#hes angry and he deserves to be. he deserves to be selfish and decide that he's done letting the people he cares about be sacrificed

[everythingspokenfor]

Shoto has always been next to you, yet always out of reach. Growing up together had it's perks, you knew shoto like the back of your hands.

You had seen the consequences of Endeavour's actions, deal with them too.

You saw Shoto when he was angry, when he was sorrowed, when he was happy too.

Getting into U.A. showed you another side of him too. When he is in love.

You thinks love looks good on him. His cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. His heterochromic eyes darting around the room nervously before the settle on you. Him letting out a quiet laugh before it settles into a pleased smile. Love looked good on him.

You knew he was in love. He knew that you knew he was in love. He told you himself.

Came to you saying that sometimes his heart starts racing for no reason, his palms get sweaty too. And occasionally his quirk acts up as well, freezing the glass in his hands or setting the pile of papers on fire.

Loving comes to Shoto naturally. Him staying up late, in the kitchen with you. Learning to bake new afternoon snacks, an assortment of cookies cooling on the rack.

He puts an effort when he is in love. And you are glad that his efforts are reciprocated too. Afterall he deserves love too.

Yaoyorozu spend her afternoons making you try her tea combinations. Shoto had complimented the tea she served. Every since then she has been making new ones.

They suit each other well, you suppose. The tea she makes would go well with the cookies he made last night.

You just wished he loved you like that. It's a selfish part of you, that wants to keep Shoto all to yourself. You had been there for him. You wish to be there for him. But, maybe date had different plans. Fate decided for them to compliment each other and for you to just bring them together.

Alas you are happy that he is happy. You just wished he was happy with you.

[iz-star]

About Zayne's loneliness.

Sometimes I wonder what an angry Zayne looks like? I mean, NOT angry at MC/you but maybe angry at Astra and/or his fate for putting him in such difficult and unfair situations.

Zayne loves MC deeply, with his whole being, but loving her makes him be 'selfish', to want something for himself, to seek his own happiness alongside MC when it seems that his fate was always to serve others before looking after himself.

It's like he himself said in Master of Fate's Myth: "When emotions and desires are involved, selfishness is bound to exist".

In Master of Fate, he's deemed as a Siming which in Chinese mythology, is a kind of deity in charge to allocate humans' life spans, and according to Wikipedia:

"Siming's special concern (and power) is the balancing of yin and yang (Hawkes 2011 (1985), 109). Of particular relevance here is the relation between yin and yang balance and human health, and the importance to individual human health of such balance, as articulated in traditional Chinese medicine. Siming has the power to balance or unbalance yin and yang, and thus to lengthen or shorten human lifespans, or to provide health or prolong illness".

Siming could decide to provide health to a person or to prolong illness, in that way, having an important role into deciding people's life spans. It's interesting cause Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker pretty much do the same.

Dr Zayne does his best to cure and take care of people, thus stretching out their life span, while Dawnbreaker gives them a merciful death to avoid them to live as walking corpses, thus shortening their life span.

Unlike Master of Fate or Foreseer, at first glance it could look like Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker have no God-like power, thus have no control over destiny or fate, yet they still do.

It's actually Foreseer the one who lacks some kind of jurisdiction about people's lifes and fates; he could still glimpse at their destiny, being aware of what awaits people but wasn't allowed to intervene in any sense and most of all, he wasn't allowed to glimpse at his own fate.

In any case, until now, all Zayne's lifes have always been about taking care of other's destiny but what about him? When describing gods, Zayne is actually quite humble, saying that gods maybe are just like humans, except that they had the chance to do a bit more.

Zayne is quite selfless. He's not the kind of man who would blame his destiny for all the things that have happened to him and yet... They're still unfair.

Foreseer once said: "My destiny is to disappear from the annals of history... For someone who wants to remember me, it certainly feels wonderful".

At some point, Zayne's duty isolated him in every life time. He lived alone and caged in a Tower in Foreseer's Myth, he lived alone in the Mountains as Master of Fate, and he lived totally alone as Dawnbreaker. His only companions were Jas/Bai but no other human being.

Dr Zayne is actually the only one whose duty has brought him some kind of recognition, admiration and appreciation (and well deserved, of course), and hasn't isolated him from society, but funnily enough, he has this condition with his evol that sometimes turns him into a treath, which makes him keep others at arms length, especially MC. As for Master of Fate? Foreseer? Dawnbreaker? They all have to move the threads behind backstage in a lonely duty, being Foreseer the most severe case. It doesn't help that in the Foreseer timeline, Zayne is even explictly prohibited to be with MC.

Zayne's fate was always to look after other people's fate but like I've said before, MC was always the exception of every rule in his book because she was the one who made him yearn for human warmth and closeness with someone else and because of that, he'd break the rules to ensure she lives a long happy and safe life, even if is not at his side... Unironically.

In Foreseer's Myth, it is said that Astra prohibited him of being with MC in this and his other lifes because Zayne was a tool. At first, Astra's severity at punishing Zayne looked more like a senseless tantrum of a prepotent god and while that might be true, it seems that Zayne not being able to be with MC in every life time is simply because she would never allow him to fullfil 'his destiny' and to make matters worse, she's a "variant" (We don't know exactly what this entails, we just know that is something threatening, I have some assumptions about it but let's keep it like this for now) . That's why, unlike Rafayel and the other LIs, it seems that he doesn't keep memories of his previous lifes or previous experiences with MC, yet he said once that if souls truly existed, then he was sure that his soul recognized MC before his memory did. MC is this person that always reminds him that he's not just a "tool", a means to an end, but an individual being that is also deserving of something better.

Zayne's love for MC often reminds me of that Córtazar quote: "You were always my mirror, what I'm trying to say is that, in order to see me, I had to see you"

I wonder if there's one life time where Zayne will be allowed to have happiness and company without having to pay a high price for it.

[lyxchen]

Okay so I've heard this said a bunch of times and I'm gonna admit I thought like that too for a while but no, Gi-hun did not win the games because he was lucky. A lot of people think that's how he won because he never killed anybody but that's really not the point. Gi-hun won the games because a) he's smart and is able to look at things from a different angle, b) because he is a good and kind person who also believes in others and c) because of the goodness and care get got back from other people.

In the first game he survived because Ali saved him and that wasn't luck, that was Ali being a good person and helping somebody not get killed. Ali could've not caught him, let him die, he didn't even know Gi-hun at all at that point and he put himself in more danger too by having to hold on to a person while standing completely still but he still saved Gi-hun because Ali is a good person.

In the Dalgona game he quite literally Was Not Lucky. He decided to go with the umbrella which is the worst shape to pick and he probably would have died if he hadn't looked at the game in a different way and decided to change his strategy. Gi-hun is smart. He is also optimistic and so he tried something new and found a different way to beat that game.

In the third game he survived because he was smart and kind enough to listen to Il-nam. The other people in their group dismissed him as just an old man speaking but Gi-hun didn't and that way they had a good strategy to beat the other team. The same goes for him listening to Sang-woo's idea of running three steps and then stopping, which ultimately was what saved them. His group also chose him as their leader (who, as Il-nam said, needs to not seem weak or loose hope because then the whole team is doomed). His team trusted in him and his optimism and they were right to do so.

In the marbles game he won because he was once again kind and decided to team up with Il-nam and also because in the end Il-nam decided to "sacrifice himself" for Gi-hun because he showed him kindness before. Yes Il-nam didn't actually die but he also knew that Gi-hun had cheated and still let him continue on to the next game, probably because Gi-hun had been good and kind and caring towards him before, even though he really didn't have to be. Gi-hun also didn't know this but by teaming up with Il-nam he inadvertently ensured that Il-nam had a lot more fun in the games than he would have had, had everybody just ignored to "old, fragile man". Gi-hun was good to Il-nam throughout all the games and it ended up saving him in the marbles game.

In the fifth game it's only some small moments as Gi-hun isn't really involved in the game because he's the last number but still it wasn't just luck. First of all he was kind enough to give the number 1 to the player that asked him for it. Yes, that number was bad but he didn't know that and had he been selfish enough to say no to that other player he wouldn't have survived. Being the last to play in any game can end up being bad for you, still he decided to give up the number he picked because the other player asked him to. Secondly he also survived that game because Sae-byeok was kind enough to remind him of which glass tile to step on after he had forgotten which one it was. It's only small but she didn't have to tell him and still she did. Sae-byeok btw is also good to him because before that he was good to her and protected her (even though he was angry at her at first) and that way he was able to gain her trust.

Lastly he won the Squid Game because Gi-hun was kind to Sang-woo and because Sang-woo deep down was still a good person. There were probably many reasons as to why Sang-woo decided to kill himself in the end but part of it, I'm sure, was also because Gi-hun was a good friend to him. I mean Gi-hun was even willing to give up all the money and go back home with nothing gained if it meant that Sang-woo didn't have to die and would be able to come home with him. Gi-hun deserved that win and that money and in the end Sang-woo knew that. He also knew that Gi-hun would make sure to take care of Sang-woo's mother and that he wouldn't just take all the money for himself because Sang-woo knew that Gi-hun is a good person. (Gi-hun technically also won the Squid Game because he was good at it which is also him being smart)

So in conclusion and I hope y'all haven't stopped reading yet: Gi-hun didn't win the games because he was lucky. He didn't just sit around doing nothing and won anyways. He won because he was smart but even more importantly he won because of the kindness and goodness that exists in humans and that is especially present in him. He won because he had empathy, because people trusted him, because he got back from them what he gave to them first. He never killed anyone and we can clearly see that he Could Never kill anyone in those games but that's not his weakness. Just because he didn't let himself get corrupted and turned into what the games wanted him to turn into doesn't mean he won because of luck. Him not playing by those subtle, hidden rules that are made to force him to be bad, to not care about others and to give up his kindness actually means he was better than the games. He won because he didn't let them turn him into a monster. They tried really hard and they failed and that's how he won!! But also on top of that he also won because he isn't the only good person in this show. He also won because other people helped him, were kind to him and gave a shit about him. Each and every person that helped Gi-hun didn't have to do that. They all could have not helped him, Ali could have not caught him, Sae-byeok could have not told him which one was the correct glass tile, hell, she could have Lied to him about it and the only difference it would have made for the other players would have been them being one more dead person closer to winning all that money. But that's really not how humans are and act which is why all these people helped Gi-hun, helped each other in small or big ways and in the end his own kindness and the kindness that exists in other people is what lead to Gi-hun winning. That's not luck. That humans being good

[sunflowersandsapphires]

There Was Love Here

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 9

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: Frank's fragile mental state, heart to heart between friends, swearing, mentions of a cemetery, Frank angst, but I promise it's going to go somewhere positive y'all.

a/n: Thank you all for putting up with my sporadic updates this year! I had some time to write, and then decided to adopt another cat...so... Anyways, his name is Wilbur and he's an angel. I have chapters 10-12 finished as well for this fic, so I'll be posting every few weeks to get those published! As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! Tell me what you want to see next!!!

w/c: 3.6k

Despite his best efforts, sleep was evading him. Rolling his shoulders as he lay against the thin, lumpy mattress, floaters danced across his field of vision as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Any amount of shifting caused the jagged edges of the box springs to further prick at his skin, no doubt leaving small marks in their wake. His right pointer finger tapped aimlessly against his abrasive sheets, his mind flooded with thoughts and yet eerily silent at the same time.

Maybe that was because every new idea flashing across his brain, every synapse that fired, just contributed to the crippling guilt he felt. For growing soft, and allowing himself to want things again. For using you to get what he wanted. And for putting you through hell when he tried to backpedal, to retreat to the safety of loneliness and grief.

A growl rubbed at the inside of his throat, barely loud enough to be audible when it slipped between his lips. It would be so easy to let rage overtake the discomfort he was wading in. To get angry with you, with himself, with every force in the universe that caused the two of you to meet. It would be much less painful to write off your outburst last night as the musings of a drunk, bratty woman and avoid taking any accountability for his hand in your fury.

But every word out of your mouth was honest. And he didn't disagree with most of them.

He'd been the one to send mixed signals. It wasn't deliberate, but it had happened. After you stumbled into his life, he was so charmed by your sweetness and positivity, it didn't occur to him that he was pursuing something more than friendship with you. He’d been swept up in your sparkling current, carried halfway to hell before realizing that he couldn’t see the shore. Suddenly, “platonic” didn’t begin to describe his need to be near you and your beaming smile; the pain guiding his every breath had been abruptly left behind and he’d been too smitten to notice its absence. 

And when his mood inevitably turned, the lack of suffering became glaringly obvious. The darkness within him scrabbling for the penance it always sought out, his family’s horrified faces playing on a loop, haunting him. He didn’t deserve comfort, or peace, or love. He was destined to wither away with no company but his own regrets and the mangled corpses of any douchebag he could drag down with him.

Which is why, when you’d surrounded him with your presence rather than allowing him to wallow in his losses, he’d opted for a watery burial. 

Maria, Lisa, Frankie, Billy, the countless innocent civilians he’d taken from their families when he’d served…the list of bodies he’d left behind was innumerable. All of them turning to worm food because Frank fucking Castle was too thick to see through the lies he’d been fed by faceless men in tailored suits. Why not add another to that list? 

He was a selfish piece of shit. Taking for granted everything you gave so readily and turning on you without cause. As if you were the reason he couldn’t handle when his mind was quiet. Directing his emotions at you in a frenzy instead of growing a pair and sorting out his own shit.

The words you'd used–calling yourself a mistake, a regret–far too vile to ever address you. But those weren't pulled out of your ass. He'd put those thoughts there. He'd implied that he'd made a mistake getting to know you, that he regretted your time together. And in the moment, he'd meant it—just not in the way it had come off.

The mistake was leading you on. Moving too quickly, maybe moving on at all... But you? You were not a mistake. Nor were you a regret. He savored every minute he'd spent with you, it was his own damn fault that he couldn't accept them anymore.

Gripping his hair between trembling fingers, he ripped through the slick, knotted curls with a solicitous grunt. His gaze wandered to the volume of poetry hidden in the stack of books on his nightstand.

Doesn’t everyone want love?

The faded memory of Gluck’s hollowhearted depiction of love bubbled up in his consciousness, piling another heaping of guilt onto his fracturing shoulders. He was no better than Hades. Plucking an innocent girl from the lush meadows she knew, dropping her into a secluded cavern to serve as his plaything. No more than an object to channel his affections until he tired of you, casting you aside like the burnt husk of a match. 

He deserved to feel this fucking awful for what he'd done. For hurting you so abruptly, for placing you in harm's way when you were offering him another chance. Not even the god of the dead was that malicious. 

Fuck, he needed a fucking drink. 

Curtis took a sip of his coffee, savoring it as he swallowed. With a puff of an exhale, a thought abruptly sparked and he lifted his pencil, pressing the graphite tip into the respective squares to write the answer to the Crossword clue. Chuckling softly to himself at the author's obvious mischief, he shook his head. 'Eggbeater' what a dumbass answer for the hint 'whirlybird'.

As if the universe wanted to punish him for solving the puzzle at such a brisk pace, a pounding knock on his front door jolted his heart like an electric current. Blood rushing in his ears, he crept toward the door as quietly as his ancient floorboards allowed. Reaching his front hallway, he opened the rightmost kitchen drawer, palming the gun he stowed there and taking the last few paces to the door.

Leaving the security chain in place, figuring it would at least buy him a second to empty the clip into the intruder before they knocked him to the ground, Curtis cracked the door. Relief flooded his rigid body as he took in his visitor.

“Christ, Frank. You couldn't have called first? I was about to put a bullet in your chest,” He scoffed. Closing the door to undo the remaining lock, he yanked it open to grant the obnoxious man entry.

Rather than striding past him with his usual rageful arrogance, Frank hesitated. The moment was brief, but present enough to set off alarms in the back of Curtis' brain. Nodding tersely, Frank stepped over the threshold, allowing his friend to shut and bolt the door behind him.

The other man’s posture was tight, teeth clenched and eyes bloodshot. His clothes were rumpled and clearly a few days old. His face was pale and wan, exposing his obvious lack of sleep. Perhaps more worrisome, he hadn't even grunted in acknowledgement of Curtis' greeting.

“Where and how bad is it?” Curtis sighed, turning towards his kitchen to rummage for his first aid kit before an arm blocked his path.

“It's not—I ain’t here for a patch job, Curt.” Frank's voice was hoarse, quiet, and wrought with emotion. Meeting the Marine's unwavering gaze, Curtis took a step back.

“Then why the fuck are you turning up on my doorstep at 6am looking like flaming shit, Castle?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Frank's face fell. “Fuck, I dunno, I...I fucked up.”

