#'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better)

[dazednmatthews]

don’t ever tell me to go away (from you) ~number neighbor!matt x reader part fifteen

i’m so sorry that this is like days late omfg. i haven’t forgot abt my promises to finish this or the last chris work i want to post!! ive just been so fucking busy it’s insane. i love u guys let’s get back to it fr (this is not the last part of number neighbor y’all)

“dumb. this is so dumb.” y/n says under her breath, restlessly pacing in front of matt’s door.

she’s been losing her mind out here for about twenty minutes, walking to her car then back to the front door and then all over again. she knows she looks fucking insane, but she can’t help it. the anxiety was tearing her stomach to shreds.

she hadn’t put much thought into it, really. after her conversation with daria, she was immediately met with a wave of determination. she showered, put on a presentable outfit and even brushed out her curls, which was a lot better than she’d done for herself the last seven days.

she hadn’t stopped to think about it until she was halfway here. she had matt’s address because of the one time she had a matching minions poster delivered (he hated it) and it had just lived in his contact file ever since. she knew that she had to talk to matt in person. one, because she knew that she would a hundred percent pussy out over the phone, and two, she knew he deserved that. at least.

thinking about it now though, y/n is shaking in her fucking boots at the thought of matt slamming the door in her face. or calling her a psychopath (derogatory) for showing up at his house unannounced. the only reason she even knew he was home was the car parked in the driveway.

in hindsight, maybe this was a bad idea. maybe it was too soon, or worse, she was too late. the thought has her spinning around in place, ready to beeline it back to her car for the last time.

because nothing ever works the way she plans though, she’s frozen in place by someone calling her name.

“y/n?” nick is baffled by the sight of the girl who’s had his brother losing his ever loving mind in his driveway. he has the car keys in hand, looking as if he was going to go search for something.

y/n gives a smile that probably looks like she’s being electrocuted. “hey, nick.”

he’s standing there absolutely dumbfounded, mouth slightly ajar. she’s never even been to their house, or met him and chris in person. it was awkward, because what is she supposed to say? “hey nick! don’t mind me, i’m just here to beg for your brother to talk to me again! nice weather, right?”

it was something close to her worst nightmare.

there’s another voice. “nick! what the fuck did we say about leaving the door wide open?”

chris comes out the house while looking at his phone. when he bumps into nick’s back, he looks up with a scowl. when his eyes shift to what nick is looking at, his jaw drops dramatically. “holy shit.”

y/n shifts on her feet uncomfortably. she feels like she’s in a zoo, being watched and marveled at. it’s strange, talking to them so much on the phone with matt yet standing in front of them for the first time in the middle of a fucked up situation.

“hey, chris.” she does a weird hand wave that makes her want to punch herself in the face. “um, is matt home?”

they just nod, still unmoving. chris speaks first. “his room is up the stairs to the left.”

she basically runs away from the scene, thanking them. she can hear nick whisper-yell to chris behind her. “this is fucking crazy!”

she bounds up the stairs hurriedly, not stopping to look around. she can feel herself panicking slightly, but before she knows it, she’s already at matt’s door and already knocking.

she can hear a muffled, “fuck off.” and a groan, but she knocks again anyway.

there’s a couple moments before he opens the door that y/n tries to slow her heartbeat. it works. for maybe three seconds. cause then matt is flinging open the door, irritation on his face and tight tank top resting on his top half. then her heart is nearly hitting him with how hard it’s beating out of her chest.

the irritation in his face drops when he realizes that it’s in fact not his brothers coming to annoy him for the seventh time that day. but y/n can’t decide if the look he wears now is any better. it’s blank and indifferent. like her presence is no longer something he’s affected by. and man, does that fucking suck.

she forces herself to speak. “hi, matt.”

he scans her face. “y/n.”

she shifts uncomfortably again, only this time the feeling is much worse. “can we talk?”

“you can’t just show up like this,” he says, using the same words she’d spoken to him a week ago. it makes her stomach twist in guilt. “it’s not fair.”

her palms are sweaty and she feels like she might throw up. it doesn’t help that his hair is messy and fluffy, just how she likes it. or that he’s wearing a different color variation of those stupid pajama pants. not to mention, there’s that fucking chain. her being is torn in half from being so insanely attracted to him and feeling so absurdly guilty.

“i’m sorry.” she offers, pleading look across her features.

matt runs his tongue over his top teeth. “for showing up unannounced or for ghosting me completely?”

“both.” her voice is low, scared that he’s about to slam the door in her face.

he must accept that answer though, because he widens his door, stepping aside for her to come in.

she does, and instantly shes hit with about a million different memories while looking around his room. all the countless hours on the phone; laughing and arguing, flirting and fake-bashing each other— it caused an ache in her she didn’t know how to soothe. she wanted to try though.

when she turns around, matt is leaning against his bedroom door, arms crossed. he’s not saying anything, which is fair, but it does nothing to quell the worry clouding her.

“how-“ she stops, stuttering slightly. “how are you?”

matt raises an eyebrow. “fine.” his eyes are guarded. “if you count out the fact that the only girl i’ve been talking to for like forever suddenly disappeared without a trace for reasons she won’t tell me.”

she deserved that. “damn.”

her eyes widen after that because that is so not what she meant to say. she’s a shaky, disoriented mess and the fact that matt looks completely uninterested in what she has to say isn’t helping at all.

“is there a point to this or did you just come here to stare at me?”

“yes to both,” she admits, rubbing at her face. she takes a deep breath, choosing to just jump in. she thinks about daria’s words and she goes for it. “i’m a fucking idiot. i’m sorry.”

he doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “i didn’t mean it. what i said last week. when we were texting and when you came to my house. of course i care. of course this is something to me.”

matt still looks unbothered. it makes y/n want to stop talking, to run out of here and never look back. but she knows that she has to keep going. she has never once in her life backed down from a fight, and she wouldn’t start now.

“i was… scared.” she says begrudgingly. you have to be open with yourself. “everything was moving so fast. by the time i realized i liked you, i was so fucking obsessed i could barely even think about anything else. it freaked me out; made me feel like i had more to lose than you did.”

matt kisses his teeth. “i told you multiple times that i liked you. wanted to talk to you all the time. wanted to see you all the time.” he pushes off the door, coming to stand in front of her. “every ounce of free time i had was filled with you. do you think i spend hours on the phone with just anyone?”

y/n’s eyes are trained on the floor. “it didn’t matter because it all felt like a joke. saying shit like that was just how we were. it felt okay because it was never super serious. but as soon as i actually realized how i felt, i freaked and pushed you away. and then when you texted me that you wanted to be official it felt too good to be true. like you were lying. or it was another joke that we would laugh about. so i completely shut you out. and i’m so fucking sorry for that.”

matt scratches at his beard, which is so grown out it was making her dizzy. his eyes are soft but hesitant and all y/n wants is to kiss away the doubt she created.

“i meant what i said,” he lifts her head with his hand, making her look at him. “the or something.”

she knows exactly what he means. the blush that burns beneath her skin could light a fire. the second their eyes connected it felt like the world fell away. she wants to capture this feeling and tuck it away for any bad day after this. this feeling that matt gave her of iridescence. like she could shine in the darkest room. like she was something worth looking at. something worth really seeing.

the words are at the base of her throat, fighting to get out. she wants to tell him exactly how she feels but it’s still fucking stuck.

“just or something?” she baits, leaning into his touch when he moves his hand from her chin to her cheek. she kisses his palm and suddenly she feels like she’s right back on that park bench the first time they met. excited and giddy and nervous for the future.

matt’s lips turn up just the slightest bit. “if you think i’m gonna be the first one to say it after the hell you put me through,” he leans down and kisses the corner of her lips. “you’re even crazier than i thought.”

y/n has no choice but to laugh at that. it’s breathy and fleeting, because the heavy words are still on the tip of her tongue. she knows matt is half kidding, but he has a point.

she trails a hand up his chest, fingers toying with the chain she’s completely infatuated with. she hooks her index finger around it, tugging matt down to her level. she ghosts her lips over his. “unfortunately for the both of us, i’m in love with you, stupid.”

y/n finally wins the smile from him that she’d been fighting for. “unfortunately?”

she shrugs. “yeah. for you, because now you’re actually stuck with me. for me because you’re the most irritating person i’ve ever met.”

matt looks at her, eyes sparkling. there’s no joking annoyance or fake flat look. his eyes are lit up like the fourth of july, telling her exactly how much he’s ready to be stuck with her. he doesn’t even roll his eyes.

“i think i’ll manage.” he says, bumping his nose against hers, silently begging for a kiss. “i love you too, stupid.”

there’s about a half a second that y/n takes to just look at him, take him in. the man she loves and that loves her. then she basically jumps on him.

matt laughs into her lips and it sounds like heaven to her ears. he picks her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing her like he’d missed her all his life.

it’s teeth and tongues and longing all being tied into each other. it’s doubt and fear and time wasted all falling away. it’s exactly where they need to be.

matt pulls away, and y/n opens her eyes, annoyed. “i wasn’t done.” she’s pouting, childishly.

matt smirks, moving to sit at the foot of his bed, still attached to his dream girl. “i know i’m irresistible but hold on a second.”

“i hate you.”

“no actually, you love me. said it yourself.” he winks obnoxiously, giving her a peck. his face stills momentarily, giving y/n a look that puts her on edge. “i just want you to know that i would never hurt you. i understand why you did what you did, i really do. but i need you to promise me that the next you feel like that or any kind of way, that you’ll talk to me. cause i can’t do that again.”

for a moment, y/n can see just how much it actually hurt him. how her apathy and avoidance had wriggled into his chest and made him the slightest bit insecure. he’d never tell her, but she knew.

so she grabs matt’s jaw, cupping it between her hands. her fingers scratch at his beard slightly and he preens at the touch. “i promise. i won’t shut you out again. i’m sorry i ever did.” the kiss she leaves on his lips is so soft, so gentle, she thinks she finally found the way to soothe and squash the ache. “i think you’re my favorite person.”

he smiles at her. it feels like no love she’s ever known. “you’re my favorite too.”

they spend the rest of the night there, wrapped in each other tightly. hands wandering and clothes falling. lips leaving white-hot kisses and sinfully sweet noises leaving them breathlessly.

and when matt’s lips leave a toe-curling trail of kisses all the way down to right between her legs, y/n thanks the fucking universe that she was bored that random day four months ago.

TAG LIST:

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#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo x black reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x black reader #matthew sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x black reader #Spotify

[percyluvr]

hi! can i request child of apollo reader with a cold/is sick x percy jackson who takes care of her lovingly even though theyre just friends? kind of like that lyric in apple cider "even if we're just friends, we could be more than that." thank u hehe!!

percy jackson x reader summary: you get the flu and percy takes care of you wc: 611

You told yourself that you would not, no, could not get sick. The number of campers coming into the infirmary was increasing daily, and you weren't sure why. It happened every year around the beginning of summer. Probably due to the influx of new campers, you thought.

But of course, whenever you promise yourself something, the exact opposite happens, and now, here you were in the Apollo cabin with your best friend, Percy, taking care of you.

When you had first gotten sick, you thought it was just some common cold, and thought it would be a little weird to have gotten a cold during the beginning of summer, you figured it was just due to the changing of the weather and you would be fine within a couple of days, but of course with your luck you had gotten one of the worst cases of the flu that any of your siblings in the Apollo cabin had ever seen.

You'd begged Percy to not try to take care of you, since he'd most likely get sick too, and it would be worse than you, since he wasn't an Apollo kid, but of course he wouldn't listen, insisting that he needed to take care of his poor best friend who was suffering so deeply, his words not yours. You begrudgingly accepted his help, because honestly, who can resist Percy Jackson when he's giving you puppy eyes? Not you, apparently.

"Y'know what I think?" Percy says, breaking the small moment of silent before you inevitably cough up a lung again.

"Not really."

"Too bad. I think that you're sick because you overwork yourself all the time."

"I said I didn't want to know what you think."

"And I said too bad. Seriously, you need to stop overworking yourself, or you're going to keep getting sick like this. It's like, scientifically proven or something."

"Okay, whatever. You're not a doctor, I am. I think I know what's good for me."

"You think. Emphasis on think."

You roll your eyes, and Percy goes back to laying his head on your shoulder, which you had told him numerous times not to do.

"Percy, seriously. Stop getting your face so close to mine, you're going to get sick."

"I don't care. I want to be near you, and maybe my charm and good looks can help you feel better."

"Not how that works, but sure, if you say so."

"I do say so."

You roll your eyes for what feels like the six hundredth time, and put your arm around his shoulder.

When you begin to cough again, Percy jolts up and runs over to the cabin in the corner, getting out a large bag of cough drops. He picks your favorite flavor out, and grabs your water bottle. He then hands both of them to you.

"Hey, I kinda like you being sick," you raise an eyebrow. "Okay, stop. That's not what I mean. I just mean that I can finally be your personal nurse, and not the other way around. 'Cause you're always healing me, but I've never been able to help you back, and now I feel like I can."

"Aw, Percy, that's actually really sweet. I'm glad my suffering is making you happy."

He rolls his eyes in response and sits back down on the bed next to you.

"I know I'm sweet. I'm also going to ignore the other thing you said," he says, putting his arms around you and bringing you to lay your head down on his chest.

It doesn't take long before you're deeply sleeping and using his chest as a pillow while he gently strokes your hair.

#pjo #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson #pjo x you #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x you #percy jackson imagine #book percy jackson #percy jackson fluff #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo books #pjo hoo toa

[tomuras]

| Angel |

Pairing: Sunday x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Selfship Coded, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Reader has asthma, Asthma Attack, Angst, Gender Neutral Reader, No pronouns for reader, He/Him for Sunday, 600 ish words.

A/n: Just a little something I wrote for myself <3

Summary: Sunday wakes up and finds out you’re having an asthma attack.

Tags: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez @tighnarly

It had been a bad, long morning. Thankfully, Sunday was there to make everything better, or at least try to. He’d woken up to find you upright on the couch, hugging your body as you tried to soothe yourself into a more relaxing state. When your eyes locked onto his slowly approaching form you tried your best attempt at a smile, and opened your mouth to greet him, but instead of words there were fits of coughs.

“Feeling unwell?” He asked, taking a seat beside you.

You nodded and smiled weakly.

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him. “What’s wrong?” He questioned.

You took a deep breath and tapped the center of your chest as you tried to explain, wheezing out your words in between coughs. Quickly you took notice of how Sunday’s eyes went from relaxed to a widened expression.

“Stay there and stop talking.”

You looked at him confused as he moved to grab something from the room. It wasn’t until he came back with your emergency inhaler that the realization hit you. Oh, right.. that. He brought the inhaler to your mouth and waited until you pressed your lips to the opening before pressing down on it and activating the medicine.

“You’re having an asthma attack.” He explained, watching as you held your breath for a few moments before exhaling.

He waited at least ten minutes before he opened up his arms to welcome you onto his lap, looking at you with a concerned expression and a small, yet sad smile. You took a moment to take a few deep breaths before climbing onto his lap, steadying yourself as you did so as to get into the most comfortable position. Once you’d gotten comfy you curled up against his chest, clinging to his pajama top as he started petting your hair. For the first few minutes it was silent except for Sunday’s and your breathing.

“Why didn’t you come get me? I would’ve wanted to help.” He spoke calmly for someone who was admittedly scared by what had just happened.

You thought about your next words carefully. “I didn’t know what was happening an’ didn’t wanna bother you.”

Sunday was not pleased with your answer, no matter how honest and good natured it was. No, in fact it deeply disturbed him. What would you have done if he hadn’t been there to save you? What would he have done if he failed to protect you? Oh god. Sunday didn’t want to even entertain that thought, it upset him far too much. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself had the worst happened.

“You need to be more careful. Something could’ve happened, you could’ve gotten hurt, or worse.” His voice slightly rose as his words trembled from his lips.

Immediately you felt ashamed. You knew how Sunday was and still you insisted on doing it your way. You were so reckless sometimes, so much so that you worried about the responsibility it put on Sunday.

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to cause any problems.” You confessed quietly, playing with the fabric of his shirt by pressing it in between the pads of your fingers.

Sunday sighed and gave your body a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright. Just be careful. Please? For me?“

You nuzzled your head against his chest and smiled. “Thank you, Sunday.”

He pulled back his head far enough so that he could get a better look at you. “What’s the sudden praise for?”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, giving him a tight hug. “For everything.”

He hummed and stroked your cheek. “You really are something special.”

Regardless of everything, he was truly at home with you. There was no better company than yours.

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n

[empressdede]

Me, U & Jealousy - Chapter 3

Previous chapter

This story is written in both present and past. Italics is the past and regular font is written in the present.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"So, you’ll be able to go?" Jada asked, excitement seeping through her voice.

Sorai rolled her eyes. She was kind of regretting the terms and conditions that came with her going to this party. Especially since Sefa kept trying to tease her about her ‘schoolgirl crush’ as he would call it.

“Yeah. I can go but Joseph’s going to be there.” She explained and Jada’s excitement dimmed just a bit.

“How do you know he’s going to be there?” She asked and Sorai let out a sigh.

“He heard us talking a couple days ago about me wanting to sleepover at yours. I’ve been trying to get him to change for the past three days but he’s not budging.”

“Well…. At least he’s not as bad as his older brothers. Like, that could be way worse. Plus, if he goes that means Monica will be there and Monica is going to distract him for majority of the night.”

Sorai rolled her eyes again. Monica. She couldn’t fuckin’ stand her. But Jada was right, if Monica was there, Joseph would keep his attention on his girlfriend instead of her.

