#2k writing challenge

[nekoannie-chan]

I wish it wasn’t true

Pairing: Mean!Ex!Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader, ? X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 1185 words.

Summary: You are trying to forget your relationship with your ex-boyfriend Steve.

Warnings: Mean!Steve,  Ex!Steve, old violent relationship, broke up, new relationship, jealousy, past toxic relationship.

A/N: This my entry to @locke-writes’ 2K Writing Challenge with the song prompt #13 and the dialogue prompt #4:

“Happier than ever- Billie Eilish.”

“I trust you. I just don’t trust them.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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You moved uncomfortably; you knew that everything Steve was saying on TV was a lie, but after fixing all the chaos that Thanos had caused, he changed. Or maybe not, and he had always been like that; he just knew very well how to act. After so many years, he knew how to pretend he was a victim.

" 'Cause that shit's embarrassing," Steve said in the interview.

"Maybe you shouldn't watch that; I don't want you to be sad," he said as he turned off the TV and put the cupcake on the coffee table.

"It's okay; I'm fine, really," you assured him, looking him in the eyes.

"Y/N."

It had been several months since you had thought about him, and now you were happy.

"When I'm away from you, Steve, I'm happier than ever", you thought. Last week, you enjoyed activities you hadn't done for a long time.

Nevertheless, you began to think about what had happened while you were with Steve as you picked up the cupcake to eat it.

Steve was not answering the communicator; you were worried that maybe something had happened to him and he needed reinforcements, or maybe...

You shook your head to get rid of those ideas. A few seconds later, Steve appeared. He wasn't hurt, although he looked very upset.

"You scared me to death," you said, approaching. Steve didn't even look at you; he just continued on his way.

"I trust you. I just don't trust them," Steve said when you informed him that you would have a mission with friends who also worked in the Organization.

In the end, you asked to change teams; you had argued with Steve about it.

"Are you all right? "he asked.

"Yes, I was just thinking," you answered.

"You can tell me anything; you know that.

"I wish I could explain it better," even though you had already told him what happened plus what was obvious that most people had seen.

"Take your time; you can say anything you want."

"I wish it wasn't true and that it had never happened, that it was all a dream. Every day was horrible, and I'd end up more afraid."

You went on talking for a couple of hours.

Finally, you had decided on your old apartment: you were going to rent it. You had only gone to get some things you had forgotten. You were startled when you heard the front door close. No one but you had the keys, but suddenly you remembered that Steve had never given them back to you.

You peeked out, and Steve was standing there; maybe he had been spying on you all this time, and that's why you had had that strange feeling during the week.

"Y/N, long time no see," Steve greeted you, and you swallowed saliva.

"Steve, what are you doing here?" You said, trying not to be obvious, that you were looking for your cell phone.

"Are you looking for this?" Steve showed you the cell phone.

"What do you want?" You replied.

"Talk; I never knew why you left the house," he replied. "Don't say it isn't fair."

"You clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable."

"Please, I'm the best thing that ever happened to you in your whole life; you didn't appreciate it."

"And all that you did was make me fucking sad."

"Come on, Y/N, stop playing the victim; I think I at least need an explanation."

"I always said you were misunderstood just because of who you were before the serum, but that doesn't mean you're really a good person."

"Oh, come on, are you serious? You'd do the opposite of what you said you'd do."

"So, if you really wanna know the reasons why I left you, you should reflect on everything that happened and what you did."

"Are you saying it was my fault you ran off with who knows who?" Steve said.

"No, what I'm saying is that it was a long time ago that I didn't love you anymore because of the way you treated me. 'Cause I'd never treat me this way, you know, I deserve a hell of a lot better," you replied.

"No, Y/N, you have to admit that it wasn't my fault that we broke up; it was your friends', 'cause you only listen to your fucking friends."

"That's a lie, Steve; you were the one who was trying to keep me away from everyone, but I'm wasting my breath."

"You're lying; besides, I doubt anyone would want to go out with you; everyone believes me and knows who you are and everything you did."

"I never told anyone anything bad about you; I just told the truth to those who asked me," "you said.

"Stop lying; you always liked to draw attention to yourself."

"And I don't talk shit about you!" You ruined everything. There were so many things I loved to do, and you made me hate them. "You were having a hard time staying calm, and again, the fear of him was coming back". You were my everything."

"I still am, but you don't want to accept it; come on, Y/N, if you behave yourself, everything will be as it should be."

"And don't try to make me feel bad."

"I'm just saying you should consider things," Steve said with a smirk on his face.

"You made all my moments your own; you know the plans always worked; I was the one making the plans, and you took all the credit; why do you think your last few missions have failed?"

"You need me."

"So don't waste the time I don't have; please go away," you asked. "I don't relate to you."

Steve laughed. "Why do you keep playing the victim? You're the one who left me."

"Just fucking leave me alone."

"Rogers, you better leave; Y/N has been very clear; she doesn't love you, and she doesn't want to be with you." You heard a male voice behind Steve, and you smiled when you saw him.

"Don't get in the way, Rumlow," Steve replied.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to threaten me? Because it's not going to work with me, you'd better leave. Anyway, I'll inform S.H.I.E.L.D. what happened," Brock threatened firmly.

Steve gave him a hateful look before leaving the apartment.