Barking out a frustrated laugh, Curtis spun away from him, heading back to his seat. “Of course you did. Of fucking course you did. Too good to come to group, but you can ask me for a favor at 6am on a fucking Sunday. That's what I'm here for!” He muttered, collapsing back onto the cushioned chair behind the table.

“I'm sorry, Curt.” Frank grimaced, still standing awkwardly in the hallway. “I didn't—”

“No, you didn't.” Curtis scolded. “I know you've been through some shit, Frank, but you can't just turn your back on everyone to fuck off and go shoot a bunch of people, expecting me to help you clean it all up when it falls apart.”

“That ain't why I'm here.” Frank bristled, clenching his fists tightly.

“No? Then why are you here, Frank?” Curtis asked, irritation still coating his words.

“Because I met someone, ok?” Throwing his hands up, Frank spat out the words, a few decibels below yelling. Eyes widening as he realized what he'd admitted to, he shrunk in on himself with a flippant exhale. “I...I met someone and I don't know what to do.”

Curtis couldn't help but feel bad for the man. From where he stood a few yards away, he looked damn close to a dog that had been kicked and left to rot in the pound. Deciding to table his reprimand for later, he stretched his arm to slide out the neighboring chair.

“Coffee's in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

Frank looked slightly shocked at the change of pace, but nodded dutifully and marched to grab himself a mug before joining Curtis at the dinette. Staring intently into the reflection of the dark liquid, Frank's lips were pressed tightly together. After Curtis cleared his throat pointedly, the hulking man growled.

“What?”

“I don't know, Frank,” Curtis rolled his eyes. “You tell me! How'd an asshole like you manage to charm someone into spending a single minute with you?”

Letting out a small laugh, Frank took a generous gulp of his drink before settling back into his chair. “Beats me.“

Whether it was the strong coffee or the exhaustion eating at his brain, Curtis barely had to pry before Frank was fully immersed in the story of how you'd met. He didn't share too much about you specifically, just general information about your initial interactions and how much time you'd spent together.

“Sounds like a good deal,” Curtis hummed, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes. “How'd you fuck it up?”

Swallowing whatever apprehension he had, Frank grumbled under his breath.

“What was that, soldier?”

“I said I broke it off.”

Understanding dawning on him, Curtis nodded absently, bringing a coffee cup to his lips. “You chased her away, you mean. And now you regret it.” 

Something akin to a wince flashed across Frank’s face at the accusation, but he grunted in agreement. 

“Fucking hell, Frank.” Curtis laughed humorlessly. “If you liked her so much, why’d you break it off?” 

Frank was silent for a moment, his jaw twitching as he contemplated his words. Curtis was familiar enough with the other man’s mannerisms to know he wasn’t avoiding the question, he just needed time to answer. Previous annoyance successfully pushed aside, he was willing to give Frank as much time as he needed. It was honestly groundbreaking that he’d come here at all, rather than continuing to slog through his own misery alone. 

“How can I do that to them, Curt?” Hands circling the half empty mug, Frank sounded uncharacteristically small. 

“Do what to who, Frank?” 

“How can I forget about Maria and the kids?” Frank rasped, taking a sip of his drink before choking out his other question. “How can I leave them behind?”

Feeling a strange sense of deja vu, Curtis scratched at his chin. “Who’s asking you to forget, Frank?”

Growling in apparent frustration, Frank’s brow pinched in distress. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you're implying, that doesn't mean I agree with your self-deprecating bullshit.” Curtis explained, studying Frank as the man stood and began pacing.

Tugging harshly at his hair, each step conveyed Frank's restless energy. “I can't leave them behind. That's not fair. I don't...I don't deserve that.”

“Frank,” Curtis leaned forward onto the table, weight supported on his elbows. “Grief and remembrance are only part of you. Living your life is not the same as tarnishing or abandoning their memory.”

“Then why the fuck does it feel like I'm killing Maria all over again?” Frank asked, his posture haggard and face barely concealing a devastation at the thought of his wife.

“Survivor's guilt is a unique beast,” Curtis reasoned.  

“Fuck's sake, man, don't give me that shit again.” Frank protested, looking away from Curtis' earnest stare and glaring towards the door, a single intrusive thought from bolting through it.

“I'm 'giving you this shit again' because you're a dead man walking, Frank.” Curtis scoffed, body tensing to prepare to dive after his friend if he fled. “All you've done since getting home is torture yourself over your losses. You are still alive, Frank. You deserve to live.”

“The fuck I do.” Frank sneered, knuckles flexing beneath his skin as he clenched his fists. 

“Frank, you're an asshole, that's true,” Shoving back from the table, Curtis stood, moving as quickly as he could to block Frank's path of escape. “But you're not a bad man. What happened to your family was tragic and unfair, but it is not and has never been your fault.”

Frank opened his mouth to argue, but Curtis pointed a finger at him sternly. “Don't start with your usual crap, Castle. Deep down, you know I'm right. Isn't that why you killed all those shitbags around the city?”

Rolling his shoulders with an irritated huff, Frank settled his weight against the back of Curtis' couch, still not making eye contact.

“It's ok to miss them, Frank. To be upset about your loss. But living with one foot in your own shallow grave won't bring them back. Letting yourself have something good won't change the past. It might make you less miserable to be around, though.” Curtis raised a brow, lips curved into a smirk to indicate that he was joking. Frank snorted, mumbling something about him being a dick.

Stepping into line beside his friend, Curtis patted him on the back. “You’re human, Frank. Humans crave companionship. It's written into your biology. You don't need to beat yourself up every time you look twice at a pretty girl.”

Groaning loudly, Frank dug a fist into his left eye socket to rub at it. “It ain't that easy, Curt.”

“I fucking know that, Frank. There isn't one thing about this life that's easy. But that's a dumbass reason not to try for something decent.”

Exhaling forcefully, Frank's head bobbed in a miniscule nod. “Yah.”

“Yah?” Curtis asked, shocked that he wasn't receiving the typical brick wall of stubbornness he was used to. “Huh, don't think you've ever listened to me before.”

Frank chuckled. “Shut up.”

“So, you think she's good for you?” Curtis asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the first good thing Frank had experienced in a long time.

Blowing out a breath, a blush crawled up Frank's neck, saturating his cheeks with a pink tint. “I know she is.”

“And that scares you.” Curtis stated matter-of-factly.

Initially, Frank's posture went rigid, a scoff clearly brewing in his lungs. But, meeting Curtis' knowing gaze, he deflated and grunted in timid affirmation. “I ain’t…I hurt her, Curt. Bein’ with me, you know damn well it ain’t safe for her.” 

“Because of loose ends? Or because of you?” Curtis let his question ruminate despite being pretty sure he knew the answer already.

“Both.” Frank muttered, kneading at his forehead with the heel of his hand. 

Curtis pursed his lips, knowing exactly the struggle Frank was facing. After a moment, he shrugged. “Do your best to make it safe.” 

“Not sure that’s possible, Curt.” Frank huffed bitterly. 

“Relationships are always trade-offs, Frank. That’s just life.” The scowling Marine rolled his eyes, broad arms sliding into a defensive cross over his chest.

“And I’m supposed to be ok that? Force her to accept everythin’ I’ve done and everythin’ she’d have to deal with cause that’s ‘just life’?”

Stifling a frustrated groan, Curtis socked Frank in the shoulder. “I didn’t tell you to force her into anything. If she wants to accept it, let her. And if this is what you want, then you make it good for her. But first, for Christ's sake, apologize for the record-breaking stick up your ass.”

The corners of Frank’s mouth quirked up. “Any suggestions for that last point?”

“Shit man, if you want me to advise you on your life AND your relationship, I'm gonna need something to eat.“ Striding down the hallway and snatching his jacket from the hook on the wall, Curtis jerked his head toward the door. “C'mon, Frank. You're buying.”

Laughing genuinely, Frank shook his head. ”Alright, alright. Gonna bleed me dry over here.“

”I'm sure I wouldn't be the first,“ Curtis remarked. ”Now, how badly did you fuck up with this girl?“

Frank just grimaced, drawing a knowing laugh from Curtis. “Ok, well, hopefully we can do something about it.”

The night was damp, humid. Muggy air circulating between haphazardly mowed grass and the surrounding space, bouncing off of trees and headstones. He strode across the green carpet, through the shadows and straight for the pair of them. Each step dented the ground, the moss and dense soil clinging to the sole of his boot as he lifted it with a slight squelching noise as the suction released.

As he strode further into the cemetery, the scent of petrichor soured; rotting bodies leached into the dirt, the smell of decay seeping through the ground until it reached his nostrils. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he set his jaw–hoping the emotionless exterior would force the chaos within him to quiet down. Dancing through the jags of marble and stone, fireflies illuminated the slight hill, briefly flashing over a name or the dried stalk of a rose before disappearing.

At the base of the incline, two slabs of granite held the line. The left engraved with his name, the right with Maria’s. As he closed in on the sturdy pair, his fist clenched around the burlap cloth in his hand, rustling the mess of stems tied beneath. Kneeling between the two burial sites, Frank draped the peonies over the surface of Maria’s grave, their petals fanning out over the dew-ridden earth. 

Sighing roughly, he fiddled with them, spreading out the blossoms, careful not to damage the delicate flowers with his harsh movements. His chest felt tight as he worked, quickly moving on from the bouquet to the few stray weeds trailing away from the carved rock. 

“You hate this, don’t ya?” He murmured, a sad smile breaking through his stony expression. “Always on my ass for stayin’ too busy to talk things through. Drove you crazy.” 

A hazy memory surfaced, a young Maria yanking a dish out of his hands as he tried to wash it, staring him down while he hung his head guiltily. He huffed out a tight laugh.

“I’m sorry, baby. Never could do right by you.” Tracing beneath the imprints on her headstone, Frank’s throat ached as he fought back the feelings of guilt and shame and despair he’d been battling for days, all of them threatening to spill over at once. “I’m so sorry, Mar.”

His fingers tightened around the marker, gripping it for dear life as his composure wore thin. “It’s been so long and I..I still miss you every day. Every damn day, baby. You’re my everythin’, ya know that?”

Drawing in a breath, he ran a hand through his hair, yanking at the grimy strands as he grappled for control. “Mar, I..I’m tired. I’m so fuckin’ tired and losin’ you..it’s eatin’ me away, baby. But I–”

His voice broke, a cracked syllable breaking off into a snarl as his fear burst forth. “I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t. I’m not– I ain’t strong enough, Mar. I can’t live without ya. Not on my own.” 

A breeze ruffled through the trees beyond the cemetery border, whistling lightly as it rounded the headstone and fluttered over the satiny petals of the flowers at his feet. The weight of his existence inexplicably felt unbearable, the tension in his shoulders threatening to snap him in two. Lifting his dirt-streaked hand, his fingers landed on the thin chain hanging around his throat, fiddling with the metal until they landed on the smooth band of a wedding ring. Twisting the sanded gold between the pads of his fingers, he raised his chin, blinking rapidly at the sky to clear the moisture from his vision. 

“Forgive me, baby.” Bending forward, he pressed chapped lips to the slab of granite, its chill surface intent on sapping his body heat. Sinking to his knees, his head landed against the polished stone, fingers viciously gripping handfuls of wilted sod as his emotions clobbered him. 

Closing his eyes did nothing to quell the turmoil, the recesses of his mind swarming with memories. His two beautiful children, smiling wide as he returned home, their tiny arms too short to wrap completely around him when they hugged. Lisa pressed against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder as he thumbed through the pages of a weathered book. Frankie screeching out a laugh as Frank caught him by the waist during a game of catch, thwarting the boy’s attempt to dart away with the football. Maria grinning at him as he hefted all the grocery bags inside in one trip, shaking her head as she ushered him inside. The three of them piled together beneath an oversized blanket, sleeping through a particularly rough thunderstorm. 

Heaving in a breath, he released the ground from his clutches, wiping his palms on his jeans as he tried to get himself under control. 

“Please, Mar, please forgive me.”

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @agirlcandream84 @vsplanet @pigeonmama @silas-aeiou @frogbinch @chwlogy @valhallavalkyrie9

[twiceeshy]

mi casa es su casa

Read on ao3.

Summary: Marc moves in. Vale has a crisis.

Set in end-2026.

T, rosquez, 4355w.

--

There had been the weight of something guilt-adjacent pressing on Vale's chest ever since the start of Marc's moving out party.

Initially, he didn't think too much of it when they decided that Marc would be the one to uproot himself and live with Vale. After all, Vale had a perfectly nice house - clean, spacious, well-organised - and he had his own track. There was plenty to keep Marc happy. Why wouldn't he want to be there?

He only realised that this was a considerable sacrifice on Marc's part when Marc spent his party tearing up at the most random things, between loud laughs and stupid jokes.

"You're thirty-three, it's about time," Alex said, probably only partially in jest. But a man would have to be oblivious to ignore the way they stuck by each other's sides for the night, despite the small crowd of friends and family who were present. Like twins, they were. Alex's girlfriend looked highly amused. Vale felt disturbed.

Their living room was filled with large boxes of Marc's possessions. A courier company would pick them up the next day. Vale did not put himself in proximity of the boxes when he could avoid it. He was suddenly itching to head back to Tavullia as quickly as possible in order to clear out drastically more space for Marc to make himself at home. If he could, he would tell Marc to stay here for a few more days while Vale did a better job at making room for him. He'd left him half the wardrobe and an entire room for his office, but what if Marc needed more? What if he secretly hated the bed or the furnishings? They could redo the interior from scratch if they had to.

He'd never considered that he was asking for so much when he asked Marc to stay with him. Marc didn't complain or use it as leverage against him. He never seemed to use anything as leverage. Even when they first got back together and Marc had misgivings, he had been too kind, too quick to forgive. Vale kept waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Marc to realise that he actually was still angry. He never did.

Vale decided that he would never take more than he gave to Marc again, but here they were.

When the party dispersed, Marc detached himself from Alex to nestle into Vale's side. He had a glass of red wine in hand and a light flush to his cheeks, but he never drank very much anymore for health reasons, and no amount of alcohol had ever been enough to make him clumsy in the first place.

"Let's sit down," Marc said, leading them to the living room sofa, the only clear space amidst the boxes. He laid his head on Vale's lap once Vale was seated. Somehow, he did not spill a drop of wine. Vale took the glass from him to place on a box. He ran his fingers through Marc's hair, clean and conditioned. Marc washed it too frequently for oil to accumulate.

He smiled softly, rather like a satisfied cat.

"Alex says he arranged for the courier to come in later so he can drive us to the airport tomorrow," he said.

"That's good," Vale said. He wasn't sure if he and Alex would ever see eye to eye, but Marc deserved the send-off he wanted. "Are you looking forward to going?"

He knew the answer wasn't a clear yes. He wanted to hear what Marc would say- if he would lie.

"I always look forward," Marc said philosophically. "Back is where you have regrets."

Vale sighed. "Brat. That wasn't what I meant."

Marc shrugged with one shoulder. "But it's my answer."

He looked simultaneously keyed-up and exhausted. Vale nudged him up and into his bedroom. He could afford to be selfish and let his brother take care of the house for him one more time. That, and Vale didn't like being surrounded by all of Marc's things when they were packed away.

Marc took a detour to rinse his wine glass. Vale was otherwise gratified to have him follow.

--

They arrived at Vale's home the next day with Marc's gigantic suitcase. Vale needed Marc to unpack everything so he would take up his half of the wardrobe instead of living as a guest, but he found himself tongue-tied on the subject, and didn't say anything when Marc went straight to taking a shower.

"You are not going to live out of a suitcase, are you?" Vale asked afterwards, hoping he didn't sound too perturbed. He had followed Marc out of the bathroom - now with the addition of Marc's basic toiletries - to remind him where the laundry basket was. Vale's very yellow basket, which Marc would never purchase for himself. Vale had the strange urge to throw it away and buy a neutral one. Maybe in grey, since Marc's entire house had been weirdly dull and spartan.

Marc gave him a inquiring look. "I'll unpack after a nap. Are we cooking dinner?"

It was five in the evening, and if Marc's idea of domestic bliss included a habit of cooking, Vale would need to restock his fridge. "We can drive out to pick up something you like."

Marc perked up. "Pizza?"

"Whatever you want," Vale said, shamefully relieved to have a request to fulfil. He didn't know why this- this thing about getting Marc to be more obtrusive was so uncomfortable. It sat like a lead weight in his chest. He would flay himself to get it out. "Just ask for more Marc, please," he wanted to say.

"Let me get ready too, then we go," Vale said, putting his hands against Marc's waist to move around him. Marc leaned into his touch and slanted a glance at him. He puckered his lips for a kiss. It was sweet, corny nonsense that Vale should be working harder for, but Marc wanted, so he gave. And Marc was too easily satisfied.

