#i hope this was okay!!!! and what you had in mind!! i had to change the dialogue a lil bit to make it sound more remy to me i dunno

[tthoroughfare]

happiest season // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the gang's all back together for christmas! no matter how hectic life gets, you always make time for your end of year outing.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader ft. jesse and dina

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw. ellie fucking sucks at ice skating

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.1k

this fic is a part two to this blurb! i loved writing the dynamic so much i had to continue it... there will be more coming trust. *dutch voice* i have a plan. also i don't even like xmas that much so i have no idea where this came from. just felt right. i hope you all enjoy, and have an amazing festive period with your loved ones <3

gift bag in hand, you wander into the restaurant. there’s cheesy christmas music drifting through the speakers, a tree in the corner, lights everywhere; you immediately spot jesse and dina, the latter waving at you as soon as you enter.

“hey!” she greets when you walk up, standing to put her arms around you. “how are you?”

“good, good,” you reply, one-handedly returning her embrace before leaning down to give jesse a quick hug. “you?”

“good. i mean, life is fucking killing me in general, but y’know.” she sits back down, watching as you place your belongings to the side and shuffle your chair in. “where’s ellie?”

you shrug. “no idea, i haven’t talked to her today. probably isn’t even on her way yet.”

“most likely,” jesse adds, smirking.

“has anyone texted her?” you ask, looking between the two of them.

the couple share a glance, wordlessly confirming before looking back at you.

“uh… no,” jesse states.

“dude.”

you pull your phone out, knowing all too well what ellie’s like. even if she knows she has to be somewhere, she’ll stay up way too late; and if no-one gets in touch with her in the morning, she won’t be up and ready for it.

selecting her contact and calling her, you press your phone to your ear. she surprisingly answers after two rings, clearly walking down the street, wind whipping past the microphone.

“hello?”

“just checking you’re awake.”

“uh, okay, sorry, i’m literally… like, ‘round the corner.”

“hurry up, ‘cause the manager says if all members of the party aren’t here in five minutes we’re getting kicked out,” you deadpan, casting a smirk at your friends.

“very funny.”

you automatically turn your head when you hear the door open, both through your phone and behind you. ellie bustles through it, phone between her ear and shoulder, waving with her free hand before ending the call. she heads over to the table, taking the empty seat beside you. dina looks on, giving her an exaggerated offended stare.

“uh, the fuck, do i not get a hug?”

ellie rolls her eyes with a small smile, gesturing her over. “come here.”

dina happily totters over, leaning over ellie’s chair and wrapping her arms around her shoulders from behind. ellie shifts her hand, giving her forearm a few pats before she pulls away.

“happy?”

“yup.” dina sits back down, budging her chair in before clapping her hands together lightly. “okay. gifts before or after food?”

ellie scoffs lightly at her impatience. “i literally just got here.”

“you want everyone to say before, 'cause you want yours now,” jesse comments fondly, leaning an elbow on the table.

“… correct. but i really don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do.”

“i don’t mind. we can do it now,” you add.

dina’s eyes flit between each of you mischievously. “can we do it now?”

“let’s do it now,” you confirm with a chuckle, leaning forward and pointing your hand at dina. “you first — your idea.”

she grins, reaching to pick up her gift bag and holding it out to ellie. “i got you.”

ellie takes it from her, smirking lightly as she takes out the tissue paper on top. her expression changes when she sees the first item, eyebrows scrunching and letting out a drawn-out scoff. “bro, what the fuck?”

dina laughs knowingly.

“what is it?” jesse questions, chuckling lightly. she just holds it up in reply, pivoting it back and forth so you can all see, avoiding eye contact with you. it’s a hot pink bullet vibrator.

“y’know… ‘cause you’re gay and stuff,” dina jovially explains, holding her hands up in gesture. ellie just stares at her, blinking slowly and holding back a laugh. “ladies’ll love it.”

“what ladies?” jesse remarks quietly, earning himself a light-hearted tap from ellie’s shoe under the table.

“anyway…” ellie gingerly sets the box down on the table, digging back through the bag. “thank you for that, dina.”

the rest of the gifts are sweet; she’d gotten her a dinosaur mug, her favorite chips, and a band tee. she holds them up in turn for you all to look at, placing everything back in when she’s done and thanking dina.

dina nods in acknowledgement, smiling warmly. you all look at ellie expectantly, who settles into her chair holding a clueless expression on her face.

“it’s your turn,” jesse reminds her after a moment of silence.

“oh, shit, yeah.” she sits back up, picking up her gift bag from the floor and passing it over to you, dragging the action out in amplified suspense. you grin, taking it from her gently. “thank you.”

dipping your hand in, you take out the first item. it’s your favorite scent of candle, one you always had on in your room. you’d never mentioned anything about it to her, but ellie was like that. always quietly noticing.

there’s another, bigger item in there, too. you pull it out the wrong way, turning it around to get a look; it’s a framed painting of your favorite musician.

“oh my god, this is awesome!” you say, looking at ellie. “where did you get this?”

“uh, i didn’t…” she trails off softly, looking down at her hands for a moment. “i made it.”

your eyebrows raise, smile widening. “no fucking way. you painted this?”

there’s a small, coy smile on her face as she nods. “… you like it?”

“you serious? i love it, this is like the coolest thing ever.” you look back at the painting, studying the fine details; it looks like it took her a good while. “thank you so much.”

“wait, i wanna see!” dina chimes in, reaching over the table for it.

jesse leans in as you pass it over, peering over her shoulder. “woah… this is good, ellie. why the hell weren’t you my secret santa?”

ellie tuts playfully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “you’d have gotten coal.”

the rest of the gift exchange goes ahead, temporarily halted by the waiter coming to take your orders. you got dina; dina got jesse. 

the secret santa was a silly tradition you’d upheld over the years. one that became more precious when you left high school, and you and ellie got into a different college as the other two. you still saw each other wherever possible, and had a group chat that was active daily; still, it was hard being away from your closest childhood friends. you found yourself missing just being able to text dina to come pick you up, getting drive-thru and talking shit in her car until the early hours.

every year when you were all home for christmas, you made a point of meeting up. while normally all busy with your own plans, no matter what, you’d always clear your schedule for at least one day.

after the meal, dina announces that she’s booked ice skating — to which ellie lets out a groan.

“why?” she complains, drawing the word out. “you know i’m horrible at it.”

“yeah, why do you think i made the reservation?” dina counters teasingly. ellie just gives her a look.

when you get down there, in the middle of lacing up your skates, ellie flops down next to you to put hers on and lets out a dramatic sigh.

you cast her a sideways glance, smirking fondly. “oh, shut up, it’ll be fun.”

“you don’t understand, i fucking suck.”

“get a penguin,” you respond, chuckling as you finish up, leaning back to wait for her.

she lets out a laugh. “no… embarrassing.”

“plenty of people have them.” you gesture out to the rink.

“yeah, they’re all ten and under.”

rolling your eyes, you train your gaze on dina already out there. she whizzes past fairly gracefully, dragging jesse along. “hold dina’s hand, she’s pretty good.”

“no, she goes too fast. i’d end up eating shit.”

“i think that’s gonna happen either way.”

she sighs lightly, pulling a dejected face as she finishes tying her laces. going to stand, you offer a hand to haul her up, keeping hold of it as you both dodder over to the edge of the rink.

you get on first, a little unsteady; you’re passable at skating, at best. ellie hesitantly places a first foot onto the ice, free hand clinging onto the side as she ungracefully enters fully. one of the skates almost goes out from under her and catapults her flying into the barrier; it nearly takes you out, too, sending you off balance.

failing to hold back from laughing at her, you give her hand a squeeze. “ellie, oh my god.”

“i fuckin’ told you!”

“look, you’ll be fine, just hold onto the side and i’ll, like… drag you.”

“real elegant.”

you raise an eyebrow, jutting your neck slightly forward in gesture. “rather fend for yourself?”

she pauses, sheepishly looking to the left, then back at you. “… no.”

“come on, then.”

it goes about how you expected, moving along at a snail’s pace, ellie practically white-knuckling the barrier. by the time you’ve gotten to the other side of the rink, dina and jesse have passed you twice; on the first, teasingly cackling at you, on the second, calling out, ‘losers’.

you pat ellie’s arm in jest, giggling at the exclamation. “don’t listen to them, they’re mean.”

not long after, you actually come up behind two people slower than you; a young boy and a grandma, trailing around the edge of the rink hand-in-hand. you deal with it for a few minutes, but the thought of being stuck behind them the whole time proves too irritating.

“we’re gonna pass these people,” you mutter to ellie, leaning in. “you’re gonna have to let go, and—“

she cuts you off, shaking her head vehemently. “no, no, no. dude, i can’t.”

“you gotta. literally just let go for like, two seconds, hold onto me while we go around. it’s chill.”

you were wrong — it was not, in fact, chill. essentially the second ellie lets go of the barrier, she panics and wobbles. that, in turn, makes her panic even more, and she completely loses her footing. calling out your name in comical distress, she goes down in a heap, automatically grasping onto the back of your jacket and bringing you down with her.

you crack up after the shock of hitting frigid, wet ice wears off. it seeps through your sleeves and jeans, goosebumps forming. “ellie, what the fuck?”

“i’m sorry,” she laughs along, sitting up and flicking the moisture off of her hands. “i’m so sorry.”

you manage to get over to the side and hoist yourself up. whilst you’re in the process of attempting to get ellie on her feet without being yanked back down, jesse and dina fly past again, cheering dramatically at the sight.

ellie turns to flip them off; the motion destabilizes her, and she topples and lands flat on her ass all over again.

later, when you’ve all hugged and parted ways, you’re in your childhood bedroom winding down when you receive a series of texts from her.

you head over to the corner of your room where you’d dropped your stuff on entry, taking your gifts out of the bag and rechecking. camouflaged against the interior, flat against the bottom, there’s a small envelope addressed to you.

opening it and taking out the folded paper, you can’t hold back from smiling. it’s a letter, decorated with silly stickers.

i just wanted to write you a letter to let you know how much i appreciate you :) i am very lucky to have you in my life and i always look forward to spending time with you even if we’re just hanging out in each other’s rooms and rotting. 

i kinda struggle with getting to know people (woah shock) and when i first moved i was so fucking worried i was gonna literally have no friends LOL. but right from the beginning you, jesse and dina made it so easy. don’t tell them this because i'll never hear the end of it, but it was mainly you. you were always going out of your way to talk to me and include me and stuff, and it meant a lot. and at risk of sounding super weird as soon as i saw you, i knew you were going to be an important person to me. 

back in school when we were applying to college, honestly i was scared that you were going to end up going somewhere different to me. like to the point i wouldn’t be able to sleep some nights because i’d just be up thinking about it. anyway, i’m so glad it all worked out. wouldn’t wanna do this shit with anyone else <3

love you always

ellie

heading back over to your bed to grab your phone, you text her again, letter sitting at the side of you.

[dotthings]

Legit reasons why people expected a more satisfying conclusion to spn:

Dean’s long arc telegraphing a movement toward hope. He went from fatalistically believing the only happy ending he could ever get was Sam living a long life while Dean was doomed to die bloody and too soon to believing he could have his own happy ending too with toes in the sand and his closest people there (not just Sam).

Previous experience with spn’s powerful and effective and fuller storytelling

The fact that Dean deserved better than that rebar death at the hand of low budget vampmimes. Dean is the character most short-changed by the ending. People who care are not the ones out of line who don’t comprehend spn.

The fact that Sam deserved better than having every single arc he ever had dropped like a hot potato and all he got was a bad party city wig

The fact that Cas deseved better than to be shut out of the series finale after 12 seasons of being key to all the major mytharc plots and a crucial found family character close to Sam and Dean, especially dear to Dean.

The fact that spn wrote, right into the story, Chuck smirking and pleased about his unsatisfying, miserable, bleak ending while Becky denounced and analyzed why that wouldn’t work narratively and why fans would find it unsatisfying

The found family theme on spn which has been there the entire time and deserved better than to be vanished.

The fact of a global pandemic that screwed up filming of the series finale until all that was left was scraps of the full intention. We’re trying to grade an incomplete. People’s feelings about the finale are valid but otoh, it’s also trying to analyze it is like trying to infer from scraps of parchment what the whole text was about. Personally, I’ve come around to writing it off as an abberation and not forgetting all the good spn gave me along the way. spn deserves a second chance to tell a better ending.

The fact that stories do, in fact, have an obligation to create fulfilling, satisfying endings and people are in their right to object when this obligation fails. This doesn’t mean endings must be free of tragedy or bittersweet notes.

