#inside she's crying because she feels loved

[bluem1lls]

Halloo! Would it be okay for me to request a se-mi x reader (fem preferably) where she reacts to the reader getting a butterfly tattoo on her lower back (a tramp stamp in other words) because I feel like that would be a huge on switch for Se-mi, hihi thank youu!

✧₊⁺ butterfly

tw: minors dni, strap, smut smut smut!

authors note: small blurb i wrote inspired in my gf bc shes begging me to get a lower back tat, i hope u like it!!! tysm for ur request💓

her eyebrows raised up. her eyes widen. "fuck��" her fingers softly traced the tattoo on you lower back. her gaze now on yours as she bit her lip.

"do you like it?" you asked, shyly. she gave you a soft scoff, her fingers never leaving your back. it had a few curvy lines on the sides and a butterfly on the middle. the design being pretty soft, matching you.

"i— yeah. i love it" her teeth grazed her lower lip, her hands lowering from your back to your hips, a tight grip to keep you in place. "let me show you how much i love it, hm?"

oh. your glossy eyes were a sight for her to see in the mirror.

she had you on your hands and knees in front of the mirror, making you stare at yourself as one of her hands hold a tightening grip on your hair in a ponytail shape, while her other hand was grabbing your hips. she could see your rolled back eyes, drool falling from the sides of your mouth and the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks as she fucked you dumb. her eyes going from your fucked out state in the mirror to your lower back tattoo, which was driving her insane as she kept pounding faster and harder.

her 8 inch — black strap — going in and out of your insides, filling your gushing cunt as she hissed, watching her cock get coated with your juices.

"fuck baby, that's it" your walls clenching around her length, making her bite her lip as she tighten the grip on your hair. the hand on your hip so tight it'll probably leave a bruising mark. "look at yourself being a pathetic, whiny mess" she dry chuckled in a low tone, filled with lust as her grip on your hair guided you to watch yourself in the mirror. and god, yes she was right. you looked like a complete slut. your tits bouncing with every thrust she gave, your crimson red cheeks and your darkened eyes filled with desire as you did as she said. as your eyes threaten to shut close from the hard pounding, her grip got tighter, making you moan. "nu-huh. you gotta watch yourself, didn't you hear me?"

"se-mi, pl-please" a soft whine left your pouty lips, your eyes closing as she took it all out, only leaving the tip inside. quickly, she returned with a harsh trust, making you gasp while gripping the sheets. her thrusts picking out a deeper, faster pace that made you throw your head back, aching to release. your hips moving to try and match her pace. she watched with almost black looking eyes how you sloopily fucked yourself in her cock, the sight making her let out a low groan under her breath. small breathy moans left your lips as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. the knot on your lower stomach snapping, making your eyes rolling back from pleasure and your head go hazy as she kept pounding to prolong your release. she hissed, staring as your cum coated her cock when you came undone, like putty on her hands.

as your legs trembled, she kept you steady, keeping you from falling.

"now, give me a nice view of that pretty tat, hm?" she mumbled. her hand leaving your hair to smash your head against the pillow, pressing it while the other one roamed all over your body to your upper back, where she made you press your chest against the mattress. her hand traveled downwards, gripping to pull your hips up in the air, leaving a harsh smack on your ass. your sensitive cunt clenching around nothing, making you whine as she smirked.

her fingers softly traced your tattooed lower back. she removed the grip on your head to grab her cock, aligning it to your wet folds, entering with a quick thrust that made you cry out.

"my pretty girl" she cooed. "you gonna be a good girl and give me another one?"

[rafesheaven]

soft sex with dbf!doctor!rafe when sugar feels sad and has a random crying spell feeling guilty because she hasn’t experienced love or actual intimacy from a real man before since rafe’s always stepping in between any guy her age she tries to talk to, knowing they just see another body. and he’s rolled onto his side holding her against him and slowly fucking her from behind while she whines and bites on his hand, holding back tears and trying to stammer out that she loves him because he’s making her feel so special as he kisses up her spine and circles her clit and whispers sweet nothings into her ear

“s’okay princess, daddy’s got you. gonna take good care of my angel. poor baby, just need to be loved, s’all, yeah? can you be a good girl and cum all over my cock, let me know how good I make you feel?”

sigh...he'd be so sweet and gentle with sugar, one hand between her legs, circling her clit in gentle strokes while he's slowly fucking into her from behind. each roll of his hips, pushing himself deeper inside her while littering her neck with kisses and marks. she's biting into his other hand to muffle her whines, desperately trying to hold her tears back, stuttering against his flesh that she loves how special he makes her feel. rafe is whispering sweet nothings into her ear the entire time, "shh, i know. s'okay, princess. daddy's got you. my poor angel just needs to be loved, s'all, yeah? gonna take such good care of you, and give you the love you deserve." ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° please don’t ruin this for me

♡ a/n — for my childhood friends to lovers series!

♡ word count — 2.3k

♡ content — eita otoya x fem! reader, fem! reader, childhood friends to lovers, SPOILERS FOR the NEL arc, goes from childhood to NEL, mentions of cheating ( both otoya and reader ) , slight nsfw ( mentioned but not explicit ) , slight playboy otoya, miscommunication, longest thing i've ever written, lmk if i missed anything!

♡ synopsis — Whether you were together or not, you'd always been eita otoya's. And he had always been yours, no matter what.

The first time Otoya told someone you were dating, you were seven years old, sitting on the swings during recess, kicking your legs back and forth as he proudly made his announcement.

“We’re in love, duh,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hand, warm and slightly sticky from the juice box he just finished, was firmly holding yours.

You didn’t question it. Instead, you nodded along enthusiastically. “Yeah! We’re gonna get married and have a big house and eat candy for dinner every night.”

Your teacher, overhearing the conversation, sighed as she handed back your coloring pages. “That’s… nice. But please sit down now.”

It was silly. Just one of those things kids did after watching too many fairy tales and dramas.

But a week later, Otoya made a big show of breaking up with you during lunch.

“I don’t wanna marry you anymore,” he declared, arms crossed like he had thought long and hard about this decision.

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Fine, because I don’t wanna marry you either!”

The kids sitting around you both let out a collective, scandalized gasp, as if they were witnessing a tragic romance unfold before their very eyes.

You didn’t speak for the rest of lunch. Both of you sat in exaggerated silence, chewing your sandwiches in a way that made it very clear you were upset.

For about five minutes.

Then Otoya nudged your arm. “Wanna play tag?”

“…Yeah.”

And that was that.

You were still best friends, still inseparable, still attached at the hip.

That was how it always was. No matter what happened, Otoya always found his way back to you.

Until one day, he didn’t.

By the time you both entered junior high, the jokes about dating slowly faded away, replaced by real relationships.

Just never with each other.

Otoya had girlfriends now. A lot of them.

It wasn’t surprising—he was easygoing, charismatic, and could make anyone laugh. Girls naturally gravitated towards him.

What was surprising, though, was how effortlessly he let them go.

None of his relationships lasted long, but he never seemed heartbroken. If anything, his exes didn’t even seem bothered by their breakups. He’d flash them a lazy grin the next day in class, crack a joke, and just like that, everything was fine.

You never once saw him cry over a girl.

And for the first time since you’d met him, you were just his friend.

There were no more playful declarations of love, no more jokes about getting married.

Maybe you’d outgrown all of that.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had stopped feeling like a joke.

The first time you kissed Otoya, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

It was an accident.

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

It was late. His soccer practice had run long, and he had shown up at your house afterward, climbing through your window like he always did, flopping onto your bed like he owned the place.

You had been talking about everything and nothing at all, laughing over some dumb inside joke, when suddenly, he leaned in.

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before he closed the space between you, pressing his mouth to yours in a way that was soft, slow, and entirely too familiar—like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

When he pulled away, he grinned lazily, his voice just above a whisper.

“That was your first kiss, huh?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “…Yeah.”

His expression softened. “Guess we just made a good memory together.”

That was how it started.

A kiss turned into two.

Two turned into nights spent tangled in sheets, your hands in his hair, his mouth tracing patterns against your skin.

When you finally gave yourself to him completely, he had laughed against your collarbone and murmured, “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

Good friends did this, apparently.

Good friends walked home together after his soccer practices, hands lazily intertwined.

Good friends fell asleep in the same bed, limbs tangled like it was natural.

Good friends still slept together—even when Otoya had a girlfriend.