--

Vale emerged from the bathroom to see that Marc had quickly put away all of his clothes. His suitcase stood neatly in a corner, tucked beside the door. A bag of chargers and cables sat at the centre of the foot of the bed, not claiming either side.

"I thought I would pack everything," Marc said with a little grin.

A suitcase of clothes had far from enough clothes to fill a wardrobe, and Marc and had missed out on a nap for this. Vale regretted speaking. He should have left Marc to his devices, so he could have walked out of the bathroom and tripped over Marc's luggage spread out on the floor. Then he would have cursed and acquired a bruise, and maybe Marc would laugh because he always did, this time from bed, with the lackadaisical approach of a man who had made himself too comfortable to move.

The neatness was bothersome.

It would be better when Marc's things arrived by courier.

"Of course, make yourself at home," Vale said. He sat down in the middle of the bed and signalled for Marc to join him. When he did, clean and barefoot, Vale took him in his arms and tipped them over. He arranged them carefully to avoid aggravating any old injuries. Marc's head was pillowed on his upper arm. They faced each other from a hair's breadth away. Eye contact with Marc was interesting; he never looked away first. Back when Vale had been wrong, he used to find it sinister.

"You should pick a side of the bed," Vale said.

Marc curled himself up more comfortably; compact and cat-like. Vale had always been fond of cats. "Like this is good. I don't mind," Marc said.

"You will make my arm numb," Vale complained. Marc laughed brightly.

"Then we are the same."

It was a rare acknowledgement that his arm troubled him. Vale marvelled every time he was open. Sometimes he said things that made Vale cringe, and Vale would probably have to die before he could return the sentiment.

Vale pulled him closer so his lips grazed Marc's forehead and inhaled the sweet scent of his shampoo. Marc closed his eyes. "I'm finally here," he said.

--

When asked later that evening, Marc claimed that he had not many possessions.

He looked through Vale's collection of DVDs and vinyls with interest, but little recognition. "They look important, you don't have to get rid of any of these," he said, turning down Vale's offer. "I don't have a lot of stuff that belongs here. Maybe leave a space for my Playstation."

"It's small, there's already space for it," Vale said. He was imploring, though he did not know what for. His collections were painstakingly put together and organised. He did not want to give them up, but he couldn't rest until he did something.

"That's good, no?" Marc asked. "Everything is on Netflix for me. I can use this for my pictures," he said, waving at an empty space next to the television.

"Everything is not on Netflix," Vale said, aghast. One could even argue that none of the good shows were on Netflix.

"Like MotoGP and football," Marc agreed. "Anyway, I have nothing."

Vale exhaled deeply. Marc wasn't trying to be difficult, he told himself, he was being considerate. "Are you sure?" he had to ask once more.

He watched Marc train his eyes along the shelves, pausing briefly at the photos of his current rivals - Vale's protégés - and his model bikes.

"No it's fine, you can keep your things. I don't have a lot that fits here. I don't like a clutter," he said.

Vale did like a clutter. He had an treasured collection, full of taste and personality, all put proudly on display. He briefly considered throwing it all away just to murder the thing that sat on his chest.

--

Marc mainly took up little unobtrusive sections of the house that had been cleared up for him in the first place. One had to look carefully to ascertain that he lived there. Maybe that was how he tended to occupy a home.

He repurposed the vanity in their bedroom to serve its actual function, and lined it up neatly with little glass bottles of skin products that he used with disciplined rigour. There was a day routine and a night routine that required different products, he explained. And since he needed to wash off sweat after exercising, he needed a good moisturiser to offset the dryness caused by soap. Vale didn't know anyone else who took so many showers. It seemed to be an entirely self-inflicted problem.

Marc had products for bags under his eyes, even though his eyes were already nice. He had products to soothe his skin, even though his skin was clear.

Vale didn't understand this. There was a logic to the little rituals of self-care that only women and gay men were privy to, he supposed. He could admit to himself that he was slightly bisexual, but attraction to Marc didn't mean he had adopted the rest of the package.

In the coming days, Marc's gorgeous RC213V would arrive with his contingent of training bikes, and he informed Vale of his idea to have it accompany Vale's M1 in the bedroom. That, Vale understood better, and it was the statement of presence he looked forward to. The two bikes would stand side by side in violent, erotic glory: his elegant blue lady, and Marc's happy-go-lucky devil in disguise. Marc didn't use to keep a bike in his bedroom, but he said that having only a Yamaha in his proximity felt imbalanced.

"They'll be watching us," Vale said gleefully. Marc gave him a look that suggested his thoughts were weird, but he laughed anyway.

--

The lead weight in Vale's chest kept twisting over the next week. He told himself that things would improve when Marc's cartons of possessions finally arrived, but he didn't convince himself it was true.

Knowing Marc as he knew him, the transition was not as painless as he pretended. No doubt he was able to handle the changes well, but his happiness was another question. Vale should have considered this problem a long time before the move. Even if he could clone himself twenty times, he could not produce Marc a social network. They should have started working on one earlier.

In Tavullia, Marc's physio and training were done under the supervision of professionals recommended by Vale's contacts. They were good and knowledgeable, but they were not friends. Marc was accustomed to the little gang of Spaniards he had known for years. He was hard pressed to assemble one here.

Vale had the academy to provide all of these systems for himself and the boys, but he could not do the same for Marc, because Marc was cynical to the idea that the persistent companionship of his competitors would do him favours. At the most, he would take advantage of free track access and take part in a few friendly races. Based on experience, Vale unfortunately agreed this those were reasonable measures.

He decided to tweak his waking habits to accompany Marc when he went cycling on some mornings, and Marc smiled at him as though he lit up the sky. Making him smile was so easy sometimes, though it shouldn't be.

--

"These all go in the wardrobe," Marc directed, once he grouped his boxes by category. He'd written the labels in Spanish, and while Vale could hazard a guess at what they meant, it was easier for Marc to sort through them himself.

Vale balked at the number of wardrobe boxes. An entire wall of cupboards and shelves had been set aside for Marc in their walk-in wardrobe - or, more accurately, Vale had never populated them himself in the first place. Girlfriends used to keep their clothes there; now Marc. There was a reason he built it so large.

Marc's clothes and shoes would probably fit with ease. Then he had a handful of things left for the rest of their house. Vale's concern grew.

"Do you have more things to send over?" he asked, even though he knew that he had pressed on the issue one time too many. Marc, no matter how oblivious he chose be (and he really wasn't that blunt), was sure to realise that there was something more deeply-rooted underlying these quetions than mere consideration.

Marc studied him, and Vale knew he had been understood to some degree. It was a nasty, unwanted feeling.

"I'm ordering another coffee machine because I prefer mine, and I still have to do up my office," he said. He offered a pretty smile with all of his teeth. "I love you," he added, as though it was sufficient reassurance.

They set to work unboxing all of Marc's clothes and shoes with demoralising efficiency. A dark corner of Vale's mind said that if everything could be unpacked in a day, they could be repacked within the same time.

He slowed the process down, catching Marc by the waist whenever he walked past and distracting him. It appeared that Marc was in a mood to humour him, so he pushed. Vale unfolded one of Marc's plain beige T-shirts and covered his face with it. He was fully capable of low-grade slapstick humour that Marc was never immune to.

"Vale," Marc began, amused, though he was likely going to nag.

"I am getting used to your scent," Vale said meditatively. "Smells like five baths a day."

Marc, predictably, laughed. He shoved at him. "It smells like detergent. Which I'm changing our brand for, by the way."

Change whatever you want, Vale didn't say.

By the time they took a break for lunch, their wardrobe was less than half done. Vale gazed upon their slow progress with the same victorious feeling that he once took pole positions with. Maybe Marc would have a difficult time moving out after all.

--

The worst moment of Vale's life concerning Marc was quite possibly when his autographed helmets were taken out of a carton. This sounded innocuous, but it was not. It at that moment that Vale realised he should have been more guarded, because Marc remained the same conniving personality he had always been.

He accepted that this was a part of Marc's character, but he didn't enjoy being taken by surprise by it. Marc didn't do things like this and forget. He was always intentional, but he had alluded to nothing on the subject. Until now.

In a translucent plastic box, tucked beneath a bubble-wrapped Aleix Espagaro helmet, were his weapons. Vale hadn't thought about them in a long time. He knew, factually, that Marc once owned them. He feigned ignorance about the whole subject. If he'd bothered to ponder a little bit more, he might have wrongly suspected that Marc had thrown them out in a fit of betrayed rage. That would be the most reasonable course of action, after past events.

Of course, it would not be accurate to describe Marc as a reasonable person. Vale never actually thought that he would have to confront young Marc's lovingly assembled collection of VR46 model bikes.

"These should be yours," Marc said as he presented Vale with the box. His eyes were opened too wide in the way he had when he was up to something. He didn't always do casual or underhanded, sometimes he stabbed from the front.

Vale took the box as though it scalded. "I will put them up, if you want," he said, his mind churning to figure out what he could make of any of this - what it meant for his weaknesses, for his levels of tolerance in their relationship. What it meant for Marc's residence in this house. The implications felt loaded. He didn't know where they began.

"You can decide," Marc said. He covered Vale's hands with his own. His palms were tender, large and warm. His familiar calluses reminded Vale that he could scar. "I don't have all of them - the newer ones." He didn't have to explain why.

Marc left to put his helmets into Vale's display cabinet. His presence hovered. Vale could feel him watching, even though he could not have eyes behind his back. They had always been overly conscious of each other.

Vale traded his own bikes for Marc's, painstakingly, one at a time. It was a special kind of torture. Marc's bikes were indistinguishable from his own. They were perfectly cared for, the dust cleaned away before they were packed. He'd purchased good quality models ones. The colours didn't fade.

The miserable feeling from Marc's going away party was more present than ever. It was going to suffocate him in his sleep. He didn't know what to do. He'd been trying so hard to make peace with it over the past days.

He only stopped when all of his own bikes up to 2015 were in the box, and Marc's were fully on display. Marc stood by his side to watch him put the final touches.

"They're where they belong now," he said, with a small smile. "When I was a kid, I never thought..." he didn't finish the sentence.

Vale looked at his living room. Marc had left his fingerprints, but only Vale would know. He'd asked for something, and Marc had delivered.

He hated it. If Marc ever left, he would probably leave the bikes here for good now. He couldn't imagine him putting them back in a box one at a time, now that he'd gifted them away. It was impossible. But Vale would never be able to get rid of the knowledge that these bikes once sat in the shelf of Marc's childhood bedroom. They existed in the liminal realm of ownership between them.

Vale's things stared back at him. His furniture, his vinyls, his television, and Marc's bikes with his number on them, blending in as though they had never been Marc's at all.

"It is weird to put them there," he allowed himself to say.

Marc's smile turned wistful. He pulled Vale in by the neck gently. "Yes. But I had to bring them along, you know? They don't mean a lot to Alex, but they mean a lot to me."

Again, there was Marc's propensity for saying sickly sentimental things without shame.

Vale couldn't decide how to respond, so he held him close.

--

That night, Vale sat up with a start after drifting to the verge of sleep. He had an epiphany.

Marc was already in deep in slumber. Well rested and at peace, this was the least difficult he could ever be. When Marc was awake, he was wilful and complicated.

Vale traced his silhouette with his eyes in the dimness. He would very much like to keep Marc around, and he had figured out how to. He opened his browser with feverish instinct. He had solved the problem.

The easiest thing would be to search for the most recent model, the championship-winning Desmosedici, but Vale needed the symbolism - something with meaning.

He sifted through several second-hand listings of 1:12 Minichamps models for Marc's capricious, violent terror of a 2015 bike. It was the one that ended it all, before they built themselves back. He needed one in mint condition. He would prefer if it could arrive within the week.

It would be Marc's. Vale would receive it and gift it to him, the same way he had been given those bikes on his shelf. Marc would have no choice but to accept, cornered into the same game that he had forced Vale into. He couldn't ever trash them because he would love them. He couldn't leave it behind if he moved out - how could he be angry and allow Vale continue owning his beloved 93 bikes? It would be absurd. He would have to hold on to them, and be forced to remember exactly who they had come from.

This was perfect. This was the only way to tackle the situation. Now Marc couldn't simply leave.

Vale placed an order. Then he laid back down, too stimulated to fall asleep for the night. But the load would be lifted from his chest. He knew what he had to do.

--

"I'm clearing a shelf for you," Vale told Marc over breakfast. He had scrambled them eggs since he was already awake, and it was increasingly obvious that Marc was better utilised relegated to table-setting and operating the coffee machine.

Marc regarded him with mild intrigue. "I told you I don't need one," he said.

Vale smirked. "You will."

Marc raised his eyebrows in response, and the beginnings of a smile twisted his lip. His expression begged to be challenged. Well, he wouldn't be there if he wanted Vale to be easy.

--

Six days later, Vale handed Marc a little red gift box tied up in a red bow.

"Welcome home," he said.

Marc looked at it, stared at Vale, then tugged the tail of the ribbon without taking his stare away from Vale's face. The knot fell apart in his hands.

"What is it?" he asked levelly. It was clear that this was no ordinary gift.

Vale was impatient as all hell. "You already opened it," he said, gesturing for Marc to continue. He would not spoil his own surprise.

Marc lifted the lid carefully. He would be able to tell on sight which year the bike came from. They had come to ruins over it, and they had mended themselves. They still never discussed that year.

A crease appeared between Marc's brows. "Why this one?" he asked.

"I will give you the rest another day," Vale said. Suddenly, he wondered if Marc would understand what he meant. Marc usually did, but there had been a few times in the past when everything Vale said just served to push him further away.

Vale recalled sitting in a press conference in Assen that fateful year, when Marc sank deeper and deeper into bottled-up fury, and he would not even explode so they could address it. He kept his anger, diluted it, then took it upon himself to forgive unilaterally. Vale hadn't realised when Marc stopped being angry. At that time, he assumed it went on for much too long.

"It's important, that year," he tried to explain. "I wanted to show that I am not avoiding it. It was there, we were- I was unkind. But we are here now, and I would like you to stay with me."

Marc had a few variations of a controlled smile. This one was uncommon, eyes deep in emotion, and lips barely curved. He could be difficult to interpret, but the last time Vale had seen it this face was when he made a hash of telling Marc he loved him. Marc had obviously said it first, then Vale struggled with it for two weeks; first wondering if he would even be honest if he said it back, then realising his mouth wouldn't cooperate with him when he wanted to. He'd written it on a hotel stationery in the end, a letter switched to make it Spanish rather than Italian so the meaning wouldn't be so emphatic for himself, and slipped it into Marc's hand while he slept.

It was a little bit terrible. He knew that too. Marc had made this same expression when he approached Vale about it.

"You are very bad at this," he said then, like he said now.

"Forgive me once more," Vale said, kissing him, and biting into the flesh of his lip so he would understand.

The last time, Marc had become so much easier and certain with the knowledge that Vale wanted him, that it became simple for Vale to ask him to move in shortly after. And this time, Vale was hopeful that it meant forward steps as well.

"I will put it on the shelf," Marc said, with a tolerant eye roll. The barely-there curve to his lip stayed. Vale followed him to the living room, slinging an arm around Marc's shoulder and feeling light at last.

[leth-writes]

I'm so happy to see someone writing for twilight it really doesn't get the love it deserves.

This is weirdly specific, so bear with me.

Can I request Paul (twilight) x reader who's Jacob's ex-girlfriend, and they had like a really messy brake up so they REALLY don't like each other and so Paul and jacob get onto a fight about it.

Thanks for your time I've really been enjoying reading your work❤️❤️❤️

hello, lovely anon!

Usually I do shorter pieces for requests, but I kinda blacked out and wrote 2000 words for this... Sorry?

Please enjoy!

It was quiet, without Jacob. The two of you had been dating for over a year, before suddenly all he could think of was Bella, Bella, Bella. She was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. You didn’t mind the two of them being friends, you weren’t jealous and you didn’t believe the rumors spreading at school, but you still wanted to SEE him! You loved him, for god’s sake! But no, Bella was sad or Bella was tired or Bella wanted to go exploring and suddenly, he had no time for you. 

It had been weeks since you’d last truly spoken beyond a quick 20 minute phone call every time you tried to hang out. In fact, you decided, today was the last day. It was the last day you would grovel and beg for his attention. This was it; if he didn’t agree today, you were done. He could go date Bella for all you cared.

You stomped down the stairs, your socked feet hitting against the soft white carpet, and skidded into the tiled kitchen. The grey light streamed in, illuminating the phone like a halo. It was fitting for something that would determine the fate of your relationship.

Angry, yet hopeful, you strode forward and picked up the phone, resolutely dialing Jacob’s number and waiting as it rang.

Finally, someone picked up. “Hello?” Jacob called, sounding groggy.

