will the child be permitted to remain? Or will it be sold off?” You frown, noticing the way her hands shake and all at once you are reminded of the way things are in most houses.

“Vesta, you and your child are to remain here, together.” When you level your gaze at her, she breaks down into tears, heavy sobs clawing at her throat. You take the needle and the cloth from her, sitting beside her to gather her into your arms. “I know it is difficult to believe, but you must trust me when I say that you are safe here.” You stroke her hair, letting her cry into your shoulder.

“I myself came to this house as a slave.” She looks at you in shock, eyes red and you cannot help but laugh, “I speak the truth, when I came here I was just a slave, older than you and scared of how I might be treated. Marcus has always had a reputation for brutality. He was cold, he was reserved, but he was never cruel. You can speak to anyone in this house, he is a good man, he is a loving husband, he is a wonderful father, and he will not hurt you or separate you from your child.” You wipe her tears away, “The only thing he requires from you, is respect, and he will give it right back. We all have our place, but within it there is dignity. You never need fear of unwanted advances again. Understood?”

She sobs for a moment, taking in the knowledge that despite the things she has survived, the indignities she has suffered, life here will be better. She nods, and you continue with your sewing.

Diana takes to her, whenever she isn’t busy with her lessons, whenever she has a spare moment she sits with Vesta, listening to her speak about the baby and about her life up until arriving in your house. You are grateful that she spares your daughter from the more brutal details, and you rejoice in the fact that she has another young girl to speak to.

Marcus has Diana’s baby things brought into Vestas chambers, despite her insistence that they are too fine. He waves her concerns away and a small chest is brought in, full of small robes along with the cradle.

He buys the teas and potions recommended by the midwife to aid in her birth, he makes sure the oils for her skin are on hand and seeing him care for her as though she were another daughter only makes your love for him grow.

“Will you be this way when Diana marries? When she is with her husband and with child?” You lie with him, naked in bed one night and he groans.

“Gods above, I cannot imagine my baby marrying.” He grimaces, “She is not yet ten years of age, we still have years yet.”

“It sounds as though you are reassuring yourself.” You tease him, smiling at his discomfort, “It is terrifying to think that soon she will be of the age for such things, proposals and a marriage, she will leave us–” He pulls you close, stopping your musings with a loud groan into your neck.

“Please my love, do not torture me.” He sighs, pressing his lips to your neck, “I cannot bear the thought of our little girl being a grown woman. Time is moving far too fast, can we not stop it for a while? Bask in the joy of it all?”

“If only it were possible to do so.” You cradle his head, massaging his scalp softly. “We are in the midst of joy Marcus, we are blessed, we have a beautiful daughter and a loving home. You are here, Rome is peaceful, what else could we ask for without tempting the Gods?”

“You are right, of course.” His hands sweep up, stroking at your hips, your belly until he palms the weight of your breast.

“What would I do without you?” His lips move across your neck, his tongue tasting your skin as his thumb strums softly at your nipple. Arousal pools low in your belly at the slow steady sweep of his thumb, and when he lowers his head and takes the other in his mouth it pulls a moan from you.

“I feel as though I have not touched you in ages–” His warm breath against the wet peak of your nipple sends a shiver down your spine, you let out a low laugh, lip caught between your teeth as his own tease at the sensitive peak.

“Ages? Are you sure it has not been a mere week?” You scratch at silver scruff on his cheeks. His kiss moves to the valley between your breasts, smiling his mischievous smile.

“A week is an age, I need you constantly.” You laugh, pulling him up for a kiss.

“I remember a time when you had me daily, scarcely let me have a moment's rest.” His playful shock makes you laugh, “Now I must content myself alone–” You laugh harder when he buries his face into your neck, his scruff tickling you.

“You wound me–” He settles between your legs, fitting himself into the wide spread of them. His cock slips between the lips of your sex, hard, hot and heavy enough to pull a steady flow of arousal from your cunt.

“Have I been neglectful of you?” He shifts, coating himself in you.

“Oh yes, exceedingly so.” The pout is an exaggerated thing and he bites at your lip.

“My poor, empty little wife,” with a shift, he reaches down and notches the blunt tip of his cock at your entrance, “let me redeem myself—“

A mutual sigh fills the room when he sinks himself inside you to the hilt. The moon shines in through the window, casting dark shadows across his face as he holds himself above you. Even after all of the years you’ve spent together, the deepening of lines on his face, the way the silver has overtaken the dark brown of his hair, the slight softening of his middle—it does nothing to hinder his beauty. Even now, the strength in his arms, arms that you’ve touched and been held by a thousand times over still make you dizzy with want.

His pace is unhurried, languid, decadent.

Your mouth opens under him when you pull him closer, needing the weight of him and he obliges. You sigh when his hand lands heavy on your thigh to shift it higher, up onto his ribs. His tongue tastes of honey, of devotion and you drink his passion down like fine wine.

Your heart pounds, a loud boom in your ears, a pleasurable pulse in your cunt, a warmth flooding the corners of you with every heavy stroke of his cock. He huffs out a low laugh, cocky and confident at the way your hips cant up to meet his rhythm, his eyes a lust-blown black when he thrusts harder.

Your arousal for him is a river between your thighs, a holy fountain. It soaks the hair at the base of his cock, it rings loudly with every snap of his hips, a vulgar hymn at the altar of your cunt.

Sweat beads in his hairline and between the press of your bodies, you feel it at the base of his skull when you clutch at him, his breath a damp pant into the crook of your neck. The pleasure builds like a fire in your core and he fans the flames, his steady stroke turns into a heavy grind and the pressure of it at your clit is almost enough.

With fingers gripping his hair like talons, you focus on the pleasure of it, shift your hips and spread your legs a little wider and it’s perfect.

“Yes, yes, yes, just there—“ with a clench and a heavy sigh the dam breaks and it flows like water. His low groan only heightens it, a heavier push to get deeper still, a firm grip on your thigh; all of it only intensifies the climax.

As the months progress, so does her pregnancy and your fears for the birth.

Your affection for her grows as well, swells within you with every laugh you share, with every meal she takes with your family, with every smile that blooms on her face. Marcus takes to her as well, in a fatherly way. It is evident in the way he cares for her, the way he considers her needs the same way he considers Dianas but whereas you enjoy her company and rejoice in her finding peace within your house, Marcus harbous anger that she has been put in this position.

He focuses on the preparations, calling for the midwife and her attendants to have rooms in your home once it is clear that labour is imminent. He hides his fears in practicality, hides his anger within his focus.

It is not the knock that wakes you, rather Marcus’ reaction to it. All his time in Rome's army had made him a light sleeper, and the slightest disturbance could thrust him into full alertness. You felt him stir, felt the shift of him sliding out of bed, heard soft words exchanged at the door.

“What is the matter, Marcus?” You rise, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Vesta’s labours have begun.” With a candle given to him by the attendant at the door, he lights the one in your room before handing you your robe to dress.

“I will go to her, she will need support.” You had already discussed it, and he nods, listening as he dressed and splashed water onto his face.

“I will wake the midwife.”

Her face is pale when you find her, eyes bulging in fear as she paces around her chamber. Sabina rubs her back, keeping pace with her as she moves and you almost feel the echo of your own labours when she clutches at her belly in agony.

“Breathe, Vesta. With me–” You take a deep breath in, guiding her. She nods, watching and syncing her breaths with yours. “Good, let us continue with the walking, it will help. Has the water come yet?”

“No Domina, it is just pain, low and sharp but it does not last, it comes and goes.”

“Okay, let us walk throughout the house, Sabina, would you please make her some tea?” You take over, threading her arm through yours to keep her steady.

“At once, Domina.” She moves quickly, leaving you with the young girl as you both make your way slowly down the dark hall.

“I am scared.” Her voice is whisper thin, but you did not need her to voice it out loud. Her fear is palpable and how could you blame her? Your eyes drift to the size of her hips, to the slight frame of her. Despite your own fear, despite your own silent prayer to all of the Gods you pat her hand softly and speak with more confidence than you feel.

“I will be there with you, the midwife will guide us and we must be brave, yes? Now, have you thought of a name?” She lets out a shaky breath, smiling before focusing on her breathing once again.

“If it is a girl, I thought maybe Flora.”

“That would be a lovely name, and for a boy?” The light coming through the windows is a deep blue, dawn is creeping up on the horizon.

“For a boy, I am torn. I like the name Atticus, as well as Linus.” The house is quiet, the low shuffle of your footsteps echo throughout the hallway. Diana will be up soon, moving about her chambers in preparation to feed and water her horse. You are still not sure whether you want her to be present for the birth of Vesta’s child, no matter how much you know she desires it.

“Those are also very fine choices.”

“Which would you choose, Domina? If I may ask.”

“For a boy? I confess they both have their merits, I do like Atticus, it is a strong name, they both are.” Sabina greets you with the tea at the mouth of the hall, carefully handing it to Vesta. She takes it with a grateful nod.

“I think you are right, Atticus is my first choice.” She smiles, wincing through another grip of pain.

“Sit, rest and drink while we wait for the midwife.” You guide her to one of the more comfortable chairs in the room where you took your meals.

When Marcus finds you a few hours later the sun has risen and despite the pain gripping her regularly, her water has not yet come. The midwife is with him when he finds you rubbing her lower back. You almost laugh at how awkward he is, a nervous shifting of his feet, some mumbling words of encouragement for her before taking his leave.

“Deep breath in, that’s it.” She has a surprising amount of strength in her grip around your hand, you can feel the blunt ends of her nails pressing deep, leaving little half-moon marks in their wake. She nods, trying her best to listen when the pain grips her. They come quicker and quicker as the sun follows its path, stronger too. Sweat beads on her skin, her dark hair sticks to her neck and to her brow.

The midwife checks Vestas progress between short walks throughout the room. She sends her outside for fresh air, and makes her drink the tea. Her good spirits, her easy smiles despite the pain you know she's in inspires a flame of hope. The Gods have been good to you after all and your faith in them whispers of how it will be once she has made it through her labours, of the glow of life that will fill her just as it did for you once Diana had come into the world.

The flame dwindles slightly at the sight of the blood in her water, the corruption of it is a test of that faith but you meet it head on. You face her dead on, meeting her terrified, laurel-green gaze and speak to her with a confidence you do not feel. The midwife does not panic, she speaks with authority, guides her to the birthing stool and the real fight begins.

Her screams echo through the house, they fill every corner of it.

With a damp linen you wipe at her brow, speaking to her softly as she does her best to push the child out but as the hours pass, that little flame begins to flicker.

“You’re almost there Vesta, you are so close–” You tie her hair back, wipe the tears from her reddened cheeks.

“I am going to try to use my hands, the pain will be great but for now it is the best chance we have.” The midwife catches your eye, and you feel it in your heart that it is worse than she is letting on. Vesta grits her teeth though, and you keep it inside.

“I am ready.” Her lip trembles, her eyes fill with tears and so do yours, but she grits her teeth and pushes anyway, showing an amount of bravery that few people twice her age possess. The midwife encourages her as she screams through the pushing, the blood drips down her arms and pools on the linens below.

It is an eternity, the push, the pull, the blood–and then a baby screams and your heart rejoices. Vesta smiles through her sigh, but her colour drains and she wilts like a crushed flower in your arms.

“Vesta, Vesta do not sleep–wake up, you must hold the child, you have done it!” She does not respond however, and you use all the strength you can muster to hold her up as the midwife works feverishly to stop the steady river of blood from between her legs.

“Domina–” It is a breathy whisper, a moment of clarity between a sightless flutter of her eyelids.

“Vesta!” Her colour scares you, and the frantic movements of the midwife do nothing to bring her back to full wakefulness.

“Vesta!”

The Gods are many things. They are generous, they have bestowed you with a happy home; a loving, devoted husband and a healthy child. They have plucked you from a life of servitude and made you Lady Acacius, wife of the General of the Roman army.

They are merciful, they have guided your husband through countless battles and wars and made him victorious. They have blessed him with the love of the Emperor and the respect of the people of Rome, and made him a wealthy man.

The Gods are also cruel.

All of the generosity, all of the gifts and blessings, every wonderful aspect of life must be paid for and they do not accept anything less than blood.

She is smaller in death. Younger still than the picture of her you hold within your mind. The gauze covers her from head to foot but it does not move, her breath does not disturb the sheer fabric, her breast does not rise and fall with the breath of life. Her laughter, her easy smile is a ghost that haunts the corners of your house, her short life echoes in the cries of her son.

Marcus handles everything to do with the procession, he arranges for her body to be burned, for all of the rights and proceedings required for a person after death. He spared you the details, and you were grateful for it.

Diana’s grief for Vesta is an immense, untameable thing. It was a hurt you could not fix, a want that Marcus could not indulge. Seeing the gravity of it on her face, hearing it in her cries somehow seemed to magnify your own grief, it gained a new aspect. Her pain gave your pain dimension.

Atticus so resembled his mother that it was sometimes hard to hold him.

Harder still was the little bit of reluctance within Marcus to get too close to the boy, a fear that he couldn’t hide whenever he held him—a slight crease between his brow, the careful way he cradled him so opposite of the natural connection he held with Diana from the second she had come to this world. There were aspects to that too, his feelings towards this orphaned boy. Reluctance of course, but also pity, empathy, a fierce protectiveness and above all, love.

The grief was still a sharp blade between the ribs when the letter came, and all it did was twist it, scrape it against your bones and bleed you dry.

“This must be a jest, a very poor jest.” Atticus sleeps against your breast, a long piece of linen wrapped about your middle holding him to you.

“It is no jest my love, he is quite clear.” His tone is indecipherable and the glimpse of that more strategic aspect of him fills you with anger.

“He writes to collect his son—“

“Atticus is not his son.” He sighs, resigned and tired rather than angry.

“In all truth, Atticus is his son—regardless of how we may feel about it.” He raises his hands to forestall the rage burning within. “He does have the right to claim him, take him and raise him as he sees fit.”

