#when i was still writing the sequel 'heartaches'

[gamebunny-advance]

A Random Collection of "Heart and Soul" and "DSYNC" Thoughts

Recap: "Heart and Soul" is a corny fanfic I wrote about 1010 meeting Yinu for the first time. I like it, but the ending is kinda bad.

This is, as the title says, a "random collection of thoughts," so don't expect anything too coherent. Jump around, skip stuff. Don't force yourself to try and sort this out.

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I think it'd be funny if 1010 referred to Yinu as "big sis" since she's technically older than them.

HaS doesn't necessarily occur in the DSYNC!AU, but I still base White's relationship with Yinu as though it had happened. In DSYNC, besides other NSR staff/public appearances, White will usually go out of his way to hide his bad mood when she's around because she's the one person he legitimately doesn't want to upset. Yinu kinda knows that something is wrong with him (try as he might to hide it, but she can usually smell the tobacco on him), but considering the last time she got involved in 1010's home situation, she got him erased, she doesn't want to pry any more than she needs to.

Sometimes I wonder how White conceptualizes his relationship with Yinu. Currently, they consider each other friends and there is a sibling-like quality to their relationship, but I wonder if that would change when she becomes an adult. In my headcanon 1010s are programmed with the inclination to flirt with basically anything that moves baring a couple of exceptions, both of which Yinu falls under: she's a child, and she's employed by NSR. Their restriction against NSR employees would bar him from flirting with her even when she becomes an adult, but the moment that either of them aren't employed by the same company, that restriction gets lifted. So I wonder if he considers that previous bond significant enough to continue to think of her as a close friend, or if it disappears the instant she meets their flirtation criteria. Perhaps by that time, their AI would be robust enough to process the nuances of their relationship.

1010 has already considered that even if he has a long "life", then all the humans in his life are going to out-grow him while he remains a 'young man' for eternity. But, what he considers more likely is that he'll be considered obsolete and *retired before Yinu even grows up.

*Although 1010 considers all previous versions of himself to be the same person, he also feels that part of him "dies" with every upgrade too. He's in a constant cycle of death and rebirth, and every MK update he gets further and further from what he originally was. Very Thesisus's ship paradox.

When I was writing the sequel, "Heartaches" there was a scene where Yinu accidentally reactivates the MKI 1010 while she visited Barracca Mansion.

I never quite explained why Neon J. felt the need to erase 1010's memories, but it was because it was considered too dangerous to allow 1010 to so blatantly disobey his Captain's orders, so that needed to be fixed as soon as possible.

It was determined that 1010's accidental harm of Yinu is what caused the sudden shift in his priorities, but the way that 1010 processes information means that it's not as easy as simply deleting a random chunk of his memory to reverse the effects. 1010's A.I. is like a giant web of connections. It *isn't easy to just cut some connections without causing another part to fail or become unstable.

*Strictly speaking, it is technically possible to comb through 1010's memories and delete very specific parts of it, but the parts are so interwoven and dense that it would take decades of manpower to search through and correctly identify even 1 minute of memories that needed to be erased without affecting other areas, which just isn't practical.

In extreme cases like the Yinu incident, the easiest thing is to *roll-back his memories, either to a previous state or do a complete reset.

*Rolling back his memories is still unideal, but the consequences of rolling back are more predictable vs. deleting something "in the middle" where the consequences will be unknown until it's already caused another problem.

Since 1010 met Yinu the same day that he malfunctioned, he wasn't able to keep any memory of her until the next time they met.

However, Neon J. also doesn't delete these malfunctioning versions of 1010 since they still provide useful research information. So, when MKI is accidentally revived, he still has memories of the incident up to getting retired, but he isn't up-to-date with anything else, so he identifies the MKIII 1010s as threats to Yinu and proceeds to destroy them while they try to get Yinu back to safety and away from him.

Neon J's tendency to use memory erasure to solve 1010's problems was also supposed to be a major point in DSYNC, where Neon J. "solves" the problem by factory resetting White and Green. If they have no memories of the past, then neither of them can have trauma about it. However, since the memories are still stored somewhere, they can still find a way to access them, even "subconsciously." This caused Green to still avoid White even though neither of them knew the real reason why. Since White can't do his job as leader if one of his subordinates keeps avoiding him, he decides to seek out the reason himself.

They are forbidden from directly accessing these memories, but there's a loophole in that they can still get the information indirectly, such as loading a bootleg (aka Garage Band 1010) with the old memories and asking them about it. Reset!White was then supposed to learn about his past abuse from the old White which is what allowed him to finally find the courage to confront Neon J. about their issues and get everyone some well deserved therapy.

[sergeanttpoliteness]

sooo.. no idea how old the post was, but if your req are still open, Wholesome Spider Noir? 0u0

hello, love! not sure which post you're talking about, but the last time i posted a story was in 2020, so it's surely been a while, lmao. to be honest with you all, my days of writing for marvel are coming to an end, but when i saw this ask, i thought i'd post something in honor of the sequel of the movie that started it all, since this blog will forever mean a lot to me. thank you for this request, i hope it's enough <3

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Peter watches you now, as you wash the dishes and pass them to him to dry, lather covering your hands and forearms. You nearly drop and break a ceramic plate in the sink, and your humming to a song stuck in your head is replaced by small giggles.

He worries you’ll never know how much he truly loves you.

He knows you understand how tough it can be for him sometimes to be as open and vulnerable. Tribulations and heartache forged his heart, painted his soul a deep blue— like fierce, destructive ocean waves during a violent storm. You’ve reassured him countless times, yet after everything he’s seen, his brain struggles to accept there can exist someone so gentle, so angelic. As war and bloodshed explode around him, you’re like a flower blooming in between the broken concrete—  beauty amidst the foulness.

You wash the soap off your skin, and when you close the faucet, Peter immediately reaches for your wet hands and gently dries them with the kitchen towel. You chuckle. “You’re supposed to dry the dishes— not my hands.”

At the sight of your grin that reaches your eyes, he smiles. So many words, so many languages, so many smiles, and touches of lips, yet neither could ever fully convey this glow in his chest. So many universes, worlds, and people that have entered his life and that he will happen upon, yet he’ll always choose to be here with you. 

He calls your name. It’s an incantation that illuminates his chest and seeps into his surroundings, painting over the blue with glimmering gold. It helps him believe he won’t forever be damaged. No, he can also be the sunlight filtering through the heavy clouds and smoke, caressing the flower. 

Instead of the towel, Peter’s hands now brush against your skin, fingers trailing down your forearms, wrists, and knuckles until he places his palms flat against yours. He reaches down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a while. When he pulls away from you, heart racing, he prays you understand.

Your eyes soften, your fingers interlocking with his. 

“I know. I love you, too.”

[muiitoloko]

Omg I love all your stories about Alan and his characters!! Especially Love Actually’s Harry stories caught my heart. I was wondering is ”Why?” going to get a sequel? Maybe showing Y/N and Harry happy again, perhaps with a long awaited child?

Thank you so much for your posts!! They brighten my days! ✨❤️

Title: Promise

Summary: The promises were fulfilled.

Pairing: Harry (love actually) × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut and happy ending.

Author's Notes: I'm thrilled that you enjoy my stories featuring Alan Rickman's characters, especially the ones about Harry in Love Actually! Honestly, when I was writing this fanfic with Harry, I actually toyed with the idea of giving them a bittersweet ending because, well, a bit of heartache can add depth, right? But I totally get that readers often prefer the warm fuzzies, so I decided to give Harry and the reader the happy ending everyone expects. Thanks for brightening my day with your kind words! ✨❤️

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, you watched Harry's dedication to rebuilding your relationship with a mixture of awe and gratitude. He was relentless in his efforts to make things right, showering you with affection and attention in ways you hadn't experienced in years. Gone were the days of meaningless gestures and last-minute gifts; instead, Harry took the time to truly connect with you, to make you feel loved and cherished in every possible way.

You found yourself falling back in love with him, rediscovering the joy and excitement of being with him that had been missing for so long. It was like going back to the early days of your relationship, when you were both young and carefree, lost in the dizzying throes of love.

But amidst the whirlwind of emotions and newfound happiness, there was still one topic that loomed large between you: children. It was a subject that had always been delicate, fraught with the pain of disappointment and unfulfilled dreams. You both wanted children desperately, had tried for years to conceive, only to be met with heartbreak and despair each time.

And now, knowing that Harry had harbored resentment towards you for your inability to conceive made the fear in your heart grow stronger. What if he came to hate you for it again? What if history repeated itself, and you found yourselves back in the same cycle of hurt and betrayal?

It was a conversation you knew you needed to have, no matter how difficult or painful it might be. And so, on that day when Harry came to your apartment to spend the day with you, you gathered your courage and broached the subject that had been weighing heavily on your mind.

"Harry," you began, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. "Can we talk about something?"

Harry looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "Of course, love," he replied, his voice warm with affection. "What's on your mind?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. "It's about... children," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's a sensitive topic for both of us, but I think we need to address it."

Harry's expression softened even further, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out to take your hand in his. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb stroking soothing circles on the back of your hand. "It's something we've both wanted for so long, and it breaks my heart that we haven't been able to make it happen."

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, the pain of your shared disappointment washing over you like a tidal wave. "I'm scared, Harry," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Scared that you'll come to hate me again, like you did before."

Harry's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "I wouldn't hate you, not anymore," he declared, his voice steady and resolute. "I was foolish to ever feel resentful toward you. It wasn't your fault; it never was. It was me, unable to resolve my own feelings, letting them fester and grow into something ugly. But I'm different now; I've matured, and I see things clearly. The answer is no, I will never hate you."

The weight of his words lifted a burden from your heart, filling you with a sense of relief and gratitude. "But what if we never have children, Harry?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to contain your tears. "Can you live with that? Can we... can we be enough for each other?"

Harry's gaze never wavered as he met your eyes, his expression filled with unwavering determination. "We already are, love," he replied, his voice steady and sure. "You and me, together against the world. That's all I've ever wanted, all I'll ever need."

And in that moment, as you looked into Harry's eyes, you knew that he meant every word. Despite the pain and disappointment that had plagued your relationship, despite the uncertainty of what the future might hold, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that life threw your way.

With tears of gratitude streaming down your cheeks, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Harry's, sealing your love and commitment to each other in a tender kiss. And as you held each other in a tight embrace, lost in the warmth of your shared love, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

In the days that followed, the weight of the unresolved issue of children lifted from your shoulders, and you and Harry found yourselves moving forward with renewed hope and determination. There were moments of doubt and insecurity, of course, memories of Harry's betrayal still lingering in the back of your mind. But Harry's unwavering commitment to rebuilding your relationship, coupled with his newfound openness and trust, helped ease your fears and reassure you of his love.

One significant gesture that spoke volumes about Harry's sincerity was his willingness to share his cell phone with you. Previously, he had kept it close, always vigilant about keeping it nearby and not letting you touch it. But now, he handed you the freedom to access his cell phone, giving you the password without hesitation. Likewise, you reciprocated, allowing Harry free access to your phone.

This newfound transparency and trust brought a sense of relief and security to your relationship. Over time, as Harry's calmness in letting you use his cell phone became evident, you found that the insecurities tormenting your mind began to dissipate. You no longer felt the need to constantly check Harry's phone for signs of infidelity; you came to trust him completely and fell even more in love with the new version of Harry.

But that day, as you stood there in disbelief, staring at the positive pregnancy test in your trembling hands that you received after visiting the doctor, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. For years, you and Harry had tried to conceive, only to be met with disappointment time and again. And now, in the most unexpected moment, when you had finally made peace with the issue of having children, you were pregnant.

The shock of the news left you feeling numb at first, unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of what it meant. A baby—there was a baby growing inside you, a precious little life that was a testament to your love for each other. It was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you, testing your resolve just when you thought you had found peace.

But as the initial shock wore off, a sense of overwhelming happiness washed over you. A baby! You were going to have a baby, something you had dreamed of for so long. Despite the uncertainties and fears that lingered in the back of your mind, the prospect of becoming parents filled you with a sense of joy and excitement that you had never experienced before.

You debated whether to call Harry and share the news immediately, but something inside you urged caution. Maybe it was the fear of jinxing it, or perhaps the desire to surprise him with the news in a special way. Whatever the reason, you decided to keep the news to yourself for now, planning to reveal it to Harry when the time was right.

So, you spent the rest of the day lost in thought, the pregnancy test clutched tightly in your hand as you contemplated the future. You imagined what it would be like to hold your baby in your arms, to see Harry's face light up with joy at the news. Despite the doubts and uncertainties that nagged at you, there was a sense of peace and contentment in knowing that you were finally going to have the family you had always longed for.

As the evening approached, you found yourself bustling around the kitchen, preparing dinner for you and Harry. It had become somewhat of a routine for him to come over after work, almost as if he unofficially lived with you. You smiled to yourself as you set the table, knowing that Harry would be arriving soon.

Sure enough, as the clock ticked closer to the time he usually arrived, you heard the familiar sound of the door unlocking. Your heart skipped a beat as you hurried to open it, anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Hey, love," Harry greeted you with a warm smile as he stepped inside, shrugging off his coat. "How was your day?"

You returned his smile, feeling a rush of happiness at the sight of him. "It was good," you replied, your voice tinged with excitement. "How about yours?"

Harry's brow furrowed slightly as he studied your expression, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You seem... unusually happy," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

You chuckled nervously, hoping he wouldn't notice the nervous fluttering in your chest. "Oh, just had a good day at work, that's all," you lied, your smile faltering slightly under his scrutiny.

To your relief, Harry seemed to accept your explanation without further question, his smile widening as he reached out to pull you into a tight hug. "Well, I'm glad to hear it," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as you savored the moment. Despite the lingering doubts and uncertainties in your mind, being with Harry always made everything feel right in the world.

After a moment, you reluctantly pulled away, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. "Come on, dinner's almost ready," you said, taking his hand and leading him towards the kitchen.

As you entered the cozy kitchen, the scent of home-cooked food filled the air, making Harry's stomach growl in anticipation. He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

"Well, well, well, looks like someone beat me to dinner tonight," he teased, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. He then carelessly took his cell phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table, almost throwing it.

You laughed, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you at his lighthearted banter. "I figured it was my turn to cook," you replied, shooting him a mischievous grin. "Besides, I wanted to surprise you."

Harry's smile softened, his gaze filled with affection as he pulled you into another hug. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You smiled, feeling a rush of happiness at his words. "Only for you," you whispered, leaning into his embrace as you savored the moment.

As you sat down to enjoy your meal together, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and love. Despite the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that life threw your way. And as you looked into Harry's eyes, you felt a sense of peace wash over you like a gentle wave, knowing that together, you could overcome anything.

After a nice dinner filled with laughter and easy conversation, you and Harry retreated to the kitchen to tackle the aftermath of the meal. As you washed the dishes, Harry stood beside you, drying them with practiced efficiency.

The sound of water running and the clink of dishes filled the air as you worked side by side, the comfortable silence between you a testament to the ease of your relationship. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you had fallen in love with Harry in the first place, his unwavering support and dedication a constant source of comfort and reassurance.

As you reached for another plate, you felt Harry's arms wrap around you from behind, his body pressing against yours as he nuzzled your neck with soft kisses.

"I missed you today," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Can't get enough of you, darling."

You melted against him, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a cozy blanket. Setting the dry plate aside, you turned to face Harry, your arms winding around his neck as you gazed up at him with adoration.

"I missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss.

The kiss quickly deepened, passion flaring between you as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace. Harry's hands roamed eagerly over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hot and fierce.

