#please don’t forget those of us who can’t escape

[remyfire]

I’ve never been this terrified about my poverty in my entire life. Please promise that no matter what happens, you won’t leave people like me behind.

[itsnesss]

hii maybe a yandere!junho ?? I cant stop thinking about him 😩 i love your writing btw💕

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you wake up restrained in a small room, facing jun-ho, who reveals his obsessive love for you. his yandere tendencies surface as he believes he's protecting you from the world. you must navigate his dangerous devotion and find a way to escape

warnings | junho!yandere, kidnapping/restraint, psychological manipulation

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up with a start, the cold floor chilling your bones. It’s hard to remember how you got here. The faint flicker of a hanging light bulb illuminates the room. It’s a small, almost claustrophobic space, with gray concrete walls. In front of you, sitting on an old metal chair, is him: Jun-ho. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Finally awake," he says in a serene voice, but it’s loaded with something else, something unsettling. "Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?"

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"What… what’s going on?"

He smiles, and the gesture should comfort you, but there’s something strange in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

"I saved you," he replies, leaning forward. "They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen."

"They? What are you talking about?" you ask, your heart pounding rapidly.

You try to move, but your wrists are tied with a thick scarf. You look at Jun-ho in disbelief.

"This… this isn’t real."

He slowly gets to his feet, brushing his hands off like he’s just finished an important task.

"Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever look at you that way again."

His voice, though soft, has a sharp edge. Memories begin to return in fragmented flashes. The last time you saw him was at the café near your workplace. He was always there, sitting at the same table with his black coffee, watching you. There was something about him that unsettled you but also intrigued you, like a mystery impossible to ignore.

"Jun-ho… why am I here?" you manage to ask, though the answer seems clear in your mind.

He leans closer, dangerously close. His warm breath brushes against your face, and you can smell the faint aroma of coffee he always carried.

"Because I love you."

The confession hits you like a punch. You instinctively recoil, but you can’t go far because of the restraints.

"Love me? This isn’t love…" you say, trying to stay calm.

His expression hardens.

"Not love?" he repeats, as if tasting the words for the first time. He paces around you, each step echoing in the small room. "Didn’t you see me? I was always there, watching over you, protecting you from all those men who didn’t deserve you."

"Jun-ho… this isn’t right. Let me go, please."

He stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. His touch is firm but not rough.

"Not right?" he murmurs near your ear. "Isn’t it right to want the best for the person you love?"

Your body tenses. The danger in his voice is palpable.

"If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this," you try to reason with him.

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes you tremble.

"You don’t understand. This is for you. For us. You can’t keep living in that world full of people who don’t value you. I’m the only one who can."

"It’s not your decision…" you protest, but he moves quickly in front of you, leaning down until his eyes are level with yours.

"Of course, it’s my decision. Because no one else cares as much as I do."

His gaze is so intense it feels like it could pierce your soul. His obsession is undeniable, but behind it, you see something else: pain, loneliness, desperation.

"Jun-ho, listen… you don’t have to do this. We can talk, find a solution," you say, trying to keep your voice gentle, though inside, you’re terrified.

He smiles again, but this time there’s sadness in his eyes.

"You’ve always been so kind… so understanding. But you don’t get it. If I let you go, they’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"Who are they?" you ask, hoping to buy time to think of a way out.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps back a few paces, as if lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Everyone. Everyone who tried to get close to you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you."

The air feels heavier. The idea of what he might have done to "protect" you starts to sink in.

"What did you do, Jun-ho?"

He looks at you, and for the first time, he seems vulnerable.

"What I had to."

His words are simple, but the weight behind them leaves you breathless. Your mind fills with horrible images, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Jun-ho… let me help you. This doesn’t have to go on like this."

He shakes his head.

"I don’t need help. I’ve already done everything necessary."

You start to notice a slight tremor in his hands, as if guilt is beginning to catch up with him.

"If you really love me… trust me. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."

For a moment, it seems like your words are reaching him. He lowers his gaze, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. But then, he straightens up, and his expression hardens again.

"I can’t risk it. If I let you go, you’ll go back to that world… and I can’t allow that."

Desperation grips you. You need to find a way to make him see reason before it’s too late.

"What do you want, Jun-ho? What do you really want?" you ask, trying to keep his attention.

He steps closer again, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I just want you to be mine."

His answer feels like a sentence, and you know words won’t be enough to change his mind. But you can’t give up. Not now.

"Jun-ho, if you keep going down this path, we’ll never truly be together. This isn’t love. It’s fear."

The word seems to affect him. He takes a step back, his gaze faltering.

"Fear?" he repeats, as if trying to process it.

You nod, even though the fear in your own heart threatens to overwhelm you.

"You’re afraid of losing me. But keeping me here isn’t the solution. If you love me, trust me."

The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, Jun-ho sighs and lowers his head.

"I don’t want to lose you…" he admits, almost in a whisper.

"You won’t," you reply, summoning all the conviction you can. "But you have to trust me."

For a moment, you think you’ve reached him. But then he lifts his gaze, and his expression is a storm of emotions.

"Fine," he finally says, with an eerie calm. "But if I let you go, promise me you’ll never abandon me."

Your heart stops. You know any wrong response could trigger something worse.

"I promise we’ll talk about this. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

Jun-ho stares at you, assessing you. Finally, he pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ties around your wrists.

"Don’t make me regret this," he warns.

You rub your aching wrists and look at him carefully. Every move has to be calculated.

"I won’t," you respond, though your mind is already planning how to escape this place.

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[ynsbarbbb]

down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.

[phoenixyfriend]

Accountant of Theed

Read on AO3

After all is said and done, someone needs to balance these books, and nobody actually told the accounting department how they paid for this new hyperdrive. Mimi really hopes it's not a loan from the Hutts.

Disclaimer: I am not an accountant, but I work in an adjacent field (and have been considering getting a certification, but that's neither here nor there). While I did take some courses on it, I asked an Accounting Person to look over the excel sheet before I went forward with the rest of the fic to make sure it's internally consistent. Thank you to @gnomer-denois for confirming my balance on these works!

The reconciliation sheet does NOT follow contemporary guidelines in terms of format etc, but that is because it is:

In space! Standard practice differs from Modern United States or what have you.

Not the primary balance sheet, just the simplified version made to show to Queen Amidala.

If you'd prefer to view the Excel sheet in a more easily navigable form, there is a google drive link available. This is also your best option if using a screen reader.

-----------------------------------------

Theed is safe. They are rebuilding. There is even financial support, aid, from the Republic.

It comes with strings attached. Oversight. Auditors.

Wouldn’t want Naboo to misuse funding after that nasty mistake with the Trade Federation, right? Sure, Naboo wasn’t the one at fault, but one can never be too careful...

Mimi, as an accountant for the government of Naboo, does not in fact want to commit fraud, or enable corruption, but the rolling audits do feel a little like the Republic is punishing them for getting invaded.

“Hey, boss?”

That tone. Mimi does not like that tone. “Please tell me it’s not another unauthorized purchase with a missing receipt. Which account did they pull from this time?”

“Um... we don’t know?”

Mimi gives them a moment. No elaboration is given.

“You don’t know?”

“We don’t know,” the younger employee repeats.

“What do you mean?” Mimi asks. “People charge things to accounts or cards. They forget to submit receipts. We hunt them down for receipts, and make sure nobody is skimming off the top. That’s how it goes. Unless this is a purchase on a personal and we need to reimburse—”

“Um, maybe?”

“In which—what? That’s just... okay. There’s a process for reimbursements. You aren’t following it, which means... what? What do you mean, you don’t know? Did they use cash, or pull from an account?”

The younger employee looks down at their datapad. Looks back up at her. Looks baffled and a little scared. “Um, it’s... we still don’t have a receipt, but we also don’t know where the money for it came from? But nobody’s put in a reimbursement request and I can’t imagine anyone on the mission had those funds on them, not even the Queen herself.”

“The money for what?”

“Um. It sort of just... showed up?”

“So, it’s some kind of gift?” Mimi presses.

“Too big,” the younger mumbles, refusing to meet her eyes. “It would have to be disclosed.”

“I am giving you five seconds—”

“It’s a hyperdrive!” they yelp.

“...Explain.”

“One of the mechanics was looking over the Royal Cruiser, and found that there was unrecorded repair work to the hyperdrive. The ship took enough damage during the escape that he wasn’t surprised, but then he noticed that it was from an earlier run of the part, and when he checked, the serial number was completely wrong. The hyperdrive was completely replaced.”

