#(this is my least favorite part of the pit. where you know you're in the pit and there's NOTHING TO DO ABOUT IT.)

[notbecauseofvictories]

The problem with naming and inscribing things (e.g., calling your experience of malaise, "the Pit of Despair" and talking about what that feels like) is that you get better at identifying what's happening internally. Rather than doing strange things for mysterious reasons, you are doing things for obvious reasons! Not...you know, good reasons, but still, you can turn the lights on and watch the creepy, scuttling things in your subconscious writhe around in full view.

This might sound like a positive thing, but the problem is that you are nevertheless still missing step two, which is: how the hell do you fix it.

[cloudcountry]

why not me?

SUMMARY: They're in love with you, but there's one thing getting in the way. That thing? The fact that they aren't your favorite person (and never will be.)

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students minus Ignihyde.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: Cater feeling like he's second place because your attention is IMMEDIATELY captured by someone else when you're together makes my soul hurt. Did I write it anyway? Yes. Every time I write Epel I'm reminded of how hard it is for me to grasp his character AJHSDFAJHS

This fic is related to the drabble why me?! linked here!! that part is a fluffy part for idia since there was no one else i could write romantic content for in his dorm C: idia kissers get out of this one........

~~~~~

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts fails to see the appeal. And no, he’s not saying that because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t get how you and Ace can talk about anything and everything and do it with smiles on your faces. Riddle’s tried so hard to get your attention, almost pathetically so, and it’s like he’ll never be anything more than Housewarden to you. He resigns himself to his fate of getting over you when he sees the two of you hugging, loud proclamations of never wanting to let go ringing through his ears like a death toll.

Trey Clover can’t blame you. He really can’t, because both you and Cater have such magnetic personalities that seem to just click. Yes, it hurts, because he wishes he could be the one you lean on at Unbirthday parties, taking silly pictures and posting them to Magicam with sappy captions. Though, he supposes that isn’t his style. Maybe he’s too boring for you, he’s been called that before. As long as you’re happy though, Trey supposes he doesn’t mind. He just wishes things could have gone different.

Cater Diamond's content being your friend. That’s what he tells himself, just another lie stacked upon castles and castles of them. Even the Queen of Hearts can’t compete with his towering structure, built of his facade and held up by his pride. He takes pictures with you but avoids the heart emoji, he holds up bunny ears behind your head but avoids pressing his lips to your cheek. He keeps you at arms length, because whenever you’re with Trey, it’s so obvious he’s the one you’d want. He posts another picture, this one of you and him at the Unbirthday party, and it’s only him and you that knows that the failed shot was of you spinning around at the sound of Trey’s voice the second the camera went off.

Ace Trappola doesn’t understand your taste in men. You hang around Deuce all the time and make him all flustered and it makes his blood boil. His heart seizes every time he sees the two of you together and he knows it’s because he loves you. You, who always laughs at his jokes and puts up with his stupid shit and who told him that he wasn’t a burden to be around when he and Deuce got into a fight. That same person who he treasures so dearly treasures the person that could not be more different from him, and for once Ace knows he should just give up because you’ll never be his.

Deuce Spade finds himself getting angry more often than he’d like. It’s irrational most of the time, little parts of his delinquent side coming out when he least wants it to. You’ve seen that side of him before. He wishes you hadn’t. Because maybe if you hadn’t, you’d like him more than his own Housewarden, who you’re currently feeding bits of strawberry tart to. Riddle’s face is bright red and Deuce feels his grip on his fork growing tighter. A pit of ugly jealousy twists in his stomach as Riddle mumbles something that makes you laugh, and Deuce can’t help but wonder where he went wrong.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar can’t find it in himself to care. Not when you’re fawning over Jack like he’s the greatest student NRC has ever had, not when you spend every waking moment with him, not when your conversations with Leona become shorter and shorter. He finds himself waking up alone time and time again, without a cheerful call of his name from outside his door and your blurry form bringing him little snacks. He grumbles as he hears your laugh from outside his door, except you keep walking. Of course you wouldn’t check on him, but he can’t help but get his hopes up every time. Pathetic.

Ruggie Bucchi feels a pit in his stomach as you lean your head on Leona’s shoulder, pointing out something in his textbook that the prince isn’t even paying attention to. Ruggie grips his magical pen tighter, gritting his teeth as Leona grumbles something incoherent and flops on your shoulder in return. You look embarrassed, Ruggie realizes, tearing his eyes away from the display in front of him. He’s never seen Leona this happy. He’s never seen you this happy. Not even when you’re with him.

Jack Howl doesn’t want to question your choices. He adores you, as gruff and cold as his affection may be. He wishes he could express his emotions better when he sees you and Ruggie, laughing and smiling and touching each other like it isn’t a big deal. He feels like he can’t breathe when he sees you two holding hands, and he feels nauseous when Ruggie leans his head on your shoulder. There’s a part of his brain that he hates that whispers jealous little thoughts into his ears, thoughts that he’s ashamed to admit are his. Great Seven, why couldn’t you be like that to him?

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto feels sick to his stomach as he watches you talk animatedly to Jade, eyes shimmering like the stars the Vice Housewarden loved to admire. He sees the exact same look in Jade’s eyes, the look he has when he looks at his mushrooms or when he talks about a new bird he spotted on the trails, except it’s different. Azul doesn’t want to put a word to it, not when you reach for Jade’s hand and he takes it, because all Azul can think of is how that should be him.

Jade Leech is a background character in your life. That’s the role he’s been assigned and that’s the role he’s decided to be content with. He knows you won’t give him anything more than a fleeting glance, not when you’re hanging off Floyd’s arm like he’s everything you see. Jade is just a smear on the window, a blurry afterimage of his brother. There’s no use contemplating what you could have seen if you looked a bit deeper, because you didn’t. You favor his twin, and he can do nothing about it.

Floyd Leech knows what it’s like to want something someone else has, but never like this. It’s always been a feeling that surfaced when Jade got a treat before him, but this is not that. This is you, his Little Shrimpy, giving Azul your undivided attention while he talks about the monthly earnings of the Mostro Lounge. He whines and pouts and hollers into your ear, only to be pat on the head and ignored again like he’s only an afterthought. Azul gets to have all the fun with his Shrimpy, and that’s not fair.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim invites you over as often as he can. He’s cheery and excited and absolutely delighted by your company as he shovels food onto your plate. Maybe he’s an idiot or maybe he's just dense, but he somehow misses the glances you send Jamil when he exits the kitchen. It hits Kalim like a truck one day when Jamil offers you heart shaped cakes, displayed all prettily on Scarabia’s best golden platter. You look taken aback but flustered, lashes fluttering as you turn your gaze to Jamil. He smiles down at you with a softness that Kalim has never seen him wear, and it’s like a knife in the heart. Oh. It’s Jamil. You’re accepting his invitation for Jamil. Oh Great Seven, you’re in love with Jamil. He excuses himself with a fleeting smile, running to his dorm room the second he’s out of view, collapsing onto his bed with a broken sob. Why did it hurt so much?! He should be happy for you.

Jamil Viper doesn’t even bother. You have his heart resting in the palms of your hands, but it’s like the weight of the organ is nothing because you can ignore it so easily. He watches you every day, observing your habits and mannerisms. He brings you and Kalim snacks as you laugh and study and talk, talk as casually as friends do, and Jamil wonders what it would be like to have that with you. He can’t though. He can’t, because he’d be competing with Kalim again and that’s never worked out in his favor anyway. Kalim always has to win, even if Jamil has to give up the one person who took the time to think about how he felt.

Pomfiore

Vil Schoenheit likes to pretend he doesn’t mind. He pretends he doesn’t like you as much as he does, because if he lets his emotions show you’ll surely feel obligated to apologize to him. He watches you as you talk happily with Rook, your hands intertwined and swinging as if you’re together already. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he says nothing as the two of you prattle on. Leave it to you to capture a few hearts on campus and break most of them, Vil Schoenheit’s included.

Rook Hunt thinks the way you look at Epel is beautiful, though he wishes it were him. He honestly doesn’t mind that much, even if he yearns to see that same affection boring into his soul. He’s content for now, watching you watch Epel, the affectionate look on your face reflected on Rook’s. It’s painfully obvious to him what’s happening in that little heart of Epel’s as he returns your look, and as long as Rook gets to see you bloom with love then he’ll be satisfied. (Rook Hunt is also, unfortunately, a liar, and he knows it will hurt him in the end.)

Epel Felmier grits his teeth as you greet Vil with a cheery “hi beautiful,” and he returns the sentiment in kind. The way you two smile at each other makes him feel sick, so much so that he pushes away his food. Whenever the two of you are in the same vicinity, it's like Epel can't breathe anymore. He refuses to acknowledge what the feeling is, because that would be losing. Of course. Of course of everyone his first love could have picked, they fell in love with the one man he disliked more than anything.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia gets a sinking feeling in his chest whenever he sees you with Lilia. He thought you and him were friends, close enough to act casual with each other. He’s never had that with someone before, and he’s definitely never felt this before you. Beautiful, accepting, kind you. But when he sees you with Lilia, goofing off and laughing and smiling, he realizes that what he thought was special meant absolutely nothing to you.

Lilia Vanrouge thinks the situation is funny in the cruelest way possible. He stares at you with affection blooming in his eyes, and yet he sees you look at Silver the same way. Lilia has lived a long time, and he knows nothing lasts forever, but the fact that he never even got to have you will always eat away at him. As long as he gets to see the growing affection in Silver’s eyes grow for you too, he thinks he will be okay.

Sebek Zigvolt can’t blame you! You’re so obviously in love with Malleus, and what an excellent choice you’ve made, human! There is no one…better in the love…department than...the Young Master...He can’t do this. Why won’t you look at him? There isn’t a single thing he can train or improve that would ever steal your attention from his Master, and Sebek knows it’s blasphemy to try. So why does he want so badly? Why does seeing you and his Master make him so bitter?

Silver shuts his eyes. Sebek is loud as usual, and your attention has been completely captured by him. He’s aware that he tends to blend in, especially when Sebek is around, but knowing that doubles as an excuse. Of course you’re not paying attention to Silver, because he’s sleeping and Sebek is talking. It isn’t until he sees the two of you walking and talking together, his fellow guard’s cheeks red as he turns his head away from you, that he realizes you act like that regardless of whether Silver’s around or not. Because you like Sebek, not him.

[hyuckmov]

haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby pt.2 read the first part here! 

haechan x fem reader wc: 11k genre: fluff, smut 18+ minors dni warnings: chest/boobs/nipples fixation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex, choking, finger sucking, blowjobs, handjobs, mirror sex, overstimulation, a little bit of dacryphilia (crying), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics (haechan doing both), tittyfucking, thigh riding, this list is making me feel embarrassed minors dni i am so serious, breeding kink, a bit of saliva play i guess, aftercare , haechan is a mastermind male manipulator (in a cute way), me using mark as a plot device or: in which haechan is competitive (read: eager to please), and determined to find out what about him makes you lose all control

a/n: where do i even begin. writing this was so exhausting but also so rewarding at times but also i feel like i'm going to take a break from writing smut after this, i've literally written almost everything i could think of for this fic. i think what we liked from part 1 was haechan being needy and subby so i did add in scenes for that dw <3 i know i describe a lot of what they are thinking in this fic so hopefully it doesn't bore you... if it does... please sugarcoat it for me in your review (just kidding but also like...please don't be mean) anywayy... do send me an ask/reply if you liked this, as per tradition, i hope this is at least a little bit hot :) happy valentine's day!

haechan would say that his standard of living had increased exponentially since your second anniversary. 

the two of you had become more open with each other, communicating your frustrations and needs more easily. there was also a faint buzz of something in the air, moments when you would look over at him and he would feel a blush spread across his cheeks, burn low in his stomach. it felt a little like he was falling in love with you for the first time — it had been a while since he had felt so vulnerable and loved by you. 

"what are you thinking about?"

but perhaps the most significant improvement made to his life was the way he could now reflect on your loving and healthy relationship with his face nuzzled against your boobs.  

"love you so much," he mumbles against your skin, placing a small kiss on your cleavage. "that's what i'm thinking about." 

he feels your hand come down to stroke his hair gently, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. sunday mornings with you in bed: you scrolling through your phone while he's given the freedom to love on his favorite parts of you, have become just another routine that started ever since your second anniversary. 

focusing on freckling kisses on your warm skin, he's then completely unprepared for when you card your fingers through a handful of his hair only to give it a light, but still significant, tug. 

the sensation sends a feeling shooting down his spine, a slight shudder to his body as he lets out a small gasp muffled against your chest. feeling something stirring in the pit of his stomach, his legs twitching on the bed, he nuzzles his face into your chest. 

"again, please," he mumbles. 

he feels the giggles you let out at that right from where his face is pressed up against your chest. kicking his feet, he whines lightly in protest.  

"what's so funny?" 

"found something else you like," he hears you muse. "you're so sensitive, baby."

frowning, he sits up. the visual is slightly amusing — his hair mussed up, his lips swollen. 

"it's not fair," he states. you reach out a consoling hand to him, and even as he continues to grumble, he still intertwines your fingers gently, a contrast between his unhappy tone and his tender actions. "you have too much power over me." 

"what are you talking about?" you laugh, and he scowls. 

"you know." he mumbles. "you can just flash your tits at me and i'd do anything you ask-" 

"i can?" 

"and now you know i like it when you pull at my hair," he whines, a permanent pout forming on his features. "it's like there's nothing i can do that makes you go crazy." 

"that's because i love all of you," you soothe. "all of you makes me feel crazy." 

"do you have any kinks you're keeping from me?" 

"you're my kink," you tease, but your smile drops when he scowls. "sorry." 

there's a pause. haechan looks at you, hard. scanning your face, his gaze doing a slow drag down and up your body, his expression darkening. something had shifted in the air, and suddenly you're a little scared to breathe too hard. 

"haechan?" 

"i'm going to find it," he breathes. 

"what?" 

"i'm going to find it, and then i'm going to make you beg for me to fuck your brains out." 

"what the fuck?" 

but haechan shakes his head, and when he next refocuses his eyes on you, his eyes have the familiar twinkle in them. moving over to you, he cups your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your cheek. 

"love all of you too," he beams. "i'm going to go make breakfast, okay?" 

and with that, he all but skips out of the room, leaving you sitting on the bed, feeling unsettled and also just a little bit excited. 

x

the first time he tries it, it's a complete disaster. 

it's not that haechan isn't good at observing you and what you like. when you go shopping together, he doubles back when you're not looking to take photos of items you've picked up to examine, making mental notes of their price and when he could get them for you. point something out to him, and haechan runs back to the store if you leave him alone for just a second, the bag hanging from his arm when he returns as he tries to hide how fast his heart is beating from sprinting. make an off-handed comment about how good a dish looks on instagram, and he's looking up the recipe before the video ends, and you can bet on the fact that you're having it for dinner the next day. 

it's just that when it comes to him, he has no clue how to begin. you had laid out the perfect plan for him because you knew exactly what he wanted — meanwhile, he was starting from scratch. 

so in the end his brain goes to the one thing you've told him you enjoyed. after all, considering how many times he's seen you fall apart on it, you must like his cock, right?  

"y/n?" 

"yeah?"

"why are you so far away…" he whines, exaggerating his tone a little. you're seated on the other end of the couch, head against the arm rest, your laptop perched on your lap as you work on something. at his words, you lower the screen a bit, peeking over the top of your knees with your eyebrows raised. 

"what's wrong?" you frown. "are you okay?" 

"come here and sit on my lap," he says quickly, before the embarrassment can get to him. "i missed you," he adds, patting his thighs for emphasis. 

that evening, he had chosen to put on a pair of gray sweatpants that usually left little to the imagination. he didn't wear them often for that exact reason, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. however, that was kind of at the top of his agenda right now. 

shrugging, you make your way over to him, settling down in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. his chin rests on your shoulder as you open up your laptop again, typing in a few extra words on your document as mumble to yourself under your breath. 

and then nothing. 

haechan doesn't really know where to go from here. his plan had actually only involved one step: putting on the sweatpants. asking you to sit on his lap was already improvisation on his part, hoping that by getting you close he could hopefully get you to react. but here you were, sitting peacefully, happy in your boyfriend's warm touch. 

unsure what to do, he figures he might as well get comfortable, bringing his arms around to hold your waist. feeling like this was turning out to be a complete bust, haechan sighs and buries his face in your neck, huffing a little as he wonders if he should just give up and spend a nice evening cuddling with you. 

but then suddenly, haechan jolts. troubled by your slow progress at your work, you’ve started to absentmindedly fidget, wiggling your hips uneasily and even bouncing a little in his hold as you shift around some more. his arms reflexively tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat as he feels something stirring in his navel. 

"y/n…" 

"sorry." you whisper sheepishly, trying to keep still as you continue your work. but behind you, haechan is grinning as if christmas had come early. 

"don't be," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. gripping your hips again, he begins to move you on his lap so that you're grinding down on him. "keep going, sweetheart." 

you bite your lip. you really wanted to pay attention to haechan, the sinful way he began to rut against you and the feeling of him slowly getting hard creating a soothing haze in your mind. "i can’t. my work…" you mumble. 