With a needy moan, you pressed yourself closer to him, your bodies melding together in a tangle of limbs and desire. The feel of Harry's lips trailing hot kisses along your neck sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

"You drive me wild, you know that?" Harry murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire as he trailed his lips lower, his hands sliding down to grip your hips.

You gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch as you felt the familiar ache of desire building deep within you. "Only for you," you breathed, your voice laced with need as you pulled him closer, craving the feel of him against you.

With a hungry growl, Harry lifted you onto the countertop, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. The world fell away around you as you lost yourselves in the passion and intensity of the moment, the need for each other consuming you completely.

Clothes were shed in a frenzy of desire, the air thick with the heady scent of arousal as you gave yourselves over to the pleasure that pulsed between you. The countertop was hard against your back, but you hardly noticed as Harry buried himself deep inside you, filling you completely with each powerful thrust.

With each movement, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. "Harry," you cried out, your voice a breathless whisper as you surrendered completely to the ecstasy that consumed you.

Harry's response to your plea was a low, guttural groan. You knew you had awakened something primal within him. With fierce determination, he lifted you effortlessly, still buried deep inside you, as he carried you to the bedroom. His queen deserved a bed, deserved everything, and Harry was determined to give you just that.

With a gentle yet firm hand, Harry laid you down on the soft mattress, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you. He wasted no time in rejoining you, his body hovering over yours as he claimed your lips in a hungry kiss.

"You're mine," Harry growled against your lips, his baritone voice sending shivers of desire down your spine. "All mine."

You melted into his embrace, lost in the intensity of his touch as he ravaged your lips with a ferocity that left you breathless. His hands roamed eagerly over your body, igniting a fire within you that burned hot and fierce.

With a low moan of pleasure, you wrapped your legs around Harry's waist, pulling him closer as he thrust himself inside you with a primal urgency. The sensation of him filling you completely sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, the need for him overwhelming in its intensity.

"Harder, Harry," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea as you surrendered completely to the ecstasy that consumed you. "Please, I need you."

Harry's response was a low, guttural groan of approval as he complied with your request, his movements becoming more urgent and frantic. With each powerful thrust, he drove you both closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo.

But Harry wasn't satisfied yet, not when he knew he could give you so much more. With a determined focus, he shifted his position, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over his shoulder to get a better angle. The change in position allowed him to hit your g-spot with precision, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Oh god, Harry," you cried out, your voice filled with ecstasy as he drove you to the brink of oblivion. "Right there, don't stop!"

Harry's response was a low, primal growl as he intensified his efforts, his movements becoming more frenzied and desperate. With each thrust, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, you tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of bliss washed over you. Harry followed soon after, his own release tearing through him with explosive force as he spilled himself inside you, claiming you as his own in a blaze of passion and desire.

As you both collapsed against each other, spent and satisfied, you couldn't help but revel in the aftermath of your passion. Harry's hooked nose brushed against your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, his glasses askew and his chest heaving with exertion.

"You're incredible," Harry murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you."

As you lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of your passionate embrace with Harry, tears welled up in your eyes. The intensity of your love-making had stirred something deep within you, a profound sense of connection and belonging that left you feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

Feeling loved in that moment, you knew you could no longer keep the news to yourself. As Harry nuzzled your neck with soft kisses, you felt his warmth enveloping you like a protective cocoon, and you knew it was time to share your joy with him.

But as you tried to compose yourself, Harry noticed your tears, his expression shifting from one of contentment to one of confusion and concern. His brows furrowed as he looked at you, a hint of desperation in his voice as he questioned what was wrong.

"Darling, what's the matter?" Harry asked, his baritone voice filled with worry. "Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, trying to hold back your tears as you reached out to caress his cheek. "No, Harry, you didn't do anything wrong," you reassured him, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I have something to tell you."

Harry's confusion deepened as he studied your face, his eyes searching yours for answers. But before he could say anything else, you interrupted him with a tender kiss, pouring all your love and affection into the gesture.

When you pulled away, Harry looked at you with a mixture of surprise and anticipation, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What is it, love?" he asked, his voice gentle and encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, you met Harry's gaze head-on, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm pregnant, Harry," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just went to the doctor today to do some tests, and... the doctor confirmed that I'm pregnant."

For a moment, there was silence as Harry processed your words, his expression frozen in disbelief. Pregnant? The word echoed in his mind, sending shockwaves of realization through him.

Slowly, Harry reached out to take your hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he squeezed yours tightly. "Are you... are you serious?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks as you met Harry's gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes, Harry, I'm serious," you replied, your voice filled with love and hope. "We're going to have a baby."

Still in a state of disbelief, Harry remained silent, his eyes locked with yours as he struggled to process the magnitude of what you had just told him. You started to feel nervous, the silence stretching between you as you waited for his response.

"Harry?" you called out tentatively, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Are you okay?"

But Harry didn't respond. Instead, he pulled out of you and left the bedroom, leaving you sitting on the bed, confused and heartbroken. You wrapped the sheets around you, feeling a sense of sadness washing over you as you wondered if Harry was leaving, if he didn't like the news of the pregnancy.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you contemplated the possibility of Harry walking away from you. But just as despair began to consume you, you were interrupted by the sound of Harry returning to the bedroom.

Your heart skipped a beat as Harry knelt in front of you, a velvet box in his hand. With trembling fingers, he opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring nestled inside. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what was happening.

"I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to do this," Harry began, his voice filled with emotion. "The right moment. And I realize now that this is the rightest time I could find."

He looked up at you, his eyes shining with love and sincerity. "So, do you want to marry me again?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.

Tears of joy filled your eyes as you looked at Harry, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude. "Yes, Harry, yes!" you exclaimed, your voice choked with emotion. "I want to marry you again."

With a relieved smile, Harry slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly as he made a silent vow to cherish you for the rest of his life.

"I promise, love," Harry whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I'll do things the right way this time. I swear on my life."

And in that moment, as you looked into Harry's eyes, you knew that despite the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart. With Harry by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever the future held, knowing that your love would carry you through any storm.

As you stood in the park, the warm breeze gently rustling the leaves of the old oak tree, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. This tree held so many memories for you and Harry, memories of the promises you made to each other all those years ago, when you were just young and in love.

With a soft smile, you reached out and traced the initials carved into the rough bark of the tree, feeling the familiar grooves beneath your fingertips. "H + Y," you whispered, your voice filled with affection as you remembered the day you and Harry had carved your names into the tree, sealing your love and commitment to each other for eternity.

As you gazed at the initials, lost in the memories they evoked, you felt a small hand slip into yours, tugging gently at your fingers. Looking down, you saw your son Hadrian standing beside you, a determined expression on his face as he stared up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Mommy, help me write my name," Hadrian pleaded, his voice filled with excitement. "I want it to be next to yours and Daddy's."

Your heart swelled with love as you looked at your son, his resemblance to Harry strikingly evident in his bright eyes and unruly mop of brown hair. He was the light of your life, a constant source of joy and laughter that filled your days with happiness.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, bending down to his level and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Let's go write your name together."

Hadrian nodded eagerly, his small fingers grasping the stick tightly as he carefully began to trace the letters of his name onto the bark of the tree. You watched with pride as he concentrated intently, his tongue poking out slightly from the corner of his mouth in concentration.

"Good job, buddy," you praised him, unable to contain the smile that spread across your face. "You're doing great."

Hadrian beamed up at you, his eyes shining with pride as he finished writing his name. "Look, Mommy!" he exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the crooked letters carved into the tree. "I did it!"

You laughed at his excitement, feeling a swell of love and gratitude in your heart as you looked at your son. "Yes, you did, sweetheart," you replied, wrapping him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As you held Hadrian in your arms, surrounded by the beauty of the park and the warmth of the afternoon sun, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Despite the obstacles and challenges you had faced along the way, here you were, together as a family, happy and fulfilled.

Looking over at Harry, who was standing a few feet away, watching the scene with a proud smile on his face, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. He had been your rock, your partner in every sense of the word, and together, you had weathered every storm that life had thrown your way.

"Come on, Mommy," Hadrian said, tugging at your hand impatiently. "Daddy's waiting for us."

You chuckled at his eagerness, allowing him to lead you back to where Harry was standing. As you approached, Harry knelt down to scoop Hadrian up into his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Did you write your name, buddy?" Harry asked, his voice filled with pride as he looked at Hadrian.

Hadrian nodded enthusiastically, his face beaming with excitement. "I did, Daddy!" he exclaimed, wriggling in Harry's arms to show off his handiwork.

Harry laughed, his eyes sparkling with joy as he looked at the crooked letters carved into the tree. "That's amazing, Hadrian," he said, pressing another kiss to his son's cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled at the sight of the two of them, a wave of love washing over you as you watched them together. This was what happiness looked like, you realized, not the absence of challenges, but the presence of love and family to face them together.

As Harry turned to you, his eyes filled with love and gratitude, you knew that the promise you and he had made all those years ago had been fulfilled. You were happy, truly happy, and nothing could ever change that.

With a smile, you reached out to take Harry's hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he squeezed your fingers tightly. Together, you stood there in the park, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love of your family, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that life threw your way.

[sundrop-writes]

Current WIPS July 2024*

*IMPORTANT NOTE - these fics won't be posted until mid to late August at least (maybe later - the later my moving date is pushed back, the later the post date of these fics is pushed back). I am delaying editing and posting them because editing is the most difficult part for me, but I will be working on writing new fics up until my moving day. And then after moving day, I will take an official two week break to do nothing, after which I will then start editing and posting these fics.

I just finished the Virgin!Stiles fic that I was working on, so I figured I would post this list again if anybody needs a refresher or if people seeing this in tags see this and wanna follow me. I am heavily considering working on an Isaac/Reader/Erica fic next because they are two characters from the show that I feel heavily inspired by. If you want to see a preview of any of these fics that don't already have one, please let me know!!

Also, my requests for Teen Wolf and The Maze Runner are currently open, (please read my rules before requesting), so if you wanna send me requests for reactions or MLTs for those fandoms, I would really fucking love to work on those (and requests for reactions and MLTs will be posted during the hiatus because I don't have to edit them).

Heaven’s Gate - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff. Set during Seasons 1-5. You and Daryl get seperated when the Prison falls, and both believe the other person to be dead. But you can't let go of the things your relationship taught you. Eventually, when you're reunited - it's like you never missed a moment apart. (17,100 words est.) - PREVIEW HERE

Untitled Daryl PWP - Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Set during Season 4. Daryl gets jealous, and takes it out on you. (2,300 words est.)

Some Kind Of Disaster - Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Smut. Set during The Death Cure. You had every reason to believe Gally was dead, so when a mysterious stranger pulls off his mask and reveals himself to be the one person you had been missing so badly - you are shocked. And then you show him just how badly you had been missing him. (6,800 words est.) - PREVIEW HERE

English Blood // American Heartache - Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader x Newt (TMR). Established Monogamous Relationship to Polyamory. (Very slight) Emotional Angst and Smut. Set post Death Cure/Safe Haven Era. Newt Lives AU. (Sequel to the above fic.) When you get to the Safe Haven, you believe that you have everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed. So why do you have a nagging feeling that something is missing? Turns out, that 'missing' thing was the addition of your best friend Newt to your bed, which your boyfriend Gally is more than happy to provide. (20,300 words est.)

Trouble Is - Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. (Pining) Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. Just as the group finds safety outside of the Maze, you are separated off from everyone as the only girl, and not being able to see you slowly drives Thomas insane. Until one day, he's locked in a room with you - but there's nothing suspicious about that, right? (6,900 words est.)

BRAINWASHED - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends/One-Sided Fantasies. Smut/PWP. Panty Stealing. Stiles has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and since you both hit high school, that love has become perverted by hormones. But he can't help it. He also can't seem to help it when he steals a pair of your underwear that were seemingly laid out for him - but he can't get too caught up in the logistics when he has a hand around his cock. (6,900 words est.) - PREVIEW HERE

Stupid For You - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sequel to the above fic. Stiles still has your underwear that he stole, and he accidentally drops them in the locker room - in front of the entire lacrosse team. He lies and says that he got them from a hook-up with you, and surprisingly - you cover for him? But only on the condition that you can turn his lie into the truth. (10,200 words est.)

Blood In The Water - Void!Stiles x Fem!Reader. (Pining) Best Friends to 'Lovers'. Pure Angst. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1). When Void takes control, you worry about the damage that he's inevitably doing to Stiles's body. So you make a deal with him - if he lets Stiles eat, then you'll feed Void with some of your pain. But it's not cuts or broken bones that he wants from you - it's your tears.

[justathoughtfulangel]

Nothing But The Truth ~ Kai Parker One Shot

*not my gif

Pairing: siphon!Kai X witch!Saltzman!Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Requested?: Yes

This is a sequel to "I'd Rather You Lie." I've done my best to make sure this piece is readable as a one shot, but if you'd like to read the prequel, please read it here.

This IS a reader insert fic; I just don’t like writing with Y/N in the place of names. Use Rosalie/Rosie/Rose as a placeholder for Y/N :)

Description: Kai betrayed her trust, used her for his own selfish means. Now, he can't bear the pain and hurt he's caused her. Malachai understands now that he loves her, but is love enough to mend a broken heart?

Warnings: angst/heartbreak and minor mature language

The story begins after the break! I hope you enjoy reading it :)

“I’d rather you lie.” 

It was easier for Rosalie when he lied. It had been easier to believe it was real. Now, she’d heard the lies so often she couldn’t possibly know what was true anymore. Kai’s ramblings came to a halt. Rose’s smile was more akin to a grimace. There were no tears in her eyes; there was nothing in her eyes as if there was no soul behind them.

Malachai had hurt many people in his life. He’d murdered his siblings, and he’d spent years torturing himself. Somehow, this emptiness in her was worse than all the damage he’d done combined. “Rosalie…” She just shook her head, walking passed him. There was still no emotion on her face as she hugged her winter jacket around her body. Kai watched her walk away, feeling the snow settle in his hair. The cold did not compare to all the pain that consumed him. 

He tried to take a shaky breath. With a choked gasp and unbearable pain in his heart, Malachai watched her until she became a speck of dust in the distance. The worst part of it all? She didn’t turn to look back at him once.

~

Was it his fault for breaking her heart, or was it hers for allowing him to hold it in the first place? Her brain and heart grappled over this question every night, making it impossible to sleep. Thanks to Kai, she couldn’t return to the life she’d once loved. There was nothing left inside her that would allow her to love. 

It wasn’t as if Rose was a stranger to pain. She’d been abandoned by people before. The people who brought her into the world had died. The ones who adopted her into their home as a child saw her as only a paycheck. Even Alaric was dead for a few years before miraculously coming alive again. None of those heartaches had destroyed her in the same way Malachai had.

Perhaps it was because it was her first time truly being in love. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, not even anger. Though her mind and heart disagreed on whose fault it was, they both knew feeling the agony of that betrayal would consume her.

For now, all she could do was continue existing in an endless cycle – school, work, Dad, friends, eat, sleep, repeat. ~

A new semester was starting after winter break, and Rosalie considered it a fresh start. She would put herself out there again; she’d try to come back to life. Rose was sitting in a large lecture hall, waiting for the professor of her creative writing course to arrive. She twirled her stylus around her fingers, making random doodles on her iPad. Someone sat down a few seats away from her, but she paid them no mind. 

The hall continued to fill, and Professor Smith arrived ten minutes late. She was fun, and her quippy nature made up for the tardiness. Listening to a professor review a syllabus wasn’t boring for once. Rosalie was paying close attention, jotting down miscellaneous notes about due dates and assignment details. 

