#maybe this who she is and shed finally have something for herself!

[foundfamilyblog]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ARCANES ENDING BELOW:

Now, this is off topic for my blog but I'd like to shed light on something.

Arcanes ending. Namely the end of Jinx's character arc is what I believe to be one of the finest pieces of writing in the modern world with no exception. When Jinx is born at the end of 103 we see what happens to someone who heals wrong, we see the kind of monster they become when they aren't nurtured and given a proper environment to heal in. Powder becomes a monster known as Jinx who goes on to commit multiple acts of terrorism against Piltover. The way she feeds into this idea of being a monster as a way of lashing out at the pain she's felt from being "abandoned" by Vi is so incredibly realistic and relatable that it begs the question what has happened in the writers lives that allow them to understand such a transformation so thoroughly.

Then, at the end of season 1 we see Powder/Jinx finally embrace her new self with no more qualms about her identity, truly and finally one. Without any need to hold back anymore, she does something truly unforgivable and without redemption in the form of 9/11ing Piltover. Even in this moment though, she screams and cries in pain at how her old life is well and truly gone. The emotional turmoil of what she's done and what she's doing is too much to handle. To violently tear a new life out from the broken and beaten body of your old one is something no soul should have to do, but she does, and she makes it relatable.

Once we see her again in season 2, she has become much more lucid and comfortable in her own body as Jinx, the hallucinations have subsided for the most part and her inner turmoil is appropriately dealt with. Additionally she has a goal in mind now, she's chosen who she is and she knows what she wants to do: Kill Vi. The new life she has built for herself is purposeful, deliberate, no more a mish mash of two clashing ideals.

She wants to solidify her role as a monster once and for all, which ends in an epic battle between her and her sister, and at the very end of the fight right before she's taken out for good? A single soul sees the value in her life and risks everything to protect her. A child. Everyone, even Jinx is shocked by this because how could anyone ever love an ugly, broken thing like her? Let alone risk their life for her? The shock this instills in everyone buys Jinx enough time to escape with the kid, Isha. Imagine performing such horrible, inconceivable actions with no remorse and being full of such hatred, and then one person decides you're worth it. Just one person decides you are worthy of love and that they do love you and want you around. Can you imagine how that would shatter your world view? Being full of such self hatred and hatred for the world around you only to be shown warmth even in those times? This is exactly what happens to Jinx.

When we see her next, some time has passed, and she's even begun to drop the name Jinx. Her new friend, Isha, and her have begun a new life together and they look out for each other. The way Jinx describes her new life is "like I'm looking through glasses, except I can't tell if everything's blurry or clear." And what's clear to us as the audience is that Jinx is FINALLY healing. She is finally beginning to find some peace after all she has been through, and all it took was ONE soul, one singular person to love her even after all she had done. We go on to see her reunite with her sister, and somewhat with her father. We get to watch her slowly rebuild the life that was stolen from her and reconnect with those she lost, and those she hurt. This represents hope and change, rebirth and love, that maybe your sins aren't who you are. That you can change and love and be so wonderfully you with those who love you!

Isha dies. Isha, Jinx's anchor to the world, dies protecting her. Yet again Jinx loses everything. Her father is taken from her yet again in the process and the exact trauma that shaped her into Jinx is entirely recreated. Except, this time? There's no insanity. There's no hallucinations and mania. There's no rage or hate or flames or explosions or chaos or screaming. It's just sad. Nothing but sorrow fills Jinx up as she loses her one and only friend. She intends to kill herself at this point. She looks back at her life and sees how everyone she gets close to dies, gets hurt, or she in some way is preventing from being happy. That she alone is the perpetuator of a cycle of violence that has plagued her families lives for years and years. So she decides to give them closure. She tells Vi she can stop feeling bad for being happy and move on, she tells Cait she didn't know her Mom was in the explosion, and she leaves. Nothing more, just leaves. Doesn't tell anyone what she's going to do, she just does it. The intense guilt she feels is palpable in every breath she takes, it's clear she just wants to quietly leave this world without hurting anyone, just this once. Then the time finally comes, to end her life and finally be free of it all. Only to be stopped. One more remnant of her old life comes back and convinces her to stick around a little longer. Somehow, she agrees, but we all know that this is only temporary. The guilt someone feels after doing something so terrible, so unforgivable, can't be cleansed by a single conversation. She hates herself and just wants to stop hurting people, but she still has a small spark, something in her that has hope she can do good. So she delays her death to try one more time to be kind.

Next we see her, she's got a new look and is fighting alongside Vi, instead of against. She acknowledges their connection and at a pivotal moment, takes the fall. She saves her sisters life and "sacrifices" herself in the process. At the very last moment, she understands that there's another way out of her pain and hurting everyone around her instead of dying. She fakes her own death to everyone and escapes the country quietly. She tells no one and quietly escapes, with everyone having the closure of her death.

No more chasing her, no more thinking of what she might be plotting, no more hoping the old her will return. It's just over.

Her final action in Arcane is one of kindness, and healing to those she hurt. It is not redemption, but it is understanding. She accepts she is a bad person and may very well still hate herself, however she at the very least opens herself up to a new life far from those she hurt. And I think that's beautiful.

Anyway this is just my personal interpretation of the ending, I'm open to new ideas and down to discuss though! Btw I didn't proof read this so if it seems messed up anywhere that's why.

[wormedrabidnerd]

I'm ngl i think people in the fandom are romanticizing Betty's sacrifice as "badass sexy wife saves the day" instead of "young woman with identity and self esteem issues gives up on everything for a man she just met"

I know y'all like the ship, but some of y'all are ignoring what the series is trying to tell us.

[p0orbaby]

Silver Linings

summary: you’ve had a baby and you’ve had enough, you want your wife, goddammit!

warnings: SMUT 18+, just sex alright, im too lazy to read back and see what there is

a/n: thanks for the request !

word count: 1.2k

-

You’re lying in bed, counting the new cracks in the ceiling. You’re convinced they’ve multiplied since the baby was born. Or maybe it’s just that you’re always staring up these days, wishing for sleep. You read somewhere that the Spanish government once paid people to make babies. But they don’t mention how they don’t pay enough for someone to come and take the baby off your hands every now and then.

But who’s counting?

Alexia’s beside you, scrolling through her phone like it owes her money. She’s wearing that ridiculous sleep shirt with Messi’s face on it—some joke you don’t quite understand but one that involves a poorly executed bet, a late-night purchase, and more tequila than you’d care to remember. You’re not sure what makes you more irritated: the shirt or the fact that she looks hot in it. Even with the dark circles under her eyes.

You clear your throat, trying to get her attention. It’s like trying to wake a bear from hibernation. She just grunts and scrolls faster.

“Hey, Messi’s number one fan,” you say, nudging her with your foot. “Put the phone down before you sprain your thumb”

She glances over at you, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but there’s a flicker of interest there. “What? You wanna talk about our feelings now?”

“No, I want to talk about the state of our sex life,” you reply, deadpan. “Which is currently on life support”

Alexia raises an eyebrow, finally putting her phone down on the nightstand. “Oh? You wanna do something about that?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool, but the truth is, you’ve been thinking about this all day. Well, between the nappy changes, the feedings, and trying to remember when the last time you showered was.

“I mean, we probably should. Before the baby wakes up and finds out we’re trying to have fun”

Alexia grins, a little too wickedly for someone who’s supposed to be sleep-deprived. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to say something. It’s like you read my mind”

“Oh yeah? Was it before or after you ordered that new strap?”

She laughs, the sound low and throaty. “Before. Definitely before. The new strap was just… insurance”

“Insurance?” you snort. “You mean like how some people buy a fire extinguisher for their kitchen?”

“Exactly. You never know when you’re going to need it”

You’re laughing now, genuinely, and it feels good. It feels like the first real laugh you’ve had in weeks. Maybe months. The kind that shakes off the dust that’s settled between the two of you, the kind that makes you remember why you fell for her in the first place.

She’s already moving, shedding the Messi shirt in one smooth move. There’s something almost ceremonial about the way she does it, as if she’s readying herself for battle. You swallow hard, the familiar heat building in your belly. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but tired, anything but stretched too thin.

When she climbs back into bed, she’s got that glint in her eye that says she’s up to no good. “You ready for this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “For you to pretend you know what you’re doing?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she kisses you, hard and possessive. It’s all teeth and tongue, a little desperate, a little sloppy, but it’s enough to make your toes curl. You gasp into her mouth when her hands start to roam, fingers grazing over your still-sensitive skin. Everything’s too much and not enough, and you can’t help the little whimper that escapes your lips.

“Easy,” she murmurs against your mouth. “We’ve got all night”

“Yeah, until the baby wakes up and decides to serenade us with her cries,” you mutter, but you’re already arching into her touch.

“You’re right,” she says, her voice dropping an octave, sending shivers down your spine. “We better make this quick”

You laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan as she kisses her way down your body, her hands gripping your thighs like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on tight. You’ve missed this, missed her. Not just the sex, but the connection, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world, even when you’re surrounded by chaos.

When she finally reaches into her bedside table and pulls out the strap, the new one, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

She just smirks. “I told you. Insurance”

“Right,” you say, but your breath catches in your throat when she presses the tip against you, the cool silicone a stark contrast to your overheated skin. You’re sensitive, achingly so, and the stretch of it has you chaining air, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Too much?” she asks, her voice softening for the first time tonight.

You shake your head, biting your lip as you try to focus on the sensation, the delicious burn that’s equal parts pleasure and pain. “No, it’s… it’s good. Really good”

She moves slowly, deliberately, and you can tell she’s trying to be gentle, trying not to overwhelm you. But there’s a tension in her body, a barely contained need that mirrors your own, and it’s not long before she’s thrusting harder, her hands gripping your hips, tethering you to the earth.

It’s overwhelming, the way she fills you up, the way she looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You can feel the coil tightening in your belly, the pressure building to a breaking point. It’s almost too much, too intense, but you can’t stop yourself from chasing that high, from wanting more.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your nails raking down her back. “I’m gonna—”

But before you can finish, she shifts her angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and it’s like a dam breaking. You come apart with a strangled cry, your body trembling with the force of it, and she’s right there with you, whispering filthy praise into your ear, her voice raw with desire.

When it’s over, you’re both a mess, caught in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat. You can barely catch your breath, but there’s a satisfied smile on your face, one that mirrors hers. It’s not perfect, it’s not the earth-shattering, movie-ending kind of sex, but it’s real. And that’s enough.

As you lie there, trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts, she pulls you close, her arm draped over your waist. “We should do this more often,” she says, her voice sleepy but content.

“Yeah,” you murmur, already half-asleep. “If we ever get the chance”

But for now, you’re content to just lie here, basking in the afterglow, knowing that you’ve still got each other. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to get you through the sleepless nights and endless nappy changes.

As you start to drift off, you hear the faint sound of the baby stirring in the next room. You groan, burying your face in Alexia’s neck. “Your turn”

She laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Fine, but only because you did all the hard work”

You snort, but you can’t help but smile as she slips out of bed, pulling on the Messi shirt once more. As she heads out to tend to the baby, you close your eyes, feeling more at peace than you have in weeks. Maybe even months.

[hazbinwhoree]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Adam/Reader where its post-one night stand with a girl who comes to his shows? Like he hooked up with her a couple times and it meant nothing but its starting to mean something to him and he asks to hookup more just so they can hang out? Like he'll ask, she'll come over and he just wants to watch a movie lol. Tysmm

(Repost of my request from a couple days ago)

Hangout or Hookup?

“And what’s your name, babe?” Adam asked, leaning over the smaller angel in front of him. She was pretty, exactly Adam’s type, and didn’t give off the desperate energy that his groupies gave off.

“(Name).” Adam took (Name)’s hand and mockingly kissed it. “Beautiful name for a beautiful bitch.” (Name) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Adam liked that.

She played hard to get but Adam knew he would take her home that night. She was dedicated, coming to all his shows. He always spotted her in the crowd.

Sure enough, his flirting and charisma had (Name) agreeing when Adam finally suggested they go back to his place.

Adam was pretty sure it was the best sex he’d had in his life. Shit was so good it made him want to cuddle after. But (Name) was already redressing, ready to head out the door. “You don’t have to rush out,” Adam told her. “It’s okay,” she replied. “I know how this works.”

And she was gone.

(Name) was supposed to be a one time treat for Adam. But she kept coming to all of his shows and Adam found himself seeking her out after each one, and inevitably, she was who he would take home every night.

They were just supposed to be fuck buddies, at least that’s what Adam told himself. But he soon found himself enjoying her company even more than he enjoyed the sex.

He could never get her to stay the night, she seemed convinced that the sex was purely physical and nothing else. It kind of bothered Adam, but he supposed he dug his own grave there with his reputation.

One night, after a show, Adam invited (Name) to his place as usual. Usually, as soon as they were in the door, Adam was on top of (Name), but tonight he just walked past her. Confused, (Name) followed him into his bedroom. Maybe he was mad at her?

“I was thinking,” Adam said as he began to shed his concert clothes. “We should watch a movie tonight.”

“Like, put a movie on while we fuck?” (Name) asked.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Shit, (Name), I just want to watch a fucking movie with you. Is that so crazy?”

(Name) shrugged. “Kind of.”

“Why?”

This was certainly not the direction (Name) had thought this night was going.

“Because… we’re fuck buddies? Fuck buddies don’t just hang out and watch movies.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be just fuck buddies,” Adam said, throwing one of his t-shirts at her. “Get comfortable.”

Slightly apprehensive, (Name) stripped her concert attire and put on Adam’s shirt. She didn’t have pants, but his shirt was large enough that it didn’t matter. It fell down right above her knees. She climbed onto Adam’s bed where Adam was already sitting with the TV remote.

She’d never been in his bed doing anything but fucking before. It was kind of nice. But she wouldn’t allow herself to get too comfortable. She couldn’t. Adam wasn’t the kind of guy she trusted with her heart.

Adam picked a movie and got up to turn off the lights. He discarded the remote on the bedside table and climbed back onto his bed, leaning back against his pillows.

(Name) sat stiffly on the other side.

“Come here.”

(Name) turned to look at Adam, who had his arms open.

“What are you so scared of? Come here.”

(Name) was scared that the feelings for him she had bottled up would be let loose if they fucking cuddled. Still, she found she could never say no to Adam, and reluctantly scooted up the bed and into his arms.

She wanted nothing more than to cuddle into his side, but she remained frigid. Adam noticed.

“Would you relax?”

(Name) couldn’t, not internally at least. But she relaxed her body, letting herself melt into Adam’s side. Adam smiled, content. He wrapped a wing around her like a blanket and (Name)’s heart skipped a beat.

The movie played on, and as it did, (Name) grew more and more restless. About halfway through the movie, she snapped.

She pushed away from Adam like he’d burned her. “Okay, what the fuck?”

Adam blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”

“What’s your fucking game?” (Name) was fuming. “I understand inviting me back again after the first time we fucked, I understand being fuck buddies, but I don’t understand your motives behind…” she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “This.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to do more than fuck because I genuinely fucking like you?”

Tears welled in (Name)’s eyes. “Don’t. Don’t say things like that. It’s not like you’re going to get into a relationship with me. The great Adam could never settle with just one girl. What about your groupies?”

Adam was getting frustrated. “Did you know that I haven’t fucked another bitch since the very first time we fucked?”

The question hung heavy in the air.

Adam continued. “Because after we fucked that first time, the best sex I’ve ever had by the way, I kept coming back to you. Night after night. And the more we hooked up, the more I realised I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted more with you.”

The confession left (Name) stunned.

“But you’d always leave after we’d fuck, I could never get you to stay and cuddle or talk. I tried, damnit, I fucking did. You’re an impossible bitch, you know that?”

(Name) should be offended, but she was still hung up on the confession. “So what, you’re telling me that you want me to be your girlfriend or some shit?”

“I didn’t plan on asking you like this, but yes, fuck, I’d love to have you as my girl.”

“You’re not joking?”

Adam sighed. “Babe, I know what my reputation is, okay? But everyone seems to forget that I’ve been married twice and I was not the one to end either marriage. I might sleep around when I’m unattached but I’m perfectly capable of committing to the right person.”

(Name) sniffed, a tear running down her cheek.

“Oh don’t start crying, you pussy.”

(Name) laughed through her tears.

“So?” Adam asked.

“So?”

“Will you be my fucking girl?”

(Name) nodded and Adam grinned. “Great, now get your ass over here.” He opened his arms again and (Name) practically dove into them. Adam held her, wrapping his wings around her like extra security. “Girls are so dramatic,” he muttered into her hair.

“Shut up, fuck boy.”

“Slut.”

“Whore.”

Adam kissed her forehead.

“Your whore.”

[seattlesellie]

not about love: part three ♡

ೃ⁀➷ read part one | part two | part four

pairing: college loser!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: you go to a frat party, ellie is a dumbass.

warnings: heavy sexual themes, alcohol, weed, JEALOUSY (both ellie and reader but reader goes through it)

You stirred from your nap, your eyelids fluttering open as you gradually became aware of your surroundings. It was hot, too hot, and the AC wasn’t working. Neither was the fan. So much for one of the “Best colleges in the world!” as they liked to boast on their little website page. A faint buzz emanated from your phone.

You groaned. Dina's persistence was relentless, and she refused to accept no for an answer. The thought of going to a Kappa party was one thing. Sweaty bodies, lame college boys who thought they were hot shit because their daddy was the CEO of toaster strudel or whatever, cheap liquor that burned inside the pits of your stomach even three days after the party was over…

That was the least of your problems.