And everyone thought you were dating.

But you weren’t.

At least, not officially.

Then one day, one of Otoya’s nameless girlfriends pulled you aside after school.

“You need to stop hanging around him so much,” she snapped, her arms crossed tightly. “It’s pathetic how you just follow him around like a lost puppy.”

You blinked, startled. “I—”

She scoffed. “You really think I don’t notice? Every girl who dates Otoya knows about you. We all know we’re just fillers until you decide you actually want him.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Because deep down, you weren’t sure she was wrong.

That night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Maybe this wasn’t normal. Maybe, in trying to feel something, you had hurt people in the process.

So you stopped.

No more late-night visits. No more whispered secrets.

And strangely, Otoya didn’t stop you.

You thought maybe he’d notice. That maybe he’d say something.

But if he did, he never said a word.

And the girls beside him kept changing.

The first few days without Otoya were… strange.

You told yourself it was normal—people drifted apart all the time. This was just a natural part of growing up, right?

But the silence was loud.

There was no more tapping at your window late at night, no lazy texts asking what you were doing, no sudden arms slung over your shoulders as he teased you about some random thing.

It was quieter.

At first, you thought you were the one keeping the distance, that it was your choice. That if you ever wanted to hear from him, all you had to do was reach out.

But weeks passed, and you didn’t hear a word.

No texts. No calls.

Nothing.

Then, one afternoon, the realization came crashing down in the most mundane of ways.

You were in the school bathroom, washing your hands, when a girl burst into the stall next to you, her voice thick with frustration.

“He just left for some soccer training camp—‘Blue Lock’ or something! Didn’t even warn me,” she cried, sniffling.

Your stomach dropped.

“What?!” one of her friends gasped. “Wait—like Otoya? He’s gone?!”

The girl let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Just poof. Didn’t even bother saying goodbye.”

Your breath caught.

The cold water from the sink ran over your fingers, but you barely felt it.

He left?

He left?

Your mind raced. There was no way that was true. Otoya wouldn’t just go without saying anything. Right?

You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking as you scrolled through your messages.

His name sat there, undisturbed, with your last conversation from months ago.

And suddenly, it hit you—

You hadn’t noticed.

He had vanished from your life, and you had been so convinced you were choosing the distance that you didn’t even realize he was already gone.

You gripped the edge of the sink, feeling sick.

This was Otoya. The boy who had been with you since childhood, the boy who was always by your side. How had you not seen it?

Had he even wanted you to notice?

The thought made your chest ache.

Because if he had, he would have said something, wouldn’t he?

And yet—he hadn’t.

He had left without a word.

Without a goodbye.

Like you didn’t matter at all.

Blue Lock was exhausting.

Physically, mentally, emotionally—it took everything out of him. But Otoya thrived in chaos, so he never let it get to him.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But sometimes, in the rare quiet moments between matches, when the adrenaline faded and there was nothing left to distract him, he’d find himself scrolling through his phone, staring at your contact.

The urge to text you was unbearable.

Should he?

Would you even care?

He thought about the last time he saw you—the way you had started pulling away, the way you had stopped looking for him.

Had you already decided he wasn’t worth keeping around?

That thought made something bitter settle in his throat.

Maybe this was for the best.

Maybe, if you had wanted him in your life, you would have noticed he was gone.

So he locked his phone, tossed it onto his bed, and pretended it didn’t bother him.

That you didn’t bother him.

That the ache in his chest wasn’t loneliness, but just another part of the game.

And in the end, he never pressed send.

You didn’t even know why you were here.

Well. That was a lie.

You knew exactly why you were here.

It wasn’t for the game, and it sure as hell wasn’t for Japan’s future in soccer.

You just wanted to see him.

Even after everything, after months of silence, after the way he had left you behind without a second thought—

You still wanted to see him.

The moment the match started, your eyes found him instantly.

Otoya was different.

Stronger, faster, sharper.

But more than that—he belonged here.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe this was why he never looked back.

Because he didn’t need to.

The game was intense. You barely processed the score, the plays, or the tension in the stadium. All you could do was watch him.

And then, it was over.

Your breath was unsteady as you weaved through the crowd, pushing past people, trying to make your way down to the field before you lost sight of him.

And then—

You saw him.

Standing there, laughing, his expression relaxed and carefree as he spoke to a red-haired girl.

She was smiling, leaning close.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

You stopped in your tracks.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. Otoya had always been like this, right? Easy. Charming. He moved on from people without a second thought.

And yet, it still hurt.

Because while you had spent the last few months feeling his absence like an open wound, he didn’t even look like he missed you at all.

Your hands curled into fists.

You weren’t going to do this to yourself.

You turned on your heel and walked away, not looking back.

And this time, you swore—

You were really going to leave him behind.

Time did what it always did—it moved forward, dragging you along with it whether you wanted it to or not.

You went to university. You got good grades. You found new friends, new routines, new ways to keep yourself busy.

And somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you had moved on.

You weren’t the same girl who spent sleepless nights staring at her phone, hoping for a text that never came. You weren’t the same girl who walked away from that stadium feeling like she had lost something she didn’t even realize she still wanted.

You were fine.

And you had a boyfriend now.

He wasn’t Otoya—he wasn’t playful or reckless, didn’t make your heart race with a single look—but he was steady. Reliable. Safe.

And for a while, you told yourself that was enough.

But then came the nights when you found yourself alone, flipping through channels until you landed on an FC Barcha match.

And every single time—without fail—your eyes found him.

Eita Otoya.

Older now, sharper, wearing that signature smirk like it had never left his face.

He moved across the field like he owned it, like he was made for this. And watching him, you felt the same ache in your chest that you had buried for years.

You were fine.

That’s what you kept telling yourself.

But if that was true, then why did it feel like your heart stopped every time you saw him on the screen?

The night Otoya came back, it was supposed to be simple.

You had movie plans with your boyfriend. He was supposed to come over, bring takeout, sit next to you on the couch, and pretend not to notice when you inevitably got distracted by your phone halfway through.

But when the knock came, and you opened the door—

It wasn’t him.

It was Otoya.

And he didn’t say a word.

He just stepped inside, grabbed your face, and kissed you.

Your heart stopped.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing—

But your body betrayed you.

Your fingers curled into his jacket, pulling him closer as his hands found your waist. He kissed you like he had been starving for it, like he was trying to make up for every lost second, every wasted moment spent apart.

And you let him.

You kissed him back like he was oxygen, like you had spent years trying to convince yourself you didn’t need him—only to realize, in this moment, that you still did.

That you always did.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was lower now, rougher, like he had spent years trying not to say those words. “You don’t even know how much.”

You felt dizzy.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But before you could say anything, before you could even think—

“What the fuck is this?”

You froze.

Otoya’s lips left yours, his gaze flicking over your shoulder.

And there, standing in the open doorway, was your boyfriend.

The takeout bag in his hand was slipping, forgotten, as his face twisted into something between disbelief and rage.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

Your stomach dropped.

You hadn’t even heard him come in.

Otoya didn’t move.

Didn’t look guilty.

Didn’t even seem bothered.

He just blinked lazily, like he was barely interested in the whole situation, and then—

With absolutely no hesitation—

He walked to the door and shut it.

Right in your boyfriend’s face.

Then, just as easily, he turned back to you, smirking.

“You don’t need him,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over your jaw. “You have me now.”

And when he kissed you again, you let him.

Because the truth was—

You had always been his.

slight comeback but really just bc i had to get this out of my brain

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧Vi x a terminally sick girlfriend✞⛧

✞⛧ Vi is a fighter, through and through, but loving someone terminally ill breaks something inside her that even her fists can’t fix. The helplessness gnaws at her constantly.

✞⛧ She spends countless sleepless nights sitting by your side, watching your chest rise and fall, terrified that one day it won’t. She forces herself to stay awake even when her body begs for rest, just in case.

✞⛧ You’re her anchor. The thought of losing you makes her feel like she’s drowning in an ocean she can’t punch her way out of.

✞⛧ At first, she doesn’t handle your diagnosis well. She storms out, her knuckles bloodied after hitting the wall repeatedly. She doesn’t cry until she’s alone, in some dark corner of the Lanes, where no one can see.

✞⛧ Despite the rage and sorrow, Vi vows to make every single day you have left as perfect as she can. She plans little surprises—a flower picked from some forgotten corner of Zaun, your favorite food (even if it takes hours to find), or just a quiet walk.