haechan freezes, thinking to himself. you weren't giving in yet. he wanted you to beg him, but so far he had initiated almost everything. "okay," he breathes, settling back down and removing his arms from your sides, even though he could feel himself getting hard. "okay, i'll stop. focus on your work, baby." 

confused, and a little worried — because when haechan wanted something he usually never stopped to get it, — you try to snap out of it. "maybe i'll go work in the bedroom…" you suggest reluctantly.

"sure," he replies, easily. crossing his fingers and hoping you didn't truly mean it. 

but before he knows it, you're standing up, the absence of your weight on him making him feel doubly empty as you begin to walk unsteadily back to your room. a slightly sad expression on your pretty features, the tension in the air making it difficult for you to look at him.

it's the look on your face that makes haechan forget all about his mission. 

"y/n wait-" his voice is high-pitched and breathy. he was more affected than he realized he was. 

at the sound of his voice, you turn around. immediately putting your laptop down on the dining table, you all but run back to your eager boyfriend, skidding slightly on the floor. clambering back into his lap, this time straddling his waist, you smile as he leans in to kiss you, frustration making his movements a little rougher than usual. 

punching him lightly on the shoulder, you glare at him for playing with your feelings. "did you really want me to go…?" nervously, you fiddle with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"no," he says firmly, kissing you again and pressing you closer. "never."

you beam at him, happy you had such a sensitive and caring boyfriend. anyone else would have found your reaction laughable, but haechan just got you. it warmed your heart to no end. 

"y/n…" pulling you back to the current situation, haechan gently thrusts up, reminding you he was still hard. "can i…?"

"yes," you say, excitement making your reply come out rushed and flustered. "please."

smiling to himself, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, pressing his fingers hesitantly to the seat of your panties before he falters. 

"you're so wet," he breathes, tugging your panties to the side too so he can stroke your folds with his long fingers. rubbing quick circles into your clit, he pulls you down by your shirt so he can kiss you heatedly. 

holding on to him, you feel your thighs start to tremble, unable to hold yourself up with the feeling of his hand between your legs. as he runs a finger along your slit, rough fingertips sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, you lean your weight almost entirely on him. "please, -" you gasp, not sure what you were asking for, but somehow he's even more desperate than you.  

a groan rumbles from his chest as he impatiently lifts you off his lap, maneuvering you so you take a seat on the couch. scrambling to kneel on the floor between your legs, he pulls you to the edge and pushes your legs upwards, practically folding your body. your feet planted on the couch, your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he tugs off your shorts and panties, leaving you completely exposed to him. the sight makes him moan out again, and he pauses.

"can i lick you?" breathlessly, and almost in a trance, he presses a kiss to your thigh, arms coming up to hook around your thighs and keep them open. "pussy's so pretty baby…" he murmurs, blowing air on your clit and making you tilt your hips towards his mouth. "i just know it'll taste sweet."

"don't tease," you plead. haechan's only ever done this a few times and on special occasions, usually more for you than for him. but when you look at the way his eyes are glazing over, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips hesitantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do. 

"wouldn't dream of it." and with that he dives in, his tongue flat and wide as he licks up your arousal. alternating between flicking at your clit and lapping at your entrance, his moans fall from his open mouth freely, muscles in his arms flexing as he presses you further in the couch and tries to keep your hips from bucking up into him. 

when you feel him dip his tongue into your tight entrance, your hands fly to his hair, curling on his strands around your fingers. the feeling going straight to his cock, he whimpers as he loosens a hand to ease a finger into you, his mouth suckling on your clit. 

"haechan-" 

"cum for me," his mouth detaches from you sloppily, and you swallow as you see his chin dripping with your juices, his lips wet with saliva. "wanna feel you cum on my fingers so bad…" dipping his head back down, he flicks at your clit harshly, his fingers pressing against your walls. you feel your back arch off the sofa as your thighs clamp down around his head, his tongue still working on you as you cum, hard. 

your hips buck against his face and his nose bumps against your clit as he kitten licks at your folds, lightly overstimulating you as you ride out your high. pushing his head away gently, you’re just beginning to put down your legs when you're startled by his hand, shooting out to prevent them from closing entirely. grasping your thigh. 

"please?" haechan's eyes are blown out and wide as he rises up on his knees, his hands trembling slightly as they move higher up your thighs. "i'm so hard…" you take in the way his hips absentmindedly move against the edge of the sofa seat. fully hard in those sweatpants, looking absolutely sinful the way he chases any form of friction. 

"of course," you breathe, lying back on the couch as he enthusiastically tugs down his sweatpants, his cock slapping up against his navel, the tip red and leaking precum. propping himself up with a hand, the other gripping onto your waist, he closes his eyes as he slides in, the two of you letting out moans as you shiver from the sensitivity. before you know it, he's fucking you into the couch, whines falling from his lips freely, rising in pitch as his eyes screw tightly shut. you close your eyes too, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders, the feeling of him stretching you out pushing you close to your climax again. 

haechan has completely lost all grip on reality. he feels your walls sucking him in, wrapping around him so tightly he can't even pull out properly. the rhythm of his thrusts jagged and needy, his hips rutting into you in a frenzy, he's only able to last a few more seconds before he's cumming, his hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around him again. his throat is hoarse, and he wonders if he was screaming instead of moaning. under him, you're also coming down from your high, smiling as you see how winded he is.

"you okay?" tapping him gently on the cheek, you give him a small kiss on his cheek as he blinks dazedly at you. "haechan?" you give him another kiss. 

"yeah-" he mumbles. "fuck." he realises he's still pressed on you, so he gets up, giving you more space to sit up and breathe. as he collapses on the other side of the couch, he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles, lips still sticky. "was i too rough?" he murmurs, worriedly. "i'm sorry, i just really lost control at the end-" 

"it was perfect," you assure him, crawling over so you can hold him. "i liked it," you smile. 

his expression clears, and his eyes crinkle into a smile that mirrors yours as he kisses you sweetly on the tip of your nose. "you were perfect," his eyes sappy with love, he feels sleepiness overcome his body. "i'll run a bath and we can relax after, okay?" 

it's only after the bath, and after the impromptu supper he makes for you, when the two of you are in bed, when he realizes that he's completely lost the plot. today's attempt had told him nothing, except maybe he was going to get addicted to the feeling of eating you out. 

looking at your sleeping form in bed, a light smile ghosting on your lips and the glow of being taken care of by your boyfriend shining on your face, he shakes his head and decides that for now it doesn't matter. he'll figure it out eventually, he knew he would.

x

the second time haechan tries it, he starts out slow. 

"your fingers are so pretty." 

you're out running errands with him, and as the two of you stroll back to the car, his fingers brush yours and he takes your palm in his. now, holding up your clasped hands to examine his fingers, you smile sweetly at him. "i think you have really pretty finger joints." 

"yeah?" it's a small compliment, but haechan always liked being praised, even for the smallest things. "thank you, baby." 

he doesn't want to build any expectations for himself, or expect any reaction from you immediately. he's sure that that's what went wrong with the first attempt. did he really expect you to fall to his feet when you saw him in those sweatpants? it was silly. it was childish. haechan could do better than that. 

he starts out by not taking off his rings when he's around the house, hoping that the sight of them on his pretty finger joints could stir something in you. so far, nothing. (although you did ask him if you could get another set of couple rings together. he said yes.)

he starts picking up activities which show off his fingers more. asking you if you wanted to watch him play the piano, or the guitar. still mostly nothing, although the activities did bring you closer together, his cheeks burning as you praised him for his talent. 

happy that your boyfriend was sharing his interests with you, you asked him to help you with your baking, wanting to reciprocate with your own creative date-night ideas. he was nothing but sweet to you when you brought up the idea, accompanying you to the store for ingredients and helping you set up the kitchen. sure, he seemed to want to hold your hand throughout almost the whole thing, following you around the kitchen like a lost puppy, but once you assigned him to the task of melting the chocolate the two of you fell into a nice rhythm, his soft humming filling the kitchen as he busies himself with the hot water. 

"is the chocolate ready?" 

"yeah," he mumbles, lips pouting with concentration. he looks up to see you smiling at him, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch him stir the melted chocolate a few times. 

and suddenly, he knows exactly what to do. 

dipping two fingers in the chocolate, he holds it up to your lips. "wanna taste?" he asks, as casually as he can.

flustered, you swat his hand away gently. "i can do that myself," you try, shyly. 

"come on," he urges you. his eyes, which have been zeroed in on your lips, flicker up to your eyes and you can see them glint. "just a taste," he says, softly. 

inside, his heart is beating hard against his chest. although it was only the two of you in the kitchen, he could tell from the way you looked at his fingers that you were flustered, hesitating over the idea of sucking on his fingers so boldly. if he could just get you to do this…

he watches with bated breath as you swallow, inching forwards. grabbing his wrist to keep his hand steady, you stick out your tongue to lick at his fingers cautiously. you're just able to taste a hint of the chocolate, when haechan pushes forward and his fingers are enveloped in the warmth of your mouth. 

"now come on," he breathes, a thrill running down his spine as he sees your eyes widen. gently but firmly, he continues to hold your gaze. "suck." 

this was it. a smile spreads across his face as you begin to suck on his fingers obediently, looking up at him through your lashes. he'd won. except…he wasn't really sure anymore, what with the way your tongue was now swirling around his fingers as you continued to lick them clean. the feeling of it foreign yet familiar, making his breath catch in his throat as he’s reminded of the fact that it had been a while since you’ve sucked him off.

but while he was still struggling to figure out who had the upper hand, you already released his fingers with a pop, looking at him knowingly as you went back to measuring ingredients. 

a pause. 

shaking his head a few times to steady himself, he tried to stay confident, putting on his cockiest smile as he sidled up to you. 

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"did you like that?" 

"like what?" 

"you know what," he wraps a hand around your wrist to halt your movements, pushing your measuring scale and various other bowls to the side so you focus on him. "did you like sucking on my fingers?" 

"haechan…" 

"i felt what you were doing with your tongue, baby." he relishes the way you can't look him in the eyes. "i know you liked my fingers, but i didn't know you liked them that much…" he muses, voice low. a heavy hand snakes up to rub your waist. "wonder if you would like my hands somewhere else…" a flicker of need courses through his body as the words leave his mouth, his hands wandering up to your chest to palm your boobs. "or…" he trails off, biting his lip to try to keep his thoughts to himself.

confused as to why he had gone silent, you finally look up at him, feeling your eyes widen in surprise to see that haechan's demeanor had done a total shift entirely on his own. rather than the usual hard stare and stony expression that accompanies his low tones and rough touches, his lashes flutter with need, teeth tugging mindlessly on his lip as he is completely and wholly distracted by the soft feeling of your chest in his palm. 

"haechan?" you prompt him. 

"fuck, sorry-" he blurts out, unsure of what he was apologizing for. "it's just…", breathily, he scrabbles at your bra, tugging it down so he can touch your nipples. "they fit perfectly in my palms…" and there it is: the familiar pitch of his voice that tells you he's going to start whining soon. 

you can't help but laugh at him, amused as much as you are in awe of him. "did you really just dirty talk yourself into this state?" 

"yes. wait, i mean, no-" troubled, he furrows his brow as you begin to take off your shirt. "uh…"

"we can discuss this later," you soothe, leading him out of the kitchen, the idea of baking long forgotten.

x

1.12 am, haechan: don't get distracted by boobs.  1.12am, haechan: don’t look at boobs.  1.13am, haechan: don't touch boobs.  1.13am, mark: what the fuck ?????

x

“you taste good,” you murmur, touching his cheeks lightly as you lean in to kiss him again in the darkness.

eagerly, haechan sits up. you’re startled by the sudden movement, blinking at him blearily, but soon you’re being tugged up and into his lap, him rearranging your legs haphazardly so you’re straddling him as he leans against the headboard.

“what-?”

but haechan kisses you before you can finish your sentence, his remarkably soft and pillowy lips moving against yours with a soft fervor. 

“feel good?” he asks, expectantly.

“yeah…” you mumble, a little dazed. 

“used a lip scrub,” he states, proudly, kissing you again to punctuate the point. “and i’ve been using a lip sleeping mask for the past 2 days.”

“you taste like strawberry,” you point out, weakly.

“lip balm,” he breathes, almost buzzing with excitement. “you like?”

“yes,” you smile at him, endeared by how happy he was. you lean in, kissing him again, sucking gently on his bottom lip and making him sigh into your mouth. pulling away, you fail to notice the way his eyes light up in anticipation, only to flicker with confusion as you dip your head to snuggle into his hold. burying your face in his chest, you give him a gentle pat as you close your eyes, ready to return to the peaceful state of dozing off you were at when he had first kissed you goodnight. “sleep well, baby.”  

his puffy lips, his puffy sweet strawberry-scented smooth lips, pucker slightly into a pout. “y/n?”

“hm?” 

“you don’t wanna kiss me more?” he whispers, the words a little pathetic in the silence of the room.

“tomorrow, baby.” you assure him, stifling a yawn as you feel yourself drop off. “sweet dreams.”

sighing, he pats you gently on the back as if you were a baby, lulling you to sleep. this really wasn’t as easy as he thought it was going to be. 

sweet dreams he thinks bitterly to himself, closing his eyes too.

x

all the thinking was taking a toll on haechan's brain. 

he was good at games, he was good at strategy. but the thing was, this felt less like a game and more like an experiment: the observation required, the long-term planning, introducing new variables, and analyzing your reactions to see if his actions had the desired outcome. 

he tried revisiting the hand thing. 

"look at how pretty my fingers look around your neck." 

he slides his fingers out from between your legs slowly, smearing your arousal on your thighs before coming up to steer your chin back towards the mirror. the image is so lewd that you want to look away again — you, wearing only his shirt. haechan's chest pressed up against your back, you sitting between his spread legs, your thighs propped apart by his own. one of his hands squeezes lightly on your throat as the other trails back down, two fingers stretching you out as much as he can. 

choked moans fall from your lips as you shake in his hold when you cum, his rings digging into your throat. he releases you almost at once, letting you come down from your high as air floods back into your lungs, murmuring praises into your hair as he cleans you up, while you were too tired and hoarse to speak.

but that was that. you never brought it up with him or requested he do it again, although he knows that if he asked you wouldn't deny him. so he filed it away for next time. 

he tried thinking of things he loved about you. he loved to kiss your neck — so he tried wearing necklaces, tilting his head back more to showcase his jawline, encouraging you to kiss him there. but the most you'd done was ask him if his neck felt sore. 

it was a friday, and haechan decided to leave work early, to see if he could get a headstart on a new lead he had. you had stared a lot at his legs the other night when he had taken you out for dinner, saying they looked pretty in the skinny jeans he was wearing. if that wasn't a directive, he didn't know what was. 

and so he made a short detour on his way home, stopping by the mall to pick out a pair of ripped skinny jeans. he liked the way they hugged his thighs, the slivers of soft skin that showed underneath. 

that's how you find him, when you arrive home. standing in front of the bedroom mirror, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror. 

"i'm home…" you call out, before stopping. in the mirror, haechan can see your eyes widen and his heartbeat quickens with excitement. you're clearly distracted, unable to tear your eyes away from his legs. was this it? 

meanwhile, you can't stop staring at your boyfriend. usually in sweatpants or baggy jeans, you haven't seen him dressed like this in a while. there are so many rips in the jeans he practically didn't have to wear them, and yet somehow they're positioned in a way that made you want to suck bruises onto his smooth skin. 

your eyes flicker up to his, narrowing slightly when you see the expression of pure unadulterated glee that takes over his features. the corner of his lips quirked up smugly, his eyebrows raised in a challenge. 

and it just flips a switch in you. 

"did you dress like this for me?" you ask, softly. walking over to him, you tug him closer by the belt loops of his jeans, leaning in so your lips brush his. "did you want my attention that badly?" 

haechan falters. this was not how it was supposed to go. 

"can't think of an answer?" you mock. trailing your fingers down to his thighs, you scrape at the exposed skin there with your fingernails, making him jolt. "you were so confident just now, baby…" you pinch him, and he sucks in a breath. "what happened?" 

"i…" at the sight of you tugging your shirt off, his splutters out in alarm. "wait! don't-" feeling stupid, but panic overtaking his brain, he squeezes his eyes shut. "don't take off your shirt." 

you burst out into genuine laughter. getting more and more flustered by the second, he slowly opens his eyes, peeping a few times to make sure your shirt remains on. "don't make fun of me," he mumbles. "it's just that, i get really distracted if i see them, and-"

"oh i know," you assure him, kissing his cheek. "i mean, i was going to let you fuck them, but i'll just suck you off instead." 

"what?" 

he protests the entire time as you push him to take a seat on the edge of the bed, babbling on and on about how this was supposed to be about you. however, the moment you take your position, kneeling between his legs as you reach out to palm him through his jeans, he falls silent. 

"these are new…" he mumbles, weakly. he can't help the way his hips begin to squirm under your touch. 

"aww…"  you squeeze him tighter over the denim and he whimpers. "bought them just for me?" 

"yeah…" he admits, swallowing hard. "y/n…can you…" 

you finish his thought by undoing the buttons on his jeans, tugging down the zipper as he lifts his hips obediently, tugging the material down to free his hard on. when he starts to remove his jeans entirely, you place a hand on his to stop him. grinning at him, you place a light kiss on his thigh. 