Actually, no, this is not about Sam and Dean and Cas move to the burbs, spec about endings that fall outside of likelihood and spn’s purview and that disregard the actual metaphysical systems the canon always had in place are a distraction. Unfortunately some people weaponized that and used it to start another war, full of their own low media literacy takes and arrogance, shaming others for a legitimate yearning for a more satisfying ending.

This is about spn fulfilling its story promises in a more satisfying way than the aired finale, within the genre and framework spn occupied.

spn was never the style of narrative that was about hopelessness, it was about hope.

It was Campbellian and heroic. spn being about monster hunting doesn’t mean it has no obligations to a fulfilling, satisfying ending that offers some comfort. Stories inspire people.

You can’t have it both ways. When fans keep talking about how spn helps give them hope and inspires them, you don’t turn around and start playing “it’s just fiction so it’s okay if the ending was unsatisfying to most of the fanbase.” You either respect the meaning the story has to people personally or you don’t. Make up your mind if you think the story matters or it doesn’t.

A majority of the fandom was left screwed over, and the people who keep insisting it’s perfect and that anyone who finds it unsatisfying is a Bad Fan keep on demonstrating their disdain for Dean, their ignorance and disregard for spn’s great overall themes, and their narrow-mindedness about spn. I’m not here to be the joy police, I could care less if they enjoyed the series finale, but the actual problem here is the continued aggression, shaming, attempts to stifle all dissent, and demanding universal acceptance of the series finale as “satisfying” via utterly fallacious arguments. They love to troll about it and crave drama because the unhappiness of other lanes pleases this minority who keeps banging on to claim they’re Everyone and all “Normal” fans.

Imagine being that far gone that you think anyone who craves a satisfying ending for a series so many fans are so deeply emotionally attached to after 15 seasons is a freak.

*raises glass* Onward to the future. Here’s to a more satisfying conclusion having its chance to get told in the revival.

[cece693]

Hello! Could you write something about how Hannibal(Hannibal NBC) fell in love with a reader(preferably male, but female is okay too!)who is also a surgeon? Perhaps they could cross paths while working on the investigation of one of the cases? And what if the reader is cold, distant and paranoid, the one who keeps everyone at arm's length. I just absolutely LOVE this parallel between Hannibal and Franklin, because Hannibal would probably be "the Franklin" in this situation. It's okay if you're uncomfortable or don't want to write it! Have a nice day!🌸🌸🌸

Give Me Attention (Hannibal Lecter x M! Reader)

Hi, I absolutely love the request because it strays so far from what Hannibal is (and believe me, I did take advantage to write a needy and pathetic Hannibal who's down for the reader.) So this might not be the most realistic but it's fun! Hope you enjoy it.

tags: down bad Hannibal, Hannibal finds reader endearing, even if they're rude, open ending??

You always prided yourself on your surgical precision, the clean lines of your incisions, the careful stitching that spoke of a quiet dedication to your craft. But the work before you now—the dissected realities of crime scenes rather than the sanitized sterility of an operating room—was a grotesque mockery of your life’s work. When Jack Crawford had approached you, his eyes weary and voice heavy with unspoken desperation, you had felt compelled to help, drawn in by the promise of stopping a monster. Little did you know, you’d be working alongside one.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was an enigma wrapped in a facade of impeccable suits and polite smiles. From the moment you met, his gaze lingered too long, his questions probing too deeply. You wanted a professional relationship, nothing more. Yet, Hannibal seemed determined to weave himself into the very fabric of your life.

“Dr. Lecter, I appreciate your insights, but I'm quite capable of drawing my own conclusions,” you said, after he had offered yet another piercing analysis of a body you were examining. Your tone was polite but distant, an invisible barrier you continually reinforced.

“Of course, my apologies. I find our collaboration most enlightening,” Hannibal responded, his voice smooth, betraying no hint of offense. “Perhaps we could discuss our theories over dinner? I believe a change of scenery could prove invigorating.”

You paused, the scalpel in your hand hovering above cold flesh. “That won’t be necessary, Doctor. I prefer to keep my work at work.” You didn’t miss the brief shadow that crossed his face before his polite smile returned.

“As you wish.”

Despite your refusals, Hannibal’s attempts at friendship only escalated. It started with chance encounters. You’d see him at the coffee shop where you grabbed your morning espresso, a polite nod exchanged, nothing more. Then it was the bookstore you frequented on quiet Sundays, Hannibal browsing the aisles, a thoughtful expression as he picked through titles you’d just glanced at minutes before.

But it wasn’t just public spaces. It was recommendations left on your desk, notes about books or wines he thought you’d enjoy, reservations made at restaurants you’d mentioned offhandedly during meetings. It was becoming too much, his presence too suffocating.

One evening, as you were leaving Quantico, you found him waiting by your car. The parking lot was nearly empty, the streetlights casting long shadows. “Dr. Lecter, this is becoming inappropriate,” you said, your tone sharper than before.

“My intentions are purely of a friendly nature,” he explained, stepping closer. “I find your mind fascinating. It’s not often I meet someone whose intellect I admire as much.”

“You need to stop this,” you insisted. “Whatever you think is happening between us, it isn’t. I'm not interested in becoming your friend nor do I find you interesting. Now, leave me alone." You hissed, unlocking your car and sliding inside before he could respond.

Hannibal stood silently, the sharp sting of your words cutting through the cold air between you. He watched as you slid into your car, his expression unreadable, a mask of calm painted over the tumult inside him. For a moment, he remained motionless, the weight of rejection settling heavily on his shoulders.

As your car's headlights flickered on, casting long shadows on the pavement, Hannibal's thoughts churned. Rejection was an unfamiliar and unwelcome guest in his life, one he was not prepared to entertain graciously. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched you drive away, the tail lights blurring into the growing dusk.

In the solitude of the empty parking lot, Hannibal allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. "Not interested," the words echoed in his mind, a stark contrast to the usual praises and desires he elicited in others. His interest in you had been genuine, profound even, transcending the usual boundaries that defined his relationships. You were a challenge, a riddle wrapped in the enigma of your own moral and professional fortitude, and he had failed to unravel you.

Turning slowly, Hannibal walked back to his own vehicle, his steps measured, the grace of his movements belying the turmoil within. As he drove home, the streets empty and bathed in the glow of streetlights, he contemplated your words.

"Leave me alone." The finality of it should have been a deterrent, a clear signal to cease and desist. But Hannibal Lecter was not a man deterred by the conventional responses of others. To him, every human interaction was a complex dance of wills and desires, and he was a master choreographer.

In the quiet of his kitchen, Hannibal poured himself a glass of Chianti, the rich red liquid swirling in the glass, a dark mirror to his thoughts. He pondered the nuances of your rejection, searching for a sliver of meaning or a crack in your armor. Was there truly no interest? Or was it a defense mechanism, a wall built to keep the world—and perhaps him—decidedly out?

"You do find me interesting," he murmured to himself, the words a whisper against the clink of the glass. "You must. The mind like yours cannot help but be intrigued by the anomalies of human behavior, and I," he paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "am certainly an anomaly."

Resolved, Hannibal set his glass down. Your rejection, while clear and stinging, was but another layer of the complexity that made you so fascinating. He would give you space, for now, to contemplate and perhaps to miss the dance of intellects that had begun to form between you. Patience, after all, was a virtue he possessed in abundance.

Tomorrow, Hannibal would return to Quantico, his demeanor unchanged, polite and professional. He would respect your wishes, maintaining a distance. But he would watch, and wait, and perhaps, in time, you would see that the dance was far from over. The game, as they say, was afoot, and Hannibal Lecter was never one to walk away from a challenge, especially not one as intriguing as you.

[choerypetal]

Home. / Steve Harrington

summary: Once you became Billy's partner, you always knew you'd face the grief of his passing. But with your curse tied to Vecna, enduring those dark times felt even heavier. Unexpectedly, Steve stepped in, becoming a source of solace and shelter for both you and your fractured heart.

ps; english isn't my first language so i truly apologize for some grammar errors or syntax in play. enjoy!

Seeing Billy’s lifeless body at Starcourt Mall was the cruel finale to it all.

An enemy, a friend, and finally a lover—your relationship with Billy had always puzzled those around you, Steve included. Maxine could hardly fathom how her brother and you had ended up together. It was like a cliché from a romance story, and Billy had no qualms about flaunting it, much to the disgust of those who couldn’t stomach your connection.

But amidst the chaos, something beautiful had blossomed. Until the moment of Billy’s last breath—leaving you adrift, unable to find solace or sanity in his absence.

You were certain Vecna wouldn’t come for you—or so you hoped after witnessing Billy’s transformation into something whole and purified. Yet, during those days, you and Billy had grown distant. His job at the Hawkins pool didn’t help; his good looks naturally drew attention, stirring a mix of unease and concern within you. Deep down, you worried about his health—and you had every reason to.

Today marked the first anniversary of his death. Maxine had invited you to visit his grave that morning. The dark circles under your eyes betrayed the restless night you’d had, while your messy hair and the way your fingers clung tightly to Billy’s jacket spoke volumes.

Steve and the others were invited to come along. Since the cemetery was hours away from Hawkins, walking wasn’t an option, and Steve had offered to drive everyone. It wasn’t just for Maxine, or even to pay respect to Billy, despite the fact that Steve had never forgiven him for being an unapologetic jerk. Steve did it, above all, for you.

Steve had seen the changes in you—how you had transformed after being cursed by Vecna. Your body was different, your voice carried a detached tone, and a numbness seemed to cling to you. Neither of you could figure out how to mend what was broken. In his concern, Steve even asked Robin to check in on you once, though you refused her presence. He wasn’t surprised but had hoped for some flicker of the person you used to be. Yet, those glimpses weren’t enough for him. He needed more—needed to hold you, to wrap you in his arms and assure you that you could trust him.

But trust was a fragile thing, especially when you were already struggling with feelings for someone new.

You appreciated Steve’s efforts. From the cookies he brought for Maxine and Susan, courtesy of his mother, to his insistence on staying overnight just to make sure you were okay. It was on one of those nights—one where sleep seemed like an impossible luxury—that his presence felt especially grounding.

The nightmares, however, refused to be silenced. “Y/N...” Billy’s voice echoed endlessly in your mind, haunting you. There were moments you convinced yourself he wasn’t truly gone, that he was somehow alive. And in your mind, he was—always there, just out of reach.

“Y/N…” His voice kept calling you. No, you weren’t going to fall for it. Not this time.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open, your back jolting upright from the sudden shock. As your breathing steadied, you realized it wasn’t him—it was your mother. She stood at the edge of your bed, her expression etched with concern. A sigh escaped your lips as you placed a hand over your chest, grounding yourself in the reality that it had all been just another nightmare.

“Yes, Mother? What’s the urgency?” you asked groggily, a yawn escaping as you rubbed at your tired eyes. “It’s only…” Your gaze flickered to the clock. “8:00 AM on a Saturday?”

Your mother chuckled softly at your confusion, a hint of amusement in her calm demeanor. Yet there was something more, something hopeful in her expression. “Silly, your father and I are going out for dinner tonight to celebrate our anniversary. You’ll be okay on your own, won’t you? I know things haven’t been the easiest…”

The mention of it—a veiled reference to everything you’d been through—stung, but you masked it with a small, practiced smile. “Of course, don’t worry. I’ll lock the doors and—”

But that wasn’t what she meant, and you both knew it. Her smile faded, replaced by a gentle seriousness. “You know what I mean, sweetie,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed. You lowered your gaze to your hands, fingers nervously picking at each other. A silent sigh escaped your lips. You understood her concern—it was impossible to ignore.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” 

Clearly, you weren’t okay, but it was the only way you knew how to cope. As the hours passed, you found solace in the pages of a good book, letting the world around you blur into the background.

Then came a knock at the door.

You hesitated, debating whether you should even bother answering. Deep down, you hoped it was just the postman with a routine delivery. But the knock came again, a little more insistent this time. “Coming!” you called out, irritation slipping into your tone as you set the book aside on your mattress and got up. Descending the stairs, you heard another knock, louder and more impatient.

“Coming! Geez,” you muttered under your breath, annoyance growing as you reached for the doorknob. Whoever thought it was appropriate to knock this insistently at this hour had better have a damn good reason, you thought. When you finally swung the door open, Steve’s silhouette greeted you, framed by the golden rays of the early morning sun. He stood there, a tray of familiar cookies balanced in his arms, a sheepish grin tugging at his face.

“Took you long enough,” he teased lightly.

“You better have a good reason for dragging me out of bed at...” you trailed off, leaning back to glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “At 9:00 AM? Not that I don’t appreciate your—”

“Just wanted to bring these cookies,” Steve said, the lie hanging in the air. It wasn’t convincing—because, of course, Steve didn’t just show up with cookies for no reason. Especially not when you could have been peacefully reading your book. But he didn’t seem to care about the timing, and your unconvinced expression only deepened his hesitation.

