#i just hope they did it with the understanding of how wrong they are

[bunji-enthusiast]

thought of another request !! (Obviously platonic, love being used in a more parental manner bc yk,, found family)

so, doey is one of the few toys you managed to save and bring back home. He unfortunately has a anxiety meltdown from being outside for the first time in years and reader having to comfort him, talking to him softly and holding him in their lap while he just sobs bc it's so much at once,,

They're like "shh, it's okay, i know, love, i know.."

Idk if that would make sense for a one shot 🙏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Sypnosis [Being outside for the first time in years can take a special toll on a person, especially if that someone is Doey in particular.]

Character [Doey]

Note || I believe I understand what you mean, correct me if I don’t lol.

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet. The toys, having found their way to your home after months of struggling for survival, were finally beginning to settle in. The factory was far behind them now, the haunting memories of the place slowly fading into the recesses of their minds. The Safe Haven was a place where they could breathe again, feel safe. You, having escaped the nightmarish grip of the factory, had taken it upon yourself to provide for them, to help them heal. You had promised yourself that no matter the cost, you would make sure they were never subjected to the horrors of the factory again.

But even in the safety of this new home, some wounds never healed. You watched as Doey, the plump dough creature, sat at the corner of the living room, his normally playful demeanor replaced by something more distant, more uncertain. His eyes��holes in his head, just faint shadows in the dim light—seemed lost, unfocused. He was far from the carefree toy who had led the Safe Haven group with bravery and kindness. No, this was a side of Doey you had never seen before, and it was clear that something was wrong.

You walked over to him, kneeling down so that you could meet his gaze. He flinched slightly at your approach, and you noticed the subtle trembling in his yellow and orange arms. You had seen toys face the horrors of the factory, but nothing quite like this. Doey had always been strong, calm, a beacon of hope for the others.

But today, that strength had crumbled.

"Doey," you said gently, your voice low and calm, "hey, what’s going on? Talk to me."

Doey's mouth, that simple line of dough, quivered slightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could barely hold it together, his usual bubbly nature drowned under the weight of something far more sinister.

“I... I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” Doey muttered, his voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t like him to sound so fragile, but you recognized the desperation in his tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve always tried... But it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just going to fall apart.”

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. The warmth of your touch seemed to help, though Doey flinched at first. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, not in such a vulnerable state. You could see his struggle, the fear of being broken, of losing himself to the horrors of his past.

"Hey," you said, your voice steady despite the situation, "it's okay. You're safe now. We're all safe."

"But I don’t feel safe," Doey whispered, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I see them. The factory. The screams. The things I did... the things I couldn’t stop. And now I can’t stop feeling like I’m just one bad thing away from falling apart. What if I’m just a... a toy? A toy made to be broken? What if I’m not strong enough to lead them, to keep everyone safe?"

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden he was carrying. Doey wasn’t just a toy to you. He was a friend, a confidant. His strength was a shield, not just for himself, but for all the toys in the once Safe Haven. And now that shield was cracking.

You knew that the other toys were counting on him, but even they didn’t know the full depth of the struggle he was going through. Doey was made up of the memories and personalities of three children—Kevin, Jack, and Matthew. Each piece of him brought its own light, its own shadow. And while Matthew's kindness and gentle spirit were a dominant force within him, there was also the fiery temper of Kevin, and the deep yearning for something lost within Jack. It made Doey... complicated.

"Doey, listen to me," you said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going. And we’re all here to help you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Doey's right arm—yellow and thick—shuddered as he reached up, his hand going to his face, his body folding in on itself as though he could hide from the world. A soft sob escaped him, and your heart ached. You had seen him lead, seen him face danger with a brave face, but this... this was something entirely different. The weight of the factory’s horrors, the responsibility of being a leader, had taken its toll.

"Doey, it's okay to feel broken," you said, your voice trembling just slightly now. "We all have our broken pieces. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be whole. You’re not just a toy. You’re not just the past. You’re Doey. You’re the one who stood up for all of us. You showed us what it means to keep fighting. And we’re not going to let you fall now.”

Doey looked up at you, his doughy face streaked with tears—tears made of the very clay he was formed from. You could see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of what might happen next. The anger bubbling up from deep within, the fiery Kevin side of him, just waiting to lash out.

But you didn’t let him retreat. Instead, you gently cupped his face in your hands, the warmth of your palms pressing against his cool, doughy skin. “Doey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. We’re all here.”

A long moment passed, where Doey simply breathed, shuddering in your hold, trying to steady himself. Slowly, his trembling ceased, his body slowly relaxing into your touch. There was still an undercurrent of fear within him, but you could feel him starting to regain control.

“I... I don’t know if I can lead anymore,” Doey said quietly, his voice still uncertain. “But I... I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing his long orange arm. "You don’t have to lead alone, Doey. We’re all here for each other. Here—it’s not just you. It’s all of us, together."

His yellow and orange arms hung limply at his sides for a moment before he slowly, carefully, wrapped them around you, his stubby red legs shaking beneath him. His embrace wasn’t strong, but it was filled with a sense of quiet gratitude. He was fragile, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You’d be there to help him, just like he had helped so many others before.

"Thank you," Doey whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be strong. For them. For you."

And as the two of you sat there in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the other toys, you knew that, despite everything, Doey would find his way. Because sometimes, strength wasn’t about never breaking—it was about finding the courage to put the pieces back together when everything felt like it was falling apart. And you’d be there to help him do just that.

[unoriginalcontent]

Been thinking a bit about this post; I do believe that to empathize with Trump voters, at least on an intellectual level, is important for purely pragmatic reasons. The idea there is that the right wing propaganda machine is a menace that no one knows how to deal with, and so if we can understand the concerns and anxieties of the conservative voter, we might have an opportunity to demonstrate how Trump is tangibly not addressing their problems and turn them against him. And hell, even if they did vote for him out of bigotry, maybe they'll still be willing to turn on him out of self-interest. However much it sucks, many of these people will not care if you simply point out that his policies harm other people. They've already set the human cost aside as acceptable losses, or else they outright support harming these people, which is why a different strategy is necessary for them. If we can get conservatives to turn on Trump, then even if it's not for the right and morally-correct reasons, that's still a win.

Of course that's all in reference to conservatives who were probably already predisposed towards whoever has an R next to their name on the ballot. When it comes to leftists who refuse to associate with democrats out of protest, I just don't know. I can understand that someone might want to vote out of self-interest and also believe that a Trump presidency is beneficial to them. Obviously they're likely to be wrong, but it's not hypocritical to have believed a lie and acted accordingly. Conversely, I think most leftists are people who will claim that government and voting shouldn't just be about self-interest, and that helping other people is a worthy end unto itself. And yeah, they should have known better.

If you're educated enough on the issues to have known all of Harris's shortcomings, how the hell do you not also know Trump's? If you know them both, how the hell can you conflate the two as equally bad?

We have this idea in the left that our systems are bad, and therefore we can never make progress until we destroy the systems entirely and build something new from the ashes. If you believe that, then please get your head out of the clouds because that's what Trump and Musk are trying to give us, and it turns out to be bad. We live in the system, we depend on the system, if we didn't then it wouldn't matter how many federal programs Trump is trying to abolish. Even if you specifically will be fine, you're writing everyone else off as an acceptable loss. It's not wrong to imagine and strive for a better world than this one, but unless you have viable alternatives ready and waiting, you won't get there by breaking things.

Maybe it's unfair to blame the current situation on people on the left who didn't vote for Harris. I don't even know how much blame matters at this point. And yet I think this is an important thing for all of us to keep in mind. Your moral clarity can be used against you. No matter how good and pure your ideals are, the real world has to come first. And right now that means acknowledging that a huge portion of our democracy chose Trump. And they don't care if you're hurt from his policies, or if I'm hurt, for a lot of these voters your suffering is probably just sugar on top. OP is absolutely right, they probably don't regret wishing leopards onto other people, but that doesn't mean it's not worth convincing them that we should stop the leopards before their faces are eaten. People are going to be poisoned by food which they voted to deregulate, and a part of me wants to think of that as justice. I feel angry. I feel spiteful. These people are taking human rights violations and touting them as victories, fuck them. But anger and spite won't fix anything, even from our side. And no matter how awful some of these people might be, together they're a hell of a voting block. I wish that I could force people to care about the suffering of others, but I can't. And so I hope that it's possible to at least get them to care about themselves.

And if you do think of yourself as progressive, and you still refused to vote for Harris, then I think OP is right, and you really do take a look at yourself. It is true that many of our problems are created and perpetuated by larger institutions beyond our control, but when it comes to democracy, it's not enough blame the system. You're a part of the system. If you don't want to participate, you need to have an alternative that is—crucially—viable, actionable, and realistic in the immediate short term. If you don't have that, which I guarantee you don't, then high-stakes elections are not the time for moral grandstanding.

Sorry for rambling here on your post, I'm probably a bit scattered. I've been having a lot of discussions with people about this sort of thing lately. Whatever strategy the left has for winning hearts and minds, it clearly hasn't worked if someone like that can still win the popular vote. I don't know how to fix that. But I think we all need to be a lot more comfortable ceding the moral high ground if it means making progress in the trenches.

Trump voters owe me financial compensation.

[ao3-shenanigans]

Is it a bad thing to make your own ending to an unfinished fanfic from an orphaned book?

Like I did it by myself and I'm just wondering as I was told that making your own ending to someone else's story was bad ever single time by someone on twitter who was talking about how they were made about ai finishing the story...

I'm just wondering as I felt like I have done something wrong as I didn't know that finishing a story was bad if you don't own the book...

Hi! Thanks for asking!

I’m not entirely sure as to what you’re asking, but if I’m understanding correctly, you’d like to know if it’s okay to write your own ending to an unfinished fanfictions and/or why people are so upset about it (?)

If it’s for your own personal use, writing your own ending to an abandoned fanfic is totally okay!

If you’re looking to publish said ending to ao3, do your best to get the permission of the original author, it’s likely that it’ll be okay, but that’s not a guarantee

Using Ai to generate an ending to a fanfic, for any use is considered a, and pardon my language here, jackass move which is considered unacceptable across the board.

I hope I understood your question correctly and that this was helpful!

[dandelion-roots]

Helena Eagan, VIOLATION (2025)

[ID: a digital drawing of mark s and helena from severance next to a heater. helena is lying on a blanket that says lumon over and over again. she's entirely ice blue, with only the mask she's wearing being warm orange. the mask is of helly r. her smiling face is drawn on with sharpie that has smudged in places, and her hair is angular like it was cut from paper. mark s is over her, his hand cradling the mask. we see the back of his head and a crack in it in the shape of an anatomical heart. helena's hands are at the edges of the crack, pulling it apart, and the exposed brain is pink in the middle and blue around the edges of the crack. a needle with a tear on it is going into his brain. mark s is also in warm colours like helena's mask and the heater. in the background are design elements- the elevator with the down arrow, ms casey's turned away face, shrouded figures and eyes. End ID]

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Big BL Blurb 5: Let’s Talk About Sex

I was mostly planning to check in again after the current Japanese shows ended, but after three out of four sex scenes left me wanting this week, I want to write down my ideas. I maintain that bed scenes, like action scenes, need to tell us more about the characters. Many sex scenes serve as a release of tension or confirmation of existing feelings. As usual, MAME seems to understand this, and others should probably take notes. 