"i really like these jeans," you explain. 

you can feel haechan's eyes on you as if he were in a trance. looking up at him, you coo at the sight: his mouth hanging slightly open, drool spilling around his mouth from how he's been licking and tugging at his bottom lip from just the feeling of you touching him over his jeans. reaching a hand up, you wipe his saliva off with your fingers as if he were a baby, his tongue darting out to lick at your fingers. indulging him, you push them into his mouth: full, heart-shaped lips, wrapping around your knuckles as he sucks obediently. 

extracting your fingers from his mouth, you comfort him with a pat on the cheek as slowly, and with a light touch, you start to rub at the pink tip of his cock with your wet fingers. the stimulation makes his legs jump, and he lets out a cry, hands scrabbling and twisting at the sheets. neediness seeping out from all the pores in his body, your hand becoming slick with his precum as you pick up the pace, giving him longer strokes along his shaft. 

you look up at him, and his face is contorted with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. his head thrown back, you can see his adam's apple bobbing as he gasps for air. 

"do you like your reward, baby?" you tease, taking your hands off his cock to dig your nails into his thigh instead. the feeling makes him wail, eyes opening to focus on you, blinking away the spots in his vision. 

he nods, still gasping for breath. "don't stop," he manages. "please, don't stop." 

"i'll take care of you, baby, i promise" you ease, hands going back to stroke him, although at a much gentler pace. "keep your eyes on me, okay? i want you to think of this every time you see these jeans…" you take his tip into your mouth, pressing your tongue into his slit. and without any warning, his hips buck into your face and he's cumming messily, all over your mouth and chin. 

"sorry," he moans, unable to control himself. "fuck, i'm sorry,-" his words are twisted into a loud cry at the sudden feeling of both of your hands on him. cum makes the slide easier as you twist your wrists in opposite directions, watching as haechan's whole body spasms — his movements jerky, grabbing at your arms to push you away while his hips continue to thrust forward into the pleasure. you feel a sense of excitement rush through you too as you survey how his thighs shake, muscles in his legs spasming. 

"thought you told me not to stop," you bite your lip, putting on a confused expression. "i promised i'd take care of you." 

haechan is too far gone to respond. tears begin to run down his cheeks as he cums again, globs of cum oozing from his slit. finally stopping your movements for good, you climb up onto the bed next to him, letting him reach for you and pull you close. his tears stain the shirt on your shoulder, and you run your hands through his hair to soothe him. 

finally, his breathing evens out and he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

feeling a little guilty, you brush the hair out of his eyes as you try to read his expression. "are you okay?" you ask, softly. 

he gives you a dopey smile. "yeah," he kisses you again, letting the feeling of your lips moving against his ground him. his hands ghost over your thighs, and he starts to pull you into his lap. "you want me to return the favor…?" 

"no, it's okay." smiling at him, you cup his face in your hands before you realize that your palms are still filthy with drool and cum. "we should probably get cleaned up…" you murmur. 

"i'm never wearing any other pair of jeans," he sighs, contentedly, letting you guide him towards the bathroom.

x

later that night, haechan is lying in bed, reflecting on what just happened. sure, he hadn't gotten you needy and desperate, and in fact he'd done all of the begging, but this was definitely a step in the right direction. it was the biggest reaction he'd gotten from you yet, one that was entirely initiated by you, his cheeks warming at the memory. 

"haechan?" 

"yes?" 

"can we talk?" 

"of course, baby." clearing his head of his thoughts, he pulls you in closer to him, heart warming at the feeling of you snuggling up to him. "is everything okay?" 

"yeah," you say in a small voice. "but i wanted to ask you if you're okay." 

hearing the soft concern in your voice, he tries to remember if he said anything to you about feeling upset, or unhappy, but nothing comes to mind. 

"yeah i'm fine," he frowns. you look up at him with skeptical eyes, and he lifts a hand from where it's wrapped around you to stroke your hair, hoping to comfort you. "what's wrong?" 

"it's just this whole…" you sigh. "you trying to find ways to make me feel good." 

"is it too much?" panic starts to seep into his brain as he runs through the things he's done with you, and to you, these past few weeks. he's sure he made sure you were comfortable with everything, but there was always the possibility that you were appeasing him. maybe he'd gone a little too far with the choking. "i can stop if you want, i didn't think-" 

"no, that's not it-" you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. "i'm okay, everything's okay." moving up a little bit on the bed, you press a soft, close-lipped kiss against his lips. it takes a few seconds, his body still frozen with uncertainty, before he relaxes and kisses you back, deepening the kiss and holding on to you tightly. 

"i just hope you know that i love you, so much," you say when he pulls away. "and, you don't have to do anything special to make me feel crazy about you." 

"y/n…" 

"i meant what i said that day," you insist. "i know i've mostly been in control recently, and you think i have so much control over you now…but i want you to know that even before our second anniversary i've been just as obsessed with you." 

shyly, haechan bites his lip in thought, your words making him feel more flustered than he would have expected. 

"see?" you continue. "i think you look so pretty when you bite your lip. and i love your hands…" you reach for his palms and place a soft kiss to his knuckles. "love your fingers, no matter what you're doing with them. love your legs, love your moles…" 

"okay, okay." he buries his face into his pillow, a warm glow spreading through his body at your praise. "you can stop now," he murmurs. 

"love all of you." you finish, burying your face in his chest again. "love everything you do, so don't worry, okay?" you mumble, sleep slowly taking over your body as a weight is lifted off your chest. watching haechan observe your reactions extra carefully has been endearing, and being on the receiving end of his constant affection has you dizzy in more ways than you show.  you just hoped that his relentless attempts to please you and read your mind didn't mean he felt unconfident about how much you loved him. 

but haechan doesn't respond. a sense of disappointment blooms in his chest, and he can't for the life of him figure out why he felt so forlorn. it had seemed so simple: he wanted to find out how he could have you needy and eager for him, just as he was with you. just like you had tested out his obsession with your boobs — and at the thought, his hand guiltily strays downwards to palm you over your shirt, needing at least some form of comfort on this confusing night, — he had tested you. and while you responded eagerly to whatever he did, there was no denying that you didn't usually initiate it, and he doesn't know if he would classify your behavior as needy in the way he wanted you to be.

maybe he just needed to tease you a little more. or maybe he needed to deny you pleasure just as you were about to cum. maybe, if he initiated it, and then suddenly left to do something else-

"you're thinking so loud, baby," he snaps out of it with a jolt, feeling you shift in his hold, your eyes opening groggily and a pretty pout settling on your lips. "go to sleep, please," you groan.

haechan lets out a groan of his own. "i'm confused…" he mumbles.

"about?" 

but he shakes his head. you've already reassured him, and honestly he thinks he'll go crazy if he hears you profess your love to him again. 

drumming your fingers on his chest, you hum lightly, thinking to yourself. "will you feel better if i let you fuck my tits?" 

"yes please," haechan sighs, sitting up and shaking the sleepiness from his body before clambering over to straddle you, practiced hands pushing your shirt up. 

and as he lets out a soft wail — feeling you licking at his tip when he thrusts all the way up your cleavage, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your soft breasts, — he almost believes he's okay with giving up this game he set for himself. 

almost. 

x

haechan spins the controller in his hand and waits for his next game to load. 

he had let the whole thing fall from his mind. he'd gotten some pretty good sex out of it, and he felt closer to you than ever before, and that was all that really mattered in the end. now, he could actually focus on his favorite past-times without wondering what you were doing, could wake up each day and not stress over what he should wear. he was sure he would get over the disappointment, pushing the uneasiness from his mind completely as he slumps further down in his gaming chair and starts to think about how to get past his opponent instead. 

faintly, he can hear the door push open behind him. you must have entered the room. "hey," he calls out. "i just started another round but i can come spend time with you after i'm done, okay?" 

no response. weird, but maybe you were distracted with your phone. 

"i was thinking," he continues. "do you want me to cook dinner or should we order in? i've been craving pasta but i need to know if you prefer mine or-" but he cuts himself off when he notices you hovering next to his computer, a large oversized shirt hanging from your frame. it's the look on your face that makes him forget everything about dinner or pasta or cooking. 

"y/n?" he blinks. "what's wrong?" 

"i need you," your soft voice whiny. 

"um…" surprised, he's taken aback as you sit yourself down on his lap, straddling one of his thighs. he drops his controller clumsily, arms coming around to hold you as the game goes on ignored behind your back. "are you hurt? or is it…do you-" he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels your wet core moving on his bare thigh. you're not wearing anything except for the shirt. 

you start moving, rolling your hips onto his firm muscle as if it were second nature, your eyes locking with his and he gulps at the desperation in them, pleading with your expression for him to help you. 

"fuck, baby, what's gotten into you?" what should he do? panicked, he sits up in his seat, the movement making his thigh muscle tense and you let out a whine, your swollen clit extra sensitive at the feeling. "baby, not here," he coaxes, alarm in his tone as he wonders if you're going to cum right then and there. his hands going to your waist, he feels you press down harder on him, your moans increasing in pitch as you ride his thigh without a care in the world, egged on by the feeling of his skin on yours. 

"baby, wait, get off for a moment, let's get on the bed," he tries to move again and it jostles you, and you roll your hips even faster. 

"don't care," you whine. "need you now. wanna cum now…" tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. you're so frustrated that it hurts, you needed him so badly but it's like he'd forgotten how to touch you entirely. "haechan," you groan. "i need your fingers, anything…" the hot friction on your clit making you fall forwards, burying your face in his neck. 

still flustered, haechan tries his best to help you out, wracking his brain of what to do. tensing his thigh muscles, he bounces you gently on his leg, one hand steadying you and the other scraping lightly across your nipples, just the way you like it. gasping at the sudden stimulation, you whimper in his ear to let him know you were close, your arms grabbing haechan's hands and guiding him to move your hips for you. 

you cum just like that, a high whine and your body shuddering, haechan continuing to bounce you on his thigh to help you ride it out. as you recover, he realizes that he's winded and breathless too, the reality of what just happened sweeping over him. 

but what exactly just happened? 

"if you don't mind me asking…" he panted. 

you nodded, still in your head. "yeah?"

blinking up at you politely, he licks his lips nervously before asking, "what did i do? and, how do i do it again?" 

shaking your head you hug him before clambering off his lap. "like i said," you reassure him with a kiss on his cheek before you stumble off to clean yourself up. "i love all of you." 

x

"you guys need to leave me out of your sex life," mark grumbles, the moment the call connects. "i want the best for you, dude, but i'm not that invested in your personal happiness, okay?" 

haechan scoffs at that. "firstly, it's not like i'm not privy to your sex life. been a good boy for mommy recently?" 

"i was just-!" 

"and secondly," continues haechan, ignoring mark's splutters and protests, "you owe me." 

"i owe you?" 

"haechan's fucking obsessed with your tits…" he mocks in a clumsy voice, scowling at the memory. "you gave her an unfair advantage-" 

"i don't sound like that-" 

"so you owe me. now help me figure this out." before mark can think of some other way of protesting, haechan begins to ramble on and on about his feelings for you, and the dynamic in the relationship as of late. he analyses your reactions to him, the varied success in his attempts to get you riled up, your conversation together when you convinced him to drop the matter.

"but then, this morning i swear i'm just doing nothing-" he cuts himself off, feeling his breath hitch as the vivid memory hits him with full force. remembering how it sounded when you begged for him. the feeling of you moving on his thigh, of you guiding his hand to your core. 

everything he ever wanted, and he had no idea how he got it in the first place. 

mark is staring at him blankly. "this morning…?" he prompts. 

"nothing," haechan shakes his head quickly. "basically, she kind of jumped me, and i'm still trying to figure out why." 

"jumped you like in a bad way…or-" 

"in a really good way," haechan mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. not wanting to describe exactly how it felt for you to use his body like that, when he wasn't even trying. 

"okay, uh, cool." mark nods a few times, frowning slightly to himself. "you sure you were doing nothing?" 

"i was playing a game in my room." 

"could've been the gaming?" mark suggests, half-heartedly. 

"but i do that all the time," haechan sighed. "she doesn't do that with me every time." if only it were that easy, he would have you figured out in 3 seconds flat. 

"what were you wearing?" 

"just some shorts and a shirt." 

"could've been your thighs…?" mark tries. "she told me she loved your thighs." 

"could be…" distracted, haechan blinks. "wait. my thighs?" 

"yep," mark winces. "i won't quote exactly what she said, because i don't want to hear myself saying that to you, but just take my word for it." 

haechan thinks about it, hard. but then he shakes his head. "fuck, i think i did it wrong. i mean i tried legs and it didn't work, and i thought thighs were included in legs for obvious reasons, but-" 

"or maybe it just had nothing to do with you," mark shrugs, reaching for his drink to take a sip. "maybe she's just ovulating or something."

"she's just what?" haechan balks. 

"um…ovulating." mark freezes, immediately wishing he hadn't brought it up. to hell with haechan's sex life. "it affects the hormones and it might results in a higher sex drive for her or-" he cuts himself off when he notices that haechan is staring at him, stock-still in his seat. "um…it's part of her menstrual cycle…?" mark tries.

haechan looks at him blankly. 

"basically, it's like when her ovaries-" mark winces. "dude, i'm not about to explain your girlfriend's ovaries to you." 

"but i can't ask her," haechan finally speaks up. 

flustered, mark runs his hand through his hair a couple of times before deciding to just rip the band-aid off. haechan could be very persistent if he wanted to be, and he didn't want his phone blowing up with texts about this. 

"basically, in the days leading up to her…um…her period, her hormones levels are messed up because her body's preparingforababy," mark rushes through the sentence, hoping to god his girlfriend wasn't currently standing outside his room, listening to him poorly explain what a woman's menstrual cycle was. 

thankfully, haechan gets it on the first listen. "so she might be extra…" 

"yeah," mark cuts in, feeling his face burn. somehow, haechan seems to be taking in this information extremely calmly, as if he were sitting in a life sciences class. "um, so, can i go now?" 

"sure," haechan says, absentmindedly. "thanks mark-" but the call ends before he can finish the words. 

slowly shutting the screen of the laptop, haechan stares at the empty wall before him and just thinks. could it really be that your neediness this morning wasn't a result of his doing at all? he tries to think back to previous months, because if mark was correct, this wouldn't be the first time this has happened: but for some reason, he can't recall a thing. he's always too lost in the feeling of you to ever notice things like what day it was happening on or whether it mirrored your behavior from previous months. scheming and plotting was truly not his style. 

what exactly was he trying to do with this experiment? was he really trying to find a way to get to you just as you had to him? but he did have you just the way he wanted. this morning had proven that. 

so what if he couldn't figure out if it was his hands or his thighs? you had promised all of you to him. said you loved all of him just the same. 

so maybe it was time to make good on that promise. 

x

haechan has been on his phone the whole day. 

normally, you wouldn't really mind. he was so loving and attentive all of the time, that a little bit of absent-mindedness didn't bother you. it's just that today, you wish he were paying a bit more attention to you, especially because you can't seem to get him out of your mind - what with it being your peak day of ovulation.

the thing is, haechan was always somehow so attuned to you that he never left you feeling restless and needy. you rarely had to ask him for anything, because he would always deliver of his own accord — wanting you as much as you wanted him. it had been fun, in the weeks leading up to your second anniversary, seeing how riled up you could get him, and exactly how far he would go. even while he claimed to be doing the same to you, he was still the one to initiate everything, leaving you more than satiated afterwards, each time. and although his efforts had unsettled you, you'd eventually told him, hoping that it wasn't some underlying miscommunication or problem in your relationship causing the sudden eagerness to take you anywhere and everywhere. 

and ever since, nothing. chaste kisses on cheeks, arms around your waist while you cuddled. somehow, subtly, control had shifted back to him as you waited on his next move, waited for the next time he would approach you to try something. you suspected he didn't even know that he had control, skipping around the apartment, unaware that you were practically begging for him to make a move.

this morning, you couldn't take it anymore. your dreams the previous night punctuated by visuals of haechan eating you out, of him letting you ride his thighs, of him playing with your chest. the moment you heard him in the next room, raspy voice ordering his teammates around, and the moment you caught sight of him in his shorts, you had decided to indulge in your own needs, to hell with waiting for your boyfriend to take care of you. 

but almost an entire afternoon had passed since then, and you could feel the space between your legs getting wet again, your brain flitting back to the scenes from your dream. shuffling into your bedroom, you see haechan lounging on the bed, disappointment flickering at the back of your mind when you release he had put on some sweatpants instead. still on his phone, he barely looked up at you when you approached him. 

"haechan?" 

raising his head to look at you, he raises his eyebrows. you falter as you see his closed off expression. 

"yes?" he responds, softly. 

swallowing, you press on, sitting down opposite him. "can you…can you please…" you take a deep breath, fiddling with the edge of your shirt before you realize that yes, that was the perfect way to get him to notice you. removing your shirt quickly, you see him look up from his phone, his eyes flickering down to look at your bare chest, lingering slightly before moving back up to your face. 

"can i please…?" he repeats, face devoid of expression. 