The problem was, you guessed it — Ellie.

Wherever Jesse and Dina went, Ellie was always there, tagging along like a lost little puppy. They never turned her away; they actually seemed to enjoy her company. And who could blame them? Ellie had a wicked sense of humor, and some might even say she had a sweet side. Plus, she always had a fat joint tucked away in her pocket, ready to be shared. The thing was, Dina and Jesse were a fucking couple, and Ellie somehow managed to squeeze herself into their most intimate moments too.

You asked Dina about it once, and she just shrugged — “She’s a little lonely sometimes, so why not?”

Dina was right. Ellie was… a little lonely. When she wasn’t with you, shed lock herself inside her dorm room (which she thankfully shared with no one), solemnly strung on her guitar, broody and quiet. She’d blast metal when she was upset, and draw till her arm hurt. It was “by choice” she always told, shrugging off your attempts to convince her to socialize, enjoy the college life, have some fun. She wanted to tell you that you were enough. That she didn’t need those random hookups, that parties were the last thing that interested her, when you were around. Her cheeks would blush a soft, dusty pink whenever she entertained the thought of confessing her feelings to you. The uncertainty of your response weighed on her mind like a pesky little irritant. What would you think then?

None of it mattered, anyways, because you and Ellie hadn’t talked in a week. That was the longest time without contact since 10th grade. Granted, you did fight that Christmas night, just a year ago — but you never went completely cold. Not like this. Ever since that day in her room, something shifted. You saw her in the cafeteria, Sitting alone with white string earphones in her ears, she bopped her head to the rhythmic tunes of Bob Dylan. Pretending not to see you, she shifted her gaze towards the window, fixating on the birds' nest nestled within the tree nearby.

She thought you knew.

She thought her secret was out.

“You’re not” Was the last thing that left her mouth that day.

Ellie was delusional, Because you didn’t fucking know.

“I cant see her EVER again” she scribbled in her journal with dark ink, pressing down on the pen until her thumb turned white.

When NASA released the stunning images of millions of galaxies, your thoughts inevitably gravitated towards her. She was a constant presence in your mind, after all. You sent her a message, a sweet one. “thought of u” it said, with a picture attached.

It was radio silence. No response, no call, nothing. Cold.

This is why you didn’t want to go to the party today. And maybe, this is why you did go — regardless. Stand up to her, ask her what was wrong. Did you do something? did you hurt her feelings? did you finally fucking break her?

It was 9PM, and there you stood, butt naked, facing your closet.

“fuck you Dina” you whispered sotto voce, as the weight of blame rested squarely on her shoulders. She’s the reason you’re here, your mind completely blank, staring at a pile of unfolded clothes, Your makeup sprawled open on the table, the powders and the colors creating an accidental artwork. You had a half empty bottle of boxed wine in your hand. Definitely Dina’s fault.

“Nothing!" you exclaimed, flinging a delicate light pink tank-top onto the floor in frustration. “To fucking wear!” you groaned, tossing a black pair of jeans of across the room. It was your turn to throw a tantrum now.

You dialed Dina on the phone, more than ready to complain to her over your lack of clothes, her stupid kappa party, maybe even over the pumping headache you had three days ago, maybe that was her fault too.

She picked up.

“Heyyyy pretty” Her words slurred, and the scent of vodka almost wafted through the screen. Oh god, she was drunk already. Just great.

“You pregamed without me?!” You yelled, perplexed.

“Wh— I called you like five times! So did Jesse, you didnt pick up the phoneeee”

“Pick up the phoneeeee” you heard Jesse mock Dina, his laughter echoing in the background.

“Fine, whatever. I have nothing to wear, I’m gonna look like shit, my ass hurts because I slipped AND I think this white wine’s poisoned. Plus I need something that makes my tits look good and all i have—“

You grabbed a crumpled white corset top from the floor, its fabric wrinkled from being discarded.

“Is a stupid corset! and you still didn’t give me back my dress!” You whined, pacing around the room, still naked, still chugging on some “poisonous” white wine.

“You’re on speaker, babe”

“I dont care. Hey Jesse, you sound wasted too” You tried on the white corset, surprised at how good it fit around your body. Huh. Maybe you didn’t need to iron clothes like, ever.

“Heyyyy” his voice came through muffled, mixed with fits of laughter as Dina had apparently spilled vodka on herself.

“D, I’m sending you a picture of my fit, I have no pants on so don’t save it, weirdo”

She coughed.

“On speaker” she repeated.

“Jesse doesn’t care” You rolled your eyes, as you struggled to zip the corset top up.

“Ellie’s here”

Oh.

“Oh” you froze. Of course she’s here.

“Say” Dina's voice descended to a hushed tone, as if her words were no longer intended for your ears.

“Say hi” it was quiet, but you could hear.

"I don't—" Ellie's voice emerged, subdued and suppressed, barely audible.

Dina shoved the phone to Ellie’s hand.

“Hey”

You gazed at your complexion, transfixed as if you were trapped in a moment suspended in time.

“Hi” you quietly said.

“Okay— whatever you two have going on… figure it out, be there in twenty. And send me that pic!”

Dina hung up.

Be there in twenty. Okay, you got this. You looked at yourself in the mirror, half naked, your hair a mess, your heart beating out of your chest. Maybe you don’t got this.

Frantically, you swiftly gathered yourself. You hastily slid into a sleek black skirt, styled your hair, generously applied a thick layer of lip gloss, and quickly slipped into the tallest heels you could lay your hands on.

“Skirts too long” you whispered to yourself.

It wasn’t too long, the plush of your ass was almost peaking out of it.

It was borderline comedic, how you fast you shifted when you heard her voice. How quickly you went from not giving a shit, whining quietly about the sweaty bodies you’re going to bump into, and the thick smell of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol you were going to have to breathe through, to caring so heavily, and so deeply, about something completely different. You put the shiniest pair of hoop earrings you could find in your drawer, spritzed a thick layer of sweet, vanilla and almonds perfume, and took another glance in the mirror.

This is how she was going to see you. She’ll smell your perfume, you were sure of it. Perhaps she’d even glance at your legs if she got close. you see, Ellie had a habit of… looking up and down. She thought she was sleek, she thought she knew what she was doing. She thought she was hiding it, and hiding it well, but she never did. You always noticed how her eyes would flicker up and down, how a rosy pink would grace her cheeks.

This isn’t about Ellie, though — right?

There was a loud thud that echoed across the room, originating from the big window above your bed.

Dina and Jesse were here. Oh, and her.

“fuckfuckfuck” you frantically whispered to yourself as you went to grab your purse. You glanced at your reflection again. You looked good, and you knew it. Hell — everyone would know it, but not everyone mattered.

You took a deep breath, and with that, you were out of your room.

Click-clack—the sound of your high heels grazing the ground filled the air.

“oh sh—“

you almost slipped.

Right as you exited the building, your eyes landed on them.

Three, slightly inhibited, babbling adults standing besides each other.

You moved closer, the sparkling keychain attached to your purse swaying and jingling with every contact against your figure, a touch of girlish charm to your stride.

“Holy shitttt” Dina gasped, her eyes widening in awe.

You didn’t even glace at Ellie. Non existent.

“Jesse” she nudged his arm. “I’m leaving you for a girl”

She wrapped you in a tight embrace, her sweet but subtly spicy perfume filling your nostrils. The moment your eyes met hers, any lingering anger you had towards her completely melted away. The Dina effect.

“You look so hot” she teased, flashing you a sly smile.

“Hey idiot” Jesse chimed in, embracing you tightly, looking dapper with a tight, black t-shirt adorning his body.

“Look at those muscles” you said, punching his arm lightly.

And there she was.

a black leather jacket, a white button-up shirt with the top buttons left undone, a tight pair of jeans and her trusty old Chuck’s.

She dressed up. She never dresses up.

Her eyes were glued to the ground. What was she hyper-focusing on now? The ant crawling on the ground? a dry, crumpled leaf? Perhaps on your high heels, and the thought of you keeping them on while your legs are resting on her shoulders?

Her throat closed up at the thought.

“Hey” she said, her voice low.

You could tell she had been drinking, based on the dazed look she had on her face. Maybe she smoked some too.

“Hi” you said, and flashed her a small, awkward smile.

“Start walking idiots” Dina exclaimed, and grabbed your hand in her palm.

The walk to the party was not quiet. It was anything but. Filled with aimless giggles, and Jesse almost walking in to a pole. Ellie dragged by quietly, chuckling to herself at a funny anecdote someone had made. She never was quite like this. Of course, she was broody, some would say somber, but she was not a “quiet” person. Not when she was with her friends. Tonight was different. Tonight, Ellie had something else in mind. The way you swayed side to side, giggling loudly and boasting into a Britney melody made her heart swell in her chest. She couldn’t stop replaying the events of that day in her mind. The way she got close, the way you whispered that you weren’t like Dina and Jesse, and the way she agreed. The way she had never come so hard in her life, with her hand between her thighs and her phone in her hand.

Tonight was going to be fucking difficult.

You finally arrived to the party.

As anticipated, the scene unfolded before you— a pulsating mass of sweaty bodies, shirtless college guys, and scantily clad girls grinding against each other, moving rhythmically to the beats of a 2013 Jason Derulo song.

“Shots?” Dina questioned, her eyes scanning the crowded house.

“Shots” you responded, a slight panicked look on your face.

“Sure, yeah” Ellie quietly said, her hands stuffed inside her pockets.

Dina was out of your sight at the speed of light.

You were left alone with her.

It was suddenly harder to breathe, and it wasn’t the lack of oxygen from the dozens of people breathing it in.

“So…” you said, trying to be as loud as you could — so she could hear you, amidst the loud music and the occasional screams.

She was standing in front of you. God, was she beautiful. She didn’t even try, was the frustrating part. The way her hair rested half down, the rest of it tied in a bun, the way a small strand of hair framed her face — she was flawless. Her freckled cheeks were glowing, a red hue caressing them, and as her hand came to scratch her face, presumably a nervous reaction, it flexed slightly. You always stared. Just like she stared at your tits — you always stared at her hands. It was a silent agreement, tit for tat.

“So many people” you chuckled.

“Listen, I-“

“Tequila for you” Dina’s voice startled you from behind, making you flinch.

“And… a shot of whiskey for the lady” She handed Ellie the short glass.

“3, 2–“

It was warm inside your throat, and it slid so uncomfortably, you had have a reaction. Your face twitched, tongue peeking out of your mouth.

Ellie couldn't help but crack a smile, stifling the urge to burst into laughter.

Ellie never made a face when she drank. Swallow it in, Joel taught her. Hold your breath — and let it slide.

“EVERYBODY!”

the loud voice of a college frat-boy echoed through the room. Did he have a fucking microphone?

“SPIN THE BOTTLE IN KEVIN’S ROOM TO THE LEFT!”

You rolled your eyes.

“What are we, thirteen?” you sighed.

“No…” Dina responded, her gaze shifting between you and Ellie.

“But you need to get some” she nudged your arm.

“And so do you” She whispered to Ellie.

Ellie could feel her heart beat fasten up. Funnily enough, it wasn’t because she was embarrassed to play. It wasn’t because she cared about it, or wanted to “get some” — It was the thought of you. The thought of you, getting some. How could Dina even dare to suggest such a thing? Of course, Dina didn’t know about Ellie’s… situation. Still, how could she say that? How could she endure the thought of you with somebody else? What if you end up meeting somebody? What if you, god forbid, end up kissing somebody? Ellie felt it in her stomach. It was that same rage she felt when you had your first girlfriend, Emily, in 10th grade. When she caught you kissing behind the bleachers. She remembers how her mind went blank for a second, fully white. A moment after, she saw red. She punched a fucking wall, and promised herself that if she ever gets the chance — the actual chance, she’d beat Emily up so bad it would leave her bleeding. Of course, she never got the fucking chance. Emily was nice to Ellie, hell, Emily loved Ellie, and Ellie never had the guts to do it, so she punched her pillow instead, every goddamn night.

“Let’s go, c’mon” Dina exclaimed, taking hold of both your hands and skillfully maneuvering through the bustling crowd.

—

At first, the bottle landed on a sweet cheerleader named Amy, and a dumb jock named Steve.

“I dare you to make out shirtless in front of everybody” Kyle, a blond frat guy said, gaining himself a couple of “Oooo” sounds from the people gathered around the room.

“It’s not truth or dare Kyle—“ A loud voice popped off from the background.

“My house, my rules” He shrugged as he responded.

“I should be paid to watch this” You said in a whiny, slightly bitchy tone, Ellie and Dina chuckled in response.

They went at it, shirtless and sloppy. Tongues clashing in an unsynchronized dance, slurping each other up like animals.

“Okay, okay — next round” Kyle exclaimed, burping into the mic.

“Ew” you gagged.

The bottle spun.

You were standing besides Ellie, her shoe nudging yours. At one point, she accidentally touched your thigh, followed by a breathy “Shit — sorry”.

There was absolutely no way it would spin pointing at her, and then point at you. But she fucking hoped. Maybe, if it was a dare, shed have the balls to do it. Maybe she’d be too embarrassed to say no in front of all these people, who might think she was even a bigger weirdo for turning a game down, so she’d have to kiss you. Maybe her lips could touch yours like she desperately desired. Maybe shed manage to put her hands on your waist, and hold you still. Maybe you’ll feel it, finally, and give into her.

Slip a tongue in, who knows?

It landed on her.

“Fuck” she hissed under her breath.

“Oh” Kyle said into the mic.

“Who are you?”

“Ellie” she said quietly, internally punching herself in the gut.

“Cant hear”

She cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up.

“Ellie” she said, louder.

You felt your throat close up. This can’t possibly be happening. Dina was ecstatic.

“Okay… Ellie, never seen you around here… Spin”

“I don’t—“ she quietly said, looking at you from the corner of her eye.

Something was wrong. Your body tensed up.

“Cmon, El” Dina nudged her arm.

She spun the bottle, the sound of the glass grazing the floor filling up the room.

It landed on a ginger named Alison. You recognized her from one of your classes. Alison was a nice girl, popular, but kept to herself. She was pretty, a sweet pair of big brown eyes, and a cleavage that left no room for the imagination. Alison smirked at Ellie, tilting her head.

You weren’t exactly a firm believer, but you prayed to god louder than anyone has ever did.

Please don’t kiss. Please don’t kiss.

“Ellie… Alison… Who else thinks those names go fucking along?” Kyle exclaimed into the mic.

The crowd whood, the crowd of people cheering this… Obscenity — as you’d call it.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, digging her short fingernails into her palms.

You lifted your chin up. Shit.

“Ellie and Alison,” Kyle whispered dramatically.

“Kiss.”

Dina squeezed your hand.

“Ellies gonna get some…” She melodically hummed in your ear.

Your face twitched.

“Alison — take your shirt off. Ellie, gotta give us a show”

Ellie went bright red. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to fucking do this. It buzzed in her ears, echoing inside her brain.

It was almost as if a comically bright light bulb appeared on top of her head.

What if this was payback.

She could never have you, couldn’t she?

What if this one hurt.

What if you realized.

Ellie didn’t dare to look at you, but she felt it. She felt you shift, she felt the harsh breath that escaped your mouth.

Alison crawled closer. So did Ellie. Her shoe grazed your knee as she moved.

You swallowed deeply.

Alison’s eyes twinkled amidst the dim lights.

Ellie felt her toes curl inside her Chuck’s. Her breathing got heavier, and her heartbeat fastened up. It wasn’t because of Alison, or Andrea, whatever her name was. It was beating because you were watching.

Alison initiated it. It was a small peck, at first.

Your hand was trembling.

“Go Ellie!” Dina cheered.

Ellie took it as a green light.

She parted her lips slowly, and sucked Alison in for a kiss. A hungry one, slow and steady, a wet tongue slipping in, gently swirling inside the shirtless ginger’s mouth. When Alison whimpered silently, Ellie brought her hand up to squeeze her breast. The crowd was cheering her on.

You felt like a monster took over your body. Your throat closed up, eyes growing moist. Oh shit. You were about to fucking cry.

Ellie grabbed Alison’s neck, and held her firmly.

It felt like it was going on for hours.

And then it stopped. Alison was panting, and Ellie was too.

There it was. The first tear that crawled down your right cheek.

“I’m going to the bathroom” you whispered to Dina.

Ellie looked across her shoulder.

You weren’t there anymore.

“Where’d she go?” She wiped her wet mouth on a black leather covered shoulder.

“Bathroom” Dina said, absentmindedly with a smile.

“Fuck”

｡ﾟ���┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

♡ part four ♡

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Beekeeper Movie AU

So, Lena is on the run from her mob-connected brother (maybe because she's turned him in to the cops??), and lives in a house all by herself in the middle of nowhere. She starts going through an old shed, for want of something better to do, and runs into a hive of bees. She calls in a professional, who ends up being Kara.

Kara notices that Lena is nervous around the bees (there's something about the buzzing that puts her on edge okay??) and starts rattling off bee facts. She's so passionate about these facts, and the bees themselves, that when Kara mentions that she wants to keep some hives of her own, just doesn't really have a place to keep them since she's basically living out of her truck, that Lena offers both Kara and the bees a place to stay with her.

(No, it's not the safest idea, but when is Lena ever NOT willing to put herself in danger for want of human connection?)

Anyway, Kara takes up residence in the shed, upon her own insistence, but Lena manages to coax her in for mealtimes, and they develop a bond. Kara is softened by Lena's smiles, and Lena is smitten with the rugged outdoorswoman. They're both glad for the company.