"Are you all right? I think I arrived in time. "

"Better than ever, I finally got to tell him everything I wanted to. I don't love Steve Rogers anymore; he may still think he's the best person in the world, but one day the truth will come out."

"Do you still want to go to the movies?"

"Sure, I've been waiting for months for the movie to come out; I wouldn't miss it for the world."

You took the car keys, and after the movie, you would tell Brock that if you had agreed to both of them being transferred to another S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in another country, you would start over from scratch and start a new life together. Now you're happy.

[locke-writes]

2k Writing Challenge

Sign Ups Open: March 24th, 2023

Sign Ups Close: April 25th, 2023

Writings Due: July 15th, 2023 (can be posted before the due date)

Rules:

Send an ask letting me know that you’re joining

Let me know the character that you are writing for. Must be a character I am familiar with so feel free to ask ahead of time if you are unsure you will be able to write for characters I know

Choose between 1-3 prompts from the below indicating whether they are dialogue or song prompts. You may mix and match between the two (ie. 1 song prompt + 1 dialogue prompt). I’ll then put your url next to the prompt/s you’ve chosen so you can reference this post.

There is no minimum or maximum word count

AUs are more than welcome, just let me know if you’re planning an AU

Make sure to include trigger warnings in your post if they’re needed

Tag Me and DM me a link if I don’t like the post within 24 hours of it being up. Sometimes tumblr is fickle and doesn’t like to notify me of being tagged

You may sign up to write more than one thing however you can’t use the same prompts (ie. if you sign up to write X character with song prompt 3, you can’t use that prompt if you want to write Y character)

Additional questions can be sent through the inbox. Prompts are below

Song Prompts:

Boris - Lo-Fang

People Watching - Conan Gray

If I Get High - Nothing But Thieves

Fair - The Amazing Devil

Saint Bernard - Lincoln

And She Was - Talking Heads

Bulletproof - La Roux

Pierre - Ryn Weaver

Washing Machine Heart - Mitski

brutal - Olivia Rodrigo

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

Jessie’s Girl - Rick Springfield

Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish ( @nekoannie-chan / Steve Rogers )

Vienna - Billy Joel

Come Along - Cosmo Sheldrake

Kiss Me - Sixpence None the Richer

Seventeen - MARINA

Sofia - Clairo

Your Stupid Face - Kaden MacKay

Toxic - Britney Spears

All These Things That I’ve Done - The Killers

Movement - Hozier

Motion Sickness - Phoebe Bridgers

End of Beginning - Djo

Liability - Lorde

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons

bad idea! - girl in red

The Adults Are Talking - The Strokes

Just Like Heaven - The Cure

9 Crimes - Damien Rice

Dialogue Prompts

“I couldn’t stop loving you, even if I tried. And I did try for some time. But it didn’t work.

“We all have secrets, don’t we”

“After all you’ve done, how can I trust you?”

“I trust you. I just don’t trust them.” ( @nekoannie-chan / Steve Rogers)

“You’re the only person I would do this for”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear”

“What are you doing with that knife?”

“I think you need a hug”

“I smell something burning. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me”

“Didn’t I tell you to bring a jacket?”

“No! You are not getting me sick!”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Excuse me, that joke was terrible”

“Let me get the first aid kit again”

“You aren’t dying, you just stubbed your toe”

“Who made you cry and where can I find them?”

“Go to bed, you need sleep.”

“It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key”

“Can’t believe I let you drag me into this” ( @kjs-s / Foggy Nelson)

“If the sun isn’t up, then I am not up”

“Trust me it looks worse than it is”

“Act like we’re dating, I see my ex” ( @kjs-s / Foggy Nelson)

“It’s always going to be you”

“Please don’t set off the fire alarm again”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No way, you’re taking a break and that’s final”

“You take care of everyone but who takes care of you”

“We promised not to tell that story to anyone”

“Stay there, I’m on my way”

[lunarbuck]

I would like #3 for the 2k follower challenge.

It's all yours!! Have fun <3

2k writing challenge

[lvrrgirlll]

Valentine’s Day with Mr. Big!Patrick…

~2k words, smut under the cut, mdni

Another February 14th in New York City. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and you were… alone.

You hadn’t talked to Patrick in 3 days, which may not have seemed like a lot, but to you, it was a lot. You worried you two were slipping out of the honeymoon phase already, despite the fact that you’d only been dating for 2 months so far, and didn’t know what to do. You had spent the night with him 3 nights ago, and all was going well. That was until you mentioned Valentine’s Day.

“So… y’know what’s in 3 days,” you asked as you traced little hearts onto his toned bicep, offering him a goofy grin.

He chuckled a bit, his gravely ‘morning voice’ still very apparent and striking a chord somewhere deep within you. “Uhh… Friday?” His eyes crinkled as he grinned. He was like this. So devilishly handsome, so effortlessly adorable, and so painfully clueless. You often couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, because he was, in some ways, a mystery to you even after all this time.

You chose to hope he was only kidding and smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “Ha ha, very funny. It’s Friday but it’s also…” you attempted to prompt him, looking at him expectantly.

“Friday the 13th? I’ve got nothing sweetheart, why don’t you just tell me…” he replied smoothly, though it was anything but the answer you were hoping for. He pulled you into his arms and onto his chest when he spoke, leaving you unable to avoid his now obvious genuine lack of awareness at what holiday was right around the corner.