“Raise him? He did not even want him! He sold his mother to you without a second thought!”

“I know, it is a difficult situation but we must think about this. In the end, he is the boy's father.”

He sets his letters down and you can see a glimpse of something, that love you knew was there, that space within his heart—within his soul for another child shining through the anger and practicality; shining through the logic.

“No.” The blood in your veins boils, fizzles and cracks and lights up your bones with the injustice of it all, your hands cradle the small bundle at your breast almost involuntarily, an unconscious protection. His frown deepens.

“He is—“

“No Marcus. No.” Tears of frustration gather in the corners of your eyes, fed and watered by the shadow of grief that follows you like a cloud. Atticus moves and when you look at him Vestas face is so clear in his, her black hair a soft down on his head.

“I am a good wife, Marcus, I have never disobeyed you, never dishonoured you or questioned your word. Not during my servitude, and not during our years as husband and wife, but I will not stand for this. This child, Vestas' child, belongs in this house. She died here, bringing him into this world and I gave her my word that he would stay. I have said my prayers and made the sacrifices so that he may live here, loved and well-cared for and neither you, nor that man will take him from me.” The ire of it burns within your breast, shines out through your steady, unflinching gaze.

He does not respond and the silence between you fills the space. You do not fear what he may say, you do not worry about what he may think, the anger and the grief are too big for that. He sighs, heavy and resigned before giving you a small, proud smile.

“Very well, my love. He will stay.”

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #general acacius #general marcus acacius #gladiator ll #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x female reader

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rosenclaws · 13 hours ago

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Over and Over Again || DOFP!Logan x Reader

Summary: Logan wakes up in 2023 in a brand new timeline. In this world you're still alive and you're married, but he doesn't remember a thing.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

wc: 3.5k

a/n: damn bro these song fics keep getting longer and longer lmao. Anyways here is my third instalment of a fic based on “Would You Fall In Love With Me Again” from Epic the Musical. I hope you like this one too! If you wanna read the other two you can find them here and here

Yesterday everything made sense. Yesterday you woke up next to your husband Logan, made coffee, graded a few essays, trained with Logan in the danger room, and then went to dinner. You kissed him good night and turned out the light to go to bed. Today? Your whole fucking life is being flipped upside down.

You knew something was wrong the moment you saw Logan standing barefoot in Charles' office. He had this look on his face. A mix between confusion and grief. A longing in his eyes that just didn't make sense when you had kissed him good morning only a few hours ago.

"You're alive?" Logan says breathlessly, his eyes widening as the words leave his mouth.

Realizing his mistake immediately. But he couldn't help himself. Not when the last memory he had of you was holding you as you died.

"Charles, what's going on?" You asked in a panicked voice. Logan, this Logan, your? Logan, reached out for you but you stepped back. You don't know why but you just did it. Though it's hard to see the hurt in Logan's eyes when you do.

"My dear," Charles says softly, his eyes darting from you to Logan.

"I think you should sit down for this."

You aren't the only one to be called into Charles office. Standing around you was Ororo, Jean, Scott, and Hank. Before you stood Logan with his arms crossed as Charles weaves a wild and frankly impossible story.

This Logan is not the man you knew.

He's from an alternate timeline where the X-Men were being hunted and eradicated, the world being over run by these things called the Sentinels. How everyone in this room was dead in Logan's world. The last chance they had was sending his consciousness back in time to stop the chain of events and according to Charles he had done it. He had saved the world and everyone in this damn mansion. But at the cost of his own memories, his own life in a way.

"Jean, please stay. I want you to help in attempting to get his memories back. The rest of you thank you and please do not tell anyone else about this." Everyone starts to move but you.

You stay seated in your seat, unsure of what to do. Do you go up to him? He's still your husband after all, but is he? You feel his eyes staring into your head as you finally make your move and get up. Walking right up to him.

"Hi, Logan." You say softly.

"Hi." You bite your lip nervously as you try and think of something to say. There's this awkward tension between the two of you. Something you haven't felt since you first met. Though you guess this is technically a first meeting. It's really confusing.

"Logan, shall we begin?" Charles cuts through your thoughts. You don't want to leave, in fact you have a million questions that will pour out once you figure out how to talk to him. But it's going to have to wait.

"I uh...I'll find you after." He mumbles, his hand moves to cup your face but he stops before he can actually touch you.

"Yeah, I'll see you after." You smile awkwardly and gently grab his hand, giving it a small squeeze before leaving. Logan wants so badly to hold on, to tighten his grip and never let you leave his side. But he can't. So he just lets you go.

You waited. Hours passed and you heard nothing from Logan or Jean or Charles. Every hour you'd pass by the office, hearing muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. It was tearing you apart just waiting for them to be done. But that's all you can do.

By the time the sun goes down you give up on waiting for Logan. Slinking to a small corner of the mansion. What if something horrible happened? What if they can't get his memories fixed and he'll never remember what your life was like together. How you met, how you fell in love, how he proposed, your first dance. Did he truly forget it all? You rest your head in your hands as you listen to the grandfather clock tick and tick.

Or...does he remember it all. Does he remember it and regret it? You're dead in his timeline. So what if you two were never meant to be together, what if he remembers both timelines and...he doesn't want you anymore.

You trudge back to your room, wanting to just sleep. Maybe when you wake up tomorrow this will all be some insane dream. Unfortunately you forgot that you share a room with Logan. As you open the door you see him sitting on the bed. A cigar in his hands as he stares out the window. Though he quickly turns around when he hears you.

"Hi, again." He says, snuffing out the cigar.

"Hi." Fuck can you say any other word but hi to his man?

"How did it go with the professor?" You ask, wringing your hands together behind your back. Logan shrugs and the look on his face doesn't give you much hope.

"Not great." You just nod, unsure of what to say next.

"I um, Chuck set up another room for me so...I'm gonna sleep there tonight." Logan winces as he sees your face fall. He doesn't want to be apart from you but it's what's best. He needs to sort out his...well everything. Besides, he's practically a stranger to you now.

"Oh." You squeak out.

"If that's what you want." It's not.

Still Logan just nods his head and stands up, grabbing a few things and silently slipping past you.

"Room 246. I'm in room 246." He tells you, staring at you one last time before leaving you alone in your bedroom.

You sleep like utter shit. You're so used to having Logan by your side that being alone just fucking sucks. You miss him so much. You contemplated going to his room but you didn't think he wanted you there. Logan has another session with Charles in the morning. You only see a glimpse of him before he disappears into the office. You wonder if he feels just as miserable as you do.

The next week is filled with the same tension and unbearable awkwardness. It's like he's a ghost. Only there when you turn around, out of the corner of your eye. You hated it. God it was awful, you longed to be next to him. For him to hold you again, kiss you. You don't even know why he's avoiding you. Logan had always been difficult when it comes to opening up but Logan, your Logan was getting better at it.

It's well into the night and you're still sitting in an empty classroom. You don't really sleep in your bed anymore. It reminds you too much of him. There's a couch near your desk anyways. With Logan in memory recovery you have been covering his classes. You sit in silence as you grade the latest test when you hear heavy boots approaching you.

"It's late," You look up to see Logan leaning against the doorframe.

"I know, but I need to get this done." You gesture to the stack of tests next to you.

"You need to sleep, I've noticed you haven't been doing that much." Your heart skips a beat, has he really been keeping tabs on you like that.

"I'll be okay Logan, really." You say gently. But your answer isn't good enough for him. You watch as he walks over to your desk and grabs half of the tests and a red pen.

"Logan It's fine really," You argue but he doesn't listen.

"What if-" You stop yourself before you finish the question.

"What if my history is different? Don't worry sweetheart I went back to the 70's not the civil war." The nickname rolls of his tongue with ease, he doesn't even realize he said it until he sees you get shy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Logan apologizes, silently kicking himself. He never should have come here. He just. He just really misses you.

"Don't apologize, It's just been a while since you called me that." You try to hide the soft smile by propping a paper up to block your face. Time passes, the only sounds being the scribbling of pens.

"Damn, Was I that bad of a teacher?" He asks as he crosses out a whole paper in red pen. You giggle and Logan looks up, a smile on his face as he hears that sweet sound.

"You're not a bad teacher, you're the favorite actually. Though sometimes you play favorites." You tease, remembering how easy Jubilee could get out of being late just by bringing Logan coffee in the morning.

"Favorites? I doubt that." He snorts, Logan isn't exactly the fresh faced happy go lucky teacher that you bring an apple to. In fact he never considered himself much of a teacher of anything.

"It's true, you're tough on them but they just love you." "That doesn't sound like me." Logan jokes, though he quickly regrets his word choice when he sees your eyes cloud with sadness.

"I..." He sighs, great he fucked this up already.

"It's okay, sorry I just, I'm still getting used to all this." You offer him a small smile but he can see right through it. You're still his wife after all and he knows you.

"How are you? This must be a lot for you." You ask, turning the conversation away from you.

You've been so focused in your own grief that you hadn't given what he must be feeling much thought. You start to feel guilty, I mean this can't be easy for him either. Logan sets the red pen down. Sighing as he runs his hands through his hair.

"I'll be alright sweetheart," He doesn't want you to worry about him.

"Please, talk to me." You reach your hand out.

Your left hand. The one with the wedding band still sitting on your finger. Logan's breath hitches as he recognizes that ring. It's a little worn from the years of wear but he knows it. He bought that ring for you a long time ago.

"I feel like a ghost. I remember my old timeline and Jean and Charles have been able to unlock bits and pieces of this one but it doesn't feel real." He admits.

"Do you regret it? Changing the timeline?" You ask and Logan shakes his head.

"No." Not at all. In fact even with all this confusion he would do it again in a heartbeat. Anything if it means you're alive. You start to ask another question but a yawn cuts through your words.

"Alright, it's bedtime now." Logan says with little room for argument. He gets up and heads to the door but you don't follow. He turns around to see you laying out a blanket on the couch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You jump at the harshness of his voice.

"I've been sleeping on the couch the last couple nights." You say casually.

Though to Logan it's like a knife to the heart. Not on his watch. You roll your eyes seeing the look on his face, that protective grumpy look.

"It's comfortable and my room is too far, I'm just going to take a short nap. You grumble. You always were stubborn and Logan knows there's no changing your mind.

"Fine." He shuts off the lights and walks over, sitting on the edge of the couch putting a pillow on his lap.

"Logan..."

"Come on, just a nap right?" You're too tired and if you're honest too selfish to pass this up.

To be this close to Logan again is a dream. You settle down with your head in his lap groaning as your head sinks to rest on his big thighs. Logan drapes a blanket over you, his hands coming to rub your back in a gentle soothing motion. It doesn't take long before you're out like a light. Drifting to sleep faster than you have all week.

When you wake up you're not in your classroom anymore. In fact you're in a bed with the covers tucked in and the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Just a nap right?" You mimic in a high pitched voice as you get out of bed. It becomes very clear the moment you spot the clothes in the corner of the room that this isn't your bedroom.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who's it is. You take one of the pillows and hug it to your chest. The smell of Logan's cologne wraps around you. Fuck you missed waking up next to him. You gently set the pillow down and swipe one of the shirts sitting on the floor before darting back to your room.

"Good morning sweetheart, sleep well?" Logan asks as you walk into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I haven't slept that well in a couple days." You sigh as he hands you a cup of coffee.

You take a sip and to your surprise it's perfect, just how you like it. Before you can say another word Logan is already gone. The hope in your chest deflating just a little bit. But last night was the closest you've been since he came back. It's a step in the right direction.

It's another week of dancing around each other. You talk more, laugh more. He still sleeps in a separate room but you find yourself spending more time together. It's little things that you notice first. That he still hates pop music and he drinks black coffee. His favorite brand of beer is still Molson. In small ways it's like you have him back. But then you see that he picks the salt and vinegar chips over plain and it all comes crashing down again. How stupid is that? Heartbroken of his favorite chip flavor? But to you it's just a reminder that he is different. But does that even matter?

You find yourself drifting to sleep in your bed this time, holding onto Logan's shirt as a way to soothe you to sleep. But you're quickly pulled from dreamland by a loud knock on your door. It's frantic and quite startling. You throw the covers off and stumble to the door, throwing it open to see who's bothering you so late.

"Logan?" You ask half asleep, rubbing your eyes as you see him standing in front of you. You notice the fearful look in his eyes and it seems to snap you awake. You step aside and let him in.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed to see you." He's tense and his eyes keep darting around the room, like he's waiting for an attack. Seeing you is slowly helping his brain but every time he closes his eyes his nightmare replays in his head. He looks down at his hand and swears he sees blood.

"Logan, come here." You take his hands, covering his palms with yours and guiding him to the bed.

"I don't want to bother you sweetheart," He mumbles, his resolve breaking pretty quickly as he lays his head next to yours.

"Tell me about it, your nightmare." He furrows his brows in confusion, how did you know?

"I know that look." You cup his face and smile. It feels so right to be next to him right now. Logan sighs, his hand covering yours as he just soaks in being next to you. That nightmare felt so real, probably because it was.

"It was the day I lost you. In my timeline."

"The sentinels?" You ask but he shakes his head.

"No you...you died before they were even created. Probably for the best. It was a mission. A simple one that went to shit so quickly." It was all Logan's fault. He woke up every day knowing that if he had been faster, been better. You would still be alive.

"They took advantage of my super senses, they overwhelmed me with noise and smells. I tried to fight through it I really did, but I was too weak." Logan feels you wipe his cheek, a tear he didn't even realize was falling.

"By the time it was over, you were fatally wounded. I held you in my arms. I begged you not to go. Not to leave me but it was too late." Your eyes cloud with tears as Logan tells his story.

The absolute grief in his voice, god how horrible. You don't know what you'd do if Logan died, how you'd even continue on. Yet this man kept fighting, kept saving peoples lives. Even when he wanted to give up and walk away.

That's the Logan you know. He'll always be the hero he never thinks he is. So what if there's a few differences. At his core Logan will always be the man you fell in love with.