✞⛧ She starts working herself to the bone to afford medicines and treatments, even if it means taking dangerous jobs. The bruises and scars she brings home mean nothing compared to keeping you alive a little longer.

✞⛧ Vi softens around you in a way she doesn’t with anyone else. Her tough exterior cracks when she’s with you, and her voice drops to a whisper when she reassures you.

✞⛧ The guilt eats at her because she can’t save you. She’s supposed to protect the people she loves, but there’s nothing she can do except watch you slip away.

✞⛧ When the illness leaves you bedridden, Vi does everything for you without complaint—feeding you, holding you when you’re too weak to sit up, tucking you in when you shiver from the pain.

✞⛧ She gets fiercely protective when anyone brings up your condition in a way she deems insensitive. One wrong word, and her glare alone silences them.

✞⛧ Vi refuses to cry in front of you. She wants to be your rock, your strength, even if she’s breaking inside. She waits until you’re asleep to break down quietly, her hand gripping yours as tears streak down her face.

✞⛧ Despite her stoic front, she often sneaks glances at you when you’re not looking, memorizing every detail of your face, every line, every laugh, terrified she’ll forget when you’re gone.

✞⛧ Vi starts keeping a journal, documenting every memory with you—the way your laugh sounds, the way your hand fits perfectly in hers, your inside jokes. It’s her way of holding onto you forever.

✞⛧ She asks Ekko to help build small, practical devices to make your life easier—like a self-warming blanket for cold nights or something to help you breathe easier.

✞⛧ Caitlyn offers support, but Vi struggles to let anyone else in. This is her grief, her pain, her love for you, and it feels too personal to share.

✞⛧ You tease her about being too serious sometimes, and for your sake, she tries to crack a joke or two, even if her smile feels strained.

✞⛧ On your bad days, when you’re in too much pain to talk, she sits beside you in silence, holding your hand. She whispers promises you can barely hear—that she’ll never forget you, that you’ll always be with her.

✞⛧ Vi learns how to braid your hair when you’re too weak to do it yourself. She spends hours perfecting it until it’s just how you like it.

✞⛧ She tells you stories of her childhood, even the painful ones, just to make you smile or laugh at her antics. She’d give anything to see you happy, even for a moment.

✞⛧ When the end grows near, Vi becomes a shadow of herself. She’s quieter, more withdrawn, and the only time she speaks is to you.

✞⛧ You make her promise not to let grief consume her, and though she nods, you both know it’s a promise she won’t be able to keep.

✞⛧ The day you pass, Vi is holding your hand. She whispers that she loves you, over and over, as if saying it enough times might keep you with her.

✞⛧ She doesn’t cry when you take your last breath. She goes numb, her grip on your hand tightening as if she can will you back to life.

✞⛧ Vi spends hours by your side after you’re gone, refusing to leave. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs, her head bowed, but no one dares to approach her.

✞⛧ For weeks after, Vi walks through the Lanes in a daze. Her fists itch for a fight, but even throwing punches doesn’t bring the release it used to.

✞⛧ She avoids Caitlyn and Ekko, pushing everyone away. The weight of her grief feels too heavy to share, and she doesn’t want their pity.

✞⛧ Vi returns to the journal she started for you. She writes letters to you, filling the pages with everything she didn’t get to say, everything she wishes she could still tell you.

✞⛧ She keeps something of yours—a piece of jewelry, an old sweater—and carries it with her everywhere. It’s her way of keeping you close.

✞⛧ Vi finds herself visiting the places you loved most, sitting in silence and pretending you’re still there beside her.

✞⛧ The nights are the hardest. She reaches for you in her sleep, only to wake up to an empty bed, and the ache in her chest feels unbearable.

✞⛧ Despite her grief, she keeps her promise to you in small ways—helping kids in the Lanes, being kinder, trying to be the person you saw in her.

✞⛧ Sometimes, Vi talks to you when she’s alone, as if you’re still there. She tells you about her day, her struggles, and how much she misses you.

✞⛧ Your memory becomes her driving force. She throws herself into protecting the people she loves, determined not to lose anyone else.

✞⛧ On the anniversary of your death, she visits your grave with flowers. She sits for hours, talking to you as if you can hear her.

✞⛧ Vi never stops loving you. Even years later, she finds herself looking for glimpses of you in the faces of strangers or hearing your laugh in a crowd.

✞⛧ Your absence leaves a permanent mark on her, but she carries your love like a tattoo on her soul—painful, beautiful, and everlasting.

✞⛧ Vi finds peace in the fact that, even though she couldn’t save you, she gave you everything she could. You were her greatest love, and she’ll carry that love with her forever.

✞⛧ In her quietest moments, when the world slows down, Vi whispers your name like a prayer, her heart aching but grateful for the time you had together.

[preydefiler]

thinking about being an abusive older sister... I keep my bedroom door closed and locked, not even our parents have a key. sometimes I bring someone home, and you can hear noises coming from under the door. you're curious, and you have to take a peek.

the first time you do, it's embarrassing. you watch me have sex with one of the neighborhood girls. it's rough, and there are times she's gagged and crying and you hear these incredibly wet noises, but this angle... you can't quite see. you never quite catch sight of my cock, which is... disappointing for some reason. you feel funny, and you think the feeling is wrong, but... you want more. so you seek more opportunities.

you find a spot in a tree in our backyard, where if you climb just high enough, you can wiggle into a space in the branches that gives you a view into my room. this time I'm in there alone, and I'm lounging on my bed. you watch me for a few minutes, mostly just me flipping through a magazine. but then I reach down and put a hand in my pants. you get that feeling again, and this time you start mimicking my movements. grinding against the branch you're laying on. you watch me unzip my pants and pull out my cock. it's hard, and fills up my hand, and you watch me pump while you moan softly in the leaves, until we both cum at the same time. you can't help but be mesmerized by the ropes I shoot, your tongue subconsciously sticking out of your mouth. you ruin your shorts, and have to spend the next half hour figuring out how to climb down and change without getting caught.

you decide you need a better view. you've tried sneaking in my room, but I keep it locked down tight. The door to my room is always closed. My window, however, doesn't always get locked. Perks of being on the second story. You find that if you climb on the roof from your window, you can climb down and into mine. The first time you tried, it was locked, and I almost caught you. The next time you were successful, and that's when you started coming in and listening to and watching me fuck near constantly.

Under the bed was an interesting choice. You shoved yourself under there because you were almost caught. You heard me unlocking the door just as you were closing the window. You were squeezed in with all kinds of other junk, old sports equipment and dirty clothes, which you secretly did enjoy having your face shoved into. a couple of boxes, some used sex toys, and some trash. You could hear everything, every noise and breath caught in my throat. Every moan the slut of the week groaned into my mattress. The humiliation of feeling my thrusts under my bed was tempting, but there was nothing to see but shed clothes.

Hiding in the closet seemed to be your favorite though. Through the slats in the door, you could see everything. Every inch of flesh, every drop of sweat and cum, every throb of my cock. You loved it. You couldn't get enough. You started jerking off into my clothes you found in there. Your favorite was a pair of my boxers that I had been too lazy to change for a few days, so they really stank like me. You'd watch, and pant, and rut into your hand as I would finish load after load into anything but you, and the hunger enveloped you. I started to be the only thing you thought about. But you were careful. You made sure you were never caught.

It was your birthday, and our parents were throwing you a party. You invited all your friends, there was music and games and even an inflatable bounce house, which you thought was a bit too childish, but didn't fight about it. You always kept an eye on me though. And I said, Fuck the party. You knew my routine by this point. I'd go steal a beer from the garage, sneak behind the tree to drink it, paw at one of the girls there until I took her up to my room for more of the same. You were prepared though. You snuck off from the party, and you were able to get inside my room. I had left my door unlocked, which was uncommon, but not unheard of, and you slipped inside the closet like so many times before. And like clockwork, there I was, leading one of your friends to my bed.

Something about this fuck felt different. I seemed... angry, almost, and I slammed into your friend with scary force. I pressed both of my hands into the small of your friend's back and I stretched her out and pushed as deep as I could. I pounded her wet holes, and I faced her towards the closet door. This was the hottest and roughest you had seen me be, at a few points seeing me punch into the slut's ribs a few times, told her I liked it better when she cried. and then, somehow, I looked at you. You swear I couldn't see you, you were hidden in the closet. you hadn't made any noise. but as I fucked your friend harder and angrier, I kept glancing at the door to the closet. I growled and groaned and finally thrusted my seed deep into your friend, and after a few minutes of gasping breaths, she gathered up her clothes, thanked me, and left.