“You really don’t know?” He shook his head again. You couldn’t stand this. Sighing and slumping your head down onto his bare chest, you murmured into his skin “it’s Valentine’s Day.”

After you gave it away, he was surprised at how much you seemed to value the holiday and you were, in all honesty, pissed that he hadn’t realized or seemed to care once you told him. He acted like it was… just something silly. But what’s silly about love?

You had kissed him and then left, citing some meeting with your editor, expecting him to call later that night to apologize for being so careless. But when no such apology came, you were left confused and nearing a wallowing state, leaving you alone on Valentine’s Day.

You reached for the phone, hoping to call up your girl friends and see if they were also alone and wanted to get together, but right as you were about to pick it up, it began to rang. Picking it up immediately, you were pleasantly surprised to be met with Patrick’s voice.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” It was smooth. Maybe too smooth. But it was Valentine’s Day, after all. You were just happy to hear his voice.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you practically squealed back, flopping onto your bed as you twirled the phone cord in your finger.

“So I was thinking… you and me, we should spend the day together. I wanna take you out. I thought we’d start with a little walk around the city, I may or may not already have some flowers for you… and then we can go by that new cafe that just opened up for a late breakfast/early lunch-“

You cut him off then with an eager “yes!” “And then this evening I’ve sort of been invited to this Vogue Valentine’s party, it’s supposed to be really chic and classy, if you’d want to be my plus one…”

You can practically hear the smirk when his voice ripples through the phone. “Oh, I’d love to be your plus one.” You wanted to do a happy dance right there in your apartment. You were back in the game! “So I’ll meet you outside your apartment in 30 minutes?”

Your day from there was nothing short wonderful. He showed up at your door with a big bouquet of fresh, red roses, probably at least fifty, maybe a hundred. It was clear he spared no expense. As the two of you strolled through the city, it felt as if those three days hadn’t mattered at all, and maybe you were just overreacting, because here and now, this felt like it. Over brunch at the cafe —which was incredibly chic, by the way— the two of you discussed valentines past and laughed about all of the ridiculousness of your old relationships.

Of course, he mentioned how he didn’t like to celebrate Valentine’s Day normally, even being such a ladies’ man. He took the position of most men in Manhattan in corporate America: that it was “a commercial holiday made to sell chocolate, flowers, jewelry, and stuffed animals to poor saps who had to shower their wives or girlfriends with gifts and to lonely people wanting to drown their sorrows alike.” He was such a businessman. You had to remind him, then, that he had bought into it by buying you such nice roses, to which he only shot you a crooked smile accompanied by a wink, commenting “well you’re worth it.” God, you could just melt.

After brunch the two of you took the long way back to your apartment, walking through the park a bit. You marveled at all the sweet couples while he made cynical, sarcastic comments about how much they probably secretly hated each other. It wasn’t like he had an aversion to love, quite the opposite actually, but again, he was a businessman…

When you finally reached your apartment, you parted ways with a passionate kiss on your front steps. “Pick you up at eight?” He asked, smiling down at you lazily.

“Eight’s perfect,” you hummed.

“Knowing you, you’ll still be doing your hair at eight, but y’know you’re worth the wait,” he joked, kissing you again before starting off. “I’ll be here at eight, hold me to it,” he shouted as you parted ways.

“Oh, I will!”

He was right about what he’d said, dammit. You were obviously running late, per usual. You had picked out a dress, a satiny, red little number that didn’t leave much to the imagination. And actually your hair and makeup was done. It was the shoes you couldn’t decide on!

Patrick sat on your bed as you rummaged through your closet, hoping to find the elusive ‘perfect pair of shoes.’ “So what do these shoes look like exactly,” he called out, looking over the scattered pile of heels and pumps that laid not too far from his feet.

“I don’t know! I’ll know them when I see them… I just need the perfect shoes to go with this dress,” you insisted. At that, he scoffed.

“I think I like the dress better without much else on you…” he attempted to flirt with you, but this was no lighthearted matter. It was the Vogue party and you needed the perfect shoes. You rummaged around a bit more, reaching into the depths of your closet before you found a kitten heeled sandal with a floral detail. It was perfect!

“Ok, we can go now,” you exclaimed, posing in the doorway of your closet for him. His eyes raked over your body, jaw slack. He moved to check his watch, then.

“And only 30 minutes late,” he remarked, quirking an eyebrow as a silent ‘I told ya.’

“Hey, we’re fashionably late…”

The party was nice, with an open bar and goodie bags with Chanel and Dior samples, you couldn’t complain. It was a bit… tame, though. After some schmoozing, introducing Patrick to some writers you knew and basking in the ‘oh, you two make such a hot couple’-s, you both were ready to leave.

“What’s say we get outta here and go back to my place…” he whispered into your ear, dipping down to place a kiss onto your shoulder as he took the empty glass out of your hand, handing it to one of the many waiters patrolling the event. You looked around, mostly to make sure that you had talked to everyone you needed to, before turning to him and smiling.

“I’d like that.”

Back at his apartment, Patrick offered you some wine and even pulled out some chocolate covered strawberries for you two to enjoy. It was lovely, but that didn’t last long, both your burning desires for each other bubbling up like champagne popping from a bottle.