"I'm so sorry," You whisper, you crawl onto his chest and hug him tightly.

Your face buried in his neck. He holds you tight. Breathing in the smell of your shampoo. He holds you for a long time before loosening his grip on you. The urge to stay like this forever is strong but there's a nagging in the back of his head. He's over stayed his welcome.

"I should get back to my room." He gently lays you back on the bed and moves to get up.

"What?" You ask in disbelief, scrambling to grab onto his arm.

"Please don't go Logan. Please the last two weeks have been horrible without you. I miss you, I miss my husband." You beg, tears falling down your cheeks.

"Sweetheart I'm not the man you married." He wipes away your tears.

"I miss you too. So fucking much. But it's best I keep my distance."

"Logan please! What do you mean you're not the man I married?!" You grab his shirt and pull him close to you. Logan grabs your wrists firmly but gently.

“You were my guiding light, the only thing that kept me going in the right direction. When I lost you, It felt like I lost myself." He tries to pry your hands off of him but you stand firm.

"I stayed with the team, I fought and killed and maybe they called me a hero. But it was never the same. I lost my way."

"But you saved the world, you're still my hero." Logan just chuckles sadly.

"I didn't give a fuck about the world." He confesses. He did care. Sort of. He knew that he was the X-Men's only hope when he got sent back. But his real motivation, his true motivation was you.

"Sweetheart, I may have saved the world but I did it for you. It’s always you.” He did it for the chance that he could save you, that somehow going back to 1973 would undo everything, that you'd be alive. He would sacrifice everything if it meant you got to live another day.

So when he woke up and saw that it had worked, he had never felt such relief. But the way you looked at him, you were scared. So uncertain. He couldn't just pick you up in his arms and kiss you like he had dreamed of. You were married in this world but he understood that he had essentially replaced the Logan that you knew.

So he kept his distance. The more he learned from Charles the more the other Logan sounded better. This Logan never had to stab Jean or watch his friends die one by one. How could he ever compare? He'd rather you be alive, even if it breaks his heart.

"I love you Logan, I love you so much." The words flood out of your mouth, unstoppable as you finally get the chance to see the truth about Logan.

"You're mine. Always. We belong together. Our love transcends timelines, universes, and all that bullshit."

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course I fucking love you don't you ever doubt that." He snaps.

He pushes you away because he loves you, he doesn't think he's worthy because he loves you so fucking much. He'd kiss the ground you fucking walk on if you asked.

"Then listen to me Logan." You grab his face and smash your lips on his, kissing him desperately.

Logan groans as he wraps his arms around your waist. You fall onto the bed, Logan propping himself up with his elbows. You tug on his hair, messing it up as you comb your fingers through it. You pull apart breathlessly, almost brought to tears from just getting to kiss your husband again.

"You're it for me Logan, forever." You mumble as he rests his forehead against yours.

"I love you too sweetheart, I missed you so much." He cradles your face in his hand, legs interlocked as the sheets become a tangled mess.

"How long has it been since you saw me?" You ask, Logans eyes filling with tears as he listens to your heart beat against his chest.

"Over 50 years." As the moon shines through the window the only thing on both of your minds is how lucky you truly are to have found a love like this.

To be destined to be together in every timeline, every world. It's you and Logan.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #wolverine x reader #dofp logan

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nikispade · 1 day ago

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It’s been driving me F***king insane. It’s one thing to not like a show, it’s a completely other thing to say as person is a bad writer and should never be able to create something because YOU don’t like the direction of a story or a character.

At this point the personal insults that come out whenever some dislikes something just pisses me off. I don’t t know her or the teams with her but no one deserves to be spoken about like she is purely because she can’t make everyone happy.

If you don’t like the shows, go make your own.

If you gave personal beef, keep it personal.

You have to like it, or watch it, or even hear from the creators. Skip it and go find something to love.

I’m fine with critics, Love a good debate, I freaking adore solid criticism but when it gets to personal insults that’s not what it is anymore.

It’s not fun, it’s not intellectual, it’s just bullying

I've officially gotten someone trying to "call me out" for "defending VivziePop" on TikTok, people saying I'm a "VivziePop dickrider" and look I honestly to god do not see what I say as "defending" her, but fine, here's a defense

I think it's weird as fuck how people are so willing to say heinous things about a queer Latina woman the SECOND they find a target that's "acceptable." I think it's insane how people will dub her a pedophile and a zoophile, two of the worst things a person can be for, at worst, PG-13 art that is both ancient and taken SEVERELY out of context. I think the way people bend over backward to twist her words to have the worst meaning possible is bizarre

I won't be sorry for that. I DON'T have a personal opinion on VivziePop, I can't, she's a stranger, but I will never not see this behavior around her as 10x weirder than anything she's ever done. I think it's fucking gross how quickly the internet will turn on queer women the moment it has "permission."

I hate how uncritically it's done. I hate how blatant the double standard is compared to someone like Brandon Rodgers. It infuriates me, honestly. Some people out there should genuinely be ashamed for the behavior they express

TLDR: The worst thing a woman can be is successful and flawed

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin #vivienne medrano #toxic fandom #not ao3 #love fanfic writers #god forbid women do anything #it’s not just her either #someone didn’t like ghostfuckers #and they were like don’t let Brandon Rogers write anymore episodes #WHY #why are yall like this #just let them BE

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miniaturesuitgladiator · 1 day ago

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Platonic Yandere Batfam x

Fem Teen Saiyan Reader!

I'm not entirely here...

Half of me has disappeared-

Being born a saiyan wasn't always a gift. Your mother had died shortly after your birth leaving your father the saiyan prince to care for you all alone.

But when tragedy struck on his planet and caused him to leave he had nothing...

He didn't know how to care for you but he so desperately wanted to.

So when Goku had offered him a place to stay he had hesitatently agreed.

Putting his pride aside for your safety. And when he had met Bulma she had instinctly taken you in as her own.

She didn't care that you weren't her blood you were her baby. More often then not she'd be with you instead of with Vegeta.

And Vegeta had liked that. It caused him to love her more.

You are your father's pride.

He loves you with everything he has. Your all he has left of his planet so he cherishes you like no other.

Your much more level headed then your father. And your father adores that.

He never wanted you to fight like him or frankly even be like him.

But eventually your pleads for him to train you had made him give in.

You had soon came obsessed with fighting.

And Just like your father you had strived to great.

But you had done it just to be with your father not gain power.

You didn't look strong but you definitely had the strength ,and always kept Vegeta on his toes.

You had learned how to turn super saiyan one early on. And you had turned super saiyan two when you 12.

Your father loved your passion for fighting but he also hated when you got hurt.

You're his princess after all.....

As time went on and enemies came and went you had grown stronger and eventually trunks was born.

And though yes your father loved your brother you were still his baby.

And oh! how you adored your baby brother! You'd never let anyone touch him....

And for while everything was peaceful no enemies came and despite your father's disproval you had gotten a boyfriend!

And Vegeta almost died when you told him it was Gohan. Your only 16!

And to your father that was basically 10!

But nevertheless what made you happy made him happy.

All was at peace for a while before just like usual an enemy had came... Vegeta had told you to stay put while he and Goku fought....

But they were losing and even Gohan was barely breathing.

So you fought but their was just to many of them. And suddenly you see a portal open up and you feel a fist make contact with your head.

The last thing you hear is your father screaming your name and everything goes pitch black.

When you had woken up your hands were strapped to a bed....

You look around confused not remembering anything or where you are.

The portal you had fallen through had brought you right to gotham. And unfortunately for you had fallen right in the back yard of the manor.

Damian had found you laying in the ground passed out when he was walking Titus.

They had brought you in worried...no one could survive a fall that big....right?

But as they ran more test they saw that the fall didn't effect you much. But what did was the impact a punch had did on your head.

Bruce had come to the conclusion that you probably had a concussion and just hoped it wasn't worse then that. But when you woke up all scared and confused he knew.

It was definitely worse then a concussion.

The batfam had heard very few things about saiyans. And in the back of their mind saiyans were always just a myth but when you had arrived and the huge amount of energy that you were radiating they new you were something special....but you also just a kid.

Worried eyes watched your every move.

Your hands pull at the restraints on your hands and you break through them fairly easy.

They batfam watches in shock at how easy you break through the restraints.

Quickly you stand up and the batfamily is quick to circle around you covering all the exits.

"Where am I?" You question your heart absolutely pounding in your chest.

You couldn't remember anything.....

Bruce is quick to speak his voice calming despite the current situation.

"Calm down sweetheart... your okay." He says his voice soft.

"Who am I?" You question confused and the batfamily hearts break... your tone is soft and quiet. Your obviously scared...they can't help but need want to help you.

Even Damian can't ignore how his heart is acting at the desperation in your tone.

"Can you tell us what you remember?" Tim speaks and you only remember a hand full of things...but you do remember your name...well atleast your first name.

"I'm.... I'm Y/n.....right?" You say and the family nods to comfort you but in reality they don't really know. They couldn't find out anything about you. They knew you were from another world.

A moment of silence pass through the batfam hearts aching to give you comfort for some odd reason.

"Do you remember us...?" Dick voice says and the whole batfam head turn to him like he's crazy. Because he is. Of course you don't remember them.

They had only met you today.

You shake your head as you look at them with wide curious eyes.

"Were your family." Jason says and even Dick is surprised with the confidence in his voice. But Dicks glad that Jason's going along with his plan.

"You are? I don't remember any of you...." You say your voice still quiet and confused. And by hearing your confused tone the rest of the batfam couldn't help but do the same as the others.

Alfred who was standing in the conner of the batcave shakes his head as he walks up the stairs he knew where this was going. And despite his better judgment he couldn't help but want you to be apart of the family too.

So without hesitatently he went upstairs and began making you really theirs. By adopting you.

It was gotham it was pretty easy to adopt even if the kid didn't have a name a computer with the amount of money Bruce had it would be easy.

"Can you tell us exactly what you do remember sweetie?" Bruce asks and you flinch as he steps closer.

"I'm a saiyan...I remember that much...and I got a dad...and...and a brother. A little brother." You say confident though your not even sure if that's all true.

There's so many gaps in your memories.

Faces missing. Like pictures without faces.

It's confusing.

All of it is. These people infront of you claim to be your family...so why can't you remember them?

Damian steps closer and he's short compared to you. His voice small and tender which is unusual for him. But the others font tease him knowing he's trying to comfort you.

"I'm your little brother....remember?" He says so confidently. It's a blunt lie. One that he intends to keep.. and you want to believe him...but you don't remember... you don't remember anything.

"I don't look like you." You say stepping a stepping closer to examine him. Your right you don't look like him. Or anyone in the room but that's an easy lie to cover up.

" Your adopted....newly adopted. We took you in a year ago." Bruce says his voice still holding that fatherly warmth that you so desperately want to cling to but your not that naive something just doesn't feel...right.

But you brush it off as your memory being lost.

What a dumb mistake.

As time passes each lie gets more realistic and easier to tell.

Your memory had began replacing the batfamily faces with your family's faces.

And with the help of Alfred and the batcomuter for editing your face in picture everything was getting more realistic...

But what happens when your worried ,and angry saiyan prince father finally finds you?

💗Thanks for reading! 💗

Comments likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @tatsuri-zomushiki

#yandere batfam #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #dc x dbz #yandere dbz #dragon ball z #platonic yanderes #platonic yandere #platonic batfamily #teen reader #fem reader #female reader

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archangeldyke-all · 1 day ago

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ANGELLLL hear me out, club mom getting hit on at work🫡🫡🫡

AEWFHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

men and minors dni

the thing is, you don't even notice it's happening.

nobody comes to a strip club and to flirt with the clothed people. especially not when those clothed people are spending their evenings kicking out touchy-feely customers and cutting off heavy drinkers. you're the resident buzzkill, that's literally half of your job. you are not the main attraction here.

so, you assume this woman's just chatty, just one of those people who'll talk to anyone. you don't even remember her name, but she's been chatting casually with you all night. you know she works in the mines. you know she's here for her buddy's birthday party. you know her favorite drink is vodka sprite. she says she likes the bubbles.

you don't even consider that she's flirting with you until cherry catches your eye across the club and frowns. after so many years working in the loud-ass club, you and cherry have become experts at reading-lips. what? you mouth.

cherry rolls her eyes. don't let sevika see you.

you frown in confusion. why? she loves these pants on me.

cherry laughs then nods toward the locker room. you huff and follow after her.

"what?" you ask.

"that lady's flirting with you mom, don't be stupid."

you burst into laughter. "why the fuck would she be flirting with me?!"

"you said the same thing about sevika on her first night here, and now look at the two of you." cherry says.

you frown. "well, yeah, but i like sevika."

cherry laughs. "and she likes you too. enough to have married you. which is why you need to steer clear of flirty-pants over there. you're gonna make your wife jealous."

the idea makes you laugh, but cherry looks dead serious. you frown in contemplation, and she kisses your cheek before heading back onto the floor.

you know sevika's the most loyal wife in the world, and sevika has full faith in your loyalty to her. she has to, seeing as the other half of your job is keeping a bunch of half-naked girls happy.

plus, flirting is obvious... right? flirting is a lower lip bitten, a heavy, calculating, lingering gaze on your hands as you work. flirting is bantering until you're too busy kissing to argue, it's sparkly grey eyes wide with lust, and giggles that sound like music.

it's not chatting about beer.

you head back out to the club only to run into ms. flirty pants herself.

"oh shit! hey, i was lookin' for you." she giggles. you frown.

"is there something i can help you with?" you ask. maybe she needs help with the atm machine-- it's been on the fritz lately.