“Hey, Jake! I was thinking, we should spend some time together! It’s been a hard couple of weeks, and I haven’t seen you at all!” You said, anger draining and hope filling your chest, suddenly feeling weak at the knees. God, you’d missed his voice. “Can’t, Bella and I are going to try and build the motorcycles. You know she’s been having a hard time recently, and I think I’m really helping!” He responded, sounding distracted and far from the phone. 

The hope shattered like ice, cutting up your insides. “Jake, we haven’t hung out in 3 weeks. I could really use my boyfriend today,”. Even to your own ears, your voice was pleading. It sounded weak and brittle, like you were fragile, not the strong front you’d tried to put on for him.

He sighed, voice crackly through the receiver. “Listen, you know Bella hasn’t been doing so well, and I’m the only thing that makes her feel better. You can’t expect me not to go out with her, just because you’re feeling a bit lonely…” His voice was exasperated and distant, like he was already done with the conversation.

Suddenly, that anger came roaring back, licking up the sides of your chest and burning away at your heart. You felt yourself trembling with rage, with despair, at the way he was talking to you.

“No, you listen, Jacob! I’m done! If you aren’t going to see me, if you’re going to prioritize Bella, then you can go stay with her! I never want to see your stupid, selfish face ever again, you fucking asshole!” You practically shouted, slamming the phone down. You whirled around, nose practically bellowed steam, and stomped to the couch, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. You’d show him, you’d go out and have fun all by yourself and prove you didn’t need such a shitty boyfriend anyways!

It’d been a month since you last talked to Jacob, and while the breakup hurt, you were glad you’d ended the relationship when you had. Looking back, the thought of hanging on was depressing; you’d reconnected with your friends in the past month, going out practically every day and hanging out anytime it got too rainy to go to La Push. You hadn’t seen Jacob or Bella around, and you could honestly say you were happy to not have to so much as think about them anymore. It wasn’t your business.

It was the perfect day to go La Push, and your friends were already there when you pulled into the parking lot. It was overcast, no real sign of rain, and a gentle, cool breeze was drifting through. The beach was covered in large rocks, not really meant for swimming, but perfect for drinking and just listening to music and gossiping, and that’s exactly what you did. 

Until, of course, they arrived. Jacob had been sure they were a blossoming gang, but you hadn’t been so sure. You’d never really spoken to them but Billy had thought they were good kids, just a bit… odd. Yet, now, seeing them on the beach, you could understand where Jacob would’ve gotten that misconception. Sam and his friends were massive, Sam himself standing at almost 6’6” by the looks of it and the shortest member, the boy with the dimpled chin, cleared 6’0” easily. They were heavily muscled, each wearing cargo shorts and shirtless, and were rough-housing as they walked, bumping into each other and shoving each other as they approached your small group. The loudest of the boys, the one with the intense expression and the loud voice, shoved the smallest and laughed boisterously. Then, he looked over. And he made eye contact with you.

And he stared.

And stared.

Eventually, you grew uncomfortable, shifting uneasily on the small picnic blanket you were sitting on as you looked away, toward Sam. He was pulling the loud boy to the side, harshly whispering as the boy kept eye contact. You leant over to your friend, quietly asking which boy was which. You listened as she pointed them out; the one staring at you was Paul, and he was dangerous. You gulped, once again looking away and out toward the shoreline.

“Hey, mind if we join you guys?” Sam asked, approaching with his group and staring at you. The others also looked exclusively at you, though not as intensely as Paul, as though your answer was the only one that mattered. Shivering, suddenly cold, you nodded and looked down. “Hey, at least they’re hot,”one of the girls in your group muttered, and the tension was broken. You burst into laughter, snorting as you held your sides. At least you weren’t feeling uncomfortable anymore, even if you did feel a little dorky. You glanced up through your lashes and Paul was still staring, though less intensely, a soft gleam in his eyes and a small, genuine smile on his lips.

That was the beginning of your relationship with Paul.

You woke up to loud pounding on your front door. Racing down the stairs, you skidded to a stop in the front hall, making eye contact with Bella. Fucking Bella Swan was at your door at 6 in the morning, pounding furiously and looking like death warmed over. You sighed, resigned to not getting to sleep in on a Saturday, and opened the door slowly.

“There’s something wrong with Jacob!” Bella exclaimed. She looked haggard, eyes ringed with deep purple bags and pale skin looking almost translucent. Her hair was ragged and greasy, hanging limply around her wan face, clothes baggy and dirty. She looked like shit. Maybe Jacob broke up with her?

“Okay, and why does that involve me?” You said, leaning against the door jamb and staring off into the distance, squinting at the pale morning light.

“You’re his girlfriend, he’s bound to listen to you!” She cried, thin clammy hand clutching at your wrist as she tried to tug you toward her red rustbucket of a truck.

You remained unmoved, now glaring at her. “No, Bella, I’m not his girlfriend, we haven’t been together for over a month, and I haven’t seen him in over a month and a half. He spent all his time with you; why would he listen to me now?”

She paused, hearing the hurt hidden in your voice and glancing up into your eyes for the first time all morning.

“Wait… you broke up? But Jacob loves you!” She said, voice weaker than before, almost a whisper.

“Yeah, well, he cared about you more. But, I guess if he’s in trouble, fine. What do you need me to do?”

Jacob’s yard looked exactly the same as you remembered it. That made you feel oddly sad, like you’d subconsciously expected it to reflect Jacob’s sadness at you leaving. Yet, it remained the same, just as it was before you’d ever come into his life. Had you really had such a small impact?

Bella was already out of the truck, running toward Paul and the others as they sauntered toward the house from the tree line. You sprinted to keep up, knowing she was going to say something and futilely trying to prevent it. When you reached them, she had shoved Paul and was accusing the boys of hurting Jacob, whatever that meant. Paul was shaking, literally trembling, as his muscles jumped and leapt under his skin. It looked like his skin was… moving as he puffed in effort. “Paul?” you tentatively approached, drawing closer as he leant over, panting as his shoulders jerked. “Shit!” Sam cursed, leaping forward to pull you back and away from Paul. You kicked and struggled as he picked you up, trying to get back to Paul. Couldn’t they see he was sick?!

Suddenly, Paul was gone, and in his place was… a giant wolf. It was like he’d been cut out of the world and replaced. What had happened to Paul?

“Bella!” Jacob shouted, vaulting over the porch fence. His skin seemed to split open, replacing by rapidly growing fur, and his face elongated as his nose broke and became discolored. By the time he hit the ground, he was a wolf. Were you hallucinating? You felt faint, leaning heavily against Sam, who shifted to support your weight and drag you away from the fight. Both wolves were now circling each other, growling and barking, trying to nip at each other's flanks. You felt like you were receding from your body, like you weren’t real. Everything felt far away, and your ears rang. Then, you passed out and went limp.

You jerked awake with a gasp almost as soon as Sam caught your full weight, shifting to lift you up into his arms.

“Paul!” he called, and the wolf who had replaced Paul looked over, eyes wide and sad as he saw your trembling form. Then, the wolf was gone and Paul was standing in its place, quickly pulling on clothes as Embry passed a pair of shorts to him. He cursed lowly and jogged over, grabbing you from Sam’s arms and holding you close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, like a prayer.

He sent you down gently, still holding you close to his chest, enveloping you in his soft warmth as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. The world went quiet and all was right, until Jacob interrupted the two of you by shoving Paul.

“Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit!” He yelled out, punching Paul hard in the nose and causing a spurt of blood to leak out. Paul cursed again and spat out a mouthful of blood, growling lowly. “You don’t get to say that, asshole! You broke her heart, you have no right to tell her what to do!” Paul returned, standing his ground as Embry and Jared tried frantically to stop the fight from continuing. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put her in danger!”

“I didn’t! She didn’t know until your little girlfriend came along and started shit!” Paul bellowed, gesturing at Bella, who was shrinking into herself behind Jake.

“Don’t bring her into this! This is about your shitty control, Paul! Don’t blame Bella for you not being able to handle a little pressure!”

“Stop!” Sam said, getting in between the two. “Jacob, you go blow off some steam. Don’t come back until you’re calm. And Paul…” Sam continued, trailing off as everyone looked at you. “Just… Just explain everything, okay?” He said, sighing and rubbing his forehead to fight away the growing headache.

Paul turned to you, opening his mouth to speak. 

And that was the day you learned about shifters.

[mwahbabe]

but i think i’m liking her more….

rachel amber x fem reader ♥︎

men DNI 🧡

warnings: friends with benefits to lovers, smut, (slight) angst!, toxic relationship, tw! reader is with a man🤢, (for now…)cheating.

rachel being her charming self, fingering!, breast+nipple play,praise,comfort,mommy kink!,dom! rachel,sub! reader, r! receiving.

(a/n: where’s my rachel amber:( )

You had got into yet another argument with your boyfriend, he had made you cry and broke another promise, completely disregarded your feelings before leaving you to feel unwanted and upset.

Both of you had been on and off, he was never there for you when you needed in all senses. You constantly tried to see the good in him and would get in heated arguments before making up again after falling for his charm and sweet talk.

Rachel, Your best friend had become your secret comfort and escape from your unsatisfying and “complicated��� relationship, which she was always more than happy to provide you with.

Each time you would come to her usually angry or crying, she would listen to you vent about your latest argument with your boyfriend, or how unsatisfied you were with him. Nothing you ever did for him was good enough. Yet his sweet talk and fake promises made you go back to him every time you considered a break up. And each time, Your best friend Rachel would comfort and reassure you, making sure you knew you deserved better. From the moment he met him you knew she didn’t like him. She was always nonchalant towards him and didn’t put on that charming act with him even though she got on with pretty much everyone. Once she saw how he talked to you and how he made you feel her disgust and ick towards him only increased.

For the next several days, it became a familiar pattern: you would hook up with your boyfriend and feel shitty afterwards, no matter what he did in bed just never made you feel good. Each time, Rachel would listen to your complaints, stroking your hair or holding your hand while you unleashed your frustrations. Rachel consistently answered your calls, even if it was at the most inconvenient times. She always dropped what she was doing and came to your rescue, ready to provide you the comfort you needed.

Whether it was a shoulder to cry on…or to put your legs over. She was there for you every time. She knew how selfish and manipulative your boyfriend was and how bad he was for you. It frustrated her to see you with him, but she also knew she loved being the one you came to afterwards, the one who could make you feel whole.

Even though your boyfriend didn’t like her, he never saw her as a threat, or got suspicious when her clothes or stuff would be left around the house or even when her bra and panties would be left on your bedroom floor. The thought of you being into girls or the fact that your face was buried in your best friends cunt while he was texting you never ever crossed his mind.

You would always make sure to shower right before you meet up with her, not wanting any unwanted, gross remainders of your boyfriend for her to deal with.

When she would come to your place after he left, she would always feel a pang of frustration at the thought of him getting to touch you in a way that was so lackluster and undeserving. When she held you in her arms, she would make sure to erase any lingering traces of him and replace them with her own touch and tenderness.

You were feeling extra down and insecure that night and decided to doll up and put on your new lingerie awaiting the arrival of your boyfriend. One that you had bought to try and spice up you and your boyfriend’s relationship and maybe try and please him. You looked in the mirror admiring yourself how the lacey bra and panties looked on your body, the fabric sheer and thin leaving very little to the imagination. You knew he would probably end up ripping it off you but at least you looked cute. He had blown you off twice in a row and had told you he would come over tonight

you laid there on your bed in the lacey garment, tapping your nails on your phone as you waited.

and waited….

and waited.

you didn’t want to text him first, absolutely not. you hated looking desparate, even if it was your literal boyfriend.

your doubtful and negative thoughts were interupted by your phone vibrating.

b/n: hey baby… sorry i know i said i would come over but nathans having this thing and i said i wouldn’t miss it.”

b/n: i’ll make it up to you

you stared at your phone, absolutely fuming. who did this dusty ass bastard think he was?

you typed a response fast.

y: seriously?

y: you cancelled our plans two days in a row this week and you promised ME. but your friends are more important than me? woww.

b/n: baby c’mon don’t be like that

y: i’m your GIRLFRIEND.

b/n: we’ll do something tommorow. promise

you scoffed as you sat up now focused on your typing.

y: you always say that. And then you stand me up and make me look stupid. it’s not fair.

b/n: don’t start y/n.

y: start what?? calling you out on your shit?

b/n: that insecure shit you’re always doing too much.

y: doing too much? or maybe you’re not doing enough.

b/n: not my fault you don’t have a life and only have one friend besides me. seriously grow up y/n i don’t gotta see you every damn day.

theree it was. the victim blaming and disregarding your feelings.

y: all i want is to spend time with you because i’m feeling sad why are you being such a dick

b/n: you’re being a insecure bitch. maybe stop depending on me to be happy. it’s pathetic y/n.

Angry tears welled up in your eyes as you read this. Even more when that (b/n has notifications silenced) icon popped up.

you felt so stupid and even more upset. You quickly threw on some clothes and grabbed your keys before sending one last message;

have fun. and go fuck yourself because it’s not gonna be me.

And now here you were. Driving to your best friend Rachels house, sobbing as you called her, your other hand steering rather carelessly.

She picked up not even after the first ring.

“y/n? hey…you okay?”

“rach? are you home?… i need to come over like right now.”

your choked sobs could be heard on the other end.

As Rachel heard your pained voice, her expression morphed from one of concern to anger. She knew from your distriss that something was clearly wrong. She didn’t question it, knowing by now what had caused your tears.

“what happened y/n?”

“b/n is literally being so mean to me. I just wanted to spend time with him...”

you couldn’t see her eye roll or her head shake.

“aw.. darling. well now you’re spending time with me. My parents are away from the weekend. Text me when you’re here okay?”

“okay... i’m on my way.”

You nodded before ending the call and tossing your phone in the passenger seat, doing your best not to speed or swerve into a tree from anger. Your only focus to get to her house as quick as possible.

as you pulled up to her house you sent a quick “here.” to rachel.

As soon as Rachel saw your text, she was at the door waiting for you, She immediately noticed the look of distress on your face and the smudged makeup from crying. her expression immediately grew worried and concerned. she quickly pulled you in for a hug.

“hey.. c’mon.. get inside hun.”

she took your hand leading you inside and upstairs to her room.

When you reached her bedroom you buried your face into her shoulder, Rachel immediately wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in close. Her hug was tight and protective, and she held you close to her as she gently rubbed your back in a soothing motion as she slowly walked you to her bed laying down and letting you fall into her arms.

“god i hate him.”

Your voice was full of sadness and anger. Two feelings Rachel knew all too well.

Rachel’s brows furrowed in anger as she heard you speak about your boyfriend, her arms tightening around you in a protective embrace.

“So, how did this start?” she asked, her tone both concerned and apathetic. She was unfortunately used to your distress when it came to your boyfriend. Though It didn’t make her care or there for you any less.

you pull back to look at her, “so.. he promised to come over tonight since he’s like blown me off twice.”

“and then of course he cancels last minute.”

Rachel listened carefully as you spoke, her expression softened with understanding. She could sense the hurt and confusion in your voice and wrapped her arms around you tighter. “Again?”

you nodded and wiped your eyes, you handed her your phone to read the messages,

as rachel read the messages between him and you her brows furrowed and her face got more madder each time she scrolled up.

“it’s like…one week he’s all over me and treats me like a princess and the next he’s mad at me and i’ve constantly done something wrong.”

Rachel sighed as she gave your phone back, she had seen enough from when his texts switched up.

“I hate to break it to you hun, but that’s not how a healthy relationship should be.” she said, her tone gentle yet firm.

“you don’t get it… when he’s sweet, he’s really sweet.”

Rachel listened to your words, her expression turning slightly annoyed.

“and when he’s not?” she asked, her tone more firm now.

you sighed and looked at the ceiling, rachels expression filled with a bit of annoyance and frustration. She knew that you had been through this cycle with your boyfriend many times before, but it still hurt her to see you go through it.

“When he’s not sweet, how does he treat you?” she asked, her tone a mixture of anger and concern.

you reluctantly gave rachel her answer. “like shit.”

her expression hardened further as you gave her the answer she was looking for, her anger towards your boyfriend growing.

“There it is.” she muttered, her tone sharp and irritated. Rachel’s expression softened slightly, her anger turning more into sympathy and concern.

She reached out to gently cup your cheek

“And yet you keep going back to him?” she asked, her tone more gentle now.

“i know…” you sighed looking away shamefully.

“i can’t help it…”

Rachel sighed softly and shook her head, her expression filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. She gently grabbed your chin to look at her.

“Honey, you deserve much better than that.” she said softly. “You deserve someone who’s kind and loving and respects you all the time. Not just when it’s convenient for them.”

“You don’t understand..” you said in a defeated voice. “i feel so trapped…”

Rachel’s expression softened further at your words, her heart aching for you.