You were making out on his couch, the view of the city from his window underscoring the moment perfectly, as the Empire State Building lit up in a heart. “Oh, Pat, look…” you pulled away to point it out. He only hummed in response, pulling you back in and mumbling into your lips how it was ‘sweet.’

Eventually, you two moved from the couch to his king sized bed, the Egyptian cotton sheets cascading around you as he ravaged you. His lips were all over you like he was a man starved. He tugged at the hem of your dress, pulling it up and off of you in moments, marveling at your beauty.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me…” he mumbled, more so to himself, sighing. He then freed himself of his finely tailored suit, moving back to you, the feeling of skin on skin so tender and so intimate. He brought his lips to your chest, pressing hot kisses to your skin and tonguing at you teasingly. It made you giggle and your face screw up in pleasure all at the same time.

“Pat…” you whined, looking at him with a needy pout. He only smirked at that.

“Yeah, okay, okay, I know I shouldn’t tease… it is Valentine’s Day after all. Let me show you how much I care…” He tugged his boxers down, pulling your panties to the side and sliding in easily, a breathy groan escaping his lips as his eyes shut. You gasped as he began to move, first at a steady pace, then quickening soon after, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“I missed ‘ya, honey,” he panted as he thrust in and out of you swiftly. “I’m sorry I was a dick about Valentine’s Day. You’ve-“ he hit especially deep, causing you to moan and squeeze tightly around him. “Y- you’ve shown me just how good it can be...” He leaned in to kiss you, stifling you moans as he still moved in and out at an impossible speed. You were overwhelmed by pleasure and adoration. As he shoved into you, you kissed and bit down lightly on his shoulder, trying to contain yourself, knowing he liked to finish together.

He knew you were almost there and he didn’t want to keep you waiting. Moving even quicker, if it was even possible, he felt that familiar heat, knowing then that he was ready. “I’m there baby- fuck… c’mon.” One of his hands was tangled in your hair but the other one came down to rub at your clit, making your hips buck up as you gasped.

“Fuck, Pat, I’m gonna…m’gonna…” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as your release overtook your body, feeling him come down too. He pulled out, laying next to you and pulling your body close to his and kissing your forehead.

“Can I tell you something,” he asked, voice muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“Sure,” you muse back. He sounded sweet, contemplative, as if he might finally say those three little words… (‘I love you.’)

“I am so glad you’re on the pill…” he chuckled dryly, leaving you to roll your eyes and flick him in the arm. You relationship may have been a bit rough around the edges, but hey, it was yours.

[mitternacht]

Hi I spend way too much time thinking about Fuuta Kajiyama and really wanted an excuse to throw out a full breakdown of his character and why I think he’s so well written.

The long and short of it is that Fuuta’s character was built to represent social isolation and the effects it has on the psyche. And the direction his character has taken in T3 was always going to be the natural progression of his character, especially based on his T1 verdict and the consequences of that, it did not come out of nowhere and is not a questionable writing decision.

(The rest under the cut for really long winded meta and dissection of Fuuta’s character and how we got here)

To start, I want to talk about Fuuta’s life before Milgram.

He’s a 20 year old university student, with no strong ties to family and no real group of friends or social circle to speak of. Already, he’s very isolated and has shown that he’s quite directionless. He doesn’t have any dreams or aspirations, because he thinks things like that are “childish” and “worthless”. He’s also never felt a real sense of protection or authority from the adult figures in his life, based on the way he talks about his parents. I’m inclined to believe they weren’t really present while he was growing up as well based on what we know of them, which caused further isolation and left him devoid of a sense of purpose. (Getting slightly ahead of myself here, but guess which type of people are most susceptible to falling into cults?)

So, what does he have to cling to? What does he have to keep him going? We all have a deep innate need for human connection and community, so where can he get that?

Online, of course.

So, he turns to the internet. He finds a community of people who enjoy the same things he does that he can connect with, and this serves as a lifeline for him. Now, he’s also been shown to have a strong sense of justice, which is perhaps one of the only other defining characteristics he can claim for himself and one of the only things he believes in. He feels a sense of empowerment and pride when he’s “carrying out justice” in his eyes, and it gives him a sense of purpose and duty that he’s lacking elsewhere in his life. It also brings him validation from his community, who further enable him and fan the flames, so to speak. He’s part of a group, he’s part of something for the first time in his life, and he has no way of stopping at this point. And then, it goes too far.

(I don’t feel like I should need to say this, but for the sake of posterity, yes, what Fuuta did was very, very bad and should never be condoned or excused. But again, it’s a very real problem and is caused by social isolation which is very common in today’s world and is worth having a discussion about. Fuuta’s character is an excellent showcase of how easily this can lead people to do terrible things by turning to online validation and praise for their sole source of connection with others.)

Now Fuuta is a person that doesn’t know how to deal with heavy negative emotions. He’s not very mentally strong, and being so isolated for most of his life with no real sense of purpose has left him with not a lot of ways to properly process or cope. When we first meet him in Milgram, he’s leaning very heavily on denial. He’s convinced himself that he did nothing wrong, and can’t even entertain the thought that his actions had killed someone. He’s also the type of person that can’t stand showing any signs of weakness. He acts big, and angry, and tough, because that’s the easiest way to deflect from any other “weak” emotions he may be feeling.