"no, no, i was just... well, i got to talkin' to that bartender bimbo about you," you frown at the description of trinity, "and she mentioned that you're into the local music scene."

your shoulders sag in relief. she's not coming onto you, she's looking for a gig. "oh, yeah, love it. sadly, we're not lookin' for any more dj's at the moment, but if we ever have an opening--"

flirty pants cuts you off with a laugh, one of her hands landing on your shoulder. your stomach sours. "no, no, not that! god, i wish i was a musician. no, i got two tickets to this battle of the bands thing happening--"

"oh." you mutter. "no thank you." you say, enunciating each word clearly as you can over the music and firmly removing her hand from your shoulder.

you brush past her, making a bee line toward the bar.

"is that bitch flirting with you?!" trinity gasps. you groan.

"relax about it, would you?"

"relax!? mom, she's trying to break you and papa sev up!"

"you're so dram-- ew, papa sev?" you groan. "that's the worst one yet."

trinity laughs and pours you a shot. "here. drink."

you down the shot and sigh. "i'm wearing my ring and everything!" you whine. "i-i'm in this frumpy, stinky sweatsuit!"

trinity laughs. "i wasn't gonna say anything--"

you roll your eyes. "it's laundry day, okay?" trinity giggles. "but you're just proving my point. i am not the person to flirt with in this building!"

"sevika did." trinity points out. you groan.

"i looked good that night and sevika..." you trail off, the liquor hitting you and a warm fondness bubbling up in your tummy at the thought of your wife. trinity groans.

"ugh, mom, keep it in your pants."

you snort and roll your eyes. "i didn't mind sevika flirting with me. i mind this. this is awkward and horrible. what do i do?"

trinity shoves another shot under your chin. "drink this and tell her to fuck off. wave the ring in her face."

you drink the shot and cringe, then pat trinity's shoulder. "are you okay? have you taken your break yet?"

she laughs and rolls her eyes. "i'm good mom. let 'er down easy, then tell 'er if she's got money i'll let 'er flirt with me allllll night." trinity says.

you snort and shake your head, turning around to do that.

flirty-pants is leering at you from across the club. you groan, roll your eyes, then march over to her.

"there you are, pretty thing. had me thinking you were runnin' from me."

"right. about that--"

"don't tell me you're fuckin' married or somethin'--" you hold your hand up to show her your ring. she sags. "oh c'mon. that shit's fake, right?"

you scoff. "what?"

"'s a fake ring you wear at work so you don't get hit on."

you blink. "n-no! what the fuck?"

"wait... you're really married?"

"yes. she is."

you cringe and turn around, your wife standing behind you and glaring daggers at poor flirty-pants. you open your mouth to explain, but sevika simply reaches out and pulls you in for a nasty kiss by the front of your frumpy sweatshirt.

you sigh against her lips, letting her hands circle your waist, her leg shoved between yours, her tongue brushing your lips. you moan against her and she hums in response, walking you back until you're pinned to the wall.

"fuck, okay, i get it. sorry." flirty-pants mutters before walking off.

you snort a bit at her words, then reach up to thread your hands through sevika's hair, tugging enough to make her growl.

eventually she pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips. you grin at her. "well, hello."

she snorts. "cherry waved me down when i got here and told me i needed to 'mark my territory.'" sevika explains. you giggle.

"i was handling it... but your way was a little more efficient."

sevika swoops in to kiss you again, much sweeter and softer this time. "hi, baby."

"hi. how was work?" you ask as you scratch her scalp. sevika purrs in your hold. you nuzzle your nose against hers.

"horrible. think we can leave the girls to fend for themselves for the rest of the night? i wanna take you home and mark my territory some more."

you cackle and kiss the tip of sevika's nose. "yeah, i think they'll be alright."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha

#really wanted to make reader hit the “IM MARRIED” pearl scream but couldn't find a way to fit it in aldfkjaslkdjfa #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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vryfmi · 3 days ago

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[major book spoilers]

my favourite concept that i barely see in l&co fandom being talked about is Lucy grieving Skull. whether you see their relationship as platonic or ship skullyle, it's stupid to deny the fact that Lucy grew to care about Skull, her actions in epilogue being the heartbreaking glimpse into the new reality for her and her friends after the events of TEG:

“I don’t know why you insist on having it with us for each meal.” (Holly) “It’s that horrid charcoaled skull Lucy insists on carrying around with her.” (Holly) I’d wrapped it up and taken it home, and kept it with me ever since, just in case.

here i want to say that im not a fan of idea of Skull eventually "coming back", re-materialising. it defeats the moral of Lockwood & Co and the growth that Skull underwent. past is meant to stay the past, living can only learn from it while dead will forever exist there. no one should disturb the dead, the past, it needs to be left at rest and let it hold its memory.

Skull wanted and longed for freedom, at first defined by breaking out of silver-glass prison, but later, very clearly defined by the peace of mind. he was scared of death as much as Bickerstaff was, that's why Skull turned his back on the other side, he chose to stay here, in the world of the living. i always read his decision to save both Lucy and Lockwood as him admitting that he could never be a part of the living world (cough could never compete with what lockwood, alive boy, could give lucy cough), so he pushed the two away as he stayed in the room with Marissa, Penelope and Ezekiel.

to me, the best ending to Skull's story is him passing on his terms, not the explosion destroying his connection with the source, but contemplating what he sees himself doing after Lucy suggested him staying with L&Co. Skull declines her offer. and chooses freedom.

obviously, that's my reading and how i prefer to interpret L&Co's ending. (it's also the reason i can't accept that christmas special as canon, im sorry, i hate happiness).

but that leaves Lucy and her newfound need of keeping skull near her at all times since Fittes HQ explosion, her wishful thinking that he'd come back. and i want to see her go through painful acceptance of losing Skull. losing a someone that she never got to know closer. losing a chance to get to know him as a friend, to admitting to have found a friend in Skull, a kindred spirit. losing someone who understood her and knew her deepest fears because these two deeply traumatised teens were so alike. losing something that she chose to define herself and her worth by. Lucy would have to come to terms with how much of a support system she had in Skull. and now, she'd have to navigate without it.

Lucy makes a remark that i can't stop thinking about.

Whenever I put my fingers on it, I got no psychic charge. The bone was dry and cold.

i could go on a rampage theorising why Lucy can't feel anything despite a) her having a strong Touch b) objects that are not sources are still able to hold strong psychic echoes. but i feel like Stroud was trying to wrap up the story and didn't want to introduce a whole new storyline of Lucy picking up fragments of Skull's past. which is a shame. i would kill for such story to be told. (please hit me up if you do.)

but say she really can't pick up anything, Skull is gone and there's not a psychic trace left of him. where does Lucy find herself then? constantly checking the skull with all her senses, wishing to see a green spark dance around the (former) source, to hear a whispery insult in her ear, to feel just anything with her touch. but it's all gone. there's nothing left. no one left. everyone else is moving on, hurries Lucy to get rid of that horrid old bone, but how can she? how can she bring herself to get rid of the only thing left? the only thing left on earth to remember a nameless boy by? the boy who could've been her friend, but she failed to trust him? failed to say thank you?

with each passing day Lucy’d feel worse because she knows how she looks to her friends, to agents, to the ones saving London from violent visitors every night, putting their lives on the line. and here she sits, wishing a ghost to appear in her attic room when she's the most vulnerable at heart.

bonus points for Lucy picking up a pencil and trying to recreate the boy she saw on the other side on paper while the memory is still fresh, while she still remembers. (but also, if we view books as Lucy's memoirs, it would make Skull's bare-bone description even more sad because that would mean older Lucy forgot the details).

what im trying to incoherently say is, Lucy would grieve. and having read almost all of the books Stroud wrote, i see that he has a very intimate relationship with grief and mourning the loss of someone dear to the point where he explores different sides and intensities of it, how each of his characters goes through it, in every single book of his. (i believe, i have three more books of his to read).

p.s. i don't want to be a hypocrite so here are fics about lucy grieving skull that i love to bits:

- i'm still painting flowers for you by terryh

- echoes by menina123

- it isn’t the same (but it is enough) by bluejay_07

- don't wanna go, but it's time to leave by fourohfourerror

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co spoilers #l&co #lucy carlyle #the skull #skull in the jar #skull in a jar #skullyle #the empty grave #jonathan stroud #analysis #meta writing #blogposting

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mejaemin · 2 days ago

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ✦　

you’re cute! - lee seokmin

wc: 1.3k summary: seokmin’s a little too obvious about his thing for you, but it’s okay! it’s cute! warnings: music major!seok n reader, they’re both a little immature but in a cute way?, loser!seokmin, seungkwan feature an: i’m so sorry this is late.. i wanted it to be perfect because it’s seokmin’s bday fic !!! he’s so special to me and i couldn’t let it suck yk?? (i still think it does..) n e way tysm to cutie @cxffecoupx for giving me this idea !!!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ✦　

lee seokmin’s really cute.

you see him sitting in the row beside you, and you hide in your books so he can’t see that you’re watching him. he’s talking to his friends, and you can hear his melodic voice ramble about god knows what. when he starts laughing, everyone else starts side eyeing him while you can’t help but bite your lip to avoid smiling with him.

all of a sudden, his friends turn serious. they’re all staring at seokmin with this accusatory look, and you turn your listening ears on when seungkwan leans in,

“so, are you gonna stop being a loser and do something about..” he uses your first initial to refer to whoever they’re talking about, and your heart nearly beats out of your chest. maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop…? you put your notebook down and start scribbling in it.

you hear said loser sigh heavily, and from your peripheral you can see his head fall into his arms. it’s muffled, but you think you hear him say, “i can’t… she’s too pretty! i’m scared!”

seungkwan sighs. “a girl writing notes in a hello kitty notebook with a glitter gel pen is scary? seok, she even has the same texting habits as you. what’s scary about that?”

he pops his head up. “it’s scary cute, okay?! and- wait, you text her?! this is so unfair..” he whines, resting his cheek in his palm to watch you with a pout.

taking a quick glance around the classroom, you’re able to confirm that you’re definitely the only one in here with a hello kitty notebook and collection of glitter gel pens. you think it’s safe enough to assume that he’s definitely talking about you, and it makes you feel like kicking your feet and twirling your hair.

you said it once, and you’ll say it again, but this whole ordeal is really the cutest thing. even before you knew about this little crush, he’s always had your attention. his smile is contagious, and it’s never really been directed at you, but just seeing him happy makes you happy. he truly has a skill at making people smile. not only that, but his laugh? goodness, he really knows how to make a girl swoon even with his lack of skills in said department. he’s got blonde hair, and it’s quite new, but it really opens up his features and he looks even brighter than you thought was possible. and now, over the past couple of weeks, you haven’t been able to stop overhearing his overshares in public to his friends.

his voice is so loud, however it’s not in a suffocating way. his laugh is contagious, his singing is amazing, and, god, when you got paired up that one time during your piano class, it was quite private, and he was attempting to sightread. it sounded like.. music, you guess, but it’s just the way his pretty fingers stumble over the keys, his laugh ringing through the studio at his own mess-ups (if only you knew that he actually wasn’t so bad, it was just knowing that you’re one of two other people in the studio right now). you weren’t much better, and you tried to offer that as words of comfort, which ended up in his red face as he stumbled over his words.

since then, you’ve overheard him during all your music classes. he’s not the best at keeping his volume down, and you know that very well. you’ve overheard plenty of things from his mouth, things that were a little too strange for your liking, but there’s good parts to it. like.. hearing him ramble on and on about this girl who’s too pretty for his own good! she’s so gorgeous he could die, she looks so pretty when she’s focused, and ugh she’s just so cute when she struggles with music theory! if only you’d actually talk to her, his friends would tease, and that’s the only time he’ll keep his mouth shut. it’s always the same excuse, that you’re too pretty and he’s scared, your looks too intimidating. lost in thought, you pout, thinking you really can’t be that scary…

all of a sudden you’re ripped from your thoughts, your seatmates and everyone else beginning to pack up. although a little frazzled, you follow suit, stuffing your things away in your little tote bag. you sneak another peek at seokmin and his friends, and seungkwan pats his shoulder.

“listen. there’s no way she doesn’t know at this point. if you don’t do something in a week, i’ll do it for you.” he says, leaving him behind in the classroom.

you slow yourself down, matching his pace as he begrudgingly packs his belongings away in his little shoulder bag. he’s got a pout of his own, probably tired of getting playfully (?) bullied by his friends. finally, he’s done, and he walks out of the classroom with his fluffy hair, striped shirt and thick-rimmed glasses. before he goes too far, you chase after him. it can’t hurt to say something.. right?

shuffling on tip toes to catch up to him, you finally do, and tap on his shoulder. he turns his head, a smile on his face, and he can’t help the shocked expression that pops up on his face once he sees it’s you.

“oh- um, hi! do you- uh, did you need.. something?” he asks, his face a little too expressive when he grimaces at himself.

you nod, bouncing on your toes with a smile. “seokmin, right?” that was a dumb question… you already know his name! regardless, he nods. you give your own, even though you know he knows it too, “you know, seokmin… you don’t really have an inside voice, do you?” it comes out a little sassier than you meant it to, but how are you supposed to start a conversation?! you’re not built for this either…

“i’m so sorry! if it’s a bother, i’ll be more quiet, if it uh- it- yeah..” he gives up at the end of his silence, sighing heavily, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

you smile, looking up at him with innocent, yet teasing eyes. on the inside you’re just as nervous as him, but something about knowing he’s the exact same puts you at ease a little. “i can hear what you’re talking about, y’know… about me.”

his jaw drops. you watch him, waiting for a response, but he just stands there. you actually stand there for a few seconds watching it, and he’s literally frozen for that entire duration.

after gaping like a fish for a few moments words finally come out, “i’m sorry if you’re uncomfy because of it.. i can be quiet, if that’ll be any better?” he looks super sad right now, and you’d feel evil to let him think the worst any longer.

“no, silly!” you giggle, putting a hand on his shoulder, his face only gets redder, and he’s stuttering in protest. “i don’t mind it. you’re super cute too, you know!”

“oh- oh? seriously?” he asks, and you nod.