you balk. haechan never acted like this with you. embarrassment, and a little bit of indignance, rises up in you, and you have to stop yourself from whining. "you know," you bite your lip, imploring him to understand. 

he sighs. "speak in full sentences, baby." going back to his phone, he clicks on a new tab. "i can't read your mind." 

"i need you," you blurt out, feeling delight rush through your body as he looks up at you. finally. 

but he makes no effort to move. "why?"

confused, you make an impatient sound. "what do you mean, why?" 

"why are you suddenly so needy?" he asks, voice steady and calm. his eyes stare at you, gaze unwavering. "was it something i did? or did something happen to you?" 

"i don't know what you mean…" you hesitate, but your answer doesn't mean anything because he's not really listening. setting his phone down, he pushes you onto your back with a slight roughness, crawling over to you.

"thought i was doing it for you, baby-" he confesses, quietly. "trying to figure out if you liked my fingers, or my thighs…seeing if you liked it when i use you…" towering over you, he takes in the tension in your body, your shaky breaths as his fingers trail up your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

"but i was wrong," he muses. you hang onto his every word, mind attuned to the syllables falling from his lips, body sparking at his slightest touch. 

"haechan…"

"was doing it for me," he breathes. "i wanted to see you this fucked out before i even touch you." his hand caresses your upper thigh, tutting lowly under his breath. "messy baby, dripping all over the sheets…" 

unable to take it anymore, you try to sit up and move towards him, pushing your body up on your elbows, but haechan's hand whips out and he shoves you back down onto your back with a firm palm.

"don't move." he soothes, but there's a warning in his tone. slowly, he eases your legs apart to settle down in between them, and you whimper slightly from how he manages to make you feel so exposed.

"when was the last time you'd been good for me, hm?" his thumb traces soft circles on your soft skin. "i give you a little bit of power and it goes to your head…doesn't it, pretty?" his face leans closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he speaks. 

"it doesn't-" your voice trembles, as his palms press down firmly on your thighs, spreading you open wider. 

"have me touching your tits, stroking you all the time," he breathes. "does it feel that good?" 

"i-"

"thought you were letting me use you, but all this time you were using me," he ignores you. "all i wanted was for you to sit on my lap and beg for me…" suddenly, his hand moves, and you feel a sharp sting as he flicks at your clit with his thumb and forefinger over your panties. a loud whimper leaves your mouth as you feel your thighs jerk, and embarrassingly more of your arousal seeps out onto the sheets. your hand reaches out, trying to hold on to his wrist so he stops teasing you, but gently, and almost lazily, his other hand manages to grasp both your wrists in his hand. 

"but no matter what i tried…" he continues, and you can tell he's saying it for himself more than you. his hand moving as if on instinct, his fingers beginning to stroke your folds over the fabric, paying no attention to the way you trembled and squirmed at his touch. "you would still sit there on the couch, waiting for me to come take you…" 

"i'm sorry-" you sob, your throat closing up.

"you're so spoiled." and for the first time this evening, he kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips. you tilt your head, trying to catch his lips with yours, mouth open and ready, but already he's pulling away, smiling to himself. "spoiled." he repeats.

"haechan please-" you try to free your hands so you can do something — touch him, or even touch yourself. "i need-" 

"you need me to fuck you?" he tilts his head, the harshness of his words contrasting with the gentle, and almost mocking way he says it. "is that what you want to say?" 

shame burns low in your stomach, and you nod imperceptibly. mirroring you, haechan nods too, his eyebrows raised.

"say it," he insists. "say you need me to fuck you."

"i…" 

at your hesitation, he backs away slowly, the warmth of his body leaving yours as he starts to slacken his hold on your wrists. immediately, your hands shoot free and you pull at the hem of his shirt pathetically, trying to keep him close to you.

"i need you to fuck me," you whine, trying to hold your gaze with him even as his eyes go dark. "please, don't go-" 

"how long were you going to make me wait?" he seethes, flicking at your clit again, fingers roughly pulling at your panties and making them snap against your skin. 

you can't think of anything to say. you whine his name, and he scoffs at how wrecked you sound. 

"why didn't you tell me your body wanted a baby, hm?" 

you freeze. what? "you m-mean…" you stutter, as haechan begins to tug your panties down your legs. 

"needy baby fucks herself on my thigh because she wants a baby in her, is that right?" his voice thick. 

"yes," you hear yourself say. there was no point in denying it, you needed him so badly. and the idea of him putting a baby in you, of fucking you so full of him until you were swollen and full… 

"then prove it." sitting back up against the headboard, you follow him eagerly, no longer caring about how you acted around him, your skin burning hot from the way he was speaking to you. he let you strip him of his sweatpants, your mouth going dry at how hard he was. maybe you could suck him off first, and in return he could finger you-

a rough hand shoots out to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "focus," he demands. "i want you to ride me." 

hurriedly, you start to straddle him, lining his cock up to your entrance before you hesitate. he hadn't really prepped you yet, and although you wanted it so badly…

you cry out as he shoves two fingers into you, sighing at the way you fall forward into his chest at the feeling. curling his fingers in you, finding your soft spot effortlessly, he murmurs close to your ear. "tell me if i'm being too rough, okay?" if possible, his words make you even more needy, and you nod, hips chasing his hand. "don't wanna hurt you," he mumbles, before stilling his fingers and pushing you back. 

"why am i doing the work here?" he muses, condescendingly. "i thought you wanted this." 

nodding vigorously, you begin to grind on his fingers, whimpering when your clit bumps the heel of his hand. a hand on his chest to steady yourself, you move the other downward and try to shove a third finger into you, wiggling your hips as he relents and starts curling three of his fingers against your walls. 

"cumming," you gasp, feeling something tighten in your core. his thumb comes up to stroke your clit, and you're about to tumble over the edge, when suddenly he yanks his hand away, leaving you throbbing and empty. a sob rips out from your chest, the built up pressure of having him act differently around you, of needing him for the whole day, washing over you like a tidal wave. 

"crybaby," he coos, wiping your tears away with the hand still slick with your arousal. 

"please," you choke out. "cum, i wanna…let me…" pawing at his chest, you try to lift his hand back up and guide it in between your legs, but he grabs onto your wrist instead, forcing you to stay still.

"just want you to cum on my cock, that's all," he soothes. "don't you want me to fill you up?" 

gulping, your breathing slows as the words seem to calm you. "yes," you mumble. 

"good girl." grabbing your hips, he eases you down onto his cock, groaning as your walls spasm around him, your entrance fluttering uncontrollably. "fuck," he muses. "did you just cum?" 

feeling humiliated, you nod reluctantly. "was sensitive…" you mumble. he laughs, stroking your cheek as you take all of him. he gives you time to recover, stroking your back tenderly as you get used to the feeling of him in you. 

"ready?" he urges, thrusting his hips gently. 

you nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as you begin to bounce in his lap, your thighs still shaking from your previous climax but the feeling of him too good to ignore. trying to pick up the pace, you stare at where your bodies are connected, the wet sounds of you sliding on him embarrassingly loud in the room. you only realise you've been letting out a steady series of moans when he brings a hand up to squeeze your throat. 

"tired?" he pouts at you. you nod, begging him with your eyes to take over. "thought you said you wanted my baby," he mocks. your hips continue to circle even as you lose the strength to lift yourself up and down. feeling his tip brush against a spot inside you, you wail as you feel yourself clench hard around his thick length. 

"please help me," you gasp. "wanna feel you cum inside me, want you to fill me up-" and haechan, tired of waiting, finally gives in. 

he pushes you back onto the bed again, his arms pushing your legs up so they brush his shoulders, hips tilted towards him as he rams himself back into you. letting out a low moan, he begins to thrust hard into you, snapping his hips such that the blunt head of his cock repeatedly brushes your g-spot. 

"you gonna cum?" he mocks, sarcastically. "or do i have to do that for you too?" 

your hands find your clit, rubbing circles on it frantically as it immediately brings you to your high.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock, your warm and tight walls milking him, pushes him closer and closer to his own climax. 

"where should i come?" he breathes unsteadily. 

you don't respond, still too lost in your own pleasure. a hand comes down to pinch at your nipple, and you whine incoherently. 

"where should i come?" he demands again. 

he can see you struggle to piece together the words in your head. he hadn't asked you this in a long time — ever since your first anniversary, when you went on birth control and he celebrated by finishing inside you, the feeling of you raw making him come undone faster than he would have liked. 

"w-where?" you make a sound of confusion. 

"should i come on your tits," he pinches your nipple again, 

"on your face," a light slap across your cheek,

"or inside?" 

"inside," you moan, beginning to thrust your hips upwards to meet his movements, desperate for him to finish. 

"good girl," he breathes, and with a final stroke he's cumming, pushing deep inside you as you feel his warmth fill you up inside, seeping out where your bodies connected. 

the two of you stay like that for a while, him stroking your hair and peppering kisses on your face. you holding on to him for comfort, whimpering whenever he made an attempt to leave, burying your face in his chest. it's after you've mostly recovered when you finally let him go get something to clean you up with, and after you drank the glass of water he insisted you have, when you finally get a hold on what just happened. and a question comes flitting into your mind. 

"haechan?" 

"yes, baby?"  you open your eyes, and squint at the angelic expression on his face. "tell me…mark didn't have anything to do with this, did he?"

tags: @91qowngus, @joonpantheress, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @krazy-kpoppy, @9900z, @kosmoreads, @matchahyuck, @donghyeok-okie, @bbh-kji, @isearchedtheyooniverse, @bettyschwallocksyee, @babyjenono, @prdshobi

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 7

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 7 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

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In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Rosie had arranged for Hal to escort you across town for the event.  

“You'd be an easy target, all gussied up and fancy looking,” she'd explained.  “And Alastor is nothing if not a gentleman.  He'll see ya’ home safe.”

So Hal had put on a bow tie and his least blood stained trousers and the two of you had set off towards the Hazbin Hotel.  It took longer than expected thanks to your heels making the pitted sidewalks an absolute terror to negotiate, but a good number of people were still entering the hotel by the time you arrived.  

“Ya’ got knives on ya?’” Hal grumbled.  

“I've got two in my purse, one strapped to my leg, and Ms. Rosie leant me her sharpest hat pin,” you say, reaching up to fiddle with the accessory in question.  

“Attagirl,” Hal says, squeezing the arm laced through his in approval as you passed through the gates and meandered along the cobblestone driveway.  Hal prattled on as you drew closer to the entrance, seemingly overflowing with paternal advice, but it was hard to focus on his words over the thundering of your heartbeat in your chest.

“- and a kick to the pussy hurts just as much as a kick to the dick.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmured distractedly, reaching into your beaded pearl clutch to pull out the invitation with shaking hands.  

You handed it to the doorman, some sort of egg-like creature with a large chunk of shell missing from the top of its head, providing a clear view of a pulsating yolk where its brain should be.  The egg man called out your name to the uncracked egg beside him, who scribbled on a clipboard wildly before shooting you a dopey smile and thumbs up.

“Don't stay out too late,” Hal said gruffly, patting your hand reassuringly as he released your arm.  “You're opening tomorrow.”

Alone for the first time since the sun came up, you decided to linger in the lobby of the hotel for a bit before following the garishly flashing signs directing visitors to the rear garden.  

With as deep a breath as your girdle would allow, you grasped the back of a wing back chair and gave yourself permission to panic, hoping that briefly indulging your baser instincts would clear your mind enough to stay focused on the task of surviving an entire afternoon on the Radio Demon's arm.  

A few minutes and an uncountable amount of breaths later, you felt the knot in your chest loosen and heartbeat slow to an acceptable rate; still fast, but as good as your were likely to get walking into an event that would likely draw out some of the most powerful demons the Pride Ring had to offer.  

“Whatcha doin’ in here, toots?”

Adrenaline crashes through your veins, undoing all of progress you'd made in centering yourself as you spin to face the man addressing you.  You recognized him, of course.  Not because you'd personally watched any of his many works, but because of the plethora of billboards bearing his face and other, more delicate parts, that loomed tall over every corner of the city.  

“The garden party is, y'know, in the garden,” Angel Dust said, tone acerbic as he rested a full watering can on a jutting hip.  “So what're sneaking around her for?”

“I'm not sneaking,” you rush to defend yourself, fiddling with the cuff of your sleeve nervously.  “I'm just… lurking.”

“Ain't too sure there's much of a difference between the two.”

“Sneaking implies some sort of underlying mischief.  I assure you that I'm simply waiting here.”

“Oh?  And what're you waiting for?” Angel Dust asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he crossed one set of arms across his chest.

“An excuse to leave,” you say dryly, casting a wary glance out the open double doors leading out to the patio.  Something about your response seemed to set Angel Dust at ease, because the next time you looked at him he was smirking down at you, suddenly more amused than distrustful. 

“You and me both, girlie,” he snorted, unfolding his multitude of hands to smooth down nonexistent creases in his floral halter top and leather hot pants.  “I can't stand all this hoity-toity bullshit.  It's exhausting playing nice with folks who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.”

“I think I'd rather burn anyway,” you said, wrinkling your nose distastefully at the thought.

“No promises, but I'll keep your preferences in mind,” Angel Dust snorted, beckoning you down the hallway with a wave of his willowy arm.  “Why don't you come outside with me?  I'll show you the best parts of the garden- all the ones I planted, of course.”

The gardens at the Hazbin Hotel could be generously described as eclectic; an absolutely miss-matched and uncoordinated array of plants that honestly had no business being in the same hemisphere as each other, let alone the same garden bed. 

“Charlie had the grand idea of givin’ everyone their own chunka’ land to cultivate,” Angel explained, pointing at various sections of the garden.  “Husky put in the lemon tree so he can have fruit to stock the bar with and all the goddamn mint that won't stay where it fucking belongs!”

A surly looking catman casually flipped off Angel as you passed by, likely the one responsible for unleashing the minty scourge if Angel Dust's playful sneer was anything to go by.  

“Satan below, I love that man,” Angel sighed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a passing waiter's tray before continuing down the rough cobblestone path. “Anyway , all these pretty blossoms belong to moi-”

You nodded in sincere appreciation.  “They're absolutely gorgeous.”

“Course they are!  They take after their daddy,” Angel Dust cooed, blowing kisses at a cluster of puffy white chrysanthemums.  

“I didn't know Earth flowers could even grow down here,” you murmured quietly, struck nearly breathless by the beauty of the blossoms.

“They can't.  Not naturally, anyway,” Angel explained, flicking an aphid off the petal of a perfectly symmetrical dahlia.  “But having Lucifer constantly hangin’ around definitely comes with some perks.”

“I didn't think I'd ever get to see them again,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to banish the tears welling in your eyes, frustrated at how they made your vision blur when you wanted to remember everything with sharp, crystal clarity. 

“It's like seein’ an old friend again, innit?” Angel smiled knowingly, having gone through a similar experience when the scraggly stalks he'd obsessively tended had sent out their first, tentative buds.  “Now, c'mon.  You gotta see the rest of this place.  Shit starts gettin’ fuckin’ bizarre.”

‘Fucking bizarre’ didn't even scratch the surface of describing the rest of the garden tour.  Your next stop was Princess Charlotte’s sad plot of withered and wilted plants. 

“She bought every half-dead plant at the nursery.  Thought she could rehabilitate ‘em,” Angel had explained with a long suffering sigh. “I don't wanna talk about the symbolic implications of that, if ya’ don't mind.”

The next section was a barren stretch of land without a single plant.  Rising from the ground instead were hundreds of insects skewered on sharpened sticks; everything from tiny house flies on toothpicks to large horned beetles impaled on whittled down twigs. 

“Niffty,” Angel Dust had offered up with a helpless shrug, as though the single name provided any sort of reasonable explanation for the eerie tableau.  Deciding that you didn't actually want Angel Dust to expound on the situation, you simply nodded and continued on your way down the row.  

The air quickly soured as you left Niffty's sacrificial plot, the ground on either side of the path softening with every step; eventually shifting into a churning, fetid swamp.  The understated appeal of the shoulder high cattails and thick swaths of pillowy moss were lost on you, distracted as you were, by the thick cloud of gnats that swarmed the area. 

“Whose area is this?” You grumbled peevishly, swatting at the bugs flittering around your face. 

“Why, this area is my handiwork,” Alastor's familiar voice called out from behind you.  Both you and Angel Dust visibly stiffened at his sudden appearance, turning in unison to face the Overlord.  

“Alastor,” Angel Dust greeted flatly.  “What're you doin’ all the way out here?  Don't you have some rich schmuck to schmooze?”

“Always,” Alastor sighed dramatically.  “No rest for the wicked and all that.”

“You must never fuckin’ sleep then,” Angel groused, folding his many arms in front of himself defensively.  

Alastor ignored his barb and instead extended a hand out towards you, wiggling his fingers expectantly.  

“Come along now, dear.  I'm not sure how you managed to slip by me, but you've deprived me of your company long enough.”

“Wait a minute,” Angel bellowed incredulously, eyes impossibly wide as he watched you place your hand tentatively into Alastor's; his spindly fingers clamping around yours like a vice as he guided you closer to his side.  “You're Alastor's guest?”