But, the side effect of this inability to process his negative emotions and acting out like this, is that he can’t make any real connections with the other prisoners in Milgram. (I’m not counting minigram as canon in this breakdown as an fyi, I’m basing this solely on interactions from timelines and voice dramas)

He’s lost the only community he had, completely cut off from it, and is experiencing the social isolation that drove him to this in the first place all over again. He sees the older prisoners as unreliable and not anyone he can lean on in this situation, and at this point doesn’t seem to have any particular feelings about the other prisoners. He mentions looking out for Haruka in particular, but (as much as it pains me to say this since I do love the 0103 dynamic) it’s unlikely that this was a significant enough connection to keep him from feeling socially isolated in Milgram. He states that he’s not looking to make friends with the other prisoners, but that was likely just big talk and hiding the fact that he couldn’t make that connection with anyone.

With all of these negative emotions he can’t process or cope with, the fear and uncertainty of his environment, the loss of community he once had, and without anybody or anything to rely on for guidance or protection, it’s already a recipe for a shattered mental state.

Now let’s throw a guilty verdict, some horrible physical trauma, voices that you can’t escape, heavy sleep deprivation and paranoid hypervigilance into the mix!

(I also want to point out… Fuuta’s second voice drama is titled “Baptism of Fire”. Yes, it’s a turn of phrase involving fire because that’s Fuuta’s motif, but knowing what we do now this was completely intentional foreshadowing)

The attack Fuuta sustained from Kotoko would be traumatic for anyone, and I feel that the effect this attack had on him is frequently dismissed because he wasn’t on the brink of death like Mahiru was. In Shidou’s T2 voice drama, he lists Fuuta’s injuries as: an orbital floor fracture, traumatic retinal detachment, bruising, lacerations, and a partial fracture of the thorax. This is going to cause some very severe chronic pain for him, particularly in his head and chest, especially considering they don’t have access to proper treatment and from what Fuuta has said they likely don’t have access to any sort of painkillers either. Even the act of just breathing is going to exacerbate his pain, and there’s just nothing that can be done for it. Speaking as someone with chronic pain myself, it definitely has a severe impact on your mental state and ability to do quite literally anything.

Regarding the “voices and eyes” of the audience, Fuuta has always been a special case, because out of the characters that have mentioned the voices in particular he has been the most severely and negatively affected by them. He states that he can’t sleep because he feels that he’s being watched, and he’s mentioned several times how badly the voices affect him and how badly he wants them to stop. And this sleep deprivation just aggravates quite literally everything else that he’s currently dealing with, physically and mentally, making everything worse by tenfold.

The fact that he even admits to being scared and shows weakness to Es, considering the fact that he has an innate need to hide any sort of weakness, should be very telling. We are also told so many times during T2 that Fuuta is at his breaking point and is a complete mess.

Although it’s not directly stated in canon, Fuuta very heavily showcases symptoms of psychosis that have seemed to become progressively worse through and after T2. (I made a post about this not too long ago, trying not to repeat too much here but I broke this down a little more in that other post)

And what’s a common symptom of psychosis? Religious delusion.

To start with, Fuuta's character even before entering Milgram is a prime example of someone who is extremely susceptible to falling in with a cult. Someone who is socially isolated, craves human connection and belonging, and who is searching for a sense of purpose/duty. You add onto that his murder and the need for someone to forgive him for it, the desperation for something to cling to, the worsening symptoms of psychosis and need for something to cure his pain? How in the world was he supposed to do anything but turn to religious delusion? If he hadn’t, it’s very likely the only other possible option he saw for himself was to end his life, which he mentions doing in Backdraft (and passively in his T2 voice drama).

There was a glimmer of hope when Fuuta mentions that he was grateful to Kazui and Shidou in the aftermath of Kotoko attacking him and what they did to help him, but it’s likely that he saw himself not able to continue relying on them considering Shidou had been so busy with Mahiru and Kazui may not have continued to be as present as Fuuta would have preferred. Which is heartbreaking, considering Fuuta seems to so desperately need an authority/protective adult figure to look up to. Mind you, 20 is not that old and especially if he never had that growing up, it’s natural to still want that at this age.

I would like to reiterate again that Amane did not “brainwash” nor “indoctrinate” Fuuta, she just ended up being the outlet for the only thing Fuuta has become convinced will save him. And now they’re stuck in a very sad cycle of enabling each other through their trauma.

All in all, looking at the pieces of Fuuta’s character I feel that this was always the plan, even from the beginning of T1. We were conditioned from the start to view Fuuta as guilty: by making his character theme red, by introducing him as foul mouthed, angry, arrogant, and unapologetic, and even from Jackalope’s comments in Es’ voice drama. We were conditioned to dislike him from the start, and since that guilty verdict in T1 was made Fuuta’s fate was sealed and this was always going to be the natural progression of his character. It was a slow build up, but was very well thought out and didn’t come out of nowhere.

This is the fulfillment of what happens when you put a socially isolated person through extreme stress and trauma with nothing to hold on to, and again is an excellent showcase of what it can look like to fall in with a cult even with no religious background. And how it’s even easier with individuals who have pre-existing mental illnesses/disorders.

We’ve come full circle and I’m very interested to see where his character goes from here.

[its-all-papaya]

landoscar + 41? 🧡 maybe fake/pr-dating-turned-real-dating coded, so maybe even + 56? like, they realize the fake wasn't that fake anymore 🙈 (insert i am in love are you in love audio here)

they are both in love, anon.