I continued to lay there panting for a few moments longer before I got up and relocked the door behind your friend. Still nude, I flopped back on the bed on my back. My cock was angled directly at you, still mostly hard and glistening with cum and your friend's juices. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, you caught me looking at the closet door again. I looked away out the window, and you were too afraid to move. Afraid to be caught. Your heart pounded in your chest, fearful of what I would say, what our parents would say. I made a frustrated face and then huffed loudly. I finally looked at the closet door again and made eye contact with you. I rolled my eyes and finally spoke.

"Well? Are you going to cower in there, or are you going to come and get a taste, clean me up? Figured I've made you wait long enough... C'mere, meimei, let me show you how happy a birthday you can have..."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie thought he had died. He was sure that he did. He saw his mother leaning over him. Her long curly hair, cascading down her shoulders. . .hair he hadn't seen since before she got sick. Elizabeth was singing to him and talking to him. He didn't remember her being made of stars, though.

"It's alright, you're going to be okay," Elizabeth said. "We're going to help you."

He blinked his eyes furiously. It wasn't Elizabeth leaning over him, but Nancy Wheeler. Her blue eyes had become watery like the ocean. He could see fish swimming in them. The water washed up on the shore of the pale beach, and Eddie tried to touch the single drop of water on the sand. He couldn't move his arm. It hurt too much. He could hear his mother's laughter, and she was spinning around, trying to get him to dance on her feet once more. Tears fell from his eyes, eager for his mother's touch again, a touch he hadn't felt since he was six years old.

"Eddie, man, you have to stay with us," he heard Steve Harrington beg.

Eddie blinked and looked to his left. Steve was leaning over him with tears in his own eyes. The stars. . .they were coming from Steve. Oh, those weren't stars. They were moles. Eddie laughed and closed his eyes, drifting off into the darkness. Their voice echoed in the dark, swirling together in the deep abyss.

"Stay with us. . .stay with us. . .Eddie."

"Mama."

When he woke up, he was surprised to find that he was alive and lying in a hospital bed. Wayne was holding his hand, looking down, and crying. Eddie squeezed his hand and tried to move it, but it was chained to the bed. Fuck. Wayne's head snapped open.

"Eddie," Wayne sobbed. "My boy, my boy. You're okay. It's all going to be okay. They're handling it. They're going to clear this up. . .Don't try to talk."

It hurt too much anyway. Eddie wondered if he would ever be able to speak again. He must have looked panicked because suddenly Wayne was trying to calm him down, and then there was a loud beeping sound in his ears. Would he be able to sing again? Eddie once again faded into the darkness.

"Eddie. . .are you awake?"

When he opened his eyes again, Dustin was looking down on him. He had a black eye. . .motherfucker, he was going to kill whoever did that to him. . .once he managed to get out of this bed. The handcuffs were still on him.

"The doctors said that you're going to make it, but I'm sorry, they did everything they could. They couldn't save it, Eddie," Dustin said seriously.

Eddie's eyes widened. He still couldn't talk. It hurt too much. What couldn't they save? Oh god, please don't let it be. . .was it his dick? Don't let it be his dick. He prayed for the first time in his life.

"They couldn't save. . .your nipple," Dustin said. "I'm sorry."

Eddie grinned. He wanted to laugh so bad. Leave it to Dustin Henderson to make him feel better in a shitty situation. Dustin laughed for him. Eddie closed his eyes and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

"Eddie, my love. . ."

Okay, he was definitely dreaming. He was in the woods at the picnic table again. It was night, and there was a tablecloth covering the table with candles twinkling in the darkness. Chrissy was sitting at the table in a pale pink dress, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulder in soft waves. She was beautiful inside and out, but he always thought so even if she was covered head to toe in mud.

"Chrissy?"

She got up and moved around the table. She held out her hand, and Eddie took it without question. She pulled him close, and they began to dance.

"Eddie, my love, I love you so. . .," Chrissy sang. "The very next day could be my last. . .please, Eddie. . .my love."

She stood on her tiptoes, reaching out for him, and he moved to meet her in the middle. Their lips had barely brushed when she vanished, her voice on the wind calling his name. The candles went out.

"I'm sorry," he heard a woman whisper.

"For what?" A man asked.

Eddie's eyes opened. Nancy and Steve were sitting in chairs next to his bed. They looked exhausted.

"For how I handled things back then," Nancy said. "You deserved better than that."

"It was a long time ago, Nance," Steve said.

"I still should have given you a proper apology," Nancy said. "You were a really great boyfriend. You were there for me even when I couldn't see it. Jumping into bed with Jonathan after you wanted me to tell you that I loved you, it was a shitty thing to do. I was a shitty girlfriend."

"You were hurting," Steve said.

"I was still responsible for my own actions, and our relationship didn't deserve to be treated like it was nothing, like it didn't matter. It meant so much to me. It meant everything. I loved you then, and I love you now," Nancy said.

"What about Jonathan?" Steve asked.

"I broke up with him. It was honestly over a long time ago, probably when we left Hawkins. We just didn't want to admit it," Nancy said.

Eddie watched as Steve took her hand, running it with his thumb. Eddie swallowed. Unambiguous sign of true love. He smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Chrissy," he gasped, closing his eyes again.

"Eddie?" Steve and Nancy asked as he slipped into the darkness once more.

He was really getting tired of waking up and only staying that way for a few minutes. Although, this time, something loud woke him up. Eddie's eyes widened. There was a fight going on in his hospital room. Andy was there, and he was trying to throw himself at his bed. Steve and Nancy were yanking him back with all their might, but Andy was a brute. Steve slugged Andy in the face while Nancy kneed him in the stomach. The knife in his hands cluttered to the ground. Shit, he was here to finish Eddie off. He could lift his arm now, and he realized he was no longer handcuffed to the bed. Did this mean that Eddie was a free man?

"FUCK!" Steve cursed as Andy punched him back.

Nancy jabbed the heel of her hand into Andy's nose, effectively breaking it. He cursed as his nose gushed blood, and he turned on her. Eddie tried to reach for the call button, but his arms were still sore. Andy went to pick up the knife, but Nancy slammed the heel of her boot onto his hand and kicked the knife away with the other. Andy charged at her, but she dove out of the way, and his head hit the wall. Nancy and Steve were standing side by side now as Andy turned to face them, shaking his head. His stupid hat had fallen off. Eddie could only watch as they fought for him. There was a blaze of fury in both of Nancy's and Steve's eyes as they threw everything they had at Andy. God, Eddie thought, they were beautiful. Nancy's ocean blue eyes were aflame along with Steve’s hazel ones, a mixture of brown and green like the color of the forest. Goddess of the ocean and god of the woods. There was hellfire in their eyes. . .yeah, he was definitely writing them in the next campaign. The fight ended with Steve kneeing Andy in the groin and Nancy hitting him in the head with a bed pan. Andy collapsed on the floor. Nancy and Steve gazed at each other. . .there was a different sort of heat between them now. Would they fuck in front of him? Eddie's heart rate sped up. Yeah, he'd be down for that.

"Oh my god!" A nurse exclaimed.

She had come in with security guards. She looked at Nancy and Steve. Nancy had a split lip and would probably end up having a black eye later. Steve’s nose was bleeding, and his eyebrow was cut. He'd definitely have a couple of black eyes. Black guys? Black eyes? No, where was Eddie's mind going? The security guards escorted Andy out of the room while the nurse went to get a doctor. Nancy and Steve turned to Eddie, surprised to find him awake.

"Hot," Eddie muttered before falling back asleep again.

When he woke up again, he found Hopper standing beside his bed. . .wasn't he dead? Eddie swallowed when he realized his mother was standing beside him, and suddenly, he was all choked up.

"Hey, kid, I just wanted to let you know that we got everything sorted out," Hopper said.

He couldn't focus on what Hopper said. Eddie could only see Elizabeth.

"Mama?" Eddie asked, bleary-eyed. "Can I dance on your feet again?"

"Oh, honey, it's Joyce Byers," she said gently and stroked his hair. "It's okay. You're okay."

Eddie blinked through the tears and realized she was right. Oh.