Mimi closes her eyes and takes a breath. “The mechanic doesn’t know?”

“He said there’s nothing in the records that matches it at all, and it’s a big enough part that there’s no way it would just slip through the cracks, not when it’s that expensive and going on the Royal Cruiser.”

“So,” Mimi says, “we have a part worth almost as much as the rest of the cruiser combined, that just... came out of nowhere, and nobody claiming for reimbursement.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what it looks like.”

Mimi has no interest in fraud.

“Find out who was piloting when Queen Amidala escaped, and see if they have any answers,” Mimi tells them. “If we can keep it to just the hangar staff without drawing in the Royal Retinue, it’ll be easier on all of us.”

“Here’s hoping, ma’am.”

(Continue on AO3)

[screamforyani]

cariño

warnings ↠ dubcon-ish?, enemies with benefits, handjob, edging, implied intercouse towards the end

a/n ↠ i know this is very out of the blue but i watched atsv and i cant get miguel out of my head

wc. 1.1k

“untie me,” hissed miguel, fangs jutting as his blood-thirsty eyes followed you. 

you let out a hollow laugh the second those words escaped his mouth and met his penetrating stare. to say you and and miguel were enemies would be an understatement. there was something about this guy that irked you in the worst way, but could also turn you on like no other.

the feeling was mutual. you’d never admit a word of this if it wasn’t - not even to yourself. you and miguel had a weird thing going on, the sort of thing where the line between hate and lust grew thinner with each dark, loathing stare he shot you. 

maybe you’d had his cock in you a couple of times. twelve, to be exact, though not that you were counting (because you totally weren’t). not your proudest moments, but the sight of him on his knees, tangled in a weaving of webs made you forget it. his muscles bulged with every endeavor to free himself from your little trick. which was hilarious, because if they were any tighter, they’d burst right through his spandex. 

not that you were complaining. 

“hm, let me think about it,” you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “no.”

“i said - untie me. now,” miguel roared, as if it would make any difference. 

you crouched before him, pouting. “what’s the matter, spider-man? can’t handle other people telling you no? you don’t get to be the boss of everyone, cariño.”

you waved your finger in his face, to which miguel responded to with a lean forward as if he were going to bite your wrist off, but you were too quick. 

“woah there, bitey,” you taunted. “get it? that rhymes with spidey. hilarious, don’t you think?”

miguel spat, “you annoy me.”

“it’s a pleasure,” you said, merely grinning. then, you pointed to the extended talon behind his back where his hands were tied, asking, “can i borrow that? thanks.”

you used his talons to poke a hole in the lower half of his suit, promptly tearing at the spandex until the hole expanded. miguel wasn’t exactly pleased, not yet anyways, barking, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“more than you deserve,” you whispered, widening the gap until his half-hard cock was freed. that you inevitably already saw. for obvious reasons, it was difficult for spider-men to conceal their hard-ons. “you guys freeball under these suits? that’s crazy. i mean, not that you’re gonna catch a hard-on fighting the spot, but you never know. i mean, what if some really sexy villain just hits… the spot. get it? the-”

“the spot. yes, i get the joke. shut the hell up,” miguel grumbled, irritated.

you giggled. his annoyed face was too hot. of course, you were riling him up on purpose.

licking a line down your palm, you gently grabbed his cock, stroking him in your hands while looking him in his angry eyes. you saw his features tense, the part that didn’t want to be angry surfacing. the part that wanted to be relieved.

that was all that was wrong with this cranky guy. he just needed some relief in his life, and who better to provide it to him than you, the spider-person he never wanted on this team in the first place but took in because jess had insisted you could be useful. and you were, in more ways than one. not that miguel would ever admit that, though.

“fuck,” miguel grunted, writhing again, though not in an attempt to escape. you knew how to pleasure him and that was your saving grace, but you also knew how to tease. “could you be any slower with that?”

“i could, actually. watch this,” you retorted, now pumping him in no particular hurry. you had time to waste.

your leisure movements were killing miguel slowly. literally. he groaned, “well, could you go any faster?”

“i could,” you repeated with a lilt. “but you’d have to say the magic word.”

“go faster!”

you gave him a mocking frown. “i don’t think that’s it, o’hara.”

“do i have to?”

“do you want to cum?”

miguel winced his eyes closed, heaved a huge sigh, and huffed, “please, go faster.”

“wow, you hit the lottery,” you said, quickening your pace. you loved watching his brows furrow with pleasure, sweat beading at his face.

miguel bit his lip, wanting to be mad at how you satisfied him. it reminded you of when he was buried balls deep inside of you, his weight resting on top of your chest while his teeth clamped into your shoulder, not for the purpose of extracting blood but to smother the sounds of pleasure that escaped him when your cunt was squeezing his dick. almost like he would rather die than let you know you were good for something.

it didn’t matter, though. the telltale signs of arousal manifested themselves in plentiful ways from his body, like the taut ache in his pants when you turned him on a little too much. he got so hard for you, it was ridiculous.

and you were having a ball (you were tempted to make a joke, but resisted for his mental sake). there was something about having an insanely large, strong man who could potentially crush you to smithereens squirming at your mercy. it made warmth spread through your chest and the slyest grin curl onto your lips.

miguel’s hips were thrusting into your palm, an obvious sign that he was on the brink of climax. you’d come to know it by now - he started to lost control, the reins slipping out his hands. and you loved it. you loved how he was a slave to his urges and not the other way around.

“you almost there?” you asked, in spite of being fully aware. 

miguel offered you no words, but the look on his face and his unstill, restless body said enough.

that was when you got the bold idea to withdraw your hand at the very last second, depriving him of what could have been. his wrath was instant. you saw his hips flail in a desperation you’d never seen of him before, his fluttering eyes snapping open to cut at you.

“oopsies,” you sang, smiling innocently.

that was the very last straw for miguel and he broke out of your restraints, having enough of playing weak. you gasped, caught off-guard when he switched on a dime, throwing you against the ground and hovering over you. you parted your lips to speak, but he was quick to shoot a web over your mouth. 

“you talk too much,” miguel growled, cutting your own spandex with his talons, and was pleased to find you were very wet. he fixed himself between your thighs, leaning into your ear to whisper, “and for the record, nobody decides if i cum, cariño.”

[calisources]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒.

Sentences were taken from different sources of literature that depict dark romance, these include possessive language, jealousy, power trips, some kinks, innuendos. Some sentences are tamer than others, please use wisely. Change names, pronouns and locations as you see fit. This meme is not safe for all audiences, as it contains adult themes.

Cara is mine, and only mine.

You didn’t seem to be in any danger when you were being my good, little girl.

A crush? I had consumed at least three of that woman’s bodily fluids, as she had mine. 

I worship you.

Very, very bad girl.

So you admit it, I make you scream.

See, my sweet gift? I knew you’d f/cking come around.

My beautiful, sweet gift. I am forever lost in you.

Let me heal those wounds and soothe that ache.

I’m gonna fuck you now. It’s gonna be fast and hard because I’ve waited too long for this.

In this fucked up world of ours, we're meant for each other.

I may have broken you, but know that you've broken me just the same.

Let me free you of the constraints of virtue. Better yet, free yourself.

You're supposedly protected by god, but here you are fucking the devil.

Like this you are powerful. Learn what it is to command the attention of a god.

I need you to take me the way you want me.

I hope you never forget about me and that the thought of me haunts you for eternity.

I was born to be your god, born with the power to make you do what I want.

You've captivated my soul and breathe life into me.

No escaping. I told you I'd never let you go.

I am a poison that all of humanity must fear.

You  ruined me and I can’t be bothered about it.

I forgot how good you taste. 

Real men get their girls nice and ready first.

This girl. She’s living, walking art. And she’s mine.

Do you want me on my knees?

You’re a bad man and you do bad things. You will always do bad things. But not to me.

You are painfully beautiful, do you know that?

Every time you look at me, it feels as if you start a wildfire inside my heart

Such a perfect girl you are, put on this world just for me.

I have killed for you, baby. And I’ll never stop.

You forgot I was a siren.

I just wanted to keep you forever.

I have missed you for so long. And now you are in front of me, but you’re afraid to touch me.

 There can never be anything in the world that would hurt me more than when you left me.

I don’t know if I want to cry or if I want to scream or if I want to fucking kiss you.

Christ, I wish you could see yourself. You look otherworldly.

I used to smell your dirty shirts when you weren’t looking.

In order for me to fuck you, I’m going to need you to be healed first.

 How I’ve missed that filthy mouth.