“i like you too, y’know!” your giggles become even more frequent, and a little louder at him. it’s so charming the way he stumbles over his words and blushes so intensely, in his own cute little loser way.

he’s still in shock, mouth hanging open, and it’s a little bold but you use a finger to push it closed. with a sigh, made of giggles and amusement, you take out one of your sanrio sticky notes. seokmin’s got a pen sticking out from his bag, and you pull it out to write your phone number on it. pulling it off the stack, you stick it to his chest, making your way to walk past him, not without a smile. you’re sure that once you’re further away you hear a little yesss! and it makes you smile even bigger, knowing that something could come of you and the cute loser in all your music classes.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ✦　

perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days ago

Note

so so proud of you and all of your work is amazing!! i’d love to request something for your celebration <3

🦇😘#13 please!!! (pls feed us with some smut and angst 😝😝😝😝)

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f receiving) body worship, angst, hurt/comfort

Your living room is increasingly getting smaller as your fight with Eddie gets more intense. You've never yelled at each other like this and now you're concerned that maybe this is the beginning of the end of your arrangement.

"It was just a little fight," you scoff but Eddie doesn't seem to think the same with the way he's looking at you. He looks so angry that you can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears.

"A little fight, y/n? You kicked me out!" He's screaming now and you're getting smaller as he towers over you. He's trying to show you just how much you hurt him. Yo try to get you to listen to him because he knows you'd much rather not have this conversation because you hate being vulnerable.

That's why this whole thing works. You both get what you want every time and there's no strings attached. But that's the problem here. He was supposed to fall for you and he did.

"You were trying to cuddle and that's not part of our agreement." You'll never tell him how badly you wanted to because that's not who you are. You're not a girlfriend, you're the type of girl men just like the sleep with, nothing more. And that's the way you like it.

Being in a relationship means letting people in and letting them see parts of you that no one else has. The parts that aren't perfect. And you're afraid that they won't be able see past how imperfect you are. Eddie's become the only person who's gotten close to you have to cut him loose.

Because if you let him in, then there's only a matter of time before he leaves and you like him too much to let that happen. So if you're the one who initiates it because of something he did, then it's not your fault, it's his.

"And then you just blew up, yelling at me like I did something so horrible!" Eddie knows why you're shutting him out, but he wants you to admit it, to hear the very words come from your mouth.

He steps closer to you, taking your face in his hands and he's so close now that he can see the tears streaming down your face.

"Why can't you just let yourself want this?" He whispers and those seem to be the magic words to make you cry even harder. He 's wiping away the tears as they come, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Because," you whisper back. "If I let you in, then you'll just leave. And I love you too much to let that happen." Mission accomplished.

Eddie can't help but grin at your confession, having never felt this happy in his life. He knew he wasn't just imagining it and now he has your words as proof.

"You love me?" He asks as he pulls back, his eyes lighting up.

"Well-" you try to backtrack, afraid that you've said too much, but considering how happy he looks, you're realizing that you didn't actually make a mistake.

"You love me!" He exclaims with a laugh. "I knew it!"

"You knew?" Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You hadn't realized that you had been that obvious.

"Sweetheart, you weren't exactly good at hiding it. But it's okay because I love you too."

"You love me." You're beaming now, glowing and Eddie doesn't know how you could get any prettier.

"I love you," he nods. "Every single part, the good and the bad." His arms are wrapped around your waist while yours wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He smiles against your lips as his arms wrap tighter around your waist, lifting you up so that your feet are hovering over the floor. Your legs wrap around his waist as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you let him in as he backs up to the couch, collapsing onto it as you begin unbuttoning his shirt, but he stops you.

"Nope," he mumbles against your lips as he rests his hands gently on top of yours. "Tonight is about you, doll, and how I'm going to worship every inch of your body until you know just how much I love you."

You blink and you're lying flat against the couch cushions, Eddie now hovering over you with that hungry look in his eyes that you've grown so familiar with.

"But-"

"Nope, you're not going to feel bad because this is just as much for me as it is for you." He lowers himself down onto you and presses his lips to yours. It's so gentle in comparison the other kisses you've shared and you're eating it up, loving seeing this soft side of him.

He's kissing his way down your neck, whispering the most kind words to you about how much he loves your body. He hasn't been this soft and gentle since the very beginning of your arrangement and you have to admit that you love seeing this side of him.

"Your skin is so soft," he murmurs against your chest. "And you," he cuts him off to take a whiff. "smell so good, baby. What is that?"

"You know what it is," you laugh and it's music to Eddie's ears.

"Oh right," he chuckles as he kisses his way down to your tits, pressing a kiss to each one before speaking again. "You know how much I love these," he says as he gives them a squeeze which causes you to gasp. "But they aren't the focus tonight."

Eddie continues to kiss down your torso, pulling down your sweatpants as he does so.

"God, you're perfect," he whispers as he finally gets to the spot right above the waistband of your panties. As he gaze drops lower, he can't help but the notice the dark, wet patch right where you're cunt it. "Already wet, hm? Well, it's a good thing that I'm going to take care of you, isn't it?"

He pulls off your panties then kisses his way up your leg, murmuring what you're sure are compliments into your skin but you can't hear him. He does the same with your other leg then reaches up and grabs hold of your wrist, slipping the scrunchie from it.

"Can I use this?" He asks, his voice so sweet that can't possible say no.

"Sure," you nod and watch him tie his hair back before hooking your legs over his shoulders, not even giving you a chance to prepare yourself before diving straight in.

There's no warm up, it's nothing but teeth and tongue as he bites down, causing you to moan loudly. Your hands grab onto whatever hair you can reach, giving it a tug as your thighs press against his head, your heels digging into his back as your toes curl in pleasure.

He's eating your cunt like it's a man starved and you already feel dizzy, just knowing that this is different from any other time that he's done it. All the others were sloppy and lazy and exactly what you needed, but here, there's intention, there's purpose. And at this rate, you're not sure how long you're going to last.

He pushes his tongue inside and that's when you know you're done for. It's fucking you so hard that you didn't even know he could that with just his tongue. His hands are sliding underneath your ass, squeezing it as hard as he can as he works his magic, making you moan over and over as your climax builds.

You finally reach your orgasm and as it's coursing through you, his names falling from your lips, you just know that this is the best one yet. And even as you're finishing, Eddie's still going to town, slowly removing his tongue only to let it lazily glide along your cunt to lick up every last bit before pulling away just enough to where you can hear him speak.

"Tastes so good," he tells you. "Any man who has ever claimed that a food is their favorite thing to eat has clearly never had their head between your thighs." He then goes back in for more and you stay like that for the rest of the night where Eddie makes you feel the best you ever had as he eats you out for hours on end, showing you just how he loves you and that he will continue to do so for the rest of his life.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut

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bloody-night · 2 days ago

Text

Fur I.

Wriothesley x male reader

Genuinely… why isn’t there any more Wriothesley fics bro

Idk how long this is but I basically made a long ass story, read if you like.

In the Fortress of Meropide, you had a job, cleaning, which wasn’t all that difficult, but rather boring. Yes, the prisoners also do the cleaning, but you had signed up for a free position for some extra bucks, plus, the love of your life was here too.

Wriothesley, the one who watched over everyone and everything in the Fortress. He doesn’t know that he’s the love of your life now, but he might be connecting some dots at this point.

You’d always stare at him, from afar or close, you’d steal a quick glance or two, before continuing to mop and clean the areas. He’s even managed to get a couple of looks as well. Questioning on what you were thinking. Quitting? Perhaps bonus pay? More hours? He thought about things similar to that.

But oh no, you most definitely were happy with the job and pay it had, more certainly the hours he gave you.

All you thought about was that ass and tits, as well as that pretty little mouth.

You couldn’t help but fantasize about Wriothesley, and him being all yours. Fucking him on his desk, or even on the couch he had, maybe possibly on his chair as well.

Him riding your heavy cock, tits bouncing with each ride he gave you. Panting and saying your name. “M/n.” Yea… just like that.

“-n?… M/n..!”

You jolted, looking to see who was calling you, which was Wriothesley. “H-huh?” “Is something wrong? You’ve been starring at the bucket for a while now… starting to think you’re losing your interest in this job…” He teased, giving you a slight smirk, before returning to his “mean boss” facade. You scoffed, “No sir, just thinking on where to start.” “Right… well, once you’re done I’ll need to talk to you in my office. I need to discuss about your job.” He said, turning around to walk away.

What?

“W-wait, am I fired!?” You suddenly shouted, hearing your sentence repeat all throughout the Fortress, causing heads to turn. You cleared your throat, seeing Wriothesley turn his head, quirking a brow before continuing to walk away. “What a response.” You mumbled, before sighing and working on the floors.

When did mopping the floors get so nerving? Your hands were sweaty, more sweaty than on an average day. Your day seemed to go a lot slower as you cleaned every surface, wiping the tables and cleaning the restrooms. You didn’t even hear anything other than your heart pounding in your chest.

Is this it? Will you be fired and never get to see your lover go down on you?

You gulped as you stored everything away, taking a quick shower and changing into a more appealing yet comforting attire. Making your way to the Duke’s office… place…. area…. whatever it was.

Your feet have never been any heavier, you felt like you were walking in slo-mo, your nerves were through the roof. Eyes staring blankly at the large door after you. Pretty sure there were some head to look, but what more of it? Shaky breath left those pursed lips of yours, before, finally, you knocked, hearing a charming “come in.”

My breath hitched in my throat

You took a look around the first floor, noting how it didn’t look as different as when you were applying for the position. You heard the booming yet entailing music of the phonogram. “Heard you needed to see me? Sir?” You spoke clearly, walking and closing the door behind you. There was no lock needed. “Up here.” You trailed the man’s voice, heading upstairs.

“Ah… M/n… great seeing you here.” He spoke, giving you a glance before continuing whatever paperwork he had. “Take a seat over there.” He motioned at the sofa not far from his desk. You nodded and walked to the sofa, sitting down and patiently waiting for your man to finish his work.

“Apologies about that, caught me in some paperwork.” He said, chuckling breathlessly, which was hot. Anything your lover does is so hot, incredibly hot you can’t help but to touch yourself every night at the thought of him.

Only one dirty thought of him, not even dirty, just admiring how handsome he is, has you stroking your throbbing cock.

“A-ah… it’s fine, I don’t mind waiting at all….” …For you. He looked at you, those icy eyes squinting a tad bit, before they widened. “Ah! Tea? Sorry, I should’ve offered since you’ve walked in.” He gulped, his Adam’s apple bouncing at that. “Yes please..” You mumbled, staring at him admiringly, feeling your pants tighten slightly.

You ignored what your lower region spoke, head filled with images and phantom sounds of Wriothesley begging to get fucked by you, sprawled out on his desk as you held his wrists in place, grinding up against that pretty perfect ass.

“Here we are…” He spoke softly, sitting next to you, pouring some sweetly smelling tea. “This is my favorite batch, I always ask for it monthly, simply can’t live without it.” He admitted, smiling softly as he slid the cup closer to you, his eyes flickering downwards at you, before quickly looking up. Pervert. As to thinking about how pervy he is, his cheeks seemed to be tinting a bit redder each time you looked at him.

You bit the innards of your cheek. “Thank you!” You breathlessly appreciated, taking a sip of the tea, humming in delight as the sweet taste filled your mouth. “Delicious.” You whispered, not really caring if tea was your thing or not, you’d take anything given to you by this man.

Is it getting hot in here?

“Right… time to get on the topic.” He mumbled, adjusting himself better, sitting upright and leaning against the arm rest of the sofa on the other side. His arms crossing around his fat pecs. “What do you think about your job?” He asked, quirking a brow as his lips pressed together, plump lips. “Ah- u-uhm, I think it’s a great job…? I haven’t had any complains lately, why?” You genuinely asked.

Please don’t fire me… I still want to show you my dick…

You internally clenched your jaw, huffing quietly yet it was heard by the Duke. “Really? Ah, I must’ve been reading you wrong then.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, showing those flexed biceps of his. He stared at you, see how you were eager to learn more as to what he was ‘reading’. “I thought you were secretly begging for more hours, or work?” He spoke, quirking a brow. “Really?..-“ “Yes… with the way you stare at me and-“ Wriothesley couldn’t even finish his sentence as you seemingly choked on the tea you were sipping on.

You coughed as you felt his strong hand gently slap your back. “Sorry- sorry.” You mustered, clearing your throat. “Staring at you?” You repeated. Wriothesley nodded, the worry off his face and fixing himself. “Yea.. I have caught you staring at me, even from afar..? Your eyes would always look away from me after I catch you peeking, especially when you thought I didn’t notice.” He breathed, taking a sip of tea, pupils flickering downwards at you before picking them up.

Why do you keep staring at my pants?

…And why have they gotten tighter….

“Oh… I apologize, I seem to be thinking of other things.” You lied, gulping nervously. “Please don’t think I’m trying to quit or the very least asking for more hours.” You admitted, turning your entire body to face Wriothesley appropriately. “I’m more than happy with my hours and payment.” You spoke, nodding happily as well with finishing it with your flashiest smile.

“Oh, really?” Wriothesley teased. At the same time you gripped your pants, Wriothesley’s breath hitched. “I-I’m sorry, but are we going to fix your problem we have here?” He stuttered, when has he ever stuttered?

And what problem?…

You slowly glanced down, seeing the massive bulge your attention-whore of a cock was seeking. “O-oh shit!” You cursed, quickly covering your bulge with your hands, hissing with the slighted friction you gave. “I-I’m so sorry, Sir! I didn’t notice.” You mumbled, panicking internally.

“I did…” He mumbled, sipping his tea quietly, placing it back down onto the table. “Ever since I sat next to you, you’ve been…” He gulped, “Hard…” You blushed at this, it was embarrassing, but The Duke has not said anything about your cock rather than giving it a few glances here and there.

“I will fix it soon, sorry, I must go now..” You mumbled, a bit emotional as you thought this was your ticket to leave the premises of the Fortress and never see your husband again.