Call Me By No Name is Doing Nothing For Me (5/8)

I have just about given up on this show. I don’t get Megumi’s whole deal, why she’s so in love with Kohata, or Kohata’s reticence. I was really hoping that an intimate scene would open up some space for vulnerability and truth with them to give us some answers about why these two weirdos are drawn to each other, but that’s not what we got. I was hoping that when we saw these two go at it we’d learn how much Megumi has felt for women before, or how she responded to Kohata’s experience. Instead, I’m left feeling cold by the whole affair, and generally baffled by the conflicting themes around going somewhere she did cutesy girl nights before, and ordering the cute food. This one is a chop.

Impression of Youth is Wasting My Time (5/9)

I have my own squicks as a former teacher with stories where a teacher messes around with their student. However, I don’t see the point of doing a teacher-student story if we’re not going to explore any of the lines being crossed here. We also didn’t get a good arc about the student helping the teacher properly reconnect with a feeling, or discover something, that helped him get back to his art. We simply had him start painting on the beach again, the kid confessed, and then they fucked with awkward kissing. I was a bit let down by the brother’s fast encouragement of the whole thing. It felt like they were reaching for the same energy we had in Call Me By Your Name (2017) with Oliver and Elio, but it’s missing the component where Oliver knew what he was doing the whole time for me. The overall alignment feels off, and I’m getting so little emotion from this show as a result. On top of all that, they showed us the kid’s boxers before implying he was nude in the shower! Ridiculous! 

When It Rains It Pours is Being Shy About Sex in a Show About Cheating (5/7)

This is the biggest offender of the week for me. This show is all about how the leads cannot have sex from the people they love, and find someone they can commiserate with in each other. When the dam finally breaks and they both need the release in each other, I was so dismayed that the show tried to gloss over as much of the sex as possible. It’s so fucking annoying for me when the shows about sex get precious about it and won’t show it. I was thankful that they tried to capture all the emotions happening around the weekend they spent together, but I think we lost a lot in not having Hagiwara blow Sei, because you just know that man has a people pleasing streak that would require him to give pleasure back. The lack of sex also means that there is no gap time between the infidelity and the discovery. We don’t give enough time for the shift in their relationship to breathe before the crisis (@respectthepetty). I’ve lamented before about Japanese shows only showing toxic or breakup sex, and so it’s damned annoying that they’re doing that in the cheating show because they probably want these guys to be together by the end. I was really hoping Mood Indigo would have some company finally (especially after Love in the Air Koi), but I clearly need to stay patient. Cannot overstate how lame it is for the show about two guys cheating because their partners won’t fuck them being shy about the sex effectively sides with the partners who won’t fuck them. Finally, I am not over them getting the insertion angle wrong while making points about it!!

Your Sky Could Have Been A Good Follow-Up on 2gether

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit because I don’t know what I want to say about this one. I was really into it in the beginning, but it felt like this show didn’t really know what it wanted to do after resolving the issues with Oh. I personally liked the dad being confronted by his wife and father about the way his homophobia was hurting his son, but I didn’t really enjoy it as a Very Special Episode. I would have also liked to see Teerak’s newfound assertiveness in this period beyond is refusal to cave. I think this show also deeply underutilized its own supporting characters, especially the side couples. Still, I thought Thomas was probably the most beautiful newest BL boy we’ve gotten, and I liked the way he and Kong worked together. I also really enjoyed Teerak being allowed to want sex, ask for it, and take charge of it. That’s so important for a cute character. Letting us know that Teerak has also become protective of the private moments he has with Fah, and is growing into his desire for Fah really is a great way to finish a show.

Final Verdict: 7, Recommended With Reservations. I find it hard to give this a stronger recommendation. I just think the show ends up being overall inessential from how much of it ends up being fluff that doesn’t connect much to each other. The biggest things I liked were Fah and Teerak, especially in the early episodes, and I liked the family dynamics. Still, I feel like this show didn’t know what to do without Tine’s internalized homophobia, and what to do with Fah’s ex that was mentioned. There’s just too much hanging off this to recommend it as a strong drama. Everyone is very pretty, and the performances are earnest. It’s a show that means well, even if it’s a bit indulgent. 

The Boy Next World Understands that Phu Has a Dick (5/10)

MAME, as usual, understands the assignment. There’s no way that their first encounter is going to be Cir showing up to stick is dick in Phu’s ass. He’s been obsessed with this boy for years in a way that prioritizes Phu’s wellbeing. It was absolutely correct to payoff that Cir keeps making Phu hard by having Cir take care of him, let us see that Phu enjoyed it. Like @babyangelsky I think it’s important that we let go of the notion that cute characters cannot want and enjoy sex. We got so much from this. We know that Cir likes to give pleasure, and that he’s not going to ask for it from Phu. We also know that Phu cares about Cir, too, because he asked about his time in the bathroom (Cir clearly jerked off and rinsed his mouth, y’all). What’s so excellent about putting a sex scene at this point is it means we’ll see their sex change after Phu learns that Cir has been stalking him for years. MAME is consistently the best storyteller at using the kisses and sex to help inform the arc of the relationship. Most importantly, she gets what the angles are supposed to be.

Ossan’s Love Thailand Is…Fine (5/12)

I’m not really into this one much right now, despite what I think is a pretty solid performance from Krit Shahkrit. I understand the choice to go back to making Kongdech a widower, but I don’t think giving him a daughter who initially opposed the romance added much to this for me. I’m hoping activating Thor’s character next week will add some energy to this for me, because I’m feeling a bit flat with it at this point. I’m glad they’re letting Earth and Mix continue to play adult characters, but it doesn’t feel like they knew what they wanted to do with office romance dynamics here.

Gelboys is a Welcome Return from Boss Kuno (1/7)

Started this today and I am seated. I really love how much it feels like we get to actually be inside of Bangkok. I love that we opened with an ad for the Bangkok rail system as a mechanism for freedom. I love how filming on iphones has enhanced the naturalistic feeling of the production. I also love how we completed the major arc of the het angst of Make It Right in the first like five minutes. Incredible stuff. I’m so excited to see the mess Fou4Mod is going to make of everything, and I’m excited to see Chian dickmatize that boy. Curious to see how much this feels like a bubble show. Shout out to Boss for showing us a naked teen at the start of this show to scare off the pearl clutchers.

RED BLUE is EVERYTHING (6/8)

This is not BL, but it’s got enough BL boys rolling on the floor and sweating on top of each other that I’m saying here loudly that I LOVE IT. Kimura Keito is fantastic in this, and I loved his fight with Okura Takato in episode 6. I almost didn’t recognize my boy from his role as Amane in If It’s With You with the change in his hair. I did not know I needed a wrestling show with BL boys…who am I kidding? We’ve been asking for this every year. This is hitting all the notes I want from a sports shonen show. It’s fantastic.

Please Use the Sex Well in Romance

I think there’s a real place for clean romance in the BL genre. Some of our favorites don’t involve sex being a major component of their romance narrative, but that often requires significantly more drama and better storytelling and plots. What I cannot abide is when I find myself bargaining about how a show that wants to talk about sex every episode seemingly doesn’t want to deal with sex. Romances about sex that don’t use the sex well in their stories are as bad as comedies with terrible jokes, or action flicks with no suspense and satisfying fight sequences.

Other than that, I dropped I'll Turn Back This Time. It’s just too stupid and incoherent for me to put up with it’s nonsense. Seeya next time. 

[marril96]

Mirrors

Chapter 2: Broken

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: While Agatha is resting, Billy engages you in a heart to heart.

Editor: @fruityhahn

Previous chapter.

Agatha looked so peaceful when she slept. There was a calm to her, a peace that wasn't often known to her. Her head lay in your lap as you caressed her hair with utmost tenderness, your eyes glued to her face that was still unnaturally pale. Were it not for the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the gentle beats of her heart that reverberated against your forearm, you would have thought her dead.

Thankfully, she was very much alive.

You swore to do whatever it took to ensure that it stayed that way.

While the rest of the coven had gathered around a fire and engaged in chatter and laughter, you had made a fire of your own, hidden away behind the trees and away from prying eyes. Giving Agatha some privacy as she rested. Giving you some time alone with her for the first time in three long, long years.

You'd draped her coat over her, covering every inch of her, hiding it away from the cold that was eating away at her. Every now and then your hand would slither down to her side and feel the flesh that, mere hours ago, was pierced deep, almost to the bone. Just to make sure that the wound was no longer there. That for some strange reason, hadn't reappeared. That she wasn't in danger of bleeding out again.

You'd come so close to losing her. It was worse than the last time since then at the very least you knew that she was alive. She wasn't in your life but, to the best of your knowledge, she was among the living.

She almost wasn't that lucky.

You're such an idiot, you thought, shaking your head in disapproval. She could have told you that she was injured. She could have asked for help. No matter how awkward things were between you, you would have rushed to her aid, no questions asked.

Which was exactly why she'd kept it to herself.

This was just another problem that she could avoid addressing. Just another problem that she could ignore in hopes that it would go away.

Things like this never did.

Which, in turn, had only made her even more keen on pretending it wasn't there.

Even as the pain got unbearable (it had to have been; that wound was pretty deep) and she was barely able to keep herself on her feet, she'd kept on a brave face and insisted that nothing was wrong.

Had she not collapsed, she would probably still be at it, pale as a ghost but insistent that she was okay.

You fucking bitch.

If only you could hate her. Even when she did things like this, you couldn't muster an ounce of hate towards her. You hated that she did it, hated that she'd put you in a position — once again; this wasn't the first time she'd done this in your centuries together — where you feared for her life. Hated that she couldn't put her pride aside and let you help her before things got this bad.

But her, you could never hate.

You loved her too much for that.

Yet another thing you hated.

A rustle prompted you to twitch, shaking you out of your thoughts. Your hackles rose, firm as needles. Instinctively, you bent over Agatha's sleeping form and pulled her closer against you, shielding her, protecting her. Keeping her safe from whoever and whatever could possibly pose a threat to her wellbeing.

Teen's thin form slowly padded closer, his hands up to signal that he was here in peace.

A breath you'd been holding in left your mouth, almost painfully. Relief flooded your veins, lifted heavy weight off your shoulder. "Sorry, I thought…"

I thought you were Rio.

Out of everyone, she was the last person you wanted around Agatha at a time like this.

"You're good," Teen said, offering a smile that proved he meant it. "I just wanted to see how she's doing."