“Your final paper, worth 30% of your grade, will be a writing piece: eight to ten pages long with attention to all topics and techniques we’ll review throughout the semester. Students who do best on this assignment never fail to present their learnings in a unique, refreshing way. Nothing should limit your imagination. Isn’t that right, boy who can’t stop staring at the girl in his row?”  Rose was looking at the professor when she singled out the student not listening. As did the other students, she, too, looked around to see who the professor was scolding. Her grip slackened on her stylus as she heard his voice a few feet away. She would know that voice anywhere. “Y-yes, Professor. I’m sorry.” The professor nodded and continued. Malachai stole one more glance in her direction when the professor’s back was turned, and his eyes met Rosalie’s after weeks of not seeing each other.

~

Before he could talk to her, Rose rushed out of the lecture hall. Was he stalking her now? Swallowing away the bitter taste in her mouth, Rosalie instinctively made her way to her dad’s office. Glancing at the time, she knew Alaric was giving a lecture. Unlocking the door with magic and locking it behind her, Rose collapsed onto the couch. Her head fell into her hands, and her foot tapped against the ground anxiously. 

Rosalie hadn’t yet asked her dad for Kai’s true story. She didn’t want to know it anymore; she told herself she didn’t care about him and whatever was causing him pain. Whether she would admit it or not, Rosalie was lying to herself, just as Kai had lied to her for weeks. 

She stayed in the same spot for hours, finally looking up when she heard the door unlock. Alaric smiled at his daughter, unsurprised to find her here. This was a first-day-of-the-semester tradition for them – tea in his office and unpacking what happened in their new classes. Ric turned on the hot water kettle, pulling out mugs and tea for them. He only noted her troubles when she greeted him without energy, and his smile faded quickly. “Rosalie? What’s the matter?” 

Rose sighed deeply, not knowing where to start. “I need you to tell me everything about Kai, Dad. Please.” The turmoil had been suppressed long enough; she bit the bullet and watched Ric’s expression twitch. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Hot water and honey were poured into their mugs. Rose kicked her shoes off, curled her legs under her, and claimed the steaming cup of tea. The silence was broken only when Alaric sat beside her on the couch.

He was torn about how much he should involve her but hiding the truth from Rose allowed Kai to hurt her. Ric wouldn’t hide things from her anymore. “Malachai is Josette’s twin brother.” A confused expression came over Rose’s face immediately. “Jo is in her early 40s. How is that possible?” To his credit, Alaric told her everything without biased embellishments, telling her the story exactly as Jo told him. 

Of course, even he didn’t know the story from Malachai’s perspective. 

He told her about how Kai was meant to merge with Jo and become the leader of the Gemini coven, how he was never worthy of the position. When he found out the thing he lusted after for twenty-two years would never be his, Kai snapped, murdering four of his little siblings in cold blood. Kai stuck a hunting knife into Josette and took out her spleen. Ultimately, he was after Lucas and Olivia. The Coven locked him up in a prison world, and he escaped when Bonnie and Damon ended up there after the Other Side collapsed.

Rosalie listened to everything, finding it impossible to believe that the guy she knew – the guy she thought she knew – was capable of all of this. Even as she left her dad’s office, Rose repeated the story in her mind. There had to be more to this story. No one was born evil. Something must have happened to Kai - something so horrible and cruel that his only choice was to protect himself this way. 

Alaric had heard the story from Jo, but he hadn’t seen the tears Kai shed when no one was around to see them. Whatever caused him to snap tormented him even now, and no one should live that way. Despite this, Rosalie didn’t have it in her to forgive him. Maybe it was selfish, but he’d used someone who trusted him for reasons she could barely justify. 

The door to her apartment closed behind her. Trying to push the thoughts away, Rose walked over to her fridge. She pulled it open, and the wave of cool air sent her mind reeling back…

Even on the drive back to Mystic Falls, her thoughts were consumed with Kai. He’d kissed her, and then he disappeared. What kind of decent person does that? Rosalie had begun to think that maybe she didn’t know Malachai at all. Her thoughts would be proven right a few minutes later.  When Rose entered the Salvatore House, she heard the flames of the fireplace crackling and voices coming from the living room. “How do you know my daughter?” Her dad was threatening someone, holding them by their neck as he tilted the chair towards the fireplace. Damon forced him away, trying to calm Alaric down. “Easy, Papa Bear. Kai’s going to cooperate. Talk. Now.”  Kai? Her Kai? No… “Didn’t you know? I’ve been dating her for a while. Here I thought she told you everything, Alaric. Of course, she thinks it’s real, which is sweet, really. At least someone among us has a heart.”  Kai kept on talking, but she heard none of it. It was as if her senses had been disconnected from her brain. “She’s just so welcoming… it was so easy to step into her life. I could get into all of yours and take what I’ve always wanted. But you really didn’t need to torture me to get that out of me, did you? I think I’m an excellent communicator.”  Damon and her dad had already seen Rose standing there, and when Damon forced Kai’s chair around, she registered the briefest flicker of remorse in his eyes. She didn’t have it in her to care, not right now. All she did was turn around and leave. The air outside felt so much colder than she could bear. It bit her cheeks as tears filled her eyes. Rosalie refused to let them fall. She would not cry over someone who was using her.

The tears that had refused to spill all those months ago came bubbling to the surface. Her knees buckled below her, and her hands rushed to cover her mouth as a pained scream came out. All the agony at his betrayal created burning trails on her cheeks, and as she curled up on the ground, her shoulders shook with each sob. 

Rosalie finally let herself admit that she had loved Malachai: she probably still did. She’d put her heart into someone’s hands for the first time and this was what she earned in return. Nothing in her life felt fair. How many more people would hurt her before she could finally be free? 

The anguish she’d failed to acknowledge and process now took over. It subsided hours later when the chill from the open fridge had coated her spine and the door beeped in protest. Rose gave it a weak push and it creaked shut. 

She’d loved him, and now she didn’t think she could love anymore.

~

Caroline smacked a piece of paper down on the table in front of Rosalie. “The annual Whitmore Bitter Ball is on Saturday, and you’re coming.” Rose picked up the flyer, smiling without amusement at the clashing black and grey letters. “Come onnnn, you’re the one that’s most bitter in love out of any of us.” 

Elena and Bonnie gave Caroline a withering stare, while Rose just shook her head. “Sorry… insensitive.” She cleared her throat, trying to dispel the awkwardness. “You should come, Rosalie. We all deserve a night out.” Elena was gently encouraging in stark contrast to Caroline. Rose didn’t know how she felt about it. “Okay, dance or no dance, at least come dress shopping with us? We need your opinions.” Truthfully, it sounded dreadful. After a long blink, Rosalie smiled and agreed. “Fine. It’ll be just like high school.” It wouldn’t be for her; it would be for her friends.

A few hours later, Rosalie was walking between aisles upon aisles of dresses. Some were gaudy and drew way too much attention. Some were too plain for a ball. Then again, maybe plain was best – something that could help her hide in the shadows as she attended the dance for the sake of her worried friends. 

Rose ultimately chose a silken, black gown. It had an attractive sweetheart neckline and golden embellishments around the waist. The skirt didn’t puff out obnoxiously, and with a golden mask to abide by the masquerade policy, it was the perfect disguise.

~

On Saturday evening, Rosalie found herself standing in the corner of the grand ballroom. People were all over the place: some drunk, some dancing, some crying, and some doing all of the above. Rose watched people move about behind her mask, twirling the straw around in her gin and soda with extra limes. She’d promised Caroline she’d stay out for an hour, and thankfully, the hour was almost up. 

Downing her drink, Rosalie walked across the dance floor. She had managed to artfully avoid the masses until she reached the bar. The glass clinked down onto the granite counter, right beside someone also attending this ball alone. He turned around slowly, setting down his own glass. They looked at each other silently for a few heavy seconds, neither saying a word. 

Malachai’s eyes shined in the dim lighting of the ballroom, swimming with numerous feelings yet glistening with the joy of seeing her. Rosalie’s expression remained passive, unreadable. She’d cried her heart out already. What was the next step in the process of healing from heartbreak? 

“I don’t know how a ball for the brokenhearted could be such a hit,” Kai said. Rose smiled without amusement, looking around at the crowd once again. “You never know, maybe lots of people have broken hearts around here.” Malachai swallowed away the knot of emotion in his throat, his eyes darting to the dance floor. “Maybe you’re right.”

He refused to meet her eyes, and it sparked something inside her. It was some convoluted mixture of rage, pain, desperation, and, most unexpectedly, a tinge of hope. “Dance with me?” She held out her hand to him in challenge. Kai’s gaze flit between her hand, the dancing couples, and the gleam in her eyes. Whatever brought it back, he’d missed it dearly. He took her hand, leading her to join the crowds. 

Rose let out a soft laugh at the song change, wondering if Caroline had something to do with the music. War of Hearts played over the speakers as Kai’s hand came to rest on her waist. Their fingers linked together, and this time, everything else fell away. 

Come to me in the night hours. I will wait for you.

Both recalled the same memories as they stepped in unison. Their awkward first interaction in the coffee shop. The first date where Kai was trying to be charming but ended up spilling soda all over his shirt. His tears when the thoughts of his past tormented him. The devastation they both felt when Rosalie found out about Malachai’s betrayal. 

“Have you been stalking me, by the way?” Kai almost smiled, his brow rising. “Would you believe me if I said I had no idea you’d be in the same section?” He twirled her around, pulling her back to him. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe, Malachai.” 

She’d been the only one who could use his full first name without making him flinch. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Kai sighed, resigned with himself. “I don’t know what I can say, Rose. You have every right to not trust me. Let me just ask you one thing, and then I will leave you alone.”

I can’t help but love you, even though I try not to. I can’t help but want you. I know that I’d die without you.

“Do you honestly think I didn’t break my own heart when I broke yours?” His arms wrapped around her as Kai selfishly pulled her close. If this was the last time, he needed to hold her close. The back of his hand brushed her cheek, and he memorized the feel of her soft skin. He was close enough to see the reflection of his dark, satin mask in Rosalie’s eyes. 

Rose didn’t know how to react. Her first instinct was to say no. He had sounded so convincing when he gloated to Ric and Damon about how he used her. How could that be the voice of someone with a broken heart? That same person stood in front of her now, looking at her with deeper affection and sincerity unlike anything she’d known before. 

Rosalie held the hand brushing her cheek, wrapping her own around it before stepping away from Kai. “Malachai, I can’t do this again.” Kai had let her walk away once. He wouldn’t give up without a fight this time. “Please… I promise I won’t ever hurt you. I won’t lie to you. From now on, nothing but the truth.” 

I can’t help but be wrong in the dark, ‘cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts. I can’t help but want oceans to part, ‘cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts.

With those words, Rose threw her arms around Malachai and kissed him. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was just plain stupid. It didn’t matter. Not trusting him had been so unendurably painful; even if he played her again, it would be worth it.

Kai froze in surprise for a fraction of a second, not expecting her to give him the one thing he wanted most. He took her face in his hands, suppressing a sob of relief and joy. Malachai brought her closer, hugging her flush against his body. 

People still danced around them, oblivious to the two souls who’d found each other and would never part again.

~

The end of the semester approached, faster than anticipated. Malachai and Rosalie had spent the last months together, and true to his word, he hadn’t lied to her… until tonight.

In his lonesome years in the prison world, Kai had honed his cooking and baking skills. Tonight, after a long week of finals, they were making Kai’s chocolate chip cookies – a recipe he’d refined and mastered over twelve years. Rosalie was whipping together browned butter and sugar, and Kai was chopping chunks of dark chocolate into shards with a knife. The apartment smelled like toasted sugar, and their playful banter brought them much-needed laughter. 

“Where’d you put the vanilla extract I brought over?” Rosalie was looking in Kai’s kitchen drawers, and just as she reached one near the edge of the counter, he stepped in front of her. “Not in that one! There’s nothing in that one. Let’s move on.” Why was he in such a rush to get her away from that drawer? 

“Malachai… what are you hiding from me?” He sighed and stepped aside, remembering his promise to her. Rose didn’t take her eyes off him as she opened the drawer. Looking down, she halted in shock at the only object inside: a small black jewelry box.

Kai grabbed it before she could, putting it behind her back. She gave him a look, raising her eyebrows in question. “What are you hiding from me?” She repeated her question, her voice even more pointed, now with curiosity rather than suspicion. Adorably anxious, Kai nipped at his lower lip and tugged at his hair momentarily. 

Setting the box on the kitchen counter, Kai flipped its lid. Within it, tucked into cushioned velvet, lay matching silver rings. They were similar in style to the ones Malachai often wore, the metal bands thick and fairly plain. He removed them both, showing her the inscription inside the bands: nothing but the truth.