“I know you do hun..” she murmured, her tone gentle and understanding. “But you can’t keep letting him control you like this.”

you sighed Shakily. Burying your face further into her shoulder, breathing in the scent of jasmine and pine the she carried.

Rachel wrapped her arms around you tightly, holding you close to her chest and stroking your hair gently.

“Shhh..” she whispered, her tone soothing. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here for you.” She held you in that way that made you feel a calmness and safety only she could provide.

Later as you were both curled up in her bed as a movie she had chosen played on her laptop. Her chin resting on your shoulder, her arms draped around your body.

As the movie played on in the background, Rachel’s touch began to wander further across your body without her even realizing it. Her hands moved gently over your skin, tracing soft patterns and lightly massaging your shoulders and back.

“that feels nice..” you softy whispered, loud enough for the blonde to hear.

Rachel smiled softly as she heard your words, her hands continuing to roam over your body gently.

“Yeah?” she murmured, her tone slightly playful.

“mhm..” you made a small sound as she shifted a little as her hands gently guide you to sit up straight. She began to slowly trail her fingers along your bare stomach, her nails lightly grazing your skin as she went.

Rachel’s hands moved up further each time, until she reached the lacey fabric of your bra, her touch becoming more deliberate and purposeful.

“Rach...”

Rachel chuckled softly at the sound of her name, her fingers continuing to trail up your bra, her thumb tracing your hardened nipple underneath the sheer fabric.

“hm?” she murmured, her tone playful and amused. “What is it y/n/n?”

“Your hands are on my tits…”

Rachel chuckled again, her expression filled with a mixture of amusement and cockiness.

“I know.” she murmured, her tone slightly seductive. “Problem?”

“I don’t know if we sh-.”

“Shhhh. it’s okay we’re bestfriends. Best friends always help each other out. Right?”

You let out a shaky exhale, catching your bottom lip under your teeth. You couldn’t argue with her. It wasn’t like Rachel hadn’t done this to you every time you and your boyfriend were on a break… or when you and her were alone for that matter. Her voice and touch would always turn you to mush.

Rachel smirked as she saw your expression, her fingers slowly resuming their movement against your skin as she realized what this situation was reminding you of.

“Exactly..” she murmured, her tone slightly teasing. “We always help each other out. You know this.”

Some tears shed from your pretty eyes. You would sometimes feel guilty for your disloyalty but then again what did you have to feel guilty about? being disloyal to a man who didn’t give a shit about you until it was convenient? who always made you insecure and somehow managed to fuck you wrong everytime?

“Yeah..” You slowly nodded, your teary eyes meeting hers.

Rachel saw the tear that had slipped down your cheek and gently brushed it away with her thumb before continuing to touch you. She knew exactly what was going through your mind and knew exactly how to get you out of your head.

“Shhh..” she whispered softly. “Don’t cry hun. It’s okay to feel good, you deserve it.”

you whimper softly as she cups your cheek making you turn your head to face her. Her expression softened.

“That’s right… just focus on me. Forget everything else.” she murmured, her tone soothing and commanding.

Your breathing got deeper as as Rachels fingers, trimmed nails painted red matching with you. danced over your body, her hands now firmly on your hips as she held you tightly against her. Her pretty pink lips were only a few inches away from yours now, her gaze locked onto yours intensely.

“That’s it pretty girl…” she murmured, her tone seductive yet gentle. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

As Rachel kissed you, her arms wrapped around your body both protectively and greedily. You could feel your sadness and guilt fading away as she kissed you. Her body was pressed right against yours, her hands roaming your skin as she deepened the kiss, her tongue ran along your bottom lip, seeking entrance, which you instinctively welcomed. Letting her tongue slide into your warm mouth.

Small moans and hums escaped you as you made out with your bestfriend, moving to hold her face with your hand.

She kissed you hungrily and passionately, her tongue danced with yours as she nipped and sucked gently.

Her touch and kisses never failed to give you butterflies, deep in your tummy and core. It never felt that way with your boyfriend. You could feel the difference in the way you responded to her touch and kisses compared to your boyfriend’s. There was a lack of passion and intimacy with him whereas with Rachel there was an electricity and connection than couldn’t be replicated.

She knew exactly how to make you feel good, how to make you feel seen and appreciated.

"Shhh..” she murmured softly, her tone gentle and comforting. “It’s okay baby. I’m here. I got you.” She gently lifted up your shirt, holding it in place above your chest as she revealed the lacey bra you had on underneath. Earning a soft chuckle from the golden blonde as Her hands gently roamed up your abdomen to your chest, touching all of your sensitive spots, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck, her breath warm and ticklish against your skin. Her hands continued to wander your body, one hand moved over your hips and traced the stitching of your bottoms ,the other playing with your tits. her lips placing gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone.

“take these off.”

She said lowly, her tone slightly firm as her hand reached inside the waist of your bottoms, you lifted your hips and pushed them down, kicking them off impatiently. Your matching panties came into view. She took in the adorable lingerie set, her gaze growing hungrier by the second. She knew you had worn it for your boyfriend initially but seeing you in it now for her made her feel a pang of desire and jealousy.

She touched the top of the lace material gently, her fingers tracing along the intricate fabric with a smile. “Mm.. pretty little thing.” she murmured, her tone dripping with desire. You watched her fingers run along the little bow of your panties, “wore this cute set for him huh?…” she asked rhetorically as her hazel eyes drank in the sight of you. You were breathtaking. Only a fucking idiot would not appreciate this kind of beauty in front of them she thought. Her skilled fingers groped your breasts through the see-through lacey bra. Moving both of the sheer fabric to the side so that your nipples were exposed to the cool air of her room., causing low moans to escape your lips. “Such a waste…” She mumbled loud enough for you to hear.

“mmh.. is it though…?” your breathing had got more shallow. Her slim fingers toying with your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between the pads of her fingers making you push your chest towards her hands wanting more of her touch.

A low chuckle came from her. “well. not for me. now I get to see your beauty and appreciate it.”

She took one hand off your breast and moved it down between your thighs. Smirking at how they instantly opened for her, something of an instinct now. There was already a pool of your arousal that she noticed immediately. Her kisses, her touch her charm and… just her in general always made you soaked.

“baby.. are you this wet already?” She asked with a slight laugh, almost mockingly as she traced your swollen clit through the fabric with her two fingers. The obvious darkened patch growing bigger.

“F-fuck..rach…” You shakily gasped out as she moved her fingers in a circle and then up and down your slit feeling how slick the fabric was due to your arousel.

“Damn babe… must really been needing this huh?.”

A blush spread across your cheeks. You absolutely had. You needed her to touch you, to give you that pleasure and care that you had been deprived of and craved so bad.

“shit.. mama.. feels s’good” you manage to get out between whimpers.

Rachels chuckle made you shiver and gave you goosebumps as her warm breath tickled against your ear. Her soft lips giving your jaw soft kisses, trailing downwards making sure to not leave any hickeys as per your request, though she would if you hadn’t asked her not to. wanting nothing more than to mark you up all over as hers. To tell your shitty excuse for a boyfriend to go fuck himself. Her skilled fingers continued their ministrations, one massaging your tits, pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between tue pads of her fingers, the other circling your puffy clit through your soaked panties. “yeah?” she murmured, her tone teasing and seductive. “You like the way mama touches you, don’t you?”

“yes…”

That smirk you knew all too well spread across her face as she pulled your panties to the side, a string of your slick connected to the thin and see-through fabric. Causing her smirk to grow wider, It boosted her ego how easy she could make you this wet.

“tell me again, baby.” she whispered, her tone commanding and dominant.

“mama-fuck feels so nn…so good when you touch me like this..”

Rachel smiled and let out an exhale of laughter in your ear at your breathless words, her fingers moved to draw circles on your clit, slippery from your wetness, the wet and sticky sound could be heard between the two of you, causing your cheeks to grow warmer.

“Mmm.. that’s right baby. Mommy knows how to take care of you right?”

You nodded quickly and your body arched into her and your lips parted as pretty moans came from you.

Rachel chuckled softly and shook her head at your quick nod, her expression filled with amusement and desire at your eagerness. Her hands easily forced your thighs open further and she ran her fingers down your wet slit and teased your entrace.

“yes! oh god...yess.”

She chuckled again and gently nipped your ear as you spoke, her expression filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. She absolutely loved when you told her how good she made you feel and how you so easily gave into her. “Mm.. that’s a good girl.” she murmured, her tone soft but commanding.

“Keep talking to me like that, baby. Tell me more.” She never broke a sweat as she slipped a finger into your cunt. The hand on your tit moved to gently grab your jaw making you face her.

Rachel smiled and pressed her forehead against yours, a second finger sliding into you without warning. Your little gasp and the way you reached up to grip made her She could feel your shakiness and breathlessness, and it only fueled her desire even more.

“love it when you-…when we do this..”

“I know you do, baby.. I know you do.” she murmured, her tone soft and soothing. “That's why you need me, right? You need me to make you feel good. Only I know how to fuck you this good.”

Your head was spinning. You could barely get any words out to answer her as she added a second finger.

Rachel smiled again and chuckled softly, her fingers slowly moved in and out, the wet and sloppy sound filling the room. she enjoyed hearing you confirm her confidence in your dynamic. She loved being the one you always turned to when you needed to feel good.

“that’s right sweetheart... I always take care of you, don’t I? even better than your shitty boyfriend ever could.” she murmured, her tone cocky and confident, her fingers moving faster and more intently inside you. she adored hearing your gasps and sighs, the way your face contorted in pleasure as she fucked the sadness and stress out of you.

“oh..fu-uck yes.” you managed before you let out a particularly loud moan, your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled back. This pleased your bestie a lot.

“See.. this is what I mean. This is how it should felt every time.” she murmured, her tone gentle but insistent. “Every time you need this, you should be coming to me. Not him.”

You knew she was right. Your boyfriend had never made you feel this good. you didn’t even know pleasure like this existed until you and your best friend started your little sneaky dynamic. Pretty moans and hums spilled from your lips as you gripped her forearm digging your painted nails into her flesh.

Rachel smirked watching your face and admiring every single detail, her fingers still working their magic and fucking you deep as she enjoyed seeing the effect she had on you. She loved how easily she could make you hers, Knowing even with him, you were thinking of her.

“Can you handle a third huh sweet pea? yeah you can. I know you can darling.”

When she added a third finger inside your cunt stretching you out your nails dug harder into her arm and your head fell back on her shoulder to her delight.

“rach…! oh shit..”

“that’s right.. that’s a good girl..” she whispered, her tone possessive but soft. “come apart for me, baby. you know I love watching you fall apart from my touch.”

Her voice was like honey, so charming and every word she said sounded poetic.

Your breath came out in short whimpered gasps. you tried covering your mouth but she wasn’t having none of it. She laughed softly at your attempt to conceal your noises, her hand grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand away. She didn’t want you to hide your sounds from her for even a secons, she wanted to hear everything.

“Nuh uh.. none of that.” she whispered, her tone firm and commanding. “I want to hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. don’t try to hold them back from me.”

You cried out as her emerald siren eyes bore into yours. “mama…fuck fuck... i’m gonna...!”

Rachel watched your face, the way your eyes rolled back and how your jaw jittered and your nose scrunched slightly, she loved when you were desparate like this, all vulnerable and needy. her slim fingers curled inside you, working faster and more intently, making you almost scream.

“That’s right.. that's it.. ” she whispered, her tone commanding yet comforting as she continued to touch you. “Come for me darling..”

You cry out, girly whines and gasps coming from you as your head was tilted back on her shoulder. rachel continued to hold you close her lips never leaving your neck. She laughed softly at you and cooed sweet words in your ear through your orgasm, your cunt fluttering and pulsing on her fingers, creaming around them.

“That’s it baby.. good girl.. cum for me.. I want it all.. aww.. yeah.. i know baby. mhm....”

Rachel grinned as she continued to mercilessly fuck you and praise you through your intense orgasm, her hand finally slowing down as your thighs tried to close around her wrist from overstimulation.

“mmm.. good girl.” she whispered, her tone both satisfied and possessive as she slowly withdrew her fingers from you. “you made such a mess, baby.”

You panted and let out small whimpers and sighs against Rachel neck. Your head still spinning from how hard you came.

She chuckled softly as she watched you catch your breath and come down from your high. her eyes roaming over your body as she enjoyed the sight of you all flushed and satisfied. She pulled you in closer to her body, embracing you securely in her arms.

“there you go..” she murmured, her tone satisfied and affectionate. “feel better baby?”

You laughed softly nodding as you moved your head back to face her, your forehead had a thin layer of sweat and your eyes were half lidded and hazy. “a lot better…”

That made her her laugh softly, her eyes scanning over your blissed out face, she brushed some stray hairs from your face gently, her touch soft and soothing as she held you close pressing her forehead against yours. Your satisfied form filling her with pride.

“thankyou…” You whispered

“you’re most welcome, baby.” she whispered, her tone soft yet confident. “I always take care of my best friend, don’t I? And I know you’re gonna come back for more. You always do.”

You softly laughed and rolled your eyes at her teasing. Though you both knew she was right.

“you always know what to do rach.”

Rachel smiled and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead as she held you close, her arms encircling your body in a protective embrace. She was glad she was able to give you the pleasure you needed, and enjoyed this moments with you. You held her hand that was wrapped around you, Your face nestled in her neck. You felt 100 times better than before. you felt too good to let yourself feel guilty and pushed it to the back of your mind.

Rachel made a soft sound and gently stroked your hair, her gaze soft and affectionate. She could sense that you still felt some guilt, but she was used to reassuring you that you deserved better than him.

She gently lifted your chin up to look at her, her thumb stroking your cheek softly. “Hey.. don’t worry about it, okay?” she whispered, her tone gentle yet firm. “You deserve better. You need this. And I’m always here for you, anytime you need me.” “i know…you’re right.” you leaned your head into her shoulder. Inhaling her familar scent.

Rachel responded with a low, satisfied hum. She loved the feeling of having you in her arms like this, knowing that she was the one you came to for comfort and pleasure.

“Damn straight I’m right.” she replied, her tone confident but affectionate. “You don’t deserve that loser. He’s not good enough for you, baby. Not like I am.”

“i hate when you’re right.”

“Well you’re gonna be hating me a lot more often.” her tone lighthearted and teasing.

“oh i do hate you.” you said, your voice and soft giggles saying the complete opposite. your lips met, your favourite feeling in the world. “…i hate you so damn much.” you whispered between kisses.

“ohh, I can tell, baby.” she softly mocked you against your ear,, “you were already soaking wet before i even fucked you, and you just came your pretty brains out. must really, really hate me sweet girl.”

“fuck you.” you whispered back with an exhale of laughter.

her chuckles against your ear sent tingles down your spine. she shifted you both so you were comfortably laying beside her, her face nuzzled into your breasts.

“you’re wearing this for me from now on.” she murmured against your flesh, flicking the strap of your bra hard.

“ow!” you protested. shoving her shoulder softly.

“what? did that hurt baby? you know i’ve done worse.”

her eyes sparkled with amusement and a hint of lust at the memories of your more… rough nights.

“yeah. i had to tell my boyfriend they were sunburns.” you gave her a playful glare. Reminding her of the marks she had left on your ass and thighs.

“worked didn’t it?”

“rach it was In the middle of winter.”

she gave a hearty laugh at that. A sound that always made you smile and feel warm inside. “God, he’s such a fucking moron.”

“he really is…” You tried to hide your grin but failed.

“seriously though… you deserve better love.”

Your groan and the way you buried your face into her shoulder. made her shake her head at you, she gently pulled your face back to look at her. “Don’t give me that.” she said, her tone firm but affectionate. You couldn’t run from it anymore. You knew she was right.

“I mean it.”

“…You’re wasting your time with that idiot.”

[ramona-quinn]

Late Night Drive

CG!Blitzø and Little!Stolas

Co-written with @yourneurodivergentlady

Plot: Stolas can't sleep and is overwhelmed with big feelings, so Blitzø takes him out for a drive to soothe his mind.

A.K.A., a follow-up story of Baby Feathers by @shhtickerbook

Illustration done by @sugarnpaint (@hels-belle)

Stolas stared up at the ceiling, trying to go back to sleep. A couple of hours ago, he was put to bed by Blitzø with a warm bath, fuzzy pajamas, and a couple of bedtime stories. All of that ensured a peaceful night's sleep for the Goetia. However, fireworks went off at midnight to ring in the new year, causing him to wake up. Stolas covered his ears with a pillow because he was very sensitive to sound. He internally prayed to ignore the noise and return to catching some shut-eye.

Unfortunately, it was no use.

Stolas looked over at Blitzø, who was sleeping on a beanbag in a corner of the living room. He considered waking him up for help, but he decided against that. Blitzø has done so much for him by helping him discover his tiny side. The imp needed a break.