"She's still asleep." Your hand resumed its place on her hair, fingers twining into chocolate locks. "Unconscious. Whatever."

Teen gave a nod of understanding. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go for it."

You didn't exactly want company, but there was no harm in letting him join you, if only for a few minutes.

The kid cared about Agatha; that much was clear. Be he the Scarlet Witch's son or not, he was a kind soul. He meant no harm.

Agatha was quite fond of him, as well. When he had gotten injured, she was the one who'd urged Jen to act. She was the one who'd sat by his side until he'd woken up.

She could pretend all she wanted — she cared about this kid. She cared too much for her own good.

He reminded her of her own kid.

Not that she would ever admit it out loud.

"You're very protective of her," Teen remarked.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, staining them flush. "Someone has to be."

Especially now that she was powerless. She needed someone in her corner, someone to have her back. Someone to defend her when she couldn't do it herself.

"She doesn't exactly have a stellar reputation," the kid said with a chuckle.

"Nope." Understatement of the century. "Most people aren't her biggest fans."

"I've noticed."

Who wouldn't?

"Everyone either wants her dead or hurt."

"How come you don't?"

"Because I got to know her."

Because she let you get to know her.

Because she let you fall in love with her.

Because, behind closed doors, she wasn't the cold-hearted bitch everyone thought her to be.

"She does grow on you," Teen said.

It was your turn to let out a chuckle. "She sure does."

His face suddenly grew serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you know what happened to her son?"

Yes. You did. She'd told you once, two centuries ago, and had spent the rest of that night crying her eyes out while you'd held her and assured her that she wasn't a bad mother, that Nicky had loved her and had known that he was loved in return.

"That's not my story to tell."

Agatha had sworn you to secrecy. She didn't care about what people were saying about her. Didn't care that they'd spread around a tale of her having murdered her son or sacrificed him to the Devil. Didn't care that they'd made her out to be a monster.

As much as it pained you to listen to the rumors, you had to let it go. 

It was her life. Her character. If she didn't mind having it assassinated, who were you to say anything?

"Just… don't believe rumors, okay?" You couldn't tell the truth, but you sure as hell could point in its general direction. "People say awful things. None of it's true."

"Jen said—"

"That's definitely not true," you cut him off, setting the record straight. You'd wanted to strangle the other witch, especially after her gossip had resulted in Agatha getting that awful hallucination, but Agatha had ordered you to back off. "I can't say much. Just… it wasn't her fault."

That was what made that situation so tragic.

Agatha had done right by her son, had loved him and cared for him the best way that she knew how, and that still hadn't been enough. She'd still lost him.

Teen nodded, taking your words in.

"Don't prod her," you told him. "She doesn't like talking about it."

"She closed off when I asked her."

"She has a tendency to do that."

Of course, you had ways of making her talk, regardless.

Most times.

If she was being really stubborn, not even mind control could get the words out of her.

"Any other Agatha tips and tricks?" Teen asked with a hint of amusement in his tone, trying to lighten the mood.

Your response, on the other hand, was as serious as a heart attack. "Give her some grace. She's not bad. She's just… her. She may say or do some unsavory things, but that's not who she is."

Your eyes fell to her face in your lap. She looked so serene. So soft. The picture of the woman you fell in love with, once she'd lowered her walls and let you in. Once she'd allowed you to meet the real her.

Yes, she was selfish, yes she was wicked, but there was good in her. It was there in traces, present in every touch of her hand, every brush of her lips against yours, every comforting embrace and loving word that came out of her mouth in times when you most needed it.

Your Agatha was no angel, but she was a person, with all the good and bad that came with it.

She was your person.

"Don't take it to heart when she pushes you away."

"Is that what you did?" Teen asked, contemplating his words for a few moments, unsure whether to dare to prod.

One look from you was enough to assure him that it was okay.

It was only natural to ask.

After all, he had been there when Agatha had shown up at your house — the house that the two of you had used to share — and started reaming you out for having abandoned her, and you, giving as good as you'd gotten, had screamed how she had been the one to abandon you.

In reality, you'd both abandoned each other.

You'd both suffered, each in your own way.

"Yeah."

It would be a lie to deny it.

You'd been doing so for long enough.

"Can I ask what happened?"

You thought it over for a moment, then decided, what the hell.

Maybe telling someone would help lift this enormous burden off your shoulders.

"Three years ago we got into this massive fight. She left and…" The lump in your throat hurt to swallow. It burned its way down. "She didn't come back."

Fights like that were a yearly occurrence in your relationship. Usually, one of you would leave in a huff, pissed to high heavens, in desperate need of space, of time to cool off and clear her head. A few days would pass, and the angry party would return home. There would be tears and a conversation filled with apologies from both sides, and the truce would be sealed with a kiss.

There was none of that this time around.

Agatha hadn't returned home.

She hadn't responded to text messages or picked up calls.

It was like she had disappeared off the face of the planet.

The words that had left your mouth that day had been foul. You'd never spoken to her like that before. Had never known you'd had it in you to even attempt to.

Agatha, true to her character, had given as good as she had gotten. Her sharp tongue had made sure to make every insult sting like a slap to the face.

It had, by far, been the worst fight the two of you had ever had.

When she hadn't returned and had — it seemed — ignored all of your attempts to contact her, you'd thought that that was it. She'd had enough. She'd decided to cut you off for good and go her own way. She'd decided to find herself a girlfriend who wouldn't yell at her and call her names. She'd decided you just weren't doing it for her anymore.

So you'd let her go.

You'd moved on.

Well, theoretically.

One didn't move on from Agatha Harkness. One didn't just stop loving her. It would be impossible.

But you'd learned to live without her.

For the past couple of weeks you hadn't even cried once.

It was progress, of sorts.

Then she'd shown up at your door and, instead of hurt, there was guilt, and it was there to stay. For good, it seemed.

Just as you deserved.

As much as you wanted to pretend otherwise, the brunt of the blame was on you.

You shouldn't have given up on the woman you loved.

You should have looked for her.

You should have fought for her.

"And you didn't look for her?" Teen said softly, as if afraid of offending you.

The truth itself was far more offensive than any perceived slight.

You gave a small shake of your head. "I thought she'd moved on."

"Did you move on?"

"I thought I did."

Your hand slid to Agatha's side again. All clear. No wound. You allowed yourself a breath of relief, a welcome distraction from the turmoil that was eating you up inside.

"Sounds like you guys just had a misunderstanding."

That was exactly what it was.

A misunderstanding.

A case of mixed signals. Something a simple conversation should be able to fix.

It would have, if not for what had transpired as a result.

Oops didn't even begin to cover it.

"Yeah, well, that misunderstanding cost her three years of her life," you said, angry at yourself, at the dire situation that your inaction had contributed to.

"That wasn't your fault," Teen pointed out.

It was your mother's, you thought bitterly.

Wanda had inflicted unparalleled damage upon Agatha.

And you had let her.

You were none the wiser, pissed at the woman you loved instead of directing your anger where it actually belonged. Too busy resenting her to consider unforeseeable circumstances might be at play.

"You don't understand, Teen." You almost said Billy, but you caught yourself at the least moment. Agatha was way better at this stuff than you. "That spell that she was under… it was torture."

Even short-term exposure to such a spell could leave permanent marks on one's psyche.

Agatha had been under it for three years.

Three years of pain. Three years of anguish. Three years of torment.

Your hand gripped her shoulder. You pulled her closer, relishing in the fact that, despite everything that had transpired, she was safe. She had people to help her when she was in need. She had a coven.

She had you.

"She was suffering for three years and I had no idea."

Teen shifted uncomfortably. His gaze briefly fell upon Agatha's sleeping form before returning to you. "I'm sure she knows it wasn't on purpose."

"It doesn't matter. She was still hurt, and I wasn't there to protect her."

"You couldn't have known."

"Yeah, well, I should have!"

Teen flinched, startled by your outburst. Uttering a small apology, looked down at Agatha's tranquil face. Still pale, still deathly cold. No healthy blush that usually adorned her cheeks.

"I can't even imagine what it must've been like." You brushed your fingers across her cheek, tenderly, softly, as if she were made of porcelain. As if one careless touch would shatter her into a million pieces. "She won't talk to me."

Even if she did, there wasn't much that you could do.

Something like that didn't leave one's mind unscathed. The damage, once inflicted, was done. She would bear that pain for life.

The only thing that you could do was have her back. Assure her that it was okay, that you loved her no matter what.

This was just another scar in her collection. It didn't make her weak. It didn't change how you saw her, how you felt about her.

She was still your Agatha.

The problem was she was stubborn and would die before allowing herself to be vulnerable yet again.

"You can still be there for her," Teen said.

If only it were that easy. "She won't let me."

"Make her," he said with a shrug. As if it were that easy. As if Agatha would admit defeat and surrender without a fight.

You had to laugh. "You think anyone can make Agatha Harkness do anything?"

There was that time she'd caught the flu, and she wouldn't take Tylenol to lower her fever because human medicine was beneath her. You'd ended up crushing it into her soup, which, when she'd realized the white, gritty substance weren't spices, as you'd adamantly claimed, had ended in her dramatically proclaiming that you were trying to poison her.

Granted, that could have been the fever talking; Tylenol hadn't yet kicked in. But still.

"You're here now, aren't you?" Teen said.

"Only because she's unconscious." You stroked Agatha's hair, thick and beautiful. Silk between your fingers. You missed it. "I'm fine with her not wanting me around. I just want her to be okay. That's all. I don't wanna force myself into her life."

"Something tells me that you wouldn't be here if she didn't want you to be," Teen pointed out. "Even if she's putting up a front."

A smile broke out on your mouth. "Maybe."

She did say she didn't hate you.

Maybe there was still hope.

Maybe she could find it in her to forgive you.

"You said it yourself: she's not bad. She's just… her. Give her some grace."

You had to laugh. "Using my own words against me? That's very Agatha of you."

"It's true," Teen said with a chuckle.

Yeah. You supposed it was.

Agatha could do with some grace.

She didn't have people — friends, loved ones — out there to look out for her, to have her back even when she was in the wrong.

For three long, long years she didn't have you, either.

You wanted to make it right.

Agatha deserved that much.

"I should get back," Teen said, motioning to the rest of the coven out back, their chatter and laughter a distant echo.

He glanced down at Agatha; at her face being caressed by your fingers, at the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, concern etched all over his face like a tattoo.

He didn't want for her to be hurt any more than you did.

"She'll be okay," you said softly, offering him the same guarantee that Lilia had given you.

Agatha was strong. Resilient.

She would survive this.

She would recover in record time, as if she'd never even been in this predicament.

"I know," Teen said. "She's the baddest bitch in South America and Europe. Nothing keeps her down for long."

A laugh, loud and hearty, tore from your throat.

He was right; this was just an injury. One of the countless she'd acquired over the centuries, that she'd lived through with relative ease.

Who was to say she wouldn't do so again?