“You’re right; She’ll probably do what she does best and open her legs and keep him preoccupied for majority of the night.” Sorai agreed with a nod of her head but that caused Jada to burst out laughing.

“Girl, no way you just called Joseph’s girlfriend a hoe.”

“Only thing that ever comes out of her damn mouth is ‘He beat my shit up. Girl, when I tell you he sat me down and tore my shit up. Who knew Joseph could eat pussy like that.‘

Sorai mocked in a high pitched tone to mimic the girl she didn’t like, letting out a huff of annoyance when she was done. “I wish she would shut the fuck up sometimes, don’t nobody wanna hear that.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.” A teasing voice came from behind her. Sorai let out a sigh before she turned around to face the person. Joseph.

There he was with a smirk on his face as he stared at her. She wanted to smack it off of his face.

“Jealous of what?”

“All the experience she gets to have, that you’re dying to gain yourself.” He easily replied.

“Joseph don’t do that. Cause who knows, maybe Cameron will finally put the moves on her -“ Jada started but Sorai slapped her shoulder to shut her up.

But it was too late, the playfulness got wiped off his face as he stared at both girls.

“If I find out that he puts his hands on you, it’s over for the both of you.” Joseph stated, warning tone in his voice.

“Joseph, you can’t keep te-“

“I can.” He interrupted, the glare in his eyes showing he wasn’t playing with her. “The twins don’t got no plans as far as I know, so Cameron better be on his Ps and Qs if he knows what’s good for ‘em.” And with that he walked away.

She turned to glare at Jada. She knew how much those boys were overprotective over her, and here she go pushing that imagine in his head.

He was already skeptical about letting her go is and she didn’t need another to give him another reason to change his mind.

“Don’t worry about it sis. You know Joseph is the only one who takes it easier on you. He won’t ruin this night for you, he just wants you to be careful.” Jade assured and all Sorai could do is hope she was right.

————————

Joseph had convinced his older brother to let him borrow his car to go out, and since he had already promised to pick Sorai up at Jada’s house that’s exactly what he did.

The two girls sat in the backseat of Joshua’s car doing last minute check ups on each other’s outfits that was all planned by Jada. She wanted to make sure that Sorai looked good tonight. She knows how much her best friend liked Cameron and she was going to make sure this was a good night for her…even with Joseph tagging along with them.

The ride to Aaliyah’s house wasn’t eventful; in fact Sorai kinda wished she rode with anybody else because no matter Joseph promised her, Monica always seemed to be stuck to his side at every event.

“Babe we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves right? I don’t feel like watching kids tonight.” Monica pouted and Sorai rolled her eyes.

She hated being around her, but she had to play nice tonight. Especially if she wanted Joseph to take it easy on Cameron.

“Don’t worry babe, you’ll still be able to enjoy yourself.”

Jada’s eyes locked with Sorai’s and they both fought to keep a straight face. Sorai decided to keep her comments to herself because she wanted to be on Joseph’s good side tonight.

She really wanted to get away and be with Cameron tonight.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Aye man, I can’t believe you’re here. Its been forever. How you been?” Josh asked once Sorai got settled in a little corner as far as she could be away from these guys.

She shrugged at the question, “Graduated College and I’ve been dabbling in journalism for a couple years now. The only reason why I’m here is cause of Jada.”

Jon nods his head at her, “Yeah, we don’t really see her much since she’s with the NXT roster majority of the time, helping out with talent creation. Any time we ask her about you, she act like she too busy to talk."

"I’m sure if it was that important to you, you would’ve found a way to reach out." Sorai stated simply with a shrug. At that, all the boys smacked their teeth.

"That’s not true, we’ve tried to reach out but it was never successful. We only knew how you been through our parents." Jonathan states.

"And even then, you blocked us… or me anyway - so it made reaching out to you that much harder." Sefa finally speaks up. The sound of his voice made Sorai inwardly roll her eyes. Damn, hearing him irritated her the most.

"I changed my number like a month after you guys left, but it’s okay. I know how much you guys wanted this, especially since the beginning years of college. Following in your dad’s footsteps must mean so much to you guys. Plus, being a superstar means you’re busy so I understand. I’m happy for you guys." Sorai spoke from the heart, even though their departure hurt her, she was happy they were getting to live out their dreams.

Joe sat on the opposite side of the room of Sorai and was analyzing her body language. Something was off with her, he’s noticed it the first time in the hallway with Kayla. He was getting the feeling that not hearing from them probably hurt her feelings. "We appreciate that Rai, thank you. Just remember, if you need anything you can let us know and we gotchu’ you know that right?"

She nodded at him; "Thank you Joe. So…. What’s it like running the locker room?"

"Nah, let’s get into something else." Jonathan stated, walking towards her. "Earlier, when we said you didn’t have time for heartbreak and you said it was a lil too late for that… you let some bum break yo heart?" He asked, tilting his head at her. How ironic, one of the people who helped break her heart was asking who was responsible for the damage.

Sorai let out a tired sigh, she didn’t want to get into this, especially right now. "Guys, we haven’t seen each other in five years. A lot has happened within that time."

"We know that, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care. A couple years may have gone by but that doesn’t change anything, you still our lil sis, and I hope you know that a couple years didn’t mean you stopped being our family." Josh spoke up this time.

Sorai’s heart felt heavy at the statement because at a point and time she really called these boys her family. Her brothers. Damn, she remembers when she didn’t like calling them that, she loathed it. But now, her heart crumbles at the memories. Fuck she missed them - just when she thought she was over the situation. Being around them did nothing to stop the hurt she still feels even five years later.

"Rai?" Joshua questioned after a pregnant pause took over the room. Sorai’s head snapped up to face Josh, but her eyes scanned the room quickly. All of them were staring at her with concern. "You okay?" Josh tries again.

Sorai hopped out of her seat, sending her most convincing smile towards the group. "Perfect. And I still care too so hopefully during my time here we could rebuild that relationship." She states.

Rebuild?

But before any of the guys could reply, Sorai continues. "I actually have to get going. Maybe we can catch up when we have some free time okay?"

Without giving them a chance to respond, she bolted out of the locker room. The boys looked around at each other in confusion. Each and every one of them having one thought running through their minds: what the hell just happened?

Sorai couldn’t do it, all these years and she thought she had healed from this but seeing them… seeing him made her realize that she’s not over what happened.

Back in the locker room, he wanted to know exactly what happened to Sorai since they’ve left. Did she meet someone who took her time, is that why she didn’t reach out? Did this person hurt her to the point where she was embarrassed and didn’t want to bring it up to them, to him in specific.

He needed to find Jada because something happened to Sorai and he was hell bent on figuring out what it was.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

How we feeling, be honest? 😭😭 The next chapter is where everything falls into place 😭 I hope I’ve done a good job otherwise. Btw Idk if I made it Known but I made the twins 2-3 years older than Sefa instead of a whole 8 soo the story could make sense😂😂

Tagging the lovelies: @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @skyesthebomb @christinabae @leighla3 @whatdoeseverybodywant @harmshake @yana3sworld @angiedawn02 @theninthwonder

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #sefa fatu x oc #sefa fatu x black reader #solo sikoa x black reader #solo sikoa x oc #solo sikoa #sefa fatu #MEYOUANDJEALOUSY

[hyoqa]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: two secret admirers except he is actually insanely down bad for you its crazy

warnings: mentions the readers face 'flushing', it's kind of from hoshinas pov it's mostly his thoughts and voices, I cannot tell if hoshinas ooc but he's rather quiet with a whole ton of thoughts so idk if that's not it for you pls beware

Unlike one would expect, he was rather one to just sit back and admire. This is not to say he'd let a random guy just snatch you away, but he often couldn't do much more than just admire. It even surprised himself whenever he caught himself watching from afar again, but it really did make sense. He was one of hard work that no one would see, for as long as he could remember. Attention was not something he was used to, nor was it something he craved intensely. So what you had going on was fine for him, he was the happiest he's been just working with you every day.

However, sometimes at night, he'd wonder what it would be like if the one he loved, loved him back. What if he could make you smile and get you flustered? He wanted to know, but he convinced himself he didn't need to, nor could he.

Yet, one day those humble thoughts did a complete 180. He couldn't help it anymore, you had to be his.

It was no special day, at least not until you came along at least. It wasn't that big of a deal— it really wasn't, but the way your face flushed when his hand accidentally grazed your cheek would never be forgotten.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he had said, immediately. He spun you around and touched the place he grazed, asking if you were okay.

"I'm, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," you said avoiding eye contact. You didn't mean to be rude but you knew your face was bright red and you couldn't dare see his expression.

But you should've. You absolutely should've. His heart clenched at the sight and his eyes widened, he was undeniably in love with you, anyone could tell. He didn’t know if he had any effect on you, or if you were just not used to people touching your cheek, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He would be damned to let anyone see that look on your face, let alone cause it, so there was no choice but to make you his. He wanted you so badly, but he just didn't know how.

Now all through the day, he found himself thinking about you— he didn't think it could possibly get worse. He noticed everything you did more than ever. He noticed how your horrible sleep schedule was finally a little better, he noticed how you noticed everyone's new achievements and always remembered to compliment them, he noticed how you'd still sneak out in the middle of the night to train when you just couldn't fall asleep. He knew all these things, and yet he didn't know what to do.

A few weeks had passed and he was training late into the night again, but his thoughts were filled with you. It was getting late and he was finally going to call it a night, and that was when he finally noticed you by the door. When your eyes first met, he truly thought he was hallucinating— thought that the fatigue and the constant thought of you had made him go insane. Until you spoke, that was.

“I apologize,” you said in a hurry, your eyes shooting around until they slowly met his again. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

‘Didn’t mean to stare’? ‘Stare’? How long had you been there for? You were waiting for him to say something, but that was not even on his mind at the moment. As smart as he was, there were constantly thoughts flooding his head and all he had were questions. Why were you here? Why did you stay? Why were you still up? Were you having a hard time sleeping? Did he wake you up? Was he making a lot of noise? No, your room should be far enough away from the training room. Then why were you all the way here? Did you want to train too? Was he in the way? Were you—

“I’ll um, leave you to your training,” you said quickly, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “Sorry to bother you.”

You were turning away to leave when he reached out for your wrist. His mind was still blank but naturally the question he wanted answers to the most slipped right out of his mouth.

“Why…” he asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. “Why… were you here?”

You were just as surprised and you also didn’t know how to respond. “I couldn’t sleep, unfortunately,” you said slowly. It wasn’t a lie, you really were struggling to sleep— however you did turn the corner in the hall to see if the lights in the training room were on, and you did hope he was the one still up late. Yet, to your surprise his expression relaxed and he almost looked disappointed as he carefully released the grip on your wrist.

“But you need to get some rest as well,” you said, wanting to say something, anything, to keep you in this moment.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He was getting no rest tonight, he knew he was going to be up late just thinking about you or thinking about how he’s mildly heartbroken. He was tired of being stuck in his thoughts though and, maybe from the fatigue, it slipped out of him. “I wish you were here to see me.”

He only realized what he had said after he heard himself say it. Immediately the thoughts were back. Oh but it was quiet… perhaps you hadn’t heard it? Not a chance. What does he say next? Does he play it off? That would be such a scummy move. Oh, why would he do that? He had gotten so far keeping his feelings to no one other than himself, keeping quiet, admiring from afar, why now?

“I was!” you said, immediately. “I was here to see you!”

What did you say?

“I was hoping you were the one still training. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” you said clearly.

He was about to embrace you when he caught himself right before he threw his arms around you. His hands were placed on your shoulders and his face was so close to yours. “Sorry, I’m literally drenched in sweat,” he said. “That would’ve been disgusting.”

“I don’t mind, I can always shower again,” you said, more eager for the hug than anything else.

“No, you need to sleep, it’s late,” he said, but he had to admit that pulled at his heart.

“Okay, then this will have to suffice,” you said and kissed him quickly.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Not to be dramatic, but this was the moment he had been dreaming of for so long now.

His head was hanging, avoiding any eye contact— he didn’t want you to see his face flushed.

“I am so insanely in love with you.”

#hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #hoshina #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #hoshina soushirou #kaiju no.8 x reader #HERE WE GOOOOOO #WE ARE SO BACK #see this hoshina is not the same hoshina in my silly text thing this hoshina does not say dick #and i cannot decide which one i love more #so for now i do both #thats a lie i know i love this one more deep down but the other one is so funny like i can hear it coming from him and itd be funny #ANYWAYS NOT THE POINT ! #thank u sm for reading omg this was so fun to write #man i love when men are down bad #esp successful men #and this was about writing a successful man down bad i couldnt have more fun #hope to write for him more HOPE TO ALSO WRITE FOR RENO #really hope he gains popularity with the anime truly such a wonderful character #I HOPE U ENJOYED !!! #ALSO I APOLOGIZE NOT PROOFREAD i will proofread as i go...

[yuta-nation]

hi luke!!! i should’ve said hi a long time ago tbh (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) but welcome back!

for ur event may i pls request childe + #8? thank u!!!! (｡・‧̫・｡).*＊♡

…sorry this took literal months but I hope late is better than never!

8: "I'm not ready to give up, not yet.”

Content: SFW, Childe x reader, the name Ajax is used for Childe, angst with a happy ending, um, crying, a lot of it. lmk if i missed any warnings.

If you weren’t so heartbroken, you’d laugh out loud at the cliche unfolding on your porch. Your boyfriend–no, ex-boyfriend, he was no longer yours–stood at your doorstep at 12:37 AM, dusted white from head to toe from the blizzard that swarmed outside, clutching a rumpled rose that he had absolutely wrestled from your neighbor’s garden. His fair cheeks and nose were a burning red from the cold winds that snapped around him, whipping his scarf and the tails of his coat around in the frigid air. You took in the sight of him, your broken heart fragmenting into even smaller pieces. Aside from his red face, you took in his tired eyes and the dark circles beneath them, you took in his chapped lips, raw from his own teeth sinking into them, no doubt from frustration. You’d always told him it was a bad habit. His strong, always proud shoulders hung low with exhaustion and the weight of his responsibilities laid upon them. In short, he looked pathetic and worse for wear. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms, maybe a blanket as well, and tell him that everything would be okay. That is what you had always done when he was suffering, as he clearly was now. But you could no longer do that. It would only prolong the pain and suffering, a clean break would be better, for both of you. 

The silence weighed heavy between the two of you until you could no longer stand the howling of the wind, trying to cover it with the sound of your voice.

“What are you doing here, Ajax?” You did your best to sound cold, and uncaring, but you couldn’t help the small wavering in your voice. 

“I needed to see you, talk to you,” he said with conviction, voice steady and warm and heartwrenching.

“I have nothing more to say to you. Go home.” You turn to close the door, knowing that looking at him, seeing hurt on the face you love the most, would shatter your resolve. He does not protest as you close and lock the door behind you. Once the barrier is between you, you slide down the door to the floor, silent, full-body sobs racking through you. Before long, you cannot maintain the silence, and sniffles give way to whimpers and wails. You thought you had cried yourself out by this point, but seeing him again opened the floodgates. You just allowed yourself to cry on the cold floor, to feel the sadness, the regret, and weigh the knowledge that breaking things off was the right thing to do with the fact that you would never find anyone who could hold a candle to Ajax, that you didn’t want to spend your life with anyone else. 

After a while, long enough that your body began to ache from its position on the floor, your tears subsided and you rose from the ground. You spared a glance out the high window on your front door and paused when you spotted something at the bottom of your field of vision. A shock of ginger hair. Ajax was mirroring your former position on the other side of the door. You angrily rubbed any remaining tears from your eyes, unlocking the door and yanking it open, causing Ajax’s upper body to fall against the threshold. He looked up at you, blue eyes wide with shock and brimming with tears of his own. 

“Go freeze to death on someone else’s porch, Ajax!” You shouted, voice breaking, uncaring of the late hour or who heard you. 

“I’m not going to die. I have to earn your forgiveness first. I'm not ready to give up, not yet,” he said softly, voice thick with tears. 

“There’s nothing to forgive. You haven’t done anything wrong, sweet boy. But our relationship isn’t sustainable. You’re always away, and we spend all our time missing each other. I don’t want you hold you back any longer,” you said as you joined him on the floor, looking down at his angelic face as he stared up at you.

“Hold me back? Is that what you think you do?”

“I weigh you down. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“You don’t weigh me down. You don’t hold me back. You keep me grounded. You give me someone to fight for. Someone to live for. You are my home. I don’t see you as a burden; you are my life, you silly girl,” he said as he looked up at you in adoration. You were crying again, dripping tears on his face, but he didn’t even blink as he reached up to swipe them away with his gloved thumb. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to gather yourself. After a moment you opened your eyes and smiled down at the man below you. 

“The rest of you can come inside. Close the door, and let’s see if we can reverse the frostbite.” 

The single bark of laughter he let out at your words was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. 