"Oh. . .for a minute there, I thought I was dead. You kind of look like her," Eddie said, blushing before he looked confused. "Wait. . .weren't you dead?"

"I was actually stuck in a Russian prison," Hopper said.

"Okay. Gotta tell me that story if I can manage to stay the fuck awake. . .what the hell?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, well, the doctors said it was because of the venom from the demobats. It knocked Steve on his ass for a couple of days," Joyce said.

"How long?" Eddie asked.

"A couple of weeks," Joyce replied.

"Jesus, I guess it's because they ate more of me," Eddie said.

"Plus, you lost a lot of blood," Hopper said. "You definitely have a lot more venom in your system than Steve had."

"I'm going to need coffee in an IV stat," Eddie said, yawning.

"You got it, kid," Hopper said. "I'll go to the diner. Wouldn't want you to end up here longer. I'm glad you're okay."

"Back at ya, Chief," Eddie grinned.

Just as Hopper left, Wayne came bursting through the door. He moved to Eddie's side immediately, sobbing.

"Eddie," he cried.

"I'm okay, Uncle Wayne," Eddie said. "Tis but a scratch."

"A scratch? Your nipple's off," Wayne said.

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Watching Monty Python was their favorite pasttime together.

"Worst accent ever, Uncle Wayne," Eddie grinned.

"Thank you for looking after my boy while I had a rest," Wayne said to Joyce.

"It wasn't a problem," Joyce said.

"I thought for a moment that I was with Mama again," Eddie said.

"She does look like her a bit," Wayne said. "I know I ain't your Mama, but I'm here, son."

"You're more than enough, Uncle Wayne," Eddie sighed.

"I'll let you guys have some time," Joyce said. "And I'll hold off the others."

"Thanks," Eddie said and gave her a very grateful look.

Joyce smiled at him before walking out the door. Eddie got a look at his uncle and noticed how tired he looked. He also noticed the bruise on his jaw and his scraped knuckles. Wayne stroked his hair.

"I'm glad you're awake," Wayne said.

"I'm sorry," he burst into tears.

"It ain't your fault, my boy. It's ain't your fault," Wayne said.

Wayne kissed his forehead and then leaned against it with his own as Eddie broke out into heartbreaking sobs. Wayne talked softly with him, explaining to them they're having a town meeting now. Eddie had been cleared of all charges, and the town was being warned not to go after Eddie or his friends, or there would be dire consequences. The story was that Eddie had been targeted by a serial killer by none other than Henry Creel, the son of Victor. Eddie had saved Jason and the town from Henry, but Jason had gone crazy, too crazy for even the town to take seriously. He was currently in Pennhurst. Eddie didn't feel too sorry about that. Hopper came in with coffee and some food for the both of them. After eating, Eddie was checked over by the doctors, and then they couldn't hold them back anymore. . .the kids came bursting in with the rest of Hellfire.

"I'm not going to save you from this one," Wayne laughed as he walked out the door.

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike eagerly surrounded Eddie's bed. They were talking all at once, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh. They quickly introduced Will and El, who both smiled shyly at him.

"We met," Will laughed.

"What? When?" Mike and Dustin asked.

"Spring of 84. Eddie took a baseball to the stomach from a bully that was meant for me," Will grinned.

"Zombie boy," Eddie said.

"Freak," Will replied and Eddie laughed.

"Tell me all about it," Mike said to Will.

"From the beginning, William," Dustin said.

"Excuse me, I was there, too," Eddie said with a laugh.

"Those idiots will be busy for a while," Gareth said.

"How's your wrist, man?" Eddie asked. "I heard Jason got you good."

"You got eaten by wild animals, and you're worried about my hand?" Gareth asked with a scowl.

"Of course," he replied.

"If you weren't so beat up, I'd hug the stuffing out of you, dumbass," Gareth said.

"Glad to see you're going to make it," Jeff said. "But you should know that Ronnie's on her way down from New York."

"What? Who called her?" Eddie scowled.

"Look, man, I know you didn't want us to bother her unless it was an emergency - ," Doug said.

"If this wasn't an emergency then what the fuck do you call it?" Gareth asked.

"Fair point," Eddie said. "Ugggh. She's going to be pissed."

"I think she'd be glad you're not dead, man," Doug said.

"Doug does not know Ronnie like we do," Jeff grinned.

"I mean, she's going to be happy, but when Eddie gets better, she might not want to leave his side again," Gareth said.

As Eddie talked with his sheep, he realized that Nancy and Steve weren't here or Robin, for that matter. Although he saw her with a redheaded girl during one of the many random times he had woken up. Nancy and Steve were probably off fucking in a closet. Eddie groaned at the thought and leaned his head back as he tried to focus on anything else. His own platonic soulmate was coming from New York. Let's focus on that.

"Eddie, are you a pain?" Dustin asked.

"Sort of," Eddie groaned. "Can you guys give me a minute? I need to collect my thoughts."

"Jonathan says that when he needs to fart. It's okay, Eddie, girls do it, too," El said. "I am not embarrassed."

"Well, I am," Eddie said and laughed. "Can you be an angel, please?"

"Eddie wants us to leave," El said. "Let's go get some food."

"We just got here!" Mike exclaimed.

"Michael!"

"Fine."

Everyone laughed at him as they exited the room. Eddie tilted his head back in relief and tried to get his mind off the image of his two friends having sex. The very two friends who risked it all over spring break to clear his name, the same two friends who fought like hell to stop Andy from killing him. . .or was that a dream? Either way, the image of them fighting like some kind of warrior gods were burned into his retinas. He cursed. Come on, Munson. . .okay, poor choice of words.

"Dead kittens, dead kittens, dead kittens. . .oh, no, now I'm sad," Eddie said.

"Well, why the hell are you thinking about dead kittens, Munson?" Steve’s voice came from the doorway.

Steve and Nancy stood at the entrance, looking as beautiful as ever. He cursed them both in his mind. Nancy had a very noticeable black eye and a split lip. Steve had on sunglasses, which he took off promptly to reveal two black eyes. He looked like a raccoon. Steve put the sunglasses on the front of his very tight and very inside out polo.

"We're glad you're awake, Eddie," Nancy said.

"Thanks. . .hey, there, Bandit," Eddie grinned.

"Yeah, I think I prefer big boy," Steve said.

"Yeah, I bet you do," Eddie said with a coy smile.

"It's a very accurate nickname," Nancy said with a mischievous grin.

"Nancy!" Steve laughed.

"Oh, reeeallly?" Eddie asked, his smile growing into a wicked grin. "I'm going to need some evidence."

"Buy me dinner first, Munson," Steve scoffed. "So, tell us why you were thinking about dead kittens."

"Just a dream I had. . .speaking of dreams, did I imagine it, or did you two kick some serious ass defending me from a monster?" Eddie asked. "A monster by the name of Andy?"

"Obviously, that happened," Nancy said, pointing to their faces.

"Okay. . .Hopper coming back wasn't a dream either?" Eddie asked.

"Nope," Steve said.

"What about you two impregnating me with six half human half demobat babies, which I then delivered?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, no, that definitely happened," Steve said casually.

"Steve!" Nancy exclaimed.

"It didn't happen," Steve grinned. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"Don't be," Eddie cackled.

"What else happened in the dream?" He asked.

"Well, we tried enrolling them into preschool, but they were rejected because they were part demobats," Eddie said. "Nancy was pissed."

"Of course I was! Why shouldn't our kids be allowed to get an education?" Nancy asked.

"That does sound racist," Steve frowned.

"We could sue for discrimination," Nancy said.

"You think we'd have a case?" Steve asked, crossing his arms.

"I mean, if our kids weren't harmful to anyone and could play well with others. . .yeah, definitely," Nancy said.

Eddie frowned, looking back and forth between them.

"Well, win or lose, getting homeschooled by you would probably be better for them," Steve said.

"What about my career?" Nancy asked.

"You could still be a reporter. I'll find a job that I can do from home and whatever Eddie wants to do. We both babysat enough, and our current gremlins would probably love to pay us back, especially Dustin. You know he loves monsters," Steve said. "They'd probably love to help out with their education, especially when you're busy with work. . .it's not set in stone, whatever happens or if you want to change anything. . ."

"Dustin does love his monsters," Nancy said fondly. "That sounds like a really good plan. I love plans."

"I know," Steve smiled.