Your Agatha was nothing if not a fighter.

No sooner had his footsteps faded in the distance than Agatha's voice, coarse like beach sand, broke the silence that had settled over you. "Wasn't that disgustingly sappy? Lifetime channel would be proud."

How could you forget?

Your Agatha was nothing if not a sneaky bitch, as well.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness @revleftshark

[sturniololuvz]

may seem kinda weird but i would absolutely love if you did something where baby sister discovers matt/chris acting on sh and goes to tell nick what she saw, she doesn’t understand ofc but as she got older she realizes what happened

okayyy! hope you like !!☺️🩷

“The Things We Don’t Understand”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : sh,

(Y/N) was only six when she saw something she didn’t quite understand. She had woken up in the middle of the night, her stuffed bunny clutched in her small hands, as she padded down the hall in search of her big brothers. She always felt safe with them—Matt, Chris, and Nick. They were her whole world.

That night, she found Matt in the bathroom, the door slightly ajar. The dim glow of the overhead light cast long shadows on the tiled floor. She tilted her head, confused, as she watched him sitting on the closed toilet lid, sleeves rolled up, something sharp glinting in his hand. There was red on his skin, thin lines that stood out starkly against his pale arm.

She didn’t understand.

“Matty?” she asked, her small voice cutting through the silence.

Matt jolted, quickly pulling his sleeve down and forcing a smile onto his face. “Hey, squirt. What are you doing up?” His voice was calm, but she could see the way his hands shook as he wiped them on his pants.

(Y/N) blinked, gripping her bunny tighter. “What are you doing?”

Matt hesitated before ruffling her hair. “Nothing, kiddo. Just go back to bed, okay?”

But (Y/N) wasn’t convinced. Something about the way he smiled felt… wrong. Like when their mom smiled after a long day, but her eyes looked sad. So, she did what she always did when she had a question—she went to find Nick.

Nick was in his room, half-asleep when she climbed onto his bed. He groaned, rolling over. “What is it, munchkin?”

“Matt is hurting himself.”

Nick immediately sat up, his tiredness gone. “What?”

“He had something sharp, and there was red on his arm.” She frowned. “I don’t think he meant to, but I think he’s hurt.”

Nick stared at her for a moment before sighing and rubbing his face. “Go back to bed, (Y/N). I’ll take care of it, okay?”

She nodded, trusting him, and curled up under his blanket while he got up and left the room. She didn’t understand why Nick looked so worried, why he left so fast. She just knew that something wasn’t right.

Years Later

It wasn’t until she was older—maybe fourteen or fifteen—that she finally understood what she had seen that night.

She remembered the way Matt had flinched, the way Nick had paled at her words. She remembered how, after that night, Nick had always paid a little more attention to Matt, always watching him closely. She remembered how Matt wore long sleeves even in the summer, how Chris cracked more jokes than usual when the air felt too heavy.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

The realization made her heart ache.

She had been too young to understand then, but now, the weight of it settled in her chest. She wished she had held onto Matt a little longer that night, told him she loved him a little louder. But even now, as she sat next to him on the couch, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Matt looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” she said softly. “Just love you, is all.”

Matt blinked, startled, before chuckling and wrapping an arm around her. “Love you too, squirt.”

She couldn’t change the past, but she could be there now. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[lululocomo]

The past: Macaque's Reaction

(this is about my Forgotten Wukong au! feel free to look at the masterpost linked at the end if you wanna know more!)

_______________

Liu Er Mihou was the first to notice something happened. 

It’s been some years since his fight against Wukong, in which the Great Sage explained the best he could why he had to go through this pilgrimage and protect this monk. Mihou decided to give him one last chance and Wukong promised he will get home as soon as this Journey ended. Now Macaque is back on Flower Fruit Mountain hoping the King will keep his promise.

Macaque listens now and then in direction to the west, to know if the travel with the monk and the other pilgrims was almost done. The last time he listen what Wukong was up to, he was on his way to get his circlet removed by Guanyin after sealing the brotherhood in a scroll.

Finally! Wukong did kept his promise of getting back home after all of this was done! And about the brotherhood, well, Macaque wasn’t that sad about them. Sure they were friends, but not anymore, not after the fight against heaven and how they completely abandoned Wukong after it. Macaque still did try to find him and talked to him, even if the result was a smashed peach on the ground.

Mihou was still very conflicted about how to feel toward Wukong, they needed to have serious talk as soon as the King will be back on the mountain. But something wasn’t right, something was missing. Macaque couldn’t shake off this feeling of something missing, something big. Then he notice.

Wukong’s magic. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Minutes ago he could feel it getting closer, feeling Wukong getting closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. But now, nothing. It vanished into thin air. And then he noticed the lack of sounds.

He could no longer hear Wukong's breath, or his heartbeat. Normally Macaque is able to hear it even if he is far away thanks to his six ears.

But now, there was only a deafening silence. He couldn’t understand, what just happened? 

Not wanting to alarm the other demon monkeys on FFM, he continues to listen, to find any hints, anything to ease his mind and to tell him that all of this is a cruel joke. 

His mind went blank. There was no way Wukong just disappeared like that. Yes, he still hasn't forgiven him for going with the pilgrims and how he abandoned him, but he never expected all of this.

_________

No more than an hour later, Nezha was at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain,asking to see Macaque or any monkey in charge of Wukong's kingdom.

Macaque was pulled back from his spiraling of thought when he noticed Nezha's presence.

Using his shadow to teleport to him, he told him he better have a good reason why he's there. 

Nezha told him about all the things the Jade Emperor said; how Wukong died from a powerful curse he got during his journey, that apparently one of the many demons he fought had a cursed weapon capable of slowly killing an immortal being . And now his staff became cursed and is protected by a powerful barrier.

“ …where is he?” Macaque ask. “I- I don’t know. They didn’t answer when I asked, only saying he got disposed of.” “What do you mean disposed of?! You’re telling me it’s only been an hour since he supposedly died and he’s already disposed of??!” Nezha sighed: “Look I know this sounds very bad, and I agree something is awry. That’s why I came here as soon as I could to tell you this. Apparently his body was emanating a cursed energy after dying so that’s why they acted quickly” “... this doesn’t make any sense.." macaque paused "and what do you mean by something is awry? I was sure you would agree to whatever Heaven decided to do”. “I am not completely blind to what they do. Not long before they announced this, I saw that a part of the celestial army left the palace in secret and they got back when the news was spread. Perhaps it is connected, perhaps it is not. But my intuition tells me something is just wrong.”

“...”

“I know we are not on good terms but I thought it would be correct to tell you all this. I need to go now , my condolence for your loss.”

Nezha left the mountain as quickly as he got there to go back to the celestial palace.

Macaque stayed in the same spot,paralysed, still processing all the informations. ________

The news spread like wildfire. And everyone was too scared to go near the mountain with the "cursed magic staff".

Time passed, and Mihou was still looking for Wukong whenever he could, while protecting and taking care of the kingdom left behind after the sudden departure of the King.

Au Masterpost

[tricoloreddango]

Yandere Phainon sabotaging reader’s relationship

contents: gaslighting / gender neutral reader / mention of the death of the readers’s cat/ word count: 1k

The relationship you had with your boyfriend might not have been the most exciting, but you thought of it as satisfying enough… just the fact it let you live a stable and predictable life was enough to be comforting and not leave you lonely. Your relationship hasn’t started a long time ago, but you assumed it was going into a right direction.

However, Phainon wasn’t having it. He’s been consistently trying to prove it to you that you have settled down just for a bare minimum or has been bringing up things that (in his humble opinion) were red flags. This wasn’t any different when you invited Phainon over for tea.

He looked around the kitchen, noticing a spill of coffee beans on the counter. “Is this his mess?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m sure he’d clean it any other day. He just had to leave early for work,” you shrugged. You decided to change the topic, before Phainon would start telling you how you shouldn’t have to clean up after your own boyfriend. It was an innocent mistake from him, as he usually did his share of work. Phainon would still probably say something along the lines of “Even if, this is just the beginning—”

“He bought me flowers today,” you bragged to your visitor, sounding happy—not expecting your friend to soon make you lose that feeling. “What flowers did he give you?” he asked curious, smiling for your enthusiasm. “Roses,” you responded.

Suddenly, your friend looked disappointed, killing your smile. “Roses? Look, it’s nice he got you flowers. But aren’t peonies your favorite flowers?”

“Yes, but… he still didn’t have to give me any outside of occasions,” you muttered.

Phainon disagreed, “No, no. If he was buying them he might as well had picked the ones you like. It means he doesn’t really care about what you want but about what he wants and expects you to be grateful. Roses are so cliche and boring. He’s not romantic in any way.”

The look of uncertainty, wondering if you should believe his words, didn’t discourage Phainon. He was ready to prove you wrong furthermore your conversation. “Well… I can always tell him that. I’m sure he’ll understand and will make sure to get me the right ones the next time? He just didn’t know my favorite.” You smiled encouragingly, hoping your friend will agree.

He didn’t. He was ready to debunk your claim. “You really think he’ll listen? If he cared, he’d have asked you about your likes first. Also, don’t you remember when you asked to help you fix a tap? He didn’t,” he said with a slight disgust.

“Yes, but he was tired! He promised me he’d do it tomorrow, I just managed to do it before him,” your voice was now frustrated. Why was he so not understanding?

“I doubt that. You had to ask him to not tighten jar lids multiple times before he eventually had stopped, or had to ask him to stop putting jars on a shelf too high for you. He clearly doesn’t care about your boundaries. Don’t you remember his reaction? You said he raised his voice at you, didn’t you?” he said with worry.

“Right, but it’s because I asked him when he was busy and I wouldn’t stop interrupting—”

“My friend,” Phainon put a hand on your shoulder, his face all soft and apologetic you had to deal with such a bad man. “Even if busy, a right boyfriend wouldn’t raise his voice, as it signals anger issues if he’s snapping at something so simple. He would have remembered to not tighten lids in the first place, and be considerate of you having less strength or you being shorter. A boyfriend who cares is the boyfriend who knows you well.”

Phainon’s words were getting to you slowly, making you have second thoughts. What if you were naive and didn’t notice signs? You trusted Phainon, he’s never given you a reason to sabotage your happiness, so surely there must be some truth to his words… which doesn’t mean hearing it all was easy. You felt self conscious at the idea of letting yourself end up in such a bad relationship or being used. Tears blurrier your vision, threatening to fall.

“But… when I ended up losing my cat, he was there to comfort me! He definitely cares! He listened to me and did things for me so I could rest! He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t!”

Phainon shook his head gently, making his voice more serious, “He was using affection to get you attached in your vulnerable moments. That has to be true, considering he normally doesn’t show you much affection? He even acts all distant.”