But then, one day when Kara is off at the farmers market selling some of her honey, Lex's men find Lena at the house and manage to wrestle her into a van. Lena, for her part, puts up a pretty good fight, and the mess of blood and debris that Kara finds on her return is considerable.

The thing Lex doesn't realize is that Lena's new roommate Kara is, in fact, a retired Beekeeper.

And unfortunately for him, the signs of struggle that Kara finds sends her back into work mode.

With a single call to a former coworker, Kara learns Lena's true identity and her circumstances, which is enough to point her in the right direction. She starts punching and burning her way through Lex's holdings in search of Lena, and Lex does his best to keep Lena out of her reach, thinking that Kara is the feds trying to recover their key witness.

I'm not sure why Lex doesn't just kill Lena. Maybe Lena sabotaged something, and he needs her alive to fix it? Or perhaps some kind of information she has that he needs.... hmm. I'll ponder that later.

In the meantime, it's just chaos and carnage as Kara does her thing. But when it comes down to it, when she faces off against Lex with Lena between them as his human shield, Kara doesn't take the shot. In the end it's Lena, who pulls a Rizzoli and curls herself around the gun Lex points at Kara-- forcing him to shoot himself through her own chest.

Kara manages to save her life-- I like to think maybe the actual cops have been after Kara the whole time trying to stop her rampage, not realizing until the moment they finally catch up that Kara actually had a purpose and that purpose is currently bleeding out in her arms.

When Lena recovers, they both return to the little house in the middle of nowhere, and resuming the keeping of their bees.

[dontsh0vethesun]

a bloody affair

kinktober 2023 masterlist

milf!serialkiller!wanda maximoff x reader

18+: reference to blood and murder, smut; blood and knife kink, mommy kink, degradation, car sex, fingering, thigh riding, infidelity

a/n - kind of wanna do a sequel idk, there isn’t enough murder in this :( | wc: 1.8k

If you’d tried to imagine your first official meeting with your older neighbour, this wouldn’t have been it. You’d thought that perhaps - if it were to ever happen outside of your crush-fuelled thoughts - that it’d be something neighbourly. Feigning an excuse to finally knock on her door, maybe to borrow a cup of sugar or to offer to help mow her lawn.

In less than realistic ideas you’d conjured late at night, you’d thought of her knocking on your own front door, hair scraped back, chest on show from a low neckline, and a flirtatious smile on her lips. You’d pictured her with a faux innocence, telling you she’d locked herself out of her house and was oh so thirsty; you’d invite her in until her husband came home and she’d claim you as her own. She’d leave you breathless and yearning for more before heading home to her nuclear family with a peck to your lips and a promise of another visit.

But tonight, walking home from a friend's house through the wooded area not too far from the suburban street you shared, you saw her closer than you ever had before.

Not through her bedroom window, not across the street where she helped her twins out of her car. But right there, in front of you, standing over a lifeless body of a man you didn’t recognise.

Her chest heaved with ragged breaths as the back of her hand swiped at the sweat on her forehead whilst the other had the hilt of a kitchen cleaver in its grasp. You froze - of course - how else was one to react to such a sight? The perfectly pristine facade of the woman you harboured lusting feelings for had been blanched with red, it was an impossible scene to imagine bumping into.

Her head whipped in your direction at the unfortunate snapping of a twig beneath your shoe and the smirk that upturned the corner of her lips made your heartbeat pick up even more. Somehow, all thoughts of the immorality of the situation were pushed to the back confines of your mind and were overtaken by the sight of the woman walking towards you.

Her face was splattered with drying streaks of blood and her t-shirt was soiled all the same. You’d barely spared a glance towards the blood-soaked man lying nearby before she’d grabbed your arm harshly and dragged you to the car shed parked across the street.

You were silent with the stumbling steps you took as she dragged you behind her, opening the back car door to push you onto the leather seats. She climbed in after you and the proximity of the macabre woman made your stomach flip in anticipation; the dirtied blade of the cleaver ghosted the side of your neck while her dark eyes stared at you.

“You’ll keep your fucking mouth shut,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you breathed with a nod, fearful and lusting all at once. To your surprise, as well as her own, you held little regard for the fact she’d just murdered somebody.

“Good girl.”

“What - who was he? Did he - have you done this before?” your words were embarrassingly stuttered and frankly you had little clue what to ask her. The casual air about her indicated this wasn’t the first time and somehow that only made her more attractive; the idea that this innocent housewife held such a dark and callous secret that only you are party to made the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright.

“I don’t know him,” she shrugged. “I’ve just seen him around, and no, this isn’t the first time.”

Her voice held little emotion. As though this were something completely ordinary. She was an enigma to you, ethereal, and somehow you needed her more than ever.

“So those missing men - those articles in the papers - it’s all you,” you stated, it was all adding up. You know you’ve seen her arriving home at odd hours isn’t the night - you thought, perhaps, she was having an affair, and though you were jealous of the mystery companion, you didn’t blame her. Anyone would stray from such a boring life, and it turns out, she’s chosen a much more extreme extracurricular hobby.

“Mhm,” Wanda nodded. “But you won’t say anything, will you baby? You don’t wanna get mommy in any trouble.”

You’d not noticed the bag of tools she kept in the footwell beside you. Not until you felt the knife she’d reached for brush across your cheek as she spoke; whether you were to agree with her or not, it didn’t seem you had much of a choice. With the edge of a blade pushed against you, disobeying the wants of the wielder doesn’t seem wise

You merely nodded in earnest. Your head swam in an unfamiliar way at what she’d called herself, at the metal on your warm skin, the hand that had found your waist, and your back that had somehow found the solidness of the car seats. You’re not sure when she’d got you laying beneath her with her knees trapping you but the heat of her body this close was more sublime than any late-night imaginings.

“I won’t say anything, mommy,” you whispered, you could hardly get your voice to be any louder what with every lusting emotion coursing through you.

“I knew you were a good girl,” she smiled, inching your shirt upwards until the knife stroked over your belly. “But I also knew that the good girl I see in her bedroom is less than innocent.”

You could hear the thump of your heartbeat as she spoke and you hissed slightly at the sting of a small cut she left on your rib.

“I’ve seen you bringing people home,” she muttered with a hint of jealous venom on her tongue as she watched the blood form on your skin. “I see you come back at night. I see you after a shower, undressing yourself for anyone to see. I know that you’re a little slut, y/n.”

The angered tone of her voice uttered your name like velvet, each syllable was made for her lips.

“I’ve just been waiting to finally put you in your place.”

You sighed out at the feel of her tongue licking at the cuts she’d left behind, each one slowly placed with a musing pressure and an entertained glint in her eye. And to know that she’d been wanting you as much as you’d craved her only made the kiss she pushed against your lips that much sweeter. You could taste your own blood; metallic and blanched with a heated tension.

You accepted the dominating push of her tongue and held the softness of her hips in your hands with your thumbs nudged beneath her shirt to feel her skin. You could feel the warmth of her body and each exhale of breath caused by fervent kisses; you felt the smile she let out at the way your body tensed at the painful touch she lay to your rib, melding it together with the pleasure of her teeth ghosting the line of your jaw.

The hand that made its way into your underwear was confident and Wanda was pleased, yet unsurprised, with the wetness of your cunt. She knew her pretty neighbour was worth the wait, that each time she’d thought of you as the only means to get her through a lacklustre night with her husband, was going to pay off eventually. She’d been waiting to sink her teeth into you.

“I’ve noticed you watching me, sweet girl,” she murmured as her fingers pushed into you. “I know you’ve been aching for me to fuck you, haven’t you?”

“Yes, mommy,” you nodded abashedly, feeling your cheeks burn with the teasingly slow movement of her digit’s curlings. “I’ve wanted this so badly.”

She merely offered a hum in return, deep and guttural with her fingers burying into your sex and her hips absentmindedly rutting into yours. Everything was hot and sensual, bodies heated, and the feel of drying blood you felt on her cheek only added to the flusteringly wanton situation.

Wanda reveled in the small sounds at the back of your throat as her thumb rubbed over your sensitive clit, responding perfectly to each touch and maneuver she gave you. The ridge of the seam of her jeans hit against her with each glide of her core against your thigh, stimulating her senses just enough to pull the coil in her stomach tighter and tighter.

You aided her movements, fingers in her belt loops whilst lips were still partaking in sloppy, breathless, wanting kisses. The sounds you’d let roam in the secret of your mind could never compare to the ones the woman let out above you; musings hadn’t given them justice and the way they fell onto your ears made your cunt clench around her digits. The stuttered moans and scattered mutterings of your name, peppered with murmurs of praise, made your heartbeat pick up tenfold.

Her free hand held up the weight of her body leaning against the window, handprint smudging a cleared space in the steamed-up glass; you’re sure it’d be somewhat of an alarming sight from the other side. But, with her lips ghosting your skin with kisses that grew less precise with each step closer to her release, it was nowhere near the forefront of your mind.

You knew there’d be marks where her teeth had harshly dug into your neck; where she’d painfully sucked at your flesh as you mewled beneath her. You knew you’d look at them fondly, remembering this night vividly until they fade. And Wanda knew she’d leave more soon, she was nowhere near through with you.

“Cum for your mommy, sweetheart,” she rasped above you, keeping her eyes on your glossed-over ones with merely the dim light of the moon to show the lust-blown hue that had taken over the sea glass of her own.

It took little more to pull you over the edge with a moan of her name at the sublime feeling; the way your back arched into her chest and the slick arousal that coated her fingers had the same pleasure washing over her too. She rode out her high with her clothed pussy pushing along your thigh and she could feel the way her underwear had dampened, making a mental note to have you taste her as soon as possible.

Wanda blissfully sighed at the taste of your cum on her fingers, sucking them into her mouth with her tongue swiping them clean. You watched as she did so, taking in the surreally beautiful sight on top of you until she kissed you again. This time was less desperate, slower, a translation of crushes long kept.

“I’d like for us to do this again,” she spoke, looking at you questioningly and almost with a hint of nervousness.

“I’d like that, Wanda,” you nodded.

“Come over tomorrow,” she stated. “Maybe you could accompany me with my nighttime hobby.”

[harrysdaydreams]

Unsatiated

Summary- Reader finds herself in a low place and has shut out the one person she should know wants to help more than anything. Harry is more than happy to take care of her regardless, which leads to revelations on both parts

Slight angst that ends with fluff that turns suggestive

Or

-Harrys hands gently tug at the hair tie that is somehow still hanging loosely in your hair, letting the tangled strands fall against your back.

He lets out a low whistle, to which you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow causing him to laugh quietly as he tries to separate the matted sections of your hair.

His fingers are soft and careful with your strands, and his use of the brush is even gentler, taking his time to properly ensure every piece of hair is free from knots. The delicate touch of his fingers brushing the back of your neck causes you to let out a gentle sigh, and you unintentionally sink back into his touch.

Word count- 4.3k

Tuesday. Even the word itself sounded mundane and miserable. Throw in some grey skies accompanied by pouring rain, it was a recipe for a shitty day.

Normally you’d crack open a window, light a candle and bask in the fresh sounds of the raindrops hitting the floor of the balcony to your flat.

But it was more than a bad day- the past week you’d been feeling at your lowest, with no real pinpoint as to why. It was hard to find motivation for anything, cooking a nice meal, going outside, reaching out to your friends- several who had messages in your phone left unread- it all just seemed too much.

So here you lay in bed at 1pm, the same place you’d been all day, minus bathroom trips and the tremendous effort it had seemed to have taken to make some instant noodles that still sat on your nightstand uneaten.

You turn over onto your front and sigh into your pillow, having lost count of how many times you’d done the same thing all morning.

Why did everything feel so heavy? This isn’t how you usually responded to feeling low, always opting for surrounding yourself with the people you knew could lift you out of any place, no matter the situation.

Being with people now was the last thing you wanted, especially in your home, with piles of laundry waiting to be washed and dishes to be cleaned.

Uncomfortable on your front, you opt to turn back onto your side, reaching for your phone on the nightstand with the intention of putting on some music to drown out the rain. Hopefully you’d find something that could pull you out of your mood- that or something that further fuelled your angsty state and could maybe push you to finally release the pent-up tears you were too frustrated to shed.

As you scroll through your playlists contemplating what tone to set as you continue rotting in bed for the rest of the day, a text notification pops at the top of your phone.

Harry.

You assume he’s probably double texting you with some sort of snarky message for not replying to your beloved best friend for over two days. Your heart sinks a little as you think of him, his contagious smile and warm personality.

You miss him, and thinking of him is enough to momentarily make you smile as you pull down the notification to read the contents of his message.

Harry- You really gonna leave all four of my messages on delivered? I’m hurt Bitsy, deeply hurt.

You smile at his obvious sarcasm and the stupid nickname he came up with 4 years ago after finding out you were exactly one year, one month and one day apart in age, him being the eldest. He played on the fact that you’re younger than him and ran away with it completely, always making jokes of how small and ‘young’ you are.

 Another text notification brings you back from your reminiscing, a new message directly under the one you’d just read.

Harry- Really though, are you ok? The radio silence isn’t normal for you.

Your heart sinks again and you feel bad for leaving your closest friend worrying about you.

Harry- Usually I have to mute our text thread just for some peace..

For the first time in days, you laugh out loud, a genuine smile spreading on your face that crinkles the corner of your eyes.

You- Uhh, RUDE!

Harry- Ahhh she lives!

Fuck, the way he can change your sour demeanour in just a few short messages. You instantly feel stupid for shutting everyone out, especially him.

You- Alive and kickin’! Specifically, your ass for being so rude. I’m okay though, promise old man. Sorry if I made you worry!

Harry- I’ll await my ass kicking whilst shaking in fear. Miss you though. Want me to come over? We missed pizza night on Sunday because someone... lost her phone? Fell off the face of the earth?

The suggestion of him coming over fills you with dread and takes away all of the momentary relief and lift in mood you’d felt just from texting with him.

You could pretend you were okay to a degree over text, but if he came over, he’d take one look at you, or around your flat and know something was wrong. And you wouldn’t even be able to give him a definitive answer why.

You tap the back of your phone with your nails anxiously trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make him worry more, seeing as you rarely turned down an opportunity to hang out together.

You- Miss you too, H. Raincheck? I feel a migraine coming on. Love you!

Harry- Love you too, Bitsy. Feel better

Feeling guilty, you lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand and try to ignore the new ache in your chest.

Despite your efforts, you scrunch your eyes closed and finally feel the hot sting of tears trail slowly down your cheeks.

You feel terrible for lying to your closest friend, the catalyst to finally unleashing the breakdown that had been sitting inside of you for the past few days as nothing but frustration and restlessness.

Now though, full blown sobs wreck your body as you hug your pillow whilst simultaneously burying your face into it, muffling the sound of your whimpering. You lay like that for a while, your chest rising and falling with every whine and sorry moan.  

Finally, you take a series of deep inhales and long exhales to steady your breathing in a vain attempt to calm down.

What the fuck is wrong with me? you think as you wipe the leftover tears from your cheeks, sitting up against the headboard of your bed. 

You take a long sip of water from your nightstand to wash away the disgusting taste left in your mouth from your dramatic sobbing.

The ache in your chest feels duller and somewhat lighter after releasing the supressed tears that had previously left you feeling so suffocated.

Now though, the lesser anguish in your chest brings your attention to a new source of pain in your neck, and you curse yourself mentally for laying in bed all day to the point it resulted in making your body sore.

After giving in to the fact you really should move, you stretch your arms above your head and then lift away the duvet from your body, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to sit up properly before sliding on your slippers sat on the floor beside you.

As you go to stand up, you hear a key in the lock of your door and your heart jumps into your throat. You listen for moment longer as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up before realisation dawns on you.

“That fucker!” you whisper, discarding your slippers and leaping back under the duvet to feign being asleep.

Harry was the only person you’d ever given a spare key, so you could only assume his kind natured, stupid, perfect self, had gone out to buy you supplies to get you through your migraine and come to check on you. You should have known better than to lie to him about being sick.

The sound of the door softly closing tells you he’s now inside the flat, followed by him gently calling out your name. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter as your heart beats fast in your chest, trying helplessly to ignore your panic and relax your body in the hope to pass off as being genuinely asleep.

He knocks lightly on your bedroom door which is already propped open with a doorstop, and you hear the rustling of a bag that must contain the supplies he so thoughtfully brought to you. Your eyes sting with tears again, why does he have to be so good?

“Hey love, I’ve brought you some strong ass painkillers and some anti-sickness tablets. How are you feeling?” he asks in a quiet voice; you can detect concern in his tone and that alone makes you want to cry all over again.

You’re in half a mind to ignore him and pretend you’re in a deep sleep so he’ll leave but with the knowledge that he’s right there... that he’s in reach and he could hold you… maybe he could make it okay.

You breathe a shaky sigh and reluctantly open your eyes and sit up, sliding back against the headboard again as you look at him, a new kind of concern immediately washing over his features.

He rushes over to perch on the bed beside you, his pretty face painted with worry as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve been crying... is it that bad? Or...” he trails off, looking between your red, puffy eyes as if doing so would decode what was wrong. “Love, what is it? Talk to me”

He can see through your lie now, something you never do, which fills his own heart with heaviness. Ignoring the sting of knowing you lied to him, he awaits your answer, knowing not to press you if something was so wrong to the point you felt the need to mislead him.

So, he doesn’t prompt and push, instead he rubs your shoulder softly as he waits for a reply, his soft green eyes on yours, hopeful you’ll meet his gaze.