(because i found it kind of impossible to explain without adding sooo much exposition... oscar is not a driver. he's just... a guy. that mclaren found. to date lando. suspend your disbelief, idk)

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

41. to pretend (or is it?) | landoscar | 1.2k

Lando is in over his head. His aching, pounding, hurts-so-bad-it’s-making-him nauseous head. If he’d known one throw-away trip to the club in Miami was going to complicate his life so irreparably, he would have tucked his P1 trophy into bed next to him and gone straight to sleep like a good, boring boy. Instead, he’d gotten catastrophically fucked-up on any number of things he doesn’t remember and tossed himself dick-first into an entire publicity nightmare. That’s the worst part, probably: Lando doesn’t even remember. He remembers taking shots with Max and Danny and he remembers – barely – stumbling to the bathroom, and the next discernable point on that mental timeline comes at approximately 6:45 a.m., when he’d woken up to go vomit and found his lock screen so full of notifications that it’d made him forget to wonder where the man he’d gone to bed next to had pissed off to so early.

Since then, every minute of Lando’s life not spent in the car has felt full wall-to-wall with interviews, and meetings with crisis management, and saying “I’d prefer not to comment on that” so many times he hears it on repeat like an ear worm when he’s falling asleep at night. And also Oscar. There’s been a lot of Oscar.

He’s waiting in the lobby of McLaren’s hospitality when Lando arrives down from his driver’s room after qualifying in Brazil. Lando wonders how he got in, if their bosses have finally decided he’s trustworthy enough to walk around unchaperoned. It’s funny that he ever didn’t have a pass, actually; he is technically a McLaren employee. Probably. Lando thinks he gets paid. They’ve never talked about the specifics.

Either way, however he got there, Oscar is by himself in the lobby, leaned back in a chair, thumbing at his phone. He looks up when he senses Lando’s arrival, and Lando must look even more pathetic than he even thought, because Oscar’s face immediately goes soft with concern and he leaps up to take Lando’s bag off his hands.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks. He slides the backpack onto his own shoulders and then steadies a hand in the middle of Lando’s back, thumb tracing comforting little circles near his spine.

Lando could lie, but there’s not really any point to that, so he lets his face fold into the grimace it wants to be in and presses his thumb between his eyebrows.

“Head’s killing me,” he says. It comes out weak.

Oscar makes a sad little sound in sympathy, and the palm on Lando’s back shifts to his side so Oscar can tug him closer. Lando doesn’t have the energy to fight Oscar on these things at the best of times lately, so he’s definitely not going to when he’s exhausted and sick with the pain behind his eyes. Even though there’s really nobody around to see them.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, then,” Oscar says, and Lando has never agreed to anything faster.

Oscar leads the way out of hospitality and through the paddock, fingers linked securely between Lando’s own. It’s baffling that he’s already been around this circus long enough to know the way without help. Nice, though, because Lando’s not really in a state to be of any.

They run into a few people along the way – fans or sponsors or employees. Lando doesn’t get the chance to tell which are which, because every time somebody new greets them, Oscar’s fingers tighten around his own and he talks the both of them cleverly out of the conversation before Lando can even consider what he would say if he was left to his own devices. It feels nearly impossible that less than six months ago, Oscar could barely say two words to Lando without being directly asked to.

“Oscar!” he hears as they’re nearing the exit, and they’re so close to relative quiet that Lando can’t help but groan about it. Oscar squeezes his hand again like an apology as he turns to address whoever it is.

"What’s up?” Oscar asks. When Lando lifts his eyes from the pavement, it’s Max stood before them. Both of his hands are hooked in the straps of his backpack and his chest is heaving just a little, like he’d jogged to catch them up.

“You’ll of course be at the race tomorrow?” Max asks. Lando’s not sure where this conversation is going, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have to happen right now. He hopes the look he’s giving Max is sufficiently irritated.

It must do the job, because Max’s eyes brighten and he says “Not pleased about that, Lando?”

Oscar’s hand goes from Lando’s palm to his back again, quick, and before Lando can open his mouth, Oscar’s saying, “He doesn’t feel good.”

“Ah,” Max says. Lando can’t figure out the look he’s being given.

“The race tomorrow?” Lando presses. If they’re going to chat about whatever it was right now, they could at least get to the point.

Max nods, shifting his gaze back to Oscar, “You are staying, yeah?”

“Yeah," Oscar says, "Why?”

It’s taking too long. Lando squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder, hoping the counterpressure might do anything at all for the hot ache in his brain. Oscar’s hand goes immediately to the back of Lando’s neck, like it’s habit, and his thumb starts drawing firm lines down the muscle there, hairline to nape. It feels…really, really nice, actually.

“You’ll fly back with us after,” he can make out Max saying, “to Monaco. Lando and I and a few others.”

That doesn’t really make sense. Oscar’s been planning to go home for a bit over the mini break, Lando knows, they talked about it nearly right away when the agreement was drawn up. Far be it from him to argue that point, though, not when Oscar’s saying “Yeah, thanks, mate,” and his thumb’s still easing the pain in Lando’s skull. Lando would blame it on the headache, but it’s not like he’ll mind the extra time with Oscar, either. Which Max knows.