“Wait..” You felt his strong bandaged hand envelope itself around your arm, not letting you even stand up. You couldn’t even look at him, what client gets hard midway throughout his work discussion??

“I can help you… if you’d like…” You heard him whisper. You couldn’t even ask and glance at him before feeling his body move closer to you. His hold on you let go, yet his hand snaked on your thigh. “Would you like that?” He whispered, soft lips touching your neck. You groaned, the Duke’s hand moving to squeeze the innards of your plush yet toned thighs. “Mmm… yea…-“ You froze “W-Wait!” You pushed Wriothesley suddenly, ignoring how hot your face was, and noticing the red cheeks on your lover’s face. “Isn’t this wrong?” You asked, gulping nervously. Wriothesley chuckled, letting out a small laugh, oh fuck… that laugh got you EXTRA hard.

“Who’s the duke in this place?” He mumbled, pushing you to lay your head against the arm rest behind you. “I’m the one who rules this place, everything goes through to me.” He spoke, you nodded at what he listed. He was right, but this was nerving. Has he done this with others? That broke your heart, you thought you were his first. But who’s first is he? With all that ass and tits, surely he laid with some women or men, or both. Gulp!

“Thinking if I’m your first?” You could say that... “I’ve only ‘laid’ with a chick before. But I didn’t really full fledged slept with her.” He admitted. “Why me, then?” You asked, seeing how the black-grey haired was rubbing your thighs, staring at your eyes. “You’ve always seemed interesting, ever since you applied here I’ve taken an interest in you, sweetie.” He admitted, winking at you as you felt your pants being pulled down.

You gulped, still feeling that lump in your throat. Wriothesley leaned down, fuck, that position he held was so hot. His head close to your twitching cock as his ass could be seen behind him, it was round and plush, the half of a heart.

Wriothesley breathed teasingly against your dick, before lapping his lips around the figure through the cloth, sucking on it, his teeth sometimes pressing against it. “S-shit… Wrio…” You panted softly, half closed eye lids staring at your beautiful husband.

Your legs were spread, spread enough on the couch. Wriothesley’s arms being under and around your thighs, his head in between your legs, a dream you never thought would come to life.

With the continuos sucking through your underwear, Wrio noted the big patch and pre staining your underwear, making him question how long you’ve wanted this. He hummed and smirked, latching his teeth around the hem of your underwear. Pulling them teasingly slow off of you.

You didn’t say anything, you were in a trance, staring at your babe working so hot on you. “You’re big.” He breathlessly admitted, strong yet soft hands wrapping around your cock, giving it slow teasing strokes, his head resting on the flesh beside your erect member. Icy eyes piercing your very own, filled with nothing but eagerness and… love?

“Y-yea… sorry.” You stuttered, earning a small chuckle from the Duke. “I like it.” He whispered, kissing the base of your cock, earning him a twitch and whimper in response. Your cock was throbbing in his hands, as he gave it small, gentle strokes. His eyes moved from you to your appraising dick, almost as if he were drooling at the mere sight, which he was.

“You could fill me up with this.” He mumbled, but you heard it.

His hands stroked you gently, before quickening up the pace, getting breathless the more he stroked you. He then proceeded to kiss your member, small, licked lips, kissing everywhere around your girth. “M-my… you seem to know how to work me.” You joked, chuckling softly before groaning quietly, letting out small whimpers and moans. “I’ve read here and there.” He admitted, winking at you before continuing.

From kissing to licking, this man had you moaning his name in small amounts. His tongue licked from the base to your tip, giving it a suck before continuing. Mixing kissing and licking here and there. Occasionally sucking on some areas around your length. “Mmm… Wrio..” You whispered, your hands reaching to touch him, but scared to mess anything up, you never did feel him. He took note of that.

“You can touch me, sweetie, don’t be nervous… I want you to..” He whispered, grabbing your hand gently and placing it on his cheeks, in which he leaned against your palm. You hummed and nodded, caressing his cheeks as he continued his work.

The way he licked you up and down was so lewd, the way his tongue itself touched your cock was such a scene that turned you on easily. You were in a trance, moaning and grunting his name. “Wrio…”

“Ah.. lo-“ You were cut off with a jolt, hearing a loud knocking. “Sir? I’ve got some paperwork.” You heard from downstairs. “I’m busy right now! Come back in thirty minutes!” You heard Wriothesley shout, groaning as he heard and looked for anyone coming up. The worker sighed, giving an ‘okay’ before leaving.

You panted as you stared at Wrio wide eyed. “Apologies, shall we continue?” He asked, smirking at you, before continuing his lewd acts, not even giving you a chance to nod. He knew what you wanted, and was glad to provide for you.

From licking and kissing he now was ready to finally go down on you. He currently stared at your twitching cock, eager to be released. He was admiring how big it was, and if he could even fit the entirety of it, we’ll just have to wait and see.

He adjusted himself, opening his mouth wide, before going teasingly all the way down, the best he could, eyes closed and focused on feeling how long you were. You felt how he was careful not to touch you with anything before he reached the base. You gasped, feeling Wriothesley finally close his mouth, hearing his muffled groans.

Your hand went to entangle its fingers with the Duke’s hair, giving a few pulls here and there. Wriothesley grunted, staying still for a few, adjusting your length around his mouth. He huffed, eyes opening to stare at you, beautiful icy eyes.

He then started moving. Archons, life has never been this good before.

“F-fuck… Wrio…” You moaned, head arching back as you felt his hot mouth work miracles on you. You heard a stifle chuckle, before the sounds of slurping and sucking became louder each time.

From head slowly bobbing, to quick paced sucking and work, you were left breathless. Moaning his name every now and then. Wriothesley made lewd noises as he sucked, licked, and kissed, combining all methods from before. Those eyes of his never leaving your face, getting a tad bit embarrassed but turned on.

His fingers pressed tightly against you thighs, feeling them tense and relax. Sometimes your hips would thrust upwards, choking him slightly before he regained himself, smiling a bit after hearing your “sorry! Sorry!”.

You were close, and he knew. He felt how much pre left your cock, smearing all over his throat. You felt the knot tightening around your stomach. “Close.. I’m close, sir.” At this point on, you didn’t know what you were saying, you were rambling. Wriothesley loved it. Your eyes were shut for a while, but now you were in bliss, staring back at Wrio and fawning over him. “C’mon Wrio, I’m close baby.. so close, my sweet.” You moaned, hand caressing his pretty face.

Wriothesley couldn’t help but blush over you and your rambling, hearing your pants and having your cock in his mouth was a bit too much. Wriothesley pulled away from your cock, before stroking it. “Cum for me? Please cum for me.” He begged, his eyes softening at you, begging desperately. “Keep going my lovely, and you’ll get it.” You responded smirking before grunting.

Wriothesley chuckled, before latching his lips around your tip, sucking as his hand jerked you off. You moaned before quickly wrapping your strong legs around Wriothesley’s head, which he noticed a tad bit too late.

Your legs pushed his face down onto you again, causing him to choke slightly, both your hands pressing him even lower, your cock reaching new depths into his throat. Wriothesley moaned as tears pricked his eyes, some falling and trickling down. Your hips thrusted upwards, before finally, releasing your spill inside your husband’s mouth.

Wrio blushed immensely, staring through teary eyes at how focused you looked to release, eyes tightly shut and body twitching. The Duke swallowed your thick and large amounted seed, feeling how pent up you were for so long, his poor M/n… wait… his?

You finally let go of Wrio, catching your breath, before panicking. “Crap! I’m so sorry sir! I didn’t mean to do that!” You spoke, quickly sitting up as your cock finally relaxed, returning soft slowly. Wriothesley choked before taking a sip of his tea. “Ah… it’s fine, I enjoyed it.” He simply admitted, having that blush on his face. You softly chuckled.

“Thank you… for helping me… and uh- not firing me.” You said, chuckling. Wriothelesy huffed and smiled, enjoying your sense. Wriothesley hummed as he gave you back your pants and underwear, making you a bit flustered.

“Is this it?” “Yea, pants and underwear..-“ “n-no I mean… is this the end of it?” You asked, looking at Wrio with puppy-dog eyes. Fuck… how can he say no? As if he was even thinking about it. He wouldn’t say no to you… but you won’t know that.

“A fling?” He mumbled, seeing your head nod. “Not if you want it to be…” He whispered seductively, kissing your lips, before giving a firm bite, earning him a small moan from you. His arms wrapping themselves around you, his own arousal increasing as yours was too.

Before the pounding was heard again, followed by Wriothesley’s annoyed groan.

“Later…”

#x top male reader #x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesely genshin #wriothesely x reader #wriothesely smut #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x male reader

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jjscrybaby · 2 days ago

Text

jj maybank x sweetheart!reader | hurt & comfort | (gun violence, anxious!reader, comforting!jj.)

this is based on season 1 episode 1 but i did get the idea to write it from @blueheron15 !! i’m gonna write more scenes from the show with this pairing i think but as always keep sending reqs!

i went back and changed some things to do with sarah and john b in the first thing i posted for sweetheart!reader because i want it all to make sense timeline wise so it wouldn’t add up for reader to meet jj through sarah!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

The entire day had felt like torture for you. The others had enjoyed themselves, a day of adventure and excitement which you hadn’t all felt for a while, you felt the opposite. All of it was too much, the gun, the money, the dead body showing up. It was too much, maybe that’s why you’d agreed to the kegger so easily. Getting drunk can do nothing but calm you down.

“Okay, baby?” JJ asked softly as you came and sat down on his lap halfway through the night.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sipping on your bitter beer; there weren’t any other options and you weren’t in a complaining mood.

“Yeah? Why you lookin’ at me all grumpy then, huh?” He teased, poking your cheek.

You pretended to bite his finger, causing him to let out a mock gasp which had you giggling in his arms. He smiled sweetly at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just an overwhelming day.”

“Yeah, but it was fun,” JJ replied.

“For you.”

“Maybe, but you had fun earlier when we were on the boat. And I know you liked bein’ pressed up against me on the ledge,” he teased, making your cheeks heat up at the memory.

“Shut it, Jayj. Didn’t have a choice, you forced me to come along,” you pouted.

He ran his finger over your lip, mocking you with the same expression. “C’mon, cheer up baby. Nothin’ else out of the ordinary is gonna happen, okay? We’re just havin’ a drink with our friends, and people we hate.” He pointed to the group of Kooks on the far end of the beach.

“Sarah’s nice,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Is she?” He’d never really heard you talk about her, all he knew was what Kiara had told him about her so he assumed that meant that you weren’t a fan of the blonde also.

“She hangs out with me at school sometimes. Kie doesn’t mind, I already checked,” you explained. JJ smiled softly at you, of course you’d made sure Kiara was okay with you talking to Sarah. You were just too sweet.

“She hangs with you at school?” JJ knew you weren’t a huge fan of school. A lot of the Kook’s used to take advantage of your kindness, and that lead to him having some serious conversations with them. No one bothers you anymore, but most also don’t make an effort to even get to know you.

You nodded your head, sipping your drink again. You weren’t feeling the buzz that you wanted. “We eat lunch together sometimes, or, like, we partner up for projects.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your temple.

It was nice, and that was probably why later that night, when he’d had enough drinks to last a lifetime, he offered Sarah his spare drink. He meant no harm, he was just happy that someone at school was making you happy. It only took a minute for things to go wrong.

John B had saved JJ from a fight with Topper, something that’s happened more times than he could count, but Topper just had to have the last word. “Dirty Pogues!” It had sent John B reeling, turning around to shove him.

From there, it just spiralled. One moment Topper was winning, the next John B was, and soon enough the Kook had one of your best friend’s heads held under water.

“He’s drowning him!” Pope exclaimed.

JJ saw red. You watched as the blonde rushed over, and then the click of the gun safety echoed through your ears. That damn gun. It was held to Topper’s head, everyone seemed to freeze as they realised what was going on.

“Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski,” you could hear JJ threaten.

You were frozen. On one hand, you weren’t sure he had much other choice? If he hadn’t stepped in then there’s a high likelihood Topper wouldn’t have stopped until John B was dead. On the other hand, he was holding a gun to someone’s head; that spoke for itself.

The crowd dispersed, terrified of the mad man with the gun, leaving just your group of friends and Sarah and Kelce to deal with the aftermath.

“JJ! Put the gun down,” Sarah pleaded.

“Did you say somethin’, Princess?” JJ asked, not even turning to look at her.

“We’re good, we’re good,” Topper exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender as he slowly started to stand up.

“Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please?” You didn’t necessarily like Sarah calling JJ a psycho, but he was sort of acting like one. You’d be the same if it was Topper holding a gun to JJ’s head; you’d probably be worse.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ yelled, holding the gun in the air as he shot it off twice.

That was what did it. The waterworks were set off and you started to panic. You weren’t scared of JJ, you were scared for him. He just fired a gun, he could go to jail! You couldn’t help but to start crying as the overwhelming situation took over.

“Are you crazy? You idiot!” Pope exclaimed as both him and Kiara shoved JJ. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s not worth it!” Kie added.

“I’m saying his life, okay?” JJ argued.

It took only a few seconds for him to look at you. He was expecting you to be angry, not crying.

“You’re gonna jeopardise everything!” Pope carried on, but JJ wasn’t listening to the lecture anymore.

“Hey, hey, baby.” JJ rushed to your side, cupping your face in his hands. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you whispered, afraid of Pope and Kiara’s reactions to what you were worried about.

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed, he grabbed your hand in his as Kie and Pope ran over to help John B. He dragged you — gently — down the beach and away from the still lingering party-goers. His hands found your waist, tugging you so you were chest to chest.

“You don’t gotta worry about me getting in trouble, okay?” He soothed, stroking your hair.

“I don’t want you to go to jail!” You argued, sobs still leaving your mouth just at the thought.

“Alright, alright.” He was trying his best to not let the amusement show on his face. He couldn’t help it, you were just so cute. “No one’s going to jail, okay? I promise. I’m fine. Now, do you want to stand here crying or do you want to go home?”