“M’not good, Har” you reply shakily, biting your lip to keep it from quivering because the last thing you wanted was to become a sobbing mess in front of him. You shake your head as you continue to look down, more damned tears dropping into your lap despite you willing them to stay away, your finger now absently trailing the wet droplets they leave on your leg.

“Hey, hey look at me.. look at me” he soothes gently, both of his hands now on your shoulders urging you to lift your head to meet his gaze again. You do so reluctantly, and he lifts one hand to cup your face and brush away the hot tears on your cheek.

He offers you a pained smile, one that clearly shows his care for you, but the warmth in his eyes as he scans over your face pushes you to wrap your arms around him, gentle sobs immediately leaving your body again.

He pulls you gladly into a tight hug as his hand reaches up to the back of your head and moves in soft strokes over your hair as you breathe in the scent that is so Harry, so... home.

His eyebrows knit together in response to the twist in his heart upon hearing you cry, feeling your body shake softly as the tears escape. He continues his soft stroking to the back of your head, wanting so badly to take whatever it is away, to make everything better.

“Shhh, I got you. M’not going anywhere. I got you” he soothes, squeezing his own eyes shut to try pull himself together so he can be there for you how you need him. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his voice soft in your ear and his hold on you still tight.

You shake your head as much as you can in his vice like grip.

“Wouldn’t even know what to say. Truly. I don’t know why I’m in such a rut.” you say honestly between sniffles. That was the most frustrating thing about the past week. There was no trigger, no cause.

Foolishly you shut yourself away, the answer to your problem being so obvious now you were in his company- in his arms. Your eyes prick again at the thought, that dull throb in your chest again making itself present.

“Feel better because you’re with me though- I shouldn’t have lied to you- I should’ve let you- shouldn’t have told you- I-” your rambling is cut off by Harry quietly shushing you and resuming his careful stroking of your hair. God, how does he make everything okay?

“Shh, I get it, s’okay… it’s okay. I got you, yeah? M’right here, always right here” he coos in your ear, and you nod your head fervently because of course you know.

Right here felt like the only place on earth. The best place on earth.

You both remain in silence like that for a while longer until Harry slowly pulls himself away from you, leaning back but keeping his hand firmly on your thigh, making a point of keeping some physical contact with you.

At last, you finally look at him properly, smiling awkwardly, a smile that he returns with that boyish, one-sided smirk of his that you’ve grown to love so much.

The comfortable silence between you both is complimented by the rain still hammering down outside.

You turn your head to glance out of the window at the thick droplets bouncing off the glass, then turn back to Harry, who has an amused expression on his face.

He’s the one giving you an awkward smile now, to which you return a puzzled look.

“What?” you ask suspiciously.

He brings his hand up to cover his smile, which is growing bigger by the second. He’s clearly trying not to laugh, but refusing to let you in on the joke, so you poke his ribs to further prompt him to answer.

“S’nothing” he laughs, to which you raise an eyebrow disbelievingly, causing him to laugh again.

You cross your arms whilst feigning an annoyed look, stubbornly waiting for him to kindly share whatever it is that he’s seemingly finding so funny.

“It’s just uhh, when- when was the last time you brushed your hair?” he asks sheepishly, clearly not wanting to embarrass you but finding your lack of effort appearance wise humorous.

Your hand instantly lifts to the messy bun that had initially been propped on the top of your head two days ago. By now it was hanging low at the back of your head, probably a matted mess.

You groan and hit him softly with the pillow behind you, and he raises his arms to defend himself, resuming his laughter as a reluctant smile makes its way onto your face.

“I mean, you look great, but uhh, hairbrushes… great inventions” he taunts, but you can hear his smile so clearly in his voice that it sends warmth through your chest.

“Funny.” you quip, kicking his knee with your socked foot. “please, continue making fun of my misery” you joke, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, I take it back” he laughs musically, and you purse your lips in a bashful pout, eyeing him fondly as he readjusts his position on the bed to sit cross legged in front of you.

The comfortable silence resumes, Harrys fingers absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles at your ankle.

“Seriously though, want me to brush your hair?” he asks, your heart fluttering at the gesture.

Honestly, the idea of having to brush your hair over the past two days was a task that had seemed entirely overwhelming, hence the state of your bun. And now that it was probably a matted mess, it was a job you were happy to give to someone else- someone who seemed to understand entirely instead of sitting here judging you.

You look down at your hands in your lap, half embarrassed before nodding your head.

“If you don’t mind.. thank you, H” you reply, giving him a grateful smile.

He returns it knowingly, standing to grab the hairbrush from your vanity and sitting back down. He motions with his hand for you to turn around with your back to him, which you do so obediently, feeling pre-emptively better knowing one basic self-care need was being taken care of.

Harrys hands gently tug at the hair tie that is somehow still hanging loosely in your hair, letting the tangled strands fall against your back.

He lets out a low whistle, to which you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow causing him to laugh quietly as he tries to separate the matted sections of your hair.

His fingers are soft and careful with your strands, and his use of the brush is even gentler, taking his time to properly ensure every piece of hair is free from knots. The delicate touch of his fingers brushing the back of your neck causes you to let  out a gentle sigh, and you unintentionally sink back into his touch, contentedly.

By the time Harry has completely detangled your hair you’re pressed flush against his back, not noticing he’d finished as he continues to stroke and run his hands through your hair. He observes you warmly, noting how your eyes have softly closed and your breathing has shallowed.

As much as Harry was loving the entire situation, mainly the fact he’d seemingly managed to calm you down and help you relax, his legs were going numb as hell and he needed to move you from your position that had you practically seated in his lap.

With a small squeeze to your shoulder, he breathes gently in your ear “M’done love. All done.”

You open your eyes, not even realising they’d closed, running your hand through your hair and revelling in how soft the stands now felt. You move away from Harry rather reluctantly, turning back to face him as he stands up from the bed.

“Thank you, Har. I- honestly I feel so much better, really.. thank you” you smile gratefully, your heart warm in your chest and full of such tenderness for your best friend.

You would never get over how truly wonderful he is.

“S’nothing, promise. I like helping you relax. Makes me feel good too” he confesses, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You both exchange a look of fondness for each other, your eyes locking for an extended period of time. The exchange is warm, with a weight that is full of unsaid things but it’s also a look that needs no words- you both have a profound care for each other, that much has always been clear, but the longer you’re looking at him, the more your own gaze becomes one of longing.

Harry notices it too, his own eyes seeming to look deeper into yours as the warmth in them turns to something more heated.

You see it, you feel it, its thick in the air and you have to look away.

In return, Harry drops his eyes from your face and clears his throat as he fumbles with the hairbrush still in his hand.

He reaches to put it on the nightstand next to your forgotten pot of instant noodles which he picks up with a sigh. The mood instantly shifts back into one of playful friendliness as he holds them out to you with one eyebrow raised.

“This is what you’ve been eating?” he asks. “or not eating I should say. No wonder you’re so depressed” he jokes before walking out of the bedroom and into the open plan kitchen-living room, instant noodles in hand.

With him out of the room you place your head in your hands trying to calm down your thoughts and steady your heart rate. When did it start beating so quickly?

You’re brought out of your thoughts before you can even begin to overthink the look you’d both shared by the sound of the tap running from the bathroom down the hall from your room.

You step out of your bed and walk towards the source of the noise and are greeted by the sight of Harry running you a bath.

He notices you standing in the doorway and gives you a soft smile before walking over to you and gripping the sides of your arms gently.

“I’m gonna go get some real food while you take a bath, okay? I wont be long” he promises, pressing a parting kiss to your cheek before leaving, your heart quickening and heat rushing to your face.

You watch after him mindlessly, your fingers lifting to the spot he’d just kissed so casually, the feeling of his lips still lingering beneath your touch.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, your hearing dulled, and sense of touch heightened, before a panicked instinct to check the running taps pulls you from your yearning trance.

You turn them off quickly, before removing your clothing and sinking into the soothing warmth of the water and willing it to wash you of these muddled feelings and flustered responses to Harry’s demeanour and affections.

You urge yourself not to overthink his kiss to your cheek, remembering all the times he’d kissed the top of your head whilst hugging you goodbye, usually always followed with some kind of joke about how he can only reach the top of your head so easily because you’re so much smaller than him.

“See ya later Bitsy” you recall his voice and think of how most of those situations ended. Warm but only friendly.

You sink beneath the water to wet your hair, dragging your hands over your face to wash away the grime from your face and along with it any thoughts of Harrys kiss being anything more than a friendly parting.

What you refuse to fully acknowledge is the way your heart leaps at the idea of it being more.

You finish bathing, before wrapping yourself in a towel, feeling so much better for being forced into taking care of yourself.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh set of pyjama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you leave your room to see Harry dishing up the food he left to retrieve.

He looks up from portioning a steaming bowl of ramen and gives you a warm, happy smile.

“You look like you’re feeling a little better?” he asks hopefully, to which you nod, returning his smile shyly.

“Much better, thank you. Mmmh, food smells amazing.” You sigh, reaching to grab the bowl he holds out for you before sitting side by side on the sofa.

You eat together in a relaxed silence, one that offers tender glances at each other and periodic laughs as you both try hopelessly to eat ramen noodles gracefully.

Harry finishes first, and you follow not far behind him before setting your bowl on the coffee table in front of you both.

You feel his eyes, on you but can’t force yourself to move your eyes from your hands in your lap. The silence suddenly feels heavy, you don’t even have to look at him to know his stare holds so much weight.

Its impossible to ignore. You feel it.

Your stomach is fluttering under his gaze and your mind is racing.

In an attempt to take the newly tense and awkward edge out of the silence that had now settled, you clear your throat, but it only draws attention to the tension that hangs thick in the air between you both.

You chance a look at him, his green eyes fixed on you with an expression you can’t read.

“Stop it” you whisper, not chancing your voice cracking.

His face is soft, but his brow is tense, his eye contact unwavering.

“Stop what?” he speaks softly.

You inhale slowly, your eyes closing before releasing a shaky exhale.

“Stop looking at me like that. I don’t know what it means” you say.

He leans closer, only slightly, but the growing intimacy of your proximity is enough to quicken your heart rate all over again.

“Looking at you like what, love?” he feigns innocence, his expression still just as achingly warm.

You can barely bring yourself to answer, still trying to convince yourself you must be misreading the entire situation, that he can’t be looking at you with this intense desire, so gently, so.. so..

“Longingly...” you whisper.

His expression softens, his eyes leaving yours to delicately trail over the features of your face, a soft sigh leaving his mouth as his focus stops at your lips before cupping his hand at your cheek.

“I can’t, love. Because I can’t tell you how long I have longed for this.” he whispers.

Your eyes shut tight at his confession, that familiar warmth radiating through your whole chest as the entire world seems to stop spinning again.

When you open your eyes, they threaten to spill over with tears, and Harry knowingly caresses the side of your cheek with his thumb.

You can’t breathe.

“Me too” you utter almost silently.

Your admission sparks the most beautiful, genuine smile you’ve ever seen Harry wear, and he touches his forehead to yours with his hand gently cradling the back of your head.

“Well, thank fuck for that” he jokes, and you laugh breathily before pulling back to finally meet his eyes with a new confidence.

He looks between each of your eyes before refocusing his gaze on your lips. Before you can even acknowledge the excitement blooming in your chest, his mouth is on yours.

And it’s soft. It’s slow. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

He pulls you into his lap and deepens the kiss, causing you to whimper into his mouth as your hands fist into his t-shirt, desperately trying to anchor yourself to him, not wanting to lose him now that you finally have him.

His hand moves from the back of your head, trailing down your back to gently cup your ass, your core clenching in utter desire in response.

He pulls away from the kiss breathlessly, his hand gliding softly beneath your t-shirt, caressing the skin of your stomach, up towards your ribs suggestively.

“I know you’ve spent all day in bed, love.” he breathes. “But would you mind if I took you back there?”

Your head dizzies with a new lust. You scan over his face as he pulls you down against his lap almost desperately, his expression showing nothing but his adoration and unsatiated need for you.

And now, you can think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

“..yes please.”

[mindtrcks]

for tyler - maybe something about reader helping rescue him from thornhill & being the hyde’s master instead of her? love your writing style!

this is hungry work

Pairing: Tyler Galpin/Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: vague mentions of grooming/violence, smut, quite a bit of plot oops, unrealistically happy ending

Summary: You may not have a master plan or a decades long vendetta, but you do have Nathaniel Faulkner's diary, and a recurring penchant for taking wild leaps of faith.

Nathaniel Faulkner says that the Hyde is a beast lying dormant in an innocent man. Something waiting to be awakened. A creature loyally dependent on its master, subservient to its core.

Wednesday says that it’s Tyler. 

She says he’s a monster, that he killed enough people to get a taste for it, and now he’s killed his master, too. That he’s out of control and it’s only a matter of time before he does something big, before more people get hurt. She says anything he’s done before now has been a lie; he doesn’t care about you, and he never did. You were a pawn in he and Kinbott’s game, and he would've tossed you away the second you’d served your purpose. She says that he isn't the boy you thought, and he isn't to be trusted. 

But he's sitting right in front of you, with the same puppy dog frown and furrowed brows as always. He's looking up at you with something like desperation in his eyes, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you doubt Wednesday. How could this boy—quiet and sweet and scared—be the monster she claims? How could Tyler from the coffee shop—Tyler who’s soft spoken and friends with outcasts and isn’t even screaming at Wednesday for kidnapping him—be anything but good?

You don’t doubt he’s the Hyde. If Wednesday had a vision, you’re not going to question that. But you do question whether or not she knows the whole story. 

—

You’re at Nevermore when Wednesday finally pieces it all together. She’s been expelled, taking the fall for you and anybody else who’d been in that shed with her. Weems had taken it upon herself to personally escort Wednesday to the station, but evidently, even expulsion can’t stop somebody as stubborn as her.

She texts you from Eugene’s phone, the message just a single word. Thornhill.

It’s all you need to bolt up in bed, to shove your shoes on and search blindly for your jacket. You’re not sure whether it’s wishful thinking or just plain hubris, but some part of you—the outcast that wants nothing more than to fit in, to be a part of something—thinks that if you can stop Thornhill, you can stop it all. You can keep anybody else from being killed and thwart whatever Thornhill’s plan is, and best of all, you can help Tyler in the process. 

It’s either that, or die trying. 

—

Breaking into Thornhill’s classroom is easier than expected. She doesn't leave Ophelia Hall after eight anymore; the lockdown has grown too serious, the dark too dangerous. It allieves your fear, as you creep through Nevermore’s halls, to know that her classroom will be empty when you arrive. To not be afraid of Thornhill would be stupid; if Wednesday’s right, and Thornhill’s responsible for everything, you don’t doubt she’d be willing to kill you for snooping. 

The door is locked when you reach your destination, but you waste no time in picking it. You aren’t sure how urgent this is, aren’t sure where Wednesday is or where Thornhill is or where Tyler is, and you aren’t sure what she could possibly be making him do. 

You choose not to think about it as your eyes scan the room. You head to her desk first, frantically flipping through sheets of paper, turning over folders and ransacking drawers. You move to the bookshelf when the desk proves fruitless, scanning the dust on the spines of books. Nothing sticks out; the last thing you deem to try is the filing cabinet, looming in the corner of the room. There’s only one drawer that’s open, the metal dented and bent like it’d been slammed in a rush. Your feet take you to it before your brain even has time to consciously make a decision; your hands pulling it open before you know what you’re doing. 

It’s empty, save for one thing: a leatherbound journal with the name Nathaniel Faulkner engraved on the spine. 

—

Nathaniel Faulkner says that the Hyde is a beast lying dormant in an innocent man, a creature loyally dependent on its master. 

He also says that this loyalty does not run as thick as one might think.

—

The thing is, you don’t know Tyler as well as you wish you did. You don’t get to talk as much as you’d like, or to hang out without the murders hanging over your heads. But it’s not like you’re a stranger, certainly not like Thornhill was. No, you’d go as far as to say you’re his friend, maybe among his only ones. He trusts you, and despite yourself—despite everything that he’s done—you trust him.

A Hyde’s relationship to its master is built on trust, says Faulkner.

And maybe you don’t have a master plan, or a decades long vendetta, but you do have Nathaniel Faulkner’s diary, and a recurring penchant for taking wild leaps of faith.

—

He’s in the woods outside of Nevermore when you find him, looking antsy and wrong. 

You don’t want to think about what he’s doing there, about why his fingers are curled up into fists at his side. What he’s done doesn’t matter to you; all you care about is what he will do, what choice he’ll make. You approach him carefully, not wanting to set him off, or scare him away. You can’t imagine what kind of headspace he’s in, or the things going through his mind.

It’s only been hours since you’ve last seen him, but he already looks changed. Whatever act he’d been keeping up in Xavier’s shed, in the police station, he’s dropped now. His eyes are dark and his shoulders tense, mouth curled into something cruel. You hear Wednesday’s words echo in your head—he isn’t the boy you thought, he’s a monster, he’s using you—but you try to drown them out. You know Tyler. You know the good he’s capable of. So what if he’s capable of bad, too? 

“Tyler,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you step forward. He doesn’t back up, but he does narrow his eyes, leveling you with a gaze that has you on edge, shifting on your feet, your body screaming at you to back down, turn away. 

He smiles at you; not the small, shy thing you’ve seen from across the Weathervane so many times, but something sharp around the edges, showing a few too many teeth. Have his canines always been that big? Sharp enough to pierce skin? You feel something run up your spine; a shiver or a thrill, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care enough to try and discern it. Tyler’s walking towards you, and it’s hard to care about much of anything besides him in front of you and the diary weighing heavy in your bag. “You're the one they sent to fight the big, bad wolf?” he asks, looming over you. He expects you to be scared, to run away.