“This isn’t a proposal. Not yet, at least.” Kai’s nervousness didn’t help him get these words out, but when he looked up, looking into her eyes, suddenly it was much easier. “I wanted us to have something that reminds us of our journey and how far we’ve come. I want us to have these.” Before he said anything more, Kai slipped his ring onto his middle finger. Rosalie accepted his gift and put on her ring. She took his hand and laced their fingers together.  “Thank you, Kai,” Rose spoke with tenderness, holding Kai’s face. “I’ll never take it off.” Their lips met in a sweet kiss, and the smooth metal of their rings clinked together quietly. They squeezed each other’s hands lovingly, now certain neither would let go.

~~~

That's all for this piece! Thank you to the anon who requested I give them a happy ending; this story would not exist without you :)

Please feel free to send any thoughts/comments/constructive criticisms my way. I always welcome them.

If you’d like to be tagged in future Kai Parker works, feel free to message me/leave a comment here. If you liked this story, feel free to check out my other stories from my Malachai Parker Masterlist (pinned to the top of my profile).

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel

Master Taglist: @socio-kai-path1972, @bluelicious, @genevivetaylor, @kolsangel, @callsign-luckyshot

[happyhauntt]

prologue, the burning sky — star wars.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: prologue; the burning sky. some tragedies will always happen, like a story you've always been unable to rewrite. but you still try.

─── warnings: star wars au, canon divergent. character death, vehicle accidents, blood & injury (nondescriptive), child loss, grieving.

─── notes: this is the prologue to a series i'll be posting following my ocs. this is a whole rewrite of the star wars sequel trilogy featuring ocs and focusing largely on family, grief, what you would do / how far you would go for family, haunting the narrative. the whole point of this story is family. are there love interests?? yes. but the core of it is 'what would you for / because of family?' you don't have to like this, but if i receive any rude feedback i'll just block you because the star wars fandom already fuckin terrifies me, let me just post my sad shit.

─── word count: 2.5k.

━━  the beginning.

     The sun rises, as it always does, a burning orb cresting over the horizon, painting streaks of pink across the silvery sky. Dawn leaks in through the windows of a newly-broken home, reaching across the room with long yellow fingers to raise a house full of heartache.

     Dory wakes with itchy, saltwater eyes.

     For a moment, she wonders why the skin around her eyes feels tight and sore, her nostrils stinging. She winces as the sunlight bleeds through the blinds, casting the room in a happy yellow glow. Her stomach twists violently as she remembers what happened the night before, each painful memory crashing back into her mind; bile burns the back of her throat, and she has to choke it back down.

     A sob racks her shoulders, sudden and vicious. She presses a hand to her mouth, trying to keep it in as tears rise in her eyes again, blurring her bedroom into one sun-drenched mess.

     Something heavy lays curled at the foot of her bed. Blinking her tears away, she peers over the edge of the covers, finding her younger cousin Marya sleeping there. She must've crept in in the middle of the night.

     Gently, she nudges Mare, and the younger girl stirs. Dory pulls back the covers and pats the space beside her. Blonde hair stuck to her face, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, Mare pushes herself up onto her elbows and crawls into bed beside her cousin. Dory pulls the blankets back up over their heads, and wraps her arms around Mare, pulling her cousin as close as she can.

     "My room was too quiet," Mare whispers into the fabric of Dory's shirt, fingers curled and clinging tightly to it. "I wanted to stay up to hear any news, but I couldn't stay in there."

     "That's alright." Dory's voice comes out cracked; she runs her fingers through the tangled strands of her cousin's hair, trying not to wince as Mare hugs her, pressing into the bruises that are spread across Dory's torso like a gruesome abstract painting.

     She has never been the most affectionate person, not even to her own sister  ━  but things can change in the blink of an eye, and people get lost when you thought they would live forever, and things bleed when they aren't supposed to, and Dory just wants to hold onto Mare for as long as she can before she has to let go again, no matter the pain it causes.

     "Mum hasn't slept, has she, Mare?" asks Dory.

     Mare shakes her head a little. "Not since I last checked. She was sitting in the kitchen when I left my room earlier... my mum was sitting with her. Uncle Luke went to be with mama in case something happened with Rion, and I don't think they've come back yet..."

     Dory swallows at the mention of her other cousin.

     When she stumbled in last night, stained with blood and reeking of smoke, with Mare hanging onto her arm, her father had folded them both into his arms. He'd sat with her as she screamed and raged for hours, held her when she sobbed until there were no tears left, and never said a word.

     No one else had been there waiting for them; her mother had gone straight to the medical centre with Aunt Ashka and Aunt Leia when she heard what happened, and only returned in the early hours of the morning, pale as a ghost and clinging to Ashka as if she were the only thing keeping her standing.

     Dory had never seen her parents like that before. Yve Cybele was the strongest woman in the galaxy, and Han Solo was always smiling, laughing as if everything were easy.

     Last night, though, Dory watched her mother shatter into a million pieces, and her father had no way of pressing them back together again.

     Last night, her sister died.

     When Dory closes her eyes against the sunlight, it all comes back to her in sharp, jarring flashes.

     She recalls the events leading up to the accident with perfect clarity; she, her parents and her little sister, Clarya, had come to visit their family for a month, as they had done every year for as long as Dory could remember. The visit, at least, had gone reasonably smoothly  ━  she always worried about growing apart from her cousins, when they spent so much of the year on separate ends of the galaxy. She and Rion, especially; Rion had been absent their last few visits, training at their uncle's re-established Jedi temple, and this was the first she and Clarya had seen him in such a long time.

     But it had been fine. Clarya and Marya, both fourteen, had stuck together like glue from the moment they arrived. Dory and Rion, too, had gotten over their initial awkwardness and bonded once more. Rion, one year younger than Dory at seventeen, had delighted in showing off all the things he'd learned at the temple. Clarya had laughed and wished she was Force-sensitive, and Rion had lifted her in the air, saying that flying was far better than being a Jedi, anyways.

     Last night, Clarya had wanted to go racing. Rion had a landspeeder he'd hardly had the opportunity to use since getting back from the temple, and Clarya desperately wanted to try it. She was their father's daughter entirely  ━  with the wind in her hair, she could do anything, be anything.

     And nobody had ever been able to say no to Clarya.

     Memories of the accident are more fractured, flashes of blinding light and sickening noise. Dory and Mare had gone along with their siblings, not wanting them to get into any trouble. Rion had been driving... too fast, Dory had thought, but she'd never been a thrill-seeker like her little sister, so she hadn't been too concerned.

     Until Rion lost control of the speeder.

     Dory woke up on the ground. Mare was screaming, covered in blood that didn't belong to her, clutching Rion to her chest. He'd been unconscious, too, the jagged cut across his head leaking crimson into his hair. The air crackled around them, heat from the speeder rolling over them in waves from where it lay burning nearby.

     Clarya had been lying next to Rion. Her eyes, wide and blue as the dusk sky above them, stared blankly at nothing at all. She'd been impossibly pale, her leg bent at a strange angle, her hair stained pink. Dory had dragged herself over there, an unbearable pain digging claws into her chest, and only after a moment had she realised that her sister was dead.

     Mare holds tighter to her now. It is too warm beneath the blankets, and her lungs ache for fresh air, but salty tears flow silently down her cheeks and Dory cannot bear to face a world without her sister in it.

     "Where's dad?" she asks, careful to hold her voice steady, so she doesn't upset Mare anymore than she has to. Last night, Dory had been a howling beast, pounding fists against her father's chest, a cataclysmic explosion barely-contained within a fragile teenage girl.

     But Mare's brother, her closest and dearest friend, is still unconscious in the medical centre. The doctors fear he may never wake up. While the cruellest, most spiteful parts of Dory pray he never does  ━  he took her sister with his recklessness, and Dory has always seen the world in -black-and-white, and eye for an eye, his life for her sister's  ━  she knows it would destroy her aunts the same way it has destroyed her parents, left them a burnt-out wreck the same as the speeder that crashed.

     It would destroy Mare like it has destroyed her.

     Gently, Mare shrugs, sniffling. "He wasn't with Aunt Yve and mum. I think he left... Maybe to check on mama and Uncle Luke? I hope he comes back with news..."

     Dory has to fight to bite her tongue.

     Later, when the sun is higher in the sky and Dory is done being angry with it  ━  how dare you rise on such a dark day? she wants to spit at it, bloody fingernails grasping for the sky in a bid to tear it down  ━  she peels herself from her bed, showering away all the blood and smoke from the night before, though the pain remains.

     She passes the guest room her aunts had made up for Clarya during their stay. The door is cracked open a little, and peeking inside, she sees the room is exactly the way Clarya left it. Clothes strewn across the floor, a pile of her favourite books on her bedside table, the ones she brought just for this trip, in case Aunt Ashka and Aunt Leia didn't have any she wanted to read.

     Reaching out, she pulls the door closed sharply, as if she can trap her sister's ghost in there forever.

     Her mother and Aunt Ashka aren't in the kitchen, but the living area. Yve looks as if hell descended on her in the night, and left her nothing but a living corpse; her blonde hair, patches of silver creeping in at the roots, is a tangled mess, her eyes bloodshot. Ashka looks little better, her own blonde hair kept in a long braid thrown over her shoulder. She smiles at Dory as she enters the room.

     "Mare is sleeping in my room," says Dory quietly.

     Her aunt nods, hands folded carefully before her, every inch a politician. "I don't think she slept a wink all night, worrying about her brother."

     "I don't think any of us slept, really," Yve says. Dory's eyes dart to her mother, who pats her knee. Soundlessly, Dory pads across the room and curls up in her mother's lap, in a way she hasn't done since she was a little girl. Her mother wraps thin, strong arms around her, stroking her hair back and rocking her like she is a baby again, and Dory doesn't mind.

     Quiet sobs wrack her body as the tears flow once more. Her sister is dead. Sweet Clarya, her little sunshine sister, born in the summertime. She used to weave flowers in her hair and dance on the balcony when she could, and their father would let her stand on his toes even when she grew too old for it, just so he could hear his little girl laugh.

     Her sister wasn't an angel. Clarya could be a brat when she wanted to be, when she didn't get her way, but she was the brightest flame of them all, and in the end, she was only a flickering candle, snuffed out far too easily when she should have been a star, burning forever.

     Her mother is crying, too. Her tears flow into Dory's hair, making it damp, but she doesn't mind at all. There is enough ache here to drown the whole room, if they truly wanted to. Dory wants to open her veins and let it all spill out, let her ocean of hurt drown the world. She wants to take everyone down with her into this agony. She wants everyone is the galaxy to feel as awful as this.

     It was her fault.

     She should've tried harder to stop them going. Clarya wanted to go, and Rion wanted to show off for his cousins and sister, but Dory had known it was a bad idea and she'd let them do it anyway. She was the oldest. She should've stopped them. She should've known better. She should've told Rion to slow down, to stop...

     It's Rion's fault, too.

     "Have we heard anything?" she wonders aloud, her raw throat burning.

     There are a million other questions she'd rather ask. Like why did this happen, or how did this happen, or where has dad gone? All of them feel like ticking bombs, each designed to inflict maximum damage, so she sews them into the lining of her tongue and keeps quiet.

     Asking about Rion is normal, and safe, even if she doesn't care at all.

     Her mother's arms stiffen around her. Aunt Ashka frowns, the gentle lines of her face deepening slightly. When Dory looks properly, she sees her aunt's eyes are bloodshot, too, and there are dry tear tracks staining her cheeks. Her too-thin fingers weave together.

     "We didn't want to wake you," she says quietly, her gaze falling to the ground. Her shoulders droop slightly. "Leia called and told us about an hour ago... Rion woke up in the night."

     Dory swallows her bitterness like poison. It festers in her gut. She wanted him to die instead. If she could trade her life for her sister's, then she would, but she would trade Rion's first. Her cousin is lovely and good, and she hates him still for what he did. For what she let him do.

     It's his fault, and your fault, too.

     "Is he alright?"

     Ashka picks at a loose bit of skin on her thumb. She seems so unlike herself that Dory has to blink, in case she is dreaming. Her politician aunt, a former princess, married to another politician and former princess, has always been the smiling kind. Even so, Dory has always been able to pick out the similarities between Ashka and Yve, aside from their shared blonde hair and shining blue eyes.

     She sees the similarities in the harsh edge to their smiles, the mischievous glint in their eyes, the sadness that settled into their bones over thirty years ago which hasn't ever gone away. Ashka may be a politician, but she has always been easy-going in equal measure, determined to balance her stoic facade with something happier.

     Today, Dory isn't seeing Aunt Ashka. She is seeing Ashka Cybele, the politician, sharp-angled and cool, channelling her emotions into being someone else, to control the situation.

     "He's alive." Ashka offers a small, slightly-relieved smile, but Dory doesn't take the bait.

     "And?" There's something else. Dory can tell.

     Ashka hesitates for a moment, and then sighs. "He doesn't remember what happened. The accident. Or..." Her lower lip trembles. Something inside her breaks free, and a single tear rolls from her eyes and drips from her chin. She doesn't bother swatting it away.

     "Or anything at all."

     For Dory, her fragile world, held up with cracked pillars and broken columns, comes crashing down in that moment. Her damned cousin, Rion, who caused the accident and killed her sister, gets to blissfully forget about what he did. Her lovely cousin, Rion, whom she still loves because that's how awful the world is, gets to forget.

     And she has to remember.     If, in that moment, Dory had known what would come for them all  ━  what the memory of Clarya would make them become, how they would fill the void she left, how they would take the ache and learn to make it feel like home  ━  she would wish to forget, too.

[rosalind-hawkins]

Are you still taking ships? If so can you do doubtshipping and fillershipping (Rebecca/Noah if you didn't know)?

Oh, nice picks! I actually do have fics for both of these ships!

FILLERSHIPPING: I ship it!

1. What made you ship it?

So, years ago when I first started fanfiction on FFN, I had a "Miscellaneous One-Shots" fic (you can still check that out on FFN if you really really want to) where I would take Yugioh ship requests for just about everything from anybody. Somebody requested Fillershipping, and I was like, "Oh, that's cute! Two big brain kids from wealthy backgrounds with big egos who would probably bicker and bond at the same time!" So I wrote this one-shot for it. Then @worldendercharles requested a sequel, and I absolutely went ham on it. A huge long story formed in my head, and maybe someday I will write out the continuation, because it will be full of drama and heartache. Lmk if you guys want further info on that fic and where the story would go, I'll happily divulge it all. (Please ask me about how the rest of that story would go, but after you read the fics, cause it won't make sense otherwise.)

2. What are your favorite things about this ship?

Their potential for advancement and the fact that they are potentially some of the few people that can truly understand each other on a deeper level. I think Rebecca would also be good at teaching Noah to be human. Once her grandfather's California estate is rebuilt, she would take him camping there. They would ride horses and breathe in the fresh air and look at the night desert sky and he would feel small for the first time ever and it would be so refreshing. They would just connect.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have about this ship?

Nope, I think they're perfect together. Power couple. I want a world where they end up together. Robot-body, android-body, human-grown clone, I don't care how. Make it happen.

DOUBTSHIPPING: I ship it!

1. What made you ship it?

I took my gay dolls and made them kiss. (I was very into Angstshipping and Euroshipping at the time that I discovered poly ships.)

2. What are your favorite things about this ship?

The magic ties Marik and Ryou together, and it's what this ship has that Mumbleshipping doesn't: Ryou and Marik dragging Kaiba into the Shadow Magic against his will, maybe even telling them about the Giant Rock ™️ that Ishizu showed him. They will force this stubborn man to confront his heritage and his past, against his will, and they will use their bodies against him, and they will all be torn apart and rebuilt in the process.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have about this ship?

All opinions are valid.

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturdays #5:

Fairport Convention's White Dress

Sandy Denny hated her return to Fairport Convention.

By 1974 the band had cycled through about 25 increasingly Tolkienish members in 7 years (seriously, I can think of 2 drummers, one of whom was about to be replaced, 2 bass players, 3 guitarists, a fiddler/mandolin savant and about 17 lead singers; and the only two women in that mix were the only ones without giant, hairy feet).