Lando cracks his eyes open and shifts enough to squint suspiciously at his friend, but Max is just grinning happily at the pair of them.

“Very good,” Max says. Sure.

“That’s all?” Oscar asks. His thumb finally stills. Lando does not whine about it, but it’s a close thing.

“Yes,” Max says, “you can take grumpy home now.”

Then, before Lando can decide whether that’s worth getting upset over, Oscar squeezes the back of his neck and nudges him up off his shoulder. His eyes are apologetic when Lando meets them, and he kisses Lando once on the forehead as he slides their palms back together.

It’s nice. Domestic. Very convincing, probably. Oscar’s gotten really good at his job.

“We’ll see you, mate,” Oscar says.

Max clasps Oscar’s hand for a second, then squeezes Lando’s shoulder on his way by.

When he's a few steps off, Oscar says, “Ready?” like Lando hasn’t been begging to go this whole time.

Lando says yes, please and he can tell it's a little whiny, because Oscar says "Hey, okay love, I'm sorry" and brushes a gentle kiss against his lips. Lando thinks Max is probably too far away to see it, but Oscar would know better.

It’s not until they’re finally settled into the back of the car, sides pressed together, that Lando remembers:

“Max knows about everything. You didn’t have to… he knows.”

Oscar’s gaze is soft and maybe a little sad, for some reason, but he smiles past it and combs his fingers through Lando’s hair until he settles.

“Yeah,” Oscar says as Lando’s head falls back against his shoulder, “He does.”

[yallthemwitches]

How about these two prompts in one:

“Spread your legs for me.” … “Spread them wider.” 

Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut. 🫢🫣🥵

(Cannot contain excitement 🤭🤭🤭)

Hello again!

So I cheated (?) and mushed a lot of the prompts into one piece. This one goes with your prompt, plus “Look at you coming undone before I even touch you," and "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Also, just generally I wanted to add another entry into the "James Potter is a munch who loves his girlfriend/wife's pleasure more than himself cinematic universe."

Thanks to everyone who submitted a prompt! I'll keep working on them!

Read under cut or on AO3 here

“The troll wars of the sixteenth century were disrupted by the —James.”

“Hm?” He doesn’t remove his lips from her neck, nipping down the side with his tongue trailing after to lick away any possible pain he’s caused.

“We need to study— we both have history of magic on friday and god knows you haven’t even looked at your notes.“

“I’m listening. Go on, keep reading.” But she has a hard time believing it, because her attention is not even on the words she is saying anymore, rather following the trail of his fingertips under the hem of her skirt.

She continues, but her voice falters on a word. She repeats the sentence once, twice… by the third try, she can feel James’ lips smiling into her collarbone, the hand under her skirt now massaging circles into her inner thigh. 

“You are stressing too much about these exams,” he murmurs, moving his lips up to hers, dragging his tongue against the seam of her mouth. 

“You’re clearly not,” she mumbles back, finishing the quip just before a small gasp bubbles out, his hand below hooking around the strap of her knickers. 

Her eyes flutter closed for a split second, enjoying the lull of his touch, but she wrenches them back open, alarms starting to sound in the back of her mind.

“James—“ she hisses, “Quit it—this is the library…people will see.” 

But he either isn’t listening or doesn’t care. His eyes drift open, just long enough to take a visual scan of the nearby bookshelves before diving back on her, lips moving at a deliberate slowness so she can feel every plea of his tongue as he coaxes her mouth open against his. 

“Just relax Evans—read the lesson and let me take care of you, yeah?”

Right as she is about to ask what exactly he means by that, the warmth of his body disappears and she opens her eyes to see him sliding under the table, a wild grin beaming from his face. 

“Christ, Potter. What are you—“

But the answer becomes evident. She feels two calloused hands start at her ankles and slowly glide up her legs, fingertips like feathers trickling their way to the soft flesh between her thighs and stopping just before the place where the thigh meets the torso. 

“I can’t hear you reading, Evans,” he teases from the darkness under the table, amusement crackling in his voice. She lets out a low noise of discontent: he’s absolutely mental if he thinks she can focus on Troll Wars while he’s down there. 

She wiggles her legs a bit, sliding them side to side as a ploy to get him to do something other than rest his fingers on her upper thigh, but he makes no further movements—his intention to stall clear until she follows direction.

She can feel heat pooling just inches away from where his hands lay with irritatingly zero pressure and moves to alleviate it herself. She begins to clamp her thighs shut but he moves instantly, hands pressing hard down into her thighs and prying them open wider so that her knees are almost in line with the corners of the chair. 

“No way. I need you to spread your legs for me—as wide as you can, then start reading because I’m trying to study here.”

She has half the mind to kick him, but just as she attempts to jut out her leg, two hot hands press against either side of where her thighs and center meet and something hot and damp takes one long swipe against the center of her knickers. 

She doubles over the table, bracing herself with her hands to not completely collapse her cheek against the surface. His mouth hovers against her middle, hands still holding her open, but he stalls again, making himself clear. 

“I can’t hear you reading…c’mon Evans—I’m a kinesthetic learner...”

Arsehole. Breathing shallow, she straightens herself, feeling his fingers contract slightly on her thigh. Her center is so hungry for his touch again that it’s buzzing, all her body heat leeching to the one singular place where his mouth lingers. 