"You kind of forgot one thing, though," Eddie said.

"What?" Nancy asked.

"They're not real," Eddie said. "It was all apart of my subconscious."

"Oh, right," Steve and Nancy said, blinking.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you but you can't get me pregnant," Eddie said.

"It's fun to try, though, right?" Nancy asked with a smirk.

Eddie's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he gazed at the both of them. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted this, but his thoughts and his heart still filled up with Chrissy. He wasn't ready to let go of the feelings he had begun to have for her just quite yet.

"I still need to do some healing first," Eddie said.

"Whenever you're ready," Nancy said with a knowing look.

"Yeah, man, take your time," Steve said. "We'll be here."

"You guys really talked about this, huh?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Nancy said, blushing. "We got you something."

"Nancy thought it might be a little offensive what I got for you, but I thought you might appreciate it," Steve grinned.

He pulled a stuffed bat out of a bag. Eddie gasped. It looked like an old Halloween decoration.

"It is offensive, but I love it," Eddie said as he took it in his arms.

"Yeah, it made me think of the whole Olly Oscar thing," Steve said.

"You mean Ozzy Osborne?" Eddie asked with a scowl.

"He's fucking with you, Eddie," Nancy giggled. "He knows exactly who that is."

"Nancy! Come on!" Steve yelled, and Eddie laughed.

Nancy rolled her eyes affectionately at him before pulling her gift out. It was a teddy bear with a little denim vest. Eddie grabbed it, cooing.

"I love it, thanks," Eddie said.

Nancy leaned down and kissed his cheek while Steve did the same on his other side.

"We're really glad you're still with us, Eddie," Nancy said and he smiled at her before frowning.

"Oh goddamn it! I'm getting tired again! I don't want to go back to sleep! This goddamn motherfucking venom! JESUS H - "

Eddie's eyes slid shut, and darkness over came him as he fell asleep asleep to the sound of Steve and Nancy's soothing voices. He was alive, and he was safe. . .the rest of it, they could figure out later.

[aurorawritestoescape]

Show your blorbos

Thank you for the tags, my loves @milla-frenchy @tateypots @sunshineispunk @sawymredfox @schnarfer @joelmillerisapunk @bonezone44 @itwasntimethatdidit40 💞💞💞

I feel like I’m doing everything ages later these days, when everyone’s already done with a game. But better late than never, right?😅

I’ll start with my favourite Pedro boys😍

Don’t glare, Joel! You’re always my number one😁

Joel Miller. He’s not my first Pedro love (it was Din) but the biggest one for sure❤️ (52 fics prove my obsession😅) I think we all feel the same about him so I don’t need to explain why I love the man. I don’t wanna start crying🥺 He deserves everything best. The love of my life❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Din Djarin. He’s such a cunt lol but also soft, kind, brave, caring!! he’s the best dad🥹😍 His armor is super hot, his voice makes me weak but I lost my mind when he took his helmet off. He was so miserable and bloody, just my type🥺🥵 and Din brought me to fanfic so he’ll forever be in my heart🥹❤️‍🔥

Javi P. Do I even need to explain myself?🫠🫠🫠

Frankie Morales. When I need comfort, I write Frankie. My perfect teddy bear😍❤️

Tommy Miller. Gabriel Luna played him so well! he’s gorgeous and his kind eyes and sweet smile won my heart🥹❤️‍🔥

Dean, Sam, Cas. I put these three together because I love them equally (ok, I love Dean a liiiiittle bit more)❤️‍🔥

Jeff and Britta (Community) She’s a beautiful mess, he’s a lovable asshole, I wanna be their third❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Love Quinn (You) I love her so fn much! She’s passionate, she loves hard and just wants to be happy🥹 She’s never done anything wrong😤

Chandler Bing. What an amazing character! Desperately looking for love and then being the absolute best tv husband😍 and his sense of humor is everything!! My favorite Friend for sure❤️❤️❤️

Kylo Ren. My baby😍 He’s just a hurt boy inside who wanted to be loved🥺 I’m pretty sure I was conditioned to love him harder by all amazing fics I read about him bc the movies left me disappointed tbh. Thank gods for fanfic and our talented writers❤️

Ahh I had so much fun thinking about my loves😍

Npt💞 @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @604to647 @huskyfox5 @ellasinnombre @magpiepills @corazondebeskar @princessanglophile @evolnoomym and you🫵

[enter-the-rickyverse]

Hi :) I'm back here again and I wanted to ask if you could draw the Savannah scene with my Ricky but since he stays mute in the Afterlife Romeo is his interpreter (Idk if it's written like that) so he basically helps to communicate Ricky's lines during all that happens in rtc .

Also fun fact: Romeo is the only one apart from Ricky that isn't scared of Jane.

If that's not much trouble.

and here's my Jane also:

She has some small holes just under her eyes because the doll has a mechanism that maked her cry if you pour water inside of her but you don't have to draw them if you don't want to, they are barely visible after all. She's also supposed to have very big pearl earrings but this is the only time I draw them and I also sent a picture of Connie's uniform just in case you can't see Jane's uniform since it's almost the same just with a different bow and long sleeves. Also Jane would still be holding onto her doll to this scene because she feels like it's all she has because the doll has a necklace that says "friend" since the part that says "Penny's' isn't visible anymore so she's very attached to it since she believes it's her best friend. Btwother drawings of Jane since I keep no continuity with this design just in case you want to see:

In the last one the holes I said are visible but they aren't really supposed to be that big.

Sorry for talking so much in this request is just that this Jane is oddly specific yet I always draw her wrong :3

Hi! So I actually really love the crying mechanism and decided to incorporate it. This was a lot of fun, Thank you!!

[zz-uno]

saw some girl who said she didn’t like men who cry and beg on their knees but me personally……

it’s been a couple of weeks of you pacing back and forth, getting advice from your friends and rethinking if this was really the right decision. you knew breaking up with your long term boyfriend wouldn’t be easy, but you really couldn’t stand how suffocated you constantly felt with him. there was no doubt that he loved you with his whole heart. he always tries his best to be as romantic as he can, taking you out on dates regularly, showing up at your house just to cuddle or watch movies, sending you love letters even though he knows he could just express his feelings through a text message. you loved it, adored it actually, but as of recent he’s been overly attached to you in ways that are definitely unhealthy. you don’t want this relationship to turn into something where he only depends on you, so you decided it might be time to break it off.

as you appear at his apartment door, heart nearly beating out of your chest, you finally knock delicately almost hoping he wouldn’t hear so you could turn around and run away to give the whole situation some more thought. you’ve never been the type of person to like confrontation, so this was extremely horrifying for you. to your demise you hear your boyfriend’s voice on the other side of the door. “just a second!” as you hear his footsteps get closer to the door you start to burn up, sweaty palms and feeling a knot in your throat. as he opens the door and sees your face he almost immediately lights up. “hey angel! i wasn’t expecting to see you at this time of night. something wrong? come inside.” you hesitate for a bit before walking by him and settling yourself on the couch. “you hungry? i don’t have much in my fridge right now but i could try and-" "we really need to talk." you interrupt him mid sentence. your boyfriend walks towards the couch with his eyebrows furrowed, mind racing trying to think back to all the things he might've done to upset you. "did i do something wrong? is it because i broke your digicam? i thought i already apologized for that im so sorry.” you wave him off “no it’s not that, plus it was a cheap one anyway…i’ve just been thinking about..us and our whole, you know, dynamic and everything and..” you sigh trying to steady your heart “i really don’t think we’re gonna work out. i’m sorry.” there’s a deafening silence for a second…then two…then three. all you can feel are your boyfriend’s eyes boring into the back of your head. you finally turn around to face him and he looks absolutely mortified. pale as a ghost with eyes blown out of his head. he falls to his knees in utter shock making a loud thud sound on the hard wood floor. “i..i don’t understand. can you please explain to me? what did i do so wrong im sorry. i’m so so sorry whatever it is im so sorry please just don’t leave me. is this some kind of sick joke?” he’s looking up at you with teary eyes, his voice strained and desperate. you stand up off the couch and walk towards him, crouching down to meet his eye level. “listen, if you want me to be honest it’s become extremely suffocating to be with you. i can never get an ounce of privacy with you. it’s as if you have to know everything about me all the time 24/7. you seriously think that spying on me every time i go out is okay? you think forcing yourself to be near me all day everyday day is healthy? i understand if you’ve got some shit going on personally but it really doesn’t give you the right to attach yourself to me every time you feel like shit, and then draining me of all my energy. it’s tiring. it really is.” as you get up feeling like you’ve finally gotten a huge, terribly heavy weight off your chest, you feel a tug at your leg. “baby i’m sorry. i’ll change, i’ll find something else to cope with instead. please just don’t leave me im sorry, im so sorry. i don’t what i’ll do without you just don’t leave me.” you look down at your boyfriend who’s pulling your leg, hot tears streaming down his face with his hand gripping at his shirt. “…are you fucking serious right now?” you grit through your teeth “this is the shit i’m talking about, get a grip man.” you shake his hand off, making your way to the door again. but your boyfriend refuses to give up. he starts crawling rapidly and wraps both arms around your legs. you look over your shoulder, he’s practically drenched in tears with his shirt looking like he’d taken a shower with it on. he’s trying to say something, but you can’t quite make it out with how cracked and broken his voice sounds.