What's more, no one in the band understood Denny's songs, most especially her own husband; I mean just look at them; do they look like who you want backing up one of the best musicians in history?

The husband in question, Trevor Lucas, far left, was about 7 foot 6 (unlike his band mates, he obviously was not a hobbit; rather he's like a ranger that Aragorn would ditch at first chance) and knew a few guitar chords; he figured that qualified him to be Denny's producer.

What's more, Fairport in 74 wanted to rock while Sandy wanted to sway; the other band members knew Lucas couldn't produce pancakes for the breakfast table let alone a real band, so they turned away from their long term sympathetic engineer and producer, John Wood, and hired this guy instead:

That would be Glyn Johns, who had guided both the Beatles and the Stones to just about nowhere worthwhile, and who went on to dedicate his lousy career mostly to Eric Clapton (yuck; someone get Eric's slowhand offa my throat) and, you guessed it, Stephen Stills. Both men suck. Just look at Johns and Stills hanging out with two lesser losers:

David Crosby, second from left, is accusing Glyn, far right, of having a fake name (seriously: Glyn?) and of eating Crosby's pastrami sandwich to boot. Glyn, in turn, is pointing out that the sandwich is clearly already in Crosby's belly. Graham Nash, standing between them, is employing some of the Nonviolent Communication Techniques he has been trying to use, unsuccessfully, on his pet ferrets. And Stephen Stills? Standing at far left, he's clearly the true pastrami thief, plus he's stolen Graham's ferrets, and is opening his mouth to dissemble about it all while (covertly) passing gas.

To make matters worse for poor Sandy, when on stage Fairport Convention still rolled out the traditional rockified British folk songs that had made them all initially famous. "Forget the perfect songs you wrote on your first four records Sandy," they told her. "We need you to sing Child Ballad Number 69: The Undertaker's Loathsome Barrow, then stand aside while we lay out assorted French dances that will insure we never have a successful record; please, learn the lyrics lass."

Here's what Sandy had to say about it all afterwards:

"If I have to sing Matty Groves one more time I'll throw myself out the window."

Her quote would be funny if she'd had the life, and the band, she deserved, and had not fallen down a set of stairs to her death just a few years later.

But there is one moment in her second tenure with the band which documents the greatness of what could have been. Dave Swarbrick was capable of writing a song worthy of her voice and he did so just once in 74 with the simple and aching, White Dress.

Check it out.

This video is a bit of the Holy Grail for Denny freaks like me: only the first minute of footage has ever emerged. Where is the rest? Happily some guy who surely lives in his mother's basement and is wondering right now when she will tell him breakfast is ready took the time to paste on still photos over the rest of the live take so we can hear everything and see how it started.

That's drummer number three in the opening shot, and Swarbrick stands behind Denny with the mandolin, grinning away at his good luck to have her singing his song. Sandy sets aside all her angst in this performance; she fills every available space with her grace and heartache.

Did Neil Young know about Denny's performance of this song before he wrote its natural sequel, Wrecking Ball, wherein his ladyfriend dons something pretty and white before they go dancing tonight? If not, Emmylou Harris certainly knew all about Sandy and the song before she sang Shakey's version. Just listen to the similar aching sway.

I love Harris's performance here, but I get chills seeing and listening to Denny fronting the band in 74. I get a little weepy to. Denny died four years later, 46 years ago this Spring. She should be 76 years old today, singing to her grandchildren.

At least she's still singing to us.

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Poll for the next fic

Okay, I wanna start writing the next fic already but I wanna make it interesting and let you guys choose which of my little WIPs I should work on first based purely on the synopsis becase they're still really rough.

Head up, I'm about to finish my major so until August 10th I'm gonna be quite busy to so I may not have a lot of time to work on any fic until then.

☆ Backpains and Heartaches: Even a decade later, Loki's time prisoner at the Sanctuary II left him with sequels, not that his life is bad, he is an Avenger and now dates his pretty little mortal. But every so often things get a bit overwhelming and he needs some help, which lucky for him his darling is always there for him.

☆ Payback: Morgan and Nate have a babysitter (the reader) and one day the kids decide to play prank on their babysitter, who turns it around and pass it onto the next adult around: the God of Mischief.

☆ Not a Clue: Loki has always been able to gloat on his perceptiveness, but can he really figure out that a certain mortal corresponds his feelings when he thinks nobody could feel that way about him?

☆ Utterly Infuriating: You're awfully bright, always laughing and playing around and being loud and cheerful. Loki thinks you're childish, weird, sarcastic, and annoying. So why is he so drawn to you?

☆ Smile for Me pt 2: Yesterday I posted that a fic, I have a few ideas brainstormed about the solving the issue of the traitor. But I'd have take a bit more time to solve it.

[thatsalrightprettymama]

Mama How Do You Fix A Broken Heart?

A/N: Here is the sequel to Should've Known You'd Bring Me Heartache! @navia3000 Thank you for sending in the request for Should've and I'm sorry it took me so long to get this sequel out lol. It took a bit to figure out how to write what I had planned, but I'm happy with the end product! I hope you and everyone else likes this! As always it's unedited and not proofread 💙.

Warnings: none? Maybe slight cussing if that bothers you. Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. (This one actually ends happy 😂)

Word Count: 5.7K

You were laying in your bed, just as you had been since you left Club Handy three days ago. Your rooms four walls becoming your sanctuary to hide from the world in. As you lay in your bed watching the morning rays seep through your curtains onto your wall you faintly hear the phone ring. You hear you mother go to answer it and when you hear her voice say, “Hello Gladys! I’m having an alright morning, how about yourself?” shortly after the ringing stop it cemented your decision to stay in bed for the day again. If your mama was talking to Gladys, that meant there was probably a chance of you having to run into or see a Presley if you left your room. As you heard the muffled sound of your mother on the phone, you rolled over and shoved your face into your pillow. You should’ve never gone out to Club Handy, you would’ve never have made a fool out of yourself or seen Elvis. You’d still be miserable and heartbroken though, but you’d probably wouldn’t be hiding in your room.

As you laid there, the last time you saw Elvis replays in your head. Why did you have to act like a drunken fool in front of him? Why did you refuse the ride, when you could’ve had all, you wanted for weeks, a moment with him? Why did you spit the vicious lie at him? Yes, part of you wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you but know he believed you hated him. Cementing the fact, you’ll never get him back. As you moped in your room, your mom was talking to the woman that had surprisingly become her best friend over the past few years since you met Elvis. “She’s not left her room except to go to the bathroom for three days, and even thin she’s like a damn ghost.” Your mother tells Gladys before adding, “You know when she told me she was going dancing the other night I thought either she was getting better or he got his head out of his ass, but now I don’t know what happened but she’s worse. “The Presley matriarch sighs on the other line, usually she didn’t care too much for the girls in her Bewbie’s life, but you were special. She liked you though, and while she’d never fully admit it out loud, she didn’t mind sharing her Bewbie with you.

“Usually, I’d get offended someone talking about my Bewbie like that, but to be honest I don’t understand why he’s being such a damned fool like this for. I swear he loves her Charlotte.” Gladys tells your mom as she paces the kitchen, the whole conversation going unheard by you. “I don’t know what happened that night, all I know is he left late saying he had to get Y/N and came back later looking like his world was crushed. “She continues to admit to your mom, both women getting confused and concerned at the shared information. “I don’t know what’s going on with them, they obviously still love each other.” Your mom comments as Gladys hums in agreement. “I don’t know what happened that night, Y/N came home drunker than a skunk and she’s been moping ever since.” Your mother tells Gladys as they talk. “Do you think I could visit her? I don’t know, I know it’s pushy but maybe these kids need us to step in a bit?” Gladys asks your mother after a moment and continuing when she notices your mother’s slight hesitancy, “Just to talk to her, maybe figure out a way to help them kids not end something that could give us the cutest grandbabies?” The joke making your mother laugh as she stretches the cord as she paces a small path at the phone. “Oh, I know, and well maybe that might work.” Your mother tells her before uttering,” Lord knows she ain’t talking to me about it.”.

“Alright well let me get ready and say I’ll be over in an hour? I’ll get Vernon to take me.” Gladys tells your mother after hearing her agreement. “Maybe we can get these kids back together.” She comments before they say their goodbyes. The whole conversation went unheard by you as you moped in your bed. So, after some time when you heard a knock on your bedroom door you assumed it was your mother. “Mom! I just wanna be left alone!” You pitifully call out pulling the covers over your head in attempt to drown out the world more. “I’m not the Mama you’re talking about, so does that mean you still want to be left alone?” You hear the familiar voice of Gladys Presley ask as you hear your door creak open making your heart still for a moment. As you pause under the blanket you have an internal battle with yourself. Part of you wants to tell her that it especially includes her and to leave, but another part of you would never want to be that rude to Gladys. You had grown to love the woman over the years, and while you may be hurt and angry from her son; she never did anything to you.

“No, you can come in Mrs. Gladys. “, You softly comment from under your lump as you hear her step into your room. As you heard your door shut you slowly uncovered yourself and sat up to stare at the older woman. “What happened to Mama P? Just cause my Bewbie’s an idiot I get bumped down to Mrs. Gladys?” Gladys softly jokes as she fully steps into your room as you try to ignore her pitying look at your unkept appearance. “Sorry Mama P., though I never thought I’d hear that last part.” You tell the woman giving a ghost of a smile as you pat the corner of your bed. “If you say it again you can sit on my bed.” You joke making the older woman laugh as she sits on your bed. “Well, I never thought my Bewbie would act so stupid I’d have to call him an idiot.” She jokes with you as she glances over at you before biting her lip. “How have you been little girl? I ain’t seen you in months.” She asks as you bow your head and start to play with frayed strings on your blanket. “I’ve been better Mama P. “You admit softly as you toy with the stray string. “Sorry I ain’t seen you, I didn’t really know with us uh splittin’ if you would want me to still.” You tell her honestly as you two quietly sit on your bed. “Plus, I kinda knew it would hurt too much to see you.” You confess to the woman that had become like another mother to you. “Oh sweetheart, it wouldn’t matter I like you for you.” She tells you softly as she softly moves a piece of your hair before adding, “You’re like the daughter I never got to have, and I’m sorry my Bewbie’s put both of ya’ll through this. I don’t know what goes through that boy’s mind.”

As you listen to her, you couldn’t help but feel curious and lightly agitated at her words. “You know you’re like another Mama to me too and saying that Mama P I gotta ask you somethin’.” You tell her as you lift your head up, your heart breaking as Elvis starts to flood your mind as you looked at his Mama. “What do you mean both of us? He wanted it, he was the one to end it.” You tell her as you watch her bit her lip as she gives the barest shake of her head. “I know sweetheart, but I don’t know why. Lord knows he didn’t really want it, and the boy’s been torn up since then. “Gladys tells answers you giving you a soft sad look. “Especially since the other night, he’s been a wreck. “She comments giving you a look as you bite your lip. While childishly a small part of you was glad to know he was just as affected by the break-up as you were, you felt guilty knowing what you had said to him when you last seen him. Biting your lip, you looked at the older woman as you felt the familiar sting of tears building up and asked, “Then why did he break me?”. The older woman softly coos as she pulls you into a hug as you continue to fight your tears. “I don’t know little girl, and I hate to see both of ya’ll hurtin’ like this.” She tells you as she tries to comfort you. “Maybe if you tell me why he’s barely leavin’ his room muttering you hate him?” She asks after a moment as she pulls back from you slightly to look down at you.

You tearfully stare at the older woman as the guilt swelled up in you as you remembered how you yelled at him, then you told him that awful lie at Club Handy. “Oh, Mama P I made a damned fool out of myself at Club Handy.” You tell her sniffing back the tears as you swallow a lump, letting the woman pull you back against her. “I’m sure whatever happened wasn’t that bad little girl.” She comments as she runs a hand comfortingly through your hair. “Oh, but it was. Not only did I make a fool outta myself, but I said the most awful things to Elvis.” You lament as you start to lose the fight with your tears. “I got as drunk as skunk and almost started a bar fight.” You begin to explain tearfully as you sniffle against her, your words surprising her. “Bar fights? What happened that night little girl?” She questions you stunned slightly, while you were a bit of a firecracker bar fights were something way out of your nature. “Well, I don’t know. I got tired of moping around like I had been for months, and I started out just wanting to have some fun. Then when I got there it changed, I started to drink and dance. I wanted to just forget for one night that I was hurtin’ as much as I was. “You continue to explain as you continue to sniffle and cry, the walls finally breaking as she listens to you. “I danced with some guys, and well one thought I owed him something for my drink and didn’t like it when I told him I didn’t owe him anything. I guess that’s when B.B. called your house.” You continue your story as Gladys comforts you, holding you tighter as you mention the altercation before interrupting you slightly. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” She asked as she pulled away from you briefly to look into your eyes, your words worrying the older woman. “No, No. Sammy handled it before he could hit me.” You tell her as your tear-filled eyes stared into her worried ones, thinking how Elvis looked like her. She hums calmed slightly by your answer uttering a small, “Good” as she waited to listen to the rest of your story.

“Well after Sammy handled it and B.B called Elvis, B.B took me into the back office of the club to keep me from makin’ more trouble. Well, we got to talking, and I was telling him about how I was feeling when Elvis showed up. God I was just so drunk, and seeing him and all the hurt rushing forward made me so angry Mama P.”  You tell her through tears as she rubs her hand up and down your back as she softly tells you, “It’s alright sweetheart we all say things we don’t mean when we’re drunk or angry, and especially when the two mix.” You sniffle as you listen to her words and shake your head against her. “No, I was horrible to him. I told him I hated him and wished I’d never met him.” You admit to the older woman before you choke out a cry as she comforts you. “I didn’t mean to tell him that.” You tell as you move you hand to wipe your eyes as she runs her hand through your hair again. “I know sweetheart, I know. It’s also not the end of it all though.” She tells you softly before she pulls back to see your tear-stained face. “You know how many times I’ve told Vernon I’ve hated him over the years?” She lightly asks giving you a half-smile.

You wipe your eyes and shake your head with a sniffle as you try to calm yourself down from finally unleashing some of your guilt from the past few days. “That’s hard to believe Mama P., you and Vern were made for each other.” You comment as you finish wiping your tears before looking at Gladys as she slides your hair behind your ear before putting her hand down. “That’s real sweet of you to say sweetie, but of course I have. Lord knows that man’s drove me up the walls too many times to count over the years.” She tells you softly as she looks at you for a moment. “Why don’t you get out of this bed, and get ready and you can drive me home? I know Elvis taught you how, and maybe you and Bewbie can talk some?” She asks softly after a pause making you shake your head. “I’ll drive you home Mama P, but I don’t know if I can talk to Elvis. “You tell her as your heart hammers at the thought of it. “Plus, would he even wanna talk to me after the way I acted?” You ask pitifully as you started to play with the strings on your blanket again. “Oh, Y/N sweetheart of course he’d wanna talk to you.” She tells you softly but sweetly as she glances at you. “I think he’d wanna talk to you as much as you regret those words.” She comments with a sad smile as she waits for you to say or do something. Chewing on your bottom lip you looked up at her and nodded. “Alright I will, you care to wait for me to get ready?” You ask her making her smile wide and nod.

“Of course, little girl I’ll go talk with your Mama while you get ready.” She tells you as she gets off your bed and you follow suit. You give her a hug before she leaves your room. Going to your closet, the blue dress that Elvis always commented on. Grabbing it you gathered your underclothes and headed to the shower. Quickly taking a shower, you take more time getting dressed. You felt your hands shake as you dressed as your anxieties and nerves felt frayed as your heart hammered in your ears. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to take back those words, but he broke you. Elvis broke you and you don’t know how you’re going to talk to him. Which also broke your heart even more, because he was supposed to be the one person you never had that problem with. Looking at yourself in the mirror you debated on putting on make-up. Part of you wanted to put it on, but really it would be worse. You knew you wouldn’t leave Graceland without crying so you decided to forgo the makeup. Smoothing your dress, you put on your shoes and head out of your room.