“She's a fair bit more than that,” Alastor grinned, undeniably smug as he guided your small hand into the crook of his arm; turning his head to give you an unmistakable, pointed look.

The performance has begun.

Tag List:

For the first time ever I have been requested to create a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added!

@wendds @matpatsstuff @qardasngan

[ladysomething]

rushed back home. pretty sure I broke like 7 different basic driving rules from the driver manual in my country that even kids are aware of. also my best friend says he's never letting me drive ever again. he also says you're kinda a mastermind. I may not have a driver license for tomorrow, or a car to drive, but I do have new hatred and also a new level of crush (ness? English-is-not-my-first-language moment) for Max Verstappen. and my brother as well. he also pleged alliance and eternal honor to you, Madds.

5+1!!!!

1. honestly Charles, I get you. cramps are how some criminals should be punished. make them suffer for their wrongs. make them regret ever living. make them feel pain for comitting their crime. (says the lawyer. at this rate, for tomorrow I will loose not one but TWO licenses. who cares)

2. as stated beforehand, the Max crush that you've been cooking in me with this fic is absolutely massive. gigantic. astronomical. and let me tell you something. Max taking care of Charles during his pre-heat melted me. my ex boyfriends should learn from him, because that's the bare minimum and yet they didn't do shit. and Charles here has this lovely dumb idiot (affectionate) while he hates him. honestly goals. where do I buy one.

3. I kinda understand why Max distanced himself from Charles. sorta. actually barely. but the guilt trip that my man has to be going through has to be though. what reminds me

4. FUCK MATTHEW AND FUCK LANDO AND FUCK THE DOCTOR WHOSE NAME IS NOT WORTH OF ME TO REMEMBER. oh and FUCK FERRARI AND FUCK MCLAREN AND FUCK EVERYONE. GO TO HELL PIECES OF SHIT. yeah, that's it I think. my poor baby Charlie (IBEIDNDOSNDLSBDOWHEODIAJS I went batshit with that. just so you know. worried Max might be my favorite Max. maybe slightly behind horny, protective and obedient Max) did NOT deserve that and everyone should rot in the darkest pit of hell for that. no less. cramps for you all.

5. we love Jean-Luc in this house. that was the resolution the three of us got to. my man deserves a cold pillow on both sides, a cup of tea and the chance to see his family anytime and to be happy forever. please don't make me hate him, I love him too much.

+1. if you've told me at the beginning of the year that I would be eating dinner with both my brother and my roomie while we were reading a quite explicit Lestappen omega verse fi in TV, no less, I would've not only not believed you. but died of shame or something like that. my yearly choice of a dead dove do not eat fic (I've been learning about tags!!!) has united this household. who would have thought that.

+2. Max is down BAD. but you know what, so is Charles. they really are exactly like the other. when Charles said that he was feeling lonely all I could think of is how Max said the exact same. and the hospital part had me kicking my feet, jumping around excitedly. then I alarmedly had to go all the way up to see in which chapter we were. and after, I just felt scared. chapter 16 is my worst nightmare it seems. how funny.

+3. hun, how has been your hand? I hope you're feeling better 🩷 as much as I love weekly uptades I can't help but feel worried that you might push your hand a lot. the chapter was absolutely lovely but remember to rest please 🙏🏼 speaking on my behalf and the other two readers' (and I hope everyone else's) we don't want you to be hurt, regardless of the fic.

thank you for the early uptade, even if now I'm a reckless driver to my country's police. at least I didn't read it while I was working. I don't know how I could've managed that.

I will take eternal allegiance wherever I can get it. I am making men kneel before me, one at a time, and so I'm glad to add two more to my collection.

cramps as a form of punishment .... you get it.

no because that whole heat sequence with Max .. melted me. he's so written by a woman coded in this fic (which you'd hope. considering he is. lmao)

he's hurt!!! he's sad!!! Max is going through a phase right now ok

the doctors name is Leo, and funnily enough Charles got Leo the same week that chapter came out and I was like ... Charles reads wygig confirmed

THIS IS A JEAN-LUC STAN ACCOUNT and honestly????? I love that you all love him. maybe he should get his own fic one day. who knows.

+1. the war being over because you've bonded over the lestappen war .... there's something so cosmic about that.

+2. everyone being on the edge of their seats for 16 ... god I'm good.

+3. thank you for the well wishes! it's wayyyyy better now, thank god.

p.s. I think maybe your brother and your roommate would riot if you read it at work without them sooooo

[milomaybe]

Pits

You’ve had a bad day, so you go to the only place you feel completely comfortable being an ass. Could be a oneshot could be a story, who knows at this point. Angst. Reader has no gender. Highschool au, human au, reader is not called y/n

I need inspiration to keep writing this and improving my writing skills. I have no idea how long I'll keep this going or if I'll even post this fic again but here.

To say you were pissed would be an understatement. Your hair was charred at the ends from a failed chemistry lab, your favorite jacket was soaked in rain water. At least the water helped with the burn somewhere your mind tried to reason. It was minor but still hurt like a little bitch another part said whilst wishing you’d snapped at the careless classmate who did it. Instead of walking home to your house you made the short trip from the bus stop to Monty’s place, not even bothering to stop by yours to let your parents know where you were headed. Well, they probably knew where you were anyways.

You opened the door and let it slam closed.

“I’m home!” In response you heard a loud grumble from the kitchen. Instead of heading to greet your friend you immediately went down to the basement and began setting everything down. Carelessly you changed into some of his clothes and went looking for the stray bag of chips you knew he kept down here despite his housemates' protests. He stomped out of the bathroom and stared at you for a second. It must’ve been one of his housemates in the kitchen. You simply rolled your eyes at the blush creeping onto his cheeks as you kept searching for the chips.

“Do I even get to ask?” You only made a noise of discontentment when you realized the chips were gone and you found the empty bag instead. “What’s there to say?” you sat on the couch with a huff. It was clear as day he was finding some form of entertainment in your disdain and instead of comforting you he sat as well and started flicking through channels. He knew you’d blow up eventually, just like him you were a ticking time bomb of rage. All it took was him to glance at you with a raised eyebrow for you to cave and start shouting.

“Okay what the actual fuck man?!!?”

“Excuse me?”

“DUDE! You can clearly tell I’m pissed off and you aren’t saying shit!” To which he laughed and that only made you wanna explode even more.

“You know I love it when you’re pissed,” Your face was red with anger at this point but he continued, “The hell am I supposed to do. I’m shit with feelings and you know it!” Fists balling up with raise you went and punched him hard in the shoulder he laughed even harder. “Look mate, we aren’t gonna get anywhere by talking.”

He began to stand up and wander over to where his golf clubs were stashed. He grabbed a pretty hefty one and handed it to you before setting up his mattress on the wall. “Go nuts, just don’t hit the walls” He turned off the tv turned up the radio and you fucking beat the shit out of that mattress. You went at it for at least a good thirty minutes before finally stopping.

“Better?”

You grunted in response. You dropped the club and sat back on the couch, only to lay your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and turned off the music. The silence filled the air as you watched the storm from out the window. You could feel him staring at you. "Get caught in the rain again?" "...yeah."

You hate how many times this has happened before. How many times you've had to come here so you didn't blow up on some innocent bystander. guilt gnawed at your stomach, and your rage had completely fizzled out leaving you in a… melancholy mood.

You tried to find a spark of emotion to express because that's what you and him do around each other, express everything… but it's gone. You're just… tired and hungry.

The hungry part was normal, eating food was always a battle of whether to let you enjoy the satisfaction or to try to make yourself feel better 'for longer' by not eating. The chips were the only thing that sounded good today and they were gone. A bird passed by and ate a worm, you frowned.

"Hey…"

For once he was trying to be gentle. He moved slowly closer to you, well as close as he could. He knocked his knee against yours successfully pulling you from your mind.

"Hm?"

"Let's go get food."

"I'm not hungry."

He just kinda sighed and closed his eyes for a moment,"you were looking for chips earlier, you probably haven't eaten all day." He wasn't lying and you just scooched further from him on the couch, in his mind it proved the point, "... Please?"

As if on cue one of his housemates called from upstairs, "MONTY! COME GET FOOD!"

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you want to willingly come or do I have to drag you?”

You sorta half rolled your eyes and watched him stand up. His eyes were open and held mischief and destruction, you realized he was being completely serious and would 100 percent carry me upstairs and make sure I your head would get knocked against the doorway thus not wanting a concussion you stand but very grumpily.

You both make your way up the stairs except you kind of freeze when you reach the top. Freddy, one of the popular kids from school, stood in front of you. Unfortunately he got caught in the cross fires when people were trying to put you out. You only had a few classes with him but you knew him well enough from that experience. He smiled awkwardly and looked at monty. “Are you two gonna eat?”

“I’m not-” “Yes.”

Freddy raised a curious brow at Monty but he didn’t question it. All of you made your way to the dinner table and you all sat together. It was awkward to say the least.

You didn’t talk much, trusting Monty to keep the conversation going while you picked at your food. In all honesty you wanted to back bydownstairs, to hide away in the little angry safe space that you two have created for each other. Eventually dinner and dishes were done and Monty dragged you back downstairs. You were afraid you’d disappointed him.

“Hey- fuck- I’m-” He got mad at the words and kicked the couch in frustration before turning back to you- “You’re really feeling like shit huh?”

You couldn’t look at him. Afraid he’d be angry or harsh about your feelings. Everyone was always rude or harsh about your feelings.

“I’m just feeling… sensitive” You heard him choke back a laugh. “What kind of uh… sensitive?” “just… hurt?” You could hear him sigh, he sat on the couch and you made a move to leave.

“I’ve gotta go home before my parents kill me. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and then you left. You didn’t bother to grab your bag or clothes, even after you got home you didn’t put burn cream on your neck or back. You just laid in bed and dealt with the pain. Your parents didn’t come home that night. Only showing up while you were getting ready for school.

Once more, you felt the familiar feeling of anger bubbling up. You were angry… again.

[dhampiravidi]

here's my favorite HCs for Jason Todd

6'2" = 1.8796 m (apparently). in other words, he IS just the teeniest bit TALLER than Bruce Wayne, his dad. & it's even better when they're both in costume, because his boots add a teeny bit MORE (ofc it's offset by Bruce's Batman boots, but stfu). he's a big boy who Alfred insists is "still growing" & therefore he deserves lots of food. specifically, bread, which he's always had a fondness for. that, hot dogs & spicy noodles (pad thai, Nona's* spaghetti, Alfred's secret recipe chicken noodle soup)!!

he's half Latino & half Italian. yes, I know that "Todd" & "Haywood" are names of English origin. I am aware. & I don't care. he speaks Spanish as a second language & Italian as a speaking-only third (since some of the families in the neighborhood know some Italian). yeah, he was born with auburn (reddish-brown) hair, but he dyes it black. no one knows why & no one asks. and ofc there's the white streak, which almost magically pops back up every time he tries to dye it.

his eyes were more blue, maybe a glassy hazel when he was Robin. after the Pit, dark green leaked into his irises, even more so when he gets incredibly angry/upset.

his butt is toned, duh, but his thighs and pecs are the stuff of legend. he just naturally has a broader chest and thicc thighs (that can crush watermelons--and they will, if you're close with him and you ask nicely, promising a gift of cookies or cuddles in return). he's actually kind of self-conscious about his thighs, because they're so big.

he's always had a soft spot for innocent creatures, to the point where he's unfazed that they're attracted to his presence. strays try to follow him home when he patrols, to the point where he keeps a bag of cat food in each of his hideouts. one, out of the many reasons why he has a motorcycle is to outrun the strays. when he visits Selina, he plans to stay for at least two hours because they're all gonna lie on him, and who is he to move?? also, babies calm down as soon as he makes noise (speaking normally, singing a lullaby, goo-go-gah lingo, etc.).

he's pansexual, but demisexual and demiromantic. I mean, the guy had a rough childhood home, he was ratted out by his biological mom, and he still has issues with most of his family. ironically, he tends to put his heart into everything he sees as worth doing, even when that comes to people he doesn't know. that's why he takes being a vigilante so seriously. he wants other Gothamites to have a better city than he had growing up, even if it'll never be free of crime.

you bet your ass he likes the classics, namely The Prince, Hamlet, some Jane Austen, and The Catcher in the Rye. do not ask him if he has read Moby Dick or Ulysses. he has (at least, partially) and he hates them both.

he respects women, and with the exception of Alfred, he tends to prefer them to men when it comes to working and doing platonic activities. is being a BIG Wonder Woman fan related to this? no. but he is one.

he saw Barbie. he read about Oppenheimer before the movie came out, and he wasn't amused.

Jason can't do horror movies, especially ones like Saw, or anything that has to do with psychological scares or torturing characters. considering how he died, plus the times he's been hit with fear gas...yeah, he'd much rather watch some action-suspense, a good book adaptation (he gets so fucking unhinged when they don't follow the books), or a witty historical romance.

he actually respects all of his siblings for the most part, and he'll help them with whatever if it's serious. he just feels uncomfortable regularly associating with them because they still have some kind of allegiance to Bruce, who he refuses to treat as a superior/leader of his. he and Bruce do talk one-on-one when Alfred guilts him into coming home for a meal, or when the world's almost ended (for the 59,211,948th time) and they want to say "I'm glad you're not dead" without really saying it. he loves Bruce but he doesn't fully trust him with his heart, if that makes sense.

he mentally separates the Gotham Rogues into those he'll let off with a warning, and those who are scum. the first kind only gets confronted and fought if they're actually hurting people (physically or socioemotionally).

yes, he still uses guns and knives.

[spinningbuster98]

Rondo of Blood is often considered the best Classic game in the series, heck sometimes even the best game period

Thanks to its graphics, its music, its levels that contain secret passages that lead to alternate levels, Maria etc

....but personally it's always been my least favorite of the 16-bit games

Oh it's a good game alright, but once you look past its alternate level exits I find the level design to be a bit...vanilla?

It's not as intensely hard as Castlevania III's, not atmospheric and gloomy as IV's and not nearly as creative with its gimmicks as Bloodlines'

For the most part levels are pretty simple, hell alternate level 4 is literally a straight line if you don't go for the alternate path, and even then it's only slightly better

Accessing some of these paths is also not always the best experience: accessing the alternate exit in alternate stage 2 is easy with Maria's double jump but with Richter you need to fall into a specific pit in a specific way in order to land on an off-screen platform and not drown in water, so it's basically a borderline leap of faith

But honestly my biggest gripe with this game is the way invincibility frames work: unlike other games, where they give you a couple of seconds of invincibility after getting hit, in Rondo as soon as the knockback animation is done you're already vulnerable again, meaning you get almost no post-hit invincibility

Not only is this annoying, it makes some moments and especially bosses borderline bullshit in a very irritating way: this game has plenty of bosses that have attacks which split into multiple smaller pieces that are next to impossible to reliably dodge, and given the relative lack of invincibility you'll find yourself getting hit multiple times and watching your health bar drop a ton in just a second. Rondo actually has my least favorite bosses among the classic games barring C1, C2 and the Adventure because of this. The fight against Death is a good example: I love the sense of personality of the second phase, but the classic homing scythes of the first phase are worse than usual because they can effectively hit me multiple case, which was never the case before. Other times the game will spam tiny enemies that knock you right into other enemies, which effectively means you'll get hot multiple times in a row while getting juggled around like a rag doll. I know these games are supposed to be hard but my problem is not that Rondo is hard, it's actually easier than the NES games, it's that nerfing one of the most basic fundemental aspects of these kinds of games makes the experience more aggravating than challenging. Sotn will do the same shit, most likely because it's a sequel, and it's stupid there too but at least that game is overall much easier and features healing items and other rpg mechanics which help alleviate the issue

On another note you gotta love Dracula von Zieks over there: I love RoB's anime style but that's not Dracula, that's an anime sexy man cosplaying as Dracula while having messy hair after getting drunk at a bar

[pebblebbles]

Hello I wrote a thing :O dunno what inspired me to do this but uhhhhh

Here you go! Enjoy?

Sussy Baka: Pebbles's Mount Rokkon Adventure (Part 1)

"…from Kugane?"

Pebbles frowned at Shallow Moor as every mote of her excitement disappeared off into the aethereal sea. Of all the places she could possibly be called to, it HAD to be Kugane. Shallow Moor's first mission to explore the depths of Ul'dah with Nanamo had set the standard for what Pebbles expected of these sorts of things, which made it all the more disappointing that she would have to go to one of her least favorite places on the entire star for her second. Just the exorbitant cost of aetheryte travel was enough to make her head spin, let alone all her other gripes about the place.

Shallow Moor seemed unaffected by Pebbles's lack of excitement.

"Well? Care to give it a read?" she asked, leaning over to wave the letter in Pebbles's face.

Pebbles sighed and snatched it from her hand.

"Dear Pebbles,"

"In the selfsame spirit of friendship which has defined our every interaction to date, it is my pleasure to extend to you a humble invitation."

Oh boy.

"‘Tis because of your endearing efforts to save this star that we may benefit from this rarest of opportunities, for it was in service to your noble quest to build the good ship Ragnarak that I was able to forge a fruitful bond between myself and another of Hingashi’s Elites."