Taking the pacifier out of his mouth, Stolas held onto it while fiddling with the handle ring. He could feel his headspace returning to normal. He grabbed his phone and looked at the time.

2:57 A.M.

The Goetia sighed. He got up from the couch and went outside to the balcony. He looked down at the streets below and saw people winding down and heading home after throwing New Year's parties. A rat-like sinner demon saw the owl and threw a water balloon at him.

"It's the shitturd I was talking about!" the sinner jeered while his friends laughed with him. "Hope you die alone!"

Stolas felt tears forming in his eyes as he got up and walked back into the apartment. As he made it to the bathroom to dry off, he couldn't help but replay what the rat had said. Maybe he deserved to be alone after what he had done. Maybe he deserved to be banished and have his royal status revoked. Maybe he deserved to lose his daughter. After all, selfish people like him didn't deserve to live...

"Hey, you alright?"

Stolas jumped, startled by Blitzø's voice.

"Oh, Blitzø... what are you doing up?" Stolas asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Blitzø replied. “Who did this to you?”

Stolas looked down at the bathroom tile floor in silence.

"Here, let me help," the imp said.

While Blitzø grabbed a towel to dry Stolas off and get him into a fresh pair of pajamas, the Goetia's mind was running a thousand miles per hour. The insomnia wasn't making things better for him.

Stolas could feel his eyes flooding with tears once again. He hiccuped as his headspace drifted back and forth. He could feel his hands and body tremble as he dropped to the ground.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on, buddy?” Blitz softly asked as he crouched down.

Stolas sniffled and shook his head.

"You can tell me. I'm not going to get angry."

Stolas shook his head again, furiously rubbing his eyes with his arm.

Blitzø gently wrapped the towel around the owl, just like when he wrapped his coat around him when Octavia left him. The imp then gently moved Stolas's arm and gently cupped his feathered face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

"It's okay, buddy. I'm here," Blitzø comforted. "You don't have to say anything."

The imp thought for a moment before finally considering something. “You wanna go for a drive? Maybe that’ll help you calm down.”

"A drive?" Stolas hiccuped as his voice pitch grew a bit higher.

“Yep. It’s useful for when you can’t sleep.” Blitzø told him, gently tapping his nose. "It'll be like stargazing on wheels."

"On wheels?" The owl tilted his head.

Blitzø nodded. “Yeah. You wanna see the stars?”

Stolas nodded, however something popped up in his mind.

"What if... what if people see me?" the Goetia asked worryingly. "'m little..."

“Baby bird, it’s dark out so they’ll be sleeping. If they do see you, I’ll protect you,” Blitzø reassured as he dried Stolas off with the towel.

"P'omise?"

“I promise,” he stood up and offered his hand to Stolas. “You ready?”

Stolas thought about it for a little bit, then nodded.

"Alright, let's get you changed into some fresh jammies first, yeah?"

The owl nodded again.

Once Blitzø got Stolas changed into a fluffy pair of dark red pajamas, the imp grabbed the two blankets off the couch and a couple of pacifiers and placed them into a bag.

Blitzø tenderly took Stolas's hand and took him outside.

Once they reached the van, Blitzø unlocked it and placed a blanket over the backseat. He then helped Stolas in and buckled him up. He got him comfy by covering him up with the other blanket. The imp then went to the driver's seat.

"You ready, kiddo?" Blitzø asked.

The owl nodded as he wrapped his arms around the blanket.

Starting the van, Blitzø backed out and began to drive. He turned on the radio to some soft classical music.

Stolas leaned his head, resting it on the blanket-covered seat. He looked out the window and could see the beautiful night sky. It reminded him of when he was a kid. He would go out on the balcony of his palace and do some stargazing on nights when the weather was just right. He would do research on the stars he looked up. He would try and talk about his findings to his father. However, the dad wasn't all too interested, even though he assigned him to be a prophet amongst the stars and galaxies of the universe.

Blitzø drove around for about thirty minutes, occasionally glancing back at Stolas.

"You okay back there?" The imp asked genuinely.

Stolas nodded sleepily. “Yeah.”

Blitzø smiled softly as he continued driving.

The owl continued gazing up at the sky.

"B'izø?"

"What's up, feathers?"

"Have... have you been sta'gazing before?" The owl asked reluctantly.

"I don't think I have. Why?"

Stolas looked down at the floorboard as he fiddled with a corner of the blanket he was holding. Blitzø wouldn't be interested in something like this. The imp would probably reject the idea of spending quality time with him... just like his father...

"Would you like to do that some time?"

Stolas's eyes widened at Blitzø's offer.

"Really?" the owl asked.

The imp nodded. “Yep, we can go stargazing anytime you want.”

Stolas gave a little smile.

“Ready to go home now, bub?” The imp asked as he glanced back at his little owl.

Stolas nodded his head as he let out a yawn.

So, Blitzø drove them back to the apartment. When they arrived, the imp got out of the van and went to open the back door. He opened it and saw Stolas drifting off to sleep.

"Come on, buddy. We're home," Blitzø said in a gentle tone as he shook the owl's arm.

"We are?" Stolas mumbled tiredly as Blitzø unbuckled his seat belt and gathered the bag and blankets.

The imp took Stolas’s hand and led him inside before bringing him back to the couch.

"Than' you, B'izø," Stolas yawned while the imp tucked him in nice and snug.

“You’re welcome, bud. Do you need anything?” Blitzø asked.

"Stay?"

Blitzø nodded and sat beside him. “Of course.”

The imp reached into the bag and pulled out one of the pacifiers.

"You want your paci?"

Stolas nodded tiredly as he reached for it.

Blitzø handed the soother to the owl, who popped it in his beak.

"Ni', B'izø," the owl murmured.

“Night, baby feathers,” Blitz reached out to ruffle his hair.

After a few minutes, Stolas drifted off to sleep. Blitzø smiled and went back to the beanbag to get some more rest himself.

Author's note: Thank you to all of the lovelies who made this story happen (@yourneurodivergentlady, @shhtickerbook, @sugarnpaint, @hels-belle)! I couldn't have done it without every single one of you! /pos /gen

DNI Banner made by @wolfenpupr

[broidobe]

𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔶

requested!

☾axl's fear of vulnerability and self-destruction clashes with the reader's desperate attempt to hold their love together, culminating in a raw and uncertain plea for mutual effort to save their relationship.☽

☾warnings: emotinal distress, self-worth issues, heavy angst, tearful confrontation, mentions of insecurity☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

the apartment was eerily silent, save for the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. you sat on the couch, your hands trembling as they gripped a crumpled piece of paper. the ink had smudged where your tears had fallen, but the words were still legible—words that had cut through you like glass.

axl had left the note on the kitchen counter that morning, his jagged handwriting barely legible in some places. the gist was clear enough: i need space. don’t wait up.

you weren’t sure if it was the vagueness or the coldness of it that hurt more. probably both. you had spent the entire day spiraling—replaying every argument, every moment of tension, wondering where you’d gone wrong. the ache in your chest felt unbearable, like you were suffocating under the weight of your own heartbreak.

the sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. axl stepped inside, his face drawn, his hair disheveled, and his clothes smelling faintly of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. he froze when he saw you sitting there, the note still clenched in your hand.

“you’re back early,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. his tone was indifferent, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe.

“and you’re late,” you shot back, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

axl sighed, running a hand through his hair. “look, i don’t want to do this right now—”

“too bad,” you interrupted, standing up. your heart was pounding, but you refused to let him see how much he’d broken you. “you don’t get to drop a bomb like that and then just walk in here like everything’s fine.”

he clenched his jaw, his posture tense. “i told you, i needed space.”

“space from what, axl? from me? from us?” the words spilled out before you could stop them, raw and vulnerable. “i don’t understand what i did to make you pull away like this. just tell me, please.”

he looked away, his gaze fixed on the floor. “it’s not about you,” he muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“then what is it?” you pressed, desperation creeping into your voice. “because i can’t keep doing this, axl. i can’t keep wondering if today’s the day you’ll decide you’re done with me.”

“i’m not good for you,” he said suddenly, his voice harsh and bitter. “alright? is that what you want to hear? i’m a mess. i’m angry all the time, i push people away, and you deserve better than this—better than me.”

the silence that followed was deafening. you stared at him, your heart breaking at the sight of the man you loved unraveling before you.

“don’t you think i get to decide what i deserve?” you said softly, tears streaming down your face. “i’ve seen the worst parts of you, axl, and i’m still here. doesn’t that mean something?”

he let out a sharp laugh, devoid of any real humor. “yeah, it means you’re too damn good for me. and i’m too selfish to let you go, even though i should.”

your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. he was hurting, but his pain was spilling over onto you, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“you keep saying that, like it’s supposed to make this easier,” you whispered. “but all it does is make me feel like i’m holding on to someone who doesn’t even want to be saved.”

he turned away, his shoulders slumping. “maybe i don’t,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “maybe i don’t deserve it.”

that was the breaking point. you felt your chest tighten, a sob clawing its way up your throat. “why won’t you let me love you, axl?” you cried, the rawness of your voice slicing through the tension. “why do you keep pushing me away when all i’ve ever done is try to be there for you?”

he turned back to you then, and for a moment, you thought you saw the walls he’d built around himself begin to crumble. but just as quickly, his expression hardened again.

“because i’m scared, alright?” he shouted, his voice breaking. “i’m scared of losing you, of screwing this up, of not being enough. and instead of dealing with it, i ruin everything.”

the vulnerability in his confession hit you like a punch to the gut. you stepped closer, reaching out to touch his face. he flinched at first but didn’t pull away.

“you’re not going to lose me,” you said, your voice trembling. “but you’re going to have to let me in. i can’t keep fighting for both of us.”

his eyes searched yours, and for the first time, you saw tears brimming in them. “i don’t know how to let go,” he whispered.

“then we’ll figure it out together,” you replied, your voice firm despite the tears streaming down your face. “but you have to meet me halfway, axl. i can’t do this alone.”

he nodded slowly, his hand reaching up to cover yours. “okay,” he said hoarsely. “i’ll try.”

it wasn’t a perfect answer, but it was a start. and for now, that was enough—even if the road ahead was still steeped in uncertainty and pain.

[kentosovertime]

(adj.) deadly, destructive

➳ yandere best friend!yuta x afab!reader - 1.5k

➳ a/n: straight up brain rot- i just know this man is unhinged

➳ cw: explicit content, explicit language, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, emotional manipulation, yandere themes, catfishing, friend zone, degradation, praise, pet names

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box | AO3 | Ko-Fi✨

Fat, ugly tears soak into Yuta’s white sweater as he wipes the wetness from your cheek while he rubs your back comfortingly with his free hand. 

“It’s gonna be ok, hun…” He coos with a warm hum that feels like home. It’s why you begged him to pick you up from the date you were stood up on and ghosted after months of talking. 

“N-n-no its n-not.” You sob into the pillow that you’ve curled around, clutching the fabric until your knuckles blanche in color. “I feel so fucking stupid!”

“What’s wrong?” He pretends to sound clueless, like he’s concerned about something you’re not telling him. “You still haven’t told me why you were at that coffee shop…”

“T-that guy I told you a-about-” Your breath shutters out of you, making it impossible to force words out for a second. “It w-was a d-date and h-he didn’t show up. I’m blocked on everything n-now.”

“The guy from the dating app?” He makes a show of furrowing his eyebrows in concern, frowning deeper when you nod your head into the pillow, sobbing even harder now. 

“Feel s’dirty and used… what’s w-wrong with me, Yu?” You want to crawl out of your skin, you feel so nauseous thinking about how close you had gotten to this guy, how much you had confided in him. “Why can’t all men be like you?”

“Oh hun…” You allow him to tilt you towards him as he settles on the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms as he gently shushes you. “Come ‘ere, baby.” 

His arms wrap around your body and settle you in his lap, sighing contently as you nuzzle into his neck, basking in the warmth and support he always provides you. Once you’re settled into him, even as your cries continue, he finally allows himself a satisfied grin that his plan is going better than he thought. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

His jaw clenches as he watches you from across campus, seeing you giggling loudly with yet another frat boy fuck ass who’s only with you to get his dick wet. You deserve someone who puts you first, who cares about you more than anyone else; someone like him. 

That night he’s decided he’s had enough of being the afterthought when he deserves you more than these boys who break your too soft heart.  One more terrible heartbreak would certainly break you enough for him to make a move. It's just one more… then you’ll never have to go through it again. 

That’s how he justifies opening his phone to download the dating app he knows you use the most, making a profile after he pays one of the men desperate for cash on campus to use his photos and have him facetime you a couple times to make it more believable. 

It doesn’t take long for you to match the profile or for Yuta to use the knowledge he has as your best friend to concoct the lies that would hook you fastest. The imposter he created enjoys all the same things as you, understands your problems, and supports you when you’re down. 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly you fall for him, folding after a couple months of talking when Yuta decides to be selfish and asks you for a video of you playing with yourself. Yuta digs his teeth into his bottom lip, stifling a guttural groan at the first sight of your finger spreading yourself open for the camera, teasing your clit before you burrow your middle and ring fingers into your cunt. You little pleading moan for him to send something in return so you can picture it while you fuck your fingers into yourself. 

Yuta seethed with jealousy, even if it was his cock you came to when he sent you a video back. You didn’t know it was him, you didn’t love him. It made him so angry that you refused to see what was right in front of you. 

Whenever you hang out with him, you gush about this guy that you met that was so much different from the shit bags you normally gravitate to. And Yuta would smile, listening to you describe everything about him except how you sent him to the dirtiest little clips while he glanced at your hand, itching for you to sink those fingers into yourself again so he can suck them clean. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your sobs slowly calm with Yuta’s warmth sinking into your bones. Only small hiccups echo in the room as you feel him leave small kisses across your shoulder. 

His touch isn’t unfamiliar but this specific action is, he was normally so reserved with you, but you shiver as those comforting presses of his mouth on your skin, his breath skating across the surface, serving to fill the void left by a man you thought you could love. 

The low, desperate rumble that sounds from his throat has your eyes fluttering and goosebumps running down your skin. The kisses slowly turn wetter, sloppier as he lays one just below your ear, his tongue peaking out to lap at the skin there. 

“Yu…” Your voice cracks, pleading, as your head tilts to the side, giving him more room to continue his actions. “M-make it stop h-hurting… please.” 

“I don’t know what else to do, hun…” He almost can’t hold the condescending coo from his tone. Fuck he wants to hear you say it. He’s waited so long for the words to fall from your lips. 

“I… Can you…” You hiccup in embarrassment, burrowing into his neck as you grip his shirt as tight as you did the pillow earlier. “I w-want you to fuck me, Yu.” 

“A-are you sure…? I don’t want you to regret it later.” His eagerness is only betrayed by his fingers digging into your hips as an anchor. He needs you to know he’s going to care about you more than anyone, that he isn’t the frat trash you soil yourself with.

“Y-yes… but if you don’t want to- Yu!” You squeak, your eyes widening when your back hits the couch cushion and he settles between your thighs, his hardness already pressing against the fabric of your panties under your skirt you wore especially for your date. 

“Don’t want to?” He growls, pushing the fabric of the skirt to pull around your hips, reaching between you to rip the seam of your pretty lace panties you wore for the imposter he created. 

He deftly flicks the button of his jeans, pushing them along with his boxers to his mid thigh, entering you in a rush movement before you can decide you don’t want him. 

“Oh fuck, Yu-” You moan loudly, your sobs turning to those of pleasure as he sets a brutual pace, taking out all his frustration, anger, and jealousy on you. 

He grits his teeth, carelessly shoving his hand under your shirt to grope your breasts, gripping onto them to hold you in place, using it for leverage to drill into you harder.

“Finally woke the fuck up and realized I’m right here?” He hiss as you flutter around him, your cunt making a white ring around his cock as he fucks you raw. His brutal pace is matched by the demeaning tone. “So nice to be your second choice, you know? Stringing me along like a needy slut?” 

You jolt in shock, the rough treatment only serving to make you clench down on him harder, teetering on the edge.

“S’not like t-that Yu-” You whine, clawing at his chest through his shirt. “I’m s-sorry, I d-didn’t m-mean it like that- M’sorry ‘made you wait!”

He grins ferally at you folding so easily for him, ready to finally force the final blow.  

“Really, hun?” He reaches a hand to your clit, circling it slow enough to drive you crazy, keeping you right at the edge of your orgasm without giving you that last push. “Fuck toys don’t get to cum… only girlfriends do. Are you my perfect little girlfriend? Or a useless fucking cum dump?” 