You find Gladys and your mom sitting on the couch drinking iced tea as they talked, your mom pausing as she noticed you. “You look good Y/N, you ready to take Gladys home?” She asks you with a small smile, silently reminding herself to call her friend later and sing her praises for getting you out and dressed. “Thank you, Mom and yeah you care to give me your keys ma’am?” You ask her with a smile as you fiddled with your dress. “Of course, if you’re ready Mama P?” You check looking at the curly haired woman as you chew on your lip. “Your Mom’s right, you look beautiful in that dress little girl. “She compliments you making your heart swell with affection for her. “I’m ready whenever you are sweetheart.”  She answers your question as she stands from the couch. As she goes to take her glass through, your mom grabs it. “I’ll take it for you Gladys, I’m glad you came over. “She tells her warmly as she takes the glass, and as she goes to the kitchen, she pauses to hand you her keys. “Be careful Y/N.” She warns you with a smile before going to the kitchen.

“Alright then, I guess we better head on.” You state fiddling with the keys as you nervously smile at the Presley matriarch. “I guess so sweetheart, let’s go see if you kids can fix this mess.” She comments warmly as walks up to you and wraps and arm around your shoulder. You two head to the car and get in, and with shaky hands you start the car. Carefully you pull out of the driveway and start to drive down a familiar route. “Thank you for coming to see me Mama P.” You finally tell her breaking the small silence as you drove down the road. “No problem little girl.” She tells you warmly before adding, “Though I can’t deny I selfishly did it for Bewbie too. You kids have something special, and it shouldn’t end for no real reason when you both love each other.” You bite your lip as her honest confession pulls at your heart as your emotions create a chaotic battle inside seeing if either your anxieties, misery, or nerves would break you first. “Do you really think he still loves me? Did he tell you what he told me when he ended?” You ask her softly as you stared at the rode ahead chewing on your lip. “He told me that we should see other people, that we were too young to be tied to each other and the Puppy love was fun while it lasted, and maybe we could be friends one day. “You tell answering your own question with a small scoff. “I feel bad he's torn up, and despite that I don’t want him to think I hate him. But can you see where I worry if he still loves me? That there could be someway to get back to what we had?” You ask her honestly as she bites her lip, not seeing the sad look in her eyes as a flash of anger filtered through them at your admission.

“I swear I’mma hit that boy after you two talk.” Gladys comments as she places a comforting hand on your arm as you try to keep an eye on the road ahead. “I don’t know why he said that sweetheart, but I know a lick of it ain’t true. I know he loves you Y/N. “She tells you kindly before she removes her hand. “I’m scared.” You admit after a moment as you take the ramp to get on Highway 51. “That’s cause love’s scary.” She tells you wisely as you bite your lip. “Thank you, Mama P.,” You tell her after a pause as you briefly glance over at her, and you give her a small smile. The rest of the drive to Graceland was spent in mostly pleasant silence as you mentally prepared yourself. Pulling up to the gate your heart starts to beat so fast you wonder if it’ll burst out of your chest. Nervously swallowing you drive the car forward as the gate opens. Pulling up the driveway you park the car and turn off the ignition. You both sit in silence as you hold onto the steering wheel for dear life. “I I I don’t think I can do this.” You shakily state breaking the silence after a long pause. “Sweetheart I know it’s scary, but I’m sure that heartache hurts worse then the fear don’t it?” She asks as she places her hand on your arm again, and you try to focus on the feeling of her soft hand as you feel like your chest it about to cave in.

Slowly breathing you try to slow your heart as you try to focus on her and think on her answer. Despite your anxiety hitting you full force, you knew she was right. The pain of not having Elvis in your life was a thousand times worse than what your fear felt like. After taking a few more breaths you nod and shakily grab the keys. “You’re right, but please take these till we talk so I don’t run.” You tell her softly as you hand her the keys. Taking her other hand, she grabs them and soothing rubs your shoulder as she says, “It’s gonna be ok little girl, despite this mess he’s still that boy that would walk you home from school like a puppy all those years ago.” Her words comforting more, you give her the best smile you could as you take a deep breath. Getting out of the car, you shut your door and stare at the huge familiar house. In spite of your internal emotional storm raging inside you, you follow Gladys into the house.

Closing the door behind you she points up the stairs as she tells you, “He’s in his room, just knock. It’s gonna be fine Y/N.” You nod and stare at the stairs for a moment as she starts to walk pass you, pausing to pat your shoulder she softly tells you, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”. You nod as you chew on your lip, as she continues her way to the kitchen you take a moment to prepare. Closing your eyes, you try to clear your head some before you open them and start to head up the stairs. Slowly ascending them you grip onto the wooden rail, trying to think of what you were going to say. Coming up you look down the hall and see his door. Uneasily you walk toward it pausing for a moment and just starting at the door when you stop in front of it. Breathing in you bring your hand up and knock on the door. “Leave me alone Mama! I don’t wanna be bothered.” You hear his deep voice shout after a brief silence after your knock. Frozen it takes you a minute or two before you call out to him through the door. “It’s not your Mama Elvis, it’s me.” Biting your lip, you start to fidget with your dress as you hear silence before a thump and his deep voice call out, “Y/N? That really you?” As you hear shuffling you go to answer before the door is ripped open and he’s standing in front of you. Despite the red eyes accompanied by dark circles and slump posture, you still thought he was a dreamboat. “Y/N.” He breathes your name out, making you freeze. The moment was here, and you had no idea what to say or do, all you could do was stare back at him. “C-Can we talk?” You finally ask slightly stuttering as you struggle to keep a grip on yourself.

“Of course, Y/N!” He tells you as he opens his door for you to come into his room. “Uh What did you want to talk about doll?” He asks you as he closes the door, the pet name naturally slipping off his tongue and harshly tugging on your heartstrings. Walking into his room you sit on the corner of his bed as you stare at him, chewing on your lip as you try to think of how to start this and how to tell him everything that was burning under your tongue. Fiddling with your fingers you take a deep breath before you end up blurting out, “I don’t hate you, in all honesty I could never hate you, Elvis.” You watch as his dark eyebrows arch up and something flash across his eyes as he sucks on his bottom lip. “Do you mean that Y/N?” He asks you softly, his voice coming out raspy as he stares at you seemingly frozen in his spot next to the door. Timidly nodding you stop chewing your lip as you moved your gaze to the carpet. “It’s true, while I don’t understand why you ended it, but I can’t hate you.” You tell him as you stare at the carpet, still fiddling with your fingers. “I was drunk, angry, and hurt. “You begin to explain, suddenly lifting your head up and taking breath to ward off the tears that start to build again. “Plus, to be honest in that moment I just wanted to make you feel an ounce of the hurt I have been for months. “You admit to him as you stare at the ceiling, feeling his eyes burn into you from the corner. 

As you heard his soft footsteps pad a few steps toward you, you decided to continue speaking before your feelings took over. “The whole night was shit. I went there to forget the hurt and you, and all I could think of was you. Haunted by your memories I made a fool of myself, and then seeing you looking just fine made all that hurt come rushing back stronger. “You tell him before you finally bring your head down, and glance at his tall form in front of you. “I’m sorry for all the awful things I said.” You apologize as you stare into his eyes, seeing the blue orbs gloss over you felt your own eyes sting. “Just why did you end it, Elvis? Why did you say that all those years and everything was just some puppy love?” You ask him as you begin asking the questions that burned your mind since that night. As you fight your own tears you watch him fight his own as you watch him inhale sharply at your question, fueling you to continue your inquisition as hurt bubbled beneath your skin. “Was there someone else? Was I not enough for you anymore? What did I do for you to just toss me and everything away?” You ask as you continue to stare at him, your voice squeaking as it cracked at the end of your questions.

Taking a deep breath in you try to blink back the tears as you watch him stare at you. Glossy blue eyes gazing into yours as he reflexes his hand before fiddling with the side of his pants. As the tears finally start to slip out, you finally ask, “Why did you promise me all of those future dreams like you were gonna be my forever when you were gonna break em’? Why did you break me after you promised not to?” Your voice thickening with each word as they stab his heart, you watch as he softly brings his hands up and wipes your tears away with his thumb. Breathing in you freeze as you watch him, waiting for some answer. “Oh Y/N, baby, don’t ever think you’re not enough. You didn’t do anything. It’s all on me, I was the damned fool.” He tells you softly, his deep voice rasping over you as you exhale trying to stop the tears. “That doesn’t answer my question Elvis, there has to be a reason why.” You thickly insist as you watch him take a deep breath before he pauses his thumb and moves to cup your face. “I-I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought it would be better to let you go.” He answers and while the hurt still bubbled underneath, anger flared at his words. “A favor? You thought you were doing me a favor by breaking my heart? You thought it would be better to let me go thinking that you didn’t believe any of it fucking mattered?” You ask as your tears continued to fall and your eyes light with fire.

“I thought that I was doing the right thing darlin’, I thought I was setting you free so another Jack could give you all the things I couldn’t” He admits as he watches you stand, reaching out to hold you as you begin to poke into his chest. “The right thing? What bullshit is that Elvis Aaron Presley?” You ask him angrily as you get more upset. “What do you think you weren’t giving me when you gave me all I ever wanted?” You ask as you stare up to see his own tear-filled eyes gazing back into yours as he holds you. “You deserve someone that can be there for you Y/N. You deserve someone that can take you out to the movies any weekend you want. You deserve to have someone that doesn’t keep you waiting for weeks.” He admits to you as he wills himself not to cry, his honest answer tugging you on your cracked heart. “Where’s all this comin’ from? Who said I wasn’t more than fine waiting on you while you flew? Who said I gave a damn if we could go to the theatre or not? All I ever cared about was spending time with you and loving you.” You ask him as you move your finger to hold onto his shirt, realizing how much you’ve missed feeling his arms holding you. “Why the hell would you break me before talking to me about all those ridiculous thoughts?” You ask him after he just stares at you chewing on his lip for a moment.

“You can’t tell me I don’t see disappointment flash in your eyes every time I have to say no to a date you wanna go on? That I can’t take you out without crowds?” He asks as his raspy voice shakes with each word as he nervously moves his hand up to swipe some of your hair behind your ear. “You think I don’t notice how down and low you sound when I call you on tour? You don’t think you deserve someone that doesn’t make you hide from the world or is barely around at times?” He continues his questions, each one tugging your heart at his insecurities he was releasing. Shaking your head, you wondered why he couldn’t have talked to you about this stuff before. “Any disappoint you saw was simply due to adjusting and that the fans that loved you couldn’t let you have some peace. “You tell him as you reach up to cup his face. “Of course, I sounded down and low, I missed you Elvis. I don’t care about the tours; it just makes the time with you more special.” You continue as you swipe your thumb against his face as he stares as you. Sucking on his bottom lip he moves his hand to hold yours against his cheek.

“I love you so much, that I want is for you to be happy. Even if that means I gotta let you go.” He tells you as a few tears slip past his eyes. “I love you and all I want is for you to be happy too. “You tell him softly as you bite your lip, moving your hand moving from under his to wipe his tears. “I love you so damn much Elvis, I’ve been living half a life without you.” You tell him as you both tearily gaze at each other. “I ain’t really been livin’ a full life either darlin’. “He admits to you softly as he reaches his hand and grabs yours again, closing his eyes as he holds it to his cheek for a moment. Opening back up he stares at you tenderly behind the tears. “I wish you would’ve talked to me about those things, it might’ve saved us this pain.” You comment as he nods his head under your hand. “I wish I did too, I’m so sorry for hurting you Y/N. I swear I’ll never forgive myself for it.” Elvis tells you as he stares down at you tugging on your heart even more.

As you two stay frozen standing in his room staring at each other you both take the time to soak in each other’s appearances having missed each other. “How do we fix this? I wanna just fall back into your arms, kiss you, and forget about the past few months but I know it ain’t that easy.”  You ask him softly breaking the silent pause as you searched his eyes for a hint at an answer. “Maybe it is, we still love each other.” He softly begins to answer as he tenderly stares at you. “I know you won���t forget my damned mistake of letting you go, but if you give me the chance, I’ll do everything to make up for it.”  Elvis tells you honestly as you stare up at him. Leaning up you softly press your lips against his, barely a moment later he’s cupping your face holding you as he kisses back. Both of your pouring your emotions into the kiss before breaking apart. “I love you Elvis, I just want to be with you.” You softly tell him as he caresses your face. “I just wanna be with you too doll.” He tells you before kissing you again, “Please just talk to me next time, I can’t handle you breaking my heart again.” You tell him as you two break apart again, as he nods with your words. “Course darlin, I promise I ain’t ever gonna put us through something like this again.” He softly swears to you as you bite your lip and nod. “You better keep it then Elvis Presley.” You tell him before softly smiling up at him, moving your hand to play with his hair. “I swear I will Y/N. “ Elvis tells you softly as he starts to smile back at you. Staring into his blue eyes you believed him, and while you knew it wasn’t going to instantly go back to how it was, you knew you two would get there. You knew that because life was bound to be better now that you were back with the person that truly held your heart.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: A Good Man

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay ‘Lady’ Ray (OFC) **Series masterlist**

Warnings: Mention of UTI. Fellatio. That's it, folks.

Words: 2,499

Summary: The morning after Jay's and Frankie's sexual reconnection post-partum, Jay has an unwelcome reprise of what happened after their first weekend together.

A/N: This is a direct sequel to 100 Days. It doesn't have much of a plot but it's filled with Jay and Frankie banter.

Taglist: @amneris21 @apascalrascal @harriedandharassed @kikis-writing-world @lovesbiggerthanpride @miraclesabound @mswarriorbabe80 @pazizz @paulalikestuff @rambling-in-purple @trinkets01

Frankie definitely pulled something last night. There’s a tightness at the back of his left thigh.

But the tightness in his groin in gone, as is the pressure of shame over his chest. He breathes more freely than he has in months.

His back hurts, though. He can feel it when he turns his head, first to the right to look at Alma, still asleep and sprawled out like the little star she is, crowding him. He turns his head to the left, where Jay is curled up with her head against his shoulder. Her light breaths are cool on his skin, and the pale morning light falls on her face from a crack in the curtains.

For the first time he sees that she has a couple of gray hairs. Those didn’t used to be there, did they? No, they definitely weren’t. He feels bad. He did this to her. He caused her distress and heartache, made her hair turn gray.

He shakes the guilt off just as quickly. He’s done feeling guilty. He has to stop, has to forgive himself. Jay has forgiven him, he’s back in the house, in their lives, inside her.

Inside her. God, it felt good to be inside her again. He smiles at the memory of last night, of Jay falling apart under his tongue, on his cock. His own releases, so total and liberating. He can’t wait to do it again. If he could just wake Jay up without rousing Alma, and if they could just make it to the shower together…

A few light whimpers rise from the crib, and Frankie hears the telltale rustling of a baby starting to move around. Well, that was that. As Bianca starts to cry, Jay stirs next to him, drawing a deep breath and sighing it out before rubbing her eyes. Frankie puts a hand on her hip, and his heart swells when he sees the smile that immediately pulls her lips wide. She blinks her blue eyes open, finding his brown ones.

”Hi,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

”Hi.”

She hums as she slides out of bed and gets Bianca, hushing and talking calmly to the baby who quietens immediately when she smells her mother’s milk.

”I’ll take her to the living-room, let you and Alma sleep,” Jay whispers. Frankie shakes his head.

”No, get back here. Please? I want my family.”

Jay returns to bed, leaning on the pillows that Frankie puff up for her, half reclined with Bianca in her arms and latching on for her morning feeding. She sighs in relief when the strain in her breast eases up, a small smile playing in the corner of her mouth when Frankie carefully turns onto his side and puts his hand on her stomach.

”Last night was good,” he mumbles thickly. She nods.

”It was. You okay?”