"This lord has seen fit to grant me – and a guest of my choosing – leave to go where few ijin have tread: beyond the bounds of Kugane, to the sacred slopes of Mount Rokkon itself."

"I cannot overstate the significance of this gesture, nor the allure of sights heretofore unseen by Western eyes. Nor is it an exaggeration to say that no one is more deserving of this boon than your magnanimous self."

"I eagerly await our reunion at the gates of Bokairo Inn."

"Ever your faithful servant,

- Hancock Fitzgerald"

Pebbles's eyes hurt from rolling them so much.

"Laid it on a bit thick, did he?" said Shallow Moor with an amused grin.

"I don't know what I expected, honestly," Pebbles groaned. "But seriously, OF ALL PEOPLE it has to be HIM??"

Shallow Moor seemed more fixated on the letter's contents. "Well, I'd expect no less of a consummate merchant. Not too proud to debase himself when sufficient profits at stake."

Sure.

"Still, there may be a crumb of sincerity beneath that slathering of honeyed words. And if not, you still benefit from playing along, right?"

"I guess…"

Pebbles stared down at the letter again. Even though the prospect of working with one of Lord Lolorito's lackeys made her heart drop to the pit of her stomach, she couldn't help but be a little bit intrigued about this holy mountain. And it's not like she had anything better to do anyway.

"So you'll be heading to Kugane then?"

Pebbles shrugged. "Got nothing better to do I guess."

Shallow Moor clapped her hands together joyfully in response. "Perfect! I'll send word that you're on your way then."

"Fantastic." Pebbles faked a smile and turned to leave Scholars' Harbor, her scaled tail curling back and forth in frustration.

Shallow Moor waved after Pebbles excitedly. "Fair fortune and safe travels, Pebbles! You'd best come back with plenty of stories to tell, you hear?"

Pebbles spent none of her strength to lift her hand in response. Sooner rather than later, believe me.

[detroit-grand-prix]

Wildest Dreams Chapter 25 - Holy Ground, Part 1

Chapter summary: Bee has been pushing all season towards one goal - doing well at her first-ever home Grand Prix in Austin, Texas, but she feels the pressure building, and a lot of things are changing.

Content warning: N/A

Chapter word count: 6,009

Author's Notes: This is the beginning of the end of the main story arc. This chapter had to be split into two parts because it was so long. I started planning this story in May and finished it in August, and I had a ton of fun writing it out. I'd grown attached to it to the point where I am still writing little one-off chapters and side stories for it. Anyway, not too many notes this chapter, other than the elements from Bee's custom helmet. The Spirit of Detroit statue, which is one of my favorite landmarks in Detroit. The We Can Do It! poster, which you will definitely be familiar with if you're from the US. Maybe even if you're not, it's a pretty iconic image by now. I also referenced it in one of the Monza chapters, in one of the fake tweets. Super Bee logo - The Super Bee was a muscle car produced by Dodge for a few years in the 60's and 70's, and then they brought the model name back for a trim package for the Dodge Charger in the late 2000's. I think the emblem is cute, but I don't know if Bee would have to get permission to use the emblem on her helmet or not, but this is fanfiction, so I can do what I want (within reason).

Grove, Oxfordshire, England, United Kingdom Mid-September 2021

The season was just over halfway through, and Bee was starting to feel the pressure of meeting her goal of getting on the podium. She’d been so close. God, so close. She finished as high as fifth. It was in Monza, of course, which she thought was her best chance, and it would have worked, and it would have been second if she hadn’t screwed up timing on the safety car after the crash that took Lewis and Max out of the race. She and George tried to double-stack to change tires, but she was a few seconds too late to come out into the pits in second and couldn’t manage to make up the places she’d lost. 

The worst part was it wasn’t her crew’s fault - she was concentrating so hard on making a good exit that she somehow missed the green light from the pit. She’d never seen anyone do that, let alone her. She felt awful.

She felt like she’d blown the opportunity with the two main podium contenders out. The frustration rattled her harder than she expected it to.

At least George had managed to secure a podium before that, in Belgium. There was barely a race run, but George put on a spectacular qualifying in the rain, qualifying in P2. They ended up only racing for two full laps, and the top 10 finishers were only awarded half points, but it was Williams’ first podium since 2012. On the bright side, Williams was an astounding sixth in the constructor’s championship now. It was their highest placement in years, and meant hundreds of millions in prize money for the team. The year before Bee joined, they weren’t even able to score a single point, now they were absolutely a midfield team.

It was a bittersweet occasion, though, because three days before, George had signed with Mercedes for the 2022 season. It was announced a week later, but Toto had told Bee already, because they were starting discussions for her contact for the next year as well.

“I’m really happy for him.” She told Toto. “He absolutely deserves it, but… I’m a little selfish and will miss being on a team with him.”

“Well, in a way, you are still on a team with him - that is what I told him when he had his incident with Valtteri earlier this year. You’re still a Mercedes driver.”

“I know, but it's not going to be quite the same, but I’m more excited for him than I am sad for me, trust me.”

As far as her contract with Williams, Bee opted to only seek another one-year agreement. She was starting to feel like her career had an expiration date that was sooner than most drivers, and she wasn’t sure how she would get along with the incoming team principal, who was Williams’ current CEO, Jost Capito. 

She hadn’t actually worked with him very much, not yet. He seemed like an amenable guy. He was German, and had come from the world of rally car racing. The person that was originally tapped to be Claire’s replacement had backed out, so Jost decided to absorb his role and be CEO and Team Principal instead of hiring someone else. At least he was going to be hands-on.

The only alternative that Bee was willing to confront was if Lewis won his 8th WDC at the end of the season, surpassed Schumacher’s record, and retired. The sport would be bereft without Lewis, of course, but Bee would certainly be in consideration for his spot. Not that she could ever think to replace Lewis Hamilton or even start to fill his shoes, but an open seat at Mercedes would be an open seat at Mercedes.

Some drivers would take a seat for any team that would have them - they just want to race, and they don’t care who’s name is on the car. Bee wasn’t one of them. She only wanted to stay in the sport if she could represent Mercedes. She knew she wouldn’t be happy elsewhere. 

She had a session with Natalie after Monza. Emilia suggested it - she’d noticed that Bee was on edge after that weekend, and it had apparently been a while since she’d had a check-in with her therapist. 

“You know that your performance is as much mental as it is physical, and I know you’re not at your best right now. It couldn’t hurt, at least before we leave for Sochi.” Emilia said gently. They’d just had a training session, but Bee had almost gone overboard trying to work out her frustration. Emilia only had her stop because she was afraid of Bee injuring herself.

“Okay, you’re right.” She said, trying to catch her breath. “I’ll call her later.”

“I just… I can’t believe I fucked up like that.” Bee said to Natalie on FaceTime. “I was concentrating so hard on trying to get away from the pit as fast as possible - like, how hard is it to focus for literally three seconds? But I looked away for a fraction of a second and it was already too late.” 

“That’s tough. I know in F1 those little margins matter, but… if I remember, you got 5th in that race, right? Isn’t that still one of your best results?” 

“Actually it is my best result in Formula 1. But I’m mad because if I hadn’t lost focus, I would’ve come out in the pit in 2nd place. And my goal this season is to get on the podium. And it was Monza! If I was going to get on the podium anywhere, Monza would be ideal - and Lewis and Max crashed each other out, so it seemed perfect. I mean, I don’t know how long I have left in this sport, and I don’t want to leave without feeling like I haven’t accomplished anything.” Bee said.

“Ah, okay, that’s something. What makes you say that you haven’t accomplished anything? As far as I know, you’ve accomplished quite a lot. You’re the first woman in a long time to make points finishes, first American woman to race in F1 - I think that’s -”

Bee interrupted her. “I mean, yeah. Okay. That’s all fine and well, but if I weren’t a woman, I would be having an incredibly mediocre career so far, but because I am, everything I’ve done is groundbreaking.” She was getting annoyed. She felt a surge of frustration creeping up the back of her skull, like a series of pinpricks.

“Would you, though? I don’t think anyone other than, say, Lewis and Max was any good in their first few seasons. You even outscored your own teammate - you managed a point in your first season, and he didn’t, and he’s considered a potential world champion.” 

“I know, but the car he had to try to compete in was way worse than the one I got in my first season.”

“I still think you’re underestimating yourself. But I’m also hearing a few things here. Number one is that you don’t to be remembered just because you’re a woman, which I think is very fair, but in a sport like this, that is a significant barrier to overcome, and I think it has required a lot more than people realize. Think about it this way - do you think anybody would know who Max Verstappen is if he was a woman?” Natalie said.

“Probably not.” Bee conceded.

“Right, because he didn’t have the kind of hurdle you did to get into this sport in the first place. And you think Susie is a good racing driver, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bee said, like it was a foregone conclusion. “I’ve seen her lap times, her telemetry data, her onboards, she definitely knew what she was doing. If she was racing now, she’d be better than almost a quarter of the grid.”

“Right. Of course. But Bee, even she couldn’t surmount the walls you have. I grant you, she has helped you a lot in your career, so she boosted you over that wall. Plus, I think timing was more on your side than it was hers, but I’m just saying - you’ve overcome a lot of things that not everyone would be able to, and I think that’s what makes your career so far exceptional.” 

Natalie sounded absolutely solid in her conviction, to the point where Bee forgot she was her therapist for a moment.

“The season is not over yet, and you’ve come within striking distance of a podium. So, you made a mistake. Every driver has. Some people make even bigger mistakes - at least all you lost was a split-second of a pit exit. Do you remember what happened when Lewis forgot to remove that... brake… magic… thing? I don’t know what it was. But, in Baku this year? He didn’t even finish in the points. Some drivers have even made mistakes that have destroyed their entire car. A few seconds on a pit exit seems like nothing in comparison, right?” 

Bee laughed. “Now you actually sound like a sports analyst. But, okay. I get your point. You’re right. The season’s not over.”

“Is there another race you’d want to aim for the podium for? Surely Monza wasn’t -”

“Austin. The US Grand Prix. How amazing would that be? To be the first woman on an F1 podium, as an American driver, in America? I’ve always wanted to… but we didn’t race there last year, and F2 never raced there.” Bee was resolute. 

“That sounds like a good plan. It’s a home race for you, it might be easier to get a good result with a home crowd.” Natalie said, thoughtfully. “I know in other sport, home-court advantage really can swing things. I’m not sure how it affects you drivers, though.”

“I think it does make a difference, honestly.” Bee said. “I think that’s why Lewis always manages to do so well in Silverstone, truthfully. And also speaking of Austin… This was a long time ago, but do you remember me telling you about that woman, on the airplane? It was way back in 2016, I think. The one who said she was my first fan? That was on my way back from the US. I always think about that. I think that was one of the first times I realized that I was on the right track.”

“Oh, I do remember you telling me about that. You should see if you can track her down, maybe, and see if she’s going to the race. I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

“Natalie, that’s genius.”

“What is?”

“We have a limited number of paddock passes we can give out to guests, as drivers, and I gave you one for Silverstone this year, and I’m giving some to my parents for the US GP, but I think I still have a couple to use, so if I can track her down, I can give her one.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea. She shouldn’t be impossible to find, right? You know her first name, at least, and approximately where she lives. This isn’t a big country. But, you have to hurry.” Natalie said. 

Bee went home that night and put in her best efforts on Google trying to find the Adelle that lived in Leeds that shared that flight with her. Apparently “Adelle” was a more common forename in the UK than she’d anticipated, but she had narrowed it down to a few options, until she got lucky on LinkedIn, of all places. She recognized the woman from her profile picture, and she still had the same bright red hair. Once she had a surname, finding an address was easy. Hopefully it was still current.

When she went to the factory in Grove the next day, Bee put together a package of Williams items - two shirts, a hat, and a keychain, along with a letter and two paddock passes, two of her collectible driver cards, both signed. 

Dear Adelle,

I don’t know if you remember me, but we shared a flight together five years ago, coming back to London from the Mexican Grand Prix in 2016. I told you I was a junior driver for an F1 team, and was trying to find a feeder team and wanted to make it into F1.

If you still watch the sport, you are probably aware that I did make it. It hasn’t always been easy. Something you told me that day, on that flight, has stuck in my mind. You said that there was probably a girl out there who was good enough to make it in motorsport, but just wasn’t told enough that she could. When I was 19, I thought that was me. But since then, I’ve come to realize now that I’ve been very fortunate to have a strong group of people - mostly women, supporting me in my journey, and you, in your own small way, whether you know it or not, are among that number. But the story you told me about your daughter - it made me realize that no matter how hard this journey has been, the trouble is worth it if I can bring some visibility to the women that participate in this sport and make the sport more open and welcoming for female fans.

You mentioned, at the time, that you liked to go to the races in North America on your holidays, and I was hoping you were planning on going to the US Grand Prix this year. I have enclosed two paddock passes and two pasess to the Williams garage and hospitality area. If you happen to be there, I’d be honored to have you as my guest in the garage, and you can feel free to bring someone. I hope this makes it to you in time, and that we get to see each other. It would mean a lot to me. 

Thank you again.

Phoebe Stallard

She listed the return address as the factory and hoped the package made it safely to its destination.

There were two races to go until the United States Grand Prix; Russia, and Turkey. 

Russia was not kind to Bee. She qualified well, ending up at the top of Q2, even though the track was wet and rapidly drying. George, however, qualified third. Not Q3, actual third place. It was stunning to see, and the paddock was almost buzzing about it - Williams still wouldn’t be in the championship running for a while, but their return to form over the past 2 seasons had been impressive.

Rain started falling on the last 5 laps of the race. As soon as Bee saw the track conditions changing, she cursed out loud on the radio, forgetting it was live - she was in for a points finish, but weather conditions always had the possibility of reshuffling the deck.

Bee pitted for intermediate tyres right away, but spun out on one of the last laps and had enough damage from the resulting collision that she had to retire. She didn’t finish the race, but was still classified because she’d completed more than 90% of it. At least George had gotten himself into the points with a sixth-place finish. 

Turkey was an interesting race. Bee hadn’t ever been to Turkey, and actually would have enjoyed spending more time in the country itself. But they were getting to the point in the season calendar where grid penalties were plentiful - each car was only allowed a certain number of component swaps per season, be they for replacing power units (which consisted of the gas engine, electric motors, and an energy recovery system) elements or engines. 

Every swapped major component or engine over the allotment for the season meant that your car incurred a grid penalty, no matter what your qualifying result was. Replacing an engine over the allotment would set you back ten places on the grid, no matter what your qualifying place was. Other components could mean having to start from the back of the grid. 

Bee knew her car was about to exceed the allotment for engines, so she begged Claire to have the swap done for her car for Turkey instead of risking the penalty for the United States GP. They weren’t in contention for the championship, so it really didn’t matter where or when she got the grid penalty, but she wanted every chance to podium in Austin she could get. 

Claire agreed, and Bee took a 10-grid-place penalty in Turkey. She had managed to qualify in 10th, which means she’d made it into Q3. It was a shame to be knocked back down to 20th (or 17th, really, because of other drivers incurring penalties) but it meant that she was able to get to Q3, which was important for Austin.

It was the first race she’d ever remembered running, at least in F1, without a single retirement. George placed 7th, and she placed 10th. She wondered how things might have shaken out if she hadn’t taken a grid penalty, but it had to be done. 

Austin, Travis County, Texas, United States of America October 18th, 2021

Bee landed in Austin a few days ahead of when the rest of the team would be arriving, but the bulk of her extended family had flown down from the Midwest - most of them from Michigan, but she had cousins that lived in Illinois and Ohio as well. Her parents would be flying in from Stuttgart as well.

Emilia decided to come early with her - normally, they mostly traveled separately, as Emilia still primarily resided in Germany, but she wanted a little more time to prepare. This was the first of the long flyaway races, so they’d be gone on a longer trip, and she was intrigued by the United States. 

“So what is your family like? I’ve met your parents, but this is your entire extended family, right - like, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?” Emilia said on the flight over.

“They’re… loud. Friendly, but loud. And most of them like to talk. They’ll probably ask you a lot of questions. They’re all basically the opposite of anyone from Germany, so if you want to pretend you don’t speak English to get out of socializing, you’ll need to decide now and commit to that.”

Emilia scoffed. “I’ve met plenty of Americans. You’re American, in case you’d forgotten”

“Ah, you say that,” Bee said, trying hard to hide her smile. “but you met me after I’d been raised in Germany, and you met my parents after they’d lived and worked in Germany for over a decade. It’s not the same.” 

“This should be fun”, Bee thought.

“I will give you one piece of advice. If anyone asks ‘How are you?’, it’s more of a greeting and not an actual question. You can just give a non-specific answer, like ‘Good’, or ‘I’m fine.’ That should make things a lot easier.”

Emilia looked confused. “But… Why would they ask if they don’t want to know? Why ask a question you don’t want an answer for?” 

Bee laughed. “Like I said, it’s not an actual question. Just treat it as a greeting, and the response is ‘Good, and you?’ If you say any more than that, you might invite a conversation that might become way longer than you want it to be.”

Emilia shook her head. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

Once they landed, they went to their hotel to unpack and get ready to meet Bee’s family. They were all meeting for dinner at a restaurant called Vivo. Bee’s parents had made a reservation so they could all eat outside together on the restaurant’s patio. 