“Fine,” he relented, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t come over just for the cookies. But…” His words trailed off as he struggled to find the right way to explain. Finally, he continued, “I overheard your mom talking to mine this morning while I was giving Dustin a ride to the arcade. I couldn’t—”

You sighed, cutting him off as realization dawned on you. Of course your mother had called Steve’s mother. Not only were they neighbors, living just a few blocks apart, but they’d also been close friends since high school. A good mother had every right to worry, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Gently, you took the tray from Steve’s hands, the weight of it grounding you in the moment. Without saying a word, you stepped aside, silently inviting him in. “Fine… I guess your presence doesn’t hurt anybody,” you said, your tone resigned.

Steve exhaled in relief, doing his best to mask how thrilled he felt at your approval. He couldn’t deny how glad he was to see you—even with everything you’d been through, even with the weight you carried.

As he followed you to your room, his gaze flickered over the space. He noticed them immediately: the remnants of Billy still lingering, tucked into corners, sitting on shelves, woven into your world. A jacket draped over a chair. A photo resting on your nightstand.

It was something you’d once explained to him—it was your way of coping. Billy had been a part of your life for nearly a year, a year in which you’d shared so much with him. Secrets. Fears. Dreams. You had been the only person Billy had trusted enough to tell about his father, about the real reason they moved to Hawkins, about why he acted the way he did. You had been his calm amidst the chaos, his anchor in a storm.

But now, what is home when the one you love is… gone?

“Loving the new David Bowie poster,” Steve remarked, trying to lighten the mood. You appreciated the attempt, but instead of responding, you buried yourself back into your book. Noticing this, he leaned forward, reaching toward it as if to snatch it from your hands.

“No, no, no reading, miss,” he teased, pulling his hand back with a grin.

Your lips formed a pout as you furrowed your brows in mock irritation. “I said you could stay here, but that doesn’t mean you get to do anything either,” you shot back, earning a scoff from him.

Arms now crossed, he slumped onto the corner of your bed with a dramatic sigh. “Then what am I supposed to do?” You glanced around the room before your lips curled into a smug smirk. Without a word, you tossed a book in his direction, and it landed squarely on his chest with a dull thud. The impact made him flinch, his eyes closing briefly in exaggerated pain.

“Shit, Y/N. A book? Really?” he grumbled, glaring at you as you chuckled at his expense.

“Books are a great way to learn things,” you retorted with a playful shrug. “Maybe you could figure out how to leave people alone when they want some peace.”

Steve’s glare deepened, his brows knitting together in mock annoyance. “Haha, very funny,” he muttered, his fingers brushing reluctantly over the pages. It was exactly the type of book he’d normally ignore—or toss aside entirely. Why read so many words on a page when you could just watch something instead?

Still, as he sat there, he noticed how engrossed you were in your own book, completely tuned out of his presence. Sighing, he realized he had no choice but to play along. He wasn’t about to leave, not now, and certainly not when he’d already figured out your little game. You glanced up toward Steve, hoping he might finally give up and leave. But to your surprise, you had to blink a few times to confirm what you were seeing. Steve was actually reading? He was completely fixated on the plot, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, a gasp escaped his mouth, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Hearing you, Steve glanced over with one brow arched. “What? Now you don’t want me to read?” he asked, feigning an almost-offended look and exaggerating it for effect. “I dare you to even mention to the kids—or my mom—that you made me read.” Another chuckle slipped from your lips. “Oh, Steve. Your secret is safe with me,” you replied with a teasing grin.

By the time evening rolled around, the two of you were both drained, the unexpected task of reading proving more exhausting than either of you expected. Steve let out a soft yawn, stretching his arms after hours of sitting still. At some point, without realizing it, you found yourself nestled in his arms. A soft snore escaped from his lips as he shifted slightly in his sleep, his grip tightening around you. You stirred awake, only to realize where you were—and more importantly, how close you were. Steve’s head was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Your cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink as you became acutely aware of the situation. “St-Steve…” you whispered, attempting to wiggle free from his hold.

But Steve, even in his sleep, seemed to have other plans. His grip refused to loosen, and you let out a flustered sigh, realizing he might be more aware than he appeared.

“No…” he murmured softly, his voice low and insistent. “I need you… Y/N.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. It was then you began to piece it all together—the reason for Steve’s frequent visits, his unwavering presence. The realization hit you like a wave: Steve had feelings for you, and somewhere along the way, you had grown feelings for him too.

Though he had always respected your relationship with Billy, there was something undeniable about the connection you shared with Steve. It was a quiet truth you couldn’t ignore—your heart had spoken, and it told you what you’d been too afraid to admit. That feeling of home you thought you’d lost? It was right here.

“Stay with me…” Steve mumbled in his half-asleep state, his words slurring slightly as he pressed a gentle, sleepy kiss to your neck.

Your lips curved into a soft smile as you whispered, “I will…”

“Forever.”

[fanficlolsblog]

UNHEALTHY OBSSESION

back to my main masterlist

pairing: yandere!jenna ortega x reader

summary: after a brief encounter with jenna ortega at a meet-and-greet, y/n is surprised to receive a follow request and a message from her. what starts as a seemingly innocent exchange soon spirals into a possessive obsession, with jenna constantly messaging, showing up unannounced, and isolating y/n from friends. as y/n tries to distance themselves, jenna’s behavior grows darker, her obsession tightening like a trap, until y/n realizes that escaping her hold might be impossible.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, stalking, emotional manipulation, psychological distress.

w/c: 1k+

you never thought much of celebrities. sure, you admired them from a distance, but you always told yourself they were just people, just names you’d heard. so when your friend dragged you to jenna ortega’s meet-and-greet, you felt out of place. she was beautiful, magnetic, but she was just a name on your friend’s lips, a face you knew from magazines.

that changed when you stepped up to meet her, the last in line. your friend had already gone ahead, gushing over the quick selfies she’d taken with jenna. you tried to keep your cool, gave her a polite smile, kept your distance. but when jenna looked at you, it was as if the whole room went silent. her gaze lingered, a little longer than it should, and you saw her eyebrows lift, just slightly.

“you seem… different,” she said, her voice soft, almost a murmur meant just for you.

you laughed nervously, shrugged it off. she held your gaze, eyes searching yours like she was trying to memorize your face. the brief exchange left you feeling strange—giddy but unsettled. it was probably nothing. you left, pushing the moment out of your mind as you rejoined your friend.

but that night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed. you glanced at it, frowning. a follow request on instagram—from jenna ortega.

your heart skipped. it had to be a joke, right? or maybe her team managing her account? but you hit accept, curiosity outweighing logic. almost immediately, a message popped up.

jenna: hi, y/n. i hope it’s okay i reached out. i… couldn’t stop thinking about you.

you blinked, staring at the message. it felt surreal, like a scene out of a movie. you hesitated, then typed a casual reply, something light, just to see if she was serious.

you: i didn’t expect you’d remember me.

jenna: i remember a lot about you.

from there, the messages kept coming. every day, multiple times a day, jenna reached out, asking about your life, your interests. she was kind, thoughtful, curious. her questions were endless—what was your favorite color? your favorite food? did you like to read? what was your dream vacation? the messages were warm, personal, and slowly, you felt yourself getting drawn in, almost hypnotized by her attention.

but things began to shift. her messages came faster, more insistent, like she needed to know where you were, who you were with. if you took too long to respond, she’d send another message.

jenna: you’re not ignoring me, are you?

you tried to laugh it off, tell yourself she was just lonely, maybe a little over-enthusiastic. but one evening, while you were out with friends, your phone buzzed.

jenna: i thought we agreed you’d tell me when you went out.

you frowned, fingers hovering over the screen. you hadn’t agreed to anything like that. but before you could type a response, another message popped up.

jenna: you don’t understand how much i care about you. you have no idea what it’s like, thinking about you all the time.

you typed a careful reply, trying to brush it off as a misunderstanding. but it was hard to ignore the chill creeping down your spine. things were moving too fast. she was everywhere—your notifications filled with her likes, your friends disappearing one by one, as if she’d somehow driven them away without a word.

then, one night, she showed up.

you were at your favorite coffee shop, the one you’d casually mentioned to her in passing, and she walked in like she belonged there. she didn’t look surprised to see you; if anything, she seemed pleased. she took the seat across from you, leaning forward, her fingers brushing against yours as she murmured, “i just wanted to see you.”

you tried to smile, tried to pretend it didn’t unnerve you, but her stare was intense, unblinking. she looked at you like you were the only person in the world, her fingers tapping idly on the table as she asked you about your day. every detail, every minute, like she needed to know it all.

from that day on, she’d show up without warning, always knowing where you’d be. and when you tried to confront her, her expression would shift—soft, almost hurt, like you’d wounded her.

“why are you acting like this, y/n?” she’d ask, voice trembling just slightly. “i’m just trying to keep you safe. you don’t understand how much you mean to me.”

you’d try to explain, tell her it was too much, but she’d look at you with those deep, unflinching eyes, and somehow, you’d find yourself apologizing, as if you were the one overreacting.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things at first—a book you’d mentioned, a necklace in your favorite color. but one night, you came home to find a box on your doorstep. inside was a single rose, delicate and freshly cut, and a handwritten note.

you have no idea what i’d do to keep you close, y/n. don’t push me away.

you tried to distance yourself, but jenna’s grip was tight, suffocating. she flooded your phone with messages, each one more desperate than the last, her words dripping with both devotion and a hint of menace. you stopped posting on social media, hoping it’d make her lose interest, but instead, she started showing up more often, as if your silence made her crave you more.

one night, you couldn’t take it anymore. you told her, face-to-face, that you needed space. she laughed, a soft, unsettling sound, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table between you.

“space?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “y/n, you’re all i think about. i go to sleep thinking of you, wake up dreaming of you. don’t you see? no one will ever care about you like i do.”

you swallowed, trying to hold her gaze without flinching. “jenna, this isn’t… normal.”

she tilted her head, her smile fading. “maybe normal doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her voice chillingly calm. “maybe it’s just you and me, and maybe that’s all that’s ever mattered.”

you stood up to leave, feeling her eyes follow you, the weight of her stare burning into your back. as you walked away, you heard her say, quietly but clear enough to make your blood run cold:

“you’ll come back to me, y/n. you always do.”

and as you stepped outside, feeling the night air prickle against your skin, you knew she wasn’t finished with you. this wouldn’t be the end.

[epickiya722]

So... 16 pages... I'm guessing each character gets 4 pages each?

My predictions for these bonus epilogues are...

Uraume might get a chapter focusing on how they met Sukuna and/or maybe their POV of after their death. Maybe a glimpse in the fight they had with Hakari.

Nobara probably reconnecting with Saori and/or Fumi. Personally, I hope to see her connect with both in Tokyo. Saori finds her and Fumi actually moving out that village.

Now, I'm surprised Panda is getting an epilogue, but I figured it's because he didn't get a lot of focus. Like, he was absent from the story in those last few arcs which makes sense given his status. I'm guessing for him, probably some more depth of his relationships he has with his siblings and Yaga and how he's mourning them. Maybe even Inumaki cameos given they're practically besties. And shocker, but also maybe something with Kusakabe given he felt indebted to Yaga.

Okay, Ozawa, I never thought we'd see her again. Something is telling me we'll get her meeting Yuji again. Last time she was in the story, she decided not to tell Yuji about her feelings since she didn't want him to like her for her looks. If she does meet with him, ooh... kind of hard to guess, but probably this time around she might get over her feelings? I'd like to see her come to loving herself. Maybe have a heart to heart with Yuji? And maybe Yuji tells her something about how she never had to change her looks because she was fine the way that she was before. She may even meet someone new and decide to start over because, this time, she got over her feelings for Yuji.

These are just guesses now!! Just predictions!! Don't take them to heart or anything.

Now, if you asked me who I wanted to see an epilogue on? Well, Nobara I think should have one and one on Uraume? Yeah, give me that.

Shoko, Ijichi and Utahime are three characters that come to mind. I would have liked to see more on how they're coping with the deaths that have happened. How is Shoko and Ijichi doing dealing with the deaths of Gojo and Yaga?

How is Utahime doing with two of her own students having died since the Shibuya arc?

Jumping from that, how is Ino doing dealing with Nanami's death? How about Todo? How is he doing after the death of two of his schoolmates?

Two other characters I would have loved to see get an epilogue are Inumaki and Miwa. Both of them were almost absent for the latter half even during the final fight with just small appearances. Even so, their time counted and really just left me wanting more for them. Inumaki, we really don't know a lot at all about him. I'd like to see his POV of things. Same for Miwa. For Noritoshi, we were able to get a happy ending with him being with his mother, stepfather and brother. What about Miwa and her brothers? And how is she dealing with the death of two of her schoolmates, one she had a close relationship with?