But scared isn’t exactly the word you would use. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

You can see his face flicker for a moment, quick enough that it would've gone unnoticed if you hadn't been looking for it. “And why is that?” he asks, nostrils flaring as he steps impossibly closer.

You refuse to let the proximity affect you, no matter how much it's trying to.  “Because it’s pointless,” you say, chin lifting up in defiance. “You know Wednesday. She won’t let you win.”

“So I should surrender, then?” he scoffs, because he thinks those are his only two options. He thinks this is kill or be killed; keep fighting or get arrested, sent away for life. But you have another option.

“Not necessarily,” you say, as your hand snakes down to your satchel and pulls out the diary. Tyler’s eyes zero in on it instantly, lighting up with recognition, with want. “How would you like to put this whole mess behind you, Thornhill included?”

He blinks a few times before glancing back up at you, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, baring his teeth around the words, like it physically pains him to say them.

You raise an eyebrow in challenge. “Why?”

He looks mad, now. Not the simmering anger that’s been in the air the whole time, but a lighter kind of rage that’s more akin to simple frustration. More akin to something you’ve seen on Tyler before. You never thought you’d be relieved for somebody to be mad at you. “That's not how it works.

“Because she’s taught you so much about how it works.”

“More than you possibly could,” he spits out, and it’s supposed to be an insult, but instead it’s just plain wrong. Because you have the exact same diary that she did, the exact same knowledge at your fingertips. Only, you’re willing to share your toys. 

He watches as you lift up the diary, flipping to your bookmarked page. It’s power in your palms; power over Thornhill, over Tyler. It makes you sick, a little, knowing his fate is literally in your hands. How did Thornhill ever take it? “‘I have heard of Hyde’s gaining new masters only through means of battle spoils or dark magic, but I imagine there must be one other way,’” you recite, reading off of page three of Faulkner’s section on masters, the chapter you had found the most helpful in your frantic skim-through. Tyler stares down at you with something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ll unpack it later. “‘Seeing as the decision is always ultimately the Hyde’s—whether consciously or not—if a prospective master was ready and willing, a Hyde might simply choose them.’”

“You want…” he starts, incredulous, but doesn’t finish. He just looks at you, conflicted, confused, and maybe a little bit of something else. You understand that what you’re offering is bigger than anything you’ve done with him before now. Going from sitting across from each other at the Weathervane or being present in the same car—Wednesday or Enid or even Fester always a buffer—to offering yourself up as his master is quite the leap. Still, for whatever reason, you’re hopeful. 

“Yes,” you answer, even if he technically never finished asking his question. Yes, you want to do this, yes, you’re willing to take the leap, yes to everything. 

Tyler shifts on his feet, suddenly seeming wildly uncomfortable as his eyes skirt around the treeline. He’s looking for her, you realize. He’s scared she’s there, scared she’s watching. Scared he’s in trouble. 

A gnawing pit forms in your stomach. “Tyler,” you say, and your voice draws his eyes away from the woods. “I’m offering. All you have to do is make the choice, and all this goes away.”

It sounds simpler than it is. There will be things to do, after. Strings to tie, messes to clean. But right now, all you need is to get Tyler away from Thornhill. Permanently. 

Tyler stays silent for a moment, regarding you with something on his face that you don't recognize. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, unreadable. But you refuse to falter.

“Because you don't deserve…her,” you say.  “The things she did to you. It doesn't have to be like that.”

He seems to consider this, for a moment, eyeing you up and down. He has no reason to refuse, not really. Not unless he actually does enjoy it, like Wednesday claims. If he likes killing, gets off on the taste of blood in his mouth. You know he doesn't, though. That's Thornhill. Right? 

“So what do I do?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders up. “Since you're the expert here. What do I do?”

You close the diary, dropping it down to your side. There aren't step by step instructions, no ancient ritual for you to follow in the dead of night. All Nathaniel Faulkner had to say on the matter is that the choice is always the Hyde’s. 

You roll with it.

“The choice is yours, Tyler. Make it.”

He furrows his brows, looks like he wants to protest, but doesn't. He keeps his mouth tightly shut, ducking his head down and focusing hard on the ground. You don't know what it's like, on his side. Aren’t sure how hard it could possibly be to make a decision, but won’t comment on it. You’ll give him however long he needs. 

After what feels like an eternity but must’ve only been a few moments, he looks back up at you, and you know instinctively that it’s done. 

“Did it work?” you ask, peering up at him. He seems unchanged. The same Tyler you’ve been talking to this whole time. The same Tyler that killed all those people and put Eugene in the hospital.

He shrugs. “Tell me to do something.”

You consider it; there's a million things you could tell him to do, endless ways this could go. In the end, you land on something simple. Something with no strings. “Come here,” you request, plainly.

And he does. 

—

So you’re Tyler’s master, now. 

It’s weird to think about. Weird to think that you’re the one who figured it out, that this victory belongs to you. You expected it might go to Wednesday, that she’d be the one to help Tyler. Either that, or kill him. You thought his fate would end up in her hands, for better or for worse. 

Evidently, it did not. 

—

There are many things you come to realize about Tyler in the following months that you never thought you’d get to know. 

You know he doesn’t really drink coffee, despite his choice in occupation. He wears socks for as many hours of the day as possible, and he sleeps with three blankets instead of a comforter. You know he keeps a secret stash of twizzlers in the cabinet above the microwave, because if his dad sees them they’ll be gone before the day is over. You know what shampoo he uses, how he prefers Spotify over Apple Music, and which drawer is the sock drawer. You know his favorite TV show is Friends, and that he’s embarrassed to tell people about it. 

You’re watching it right now, curled up on his couch in pajamas, empty bowl of popcorn abandoned at your side. Moments like this feel equal parts right and bizarre. Tyler’s a killer, and yet you’re spending your Friday night watching Friends together in his living room. It’s strange, but everything about your life is strange. You barely even notice it anymore. 

Tyler shifts beside you; you’re so close on the couch that it seems less like two bodies and more like a wild conglomeration of limbs; a leg here, an arm twisting there, the brush of fingers on the back of your neck. His hipbone is digging into your thigh, but you don’t mind. You wouldn’t move if every one of your extremities had fallen asleep. If the couch had set fire.

“You should…maybe move your leg,” Tyler says, breaking you out of your haze. You don’t have to do anything but tilt your head to look at him; when you do, he’s staring back up at you with furrowed brows and flushed cheeks, working his lips together. 

It takes you a moment to realize what he means, to feel that familiar weight pressing into the skin of your thigh. When you do, it’s with a start. Yes, you’ve done this a few times. But not enough for it to be a common occurrence. It may be rare, but it’s certainly not the first time. Once you get your bearings, you find that you’re confident enough to smile down at him, to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Should I?”

He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, and you can feel his hips arch up, ever so slightly. “I mean,” he starts, breathy and quiet. “Or you could keep it there. If you want.”

“What do you want?” you ask, sneaking a hand down to the sliver of skin exposed between Tyler’s shirt and his flannel pants. He shivers, but doesn’t answer. “Tyler,” you urge, trailing your fingers over his stomach. 

“Touch me?” he asks, squeezing his eyes shut, tilting his head away. 

And you’re not really in the business of denying him. It takes some adjusting—you do have to move your leg—in order to find the right angle, but Tyler waits patiently as you shimmy your way down the couch, until you can look at him and touch him all at once. You aren’t sure how long he’s been hard, but when you trail your hand down and underneath the waistband of his pants, he gasps too loud for it to have been a short while. 

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, already a little wet, too. As you grasp him, he shoves his face into your shoulder, exhaling long and slow into your skin. “This what you mean?” you ask, maybe a little mean.

He nods. You won’t make him say it—you’re not that mean—but you could. If you asked, he’d answer. You’ve found that’s true in a lot of aspects of your life. It’s a power you’re still scared to wield, no matter how many times Tyler reassures you. You prefer subtlety, to guide him in this way, rather than by giving outright orders. You think he likes it better like this, too, if the way he’s squirming under your touch is anything to go by. 

Friends is still playing in the background, but you’re too distracted to find the remote and mute it. Instead, you tilt your head to press a kiss to Tyler’s hairline, as you start to stroke him in earnest. You try to set a slow pace, but Tyler’s hips chase the contact until it’s fast and hard, just like always. One of these days, you’ll make him sit still, but today is not that day. You let him set the pace, pumping his cock for all it’s worth as he thrusts up into your first. He’s embarrassed, you know, but he barely shows it, apart from the way he hides his face. He’s as enthusiastic as you think he can be, not shy in showing you how much he’s enjoying himself, through little punched-out moans that have the tips of your ears turning red. 

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. All you know is that your wrist is cramping and your bicep is aching, but you still feel like you could do this forever. The sight of Tyler underneath you, panting and sighing and practically shaking, is enough fuel for you for as long as he needs. Him falling apart for you has got to be one of your favorites sights; the sounds pouring out of him are music to your ears. At a particularly loud moan, you glance up, take in his state.

His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into his fists and his hips staying shock-still. You let yourself smirk; one of the many things you know about Tyler is that he’s not always the best at lasting. “It’s okay, Ty,” you say, whispered into his jaw as you pick up the pace, moving impossibly faster.

He exhales in a gust of air, deflating almost instantaneously; now that he knows he doesn’t have to wait, he lets himself relax, sink into the couch. It’s not long after that that his hips jerk, and he jams his face into your shoulder once more, and you know.

You guide him gently back by the curls on the nape of his neck. There are many things you’ve gotten to know about Tyler, but the face he makes when he comes has got to be one of your favorites. 

[laviefantasie]

Patience

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Summary: It was just a childhood crush, right? If your heart skipped a beat every single time your eyes crossed or if your palms started to sweat with every lingering touch, it was just because of what you used to feel as a kid, right?

| Masterlist |

It was just a childhood crush. Nothing else. That’s what you’d heard all your life. And who could really blame you with how close you two had always been? No one. Truly, everyone around you both had expected one of you to grow a crush sooner or later.

You just wish it hadn’t been you. Everything would’ve been easier then. Cause nothing was worst than having a crush on THE Eren Jaeger.

If only he had never smiled your way maybe your heart would’ve been spared.

Tears started gathering in your eyes as you stared at your best friend dancing with another of your close friends. You couldn’t even find it in your heart to be mad. How could you when you knew how sweet and kind Historia was? You couldn’t blame Eren for choosing her, if there was ever really a choice to make.

You try to move your gaze away but all your strength was gone. It was as if your brain was unwilling to hide the truth from your heart, as if it had finally been enough.

A comforting arm settles itself across your shoulders and a body soon finds itself in front of you, shielding you from the heartbreaking scene.

“Don’t look, Y/N” you hear Armin say, he’s the one holding you safe under his arm.

“Let’s go home” says Mikasa, who’s shielding your view.

You can’t find your voice so you just nod weakly. Your best friends seem to understand though, and soon both are guiding you to the doors of your school gymnasium where the homecoming dance is being held.

Honestly, you knew this would happen someday. Eren had never shown any sign of reciprocating your feelings.

It still hurt though.

Armin and Mikasa keep quiet throughout the drive home, both allowing you to feel safe in their silence; neither asking you to voice how you’re feeling at the moment. You’re thankful for them, without them you’re not sure you’d even think about the possibility of mending your broken heart.

“You sure you don’t want us to stay with you tonight?”

You stare at them with a blank gaze, slowly shaking your head.

Mikasa and Armin share a look before nodding in understanding, promising to come check on you tomorrow. Waiting until you’re inside your home before even moving towards their car.

Only once you’re sure you’re safe inside your house and that they have left the driveway is that you allow yourself to crumble.

“Mom” you whimper “Mom! MOM!”

Your body is shaking and your voice is a dead giveaway that something is wrong, which makes your mother wake up alarmed and run downstairs.

The sight she is greeted with is one that breaks her heart in a way not even your father’s death could.

Your knees are wobbling and your whole body is trembling, it’s a miracle she reaches you in time before you fall down, gathering you safely in her arms as you allow yourself to break down for the first time that night.

“Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Whatever happened it’s okay”

You sob, gut wrenching sobs that make your mother want to shed a few tears herself.

You spend the night in your mother’s arms, crying until sleep finally catches up to you. It’s your mother who greets Armin and Mikasa the next day, whispering how you need more time before you’re ready to see them. Both quietly explain the situation to your mom and she promises to let them know as soon as you’re ready to see them.

“Honey”

You hug your blanket tighter around your body.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart” she tries again, hugging you from behind “It was just a crush, it’ll be okay”

“It wasn’t a crush” you choke “Mom, I—I love him. I love him, mom”

Her eyes widen without your knowledge and she curses herself for not seeing it sooner. Of course it wasn’t a crush, at least not anymore.

The way you’d always cling to him since you were kids, the way you’d follow him everywhere, how you always helped him study so that he’d never fall behind, how you were at each of his basketball games screaming at the top of your lungs.

It may have started as a crush but you both had grown up, your feelings had grown too.

She should’ve seen it. You wouldn’t spend a whole night baking his favorite cake for his birthday when you could buy it just for a crush. You wouldn’t leave everything behind just to answer his call just for a crush. You wouldn’t be the first to clean his wounds after another of his stupid fights just for a crush.

You had fallen in love with him. With every part of him. Even the ones he, or anyone around him, was not proud of.

“Oh, honey” she soothes “It’ll be okay. You may not believe me, but you’ll be okay”

She sighs, holding you tighter.

“You’ll fall in love again” she promises “And it’ll be just as great and as painful as this time. But you’ll fall in love again”

“I don’t want this to hurt, mommy” you sob “Why does it have to hurt?”

“Because every feeling that made you go up has to come down sooner or later. Sweetie, the greater the love, the greater the pain. That’s the rule” she sighs “But it’ll be okay. You’re strong, you’ll get through this. You’re just one heartbreak closer to happily ever after, just have a little patience”

The next day, although still hurting, you get out of bed and answer Armin and Mikasa’s texts, asking them to come for a movie night. You ignored Eren’s.

JaegerBomb: Y/N you left homecoming early?? What happened?

JaegerBomb: You probably fell asleep. Text me when you wake up, doofus, got a lot to tell you.

JaegerBomb: Morning, sleeping beauty!!

JaegerBomb: Hey, I’m getting a little worried. U okay?

JaegerBomb; Y/N what’s going on?? Answer your phone.

JaegerBomb: I’m gonna file a missing person’s report!!

You hesitated before locking your phone. You weren’t going to answer. You couldn’t. Not because you were mad at him, you had no reason to be mad. You weren’t answering because you needed to move on. You couldn’t be there every time he texted anymore.

You had to stop being his person, cause you weren’t his.

Armin and Mikasa came to your house as planned and it was honestly what you had needed all that time. Having their shoulders to cry on was enough to mend your broken heart, at least a little. They made you laugh and smile in a way you didn’t think possible to do with the pain you felt.

You sometimes forgot that your life didn’t revolve around Eren. Being so used to always being at his side, to always call him whenever you were upset or happy, you’d sometimes forget that Mikasa and Armin always stood beside you through the path. Never once abandoning you. It was nice to be reminded of how much you still have, with how much your heart felt was losing.

Eren, meanwhile, was confused and worried. Carla, his mom, watched with a curious gaze as he paced back and forth in front of her, trying to argue with her about going to the police cause it wasn’t normal that you weren’t answering him.

“Eren, honey, she could be busy”

“No, mom, she always answers!” He almost screams “This is not normal! What if something happened to her? Mom, we have to go!”

It was truly an interesting sight. Eren who had grown up to hide his feelings behind a blank space was openly expressing his worry. Somehow you were always the one to let her catch a glimpse of her old sweet boy.

Carla sighs, “Can I at least call Y/M/N first? Just before you jump to conclusions?”

Eren grunts but nods. Carla sighs once more before grabbing her phone, dialing your mother’s number. Eren waits anxiously by her side, making her worry he’d run to the door any second with how fidgety he was.

“Hello. Carla?”

“Y/M/N! Hi! How are you?”

“Mom” Eren whines in a whisper, urging her to get to the point.

“Sorry to call, I just wanted to—”

A crash sounds through the phone, making both Jaeger’s jump.

“Y/N! What are you guys doing?” They hear your mom scream.

“Sorry, mom! I got scared and my bowl fell!”

Eren visibly relaxes in his place once your voice sounds through the phone. Carla eyes him with curiosity. He had his hand over his chest as if the relief of you not being in trouble was finally allowing him to breathe.

“Sorry, Carla. Y/N is watching some scary movie with Mikasa and Armin” she laughs “You know them, can never leave them unsupervised”

Eren straightens in his seat. Mikasa and Armin? You were with them?

He stopped listening to the conversation after that. Why weren’t you answering him? Since when did you text them before you texted him? Didn’t you know he’d worry? Even better, why didn’t you invite him? Didn’t you want him there?

That couldn’t be it. You never left his side. You were even more annoying than Mikasa when you were kids, always glued to his side. Although not as protective as the dark haired beauty, your presence was always clinging to his. That hadn’t changed throughout the years. You clung to him every step of the way. Always making sure to be at his side no matter what. Even when your grades were good enough to take higher classes, you stuck by him. Never going too fast, never going too slow; you always stood by him.

And he never pushed you away, not like he did with Mikasa. He never could.

He tries texting you again, thinking that maybe the texts hadn’t gone through. But he knows better. He just doesn’t want to know better.