“He’s just not that comfortable with being vulnerable, cause he had a difficult childhood! He still gets adjusted to opening up to me but we’re getting there!” you protested, but your efforts were starting to feel useless in your perspective. Phainon might really be right—if he didn’t mind easily showing you affection during your sad day, why wouldn’t he do so any other time?

“Emotionally unavailable people don’t change. They make relationships one sided! Aren’t you tired of making yourself vulnerable while he doesn’t give you anything in return?” he scolded gently, pulling you into his arms when you were finally crying. You didn’t protest, letting him rub your back. Phainon has never let you down, unlike your boyfriend, apparently. “I think you just want to ‘fix’ him. Yet this isn’t your role. You should find someone who makes you happy, rather than someone that you have to be responsible for! Relationship should make your life easier, not burdening. You have to say so many ‘buts’ to defend him; that should be enough concerning,” he added, his voice made cashmere to comfort you.

He felt all joy and relief when you ended up nodding into his chest. He’ll gladly show you what a boyfriend model should be, as no way in any universe he’d let you be with someone else. Phainon wholeheartedly believed that only he was meant for you, and that you can be the happiest with him only—he may as well be your soulmate.

Didn’t he know your needs the most? You could ask him what he thinks you’ve eaten yesterday and he’d have no problem guessing. You weren’t aware of the extent of his knowledge about you.

[lady-belz]

Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic

Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?”

Author Note: Poll results from last week said Jungkook would be the next one in the series. Boy were you wrong! LOL!

Story notes: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

When Yoongi entered 'Rkive', it was to see his long-time friend and bandmate staring off into space as he sat at his control board.

“Oh not again!” he chuckled to himself as he closed the door. “Nam!” he called out, trying not to startle the man.

Namjoon blinked twice before looking up at his friend. He cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting pink and Yoongi knew what, or rather who, had been on his friend's mind. “Oh! Hey! How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you thinking about your wife again. What did she send this time?” Yoongi wondered, sitting in one of the empty chairs next to him.

Yoongi (all of the boys really) absolutely adored the woman that had captured his leader and best friend's heart. It was an accidental meeting (Namjoon had been out riding his bike, got distracted by a duck in a pond and nearly ran the poor woman over. If she hadn't jumped out of the way, falling into the pond, she would have been hit with his bike. He was completely embarrassed as he helped her out of the pond, apologizing over and over again as she wrung out her soaked clothing. She waved him off, giggling and the moment their eyes met, it was love at first sight) that turned into something long-term and on a sunny day, 3 years later, in front of the same pond they'd met at, they got married. Married now for nearly 6 years, she still found ways to embarrass her husband, and one of her favorites was sending her husband selfies. Not tame ones either – ones that made him question everything about life and caused him no amounts of embarrassment if he was out in public with his friends and popped a boner after looking at the pics.

If anything, his question made Namjoon's cheeks even redder and he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. “That good, huh?”

“You don't understand, man! That woman can make angels want to commit sins!” Namjoon burst out, making Yoongi laugh loudly.

“And you married her.” Yoongi reminded him.

“Well I couldn't let anyone else get their grubby hands on her! I saw her first!”

Yoongi wondered if he had channeled Jimin for a minute, he was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the chair. Namjoon sounded like a pouty 5 year old.

“So why are you here, and not at home asserting dominance over your fiefdom?” Yoongi smirked. Namjoon gave him a dirty look.

“Did you just really say 'fiefdom'? Dude.” Namjoon shook his head. “Besides, we have work to do.”

“Work that can wait until later.” Yoongi assured him. “Go home. Be with your wife. You know you want to.”

“...I kind of do.” Namjoon looked down, cheeks and ears red.

“So why are you still here?”

“The music guides-”

“I can call Jungkook.”

“And the ad-libs need-”

“Jimin's free.”

“But the ra-”

“Hobi's down the hall in his studio.”

“But-”

“Jin and Tae are downstairs in the practice room. Go home, Joonie. We got this covered.” Yoongi chuckled, patting his friend on the leg.

“You s-”

“Kim Nam-joon! Go home!” Yoongi laughed, grabbing his friend by the arm and dragging him out of the studio, Namjoon grabbing his bag and jacket before they could be left behind.

“Fine!” Namjoon sighed as he slipped on his jacket, grabbing his bike from beside the door to the studio. “Don't call me unless it's an emergency!” he yelled as he headed for the elevators.

“We won't!” Yoongi yelled back with a chuckle.

The elevator doors closed as Hobi poked his head out of 'Hope World'. “The wife?”

“Yep.” Yoongi chuckled, moving to the door of 'Genius Lab'. Hobi just shook his head with a laugh, going back inside his own studio.

Namjoon entered his apartment to the smells of delicious food. “Y/n, I'm home!” he called out.

“You're home early! I'm in the kitchen!” you returned as he hung up his coat and bag. He followed the smells to the kitchen and found you at the stove, dishing out a soup into some bowls. You looked up and smiled at him. “Why are you home so early? I thought you were going to be a few hours?”

“Yoongi kicked me out.” he shrugged, moving to stand behind you.

“Why would he do that?” you frowned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Because he caught me staring off into space again.” Namjoon replied, pressing against your back. You hid a smirk, now knowing the reason why he was home early.

“You were thinking about that photo I sent this morning.” you told him, making it a statement and not a question.

“What do you think?” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. You hummed in thought as you moved out of his embrace to take the empty pot to the sink. You could have sworn you heard him growl.

“I think you need to get your head out of the clouds.” you chuckled as you washed the pot, setting it in the strainer to dry. You felt his body heat at your back again, this time his hands resting on your hips as he pressed his nose into your hair.

“How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” he whisper-growled against your ear, making goosebumps break out along your arms. “Especially when you keep sending me those pictures!”

“Well... just keeping you interested.” you smirked, giving him a side eye. You found yourself spun around and pinned to the counter at your back, his lips inches from your own making your pulse rate spike.

“I'm always interested, love.” he stated, his tone dropping an octave and making desire slowly curl in your stomach.

“Yeah?” you whispered, voice shaky and he smirked hearing it.

“The things I want to do to you right now on this counter...”

You couldn't help it – you moaned, the sound seeming to come from the back of your throat. It was rare when Namjoon became so dominant and it turned you on completely.

“Namj-” you started to say but he cut you off, his lips sliding over yours in a sensual kiss that made your toes curl and your hair stand on end. You reached out to touch his chest but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back with his larger hand. You gasped in surprise and desire.

“No touching!” he growled.

“Yes, sir!” you agreed almost immediately.

Using his free hand, he slowly unbuttoned the shirt you had put on that morning, realizing it was one of his. He loved it when you wore his clothes and if he wasn't already hard before, he definitely was now. You wore nothing beneath it, reminding him of the photo you had sent him that morning; you wearing this exact shirt while laying in bed, the fabric barely covering you.

“You drive me crazy, do you know?” he whispered, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your sternum.

“A girl has to have goals in life, Joonie.” you replied, shivering against his touch.

“And yours is to make me insane with lust?” he glanced up at you, arching an eyebrow and hollowing his cheeks, a look that never failed to make you wet.

“Yes.” you answered honestly, staring him directly in the eye. He just gave you that look again. You waited to see what his next move would be and he surprised you by wrapping his hands around your waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. You gasped in surprise and desire. “Joon!”

He smirked at you, getting to his knees and pulling your legs over his shoulders. Before you could complain, his face was between your legs, his tongue dancing along your wet folds and you cried out in shock. “Fuck!” you shouted, your head falling back between your shoulders as he ate you like a man starved.

He groaned at your taste, something he could never get tired of and hearing your moans above him meant he knew he was doing it right. He pushed in deeper, the moan you released the filthiest moan he'd ever heard come from your lips and he smirked internally.

Your fingers slid into his hair, grabbing tightly and pulling hard, causing his tongue to move faster. He released a hand from your thigh, his thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing hard. You started to swear most colorfully, making him grin. He loved reducing you to a babbling wreck whenever he had the chance.

Your thighs started to shake, the coil of desire in your stomach tightening by the second. You were so close.

He felt the tremors in your legs and used the other hand to slip two fingers inside of you, replacing his tongue, moving the wet muscle to your clit and making circular motions. “Oh my god! J-Joonie!” you nearly screamed, falling backwards on top of the counter. The wet sounds his fingers made sliding in and out of you were loud, the acoustics of the kitchen making it echo.

The coil snapped and your back arched as your orgasm blasted through you. You soaked his face, the counter, the floor and the front of his shirt as your thighs snapped closed around his head. He ignored it, continuing to wring every bit of pleasure out of you he could get.

Exhausted and spent, your legs finally relaxed, dropping heavily to his shoulders as you struggled to catch your breath.

He removed your legs from his shoulders, leaving you laying on the counter as he gained his feet, quickly stripping out of his clothes. Once naked, he grabbed your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter before sliding his hard cock inside of you in one thrust. You gasped loudly in pleasure as his large hands gripped your hips and he started thrusting hard.

“Fuck, you feel amazing!” he groaned as you wrapped your legs around his back, keeping him close.

“J-Joon!” you babbled out, so wrecked by your husband you were punch drunk, eyes rolling behind tightly closed lids. He did not let up, didn't pause for a break, chasing his pleasure as well as giving you more of your own.

“So close.” he mumbled some time later. You pried your eyes open to watch him fall apart over you, his face absolutely beautiful as the pleasure overwhelmed him. You could feel his hot seed fill you, triggering your own orgasm, your walls fluttering around him as you moaned his name.

Breathless and sated, he collapsed, his head falling against your stomach.

You stayed like that for a time, waiting for your breathing to regulate and your bodies to cool.

“Guessing you really liked this morning's photo?” you giggled later. He raised his head, giving you a salacious grin.

“Don't tell Yoongi, but I jerked off to it after you sent it.” he chuckled, making you laugh and flutter your walls around him. He thrust back into you, making you both groan. You fell back on the counter, staring at the ceiling.

“I'm never going to be able to cook in here again without thinking about today.” you giggled, making him laugh outright.

“Your fault for being so delicious and putting thoughts in my head.” he replied, slipping his arms around your back to pull you upright and into his embrace. You leaned down to kiss him deeply as he pulled you off the counter, still linked together. He took you to your bedroom where you continued your activities well into the evening.