the sight of how pathetic your boyfriend looks under you starts to pull at your heart strings, finally causing you to give in. you never wanted to hurt him this bad, and you don’t want to leave him to struggle with the heartbreak alone knowing he has no one but you around for support. you free your legs and kneel down in front of him, pulling him towards your chest and smoothing your hands through his hair. “alright alright i’m sorry, but if we’re really going to continue this relationship you’re gonna have to learn how to respect me and my privacy. okay?” you hear your boyfriend’s hurried pants finally turn slow, and pull him off of you chest to plant a soft kiss on his tear stained cheeks. he’s really got a strong hold on you.

————————————————————————

a/n:

bruhhh this my first time writing ever so pls b nice ….

[stxrsniolo]

︶︶﹒can you choose me, please?⠀ 𓇼

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 warning : in this teeny tiny one-shot, i'll introduce the plot of my new requested chris bot, with an angst-like vibe that tugged at my heartstrings.

the night was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, but the chill inside chris was from something much deeper, much more personal. he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his room dark except for the dim light from the streetlamp outside, casting long shadows that seemed to match his mood.

y/n was his best friend, had been for years. he'd been there through everything - the good, the bad, and the ugly. he'd held her when she cried, cheered her up when she was down, celebrated her victories, and comforted her through her losses. his love was loud, supportive, a constant in her ever-changing world.

but she always went back to him, his middle triplet. matt, who was a bit more closed off, bold, but also reckless and, unbeknownst to many, cruel. chris had seen the cycle repeat itself time and again; y/n would be hurt, she'd come to him for solace, and then, she'd go back, drawn to matt like a moth to a flame.

tonight was no different. chris had watched her cry, her heart shredded by matt's latest betrayal, and he'd listened, comforted, but this time, the pain of watching her choose matt over and over was too much. the room felt like it was closing in on him, the walls echoing with his unvoiced frustrations.

"why, y/n?" he started, his voice raw, a mix of desperation and hurt. "why do you always go back to him? why do you choose him when you know he'll just hurt you again?"

y/n looked at him, her eyes red from crying, her expression one of confusion and pain. "chris, i..."

"no, let me finish," he cut her off, his voice rising with emotion, his anger thickening with his agitation. "i've been here for ya, through everything. i've loved ya, supported ya, but it's like you don't even see me. you see him, the one who breaks ya, and ya run back to him every fucking time."

the words were out, slicing through the air like knives. he stood up, pacing, his hands running through his hair in frustration. "do ya know how it feels to watch ya get hurt, to pick up the pieces, only for ya to go back to the one who scattered them in the first place?"

y/n's silence was heavy, her eyes now filling with tears again, not just for her own pain but for his. "i didn't realize..."

"you didn't realize what?" he snapped, the hurt turning into anger, not at her, but at the situation, at his own helplessness. "that i'm here, waiting like a fool, hoping one day ya might see me? that every time ya choose him, it's like ya're choosing to hurt yourself, and me in the process?"

his voice cracked, the facade of calm he always maintained around her breaking. "i can't keep doing this, y/n. watching ya go through this cycle, knowing i can't save ya from it because ya won't let me. it's killing me."

the air was thick with his pain, his words hanging between them like a tangible barrier. y/n stood, moving towards him, but he stepped back, the distance physical now but symbolic of the emotional chasm between them.

"i love ya, y/n, more than ya'll ever know, but i can't be your second choice anymore. i can't be the one ya come to just to patch ya up for him," chris said, his voice softening, the anger giving way to a profound sadness. "i want to be the one ya choose, not the one ya settle for when ya're broken."

the room was silent, the only sound their breathing, the tension between love and despair palpable. y/n reached out, her hand trembling, but chris didn't move to close the gap.

"i need ya to see me, to choose me, y/n," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "not just as the friend who picks up the pieces, but as someone who could be your everything if ya'd just let me."

"can you choose me, please?"

the bot's plot is similar, yet not absolutely the same as this, you can check it out HERE. <3

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had. 

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably. 

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence. 

“What is all this ruckus?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.  

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you. 

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day. 

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly. 

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering. 

“Oh,” he repeated. 

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face. 

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm. 

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago. 

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement. 

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later. 

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. 

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words. 

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way. 

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day. 

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window. 

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful. 

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night. 

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother. 

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted. 

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings. 

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out. 

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it. 

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered. 

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried. 

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly. 

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!

[quinloki]

Quin's Terrible Two's

Here we are at the back half of the Tumblrversary event \o/ The polls are closed, but drabbles will be going up the rest of the month =3

The votes have been counted, the results have been assessed! Now it's time for What Happens Because of All of That <3

So without further ado -- /an eye appears in the middle of my chest, reading over the results./ "Thank you, dear Author, I'll take it from here."

Handed it Over

CW: Dom!Robin, pegging, mdni

You and Sanji look at Robin. She has a very serene smile on her face and something about it unnerves you, if you were being honest.

“Robin-cha—!” Sanji stutters as hands bloom from his body, pulling his arms behind his back, and shoving fingers into his mouth. He resists for a second, and then let’s Robin move him, and you aren’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to hurt her, or if he doesn’t want to resist.

She brings him down to his knees, facing the two of you. The pink that dusts his face, and the blood Robin wipes away from his lip makes you sure he’s enjoying himself, whichever the case may be.

The arms that bloom from your body are far more gentle, folding your arms behind your back and pressing your chest against Sanji’s. There’s a quiet whimper from the chef, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

Robin has your face nestled into the crook of Sanji’s neck, and his cheek against your temple. This way you both can hear each other’s sounds clearly.

One hand pulls your panties the side and long fingers slide up and down your slit. You’re still both dressed, but now you know why Robin wanted you to wear a skirt. The soft touch has you sighing into Sanji’s neck and you can feel his body tense.

“Tell him what I’m doing to you,” Robin commands, the sultry smile on her face coming through in her tone. “He’d love to hear it.”

Heat rushes to your face. “She’s pulled my panties aside and is touching me.”

The whimper from Sanji isn’t quite so quiet this time.

“Keep going,” Robin instructs, parting your labia and stroking the wet skin.

“S-she’s spreading me oh-open, and touching me more,” your voice trembles, and you hide your eyes against Sanji’s neck. “She’s - haaa - tah-touching my kluh-clit!” Your words turn into a moan and you muffle it by crying into Sanji’s shoulder.

You can feel him panting, rutting into his own pants, trying to beg for something, but Robin has his mouth held open with her hands. Like an o-ring gag that keeps teasing his tongue, he can’t say anything. The pleasure of his fingers was making you whine with him, squirming against his body.

“Sanji, it feels so good, she’s putting her fingers inside, and they’re warm.” You whine and feel Sanji’s body stiffen. He suffers harshly a couple times, moaning and whimpering around Robin’s fingers, cumming in his pants.

“Let me help you.” Robin says and you hear her undoing Sanji’s belt. “One more and you’ll be able to help me tend to our sweet guest.”

“One more?” You question hazily as Robin’s fingers push deeper into your pussy, teasing your clit at the same time. She moves your arms until you’re holding onto Sanji, one hand on his back, the other in his hair.

You’re pressed cheek to cheek with him, moaning into his ear.

“She’s, hnngh, fuh-fucking me with her fingers, Sanji,” you gasp, fingers trembling against him. “Good, it feels so good, she’s filling me up and teasing me, I can feel how… how wet I am.”