When the weekend ends, Eren, for the first time ever, gets to school in time. Honestly, he just wanted to be there when you got there, not wanting to miss you by chance.

“Eren!” He hears Historia before she sees her “How was your weekend? I haven’t heard from you since the dance?”

“Huh?” Historia hugs him, but he’s too distracted scanning the hallway for you.

“Thank you so much” she smiles “I had a lot of fun. I was really sad Ymir couldn’t make it, but you help it be a fun night”

“Yeah. No problem”

Historia frowns confused, “You okay?”

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Historia tilts her head, “Yeah, she was by Calculus with Jea—woah! Where are you going?”

He’s out of her sight before she can even finish her sentence. All he could think about was seeing you.

He just didn’t expect to see you with Jean.

He stopped midway. His heart tightens as he sees you laugh happily because of something Jean just said. His fist clenches when he sees the way Jean is smiling at you.

He didn’t like the way Jean was looking at you.

The bell rings and he moves fast, scared to lose you from his sight, as you walk to your class. Imagine his surprise when he goes in to find you sitting with Jean. He frozed for a second. Was he still dreaming? You always sat with him. Always had. What was going on?

“Y/N?”

You look up from your notebook to see Eren looking like kicked puppy in front of you. He looked lost. Which was weird. Never had you ever seen that expression on his face.

Jean, who’s at you side, frowns in bewilderment. He didn’t remember the last time Eren had shown so much emotion.

“Eren” you whisper before smiling faintly “H-hi, I didn’t see you come in”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Your teacher comes in before he can open his mouth again and he soon is obligated to sit behind you with Marco.

His jaw clenches. He didn’t understand. Had he done something wrong? Why were you not sitting with him? Why even though you smiled at him did he feel you so distant? Why did it hurt him so much to see you smiling and whispering with Jean when he knows he is your friend?

He didn’t really pay attention to anything their teacher said, too lost in his own thoughts to even bother caring.

The bell rings and he jumps off his seat, but before he can catch you someone grabs his arm.

“Mikasa” he moves his arm but she doesn’t let him go “Mikasa, let go”

“Leave her alone, Eren”

He looks at her with no expression, though the girl for a second could see how his eyebrow twitched.

“I need to talk to her”

“Her world doesn’t revolve around you” she scoffs “So don’t act like it does”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you just about to go ask her why she didn’t sit with you?” She raises a brow “She doesn’t have to be at your side 24/7”

He hates that she knows him so well. Hates even more that she is right. You don’t owe him anything, you can sit with whoever you want. So why did he felt the need for one?

He jerks his arm off Mikasa’s grip and scoffs. Maybe you just wanted to talk to Jean, things would go back to normal soon enough.

At lunch you didn’t say by him either, you sat in between Sasha and Mikasa. Laughing loudly while sharing your lunch with Braus. He naively waited for you to hand him the chocolate chip cookie you always made for him, yet this time you didn’t.

And it went on for two months.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. 62 days of agony waiting for you to turn to look at him first, just to never do it. 62 days of waiting hours before you text him back. 62 days of seeing you sit with everyone but him. 62 days of wondering if you’ll show up or not at his game. 62 days of being invited to movie nights at your house by Mikasa or Armin, never by you.

He couldn’t bare it anymore and it didn’t take long for his friends to notice. Emotionless and unbothered Eren Jaeger jumping out of his seat every single time you entered the room. Eren Jaeger who cannot stop clenching his fist and moving his leg when you haven’t made an appearance. Eren Jaeger who looks like a lost child every single time you don’t give him his attention.

They honestly grew tired of it.

“You need to talk to him”

You blink, confused, at Armin, “what?”

“It’s been two months, Y/N, and he looks like a kicked puppy. You need to talk to him”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just let him know you’re still friends. That you’re not mad at him” he sighs “Things don’t have to go back to how they were, but he deserves to know he did nothing wrong. He can’t stop pouting and, honestly, I feel kinda sorry for him”

You sigh. Armin is right, as always. It wasn’t fair for Eren, who is your best friend, to feel like he has done something wrong when he truly hasn’t. You needed to make things right. You needed to salvage your friendship with him.

That’s why you come to school the next day with a box of the homemade chocolate cupcakes he loves so much.

That’s why you stand in front of your school’s doors waiting for him to arrive.

Your heart clenches with how defeated he looks once he does. And when your eyes find one another, you can physically see the hope and relief that he feels.

“Y/N” he sighs.

“Eren” you smile “I, uh… I wanted to apologize. I know I’ve been a little distant lately and—”

“Why?” He begs “Why have you been distant?”

You open and close your mouth, your finger tightening around the box in your hands. You had to be honest. You had to voice what you had silenced for so long. That way you would be able to move on, that way he’d understand why you needed to keep him at arm’s length.

“I, uh, um… I sa-saw you and His-Historia at the dance” you clear your throat “It wasn’t your fault! I swear I’m not mad and I never was! It’s just—it just hurt… that’s why I needed space. I liked you and it hurt”

You sigh, and extend the box towards him before slightly bowing your head.

“I’m sorry!”

You stay with your head down for a few seconds. He doesn’t move nor answers and it makes you wonder if he is mad you didn’t just tell him sooner, if he thinks you’re immature for not talking to him before so he could understand.

You feel the box being taken from your hands and before you can react you feel him lower his body, making you stand straight. Yet his face still falls on your shoulder. You feel his body relax as soon as it comes in contact with yours, and you feel him breathe in relief once he can feel your lavender scent. You don’t move, you don’t know exactly what to do in that moment. Does this mean he understands? Does it mean he is not mad? Are you both okay?

“I missed you” he whispers “I missed you so much”

“I—I missed you too, Eren”

“Never do that again” he begs softly “Please. Never leave me again”

“I, uh—I won’t”

“It’s you, Y/N” he continues “It’s always been you”

Your heart beats loudly in your chest at the declaration, yet confusion follows.

“But Histo—?”

“Historia was just sad Ymir couldn’t make it to the dance” he explains softly “I went to help her forget about it for a while”

“Oh”

“It’s you, Y/N. Always has been, always will be” he continues “Promise not to give up on me? Please. I just—please, don’t leave me”

You find yourself wrapping your arms around him, and he hides his face on your neck with content and relief.

“I promise”

The next time your friends see you both, you’re no longer clinging to him. Instead, Eren has his arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. And, for the first time in a long time, he is smiling. That boyish smile they had all missed.

Your mom had been right. It was just one heartbreak before your happily ever after. She just didn’t know it would be the same person who’d mend it.

You just had to have a little patience.

[hanasnx]

uhh if this is open for more scott thirsts..? but you have big nerd like glasses and he’s always calling you four eyes and shit but he eventually gets what he wants and you’re on your knees sucking him off and as much as he wants to cum all down your throat he has a different idea, he pulls out and cums all over your face but mainly your glasses, that shit eating grin as he admires his handiwork..

MINORS DNI 18+

There's something about making fun of a girl with a lot to prove. SCOTT BARRINGER plays the game well. He sees a chick with fat glasses on the bridge of her nose, and a high-and-mighty attitude, and he knows she's due for a chance to show what she's made of. He did it all the time back at home. Nerd girls always put out, always eager when a guy like him shows some interest. It's a formula, make her feel bad about everything that society deems unattractive, and then she'll fall all over herself when he finally admits she isn't all bad.

You would loudly correct him in classes, demonstrate your superiority or ability to follow rules better than him. Hell, you were basically a TA, it was fucking annoying. Acting like being a little teacher's pet was better than sex. It's no big deal, he'll teach you later.

"Four-eyes." he addresses you on the courtyard, and you know who's talking to you. You turn, clutching your books to your chest and adjusting your glasses further up your nose by pinching the corner of them.

"Barringer." you reply curtly. "Are you going to ask me for the notes again? 'Cause you should've been there taking them yourself."

"Ooh," He sucks breath through his teeth with a brief frown. "That stings."

"Sarcasm. How refined." you note as he approaches you, lumbering over to you in all his layers that make his wide shoulders look broader.

"You don't look bad today." he muses, rounding you slowly as he scans your figure. "Almost distracts from that thing on your face." Lazily, he gestures to the glasses.

"Can you be any less original? It helps me see." You try to ignore the burning in your cheeks at being so scrutinized. Sure, you've had conversations with Scott, but he's never paid you even a backhanded compliment before. You don't like how it makes you feel.

"Yeah, well. I'm gonna swing by the janitor's shed later. Maybe you'll surprise me you're not such a prude and be there."

"Oh— oh, fuck—" Broken noises of pleasure utter from his lips in between chewing them with his rows of perfect teeth. You could hate how pretty he is, brows twisted in near anguish over sensitive tissue stimulated by a wet tongue and warm throat. The glasses you wear have slid down to the tip of your nose from the effort of bobbing your head. Frustratingly, Scott Barringer is hung, and your neck cramps from sucking it off. "You really are a freak, Four-eyes." He enunciates the word, and a wicked smile creeps onto his handsome features, watching you take every inch.

You glare up at him, and you retract intent to tell him off for calling you that right now, but his big hands at the back of your neck keep you from escaping, shoving you back down with a wet sputter. "The guys were right." he exhales. "Dorky girls like you are so easy." You brace on his thighs, and you're mad at yourself for being as slick as you are. An ache between your legs you wish the star football player would handle for you. As if you want to please him, make sure he can't forget you, you try harder, swirling your tongue around him. A low groan vibrates from his throat as he tips his head back, lazily bucking his hips into your face. "You want a mouth-full of cum or something?"

You make a noise, and he snickers. He rolls his neck so he can see you again, and a hand cups the underside of your chin, curling his body around you.

"Nah, I know what you want. Fuck, I'm gonna cum." With that, he pulls out, yanking you off so he can grab his base, giving himself a few furious pumps as his dick twitches in his hand. Thick spurts of finish spout from his tip, landing on your unsuspecting face. The panes of your glasses are coated in cum, unable to be seen through, and drops slide down your forehead from his clumsy aim.

You shove at him, which only exacerbates his cruel laughter. "You're such a jerk, Scott!" Your fingers pinch carefully at your glasses to extract them from your face without touching your hair. To inspect them, you turn them towards you, squinting at them as you assess what could safely remove cum from their delicate nooks and screws.

All the comfort you receive in return is, "Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad. Quit bitching." Which earns him a sharp hit on his chest.

[sunfyresrider]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Widow!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since Alicent Hightower’s husband died her life had changed exponentially. It’s a hard thing, knowing what to do with freedom you’ve never had. In her attempt to expand her horizons she reaches many bumps in the road she didn’t realize existed, until she met you. Tags: mentions of death, sexuality crisis, struggling to accept change, heavy anxiety, eventual smut and a lot of self-healing. Author’s Note: @ilikeitbetterangsty THIS IS FOR YOU BABES💕 I really hope I did your request justice . Thank you so much for being an amazing mutual and beautiful person. Ps I’ve never been on a date, let alone a first date so I’m sorry if that scene was a little awkward. ALSO dividers are made by @saradika !!!!

His death was expected, anticipated even, yet the day she woke up next to a cold corpse seared itself inside her brain forever. She should be mourning. She should have been more upset, shed more tears for her husband of nearly twenty years. Instead, all Alicent could feel was an odd relief, a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She was finally free.

However, what does someone do with freedom when they’ve never had it? She could do anything in the world, she had more than enough money for it. But what do free people do? Alicent had to read up on what widows were into. They travel, indulge in hobbies, and go out for brunch and gossip. The main factor in all of these is they’re never alone. 

Twenty years of marriage and four children and Alicent couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t alone. She had no friends, too busy caring for a sick old man, children, and running a company. Alicent didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want to die knowing she had never truly loved. There was nothing holding her back, no father pushing religious guilt, no husband taking her time, and no children to judge.

At first, she made no moves for change. She continued staying at home and running her life as she always did. Although now she spent more time fussing over her only child at home rather than Viserys. Unfortunately, Aegon, her eldest and most troubled child finally declared he was moving out. He also said she needed to get a life in the exact same sentence. 

It was time to take a real look in the mirror at the woman Alicent Hightower had become. It was not the best feeling in the world. In the past she was happy, determined, and beautiful in some eyes. Now she was tired, a bit of a pushover and unbearably lonely. All she had done her whole life was serve other people, her father, her husband, her children and never herself. Alicent needed to change that before she died old and miserable. 

There was another thing she needed to come to terms with. She never loved Viserys, she never loved any man for that matter. Marriage wasn’t something she enjoyed but endured. Alicent wanted to love someone, which was something she never truly had. Except for once when she was young until she married her friend’s father. Maybe she didn’t hate sex just who it was with. Maybe she was capable of love just not for men. Maybe it was time she started attempting to live her truth.

That was the final push she needed to do something. So, Alicent took a leap of faith after reading a pop news article and downloading HER. It’s an app for lgbt dating, specifically lesbians… It still sounded like a dirty word even if she only said it in her head. There was still a twinge of guilt when she made her first match. It’ll pass, the article on women struggling being their true selves said so. 

Twenty years of marriage and Alicent didn’t even know how to flirt, let alone with a woman. The first woman she matched with was only slightly younger yet had no children. She called Alicent a milf, which is a compliment nowadays. It didn’t go much farther, the lack of knowledge on slang really did not bode well with people. 

Anyone younger than her wouldn’t do, so she changed the settings. The second match was one that made her excited. From the outside they seemed to share the same values and she was a mother too. They went on a singular date that might not have been the greatest. Alicent was a little awkward, still too insecure about herself to initiate anything, and avoided the goodnight kiss that was offered. It didn’t seem to bother the woman, which made her believe this could be the one. They could grow together, maybe even build a new life together. Alicent genuinely thought she found the perfect one. Until they ghosted her. 

The app was deleted that same night. Maybe dating wasn’t in the cards for her. It stung, surprisingly worse than when Viserys died. For a few days she sat in her house and sulked. She strictly ordered takeaway, and binge watched the housewives of Orange County. Braunwyn was without a doubt closeted, it was like looking in a mirror, a very fucked up mirror. 

Alicent did a quick deep dive only to find out her suspicions were correct. Right now, Braunwyn was happily outed and living with her girlfriend… It was a mix of jealousy and hope. Someone just like her was living her dream life, which was unfair, but maybe it meant she could manage to live her dream too. 

She finally decided to get off her ass and do something. She was a free woman, she could do whatever she wanted, she told herself as she did a rather intense spa routine. All of her expensive skincare products and fancy tools were being put to use today.  Alicent actually changed out of her pajamas and into a nice dress she hadn’t worn in ages. It was a black bodycon dress, the only one she owned. Very out of character for her but she was a free woman, she could wear whatever she wanted.

She was going to take herself on a date, to a fancy restaurant. Alicent arrived at the venue feeling nervous but excited at the same time. It was the first time she had gone here alone; the servers were quite surprised to say the least. As she was led to her table, she noticed the looks she was getting from some of the other diners. Maybe it was the dress, or maybe it was the fact she was alone for once.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. “Hey, is this seat taken?” Her head whipped to the side, “N-oh! No.” You let out a small laugh, “I'm only joking, I have my parents waiting for me. How’ve you been Ali?” The last person she expected to meet was Aegon’s old tutor. You hadn’t seen each other in several years maybe. It wasn’t a bad surprise, actually it was amazing to see you again. “I’ve been great, better than ever! How are you?” 

“Oh, I’ve been thriving! After quitting I went on a self-healing journey and haven’t gone back.” Your smile reached from ear to ear, you were absolutely glowing in every sense of the word. Alicent was captivated, maybe a little nervous trying to find the right words to say. She hasn’t felt this way since she was what? Fourteen and heavily in the closet. So, she did something way out of her comfort zone, a first step of sorts. 

“If you’re free, I’d love for you to come over for dinner sometime and hear more about how you’ve been.” You seemed shocked, cocking an eyebrow at her question. “Is the Alicent Hightower asking me on a date?” She froze, it didn’t even cross her mind what she was actually asking. 

So, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I...um…if you want it to be." You flashed a smile that was different from the one from earlier. You picked up a napkin, scribbling something on it. “Let me know the time and I’ll be there.”  She let out a sigh of relief when you walked away, feeling as if she was going to burst any moment now. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing. She actually asked someone out, on a date no less.

She was nervous, it had been so long since anyone besides her immediate family came into her home. At least it was clean now that Aegon wasn’t here to make messes everywhere he went. In her opinion the modern green color scheme looks great but maybe you hated green. Or maybe she was overthinking this. 

Alicent hadn’t ever really cooked besides a select few times the personal chef got sick. In her mind it would be more meaningful for her to cook something for the both of you. However, making homemade penne vodka was a lot harder than she thought. 

She wanted it to be perfect, she wanted to impress you in every way. The dining table was set with a vase of roses, her best silverware, and very expensive wine she was saving for a special occasion. She even bought a new dress for this evening, a form-fitting silk one with flowing sleeves.

It was a few hours into her cooking when you rang the doorbell. Alicent took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm and not make a fool of herself. It didn't stop her from tripping over the edge of the rug on the way to the front door. She jumped up, dusting off herself.

You were there, just as beautiful as you were earlier. "Hey!" Your smile was contagious, making her grin in return. You looked absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black jeans. You pulled her into a hug, you smelled like strawberries, and a scent she could only describe as happiness.

"It’s so good to see you!" She ushered you in, letting you take a seat while she went back to finish cooking. You looked around, taking everything in. “It's still as big as I remember, though you definitely changed the decor.” She snickered, "Well it was in desperate need of a facelift, I just couldn't stand the red and black anymore."