What else did I teach you?

You taught me how to be a good girl for you.

How to let you ravage me so badly that I feel like I’m on the brink of death.

I'm a simple man who's been reduced to his base instincts to hunt, capture, keep.

If she is my devil, then I will gladly burn.

If you don’t protect what belongs to you, then sooner or later, it belongs to someone else.

The power he holds over me―

You like to be owned by me? Knowing that I will kill anyone that ever tries to steal you away?

You want passion. A love that completely devours every inch of you. 

I know that you long for a little danger, too. I saw how you thrived on it.

It only hurts because I want you so much.

 if you could see yourself through my eyes, you’d know why I chose you. 

You taste like sin.

You're doing so good, Handsome.

No one touches what's mine.

And you are mine. Whether you agree is irrelevant.

I caught you, so now I get to ravish you.

Let’s do something about that mouth of yours, hm?

Be my woman, Ana. Allow me to call myself yours.

I want you to know that you can’t hide from me.

Play nicely, little lamb. Or else, I won’t.

I will do with you as I please.

Show me how much you want me.

You haven’t been getting what you need, have you?

Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

You’ll never know when I’m going to drag you into the darkness.

I’m rough with your body sometimes, but I’ll always be gentle with your soul. 

Fucking hell, you’re sweet. You’re so goddamn sweet.

The flesh wants what it wants.

If you continue to behave like this, I'll actually start to believe you don't hate me.

Desire becomes surrender. Surrender becomes Power.

And I will break you. I will make it so you can't breathe without me. 

What happened to the thrill of the chase?

I just like the way wrong feels.

I swear I won't touch you even with a finger until you ask me yourself.

I need to hear a yes, sir.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

“You need to stop cursing in front of Yev before he picks it up.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Ian stared pointedly while pulling out a shopping cart, gently easing Yev into the spot where the kids got to sit. “Fat fucking chance of that happening.” 

“Mickey.” 

“Jesus, stop naggin’ me,” he complained. Ian pushed the cart towards the fresh produce, which his boyfriend was going to avoid altogether. “Who gives a shit what he says? You think a Milkovich is gonna grown up fuckin’ pure or something?”

Ian examined the carrots, responding to him without looking. “We should try to curb it before he starts school so he’s not influencing all the other kids.”

Mickey stared at him blankly for a few seconds. “Who gives a shit about those other kids? Since when do you give a shit?” 

A sigh escaped past Ian’s lips. He knew his reason here wouldn’t go over well. “Lana pulled me aside and told me she wants us to stop cursing so much.” 

As predicted, his boyfriend was less than pleased. “Who cares what that bitch says? Like she’s any better.” 

“She doesn’t want Yev to be like that, though.” 

“No, she doesn’t want Yev to be like me,” he said with a scoff. “She can get the fuck over it.” 

Ian rolled his eyes hard. He smiled down at Yev, brushing some hair back. “Don’t repeat what your daddy says, okay, Yevy?” 

“Why?” Yev tilted his head. 

“Because they’re bad words,” Ian ignored Mickey’s snort. “Only grown ups can use them.” 

“Nah,” Mickey butted into the conversation, “you can use ‘em, but it’s gotta be for a good reason.” 

“Like what?” Yev asked, confused. 

Ian shot him a dirty look. “He’s joking, Yevy. There’s not really a good reason-” 

“You know, if other kids are being little shits or-” Mickey thought this over, “fuck, I don’t know. If you think the situation calls for it, use it.”

“Oh,” Yev said understandingly. 

“Is anyone going to listen to me?” Ian felt like he’d have a better outcome by talking to a damn wall. 

“Been tryin’ not to,” Mickey answered. 

Jesus Christ. Ian took a deep breath, plastering on a smile for Yev. “Don’t listen to Daddy. He doesn’t mean it.” 

“Sure I fucking do.” 

“Was that a good reason?” Yev said with a grin. 

“Damn right it was.” 

“No,” Ian snapped. He looked accusingly at his boyfriend. “You’re doing it on purpose now.” 

“Can't prove it,” Mickey shrugged. It might’ve sounded convincing to someone else if he didn’t have that little infuriating smirk peeking out. 

Most of the time spent in the store was uneventful, unless one counted the two times he was stopped by a couple of old ladies to admire and coo over Yev. The kid was a real charmer; he beamed at them, soaking all the attention up. For Ian, it was less comfortable, particularly because one of them mentioned a granddaughter around his age that she would be delighted to give him the phone number for. 

Needless to say, he got out of there fast. 

Elsewhere in the store, he tried to ensure they were getting some fruits and vegetables into the cart, after seeing how...lacking the Milkovich fridge was. Mickey, of course, was not interested in the slightest. He made a beeline for the pizza beagles, tossing them in carelessly. 

“Do we really need three bags?” 

“Fuck off,” came Mickey’s automatic response. Ian rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t forget Mandy wants some chips. Iggy ate all hers.” 

“Then she can go get some herself. She’s got money.”

“She’s working, Mick.” 

“So what? She can’t go afterwards?” Mickey waved a hand uncaringly. 

Asshole, Ian thought. 

When they made it to the chip aisle, Mickey was already there, having walked ahead. He searched for his own chips, while Ian looked for the kind Mandy mentioned she wanted. 

Side-by-side, Mickey glanced at Ian.. “You know, he hasn’t picked up on it yet.” That was technically true, even though Yev was exposed to everyone in the house doing so. “So you and Mother Russia can chill out.” 

“You’re just saying that because you can’t go without saying fuck for five minutes.” 

Mickey knocked into Ian’s shoulder with his knuckles. It really fucking hurt. 

“Ow,” Ian grumbled. 

“You gotta be kidding me?” Mickey wasn’t looking at Ian, but rather the endless chip options. “What?” Ian was rubbing his the spot where he was hit, hoping to ease away some of the pain. 

“They’re out of barbecue pringles!” 

“What the fuck?” Yev said loudly. 

An older lady nearby gaped at hearing such language from someone so young. Ian sighed in defeat, while Mickey was unfazed. He flung a hand in his son’s direction, nodding. 

“My thoughts exactly, Little Man.” 

[volatilebrat4103]

Broken cycles and fixed bonds (Part 3)

The room falls silent, realisation dawns on Y/N, “Jinx?”  She remembers how her girlfriend had told her of her past, her mistakes, how she killed the mother of her sister’s girlfriend.  She didn’t mean to of course but it happened.  Caitlyn can only nod as she watches the tears fall from her eyes.  “I’m sorry Y/N” Caitlyn’s voice fills with sadness as she carefully treads over to her sister who is frozen in her spot, chest heaving as she clutches her shirt.  “A-and dad?” 

“He’s alive and well”  she sends a reassuring smile to her now fragile sister.  With this Y/N collapses to her knees with Caitlyn surging forward to catch her, letting her sob into her shoulder.  Caitlyn holds her close, trying to comfort her, the weight of their shared grief is palpable, and Caitlyn can feel her own emotions welling up in response.

After some time Y/N’s sobs die down to broken whimpers, she pulls back to meet her sister’s eyes, “I’m sorry smalz” she manages through her tears.  Caitlyn hand tenderly cups the younger one’s cheek, wiping away the never-ending steam of tears, “it’s okay, I’m sorry too” her voice soft and assuring.  “I know you’re only just finding out but please…don’t hate Jinx, I have a feeling you know what happened”  Y/N nods, her tears slowing down, “As much as it hurts I can’t hate her, I love her too much”  she buries her head in Caitlyn’s chest.

“You know, I remember the first time she told me about one of her biggest regrets…she told me how she killed the mother of her sister’s girlfriend” she sniffles before continuing, “I kept thinking it must have been painful to carry that weight, I kept reassuring her that we’ve all done things we regret, hurt those who mean the most to us” 

Caitlyn tightens her arms around her little sister, wishing she could take away all her pain.  “I mean hell, do I even deserve to mourn mother after all the things I’ve done?”  Y/N mumbles with a pang in her heart.  “Hey none of that” Caitlyn pulls Y/N’s head from her chest guiding her eyes to her own, “regardless of what you have or haven’t done, she was still your mother” Her tender hands cupping Y/N's face.