-End-

[lydiasfalling]

PINS AND NEEDLES

percy jackson x athena!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, post breakup, angst, possible part two??? ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

post breakup yearning? sign me up. also i’ve never ever written athena reader cause it feels too much like writing myself and i don’t want to project but i hope u guys enjoy!!! (unedited!)

it had been exactly three weeks, two days, and six hours since you and percy jackson had broken up. now, while it pained you to admit, you missed him. your friends would tell you that you couldn’t miss him. not when you had left him the way you did. truth is, life as a demigod was hard. having no guarantees that you would even be alive tomorrow was a hard pill to swallow. it had gotten to a point where it felt wrong to give percy another weight on his back. he was already under the pressure of saving the world, he didn’t need a relationship to balance on it.

first came the arguing. it had become a staple for the recent era of your relationship. you would bring up the idea of taking a break, which he would turn down. he refused to hear you out whatsoever. then came the silent treatment. he couldn’t stand how every time you’d spoken, you would flip it back to the topic of breaking up. he thought better to just ignore the problem all together. finally, came the blow up. you two had found a rare moment of peace amongst the war. his fingered takes through your wet hair as you laid on his lap. you had again decided to bring up the topic again. the resulted in the fight. breaking up wasn’t easy, but something you saw necessary.

now, you paced in your cabin. these past few weeks had been a personal tartarus for you ( and you assumed percy, or he-who-shall-not-be-named ). every little thing reminded you of him. the smell of the lake you’d spend hours swimming in. the fields you would run through hand-in-hand. the bed you would spend hours having—well, you get the point. every corner held a memory. this realization made you want to rip your scalp clean off.

however, no matter how much you would deny it, you were still hopelessly in-love with perseus jackson. watching him from a far made you realize just how lucky you had been to call him yours. the beauty of his soul was one you wish could be captured and put in a jar for everyone to admire. the selfish part of you wanted that jar on your nightstand. you decided now was the time. you would finally leave the comfort of your cabin and venture into the camp. your siblings were sure that you were aware how many times percy had asked them about you. he told them to make sure you got proper care since he couldn’t be the one to do so. you knew he’d be happy to see you getting dressed to leave.

“y/n? you coming?” your sister had asked you. it was just about to be lunch.

“mhm. give me one moment.” the mirror showed you what you had dread seeing. heavy purple bags laid under your eyes. your cheeks seemed hollow. people would argue that you couldn’t be sad since you broke up with him, but they didn’t understand. you and percy were—by definition—joined at the hip. you did everything together. now the color had been drained out of usually exciting things.

“any day now.” you joined your sister at the doorframe, stepping out into the sun. the aroma of camp consumed your senses, putting you at a momentary state of ease. this ended soon as you felt the formalist presence of a certain brunette boy. his aura was contagious. you could feel him radiating half way across the world. however, he was unusually dull. turning around, you finally came face to face with percy.

“i. . . uh. . . hi, ang—y/n. didn’t see ya there.” even in the awkward atmosphere, he still managed to bring your shoulders down and your brows to relax.

“mhm. . .” you didn’t truly speak, scared of what would leave your mouth. you quickly turned back around and began to shuffle away. percy hand caught your wrist in record time.

“can we, ya know, talk? i don’t think i got to say my piece when everything went down.” he kept his hand on your skin, goosebumps trailing up your arm at the feeling. you ripped you arm away as if the touch had burned you.

“now’s not a great time.”

“okay, well, when is a good time?” he shifted on his heels

“sometime. . . other. . . than now?” you said, though it sounded more like a question to both of you.

“what happened?” he questioned, an exasperated look coming over his features.

“what?” you asked.

“to us! what happened to us? i mean. . .fuck, y/n. i was in love with you. scratch that. i am in love with you. and im trying really. really hard to respect your decision. but how can i? how can i walk past you every single day knowing im so beyond in love with i can’t even function? i cant even think about battle anymore. it’s you. you occupy every thought from the moment i wake up to the moment i fall to sleep. it’s painful.”

“it’s for the best.” you whispered.

“bullshit! i think you’re just scared!” his volume increased, causing other campers to turn in your direction.

“lower your voice, percy.” you smiled at everyone, hoping they would stop listening. “like i said, this really isn’t a good time.” you left soon after those words left your mouth, not allowing him any time to protest.

“y/n!” he called after you. you simply pretended not to hear it as you re-entered your cabin, slamming the door behind you.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @cowboylikemac @lydiascabinsix @raysmayhem-72

my masterlist

[darkfictionjude]

Okay so I know this is a touchy subject already especially since certain people have already been bitchy about it before, but sometimes Crowny is genuinely difficult to play as. I feel super conflicted about them since they're the literal personification of "damn bitch you live like this?"

Realistically, progress isn't linear and different people get different results even if they do the exact same thing, but as of now it feels like they aren't really allowed to improve at all. If you study you're still mediocre leaning towards bad in terms of understanding. You try to workout you see absolutely no results, not even the tiniest bit. When it comes to the other characters, it's always one step forward and two steps back. When you give them a hobby or try to get them to pick up a skill they find little enjoyment. When people bother them they barely fight back or even argue, and when they do it's like a sarcastic quip or a grumble at most. By the end, they haven't even made a dent. These don't make them less of a person and it doesn't make them a failure since the world is quite literally out to get them, but it's like they aren't allowed any satisfaction in their life. (Yeah it's been like a month, maybe barely scratching two in the current timeline so maybe this contradicts what I first said about progress but I'm dumb as hell)

It's wild to go from the side quests, backstory segments, interactions with the ROs and then Crown family just for all the hype to fade when there's a segment with just Crowny all alone. I know that there's a reason for why they are the way they are, but I literally have to take breaks from reading their solitary moments sometimes because it seems to drag on. I know things aren't easy in this universe, I know the world is supposed to be cruel and unfair, but like can they at least get a cake for their efforts? Or a hug? Or be able to sleep through one night and wake up well rested?

I hope I'm not sounding like an asshole or a insane here. Personally, they're relatable in a lot of aspects. I may not have had supernatural shit going after me, but I had a lot of issues that many of their experiences brush way too close to. It's just the way it's presented that makes them feel like they're like the random piece of chewy cartilage in an otherwise perfectly cooked steak, unpleasant but I'm gonna eat it anyway.

I literally just wrote a whole ass book complaining, but I at least wanna say I do love your work, Crowny included even if my words seem to say otherwise, and I'm super excited to see what happens in the timeskip since i know this is like JUST the beginning. I'm like seriously praying my tone is coming off the right way if that's even possible. If you read through all this thanks. I'm not gonna hide behind anon because I at least wanna be able to explain myself if this comes across wrong.

but like can they at least get a cake for their efforts? Or a hug? Or be able to sleep through one night and wake up well rested?

Well no 😭😭

And that comes from the fact that they are self loathing, depressed as hell and have virtually no support system while dealing with things that they aren’t mature enough to handle, actually their mental health is getting far worse which is by design

I feel like perhaps some readers have not realized just how depressed crowny is. All the things you described about them finding little enjoyment, etc., are key markers of major clinical depression

I feel also people did miss the fact that crowny kind of exploded in the library they didn’t shut up, they didn’t let it go which I think is a positive because this is the first time they’ve have enough to say “enough”

Sorry but I like my things slow burn 💀 that Halloween party is meant to be a breakthrough for them and I think perhaps it’s been glossed over by some because what happened to James has gotten the most attention and the final moment in the woods. Crowny outed their “friends” for the first ever and fought back against their tormentor in only one single night. James for all his issues did the one thing that broke the camel’s back and pushed Crowny over the edge, all 7 episodes have led to this

Crowny is meant to fall before they come up that’s how I wanted it because realistically someone could not handle all of this without losing their mind. It has barely been two months, Crowny has only seriously hit the main plot in episode 4 which in the current timeline was about 3 weeks ago (from episode 7)

Truly the progress that crowny did make in episode 7 should have taken longer, people with crowny’s issues spend years in therapy before they feel they have the right to fight back.

There’s a reason episode 7 is the midseason finale. It’s not only about the plot but about crowny themself….

Dw you’re tune is fine I can usually tell when someone doesn’t think before they write 😭

[bitchinbarzal]

Misunderstood | B Faber

summary: you guys haven’t made it official and it comes back to bite brock when he is pictured out at dinner with a friend.

-

The cold Minnesota air nipped at your skin as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, sitting on your couch with a cup of coffee in hand. The warmth of your apartment contrasted the harsh chill outside, the streets dusted in fresh snow. The quiet morning should have been comforting, but instead, you found yourself scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, the flickering glow of your phone screen somehow amplifying the restlessness gnawing at your mind.

Then, you saw it.

Your thumb froze on the screen as you stared at the image before you. Brock. Your boyfriend—or at least, that’s what you thought he was.

He stood at a table, smiling like he always did, the one you adored and couldn’t get enough of. But this time, it wasn’t just his grin that caught your attention. Standing next to him was a woman—blonde, beautiful, and clearly too comfortable with him. She had her hand resting on his arm, a look of fondness that made your stomach twist. The caption read: “Dinner date with my favorite guy.”

The words blurred in your vision as you stared at the picture, trying to make sense of it. You blinked, trying to calm the rising panic inside you. Your fingers swiped quickly to refresh the feed, hoping this was some kind of mistake, some social media glitch. But no, there were more photos—more pictures of Brock and this girl, the two of them enjoying dinners, laughing at something only they seemed to understand, posing close in a way you hadn’t even been able to get Brock to do with you.

And suddenly, all the confidence you had in the relationship seemed to disappear. Why hadn’t he told you about her? You scrolled through the rest of the posts, each one more intimate than the last. It hit you in waves—the jealousy, the confusion, the bitter taste of betrayal. You had always kept things casual with Brock, no pressure, no expectations. But these pictures… They didn’t look casual. Did he think you were just another option?

A pang of hurt ran through you. Had you been nothing more than a placeholder while he figured out what he really wanted?

You set your phone down, hands shaking slightly. You tried to calm yourself. It could be nothing, right? But then the doubts crept in, taking over your thoughts like an uncontrollable storm. Maybe this wasn’t a casual thing for him after all. Maybe he was just too scared to tell you. You were only ever a backup plan, an afterthought. That’s how it felt. You had no idea where you stood in his life, and that was the worst feeling of all.

The next few days were nothing short of torturous.

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond to his texts. He’d sent a few asking how you were, if you were okay, but each time you read his messages, all you could feel was the knot of jealousy and confusion tightening in your chest. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you had no right to be angry. You had never set any official boundaries, and he had never made any promises to you.

But it didn’t stop the gnawing feeling inside.

When he called you on the second night of the silence, you debated not answering. But you couldn’t bring yourself to let it ring out. “Hello?” you said, your voice more clipped than you intended.

“Hey, it’s me. You’ve been quiet. Is everything okay?” Brock’s voice came through the phone, sounding concerned but also confused.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” You could feel your chest tightening as the words felt like lies in your mouth.

“Are you sure? You’ve been distant. I just want to know if something’s wrong.”

The frustration hit you suddenly, and it slipped out before you could stop it. “What, you want me to just pretend everything’s fine? Pretend like I don’t see all those photos of you and her?” The words were out before you could catch them, and the silence that followed was deafening.

“Wait, what?” Brock’s voice cracked slightly “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” you spat. “I’ve seen it, Brock. All the pictures. All the dates. Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Your voice trembled now, the anger laced with hurt.

There was a long pause, and you could almost hear him processing what you were saying. Then, a sigh. “Listen, I didn’t think it was a big deal. She’s just a friend. She’s one of my teammate’s sisters. We’ve hung out a few times with the team, but there’s nothing going on. I swear.”