Ali returned with a big bowl, carefully plating both of yours. "I didn’t know you knew how to cook! I thought you had personal chefs for this kind of stuff.” She grinned proudly, "Well, I wanted to do something special for you tonight." 

"Aren’t you romantic," You smiled at her. You took a bite, letting out a pleasured sigh. "So good!" Her smile was practically radiant at your praise. You made small talk during dinner, talking about anything and everything. Catching up on what’s happened in the few years you hadn’t seen each other. 

She told you about how Aegon is doing, how he has a girlfriend now. You told her about how he was the reason you inevitably quit teaching and decided to travel. You talked about your life, how you took the time to really get to know yourself, and how that was the best decision of your life. She vaguely talked about hers, only giving you bits and pieces. 

What you did learn was that she was fucking hilarious, and so much more welcoming than other rich housewives you’ve met. You didn’t ask about the dead husband; it was pretty clear by the lack of a ring and her finally smiling. 

Alicent listened to every word intently, her big brown eyes staring into yours. She used to always have a sad look inside them but now she was practically beaming. It might have been the wine flushing her cheeks, but you chose to believe it was because of you.

At some point you ended up on the couch watching housewives, at least pretending to. You were both still talking over the noise, slowly leaning into each other each time you laughed. 

You leaned forward, brushing a stray hair from Alicent’s face. Your lips brushed together, “you’re beautiful, you know.” Alicent let out a laugh, "You're too much." Her eyes closed, taking the lead and kissing you first.

 When your lips met her, it felt as if fireworks had gone off. Your lips were soft like peaches but tasted sweet like cherries. Your hands touched her face gently, leaving trails of electricity where your fingers were touching. 

Her own hands gently tracing down your neck, shoulder, and side to rest on your hips. Alicent’s body sunk down on the mattress, letting you move on top of her to do as you pleased. When she broke the kiss to take a deep breath, you kissed down to her neck and jawline, sending vibrations throughout her. She made a sickly-sweet sound that made your ears tingle. 

Her hands moved slowly, almost cautiously as she moved your shirt up to feel your bare skin. She delicately traced lines up and down the curves of your waist. Your sweet kisses trailed down her neck, chest, and slowly you lifted up the dress she was wearing. Moving to suckle at the skin around her core, worshiping her thighs. 

Alicent let out a soft moan, curling her fingers into your hair. Her soft noises only encouraged you. Your fingers traced her folds, moving their way around the fabric. You looked up, watching her cheeks flush red in embarrassment. A simple nod was the encouragement you needed to continue.

Your lips kissed over the fabric, hearing her breathe become labored. Her fingers tugged lightly at your hair. You pulled down her underwear, moving it down to the end of her legs. It was your turn to blush, seeing how wet she was already.

Her hips twitched when you dragged a finger through her slit, your finger coming back glistening. You eased it inside of her, quickly finding the sweet spongy spot. Her back arched as you moved your finger, soon another one joining. Your tongue sucked at her clit, moving in circles.

Alicent bucked her hips into your hand, her moans filling the air. Her eyes were shut as you made her legs shake. Your tongue moved faster, hearing her sweet cries. She pulled your hair, pressing your mouth harder against her. Her walls tighten around your fingers, letting you know she was close.

Alicent shuddered, gripping your hair harder as she came. Her back arched off the couch, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Her body finally relaxed, laying on the couch. Her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips.

You crawled up, leaning over her. You brushed her hair behind her ear, gazing into her brown eyes. They were still sparkling, like two polished stones. Alicent slowly moved her hands down your back, lifting your shirt over your head. She sat up, kissing you softly. 

Her hand slowly moved down, grasping your thighs and opening them. Her kisses trailed down your neck, breasts, and stomach. You let out a small noise as she rubbed you through your pants. Her kisses got hungrier as she undid your belt and pulled down everything that covered you.

You let out a squeal of surprise, feeling her pull you on top. Your cheeks flushed red, as she angled your cunt above her mouth. Alicent was precise, her mouth sucking at you gently. Her hands pressed against your hips, keeping you in place.

Your fingers threaded into her hair, holding her face to your cunt. She flicked her tongue against you, moving it in circles. Her hands moved up to squeeze your ass. You grinded against her face, your juices coating her chin and the couch. Alicent hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

Her fingers pressed into you, curling up to prod at your sweet spot. She let out a purring noise, making you move your hips faster. Your breath hitched as she moved her fingers faster, sucking at you with a new intensity. Her tongue moved quickly, lapping up all the juices coming from you.

Your thighs quivered as you came, your voice shaking as you did. Alicent kept going, eating you out until she was satisfied. Your legs gave out, dropping you in a pile on top of her. You laid there, letting her wrap her arms around you as you caught your breath. 

"Did I do good?" You laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. "You were amazing,” you peppered kisses on her face, eliciting the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard. You rested your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Her fingers played with your hair as you both laid there, tangled in each other's arms.

Last night had been one of the most out of character nights of Alicent’s life. She never invited someone over, let alone hooked up with someone. It was new, it was exciting, it was also borderline terrifying. Now that she was alone again her thoughts could once again consume her. 

You texted her back, at the very least you weren’t ghosting her. That eased the part of her that was afraid the sex was so bad you would never speak to her again. But now there were other things that bothered her. Your question, to be more specific. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?” 

It was too soon to do anything drastic, like a real relationship. Did she want that? The idea of being in a relationship with you was something that sounded nice in her head, But would it be good in reality. Not only was she freshly widowed as well as struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. By now, she should be over caring about what other people thought… She wasn’t over it in the slightest. 

There was still this guilt and overwhelming anxiety that was holding her back, the same things that held her back her entire life.  Alicent laid in her bed, trying to figure out how to answer your text... “I’m not sure if I’m ready, yet.” She wanted to say more, but her thoughts were quickly turning into a jumbled mess. 

“I used to tutor Aegon in mathematics… I’m very patient;)” Alicent rolled her eyes at the winky face, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. “But…  I bought two tickets to the Bahamas last week… and my mom canceled so there’s an opening.” Her fingers hovered over the screen, she had never been to the Bahamas before. 

To be fair, she had never been anywhere but home. Alicent wasn’t one to drop everything and go on vacation… 

You made her want to.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment.

Why was this so difficult?

She was free now; she could leave anytime she wanted.

So why did she keep waiting?

She could just let her phone fall out of her hand and pretend she didn’t see the text.

It took everything in her power to hit send, “I’d love too:)” 

You had been talking to each other every day for weeks. You’ve gone on several more ‘dates,’ which all ended in someone’s bedroom. She hadn’t ever felt this happy, but right now she was freaking the f out. She might have under-packed or maybe over packed her suitcase. What if the swimsuit didn’t fit like it did in the store? Should she have brought snacks? What if she forgot to lock the house? 

The airport was crowded to the point it made everything feel excruciatingly hot. Maybe it was her anxiety that was making her hot. Alicent glanced around at everyone, a million scenarios running through her head. There was no reason for her to be this nervous. Except there were a thousand reasons, she’s never left the country, the plane could crash, and maybe you wouldn’t show up. 

The last one wasn’t realistic. You promised to be waiting at the terminal. You always kept your promises, so she had no reason to worry. But what if you changed your mind? What if the flight was canceled? Or you got sick and didn't feel up to flying.

Was her mind just coming up with different scenarios so she wouldn’t get on the plane? Maybe she should turn around and go home. No, she was free now, she was finally over all the bad that happened. So, there was no reason to not get on the plane.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't realize they called her boarding group. She slowly made her way to the gate, getting in the very back of the line. Alicent glanced around the terminal, no sign of you anywhere. She started picking at her fingers, a bad habit. When she was younger, she used to dig at them until they bled. 

The line moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every second felt like an hour and every step felt like a mile. However, she had made it to her seat on the plane in one piece.  She was able to get a window seat, something she was thankful for. At least if something bad happened Alicent could watch the plane crash into the waves.

You still hadn’t shown up and her heart rate showed no signs of going down. She could turn back right now, walk off this plane like nothing happened. She could go back to her old life, tucked away safely in her home. She could stop taking risks, what was she even trying to prove? There were thousands of excuses to turn back, and she was using them all. 

By letting this plane take off it meant a new beginning, a real one. The real first step, proof she was living differently and for herself. That scared her, did she even deserve to live for herself? What was her worth if she wasn’t serving someone else? Her fingers dug deeper into the bed of her nails; this was a stupid fucking idea. 

Alicent heard the flight attendant preparing to close the doors, She glanced down at her leg, preparing to jump out of this seat and run out the door. 

Back home.

Back to safety.

Back to what she was used to. 

“Hey! Sorry I took so long I was sat in the wrong seat,” your voice was soft and sweet like honey. Alicent turned around, staring into your eyes. You were gorgeous, to the point it made her temporarily forget what was going on in her head. "You made it," she spoke breathlessly, realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time. 

“I wouldn’t miss going on a trip with you for the world.” You smiled at her, intertwining your fingers with her own. A sense of calm washed over her, like the waves hitting the sand in the early morning. She finally let herself settle back into the seat, letting her eyes flutter close.

This was okay.

She could do this.

This is freedom. 

Alicent Hightower was finally living, 

For herself.

[wintervalewritersecond]

tears to shed - simon 'ghost' riley

masterlist // masterlist call of duty

requested: no, but requests are OPEN! request: x

A/N: i have been thinking of this AU for a while now! i dont know why or how, maybe because of the skull mask he has on, or maybe just because i love both media, but alas, here it is! going to be multiple parts i think...

part one // part two // part three // part four

wordcount: 2,366 warnings: ooc simon, corpse bride au, she/her reader

An arranged marriage to unite two worlds. But no one would have expected that it would bring together the living and the dead.

"I do not want to see that pout again! We have gone over this, you are to wed mister MacTavish, whether you like it or not!"

Yes. Yes, we have gone over this. Quite frankly, it is all that you have heard about for the last few weeks. Your family finally had the chance to climb the social ladder, claiming their spot that 'is rightfully theirs'. The MacTavish family is one of the highest ranking families with a son that your parents deem perfect for you.

Perfect, as in, for them. A high rank, society looking up to you, and all that for the small price of marrying out their only daughter.

"Besides, with a face like yours, who else would marry you? Anne, tighten her corset! I can nearly hear her breathe."

Anne, your maid, looks at you as she furrows her eyebrows, slightly tightening the corset as you breathe in. God, can this already be over?

A carriage is driven in front of your doorstep, ready to bring you to the huge MacTavish mansion. Your mother seems like she could not be happier as your father only trails behind her.

"Oh, I can not wait for our daughter to be married! We will finally be where we should have been from the very start!"

"This is only a rehearsal, my dear."

"Oh, nonsense! This wedding will happen, whether you like it or not! This time tomorrow, we will be the talk of the town!"

In an attempt to ignore them, you already enter the carriage, pulling on your gloves as you lean your head on the small window. Your mother huffs, climbing into the carriage as well before your father comes in, closing the door behind him.

"Now, come on! We don't have all day. Shepherd!"

The old man grunts, pulling the reigns as the horses taking off. It takes only a few seconds before your mother taps you with her fan.

"I can see you thinking! Whatever plan of escaping you have, you better forget. Everything has to go according to plan, Y/N! This life we have lived up till now is something not fit for us. We are rich, and this marriage will only mean good for us. Oh, can't you just see it?" She looks over at your father, "We will have balls! Oh, can you just imagine? Dancing, and goodness, people will be coming over for tea!"

You wonder how it was going in the MacTavish home now. Were his parents also lecturing him on everything? Were they tying his tie so tightly so that he can barely breathe? Or maybe his parents were actually quite sweet.

Before you knew it, the carriage already comes to a stop, the huge mansion in front of you. It is even more terrifying as you remember. Sure, you knew their home would be bigger than yours, but this is nearly a castle. You breathe in deeply - well, as deep as you can with the tight corset - before exiting the carriage after your parents.

Your mother pulls you behind her and up the stairs that lead to the tall doors. How will these even be opened? They are five times as tall as you and they must be so heavy. Your mother roughly turns you around, tugging on your dress and hair to make sure it looks absolutely perfect before the door opens.

"Oh, goodness! What an impeccable taste," your mother mumbles to herself, looking around as you just trail behind, "So grand!"

In front of you stand two tall figures.

"Lord and Lady MacTavish," the butler gives your family a side-eye before stepping back.

"Ah, you must be mister John MacTavish. I have to say, you do not look a day over twenty!"

Can your mother be more idiotic? Your father tugs her arm, shaking his head before coughing.

"Well," Lady MacTavish raises one eyebrow, "We will be taking tea in the drawing room. Follow me."

The Lord and Lady already walk off, your parents trailing behind them as your mom keeps muttering random compliments. Something else catches your eye though.

A piano.

A grand piano at that. It is cleaned so well that it seems to reflect anything in its path. You wish you were allowed to play piano at home, but your mother always insisted that it was simply not fit for you. There is more important stuff to do, such as pushing yourself into the smallest corset just to appeal to others.

Your fingers float over the keys as you slowly sit down. The door to the drawing room was already shut, they wouldn't hear you, right? You slowly press the different keys. Gosh, it feels good to finally play the piano again. It was a small secret between you and your father - only playing the instrument if your mother was not home.

Johnny was running late. His parents will kill him. They had warned him so many times that he should have been on time, yet here he is, still trying to tie his tie. After multiple tries, he finally gets it, rushing out of his room and down the stairs. But, before he can even get out of his hallway, he is met with the soft notes of a piano. The piano actually being played in this house?

He is met with you as you still softly play, not even noticing the man at the top of the stairs. Were you Miss Y/L/N? He walks down the steps, slowly making his way over to the piano. You are still sat on the little stool, not even noticing the figure behind you until you see a shadow towering over you. You yelp, quickly standing up before pushing the seat back in its original place.

"I am so sorry! Please, excuse me."

The man shakes his head, laughing.

"Hey, no need for that. You play beautifully. I wish I possessed that talent."

"Oh, it is nothing," you let out a deep breath, smiling at him. "My mother does not quite like my playing. Says it is improper for a lady."

"Nonsense," Johnny sits down on the little stool, gesturing for you to sit down as well. "If anything, you should never stop playing. You truly have a talent for it, miss Y/L/N."

It is quiet for a bit, just the two of you sitting together, both not knowing what to say.

"So... We are to be wed tomorrow."

"So it is, mister MacTavish."

"Oh, no, call me John. Or Johnny, both is okay. Considering the circumstances, I think it will do."

"All right, that is, if you call me Y/N."

He does not have time to respond as his mother comes rushing out of the drawing room, visibly mad.

"What is this?! How improper. You shouldn't be alone together! The rehearsal starts in one minute! Come, at once!"

Time goes as slow as it could. In front of the group stands a tall man, trying to guide everyone through the rehearsal as you fight to not fall asleep. His voice is almost as boring as his appearance, and nothing about this entire situation makes you feel happy. You are not even allowed to sit directly next to Johnny, not to mention that both of you just could not keep to the script.

"Okay... Again," the old man groans, nearly wanting to rip the book that he is holding apart, "Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine."

"With this candle," Johnny begins, but quickly gets cut off.

"Mister MacTavish, first repeat the other sentence," the old man shakes his head, dropping the book on the table. "First the cup, then the wine, then the candle. Let's try it again..."

You quickly glance back, seeing multiple disappointed faces looking back at you. The doorbell rings, Lord MacTavish quickly waving the butler away to open up the door.

"How about you, miss Y/N?"

"Yeah," you quietly mumble, taking hold of the candle. All that you have to do is make it lit up and make sure the flame stays on the entirety of the speech. "I, uh... I use this candle..."

"With this candle, miss Y/N."

"Oh, it seems that I am early."

Both you and Johnny turn around, seeing the visitor that knocked on the door earlier. A woman, one dressed in a neat and fashionable gown, stands in the middle of the aisle.

"Is she from our family?" Your mother whispers to your father, but he only shrugs in response.

"A seat for Miss Graves, please."

What an odd name.

"Oh, please. Do carry on."

"Right... Let us try this. Again."

"With this hand," Mister MacTavish takes hold of your hand, holding the candlestick in his other. "I will..."

He bumps into the table in front of him, everything on it shaking and nearly falling over as the old man starts yelling yet again.

"Three steps! Can you not count?"

You look over at Johnny before looking back at the man.

"I am sure that he can, sir."

The man mumbles something under his breath, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Did he even remember to bring the rings?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Johnny fumbles with his pocket, trying to fish out the small bands, but while doing so, he accidentally elbows you, making you drop the candle. Oh, no.

The candle rolls away from you, much too fast for you to catch it, the dress of Lady MacTavish slowly catching fire.

"Lady MacTavish!"

You quickly hurry over, stomping on her dress in a weak attempt to get rid of the flames. It does not take long for the butler to return with a bucket of water, emptying the contents over the fire and you.

"Enough!"

The tall man stands up even straighter, towering over everyone in the room.

"This wedding can not take place until both of them are properly prepared. Both of you, learn your vows."

He nearly pushes his pointer finger in your eye as you nervously look from him, to your parents, to Johnny's parents. The young man quickly pushes open the door, hurrying out as you follow behind him. He is, however, much too fast, almost running up the stairs, but not before accidentally dropping something from his pocket.

His ring.

You quickly scoop it up, holding it close before rushing out of the house. You need to be away from this place, if even just for a moment. The ring will be safe in your possession, so hopefully Johnny will not get in any more trouble if he fully loses it. The band is much too big to fit your fingers, it has to be the one belonging to Johnny. Either that, or they were really bad at measuring your rings.