The two sit in comfortable silence, the occasional tear escaping but quick to be swept away by the other’s hand.  “Do you think she would hate who I’ve become?” Y/N whispers causing her sister to chuckle.  “No but she would loathe your appearance”  she tries to brighten the mood, eliciting a chuckle form Y/N. “Of course, ‘no scion of the Kiramman name shall be seen in public looking like a vagabond’ “ Y/N mocks drawing out a laugh from both sisters.  “oh how I hated her lectures on appearance” Y/N groans throwing her head back.  “And yet between the two of us you were always dressed elegantly”  Caitlyn teases, “Only to avoid being suffocated in dresses” Y/N shivers in disgust at the thought causing Caitlyn to laugh once more.  “Oh and don’t forget the hair”  Caitlyn chuckles. 

“She would be devastated to see you cut your hair so short”  Caitlyn smiles whilst running her fingers through her sister’s now short yet neat hair.  “I can imagine the lecture I would receive about it, something along the lines of, ‘a Kiramman woman must be elegant and beautiful, not run around looking broody like a man’” the two laugh imagining their mother lecturing them. 

The laughter slowly dies down, “She never forgot about you, even kept your room exactly the same”  Caitlyn spoke in the silence.  Y/N looks down, slowly pulling out a pocket watch with the Kiramman crest, the silver shining brightly against the light.  Y/N stared at it before carefully opening it revealing a family photo when they we much younger, “I never thought I’d be back here, I could always picture the look of sadness on her face, and it broke me time and time again.”  Y/N’s words were raw, her voice hoars as a lump formed in her throat.

She pulls her little sister in for another hug, her presence calming her once more. “You ready to go out there?”  Caitlyn gestures to the door, both women knowing their girlfriends we on the other side and had possibly heard the whole fight.  “Does it make a difference whether I am or not?”  Y/N shakes her head as Caitlyn gets to her feet offering a hand to the younger of the two.  “Now or never” Caitlyn continues, “Yeah, I owe her an explanation”  Y/N looks down sombrely, “She has always been so honest with me about her past, about what she had done…I’m a hypocrite”  Y/N takes the hand offered to her, rising to her feet, now standing almost a head taller than her sister. 

They head to the door together before exiting the room, feeling eyes on her Y/N looks up, Y/E/C meeting pink.  “Hey” Jinx says softly, stepping forward as she picks at her nails.  “Toots I’m so sorry I-“ Jinx is cut off with a chaste kiss. 

“It hurts but it was a long time ago, neither of us knew that it was my mother” Y/N reassures with tear glossed eyes.

Y/N takes a deep breath, feeling a sense of trepidation, glancing at Caitlyn who nods encouragingly.  “Maybe we should sit for this”  She leads them back to the small living room where they had all previously been in, taking residence on the small table whilst Caitlyn and Vi share a chair leaving Jinx to use the other positioned in front of Y/N.

“Do you remember what I told you about my past?”  Y/N asks Jinx, taking her hands in her own, fiddling with her fingers.  “I mean it wasn’t a lot just that you were different from your family and that you didn’t belong” Jinx’s hand reaches up to cup Y/N’s cheek to comfort her the latter leaning into the warmth. 

“Precisely, I am the second born Kiramman daughter, my mother is” Y/N pauses, letting out a sigh, “was council woman Cassandra Kiramman, Caitlyn is my elder sister however…we do not share the same father”  Both Caitlyn and Y/N looks to each other for reassurance.

“Many of the people affiliated with my family begun to look down at my mother, saying she was unfaithful.  It was plain out obvious that I was not human, after all what human child had pointed ears and a tail?”  At this Vi looks up confused, “Tail?”  she tilts her head as the other three chuckle.  “Yes, I have a tail, I prefer to tuck it away” Y/N smiles at Vi who nods in understanding.

“As I was saying, my birth had tarnished my mother and the Kiramman name, it wasn’t her fault but yet she had to live with the consequences” Y/N’s frustration grew but Jinx was there to dissipate it, her touch along grounded her.  “My father he…he forced himself on my mother and as a result I was conceived”  Y/N finishes looking down with tears in her eyes.

“Caitlyn was the legitimate child of the Kiramman blood line whilst I was the half breed baseborn”   Tears slowly escape with Jinx being quick to wipe them away guiding her to look her in the eye.  “It’s okay toots, I’ve got you”  she comforted with a small smile.  “I desperately tried to bring pride to our family name but I was forever the burden, don’t get me wrong my family loved me unconditionally, even Tobius raised me as his own, but it didn’t change the fact that whilst I was present my family would be shunned” 

“Y/N” Caitlyn chokes out, her heart breaks hearing how her sister truly feels, Y/N was always the rock between the two, always eager to support her sister in any way possible, the strong one.  And now, now to hear that her little sister was breaking truly hurt her. 

Y/N looks over to Caitlyn, their eyes meeting, “The only way to save the family was for me to disappear, make everyone believe I was truly gone.  And so I did…I faked my death and fled the city, swore I’d never come back” The room fell silent, the only sound being the crackling of the fireplace.  Caitlyn’s face was etched with pain and regret, her eyes welling up with tears.  Vi’s expression is a mix of shock and compassion, her eyes fixed on Y/N’s face.

Jinx slowly pulls her lover into her arms, Y/N quick to nuzzle into her neck trying her best not to completely break down. 

Other Parts

[grimesgirll]

Hi, can you write a smut where Rick has prosthesis (like in The Ones Who Live) and he uses his amputated hand to fuck the reader? Pretty please

“honey, you’re gonna have to keep it down.”

you want to scream. “i’m trying.”

a look as dark as his prosthetic washes over rick. “well, you’re gonna have to try harder, sweetheart, because this is pathetic.”

you know that you need to shut up. you’re practically belting out for everyone - including your commanding officers - to hear. how do you keep the volume down when a state of the art human prosthetic is poking and prodding the pleasure out of you though?

it’s an impossible feat with rick and his military grade finger toying with your cunt. your lips can’t help but overflow with sweet, carnal yearnings for him, not when he’s down there cooing sweet praises into your clit himself.

“so wet down here, baby, does this thing really get you goin’?” to emphasize his point, rick twists a bionic finger inside of you.

“yes,” you’re trying to whisper quietly.

“tight little thing, fuck,” rick comments, plugging you with another unyielding digit.

“shit!”

“hey,” rick chides in that forbidding tone. chilled blue eyes bore into yours. “keep it down or the fingers come out of your pretty little cunt.”

understanding, you nod. “i won’t do it again,” you promise, plump lips pleading your case.

“better not,” your superior agrees and sinks further to his knees to land between your shaking, soft thighs.

like a soldier embarking on a mission, rick dutifully positions himself, fingers and tongue, between your folds and makes you forget where you are for a hot second.

rick’s skilled mouth is more of an escape than you could’ve dreamed off. laving up and down your clit like your pussy is nothing more than the world’s most delicious piece of candy. “sweet girl,” he praises to prove it and all you can do is clutch his bronzed curls.

you’re covered in sweat by this point. rick is straight abusing your poor little pussy and your patience. bleary eyed, you’re gripping onto the sheets and grasping at any chance to ground yourself and not buck up into rick’s face. every groan of his vibrates straight into your tight, slick hole.

that hot blinding second catches up to you again and your cunt is spasming around the finger finishing you off.

“rick, rick,” you chant in a low whimper, gyrating your hips against your fellow officer’s stubble.

“you love clenchin’ down nice and tight, huh?” he questions.

the red painting your face doesn’t embarrass you long as the pleasure and pressure, complimenting and contrasting each other comes to a toe curling conclusion. the fireworks rick is setting off in your nether region manifest all over his face and in the delightful overtone settling into your senses.

flushed from build up and the break down, your legs are still moving on their own. those fat, artificial fingers and his godlike tongue aren’t enough. now you need to feel him pressed flush against you and your body knee deep in the mattress.

you nearly throw yourself at him when he rises from the bed and begins buckling his pants again.

“please!” you’re on the verge of tears. “you can’t just leave me like this. without even offering to fuck me!”

your fellow soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “leave you like what? having come twice? is that so awful?”

not caring about your lack of gratitude, you return his irritated demeanor and kick your feet at him lightly. before you know it, he’s grasping a foot and bringing it up to your shin, crossing it and hovering over you.

“you couldn’t be quiet enough to take my cock.”

“i promise i would be!”

“you almost woke up all of base just from my fingers.”

whimpering, you refuse to take no for an answer. “there has to be something i can do to change your mind,” you ponder allowed, wondering what rick is cooking up when he’s suddenly meeting your glance again with a smug look.

“why don’t you show me how bad you need me, sweetheart?”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Mad Love Chapter 25

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

“Today, I’ll write down a recent story that I didn’t include in my report presented to Her Majesty.

I’ve been living in the darkness as Roger’s exclusive Fairytale Keeper since.