One more character l would have liked to get an epilogue for is Uro.

Listen, listen! I know she was just a character for the Culling Games Arc, but I would have liked to see how she's coping after everything. The last we saw of her was her alive. What happened to her?

Now, just my opinion! Just my thoughts.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie!Ghost Story (Chapter Ten)

Summary: Simon’s arms were impossibly tight around her, almost crushing her to his chest. Lelia didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to him as physically possible—would have crawled inside his ribcage and nestled next to his unbeating heart, if she could have. She knew she would be safe there. Simon always kept her safe. Word Count: 2972 Warnings: still no smut but Ghost does something a tad creepy (it's okay we still love him), flashback/descriptions of past non-con, extreme cuteness Notes: I hope you all enjoy getting this chapter a day early this week! I will be on a road trip starting tomorrow, so posting will not be possible. This chapter has one of my favorite scenes I've written for this fic, it's so sweet. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! AO3, Masterlist

It took them two more days to reach the village, and just in time. Snow had started falling an hour before, and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

The village appeared mostly untouched from what Ghost could see of it, and he was glad. That meant they’d be more likely to find supplies that his dove desperately needed. The final bottle of water was finished yesterday, the last time she’d eaten was at the river, when he’d managed to catch a fish for her while bathing. She was shaking like a leaf, too, the exposed skin of her face bright red from the cold.

Needing to get her warm immediately, Ghost shuffled her into the first house they saw. It was a small thing, only a little bigger than the cabin. Lelia practically collapsed on the couch in front of the unlit fireplace, looking between him and it hopefully as she shivered, her teeth chattering. Simon shook his head, letting out an apologetic grunt that made her face drop in the most horrible way. But he couldn’t risk lighting it before he’d cleared the village and made sure he wouldn’t be alerting anyone to their presence.

So instead, he helped her take off her soaked puffer jacket, replacing it with the thick quilt folded over the arm of the couch. He hung the jacket on a coat rack near the door, along with her hat, mittens, and jeans, which were heavy with melted snow. He placed his helmet and vest on the floor next to it, a habit he'd formed at his dove’s request. She said she wanted him to be more comfortable around her, but sometimes he thought seeing all the gear just brought up bad memories for her.

Next, he disappeared into the toilet, coming back with a fluffy towel. He kneeled down in front of Lelia, undoing her boots—his fingers had gotten much more dexterous with continued use, though he was still slow—and peeling off her wet socks. Her feet were red and irritated, but he let out a breath of relief when there were no signs of frostbite.

She’d asked him once why he still did that—breathing. He didn’t do it all the time, didn’t need to, but sometimes he let out a whoosh of air or inhaled sharply when the urge overtook him. He’d just given her a shrug. He didn’t really know—but it did hurt his pride a bit that little habits like that were harder to kill than he had been.

He wrapped the towel around her left foot and began to dry it—only to stop when Lelia nearly kicked him, letting out a shriek of laughter.

“S-sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Tickles.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, and he resumed drying her foot off, more carefully this time. She let out cute little giggles while squirming in place. He may have been more thorough than necessary, just to get her to the point where she was clutching her sides and gasping for breath, a wide grin on her face.

Damn it all, he wanted to kiss her.

When she finally wheezed out a plea for mercy, he stopped and sat back, just looking up at her admiringly for a long moment. He knew he shouldn't indulge the direction his thoughts were going, but he couldn't help it. She looked so fucking pretty, sitting above him, her chest still heaving from trying to catch her breath, a sweet smile on her face.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he started massaging her sore feet. She twitched again, looking down at him with playful suspicion. But when he didn’t start wiggling his fingers against the soles, she relaxed, fixing the blanket so it made a hood over her head and settling further into the couch.

She still giggled when he rubbed a particularly ticklish spot, but she let out soft sighs of contentment, too. Especially when his hands moved from her feet up to her calves. He didn’t slide them beneath her woolen stockings like he wanted to, knowing his ice cold fingers would only make her shiver more. But he massaged her through them, working on the tight muscles.

He stopped when he got to her knees, just the tips of his fingers brushing her thighs. He heard her heart rate pick up, and before he could pull away, he smelled it. Sweet and subtle and musky. She was aroused again.

He looked up at her as he began to drool. She was dozing, not quite asleep but not awake, either. He licked his teeth. He wanted to taste her so badly. And not her flesh this time, either. He'd had a whole buck just a couple of days ago—the virus’s instincts were satiated. No, the hunger he felt right now was all too human.

Before he could think better of it, Ghost nudged her thighs apart a little bit. He wasn't going to touch her, no matter how badly he wanted to. He just wanted to smell her a little better…

Watching her carefully, he leaned in until his nose brushed against the apex of her thighs from beneath his mask. She twitched, but didn't open her eyes. So he inhaled deeply—only to immediately let out a sound between a loud growl and moan, unable to stop himself.

“Simon?” His dove asked sleepily, squinting down at him. He pulled back, but not fast enough. She frowned at him, clearly confused, and rubbed her eyes, as if that might help her understand what she was seeing better. “What are you doing?”

Ghost had no bloody idea how to answer. Wouldn't have even if he could’ve talked. He didn't know how to explain what she’d caught him doing. That he wasn’t sniffing between her legs like a dog because he wanted to eat her—at least not in the way a zombie should. He thought she would be more understanding if that were the case. If it had been him almost giving into the virus, and not just him being a perverted old man creeping on a young, pretty thing like her while she was vulnerable.

“You’re shaking,” Lelia said, voice soft and concerned, and she reached down, running her fingers through his hair. Simon’s eyes widened and he stiffened in shock. Instantly, his dove stopped, beginning to pull her hand back, already starting to apologize. He grabbed her wrist, almost too hard, and brought her hand back to his hair. She blinked, but resumed the petting, and his head dropped to rest on her thigh, unable to hold it up any longer. She jumped, and the smell of her arousal grew stronger, but she didn't stop, just used the blanket to gently wipe away the drool on his broken jaw. “It’s alright, Simon. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore.”

Christ, she was far too good for him. He didn't deserve to be near her, let alone for her to comfort him like this, especially after what he'd just done. Something she clearly misinterpreted, because there was no way in hell, earth, or heaven that she would be touching him so sweetly if she had. It made him wonder about just how innocent she was, if she didn't recognize what he'd been doing. Had a man never used his mouth on her? Had she ever even had sex?

Ghost growled softly, trying to clear his head. But her scent was so strong from where he was, and he couldn’t help but think about it. About what was causing it.

He'd written it off as a coincidence, the other day. He’d thought it the only possible explanation. But now…

Taking a risk, Ghost moved his hands from her knees to rest against the sides of her thighs, so he could hug her legs. His dove’s breath stuttered, but she didn't push him away or even stop carding her fingers through his hair.

And the smell of her wetness grew stronger.

Simon let out a disbelieving gurgle, lifting his head a bit to look up at Lelia in awe. She smiled sweetly at him, tenderly brushing the back of her knuckles over the outline of his mask with her free hand, as if stroking his face.

It was a harsh reminder of reality, but one that was sorely needed. By some miracle, she may have been physically attracted to him, but that didn't matter. Not when he still didn’t have lips to kiss her with, or body heat to keep her warm. Not when he couldn't give her children, couldn't even get it up for her because his blood didn't fucking flow. Not when he couldn’t take off his damn mask because he was afraid the sight of his face would give her nightmares.

It didn't matter if she got wet when he touched her, not when he couldn't love her like she deserved.

So instead of pressing any further, he contented himself with what he had—which was far more than he ever thought he would get. The peace it brought him just to rest his head against her leg like this while she petted his hair, to be so close to her and bask in her comfort—it was a gift. One he hadn’t earned but would cherish nonetheless.

After nearly an hour, his dove’s fingers slowed and then finally stopped as she drifted off to sleep. He looked up, surprised. She never let him be so close when she slept. Whenever there was a door she could put between them, she did, and when there wasn’t, she would put as much space as she reasonably could between them. Always on the other side of the campfire, or tucked in a tree hollow only she could fit in. And even then, she’d stay awake until she physically couldn't anymore, heartbeat fast anxious the entire time.

He tried not to take it personally. He was a zombie, of course she was afraid of him suddenly going feral and attacking her while she slept. But the closer they grew, the more it bothered him.

So his dove finally trusting him enough to fall asleep, practically in his arms? He felt higher than a fucking cloud.

He laid his head back down, but continued to stare up at her, happy to watch her peacefully sleeping face and revel in her warmth.

Several hours passed before Lelia was visited by her usual nightmares.

Ghost could tell, because she began to twitch and whimper, calm expression replaced with one of fear and pain, brows drawn together and bottom lip wobbling. Nonsensical pleas escaped her, and tears began to stream down her face. He sat up straight, reaching out to cup her cheek with one hand, the other moving to hold her own. But the second his fingers touched her, Lelia screamed in pure terror, glassy eyes flying open but unseeing.

“Please!” She sobbed as Ghost instinctively pulled her closer to try and comfort her. “No! Stop! Stop!”

Immediately, he let go of her, hands hovering uselessly over her flailing limbs as she tried to fight off her imaginary attacker.

He went through his entire vocabulary of reassuring noises, from groans to grunts to coos, but she didn't seem to recognize any of it. Frustrated, and growing more panicked the longer Lelia continued to sob and beg, he tried to force his ruined mouth to same her name, over and over.

Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia.

All that came out was incomprehensible growls and gurgles, though he could feel his throat straining, the vocal chords fluttering like they did when he laughed. He kept trying.

“Llll— Lllleee— Lllluhhh—”

It was no use. His jaw was fucked even if he could manage to actually make the sounds. Her name was just too complicated.

But she was in pain. He could see it on her face. Whatever was happening to her in her dream was hurting her.

And Simon promised he would always protect her.

“Dddd— Ddddoooovveeee…”

The word was garbled and raspy, difficult to understand—but it was a word. The first word he’d spoken since turning. Since dying.

It was fitting, since he hadn’t truly felt alive again until he'd met her.

“Dddooovvee. Dddoovvee. Ddoovvee—” I’m here, my dove, I’m here, you’re safe now, I promise. “Dddove!”

Lelia gasped, her thrashing ceasing as her eyes cleared. She looked around the dark room, confused and still afraid—but when she recognized her zombie’s pale, reflective eyes, her face crumpled and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest.

“S-Simon,” she cried, whole body trembling as he pulled her close, one hand rubbing her back, the other petting her hair. “I dreamed— A-Andrew was— he was—”

Lelia’s voice cracked and she sobbed harder, remembering her nightmare—every sordid detail. And they all came pouring out.

“He w-was inside me,” she whimpered. “I w-was asleep and then— and then th-there was pain and I woke up and— and h-he was on top of me and— and—” she sucked in a shuddering breath, “and he— he c-covered my mouth so I c-couldn’t scream but— but I c-couldn’t breathe either and it h-hurt so badly, it always hurt so badly—”

Simon’s arms were impossibly tight around her, almost crushing her to his chest. Lelia didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to him as physically possible—would have crawled inside his ribcage and nestled next to his unbeating heart, if she could have. She knew she would be safe there. Simon always kept her safe.

The growl he let out at her words was low and furious, but wounded, too. She sniffled, feeling guilty. He probably didn’t want to hear about what Andrew did to her… she was selfish for dumping it all on him.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to pull away, feeling ashamed. Simon didn't let her, cooing in her ear softly. And then, dragged out and mangled, he spoke.

“Dddddoooovvvveee…”

Lelia looked up at him in shock as her brain tried to parse what she’d just heard. Dove. A word, not just one of the deep, throaty noises he used to communicate.

“Did you— Oh my days, Simon! You just— you just spoke!” She yelled, her nightmare completely forgotten. She cradled Simon’s face in her small hands, smiling so widely it hurt. They were so close, chests pressed together as he held her in his lap. Close enough to kiss. “But… why did you say dove?”

Simon’s hands dragged up her sides till they reached her own face, and his cold, thick fingers gently traced each and every one of her features—the arch of her brows, the slope of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks, even the bow of her lips. She blushed deeply at that, heart stuttering in her chest, belly squirming and skin tingling where he’d touched her.

“Dddooovvee,” he repeated. Saliva pooled in his mouth and dripped down his chin. Then, even more carefully, and less understandable, “Lllleeehh— Llll— Llllluuuhhhh.”

Despite the garbled mix of vowels and consonants, she understood him—“Dove. Lelia.”—and it took her breath away.

“I’m Dove?” She asked, voice small but so very moved. Simon groaned affirmatively, fingertips pressed lightly against her cheeks. She smiled at him, expression soft and gooey as a marshmallow. “Is that what you call me in your head? Your dove?”