But the doubt lingered in your mind. “You didn’t think it was a big deal? You didn’t think it was a big deal to mention that you were hanging out with another girl? That’s what you’re telling me?” You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears now. The more he explained, the more it sounded like an excuse. And the more it hurt.

“I didn’t think it would bother you” Brock added quietly. “I thought we were just…having fun, you know? I didn’t think it would cause any issues.”

“Well, it’s causing issues now,” you snapped, cutting the conversation short. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Brock. I just need space.”

And with that, you hung up, not giving him the chance to say anything more. The silence after you ended the call was suffocating. You hated that you had let your emotions spiral like this, but the damage felt done. Your heart was heavy with bitterness, and no amount of reasoning could make it feel right again.

Days passed, and the tension only grew. Brock tried to reach out—texts, calls—but you ignored them all. You felt justified in your anger, but the truth was, the silence was killing you both. Each time you saw his name pop up on your phone, your heart wavered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open the messages. You had decided that if he cared, he’d come to you. He’d fix this.

But it didn’t happen. Not the way you expected, at least.

Instead, you found yourself standing in your apartment on the fourth day, staring at the door as if it might be a dream.

The sound of soft knocks broke through your thoughts. You slowly opened the door, almost dreading what you might find on the other side. But when you looked up, it was Brock—holding a bouquet of wildflowers, his face a mix of anxiety and determination.

You stared at him for a moment before the anger bubbled up again. “What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to hide the pain in your voice.

“Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading. “I know I messed up. I should’ve told you about her, but I never meant for any of this to happen. I care about you. I don’t want this to end because of a misunderstanding.”

Your breath hitched, emotions swirling inside you like a tornado. “You should’ve told me” you whispered, the hurt creeping into your voice. “I saw those pictures, Brock. I felt like you were hiding something from me. And I—” You broke off, looking away, your face flushing with embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Brock said, stepping closer, his voice full of regret “I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t important to me. She’s just a friend—nothing more. You mean everything to me.”

You shook your head, trying to hold back the tears. “I shouldn’t have ignored you. I should’ve trusted you, but I didn’t know where I stood.”

Brock reached out for you, taking your hands gently in his. “I should’ve explained sooner. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel second to anyone, especially not because of some misunderstanding.”

His apology, the sincerity in his eyes, hit you harder than you expected. Your walls started to crumble, and with them, the weight that had been pressing on your chest.

“I’m sorry, too,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Brock’s smile was hesitant but warm. He pulled you into an embrace, holding you tight. “Let’s promise no more misunderstandings, okay? I want this,us,to be real.”

You nodded, feeling the tension dissolve. “No more misunderstandings,” you repeated.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Work Too Hard, Can You Fuckin' Pay Me?

Part 14 - Y/N moved to escape some of thier looming troubles from Westview, to the place that their best friend said would make a difference. New job, new digs, will Y/N make a change for the better, or leave another city with their tail between their legs?

TW: Angst

Word Count: 3K

Read Pt. 1 HERE Read Pt. 2 HERE Read Pt. 3 HERE Read Pt. 4 HERE Read Pt. 5 HERE Read Pt. 6 HERE Read Pt. 7 HERE Read Pt. 8 HERE Read Pt. 9 HERE Read Pt. 10 HERE - Read Pt. 11 HERE - Read Pt. 12 HERE - Read Pt. 13 HERE

You Run Away When You Just Can't Face It

You knew you had to handle this as soon as possible. After leaving Wanda's late Thursday night, you got into your car and called a half-asleep Pietro. "Hey, man, I need to talk to you. Can we talk?" You hoped the urgency in your voice was enough to convince him without alarming him.

"What's wrong? Can't it wait till tomorrow?" He sounded sleepy, and you felt guilty for waking him up.

"It can't," you said firmly. "It's about Val."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. He finally broke the silence with a groan. "Dammit," he said, the sleepiness evaporating from his voice. "How did I know this bitch was gonna ruin everything?" he mumbled to himself. "Come over, Y/N."

You drove through the dark, empty streets of the city, the light rain tapping against the windshield like a persistent drumbeat, echoing the anxiety pounding in your chest. The warmth of your tea with Wanda was long gone, and you felt cold, despite the heat blasting from the vents. When you arrived at his penthouse, you took a deep breath and stepped out into the cold, damp air. The walk to his door felt like an eternity as you rehearsed what you were going to say, trying to find the right words to explain your messed-up past with Val.

Pietro answered the door with a weary look, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice tight with tension. You stepped inside, the stark contrast of the modern, well-lit room highlighting the shadows under his eyes.

"Are you going to invite me in, Piet?" you laugh nervously, scratching at the back of your neck.

Pietro's eyes narrow, "This better be good." He steps aside, gesturing for you to enter, and you follow him into the living room. The space is sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline, but you can't appreciate it. The anticipation of what's to come is a heavyweight in the pit of your stomach.

You sit down on the leather couch, your heart racing as you take a deep breath and begin to explain. The words come out in a rush, spilling over each other as you recount your tumultuous history with Val, the way she manipulated you both, and the guilt that's been eating away at you for years. You leave nothing out, not even the parts that make you cringe with regret. You watch his expression shift from surprise to anger, and finally, to something that looks a lot like pain.

You detail the conversation you had with Wanda, telling him about her reaction, Natasha, and everything that happened tonight. The anger in his eyes is a living, breathing thing. You watch as he sits, staring at the floor, his jaw clenched tightly.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, feeling like the words are insufficient. His expression faltered, and he looked at you with dusky eyes.

Pietro remained silent for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides. "I know, Y/N. I can see it. And, frankly, you wouldn't have uprooted your life if it wasn't a necessary change. But I can't say I'm not upset. Do you know how much I've lost because of her?" he finally said, his voice strained.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I'm sorry, I truly am. I never wanted any of this to happen. I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

"I get it, Y/N. This is far from ideal." Pietro ran a hand through his hair, his eyes still on the floor. "But you need to understand that Val... she's toxic. She'll ruin everything she touches if she gets the chance. And now, that includes my sister."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "I know, and I'm going to do everything I can to stop her. To make sure she doesn't come between us."

"I understand your desire to do that, Y/N. But it may be best to lay low for a little bit. Val is like a predator. She gets bored when you don't give her something to engage with."

Pietro's words echoed in your mind as you nodded slowly. He had always had a way with words, a way to cut through the bullshit and get straight to the point. "What do we do then?" you asked, feeling a little lost.

"It's best you give Wanda some time. But, just know that I am extremely proud of you for telling her right away. The Y/N I knew in Westview wouldn't have."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words, even though the situation was far from ideal. "Thank you, man. That means a lot."

Pietro looked at you, his expression a mix of anger and concern. "But you can't keep hiding shit like this, Y/N. It's not good for you, or us. You need to be honest with Wanda, and me. She deserves that much, and I'm supposed to be your best friend."

You nodded, feeling the sting of his accusation. "I know, and I'm sorry." You paused, trying to gather your thoughts. "But Val, she's dangerous. She's going to cause trouble, and I don't know how to stop her without dragging everything else into it."

"Y/N, just lay low. Don't feed into her bullshit. You'll only give her ammunition. And you will likely hurt someone in the process. Now, please. Get home and mind your own for a while. I, frankly, don't want to see you for a little bit myself."

The words stung, but you knew he was right. You had to give Wanda time and space to process everything you had just told her, and him too. The drive back to your house was a blur, the rain now coming down in sheets. You felt like you were driving through a never-ending tunnel of guilt and regret. When you finally pulled into your driveway, you sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to gather the courage to go inside.

Stepping out of the car and into the cold embrace of the night, you wiped the rain off your face and made your way towards the house. The porch light flickered, casting eerie shadows across the lawn as you made your way to the door. You glanced over, noticing only one light on at Wanda's, making your heart clench at the thought of her in there, alone.

Once inside, you kicked off your drenched shoes and hung your coat on the rack, the quietness of the house almost deafening. You felt a pit in your stomach, a mix of dread and hope, as you made your way to the bedroom. You knew you had to give her space, but the thought of not holding her was like a knife twisting in your gut.

You slipped into bed, the coldness of the sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of the tea Wanda had made you. You could still smell her perfume lingering on the fabric of your pillows, and it was like a cruel reminder of the closeness you shared a few nights ago. You rolled over, burying your face into the pillow she had used, inhaling her scent, and trying to hold onto the last vestiges of comfort it provided.

Your Friday was a blur, burying yourself in work, completing a flurry of projects before thier deadlines. You stayed late, and your boss commented on you being here far after even the janitors. But you needed the distraction, the mind-numbing repetition of work. It kept you from spiraling into the dark pit of your thoughts, the echoes of Wanda's anger, and the fear of losing her, echoing in your mind.

When you got home that night, you were met with silence. The house felt eerie and empty, it didn't feel like home. You tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that you had made an irreparable mistake. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:15 AM, and you hadn't slept a wink. Your mind was racing with thoughts of what Val could be planning, and how you could fix this mess without losing the people you cared about most.

Deciding that sleep wasn't going to come easily, you snuck downstairs, the cold wooden floorboards creaking underfoot as you made your way to the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf of the pantry, the amber liquid glinting in the moonlight. You poured yourself a generous glass, the smell of oak and smoky warmth filling your nose as you took a deep breath. You downed it in one go, the burning sensation a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil you were feeling.

You felt the effects of the alcohol almost instantly, having not cracked open a bottle in months. You grabbed a wooden box hidden next to the bottle, cracking it open to display the emergency stash of joints you kept, in the instance that you needed to unwind, and nothing else was helping. You took one out, lighting it with the lighter that had been in your pocket all evening. The sweet, pungent smell of the weed-filled the room as you took a deep drag, exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around your head like a warm hug.

You grabbed the jacket that was lying over the back of one chair in the dining room, pulling it on before opening the back door and stepping onto your patio. The cool, humid air hit you as you walked over to one of your patio chairs, taking a seat and leaning back. The rain had stopped, leaving a gentle mist that kissed your skin and the smell of wet earth wafting up around you. You took another deep drag from your joint, letting the smoke billow around your face like a foggy shroud. The silence of the night was occasionally broken by the distant sound of a car driving down the wet streets.

You sat there for a while, just smoking and thinking, trying to figure out your next move. The whiskey had helped to dull the pain, but it hadn't done anything to solve the problem. You knew that you had to tread carefully with Wanda and Val. The last thing you wanted was to lose Wanda, and the thought of her being hurt because of your past with Val was unbearable.

As the night grew colder, you realized you needed to come up with a plan. You couldn't just sit around and wait for the situation to blow over; you had to be proactive. You needed to find a way to protect Wanda and her family from Val's toxic influence. You thought about leaving for a while, hoping things would blow over, but deep down, you knew that wasn't the right answer. You had to face this head-on.