There’s still evil in Britain. And today—

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Haa, haa…, this time our target’s persistent.

Alfons: Illegal drug dealers are sent to jail when caught. It’s natural that they would run like a rat chased by a cat. …Oh my? Where are Lord El and Kate?

Roger: Ah.

Alfons raised a brow at Roger as he asked the question.

Alfons: Don’t tell me you left your own lover behind. You are theeeee worst!

Roger: Says the guy who left El behind. Welp, that guy’s gonna be fine. Actually, they’ll both be fine.

Roger smiled and reloaded his rifle.

Roger: Hey, Al. Since this is the only time you’ll listen to me, I’m gonna tell you now. Your fate’s “to be forgotten by everyone after death.” But since there’s a chance I’m gonna die before you, I’m not gonna forget about you.

Alfons: …o_o

Roger: I feel like this is the only thing I can do for an old friend… Even if it won’t make you happy.

It’s not something extravagant like a will.

But it’s something he didn’t want to regret not telling him at the time.

Roger: Al, while I’m still alive, I’ll definitely find a way to remove curses from the Cursed. Just like I promised when we were kids. That way, you won’t be lonely.

Alfons: …o_o

This egoist of a man spoke as he pleased, as plainly as if there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.

Alfons: Haaa. Are you stupid? Please don’t ever assume people’s feelings. It’s irritating. I couldn’t care less if you fulfilled your ambitions or not. Continue wandering through your living hell to fulfill your absurd ambitions.

You couldn’t escape fate.

That being the case—you’d live how you wanted until death.

Death came for both the Cursed and humans equally.

Roger: I’m gonna have to live long to wander through a living hell.

Alfons: Bad people have all the luck in life. A man like you won’t die even if you’re killed.

Roger: Pfft, without a doubt. Alright, done reloading. Kate and El are—

Kate: Roger. Alfons, are you okay?

He turned toward the voice and saw Kate making a beeline toward him like a loyal dog.

Roger: Kate, El. Are you two hurt?

Elbert: …Kate and I don’t have a single scratch on us…However…

Alfons: However?

Kate: The targets are bound in rope in the third warehouse.

Elbert: It’s thanks to Kate.

Kate: No, you’re the one that stepped on their shadows which let me do it.

Alfons: …Kate, don’t you think you’re becoming a little too strong?

Roger: Haha.

--

While in the carriage on the way back home…

Alfons: …The queen ordered for the huntsman to bring her the heart of the detestable Snow White.

Elbert: …Al?

Elbert, who was in the same carriage, slowly raised his gaze when he heard the murmur.

Alfons: But the hunter betrayed the queen by letting the girl go in the forest and instead, brought the queen a heart of an animal. After that, Snow White met a prince after her life was saved…

'Snow White'—

Elbert quietly listened to the story that was beautiful yet unsavory for the Cursed before speaking up.

Elbert: I’ve always…thought it was strange.

Alfons: What was?

Elbert: Why didn’t Snow White choose to be with the hunter who turned traitor and saved her life?

Alfons: That is because— The happiness chosen by princesses in fairytales were generally conventional and boring. However, it doesn’t seem like Kate likes those endings. ‘Have a lovely rest of your life.’

—Fairytales will continue to be spun.

No one knew what would happen next.

--

Kate: …And we were once again misinformed when we were told “a Cursed One’s been found.”

After our mission, Roger and I went to check if the information that suddenly came to us was true.

(But it was a miss…)

Between missions, the two of us had continued to conduct research on the Cursed, but it hadn’t been easy.

Roger: …You feeling heartbroken?

Roger, who had unequipped his rifle and was now dressed down, smirked.

That day, I told Roger my answer to the question he had asked me long ago.

~~ Flashback within a flashback ~~

Roger: Would it be good or evil to make curses disappear from this world? You don’t have to answer me now. When it comes to you, let me know.

~~ End flashback within a flashback ~~

Kate: I want the Cursed to be able to choose how they live, and that thought will never change. And if I want that to happen, I can’t let things like this discourage me.

Roger: …O_O

Kate: Roger?

Roger: It’s nothing. Was just thinking about how you’ve become a fine woman.

With a hand on his chin, Roger looked at me fondly with dazzling eyes.

Kate: Don’t tell me I’ve become a fine woman for something like this. I plan to grow more! So keep your eyes on me. Closely.

Roger: Don’t have to tell me twice.

(...)

Roger was suddenly so close to me that our lips were almost touching…

My heart pounded as his eyes pierced through me.

When it comes to me, Roger’s never been one to hide his desires.

(Openly showing his desire just by looking at me…)

(It’s always made my mind and body ache like crazy)

It’s as if I took a potent drug called Roger.

Roger: Kate.

The second he said my name, he bit my lip.

Kate: Ngh, nnnn…

His tongue explored my mouth, the wet noises hit my ears—

Kate: Haaa…wait…please.

Roger: Do I have to?

Kate: Y-yes! Because…I’m scared.

Roger: After we’ve done this so many times?

Kate: That’s not it…

My breathing still hadn’t gone back to normal when I glared at Roger with teary eyes.

Roger: Sorry, I cut you off. …You’re talking about something else. Tell me, I’ll listen to everything. What’re you scared of?

Roger looked at me with a smile that enveloped all my weaknesses.

Kate: I chose to throw everything away and live with you. My hands were empty that day, like a newborn baby’s. But…suddenly, my hands were filled with you.

I closed my open palms.

Kate: I chose you so that I could be me. I don’t regret that at all. Despite that, sometimes I get scared…that I can’t live without you.

(...I never thought I’d be so deep in love)

Roger: And what’s wrong with that?

Kate: Because…

Nothing’s more important to me than you.

I would never find happiness like this again.

The surface of my ordinary life was so out of reach, and the moment I felt happiness, I’d sink further down into the bottomless lake.

Roger: Hey, that’s just called being in love. I think it’s too cute how you love me so much it scares you.

Kate: Maybe it is being in love, but I’m seriously worried about it, you know?

I glared at him but his shoulders just shook with laughter…

Roger: I already told you that I’m not letting you go. No matter what happens. Besides, I’m like you.

Kate: Eh?

Roger: “What you call romantic love’s just a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire.” I had that theory set in stone. But then, Kate. You overturned it. You—changed me.

Kate: …I…changed you?

Roger: Who else? The other day, Victor told me “You’ve fallen for your fated love.”

Do you think it’s fate?

How lovely.

What was your response? +4 +4

Kate: …So, what was your response to that?

Roger: I think I said something along the lines of romantic expressions aren’t for me.

Kate: Hehe, I agree.

We looked at each other and laughed. Roger’s brows then furrowed in self-deprecation.

Roger: I’m also scared…of someone like that taking a spot in my heart. Me of all people. Scared of being in love…it’s so not like me, it’s funny.

An outstretched hand touched my hair; the gentle affection in his touch reached my heart.

Roger: But worries like that are trivial. They’re nothing compared to the despair of not living with you. Nothing compared to the despair of not being able to love you as much as I want to.

Kate: …

Despair is always close by.

However, if we let ourselves be scared of it, something important will slip through our fingers.

(That’s why you give despair the finger and live how you want)

(I want to love you…)

It made me happy to know that Roger felt the same as me.

Filled with more than fear of loving this person, I nuzzled Roger’s hand.

Kate: …Roger, please touch me.

Roger: Is that okay?

Kate: Don’t need to be scared of anything, give me all your love.

Taking a sweet smile as a cue, our lips locked together.

Kate: Nnn…nnnn

Roger: Haaa…

Roger removed his glasses and kissed me deeper than before.

And then— 

We slowly fell back onto the bed, our hands woven together.

(I can hear Roger’s heartbeat…)

The moment the heart within that thick chest breaks, I might despair.

The despair was so deep and dark that I couldn’t even imagine it.

But—I still want and love.

Pull in that faint hope and pursue uncertain happiness.

Heart beating.

Living hopelessly.

Passionate, mad, together with our loved one in this world painted with despair.

Roger: Kate. I’ll take you, satisfy you, love you. So…love me too.

Roger smiled.

No matter when, even when in the depths of despair, you’ll smile again—

Kate: Yes, Roger. I’ll love you…with all that I have.

I will protect your smile.

~~ End flashback ~~

This was the love story between me, a Fairytale Keeper, and a double-crossing hunter who lived in darkness.

Neither of us know how our love will end.

However, we seem fine with that.

Because I don’t want—

A fairytale that promises a happy ending.”