“Girlfriend!” You shriek as he immediately applies more pressure, his thrusts stuttering a little. You’d give him anything to cum. “I’ll b-be yours ple-” 

Your back arches off the bed as you explode into a thousand little pieces, coming hard enough for your vision to go fuzzy, mewling when you feel Yuta still after pressing deep inside of you. His cum spills from your abused cunt, spilling out from around him to drip down onto the couch. 

“Good fucking girl, hun. Fuck-” The praise makes you tremble and cling to him and he knows breaking your heart was worth the pain.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210 @rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo [[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[kira-fluff]

comforting you after a break up - haikyuu!!

a/n: once again i have returned. fear my power. just kidding, school made me a ye bit busy especially trying to get by financially (who wants to pay my credit card bill? haha...) anyway, guess who had to dump their boyfriend? 🙋🏼‍♀️ it's me. had to hold back from putting "comforting" in quotations lol

kuroo tetsuro "come 'ere."

a sudden knock on kuroo's door made him jump. he was surprised to see you standing in the rain, completely drenched, but with a big smile on your face. he raised an eyebrow, letting out a little laugh, "why are you out here in the rain?" not answering his question, your smile grows wider. you throw up a peace sign, "guess who just got dumped!" it didn't come out like a question. your smile was stretched wide. unnaturally. kuroo looked you up and down. you hated the way sympathy and pain was strewn on his face. suddenly, he stretched out his arms, beckoning you into his arms. "come 'ere." he said softly, enveloping you in his big arms, your head against his chest. you could hear the steady beat of his heart under his thin shirt. like a dam that could no longer hold the flood, tears poured out of your eyes like the downpour behind you. you shoved your face against his chest in an attempt to muffle the sobs wracking your body. hiccups and shaking breaths escaped you along with wails of sadness that broke kuroo's heart. a selfish part of him told him he should be glad. he's had it bad for you since you became friends in your second year of middle school. but there was no joy in his heart. only pain. he wanted to take all your pain away... to see your smile again - your real smile - again. you didn't deserve this. you deserved someone who would love you unconditionally and not someone who lackadaisically decides to flake out of you whenever he chooses. "I'm ne-never g-gonna find s-someone who-who loves me" you said, letting out another heartbreaking sob, gripping his shirt as another breath wracked you, making you heave breaths rapidly. "I love you.." he said, but he wasn't sure you heard over the deluge. it didn't matter. you were here in his arms. you chose him - out of all the people you could have chosen - to comfort you. and that was enough for now. he squeezed you tighter, kissing the top of your head as he pulled you inside.

oikawa toru "well fuck him anyways! i never liked him." you slam the door to his apartment. he turns to you as you begin shouting, "CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, TORU?! HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO TRY TO BREAK UP WITH ME WHEN I CAUGHT HIM CHEATING!" oikawa is already up on his feet, just as angry as you. "WHAT THE FUCK!? HE CHEATED? OH I'M GONNA GO BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM" "OIKAWA, oikawa, stop, okay? it's.. it's whatever. you've seen the texts. I've had a hunch for a long time anyway." "but he deserves it." "I know, but I'm.. I'm just tired toru. I just can't right now. can we just watch a movie?" he stared at you for what felt like an eternity before beckoning you to the couch. you took a seat next to him. oikawa is a little selfish, so he'd be lying if he wasn't a little glad you broke up with him, not only because that guy is a useless piece of shit, but also because that meant he had an opportunity to show you how good he can be to you - as more than a friend. "well fuck him anyways. I never liked him." he said, pulling you into his arms, lying both of you down onto the sofa as he flicked the tv on, scrolling through shows to watch. he squinted, trying to search for a good one when he heard a sniffle. in his surprise, he dropped the remote onto the floor. "hey, hey, hey.. look at me." you slowly turned your head up to him, your bottom lip jutting out. indents lay in your chin as your lip quivered. "you can cry." and with that, you let out a quiet sigh, and cried into his shoulder. "thank you..." you said. "I'll always be here. you know that. i treat you better than he ever did." he didn't mean to have it come out that way, but you ignored it, too engrossed in your feelings to acknowledge if what he said had any double-meaning.

miya atsumu "I TOLD you that guy was no good!" sorry, but atsumu appears to care more about the fact that he was "right all along" rather than the fact that you broke up with the guy. at least, on the surface. it isn't until you start crying that he feels like a complete asshole for doing a little victory dance in his head when he heard of your split. "I know, ok! I know you were right! but that doesn't make me feel any better. I just feel like a complete idiot." he stopped. "I-i'm sorry. yer not an idiot. I guess.. 've just been jealous this whole time, ya know?" before you had a chance to speak, continued, "'ve like ya for so long. seriously every single time I think about ya since like middle school I've always had to hold myself back from smiling. sometimes when I look at ya I just wanna kiss ya until you forget about that asshole." you stared at him in disbelief. when you finally snapped out of your reverie, you grabbed his hand, leading it to your waist. your other hand went to his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. strangely, the shittiest day ever turned out to be so much more than that - the day you got together with the man who (unbeknownst to you at the time) you'd spend the rest of you life with.

miya osamu "...want some chocolate?" as you sat blowing tissues in his bedroom, he could only stare. to be honest, his only way of comforting was food and physical affection. so he was doing his best to give loads of both. you were recovering from your sobs when he sighed. "....want some chocolate?" his question seemed more like he knew you already did, so when he stood up even before you nodded, you weren't surprised. you followed him to the kitchen where he began to make homemade chocolates like it was Valentine's Day (or white day, I guess). after some comfortable silence, you said, "I feel like... weirdly better now? like, free in a way. i feel like he always had a way of putting me down." osamu let out a grunt. he didn't want to say anything about the fucker that would go too far, but damn did he have to hold his tongue. that asshole was always gaslighting you and was borderline emotionally abusive what with all his manipulation. but bringing that up now would only make you upset. it would force you to relive all of those shitty memories. he took in a deep breath when all of a sudden your arms wrapped around him, your chest against his back. "thank you." was all you said for a while. he nodded. "osamu, I think it's always been you." "....what'da mean?" you only answered with a nuzzle against his toned back, leaving his to wonder what you'd meant, but decided to leave it at that for today. maybe tomorrow you'd be ready to discuss the meaning behind it all.

suna rintaro "good." "I'm sorry, what?" "I said, 'good.'" "that's really mean, rin." "I don't care. I've been waiting too long to give a fuck about that guy's feelings. he had it coming; you should've dumped him a long time ago." "what do you mean?" "you really don't know?" your voice raised in anger, "NO. I don't KNOW, rin." "does this answer your question?" he said, grabbing your cheeks. his lips pressed against yours violently, messily, like he was angry. you stared at him dumbfounded. "I thought you didn't like me like that." he sighed, letting out a disbelieving laugh, "seriously? you literally rejected me." "no I didn't!" by now you'd already forgotten about the break up, instead arguing with suna over who liked each other first, what was a lie, and what was true... I guess suna had his own way of comforting you, but it was also incredibly self-indulgent.

[thesunfyre4446]

i'm getting really tired of the "Aemond had no right to claim Vhagar" bs.

first of all, if justify Rhaenyra - Laena's cousin who grew up with her, and Daemon -Laena's husband - having sex on her goddamn funeral then you're in no position to criticize Aemond - who has literally never met Laena in his life - for trying to claim her dragon.

Aemond saw Vhagar and decided to go for it. Vhagar disappeared for years after baelon died, who knows if he'll ever get the chance to get close to her again? and maybe Rhaena will succeed in claiming her before him? it was a now or never moment for aemond.

baela and rhaena were justified in their anger, it's their mom's dragon. it's the last thing they had left from her. BUT aemond has never met these girls. he's desperate for a dragon. he's desperate to prove himself. so yeah, he's going to put himself before two strangers.

now let's talk about "Aemond paid the prince for claiming Vhagar \ Aemond deserved losing his eye" bs

no. no he didn't. aemond did not "pay the price for claiming Vhagar". it wasn't a sacrifice he had to make. vhagar accepted him as her rider, he had already claimed her when he was attacked by the strongs and the twins. aemond lost his eye because Luke cut it out. that's it.

Aemond's insult towards Rhaena was obvs directed at the strongs. for aemond, this wasn't even about rhaena. it was about finally winning against his bullies. and don't get me wrong, it was a shitty thing to say. but guess what guys, aemond's a kid too. he's like what, a year, two years older then Jace? kids can be selfish. kids can be really fucking mean. was insulting rhaena the empathic and mature thing to do? of course not! but it's clear that all aemond cared about was just getting back at the strongs. aemond's behavior was really normal for a bullied 10yo.

[and btw, Rhaena and Baela getting really angry and attacking aemond is also really understandable . from their POV, they've just lost their mom, and this random kid has just claimed her dragon & insulting them. ]

[celli-ohs]

hubba hubba!

part two of accidentally in love! series frat boy!yeonjun x stubborn!reader; college!au, one-sided love to lovers! comedy/crack, fluff, angst, smut

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist!

19. CODE CYAN ‼️‼️(written portion 950)

This was Yeonjun’s 15th call in the last hour. After receiving your reality check from your friends, you quietly hide in your bedroom, locking the door. You decided to be an adult and do this alone. You see his name flash on your screen, paired with a funny photo of the man you’d captured a few weeks ago. Yeonjun was sticking out his ass (which you found he did quite often, he definitely was an ass guy, seeing as he quite literally kissed yours last night) for all to see. You loved that photo because it captured him perfectly: a silly and loving young man. Finally, after the fourth ring, you pick up. “Hello?” You mumble, holding your breath. There’s silence. “Y-Y/n?” Yeonjun suddenly croaks. His voice is coarse, he sounds as if he’s been crying. You suddenly feel even more horrible. This was worse than you thought.

“I never thought you were going to pick up,” Yeonjun admits, hiccuping. You wince, he sounds so miserable. “I just needed a moment.” You sigh. “I’m so sorry.” He suddenly apologizes. “I promise I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t leave you on purpose! I went to get my phone- I left it last night and I thought you’d like breakfast too so I went-“ As Yeonjun begins to ramble, you begin to realize the mistake you’d made. Someone as genuine and trusting as Yeonjun didn’t deserve someone like you: insecure, immature, and selfish. “I really do love you.” Yeonjun’s words suddenly grab your attention again. “I’ve never meant that towards anyone but you.” You’re silent as the weight of his words settles in. 

“Please say something.” He begs. You release a sigh. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying, Yeonjun. I just- Why me? Of all the people in the world who would jump at the opportunity to be with you, you love me? I’ve shown you time and time again that I’m not worth it.” You’re clenching so hard that, you can feel the sting on your nails pinching your skin. “How could you even say that?” He sounds shocked, almost angry at you. “Y/n you’re the most admirable person I’ve ever known.” Yeonjun’s words hit you like a truck. “I’ve seen you spend the unnecessary extra time and care for the littlest of details on every project we’ve done. You pour your heart and soul into your work, your friends, anything you love!” He points out. “When something gets in your way, you challenge it and give it your all. You have so much passion for everything in life that you will always fight. I want to be able to do that myself. Being with you gives me the courage to.”

“I love you Y/n, all of you. Even the sides you feel aren’t worth my while.” You sit on your bed, tears dripping down your face as you silently cry. God, why was he still so nice, after all the crap you put him through the last 24 hours? Even before that honestly. “Goddamnit.” You suddenly laugh, wiping your tears. “Huh?” Yeonjun is dumbfounded. “I think I’ve loved you even before I could understand what love really is.” You say with a tearful smile. Yeonjun finally laughs, the both of you chuckling through the line. “I’m sorry for what I did. I should have just waited. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally. My insecurities got the best of me.” You admit with a sigh. “I forgive you. Your reaction is understandable. I mean, I wasn’t the best guy before I met you.” Yeonjun says sheepishly. You laugh it off.

“I should probably let you know that I did write a note for you, but Beomgyu thought it was trash and he threw it out,” Yeonjun explains, and you laugh again. You can already imagine the other man stumbling upon a note and nonchalantly tossing it in the trash can. “Yeonjun,” You hum. “Yeah?” He asks. “I want to see you.” You say. You can hear him smile through the phone. “Well not to be a stalker but I’ve kinda been parked outside your apartment for the last 10 minutes because if you didn’t answer that last call I was gonna try and knock on your door.” He confesses, you feign a gasp of shock as you quickly run out of your room. You’re surprised to see your friends have already arrived and are patiently waiting for you in the living room. 

You give them a quick wave before slipping into your Crocs and dashing out the front door. “Your Plan B-“ “Your Cheesy Gordita Crunch!” Jay’s shout overpowers Sunghoon’s, but you don’t even turn around though as you hang up your call to run into the arms of your man. Your lips crash onto Yeonjun and the two of you reunite. He pulls you in as if he’s starving for you. When you two finally pull apart, you’re both breathless. “Yeonjun I-“ “I love you. I’ll say it again and again, no matter how many times it takes for me to convince you that you’re worth it. I love you Y/n.” He grins. You cup his face and kiss him once more. “I love you too, so much I go crazy for you.” You giggle, letting him pepper your face with kisses. “Come on.” You tug him back towards your apartment. “Want some Taco Bell?” Yeonjun scoffs at you. “Who do you think I am?” You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, I hope you’re my boyfriend.” You joke. “Oh please,” He chortles. “Baby girl, in my mind we’re already married with kids.”

Bonus:

Code cyan is for when a pet is injured/dead, Heeseung was thinking of code chartreuse which is used for breakups in the gc

Jay didn't actually ditch his mom, but he did have to cut their mother-son brunch date short

Jake fled church so fast, that his pastor thought Layla was a human being

he got pulled over for going 50 in a 25 zone he was STRESSED

lol I've decided yujin is dating lee youngji heehee

had to humble Y/n this chapter she a lil dumb but its okay we still love her!!

one more chapter before hubba hubba ends!! ahh!! 🙈🙈

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hubba hubba! masterlist

taglist (open): @justandloyal2961 @hoonatic @emosakumas @ancnymcnzjy @gomdoleemyson @yamsinthetaso @2ynjns

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

Y’know why my name is Y/N? It’s not. It’s technically a nickname… My real name is Isaac… And I know you’re probably thinking. ‘Why is she named Isaac? That’s a boy's name!’ And it is. Funny isn’t it?

I think my dad wanted me to be a boy. But then, I was a girl. And I remember he was so angry. ‘I have not been blessed with a son, but a daughter! How useless is that? What good could a daughter do to our family!?’

Sexist piece of shit. And then he died… Karma’s a bitch isn’t it? I always thought he died because of an explosion, I thought he died from an accident. But… I don’t think it was an accident.

I think I killed him. In an explosion I created… Maybe that was why I was so upset with Jinx. Because I killed her just like I killed him.

Was I born to be a mage? Born to possess something so beautiful yet dangerous? Born to curse everyone around me, even my own family? My mother, who wanted to see the world, died because of her grief. I wonder, even now, how could she mourn someone so horrible? 

Afterall, I killed him yet felt no remorse doing so because he deserved it. And I was upset how short his death was, how exploding him was the least painful way to die.

But then I was cast out to the Undercity, cast out from Topside. I met Vi, Powder, Claggor, Mylo, Vander, and… Viktor. Would it be selfish of me to say I still loved him? I loved him for a long time, never knowing if we would ever be together.

It was silly, I know. Viktor chose ambition over love and look where that got him, up in Piltover frolicking in a field. I chose differently. And that turned out well… A lost leg and a broken family. 

Mojí drahoušek… That’s what Viktor used to call me. I daydreamed about seeing him again, waking up with him, and teaching at the academy with him or maybe be a ballet teacher. 

The Undercity would be equal to Topside, the borders would no longer be there and we would all be called Piltover as one.

I would visit Powder and Vi in the Undercity on my days off, Vander and the rest of them would be alive and Silco would work at the bar with him. Their parents would be alive, my mother would live and my father would be a better person or still dead.

I wonder if there were alternate universes, that there are people amongst the stars that decided one universe got to be the good one.

It seems as though every time I leave, I choose the wrong choice, and it ends up worse. I shouldn’t have visited Viktor, I shouldn’t have trusted Silco. I should’ve done this, I should’ve done that. I always choose the wrong choice.

I’m selfish. The idea is selfish but… I can save her and Viktor. If magic can do anything, I can save them. I was born to be a liberator, born to be a savior, born to be a saint.

And this time I will be selfish in what I want to save.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but she could feel her left leg again. Even after it had been shattered in the explosion, blown apart, torn to pieces. Somehow, someway, her leg had healed. The sensations were strange, almost like it was never gone at all, as if it had been returned to her, whole and whole again. 

Maybe it was due to Singed’s shimmer, maybe it was because of her magic, or maybe, just maybe, it was both working in tandem, like a perfect storm. Either way, it was ugly. Gold speckles of energy marred the purple, distorted muscle beneath, veins like lightning coursing through it.