Her hand finds his and there is a soft concern in her eyes that makes him swallow hard.

”I am. Are you?”

”Yeah. I love you.”

”I love you too.” Frankie presses her hand gently, then glances over his shoulder when Alma stars to wake up. ”There goes our morning plans.”

“There’s always tonight,” Jay smiles wryly as he releases her hand and turns around to kiss his older daughter’s forehead. ”Good morning, mijita.”

---

Jay groans to herself when she steps out of the shower and realizes that she has to pee again. Her bladder is already empty and all she can feel is the sting of a budding infection. Cursing to herself, she gets up from the toilet seat, washes her hands, then proceeds to toweling herself dry while preparing herself for the amount of reassuring she has to do to keep Frankie from spiraling. Even after all these years, he’s still touchy about the monster UTI she got after that first weekend together.

Having dressed, Jay walks into the kitchen where Frankie and Alma have made pancakes – or so the girl proudly says, flour on her cheek and lips stained with blueberries, even when it’s clear that Frankie did most of the cooking.

”Yum, pancakes!” Jay bends down to kiss Alma’s cheek. ”Are there any blueberries left for me or did a certain somebody eat them all?”

”Who?” Alma giggles, eyes twinkling in anticipation.

”You!” Jay exclaims and lifts Alma up, throwing her up in the air and catching her again, enjoying her delighted shrieks. She puts the girl down and sends her to wash her hands before breakfast. She then takes a moment to run her fingers down Frankie’s neck and kissing his back as she hugs him from behind by the stove.

”Smells delicious,” she tells him as he flips over another set of perfectly circular pancakes. ”I’m starving.”

”There’s coffee,” he tells her softly, patting her hand on his stomach. ”Go sit down, I’ve got this.”

”Thanks.” She kisses his neck before releasing him, steering towards the coffeemaker and from there to the kitchen table, lifting Bianca from her baby bouncer on the floor. Cooing to the baby in between sips of coffee, she decides to try and make it through breakfast before telling him.

---

He takes it well. Between checking her temperature, making her lie down, handing her a big glass of water, offering to go buy cranberry juice, and throwing her heat pack into the microwave, Frankie doesn’t overreact at all.

”Babe,” Jay sighs while changing Bianca’s diaper, a task Frankie immediately offered to take over, but Jay wouldn’t let him, ”I’m fine. It’s nowhere near as bad as that time. I’ll just call our doctor’s office, get some antibiotics, and that’ll be that.”

”Can you even take anticiotics when you’re breastfeeding?” Frankie wonders, picking up his phone to google. Jay snatches it from his hand and turns off the screen before handing it back.

”I’m sure the actual doctor will know the answer to that, nurse Morales.”

A rueful smile spreads on Frankie’s lips. ”I’m sorry. I just… we should’ve waited. We should’ve used protection. I should’ve make sure you got up after.”

”Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve,” Jay shrugs before bowing over Bianca to blow raspberries on her soft little tummy. Bianca laughs and flails her arms, making Frankie chuckle as well. He knows Jay, knows from years of first working with her and later being with her that she doesn't like to show weakness. He also knows her well enough to recognize when she really is uncomfortable, and she isn't that now.

"Here, daddy." Jay hands him the soiled diaper. "And take out the trash."

He sighs theatrically but leans in for a little kiss as he accepts the diaper.

"You sure you're okay?" He just has to push it, has to hear her say it.

"Honestly," Jay shakes her head as she dresses Bianca. "Watch it so I don't throw you out again."

She regrets her words as soon as they leave her mouth, and looks up at Frankie. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

To her surprise, he's just shakes his head and grins. "You're terrible, you know that?"

She smiles back, a little hesitantly. "I really am sorry. And I really am okay."

"I can see that. You wouldn't be so catty if you weren't,” he winks, and she has the decency to look chastised before lifting Bianca up with a "there we go"

---

Silence has descended over the Morales-Ray household. Alma is tucked away in dreamland, a stuffed animal in her embrace, her short dark curls silky against the yellow pillowcase with whales on it. Jay puts down the book she was reading for her, watches her daughter for a few moments to make sure she's really asleep, then leaves the room on light feet. Bianca is already asleep in her crib in the master bedroom, and Frankie has taken care of the laundry while Jay was putting Alma to bed.

She goes to the kitchen and downs the evening pill of antibiotics she has been prescribed, drinking a glass of water to make it go down smoothly, then goes to the bathroom before joining Frankie in the living-room. He's watching something on TV but looks up when she enters, smiling as he shifts himself to make room for her in the corner. She stops to look at him in the blue light generated by the TV.

Frankie, who will always make room for her in the best corner of the couch. Frankie, who will always surrender the last chip in the bowl to her, even when it's his favorite flavor. Frankie, who will always make sure she and the girls are okay, before attending to his own needs.

She joins him on the couch, but not next to him, instead straddling his thighs and cupping his cheeks.

"You, Francisco Morales, are a good man."

He frowns a little but takes her words for what they are: her praising him for doing well.

"Trying to be," he smiles a little bashfully, his hands coming to rest on their favorite places on her hips.

"I love you," she continues, thumbs softly caressing the beloved bald spots in his beard, one thumb dipping down into the dimple in his cheek when he smiles.

"I love you too."

Jay leans forward and kisses his cheek before whispering: "I'm gonna suck your cock now. You want that?"

His breath stutters and his grip becomes slightly harder. She sits back to meet his gaze, now a little clouded as he licks his lips.

"I'd like that. But babe - "

"No buts. I'm fine. I'm medicated. I want to make you feel good." Jay leans forward to kiss him lightly, breathing warmly against his skin. "Okay?"

"Okay." His lips brush over her cheek.

"Okay..."

She slides down on her knees on the floor, his thighs separating to accomodate her.

"You were so good to me last night," she lets him know, her voice soft. "Let me be good to you now."

Frankie murmurs as she caresses her palms up his inner thighs, from his knees to his cock, feeling it swell slowly under the fabric of his sweatpants. Dipping her head down to tease him by pressing her face against his crotch and inhaling deeply, she makes it twitch in anticipation. She looks up at him and smirks before hooking her fingers under the waistband, and Frankie hurries to lift his hips up so that she can pull down his pants. His cock is still only half hard and struggling to rise from his thigh, but when Jay closes her hand around it and gives it a first, affectionate kiss, it jumps into full erection almost immediately.

"There you are," Jay coos, gently pulling his foreskin back and licking at the exposed head, "hello there, gorgeous..."

Frankie leans his head back with a sigh, one hand falling beside him, the other reaching for Jay's on his thigh. She plaits her fingers together with his and gives them a little squeeze before parting her lips for her tongue to do a long, slow swirl over the head of his cock. She teases him for a long while with light licks and caresses, relishing in how his breathing seems to become more labored and accompanied by little whines.

"Estás matando," he groans when she looks up at him, licking her lips with a smile.

"Wouldn't want that."

"Please, baby..." His low voice drizzles honey along her spine and she curses the UTI that's preventing penetration at the moment.

"Hmm, okay then, but only because I love you so fucking much."

His hips are twitching before long, both hands gripping the couch seat as he tries not to fuck her mouth, tries to let her decide the pace. Desperate, hoarse pants come from deep within his chest, his eyes are pressed shut, face distorted in what looks like a grimace but is really the physical manifestation of his attempts to stay quiet so the kids won't wake up.

"Jay," he whispers, "God, Jay, fuck, don't stop, please...!"

Her hand and mouth finally bring him over the edge and he cums down her throat, nearly choking her, saliva and cum dripping from her lower lip as she coughs, never once stopping stroking him as she wipes her mouth and takes a deep breath to steady herself. Frankie forces his eyes open and raises one hand to softly pass his thumb over first one corner of her mouth, then the other, wiping away the wet remains of his release.

"You okay?"

"Always," she assures him with a little smile as she passes her thumb over the glistening head of his cock. "Are you?"

He shivers from overstimulation, thighs twitching again. "Oh, yeah."

Jay chuckles; a low, satisfied sound that tells him how happy she is with herself. After a few last kisses and licks to his cock, she releases him to shrink, and stands up. Frankie takes her hand and pulls her down next to him, drawing her in for a salty, wet kiss.

"You're amazing," he tells her lips, her cheek, her neck. "I love you. You're everything to me. You and the girls."

"Funny how the girls are the first thing on your mind after an epic blowjob like that," she grins, holding back a laugh at his shocked expression.

"Jay!"

"You are such a prude!"

"I was trying to be romantic and you just had to go and blow it - "

"First time ever a man complains about getting blown!"

Frankie groans, passing his hands through his hair before lifting his hips so that he can pull his sweatpants back up, all the while pretending not to notice Jay giggling next to him. Eventually, he looks over at her, takes her by the neck, and pulls her in for a kiss.

"Never trying to romance you again," he mutters. Jay smiles against his lips, her fingers finding and threading through the curls at the back of his neck.

"It's not your first time saying that, and you always try again, my sweet man. And I love you for that. You never give up on me even when you know that I’ll never be as romantic as you are."

“That’s why I love you,” he replies quietly, placing a light kiss on her lips, nose, cheeks, forehead. “I love you because you’re so unconditionally you, Jayne.”

They watch a show on Netflix while waiting for the ten o'clock news, but Jay's asleep against Frankie's shoulder long before that, the antibiotics making her drowsy. He skips the weather forecast and turns the TV off, slowly nudging Jay awake so that they can both move to the bathroom before bedtime. Finally between the sheets, she fits herself to his side, head tucked against his shoulder, and goes back to sleep. Frankie stays awake for a little while, listening to her breathe, feeling the slow, steady beat of her heart against him, thanking once again whatever God he believes in that he's here, with her, alive, safe, healthy.

[guyfierisleftnut]

the most twisted curse of all

relationship: gojo satoru x reader, mentions of geto suguru x reader

word count: 2.5k

genre: angst, no comfort, love triangle, pining

warnings: chapter 0 spoilers, descriptions of disassociation, mentions of death, use of female pronouns for reader

a/n: i watched chapter 0 last weekend and i have not been able to get gojo/geto angst out of my head. i just had the urge to write. i haven’t written in probably 5 years, so i’m still trying to find my voice again. would love thoughts and feedback (just don’t be too mean please). i have ideas for a prequel and maybe sequel if there is interest and if i get the surge of inspiration again. reblogs are appreciated! 

-

A figure sat crumpled on the corner of the sofa, arms wrapped around herself as if her own embrace could warm the icy chill that enveloped her entire body, on this cold, late December night. It didn’t really matter though, not like she could feel anything anymore after her tears had run dry.

Her body had been paralyzed on the sofa since the night before, after he left for the second time in her life. When the tears had finally slowed down around dawn, all her senses had vanished too—no longer feeling the stickiness on her face, the tightness in her chest, the questions that plagued her mind going silent. She sat there, numb to all, spending the better part of a day staring blankly at the walls in her apartment. The only sensation she could register was the buzzing of tinnitus.

It's better this way. To not feel. Because if she starts to feel again, she’d surely die from the heartache she’s experiencing once again.

Thump. Was she able to feel the blood pulsing through her body again?

Thump. Or was it the throbbing of her head?

Thump. She finally snapped out of her trance-like state, taking a few moments to realize it was rather the gentle knock on her door.

But she didn’t move yet. Unsure if her sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe, a last-ditch survival method from her body, to ensure she moves from where she’s been rooted for 24 hours, to get water, sustenance?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She lets out a sigh, a breath she didn’t realize she’s been holding onto this entire time, and finally decides to move. She feels around for her phone, that’s long been discarded on the other end of the sofa. Feeling the cool metal against her skin, she wraps her slender finger around the device lifting it into her eye line. She squints as the sudden brightness strains her eyes—the screen reads 11:46 pm December 24, 2017. Ignoring the text and missed call notifications she tosses it aside once more.

THUMP. THUMP. The knocks get more urgent.

Frustration surges through her and she tries to find her voice. “I’m coming…” just give me a second she wants to continue, but instead her face scrunches in pain at the rawness in her throat that she could feel once again.

Joints creak as she swings her legs off the sofa, nearly falling back as blood starts circulating through her unused limbs. Once she regains her balance, she makes her way to the front door.

As she reaches for the lock, eyes grow wide as the glacial pinpricks of fear paralyze her body. What if he’s back? Here to break her heart a 3rd time. She couldn’t take it.

“It’s me. Please open the door.”

The frost melts quickly at the sound of the familiar voice, a comforting voice. But the chill is only replaced with a heavy tightness in her chest that’s oh so familiar.

Twisting the lock, then the doorknob, she creaks the door open.

Her eyes trail from the torso of the taller man standing before her to his face, framed beautifully by hair as white as the first snow of the season. Their eyes lock, as the usual blindfold or sunglasses he sports are missing.

“Satoru…” she barely breathes out.

His brilliant blue eyes are duller than she’s ever seen before. The feeling of dread overwhelms her, suffocates her, chest squeezing tighter once again. She can’t bear the eye contact anymore, breaking it to look down at their feet instead.

It’s quiet for a moment. Air tense, as Gojo takes in her appearance. He notices the wrinkles in her t-shirt, disheveled hair, red nose, puffy eyes, and the tear stains that have long dried on her cheeks.

He thinks she is beautiful even like this. But he’s quick to shake the thought out of his head. He came here with a purpose.

She must already know, he thinks. And as much as he doesn’t want to utter these words, he knows he still must.

“He’s go--” Gojo starts, but is quick to correct himself, “dead.” He can’t leave any room for misinterpretation. It’ll only make things more difficult.

Gojo doesn’t need to specify who for her to know who he is.

She lifts her gaze from the floor, looking back up at him in disbelief. Suddenly, he looks older. Aged, and tired as the words fall from his mouth and ring in her ears. Like he’s not the 27-year-old man she knows, whose eyes always sparkle in mischief, and lips are always pulled in a sly smirk. And for a second, she hopes this maybe is a joke, one he just took too far. It’s ok, she could forgive him for it, even he was being cruel. She could forgive Gojo Satoru, her best friend.

So, she waits for his lips to curl, she waits for his teasing voice, an I can’t believe you fell for that, or you should have seen the look on your face. But when all she sees are those heavy blue eyes, eyes that look far too old, far too serious to be her Gojo Satoru’s, her vision begins to tunnel, and she slips away from reality.

-

Eye flutter open tentatively, like a butterfly who emerged from its chrysalis, testing out its wings for the first time. Disoriented, she lifts her head from the comfort of her pillow. Since when was she in bed? Confusion is replaced with panic, as flashes of Gojo resurface in her memory—flashes of his eyes. Eyes that had darkened to the deep blues of storming skies. The memory made her shiver. Was it even real? No. This was all just a nightmare. It had to be.

Footsteps interrupt her thoughts, and she looks up to see Gojo standing in the doorway of her room, glass of water in hand.

The color drains from her face as the words he’s dead become real. They sink into every pore, into veins, traveling to her heart, encasing her lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Feeling dizzy again, she drops her head into her hands trying her best to avoid fainting again, trying her best to wrap her head around the fact that this was all real.

Gojo rushes to her side, shoving the glass towards her.

“Drink this.”

In three gulps the glass is empty, not having had a drop of water for over 24 hours now. He grabs the glass and sets it on the nightstand next to her.

The bed groans as Gojo sits tentatively on the edge, looking anywhere but at her, searching for the right words.

“I’m sorry, I…” but she cuts him off, not wanting to hear an apology from Gojo. Not wanting him to take responsibility for the death of her former lover, of his best friend.

“He was here, you know… yesterday.” And of course, Gojo knew, he could sense the unmistakable residuals of his cursed energy.

“He came to tell me he missed me—that he still loved me.”

Gojo turns to look at her again, but her empty eyes remain focused on hands that lay idly in her lap.

“I think when he said goodbye this time, he knew it was really going to be the last.”

She finally lifts her gaze to meet Gojo’s, crystal tears wet her lashes.

“Do you think there’s anything I could have done differently?” it comes out as practically a whisper.

“It’s not your fault.” he responds just as slightly, afraid that the sheer volume of his voice could shatter her.

And despite his softness, she still breaks at the words. Because she can’t believe them despite hearing the phrase over and over again, like a broken record player, in the years since his first disappearance.

Now, tears fall down her face like the plum rains of late June.

“I was his girlfriend Satoru. And I had no idea just how much he was suffering. If I could have just been better—just been there for him, maybe he…”