His POV | Next

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Trusted Loss (Dean W.)

Summary: Dean finds out you cheated on him with lucifer.

WC: 679

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating

Read on AO3!

--

“Dean…” you swallowed hard as he read the text message he was sent ten minutes ago. He hardly spoke a word to you, only glaring at you. The look made you want to burst out in tears. He’d never given you that look before… But then again, you’d never been foolish enough to send risqué texts to Lucifer and think you’d have nothing to worry about.

“When?” He finally growled out, throwing your phone on the table. “How long have you been…?” He couldn’t even finish his question before his fists clenched and he punched the wooden table in front of him. The impact echoed in the silence of the room, and your heart raced at the ferocity of his reaction.

“Dean, please!” You stepped forward, desperate to bridge the widening chasm between you. “It was a mistake! I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think?” His voice was low, almost trembling with anger. “You didn’t think sending messages to him would come back to bite you? To bite us?” He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, to explain how it started as just playful banter, a way to escape the weight of everything around you. But the words felt hollow, even to you. “I was stupid. I know that now.”

“Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he snapped, the hurt in his eyes almost too much to bear. “What were you looking for? A thrill? A way to get back at me?”

“No! It wasn’t like that! I—”

“Then what was it?” he interrupted, the sharpness of his tone cutting through you like glass.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean. I was feeling lost, and… and Lucifer just made it easy to forget for a moment. But I don’t want him. I want you.”

His expression softened just a fraction, but the storm in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate. “You think I’m going to just let this go? That it doesn’t matter?”

“No, I don’t expect that,” you replied, your voice trembling. “But I need you to understand that I messed up. I’m not the only one who’s been hurting. You’re the one I care about, not him.”

Dean’s gaze flickered to your phone, the source of all this chaos, then back to you. “You should’ve thought about that before you sent those messages.”

“I know! I know!” You stepped closer, your heart aching. “But please, can we just talk? Can we figure this out together?”

He hesitated, the conflict raging behind his eyes. “What if I can’t trust you? What if every time I look at you, I see him?”

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes to earn that trust back,” you pleaded, tears threatening to spill over. “I’ll fight for us. Just give me a chance.”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he let out a slow breath, the tension in his fists easing just a bit. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Neither was I,” you whispered, heart in your throat.

Dean ran a hand down his face, frustration etched into every line. “You really think you can just undo this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “But I’m willing to try. If you’ll let me.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, searching for sincerity in your eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded slowly, though the anger still lingered. “Okay. But it’s going to take time, and I’m not going to forget this easily.”

“Time is all I need,” you said, relief flooding through you. “I just want to start over, to show you how much you mean to me.”

“Then we’ll see,” he said, the edge of his voice still raw but softening. “But you better be ready to prove it.”

You nodded, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but at least now you had a chance to rebuild what had nearly shattered.

--

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

SPN FOREVER PERM: @amelia-song-pond @kenzieam @flamencodiva-reblogs @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

DEAN WINCHESTER: @fandom-princess-forevermore

[rhettmotel]

Sin Worse Than Whiskey

Summary: With a preacher father and the threat of Hell, it's no wonder that you repress your longing to feel comfortable in your body. When Rhett returns to Wabang as the youth pastor at your father's church, both of you have repressed sins that you can't keep down.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x AFAB!Reader BUT reader is a repressed transman and Rhett is a repressed bisexual

Rating: nsfw content, 18+, mdni!

Warnings: Talk of religion and homosexuality as a sin. Heavy religious themes, talk of body dysphoria and self hatred for both Rhett and reader. Use of slurs and talk of "fixing" yourself as in "praying away the gay"

Word Count: 635

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. If you like my writing and would like to support me, I'd really appreciate if you would check out my Ko-Fi. I use these donations to help with the cost of groceries. If Ko-Fi is not your thing, I also have a list of things I use at Uni. That being said, Please don't feel any pressure to support; just a simple reblog also helps. ❤️ This was inspired by The Starling Girl, Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain, a little bit by Midnight Mass and with lots of gentle encouraging by @sebsxphia I love you ❤️

"Remember when you said if you were a boy, you'd want to look like Rhett?"

"Shut up!" You grunt, pushing your sister on her shoulder.

"Girls!" your mother shouts, already way ahead of you and at the car.

It was true, you had said that, but that was in the comfort of your bedroom, not for your sister to be blabbing about where anyone could hear.

There had always been lingering thoughts in the back of your head about what it might be like to live as a boy with short hair and a flat chest, but that was never going to happen.

Once, when you were young and stupid, around twelve, you asked your mother why you hadn't been born a boy and how you wished you had been. This had gotten your mother irrationally angry, ranting at you about how God made you exactly as He wanted you to be and to change anything would be blasphemous. After that, you never brought it up again.

You wanted to be good and holy; you wanted to get into heaven like the rest of your family. You tried to forget about those feelings and even tried to counteract them by dressing and acting as girly as you could. It was going pretty well, too, until Rhett Abbott came back to town again.

Your father, the preacher at your church, had hired him to look after the youth worship and although you were eighteen now and no longer part of the youth group, your father asked you to sit in and observe instead of just letting you have the job. You had argued with him about it for quite a while, but he just kept saying that you needed to observe someone else doing it before he trusted you to do it.

"Don't ever say that out loud again,” you hiss at your sister, low enough for no one else in the van to hear. Who Knows what your parents would do if they heard you or anyone else speak those words again.

The first time that you sit in on the youth group, Rhett can’t seem to stop looking at you. It was probably just because you were neither a youth nor a pastor and still sitting in on his group, but his eyes still made you shift in your seat.

“Why are you in the youth group?” Rhett asks as most of the children are filing out of the room. “You’re eighteen now, ain’t you?”

“I am,” you nod with a soft smile. “I’m just here to observe.”

Rhett looks at you for a moment, then his face softens. “Ah. Did I take your job?” He asks, swallowing a swear word that threatens to escape just after he realizes.

“No, No,” you hold up your hands, not wanting the older man to feel guilty about doing the job your father clearly thinks you are unfit for. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think my father would’ve given it to me anyway,” you admit, trying to push out a soft smile that doesn’t look too sad.

 “I’m sure that’s not true.” Rhett shifts awkwardly on the linoleum floor, and his shoes squeak to fill the deafening silence, “I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

You frown. “Youth group is only held on Sundays.”

“I know I just… I thought since your dad was the preacher and all, you’d be coming to daily mass. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume,” Rhett apologizes.

The truth was, you’d never gone to daily mass before. You’d always been in school just like your younger siblings, but since you graduated from one of the strictest Catholic schools in all of Wyoming, now would be the time. “No, I… I’ll be here tomorrow,” you nod, walking before you can embarrass yourself further.

—— Thanks for reading. Chapter 2 will be coming at you next week ❤️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Another day, another disappointment. 

You don't know what you’re doing wrong. You have experience, you just lack a few good references. As much as you tell yourself it isn't your fault your past job ended the way it did, you're doubting even that. 

You try to keep out of the way since your last run-in with your brother-in-law. It might be better to consider him your landlord. You go outside as much as you can when he’s home. Sometimes just to walk and forget, but that’s getting harder to do. 

That day, you need to talk to Andy. It’s intimidating like when you used to ask your father to do anything. With Rhiannon, it was one smile and she got her way, but who can ever say no to her? With you, it was always an interrogation. Why do you want to do that? Who with? As if you were lying or up to no good. 

Your trip to the bank helps you sort your nerves, at least a little bit. You have it all rehearsed in your head. And he can’t be unhappy when you’re doing exactly what he told you too. 

A sigh escapes you as you enter the suburban sprawl. Each flawless facade, each primped and preppy housewife, each giggling child reminds you of your displacement. You tuck your hands into your jean pockets, further discomfited by the blazing sun as your Queens of the Stone Age shirt absorbs the heat. 

You have your wired earbuds in, blasting the new album you’ve been anticipating for a year. You pre-ordered when you still had a full-time income. Another reminder of how low you’ve fallen. Money you would gladly take back as you’re not feeling the electric pop flow. 

As you turn a corner, you flinch and dodge out of the way as a black speck approaches from the other side of the street. You assume it’s some kid chasing an errant soccer ball. To your surprise, it’s someone much bigger than any rambunctious fifth grader. 

It’s him. That man with the curly hair. Like you, he’s in jeans. This heat is unforgiving to denim. He wears a dark shirt on top, a hint of chest hair poking out. You look around and turn to continue on your path. He must be running after someone else. 