"They must think I am a fool," you groan, slowly walking up to the bridge, shaking your head. "I mean, what did I even think? I set her dress on fire!"

You twirl the ring around in your fingers, crossing the bridge, the woods in front of you.

"Not only that, but I can not even seem to remember the stupid vows. It is just a couple of sentences!"

The next fifteen minutes are spent trying to go over the same vows again and again. At one point, you weren't even sure anymore if the words you were speaking even existed. You decided to sit down on a fallen tree, leaning against it as you twirled the ring in between your fingers again.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine," you whisper, looking at one of the branches right next to you. "With this candle I will light your way into the darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

You slip the ring onto the branch, huffing as you lean back even more. Mud and sand are staining your dress now, but as you look over at the ring again to take if off of the stick, something grabs your wrist.

A yelp leaves your lips as you try and pull your arm back, but it seems like the branches have wrapped themselves around your wrists. It nearly pulls you down into the ground before you fall backwards.

"Ouch!"

You shake your head, looking up, but you still feel the grip around your arm. On it are bones, a hand, still gripping you.

"Oh my God!"

A figure rises from the sand, clawing at the dirt as it slowly stands up, dirt and leaves falling from its shoulders. On their face, a skull, though quite obviously a mask. He is missing his left arm - is that what gripped you?

"I do."

He does? What does he do? You glance down, the ring that you put onto the branch now around its bony finger. No.

No.

Another scream leaves your body as you hurry to scramble up, running as fast as you can with the dress you are wearing. The ground is uneven and it is dark, but the figure does not seem fazed. You rush, leaves and branches hitting you in the face and hooking onto your clothing. Do you dare to look back? Once you do, you see the figure catching up to you, its arm now attached to its body again.

You reach the bridge, your breathing heavy as you almost rip the corset off of your body. Why did your mother insist on tightlacing it? Well, you had not expected on having to run through the woods. Is it gone? You look back to the woods, the figure seemingly gone as you let out a relieved sigh. You take a few steps back, but immediately stop when you feel that you bump into something. Slowly turning around, you are met with someone's chest.

Its the figure.

He looks down at you, his eyes peeking out from the mask. He is wearing a clean suit, a white flower in his pocket, and the ring around his fingers.

"I have to say, that is one hell of a way to ask me to marry you, love."

[alpydk]

Gone with the Weave

Took a few days off to think. Seriously considered deleting everything, Tumblr, all of it. Realised I'd become a little lost in my writing, getting jealous over other people, insecure about my own abilities, forgot who I was writing for and why. So today I sat down and actually wrote for me again and you know what? It's helped. And because I'm hypocritical I'm going to share it with all of you.

So, here we have post-Epilogue short. Hurt/Little comfort. Gale/Tav - Tav & Astarion - Word count : 2398 -

CW - PPD / Grief / Death / Dad!Gale / Scenes of child death (Hallucinations)

It was like tar. It pulled her down and filled her lungs, thick and black. Tav tried to fight against it, tried to find the light that she knew shone above it, but her limbs were weighted down by fatigue and longing. A part of her wanted to be dragged down by it, to be lost to the depths of her depression, to disappear and no longer have the responsibility that had been thrusted upon her. To sleep and never wake; to be with him.

To everyone around her, she was a natural mother, tending to her baby’s needs, a confident smile at the life she had brought into the world. Tav was proud, strong, had been through the hells and back, figuratively and literally, and survived unscathed. But as with most, her pride was becoming her downfall. She didn’t need help, didn’t want it because weakness was not the sign of a good mother. As the days passed, as sleep turned to hallucination, still she clung onto the mask of what they all wanted to see, the last remnant of a life before life.

The child cried, but she did not react instantly, a quiet hope that someone else would come and tend to its needs whilst she pretended to sleep. But she didn’t sleep. For so long, the gods of dream and nightmare alike had ignored her pleas, and she had lain there awake, watching as the infant took all from her, leaving her with nothing but guilt and misery.

She wished he was there to help her, that his weave touched fingers that brought calm to her soul could calm the one that lay in the crib. He should have been there for this, she told herself, his strong forearms cradling the baby, a soft poem uttered under starlight bringing it to soothe. If only she had known before the final decision was made; if only things had ended differently and he had stayed, then maybe there would be fewer tears shed.

Still it cried, and no one came, the silence broken by the shrieks she had come to despise. It would be so easy to just leave, to walk out and never return, but then they would all know what she was truly like. The tar that had filled her lungs and surrounded her heart, leaving her bitter and tainted, would be exposed and they would know the truth. They would hate her as she hated the innocent child in front of her. But what if…? The thought was fleeting, cruel and unspeakable, a horror even in her own twisted mind. As night turned to the day, as cries turned to coos, she watched the baby, always watching and waiting for something to change.

---

Evening had set in and though the stars shone brightly as he had promised her, the night brought Tav little comfort knowing the long, drawn-out hours that were to come. She carried the baby to the small tub, her body weary and mind wandering, and she placed it in the water, watching as the bubbles rose quickly from its soft lips, as the arms tensed and held out towards her, as the deep brown eyes she had once loved lost their light again.

A knock at the door brought her around to her senses as she sat in front of the empty tub, the baby cooing peacefully from its bassinet. This had not been the first time she had seen such sights in the weeks since the birth. At first, it had been minor things, a shadow in the room that she had mistaken for a friend, the child crying whilst it actually slept. Soon the images became darker, the newborn lifeless in her arms when she awoke suddenly during the night, a slight misstep causing her to drop it to the floor, its body like that of a rag doll as it hit the wooden floorboards. Nothing scared her more though than herself, her lack of reaction, the quiet pleasure she saw in the freedom being granted to her. Would murder or suicide be the more publicly acceptable option? Would they forgive her? Could he forgive her, should she make that choice?

Tav rose from the floor, the image shaken away, and the mask put back in place. A deep breath was released before the door was answered with a smile and the face of Astarion greeted her. She was thankful it was him and not one of the more caring of the group; it would mean fewer questions asked, less concern over her wellbeing, and a chance that the walls would remain intact for another night.

He entered without invitation, many nights like this in the last six months that had thankfully grown less frequent since the birth. “You look like shit, darling.”

She smirked at his words, fully aware that the lack of sunlight was making her as pale as him, that the deep bags hung under her eyes. “Well, we can’t all match up to you, can we?”

Astarion made himself at home. Wine was grabbed from the cupboard and his feet put up on the coffee table. He noticed the baby but chose to ignore it, instead watching as Tav quickly sorted her hair in an attempt to look less haggard. “Resident do-gooder Wyll has asked me to come and check in on you.”

“And since when do you take orders from others?” She sat near him on the sofa, the faint stirring of the child drawing her attention. All she wanted was a moment like the old times, of two friends chatting about something that wasn’t related to birth or parenting, of wine and shameless flirting that meant nothing.

He watched her, her eyes allowing him to see the cracks that lay so visibly. “Since, 1 – it’s my turn, and 2 – it’s been a year.”

Tav scoffed. “Taking turns? Is that what you all do?” She ignored his second remark, a year since the Netherbrain, since that day when everything was supposed to change for the better.

“Quite frankly, yes. It’s one thing to be holed up alone with seven thousand spawn, it’s another to be holed up alone with that…” Astarion gestured his hand dismissively to the infant.

She knew he was right, life would be better without it, she wouldn’t be alone here, needing to be checked up on as if she there were something wrong with her. “You know you don’t have to. We’re fine.” The lie slipped out as easily as it ever did, the painted-on smile meeting her dead eyes. The small cry made her bristle, made the lie falter, and she hoped it was nothing but that one whimper.

He sipped his wine, the quickening of her heart rate deceptive as it cut through the heavy silence. “Still, we should at least share in a drink, shouldn’t we? A remembrance of sorts.”

“No, that’s not needed.” Tav was quick to cut off this suggestion. It was one thing for the wall to crumble in front of him that she was tired of sleepless nights, another for the actual truth to be pushed upon her and the dam to break.

The cry could be heard again, now with little pause between breaths. She wanted to ignore it, wanted it to die down, wanted anyone else to deal with it. But no one else would come. He would not come. She could see Astarion tensing with the building noise, and she had to react to save face. She stood, approaching the bassinet, a brief flash of annoyance in her eyes as she glanced down and picked up the baby. It was as if it knew, was manipulating her and drawing her towards ruin, as if the gods were not satisfied enough with the sacrifices she had already made.

“Aww, you just want to see uncle Astarion, don’t you?” This was what people wanted, fawning over the infant, exaggerated displays of affection that she loathed to give. She carried the baby over, its cries stopping, and she gritted her teeth, knowing the moment she put it down, the noise would commence again.

“Oh, no, darling. It’s quite alright.” He pulled his legs off the table, a clear discomfort, and with it knocked over the bottle of wine.

The scarlet liquid spread across the wood, dripping quickly onto the floor, a lazy flow as it crept between the floorboards. Tav couldn’t take her eyes from it, the baby lying amongst it, the rag doll limbs amongst its own blood, lifeless brown eyes that stared back at her. Her heart didn’t beat, she stood not in panic, only a numbness lay in her mind at the sight.

Astarion grabbed a cloth and began to clear the wine, Tav seemingly frozen with the child in her arms, her mind a million realms away, a feeling he knew too well himself. “You know, they say white wine can clear out red…”

Her heart took a beat, a recollection of where she was, of the company present, and she hoped the vision she had seen had been instantaneous so as not to draw attention. The baby was thankfully silent, and she cursed herself for not feeling upset at the sights she was seeing. Murder or suicide…It would be so easy.

She sat with the baby in her arms, Astarion cupping the glass of wine as he leaned away from her on the sofa. She could see how uncomfortable he was becoming, as if looking for a conversation that was casual enough to fulfil his objective for checking in on her.

“So, Gale-“

“Is gone.” She interrupted him off before he could even start. This was not the topic she needed. He should be there with her, holding her through sleepless nights, soothing their child as it cried through the darkened hours. He should be sharing in her tears, her smiles, consoling her as she struggled with her doubts. The baby began to stir again, as if picking up on her emotions.

“Tav, it’s been a year and you’ve not spoken with anyone about what happened.”

She ignored him, his voice and the quiet cries already beginning to overwhelm her senses. There was nothing to talk about; there was only this lonely guilt filled existence. Days and nights of tar, of emptiness, of decisions she couldn’t bring herself to make. Hoping her mask wouldn’t slip, she rocked the baby in an attempt to calm it. She was a proud, strong mother. She was a good mother.

He sighed, not knowing if he should bother to help or not, but after all Tav had done for him in the past, he knew he had to do something. “Pass it here.”

She lifted her head, a defensive hold on the baby in her arms. Was it maternal love or the pride that prevented her from handing it over so freely? “No, I can handle this.”

Astarion reached over tentatively. The baby smelt odd, like spices he could not pinpoint, and his stomach turned slightly, but he would not accept what she was saying. He gently took it into his arms, Tav’s resistance minimal, as if her body was mutinying against her mind. The child grew quiet again, a small coo as its hand reached for his shirt and small pink fingers hooked around the cotton.  

Tears built up instantly in Tav’s eyes, a guilt that she hadn’t been good enough to do this one simple thing, that she had failed in being a mother. She wanted to hide it all, wanted to run away, but she also wanted to fall apart so that people knew how deep she had fallen into the darkness and could come and save her, save her just as he had done so long ago. She wiped at her eyes, but it made little difference, the sight of her friend holding her baby, a light in his own eyes she had never seen before, a moment of innocence on the face of a seasoned killer. Why could she not feel that way? What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she love…?

Her words were quiet. Astarion wouldn't care, and she knew it wouldn’t faze him. He wouldn’t coddle her like the others would. He was what she needed now that all was lost. “I can’t handle this…”

---

The night passed in a blur. He listened as she spoke of all that had happened in the last few months, of the things she had seen, things she believed she wanted, of pride and guilt that filled her heart to bursting. She spoke of the loneliness that consumed her and the child she could not connect to, of how it reminded her of the past she wished to forget, a past she longed for desperately. One life had ended, and another had begun and all she had been left with was shadows.

The baby slept through for the first time in months, Astarion having settled it in its crib as she had managed an hour of sleep. She’d waited ages in silence, listening for the sudden interruption that never came. It was as if it knew of her confession, and she hated and loved it for what it had done.

In the early hours her friend left, the rising sun announcing his need to depart, and with it she saw the light between the grey clouds, a new day ready to start again. The child stirred, and she stepped towards the crib with hesitation. She saw the purple robes that had been draped lightly at the base where it slept, the subtle scent of the library lying amongst spices bringing calm to the bedroom, and she heard the sound of the waves on docks, brushed up with the morning gale. Picking up her baby gathered with the robes, she held them both closely, the tears building, the relief, the love for her child breaking through the walls she had built.

The guilt flowed, but it was not met with a resignation; it was met with the promise to do better, to be the mother she should’ve been, to be the woman he had once loved. The child gazed at her, bright eyed, and she saw Gale once again; for a brief moment he was with her. She was not alone. She would never be alone.

[lady-shadow-and-darkness]

Thoughts on Arcane season 2 :

First of all, the entire plot with the arcane world, the runes, the black rose, all of it is wonderfully executed. I've always been interested in the arcane from s1 but they gave us more questions than answer then, but now! I wonder if the black rose power trapping Mel is in some way tied to hextech and shimmer? It did say 'sister' implying this is either Ambessa's or her lover's child, OR Mel shares the same power with the thing. We'll see.

Caitlyn has become a very interesting character. More so than before. Her compromising morality and ethics for the same of her revenge is literally the definition of "good traits gone bad". Her curiosity has become a burning need to know everything, even at the expense of others. Her leaving Vi and calling her the same as Jinx is representative of how she views Zaun now, monsters. Which is incredibly hypocritical, considering Jinx's act itself was an act of revenge. Their parents, and countless others', got taken first, and she can't even handle one loss. Ambessa is undoubtedly manipulating her, but you can't fan a flame that didn't have a spark to begin with.

Speaking of Ambessa, I would really hope to see the Act III arc end with Piltover and Zaun teaming up to face Noxus and drive them out of their homeS. Working together might make them realise that Zaun has humanity, they just weren't given the luxury to show it because it was always being attacked. I hope Zaun gains independence as well. With a show like arcane, I'm not too sure on a happy ending, especially after the ending of episode 6...but I'll take what I can get. However it ends, I need Noxus out. Now.

I NEED to know more about the plot between Ambessa and her secret lover, what on earth is going on with Mel, why is she so valuable, what's special about her (her gold was stripped away in that chamber), what exactly is the truth behind her birth (the music video with Ambessa on YouTube is a very interesting watch and may shed some light), is Kino alive or dead, what on earth happened to Singed's daughter, how is he keeping her alive, how he got into alliance with Silco, what hextech's origin is, what it's relationship with the arcane is, what Viktor has BECOME, is it good or bad or it can't be grouped, how did the black rose claim Mel's friend etc.

Then....there's Jinx and Vi. I haven't ever been so heartbroken yet so hopeful for the both of them. Sevika grieving Silco with Jinx, them joining forces and actually sticking by it, Zaun looking up to JINX as a HERO, leading a resistance movement in her name, Isha helping her heal Powder and realise meaning to life, giving her someone to look after, something to live for....but then I see Vi and how she was supposed to be the symbol of Zaun, of Vander's movement, how she's lost her parents and Dad and sister and her sister again and Caitlyn and fought against said sister for said Caitlyn who chose her vengeance over her. I see Silco and Vander and their mom together in the bar and think about what ifs and maybe they could've all had it all. And even if all was lost, they were finally together, finally in peace, cat fighting and eating weird fruits in the exact same way and mocking each other....right before it was all stripped away in a second. A single shot. Everything, ruined. Their dad, gone again. Isha, dead. Caitlyn's on their side but at what cost? What good can a three of them so with a beast on the loose? When one of them, no, all of them are grieving? And I just know Jinx is going to blame herself for Isha's death, but being too involved. And I fear that she'll turn on Vi again, that Vi won't understand, that her hallucinations will get worse (they already were when Isha was imprisoned), that Caitlyn's arrival will be seen as an omen of death and destruction, that they're be ripped apart in every way that matters all over again.

To Isha, a child that should've never had to sacrifice herself for the sake of saving someone. For her because she chose her found family over her fears, the smile on her face was one far too mature and resigned for a kid who doesn't even speak, that is the smile of someone of does not fear death and accepts it, if it means it can save someone. Save others. Make a better future and another day, but will it really? Or will it all crumble at the feet of her grave?

And then I put my head in my hands because Viktor is fucking dead. And I do desperately need to see why Jayce made this decision, if this was just him diving headfirst into a reckless plan and ruining countless lives because of it. Or if he has reason, if his time in the arcane has shown him firsthand what it can do to people, not just him. Viktor has been going through what he has for years, alive. That is no justification for a murder of an entire community, knowing the consequences.

I do think Caitlyn's redemption arc could've been executed better, because I knew from the moment that the Vi-Caitlyn reunion scene cut out that there was going to be a "plot twist". It was predictable, and while I don't hate predictable, it feels rushed. It would've been better for Caitlyn to have her morality gnaw at her insides, more than her curiousity consumes her mind. She locks Singed in a rotting cell one episode ago and threatens to kill a 'beast' with no knowledge or remorse that very episode. And all it takes is for Vi to tell her that's her father? No. If she had doubts from the start, it would've been a good scene. But no. Aside from that, immaculate execution! The 2d scenes were great, the charcoal art was phenomenal, the voice actors did a wonderful job, the animation is top tier, the plot is advancing well and we're going to see the end soon.

Till then.