Simon’s cloudy eyes flickered away from hers, even as he nodded, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment. Lelia laughed, pure and sweet and joyful. Her hands still cupped his face, and she wiped away his drool with the sleeve of her jacket, smiling at him adoringly.

“Sometimes I call you my zombie,” she admitted, tracing the edges of his mask with her thumbs. She wanted so badly to take it off and see his face. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn't break his trust in her. “But mostly I just call you Simon. Like you asked me too.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, and he closed the minuscule distance between them so their foreheads touched for a brief moment. A silent thanks.

Lelia stared into Simon’s cloudy eyes. She once again wondered what color they had been, before. She was so close to him, she almost thought she saw little glimpses of dark brown—but it had to be just the shadows playing tricks. It was nearly pitch black in the room, after all.

Suddenly, Lelia yawned, her nose bumping against the bottom of his mask. Simon quickly pulled back, arms snaking around her waist as he got to his feet, lifting her up and adjusting her so he was carrying her bridal style. Lelia let out a little eep of surprise, making Simon chuckle. She could feel the vibrations of it against her cheek where it rested on his chest, and she blushed at how nice it felt.

Simon brought her into the bedroom, carefully pulling back the blankets and then laying her down to tuck her in. Once he’d piled up as many blankets on her that he could find, he moved to leave, and Lelia’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his thick wrist.

“Stay?” She asked, voice small and hopeful. Simon froze, and Lelia tugged lightly on his arm. She had no hope of actually pulling him into bed with her, but she wanted him to know she was serious about her request.

Finally, Simon groaned quietly in agreement, and then silently got into bed next to her, laying down on top of the blanket. He kept several inches of space between them, and Lelia scooted over so she could lay on his chest. Her eyes fluttered shut, and though there was no soothing heartbeat under her ear or comfortable warmth emanating from Simon’s body, she felt safer than she had in a long time as she drifted off to sleep.

[dungeefox]

A Love That Lingers - H.J

She wouldn't mind spending the rest of her life making Joshua remember how much she loves him.

pairing: joshua x oc

genre: angst, fluff

wc: 2,710

She stood at the edge of the park, her heart a swirling mix of hope and anxiety. The gentle rustle of autumn leaves was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions within her. Today, she would meet Joshua, the boy she had loved for two years, whose memory was now a blank slate.

It had been two months since the accident. Joshua had survived physically unscathed, but his memories had not. Doctors called it retrograde amnesia, but to her, it felt like losing him twice. She missed the way he knew her favorite coffee order, the way he laughed at her terrible jokes, and the feeling of his hand in hers.

Determined, she had spent weeks visiting him, showing photographs, recounting stories, and trying to rekindle the spark that once burned so brightly. Today, she hoped to remind him of their shared past, and maybe, just maybe, light a candle in the darkness of his memory.

𓂃۶ৎ

She sat comfortably on the couch, her phone turned on, an album full of their photos together ready. Her boyfriend, sat beside her, a curious yet blank expression on his face.

"Ready for a trip down memory lane?" She asked with a gentle smile, trying to infuse her voice with warmth and hope.

"Absolutely," Joshua replied, a hint of excitement in his voice despite the uncertainty that often clouded his thoughts. He was eager to rediscover the fragments of his past, trusting her to guide him through the mosaic of forgotten moments.

She showed him the first photo, revealing a picture of the two of them at a beach, laughing as the waves crashed around them. "This is from our trip to Jeju last summer," she explained. "You insisted on teaching me how to surf, even though I was hopeless at it."

Joshua studied the photo, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to connect with the image. "I remember the ocean," he said slowly, "but not the trip. It feels like trying to recall a dream."

She nodded, understanding the struggle. "That's okay. We can create new memories, too. But I thought revisiting these might help.”

Turning to the next photo, she revealed a candid shot of Joshua proposing during a picnic in the park. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a romantic glow over the scene.

"You proposed to me here," she said softly, tracing the outline of the photo with her finger. "It was the happiest day of my life."

Joshua gazed at the picture, silent for a moment. "I wish I could remember that," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "But I can see how happy we were. I can feel it."

She felt her heart race at the thought of how Joshua could still recall the emotions they shared in that moment. It was as if time had folded back on itself, bringing those cherished memories to the forefront of her mind. The way he smiled, the warmth in his eyes, and the gentle touch of his hand were all reminders of the connection they shared. It was a bittersweet nostalgia, a dance between what was and what could have been. Despite everything that had changed, the essence of their bond remained untouched, a testament to the depth of their feelings. As she looked at him now, she realized that some moments are timeless, etched into the heart and soul, waiting to be revisited with every beat.

𓂃۶ৎ

Meeting Joshua has become part of her routine, and their dates are feeling a lot more like tutoring lessons. Excited to look back on their memories together. As she approached the bench where they had agreed to meet, she noticed Joshua sitting with a girl she didn't recognize. The girl was laughing, her eyes sparkling with ease that made her heart sink. Joshua looked at her with a polite, distant smile, a stranger wearing a familiar face.

"Oh hi! This is Hana," Joshua introduced, his voice warm, yet detached. "We met at the library. She's been helping me with some... stuff for a few weeks now"

She extended her hand to Hana, trying to mask her surprise and disappointment that Joshua did not bother introducing her as his fiancée. "Nice to meet you," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.

As they sat together, she tried to share memories, recounting trips they had taken and moments they had cherished. But every mention of the past was met with a blank stare from Joshua and an encouraging nod from Hana. She watched as Joshua turned to Hana for reassurance, the connection between them undeniable.

Despite her best efforts, she felt her stories fall flat, like raindrops on a parched ground. Joshua listened, but his eyes often drifted to Hana, as if she were the anchor, keeping him grounded in a sea of confusion.

Eventually, the conversation turned to lighter topics—music, books, and favourite movies. Here, Joshua seemed more animated, engaging with both her and Hana. She noticed how Joshua's eyes lit up when Hana spoke, a spark she had longed to see.

When it was time to leave, Joshua walked her to the edge of the park. "Thank you for coming," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I appreciate you trying to help me remember."

She nodded, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "I'll always be here for you, Joshua," she replied, her voice soft but firm. "No matter what."

As she walked away, she couldn't help but glance back. She saw Joshua rejoining Hana, their heads close together as they laughed at something she couldn't hear.

As she watched him now, she felt like a shadow of a stranger's life. She remembered the way Joshua used to look at her, with eyes full of warmth and love. Now, that same look was directed at someone else. It was as if she was invisible, a bystander in a story that was spiralling away from her.

The woman he was with, Hana, had been a constant presence in Joshua’s life since the accident. She was kind and understanding, someone who had helped him navigate the complexities of his new world. She couldn't help but acknowledge the bond they shared, a bond that seemed to grow stronger each day. A bond that she once shared with him.

Her heart ached as she realized she was losing him, not to a rival but to a forgotten past that she could not reclaim. Every smile they exchanged, every laugh they shared, was a reminder of the memories she treasured, the memories that had been erased from his mind.

She wondered if she should fight for him, remind him of the love they had once shared. But she feared that pushing too hard might drive him further away, might cement his feelings for Hana, who seemed to understand him in a way she no longer could.

She knew then that she had a choice. She could hold onto the past, or she could let go and allow Joshua the chance to find happiness, even if it was with someone else.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the decision before her. It was not an easy choice to make, but she knew it was necessary. She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, and resolved to give Joshua the space he needed.

𓂃۶ৎ

In the days that followed, she focused on rediscovering herself, immersing in hobbies she had set aside, and reconnecting with friends she had drifted away from. Though her heart still carried a shadow of sorrow, she found solace in the small joys of everyday life. Maybe she needed to give Joshua time for himself. It would allow him the freedom to explore his thoughts, passions, and dreams without feeling the weight of expectations. In doing so, she hoped that when they came together again, it would be with renewed energy and understanding. Perhaps this period of reflection and personal growth would bring them closer, allowing their relationship to flourish in new and unexpected ways.

𓂃۶ৎ

One afternoon, as she sat in her favorite café, sipping a steaming cup of tea, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned, surprised to see Joshua standing there with a soft smile.

"Hey,” He greeted, taking a seat beside her. “I've been thinking a lot," he said, his voice earnest.

She was filled with fear, anxious about what the future might hold. Is this it? She hadn't come to a conclusion yet, but did she need to let him go now? Could this be the end of their love story? Attempting to push these thoughts aside, she looked at Joshua’s hand and felt her heart shatter at the sight of his bare ring finger. Shr had given him a promise ring. It was a symbol of their shared dreams and hopes, a testament to the bond they had nurtured over the years. Each time she glanced at that spot, now empty, it was as if a piece of her own heart was missing.

Joshua seemed to notice this, panicking, he reached out something from his pocket.

“I remove it when I shower. Is that okay?” He said smiling, lifting his right hand in front of her eyes holding the ring. Her heart skipped a beat as relief washed over her. A warm smile spread across her face, and she felt a wave of affection for him. "Of course," she replied softly, touched by his thoughtful gesture.

Joshua chuckled, slipping the ring back onto his finger. "I just wanted to make sure you knew it was always with me."

She nodded, feeling the tension between them dissolve. "Thank you for reassuring me," she said, her voice gentle. "I've been doing a lot of thinking too. I think this time apart has been good for us."

He nodded in agreement, his eyes meeting hers with a renewed sense of understanding. "I feel the same. It's given me the clarity I needed. I realized that no matter what, my heart always finds its way back to you."

They sat there for a moment, the world bustling around them, yet it felt like they were in their own little bubble. The love between them seemed to grow stronger with each passing second, unspoken words and shared memories weaving an invisible bond that was unbreakable.

"How about we take things one step at a time?" she suggested, her heart full of hope.

Joshua smiled, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "I would love that," he replied, reaching across the table to hold her hand. The warmth of his touch was a promise of new beginnings and endless possibilities, and she knew, deep down, that this was just the start of a beautiful new chapter in their lives.

They lingered in that moment, savoring the peace and understanding that had settled between them. Around them, the café buzzed with the sounds of life—clinking cups, soft chatter, and the occasional laughter that drifted through the air like a gentle breeze.

"What do you say we make some plans for the weekend?" Joshua asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. "I think that sounds perfect. Maybe a picnic in the park? Or we could try that new art exhibit downtown."

"Why not both?" Joshua suggested with a wink. "We can make it a day full of adventures so I can get down on one knee and propose to you again."

Her heart soared at the thought, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I can't wait," she said, feeling the excitement bubble up inside her. She was so excited that she wasn’t able to comprehend what he said last.

“Wait, what?” She asked, lifting furrowing her eyebrows at him.

“Mmh? Oh nothing, go ahead finish your coffee.” Joshua answered looking away from her.

Little did she know that Joshua meant what he said. He was planning on proposing again, may not be in the park or the art exhibit, but he will. Joshua had been planning this for weeks, meticulously crafting a day that would be both memorable and meaningful. He wanted to recreate the magic of their first proposal while adding new layers of shared experiences and cherished moments.

𓂃۶ৎ

Joshua did just that, taking her to some of the few places he remembers the two of them have shared so many memories of. Although he may not remember all the little details, he loves how the places made him feel and how it makes his heart always go back to her. He guided her through the vibrant streets of the old town, where the aroma of freshly baked pastries filled the air. They both paused at the quaint café on the corner, where they had spent countless hours lost in conversation, sipping rich coffee and sharing dreams. The laughter and warmth of those moments seemed to linger, enveloping her both in a comforting embrace.

Next, he took her to the park where the autumn leaves painted the ground in brilliant hues of gold and crimson. It was here that they first held hands, and as they walked under the canopy of trees, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet brought back a flood of cherished memories. Joshua smiled, recalling how they had playfully tossed leaves at each other, her laughter echoing through the crisp air.

Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, he led her to the hill overlooking the city, a place where they had often sat together, watching the world transform under the twilight sky. The city lights twinkled like stars, and as they both settled down on the familiar patch of grass, Joshua turned to her with a tender gaze. "No matter where we go," he said softly, "these places will always hold a piece of us. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

𓂃۶ৎ

As they finished their lunch, Joshua suggested, "How about we start with a stroll through the botanical gardens today? I hear the cherry blossoms are in full bloom."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "That sounds perfect. And maybe we can stop by that little cafe we love again for some pastries?"

Joshua nodded, his heart racing with excitement. "Absolutely, sweetheart."

The sun was shining brightly as they meandered through the gardens, hand in hand, surrounded by the delicate beauty of the blossoms.

As they approached a quiet, secluded spot by a serene pond, Joshua paused and turned to her, his expression serious yet tender. "This is where I wanted to bring you," he said softly.

She looked around, taking in the peacefulness of the moment, unaware of what was about to unfold. Joshua took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket as he knelt down on one knee.