He calls your name. You only recall his as he falls into step with you. Walter. Your catch your ear buds as they fall out. 

“Hey, you weren’t at the Crayton barbecue,” he comments, “I was lonely.” 

You look at him from the corner of your eye, hands firmly back in your pockets as you push your shoulders up. 

“I’m not much into those things either but my girl is friends with their girl,” he explains, “was thinking you might be into something more lowkey.” 

“Um,” you squint, mourning your lack of sunglasses, “I don’t think so. I’m working on moving out soon...” 

“Yeah, sure, but not tonight,” he insists. “Chicken burgers only, promise.” 

You glance over at him. He’s taunting you. 

“I didn’t... I wasn’t... my sister told me to--” 

“Oh, so should I ask her if you should come over for a beer?” He challenges. 

“What?” You frown, “beer, I don’t drink.” 

“Got it, I have near beers you can have. Or I’ll have a beer and you can have ginger ale,” he suggests as he puts a hand up, “whatever you like.” 

You mull his invitation. You gnaw on your lip as you near the corner by your sister’s house. He doesn’t let up, in lockstep with you until you reach the gate. You stop with your hand on the white picket. He stands beside you. 

“Sorry but... why?” 

He scoffs, “I like your style. We have similar music taste. I don’t know. Like I said, I’m bored. Not a lot of people around here are into grunge. Even dudes my age prefer Seger to Cobain.” 

You were never a Nirvana cultist. You appreciate them but you prefer Grohl in his second era. You tap your fingertips on the wooden slat and face him. 

“I don’t know,” you utter and peek back at the house. It might be good to get out but this man is a stranger. Still, look at this place. This is the very picture of affluence. Not like he’s asking you back to some dingy alleyway. “I’d hate to trouble you.” 

“Hah,” he puts his hands on his hips, “I’m the one asking. You think I would if it was trouble? Besides, I see through the monochrome, you’re anything but trouble.” 

You can’t help the slant in your lips. Yep. That’s you. Boring. Dull. Like wallpaper. 

“Marshall,” a rocky growl greets from the front porch. You glance over as Andy emerges, in a yellow short-sleeved button up and khakis.  

“Barber,” Walter answers in a flat tone. 

“Need something?” Andy strides down the paved walkway, between the tulips and daisies your sister fawns over. 

“Not from you,” Walter retorts with a smirk, “talking to her.” 

“And why’s that?” 

You sense the tension. You glance between the men as they stare each other down. You shrink between them, trapped at the gate. 

“Her business, not yours,” Walter scoffs, “no client privilege here, bud, now we’re having a chat.” 

“Outside my house?” Andy sneers 

The other man shakes his head and ignores him, turning his back to the fence, “anyway, six-thirty? I’ll come by to get you for that beer.” 

You can’t find your voice to disagree as you’re choked by thick air, the heat turning stolid in their obvious spite for each other. Walter glances over his shoulder nods at Andy before he turns to stride off. You cough and watch him go. 

The gate jolts out of your grasp as Andy pulls it open from the other side. You let go and falter before you step through. You shy away as he stands, a hand on one hip, the other on the gate door. He swings it shut with a snap. 

“You’re hanging out with Marshall?” He asks. 

“He... asked,” you face him, bouncing indecisively on the walk, “er, Andy, actually, I wanted to talk--” 

“You should tell him to fuck off,” Andy interrupts. 

“Oh?” 

“Trust me. I work with the jackass.” 

“You do?” You wonder. 

“Sometimes. At the precinct,” he sniffs and turns to you, “stubborn asshole.” 

“Right, well, I didn’t... I don’t...” 

“Guess I shouldn’t complain if it gets you out of my hair,” he snorts. 

“Andy, er,” you grab your satchel and unzip the top, “I got my unemployment so... here.” You hold out the envelope of bills. It’s all you have left after paying for your most basic expenses, “for groceries and whatever.” 

“And whatever?” He takes the envelope with a skeptical look, “sure.” 

You stand in silence. You thought he’d have a different reaction. Maybe not elated but maybe a thanks? You don’t know. He hates you, just like everyone else. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I... I don’t want to be in the way.” 

“You should’ve told her no. Rhiannon... she’s too nice for her own good. Even to her family and you all just walk all over her.” 

You furrow your brow, “I don’t... I wouldn’t--” 

“Save it,” he rolls his eyes and slips the envelope into his pocket, “that’ll do for one month, but you’ve been here two.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you quaver, breathless. Not good enough. Never good enough. 

“You know, acting pathetic, it’s not endearing. Maybe to Rhi, but not me.” 

“I’m sorry--” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he taunts, “alright, noted. Have fun with Marshall.” He snickers, “bit of advice, don’t put out after one beer, try to make him work for it. Hell, maybe if he does, you could learn a lesson or two about work.” 

Your eyes sting and you swallow tightly. You turn to step past him and he blocks you with his arm. You back up and look him in the face. Unlike Rhiannon, you can do that. She always looks ridiculous next to him. 

“Or maybe, if you can get some money out of it...” he looks you up and down and you hug yourself defensively. “Ah, nah,” his eyes drift past you, towards the street, “I know that bastard. He’s just tryna get to me.” He laughs darkly and shakes his head, “too bad I don’t give a shit.” He turns his glare back on you, “do me a favour, stay a bit later. I’d like some privacy with my wife.” 

You drop your eyes meekly and nod, “yeah, I’ll try. Sorry, again.” 

He inhales and lets it out heavy. He slowly moves out of your way, “it’s weird,” he says as you move past him, “sometimes, you actually do look like her sister,” he comments as your pace picks up, “like her but not pretty.” 

You continue inside without a response. You don’t know why he has to take it there. Why he can’t just take his win and be happy? Or at least content.

You remember before the wedding, when he found you, told you to stay in the back for photos. You apologised then too, even if he was being mean. It doesn’t matter, you’re always wrong. 

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ falling out of love with skz ( first pov version )

✰ pairings: ot8!skz x fem!reader

✰ genre: angst, romance, heartbreak

✰ warnings: heartbreak, guilt, falling out of love, sad, unedited ( i wrote this before i go to sleep ), based on real life events.

✰ word count: 1.8k + words

౨₊ৎ chan

falling out of love, but why is it? is it because i don’t read your texts no longer? or is it because that the mere sight of you no longer has been jumping on my feet? like that heart that used to skip a beat, tell me baby, did we not love each other? you were the muse to each of my poetries, you were the lover but i’m still disheartened by the fact that i couldn’t be. i made it out. i removed you from my life, to those little gifts you gave from your clothes that i had— all of them. and maybe, just maybe a part of me did get removed as well. snatched away and lost in the process. but i don’t need your help in getting it back. because i know that if i do, history would repeat itself. i would fall for you over and over. but… you wouldn’t. it’s been a hard month to try not to look at your socials, to see if you’re just as miserable as me or not. it’s been hard to try not to unblock you and keep re-reading our texts all day long. it’s been hard to not think of you. because my love i hate the fact that i still want you after all that happened, but you don’t. but i can’t love you like this, not anymore. i keep picking myself apart and framing together the left fragments of us. but there’s no us anymore, is there? i don’t want to pretend any longer. i missed you. i loved you. but i keep forgetting the fact that maybe i no longer do. or maybe i’m just getting better at pretending? all i do know is, i don’t think i know how to love you anymore.

౨₊ৎ minho

i may have forgotten the reason, but i loved you once. i truly did with all of my heart. falling in love was hard. it felt restricted, constrained and suffocating. but falling out of love? that was even harder. with each sun rise, i feel myself drifting apart from you. it’s like i don’t even know you anymore! i wish i could go back to the time where i asked you about your favourite colours or maybe your favourite movies or your favourite songs, but i can’t. we are no longer lovers. nor are we friends. we are strangers with memories. strangers who once crossed paths. we walk past each other and it’s like i don’t even know you, like i’ve never met you. i’ve seen our pictures on my phone and i question what went wrong? but maybe we were just habits and we thought we’d always have it? guess not. it’s the way i know you’re no longer around, but everything reminds me of you. is it the scent of your lingering perfume on the pillow covers? or maybe it’s your half-empty coffee mix? if promises were meant to be broken, i accomplished them. i am sorry for all the late nights that i whispered to you telling you that i’ll always love you. i’m sorry for all the times i couldn’t be there when you wanted me to. i’m sorry for all the times that i failed to understand you when you were just trying to protect me. i’m sorry for learning how to unlove you. i’m sorry min. i truly am.