It was a strange experience - Bee hadn’t seen a lot of her relatives in-person for years, aside from her grandparents - even that was three years ago now. They peppered her with questions, mostly about Drive to Survive (because they’d started watching it when it debuted, just like everyone else did, and Bee suspected that most of them still didn’t actually watch the races.)

It was a bit funny to Bee - people that were real, her coworkers, more or less, that she spent so much time with - were television characters to them, like they were being played by actors. She did her best to answer their questions, but it felt like being in a rapid-fire press conference.

“That Daniel Ricciardo seems so nice, is he like that for real?” 

“Yes. He’s exactly how he is on the show, but he’s also kind of… the class clown, I guess. Always playing pranks.”

“Do those engineer guys really talk to you through the entire race? How can you focus like that?”  

“They’re not talking constantly, and they have important information. My engineer’s name is Gaetan. He’s French.”

Emilia, meanwhile, had either ignored or had forgotten Bee’s advice, and had found herself trapped in a conversation with one of Bee’s aunts that she hadn’t necessarily meant to get herself into. Bee turned around at one point and saw the thinly-veiled expression of anguish on Emilia’s face, and decided to jump to her rescue.

“Hi, Aunt Debbie. Nice to see you again. Oh, I’m doing great! Happy to be back in the US for a few days! Yes, I’m excited you’re here for the race, too! I just came to see if Emilia had decided what she wanted to eat. Come on, let’s grab a menu.” 

“Thank you,” Emilia said, relieved, as they left Lisa to talk to one of Bee’s other aunts. “She was telling me about her gallbladder removal, in great detail.”

“See? I told you this would happen. She’s an oversharer anyway. But in all seriousness, have you looked at the menu?” Bee said, as they sat at a picnic table by themselves, heads together, poring over the listed fare.

“I don’t know what any of this is,” Emilia said, puzzled over the Spanish names for the dishes. “I’ve never had this food.”

“Okay, well, you like chicken, right? Try the fajita taco plate - that’s always pretty safe, and… ooh, beef enchiladas. That’s what I’m getting. You can try it, if you want.”

So, Emilia had her first encounter with Tex-Mex food. She loved the fajitas, (“These are so good. Why can’t we have these in Germany?” “I could make them for you, if you want, next time you’re in Oxford.” “But your cooking is…” “Okay, fair.” ) but thought Bee’s enchiladas were a bit on the spicy side. (“You eat currywurst, how is this spicy to you?” “It’s a different spicy!”)

They had some drinks (not too many for Bee, at least), which made Bee’s family a little easier to take for Emilia. After the dinner party had dispersed, Bee and Emilia stayed and talked to Bee’s parents for a while, because they were all on European time and weren’t quite ready to head back to the hotel for bed, yet.

While they were sitting and talking, they all had a few more drinks, too. Emilia had quite a few more, and ended up more tipsy than she probably would have liked to have been. She was a clingy, huggy drunk, as it turned out. It was difficult, though - Emilia was eight inches taller than Bee, and practically toppled her over as she was hanging on to Bee for support as they were waiting for their ride back to the hotel. 

She didn’t take Emilia back to her room - Bee’s room had two beds, so she poured Emilia into the extra bed and pumped her full of water and ibuprofen, just so she could keep an eye on her.

“You’re my favorite,” Emilia said, in slurred German. She was splayed across the spare bed, and had asked Bee to tuck her in. Bee thought it was silly, but was oddly charmed by it. She sat on the edge of Emilia’s bed, talking to her until she fell asleep.

“I’m so glad I get to travel with you like this, because you’re my favorite client and probably my favorite person. I love spending time with you so much.” Emilia’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, but she was smiling at Bee.

“But I’m your only client right now.” Bee said. It was true. Emilia still worked for a performance coaching company, but like most F1 drivers that used that company’s services, Bee had hired her exclusively, a necessity of her busy schedule.

“I had other clients before you hired me!” She said, “But none of them have been as nice! Or as pretty. You’re very pretty. Did you know that? You have such pretty dark hair. And your blue eyes. I noticed you and your dad have the same eyes. Is that weird that I noticed that?”

“No, it’s true, I do have his eyes.” Bee was trying not to blush. “You should go to sleep, though. We have a long week ahead, but we have some time to do a few fun things tomorrow. And we can get some real barbecue for lunch, just like you wanted.”

“Okay. Goodnight, liebes.” Emilia said, drifting off to sleep.

“Liebes?” Bee thought. 

It was a term of endearment in German - the same as calling someone “sweetheart”, “love”, or “honey”, in English. It was startling, and Bee wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but decided to let it go - Emilia probably had no idea what she was saying.

Circuit of the Americas, Austin, Travis County, Texas, United States of America October 22nd, 2021

It was only Friday, and it had already been a long week for Bee. It had been a fun week, though. She and Emilia had explored a little bit of downtown Austin on Wednesday before Bee had any media or team obligations. Emilia had woken up only a little worse for the wear, but a barbecue lunch had fixed that. (“This is so good, and you get so much food with your order.” Bee had almost expected her to make a “this is why Americans are fat” joke like most Europeans would, but she passed on it.) 

Emilia had virtually no memory of returning to the hotel that night, and said she was surprised when she woke up in a room that wasn’t hers.

“So she doesn’t remember flirting with me, or whatever that was, I guess.” Bee thought. She was surprised at how disappointed it made her feel. It wasn’t possible that she was falling in love with her performance coach… was it?

On Wednesday, she’d filmed a few things for Williams’ social media channels, including the reveal for her special Austin GP helmet, and a challenge with George where he had to try to guess how American towns were pronounced. She also was scheduled out for a bunch of interviews and other videos with some American TV broadcasters, like ESPN - they had her and George do a basketball free throw challenge. Bee was never very good at basketball, but she did better than George did.

George had also made a special helmet for the Austin GP, that was cowboy-themed. It didn’t suit him at all, but Bee thought it was endearing. Bee’s helmet was a little more personal and didn’t have much to do with Texas at all, but she’d been planning it out forever and it was gratifying to see the final product. It was strange to see him - a buttoned-up, stereotypical posh Brit wearing a 10-gallon cowboy hat and shooting basketball free throws. 

She spotted Susie in the paddock before free practice, and was ecstatic. 

“I wasn’t actually sure if you were going to come to this race!” Bee said, giving her a hug.

“Well, surprise! I knew this was a big race for you, and I didn’t want to miss it. I didn’t get to see your first race, but I’ll get to see your first actual home race. I’m going to be in the Williams garage on Sunday, too!” 

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Bee said. “My parents are here as well, they’ll be excited to see you. They’ll be in the paddock tomorrow.”

They chatted a bit longer, but Bee had to go to Free Practice. She really liked seeing Susie at races, but it seemed like they never got long enough to sit and talk before either one of them had to be running off to something. 

She headed over to her driver’s room, where Emilia had finished getting everything set up for the weekend and was ready to start Bee on her warmups. She had to change first, but then it was always usually the same routine - a little bit of light, in-place cardio work with resistance bands to get her heart rate up and blood moving, then some neck strength work, some reaction time work with a series of buttons that had lights that flashed in different colors on them. 

Then, Emilia always helped her with some assisted stretching, some breathing exercises, and some light massage to keep Bee relaxed and loose, if she needed it. Every driver had their own little ritual and routine, and this was simply what she found had worked for her. 

Finally, it was time for Bee’s first practice runs on the circuit. She hadn’t ever driven on it, and it looked like it was going to be a challenge. The track had a whopping 20 turns - most tracks had 10-13 of them, and ran anti-clockwise, which was the opposite direction of most tracks. Not only that, but the first corner off of the start/finish straight went up a steep hill, with a bump that could disrupt your braking, and you had to downshift very quickly into the turn. And that was all just on the first turn, never mind the rest of it. 

Plus, it was hot the morning of Free Practice 1, which would mean that Free Practice 2, in the afternoon, would be even hotter. The challenge was going to be tire management - keeping the tires cool and not letting them degrade, which would mean punctures. It was the end of October, but it was still Texas. 

Bee looked at the grandstands during her first out-lap - it was packed, already, even for a Free Practice session, which meant that the audience for qualifying and the race would be absolutely massive. The last time she was here, in Austin, they had to throw a Taylor Swift concert to entice people to come - it didn’t look like that would be necessary this year. 

Williams Racing YouTube Channel

Phoebe Stallard reveals her helmet design for the United States Grand Prix

91,307 views October 23rd, 2021

Transcript: Hi everyone! I’m Phoebe Stallard from Williams Racing, and I just want to talk about my helmet for the US Grand Prix this weekend. It’s my first US GP! I joined Formula 1 last year, but the 2020 US Grand Prix was canceled because of COVID-19. I’m the only American on the grid, other than honorary American Daniel Ricciardo. This is my home Grand Prix, and obviously, I had a special helmet made! I just wanted to talk through some of the details, because this helmet is really kind of… well, it’s deeply personal to me, and it’s probably my favorite custom design yet.

So, on the top, we have the emblem from the Dodge Super Bee, which was a classic muscle car made in the late 60’s by the Chrysler Corporation, one of the Big 3 car companies based in my home city of Detroit. It’s kind of been a… nickname for me for a long time? I think Danny Ricciardo is the one that started calling me that, and it caught on over the years with fans, and I always liked it, even if Danny started calling me that to tease me because I was so scrawny as a teenager. Plus, it’s kind of a tribute to my dad, who was the one that got me into racing in the first place. He started his career at Chrysler as an automotive engineer. I did make a subtle change to it, though, to make it a little more personal - the bee has a little ponytail coming out of her helmet.

And then on the right here, we have the iconic “Rosie the Riveter” poster from World War 2, with the classic “We Can Do It” text on the top. I always thought it was pretty inspiring, because it shows a woman doing what was traditionally considered men’s work, and racing used to be kind of considered a man’s world. On the bottom of her coveralls, I put the signatures of both Lella Lombardi and Susie Wolff, who are both women in racing that I am inspired by. 

Lella Lombardi was the first woman to ever earn a point in the Formula 1 series, and until Monza this year, she was also the only one to have a top six finish in a World Championship race. 

Susie Wolff, as most people know, was a test and development driver for Williams, and was the first woman to take part in a Grand Prix weekend in 22 years when she participated in Free Practice 1 the 2014 British Grand Prix. She’s basically been my mentor since I was in Formula Renault. She’s an inspiration for all women wanting to compete in motorsport - I literally do not think I would have made it to Formula 1 without her kind of… advice and guidance. She also founded the Dare to Be Different foundation that works to get more girls interested in motorsport, and I’m really happy to be an ambassador for the organization. I definitely would have been remiss if I didn’t put some sort of tribute to Susie on this helmet. 

On the back, we’ve got an image of the Spirit of Detroit statue. I am originally from the Detroit area, and this statue is right downtown on Woodward Avenue. It’s always kind of been an iconic symbol of Detroit, it’s a really important landmark, I’ve always really loved it. And there’s the motto of the City of Detroit on it - “Speramus Meliora” and “Resurget Cineribus”, which means “We Hope For Better Things / It Shall Rise From the Ashes”. Detroit is a tough city, but it’s a city that’s always kind of… been out to prove everyone wrong, you know? A lot of people wanted to write it off entirely a few years ago, when the auto industry went bust and the city itself had to declare bankruptcy, but it’s still there, and there’s so much going on there now, it’s great. I don’t make it home very much, but I’m always really proud to represent it.

On the left side, we have my number, number 50, on a field of red, white, and blue stars, because it’s America, right? Had to show a little patriotism for my first US GP. Plus, it matches the current Williams livery which is handy!

And then, under my visor, we have the letters J & J S, which is for my parents, John and Josephine Stallard, because they’ve always been really supportive of my racing career. My dad was the one that got me into karting, because he thought it was something we could do together - he was always my mechanic, because he’s an automotive engineer. He never really pushed me into it, he just introduced me to racing and I kind of fell in love with it on my own, but both my mom and dad were really supportive of it. 

My dad used to work for Chrysler, and we moved to Germany because of his job, but when we had the option to move back to the US, he took a job with Mercedes so we could stay in Germany because I liked karting, and it’s a lot easier to advance in Europe. So, my parents made a lot of sacrifices, living so far away from home, so we could stay in Europe so I could keep racing, so I had to put some sort of tribute to them on here, too. 

[william-quartz-nightmare58]

Recently read Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights Graphic Novel Collection Vol 1, and to be honest, it sucked, horribly. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but it was so lazily made and low quality it's actually disgusting, especially as a FNaF product and part of the Scholastic publishing house. Anyway, I start off with reviewing the first story in this book.

"Into The Pit"

The graphic novel remake for "Into The Pit" was genuinely so horrible it actually makes me sad. Ever character looked unexpressive and their designs were so bland. The only part about their character designs I even remotely liked was that some characters were hyper-accurate to how they were described in the short story. Outside of the that, everything looked like clip art with very little shading.

And the worst part? Spring Bonnie. His design is so inconsistent in the comic it actually makes me sad. Sometimes he'll have buttons, sometimes he won't. Sometimes he looks like classic FNaF 1 Bonnie but yellow, sometimes he looks like LadiFiszi's interpretation of the Into The Pit's Spring Bonnie. And there were two panels in the comic where you could tell that he was traced off of his design in Dawko's music video based on "Into The Pit"

Here's the panels if you're curious:

Anyway, that's my review of the "Into The Pit" comic. I give it a 2/10.

"To Be Beautiful"

Now, this graphic novel looks better, but only slightly. Though I might be bias here because I love the "To Be Beautiful" short story for what it had to offer, and I found "Into The Pit" a very weird and forgettable story, so "To Be Beautiful" had that as an advantage. Anyway, it's better (in my opinion) because there's actually proper shading so nothing looks like clip art, and this version of Eleanor (at least in my opinion) is the best official one. It's different enough from Circus Baby and kinda looks cool, the only issue I have with it is that the red hair and purple dress clash with each other and I think it would look better of the hair and dress were complementary colors.

Here is how Eleanor looks in the comic:

Outside of those, and the fact that nothing was traced off of fan made stuff, the graphic novel remake for "To Be Beautiful" was kinda average, though its flaws are very notable. Sometimes, dialogue don't align with their bubbles, sometimes characters say stuff the opposite character should be saying, and there's a bit of broken shading here and there.

All in all, I'll give the "To Be Beautiful" graphic novel a 6/10.

"Out of Stock"

Now this might be a hot take, but this my favorite one in the book. The reason I say that is because of how strange the art style for "Out of Stock" is. It doesn't really feel like it should be in an official FNaF graphic novel.

Here are some of the visuals:

See what I mean? Anyway, the reason I love this one out of the other comics is because it's my favorite story in the book, it's genuinely scary-looking, and is the most artistic one of the three comics.

First off, I just love the story, so the "Out of Stock" comic already gets points for that. The Plushtrap Chaser is a really creepy monster and I just love the ending a lot.

Next, despite the fact that "Out of Stock" looks so strange and the Plushtrap Chaser looks like... whatever that thing is, it still manages to create extremely creepy imagery. For those that don't know, the main monster in "Out of Stock" is a Plushtrap-like doll with human eyes and teeth and is extremely hostile. And despite the fact that the Plushtrap Chaser in this comic looks the way it does with it's dot eyes and extremely long teeth, it still uses that to be very creepy. Again, here's an example of a scene near the end:

As you can see here, the artist took advantage of their style and turned the Plushtrap Chaser into an eldridge horror beyond comprehension.

But even though I've only sung this comic praises, it still has flaws. There are some parts in the comic where there's just straight up no shading, the design of some characters are very inconsistent, and again, the art style just feels a bit out of place in an official FNaF graphic novel.

I think I'll give "Out of Stock" a 7/10.

I guess that's the end of my review of Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights Graphic Novel Collection Vol 1. To anyone who took the time to read this whole thing, thank y'all for doing so. This is the longest post I've ever did, so I heavily appreciate it if you took some time to see this.

See y'all later!

[casspurrjoybell-18]

Worthless - Chapter 16 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Asher

I was excited, also nervous but that wasn't the point. Kade was taking me into town, it would be the first time I could remember going out, seeing people and doing things. I honestly didn't care where we were going to do, just that I was going to see somewhere new. Kade looked at me, partly with amusement and the other part concern, as I rushed about excitedly. I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top. I still didn't like clothes, more comfortable being nude but people around here wore them so I guess I'd have to. 

He pointed to my feet once I'd turned around. Stifling a groan, I looked for a pair of flip flops, pulling them on with a frown. Shoes were my least favorite, they constricted your feet and prevented you from feeling the earth as you walked. Flip flops, at least, were manageable, they still felt weird though. Once done, we headed down stairs, where Rory was waiting for us by the front door, giving a dramatic sigh of relief when we appeared and throwing his hands up.

"FINALLY. Jeez, I guess some people just can't be on time."

Kade snorted, opening the door.

"I don't even want to hear that from you."

Rory pretended to look wounded as we headed to the parked Hummer. I was weary, getting into the back seat of the monstrous vehicle. I didn't fully trust the thing but Kade reassured me it'd be safe. Even so, I couldn't help but have a death grip on the door as he started the engine. He left it in park until I calmed down, Rory adding in a comment to try not to puke and then we were off. It took just under an hour to get to town by car. My excitement hadn't dimmed in the least. Once I spotted the first building, it actually sky rocketed. I stared in awe at the various things, the town was huge by my standard, plus there were so many people.