© YUTA-NATION 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE, REUPLOAD, OR CLAIM MY WORKS AS YOUR OWN ON ANY OTHER SITE.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #🩵: writing #🩵: moots #💌: mail #🩵: my dear goji #childe x reader #ajax x reader

[thecapricunt1616]

BlueBell (c.b. one-shot)

♡ O/S Inspo: Bluebell - Luck, truth and friendship. Incorporate into rituals to comfort those left behind and ease their sorrow. ♡ Summary: Your childhood best friend comes back to Chicago to take over the restaurant that had caused a rift in your friendship, and wants to make it better. ♡ W/C: 4.6K ♡ Posted Date: 05/26/2024 ♡ A/N: Heyyyyy!! Here is my technically second request for my 200 follower celebration that can be found ♡ Here ♡ based on this request from an anon :) please get your requests in folks! This celebration will be running Today (05/26/24) to next Sunday 06/02/24! I am still working on my first request (First date w/ Carmy) the writing bug just bit me in the butt for this one and I haven't ever written for childhood best friend Carmy it was very fun!!! Anyhoot- I hope you enjoy :D ♡ Warnings for BTC: Angsty (but comfort too!) Not edited, No use of y/n (reader is referred to as 'squish'), No use of skin colors / descriptions for reader (pics are for purely vibes!), Typical TW's that come w/ TB (speaking of suicide and all that), reader feels nauseous but never throws up!oh and not all that edited woopsieee haha sorry yall know the drill btp

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had known Carmy a long time. Too long, was what you’d have said when he first moved back to Chicago. He kept in touch with you up until he left, and then it was simply every time your google search alert went off, you got a warmth in your chest knowing he’d accomplished something else. 

It felt strange, not talking to him every day. You'd had a huge fight before he’d ran off to Paris all alone. That was what baffled you, Carmy and alone - didn’t go in the same sentence usually. All middle school, all high school - he was glued to your side. Any time he needed a new assignment because he lost his, you’d go up for him and ask the teacher for a new one. When he needed to return an overdue library book, you’d face the librarian, claiming he’d forgot it at your house and you were too lazy to bring it in until then. Even going up in the fucking lunch line - he literally gave you his lunch pin so he didn’t have to face anyone unnessisarily. 

He’d meet you in the back of the football bleachers, cigarette between his lips that he’d throw out as soon as he saw you (he took to heart how you despised the habit- and he strongly disliked disappointing you) but with a mother, older brother, father, and older sister that smoked nearly a pack a day? He was doomed to pick it up himself. 

“I heard this mornin’ it was-“ 

“Chicken patty’s” you grimace handing him over the foil covered sandwich. “I didn’t get the fries - the geese are gonna have heart failure cus’a’you” you teased, opening your own and digging the 6 crumpled ketchup packets from your pocket, handing him 2 (you got the extra to wolf down the public school garbage because you made the walk up to the line, and all the way outside for him) 

“They deserve a little happiness y’know?! N-no worse than bread- vegetables are healthy!” He teased, taking the sandwich and muttering a little “Ugh” as he unwrapped it and smeared the 2 packets under the bun before closing it. “After school you wanna go T-T’the restaurant w’me?” He took a big bite. It was shit but it was something that got us through the grueling, sticky Chicago spring schoolday. 

“Mmhm” you hummed “parents outta town- Y’can sleep over if you want after. “ you nudge his hip with your own playfully. He’d been content with staying home lately, for whatever reason, but you wanted your Carmy time back. You’d figured you’d give it one more try 

“Uh-“ he started and you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on your dirty old black and white converse “N-Nat needs help w-with-“ 

“Save it” you snip, leaning against the bleachers and staring out at the pond next to the soccer field. He’d been doing this for the past months, when he used to be at your house every day, making up stupid games together and showing you how to cook his family's favorite recipes- lately, he’d just been going straight home after school and didn’t tell you why. 

“H-Hey-“ he reached out, touching your arm gently and you jerked it away. While his touch used to be comforting, now it felt like it burnt. You’d been having a crush on him for years and it felt like the ultimate knife to the gut he couldn’t see it, and didn’t reciprocate it. It hurt even worse it felt like your best friend in the whole wide world (and your only friend) had recently started ignoring you.

“Just don’t, Carmen.” You muttered, taking another bite of your sandwich. “Gotta get t’health.” You said after a few beats of silence, heading back to the school. It was one of the 2 classes once a week you didn’t have together due to your last names, and usually the worst periods of the week. But this time, it felt like a relief. 

That was the last time you’d ever met him for lunch. 3 months before the end of your senior year, and 7 years of being attached at the hip somehow fizzled to nothing more then longing glances in the hallway, and staring eachother down at graduation. 

Your mom and dad were ultimately confused when you told them you wanted to leave as soon as you’d walked the stage, not caring in the least to go to Carmys grad party - and that confused them even more. It just turned into a bratty screaming match started by your teen self, telling them how they had to ‘butt out of your life’ and to ‘Mind their own stupid business!!!’ Even though they were just concerned you were now completely ignoring the boy they had taken in as a son, and were giving him the cold shoulder when since the sixth grade the two of you had been nothing short of inseparable. 

Then - when you had started working at The Beef - as a favor for Mikey, when he had called - asking if you needed a job your first summer off from college, of course you said yes. And then Carmy took that news…. Worse then you could have ever thought. 

The fight you had the night he’d found out in the back alley of The Beef was burned into your memory since it happened. The angry accusations of you ‘having a crush on his older brother and wanting to fuck him since you were in school’ or ‘trying to weasel your way back into his life when he’d made it clear he hated that you were so ‘obsessed’ with him’ it had literally made you throw up in frustration and sadness and utter disbelief when he stomped off, face red and veins bulging in anger. 

The 5 words though that were seared into your brain ‘How fucking could you?, squish?!’ nearly choking on your childhood name, Tears streaming down his flushed pink cheeks. You never knew it would hurt him so badly that you worked at The Beef, you truly thought you were just doing a good favor for a man who was a big brother to you. Not betraying your best friend in the world, the boy you’d loved for so many years. 

You’d tried calling Carmy, only to be met with the generic voicemail message each and every time. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you wished him well, told him how much you missed him, missed your stupid inside jokes - you missed your bear. 

When Mikey killed himself.. it was easy to say you were a mess. Mikey was the one who coaxed you through Carmys leaving, letting you know it was ok, that he was just ‘bein’ a lil’ bitch’ and he’d come to his senses soon enough. But he didn’t. And Mikey got sicker. And no matter how much you tried, how many times you called Carmy after a hard shift, or after stumbling into Mikey in the back freezer with a fucking disposable tourniquet tied around his arm, nodding off, begging Carmy to come home through your tears. Pleading, sobbing into the phone for minutes at a time that his brother was fucking killing himself - you never got a call back. 

The day Carmy had come home, well - the day he started working at the beef. You were there early, per usual. You liked the 6-3:30 shift as you were out before the busiest time of day, and had maintained this shift since college. You had your degrees, you were going to be leaving after you’d graduated to start a real adult life instead of slinging stupid beef sandwiches for less-than-favorable pay - and then Mikey died. And you were the only one who knew how to do the books at the beef, before you taught Natalie. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Mikey was laundering money through the place, but what was a surprise was he left the place to his idiot little brother who’d abandoned his whole entire family to go do his stupid Executive chef-de-bullshit while everyone drowns in Chicago without him. You highly doubted that he would be able to manage the moving of money Mikey had taught you, but Nat was the only sister you’d ever known- so when she sobbed to you after mike died and she found out it was left to Carmy, and begged you to teach him how everything works- you couldn’t deny your big sis.  

“S-squish?” You heard behind you, and you nearly dropped the entire pan of beef you’d chopped into the large pan you were holding to marinate for the day. Your heart felt like it had been replaced with a hummingbird and its wings were beating so hard against your chest you were sure if you turned he would see it in your throat.

“Uh-“ you started, deciding it was better to not look at him, since tears would likely spring to your eyes. What did he look like in real life now? Was he really so…big? Was he really no longer that skinny, awkward little bear you once knew? “N-no one really calls me that- anymore…only Richie.” You grabbed the bowl of pre chopped onions that you’d grabbed from the fridge, tearing off the plastic wrap that had yesterdays date written on it, crumpling it up and dumping the vegetables over the meat before grabbing the bowl of chopped green peppers and doing the same. 

“So I can’t call y’the name I gave you?” He chides, that old edge of playfulness to his tone you missed so much. It made your heart clench. 

“The last person to use that regular was your brother” you said and that quickly shut him up as you mixed together the meat and veggies with a large spoon after adding the pre made spice mix, the last of the pre made spice mix that Mikey had left, tears brimming your eyes at the realization, shaking your head a bit hoping to will them away. 

“Fuck” he said, barely audible. There was a sadness to his tone, easily picked up by you. This was your first love. How could you not remember every single thing about him?! “Squish I’m-“ 

“Just save it. You’re here to work, right?” You looked back at him finally, and your breath nearly got caught in your throat. He was so… tall. You always teased him that he was just a late bloomer, and would grow into himself just like Mikey did - but he would constantly deny it and tell you he’d just be stuck being ‘a shrimp’ forever.

But fuck had he grown. And he has grown well. He finally grew into his nose, which you wanted to immediately poke fun at him for, his lips were still the same pouty thin ones you’d remembered - but his body. It made your mouth water. 

You’d seen it once, as he’d seen yours. You were sophomores in high school, awkward, fumbling teens that agreed to lose your virginity together. But back then he was lanky, hairless, soft. Now? He was a full grown man. 

“Mmhmm” he hummed, sounding like a child scolded but you could barely recognize the tone of his voice now that you’ve met his face. A man. 

“Carmen” you said softly and his eyes met yours again, recognizing the tears in them 

“Don’t cry, squish” he said just above a whisper, “M’sorry…” he admitted, carefully reaching up and thumbing away your tears. 

“Oh Carm” you broke down, dropping the spoon you were holding onto the bowl and practically collapsing into his arms in choked sobs. 

“I know” he said quietly, gently petting your hair just like he did when you were little. 

“He’s dead Carm, where were you? Where the fuck were you? I called you, Bear! He was sick!” you sobbed mercilessly into his shirt, letting everything out you held in at the funeral to maintain your cool for Donna and Sugar since they were blubbering messes.. You could hear the thick tears in his voice when he whispered a strained 

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Squishy- So sorry” 

Your little moment was interrupted though, by a small voice - 

“Hi! Hey- uh..Hello- sorry- I was um…I got a call - yesterday, about an interview, for an um- a Sous position?” your head shot up from Carmys shoulder, seeing a tall brown-skinned girl with braids smiling awkwardly,  eyes flickering between you and Carm, clearly looking uncomfortable. You would be too, you realized - if you walked in to your supposed-to-be interview, to see your potential boss being cried on by one of his employees.

“Shit- uh” he pulled away quickly, walking up to her and extending a hand. You decided to go to the back of the kitchen to the changing area to have a few swigs from your water bottle and calm down. You didn’t need to relish in the sting that was him dropping you so fast for another girl, even if you were short staffed and you did need the help.

You shook your head, wiping over your tears and taking a few large gulps of water. Teach him how to move the money, and quit. Thats all you have to do, easy right? 

No.

Not at all, actually- fucking impossible. 

Carmen had been bad at math, horrible at it  - actually, so teaching him how to run the books - with Richies explicit instructions to not make him aware his Uncle and Brother were washing blood money through the restaurant - so to try and explain why the electric costed 120K a month for a hole in the wall like The Beef was getting frustrating, because when Carmy didn’t understand something- he asked never ending questions until he got it. Thats what had you and Carmy, sitting in the back office together at nearly 8 PM, going over the books for what felt like the millionth time.

“So - so the General electric, lets go over one more time squish - I’m still.. Why would Mike have done that? An-an’ why we payin f’r a system that y’say isn’t workin’ anymore? Cant we just like- negotiate? Ask uncle jimmy t’fix it?” he tapped his pencil on the desk absentmindedly as he looked over the spiral notebook you’d written the monthly ‘bills’ on, trying to explain it to him without giving away anything he didn’t need to know like Richie instructed.

You groaned, rubbing over your face frustratedly and rubbing your temples. He was gonna give you a migraine asking these same god-damn questions. “Bear- i’m tired- my shift ended like…four hours ago! I was supposed to be on a facetime date” you groan, dragging your hands down your cheeks dramatically.

“The hell is a facetime date?” he asked, that gigglyness in his voice he’d take on when he was making fun of you when you were little.

“You lost the privilege of fucking with me when you ran away” you look over at him, a frown unknowingly etched in your features.

He met your eyes, biting at his lip the way he did, blinking a few too many times as he looked down at your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I never was running from you, squish” he said, his voice taking on that softness you fucking hated because you loved it so much.

“Yeah? Sure fucking felt like it- and for your information, a facetime date is a date you do when someone isn’t close enough to go on a real date. So…yeah. Anyway- like I said - the arcade costs-” he cut you off

“So…where’s this guy live?” he questioned. “You really can’t date a guy in Chicago? Y’gotta go f’r long distance?” he asked, a little smirk on his face. The kind that would have had you wanting to crash your lips into his when you were teens, but now it just made you want to cry at all the lost time, what you could have been if you just told him you’d loved him that night, that the reason you accepted the job was so that hed fucking look at you again. 

“Why the fuck does it matter to you? You stopped giving a fuck about me - what, Tell me fancy pants CDC? How long has it been since you gave a fuck” You got up, grabbing your jacket. “Like I fucking said, Carmen, My shift ended hours ago. I’ve explained this to you multiple times. If you’re still too focused on Paris, or- or Copenhagen - Or fucking Noma- to not understand how to run your familys piece of shit? Isn’t that what you called it- huh? Why don’t you go and ask the fucking sibling you have left how to do it, yea? She’s been trying to call you, We all were- but it’s not like you give a fuck- like I said- figure it out, Bear- and consider this my formal fucking 2 weeks. I’m done in this shithole” you threw your wadded up apron at his chest and slammed the office door shut behind you, stomping off to the lockers to gather your things and go the hell home. 

The next week and a half of work felt much like high school. You and Carmy were in the same exact room, forced to work together most of the time - but not a word was exchanged that wasn't absolutely necessary between the two of you. It wasn’t until the night before your last day, he was brave enough to say something to you. It was after closing, you’d picked up a double since 2 line cooks had called out and you already knew how to hold up pace without any training. You could use the money anyway, the pay was absolute garbage - the only reason you ever put up with it was because Michael was family to you. “So uh…” Carmy starts as he put on his plaid coat, shoving his work clothes in his backpack “How was y’r um… facetime date?” he asked, shoving in his chefs clogs last before zipping the bag shut.

You bit your lip, continuing to fill your tote bag with the remainders from your locker. You wanted to just leave as soon as the clock struck 3:30 tomorrow and never look back, forget Carmen was ever a part of your life. Being around him again brought back that sharp ache deep in your chest that you’d picked up in school when you began ignoring eachother, for why? You cant even remember- other then him shrugging you off to hang out that one last time, and you ignoring him the rest of that week, and it just kept going. You realized the first you’d spoken since then was his first day back, and you couldn’t get that fact out of your head. 

“He never texted me back so- yeah” you folded up a pair of work jeans, shoving them in the bag

“Oh- shit- m’sorry, squish. Guys can be real assholes” he replied. And while you know it was supposed to be friendly and him just trying to console you, It really just pissed you off. 

“Yeah- You would know” you grate quietly, continuing to pack your bag. He frowned in that cure Carmy way, shutting his locker and putting his backpack on his shoulder. Luckily the two of you were the only ones there tonight, so no one had to be present for you unpleasant bickering.

“Are you ever gonna hear me out? Er’ you’re just gonna freeze me out forever?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine hurt. But you couldn’t help but laugh coldly, shaking your head.

“Freeze you out? Freeze you out? Well if this week has been anything like the past few years? I hope it feels half as shit as I’ve felt. Glad you’re finally getting the message, I want nothing to do with you. I don’t stay where i’m not wanted, plus- aren’t I just a whore who took a job to make passes at your older brother- who by the fucking way was literally nearly 10 years older then us? That is just…gross Carmy! Mikey was as much an older brother, a fucking protector as he was to you, and to Nat- as he was to me- I loved you! I fucking loved you, Carmy! And you-” You took a shaking breath, turning to look at him and he was pale as a ghost at your admission.

“And you froze me out first, you- you stopped calling, in school carmen all those fucking years ago? You stopped, and - and when I didn’t come to the bleachers you didn’t try to find me! You just-” you met his eyes once again but couldn’t find them as they were squeezed shut and that 17 year old was right back in front of you, nervously shaking his hand and tears streaming down his cheeks. “Fuck- Bear I didn’t mean t-” 

“D-Don’t” he brushed past you, the familiar smell of smoke and pine and sandalwood hitting your nose, the same Cologne Mikey wore. 

“Carmy” you rushed after him as he made a b-line for the office. 

“You’re right, Squish- go home” he rasped, his voice thick with tears and regret. Your heart broke in that moment. Your chest also bubbled with anger, because - you were right?!

“I’m right?” you asked and he sniffled, attempting to shut the door on you but you shoved it open “Look at me - Look at me and fucking tell me that you meant what you said Carmen!” he sat at the desk, burrying his face in his hands and rubbing over it. 

“Just fuck off Squish! I mean it- go!” He was getting louder now, but there it was again, Squish.

“If you meant what you said- call me by my name” You challenge, nudging his sneaker to get his attention, just how you did when his head would be down in english class when he didn’t want to be noticed so he wasnt picked to read out loud.

“What?” he looked up at you finally, his big blue eyes red and tear stained, rims watery and long sandy colored lashes clinging to stray smaller tears. He looked so sad, and you thought again for the first time since he left that night all those years ago, that you wanted to kiss those tears away.

“You- you keep calling me squish” you shrug a bit “If you really mean what you said - if- if you think I got this job to whore around with Michael?! Call me by my real name. The name the rest of the staff call me- the name people who aren’t a fuckin’ Bear call me.” you challange, a lump growing in your throat as he stared you down.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, voice just barely above a whisper. You knew exactly what he meant, and you were pretty sure your heart was gonna fly out of your throat any second- or you were gonna throw up all over the floor and embarrass yourself - 50/50 

“You- you go first, I asked first” You said and he ran a hand through his hair, greasy from the day before digging in his pocket and pulling out a spare quarter 

“Heads er’ tails?” he asked, and you couldnt help but crack a tiny smile. This- this was normal. In high school, when you’d both ask eachother a question and neither wanted to answer first - even though technically the person who asked first should be the first to get an answer, you both decided to let the universe decide who’d be the first to get an answer.

“You gotta be kidding- you remember that?” You leaned on the desk and he looked up at you, panic mostly gone from his eyes and you knew you still had your bear-taming charm as Mikey called it when you were kids, since you were the only other person to be able to calm Carmy down.

“Are you kidding? I remember everything” he retorts “I call heads then” he flipped it and you gasp, smile growing a bit and you nudge his knee with yours, the gesture causing warmth to flood his cheeks as he flips the coin 

“I thought it’s always ladies first?” you teased and he flipped it on to his hand, keeping it covered. 

“Y’re too slow” he cracked a small smile, before revealing the quarter was heads side up and looking up at you expectantly. That heartbeat that could also be vomit reappeared, and your chest got tight. 

“Yes” you said simply, realizing you’d said loved - not love, not a current state of being, even though it never really went away. When he came back that first day, and you were right back to using all your old coded language and laughing over old jokes - you’d realized the love never really died, you’d just shoved it down as deep as it could go.

“Of course I didn’t mean that bullshit, Squish. I was….so fuckin stupid- I was - I am a fuckin idiot. I- I changed my fuckin number and I didn’t bother to load my contacts cause…I thought you hated me - But I- I never stopped…” he met your eyes again. 

Oh god, your heart was really coming out of your throat right now

“Never stopped….loving me? You- you loved me?” you asked bravely, feeling as if you might pass out - or die - or both if he said no. 

He nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the floor ever so shyly, Classic Carmy, the Cowardly Bear

“Well- which- which is it?” you asked, you weren’t going to let his shyness cheat you out of a real answer.

“I- um…I never stopped” he finally met your eyes.

You felt as if you still may pass out, or die, or both at this admission. 

Instead of that though, you leaned in, cupping his stubbly cheeks. His breath hitched, so did yours - you weren’t even sure you were breathing, the last time you’d been this close was - well, Sophomore year of high school , when you both vowed to never speak of it again, since you were both unsure how the other felt - and much too shy to say anything about it in case of rejection or being viewed as ‘weird’ by one another. You leaned in, the smell of cigarettes and mint on his breath from the gum he would chew instead of eating on meal breaks after a cigarette. 

His eyes fluttered shut “I’ve thought about this every day” he whispers, breath fanning your lips gently. You rest your forehead on his, closing your eyes and your noses bumped sweetly. “Can I please kiss you?” he asked, his voice soft and wanting. 

“You don’t have to ask” you said and leaned in, finally meeting his lips. He pulled you closer, you were practically on his lap. It felt as natural as falling into bed at the end of a long day moving your lips with his, your fingers easily finding his curls and combing out the little knots from the day, causing him to groan softly into your mouth. You smiled a bit, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around your waist, slipping his tongue over your bottom lip, you hummed- opening for him and moaning softly as he ran his tongue over yours, enjoying your taste as well as you were enjoying his. He was the same as you remembered, you’d fantasized about doing this with him again every time you got off - or just every time you were daydreaming in general. You weren’t sure who broke the kiss first, but you both needed to breathe, so it was for the best.

“I still love you, too”

#Capri 200 follower celebration #carmen berzatto #carmen x oc #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto blurb #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto blurb #carmy berzatto drabble #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear fx #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #the bear x reader #carmy x reader #carmy imagine

[macaiv]

Might I remind people that this is the first time in 7 YEARS that Esteban was the one who caused a crash with his teammate. People go on saying he always crashes and drives aggressively against his teammates but have you even bothered to watch how HIS teammates raced him? Just as aggressively and most of the time much worse than him. Ever wonder why most of his teammate crashes weren't his fault bar two (Baku 2017 and now)?

And we have to admit it, teammates who are beside each other on track will, at one point or more, clash with each other. Case in point, Seb-Charles, Carlos-Charles, Lewis-George, Nico-Lewis, Seb-Weber, Fernando-Lewis and many more. Esteban had the fortune and misfortune of actually matching his teammates, hence why he and them often start beside each other. In the words of Fernando "Some first laps we had some fights, because we start always together, we qualify very close."

And I'm sorry but no way will Alpine replace their better performing driver (I said what I said) for a one clumsy mistake. A mistake a lot of drivers have made and will make in the future. Alpine will be extremely foolish to even consider it especially when the past teammate incidents (Australia, Japan, Miami...), Gasly wasn't so innocent there either.

The level of overreaction is unreal. And I know most of it is because the driver in question is Esteban, nothing more nothing less. Famin certainly didn't help with his unnecessary and unprofessional comment. As much as I don't want to admit it, Otmar would have handled this much better than him.

#i'm still fuming #I need to get off social media for a few days #anyway... #They are racers and if you can't handle battles even between teammates... I don't think this sport is for you (yes i'm went there) #esteban ocon #eo31 #anti-gasly #just in case #rant

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Four - Discordant

Summary: Morpheus seems to take a turn for the better, but a person cannot change overnight. How does it feel to finally give him a taste of his own medicine? How does it feel to go back to square one, once again?

Notes: ~6.1k words, Please don't stare at the eclipse with your blind eyes, I just didn't know how to write protective solar glasses into this AU ok

Warnings/Tags: Morpheus is trying, it's not working, two deaths of side characters, miscommunication/misinterpretation (?), reader gets their feelings hurt again cause I can't stop writing angst

Tag list is open! Just let me know :)

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Discordant (adj.) - not in agreement or harmony, to be at variance

How do you face Morpheus again after that? The simple answer is you don’t, well you try not to. However, when you go to breakfast the next morning, it’s a surprise to you that Morpheus is there waiting for you. Breakfast is less formal than dinner, yet here you were, sharing a meal with him right by your side. 

Tension is thick in the air, the only sounds are that of cutlery on plates. You chew your fruit slowly while consciously trying not to look at Morpheus. This was horrible; you need wine, or something to dull your mental ability so you didn’t have to be fully here. 

Your throat was still raw from the day before, and the food only seems to make it worse, scraping itself down your throat as you swallow. 

“I’m finished,” You rasp and go to stand from your spot.

“Wait,” He stands abruptly, the glass on the table rattling with the sudden movement. You’re determined to leave but his fingers grab onto your wrist.   

“What?” You frown at him, the warmth of his fingers spreading across your arm. 

“There is a gala coming up. The Summer Eclipse Gala, please will you attend with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. Instead you stare at how he gently holds onto you. His thumb smooths across the tender part of your wrist when he answers. 

“Not really,” He says in a low voice. There was some regret laced in his answer, but you didn’t want to pay attention to that. 

“Then that is my answer.” You sigh as you turn away. Morpheus’ hand is still around your wrist and even with a slight tug, he doesn’t release you. “Let go.” 

“Should we… talk about yesterday?” He says hesitantly. “What is there to say?” You reply back, your voice losing itself again at the very end. When your husband doesn’t answer, you pull your arm away more forcefully. This time, he lets you go. “Precisely.” You leave, your heart pounding as you so easily defy him. 

The rest of the week was spent doing exactly what he had been doing to you for the past couple of months. Which is to say, avoiding him at all points possible. You try to hide in the library, but that proves futile as he easily seeks you out there. The studio and many bookshelves do little to hide you, ironically.

The only place he doesn’t dare find you is your garden. Even he could understand the importance of that sanctuary to you. And though the flowers certainly seem to enjoy the summer sun, you couldn’t say the same. The heat had started to become unbearable and it had been days since your last visit there. 

When he asks for you to dine with him, you decline and lock yourself in your room. Your stomach rumbles until Matthew sneaks you a leftover biscuit, but it was better than confronting him. At a certain point, embarrassment of letting your true feelings show turn to resentment once more. 

Why did he suddenly feel entitled to your time? 

“The King brought you this, Your Majesty,” Agnes says one morning as she enters your room. One of the maids holds a large box, decorated with a beautiful red bow. 

You take a hold of it, albeit a bit hesitant, and unravel the gift. When you lift the lid, you’re greeted with something you have never seen before. The dress was a beautiful golden yellow, with gems that represented the sun inlaid amongst the sweetheart bodice. Lacey loops come off the bodice in a delicate design that would wrap around your upper arms. The bottom skirting was decorated with glittering swirls and the fabric soft to the touch. 

“Oh! It looks lovely,” Agnes compliments with a soft gasp. She’s looking over your shoulder as you continue to stare at the dress. 

“Hmm, I can’t deny it either. It looks beautiful,” You sigh as you run your fingers through the soft fabric. Your fingers come across a piece of paper with a note. 

Please do me the honor and wear this tonight. Written in Morpheus’ handwriting. 

“And so shall you, your grace, when you wear it today,” Your lady’s maid hums.

Right… the gala is today. It seems your plan of avoiding Morpheus would have to come to an end. But, you still have the rest of the day to yourself, best to start savoring it. You start with a bath, with extra Natterhorn milk per your request, and something else to calm your nerves. After which, Agnes starts pampering you to get you ready for the event. 

Hands are grabbing at you at every angle, tugging, brushing, wiping. You felt like a marionette puppet as they direct you on where to step, where to hold your hands so that they may dress you accordingly. 

“Agnes,” You gasp as she gives you another sharp tug. “I request you loosen this horrid corset for my sake.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” She says, giving one last tug and tying the knot, more than less ignoring your request. 

In the end, both you and Agnes are huffing and puffing when you’re finally done. You watch as Agnes puts on a pair of white cotton gloves and reaches into a wooden box you didn’t have the liberty of noticing before. From it, she produces an ornate crown. 

It pairs with your dress nicely, a warm gold with white gems. The points of the head piece  were a bit excessive, but your inner judgment was cut short when you realized it was supposed to represent the sun. When Agnes places it on your head, you grimace at the weight of it. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is part of the uniform,” Agnes apologizes once again as she notices your contorted face. 

“It is not your fault, do not fret. You did well,” You grunt as you step away from the mirror. Agnes is positively gushing as she looks you over. Her beaming increases as you give your compliments to her hard work. 

Despite the heavy crown, the dress itself was light and made for easy movement. Agnes opens the door and you follow the entourage of silver knights as they lead you from the comforts of your bedroom. Matthew’s presence settles your nerves a bit as you feel his protective presence three paces behind. 

“Are you excited, boss lady?” You hear him ask with a smile hidden behind his helmet. He had recently polished his black armor and you’re sure if you turn around now, you could see your reflection. 

“In all honesty, Matthew? For the event, yes. For seeing my husband again, no.” You pause as the unified metal footsteps descend to the first floor of the castle. “What of you?”

“If I get to see Jessamy again…” He says beneath his breath, quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it.

You can see the sunlight from the entrance and you’re about to ask Matthew to repeat himself. However, the silver knights stop on the final set of stairs, leaving you standing at the intersection that leads to Morpheus’ wing. He comes down in time with your steps and meets you in the middle.

Morpheus is dressed in his typical black, simply more detailed than usual. He switches his flowing robe for an off shoulder cape that only reaches his mid thighs. His black tunic and pants were dusted with silver and dark blue, giving the illusion of the night sky at certain angles. Sitting comfortably on his head was a crown: silver with curving onyx gems that resembled the moon. 

He’s close enough now to take you in your full glory. The dress he bought for you was the correct choice. It hugs your figure in all the right places; the dress was, after all, altered to your size. When the fleeting rays of sunlight come through the large window, it reflects off your dress and illuminates you. The Sun only shares a portion of His light, but you’ve managed to take it and make it your own. 

“You look radiant,” He breathes the truth as he comes closer to you. You notice his finger twitch as he resists the urge to touch you. 

“Save your falsities for someone else,” You snap, surprising yourself even. The crown was way too heavy on your head for pretenses. 

“Very well… but we should at least pretend to like each other for the guests tonight.” Morpheus offers his arm to you and turns, the breeze from the entrance coming through the hallway. 

“Then let us begin,” You reply as you hook your hand to his arm. 

Crossing the castle threshold, the eclipse was already beginning to start. The trees rustle in the gentle late spring wind, its shades creating crescent shadows on the ground. You’re able to enjoy it from afar as the two of you walk the distance to the grand ballroom. 

Slowly, daylight surrenders to night and the nocturnal critters emerge from their slumber. Crickets chirp, fireflies float around you, and moths fan their wings in the moonlight. The smell of petrichor turns heavy once more as you reenter the castle, the doors opening wide with an announcement of your and Morpheus’ arrival. The silver knights part, Matthew leaves your side, as does Jessamy, as Morpheus leads you to the center of the ballroom. 

“Welcome, esteemed guests of the Dreaming. Tonight, we shall once again celebrate the astral lovers of Sun and Moon,” An announcer bellows into a horn. Cheers and unified clapping follow. “During Totality of the eclipse, we welcome you to witness the first dance of the night, to be shared with King Morpheus and Queen Consort Y/N.”

A fanfare plays and the crowd turns to the open ceiling, watching with shielded eyes as the moon slowly clips into place. Night dominates the sky, the moon blocking the sun except for the defining ring around it. Footmen scurry around as they quickly light the abundance of candles and chandeliers they could reach. 

The grand ballroom gleams with the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers as you and Morpheus turn towards each other. The light fractures and creates halos across the marble flooring and stone pillars. Morpheus bows and you curtsy low, and the action reminds you of your wedding night. Slowly, he clasps his hand over yours gently and a firm arm wraps around your waist. 

The string ensemble starts and you try to fight the smile that creeps on your lips as you’re easily pulled in time with his steps. Morpheus smiles as he studies your face closely. You're dancing once again.

The candle light seems to be absorbed into your figure as you glow under its warm light. Spinning hand in hand with your husband, you’ve long since given up holding back your smile. You’re grinning, radiant and warm like the sun. 

You and Morpheus glide across the ballroom floor, floating like stars amongst the clouds. He is fluid in his movements and leads the dance easily. You hold on tight as the lights begin to blur together, all together have you forgotten how heavy your crown was. To onlookers, the two of you were beacons of elegance and the definition of harmony. 

The music stops and you’re face to face with Morpheus, breathing hard. The sound of applause is muffled in the background of your mind. Morpheus looks pristine as well, perfectly composed as he softly gazes at you through starry eyes. You’re the first to break eye contact, the raw emotions he tries to show you too much for now. You can see that he is trying to be better, but after months of neglect, one dance is hardly enough to make up for it. 

Morpheus doesn’t try to hide his emotions, and with deflated shoulders, leads you quietly to the matching thrones at the front of the ballroom. There, they stand high and mighty, dark, and carved with intricate designs of stars and ravens. You see Jessamy and Matthew waiting for the two of you there and some relief returns to you knowing that Matthew would be there to watch over you. 

The roofless ballroom makes it hard to believe that it is only noon. Save for the ring of sun, the sky was casted in perpetual night. The stars make their appearance, as they always do, and accompany their moon, twinkling with admiration at viewing the people of the Dreaming early today. Even the critters of the night came out from their slumber, and if you listened carefully enough, you could hear their chirps and songs of night past the orchestra. 

The throne is stiff and uncomfortable to sit in. When you glance over at Morpheus, he takes to it easily, spreading across the throne like a lounging cat. His presence fills the space and it’s easy to see how he is so perfectly fit for this role. 

An emissary comes before you and bows, the lady on his arm following suit. He wears his best for the ceremony and when he speaks, it smells of rich alcohol and fruits. 

“Congratulations on your marriage, Your Majesties. As emissary of the Kingdom of Kreya, we wish you a wonderful Solar Eclipse celebration,” The man smiles at the two of you and you smile back.

You take another glance at Morpheus and see his jaw ticking in the low candlelight. A second passes and he still doesn’t respond. 

“Thank you, we hope to visit Kreya soon,” You reply instead. It has been long since you’ve heard a rumor of your failing marriage. At the very least it’s good to know that to people looking in, there was nothing wrong between you and Morpheus. 

This is what he wanted, was it not?

From his perspective, your urge to take control basked you in a new light that he’s never seen before. Your response seems to snap him out of whatever deep thoughts he had and a cough brings him back to the present. Or, if he wanted to be honest with himself; your presence brings him back to the present. 

Others follow in his footsteps, giving their congratulations, their salutations from their kingdoms, and other comments they wished to address to you. Morpheus and you take turns responding, each one vague and surface level. 

The last emissary was a face you knew all too well. Soft brown curls wrap around a kind face. She dawns on flowy fabric of white and gold and a cape made of olive leaves. Calliope smiles when she sets her eyes on you, and you hear Matthew’s armor clink as he attempts to move from his post. The promise he made early into your relationship is evident in his mind. 

A subtle hand rise from you was enough to stop him and the black knight settles back. The tension remains thick as she ascends the steps. She bows and speaks. 

“I congratulate the King and Queen of the Dreaming on their union. From Boeotia, my sisters and I give out blessings for a bountiful year.” Calliope speaks to you specifically, and even when there is no ill intention written on her face, something ugly deep within you dares not to look at her. 

The pain and suffering you had to endure, half of the reason is because of her. Your anger and despair leave you and instead reveal itself as its true form. Is it jealousy? Perhaps. You’ve long since stopped fighting it. Your bracelet tightens around your wrist once more, as it’s always done when it doesn’t agree with your thoughts. 

“Thank you…” Morpheus responds to her. It was your turn to respond, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to speak to her. 

Calliope opens her mouth again, as if to add something else, but stops herself after some hesitancy. It’s not before long that Calliope accepts the short answer and leaves you. An even shorter amount of time for a footman to come to you and Morpheus with goblets of wine that you all too eagerly grab at.

If it weren’t for your position, you’re sure you would be drunk beyond comprehension. It is a tradition of the celebration: to relieve oneself from their physical bodies and dance amongst the Eclipse. And you can only do that by drinking until your body can’t understand the physical world anymore. 

The dark wine glitters as you swirl it around in the silver goblet, and you feel the tingling sensation as it goes down your throat. Other nobles mingle with each other, the occasional ping of glasses touching echos in the large room.

Squinting, you notice a certain blond standing alone in the corner, his dark glasses still covering his eyes. He is talking to some other man, his charismatic smile never disappearing, even when he takes another sip from his glass. As if sensing your gaze, he turns to you and raises his glass in your direction. You were the first to break eye contact, taking another sip of your own drink. You see Lucienne and Hob enjoying themselves at the snack table, watching as Lucienne looks away when Hob stuffs several cookies into his coat pocket. 

The alcohol was potent, leaving you feeling light and dizzy, but a sudden commotion on the other side of the room leaves me sober. Yelling and clashing of metal against metal piques your interest as the ballroom doors slam open. 

“I apologize, we-we tried to stop him!” A silver knight huffs out, chasing after the man who barged in. 

A calm hand from Morpheus quiets him and the knight stops. The elderly man is still charging towards the two of you, dancers parting quickly from the marble floor as they watch. 

“Where is she?” The man asks—or demands, more accurately, standing strong in the center of the dancefloor. He wears red, unblemished armor that stands out like a sore thumb against the Dreaming’s more subtle colors. 

“Whoever you seek is not here, stranger,” Morpheus’ voice booms across the room. 

“You, Teleute, will bring back my dead son. I will kill you if it means I will get him back…” He bravely points at your husband, completely ignoring his statement. 

You and Morpheus share a quick glance at each other. Yours is riddled in confusion, what could this random man possibly want with his sister? Morpheus shares with you a more concerned look as he finally pieces together the information.

He recalls the conversation he had with the Corinthian under old moonlight about a madman named Rodrick Burgess. Briefly, his eyes meet with Corinthian on the far end of the room, who seems all the more pleased that his target has waltzed right into his grasp. The Corinthian had taken a small break in his chase so he could attend the festival. In the end, it seemingly works out for him anyways. 

“Are you challenging the throne?” Morpheus accuses, looking down at him. You hear the shifting of feet as Jessamy and Matthew squirm with anticipation. 

Morpheus remembers once more of his nightmare regarding this specific man and you. How you laid cold in his arms, blood blemishing each portion of your body. That no matter how much he wipes away at it, the blood continues to seep and stain into your clothes. His hand slowly ghosts over yours and covers your fingers. He feels the quickening pulse underneath his fingers and allows himself a moment of peace for your still beating pulse. 

“I am challenging Teleute,” Rodrick repeats. 

“Death of the Endless is not here. I will accept your challenge in her stead.” You’re not sure where the courage was coming from. Perhaps it is how Morpheus is gently holding onto you. Or, more likely, how the alcohol is coursing through your system. That seems to be the more logical reason… right? “Who do you wish to be your champion?” 

“I am my own champion, the Great Magus Rodrick Burgess.” He brings forth his sword, covered in elaborate jewels. 

“Sir Matthew?” You call, head held high. The weight of the crown is no longer an issue for you. 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Matthew responds immediately. 

“You will be my champion.” You declare. “You will not disappoint.” It is your first order as queen. 

You watch with fixed eyes as Matthew crosses to the dance floor. The white marble is a stark contrast against his black armor. Your hand turns and interlaces with Morpheus’ as Matthew draws his sword.

It’s longer and broader than Rodrick’s and even before the fight begins, you know Matthew would be slower than his opponent. But your belief in him is strong and unyielding. 

The two knights face each other, their stances ready. Murmurs from onlookers hush around the room, the tension as thick as the wine they drink. 

Rodrick moves first, his impatience showing easily as he lunges for Matthew’s heart. Your champion gracefully steps to the side, bringing up his broadsword in a low arch to parry the attack. 

Blade against blade, the metals gleam in the low candlelight. The symphony changes from a string quartet to that of steel. The two knights dance around each other in the intense duel as both display their mastery of the blade. 

An unhonorable heavy strike to the head from Rodrick leaves Matthew dazed. It’s enough for the blunt of his blade to strike at the young knight’s helmet. You watch with an agape mouth as the force is enough to knock off Matthew’s helmet, the helm flying across the floor. Your grip in Morpheus’ hand tightens as the anticipation grows. 

Matthew is quick to be back on his feet, his black hair tousled from the fight. You catch glimpses of his determined face as he returns to the duel. Each block that Matthew predicts, each strike that he parries leaves Rodrick flustered.

Matthew notices, and when Rodrick was starting to lose strength, he advances with a series of long arching and forceful blows. You and Morpheus watch as Rodrick meekly holds his denting blade up in defense.

With a powerful kick to the chest, the Great Magus crashes to the ground, his sword falling from his hand as the last of his energy leaves him. Matthew advances still, dragging his broadsword on the ground. The teeth-grating sound of metal on marble igniting sparks. 

Your knight points the sword at Rodrick’s throat, panting from exertion. “Yield,” Matthew commands.  

“I will not!” Rodrick spits at him, pushing the imposing blade away from his throat.

“Yield!” Matthew shouts, bringing the blade back and pushing pressure onto the side of his neck. A thin string of warm blood follows the cut.

Rodrick looks around the room, conscious of how the people around him start to whisper about his loss. He makes eye contact with you and glares at his defeat. 

“I yield,” He says hesitantly as his eyes remain on yours. 

You swallow thickly as silver knights drag him out of the ballroom, your eyes following him. Rodrick was glaring at you until he could no longer see you, his cheeks still flushed from the duel and from the embarrassment of losing. 

You let go of Morpheus’ hand, wiping your palm against the softness of your dress to get rid of the excessive sweat that started to accumulate. You go to grab at your wine again, finishing the rest with large gulps to calm your nerves. The alcohol is quick to work its magic as it seeps into your system.

“Congratulations on your victory, champion,” You grin when Matthew comes back to your side. “Where’s your helmet?”

“I, uh, can’t find it…” He mutters, embarrassed. He scratches at his hair as his cheeks flush red. 

You smile once more as Matthew’s true personality shows itself again. He was quite young to be a knight, and his face had left the battle without any scars; a testament to his effectiveness. A server comes by and tops off the goblet with more glittering wine. 

Morpheus hovers a hand over his own cup as a silent decline for more alcohol. Meanwhile you were more than inclined to continue drinking. The excitement of the day is already taking its effect on you. When you set your drink back down, you notice that no one is enjoying the gala anymore.

They stand to the side, muttering to themselves behind open feather fans. No one is drinking, or feasting, and they share unsure glances with each other. The duel was a mood killer for the festivities. 

You take another slow sip from your wine, what should you do? You watch through slightly lidded eyes as Morpheus stands from his seat. His hand falls before yours in a silent invitation of another dance. Baffled, you silently stare at the upright hand. Morpheus wants another dance?

Should you? When a bird has been locked in a cage for so long, even when presented with the opportunity of flight, it often finds itself staying. It takes comfort in what the bird knows. The outside world is dangerous, after all. 

“Please,” He whispers when he notices you hesitating. You see his other fingers twitch against his leg, a tic that you’ve long since noticed he does whenever he is nervous. You place the goblet down and grab onto his hand lightly. One more dance wouldn’t hurt. 

Before you leave, you turn to Matthew with a smile. “You should go dance, too. You’ve done well to deserve it tonight.” 

Matthew all but perks up at your invitation, his eyes darting to Morpheus, who simply nods in approval of his request. 

The two of you take to the floor and amidst the onlookers and mutterers, for once, you only notice Morpheus. “I trust you,” You say slowly.

Morpheus nods before he places a gentle hand on your waist and leads the dance once more. The music is romantic somber as the two of you glide across the floor. 

Nobles and invitees around you stop whispering amongst themselves and enjoy the spectacle. Soon enough, more and more couples return to the dance floor. 

The orchestra is quick to change its tune and an upbeat swell of strings has everyone clapping and jumping around in a country dance. Your smile brightens your face once more as you witness how your small dance was enough to bring people together. 

You part from Morpheus as a new dance partner whisks you away for the next portion of the song. You grab onto your dance partner as you watch Morpheus spin with a new partner of his own, a soft smile gracing his lips as he witnesses your lingering gaze.

“Enjoying the ball, Your Majesty?” The new voice interrupts your thoughts. Your head turns to your new dance partner and you feel yourself jump in the middle of a spin. 

“Corinthian,” You greet curtly, smile dropping. 

“Hello again, Your Majesty.” He grins down at you, sunglasses still on. A silence follows and you’re desperate to change partners again.

“It seems you and His Majesty have started to become amiable with each other. I heard rumors that your marriage was in rocky waters.” He whispers into your ear as he spins you again. 

“They’re just rumors,” You lie again. 

The Corinthian hums, easily reading between the lines of your statement. “Well, well, would you look at that?”

Corinthian focuses his attention behind you and you turn to match his gaze. Couples waltz around you, but your eyes immediately seek out Morpheus. Your newly healed heart shatters as you watch Morpheus and Calliope spin across the dance floor. The two of them look beautiful together, her light colors clashing with his darker ones is a sight out of the romances you’ve read in your books. 

Were dance partners always supposed to be that close to each other? Their gazes lock with each other as they share private words amongst themselves. Morpheus says something that causes Calliope to smile, something that lights up her entire figure in delight. 

“Perhaps the rumors are quite true,” Corinthian chuckles. 

You let go of him as if he suddenly caught on fire. “I need some air… Please excuse me.” 

The Corinthian doesn’t try to stop you as you weave your way through the dancing couples. Before you leave the ballroom, you briefly overhear a conversation between Mervyn and Matthew. 

“Huh, I thought you were some beast with how you were swinging that piece of crap around. But you’re just some normal kid,” Mervyn scoffs as he lights another cigarette. 

Matthew scratches his head in confusion, the refound helmet rests between his arm and torso. It is liberating to not have to wear it for a while, and he can smell the food more clearly like this.

“Actually, I’m 1/16 pure Ravenfolk on my mother's side. Not so normal now, huh, Mervyn?” Matthew brags with a high head. 

“Pah!” The pumpkin man scoffs again, a cloud of smoke following him. “And Jessamy is pure Ravenfolk so what you got to say about that!”

You’re sure you see smoke steaming out of your knight’s ears and his face turns bright red. It’s a conversation you would have loved to entertain, but in your emotions, you don’t linger long. The door is right there and you escape from all the distracted gazes.

By muscle memory, your feet take you to your garden sanctuary. The summer sun is no longer an issue for you as the night wind calms your fraying nerves. You run your fingers along the petals of night flowers and watch as they sway in tandem with the tides. 

You take a seat on a nearby stone bench, watching the eclipse reflection in the small pond of your garden. An uncomfortable feeling like stone settles in your throat as you push down a hiccup. Silent tears still make it past your eyes. 

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand as you silently berate yourself for always crying. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to relax your over eccentric heart. The rustling of leaves and citrus smell of flowers calm your nerves quite well. 

You hear a rustle that feels out of place and a presence behind you and you sigh deeply. 

“Not now, Matthew. I really just want to be alone,” You indirectly ask your knight for solitude. 

“Not Matthew,” The presence spits out the name and you gasp as you feel the cold metal of his blade against your throat. 

Rodrick.

How could you forget his voice? You don’t move as you watch him circle in front of you. The point of the dagger in his hands remains pointed at your throat. You swallow your nerves, the slight movement enough to scratch your skin against the sharp blade. 

“You embarrassed me. In front of all of your citizens,” Rodrick begins to monologue. It’s hard to make out his face in the dark light and the angle at which you sat, but the glare he emitted was easy to feel.

“No, you embarrassed yourself. Who told you killing someone else would bring back your dead son?” You ask to distract him. Your eyes dart around your space as you try to find a path to run away from him, or something that can hinder him while you find help. 

“The ruler I serve said so. And I believe in their word.” He continues.

“Who? Desire of the Endless?” You scoff as you look at his red armor. The lustful color and crest he bore on his chest plate was easy enough to piece together. “Have you ever considered your ruler is merely using you as bait?”

“They would never,” Rodrick says back in disbelief. The blade dips slightly for a moment as he backs away. 

You take that slight moment as your chance, grabbing at the layers of your dress and sprinting back towards the castle.

“Matthew!” You scream at the top of your lungs and you pray that it's heard past the music. 

Hedges and thorned flowers scrape at you and get caught in your dress. The sound of pounding feet catches up to you and a yelp leaves your lips as Rodricks tackles you to the ground. Your crown dislodges itself from your head at the impact and you’re screaming as you fight back as best as you can. 

His hands come around your throat and you grab at his wrist in panic. Rasping breaths leave you in huffs as he squeezes harder and harder. The edges of your vision start to go black as the lack of oxygen leaves your body wanting. 

“M-Morpheus,” You call out weakly. 

“No one can hear you now, you pathetic queen. No one can help you—”

The weight is lifted off of you abruptly and you turn on hands and knees as you intake as much air as you possibly could. You turn back around and stand on wobbly legs and watch as two silhouettes fight each other. One, you knew to be Rodrick but the other was new. The person was armor clad in silver, so it was neither Morpheus nor Matthew. One moment, Rodrick was standing, and the next he fell to the ground in a slump. 

“Come, let’s get you back to the palace, Your Majesty,” Your savior comes closer to you. The dagger that Rodrick had threatened you with is still in her hands. 

“Who are you?” You ask as she takes your hand and begins a fast walk away from the dead body. 

“You may call me Gault, Your Majesty.” Her pace is faster than yours and in your still shocked state, you fall to the ground. Gault turns around quickly and bends to help you up from the elbow. 

“Jessamy, subdue her,” You hear Morpheus' voice nearby. The sound of armor accompanying him. 

“What?” You question as you fall back to the ground. Matthew is by your side in no time, holding you up steadily. 

You watch with confusion as Jessamy holds both of Gault’s hands behind her back and kicks her knee in so that she kneels to the ground. 

“Forgive me, for not coming sooner,” Morpheus whispers to you. He unclips the half cape he wore and drapes it over your shoulders. Your abrasive run through the gardens leaves you more exposed than what would have been considered appropriate. 

“Wait, no, stop,” You interject as he returns his attention to Gault. 

Morpheus ignores you, insisting to himself that your ramblings were from shock. It’s obvious to him that Gault was going to hurt you. As soon as he noticed that you weren’t in the ballroom anymore, he was quick to leave the dance and come looking for you. 

To find you being hovered by one of his own soldiers with the weapon in her hand was evident enough in his eyes of treason. You looked horrible, your dress in shambles and thin cuts scattered across your body. 

“I was protecting the queen,” Gault states the truth slowly. “I had no intention of hurting her. I merely wish to keep her from harm.”

“Listen to her, my lord. Please, I beg you, she is speaking the truth,” You plead once more. The hold that Matthew has on you shifts from protection to restriction as you try to fight against him. 

Morpheus ignores you once more, and while your cries hurt him, bringing you justice will satiate the pain. “You do not get to decide what I saw with my own eyes. How do you think you should be punished for the attempt on my queen’s life?”

Gault pushes her head up higher even as the realization dawns on her. “I am not afraid.”

“You should be.” Morpheus stalks closer to her.

“I will rather die afraid than knowing I lived without truth, my lord.” You hear Gault whisper. 

Morpheus doesn’t bother with a response. The shadows of the eclipse seem to elongate his shadow as he paths closer to her. Your pleas once again fall on deaf ears and tears sting your face red. Your screams have turned raw in your throat as you helplessly watch.

In the darkness of the eclipse, you barely register the sound of Morpheus unsheathing Jessamy’s blade from her scabbard. You don’t see it, but you feel it—the sticky warmth of blood splattering across your face. The iron taste rests heavy on your tongue as your mouth falls open in a gasp. It mixes with the wine and creates a concoction that makes you dry heave in the grass. 

You hear it, too. As Gault doesn’t die from the first strike and her blood effectively drowns her as she tries to breathe. Morpheus swings again and the head thuds to the ground, her body following quickly after as Jessamy lets her go. 

Your scream echoes across the vastness of the night.

Ah, Morpheus you walking red flag you. Also, I'm not going to lie, idk how to redeem Dream boy over here after this chapter cause wtf is this bitch on (I know I wrote him but what the fuck?)

Someone tell me I did good, it's summer and I no longer get academic validation

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14 @boo8008 @dragon-kazansky @i-voluntears @deniixlovezelda

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #destined dreams of love

[arcadiabaytornado]

I never understood why some people hate Rachel for “being toxic” cause it’s not like the other people in Arcadia Bay were any better. Almost everyone was toxic to some degree.

This is a super interesting ask that made me think a lot, but I think I can answer the "why?"

All of the cast has negative traits. Some are more obvious like Mark and Nathan. Some are more subtle like Max and Kate. Then you have characters like Chloe and Steph, who aren't bad people, but are pretty flawed. However, the thing they all share in common is that we have a good understanding of these flaws and "why" they're present.

Mark drugs and kidnaps women. Why? Because he wants to see the light be swallowed by the dark. Max is bad at communicating. Why? Because her anxieties often lead to her unintentionally making things worse. Steph runs away from her problems. Why? Because she struggles with facing them head on.

Rachel is different. She was flawed, but unlike the others, we don't know know the "why's" that would piece her character together. We know she lied quite a bit, but we don't know why she felt like she had to spin a web, or how bad her intentions were when she did so. We know that Chloe didn't know her the way she thought did, but is the "why" because Chloe turned a blind to what she didn't want to see, or is the "why" because Rachel blinded her with a smokescreen of lies? We know that Rachel wanted to leave the bay, but would she have taken Chloe like she promised if Frank offered her a means of escape first?

I think the answer to the "why" of your question is simple...because we don't know why Rachel did the things she did, and that means her flaws exist more in a vacuum, while the flaws of the other characters exist within their full characterization. Because of that, I think it's easier to see her flaws and just...not know what to make of them, and that leads to some people making the worst faith interpretation possible for...whatever reason.

So I think that's your answer. And I have one more thought to add to this before I stop typing: If Nathan, a guy who we KNOW drugs and kidnaps women, is allowed nuance in canon, then Rachel should also be allowed to have nuance considering we don't even know enough about her to say more than like...five things with confidence.

#life is strange #lis #rachel amber #asks

[000-pawz]

how woonhak loves ( zodiac series ) ˚ · .

how i think woonhak would navigate relationships/love/communication based on his natal chart/birth chart!

wc: 1k+

more under the cut!

three words to describe woonhak are "intimate, intense, and safe".

woonhak can be quite... chaotic when he truly has a crush on someone. with both his sun and venus being in sagittarius, he views love with an open-mind and an open-heart. he doesn't necessarily have a "type" per say, and i wouldn't really say he knows exactly what he's looking for. he's completely guided by his feelings and the spur of the moment. he is definitely a victim of the friends-to-lovers pipeline >< i feel like he ends up crushing on his friends because of that connection they have already formed.

with his venus conjunction mars, woonhak is very popular, sociable, and sensitive. when woonhak likes you, you will know and so will everyone else. he’s a big imaginative dreamer when it comes to love and because of his moon in pisces, he feels very deeply. he can't hide his feelings! he can come across as "emotionally weak" simply becomes he succumbs to his emotions so easily, so woonhak would be head over heels for anyone he has a crush on. i get the feeling that he will confess in literally the first week of liking someone. ><

now, he is a scorpio mars. he craves that intense connection with his partner and can be quite a spontaneous lover. he's pretty impulsive in the pursuit of love and he will always see the best in people. therefore, he can look at people through rose-tinted glasses, similarly to jaehyun (enfp sag suns </3) he simply follows his gut, no matter what.

while he seeks deep and authentic relationships, he falls in love easily. he can sometimes idealize his partner and feed into his own delusions about them, seeing them as this perfect person who was put on this earth just for him. this can cause tension when he struggles to balance his dreamy, spacey nature with the reality of the situation. you may be his perfect match, but everyone has flaws of course!

woonhak doesn't dream of the "settle down" type of love. he wants those new and exciting experiences and feelings. he'd like fun and thrilling dates like riding rollercoasters at amusement parks, jetskiing, hiking, and stuff like that. please do not make him take a class or sit still... his attention span isn't long enough for that!!!

he is an incredibly compassionate lover and loves helping his partner. with his pisces moon, he provides comfort and solace to those he cherishes and puts his partner's well-being before his own. he is huuuuggeee on emotional intimacy because he is so intensely empathetic and he's an amazing listener as well <3

sometimes he can be overwhelmed by his own feelings and the feelings of others. if you are having a bad day, he will be grumpy too. if you are crying, he will cry with you. if you are excited, he's even more excited! he's very influenced by his environment so what you put in will be what he puts out.

because he has a scorpio mercury, woonhak can be your best hypeman and give amazing pep talks, but he ways of going about it is kind of funny. if you had a bad encounter with a classmate, woonhak will literally dog on that person in order to lift you up and make you feel better. whoever you hate, he hates too ><

the thing that makes woonhak so complex is that, although he is a big extrovert and loves being around his partner, he also needs alone time. if he is too overwhelmed or feeling insecure, he can go into hermit mode. when he gets like this, he can be hot-tempered and sharp-mouthed. on the other end of things, he can also fall into depression and find himself spiraling with his own thoughts. give him time to work things out on his own and trust that he will confide in you when he's ready. if he's at his worse and doesn't feel emotionally supported, he may detach himself and pull away slowly.

another thing is that because of his pisces-sag moon-venus, he can get a little obsessive and jealous. his mind can turn into a one-rail track of just his partner and he can sort of put them on a pedestal. because he craves such a deep, intense connection, this can come across as overbearing or "too much" for those who are not on his level of emotional complexity. i see him as most compatible with people who can provide stability for him, or people who can match him at that emotional level.

when it comes to conflict, woonhak tries to avoid it as much as possible. he struggles with being assertive and setting boundaries, so this can lead to some problems. with his scorpio mars, he tends to keep his cool on the surface, but let things stew and holds grudges until it leads to emotional outbursts. when this happens, it's important for his partner to not undermine his feelings. don't say that he's overreacting because he will shut down.

with healthy communication, woonhak can be really passionate and deep. he would probably utilize "i-statements" like "when you did this, i felt..." and would seriously listen to you and how you felt about the situation as well. he won't ever lie to you when communicating because he always says exactly what he means. be honest, patient, and understanding when communicating and problems will be resolved smoothly!!!

to make woonhak feel loved, you must provide him with a lot of reassurance. remind him that his feelings matter!!! although he can be pretty impulsive, he is still self-aware. he knows that he is very emotional and he can sometimes get embarrassed about it. reassure him that it's okay to feel as deeply as he does! that's why so many people love him <3 let him rest his head in your lap while you play with his hair and massage his scalp, give him lots of kisses, and remind him that he doesn't have to hide true self around you. ^___^

woonhak cannot be with someone who dismisses his emotions or is too critical of his feelings. he thrives in spaces that respect, support, and encourage his sensitivity. a good partner for him would be someone who is nurturing, patient, and understanding. he feels most secure when he feels completely understood and accepted for who he is. <333

reblogs are greatly appreciated! lmk what u think or if you have any other takes!!! i'm always open to learning more :o thank u...<3

series masterlist

masterlist

#000 pawz ⋆˚🐾˖° #woonhakie biggest feeler award #he's so precious #:C #woonhak #boynextdoor #bnd #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor imagines #astrology #zodiacs #woonhak imagines #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor x reader #end of the series!!! #^____^

[oristian]

NESTA ARCHERON

There is an obscene, and frankly unfair, amount of hate towards Nesta Archeron in this fandom. I want to breakdown some of the arguments that I typically see said against her and use canonical evidence to debunk them.

1 — Nesta abused Feyre. I see this line said so consistently to the point where I see a video of any type on Nesta and expect it in the comments. Abuse is a word thrown languidly around this fanbase, but only ever applied correctly to so few characters. The abuse that antis tend to provide are: Emotional and financial. I’ll speak on the financial abuse allegations first. Feyre was the breadwinner for the family during their time in the cabin—she held the money. Feyre is the one who distributed the money to her sisters as she saw fit. Neither Elain nor Nesta stole money from Feyre. What they did with the bits that Feyre gave them is their prerogative. However, we do know that Elain needed a new cloak and Nesta needed new shoes.

As for the shoes argument, you need context to understand this. Feyre’s shoes were falling apart due to being outdoors often. While Nesta may not have been outside as often, wearing the same shoes for long periods of time wears them down. We found out in ACOSF that her shoes had holes in them and were not suitable to continue wearing. Certainly, Feyre’s shoes would be worse off and she would compare the state of her own to Nesta’s—that doesn’t mean that Nesta’s shoes weren’t also worse off by different standards.

People tend to say that Nesta was emotionally abusive towards Feyre.

I want to remind everyone that being mean to your sibling is not mutually exclusive to being emotionally abusive. Feyre herself has even expressed that she and Nesta were constantly at odds with one another—they both contributed to their lacking relationship in the cabin. Nesta never said something without cause, as she typically spoke in retaliation of being instigated against. As for Nesta being emotionally abusive to other characters—that does not exist. Certainly, there are times where she does go too far in her reactions and her tongue is like a whip, but context needs to be added into those scenes to see what was said and why she said what she did.

A reminder that living in poverty in such close corners for a long can affect relationships with those within the same situation as you. Feyre, Elain and Nesta all shared one bed and the cabin was not large enough for private spaces. For years, the sisters and their father were forced to endure starvation, harsh weather, unfavorable clothing conditions, etc. Their remaining family abandoned them and they had to use what little they did know of being fully independent to help make their situation any better.

2 — Nesta is selfish. I see this thrown around pretty often to the point where it has lost any semblance of meaning. People tend to say this because of how Nesta protects herself by lashing out. Feyre expresses that Nesta feels too much and this outward expression is how she copes with all of the emotions she feels internally. Now, back to Nesta being selfless.

ACOTAR — Nesta managed to overcome the glamour that Tamlin used on her and she travelled for over a week through the rough winter woods to the Wall to rescue Feyre. The same woods that Feyre had described as being too dangerous if you venture too far in. The same Wall that Tamlin and Lucien expressed were crawling with Amarantha’s monsters. Nesta had no experience with physical strength and self defense; she was determined to save her sister. The only reason she turned back was due to the mercenary telling her to do so. A reminder as well that she would always put Elain and her well-being over her own life first.

ACOMAF — While Nesta was apprehensive at first to allow Feyre and the others into her home—a reminder that she was taught to hate fae from childhood—she still allowed them in her home. Nesta also was the one who reached out to the Queens and was the one to beg them to give Feyre the other half of the Book of Breathings to save both Prythian and the mortal lands. In the throne room directly after being turned fae, she was immediately on Elain to check and make sure her sister was fine. Nesta did not even bother to glance at herself.

ACOWAR — Nesta worried about Elain and her health for the entire time they were in the House of Wind. She begged her sister to eat. Nesta trained her powers in order to be helpful towards the war despite not wanting to do so. Nesta went to the High Lord meeting and was the one to turn the favor towards Feyre and Rhysand to gain stronger allegiance for the war. Nesta used herself as bait against the King of Hybern so that Feyre and Amren could have a clear path to the cauldron. Nesta was willing to give her life up with Cassian instead of leaving him there to die.

ACOSF — Being Nesta’s book, we of course saw her darkest moments, but also her greatest. She helped to revitalize the Valkyries with Gwyn and Emerie, inspiring SA victims from the library to gain back their autonomy. Despite her own depression and PTSD, she risked her life more than once to find the pieces of the Trove. When in the prison, Nesta immediately came back to help Cassian against Lanthys when she easily could have left. Despite her trauma of being groomed as a child, she allowed herself to be used once again as bait against Eris. Her first thought when she woke up during the Great Rite was if Gwyn and Emerie were alright, and she searched for them. She allowed Gwyn and Emerie to become Carynthian and to win the Blood Rite while she defended them against Bellius. When Cassian was going to kill himself, she unleashed her magic and defeated Briallyn. Immediately after the Blood Rite, she sacrificed her magic to save the life of Feyre, Nyx and Rhysand. In that moment, all she thought about was Feyre and how much she loved her sister.

Nesta Archeron is one of the most selfless characters in this entire series. She does have her moments where she prioritizes herself and her own pride, but so does every other character. The amount of good that she has done across the series outweighs the bad by such a large margin.

BONUS (one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen someone say about Nesta):

3 — Nesta told Feyre about her pregnancy in order to kill the baby. This is probably the most outlandish thing an anti has said about Nesta. For those who read the scene and came to that conclusion, I urge you to read again. The scene reads as Nesta had just found out that the Inner Circle had voted on her once again behind her back. Her consent was once again removed from her. She goes to confront Amren and Varian goes and warns Feyre. When Feyre shows up and begins to interject, Nesta uses this as an opportunity to showcase to Feyre how the people you know, love, and trust are not always who you think they are—especially when they make decisions for you behind your back. Nesta immediately regretted saying anything once she realized exactly what she had done. She never had any intention of killing Feyre, or her nephew.

There’s plenty more that I could add to this post, but it is already long enough. I’ll probably make it a series and go more in depth with Nesta’s character.

A final reminder that the blame for Feyre hunting is not supposed to be placed on Nesta. Feyre made it very clear that she did so to uphold the promise she made with Mama Archeron, but also Papa Archeron should have stepped up for his daughters. Nesta was also a child and should not have parental roles projected upon her.

#nesta archeron the queen she is #nesta #nesta supremacy #nesta acosf #pro nesta #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #nesta deserves better #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sjm

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I have a prompt request because I always want some Adamsapple angst and hurt/comfort. I was reading the posts about Adam having a miscarriage and I was thinking about him having his first miscarriage. Since he probably never saw Eve have one he would probably be scared when it happens to him and he becomes devastated when Lucifer explains what happened since he saw it happen to Lilith many times before Charlie was successfully born. All Lucifer can do is comfort poor Adam while cries over the baby he lost.

"How could this happen? This has never happened." Adam whispered these words to himself over and over as he was sat on his bed, knees pulled to his chest. He was currently wearing a baggy shirt and sweat pants, about an hour ago him and Lucifer got back from the hospital.

Adam had been bleeding a lot, so much so it was cause for concern. Lucifer rushed him to the ER only to find out that he was having a miscarriage.

That word shook Adam to his core. He wasn't so naive that he didn't know what it was, he's heard of people having them.

Eve never had one, why would he? Adam was literally created to make babies, it was his god given purpose in life and now apparently in death too.

If he couldn't even do the one thing he was meant to do right, what good was he?

The doctor tried to tell him that it was perfectly normal for something like this to happen so early on. Adam didn't take in the words, all he could think about was the baby he lost.

It didn't matter if it was the size of a grape, there was a heartbeat. And now that heartbeat is gone, he feels hollow now.

His womb was going through cramps, trying to go back to normal size. Just another cruel reminder.

A sob escaped Adam, he wanted his baby back.

Lucifer quietly entered their bedroom, he had been taking care of the kids they do have getting them lunch. He took the opportunity to make something for Adam in hopes he would eat.

When Apple asked him where her mama was, all Lucifer told her was that Adam wasn't feeling well and needed time to feel better.

He told Charlie the truth though. She was heartbroken for her dad and Adam. She volunteered herself and Vaggie to watch Apple and Lily for the rest of the day so he could be there for Adam.

Lucifer set the plate of food down on the night stand and moved to the other side of the bed. The sight of Adam like this stabbed him in the heart. It brought back memories from when him and Lilith went through this.

He removed his hat, shoes, and coat before crawling on the bed and wrapping an arm around Adam. "Love, is there anything I can do for you?" There was nothing worse than the one you love being in pain and you can do nothing about it.

Adam sobbed harder and buried his face in Lucifer's chest. "Turn back time."

"I would if I could, love. I'd do anything to take this pain away from you." Lucifer placed a kiss in his husband's hair holding him close. "Lilith lost hundreds of babies before we had Charlie."

"I'm not her."

"No you're not, thank god. But what I'm getting at, is the doctor is right these things happen. It doesn't mean you did anything wrong."

"But I-"

"Adam, my love, there is so much more to you than just being a baby making machine. You are funny, musically inclined, witty, the list goes on. I love you for all of you." Lucifer cupped his face. "We have been blessed with two daughters of our own, if we are meant to have more we will. If not...... Then that's fine by me. I want you."

Adam gave him a wobbly smile, eyes still full of tears and red. "I love you, Luci."

"I love you, too, hun. You feel like watching a movie? Even if it's just background noise." Lucifer offered.

"Will you stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere, my love."

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #tw: miscarriage #ask

[flowerwrites06]

limelight euphoria — myg

LIMELIGHT EUPHORIA | Yoongi | Oneshot | Request or Original 

Original Request: something like estranged partners but they need to be affectionate to each other in public occasions as they have an image to uphold (angst & petty jealousy) Plot: Two bandmates struggle to maintain a successful tour and their tumultous feelings for each other. Pairing: Rockstar!Yoongi x Rockstar!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Rock Band AU Type: Oneshot Rating: R18+ Word Count: 5.5k+ Warnings: angst, arguments, implications of cheating, explicit sexual content. Author���s Note: this was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

It was a dream come true and Kiku made sure that was the only thought rushing through her head when Namjoon announced they would be going on tour. The past few months had been nothing but hell with every night fuelled with a heated fight. Even now, Kiku sat far away from Yoongi when in another time, they would be sharing a chair in their studio gathering.

“We’ll be going around Asia,” Namjoon said. His face partially covered by the light plumes of tobacco smoke from the ashtray.

Kiku perked up at the mention. “How many dates in Kyoto?”

“We got two nights,” Namjoon replied, looking down at the different dates. “So you have time.”

Kiku hadn’t been in Kyoto for years. It would be nice to see something a bit more calm compared to the rushing city of Seoul, even though she enjoyed this most of the time. She remembered the daily ritual of her part-time job in the record store with her high school friend, Botan before going to practice with the band. It seemed so simple back then.

“How long will we be gone?” Yoongi asked in a raspy tone, scarred by constant smoking. One of their first cause for arguments was his consistent increase of smoking, drinking and drugs which Yoongi rebutted to be on account of her nagging.

Kiku had stopped nagging but the increases didn’t stop. He kept getting worse and the dark circles under his eyes became a permanent fixture.

“There will be two nights in Seoul and one night in Busan but the whole tour might take a few months,” Namjoon answered with a wave of his hand.

Taehyung cleared his throat, peering through his hair which was getting far too long over his eyes. “Is that gonna be good for you two?”

“We’ll be fine,” Kiku said with an unconvinced tone.

“You sure?” Namjoon asked this time which felt a bit too serious. “You’ve been fighting for the past two months straight.”

“We’ve taken some breaks to fuck,” Yoongi mused.

Kiku glared but tried to keep it brief. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

“She says that but she’s the one who starts the fights.” Yoongi tugged at the strands again, trying to push her because perhaps he knew she wanted something better than this.

That she wanted a partner who was sweet to her instead of aloof, who didn’t pound down drugs and smoke like it was the only thing he enjoyed anymore, who didn’t use fucking as a way to quickly quell bigger problems. He also knew that Kiku wouldn’t do anything to make it stop.

That was what made Kiku most angry and hurt. That he knew she would always keep this going and never let it stop.

“You’re starting it now,” Namjoon said to cut into any tension building.

Yoongi scoffed. “We’ll behave.” He ensured to keep his voice mocking regardless.

“Sure.” Taehyung grabbed a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge.

“Hey, you’ve fought with your girlfriend in front of us.” Yoongi gestured.

“Yeah, once.”

“My girlfriend is in the band so I’m stuck, it’s harder.” He waved his hand.

Kiku’s brows furrowed. “Don’t act like I just got here.”

“You act like you just got here.” Yoongi narrowed his gaze.

“Okay, see that, that’s a fight,” Namjoon said, gesturing to them. “Yoongi, stop being a dick. And Kiku, stop falling for it.”

Kiku rolled her eyes slightly. “Sorry.”

“Suck up,” Yoongi muttered to himself.

-

The morning of the tour should’ve been the easiest of all. But somehow, Kiku had to be welcomed with another tabloid. At first, she assumed it was just dramatic flairs especially since this tour was pulling them into worldwide articles. Unfortunately, pictures showed a different story.

Through a vision of red and heated anger in her chest, Kiku saw him. A drunken Yoongi guiding a girl into the hotel and the journalists having a field day with their buzzwords about how sad Kiku must be. What a pity that Kiku would see this and sob like a broken princess who lost her crown.

Kiku would’ve thrown her phone against the wall if she didn’t need to travel with her band and dipshit boyfriend. She took a deep breath, had a quick shower and stomped her way to the lobby where everyone waited. The crowd outside were much larger now than ever before.

A headache pricked at her forehead. She saw Yoongi from the corner of her eye but didn’t look his way, only getting a glimpse of his relaxed posture and dark hair over his face.

Kiku put her shades on to shield away the sunlight so her headache could be soothed.

“Should’ve gone through the backdoor,” Taehyung said in mumbling, deep voice from just waking up.

“They wanted to make a whole fuss. So hold your breath,” Namjoon said.

Kiku rubbed her temples as they began to open the door. She felt Yoongi’s hand on her back and immediately shifted away. She wanted to push him away and scream at him but clearly, that would only be more excitement for the assholes outside.

It truly was a moment to hold her breath when they finally began to walk through the crowd, getting pushed back by security guards. Everything was going as smoothly as it could. Until Yoongi decided to make her morning worse. All they had to do was get through the entrance door to their tour bus. But Yoongi had to show off as always. He grabbed onto Kiku’s hand, linking their fingers together.

He knew that Kiku had no choice but to pretend that nothing was wrong. That she didn’t want to slap him across the face for the confidence he held after what he did. Finally, the cool air from inside the tour bus cooled some of her skin and one of their security guards slammed the door shut.

As Namjoon and Taehyung moved to sit at her couches, Kiku yanked her hand back roughly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kiku asked in a light rasp.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. “What now?”

“Don’t just hold my hand for the pictures like a dickhead.” She gestured to the crowd.

“I was holding your fucking hand cause we were in a crowd.” Yoongi asked through gritted teeth. “Are you seriously gonna have a tantrum over that now?”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon said.

“No, it’s the first day and she’s already nit-picking about dumb shit all over again.” He glared at her.

Whatever tears were going to form in her eyes steamed with fury. “Just keep your damn hands off me.”

Yoongi scoffed with a bitter smile. “You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

“Don’t put this on me, you’re the one who fucked this up in the first place.” Kiku ran her fingers through her hair.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kiku shook her head, looked over to their agent and grabbed the tabloid papers before they could explain anything. Even Namjoon wasn’t intervening. They all knew. Everyone knew and it only pushed her to throw the papers at Yoongi’s face. “Don’t talk to me about having tantrums. What the fuck is this?”

Yoongi wanted to scream and be angry but for a brief moment, he saw the headlines. He picked up the newspaper. It was clear. Him escorting a girl into the hotel. When he stared up, he saw niether Namjoon nor Taehyung looking his way but to the side. Nor their agent. For the past few months, it was both him and Kiku fighting back and forth. They were both at fault. But now he had done it. That final snap of a thread that was already fraying.

“Come on…” Yoongi looked over at Namjoon and Taehyung. Not Kiku but the rest of the band and the fucking agent. As if this was just a public faux pas. “…she’d been driving me crazy.” He gestured to her.

Kiku pursed her lips as hot tears began to form in her eyes. For the first time, her chest clenched. So he did do it on purpose, just to hurt her. “You’re a piece of shit.” She walked away to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

The slam echoed throughout the bus as Yoongi stammered. The throes of his hangover were already making it difficult to explain himself. “Look, I don’t think anything happened.” He knew that was stupid even in all his stubbornness.

Namjoon’s disappointed face was enough to let him know this viscerally. “I’ll talk to you later. Just take a breather.”

-

The drive was uncomfortable as Yoongi expected. Everyone avoided his gaze and there wasn’t even energy to scold them on fighting again. He wanted to be stubborn to somehow maintain a level of integrity but just because he couldn’t remember what happened didn’t mean that he didn’t invite the damn girl into the hotel.

Yoongi was frustrated and got a separate hotel room, just to get some distance and air. But a dark part of him strayed too far and wanted to feel something other than anger.

Once the bus parked, Taehyung and Kiku walked out of the tour bus for a smoke. Kiku didn’t smoke often but Yoongi knew it was always when stress was at the highest point and she physically needed something to relax.

Yoongi stayed sat at the couch while Namjoon settled next to him with a beer. He didn’t say anything but it was a welcome to start explaining himself.

“I really don’t think I did anything,” Yoongi said. “I got high and I might’ve called her in.” It sounded so stupid and dumb but he kept wanting to explain as if it could somehow quell the true reality of his actions.

“Aside from it being a shitty thing to do, it wasn’t safe either, calling her to the hotel room.” Namjoon scratched his brow. “Without knowing who she was.”

“I know.” Yoongi kept his head lowered.

“And…what you said to Kiku today wasn’t okay.” His tone was grim and serious but Yoongi’s stubbornness chimed in.

“Come on, she’s said stuff too.”

“She didn’t cheat on you and then blame you for it,” Namjoon said blatantly like a quick slit to the throat. “Fighting is one thing, Yoongi. This is. . .”

Yoongi hated that Namjoon vocalised it. It was a passing comment that they could’ve so easily forgotten but here it was, landing on him like a thousand bricks. “I wasn’t blaming her.” His voice didn’t make it sound too convincing.

“You said she drove you crazy which is why—”

“—that’s not what I was saying, I was just angry.”

“You’re always angry, that’s why this is a shitshow.” Anger slowly laced Namjoon’s tone. “And you don’t even seem to care about apologizing to Kiku about it. It’s like some part of you thinks she deserved it.”

Yoongi stayed silent for a moment. There was no response because some horrible part of him did want to hurt Kiku and for the first time in a while, he felt himself coil at his own feelings no matter how brief they were. And what truly cut him was what Kiku must’ve known that was his intention. “Do you really think I’m that bad of a person?”

“You just proved my point by asking that first.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Alright…alright, I fucked up.” He let out a long sigh. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Actually talk this time.”

“I got it.”

-

After a few moments of gathering whatever courage he had, Yoongi walked outside in the cold night air to see Kiku. Taehyung saw him before she did and reluctantly cleared his throat, walking away to give them privacy.

Kiku didn’t look at him immediately, taking another puff of smoke and letting it plume in front of her before her gaze finally reached him. Her eyes were glossed and red from crying. Taehyung had always been the better one at handling an influx of emotions but it still gave Yoongi a strange feeling, a yanking of his heart.

He didn’t know how to comfort her anymore. Even now, he couldn’t ask or say anything. In all the flurry and dance of arguments, Yoongi felt awkward starting a regular conversation.

So she spoke instead.

“I want to break up,” Kiku said. Her words hung in the air, turning it to lead.

If there were words forming in his head, Yoongi now had no strength to speak them, his hearing grew numb for longer than he could control.

She took another swig of her smoke. “It’s the best way to go. We’ll go back to being bandmates and we can put this fucking mess behind us.” Kiku kept her gaze away when she said this.

Yoongi stammered, still unable to speak.

“I know you don’t like these types of conversations so you don’t have to say anything,” Kiku tapped the cigarette on the side of the bench. “Just pretend nothing ever happened. It’s better that way.”

The panging got worse, making him feel as if he were bleeding from the chest. “You want to completely pretend this never happened?” Yoongi asked.

Kiku raised her shoulders. “Yeah. It’s all crumbs left anyway.” She let out another bitter chuckle, her eyes glossing more. “What’s the point? You don’t like me and I don’t want you anywhere near me right now. So we forget.”

Crumbs. Their relationship was crumbs. There was some part of him, drowned in whiskey and numbed by sleepless nights, that awoke for a moment as if to argue against it. The stubborn part of him wanted to keep those thoughts inside. Kiku loved being dramatic, she loved heavy emotions in her conversation. It could’ve just been a simple breakup, but she wanted it all gone.

Yoongi assumed it was just dramatics. He even almost laughed.

But Kiku didn’t laugh.

Yoongi happily wanted to accept her anger but she didn’t react at all.

Her expression showed exactly what she expected from this arrangement. Nothingness. Just back to the way it was.

It was smart, Yoongi would give that much. If he started fighting now, it would not only be hypocritical but it also proved her point that they were crumbs. Irreparable.

He tightened his jaw, mustering whatever was left of the courage he had spent gathering before coming here. Only to fall apart like a pathetic idiot as he always did. His smoking, his drinking, his anger and now his infidelity. Everything had piled so high and packed so tightly that there was no escape in admitting this was pointless.

Yoongi was who he was and Kiku would not tolerate it. So let it die.

“Alright,” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“Alright.” Kiku stamped her cigarette and walked back to the tour bus.

-

The Korean leg of the tour seemed to go smooth enough. Kiku and Yoongi performed and enjoyed themselves without fighting a single time. Yoongi drank, smoked and partied to his heart’s content as he always wanted, relishing in his newfound freedom without worrying about Kiku’s disappointed face.

They even laughed together for a second although it was from a joke told by Namjoon. Yoongi seemed to have held this moment in his mind a lot longer than he liked to.

Unfortunately, things frazzled as exhaustion began to settle. On their second night in Tokyo, they were a couple of added songs as a specialty. Two of them being songs that were written by Kiku and Yoongi together.

Even as the song was performed, a vivid and visceral memory replayed in Yoongi’s head like a knife through his skull. Kiku was swaying her legs while sitting on a washing machine as Yoongi cleaned up the last of their dirty clothes. Her humming so close that the screaming crowd numbed around him. All he could hear was her humming in the laundromat.

Yoongi tasted the blackberry tint on her lips when he kissed her, caging her while she sat on the washing machine. He saw her smile. She hadn’t smiled at him in so long. So long that this memory felt like a dream. Some unknown, impossible thing that could never be attained again.

When the show was finished, Yoongi was yanked back into reality where his tongue only tasted the bitter notes of tobacco and whiskey instead of her sweet blackberry tint.

They walked backstage, taking a breather before making way back into the tour bus. Kiku walked into the dressing room to clean up.

Yoongi walked in and started to smoke. For a few quiet moments, he only glanced at her redoing her lipstick with the ends of her hair still matted with sweat. Even when haggard, there was a beauty to her that forced him to keep looking. In a moment of weakness, he walked over to her, leaning in and nudged his nose into her hair.

“Stop it,” Kiku muttered in a soft tone.

“You remember that song, don’t you?” Yoongi asked in the same voice as if a bubble formed between them.

“What?”

“The songs we did together.”

Kiku didn’t reply, patting herself down with a cloth. “I remember.”

“You always couldn’t sleep until you got it right on that day.”

“We had deadlines,” Kiku said.

“Months away. I’d have to calm you down.” Yoongi reached his face down again, hovering over the crook of her neck. “You remember how I calmed you down?”

Kiku’s expression turned angry as she turned around. “That bitch you slept with remembers better than I do.”

Yoongi raised his head with a sigh. “I told you nothing happened.”

“Like you’d ever be sober enough to gauge anything,” Kiku said. “I told you to leave this be.”

“That doesn’t mean we need to forget the good stuff.”

“The good stuff was when you weren’t coming to me drunk and high every night,” Kiku argued. “This, whatever the hell you are now, isn’t that Yoongi.” She gestured to him with a grimace. “I remember and miss that Yoongi, not you.” She turned on her heel and tried to walk away.

Yoongi grabbed onto her arm. “I’m still the same person.”

“No, you’re not.” Her eyes began to gloss again. Despite all the confidence he had before, the vulnerability in her face was something he didn’t prepare for. It was too soft, too broken for him to even begin fixing it. “Three years ago, you would’ve kissed me without needing to do a line of cocaine. Back then, you wouldn’t have needed an ultimatum and a fucking mistress before saying one kind thing to me. You are not the same person.” Her voice cracked and the sheer sound of it clipped Yoongi’s tongue like a needle pushed through it. “I know exactly who I fell in love with and the reason you’re angry is because you don’t know who that is anymore.”

The door opened to Namjoon with a concerned expression. “Hey, let’s go.” His eyes flickered from Kiku to Yoongi but he didn’t say anything.

Kiku wasted no time before walking away, past Namjoon and to the tour bus.

-

They arrived in Kyoto but by this time, Yoongi felt itching under his skin, as if something was missing. Like a glass of water right in front of him while he was dying of thirst but he couldn’t quite reach it.

What made it worse now was that Kiku seemed to have a new air of energy here.

She went to an old music store with them where they met one of Kiku’s old friends, Botan. He was a bigger man, not quite muscular but generally broad like Namjoon, his dark hair was fluffy as if freshly washed. His eyes immediately softened when he saw Kiku.

Botan perked up in excitement and hugged her tightly, carrying her off the ground easily.

Yoongi held in a groan as he looked away.

“I thought you’d never come back here,” Botan said.

“We’re here on tour,” Kiku said, a little breathless. “How’s the store doing?”

Botan ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s been good, not bustling but good.” He smirked. “Your old records are still here too if you want them.”

“I’d like grab some too,” Taehyung said, grinning.

“Of course, please, look around.” Botan gestured.

Yoongi kept his eyes fixed on like a hawk as Kiku walked to the backroom with Botan while they joked and laughed.

“Stop sulking,” Namjoon said.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes, you are. This is the most calm we’ve been in ages, don’t ruin it.”

“Sorry, my relationship problems are causing you inconvenience.”

Namjoon glared. “I didn’t tell you to cheat on your girlfriend, dipshit.”

Yoongi sighed in frustration. “I need a smoke.” He walked out of the store and started on his cigarette. He looked through the window and saw the view through the open door of the backroom. He saw Kiku laughing with Botan so easily without the slightest bit of effort. There had been a time when they would laugh the same way but now even starting a proper conversation was hard. He looked away, his chest feeling congested and pained at the realization that he was losing something important.

-

The band sat together in a hotel room after their concert in Kyoto, the cool air soothing their tired muscles and heated skin. Taehyung was already drunk so Namjoon helped him back to his hotel room, leaving Kiku and Yoongi alone. A more sober Namjoon would’ve double checked if they could be alright alone but this time a tipsier Namjoon was ready to go back to his hotel room.

Kiku rested back on the couch as the hotel door closed while Yoongi blew a plume of smoke above him. He began to cough.

“Stop smoking for a bit,” Kiku said as she tried to take the cigarette away but Yoongi moved his hand away.

“Not my girlfriend anymore, don’t need to do this.” His voice rasped heavily, half-lidded eyes looking at her.

“Am I not your friend anymore either?” Kiku tilted her head.

This loosened Yoongi’s fingers as Kiku grabs it from him and taps it off the ashtray. She poured two glasses of water to drink.

They sat in silence like this for a while. Maybe it was a silent test for both of them to see if someone shouted or if a minor comment could turn into a long argument. But nothing really happened.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi spoke gently into the silence.

“What?”

“I know it’s late and stupid but…I am sorry.” He looked at her, straight in her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. Even when I wanted to, I never wanted to go along with it.” Yoongi then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It’s done. We don’t have to worry about it anymore.” Kiku leaned her chin on her knees.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked.

Kiku blinked slowly. “I don’t forgive you but we can put it behind us.”

“Good enough.” Yoongi smiled.

She bit down her bottom lip, curling her toes as she watched the slight movements of his own lips.

Yoongi leaned forward and pouring vodka into the water.

“The point was to get a bit more sober.”

“For what exactly?” Yoongi hovered the glass over his lips before seeing her expression.

Kiku tapped the side of her glass, lips slightly parted like the gilded doors of a pleasure garden. Her eyes soft and sweet.

Without a word, Yoongi put his glass away.

Kiku smirked and stood up from the couch, walking over to the bedroom.

Yoongi followed suit, locking the door behind him. He didn’t wait for Kiku to turn before he moved her around, kissing her, hot and sweet with a hint of vodka on her tongue. The third he’d been nursing for most of the tour now finally quenched as she pressed her close to him, relishing in her warm embrace of his cheeks.

He ripped the webs of her fishnet stockings, kneeling down and pushing aside her panties, kissing in between the lips of her cunt.

Kiku held onto his head, throwing her head back as she jerked her hips forward. She moved back and laid on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs. Yoongi ripped the fishnet stockings further, letting her legs hang over his shoulders before he devoured her cunt which was sodden with arousal.

Yoongi hummed against her clit, sucking on it with vigour and passion until pleasure thrummed from Kiku’s lower belly to her head. He licked a stripe up her clit, lapping his tongue as Kiku let out a shaking moan. He kissed each of her lips, using one of his fingers to get his fingers drenched, teasing her entrance.

He lifted and pushed his two fingers into her mouth soak them further. A hint of her arousal touched her tongue, making her mad with pleasure.

Yoongi slid the glistening fingers into her, curling up like muscle memory, knowing the places that made her back arch. He relished in her hands gently brushing through his hair and the taste of her in his mouth. He listened to the squelching of her cunt as Kiku desperately whimpered towards her pleasure.

He kissed the soft, sensitive skin between her lower belly and her core. His fingers curled up, brushing against her sweet spot until made her thighs tremble against him. Yoongi pressed another hot kiss atop her clit. Pulling his fingers out, he relished in the way she whimpered desperately.

Kiku lifted herself up, moving Yoongi to lay down on his back so she could straddle him. She pulled her black t-shirt off showcasing her lace bra.

Yoongi took his chance to caress her breasts, using the texture of the lace to erect her nipples.

She unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his cock and rubbing her wet cunt up the length. The corner of her lips curled in ecstasy before sliding herself down until she was full of him. Kiku hummed in delight, swaying her hips, not waiting as she got into a steady rhythm. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as Yoongi dug his nails into the sweet skin of her ass, still barely covered by her fishnet stockings.

The pleasure thrummed from her core to her toes, making her head dizzy. Kiku may have fought him and distanced herself from him but there was no denying that she missed this. His rough, passionate touch and the feeling of his cock shaping her insides according to her own rhythms. She loved it. She loved him but hated everything about him. It was a cruel feeling, but not one to have right now.

Yoongi’s moans grew ragged, messy as both their orgasms rolled to the edge.

Kiku threw her head back, moving faster and faster until the bed began to creak against pressure. She bounced up and down feeling him getting heavier as her own lower belly began to grow hot with frustration.

“I’m close,” Yoongi breathed out.

Kiku bit down her bottom lip, growing feverish with her pace. Her cunt squelched and ached as her orgasm finally exploded.

Yoongi jutted his hips up, shooting his warm release into her as Kiku’s own bliss ricocheted through her body.

Kiku cried out in pleasure, riding out their orgasms, letting the arousal spill all around them. She rested on his chest, leaned in and kissed him gently.

They didn’t say much to each other. No explanation, no clarification, just calm and bliss.

“Thailand tomorrow?” Yoongi asked.

“Yep.”

-

Their routine of fighting to silence had now turned to a ritualistic fucking session after each concert. Each interaction got more and more friendly, warm which led to a steamy night in the hotel room that left them both blurred in their own ecstasy.

Yoongi wanted to relish in this for as long as humanly possible. He really did. But the small, starving moral part of him knew this wasn’t a compromise that made Kiku truly happy. She was enjoying it and she was excited but even in his idiocy, he knew they weren’t happy like they used to be.

It was their final night in Hong Kong when lying in bed together, sweat sheening their skin. Kiku sat on the bed, sketching out some thoughts while her dark hair flowed down her back and a nightie haphazardly draped over her body.

“I know I’m not really the person to bring this up but…” Yoongi said, mostly looking at her back. “What are we doing?”

“We’re sitting after a fuck,” Kiku said, still facing her notepad.

“We’ve been doing nothing but fucking.”

“No, there’s talking and we’re getting along now.”

“Because we’re fucking.”

“It’s a good stress reliever.”

“You haven’t forgiven me.”

Kiku stopped sketching now, looking over her shoulder. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

Even though Yoongi expected her to say something like that, it still ached a little knowing that was still her view of him. It was stupid to think otherwise, Yoongi wouldn’t have forgiven anyone for cheating either but it still hurt. “So why do this?”

“Do you not want to do this?” She put her notepad away.

“I want to but—”

“But what?”

Yoongi sighed and sat up on the bed properly. “Look, this is fine but it’s not something you do. You don’t leave things blurred.”

“I have to,” she said. “I’m not getting back together with you and our tour’s been going so smoothly with this system.”

“So after the tour…what happens then?” It was a heavier question than Yoongi wanted it to be but Kiku seemed to think on it deeply.

“I’m going back to Kyoto and helping out Botan with the shop.” She played with the fabric of the hotel blanket. “We’re going to be taking a break anyway and I need some time to reflect.”

Yoongi did ask and he got an answer, but that didn’t change the fiery frustration in his chest. “With Botan.”

Kiku narrowed her gaze. “With Botan, yes, Yoongi. I love you but did you really think I was going to heal with you?”

Yoongi stammered, no argument left on his tongue. “You could’ve told me that.”

“You wouldn’t have cared. Maybe now but not then.” Kiku hugged her knees to her chest.

Yoongi could do nothing else but sit in silence again.

-

The tour ended sometime during the edge of autumn and Yoongi spent his holiday at a new café down the road of his apartment. Since his place was now emptied, he felt uncomfortable sitting there alone as opposed to looking like a lonely sob at his corner. Kiku had moved to Kyoto already.

Yoongi wanted it to be a calm morning but unfortunately, the waitress serving him turned out to be a familiar face. The girl he had brought into the hotel room. Her eyes widened when she recognized him but Yoongi could only stammered.

“You don’t remember me?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

Yoongi furrowed his brows before shifting uncomfortably. “No, sorry, I know who you are.”

She smiled, serving him the black coffee he ordered. “Heard about your break. How’s it been?”

“Not great, I’m alone in a café and I feel like shit.” Yoongi chuckled,

“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Actually…”

She turned to look at him again.

“This is gonna be a crappy question but…did anything happen between us?”

The girl blinked slowly.

“Like I remember you but I don’t…you know…” Yoongi gestured.

“Well, I remember us doing a few lines and drinking.” She played with her fingers. “You kept complaining about your bandmates and then you fell asleep.”

“We didn’t…”

“I mean, I think we both tried but were too wasted to do anything. So no.” She smiled nervously. "And no, I didn’t do anything while you were asleep.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi waved his hand and the girl turned on her heel to leave.

-

When Yoongi returned to his apartment, he should’ve gone straight to writing new songs on his guitar but his mind kept rushing to call Kiku. Telling her that nothing actually happened even though the girl did mention that they tried. It was bad but a selfish part of him so desperately wanted to grasp at the thread of hope that this could be revived somehow. Anything to bring light back to his place.

Yoongi opened his phone as he rested on the couch, his lit cigarette hanging off his fingers, dropping ashes on the ashtray next to the couch. He scrolled through his contacts but his courage hadn’t quite mustered.

Like a pathetic stalker, Yoongi began to scroll through Kiku’s socials instead. He found new pictures of her at the record store. She was glowing and smiling to her heart’s content like nothing worried her. If he called her right now, he knew that smile would disappear and it would be another pattern of the same shit.

Kiku had to heal and so did he in his own way.

For the first time, he wanted to take no interest in proving himself right. So he shut his phone off and put out his cigarette. 

masterlist

#yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts x oc #yoongi x oc

[bbbuckaroo]

You’re absolutely right that we should focus on the positivity. I realized that a chunk of the extreme BoBs are more enthralled with Ryan/Eddie than ppl that love Buck. That’s why the small early possibility of Tommy/Eddie is always brought up. They say the outlandish take that Buck & Tommy are into Eddie but settles for each other. They do personal digs on why ppl find Lou attractive cause it’s all connected to their love of Ryan/Eddie. Because Buck is the character with the deepest connection to him to channel a romantic interest in, Eddie must be queer.

Once I realized that, it was easier to focus on the positivity. It’s like trying to talk to a brick wall so you simply don’t.

I’ve started to realize that too and I’m admittedly biased because I have always been a Buck baby. I think Ryan does an awesome job playing a very multi-dimensional character but I honestly don’t see why there’s so much more focus on Eddie. Is it because he’s a dad? Or a veteran? Or just angsty? I mean Buck had been marketed as a sexual person but never a sex symbol while Eddie always appeared to be the opposite. We saw Buck shirtless getting into the shower thinking it was Abby (it was NOT) but have we since? While Eddie we’ve seen multiple times, especially during his fighting era. I mean do we all remember Eddie’s intro song? Buck was introduced saving a baby and Eddie was introduced putting on a shirt.

Wow, I’m realizing a lot right now and it’s making so much sense. Bravo anon. And OMG I am so sick of hearing about the Eddie/Tommy idea and that’s only because they originally were going to have Lucy come back for Buck (love Lucy but she’s legit Buck’s twin) and they obviously wanted to bring Tommy back. That is one of my big automatic blocks, seeing that shit.

Seriously this is all some amazing insight and is really starting to help me understand (but not forgive) at least some of the psychosis. Thank you! You’re right in seeing that it’s more of an Eddie/Ryan thing than a Buck/Oliver thing and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. This the kind of discussion that should be happening and it definitely fuels me to push even more positivity and this is coming from one hell of a cynic IRL.

#anon ask #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #ryan guzman #bucktommy #buddie #i’m not anti buddie #i’m anti bullying and bullshit

[blu3-tea]

Gift - G/t - Part 3

Part 1: click here

TW: Pet trope, swearing.

Premise: A world in which genetically engineered tinies or Littlins are viewed as pets. Ellen is gifted one on her grandpas' birthday party, as she had graduated the week before.

Word count: 1,644

Note: part 4 might take a while to write

………………………………

Ellen hastily gathered her bag, trying to ignore the persistent background noise of her parent’s voices. Every word of caution and concern grated on her nerves, but she forced a tight smile, nodding absently.

“I just got a call from my neighbour. That’s all.”

Any more seconds here and she’ll get squeezed to death. You would have been more careful around a dog for fuck’s sake!

Part of her, though, blamed herself for not being more direct about leaving the littlin alone. Even if she had, they would not have listened anyways, she realised.

She gave a halfhearted hug to her grandpa. “Take care,” she managed, her voice catching a little, despite her efforts to sound cheerful. She thought that he should know better than anyone in that room the stark contrast between an animal and a person, as he looked after so many different pets at home, from koi fish to parrots. In the end he was just like her parents.

Just as she reached the car door, her dad appeared beside her, holding a small sack that reeked of pet food. The smell hit her like a wave and she scrunched her nose. Her dad’s earnest expression only made it worse; she could not stand how oblivious he was to her mounting anger.

“Here, take this for the pet,” he said, holding out the sack.

Ellen gritted her teeth, a strained smile plastered on her face. “Thanks, Dad.” She said, her voice tight. She shoved the sack into the backseat with more force than necessary. She could feel her father’s eyes on her, but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.

“Call us when your neighbour’s bath is fixed.”

“Sure thing.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, she slammed the door a little too hard, causing the bewildered girl next to her to almost jump out of her skin. As Ellen drove away, the tension in her body slowly began to ease, but the anger lingered, simmering just beneath the surface.

She drove in silence through the quiet neighbourhoods, the soft hum of the engine the only sound accompanying them. The houses blurred together, as she navigated the familiar streets, her mind racing faster than the car.

Her aunt consistently took brash decisions without consulting anyone, behaving as if she owned everything. Unexpectedly taking her sister’s car and dropping her kids off at their house out of the blue, had lost their element of surprise by now and were forced well within the “boundaries”. Letting her kids casually grab a person had sent her hundreds of miles outside that boundary. Ellen gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white, trying to steady to whirling of emotions swirling within her. She did not think she could fake a smile around her aunt any time soon.

Her eyes flickered to the passenger seat, where the miniature girl sat, absorbed in fiddling with her tiny delicate fingers. Ellen could still feel the sensation of those tiny limbs, the weight so insubstantial yet profoundly significant, trembling like a leaf. Only now, in the stillness of the car did she fully grasp the gravity of that moment: she had literally held someone’s life in the palm of her hand. The realisation settled over her like a heavy cloak, bringing with in an overwhelming mix of awe and responsibility. Every breath the girl took, every heartbeat, had been cradled in her palm, utterly dependent on her.

Ellen opened her mouth, about to speak, but then hesitated. What could she say that would not sound patronising or forced? She wanted to treat the girl as she would anyone else, but every time she looked at her, she was reminded of their sheer size difference. The guilt gnawed at her- guilt for feeling awkward, for not knowing how to bridge the gap.

As they neared the highway, Ellen’s frustration grew. She stole another glance at the girl, who was now looking absentmindedly down at her barefoot feet, seemingly unaware of Ellen’s inner turmoil. Her heart clenched. She wanted to tell the girl that everything would be okay, that she would be safe now.

Instead, she reached over and turned on the radio. The abrupt eruption of drums and guitars startled the small girl. She covered her ears with her hands, her wide eyes darting between Ellen and the radio.

“Oh, sorry.” She turned the volume down, enough to ease the initial shock, but still loud enough to drown out the silence. The girl lowered her hands just as quickly as she had raised them before and fiddled with them in embarrassment. “My bad. Err… what do you listen to?”

The littlin stared up at her with contemplation for a long minute. “I don’t listen to anything really.”

“There has to be something you prefer over other genres.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we’ll figure it out now.” She turned the knob, changing radio stations and waited for a reply that never came. She encouragingly asked “Do you like this one?”

“I don’t mind what music is on…”

“I see, so you don’t like it. That’s ok.” In her peripheral vision she noticed the girl’s eyebrows pinch together. Changing radio stations she commented in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I used to listen to this one, but then they changed the hosts.” No reply came. “They’re not as funny as the last ones, but the music is pretty much the same.”

The upbeat pop music playing could not drown out the awkward silence that filled the car. Ellen played through their conversation so far, desperately trying to pinpoint where she had gone wrong. The harder she tried to recall, the more elusive the answer seemed. She stole a glance at her, hoping for a clue, but her expression was unreadable.

Then it dawned on her: no one ever asks what music pets listen to. Taking into account that the girl has been treated as a pet so far, she actually did not know what genre she likes. Ellen took it upon herself to change that.

“This one plays general pop. Anything that’s trending online.” She changed stations, a sonorous soprano voice resonated through the speakers, “This one’s classical. It sounds better in person, trust me.” The knob turned again. “I haven’t heard this one is a long time… it’s rock by the way.” Her passenger still did not comment. Advertisements replaced the song quickly after. Just as they seemed to go on forever, Ellen said as nonchalantly as she could, masking her disappointment, “It’s ok if we don’t have any music on. It’s your call.”

“I’m not sure. Put anything you want.”

“I’m asking what you want.” She sounded somewhat stern.

“Pop… sounded nice, I guess.” She said, her words trailing off as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Alright.” Ellen was not entirely convinced, but at least she got the littlin to talk; it was a barely-visible crack on the ice.

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name.”

She craned her head up, looking stunned. “I don’t have one.”

“Everybody does.”

“No, I don’t.” She persisted, “You’re supposed to name me.”

“I would if you were my pet.” She could feel the littlin’s piercing gaze falter.

“You’re not keeping me! Whatever I did wrong I-“

“Hold on. Calm down, you’re staying with me more as a… roommate or something.” Her cheeks grew hot, she felt silly for exclaiming that out loud. “Just give me a name.”

“Seriously?” She stammered in disbelief and Ellen nodded in reply. “Nelly. I’m Nelly.”

“Nelly… you have a pretty name.” Ellen could not contain the corners of her lips curling up into a grin.

It was another crack in the ice.

………………………………

Everything was wrong.

The giantess saving her from suffocation and apologising on top of that was wrong.

The giantess asking her what kind of music she likes and what her name is was wrong.

The giantess calling her a roommate was utterly wrong.

Whatever plans she had of surviving were thrown out the window. They all seemed irreverent in the face of this unexpected and bizarre turn of events. She had always prided herself on being adaptable, but this was beyond anything she had ever encountered. The giantess was so terrifyingly unpredictable that Nelly felt a profound sense of vulnerability like never before.

She could not turn her attention away from Ellen’s towering stature. Every twitch the driver made, pumped adrenaline through her veins. She expected her to turn around a complete 180 degrees and pinch her between her fingers, her sharp nails poking her, with a condescending smirk. Yet, Nelly was still sitting on the passenger’s seat, not in a cage, unscathed from the previous ordeal.

At the same time, a glint of hope lingered in her heart. “Roommate.” Nelly whispered to herself, savouring the word. If the giantess was being honest, this could not be that bad. Roommates have privacy and opinions. Most importantly, they can say “no”. Could she actually be one? She shook her head vigorously, as if to drive the thought away. She knew better than to trust giants.

“Nelly?” Ellen’s booming voice calling her name, quickened her pulse. “I should have asked earlier, but… how are you feeling? Are you hurt anywhere?”

A warm, rare sense of gratitude blossomed in her chest. This rollercoaster of emotions and expectations was only getting worse. “I’m fine,” she faltered for moment, as she tried to decide whether she would regret this later or not, “thanks.”

“That’s good to hear.” Ellen released a long sigh of relief. “Again, I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming.”

Roommate…

………………………………

Thank you for reading!

Tags list: @i-am-beckyu , @whumpinthepot , @heroofthe13thday , @torakan

Part 4: (coming soon)

Thoughts: I’ll try to rewrite this part and repost it, because I am not happy with it. Idk something about it doesn’t satisfy me… I had also hoped to write more and include more action… oh well. I hope you enjoyed it!

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t community #gianttiny #g/t writing #gt #gt community #giants #sfw g/t #gt angst #gt/tiny #sfw gt #gt writing