It wasn’t pretty, but it was hers, and it felt familiar in a way. New, yet something she had always known, some odd reflection of herself that had been hidden away.

But even with this strange miracle, Y/N wasn’t sure what she was doing anymore. She felt weightless, untethered, drifting as though her very existence was suspended in a dream. 

Yet, at the same time, she was filled with so much power and yet felt like she had none. 

There was so much energy, yet she felt so drained, so utterly exhausted, as though the very essence of her had been torn apart and remade, again and again, leaving her hollow in places no one could see. 

She wasn’t sure what this feeling was. All she knew was that it was overwhelming, and yet she couldn’t find a way to process it.

Y/N missed so many people. Her heart ached for them, and every inch of her wished she could go back, rewind time, take back every mistake. She missed Ekko, his eager face always ready to cheer her up and how he looked up to Vi and her like they were the only ones who could save him. 

She missed Vander, the father figure who had given her hugs she never got from her real father, those warm, safe embraces that made her feel like she was worth something. 

She missed Vi, her partner in crime, the only one who had ever understood her completely. She missed Claggor and Mylo too. They’d always made her laugh, even when she was seething with anger (no matter how much she wanted to punch Mylo in the face at times). 

And she missed Viktor.

What could she say about Viktor? She missed everything about him. The way he laughed, the warmth of his embrace, the hours they spent inventing and imagining new possibilities together. 

She hated herself for the kaleidoscope of colors that now stained her eyes, bleeding together and making her lose sight of that familiar, comforting dark blue. 

She hated that she was so different now, that she couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror without seeing someone else staring back. What was with the streak of black that had worked its way into her once-pure white hair? 

Why was she like this? Why did everything feel like it was slipping out of her control?

Maybe she was just born to be like this. Born to have so much love but no one left to give it to. So much emotion, yet none at all. It was a sick joke, wasn’t it? The world had given her everything, and yet, nothing at all.

Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like she was being torn in two, empty yet somehow overflowing with all the wrong things? What was the point of wanting more when she had already lost so much? What was the point of staying alive if she had no one to live for? 

What was the point of anything anymore?

Maybe she was being selfish. Maybe she was holding onto some fleeting hope. She still had things to do, still had to see Jinx and Vi one last time, still had to hold Viktor close, just once more, before she… Before she left them all behind. 

Maybe she needed to find something for herself in whatever darkness this world had become, or perhaps the next.

Maybe in another universe, she’d be different.

She blinked, pulled out of her thoughts as Silco’s voice pierced through the fog. “My dear,” He said, standing up slowly, his gloved fingers tilting Y/N’s face up so she could meet his eyes, “I believe that Singed has told you you can finally see her.”

Y/N nodded, standing up shakily, as if the very air around her was made of something heavier than it should be. She looked up, and that was when she saw it— her eyes, no longer the pale blue they used to be, were now a neon pink, glowing with a manic intensity. 

Veins crawled up her neck and arms like blackened rivers, pulsing with an unnatural energy. She widened her eyes, struggling to process what was happening to her, but the answer never came.

“Oh my god…” Y/N whimpered, her voice breaking as she placed her hand gently on Jinx’s body. “Jinx… What has he done to you?” Her words were barely a whisper, lost in the heavy, charged air.

Time itself seemed to freeze, and then it shattered, like glass breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Oh, Jinx…” Y/N’s voice cracked as her eyes filled with tears. “What happened…” Her hands trembled as the rings on her fingers crackled with electric energy, runes etched into her skin glowing with a fierce blue light. “I was supposed to protect you, why didn’t I protect you?”

“You’re not a jinx, but I’ll call you that if you want,” Y/N whispered through her tears, “And you’ll always be my Bluejay…” 

The words felt like a promise, even though she didn’t know if she could keep it.

“You’ll always be in my heart. And I know you’re going to be upset, angry, and sad about what I’m about to do. I know you won’t understand and I know I promised you but this is something I have to do.”

“Everyone says they’re sorry. But you’ll never know if they truly mean it.” Y/N paused. “Let me be the first to truly say it. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me.”

“And I’m sorry for doing this.” She wiped away a tear, and then she vanished, as if she had never existed, her presence flickering like a dying flame. The air hummed, leaving only the faintest buzz behind, like the aftermath of something great and terrible that had passed.

_____________________________________________________

Was it selfish of her to want to say one last goodbye to Topside before she left this world? Undeniably, yes. Did she do it anyway? Without a second thought.

Because that was who Y/N was. A walking contradiction of selfishness and selflessness. How could someone who always seemed to put others first still be driven by such deeply personal desires? Perhaps that was the nature of love itself, a contradiction that was both a weakness and a strength.

She thought about Viktor as she moved through the city, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. How could she love someone so deeply and yet hold resentment for the choices he had made? How could she adore the quiet brilliance of his mind while despising the ambition that had taken him away from her? 

It was infuriating, and yet… She still loved him. That was love, wasn’t it? A contradiction she could never quite resolve.

And it wasn’t the only one.

She hated blood and dirt, the stains they left, the weight they carried. Yet her hands were steeped in both. Blood she had spilled and dirt she had trudged through. She had become an expert in taking lives even as she hated the act itself. Another contradiction.

Then there was Vi, her dear friend and sister in arms. Vi loved Powder, that much was clear, but she hated Jinx. Or at least, she said she did. But how could you love one and hate the other when they were the same person, the barriers between them bleeding together until it wasn’t all black and white.

Wasn’t that the cruelest contradiction of all? 

Y/N thought about how Vi had left Jinx, claiming it was out of love, but hadn’t she also promised she never would? Love and betrayal, loyalty and abandonment, how could they exist side by side? It wasn’t just a contradiction; it was selfish.

And Y/N was no different.

As she flickered in and out of reality, phasing past the guards and the walls as though they weren’t even there, she felt the shimmer and arcane coursing through her veins. 

Somehow, they harmonized within her, turning her into something new, something unstable. She moved like a shadow, slipping between people unnoticed, her presence more a suggestion than a fact.

‘Is it so selfish when you’ve never had anything you’ve wanted before?’ A voice echoed in her mind, soft and serpentine, wrapping around her thoughts like a vine.

“No, it isn’t,” Y/N whispered, her lips barely moving. The glow reflected in her kaleidoscopic eyes, a strange smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Glorious evolution… It sounds so familiar… Yet so new. The end of the beginning.”

‘Yes…’ the voice replied, a note of satisfaction in its tone.

“Hm.” Y/N let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost foreign to her ears. “I’m glad you agree with me.” She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on the swirling energy. “But… There’s still one person I want to see. I haven’t kept many of my promises in this life. So I cannot promise that I will join you… But, thank you.”

The arcane pulsed as if in response, a silent acknowledgment, before she turned her attention to the window. 

Outside, the blood moon hung low in the sky, its crimson light casting an ominous glow over the city. The world felt on the brink of collapse, yet in this moment, it was eerily still. 

She didn’t know why she was here, there was no point when she’d be gone anyways. No point when she was going to die, but it gave her a sense of comfort. Her mom always wanted to be a councilwoman, helping not only Piltover but Zaun as well… 

“Viktor, my love…” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling as she stared into the night. Her fingers traced the glass as though trying to reach him through the distance that separated them. “How do you do it? How do you keep moving forward when everything is falling apart?”

She closed her eyes, letting the weight of her emotions wash over her. Her love for him, her hatred for the world, her frustration with herself. All of it swirled together in a storm that threatened to consume her. Yet, even in the chaos, there was a quiet.

Because no matter how selfish her actions might seem, they were born from a love so fierce that it defied everything. And that was a contradiction she was willing to embrace.

“Where are you going?” Powder tugged on Y/N’s shirt, her curious blue eyes glinting under the dim light.

“I’m going somewhere special.” Y/N looked up at the red sky. “Goodbye, Bluejay.”

taglist: @night-fall-moon @cyberwears @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[alluringnectar]

Timeless

abby anserson x fem!reader

a/n: idk how to use tumblr so my fault the layout is ass, i’ll improve lemme cook 😭🙏🏽. ts work is a repost, so its crappy. lmk if yu want smut cus i’ll write it.

summary: you’ve been promoted & you come across abby.

warnings: sfw, js shit talking.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

Beep beep.

You groan, not ready to get up. Your hands fumble for the alarm clock, pressing every button your fingertips graze.

Beep beep!

How the hell is it still sounding? You ask yourself, finally lifting your head from the pillow to check the time.

6:43 am.

Shit.

You're usually awake and ready by this time, but yesterday you were out partying with your friends. Your recent promotion within the W.L.F. had warranted a night of revelry, but now the consequences were clear: a foggy mind and a rush to start the day. You had gained new perks from Isaac himself. Your friends thought this was deserving of a celebration, so they invited everyone from the W.L.F. You didn’t hate partying, but you preferred just hanging out with your friends. Among others, you were considered friendly, which was the truth— but you did like some time alone as patrols really tired you out.

Today was about clearing your clouded mind from worries, just living in the moment! Last night was one of the best nights you had in a while; you got to meet great people. You met a man named Manny; he was playful and divertido, a trait you admired. He was happy to introduce you to his other friends as they were going to be your new partners for patrols. A couple, Owen and Mel, came forward to greet you. “Your hair is so healthy and silky! I’d do anything for long hair like yours!” Mel smiled, and you grinned, thanking her.

You’ve always prioritized your looks and emphasized the importance of being well-groomed. You loved makeup, pink, and putting bows in your long hair. It was what made you, you. You found comfort within femininity throughout the apocalypse and the battle against scars. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard something approaching Manny, Owen, Mel, and you. As soon as you looked up to see who it was, you couldn’t help but stare. Her hair was braided, wearing a tank top so you could see the density of her muscles. She had a calm demeanor, and you crossed your arms in a playful way. “Have I seen you before?” She smiled with her teeth, and you swear you could’ve folded right then and there. “No, you haven’t,” you felt your cheeks burn, giggling at the thought of her actually wanting to get to know you.

“Abby,” said the blonde woman. Abby. The name seemed to suit her. “Father’s joy,” you mumbled. “What?” Abby asked, genuinely curious. “That’s what Abby means,” you smiled warmly at her, waiting for a response. Abby chuckled; she raised her arm to rub your back. “What’s your name then?”

Before you could respond, Mel snapped, saying your name to Abby. You were confused by the abruptness of her answer. As you turned to look at Mel, she looked angry. Not at you. At Abby. Abby smiled softly and looked over at you, a look that you could forever hold in your heart. “I’ll see you around,” and with that, she walked away, heading towards another group with Manny, way more welcoming than Mel. At the corner of your eye, you saw the way Owen looked at Abby. He looked at her as if he had regrets, as if he lost something they had. You decided to shake it off, as it may only be your imagination. “What’s wrong, Mel?” you asked her, with genuine concern about why she's cold. She smiled at you softly and told you “Oh, it’s nothing. I just wanted to look out for a new friend. Abby is not someone you want to be hanging out with.” You hummed to yourself. You usually don’t believe what you hear, only what you see.

“She’s a shitty person.”

“She’s selfish.”

“She’s a liar.”

Despite Mel’s warnings, you still wanted to get to know Abby. Your desire to learn more about her grew. She sparked your curiosity, and the yearning blossomed.

After the night was over, you took your heels off and collapsed in your bed. You were excited about what new patrols you can take on tomorrow and who was going to be your partner. You ended up falling asleep, staring at the ceiling while Abby lingered in the back of your mind.

Now you were brushing your teeth, putting on a Lulu Define jacket, and tight flared black yoga pants. You put your hair in a slickback, put your sneakers on, and walked out the door. This was your first patrol after being promoted by Isaac. As you walked into the gym, you walked to the treadmills as your usual routine is cardio. Then you feel a hand placed on your shoulder; you turned your head back and it’s Abby. She smiles at you, and you smile back, blush tainting your cheeks. Abby parts her lips. “This outfit looks cute on you.”

“Thank you, Abby.” What Abby doesn’t know is that her compliment will be forever in your mind. Only within minutes talking to her - and only meeting her yesterday - she already makes you all giddy like a teenage girl in love. “Care to get some breakfast with me after you’re done with your cardio?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. “Of course, I will. Who would ever pass up that offer?” you giggle. Abby smirks at not just your reply, but at your giggle. She found you cute and amusing, but she was afraid Mel already said something to you. She didn’t want to mess up this chance— she couldn’t lose you when she never even had you. She’ll be careful and gentle even if it would take longer. Time will pass.

After 30 minutes, you considered yourself done for the day, as it was just a warm-up for the patrol later in the evening. You saw Abby sitting on the bench, wiping her sweat off the weights— she was thoughtful of others, and you kept that in mind. How could she ever be selfish? You walk up to her and tell her “Do you wanna go now?” Abby grins and says “I’d love to.”

Today’s menu was breakfast grilled cheese with Greek yogurt parfait- not bad! Since Abby has some perks, both of you got your meal pretty quickly and some good seats! “Have you seen the new patrol rotation?” Abby asks, and you shake your head “No actually, I was planning to check after the gym” you reply. “Maybe we can check together then. After this meal of course” she chuckles. Her smile is so cute, and you’d cross the whole world just to see it again. “You know, you’re not what I expected you to be.” Abby looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Mel said something didn’t she?” You sigh but nod, “I just think it’s funny how you’re the exact opposite of what she claimed for you to be. She’s sweet, but she was wrong about you. Don’t tell her but I think I’m starting to prefer you” you giggle, putting your fingers onto Abby’s lips as if to shush her. Abby was quiet alright, but not for the reason you’d think it would be. She’s thinking of your fingers gently touching her lips, leaning in for a kiss. Her thoughts are interrupted when you speak, “Do you wanna go check the board for patrols now?”

“Let’s go.” Abby stands up, pushes her chair back into the table and takes your hand— never roughly, as she’d never want to break you— fragility as a porcelain vase. Her calloused fingertips and palms, now holding your forearm, something that you’ll think about to help you sleep.

As you’re approaching the board, there’s a whole crowd of people, surrounding it. While some are content with their role and duo, others are muttering under their breath “fuck.” You can’t help but keep your fingers crossed that you’ll get Abby. As you and Abby kept shoving your way through, yelling “ ‘xcuse me!” you finally make your way to the front, and both of you immediately scan for your name. Then, you see it.

You and Abby. She seems to notice too, because she’s whispering “looks like you’re stuck with me for a little longer.” You giggle, lightly elbowing her playfully.

In reality, you'd prefer to be with her more than anyone else.

[spacerockfloater]

I am so displeased with Alicent’s character development, if you can even call it that.

Her taking her frustration out on Criston and slapping him because her grandchild died? Disturbing as hell, but I was willing to led it slide because she was grieving and it seemed like Cole understood that, too.

Her letting Gwayne insult the fuck out of Criston and be racist/ classist towards him without defending her lover in the slightest? The man who has no personal gain from all this shit-show and does it all for her sake? I was fucking livid. Tell me, whose loyalty is as fleeting as a moth’s again?

And then having the audacity to be angry with him for not standing up for her when she herself didn’t do the same for him? What is wrong with her!? Especially when Criston made a perfectly valid point: she doesn’t have the heart to do what must be done to win this war, which is crazy considering that she was fully ready to fight Rhaenyra to protect her children. The children she borderline hates now apparently (I can’t get over how much she suddenly disapproves of Aegon and Aemond this season), which would have been fine since they are her rapist’s children and all, but then why would you go to war and not be ready to do whatever it takes to win it? What do her and Rhaenyra think that they’re doing here? Did they plan on being the first pacifist war leaders in the history of the universe or what? Neither of the two act like women with motherly instincts or humans with personal agendas to pursue. It’s as if all of the women in this show are competing for the fucking Nobel Peace Prize.

By the way, speaking of her and Rhaenyra, the parallel of them being women who are ignored by their council is so forced. Alicent never wanted to rule neither in the show or the book. In HOTD she supports her son’s claim to save her family from Rhaenyra and her faction and in F&B she does it because she feels that the law is on her son’s side and he deserves the throne. She NEVER does it for herself or because she thinks women shouldn’t rule. Never out of selfishness or misogyny. So where the fuck did this “parallel” come from? It’s so infuriating.

I understand this is not completely her fault. I think her character peaked in S1 E9 and the producers saw how justified her actions were and how sympathetic she is (even Emma D’Arcy said they are on her side) that they decided to knock her down a peg, because God forbid the Greens have anything good going on for them! Let’s make them all hate one another! She’s slowly regressing back to herself from the first half of S1, because the determined mother and queen that was ready to win at all costs is no longer there.

As someone who has spent countless hours of my life defending and praising her, I am so saddened by her behaviour this season. I know this is Ryan’s tactic to make us hate the Targtowers, but nonetheless it is show canon and I feel the need to be fair and hold her accountable for it.