More than I'd ever been around at one time. They all went about, heading to their destinations or making conversation, sometimes doing both. I thought that being around the pack was slightly overwhelming but they had nothing on this. I was the last to get out when we parked, not knowing how to open the door. Kade just chuckled, releasing me from the metal prison before showing me how to do it myself. We walked into a store, immediately being greeted by a worker at the door. I hid behind Kade, looking at the plump woman with caution. She seemed nice, if not a little too cheery but looks could be deceiving.

'It's fine Asher, it's her job to greet us.'

I sighed as Kade ran his hand up and down my back, leading me further into the store. It took a long time to get to what we'd originally came for since I kept wandering off or stopping to look at things. I was grateful that Kade hadn't gotten angry with me, instead just smiling with amusement at my constant state of wonder and stream of questions.

'What's this?'

I cocked my head at the strange object. Kade pit it in the cart Rory had gone back to get before answering.

"It's a Kindle."

'What does it do?'

"Well, it has thousands of books on it which people can read."

I snorted.

'I don't think that many books can fit in the little box.'

He just grinned.

"They're e-books. Uh, that means they're electronic."

I still didn't get it but I let it go.

'So who's it for?'

"Oh, it's a Christmas present for McKenna. She's always complaining about not having enough books to read. It's not for awhile, but I figured I might as well get gift shopping over with. Plus, if I do it now, it'll be easier to hide them so no one peeks."

'Christmas? What's that?'

He just stared at my, eyes wide in shock. Unfortunately, Rory had walked up to us as I asked.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT CHRISTMAS IS?" he screeched, drawing attention from everyone around us.

I shrank down.

'No.'

"Rory shut up, you're scaring him," Kade turned to me, pulling me into his arms.

"It's alright, love. Christmas is just a holiday. It's a time to spend with people and eat food."

'What's the gift for then?'

"People buy them and give them to each other on Christmas."

'It seems weird to have a holiday for giving gifts. Why don't people give them throughout the year?'

He laughed.

"I don't know. I suppose it is a little weird."

We walked around the store for a little longer and then checked out a few smaller ones. I picked out a few things to give to the others. Rory laughed at a few, particularly a pair of stuffed bunnies I was getting for Jasper and Lucas, though I didn't know why. I thought the bunnies were cute.Once we were done, we dropped the gifts off in the car and then walked to a diner. I instantly liked the place with it dramatic colors. Rory said it was an 'old-timey dinner' that's been in business since he Blackwood Pack settled down here. The smell of cooking meat was the most present, instantly engulfing you.

My stomach rumbling in response. We were led to a booth by a small guy, probably not past seventeen and told our waitress would be with us shortly. I didn't know why but Kade put his arm around me when the boy's eyes wandered in my direction. I didn't mind though and slid into the booth first with Kade right after me. Rory took a seat across from us. A waitress came over after a moment, her breasts almost spilling out of her small dress. She handed us menus while gazing at Kade with a hungry expression. Kade's arm was still around me but she didn't seem to notice or just didn't care. I instantly disliked her.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" she asked in a sickly sweet tone, making my skin crawl.

"Yeah, I'll have a coke and he'll have a Pepsi," he gestured to Rory before looking at me.

"Water?"

I nodded and she wrote it down before letting her gaze once again sweep over Kade. A low growl rumbled in my chest as I glared at her. She looked at me with annoyance before walking away, saying she'll be back in a few minutes to take our orders. 

"What was that about?" Rory smirked as if already knowing the answer.

'I did not like the way she was looking at Kade.'

He blinked at my bluntness, obviously expecting me to have denied it. He just shrugged, smirk still in place. I noticed that Kade was looking at me.

'What?'

"Oh, nothing. I'm just happy you're jealous," he smiled, his eyes catching sight of the boy from earlier.

I just huffed in response. When the waitress came back she gave us our drinks, pulling out a small pad and pen.

"Ready to order?"

They nodded, relaying their orders. Kade looked at me and I pointed at a picture of a chicken and fries. I couldn't read the description but the picture looked delicious. He nodded and told it to the waitress, causing her to snort.

"What, he can't talk for himself?"

Before they could respond I gave her the middle finger. She huffed and left. Rory cracked up while Kade stared in shock.

"Who showed you that?"

'Thalia. She said to do that when someone is annoying and needs to go away.'

"Of course," he sighed.

They talked while we waited. It didn't take long for the waitress to come back. She scowled when she looked at me but it fell once she turned to Kade, morphing her expression into one of innocence but I saw the calculation in her eyes as well as the hunger from before. I didn't trust the way she was looking at him, I didn't like it one bit. It made my stomach turn and I hated the fact that Kade was letting it happen. If this was jealousy, why would he be happy I was feeling it? It was awful.

"Here ya go hot stuff."

Kade cocked a brow at her but didn't comment. She handed us our plates and left, her hips swaying back and forth in an obvious attempt to get Kade's attention. Though he didn't pay any mind, I was still angry. I sank my teeth into Kade's shoulder, making him yelp.

"Ouch. What the heck, Asher?"

I lapped at the mark but didn't answer, my brows furrowed. Rory looked between us but stayed silent. Kade tried to talk to me but I refused, blocking him to talk to Rory. Soon he was sulking. I felt a pain of guilt but it disappeared once the woman came back, a smirk on her face as she saw Kade's downcast face. 

"Here's your bill," she bent over to whisper to Kade, not knowing we could hear her just as easily.

"I gave you my number if you ever wanna hang out."

[beforeiforgetyou]

For your eyes only. (kinda)

What are you doing right now? Where have you been? Even when we don't speak, I'm thinking of you. Always. Last night, you visited my dreams. The way you smell. The way you laugh. The way you cry. The way you taste. How will we ever be just friends when you're forever in my mind? Even when I sleep.

Do you ever think about it? What if things were different? What if we were different?

What if we had met earlier? That middle school love. The weird boy who writes poems, and eats peanut butter crackers behind the gymnasium. The tall girl, who always has her headphones in and could be a track star, but spends her time at the Science Club instead. I'd slip love letters in your locker between classes.

Or later? Maybe we're in our 40s now. Successful and independent on our own. We'd meet at some lame business conference, bored of everyone else, but find one another intriguing. Talk all night and drink too much at the hotel bar. I'd take you back to my room with me. Or maybe we couldn't even make it that far, and I'd fuck you in the bathroom during a presentation we weren't interested in anyways.

Is it the timing? No. That's not it. We were never meant for that. In any life, at any time, in any scenario. You and I. We're something different. My favorite girl. My secret slut. My hardest lesson. My best friend.

Oh, you are mine! A part of you always will be. An invisible mark. A stain. A lingering memory that we'll always have. The day will come, yes. Tied down by spouses and partners who we love differently. But they would never understand, and so our memories remain secrets. Ours to keep. That day will come. Bound by obligation and families, separated by time and distance. It will come but I will keep a part of you forever.

Hardly a year. I've known you for hardly a year. And yet the way my heart swoons and swells when you walk by, you'd think it's been a lifetime. Too fast, too strong, too strange. We're bad for one another, you know. Toxic. The ups and downs. The highs and lows. I'm addicted to them. Addicted to you.

It's the eyes. Deep, dark pits; windows into your soul. Can he see it too? You live there. Sometimes I can't look at you directly. I feel myself drowning, getting lost again in that somber, brilliant gaze. Those eyes. They bare into my own soul and probe for the secrets that no one else has ever known.

Life is funny sometimes. The Universe. Or God. Whatever you choose to call it. Fate that saw it fit to offer me a soulmate, a lesson, a gift. But not one that I could keep. One to love, one to lose. A tragedy and a romance all at once. Vixen, temptress, gentle girl. Reaching inside and pulling out all the feelings and words a man can muster.

I miss the days of you and me. The rest of the world fell away in those moments. I wish I'd known back then that I was on borrowed time. I would have held on tighter. Made you stay. Frozen time, just for a while, where nothing else mattered but the uncomplicated moments of pure understanding and happiness. I miss you so deeply, pretty girl.

Two different gardens,

Two different vines;

But for a while a least,

Our roots intertwined.

[sirpsychosexi]

For your eyes only.

What are you doing right now? Where have you been? Even when we don't speak, I'm thinking of you. Always. Last night, you visited my dreams. The way you smell. The way you laugh. The way you cry. The way you taste. How will we ever be just friends when you're forever in my mind? Even when I sleep.

Do you ever think about it? What if things were different? What if we were different?

What if we had met earlier? That middle school love. The weird boy who writes poems, and eats peanut butter crackers behind the gymnasium. The tall girl, who always has her headphones in and could be a track star, but spends her time at the Science Club instead. I'd slip love letters in your locker between classes.

Or later? Maybe we're in our 40s now. Successful and independent on our own. We'd meet at some lame business conference, bored of everyone else, but find one another intriguing. Talk all night and drink too much at the hotel bar. I'd take you back to my room with me. Or maybe we couldn't even make it that far, and I'd fuck you in the bathroom during a presentation we weren't interested in anyways.

Is it the timing? No. That's not it. We were never meant for that. In any life, at any time, in any scenario. You and I. We're something different. My favorite girl. My secret slut. My hardest lesson. My best friend.

Oh, you are mine! A part of you always will be. An invisible mark. A stain. A lingering memory that we'll always have. The day will come, yes. Tied down by spouses and partners who we love differently. But they would never understand, and so our memories remain secrets. Ours to keep. That day will come. Bound by obligation and families, separated by time and distance. It will come but I will keep a part of you forever.

Hardly a year. I've known you for hardly a year. And yet the way my heart swoons and swells when you walk by, you'd think it's been a lifetime. Too fast, too strong, too strange. We're bad for one another, you know. Toxic. The ups and downs. The highs and lows. I'm addicted to them. Addicted to you.

It's the eyes. Deep, dark pits; windows into your soul. Can he see it too? You live there. Sometimes I can't look at you directly. I feel myself drowning, getting lost again in that somber, brilliant gaze. Those eyes. They bare into my own soul and probe for the secrets that no one else has ever known.

Life is funny sometimes. The Universe. Or God. Whatever you choose to call it. Fate that saw it fit to offer me a soulmate, a lesson, a gift. But not one that I could keep. One to love, one to lose. A tragedy and a romance all at once. Vixen, temptress, gentle girl. Reaching inside and pulling out all the feelings and words a man can muster.

I miss the days of you and me. The rest of the world fell away in those moments. I wish I'd known back then that I was on borrowed time. I would have held on tighter. Made you stay. Frozen time, just for a while, where nothing else mattered but the uncomplicated moments of pure understanding and happiness. I miss you so deeply, pretty girl.

Two different gardens,

Two different vines;

But for a while a least,

Our roots intertwined.

[kateeorg]

I do feel bad that the potential of this relationship's development won't be seen by the people who got really into it. I don't love how quickly they cancelled it either, I think it needed a little more time to marinate in public consciousness before making that call.

But my question is always, if the point all along was to center this dark enemies-to-lovers romance... why the heck didn't the creators and marketing say that upfront?

(essay below)

Why call this a murder mystery and hide the romance -- which was seemingly the point all along -- for the back half of the season? I don't fault people for enjoying this plot line or the creators for tapping into Reylo fanbase, but wouldn't they have gotten better reception from a fanbase who would actually appreciate that plot (and a second season along with it) if they'd made that apparent up front? Or at least earlier in the run?

So many books, movies, and shows have enemies to lovers as its central engine, including some of my favorite works - Pride & Prejudice, You've Got Mail, The Proposal, A Discovery of Witches. Or heck, just falling for the bad boy as its own thing. Fans of the genre love it But guess what: They know going in exactly what they signed up for.

So again, why market an enemies-to-lovers romance as a Star Wars High Republic-era murder mystery? That genre has its own audience, its own fans, who want different things out what they're watching. T

Here's how this article describes The Acolyte:

Centering on a sexually charged conflict between a former Jedi padawan (Amandla Stenberg) and a mysterious darksider (Manny Jacinto), The Acolyte openly capitalized on Reylo’s popular enemies-to-lovers dynamic—the romance between Kylo Ren and Rey in the most recent film trilogy—something the franchise had previously failed to do.

Did it, though??? Did it "openly capitalize on Reylo"???

Because compare that to the official description from the publicist:

An investigation into a shocking crime spree pits a respected Jedi Master (Lee Jung-jae) against a dangerous warrior from his past (Amandla Stenberg). As more clues emerge, they travel down a dark path where sinister forces reveal all is not what it seems….

Like... that's not entirely a lie. There was a crime spree, and a Jedi Master, and a dark path, and not all was as it seemed. But oddly this description actually frames the plot as being about Sol and Mae. Not Osha and Qimir, or Osha and Mae, or even Osha and Sol.

And look, on one hand, it can be fun to turn the tables and surprise the audience, sometimes that works. Hiding the existence of the twins was a fun twist in the first episode, for example, and the fact that a lot of fans enjoyed the romance twist speaks to this.

But more often, misleading your audience is just going to piss people off. It will attract an audience who won't buy what you're selling, while over-relying on word of mouth to attract the audience who will. Meaning, you won't get those big first-day-viewing numbers the streaming ratings seem to rely on.

As it is, correct me if I'm wrong, I think most dark romance/Reylo fans didn't even know that's where The Acolyte was headed until halfway through the season or after it had already ended. So if they really wanted to appeal to those fans, why not just come out and say it from the start? Why hide it and trick people into watching it for this investigation plot that didn't really end up mattering much? That suggests to me they don't respect Reylo fans at all.

And in fact, there's another element of the marketing that frustrated me - the emphasis on queerness. Not because I don't think Star Wars could use it, but because of how it all played out. Part of that was due to the interviewers making assumptions about the show runner, but the show runner absolutely leaned into it. Meanwhile, like... the lesbian witches were all murdered. Years before the story even takes place. Jecki, hinted to have a crush on Osha? Also murdered. By the guy Osha ends up getting with. Vernestra, who is canonically aroace in the High Republic books? That doesn't even come up once here. You could maybe argue Osha is implied bi, but that's kind of it. So is the show really as progressive as it was marketed to be?

I get being subversive, but it just really makes me frustrated when writers or marketers flat-out lie or hide things the audience actually needs to know in order to make an informed decision on what to watch. There are some surprises that are good to keep, of course, to make the viewing experience more engaging, but there's a reason movie studios can now be sued for false advertising in their trailers. Star Wars has always had its toxic fans of course, people who will just hate watch and assume stuff before they even see the show. But I don't think the marketing or creators did it any favors by leaving the true romance angle for the back half of the season. (Or by spending two whole episodes out of 8 on flashbacks, but that's another issue)

I don't want to hate on this show, I do feel bad for the people who fell in love with it only to have it get cancelled, and I liked a lot of elements it discussed and introduced. But the popular narratives around why it's getting cancelled - either that it's the worst thing ever to Star Wars or that Star Wars is cowardly catering to toxic old-fashioned fans - leave out quite a bit of context.

Clearly, there is an audience for a dark romance in Star Wars, whether you like that or not. But to me, The Acolyte buried its lede too well and doomed itself in the process.

I love them your honor!

[nitrosodiumofficialuses]

Mascot Horror and the predictable Chapter One

One of my favorite game sub-genres has to be mascot horror. Debatably, a lot of them aren't especially scary horror games, moreso operating as walking simulators with puzzle and deep lore elements. However, I've been in love with stuff like BATIM since I was a kid. Eventually, I've come up with my own mascot horror game ideas, some of which I might develop into a full game one day. However, I first want to outline some tropes I've seen carved into several mascot horror games - more specifically, their first chapter.

The function of CH1 in most of these mascot horror games is to have you walk into their location, which is almost always deserted. You're on your own for a lot of the level, walking around whilst solving puzzles and unravelling the story. Considering most of these games create their first chapter as a demo or springboard more than a complete game, they operate like an art gallery to persuade you to buy the game. You wouldn't be able to take in all the atmosphere if there was a big scary monster chasing you around. Forcing the player to solve puzzles forcibly inserts them into the world, they have to take in the details to progress. This breeds curiosity, which is good for any horror game. Because, curiosity killed the cat. But not yet. There's more to see, more tension to build, before we get to the big bad yet. When the chaser finally appears, it's a straight shot to the exit, usually through an area you've already been in, or a debatably nondescript corridor built only for you to sprint through, until you can put a door, elevator or giant pit between you and the enemy.

Several games follow this formula. Bendy and the Ink Machine, Poppy Playtime and yes, even the infamous Garten of Banban come to mind. Walk around, solve puzzles, run from the enemy, and then that's that. We've got the facade of a chase with BATIM's Ink Machine escape event, the stress-inducing Huggy Wuggy vent chase in Poppy Playtime, and the laughable final event of Garten's first chapter, where the undeniably unthreatening Opila Bird is hoisted across the abyss towards you. If I want to stand out in my own mascot horror game, the idea would be to have an enemy stalk you throughout the entire chapter, or at least, a sizeable part of it. It would make the final chase even more horrifying, as you're familiar with the threat, and know exactly how much danger you'll be in when it catches you.