"Every day with you is an adventure," he began, his voice filled with emotion. "And I want to spend the rest of my life creating new memories with you. Will you marry me.....again?"

Tears of joy filled her eyes as she nodded, her heart overflowing with happiness. "Yes, a thousand times yes," she whispered, pulling him into a warm embrace.

The world seemed to stand still around them, the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of birds the only witnesses to their moment of profound love and commitment. As they held each other close, the pond reflected their entwined silhouettes, capturing the essence of their renewed promise.

Soon, they found themselves seated on a nearby bench, fingers still interlocked, reminiscing about the journey that had brought them here. The garden, with its vibrant tapestry of colors, seemed to celebrate alongside them, each flower a symbol of the love that had blossomed and flourished over time.

"We should come back here every year," she suggested, her eyes still glistening with joy.

Joshua smiled, kissing her hand gently. "And every year, I'll ask you again, just to make sure you're still willing to put up with me."

She laughed, the sound like music in the tranquil setting. "Always," she replied, knowing that their love was a garden that would continue to grow, nurtured by shared dreams and cherished moments like this one.

𓂃۶ৎ

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Leads Sister-in-Law!

1  2  3  4 

Chapter 5

'Slight' Yandere! Dion x Fem! Reader 

Arranged marriage AU

  Warnings: implied depression, guilt, implied coercion, implied toxic family (not yours), please tell me if I missed anything. 

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS BOTHY ARE EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS. 

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT REBLOG FANDOM STUFF/FICS/FANART DNI, AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS

NOTE: The amount of time I spent on google to look up words is embarrassing.

Overall chapter summary: two memories that resurfaces and the odd, concerning actions and behaviors from two of your in-laws…  this night only gets stranger and stranger.

===

The fluorescent lights flicker above you, a sign that they needed to be changed. But it doesn't bother you as you look down at your phone, admiring the art of the new manhwa your friend recommended you. It was all you could do really, enduring the cold air filling the room. 

The T.V in the background also doesn’t catch your attention despite playing your favorite show.  Usually, you would abandon your phone in favor of watching the images that play on the screen, the volume just loud enough for you to hear. But the story of this novel-turned webtoon is more captivating, especially with the beautiful blond and cunning female lead scheming ways to free the silver haired male lead. 

Must be nice, to be rescued.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” your friend’s voice draws your attention, grinning as they sit on the chair they pulled up to your bed. “But remember, the content is dark.” they warn for the nth time. Like that would bother you. 

“Oh please, I’m not that sensitive,” you refute while rolling your eyes. “Besides, if I was, you wouldn’t have recommended it to me. We both know that.” A playful pout forms on your face as they ruffle your hair. 

“Yeah,” they say, “but sometimes people change their minds, you know?” 

“Like you?” 

“Hey! You can barely handle gore so good luck with it.” 

“Gore,” you snort. “Doesn’t bother me as much. But since I love you, I guess I’ll listen.” 

They hum, retreating their hand from your hair. “You should also read the novel once you’re done with the current episodes. It adds more context and includes the stuff the webtoon left out.” Yawning, they look at the clock on the way. A mumbled complaint rumbles in their chest. “Sorry, but I have work in the morning.” They linger on the uncomfortable bed before getting up to stretch. 

“Alright.” You hope they can’t hear the disappointment in your voice or the way your eyes become dull. “Make sure to text me once you get home, okay?” 

They reply with a thumbs up. 

It doesn’t take them long to gather their things and walk to the door, opening it. However, they don’t leave the room before looking at you. “I’ll bring your favorite snack tomorrow. As a gift.” You pretend that their grin is teasing. 

“Good. I would kick you out otherwise.” 

With a wave of their hand they disappear into the hallway, the door closing behind them. The room feels empty. Adjusting yourself to get comfortable, you lay on your side, leaving the T.V on.

The noise lulls you to sleep despite the gnawing loneliness pulling at your strings. Pulling the cover over your head, you close your eyes. 

- - -

The dream you had the day before your engagement announcement was what made you realize you were stuck in a fictional series.

Everything was normal when you woke up a month before it. No drama, no unfortunate accidents. The cup of tea you were enjoying that day was the sweetest you ever had, rare tea leaves that were a pain in the ass to find. But your father searched long and hard, wanting to give them to you as a happy little sweet gift. It only made sense, since it was your birthday and all. 

Well, you wish it just that; a birthday gift. Instead, it was an apology gift, him refusing to look you in the eye. At the time you had just assumed he was embarrassed, not that he was being eaten away by guilt that threatened to swallow his entire being whole. The sad part was that he didn't tell you the plans for your future until after you sat down for teatime. 

“...How’s the tea?” his voice had trembled but you didn’t notice it. You should have, especially with how small his voice had become, nearly a whisper. You were too caught in your jolly mood.

“Oh, it’s sweet - like honey!” placing your cup down you raise up from your seat to hug your father who sat across from you. He became stiff before returning it, his embrace tighter than usual. You thought it was out of adoration a father would hold for his daughter. Not of the father who was signing her death papers. 

“I’m glad.” when you stepped back he followed, bringing himself up to his feet. A heavy sigh that came from his chest before he finally looked into your eyes. You mistook the look of regret and horror in his for the uneasiness of your reaction towards the news. Still, he allowed himself to grab you by the shoulders. 

You misplaced the trembling for excitement instead of fear. 

“(Name), my daughter…” your father closed his mouth and shut his eyes tight. His grip on your shoulders tightens. Now you realize he did that so you wouldn’t run out. “I have some important news for you.” 

“Oh?” you cock your head, somewhat excited and somewhat worried. You wait for him to finish. 

“I…” opening his eyes he’s unable to meet your gaze. “I…found…a  fiance for you. He’s from an extremely well-off family.” he finishes but it sounds incomplete. You should have questioned him more. 

“A fiance?” you asked, blinking while your mind processes the information. “Did you find him recently?” truthfully, you didn’t like the news, but you knew it would happen eventually. But you can’t deny the slight bitterness you felt, the news slightly dampening your mood on your birthday. 

You got over it pretty quickly. Too quickly. 

“Well, yes? Kind of. His father would talk to me sometimes, insisting that the marriage would benefit us both." He left out the part where it only meant for your father-in-law and possibly yours, too. Not for the soon-to-be bride and groom. 

“I see.”

Your father looks at you in shock, asking “aren’t you upset?” 

You shrug your shoulders, hiding the annoyance. “Well,” your hands grab his wrists, squeezing them to comfort him - despite how it was your future married life and not his. “I knew it was going to happen eventually. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when.’ 

He shakes his head, releasing a low and forced chuckle. At the time you just assumed it was from astonishment and not self-hatred. “You’re too forgiving,” he lets go of your shoulder and pulls his arms back. “But rest assured that the wedding and engagement party will be grand.” 

He never mentioned how your married life would be. That you would be in good hands. That your husband will take care of you and how you’ll grow fond of him as time passes. Or how your in-laws would be lovely. He couldn’t force himself to lie to you.

Your father couldn’t tell you how the marriage would chain you to your husband’s family. 

“Father, I don’t really care about that.” you laugh, softly hitting his shoulder. His expression didn’t become playful as usual. Instead it was grave and your heart painfully rattled at the sight. 

“I know you don’t - but they might.. Just endure it, okay? I promise the party and ceremony will be decent, at least.” 

You never thought to ask what he meant by that. Decent? Right after he called them grand? 

“I’ll trust you, then.” 

Little did you know that your trust would crumble away the moment you laid eyes on Dion Argece, his face stoic and eyes glued to something past you. 

-----

….why were you remembering that now? While Jeremy is running his mouth about his brother and Roxana wiping your mouth with a rag. Hana had given her the rag once she returned, stepping to the side at her orders.

Roxana offers to bring you to her room to freshen up, and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest with bliss. “It’s fine, lady Roxana,” you reject the offer, knowing that you’ll be caught in her web. Seems she’s already thinking of ways to use you. That or she genuinely felt bad. 

You couldn't tell. Her facade was always perfect. 

“I insist,” she smiles sweetly but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Does anyone else ever notice this? Aside from Dion? 

“Just accept it already.” Jeremy cuts in, stretching his arms above his head. Odd. The boy was nearly codependent on his sister, not willing to share her attention. Yet he’s sharing it - her - with you. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to avoid that asshole.” 

His words should have sounded playful, teasing, but they were filled with pure venom instead. Dion’s number two hater truly worked hard for that spot. 

“I’m flattered that you’re considerate of me,” your hand raises to pat his hand only for you to swiftly bring it back down. What were you doing!? He wasn’t your brother. Nor a friend. Just someone who happened to be related to your husband. 

That and a little murderous punk. 

Though, you couldn’t miss the disappointment in those blue eyes. Why was he acting like this?

Jeremy stays quiet for a bit, lost in thought. Your legs start to become weak the longer he doesn’t say anything - was he going to mock you? Lash out? Turn to Roxana and say that you’re not worth anything after all? 

“You deserve better than him. That’s all.” your mind blanks. To say that so bluntly and in the open… 

You just notice that Roxana stayed quiet in the background. Observing. Weighing the options. 

“I…” do you agree with him? You don’t want to be with him - that much was obvious. But you’re not sure if you deserved a happy ending. Maybe a slightly better one than this, though.

You stare at him like a deer in headlights. What answer would be the best one? Agree with him only to find out it was a test? Reject his view and say that he’s the one who deserves better? Wait, why was he so involved with this in the first place. 

And why did he look at you so sincerely?

You’ll get the answer for that later, or so you tell yourself. Frankly, you’re scared to find out. But curiosity always kills the cat.

“...it was a marriage arranged by our parents. If they saw that we were the best for each other, then we’ll listen. That’s how it is.” indirectly saying you agree somewhat could be a bad idea. But you also don’t want him to think that Dion was your ideal husband.

“‘Best for each other,’ huh? Well sometimes they’re - “ Roxana cuts him off. 

“Jeremy,” she says, “don’t you need to get ready for practice?” She lovingly pats his head. The boy beams at her before becoming petulant - not wanting to leave his sister’s side but was obligated to. 

“Right, right… it’s nothing more than free labor though.” he complains while starting to leave. If he lingered for even a bit he wouldn’t be able to drag his feet to his destination. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Tomorrow,” Roxana respondes. “I have something to do.” Jeremy reminds you of a puppy with the dejected look in his eyes and small frown. But with the promise of staying with him tomorrow, he brightly grins - you could almost forget his brutal personality. 

“Well then, I’ll be off.” he groans at the thought of the bothersome chore. 

But before leaving, he leaves you with ‘adivce’ :

“You should escape before this place digs its claws into you. Dion included.” You’re left speechless as his figure gets smaller and smaller, watching his back as he leaves. Why were you given advice anyway? First, by Dion, now Jeremy - was this a test?

Then, you realized that it’s only you and Roxana - without your noticing, Hana had left. Ordered by Roxana, perhaps?

What was she going to add to this strange night?

“Jeremy means well.”  She doesn’t acknowledge what he said.

“Yes. Of course.” You refrain from asking her why. “It’s… a bit cute.” for now you silently add, turning your head to look at your sister-in-law. 

“Mhm, he is, isn’t he?” The blond toys with a strand of her hair, dainty fingers twirling it. “Although, I must admit that he still has a lot of growing up to do.” Yes, yes he does. 

“I think it’s the same for everyone at that age; even for me.” she titters with you. It was faked on both ends. Yet it was mutually accepted. 

“My offer still stands.” 

“Oh, but I’m fine - I'm all cleaned up.” you lie. But her offer puzzles you - what would she gain from it? And while you would love to avoid your husband for a few extra minutes, you didn’t want to owe Roxana anything. Being in her debt was the same as signing a lifetime contract. 

You held no emotional importance to her. It’s only reasonable to think that she’s doing this for Jeremy’s sake. And you really, really need to find out why these characters - people were acting so weird. 

“Besides, I’m sure that your brother is waiting for me.” 

Her pointer finger taps against her chin in thought. Her ruby eyes look towards the side and you can’t read her expression. Beads of sweat threaten to slip down your face. You hope she doesn’t notice. 

“After some thought, I realized something.” she brings up once she looks at you again. You tilt your head, confused. 

“You never once referred to Dion as your husband.” 

[avocadorablepirate]

Beneath The Surface - 1

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: When memories, buried deep within your sea of emotions, resurface, you’re left to question what lies beneath the surface. Did he truly mean to leave you behind, or was there something more to his silence than you ever understood?

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death, OP spoilers

previous | next

So I haven’t properly proofread this chapter…been a bit sick this past week, but I was determined to post this part today. It’s not terrible though 🤔…I think.

You had locked yourself up in your room, claiming to be unwell. The truth was simpler: your mind had been consumed by memories you thought you had buried. Memories of him. The boy who once soothed your pain had become the man responsible for it.