"Can't sleep?" a familiar rasp startles you out of your thoughts. You jump, dropping your joint into the ashtray, and look up to see Wanda standing at the edge of your patio, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She's wearing your oversized t-shirt that barely covers her thighs, her feet bare and cold-looking against the damp concrete. The puzzled look on your face turns into one of concern as she takes a few steps closer to you, her eyes never leaving yours. "I, uhhh...smelled the weed. I looked outside to see where it was coming from, and saw you out here." She runs a hand through her hair, looking lost. "I thought you quit drinking?" she motioned at the now empty glass next to you.

You stood, peeling off your coat before bringing it over to her. "Not quite, just cut back significantly," you said, holding it out. She took the warm jacket gratefully, pulling it around her shoulders with a small shiver. "I've had a lot on my mind."

Wanda nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "I know," she murmured. "I can say the same."

You led her over to the chair, sitting down beside her, the plastic cushion cold and damp from the rain. She curled into the warmth of your jacket, the silence between you heavy and pregnant with unsaid words. You took a deep breath, the scent of mint and rain mixing with the lingering aroma of whiskey. "Wanda," you began, "I know you're hurt, and you have every right to be. But I need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I've been trying to be the person you deserve."

"Y/N." Wanda's voice was barely a whisper, the name a question and a plea all rolled into one. "I know. I know you're sorry." She took a shaky breath, her eyes searching yours. "I also know you're trying to change from that person back in Westview."

You nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze. "But it's hard to trust you," she continued, her voice cracking a little. "Everything I've been through with her, with my family... I just can't handle any more betrayal."

You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, the coolness of the night air seeping into your skin. "I get it," you said softly. "But I'm not asking you to trust me blindly. Just... give me a chance to prove it to you. To show you that I've changed, that I'm not that person anymore."

"I know you're not that person anymore, Y/N." Wanda's voice was softer now, the anger from earlier giving way to something more vulnerable. "But the thing is, I don't know if I can trust that Val won't drag you back into her mess." She looked away, staring out into the night. "I just don't want to get hurt again."

"Wanda," you whispered, taking her hand in yours. It was cold and trembling slightly. "I understand your fears. But I won't let that happen. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and Piet."

Wanda's gaze returned to yours, searching for sincerity in the depths of your eyes. For a moment, you could see the walls she had built around herself start to crack. "I know you mean it," she said, her voice small. "But what if you can't?"

"We will kill ourselves with the 'what if's', Wands." You took a deep breath, feeling the coolness of the night air fill your lungs. "But I won't let that happen. I promise."

She looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers in her lap. You kneeled next to her, grabbing onto her hands to still her movements. "Even if it means that I need to leave you alone, I will do it. I mean it. Whatever it takes."

Wanda sighed heavily, "Y/N, I don't want you to leave." Her eyes searched yours, a silent plea for understanding. "I just... I went through a lot. With my ex. And I don't want to do it again."

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. "I know you did. But I'm here, willing to work on this, willing to face whatever comes our way."

Wanda took a deep breath, the chilly air visible in the moonlight. She leaned forward, pulling herself closer to you. "Okay. I still need some time, but we can do this," she whispered. A small smile crept across your face.

"But you have to promise me one thing," she said, her gaze intense.

"Anything," you vowed, feeling the warmth of hope begin to fill the void that had been growing in your chest since you told her about Val.

"Promise me," Wanda's voice was steady, "that you'll never make me cry like this again," she let out a watery chuckle.

You felt a pang of guilt in your chest, "Wanda, I swear to you, on everything that I am, I will never intentionally let this happen again. You have my word," you vowed, your voice thick with emotion. "I cannot promise that I won't make you cry, but my only goal is that you cry from laughter and happiness."

Wanda's smile grew a little, a spark of hope in her eyes. "That's all I ask," she murmured, leaning into you. You wrapped your arms around her, feeling her shiver slightly from the cold. "Come inside," you whispered, "It's freezing out here."

"Y/N?" Wanda's voice was a whisper, a question and a plea all rolled into one. She stepped closer, stopping your movement as the scent of rain and mint washed over you. She stepped up to you, wrapping her arms around your neck, as you engulfed her in your warmth.

You felt her tremble in your embrace, whether from the cold or the weight of her emotions, you weren't sure. But you knew that she needed you, and you were there for her. "I've got you," you whispered back, pulling her closer. Before you knew it, she was standing on her tiptoes, her eyes closed as she kissed you softly. It was a kiss filled with pain, confusion, and a desperate need for reassurance. You kissed her back, gently, your hands rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm her up.

You stood up, taking her hand, "Come on," you said, leading her back inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around you both as you entered, the silence of the night replaced by the comforting hum of the heater. You guided her to the couch, tucking her into a blanket before you started a fire in the fireplace. The flames began to dance, casting a warm glow across the room, and illuminating the tears on her cheeks.

You sat next to her, leaning back and opening your arms, allowing her to curl into your chest. The crackle of the fire was the only sound that filled the room, the warmth of her hand in yours the only thing keeping you grounded. Wanda looked up at you, her eyes searching for the truth in your gaze. You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the whiskey spreading through you.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 10: Double date

**********

Buck fiddled with a few of his perfectly styled curls before finally leaving the bathroom. He walked out with a grin expecting Tommy to do what he usually did when Buck was wearing those jeans—-the ones that made his “ass look sensational”—which was to firstly gawp, then secondly slowly slink over to Buck and tell him how incredible he looked, then thirdly playfully ask if they could ditch whatever plan they had so Tommy could have his way with him.

Except this time Tommy didn’t even notice he’d left the bathroom. Didn’t notice him walking over or even hear Buck say his name. Instead, Tommy was leaning against the counter in the kitchen stopping a beer and staring straight ahead.

“Earth to Tommy?” Buck said standing in front of him.

“Hmm? What? Sorry.”

“You’ve been quiet since you got here.” Buck remarked.

“I’m fine.” He said. Buck knew his fake smile from a thousand yards away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Tommy opened his mouth to deny anything was wrong but Buck got in there first. “Tommy, we talked about this. You have to tell me if something is bothering you. Even if it’s something small. Not least because I’ll spiral and think I’ve done something.”

A look of something softer came across Tommy and he put his beer down on the counter and ran a hand up and down Bucks arm.

“I’m sorry, babe. It’s just.. I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

“Tonight.”

“Dinner with Maddie and Chim? Why?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows knowingly but Buck wasn’t getting it. “This is the first time I’m seeing them since.. since we broke up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I broke your heart and ran away like a coward and-“

“Hey.” Buck interrupted, placing a hand on Tommy face. “We’re past, okay? I love you.”

Tommy melted a little hearing those words. He’d heard them countless times in the last 3 weeks since they got back together and said them just as many times. But still, Evan may have forgiven him but they didn’t mean everybody else had.

“And I love you too.” He planted a chaste kiss to Bucks lips. “But my point is that they were the ones who had to see how heartbroken you were; see how much I hurt you. I guess I’m worried that your sister is gonna.. I don’t know hate me forever.” He looked down at the ground shamefully.

Stealing Tommys signature move, Buck tilted Tommys chin with his two fingers.

“Tommy, yes my sister and everyone else were pretty pissed at what you did and-“ Tommy tried to turn his head but Buck took his face in his hand and gently guided him back to facing him. “Listen.” He said softly. “Yes they were pissed at first when they saw how hurt I was, but.. when they knew why you did it, they understood. They don’t hate you, or think less of you—they love you. They love you because I love you. And because all they want is for me to be happy, and now that I have you back I am very happy.” He smiled softly at Tommy hoping that he was believed.

Tommys mouth slowly curved into a small smile. “You promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed Tommy gently before pulling him into a hug. Tommys arms slid down around Buck and his hands found his ass.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re a vision in these jeans?”

“Hmm. You know I’m not sure.” Buck teased.

“Maybe we should ditch tonight.” He pulled Buck closer to him and landed a few kisses to Bucks neck. Buck couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of their little routine. There were many things he’d missed in the 4 months they were apart but these little familiar moments; the silly inside jokes and playful bantering was definitely high up on the list.

Top of the list was kissing Tommy and if it meant they were 15 minutes late to their double date then so be it.

[soukokuforthesoul]

dazai and atsushi working late because they got caught up in something earlier, and dazai slumps back on his chair, tired. atsushi turns to him, resisting the urge to laugh because he completely understands.

"we're almost done, dazai-san. we can leave in a bit," he assures him, and dazai grumbles under his breath but goes back to his laptop.

amidst the typing, and the sound of something being printed in the room over, a thought occurs to atsushi, and he looks up, towards the man beside him. he wonders where he would be if dazai hadn't picked him up that day. after a moment, dazai notices his gaze and, resting his chin in his palm, smiles inquiringly at him.

"something wrong, atsushi-kun?" he asks, likely hoping it'll get him out of work. (even if, looking at his screen, he only really has a little left to do).

"ah, no," atsushi says quickly, embarrassed. "i just wanted— well, i was thinking. uhm, i wanted to say thank you, dazai-san."

"eh?" dazai arches and eyebrow, leaning back on his chair to study atsushi. "for what? i'm not going to do your work."

"no, no—i already finished!" atsushi shakes his head, his smile shy as he angles his expression from dazai's point of view. "i meant—thank you for everything you've done for me. for taking me in. and for, well, just... letting me live. i realize i never properly thanked you. i hope i can repay you one day."

it's almost like he walked into this—atsushi realizes—because the perfect opportunity stands for dazai to make him finish work up for him. but instead of taking the unintended bait, dazai pauses. he stares at atsushi long enough for him to turn back around, catching dazai's gaze.

dazai's face is unreadable, and though that's not unusual, it feels different. as if even dazai can't interpret his own emotions. but then dazai smiles—a wide smile, that holds something bittersweet in it—and he dips his head down, chuckling. "atsushi-kun, i believe you're too kind for this world," he murmurs, and then adds, "or, for me, really. i should thank you for existing."

before atsushi can ask what that means, dazai returns to his laptop, satisfied to see the files have been uploaded, then closes it and stands, stretching. he offers a hand to atsushi, who takes it, pushing his chair in and closing his own laptop.

"we're done here, right? let's go get something to eat before heading home," dazai offers. he grins, pulling out a wad of money from his coat pocket. "kunikida-kun's treat."

atsushi eyes him, although he's smiling too—he can't help it. "did you steal that?"

dazai winks, and leads atsushi out the building, turning off the light behind them. the money is spent, but atsushi insists they keep some food for kunikida, to which dazai reluctantly gives in to. the night is lost in conversation, but dazai is lost in his mind—stuck on the way atsushi's gratitude had been so genuine. atsushi keeps him busy, his smiles and laughter chasing away dazai's doubts that he doesn't deserve it.

thank you ... for letting me live

how strange of an appreciation, because dazai has always found freedom in death. and even stranger that dazai wonders if that is how atsushi makes him feel. atsushi lets him live.