“With you?” You checked, wiping the tears from your face.

He smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, sweetheart. With me.”

#sweetheart!reader #jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #obx

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fookinhellcurlyy · 2 days ago

Note

Adding my thoughts here. For me, it’s important to note that Harry practically told us through clues that the album could make more sense if you listen to it in reverse order. It honestly blew my mind.

While it might seem like an epilogue, I think LOML works as a prologue to me. Like @lurkinginacoolway said above, it’s Harry showing that there were parts of the relationship (or their lives as a whole) that definitely weren’t the healthiest or the prettiest thing to see or experience, but they had to endure all of it. It was like a flashback of him, thinking that it could’ve been the end at that point (within the context of LOML), hence the tone (closure; saying goodbye).

In the end though, they found themselves back to each other, ready to start all over again. In the next track, Boyfriends, we hear a rewinding effect with the line “fool, you’re back at it again” played backwards. It’s him putting himself back in that position of falling back into something he thought had ended (LOML). With all the pain they tried to work through after everything else that had happened at that point—trying to navigate those emotions and continue loving despite the hardships—it’s perfectly normal to have doubts about whether you’re doing the right thing by going back to that position.

Continuing through the next tracks, you’ll notice the progression: from him reaching out (“don’t you know that I am right here”), to trying to enjoy the moment, to ‘goofing around’ and learning to accept that they really are probably endgame no matter what. There’s discovering new parts of himself or their relationship, resolving issues they never got to discuss before, finding solace with each other, enjoying the newfound peace they’ve embraced, and fully accepting that this is it—he never wants to let go and loves him with all of his entirety.

So yep, Harry’s House is an overall happy, love-letter-like album for me. LOML as a track sums up the rocky stages of their relationship (in the band, with each other, and within themselves), but it was just a mere prologue to the beginning of the real story—the one where they’ve matured, healed from the bruises of their past, and decided to continue loving each other anyway.

Or maybe that’s just me.

(Also, HH’s album cover being him looking at the ceiling of upside down house + the trailer being reversed are such big clues to me, idk. And I cannot stress enough how important it is to me to hear the reversed album start from “baby, you were the love of my life” and end with “you know I love you, baby”)

yesterday i read a tweet that says "loml is a closure goodbye to their past" and now your anon pointing out to the 28 seconds long outro—

loml being the final track with an outro just hurt me a bit but im gonna pretend its about the queen elizabeth for my own sanity idc! 🤝🤝🎉🎉

I don't see how people see it as a breakup song. But I also just don't care anymore.

#harry’s house #harry’s house album analysis #i’m too passionate with this album lol #the way it blew my mind when I realized #they’re still together #and harry wants us to know that #lyric analysis

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wosov · 16 hours ago

Text

A tough pill to swallow - part 2

content warning:

blood (minor mention)

poor mental health

The relief you felt once you were out of Leah’s car was immediate but short-lived as you turned the corner to the changing room. You could quite clearly hear voices and although you couldn’t quite make out who they belonged to, you knew it would be too much for you to cope with. So, off you went to the bathrooms to hopefully get changed and allow yourself some time to hopefully shake out of this mood. After all, nobody deserved to be on the receiving end of that.

Meanwhile, Leah had quickly gotten out of her car and managed to catch up with Beth and Katie. She needed advice and they seemed the best people to be able to offer that to her. So, with a deep breath she explained everything that had gone on. Your terrible mood this morning, the screaming match you had gotten into. The fact that the dark circles under your eyes made you look like you hadn’t slept in a week and that you just seemed to be getting more withdrawn by the minute.

Katie and Beth listened intently both seeming to become just as concerned as Leah. Beyond everything, you had found a place in every single heart of your teammates with them looking out for you as one of their own.

Katie was the first one to offer her thoughts. “Le, if i’m being honest the kid has seemed off lately.” Katie takes a deep breath before continuing on with her opinion. The seriousness in her demeanour, a stark contrast in her usual brash personality, made Leah really pause and listen. “I have to ask, do you think she is on drugs?”

This question was not what Leah was expecting and Katie guessed it too, so she carried on trying to justify her thought.

“I mean it’s that the past few days she was really hyper and upbeat. Like unnervingly so and it… I guess it just made me wonder because I know her usual self is happy and cheeky but what I saw from her, I have only ever seen when people have been drunk or high. And now she just seems depressed and like she is going to snap at the slightest thing.”

Katie’s words really made Leah stop and think and she hated to admit it but her theory did make a lot of sense. It would account for your strange moods and your more recent irritability. But this thought didn’t fill her with the comfort like she thought having a possible explanation would do. Instead it filled her with dread at the conversations she would have to have with not just you but the staff as well. And Katie sensed the unease building in Leah.

“Hey, I am probably wrong, y'know. It was just a thought I had, especially given how young the kid is. She may be trying to experiment or feeling pressure to fit in, I don’t know.” Katie desperately tried to make the situation better.

It was Beth that chimed in next with a sensible suggestion. “How about we all keep an eye on kiddo and ask the others if they have noticed anything before we confront her. If we go in all guns blazing then it will make the situation 10 times worse and we don’t even know what type of situation we are dealing with yet.”

Leah and Katie both agreed to that and they resumed their walk inside, mutual silence filling the air.

After Katie had gone off to find Caitlin, Leah and Beth headed to the locker room but when they noticed you weren’t there confusion covered both of their faces. The only other logical place where you could be was the canteen and they knew you weren’t there, having passed it on the way to their current location. Leah quickly dumped her stuff into her locker before muttering to Beth that she was going to go check in the bathroom. Beth just nodded in response and began to get ready for training. It wasn’t long before Leah came back empty handed but just as they were about to start coming up with different places to search, the whistle blew signalling to the start of training. This filled Leah with worry, thinking you were going to be late for training so she didn’t know whether to be pleased or more concerned about you when she saw you were already kicking a ball about on the field away from where everyone had started to gather.

It didn’t take long for Renee to realise this and after yelling a quick “Kiddo c’mon” you tossed the ball to the side and made your way over. All without lifting your head to meet your teammates. There were no cheeky jokes or remarks, no playful shoves or smirks. Just complete silence.

Leah was definitely more concerned now.

As they were nearing the end of their morning training session, the girls were in good spirits, playfully shoving each other and laughing. That was until Kyra made the decision to completely miss the social queues you were giving off and shove you. Fair enough her actions were completely innocent and on any other day you would’ve shoved her back and probably started play fighting in one way or another. But today, you weren’t expecting it and fell straight onto your front, your hands getting covered in mud as they reached out to break your fall.

Kyra, still not picking up on your discomfort, started laughing and trying to start joking about with you. But you had well and truly snapped. Everything had suddenly come to fruition and you no longer felt in control of your own body. It all happened in an instant, one second you were on the floor the next second you had shot up from the ground before pushing Kyra over aggressively.

As you stood over her, fists clenched and breathing heavy, you had no other feelings other than pure unfiltered anger and that anger needed a place to latch onto. Unfortunately for Kyra, it was her.

The only other of your teammates that were in close vicinity were Laura Wienrother and Caitlin Foord and all they could think to do was watch on in shock and disbelief that your usual cheeky self would be capable of something like this. That was until Kyra (still in utter shock) managed to get back on her feet and you just completely lost it and swung at her. The action of your fist hitting Kyras face caused Laura to scream out in fear and Caitlin tried to restrain you in response. Key word being try, as you quickly fought free of her hold. However, Laura’s scream soon alerted the rest of the squad to the heated situation that was quickly unfolding back on the field and Leah had no hesitations before she was running over to grab and restrain you. She didn’t know what had happened to set you off like this, she just saw Kyra’s bloodied nose and your bloodied fist and she just took it upon herself to minimise the impact of your meltdown.

She found herself quickly grabbing you by the waist in order to restrain you from causing any more harm to anybody else or yourself, begging you to calm down.

As the others ran over to see what was happening,

Kim was the one who quickly took charge of the situation. She made sure Kyra was being taken care of and had people to accompany her to the medical room before getting Katie to help Leah to restrain and calm you down.

It took several minutes until you were no longer trying to actively claw your way out of Leah’s grip and the others weren’t sure whether you had calmed down or simply ran out of energy to carry on in your state. Either way, they were glad you seemed calmer and knew they had to get you back inside the changing room so you could clean up. But as Kim took in your current appearance she knew that would be easier said than done.

You were currently catatonic, leaning heavily against Leah and unmoving. She was rocking you whilst whispering comforts and reassurances in your ear, although unsure whether you were actually hearing her and her arms were still securely wrapped around your small, fragile body. As if she was scared you would snap and try to flee again. Katie just watched on feeling helpless at the adamant pain you were in.

Kim, however, was quick to nudge Katie to grab her attention so they could start coming up with a plan to get you inside and cleaned up. She took in how your small frame was starting to shiver and turn blue in the cold mud and knew they had to move fast.

Kim and Katie swiftly formulated a plan to carry you inside and as Kim went over to explain the plan to Leah, Katie knelt down and took one of your hands into hers, stroking it gently.

Once Leah was informed of the plan, she quickly started to move out of the way so Katie could pick you up with Kim helping Leah up from the cold mud coated ground.

The walk back inside was surrounded by an uneasy silence. Communication was shared via somber glances and heavy sighs as Kim and Leah followed Katie from behind, with Kim casting her arm over Leah’s shoulder.

Leah felt despair watching Katie carry your fragile body indoors. She had no idea what was going on with you let alone how to fix this, All she knew was that she needed to fix this and fast.

As the people requested on the poll - ATPTS part 2 is now out.

Not fully proofread so I am sorry for any mistakes included.

As always, I love getting fic and hc requests for anything WOSO related, not just for our poor little chaos kiddo.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #chaos kid #wosov

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ivyvenus333 · 2 days ago

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satosugu crack fic!!!!!

a/n: wrote this as a twitter threadfic,, and the difference between writing for twitter vs tumblr is comically insane. this is so unserious and shittily written, but that's what makes it fun ;) poorly written smut at the end:)

satosugu who know that they have feelings for one another, but being the first to admit it would just be “too gay.” so instead, they resort to a game of chicken, trying to make the other jealous enough to break first. the lengths they (mostly gojo) go to are insane.

gojo pays shoko $1,500 to give him hickies. ("$500." "who the fuck do you think I am?" "$1,000?" "double it and give it to the next person." "$1,500?" "fine. you spoiled rich bitch.") they are both literally gagging as it's happening and shoko actually barfs after, but gojo is left with a giant purple bruise on the nape of his neck, so he's happy.

gojo runs into geto in their shared kitchen the next morning, wearing an off-the-shoulder comfy t-shirt of course. did he cut the neckline of one of his shirts? doesn't matter. and gojo is so annoyed when geto says nothing even after his eyes clearly drift down to his neck. whatever, at least he saw it.

"what are you doing today, suguru?"

"nothing much. have a coffee date at noon but i'm free the rest of the day after that."

he's joking, right?

"with who?"

"you wouldn't know her," geto comments as he grabs his plate and heads towards the living room to eat on the couch. he can't help but smirk when he hears the patter of gojo's footsteps following him.

"what's her name, suguru?"

"doesn't matter. you don't know her."

truth is, obviously geto doesn't have a date. but around 11:30am he walks into gojo's room with his hair pulled up into a neat bun (gojo's favorite hairstyle of his), tight dress pants, and no shirt. because it's wrinkled and he needs the iron from satoru's room, obviously. gojo's face is priceless, aquamarine eyes widening in shock before scoffing and calling geto a slut.

"since when has the iron ever been in my room. go check the linen closet." thank god suguru listens and leaves his room because wtf is that growing in his pants. (this is what i mean, sooo unserious im sorry).

geto now has to find some way to pass the couple of hours he allegedly has a date. so he goes to shoko's who demolishes him for what he's wearing. he talks to her about the hickies he saw on gojo's neck and asks if he's mentioned anything about seeing someone.

gojo promptly gets a text that reads "send me $500 right now if you don't want me to tell suguru about who you gave you those hickies."

the money is sent before gojo realizes that, wait? suguru is with shoko?

"where are you guys right now?"

"my house. you're not invited. don't show up."

now that would be too good. but gojo isn't going to let geto know that he know he's lying.

instead, when geto gets back, gojo is all over suguru asking how it went, what is she like, show me a picture, why won't you suguru, were you lying about the whole thing? the most geto says is that it went well and he has plans with her next weekend.

"what if we have a double date instead? I can meet this mystery woman, and you can meet mine," gojo says, pointing at the fading hickies on his neck. cringe.

suguru agrees, he's not sure why, but now they're both fucked. what they don't know is that both of them resort to the same solution - finding a girl on the streets that's attractive enough and explaining that they need help making someone jealous and 'i know this is so awkward but please.' gojo's girl agrees after being offered an obscene amount of money, of course, and geto's girl agrees just because he's pretty.

the week passes and the girls come over to their place for dinner. everyone is in a little bit of shock when geto's girl is pale, blonde and blue-eyed, and gojo's obviously a long-haired brunette with brown eyes.

(the girls excuse themselves to the bathroom to have a giggle fest, and oh my god they're so into each other so let's devise a plan to make this happen. they're fujoshis what can i say)

the girls take the lead, each being so touchy with their respective 'dates' and laughing at their unfunny jokes. the dinner goes fine save for the awkward stares that gojo and geto give to the girls sitting across from them. the girls pryyy, with "hey, it's almost like your each others type!" and all they get are awkward chuckles because wtf. whatever whatever.

after dinner, the 'couples' retreat to their rooms. the conversations each 'couple' has go about the same. "oh my god, you're in love with him aren't you. you know what would really make him jealous? if we pretend to have sex." (totally definitely not planned by the girls earlier.)

cue obnoxious moaning noises from each room, and the sounds of beds creaking (its them at the foot of the bed trying to hide their giggles as they jerk the bed back and forth). the plan is failing, because the respective girls admit to gojo and geto what they spoke to each other about earlier and now everyone in that house knows that the noises coming from the other room are fake.

a while later, satoru and suguru walk the girls out at the same time (plot device). gojo and geto receive friendly glares, the girls' eyebrows comically raised and eyes going back and forth between the two as if saying bffr and get on with it. when the door clicks shut, gojo and geto turn to one another, mouths slightly open and each one trying to figure out what to say. geto speaks first.