“And I was his best friend. It’s not your fault, it’s neither of our faults. Nothing was ever going to be enough for him. He couldn’t be happy in this world the way it is.” he asserts more sternly.

She chokes back a sob as Gojo reaches for her, pulling her into his chest. His arms wrap protectively around her, and he rests his chin on top of her head. She continues crying, vise-like grip on his shirt, as if she even eased up just a little, he would disappear from her life too. Unable to say any more, Gojo just presses feather-like kisses on the top of her head.

They stay like that for a while, holding onto each other till her sobs quiet to mere whimpers, till her breathing evens out, till the storm in her eyes dies down to a drizzle. Then she finally pulls back far enough to catch his gaze.

“I know it’s stupid—selfish, but I wish I could’ve been enough for him.” She lets out a small, humorless chuckle before continuing, “I wish my love alone, could have made up for all the cruelty in the world that drove him to madness.”

Gojo’s chest hurts at her words—staring down at her he wants to scream you were enough, you are enough. That Geto Suguru was just a black hole, and despite you being enough, nothing could have ever filled the pit that was his heart. He had sucked her in, torn her apart into her smallest subatomic components, and squeezed her into singularity. She didn’t deserve this. Geto Suguru didn’t deserve you. He wished that he could be enough for her, to fill the hole Geto Suguru left in her. But at that moment, all Gojo Satoru could say was “I know.”

After a few more moments of silence, with a sigh Gojo begins to speak again, “You haven’t eaten anything all day I’m sure, let me get you something.” But as he shifts to slide out of bed, her stranglehold is back on his shirt.

“Stay?” she tries to demand, but the word falls from her mouth as a question instead. The single word holds so much weight.

Please, stay here. Please, don’t abandon me as he did. Please, don’t die as he did. I need you.

All he could do was nod. As if he could ever deny any of her requests.

She scoots away from the edge of the bed, lifting the blanket, making room for him to climb in next to her. Gojo lays his head on the pillow, gesturing for her to move back closer to him. She rests her head on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her form once again.

It wasn’t awkward. Gojo comforted her like this many times after he left the first time. So used to each other’s touch, but never daring to cross the line past warm embraces and kisses on the tops of their heads.

He wishes things were different if only to spare her. He thinks back to a spring day in their second year of Jujutsu High. 

The air was crisp as a storm had recently passed through the city; it was the first time in a few days the sky was clear. The sun shone down brightly, radiating against her skin as she took advantage of the good weather to spar in the school field with an underclassman.

Geto and Gojo sat in the grass watching from a distance—in awe of how gracefully she moved her body, dodging attack after attack, and the strength behind her blows. 

Geto lifted his head to the sky and broke the silence, “I think I’m going to ask her out.” It was then that Gojo stopped breathing, moving his eyes from the battle up ahead, to look at his best friend. Geto moved to look at Gojo before he continued, “What do you think?” 

Gojo tried quickly to recover, “It’s about time, I’ve seen the way you look at her.”—what else was he supposed to say? 

Geto narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to read the authenticity of his friend’s response. Truth be told, Geto had noticed the way Gojo would look at her too, he had the same look he was sure was visible in his own eyes. “You sure that’s ok?” 

Gojo wanted to say no, he bit his tongue, “Yeah, of course. She’ll definitely say yes.” And Geto was satisfied with that, shooting his friend a smile. “I hope so, I really do like her.”

Now, more than ever did he wish he’d dared to utter that single word. No. That he had asked her out instead. If only he had known the destruction his best friend would have brought. So as if to silently repent for this grave mistake, he decided to always be there for her—even if it was to comfort her over someone she loved, someone that wasn’t him.

As she rests her head on Gojo’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, she felt grateful to him. Every time she was near her end, ready to fall apart, Gojo Satoru, her best friend, was always there to hold her together. He was always there holding everyone together—he was the strongest after all. But who would be there for him when the pressures of the world inevitably became too heavy?

After contemplating whether to speak again or not, she calls out his name. “Satoru…” He hums in response, signaling he’s listening, so she could continue.

“Suguru...” she winces as she utters his name, “was suffering in silence. He must have felt so alone.”

Gojo’s heart pangs at how small she sounds. He whispers her name, as a plea for her to stop.

“Satoru, just please listen.” She shifts her body up, so they were both directly parallel, facing each other. She reaches out a hand to gently cradle his face, gazing into his blue eyes that held the weight of the world.

“I’m scared Satoru, that I’ll lose you too. Let me share your burdens. Let me ease the weight you carry. Even the strongest have their limits.”

Suddenly, he could see it there, in her red puffy eyes. The same adoration he’s always held for her.

“Ok.” he mumbles, putting his hand over hers that was resting on his face, relishing in her touch. 

“Promise me?” she pleads desperately.

“I promise.” he replies, taking her hand, and bringing it to his lips.

God, how he wished they were her lips against his own, every nerve, every atom in his body was practically vibrating, roaring at him to kiss her.

But he didn’t want grief to be what brought her to him, the foundation of their relationship. So, despite her words—despite his promise to share his burdens, he decides to bite his tongue once again, add another stone to the pile on his back. He already felt the weight of the world crushing his lungs, unable to breathe, what’s another burden to carry?

And as he lay there comforting his best friend, the love of his life, over her former lover, his other best friend, for the second time in his life, he thought if there ever was a moment he wanted to curse Geto Suguru, his name, his sheer existence, it was now.

[chil2de]

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

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

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

-

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”

[sundrop-writes]

TMR Taglist!!

As I said in the last post regarding a taglist - I am still on hiatus, and I will be until ?? mid-July or the end of July. But during this time, I have been writing fics, and I want to make taglists and round up people for these taglists before it's time to post the fic. Also, if there is interest, I will put characters from TMR onto my list of characters that I write for on my Rules Page.

If you want to be put on my taglist for The Maze Runner, please let me know by replying to this post, liking this post, or interacting with this post in some way. Please make sure that you have your mentions turned on in settings - I will send you a single reminder message about this, and if you don't respond to my message, you will not be added to the taglist.

Please keep in mind: I do not do taglists for each individual character. Right now, the only fics I have cooking are for Gally x Reader, and a threesome with Newt x Reader x Gally, but I am hoping to do more Newt x Reader in the future and more fics for other characters. If you are signing up to this taglist, then you will be notified for fics about all of these characters.

Here are the fics you will be signing up to be tagged in when those fics are posted:

(Also - keep in mind that all my fics will be based strictly off the movie versions of the characters and the plot events.)

Some Kind of Disaster - Gally x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Smut. Set during The Death Cure. 6.8k in counting, oneshot. Finished, needs to be edited. You can find a preview for this fic here. After seeing Gally take a spear through the center of his chest, you find out that he's alive and well, and it shocks you. When the shock clears, you and Gally reunite in the way that he's always wanted.

English Blood // American Heartache - Gally x Fem!Reader x Newt. Established Relationship bringing in a third person (Developing into Polyamory). Pining, Smut/PWP. Set post Death Cure/Safe Haven era. Newt Lives AU. (Will be a direct sequel to the above fic). Not yet finished - will be a oneshot. 14.8k so far, estimated to be 20k when finished. After everyone gets to the Safe Haven alive, it's time to relax and be thankful that there's no more death, no more running. Newt should be thankful for his life, right? He shouldn't be hung up on petty jealousy for a relationship between his two friends. (Turns out that jealousy is one of the best things that ever happened to him.)

[chieana]

🤩 😬 🎉 💔 !

Okay, no going easy on me, I see 😂

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Oof, that's a rough one... I've been having a lot of fun writing Mikey lately, I'm not sure why because I am the last person to go out and socialise! And yet his character appeals to me 🤔 I do mostly write the moments where he isn't being social tho, hahaha. Mikey's is so lovely angsty, in a quiet "tell no one" kinda way that I do very much relate to. If you pretend hard enough your problems don't exist, then they don't, right? That's the energy 🙈

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

Hmm, I don't think there really are any, because I'm honest and upfront about what I write to people irl. There is the one Kinktober fic that I did not do justice and caused a lot of bad shit to happen in the fandom directly following it, which I would not be happy sharing with others. But I would enjoy having an open-minded conversation about it and what happened surrounding it (from writing to reactions after publishing), so there's that. I'm simply not ashamed of my fanfics any more than I am insecure about any of my writing (ergo: I will always be anxious if someone tells me they read anything I wrote, haha)

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Depends on which kind of success. I do differentiate here. Personal success would be one where I can see I've learned something, a fic that helped me grow as a writer. For example my BBB21 fic, which is the first novel I wrote, or my fic The End. which was until recently the highest quality story I've ever written! But then there's also the public success that I care a little too much about on days I feel bad. In that case it's generally the kudos vs hits ratio, but also comments. I so rarely get comments, so when a fic has unique comments, by readers I don't know personally, that's when I consider it a successful fic. But I try not to take public success very seriously. My ongoing zombie AU is definitely very successful for me personally, and it's not "popular" at all yet! (which makes sense, I am slow in writing it, haha, and the mcd probably scares people off)

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Oh man, now here's a tough question x.x Every single angst fic for sure, haha. The Korse/Kobra Kid relationship in my BBB21 fic for sure broke my heart multiple times while writing it, because it is so fucking tragic 😭💔 Also Kinktober 2021 Day 8 the first chapter, it still pisses me off, it hurts so bad, I really oughta write the sequel if only just to soothe my own heartache 😖 My zombie AU also keeps breaking my heart but the most heartbreaking parts haven't been published yet 🙈

Thank you!! Sorry for answering the way I did, not one straightforward answer, hahaha, I hope you still enjoyed learning these things about me 😂🖤

[diwatera]

LGBTQ+ Movies I Watched Recently (Part 2)

Happiest Season (2020) dir. Clea DuVall

Short Summary: Abby plans on proposing to Harper when they visit Harper’s family for the holidays. Her plans get derailed when she learns that Harper hasn’t come out to her family yet.

Why you should watch it: Not gonna lie, Mackenzie Davis drew me to this movie; I’ve been in love with her ever since San Junipero came out. Add Kristen Stewart, Aubrey Plaza and Dan Levy to the mix and I’m sold. If you want a sapphic romance with a happy ending, this one’s for you. 

Été 85 (2020) dir.  François Ozon

Short Summary: Alexis recounts his six-week love affair with David during the summer of ‘85. 

Why you should watch it: If you love 80s aesthetic and music, you definitely should watch this. The movie made me nostalgic of that decade and I wasn’t even alive back then! It’s a whirlwind summer romance reminiscent of Call Me by Your Name but with a more devastating twist.

Getting Go: The Go Doc Project (2013) dir. Cory James Krueckeberg

Short Summary: An obsessed college boy pursues his internet crush through the pretext of making a documentary about him.

Why you should watch it: The script and the acting are the one-two punch of this film. The writing is incredibly genuine, and both of the actors’ performances made the lines feel even more natural. I’m not the biggest fan of mockumentary-style films, but this one felt like it was a recording of my own life. Hyper-obsessive college grad with a Tumblr blog? Might as well have called out half the population of this damn site.

Pihalla (2017) dir. Nils-Erik Ekblom

Short Summary: Miku and Elias find themselves, and each other, during a summer in the Finnish countryside.

Why you should watch it: I’m a sucker for gays in the countryside™ and although this one is not quite up there with God’s Own Country and Call Me by Your Name, it still makes for a good watch. Miku as a character and his relationship with his parents was chaotic and fun. His relationship with Elias felt really natural and dreamy. 

You, Me and Him (2017) dir. Daisy Aitkens

Short Summary: Olivia, a mature responsible lawyer, wants to have a baby, but her girlfriend Alex isn’t ready for the responsibility. Things get even more complicated when their flirty neighbour, John, joins the picture. 

Why you should watch it: It is one of the most feel-good lesbian romcoms I have seen in a while. But I warn you, there are some dark parts that can really sneak up on you. Yeah, it’s hilarious, but damn it made me ugly cry, too. Oh, and if you want to see David Tennant as an alpha male douchebag, here’s your chance. (CW: **spoiler alert** p̶r̶e̶g̶n̶a̶n̶c̶y̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶s̶ )

Giant Little Ones (2018) dir. Keith Behrman 

Short Summary: Franky and Ballas have been best friends since childhood, both on the swimming team, both incredibly popular. But after an incident during Franky’s birthday, they quickly fall apart and Franky falls from grace.

Why you should watch it: I think the film captures just how tumultuous coming-of-age stories are. Franky is going through his own journey of self-identity, and I’m happy that the movie didn’t rush in with labels. The conversation Franky has with his dad at the end also hits hard.  (CW: physical assault, allusions to sexual assault)

Our Love Story (2016) dir. HyunJu Lee

Short Summary: A fine arts student meets an attractive bartender, and the two women begin an intimate relationship.

Why you should watch it: It’s a very intimate love story that isn’t rushed or dragged out for too long. We definitely see Yoon-Jo and Ji-Soo’s relationship bloom from start to end, but it’s not mind-numbingly boring to watch. Raw and unembellished, I definitely recommend this to anyone looking for a realistic portrayal of wlw romance.

Die Mitte der Welt (2016) dir. Jakob M. Erwa

Short Summary: The film follows Phil and his relationship with his family, his best friend, and a newcomer at his school, Nicholas.

Why you should watch it: This is technically a second watch for me, and I’m glad I rewatched it, because I was able to catch some glaring red flags that I missed the first time. I love this movie in spite of all the heartache it caused me. The story, especially the deal with Phil’s family, struck a chord in me. And the shots! Visually stunning as well! 

Les Amours Imaginaires (2010) dir. Xavier Dolan

Short Summary: Marie and Francis’ friendship is put to the test when a beautiful boy called Nicolas comes between them. 

Why you should watch it: Watch it for the visuals -- the colors, the costumes, the cast. Seriously, the actors included here may as well be kept in the Louvre: Xavier Dolan, Neils Schneider, Monia Chokri, hell, even a cameo from Louis Garrel! Dolan said it himself that this is a shallow film, but it’s worth the watch just to see Neils Schneider wearing heart-shaped glasses.

Closet Monster (2015)  dir. Stephen Dunn

Short Summary: A creative and driven teenager is desperate to escape his hometown and the haunting memories of his turbulent childhood.

Why you should watch it: Right off the bat, I am going to say that this film is dark. I tried watching it back in college but tapped out within the first ten minutes because something traumatic happens. Then I tried again about a week ago, finished it this time. It’s actually a very moving film. It’s violent and gory in some parts, but also ridiculous and wholesome in other parts. IT HAS A TALKING HAMSTER NAMED BUFFY! BUFFY WAS THE STAR OF THIS MOVIE FOR ME. (CW: gay bashing/sexual assault)

Straight Up (2020) dir. James Sweeney

Short Summary: Todd and Rory are intellectual soul mates. He might be gay but she might not care.

Why you should watch it: The dialogue in this film is undeniably sharp and witty. Loved the fast-paced back and forth between the two main characters as they discuss relationships, sex, gender, and more. James Sweeney and Katie Findlay’s chemistry just pulled you into the screen. It was funny, it was sweet, it was heartwrenching, it was great! (CW: allusions to sexual assault)

Latter Days (2003) dir. C. Jay Cox

Short Summary: A promiscuous gay party animal falls for a young Mormon missionary, leading to crisis, cliché, and catastrophe.

Why you should watch it: I saw this in santiagonex’s top 20 LGBTQ+ films with happy endings, and I honestly thought it was gonna be a feel-good watch. Instead, I got a rollercoaster melodrama filled with early 2000s gay culture, religious guilt, buttcheeks, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Needless to say, I got more than I bargained for. (CW: self-harm, conversion therapy)

The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Blythewood

Short Summary:  A covert team of immortal mercenaries are suddenly exposed and must now fight to keep their identity a secret just as an unexpected new member is discovered.

Why you should watch it: Okay, I was debating whether I should include this here, because it’s not necessarily an LGBTQ+ film as much as it is an action film with queer characters. I decided to include it, because JESUS! I have never seen such respectful and well-written representation of queer characters and relationships. Joe and Nicky are the most unproblematic couple in history. PERIOD. Pray for sequels, everyone. This is the kind of representation we deserve in mainstream media. 

. . .

Click here for more LGBTQ+ film recs