He left me behind.

That thought replayed in your head, each repetition sinking deeper into your chest. Just the image of his face brought a sickening churn of emotions — hurt, betrayal, anger, and a flicker of something you refused to name.

The soft knock on your door is what finally drew your attention away from your thoughts. On the other side of the door stood Viola, a small but gentle smile on her face when she found you sprawled on your bed.

“I heard you were feeling sick, everything okay?” she asked, as she made her way further into your bedroom.

“Yeah, nothing a good day’s rest won’t cure,” you responded, and her lips immediately contorted into a frown.

“Then you’re not going to be too happy about this.” Her voice softened, tinged with regret. “Doflamingo needs you.”

You sighed, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Of course he needs me. You didn’t know why you ever thought you’d be able to get a day to yourself, it had rarely occurred before.

“Of course he does,” you muttered under your breath, setting aside the book you had been pretending to read.

Viola gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. If it were up to me, I'd let you rest."

You forced a smile, appreciating her kindness. "It's okay. Thanks, Viola."

She nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for whatever Doflamingo had in store.

The walk to his room felt long and unpleasant as always. The entire palace always made you uncomfortable, its grandeur a stark contrast to the simpler, slightly happier times of your childhood. It was also a reminder of the life you once lived along side your parents, and without him to console you over those memories, it only brought more pain.

But it hadn’t always been like this. You remember when you first moved in, though a palace, it had a comforting and almost cozy feel to it. However, Doflamingo had made drastic changes, his reason being that the Donquixote family should live in a place that befitted them.

You had tried to get him to let you live outside the palace, the discomfort it brought had been too much at first. But Doflamingo insisted that the entire Donquixote family stay within the palace walls. And that’s why you had tried to make your own room as comfortable as possible. However, that had done little to help. With how often Doflamingo made you run around doing errands for him, or insisted that he watch over you, there was barely any time to relax.

As you gave a soft knock against the heavy wooden doors, to let Doflamingo know you had arrived, you pushed it open to find him standing by the window, his back turned to you as you entered.

“You summoned me, Doffy?" you called out, as you slowly made your way towards him, the atmosphere of the room always making you feel uneasy. It was as if the room itself embodied his very being - intimidating and frightening.

He turned on hearing your voice, a smile plastered on his face. "Ah, my little Rose there you are. Feeling better, I hope?"

You nodded, knowing the question was nothing more than a pleasantry. "What do you need?"

His smile widened, and an eerie chill ran down your spine. "I have a special task for you. I need you to retrieve someone for me."

You frowned, confused by his unforeseen happiness. You had heard there was an incident at Punk Hazard, and although you didn’t know the details, you knew Doflamingo had been beyond enraged. It was another reason why you had chosen to stay in your room, to avoid his temper. So, his uncharacteristic cheerfulness almost baffled you.

“Who?” you questioned, although you had an inkling of who it might be.

“Caesar,” he said simply, his tone light but his eyes watching your reaction closely. “I’m sure you’ve heard, there’s been some...issues. I want you to bring him back from Greenbit."

A wave of confusion hit you once again. “Why me?”

It wasn’t like him to send you on retrieval missions. While you had been privy to fights and conflicts, you had never been a fan of them, and Doflamingo knew this. It was why you mainly ran around doing tasks within the palace. He had called it “protection,” but you had always suspected he thought you too soft-hearted for the darker work.

It had happened before, when you were younger and out on a mission. He had nearly lost you then, and he wouldn’t have it happen again.

“I’ve decided you need to be involved in these matters as well. You can’t be the only one who doesn’t get involved, it’s not fair to you. ” A cold knot of dread formed in your stomach when you saw Doflamingo's eyes glint dangerously. You had thought that you would be able to stay away from such tasks given your temperament, but that had clearly changed.

“But why now?” you asked, and you could feel your heart rate pick up when Doflamingo gave you an almost sinister smile.

“We’re short on people. The pirates who attacked Punk Hazard killed Monet, so we need as much backup as we can get. Plus, the others think you need to start doing your bit,” he said, almost nonchalantly, as if the death of one of his comrades didn’t bother him at all. But you brushed it off, subconsciously convincing yourself it was his way of dealing with grief. “And I think this would be the perfect opportunity to test you Rosie.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead. You had always known that the latest additions to the Donquixote family, all but Viola, did not like the almost favouritism that Doflamingo showed - always tasking you with the simpler jobs. This was your chance to prove your worth, and finally get them off your case. Besides, what harm would come from a simple retrieval mission?

"Alright, Doffy. I’ll bring Caesar back."

He smiled, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, almost akin to a predator satisfied with its prey. "Good. And remember, I expect nothing less than success."

As you stepped out into the hall, your resolve wavered slightly, the enormity of the task ahead settling in.

So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that someone had walked by you into the room. The shutting of the door is what finally drew you out of your thoughts and you briefly glanced back, the voices within the room, a stark reminder of the life you had chosen.

You shook off the unease and focused on the task at hand. Whatever doubts you had, you pushed them aside. There was no room for weakness. You had a mission to complete, and you would do it with all the strength you could muster. For the town you now called home and the people you called family.

As you walked away, the voices in the room grew distant, and you missed out on listening in on a conversation that would have likely saved you from your impending misfortune.

“Doffy why are you sending her to retrieve Caesar?”

Despite his recent misfortune, another sinister smile spread across Doflamingo’s face. “It’s about time I test her abilities. And who better than Law to be the test subject?”

—————

Part 1 done! I feel like I may have included some unnecessary bits here and there, but oh well. I hope you liked it. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist.

taglist: @riftmage27

[fandomfablesunleashed]

“Just roommates”

Ace x reader (she/her)

Chapter 15 of And they were roommates - Modern AU series

warning: alcohol consumption

@captainportgasdace 🫶🫶

As you wove through the crowd, your heart still raced, replaying the memory of that charged moment over and over, feeling raw and exposed. The sweet scent of him lingered in the air, mixing with the vibrant atmosphere of the party, but all you wanted now was space to collect your thoughts and calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

You found an empty corner in the room, somewhere you could take a break to catch your breath and try to compose yourself. While you stood there, trying to regain your composure, you couldn't help but wonder how he was reacting to the situation. Was he as shaken as you, or had he shrugged it off and returned to enjoying the party?

“You're okay?” You heard Zoro's voice break through the haze of your thoughts, and you realized you hadn't even noticed him standing there. You glanced over at him, a little envious of his calm demeanor. How did he stay so composed? You couldn't imagine what that must have felt like—like there was nothing rattling around in his head, no emotions to drown in, no confusion to navigate.

You let out a soft sigh, leaning your shoulder against the wall next to him. As you did, you heard the pop of a bottle opening, and you rolled your eyes. He really could drink a lot. Before you could comment on it, he handed you a bottle. You looked at him, surprised, but then noticed the second one clutched in his other hand, just waiting for its turn.

“Um, thanks,” you said, grabbing the bottle and immediately taking a big swig. The cool burn of alcohol hit your throat, and you swallowed, hoping the liquid might smooth over the mess inside you.

Zoro shrugged, his gaze still locked on the crowd, as he continued drinking in silence. The silence between you was oddly comforting, and you appreciated his quiet nature more than usual.

The music pulsed in the background, voices and laughter mingling, but it all felt distant. Every time you tried to pull yourself out of your head, it felt like your mind stubbornly circled back to the same image—the way Ace’s gaze had held yours earlier, another near-kiss that now seemed both too close and impossibly far away.

“You're awfully quiet,” Zoro commented, not even looking at you. “Something on your mind?”

For a second, you were taken aback. You hadn’t expected him to notice, much less ask. He wasn’t the type to pry, but there was something about his steady gaze that made you feel like he actually understood without needing words.

“I… I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. “Just… trying to shake off the night.”

The surrounding music grew louder, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the feelings swirling around in your chest. But then, just as your mind began to drift away from Ace, you felt it—a presence, a sudden pull. You opened your eyes to find him across the room, his back to you as he talked to Sabo.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. There he was. His voice was low, too far for you to hear, but it didn’t matter. You could feel the space between you, the invisible thread that drew your attention to him, no matter how much you tried to look away.

Zoro seemed to sense the change, his eyes flicking toward you and then back to the crowd. “He’s not gonna make it easier, you know,” Zoro muttered, and you almost laughed at how blunt he was.

You looked back at Zoro, his face unreadable, as always. “Yeah,” you replied softly, shaking your head. “I know.”

Zoro didn’t speak again, and you found that you didn’t need him to. The two of you stood there, leaning against the wall, the noise of the party swirling around you. And yet, your mind wouldn’t shut off, even with more alcohol running through your veins. It wandered back to Ace.

Ace was standing in a dark corner of the room, trying to keep his cool. His heart was still thudding loudly in his chest, his skin still tingling from the proximity to you. He could feel the eyes of others on him, curious and perhaps even amused, but he ignored them; all his focus was on you and what had just happened.

He had replayed the moments before the abrupt music change in his mind over and over again: the feel of your body against his, the scent of your hair, the taste of your breath on his lips. His thoughts kept going back to that split second before it all ended, when it had felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

He was both frustrated and relieved that the moment ended when it did. Frustrated because he wanted more; he wanted to know what your lips felt like on his, desired to find out if kissing you would be as incredible as he suspected it would be. Relieved because there was no way you felt for him what he felt for you.

He looked across the room, seeking you out. He saw you standing in an isolated corner, next to Zoro. He wanted to cross the room, to talk to you, to see how you were reacting, but he was paralyzed with a combination of fear and doubt. What if you hated him now? What if this had pushed you further away from him?

“You okay, man?” Sabo asked, giving Ace a light pat on the shoulder. 

Ace jumped slightly, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly regained his composure, plastering a dismissive smirk on his face. “I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

Sabo didn’t seem fooled by the nonchalant tone, his sharp gaze narrowing as he took in Ace’s stiff posture. “You've been standing here for a while, staring off into space. That's not how you are usually at parties.”

“I'm just taking a breather,” Ace muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair, trying to downplay the growing unease gnawing at him. “It's a bit crowded in here.”

Sabo rolled his eyes, clearly seeing through the lie. “You were fine until you were dancing with a certain girl. Now you're standing here like a statue, brooding.”

Ace’s jaw clenched, and his throat went dry as Sabo’s words hit a nerve. His frustration surged, making his stomach churn, and for a moment, he wished he could just vanish into the walls.

“I'm not brooding,” Ace scowled, annoyed that Sabo had seen through him so easily. “Just… thinking, that's all.”

“Yeah, thinking about your roommate,” Sabo said, a sly smile on his face. “You went from practically eating her face to–”

Ace’s face burned at the bluntness, and he felt a sharp pang of embarrassment. He tried to keep it together, but the heat spreading across his face betrayed him. He quickly tried to brush it off with a weak chuckle, interrupting his brother quickly, though his voice came out strained. “I wasn’t eating her face,” he protested, the words feeling hollow even as they left his mouth. “We were just dancing. Having a good time. Nothing weird, alright?”

“Sure,” Sabo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing weird at all about the two of you getting so close. You were practically glued together. And the look on your faces? Totally normal for just friends and roommates.”

Ace let out a heavy sigh, the weight of Sabo’s words sinking into him. He wanted to deny it, wanted to brush it off as nothing, but he couldn’t. Not with the overwhelming flood of emotions crashing through him. He swallowed, knowing there was no real point in fighting it anymore. 

“Fine. We were dancing, and maybe we were a bit too close,” he admitted. “But nothing happened, alright? The music changed, and we broke apart. End of story.”

“Yeah, sure, 'nothing happened,' just like nothing happened during your last game session, right?”

Ace winced as the memory surfaced, his face heating up once again. He instantly regretted telling Sabo about the near kiss, knowing he was going to milk the situation for all it was worth. “I told you that in confidence, you know,” he muttered sullenly, shooting Sabo a look.

Sabo’s smirk never wavered. “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying this far too much. “And yet, here we are. You and a certain someone, getting all cozy again, but never doing anything substantial.”

Ace glared at him, but he couldn't deny that Sabo had a point. The frustration in his chest was starting to burn hotter, and he was getting so damn tired of dancing around these almost-kisses and almost-moments with you. It felt like you were stuck in a never-ending loop of what-ifs, and it was driving him crazy.

“You know it's not that simple,” he snapped. “She's my roommate; it's difficult.”

The words felt weak even as he said them. He wanted to believe they were enough to explain everything, but inside, it felt like a flimsy excuse. His mind raced, knowing that deep down, he was scared. Scared of the consequences, scared of making things awkward, scared of ruining everything.

“What's so difficult? You like her; she clearly likes you. Just pull your head out of your ass, stop being a coward, and kiss her. You know you both want to.”