"really, gojo?"

"don't 'gojo' me. really what, suguru?"

"do you think i'm stupid?"

"yeah, i do. stop being elusive, what are you talking about, suguru."

"the hickies, the girl you've been seeing who didn't know what digimon was (this somehow came up at the dinner idk), your whole charade?"

"i know you were at shoko's during your alleged coffee date. idiot," gojo blurts.

"yeah well shoko told me who gave you those hickies."

"what! i paid her $500 not to tell you."

"and i'm $250 richer, satoru."

gojo scowls because this whole thing is so stupid and they're both so dumb. he doesn't really know what to say to that. but fuck shoko, he thinks.

"are you done, satoru?" suguru says as he takes a step closer to gojo.

"done with what?" gojo says, eyes drifting and voice softer than normal because suguru suddenly seems so so close, and he smells so good, and he looks so pretty.

geto takes two fingers and places them under gojo's chin, tilting his face up and leaving him with no option but to make eye contact.

"satoru, come on. stop pretending."

"stop pretending what?" god he is so annoying.

"that you don't want this" gojo winces because god geto is so sexy and so onto him and there's no avoiding this.

"want what?"

ok, geto has had enough of satoru answering him with questions and you know what, they both want this, so fucking fine he'll make the first move.

"i hate you," geto says, leaning in so the tips of their noses are barely touching, his breath ghosting gojo's face, his lips, as he speaks.

"clearly," gojo whispers with shakey breath as his eyes drift down towards geto's lips.

geto can't help but roll his eyes because of course gojo would still be an annoying brat while this is happening.

they're unsure of who leans in first, but it doesn't even matter because suddenly they're kissing and it's just so sweet. their hands frantically roam each other's bodies and soft groans escape their mouth as their kiss deepens and suddenly gojo is pressed against the door, suguru's hands gripping his waist and his thumbs digging into his hip bones.

geto pulls away briefly just to tease gojo with a "is this what you wanted, satoru?"

gojo shakes his head.

"no? so you want me to stop?"

gojo whines and it's the sexiest thing geto has ever heard.

"tell me what you want 'toru."

and all he says (whines) is "more."

geto lets out a mocking 'tch' before sliding his hands up the sides of gojo's body, fingers suddenly perched and tugging at his silky undercut. gojo is so pliant, immediately tilting his head to give geto access to his neck.

"ah, so you want this," geto says while dragging his tongue up satoru's pretty, pale neck. gojo moans like a bitch which only encourages geto to sink his teeth into his skin and start sucking.

"want me to give you hickies?" and geto's question is stupid because of course he already knows satoru's answer.

anyways, they are both so turned on and things escalate when geto instinctually ruts his hips forward into gojo's. and omg they can feel each other's boners and holy shit both of them are huge.

"more, more, more" gojo repeats like a sacred mantra as geto peppers kisses along his jaw line.

geto gets the point. and his lips are back on gojo's and his hands are wrapping around to squeeze gojo's ass before wrapping them around the back of his thighs - a silent demand to jump. gojo does, obviously, but his legs don't wrap fully around geto's waist. geto hooks his hands under gojo's knees, forcing his legs to stay open and giving geto just the perfect access to thrust his hips fowards and upwards creating the most perfect friction as their cocks grind against one another.

"want me to take you to the bedroom, and have real sex?"

"not funny, you were faking it too, suguru."

suguru chuckles and carries him to his bedroom, and anyways they have sex and it's the best thing either of them have ever experienced. and gojo being gojo says "i hope you know we're dating now" as the two cuddle and catch their breaths afterwards.

"i know, satoru."

and the two talk and giggle about how disgusting it was that shoko gave gojo hickies, and how long they've both wanted that and "suguru, can i try being on top next time?" "no." "ok." and once they've rested they go again and again all night.

the two become good close friends with those girls, who are obviously sat front and center at their wedding.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #suguru geto #geto suguru #satosugu #gego #goge #suguru x satoru #satoru x suguru #satosugu fic #satosugu crack fic #gojo #geto #jjk fic #jjk gojo #jjk geto

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16wolke11 · 3 days ago

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CRESTFALLEN - Lando Norris

A/N Tuesday is for the tears

Summary: The reader struggles with the emotional rollercoaster of her relationship with Lando, who has been increasingly distant, only returning when it's convenient for him. After a painful confrontation, where the reader tells him she can't continue in a relationship where her needs are unfulfilled, and despite Lando's pleas, she decides to leave, acknowledging that it's time to let go and move on.

Words: 2276

Warnings: Sad Ending __________

When I woke up this morning, I just wanted to go back to sleep, avoiding what would happen today and ignoring all my responsibilities forever. Lando is returning home today, and what usually would be a day of happiness for me is now something I await with dread. Today is the day I am going to end this relationship if you can even call it that.

Every time Lando leaves for a race, appointments at the headquarters, or anything else, I am crossed out of his life. It wasn’t like this when we first started seeing each other, but it turned into this miserable thing over time. Even though I’ve seen improvements, I can no longer do this without hurting myself over and over again.

So when he texts me, ignoring the one I sent him while he was away, I make my way to his apartment. Standing in front of the door, I didn’t even want to knock, when I was usually so ecstatic to meet him again. I take a deep breath before finally lifting my hand, and it doesn’t take long before the door flies open to reveal a grinning Lando.

“Hey love,” he greets me, pulling me into the hallway and lifting my chin to press his lips to mine. As much as I would like to sigh, kiss him back, and just snuggle into his embrace, this is not what I’m here for.

“Stop, Lando,” I mutter against his lips and manage to get out of his grip, leaving him with a confused look.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. But he does take a step back, letting me get rid of my coat, and I need to take a deep breath before speaking up.

“We need to talk.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” Lando pouts, and I can feel some anger rising in my chest.

"This is serious, okay?" I snap and get a weird look in return. This isn’t a great start for a conversation, but since it isn’t going to be a good one, it might be okay.

"I just missed you. Can you at least give me a proper hug?" Lando mumbles, and I sigh. It feels like being guilt-trapped, but for him, it must be strange. Usually, I’m the first one to hug and kiss him when he’s back. Things have just changed without him noticing.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself,” I mutter to myself but do hug him, knowing that it’s probably the last time I’ll be close to him. Almost giving in to his familiar touch, I lean my head against his chest and wrap my arms around him. Lando did hear what I tried to only say to myself, and I can hear the confusion in his voice when he speaks up.

“What do you mean?”

I pull back from the hug and take a step back, trying to create some safe distance between us. “Me waiting for you to come back, waiting for this to become a real thing,” I begin, trying to find a starting point for this conversation that would make sense for Lando. He furrows his eyebrows, so I just keep rambling.

“Every time I think it might be different, you pull away again, leaving me behind like a convenient space-filler when you’re back home.” I try to stay strong, not wanting to cry at the beginning of the conversation, and calmly tell Lando my problem, but I know it’s going to be hard. Slowly, Lando’s eyes widen, and there’s concern on his face, like he’s slowly realizing which direction this conversation is going.

“It’s not like that. I don’t think you are…” He stutters, struggling to find his words, and ruffles his hands through his hair, messing it up slightly.

“Fuck, I never wanted to hurt you, you know that. Right?” Lando asks eyes fixated on me, and I lift one of my eyebrows at his question.

“Hurt me?” I ask him, thinking about what happened again and again during the last weeks. How my texts have been abandoned as soon as he left the country, and how he acted like nothing happened as soon as the plane touched down back here again.

“You’ve been doing that for months now,” I inform him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. A defensive move while trying to hold myself together and not fall apart.

“Acting like you care, and then just disappearing, acting like I never even existed.” I tell him what he did, at least from my perspective.

“I don’t know what to believe, what to think about you, and I need to figure out what you even want from me.” This is the reason for this conversation. Being with Lando was once my favourite thing, and now it’s something I fearfully look forward to. I can see that Lando gulps, fingers fiddling with each other. Good, at least he’s as nervous as I am about this topic.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lando admits, and I would love to believe him, but I just can’t. He desperately speaks up again, and I try to listen to his words.

“I don’t even know how to fix this, I try…” At this point, I already have to stop him.

“You try, really?” I scoff at his words because it felt like many things, but not like he tried to make this relationship work for us.

“It doesn’t feel like it. You come and go out of my life like I’m just a side character in your game of life. But I’m not.” There are many emotions on Lando’s face, trying to bubble up to the top, but I’m not finished. It’s finally time to tell him how I really feel about the whole thing we shouldn’t even call an “us.”

“I’m not here for you to just mess with me when it’s convenient and leave when it’s not.” My voice cracks, and I need to blink a couple of times, trying to get rid of the first tears prickling in my eyes. He uses me when he’s back home, and when he leaves, it’s like he pauses his life here and just continues playing when he’s interested in it again. But the world keeps spinning here, even though he isn’t here.

“That’s not my intention. Please, just listen.” Lando begs, trying to grab my wrist, holding onto me, but I snap my hand back, knowing I will fail to stay strong when his soft touch is on my skin. Lulling me back into the good times, but I need to keep a clear head now.

“I’ve listened to your excuses and promises for long enough. You’re no longer the person I fell for. You keep changing, and I don’t feel like I know you anymore.” I am no longer sounding as strong as I would like to, my voice rather thin, but I need to tell Lando how I felt during the last weeks. In the beginning, he was sweet, and I understood that his life was busy, but time passed, and he is no longer the one I fell in love with. The one who called me late at night just to talk for a bit, or even to keep each other company while watching a movie even though we were miles apart. Now he is the one who puts me away and just pulls me back out when it’s convenient for him.

“I never wanted that to happen,” Lando promises, now pacing up and down the room.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He looks straight at me, and I try to listen to his words, maybe even to an explanation.

“I feel like I don’t even know how to be what you need.” Lando says, hesitating for a moment before continuing his speech. “You deserve someone who gives you everything, and I… I can’t do that.” He admits, and my heart aches. Even though I am angry at him, at the same time it hurts to see him broken. But for my own sanity, this needs to be done.

“Then why are you still here?” I ask him. When he is aware that he isn’t the right person for me, why didn’t he leave? Keeps torturing my feelings even though he tells me he knows better.

“I already gave you all of me, and you tell me it’s not enough? Is that the reason I’m not enough?” The tears flow now, but I don’t care. I could prepare myself for this conversation as much as I wanted, but some things just caught me off guard.

“It’s not about you not being enough. You are everything to me! But I don’t know how to let you be loved the way you deserve by me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.” Lando tells me, and my heart breaks at the sight of him. His slumped shoulders and the absolutely broken look in his eyes. It does take me only a few seconds to realize the meaning behind his words.

“You’re afraid of love.” I whisper, a realization which does make sense, but makes everything just more painful than it already is.

I take a deep breath before coming to another hard point on my list. “And I can’t keep waiting for you to see me, really see me, without hurting myself.” Trying to keep my head up, I look into Lando’s face, wanting to see his reaction and if he is at least as hurt by this as I am. “How long do you think I was supposed to wait for you to figure this out?” I ask him, my voice trembling, I hate the hurtful feeling in my chest, but I know I need to break it fully now to slowly heal it later. “How long am I supposed to act like it’s okay while you keep breaking my heart?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Lando’s voice breaks, and I need to look twice to realize that he is crying as well. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, and as cruel as it sounds, it’s almost good for me to see him hurt. That he can experience these feelings and not just brush them off as it felt for me every time he left before.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” he tells me, and I believe him.

“I love you, I really do, but I’m terrified of losing you and pushing you away.” I need to close my eyes at his confessions, warmth flooding my broken heart, but I have to let my head take over before my heart falls again for him.

“You already did this. You already pushed me away. And I don’t know if I have the strength to keep doing this. I don’t know if I can keep loving you like this when you pull away every time it gets too real.” I know it’s cruel to give him crumbs like telling him about the love, but I try to be honest. Put all my feelings into this, and this includes the hurtful things as well.

“Please don’t leave me.” Lando pleads, and he takes my hand in a desperate grip.

“I need you, and I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I’m scared. Scared of ruining everything, and I swear I…” He sniffles softly and takes a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’ve tried too, you know.” I tell him and carefully start to remove his fingers from my hand. Fingers shaking, but I am determined to stay strong. “But it always felt like I was fighting this battle alone. I can’t be the only one trying anymore. I need someone who wants this, wants me.” I explain to him and take a step back, trying to bring back some distance between us.

“I want you, more than anything. I just need time.” Lando tells me, his fingers curling into his hoodie like he needs something to hold on to.

“I don’t have any time left. I can’t keep waiting for you to decide I’m worth it. Maybe I’m not, at least not for you.” This was something I thought about during Lando’s last trip. Maybe I am worthy of love, but not just of Lando’s.

“I just need to let go of the hope that one day everything will be perfect.” The little cry that comes with these words makes me sound even more miserable, but the truth has to be spoken. I need to let go of the perfect image of an “us” and try to go on with my life.

“Don’t say that.” Lando tells me, attempting again to grab my hand, and I let him, probably for the last time.

“Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracks, and I would like to hug him, tell him that everything is going to be okay, but that would be a lie.

“You are everything to me, and I will lose everything without you.” Lando pulls me closer, desperate, while we both just cry. He doesn’t stop me when I pull back my hands, his arms slumping down on the side of his body, and I can see the spirit breaking in his eyes when I step back.

“Maybe it’s already too late, Lando,” I whisper and turn around, finally leaving his apartment, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist him if I stayed any longer. This end is a beginning, and outside the building, I am finally able to breathe again for the first time in forever.

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