౨₊ৎ changbin

remember when you said that we have forever? then why does it feel like our time’s already over? it started not so long ago, then why? was it written in fate already? or did we make it happen? i remember the time we held hands and shared umbrellas. i remember the time where we’d talk for hours. i remember the time when you first kissed me, then why am i still waiting for a proper goodbye? i wish you would break me at once, so i wouldn’t have to feel guilty for loving you a little lesser everyday. i wish you weren’t so perfect that i didn’t have to find excuses to avoid you. i wish you would snap my heart in half, crumble to pieces and throw away the broken fragments, so i don’t have to feel like i’m in the wrong. for once, just let me escape the reality. for once, please don’t love me. for once, please forget me. for once, let me go. for once and for all, forgive me for not trying to love you harder. i don’t know where it all went wrong. i wish i could turn back the time and erase myself from your memories, so you won’t even think of me or the pain that i caused you. i may be the villain of your story, but i too was once the protagonist.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin

i wonder if you ever noticed when i stopped telling you my secrets. i wonder if you ever noticed that i stopped bringing home your favourite packet of chips. i wonder if you noticed that i began tensing up whenever you hugged me. i wonder if you ever even noticed the way my soul began detangling from you. and when you tucked my hair behind my ear, it didn’t leave a trail of fire like it did before. my body— it stopped reacting to you the way it did before. and i wonder, why you never said anything. because you noticed it. you noticed every single thing yet you stayed quiet right by my side. it’s the way i began hating you for making me feel guilty. but it always did feel better to blame others, didn’t it? would you mind if i sat next to you but didn’t smile? would you mind if i ask you what you liked once again? because i didn’t want it to end. you were the most beautiful dream that i ever experienced, yet now i can’t even recognise the beat of your heart. i realized that i fell out of love when i could no longer guess what you wanted. or maybe that time when i couldn’t bring myself to even kiss you. baby, where did it go? help me. help me get it back. falling out of love with you is a nightmare and i wish i could wake up.

౨₊ৎ han

i had all that i wanted, and then none. from the perfect life, to a fallen apart one. nothing stays for too long. and i wish i let go of everything a bit sooner. so it would hurt me less whenever i see you. it would hurt me less whenever i hear someone mention you. your letters, they still rest in my drawers. your rings, they still fit on me. except they feel too cold. i no longer wear them for an entire day without feeling the urge to throw it. but i don’t want that to happen, so instead i keep it locked away in a box. but the key, it’s with you. so i can’t bring myself to open it. many people told me that i have changed. but i truly wonder, have i? or is it just the fact they can’t fathom that i no longer love you like i did before? it may be my fault for it all, i’m the one to blame. but i tried my best to stop myself, to stop these unwanted feelings and in the end i broke your heart. i still remember that look on your face when you held me tight for one last time. goodbyes weren’t the best, but i wish it was. so i didn’t have to live everyday thinking that i killed your spark from the inside.

౨₊ৎ felix

i wish i could go back to the time where i didn’t have to think thrice before waking you when you couldn’t sleep. i hoped that i could’ve told it all to you sooner, but how could i have predicted that unfortunate ending? loving you was beautiful, delicate and everlasting. until it wasn’t. falling out of love was harsh but slow. the flowers have begun withering, i noticed. do you not water them? or is it because they remind you of me? i know what you’re trying to do. i’ve tried it as well. but it didn’t work. i tried erasing you and everything related to you. but at the end of the day it’s the way my phone’s lock screen still has your face. your number, it’s untouched. and perhaps if someone were to ask me about my favourite movie, without hesitation i would reply with the texts we sent, the little date vlogs we made. call it guilt or call it lost love. the time spent with you gave me happiness, and i called that love.

౨₊ৎ seungmin

i knew you were hurting. so maybe i should’ve applied bandages to your aching heart. i knew you were hurting when i began replacing our memories. was there something that i could’ve done to make your heart heal faster? but i knew it couldn’t replace the pain i’ve caused you. i used to tell the moon about you, now the stars await to hear my stories. i used to have that stupid grin on my face whenever you called me, now we stopped meeting. and it kills me to know how you’ve been living all this long after knowing that the one who you loved broke your heart. it hurts me too when you agree to everything and anything i say. is that how much you love me? that you’re even willing to be vulnerable in front of me? if given another chance i would fall in love with you over and again till i can’t escape it. i want to trapped, engulfed in your love just like you are in mine.

౨₊ৎ jeongin

my heart breaks at all the possibilities we could have been. it breaks even more every time i remember you wanting to start a family with me in future. i ended it all at once, didn’t i? i wonder how i could be lifeless that now a single tear falls while you cry for me. i wonder how i could be so lifeless that i forgot you’re my other half. i want to experience that spark of sleeping and waking to your texts once more. i want to experience being called ‘my princess’ for the rest of life. but it’s the way that we don’t even talk. we blocked each other from our lives, it was for the good. then why am i having sleepless nights filled with remorse? is this the part of moving on? or is it the part of moving back? because my ship seems to be sailing in the wrong direction. so my love, don’t pray for me anymore. the moon won’t listen.

[oniricdiary]

Ok so I know none of y’all is ready for this conversation but now y’all gotta be ready cause we’re sitting down and we’re having it.

EYE am the first one that physically collapses and starts foaming from the mouth when this conversation is brought up but I’ve rarely ever seen people look eachother in the screen and be direct, sincere, blunt, only people on tiktok, so EYE am gonna say this and get it out of my chest cause I can’t do it no more.

CANON AOT CHARACTERS ARE MUSTY, CRUSTY, STINKY, FILTHY, NASTY, MUCKY.

Yall just remember that all events from season one (from trost) to season three all happened in the span of FOUR MONTHS. Four months in which they went on mission god knows how many times and how long. When had my babes got time to clean themselves? LIKE TWO. Two full body cleanses and maybe a couple more but they were just armpits and face. They were surely unbearable to be around. And don’t get me started on the skid marks, that’s the ultimate proof. Like literally how many times did they clean up from head to toe and change/wash all of their clothes. Let’s not think about it moving on.

ik you guys won’t hear me out on this but cadet days were the worst. Self care products were probably expensive and limited as wall Maria had fallen, so they couldn’t even use a proper amount. Kids going through PUBERTY. A big bunch of BOYS training ALL the time under any weather with LIMITED soap. Any of you ever been in a boys’ locker room or a freshman class? You remember the smell right? Cause you ain’t forgetting such violation. Yeah now imagine that in cramped living spaces like the barracks FULL OF FILTHY PUBESCENT BOYS living there all the time everyday. Like I’d rather have a corpse under my bed than walking in there. The girls were better but not THAT MUCH. They were going through evolution🎉 too.

So like canon aot fics are so good like chefs kiss but when I remember this…ik it’s gonna be painful. Y’all remember that napoleon letter to his wife? No? Yeah? Those who do, you get what I mean. I mean I’m not like shaming anybody or kinkshaming or whatever but can a girl wonder.

The matted, oily, dandruffy, dusty hair. The sticky face. The death breath for panting for a long time without eating or drinking or rinsing. The STENCH especially on the boys (ik eren and Reiner were lethal) BUT THE GIRLS TOO THEYRE NOT SAFE. The built up sweat from wearing the same clothes for four months. The dirt under the nails. THE CHEESY FEET. The fungis under those clothes. I physically cannot go on I’m sorry but there would be so much more to say it’s not even funny atp.

Again I’m just wondering like I’m being realistic no shame at all, I’d be in the same situation if I woke up there tomorrow, I’d have a panic attack for sure because I care too much about my hair but like again, what can i do ima kill titans and think about my marinated armpits later right? Don’t cancel me please.

Like I’m just wondering how in fics did they even kiss during those times or like do the devil’s tango in the barracks or anything else at all. Like am EYE the clean freak or do you guys see the vision???? I guess there is a smut plot armor too. That’s impressive I mean it.

Anyway for anybody wondering YES LEVI TOO. He can’t escape the mustiness and has the same chances at cleaning himself as the others HOWEVER we know he’ll do it correctly unlike somebody else.

Again ik they were different times and situations I’m just wondering yk whatever cancel me.

WARNING: THIS WAS A 4AM STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND IM NOT GOING TO REREAD IT, IT 99% WONT MAKE SENSE TO YOU AND THAT’S FINE, IM ON THE VERGE OF DEATH (RUSSIAN SLEEP EXPERIMENT VICTIM) AND NOTHING EVEN MAKES SENSE TO ME RN. DANCE TO THE BIG BIG BEAT.