Ace felt his blood boil at Sabo’s blunt words. It was infuriating how easily Sabo laid everything out. Just kiss her. As if it were that simple. As if his feelings weren’t tangled up in so much more. 

“You make it sound so damn easy,” Ace grunted. “But she's not just some random girl; she's my roommate. If things go wrong, it could get really complicated.” 

Before Sabo had a chance to respond, Ace let out a long sigh and muttered, “I'm not even sure she feels the same way about me. I might just be imagining things.”

Sabo rolled his eyes again, clearly growing frustrated. “You're kidding, right? I swear, sometimes you're so blind it's ridiculous. Do you really think she was leaning in to kiss you because she didn't feel the same? People don't do that, Ace.”

He thought back to the moment—how your breath had been so close to his, how your lips had hovered there for just a fraction of a second. It was hard to dismiss that feeling, hard to ignore the small flicker of hope that it might have been real. But then, doubt crept back in.

“Maybe she's just lonely,” Ace insisted, grasping at straws. “It's been a while since she's had a boyfriend, and I'm the one guy always nearby, so maybe…”

Sabo looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. “That's your reasoning? That she's lonely? You really think she would throw herself at the nearest person just because she's lonely?” Sabo’s tone was almost incredulous, as if Ace’s explanation was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

And for a moment, Ace felt like a fool. His stomach twisted in knots as Sabo’s words cut through his mind.  The idea that he might have been the one misreading everything made his head spin.

Sabo let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head, clearly fed up. “You know what? I can't keep having this conversation with you. You're being irrational and stubborn. I'm going to go dance with Koala.”

Alone in the corner, Ace felt the weight of his own thoughts crushing him. He knew Sabo had a point—hell, he’d been dancing around it for months.  But the nagging sense that this wasn’t as easy as Sabo made it sound refused to leave him. You and him, it couldn't be that simple, could it?

Later, you and Ace found yourselves hanging out with the same group. You both did your best to pretend that everything was normal between you, as you kept drinking and forcing smiles for your friends. But neither of you could shake the charge that still lingered in the air between you.

Despite your best efforts to seem casual, you felt off. You tried hard to focus, engaging in the conversation, laughing, and cracking jokes when appropriate. Every so often, you caught him looking at you, and it made your heart stutter. Each time, it was a fleeting moment, but in that split second, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

Just when you found yourself gazing at each other again, one of the guys at the table, Deuce, slurred out. “Hey, I've been meaning to ask you two,” he said, waving a beer bottle back and forth between you and Ace. “Isn't it, like, weird living together? I mean, you're both hot and single, any interesting moments to disclose?”

That question got people's attention and all those nearby turned toward you two, waiting for an answer with big grins. 

You glanced over at Ace, not entirely sure how to answer that question. The awkwardness in the air between you two made your throat tighten. But before you could find the words, Ace cut in.

“Nah, it's no big deal,” he said with a shrug. “We've been living together for months now; it's completely normal.”

You forced yourself to smile at his words, trying to play along, but inside, you felt a wave of discomfort. His tone was light, but it felt like a defense mechanism, a way to deflect the unspoken tension that had been growing between you both for days. 

“Yeah, totally normal,” Sabo chimed. “No awkward situations whatsoever…” His tone was knowing, and several people around the table snickered at the implication.

Ace rolled his eyes, shooting Sabo a dirty look. “Shut up, Sabo,” he grumbled, trying to shut down the conversation before it got out of hand. 

The others at the table, sensing an opportunity for some fun, joined in, ribbing you both with more questions and jokes. “Come on, there must have been at least one awkward moment,” someone teased.

Ace gritted his teeth, growing irked by the constant needling. “Seriously, guys, there's nothing going on,” he insisted. “We're just roommates; it's completely platonic.”

You couldn't help but wince internally at his adamant insistence that there was nothing going on. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he said them, as if he truly believed it, and that belief made you feel smaller than you cared to admit. You tried to push down the knot in your chest, but it wouldn’t go away. 

You forced a smile, joining in with a dismissive,  “Yep, just roommates. Nothing more.” 

The guys around the table were disappointed, clearly hoping for some kind of juicy revelation, and one of them muttered, “Boring.” Thankfully, the conversation moved on, but the weight of the moment stayed with you, heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the hurt. You knew it shouldn’t bother you this much, that you shouldn’t let Ace's words get under your skin, but they did. Each of his words felt like a quiet rejection, a reminder that maybe the chemistry you felt, the moments you shared, meant nothing to him.

The memory of those two near-kisses flashed in your mind, each one like a spark, igniting the ache in your chest all over again. You could still feel the heat of him against you, the warmth of his breath on your skin.

The memory contrasted with the sharp reality of the present—his rejection of any deeper connection between you both. It stung more than you wanted to admit, and the alcohol in your system made it all feel rawer, the emotional weight settling deeper in your bones.  You took another large gulp of your drink, trying to drown out the confusion and frustration building inside you, but the thoughts kept resurfacing. 

Ace, on the other hand, was struggling just as much as you were, though he did his best to hide it. Every time he looked at you, the longing would flare up inside him, followed by a flash of frustration. He was trying to convince himself that there was nothing more to it, that it was all just friendship, but the memory of those almost-kisses—the closeness, the chemistry that was impossible to ignore—kept flooding back. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t shake the need to be closer.

He kept telling himself everything was fine, that it was just normal, and that he could keep pretending nothing had changed. But with each smile, each laugh you shared, with every touch and passing glance, it took everything he had to keep himself from grabbing you and kissing you senseless.

He was trying to drown out the thoughts with alcohol, with conversation, with anything that could distract him from the constant gnawing feeling of need that was growing inside him. But the alcohol only made his feelings more intense, and the more he attempted to keep his distance, the more aware he became of your presence, your scent, and the way you moved.  

And each time he fought it, he found himself sinking deeper into the confusion and longing, unsure how much longer he could hold on before everything he was feeling would come crashing to the surface.

[solarballs-confessions]

In the new episodes, everyone is talking about Planet X being an asshole, or Uranus being manipulated. But no one is talking about Neptune being actually kinda fucking depressed. Like, he’s losing his best friend because Uranus wants to have a “better life” or some shit. Don’t get me wrong I don’t blame Uranus for his actions, if I had a name that literally meant “asshole” I’d wanna change it too, but the way he’s trying to do it is making him drift away from Neptune. Uranus is willing to put the whole solar system in the risk just so that he doesn’t get made fun of anymore and that people can acknowledge his existence, but Neptune can see that it’s not worth it, and this puts their friendship in risk.

In the new episodes, Neptune, despite loving (Platonically) and caring for Uranus, he never acknowledges his new name choice, he always calls him “Uranus”. I feel like it’s not just because he’s used to the name, but also because he sees Caelus as a different planet, in Neptunes eyes, Uranus and Caelus are two separate celestial bodies. One of them is caring, and will be best friends with Neptune and no matter how weird he is, and the other is selfish, does only what’s best for himself, and sees Neptune to be a weirdo. In Battle of Planet X Part 1, when Neptune tries to go over to Uranus, you can obviously tell that when Uranus refuses to come over to hang with the other planets, that Neptune is sad as fuck about it, he just wants Uranus to be his friend again. You can obviously hear Neptunes misery when he says “okay.. mate?”.

HE IS FUCKING DEPRESSED! And when the next episodes come out, I bet he’s going to be even more depressed and sad. And can you blame him? If you’re best friend, whom you have known for years upon years, leaves you for someone else, acts like a whole new different person, and treats you like you’re the weirdest person ever, YOU WOULD BE DEPRESSED TOO! I think that Neptune is actually the smart one in this situation, he knows that Uranus isn’t just doing this for a “new name” or whatever, but it’s also partly for revenge against how all the other planets treated him, Neptune saw right through him. Neptune knows that even though if X wins, it will largely benefit him, but at the cost of all the Rocky planets and Jupiter’s and Saturn’s sanity. He honestly doesn’t give a fuck if he is smart or dumb or whatever, he just wants the others to be happy and safe. Neptune genuinely cares about the other planets, and would give up any opportunity to make himself happier just for them to be safe. Yet Uranus is the opposite right now, he would do ANYTHING to be even a little bit better off in the solar system, He doesn’t care if the Rocky planets lives are at stake or if people are losing their mind, he wants what’s best for himself. And this is tearing their friendship apart.

I genuinely hope that in the future episodes that they become friends again, these two are the best duo ever! (Or at least they were…) I hope that Uranus realizes that it’s not right to put others safety at risk just so you’re happier, I feel like that if he had this realization, he and Neptunes relationship would be fixed, and Neptune would be not depressed. I’m honestly really excited to see where all this will be headed in the next few episodes, and I just hope that Uranus gets his shit together and realizes that he doesn’t need a new name and orbit to be happy. WE NEED THESE 2 BLUEBERRIES TO BE BESTIES AGAIN!!!

.

[taintandviolent]

From smut prompts can you do a combo of 2 and 57 for Remy Lebeau x female!Reader?

Love your writing and can’t wait for part 2 of Taco tuesday!

warnings: smut (doggy-style), dirty talk, uhhhhhh i dunno what else. mirror sex? yeah.

His groans are more frequent, breathing ragged. Suddenly, he reaches around to your face, his strong hand gripping your jaw, straightening your head gently. Your eyes are still closed, painfully heavy with arousal. He’s fucked you senseless, and without his current support, you can barely hold your head up. 

“Look at your reflection, cher.” he murmurs. His voice is sultry, laden with arousal and you peel your lids back, swallowing hard. You’re suddenly faced with your own reflection; the mirror on the back of your door. It’s parallel to your bed, and until right then, you somehow forgot that. To Remy, it had been an intentional, calculated move. The position you two were currently in was one that felt impersonal to him sometimes, but because you had a mirror, he still got to enjoy all the subtle nuances of your arousal, and the way you responded to his body.

Doing it doggy-style, you’re on your knees and elbows, and Remy is tall behind you, all brawn. Your eyes flit to your own image somewhat apprehensive, for no man has ever made you look at yourself during sex and you’re not sure what you’re about to find. To your surprise, it’s not embarrassing, nor is it something that kills your high. 

The way the light filters in from your bedroom window casts you in a dreamy yellow haze, flushing your skin with a light glow. Your gaze is lust blown, your cheeks are flushed, your ample cleaveage is rocking back and forth with the force of his movements, and your hair mussed up from where he’d been holding onto it. He thrusts his hips into you once, hard, and your expression contorts into one of pleasure, body shuddering against the action. Seeing it in the mirror is a new experience, but the visual turns you on even more. If you were going to be honest with yourself, you were hot.  

You grip the sheets, making fists in the fabric as Remy hammers into you. Your jaw drops, and a low, erotic moan of pleasure tumbles out over your flushed lips. He, too, looks so good – the way his handsome features look almost tormented with pleasure, the way he’s moving against you, his muscles rippling with each exertion. 

“Look at how gorgeous you are.” He continues, his words choppy from the power of his thrusts. Despite that, his voice is deep and commanding, and he holds your hips, using them as leverage for his thrusts. “So gorgeous when I’m fuckin’ you like ‘dis. So pretty for me, and only for me, huh?”

You’re only able to moan in response as the sensations overwhelm you. He’s hitting all the right spots, taking you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“Ain’t ‘dat right, cher?” He urges, watching you in the mirror. You nod, breathlessly. He cocks a languid, half-smile; pleased that you’re appreciating yourself, even a little bit. If you saw yourself through his eyes… 

He suddenly leans forward, pressing his toned stomach against your back, and urging himself farther inside of you. His voice, when he speaks, is husky and low, almost a growl. 

“I ain’t sharin’ you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and Remy gonna’ make you remember ‘dat.”.

The way he fucks you then is ruthless, staying true to his previous claim. His hips hammer into yours, cock bullying your cunt with reckless abandon. Your arousal climbs higher, and higher until it reaches a peak; you can’t hold it back any longer Your eyes fly open again, brows pulled together in tortured lust, as the coil snaps and you collapse the front half of your body forward, soaking him and arching your back up until it aches.

Remy’s close behind you, but his stamina is better than yours. Another new experience; men usually come first (too quickly, at that), but not him. He’s got you in ten different positions, three orgasms deep before he paints your insides. 

“Ah, cher… c’mere.”

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Just had my first psychiatrist appointment in like two years! Not to brag, but I improved on mental illness so much that I was upgraded from Bipolar 2 to Bipolar 1! 😎

[anonyanonymouse]

I'm so disappointed I won't be able to immediately tune in on the twst update like usual 😭 I'm pretty sure this is the first time I won't be watching it right after it's up, and not only that, but my early morning obligation preventing me from enjoying the update is going to last FIVE hours 😭😭😭

[ardate]

sniffs. man. i really want this job :(