“You’re good at this,” Robin hums, bringing your legs together enough to pull your panties off.

Sanji’s panting turns into a growl, his body tensing again as hot heavy breaths fall from his open mouth. You can hear him trying to say something, but it’s lost to a garbled sound and a wet sensation against your leg.

“There’s two, are you calmed down enough, Sanji-san?”

“Haaa, haaa, yeah.” Sanji sighs the words and you feel his body shift, hands settling against your hips. His lips press against your  neck and he slowly leans you back.

Robin’s hands help, easing you onto a soft mattress, undoing your blouse and pulling it aside as Sanji cages over you. His ears are flushed red, but the bleeding from his nose has stopped and his eyes seem focused.

“Beautiful lady, I would like to kiss your lips, if I may?” He requests, leaning down when you nod.

Soft, a little chapped, but warm, Sanji presses his lips against yours softly, a quiet moan swirling against his chest. His fingers thread between yours, holding you down gently before his lips trail down to your chest.

Robin spreads your legs with her hands, helping Sanji out of his pants while he lavishes attention on your nipples, licking and kissing them so tenderly it almost tickles. He straightens up a little, looking down and watching as Robins helps him line up with your soaked pussy. His fingers flex against yours as his tip presses in and he leans down again, kissing you hungrily as he sinks in carefully.

You moan and shiver against his lips, mewling nothing but pleasure as he fills you slowly. He grinds against you, moaning into the kiss with you, as his hips press into your thighs.

“You feel amazing,” he sighs, kisses moving to your neck as you sigh pleasurable sounds by his ear, fingers trembling in his hold.

“Y-you feel g-good too,” you whimper, the feeling of him inside you has your entire body on edge.

Sanji moans deeply into your neck and you can see Robin behind him. She leans him back enough you can see his deeply flushed face. Her extra hands undo his tie and unbutton his dress shirt, exposing a chest that’s almost as flush with heat as his face is.

Her fingers comb through his chest hair as she smiles down at you.

“He’s such a good boy.” She hums and you nod, feeling him pushed deeper as Robin pushes into him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you both.”

Robin’s hands steady and guide you and Sanji, keeping you in place when she pulls back, and pulling you into him when she thrusts back in, leaving the chef trapped between the two of you. Once she gets a rhythm going Sanji leans down and kisses you against, slipping his tongue past your lips while you pant and moan from the way they both look at you.

The way they’re both effectively fucking you.

You feel Robin’s finger on your clit, and Sanji moves, moaning into your skin as his kisses travel to your neck. He lets go of one your hands, teasing one of your breasts. Robin’s fingers thread through yours and you can see the soft flush on her cheeks as she begins to thrust into Sanji’s ass a little faster.

“Don’t finish before our guest, Sanji-san.” She warns and his teeth drag against your skin almost desperately, hot breath and whining kisses sending a shiver into your skin like lightning.

It barely takes them a minute to bring your orgasm crashing into you, legs twitching and fingers flexing against their hands. You whine, gasping at the sudden build up and scream in ecstasy when Sanji’s tongue licks up your neck, his fingers teasing your stiff nipple. His touch is tender but your skin is sensitive as the orgasm rips through you, and the tender touch is almost overwhelming.

He thrusts heavy and deep at the end of your orgasm, pushing the last few gasping moans free from your lips as he fills you up, sighing something you can’t make out. Hot lips pepper your skin with tender kisses until he reaches your mouth, pressing long and heavy, tongue mingling with yours and stealing your addled breath for a moment before leaning back.

“What a good start,” Robin praises, her hands brushing sweaty hair and errant tears away. Your legs are shifted back and the deep stretch is a good kind of ache, even as Sanji sinks deeper inside you.

“I wonder who’s going to beg me to stop first.”

[fl0w3r-33]

What’s Left of Us?

summary: ellie finally returns back to the farm…

☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙

WARNING: august, negative self talk, nickname(s): baby, sweet girl

(a/n, sorry for not posting in 6 months😭 i missed y’all so muchhhh)

☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙☙

The door creaked open, and Ellie stepped inside. The air inside the farmhouse was thick with silence, heavy with the weight of something unspoken. Her boots dragged against the wooden floor, the mud from the long journey leaving faint trails behind her. She didn’t bother taking them off. She didn’t deserve to keep the place clean.

I was in the kitchen when I heard her come in. I turned, heart hammering, my throat tight. I had prepared myself for this moment—for the possibility that she wouldn’t come back at all, or that she’d return but wouldn’t really be here.

She stood in the doorway like a ghost. Thinner. Shoulders hunched. Her hands hung at her sides, fingers twitching like they weren’t sure if they still had a purpose. Her eyes, once so full of fire, were empty.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a slow step forward. “Baby?…”

She didn’t look at me. Just stared past me, like she wasn’t sure if I was real or just another thing her mind was playing tricks on. “I shouldn’t be here.” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

I wanted to rush to her, to pull her into my arms, but something about the way she stood—so fragile, so ready to break—held me back. “What do you mean? Where else would you be?” I asked softly.

Ellie let out a hollow laugh. “Anywhere but here. I—” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. “I failed.”

I took another step toward her, slow and careful. “You failed?”

She clenched her jaw, her gaze finally flicking up to meet mine. Her green eyes were swimming with something between anger and grief. “I had her. I had Abby. Right there. I could’ve ended it. And I didn’t.” She exhaled sharply, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “I let her go.”

I let the words settle between us, watching as her whole body trembled under the weight of them.

“You think that makes you a failure?” I asked.

Ellie’s lips twisted into something bitter. “I don’t know what it makes me. Weak? A coward?” She let out a shuddering breath and pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. “After everything… after Joel… I thought killing her would make it mean something.”

I closed the space between us. “And did it?”

She laughed again, but it was a broken, jagged sound. “I didn’t even do it.”

I reached out then, placing a hand on her arm. She flinched at first but didn’t pull away. “Ellie, if you had… do you really think it would’ve brought you peace?”

Her breath hitched, and she didn’t answer.

I squeezed her arm gently. “You came back.”

She let out a slow, shaking exhale. “I don’t deserve to.”

I tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “That’s not true, baby.”

Ellie searched my face like she was looking for a reason to believe me. But all I saw in her eyes was guilt, regret, and exhaustion so deep I wasn’t sure she’d ever climb out of it.

I pulled her into my arms then, feeling the way her body resisted for only a second before collapsing into mine. She was shaking. Not crying—just shaking, like she had nothing left to give.

I ran my fingers through her tangled hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re home,” I whispered. “And that’s enough.”

She didn’t answer, but I felt the way her arms slowly wrapped around me, gripping me like I was the only thing tethering her to the world. And maybe, for now, that was okay.

“i love you….”

“i love you too, sweet girl”

Because she came back. And I wasn’t letting go.

[lalizah]

This is the silliest hc anyone can hc so please don't judge too harshly lol

Liz is so so self conscious about how she looks and now that she finally finally looks how she's always wanted, she's meticulous and high maintenance with her appearance, so much so that Mason has a heart attack the first time he goes into her bathroom to take a shower whilst Nate cries tears of joy because he's finally found his soulmate

After they've known each other a while, Liz does something stupid and ends up in the medical ward (yet again) and UB are distraught, especially Rebecca. The sight she sees when she goes to check up on Liz would have her doubled over and laughing if it were not the fact that her daughter is still unconscious: Adam and Nate making sure her hair is hydrated, conditioned and styled properly, having a small argument over whether she'd want it straight or curled as Mason glares at them from where he's applying moisturizer to one hand and tells them to make sure her hair's parted correctly.

Felix is doing an immaculate job doing her nails and everyone stops arguing to appreciate the design, sure that Liz would love them. Rebecca's stunned reaction prompts a chorus of justifications - she woke up after three days last time and all she could do was cry about her hair- and - she was most distressed to find that her skin had not been provided with adequate nourishment and she proceeded to doubt our friendship, which greatly offended me hence why I have taken upon myself this task- and of course, - she spent 5 hours in the bathroom every fucking day, moaning about looking ugly and I'm not putting up with that shit again-

Deep down, they're all grateful to have something to do so that they can ignore the terror that claws at them.

[quadrantadvisor]

Sometimes I still think about The Owl House Gang all trying to watch ATLA together but then Zuko's backstory in The Storm retraumatizes Hunter so bad they have to stop

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally