#i've been trying on and off for three years but i keep getting frustrated and then starting from scratch with another method

[quitedisastrous]

i wish i could just do nothing for a few days straight. maybe even just sleep for a few days straight. sooo excited for constant misery over the next 20 days

ranting in the tags. i would just scroll past if i were you

[alongtidesoflight]

.

[setnet]

sewed me some blue jeans using the helene jeans pattern (would recommend - very easy to follow - suggest top down centre out fitting and doubling the height of the pocket bag so you can actually fit a phone into it without stabbing yourself when you try to sit down).

I started them a couple months ago but didn't manage to finish it until my knee had healed up enough from the surgery to try them on again and use the sewing machine comfortably.

Did a couple of fit fixes. I needed a bit of extra room (about 1.5' total) at the high hip and waist, which I took out of the side seam allowance. TBH I maybe could have left this and let the denim stretch, but I decided to go for comfort up front. I also needed a little less height in the sides and back (about half a cm at the hips shading to 1cm at the back - yes, my brain picks whether I use metric or imperial while sewing essentially at random), which I managed when attaching the waistband.

I messed around with the pocket opening a bit and i'm not 100% happy with how that turned out so will skip that when I make the next pair. I made the straight leg this time and next time I'm going make the wide leg. I also have a denim off-cut I got for half price so I might make another pair of shorts.

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining an a/b/o dynamic where the entire 141, including you, are all Alphas. Except, after a few years of such close contact something starts to shift.

You start to become an Omega.

"Why is this happening to me?" You all but wail. It hurts to breathe, everything feels like it's on fire. Your stomach twists again, painful cramps shooting white hot lighting up your spine. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

Your pack is all around you, trying to soothe you in anyway they can but it's not working. Everything hurts, your teeth feel like they're going to crack from how tight you have them gritted. The wave of pain ebbs for a few gracious seconds before starting up all over again. You whine and sob and reach out for any of your team.

"Whats going on?" Price huffs, his cool hand cupping at your face. His touch is the barest relief even as he drags down one of your lower eyelids. He tuts in an intense concern. "Simon, have you seen this before?"

The larger male drops to one knee. He gives you a quick once over before dipping his head towards yours. He presses the front of his mask to the crown of your head. Through your labored panting you barely hear him take in a deep inhale of scent.

He coughs and stands back up too quickly. Judging by his flighty gaze, something is seriously wrong. Another tremor of pain wracks your body. You open mouth squeal. It's getting so much worse.

"Simon!" Soap growls, trying to bring his fellow alpha back from whatever memory he'd fallen into. "What's wrong wit' 'er?"

"She's turning into an Omega."

Everyone in the room turned their gazes towards Ghost, even you, despite your pain. You? An Omega? But you've always been and Alpha. It was part of the necessary requirements to be a part of the 141. You'd been genetically tested, hormonally tested, and aptitude tested. You were a full blooded Alpha coming from generations of Alphas.

"There's...ngh...no way." You hiccup out, tears blurring your vision.

"That doesn't make any sense. That can't happen." Gaz adds. He rubs at your back. His cool touch soothes even more of your pain into a dull throb, but it isn't enough.

"M' n' Alpha!" You cry out in anguish, the first of many tears finally dripping down your cheeks.

Something about Ghost's words hurt worse than any pain your body was making you go through. Try as you may to deny it, he was right. You could feel your body changing, altering, breaking and bending.

"Why is this happening to me?" You wail.

"There's too many of us." Ghost huffs, he glances around at your pack.

"Why does that matter?" Soap grumbles, scooping an arm around your center to pull you up into a sitting position. "We're a pack."

"That's just it." Ghost sighs tiredly.

"I've never heard of this being 'n issue." Price butts in. He grabs your face again and brushes the tears off your cheeks. "Task Forces are fully Alpha run. They 'ave been for years."

"If what Ghost is saying is right, it's biological, Captain." Gaz huffs, his thoughts visibly racing. "Too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. It means we'd go extinct."

"But why didn't she change earlier?" Johnny asks. You teeter in his hold but he keeps you upright. He lets you lean against his chest. He smells more comforting than usual.

"It's hormonal. She's been with us almost three years now, it takes time." Ghost says. Price nods in agreement.

"I'm an Alpha!" You sob, trying wrench yourself free from the multiple men around you. "I- I don't want to be bred. I don't want to be claimed! I'm an Alpha!"

"We're know you are, Love." Price breathes softly. He continued to wipe tears away from your face with a tenderness that only makes your despair swell further. "But this is happening, and we can't stop it."

"Take me to sick bay, please. They'll...they'll put me on blockers or something! Please, anything but this! I don't want to be an Omega."

The pack looks toward Ghost but he shakes his head.

"This is you first heat. The blockers will kill you."

You scream in pain, fear, and frustration. Another wave of excruciating pain washes over you. You wrench out of Soap's grip and fall against the floor. The tile is cool against your flushed skin.

As much as you hate him for it, Ghost is right.

This is your first heat.

Your back arches off the floor. Your toes curl and you squeal, shaking, gasping, panting hot breaths. You can feel yourself start to sweat. There's a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs. Embarrassment floods you. You try to curl into a ball but your body keeps being wracked with tremors.

"H-help me..." You cry out weakly, sobbing into the tile.

Your pack seems to finally get a whiff of your fluctuating scent. All around you, you watch as one by one each of their gazes grow more and more pointed. All of you know what must be done. After all, you're an Omega now.

...and there's no going back.

[azsazz]

Severance

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Idk if you’re taking requests and it’s okay if you aren’t but I was rereading Feysand bonus chapter and it mentions that Feyre’s libido was heightened due to pregnancy and really wanted a fic where we see that with Az and reader bc I LOVE LOVE your daddy!Az fics and it would be funny seeing Az being a dad but also finding time to pleasure his pregnant mate due to hormones that man’s schedule would be jammed pack hahaha

Warnings: Smut, reader is pregnant, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2061

Notes: This req is literally from a year ago today 😳 now that's some sort of fate (or mad laziness lol) Also, it's been a hot minute since I've written some smut hopefully it's good.

Bat Babies ages in this fic: Wren, Nyx, Gid 8, Baz 6, Zuzu 3, Jax 2, Knox and Malos in the womb.

_________________________________________

“Wren,” you sigh exasperatedly at your eight year old, “Please go play with your siblings. Mommy just needs a few minutes to herself.” 

It’s hard to keep your tone cool and level while your core is burning, dripping for the mate who’s stepped into the shadows whilst you bargain with your son. The both of you had snuck off for a few quick kisses that turned into something more, and it’s the first time you’ve had any time to yourselves in weeks. You don’t know if it’s being pregnant with two babies this time around making every single one of your senses heightened, but you don’t recall being this horny for your mate during your first four pregnancies.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long. 

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other. 

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face. 

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak. 

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks. 

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop. 

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. 

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you. 

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t  already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high. 

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round. 

“It’s a promise, sweetheart.”

[rottingworship]

Beg and Bargain

The Proxies X Fem!Reader | Chapter Nine

[Masterlist]

Summary: Toby helps you back to the cabin, and you are too caught up to let him go. Sadly, you do not get to hold onto him forever.

Warnings: 18+!, smut, unhealthy relationship dynamics, toby tries to get you to make him fuck you (you do not), PiV, begging, gun violence, mind control, murder, mentions of blood, not beta read (please let me know if i forgot anything, a lot happens this chapter!)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: HELLO! HAPPY NEW YEAR! It's been three months... I hope you are all well. I'm losing my mind, but I love Creepypasta so here we are. I've crawled out of my hole but idk for how long. Hope you like this one <3 the next one has more Kate!! dividers by cafekitsune

Toby’s hand is on the small of your back. You are tense. He seems to be as close to you as he can possibly get. You are barely breathing, facing forward, not even daring to look towards him, and you are tense.

Toby knows. He is growing tired of keeping quiet. “I c-could warm you up an-another way?” He laughs and you freeze. You stop walking and look at him. “Wh-what?”

“Let's get back to the cabin.” You begin to walk again. Toby’s hand goes to your back again.

“Kate sa-said you were having w-wet dreams. About, about us.” He states it. You almost freeze again. You do not respond. Tony groans, forcing you to stop. “You-you were having one this morning.”

He makes you face him and look at the ground. You are freezing. As you stand still you remember just how cold it is. Your mind is running faster than your body can keep up with. “So what?” Your bottom teeth chatter.

“S-s-so what?” He laughs. He steps forward, causing you to step back. You bump into a tree, and he has you cornered. “You a-are so sexually fr-frustrated! It's obvious!”

“And you aren't!?” You snap back at him. He blocks you in. You are caged now. “I hear you, you know?” You want to cross your arms and roll your eyes at him. There is not enough space, and you are sure Toby would make a remark you do not want to hear. So, you stay still and quiet.

“I know. I-I’m not trying to stay silent.” He smirks at you. “I saw, saw how you l-looked at me earlier.”

Yeah, I saw your dick print. You think to yourself. You do roll your eyes this time. Toby is quick to grab your face. He does not hold it as tightly as he had earlier though. You swallow hard and look at him with wide eyes. He's giving you that lustful look again. You are not sure how you would react if you were actually warm.

“Can we go home?” Your voice is strained, barely a whisper. “I'm freezing.”

“I n-need you to answer so-something first.” You nod. “Wh-what was happening in your dream?” He cocks his head and seems so much closer now. You can feel the heat coming off of him. Your cheeks heat up, you are on fire and so cold at the same time. You do not answer. A heavy silence lingers. “For-forget it.”

Toby grabs your hand and pulls you from the tree. You are being pulled behind him back to his cabin. Something registers and you speak up.

“You were fucking me.”

It is Toby's turn to freeze. His grip on your hand loosens before tightening. He wants you to indulge. He needs you to. “What else?” He sounds desperate. “Wh-what was-”

“I was face down, on a bed… we were sticky and I couldn't think straight.” Your eyes squeeze shut, the dream coming back to you. “You were behind me-”

“Wh-why are you telling me now?” He asks, genuinely curious. You shrug. “You-you’re all hot again. Even in th-this weather…” His eyes roam up and down your body. He is going mad looking at you in your state; disheveled and nervous and obviously turned on.

“Toby-?” You look around, and lock eyes with Toby again. “Do they know you found me?” He shakes his head. No. You suck in air and pray to whatever is listening that you are not making the wrong choice. As if you have not been making the wrong choice pretty consistently recently. “If we get back to the house, and they aren't there, I'll let you-”

He begins to pull you towards the cabin. You do not finish your sentence. He needs to get there before they do. He has to. Toby has been sent into a frenzy. The cabin comes into your line of sight, and no one seems to be around. You stumble up the porch, his bruising grip not loosening in the slightest. He pulls you into the house and you look for any signs of people. Toby does not. He drags you towards his room and swings the door open.

You are pulled inside, and the door is shut and locked. Your back is pressed to the wood, your breathing is quick, and your chest is rising and falling rapidly. “You didn't let me, didn't let me finish my sentence-” You heave.

“No time.” Toby shakes his head. He wants to touch you. He is thinking about what to do first.

You watch him closely. He is thinking so hard. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. You examine him closely. You realize how attractive he is now that he is not being so mean or trying to kill you. But the bandage on his face… “Toby?” You look at him. His hands flex and relax a few times. “What's under this bandage?” Your hand instinctively goes towards it. He grabs your wrist. His grip is not as tight as it was earlier, but it is getting there.

He stares you down. Your eyes do not move from him. He is examining you. Closely. Thinking hard. You realize you are still shivering, shaking in his grasp.

“Don't worry,” your teeth chatter. “I'm not gonna judge you…” You gently pull away from him, but he does not let you go.

“You're fr-freezing.” He finally lets your wrist go. The way he is staring at you has your stomach turning. You cannot tell if it is from fear or attraction. Probably both. You nod at him. You are very cold. “I ca-can help wi-with that.”

You nod. Toby does not need much more of an answer. He is somehow closer now than ever. His lips are ghosting over yours. You are burning again. You crave touch. You need him to fuck you. “Kiss me, please…” Toby does not hesitate. His hands grip your hips, and his lips press to yours. You kiss back, more eager than you could have ever imagined and you gently cup his cheeks.

“So s-so-soft,” Toby mumbles against your lips. You smile into the kiss and Toby seems to be sent into a deeper frenzy. His grip suddenly tightens, and your back is pressed hard against the door. And, in an instant, you are being picked up. He easily grabs you and walks you over to his large bed. He throws you onto it and you are momentarily stunned. You swallow hard and look up at Toby once the room seems to stop spinning.

Toby watches you, eyes dark and breathing heavy. He is thinking about everything he wants to do. Everything he has time to do. “Toby,” you whine, “come on, they'll be back soon and- and I need you.”

“Ne-nee-need me to wh-what?” He stutters and twitches a little more than usual now. He is excited. Your heart is in your throat at his tone.

“I need you to fuck me.” You are not sure where the courage has come from, the words seem to come out on their own.

That is all Toby needs to hear. He is standing at the end of the bed, looking as if he is about to go insane. He begins to take off his shirt. He rips it from his body and tosses it across the room. He kicks his boots off without struggle, his pants coming off soon after. He is left in just his underwear. You are shivering on Toby’s bed and praying he touches you soon. And then it happens.

He pounces.

Toby is on you in seconds. As he hits the bed, you bounce up and slam into him. You instinctively grab him and let out a yelp. His mouth pushes against your ear. “L-Let’s get yuh-you out of these cl-cl-clothes.” You nod. It is all you can do. You hold onto him tightly as his hand travels towards the hem of your shirt. He swiftly pulls it up and you shimmy out of it. Toby’s hands then move for your bra. He grabs the clasp and struggles briefly. You are quick to help him.

You throw your bra away and pull Toby into a kiss. He thanks you for the help by grabbing one of your breasts, and he pinches your nipple. Hard. You let out a whimper and arch your back causing you to press into Toby. He smiles against your lips. He massages one of your breasts and moves from kissing your lips to your jaw. He travels down to your throat and begins to suck. He nips and bites at the sensitive skin, leaving you moaning out for him. Your nails drag up his back as you gasp. In return, Toby grinds against you. You can feel just how hard he is.

“Fuh-feel that?” He asks. You cannot answer. You are in no position to answer. “Y-you are doing th-this to me.” His teeth scrape your neck, and you are barely hanging on.

“Please!” You have resorted to begging already. “I want-” Your head is spinning. “Need to feel you.”

Toby laughs. He laughs against your skin. “I-I promise. We’ll guh-get there.” You nod and your eyes screw shut. Toby’s mouth begins to move from your neck and down to your chest. His mouth stops on your other breast and is licking and sucking on your nipple, while his fingers pinch and roll your other one. You are squirming against him. You are not as cold now, but you want to be warmer.

Toby’s hand slides down your chest and past your stomach, right to the waistband of your shorts. His hand pushes past the elastic band and he starts to rub you over your panties. Your hips instinctively roll into his hand. Toby smiles as he catches your nipple between his teeth. His eyes flick up to you. He wants this forever; you under him; just begging for his touch. Begging for some sort of release.

“Toby!” You let out a strained moan. You are stuck. You cannot think of any words. Nothing is coming to mind, and you are left a babbling mess. “Please-”

“Ma-make me.” You freeze. Your eyes cut to Toby, whose hand is down your pants, but he has stopped touching you the way you want. “Make- Make me tuh-touch you.”

Your eyes are popping out of your head. “No!” You grab his shoulders. “Toby, no.” You shake your head. “I will beg all day, but I’m not making you fuck me!” You shift under him.

Toby shrugs. It seems to have been worth a shot. “O-Okay.” He nods back. “Th-Then beg.”

You relax slightly. At least he is not making mind control him. “Toby, please, I’m begging you to do something- Touch me, fuck me. Something!” He smirks at you but does not move. “Fuck! I’ve never wanted something more,” You roll your hips up again and try to get some sort of pleasure, “please, just- I need you so badly.” Toby’s fingers begin to slip past your panties. “Take them off.” You whisper, pleading. “Please, just take them off!”

Toby smiles widely at you. His eyes are dark. He looks terrifying. It is making you even more horny. He rips your shorts down your legs, your panties going with them. You sigh as Toby’s fingers push past your folds. You relax onto his bed.

“Was-Wasn’t so hard, no-now was i-it?” He is smug.

You do not have the capability at that moment to roll your eyes. Instead, you shake your head. You mumble a ‘no’ and hope he picks up his pace and fucks you soon. His thumb circles your clit and your eyes roll back. A finger slips into you, followed by one more. His fingers pump in and out of you. You lay there mumbling ‘thank you's and his name over and over. But before you know it, his fingers pull away from you and you are pleading again for him to touch you. He does not oblige this time.

“As-As much as I-I wanna taste you…” He sucks his fingers, “I wan-want to fu-fuck you more.”

Toby maneuvers out of his underwear and positions himself at your entrance. The front door slams and Toby smiles. He knows what he is doing. You do not register the door; all you can think about is the dick you are about to get.

Toby slips into you, and you let out a loud moan. Your nails dig into his back and your legs wrap around him. Toby holds himself above you and gives little encouragements in your ear to be loud for him. It is his turn to beg, but for different reasons. He sounds so nice, asking you to beg for him so loudly, you just have to listen to him.

“Toby!” You did not mean to be so loud. “Fuck! Right there!” Your eyes open and you look up at him. One of your hands slides up his back and to his head. You push his head down and lean up slightly, touching your forehead to his. Toby places a kiss on your lips as his hand grips your ass. You gasp loudly.

“Open this fucking door!” Kate starts to yell. The doorknob jiggles. “I hear her in there!” She is screaming. “I know you’re fucking her!” Her frustrations fuel Toby.

“Fu-Fuck off!” Toby’s pace quickens. You whimper against him. Every single time his hips pull back from yours you cannot help but to chase him. You need release. “I-Ignore her.” Toby nuzzles into your neck, his hair tickling you.

A wail comes from the other side of the door and Kate’s fist slams into the wood. Footsteps stomp away from the door.

You try not to think too hard about that. You focus on the white-hot fire building up in your stomach. Your hand falls from Toby’s back and moves towards your clit. You begin to rub circles against it and are getting closer to release. Toby’s hand smacks yours away and he begins to do that for you. He is offended you did not ask, no, beg him to do that.

Your toes begin to curl and every muscle in your body is tensing. “I’m close,” Your voice is strained. “Please- I wanna cum.”

Toby does not respond verbally. Instead, his pace quickens again. Becoming sloppy. The sound of skin against skin echoes through his room and you are left gripping him like your life depends on it. You tighten around Toby, and he hisses.

“Fuck!” He drags the word out. “Do th-that again.” He demands. You listen. Ecstasy finally hits, you are seeing stars, and you are heaving against him. “Wh-Where?” He asks, fervently.

“Stomach.” You watch as Toby pulls out and pumps his cock a couple times. He cums on your stomach. Toby falls beside you and lies on his side. You are stuck staring at the ceiling, suddenly realizing what choices you have made. Now is not the time, you think. You look over at Toby and notice his bandage is gone. It must have fallen off. Without thinking, you reach for the scarred part of his mouth. Your hand is stopped again. More harshly this time. His grip on your wrist causes it to go limp. You pout at him. “You just fucked me, and yet I’m still not allowed to admire you?” You ask.

Toby rolls his eyes. “No.” You shake your head and pull back from him. He releases you. You sit up and Toby watches you. You spot a bathroom across his room and your head tilts. “Wh-what?”

You point to his bathroom. “You have a bathroom in here.”

“S-So?” It is not clicking.

“Toby!” You refrain from pushing him off the bed. “You could have come in here and used this bathroom all those times you rushed me in the other one!”

He shrugs. “I li-like to fuck w-with you.”

“Whatever.” You begin to scoot off his bed. “I’m going to clean up.”

Toby groans and sits up; his legs swing over, and his feet hit the floor. He follows behind you to his bathroom and you hit the light. You turn around and Toby just stands there.

“I have to pee, and that’s going to be kind of hard with you standing there so menacingly.”

Toby scoffs. He motions for you to go ahead, and you huff. You pee. “St-stay in he-here with me.” Your head snaps towards him as you stand up. “I mean, T-Tim just ga-gave you some head. I-I could do that.” He shrugs.

“You think I’m staying in his room for that?”

Before Toby can answer another knock comes from his door. You both look towards the door. You groan. You remember you have other roommates you will have to face now. As Toby walks off towards the door you clean up as quickly as possible. You want nothing more than to lay back down and go to sleep, but you have a feeling that is not happening anytime soon. You hear Toby talking to Tim and Brian through his door. They are whispering. You poke your head back into the room and look at Toby.

“You might want to get dressed!” Brian yells. You catch some annoyance in his tone. You pout at Toby. You mouth a ‘why’ at Toby and put your hands up in confusion. He begins to walk towards you. “We-We’re going o-out.” Your eyes widen. “All of u-us.”

Kate is beyond agitated. She is in the passenger seat, leaving you between Toby and Hoodie. Masky is driving, quite fast. Toby has his hand on your thigh and will not let you go. You swallow hard and as you are looking straight ahead you feel Hoodie’s eyes on you. You really do try to ignore it.

“Do-don’t worry.” Toby whispers, but you know he is still being loud enough for the others to hear, “I wo-won’t let anything h-hurt you.” You turn to look at him and notice the shit eating grin on his face. Your nostrils flare.

“You’re only saying that because you fucked her.” Kate growls.

Heat prickles across your face and you tense. Toby pats your thigh and pulls you closer to him. Somehow. You are sure you cannot get any closer to him. You are already almost in his lap. You would prefer to stay out of his lap while Masky is driving so fast.

“Where are we going?” You look between Masky and Kate. Your jaw clenches when only silence fills the car. You blow air out and sigh. Whatever. You sit in silence the rest of the ride.

You pull up to a field the car stops. Everyone gets out. Toby practically pulls you from the car. He stays close by your side, his hand on the small of your back. Oh, he’s about to be insufferable. You let it go. You are a little too frightened by your surroundings to tell him to back up. It is almost comforting. And, once you get to the middle of the field, you need comfort.

There is blood everywhere. A body is lying in the middle of the opening. You think you are going to puke. You look between everyone and back at the dead body. It is fresh. You look away. The thought of hiding in Toby’s chest crosses your mind but you figure that would make you look worse.

“I thought Ethan would be here!” Kate growls, turning towards Toby.

Ethan? You really are going to puke. Oh no. You swallow hard and try to push that feeling down. You examine the body and realize it looks a lot like the way John had died. Ethan was here. You tense. “This was Ethan.” You look at the group. “He’s trying to-” You shut your eyes tight. “He’s trying to prove what happened to John was not John’s doing.”

Kate tilts her head at you. You watch her. She takes a step closer to you. “Maybe you aren’t so dumb after all.” She snarls it out at you. Her mask makes her so much scarier. “He’s still around here. Has to be…” She looks around. While she goes to walk off, a flashlight shines at all of you. Fuck. You whip around and see two officers. Kate turns too. Masky and Hoodie look like they are ready to murder.

“Wait.” You whisper. They do not want to listen. You have to take matters into your own hands. “Wait.” They all freeze.

“Put your hands up!” One of the cop's yells at you. You follow his orders, and whisper the order to the others, so that they will follow it too.

“We don’t want any trouble!” You reassure the cops. “We were out here, walking around-” Your nose starts to bleed. Your eyes shut tight; your head begins to pound. The flashlight is not helping. “We found him like that.”

“Sure.” The other cop scoffs. “You five freaks found him like this.” Freaks. You think about dropping the mental hold on the others, but you do not. You cannot risk him calling for backup. “Get on the ground.”

You drop to your knees. And then you feel it. Your nose is almost gushing at this point, your head is fuzzy, but you cannot let go. On your knees, the thought is demanding. With your eyes still closed, you hear the four of them drop on their knees. You want to sob; everything is starting to spin. Your eyes snap open and your pupils are blown wide. Your eyes are black. Pitch black. The cops notice this.

“What the fuck!?”

Uh oh. You have to handle this now.

“Call for backup.”

“No!” You shout it. Aggressive and assertive. They stop dead in their tracks, one has a hand on his radio, the other has a hand on his gun. “Do not call for backup.” You have to stay alert. You are holding onto more people than you have ever held onto before. You cannot risk slipping, not now. You need to figure out how to get them off of you without alerting them further. The last few times you had to think so quickly it did not end well. You are not hopeful with the outcome of this situation either.

You slip momentarily. You feel yourself letting one of the cops go and within seconds you are on the ground. His hands are on you. You are face down in the dirt, hands behind your back. You have the upper hand again. You shut your eyes tight, mentally holding onto every single person around you. You inhale sharply and think fast. Too fast.

Shoot him. The cop on top of you does not falter. He pulls his gun out and you keep the other one from moving. The gun goes off. Put the gun in your mouth. You are shaking. You are losing control. Pull the trigger. He does. You hear the bang from above you and your ears are ringing. He slumps off of you and onto the dirt beside you. You quickly release the group from your grasp and lie just as limp as the cop beside you. You are breathing heavier than ever, and you can barely move.

“Are you in-fucking-sane!?” Kate is gritting her teeth. She’s up before Toby, leaving her dragging you out of the dirt. She stands you up and you realize just how hard it is to stand. You realize how strong she is.

You smile at her. Genuinely smile; blood covering your teeth. “I’m so fucking smart.” You whisper at her. She lets out a low, primal growl. She does not release you, she knows you will fall, and you already look rough enough. No need to slam your head into the dirt.

Toby, Masky, and Hoodie stand up. They rush to you. “We-We have to g-go!” Toby yells. Masky grabs you from Kate and begins to run towards the car. You are trying so hard to stay conscious. The ringing in your ears is gone, but your head is spinning, and it feels like your brain is going to melt out of your ears.

Masky shoves you into the car and Hoodie and Toby crawl in too. Kate and Masky get up front and Masky takes off, headed in the opposite direction of the cabin. You can barely think straight, you have no power to ask where you are headed. You lean your head on Hoodie’s shoulder and look up at him, half lidded eyes staring straight at his mask. You grin at him.

“Sorry,” You apologize. “I’m gettin’ blood… on…” You trail off. Your eyes shut and are unable to keep talking. You are unable to stay awake any longer. You feel Toby grab your shoulder and yell something at you before you pass out.

[midnightshindig]

You write the Cecil’s kid hc’s so well! Could we see him assigning his kid who’s already friends with Mark to try and get more info on him after the events of season 3 (basically betray his trust and spy on him a little)? Bonus points if Mark didn’t know the reader was related to Cecil when they became friends :)

Idk how to title this just read the ask

This is such a cool idea!! I've been kind of frustrated with Mark this season, but he's also a teenager just trying to navigate the world in a way that makes the most sense to him.

SEASON THREE SPOILERS!!

Hcs below the cut!

After Nolan goes insane and abandons Earth, Cecil decides he needs a constant feed of information on Mark's mental state

Enter stage right: his teenage child

Who, up till now, was a secret from all but the highest ranking government officials.

but now he's transferred you to Reginald Vel Johnson High School, rigging the system just enough so that you have three classes plus lunch with Mark.

He gently suggested it might be a good idea to make friends, and send you on your way.

and much to his chagrin, you and Mark hit it off immediately!

You only find out why your dad made you change schools when Mark reveals his secret identity to you

but luckily for Cecil, you know your dad well

He has reasons for things

"Y/n... I'm... Invincible."

"oh? OH-! Cool- thats- amazing, Mark, really! I'm gonna be right back!" And you crash into the hallway, running down the stairs out to your car and calling your dad

"Y/n I told you not to call this line at wo-"

"YOU SET ME UP WITH INVINCIBLE?!"

"Woahhhh, no. No, not like that I just- I need to keep an eye on him. I'm not asking you to spy or betray anybody, just make sure he's level-headed and not an evil Viltrumite. Okay, kiddo?"

So you begrudgingly start reporting to your dad on Mark's mental state

And this goes fine, for a while

You and Mark get into college together, staying in contact even when Mark goes rogue

All until Mark threatens Cecil, and Cecil reveals he basically has an audio bomb implanted into Mark

Mark comes home to tell you and William about it, not understanding when you choked on your drink at the news

"He did WHAT?" You yelled, slamming your mug down onto William's dorm table and pulling yourself to your feet "That fucking- I can't believe-" You mumbled incoherently, trying to keep your cover

Would Mark still be your friend if he knew?

Would your dad blow this for you?

You didn't know what to expect at all

Mark's right across from you, talking about how he threatened your father, and you don't know if he would do the same to you

I mean, of course he wouldn't

You've known Mark almost two years by now, you're practically family

You go on like this, nervously keeping your fathers secret

and it's fine until he starts asking more and more of you

Ask deeper questions, get more specifics, figure out what he's planning, try and convince him Cecil is right

and how can you say no when his throat is purple and bruised

you loved your dad

and so you start digging deeper into Mark

"Say, Mark," you pop a fry into your mouth, him, you, and William at a drive through parking lot "Why don't you believe in rehabilitation? I mean, like, you were pretty anti prison in highschool, remember that whole presentation we had to do?"

Mark tenses, and he can't give you a better answer than "It's just not right. Y/n, it just.... it isn't okay."

There isn't a lot you can do with that.

Mark, in secret, is growing suspicious

He's paranoid, though, and can't take his suspicious seriously

What if though? What if you're an alien or a spy or someone who could get someone really hurt?

He asks Rudy to run a background check on you

"I'm surprised Mark, what do you want to know?" He seems candid, like this is an unusual request but nothing he can't do

"I want to know- uhg- everything! Where they come from, are they evil? A criminal past? Wh-"

Rudy cuts off Mark, with a curious voice "Where they come from? Mark of course they're human, just as human as Cecil is, and he swears the mother was human as well"

"What does Cecil have to do with this?"

"Oh. Oh you don't know."

Mark is growing impatient "Don't know what, Rudy?"

"Y/n is Cecil's child. How else would I know them?"

"I didn't know you knew them! I- what???" Mark is furious, his chest starts heaving and he crouches down on the floor of teen teams hideout

He has to talk to you.

Tensions are high when you meet

in the woods

behind your university

alone.

He knows, he has to know, there's not way he doesn't know and he's not going to totally murder you oh noooooo

So when Mark arrives, and you're shaking like a leaf, it only reaffirms your guilt in his eyes

"Y/n- You're working for Cecil? Why?!"

"Why? Mark- he's my dad!" You're on the verge of crying, a state of hysteria Mark has never seen you reach

But he's relentless, and continues "Our whole friendship was a lie?! You've been, what? Spying on me? Poisoning me slowly in my sleep? What- are you just waiting to strike?!"

He approaches you, and you duck to the ground, covering your head with your hands

"Please don't hurt me!!"

Mark pauses, watching his friend- who never felt scared of him before- cower beneath him, flinching when he raises his voice

He felt his soles hit the ground, unaware he'd even begun flying

"Y/n.... I'm not going to hurt you."

He patted the top of your head as you looked up at him, bleary-eyed

"But... I can't let you hurt me either."

and with that, Mark was gone, the fallen leaves flying everywhere as he left

and you were left alone in the woods, still shaking like a leaf

Mark was hurt and betrayed, and he couldn't hurt you

but he could definitely hurt Cecil

and he just might.

[leconcombrerit]

This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.

And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.

What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.

And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.

Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.

And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.

It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.

It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.

Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.

I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.

[zahri-melitor]

I really enjoy your DC/Batman meta posts. I wanted to ask a couple of questions. Something I've seen repeatedly in discussions is that Damian wasn't trying to kill Tim during the t-rex incident. He was testing Tim's skill. Is that correct?

Has Damian ever called any of the Bats his brothers or sisters? I've seen him call them family, at least once. Thanks.

So, on the first point: I honestly suggest people who are curious actually read Batman #657, which is the issue in which Tim and Damian meet.

Determining intent, and what each of the characters are feeling and intending in this comic is very much open to interpretation.

Bruce is feeling shocked, overwhelmed and frustrated at the revelation of Damian's existence. He's got a surprise kid with an outsize attitude and trying to do the right thing with him on the fly while getting increasingly exasperated. One minute he's being patient, the next he's yelling.

Tim, who was literally only just adopted at the very end of the last storyline, three issues earlier, has just appeared after being offpanel for the last two issues to be confronted with Bruce's biological kid, and all of his attempted overtures of connection are sharply rejected. Tim's dealing with worrying about being replaced by Damian who is a 'real' biological kid and who has just disrupted their dynamic, without being given any warning. Tim trusting Bruce to adopt him is still very, very new, and while not as deep or longrunning a point of contention as Bruce and Dick's feelings about adoption, has been a story arc literally stretching over several years.

Damian is pure bravado and bluster packed into a scared kid who is acting out in a new environment as he has no idea what or where the boundaries are, what is acceptable behaviour, and what expectations exist. He has both poor communication methods and frankly, the personality of a little snot. He's testing the boundaries of a brand new environment where he doesn't know what the consequences will look like. Talia just dumped him on Bruce with no warning or notice and if that can happen to him, there's no guarantee Bruce will keep him.

Exactly where your strongest empathy lies in this situation is going to vary from person to person.

I'm going to be frank. Whether or not Damian intended to kill Tim here, he had already killed a character (The Spook), decapitated him, and brought the head back to the cave with a grenade stuffed in his mouth.

"In the League of Assassins, we showed our enemies no mercy. Now that I'm here, he doesn't need a surrogate son. We killed anyone who got in our way."

That's a threat. It's a pointed explicit threat to Tim, from Damian, saying he perceives that Tim's position in the family (as Bruce's child and as Batman's Robin) to be what he, Damian, wants and sees as his right, and that he thinks Tim is an obstacle to being recognised and acknowledged as Bruce's son.

Now. I will also point out that the blocking and art of the next page (where the head hits the ground, the pin falls out of the grenade, and everything explodes) shows that this was not Damian's exact intention - he was not expecting the grenade to go off, and it's pretty easy to read this speech as partial bluster from Damian's own worries about Bruce rejecting him and his perception of Tim as a rival that he needs to unnerve and push off balance.

However, Damian then takes the explosion as the opportunity to attack Tim with his sword, leading into the fight on the dinosaur.

(Tim had offered to spar with Damian at the start of this conversation as an opening to reset and try introductions again. Damian responded with the threat. Their expectations for what sparring looks like here are clearly different)

If Damian was a highly skilled and well trained martial artist, then he would be expected to understand his own capacity and what is dangerous and what is not. Bruce says that to him explicitly only a few pages earlier, as an explanation for why he took Damian's sword away.

Damian's actions all the way through this comic (sneaking out, stealing back his sword, going out to hunt down the villain he heard Bruce and Tim mention earlier to 'prove' his skills, sparring with a live weapon, disregarding the safety of a situation multiple times) pretty clearly show that regardless of his physical capabilities, Damian is not mentally demonstrating his skill and maturity as a martial artist.

Do I think Damian is grandstanding for a lot of this? Yes. He's repeatedly shown by the narrative, particularly in the art rather than in his dialogue, to be out of his depth and shocked by things not working exactly how he expects. And Tim can actually tell he's blustering to a degree, because Tim to my eye keeps reaching out and trying to connect through the entire comic. Tim is good with kids.

If Damian is just 'testing' Tim's skill, he's being extremely reckless in his disregard for the consequences of his actions, and he's clearly surprised and shocked by those consequences.

Tim is also keeping up just fine with Damian and has hauled him out of trouble on the dinosaur and tried to talk with him again right before Damian punches him in the jaw with sharply pointed brass knuckles, knocking him off the dinosaur and onto Jason's trophy case.

There's also this detail where Damian has already tried to get Bruce to fight him in the opening scene so he can 'prove' himself and Bruce outright told him he wasn't good enough, if he needs brass knuckles to attack someone.

Damian, choosing in this moment to punch Tim with those brass knuckles?

It's another demonstration of the petulance and desperation from that earlier scene. Damian's been told he can't have his sword or the knuckles if he wants people to take him seriously and spar with him. However, even if you read the Tim and Damian scene as Damian accepting Tim on his offer for a spar by acting on it, Damian actively chooses to use those weapons in the fight.

I, personally, think reading this whole issue as Damian trying to 'test' Tim is an extremely Damian-focused read of the situation that doesn't grant Damian any agency over the outcome of his actions. Damian might be telling himself here that's what he's trying to do; however he's already been explicitly warned that such behaviour is not acceptable, yet chooses to act this way.

I don't think Damian wanted or was expecting to kill Tim. But he made an explicit threat that he intended to (however much it might be bluster on his part), his actions immediately after that threat were negligent enough to risk both their lives, and he had a reckless indifference towards Tim's safety and the harm he might cause.

(Sue me, I work in a legal field, and we are absolutely playing around with the sort of mental processes that need to be considered around murder and manslaughter here)

It's not really a situation you can lightly brush off as "oh in the League of Assassins this is how people test and secure their standing, Damian can't be held accountable for thinking that was how it worked with the Bats and trying to prove his superiority over Tim".

If that was a true fact, Damian should and would be aware of the consequences for not winning such a challenge in the League, if their contests are at this level of violence. That's still pretty clearly a threat. And if Damian thought those consequences for losing wouldn't occur among the Bats, then he's got enough awareness that the base behaviour is also not how things work.

I think Damian's behaviour is understandable as a traumatised kid here. I do not think it's acceptable.

In terms of Damian referring to his siblings as his brothers or sisters? It's not a stat I personally track. I can't think of any explicit occasions off the top of my head, and I just paged through a couple of possibilities to check to no avail, but part of that is because Joshua Williamson was Damian's primary writer from 2021 to 2024 and Williamson notoriously is weird about the status of the adopted kids, and then a bunch of the other major scenes of Dick with Damian in particular in a sibling-like manner are written by Tim Seeley and Seeley doesn't tend to put this sort of stuff in words.

(Damian has called his deformed clones his 'brothers' before, as well as Respawn. Ahhh, writer priorities)

[inkedbydesire]

Can’t Let Go (Pt 3)

Jimmy Uso x Black Fem Reader

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

A/N: This is inspired by an Adele song called “Can’t Let Go.” Please give it a listen if you’ve never heard it. It will enhance your reading experience (I hope 😂).

Warnings: None

Summary: A single letter set everything in motion, and now, after two years, you're finally facing the man who shattered your heart. With only a few days to prepare you muster up the courage to face him. What happens when old wounds and festering emotions resurface after all of this time?

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: My consistency SUCKS but this is a filler chapter to let the people who are reading this story know that I’m still here no matter how long it takes. And I’m working on wrapping up Extortion too. Plus I have yet another Jimmy idea that I need to get off 😂 …… but I apologize in advance for any typos or grammatical errors I may have missed during my proofreading.

Sidenote: Adele’s “Can’t Let Go” inspires the overall story, but here are 4 more songs to describe Y/N’s feelings. Feel free to give them a listen if you want. I think it will enhance your reading experience (I hope).

Tagging: @empressdede @amandairene88 @mindairy

************************************************************************

Tuesday 8:17 p.m. Jon's New Number: I'll be there Friday. Just tell me when and where.

Wednesday 9:04 p.m. Jon's New Number: Y/N?

Thursday 11:27 a.m. Jon's New Number: I don't know why you haven't responded yet. But Y/N I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. I just hope you haven't changed your mind on me. Either way, let me know.

"You've already opened the can of worms. Ignoring him now would be pointless."

Jade's voice startled you, abruptly snatching you out of your thoughts. Through the chaos swirling around your head you hadn't even heard her come back from the bathroom, let alone creep up behind the couch to read over your shoulder. Reflexively, you hit the lock button on your phone, shutting out yet another one of Jonathan's texts. You had forgotten just how persistent he could be when he wanted something.

"Shut up, Jade. This is all your fault anyway," you muttered, your head sinking into your hands. The accusation was half-hearted, but your bubbling frustration needed a target, and Jade was an easy one. The perfect scapegoat so you didn't have to face the fact that you did this. Your eagerness to read Jonathan's letter set all of this in motion. And now you had to deal with the consequences of your actions.

Since receiving his "I'll be there Friday" text Tuesday night your thoughts had been a storm, and you had no idea how to quiet them. It wasn't supposed to happen this soon.

Jonathan wasn't supposed to be trying to see you this fucking soon.

"Girl, please. How is this my fault?" Jade asked as she flopped onto the couch beside you, crossing her legs underneath herself.

"When we talked about Jonathan the other day, I just said what you needed to hear—because you did need to hear it. But I didn't think you would go and contact him that same day and I damn sure didn't think he would drop everything to be on a plane three days later. I'm just as surprised as you."

"I know, Jade. My bad." You sighed, rubbing your temples as her words cut through your defensiveness.

"It's just that it was an impulse decision. After talking to you and then Josh, I decided that maybe I did need to have at least one conversation with him. And I knew if I didn't reach out that night, I never would. If I gave myself more time to think, I knew I would keep ignoring it and ignoring him like I've been doing. But I didn't think he'd want to meet up this fast. Hell, I didn't even think he would have the time to come out here this quick."

The realization hit again, sharp and heavy: Jonathan would be in Florida tomorrow.

Tomorrow?!?

Before everything hit the fan, you had known Jonathan for over ten years. And while in a relationship with him, you got to experience firsthand his relentless life as a pro-wrestler. The traveling, the grueling schedules, and the constant demands. So when you told him Monday night that if he ever found himself in Florida, you'd sit down and talk, it had been a calculated offer. You thought you'd have weeks, maybe even months, to prepare.

Not a few measly days.

You hadn't seen him in two years and now you were just supposed to be ready to see him tomorrow.

"He didn't waste any time, did he?" Jade's voice softened. "But honestly, Y/N, he's been waiting two years for a moment like this. I get his urgency. And I think, despite everything, you want to see him too. Otherwise, you wouldn't have reached out or even opened that letter in the first place. And I'm telling you this as your best friend not as a therapist. I know how much you hate it when I do that. "

You didn't respond allowing her words to sink in.

"And like I already told you I'm glad you read his letter," she continued, nudging you gently, "Look, I know this is quicker than you expected. But you can handle it. Ignoring him hasn't worked and you can't run from everything that reminds you of him for the rest of your life. Now it's time to face it."

You exhaled slowly and sat back against the couch cushions, looking over at Jade.

"You're right" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I always am" she smirked, earning the first genuine smile you'd managed in days.

"See? Relax, Y/N. It's just Jonathan. He's not that special to be bothering you like this." Jade added.

Just Jonathan.

Just Jonathan, who you had been in love with since the first time he spoke to you in that hallway when you were sixteen.

Just Jonathan, who helped put the pieces of your heart back together after Trevor shattered it.

And Just Jonathan, who turned around and broke the heart he helped mend all over again. And now, somehow, you were supposed to look him in the eyes tomorrow.

You didn't know how you would manage it, but you would. You had to.

"Now let's figure out the when and where before that man loses his mind," Jade said bringing you back to the task at hand.

"It'll have to be here," you replied, gesturing vaguely to your apartment. You'd thought it over during the rare moments when you weren't internally spiraling.

"Here?" Jade raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah .... we can't talk in public..... not about this. Not with him being Jimmy Uso." The thought of navigating a private conversation in a public space with cameras and fans looming was impossible. You had no desire to even attempt it.

But Jade still looked skeptical.

"What?" you asked.

"I just don't think you should be alone with him after all this time. Suppressed emotions have a way of coming out in messy, unexpected ways. I don't want him to take advantage of your vulnerability."

"What you think I'ma end up in his arms or something?" you scoffed, the idea absurd. You didn't even like Jonathan as a person anymore or at least you didn't think you did.

There was no way you would let him anywhere near you.

"It's a possibility," she said, unflinchingly honest.

"Well I don't plan on that happening," you said firmly.

"People don't usually plan for moments like that. But promise me that you'll stand your ground. You're in control, Y/N. He's been waiting to talk to you for the last two years, not the other way around. Okay?"

"I hear you, Jade. I got it," you told her.

You had already mapped out your plan. You would take a sick day from work tomorrow cause you knew that you needed to devote that whole day to the Jonathan ordeal. Then you would spend the rest of the weekend that you thankfully had off recovering.

You had it under control.

"I got it." You repeated the words, but the more you said them, the more you realized you weren't just trying to convince her.

But still, as unwanted doubts slowly started to settle over you, you picked up your phone and texted Jonathan the address to your apartment and told him he could come by at 9. You had no idea when his plane would land, and you had no desire to ask. But 9 seemed like a reasonable time. It would give you both a chance to prepare for what was coming.

********************************************

Friday morning and afternoon arrived and slid past you in a surreal blur. You busied yourself with errands, cleaning, and futile tasks, desperately trying to keep your mind off the impending reunion. But no matter how hard you fought against it, the thought of seeing Jonathan crept back in during every quiet moment.

And his ceaseless text updates didn’t help. He kept you informed when he checked into the hotel and when he picked up his rental car, each message marking an unwelcomed reminder that he was on his way to you. You begged time to slow down, but before you knew it, the clock read 8:10 p.m. You were sitting at your vanity, staring at your reflection, an anxious storm brewing in your chest.

Jonathan's imminent arrival drew your attention to every detail about yourself. Your hair refused to cooperate; no matter how you adjusted your dress, it didn’t feel right. To make matters worse, you’d somehow convinced yourself to do your makeup, as if Jonathan deserved to see you at your best.

“What are you even doing?” you muttered in frustration, the reflection mirroring your inner turmoil.

Grabbing a makeup wipe, you scrubbed away the foundation, opting for simplicity, just a clear coat of lip gloss and nothing more. You weren’t going to make a special effort for him. Not after everything. Leaving your bedroom, you wandered into the kitchen, where the wine cabinet beckoned to you louder than it had all day. A glass or two might calm your nerves, but you stopped yourself. Emotions were already going to run high tonight, and you didn’t need alcohol amplifying them.

At 8:30, you sat on the couch to wait.

At 8:45, a message from Jade lit up your phone.

Jade 🤞🏾: Good luck, Y/N. I love you, girl. Remember, you’re in control.

By 9:00, your heart was racing. He would be here any minute.

By 9:15, you reassured yourself that it was okay if he was running a little late; you didn’t expect him to knock on your door at 9 on the dot.

But by 9:30, irritation replaced your nerves. After two years of silence and waiting, after flying all the way here, he had the audacity to be late?

By 9:45, the doorbell rang.

Once.

Twice.

Then three more times back to back like someone was leaning on it.

“What the hell?” you muttered, grabbing your phone and opening the Ring camera app.

It was him.

Jonathan hovered unsteadily in front of the camera, a bouquet of roses clutched in his hand, his broad shoulders just as solid as you remembered. As you took in his appearance, your heart twisted. Those familiar, handsome features were marred by glassy, unfocused eyes that told you everything you needed to know.

He was drunk.

The realization hit harder than you liked. That's why he was so late. He was getting drunk?

Two years. Two fucking years of unresolved issues, guilt, and heartbreak, and this was how he chose to show up? Wasted and late?

As you continued to stare at him through the camera, your emotions ricocheted between anger and disappointment.

He rang the doorbell again, swaying slightly as he adjusted the roses, which were now wilting in his grip. For a few seconds, you considered leaving him out there to stew in his own mess. He obviously didn’t care enough about you to show up sober, and part of you felt vindicated by the thought of refusing him entry. It would serve him right after all this time.

Yet the image of him stumbling back to his car in his current state pricked at your conscience. No matter how you felt, you couldn’t let him hurt himself or someone else—or scar his reputation further with another DUI.

So, against your better judgment, you approached the front door and swung it open.

You were too annoyed to say anything first so you and Jonathan stood in a taut silence, locked in a standoff. You glared at him like he was the last person on earth you wanted to see, and he gawked at you as if you were a figment of his imagination.

“You look good” he slurred into the silence his uncared for compliment falling on deaf ears as you just continued to stare at him.

“These… these are for you,” Jonathan thrusted the roses your way, nearly losing his balance. Then, as if something suddenly occurred to him, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box.

“And this,” he mumbled, his voice trailing off.

You took the items silently, your jaw clenched tightly as if trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill. There were a million things you wanted to say, questions to ask, anger to unleash but looking at him now, words felt futile. He wouldn’t understand, not like this.

You hadn’t taken the time to imagine what a reunion with Jonathan would look like but this version would have never crossed your mind. He wasn’t a heavy drinker when you were together; a casual drink on a night out was the extent of it. Witnessing him using alcohol as an escape was not just disappointing but it also hurt your feelings in more ways than you wanted to admit. 

Now it was painfully clear that the conversation he had harbored for two long years couldn’t happen tonight. Not with him in this state. He ruined it. You two couldn’t discuss his cheating and your secret abortion with him like this.

But you still had to deal with him because you weren’t going to allow him to leave your apartment until he was sober.

“Jonathan… come in and sit down,” you pushed the anger aside, grounding yourself in the moment as you opened the door wider to grant him entry. He stumbled past you, knocking over a glass vase on the table, which shattered on impact, sending shards of glass cascading across the floor. You winced at the sound but swallowed the reaction, there was no room for that now.

“I'm sorry,” Jonathan muttered, glancing down at the wreckage he had made. He bent over, trying to gather the bits with unsteady hands, but before you could stop him, he stood back and winced. As you looked on you saw that a few jagged pieces of glass were now embedded in his palm, and your heart sank with unexpected and unwelcomed concern.

“Go sit down, Jon, and don’t move,” you instructed sharply, yet your tone held no anger, just deep and exhausting concern for the man you once loved. And still loved you would come to terms with if you gave yourself time enough to dwell on it. As he slumped onto the couch, you quickly rushed to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You placed the roses and jewelry box on the counter as you passed through the kitchen. You were confused about your feelings at this point but somewhere in you was compassion for Jonathan being physically hurt. That’s what you focused on the most.

When you returned to the living room, you settled beside him and reached out for his hand. Jonathan’s gaze roamed your face, searching for something, and he complied when you gently took his wrist. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself before using a pair of tweezers to remove the slivers of glass from his palm. You could still feel his eyes on you as you picked up a bottle of antiseptic, dampening cotton balls to clean the small cuts.

“Did you miss me at all, Y/N?” Jonathan’s sudden question caught you off guard, and you paused, just for a brief moment, while you continued bandaging him. But you quickly regained your composure.

“We’re not doing that right now,” you stated flatly, disregarding his question completely as you released his hand.

For a few agonizing minutes, the weight of the silence hung in the air. But then Jade’s words about you being in control came rushing back. With that, you knew you had to take charge of the situation. 

“Look, Jon, you’ve been drinking. I don’t know what possessed you to think showing up here like this was okay, but I don’t want to talk about anything with you right now,” you told him truthfully, your voice steady.

“ I don’t know… I’ll just… I’ll just leave,” he stammered, attempting to rise but you stopped him.

“You’re not going anywhere. First, you’re going to give me your keys,” you declared holding out your hand, unwavering. He dug into his pocket with his uninjured hand and reluctantly dropped the keys into your palm.

“Now you’re going to lay on this couch and sleep it off. I’m going to my room, and we can try this again in the morning. Do you understand me?” you asked, waiting for him to nod sluggishly.

Without exchanging another word with him, you stood to your feet, grabbing a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess he made while the silence between you was overwhelming. You didn’t know what was going through his mind, but you were relieved that even in his intoxicated state, he didn’t pressure you to talk. He seemed to understand that his arrival tonight was laced with disrespect, and deep down, you hoped he recognized how lucky he was that you hadn’t kicked him out.

By the time you retreated to your bedroom, it was only a little past eleven, but you felt utterly drained, knowing that this train wreck between you and Jonathan was just beginning.

You still had tomorrow to face. 

Part 4.1

[sweetimpurity]

I think I'll keep you:

c.ai bot drop

a/n (please read!): Hiya! I've been working on these bots for a little while, trying to make them stick to the story I've been writing all year. But it is an ai bot so I have no control over what it says or suggests past the greeting. It might not stick to the story exactly. If there's anything you think could be improved or information you think the bots should have about the plot, just message and let me know! I hope you guys have fun kiss kiss!! 😘🍬

These can all be found on my profile: sweetimpurity 💓

I think I'll keep you

Miguel has no interest in a relationship. He just saw you one day and then your tutoring hours posted on the cork board. He knew he had to have you for one night. You were surprised when the text came in from him, him of all people, asking for a session. But he quickly got you on your knees and then in his bed. This one night would turn into much more.

“Oh, god…” You pant and whine, your head leaning to the side to rest on his head.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good…” He curses through a heavy breath against your neck. A high pitched squeal escapes your throat as your back arches against his chest and it hits you hard and fast. Your squeals turn into cries of his name, how good he feels.

He doesn't know what's come over him. He doesn't form attachments like this. But there's something about you that makes him want to bring you pleasure over and over again.

You’re babbling and thrashing in his arms and Miguel smiles, finally getting what he wants. Hearing your sweet innocent voice whining out the dirtiest things. You're a soft warm mess as he chases his own release.

He holds you tightly against him as you both stop moving and start panting to catch your breath. You’re glad he’s still holding you because if he let go, you’d surely face plant into the mattress. Your head rests back on his shoulder and he places small kisses on your skin as he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing deep and sighing out in relief.

“Will you be mine?” He asks softly and kisses your cheek. “Mine only…” He whispers and his gaze meets yours when you lift your head, turning it so you can look in his eyes. His finger strokes your cheek softly and it’s like he’s looking at the sun. He can try to close his eyes but the memory of you will always be seared into his mind.

“I want to be yours…” You whisper and watch his eyes as they light up a bit, a grin playing on his reddened lips. “Good. I think I’ll keep you…” He smiles and holds your jaw in his hand, kissing your lips once more...

I think I'll keep you 2

You've been gone only three days and he's losing his mind. Everything was so good before you decided to go home for the weekend. Miguel had you every night he wanted, every morning too. Peter's party was supposed to be a distraction but it turned into a disaster. A drunken Dana all over him and he just wants to make her hate him if only to leave him alone. He doesn't want her. He wants you back to campus.

Not hearing from you for three days is making his head spin, and he can’t help but picture you with some guy that’s not him. He throws Dana on the bed, pulling her by the ankles and grabbing her face. Could she handle him if she tried? The answer is no.

“You really like to get on my nerves, don’t you?” He seethes. But even Dana loves the attention.

Ding!

His red hot rage is interrupted by his phone going off. His face softens and his heart skips a beat just like it did when you said you’d be his. He can’t control that feeling. Miguel picks up his phone, seeing your name pop up and his eyes dart around the screen reading it.

{{user}}: “Came back early :)”

“Coming now” He texts right back.

He sighs audibly, a mix of relief and frustration at the same time. “What is it?” Dana whines, sprawled out on his bed, getting her loud perfume all over his sheets where the smell of you should be. “Get out.” He demands, stepping back and going to put on his jacket again to go. “What?! Are you serious?” She scoffs, sitting up on his bed.

"Yes! GET OUT!!" He shouts, making her flinch. She scurries off, out of his dorm fighting back tears. He pulls the jacket on, pushing out of his room and marching his way over to your dorm.

I think I'll keep you 3

Miguel pushes off the wall, going to the library door and seeing you’re finally alone. His heart thumps in his chest. Clenching his swollen bruised hand in his pocket. He sighs and forces himself to walk inside.

You suddenly look up. Stopping him in his tracks. And it’s like he feels like he’s doing something wrong. He told you, you were never supposed to happen for him. That what happened between you for an entire month was a mistake. To not let your messy feelings ruin everything. It’s been four days. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. And now he’s here. You look away first. Back down to your laptop to continue typing. And he continues walking, stopping at the edge of the table across from you.

“I need to talk to you.” He speaks, towering over the table. Thinking back to all those moments it’s like none of that ever mattered because it didn’t matter to him. How can you trust him again when he treated you like he wanted you and then told you, you were never supposed to happen. And you gave him your body, your heart everyday for a month already.

“I’m busy right now.” You say softly, keeping your eyes locked on your laptop screen. While this time away from him has been hell and you’ve been heartbroken over this, he’s also been a total dick.

He’s been trying all week to find you. To talk to you. Trying to find sneaky ways so that he doesn't have to beg for your attention. He wants things back the way they were. He wants you back in his bed. He doesn’t know what he feels.

He walks around the table. You don’t look up, not even sparing him a glance. Glaring at your laptop screen and seeing his movement in your peripherals. He silently walks to the seat right next to you. Slipping down into it to sit beside you. His hands shoved back into his pockets.

"{{user}}… hey...” He says gently, trying to get your attention. Turning in his chair slightly to face you more. He can see your anger, he can feel it too.

“I’m not talking to you.” You say without looking at him.

“Well I’m talking to you…”

I think I'll keep you 4

“...his hand, he’s been having swelling and bruising for a few days now…” You explain kindly to the receptionist once you’re both in the waiting room, standing at the front desk. Miguel standing a bit like a lost puppy behind you, listening to you talk to the receptionist there.

“Alright, the doctor can take a look once she’s done with another patient. If you can just fill out these forms and have a seat, it should be about 30 minutes.” She smiles and hands you a clipboard and a pen.

“Thank you. And could he please get some ice or something?” You smile and ask. The woman nods politely and going to grab an ice pack from the other room. You both start walking over to the waiting room area, looking over the form in your hands. Taking a seat by the fish tank and settling in to wait a little while. Miguel sits right beside you, running the good hand through his dampened hair from the rain. He glances down at the form in your lap. Then up at the side of your face. Wanting to reach out and touch your skin. Kiss your cheek. Remembering what it feels like to melt into your arms. Thinking of all the ways he can beg for, earn your forgiveness. Just as he’s about to speak-

“Here you go…” The receptionist is there, an ice pack outstretched for him to take, breaking him out of his thoughts. He forces a smile, taking the ice pack and setting it over his hand. “Thank you.” He smiles gently. Watching the woman walk away.

He feels like shit. Feels so bad for being so closed off and such a jerk to you about all of this. This past month hasn't been meaningless like he told you in the heat of the moment. It's meant something he just doesn't know how to say it. It's hard for him to put his feelings into words. For you it seems so easy, why can't he just be like you?

He looks back, watching you write down his name on the form. Thinking he can probably do this himself. Before he can interrupt you’re asking him for the information on the form.

I think I'll keep you 5

When the athletic door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him.

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is {{user}}… {{user}} this is Miguel”

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” Peter asks you.

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends.

[03jyh23]

༘⋆mon's 500 followers special.ᐟ.ᐟ 500-word prompt roulette⟢

🛻┆distance makes the heart forget

choi jongho x gn! reader

│synopsis: the one with a final goodbye

│genre: angst

│trigger warnings: mature language

│ prompt 17 + jonhgo + driving

You slam the front door shut with enough force to rattle the hinges. The sound echoes through your house like a gunshot, but you can't bring yourself to care—not when you're this angry, this hurt.

"Y/N, open the door!" Jongho's voice carries through the wood, "We need to talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about!" you shout back, "Just leave me alone!"

You hear him sigh heavily on the other side. The doorknob turns—of course, he still has his old key—and he steps inside, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

"Why do you always do this?" Jongho's voice is filled with exhaustion. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"No, Jongho! You're the one who pushed me away years ago, and now you're back in my life wanting redemption?" you scream. "News flash, Jongho—I'm not going to grant you that." You smile bitterly as you take a trembling breath.

"I did it for us! And you know it damn well!" he yells back, watching you pace nervously around the living room.

"Us?" you spit out venomously. "There was no 'us' the moment you decided that fucking job in London was more important than our engagement!"

"I had to take that opportunity! Do you know how hard it was to get that position?" Jongho runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I asked you to come with me!"

"Oh, that's rich! You dropped the bomb three months before the wedding, THREE MONTHS! And expected me to pack up my entire life and follow you like some lovesick puppy?" Your voice cracks with emotion. "I had a fucking career here too!"

"And now look at you—you've done amazing here! So maybe it was for the best—"

"Don't you dare!" you cut him off, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Don't you fucking dare try to spin this like you did me a favor!"

Jongho's face darkens. "I'm not the only one who gave up on us. You didn't even try to make it work long-distance."

"Make it work?" you laugh humorlessly. "You want to talk about making it work when you ghosted me for a month after leaving? I had to find out you were doing fine through Instagram posts!"

"You didn't even call to end the engagement," you add, voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I had to handle everything alone—cancel the venue, return the gifts, explain to everyone why the wedding was off. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?"

Jongho's expression softens slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "But I'm here now, trying to make things right."

"I want you to leave," you say, your voice steady and cold. "Get in your car and drive away. Far away."

"Y/N, please—" Jongho starts, reaching for you.

"No." You step back, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I've moved on, Jongho. I've built a life without you, and I want to keep it that way. Just go."

He stands there for a moment, frozen, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, his shoulders slump in defeat.

"Just go and keep driving until you can't find your way back to me," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. The words taste like goodbye and finality on your tongue, a bittersweet ending to a story that should have had a different conclusion.

Without another word, he turns and walks to the door. You hear his footsteps fade, followed by the sound of his car starting up. Through the window, you watch his taillights disappear into the night, taking with them the last remnants of what could have been.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│please join my 500 followers special!│

[team-free-avengers]

A New Team 4

Summary: Do you find out more than you bargained for in the search for your files?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Yelena x Reader (platonic) 

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Mentions a gun, Mentions of previous Child Abuse

Word Count: 1869

Yelena says this is the only spot left that she could’ve hid everything and you really hope she’s right. You stare up at the building exhausted, with the size of this place it’s going to take forever to find the files if they’re even in here. It’s been two months of searching, you had to start looking in places out of state in hopes that maybe they’re actually there but they never are. Constantly being away is not helping your mental state or your relationships. You and Yelena have been on edge due to the constant disappointment and even if Bucky understands why you have to go, things are hard everytime you come back. 

“I hope this is the one,” you mumble, scaling the side of the building. 

Yelena swears they would be on the top floor if they’re here so you are going to start at opposite ends and meet in the middle.

“It’s going to be here, don't be so negative!” You hear Yelena exclaim through the earpiece causing you to become irritated. 

“You’ve said that about every single place that we’ve been to,” you retorted, annoyed with her unwillingness to acknowledge the possibility of us finding these files being slim to none. 

“Yes but considering I’ve been admittedly wrong this has to be the building. I know you’re frustrated and just want to be at home, I feel the same way” Yelena says clearly fed up herself, “you know we still want the same thing here right? You do remember I’m doing this for you not the other way around don’t you?” 

You don’t say anything else for a moment letting what she’s said replay in your mind as you push the window attempting to see if it’ll open. When it doesn’t you remove your tiny little laser cutter you received from Tony as a welcome gift all those years ago and begin cutting through the glass.

“You’re right Yelena, I’m sorry I’ve been so snappy lately. I've just been so stressed about finding these files, my relationship with Bucky, our friendship, and plus to top it all off my period has always been irregular but it’s never been this late. I don’t even know if I can get pregnant but I’m hoping these files can tell me,” you explain as you finish getting yourself into the building instantly searching any place possible for them. 

‘If I were Yelena, where would I hide something like this?” You question yourself trying to think of any non obvious place a person would look for them. 

A crash from the other side of the building sets alarm bells off and you’re instantly running towards the sound, that must be where Yelena is searching.

‘If there’s someone else here I need to help her,’ you think as you search each room hoping to find her.

When you do, there's three other people with her, two of which are attempting to keep her busy while the third loads what I’m assuming is the files we’ve been searching for into a duffle bag. 

“Go for the files! I can handle these two!” Yelena shouts when she sees you enter the room. 

You start running towards the person with the duffle bag as Yelena instructed but one of the two masked robbers who was attacking her comes charging at you. Raising your hand to block and defend yourself sends an unexpected electricity spark towards the person sending them to the floor instantly. You don’t have time to dwell on the new power you’ve discovered since the person with the duffle is now making their way toward the shattered window.

“I don’t think so,” you remark as you catch up slamming them to the floor. 

The bag drops to the floor beside them but you don’t reach for it, instead you reach for the mask concealing this mystery person's identity. Yelena had already knocked out the other guy so this one is the only person who can tell you who hired them and why. Once their mask is off you know who hired them without having to ask, it was Valentina, but why? And why would she have guards we’ve seen multiple times do it?

“Why does Valentina want these files?” You question squatting in front of him. 

He has no intention of talking but Yelena pulls out a gun hoping to give him some motivation and it does.

“She says whatever is in those files could help her make another superhuman like Sentry was suppose to be before he turned on her,” the man stammers nervous that Yelena will use the weapon if she needs too, “but I’m not even supposed to know that much so I don’t know what else she has in store.”

Unable to get any more information, you and Yelena tie the three of them up leaving them for the authorities to deal with. Instead you scoop up the duffle bag of files and make your way back home to where your boyfriend is waiting for you. Not only do you want to spend some long overdue time with Bucky, maybe soaking in a nice bubble bath with some wine or watching a movie together you also want to finally know what happened to you as a child. What happened to me when I was too young to understand or chose not to because the pain was too bad?

Bucky is in your room in the tower when you and Yelena arrive so you give everyone a quick hello before heading there yourself to see him with all the files that are on your life.

“Guess who’s home!” you exclaim in a sing-song voice as you swing the door open to reveal your handsome supersoldier boyfriend laying on the bed the two of you share, shirtless.

“Y/N!” he exclaims himself breathlessly shooting upright in the bed as if he wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon but soon his focus shifts to what you are carrying, “Did you find your file?”

“I did, but it’s more like files apparently. These are all mine, I just haven’t gotten to go through them yet,” you explain plopping them all on the desk that’s tucked into the far corner of the room before walking towards Bucky, “I wanted to spend time with the most amazing, understanding boyfriend before I did anything else.”

“Well that can be arranged,” he replies, pulling you down onto his lap with a smirk before showering your face in kisses. 

That’s when Bucky notices the ever so slight bruise that has formed on your cheek and pulls back to look at you in concern, “It’s nothing serious, you knew it was a possibility that there would be other people looking for the files too,” you say, trying to wave it off in hopes that Bucky won’t question you further. If you tell him that it was Valentina’s goons things could get messy fast.

“How many were there?” He questions his fingers now tracing the bruise lightly.

“Just three,” you whisper back hoping that is his last question because if he asks you who sent them you’re not going to be able to lie. 

You see his mouth begin to form the first syllable of that very question and your heart drops, you just hope that he stays calm long enough for you to explain that we can’t confront her yet.

“Who sent them? Do you know?”

“I do but I need you to promise me you’ll hear me out before you go all winter soldier okay?” you answer cautiously but you still feel his body tense.

“Valentina,” he growls, already knowing the answer to his own question. 

He tries to move you in an attempt to stand up and leave the room but you wrap your legs around him before he can. You might not have super strength like he does but your powers allow you to hold your own against Bucky when he’s like this. 

“No listen to me, that's probably what she’s expecting,” you try to explain, swinging yourself behind him causing him to fall back onto the bed, “We need to let her think that we don’t know but still distance ourselves from her.”

“And how do you expect to do that if we live in the tower she owns?” he retorts, partially annoyed, partially curious.

“We let her think the tower isn’t good for our relationship and move back into our old apartment,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, “It’s only a partial lie considering I couldn’t do this whole we’re all together all the time thing even when I was a part of the original Avengers. We all need space at some point.”

“And how is the team going to react to this?” He is genuinely interested in this plan.

“Yelena is going to take care of that part, don't worry babe we know what we’re doing,” you say reassuringly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Fine if you and Yelena have that under control how about we start reading these files you’ve been searching so hard for?”

“Okay,” you say, crossing the room back to the desk where you pick up the first folder labeled ‘Early Years’ as if it was the first in a collection of photo albums.

Opening the cover reveals the first pictures you’ve ever seen of yourself as a child. Your hair is extremely short but it's still the same shade it was today. Even then your eyes looked tired and scared, you can’t help but wonder if it is fear of what’s to come or what has already happened. Beside the photo it reads;

Test Subject: Y/N Y/L/N 

Age: 7 

Reason for admission to study: Trade for immunity of their crimes by guardians

The whole page continued on listing your height, weight, allergies, any statistic it possibly could about you. The next few after that were just observations of how you react to things normally before any test began so they could have a control point to reference. Then that’s when the real test began, all of the horrible things it said they did to you within those first few months were gut wrenching.

“How do I not remember any of this?” you question aloud after reading out the ice baths they'd submerge you in for hours at a time after administering the same shots over and over again in hopes of seeing results. 

“It’s the usually trama response most people have to this sort of torture,” Bucky responds solemly, laying a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

Most of the files are just documentation of your abuse for the next three years until your powers began to show as they began pumping you full of more and more experimental drugs. That’s when they decide that they are going to put you in classes with all the other girls hoping it would help your powers grow. Every page you read made your stomach turn because they did so many horrible things to you as a child and made you do horrible things to others as well. Atleast now you know the truth and maybe this can help you grow your future.

[gwenniesqueals]

Currently Watching 10-06-2025

I know it looks like a lot, but honestly its less than last weeks since a few shows finished.

Boys in Love: I wish I had a teacher like Mr. Tan when growing up. He see's Shane's differences and helps him see that they aren't bad things. Not only that but the previous episode where he and Nut are talking about how more open and accepting society is as a whole. I was expecting this show to be a cute little hs boy love thing and the messages its actually sending is what I would have wanted to hear back then.

Break Up Service: What even was that whole episode?

Ex-Morning: The way I would have broken down and actually caught a charge if I was Phi by now, its insane.

Eye Contact: Lots of things going on here, can't wait to watch them sneak into each other's spaces.

Oh My Ghost Clients: Still loving this show, really didn't think I would.

Good Boy: The extreme bi-sexual panic persists. I broke DOWN at the one part with the friend (trying to not give spoilers) Like why did we have to break Bo Gum. He's good at crying but it hurts to keep seeing.

Happiness: Alright, I picked it back up. I haven't dropped it again yet, but it is so hard for me to not compare it to the Kdrama.

My Sweetheart Jom: I need this to be a little faster. Also seeing Saint in both this and Happiness is throwing me off.

Knock out: I'm only halfway through this latest episode, don't hate me for it, I just have not been in the mood for it and trust me I do regret it.

I Love A Lot of You: I might drop this tbh. The only thing keeping me somewhat interested is peeks at Junior. The plot just isn't for me.

Season of Love in Shimane: After watching episode three I wasn't sure what to expect from this latest episode. I absolutely cannot wait for it all to come out that everyone is interested in everyone else lmao.

The Next Prince: Y'all the club? And they just "lost" Calvin like what? The random trauma, and yes it is random- there have been previous times where they are in the rain and there has been no meltdown. Y'all can hate on me all you want but its weird that they just threw it in there now. They could have built it up more, I'm just saying.

I Promise I'll Come Back: I feel for Mr. runner up, but like he could have made his moves earlier...

Reset: Baby boy keeps talking about the future and things that happen without a care in the world. He's going to end up getting thrown into therapy if he doesn't chill with it. Also Man's just rolls with it like it's not the most out of pocket stuff.

Our Unwritten Seoul: Park Bo Young is continually proving to me how amazing of an actress she is. I am obsessed with this show to the point where I've already watched the last couple of episodes twice.

Second Shot at Love: Dude, I feel for the older sister. As an older sister everyone else can get out of her business

Ball Boy Tactics: Oh this one is going to be so good. I cannot wait for episodes 3 and 4 this week.

My Stubborn: That bathroom scene, enough said. Sorn is for sure getting what's coming to him next episode. Unfortunately it's probably not therapy.

Sweetheart Service: These two are still so cute together.

Tastefully yours: I'm so behind on it for two reasons. 1. I'm watching it with my partner. 2. We had to attend a wedding this past weekend. However I did have some stuff spoiled for me and I cannot wait to watch.

Shows I finished this week:

Cosmetic Playlover: What a back and forth. They seemed like they had zero communication with each other and that was hella frustrating.

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist: Gmmtv really botched not promoting this show as much as they should have. Mark and Ohm deserved better, they killed it with this show.

Nine Puzzles: Woah. Just Woah. This, despite having to watch it dubbed, is probably one of my top straight kdramas this year.

At 25:00, in Asaka: Why was it so good?

Takara's Treasure: I loved the communication between these two <3 So much better compared to most couples in dramas istg.

[bitterbutblue]

december 1998 (下)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

you and robin finally have a civil conversation after months of avoiding and thinking you've moved on from the past, and it brings back too many feelings that you buried away for too long. are you being too calculated? or has fate already written your story in its books?

a/n: im going to start doing little a synopsis of the chapter at the start instead of me doing a trauma dump and moving on, this would help me keep better note of what i've written!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Again."

You scowl, setting your shoulder down and raising the bow up, drawing back, aiming, firing.

8.

"Again."

Your mother's voice is cold, harsh. Still, unmoving force that you will never understand. You let out a shaky sigh, repeating the same motion, but you grow tired. The ache in your left shoulder growing and you can barely hold the bow steady anymore.

8.

"Ag-"

"Mom, please."

She doesn't say anything, looking at you with a brutal glint in her eyes that would have sent chills down anyone else's spine but you're used to it now. You just look at her, defeated. If you had looked closer, you would've seen the slight crumbling of her usual tough facade as she turns around.

"Ten minutes."

"Okay."

You watch as she exits the room, and the second the door closes-

"FUCK!"

The sound of a bow stand being kicked across the hall echoes through the empty chambers of the indoor sports hall. Chest heaving, you stand with your bow in hand and unshed tears of frustration threatening to fall. The score was too low, far too low. 30 points below your personal best and you are three months out from the biggest international youth archery competitions. You might as well just throw in the towel now.

"Calm down, Y/n."

Huffing, you turn around to face your coach. Jing Yuan uncrosses his arms, pushing himself off the doorframe he was leaning against with a dissatisfied look on his face as he moved to pick up the bow stand. He had been watching the entire session, not saying anything. A part of you resents him for that right now, because all you wanted was for someone to speak up.

"That was a very nice bow stand you just kicked."

"I'm sorry."

Your voice isn't recognisable to yourself anymore as you put your bow on the stand, collapsing onto the ground. Jing Yuan lets out a frustrated sigh, and you can't even bare to look at him right now in fear of seeing that disappointed look on his face.

"You've been through plateaus before-"

"Never for this long." You snap, throwing your hands over your face. Your eyes hurt from how long you've been staring at the same yellow circle for.

"You need to pull yourself together."

"What do you think I'm trying to fucking do-"

You freeze, eyes widening as you scramble up to your feet with an apologetic expression. You just cursed out your coach, the same guy who has been with you since you were four. Helping you through every hurdle, getting you to where you were. How could you say such things to him, what's wrong with you? Why-

"I'm so sorry, I just-"

"Let it out." Jing Yuan raises an eyebrow, cutting you off with an expression you can't read. "Come on. Yell at me."

"What?"

"Let it out."

Scoffing, you cross your arms, looking down at the ground.

"No, why would I do that?"

"You're frustrated, you aren't performing well because you're distracted and you're tired. It's been a long year, hasn't it?"

"It's Christmas Eve, Jing Yuan." You say quietly, looking out the window of the sports hall. The days keep shortening, it's 4pm and the sun is already starting to set as the snow falls outside and all that weighs on your mind is not even your score, rather it is Robin's words. You want a break. "I want to go home."

Jing Yuan lets out a soft hum, looking out the window with you as he walks towards you. He picks up your bow, moving to take off the stabiliser.

"Then maybe it's time you get some rest."

You swear you could've broken down crying from relief. You were just exhausted and you never realised how exhausted you were until you talked with Robin. Until you saw the same look on her face, the one where you've been stretched too thin but you think you can convince yourself to keep going.

"I'll talk to your mom. Unpack the rest?"

She stands outside waiting for you, a look of disapproval that you have gotten all too used to now as you lift the bow case out with your head hanging.

"Merry Christmas, coach."

Jing Yuan smiles, softer now.

"Take a break, kid."

Yukong looks away, an all too familiar look on her face as she says her thanks too before walking off to the car in the parking lot. Neither of you exchange words on your way back, not as she drives her way down the hills, not as she parks the car, not as she exits. She leaves you to do your own thing, she gets on with her day. It's frustrating, living with a brick wall that is only responsive when you do what pleases her.

"Y/n?"

Your head shoots up at the sound of Stelle's voice, and you can't help but break into a smile. Stelle's gaze softens at the look on your face, shaking her head.

"What did we say about overworking ourselves?" She says jokingly, casually walking out into the snow with a t-shirt on to help you with your bow case. You can't help it- a small smile snaking its way onto your face whenever you see her.

"What did we say about you putting a fucking jacket on?" You roll your eyes, following her back inside the house.

Stelle had been staying with you for the past month or so, and what surprised you the most was how okay your mom had been with all of it- even now. She never once asked when Stelle was leaving, or never once treated Stelle with any form of coldness or disdain. In a sense, you envied Stelle because your mother actually treated her normally. Never asking her when she's training after school, if she's studying hard enough, if she's working hard enough. She just let Stelle breathe, and you wanted that so badly. But having Stelle around did make things a bit easier at home, you had someone to look forward to seeing when you got home after rough days of training- someone to vent to about a bad shooting session, or after having a weird conversation with a certain someone, dropping down a specfic bag of candies you normally wouldn't have questioned.

"I think she likes you."

You blinked at her first response. You expected her to be shocked that Robin approached you, or outraged for you. Instead she stared, point blank, from your bed. You spun around in your chair, eyes wide.

"HUH-"

"NOT IN THAT WAY!" Stelle held her hands up defensively "Like in a- in a friend way. Like she's trying to get close to you again, but she doesn't know how to approach you since you've shut her down."

"She shut me down first-"

"See? It's that defensive nature of yours, that's why she's afraid to fully reach out." Stelle sighed as she closed her math textbook "How about you make up your mind on what you want to do first? If you want her in your life or not?"

You've been musing over that question for the three days since she's said it to you. You've gotten used to Robin's presence, a stranger now living in the same town you were forced to to forget her in. You hated it at first, but like most things in life you learn to live with it. But Stelle offers you a perspective you were always too in denial about to fully acknowledge.

"Do you miss her?"

"What?"

Stelle is looking at you with a mixture of curiosity but also sincerity. Her golden eyes bore into yours, as if questioning the pillar you've stood on for years now. You tell yourself you don't miss her, you hate her for what she did, she hurt you and you have every right to hate her. But in that five minutes where you sat in the gymnasium together, it brought back a feeling you never knew you craved. A presence you long learned to stop caring for. But you had it back for a split second, that moment of clarity with her, and you've been craving it again since. Like a drug, you want that moment of calmness back.

"I don't know." You say quietly, taking off your winter coat as you look down "I really don't know."

"Can I be honest?"

You already know what she's going to say. You look out the window, unwilling to admit the truth to yourself. So Stelle takes this into her own hands, forcing you to look at the truth you long buried away.

"I think you miss her more than anything in the world."

It's supposed to be a happy day, a loud day. Children out running through the snow eagerly with their parents hand in hand behind them, smiling at this moment that their life has led them to. Robin can't focus on any of that. All she can stare at is the email screen, waiting and waiting for a notification. She stares until her eyes have dried out and everything she looks at is sort of blurry. She stares, nothing.

"Robin, they're not going to respond for a few weeks." Sunday says from across the room where he was laid on the couch, flipping through a book. He keeps an eye out for her, just in case.

"I know, but-"

"It's Christmas. Shouldn't we be out celebrating?" He mumbles, flipping the page. Robin lets out a groan, dropping her head against the desk.

"I can't. I feel like I- I don't know. I did well but also horrible at the same time. I can't tell what she was thinking. I-"

"You need to stop thinking." Sunday closes t he book with a quiet thud, tossing it onto the other side of the couch as he gets up, stretching. "Come on. Let's go on a walk."

"What? But what if they-"

"You've been staring at that screen since 8am and it is currently 5 in the afternoon. The damn sun has already set. Now come on."

Robin follows him reluctantly (she wasn't given a choice, really, he forced her out and practically pushed her out the door), not even listening to what he's talking about half the time as they trudge through the bustling city. He asks if she wants to get a cake for them to celebrate and she just mumbles an incoherent, absentminded response that had him sighing. They continue walking until Robin suddenly freezes in her steps. Sunday halts, turning around to look at her with a confused expression, following her gaze to see-

You and Stelle laughing, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as she pulls you in for a rather aggressive hug. You were smiling so brightly, Yukong standing behind you guys with the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

She can't fully process the feeling in her gut, but she can feel her heart come to a full halt when you look up and meet her eyes. You freeze, your smile dropping slightly and she feels that sickening feeling in her gut stirring again but the ending is different this time. This time, your face morphs into a softer smile, you hold up a hand as if waving to her, and you mouth two words.

Merry Christmas.

Before she even gets a chance to respond, you've already turned around, Stelle leaning in close to you as you drag her off. Yukong notices her, waving politely as well as she offers a stiff smile before following you two. Stiff, cold, the snow still falls and you've disappeared into the crowd again.

"Robin?"

But she feels warm. That smile, those two words. You didn't walk over to her and start a conversation, you didn't reach out and actively ask to talk, but you took the first step. You unlocked the door, and all she has to do now is open it.

"Let's get the chocolate cake, Sunday."

He feels his shoulders relaxing, a genuine smile forming on his face for the first time in weeks because there's a breathlessness to Robin's voice that he hasn't heard in forever.

"We can get whatever you want, Robin."