“Godric—you are getting so wet…” She doesn’t hear him say it, but she can feel it, his lips so close to the fabric that the words tickle her core. “Look at you coming undone and I haven’t even touched you yet…”

In another moment she would have called him arrogant, but the overpowering need for him to touch her keeps her mouth tight. She takes a haggard breath and picks the textbook back up, willing to play along if it means feeling less like an insect squirming on a pin.

“T-The Troll War of—of Fuck Baby.”

Finally, the stalemate ends. His mouth descends on her, fingers tugging away the soaked fabric of her knickers to press kitten licks into bare skin. Sparks of light dance across her vision, and her reading falters, unable to get her eyes to focus on the words much less anything else besides his tongue. 

“Merlin Lils, you’re dripping.” A finger dips into her with zero resistance and the sound of his fingers pumping into her wafts its way up into the room. She claws at the surface of the table, not able to find purchase and wishing she could reach for his hair and push his tongue in alongside his fingers.

“James—“

All pretense of reading is abandoned, James now solely focused on one goal only: to taste her come. He nibbles at her clit, alternating repetitive strokes of the tongue with soft sucking. She squirms against him, unhappy with her lack of mobility in the scenario—usually she is able to at least touch him back, but his spot under the table makes it too difficult to slide her hands down to find him.

“Come fuck me,” she gasps, getting restless. “I don’t bloody care who sees, come take me up against the shelf and let me come on your cock.”

A low gutteral noise echoes from below. “Fuck—-Fuck Lily—you saying that...”

For a moment he stalls, deliberating the proposition with her clit between his lips, then he begins moving again—twisting fingers, repeated laps, a thumb circling the bundle of nerves at the center of it all.

“No—come first,” he says, pulling her thighs impossibly wider. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

It’s unbearable, the pleasure building in her body. He adds more pressure, focusing on the exact spots he knows will make her unravel the fastest. It takes an act of god to keep her eyes open, always watching for some stray student to wander past and see her keeled over and panting against her homework.

Stripes of color litter her eyesight, the pleasure mounting right where his tongue lingers, coaxing her to finish in the same rhythm of his hand. She covers her mouth, unable to hold back moans as the sensation culminates, crashing down on her like warm rain. 

“Shh—just a little more…” 

Little is an understatement. Her body trembles, head falling down against the cool grain of the table.

“James, baby I—.” 

It is loud enough to echo against the high dome ceiling, but she doesn’t care anymore. He continues even after she has come down from her climax, stroking the now sensitive skin until a bubble of laughter pulls him away. 

Slunk against the table, she doesn’t register he’s moved until her chair skids backwards with her in it. Now out from his hiding spot, he stands in front of her, mouth glistening and a feral look gazing back from under his lenses. Her eyes have only seconds to zero in on the very obvious tent in his pants when she is shot backwards, now pressed against the nearest shelf with dust raining down on her. 

“I ready to fuck you now.”

His tongue slips into her mouth and she tastes herself heady on his tongue. He bunches up her skirt enough to rip down her knickers, pocketing them in the process and she fiddles with his waistband, taking care to grind her hips forward in the process. 

She has to admit, It’s her favorite part.

When he goes down on her he is all power, commanding her body much like he does a broomstick: with lithe, domineering movements encompassed in complete awe. But after, after when he has the trophy of his name pouring from her lips and her taste surging against his tongue– then he is finally able to give in. He melts completely for her.

“Lily–” he coos when she finds the smooth skin of his cock from inside his pants and shoves his trousers down just enough to release him. 

 “Merlin you’re amazing–a dream…I mean, fucking christ.”

She laughs at his adopted muggle swear while busying herself with hiking her leg around his waist. He takes her ass in both hands, holding her wedged against the bookshelf. 

“I’m going to dock points from you for making too much noise,” she says with laughter trickling out. He grins back, not even denying his penchant for being vocal. 

“Do it, take it. Best loss of Gryffindor pride I’ve ever wallowed away.” 

Turns out she is just as bad as he is. He pants between her breasts, dipping in and out of her with a swift ease, aided by the remains of his earlier work. She grips everywhere at once, the creaking wood of the shelves, the rattling tomes behind her, his shoulders, and especially his hair. She cries into his neck, biting down as a means to silence herself but getting a little more mileage when the action makes James’ hips snap forward, the new angle shooting her back off the ledge and landing her somewhere past human thought. He follows after, gasping her name against her as he shakes in release. 

In all, it's a miracle they aren’t caught. 

“So much for our history of magic NEWT,” she sighs, absently trailing a hand through his hair and down the nape of his neck while his heartbeat slows under her. He enjoys being inside of her for just a moment longer, fully aware the second they separate the real world will rush in.

“What are you talking about?” He looks up with his glasses askew on his face, eyes dreamy and serene. She has the urge to kiss him, so she does.

“I’ll never forget the Troll War for as long as I live now—who knew shagging was a very effective study strategy.”

She laughs and he pushes their foreheads together, wishing he could bottle the sound.

[truly-morgan]

Kinktober Summer Rerun 2024: Oviposition ● Plantcest 🌱🌱

【DAY 16】

[#plantcest kv, oviposition, modern setting, vashussy with weird alien anatomy]

“Nai” Vash gasped then whined, feeling himself being lifted off of the floor upon getting home. They had barely made it into their apartment before his twin was all over him. “At least wait until we’re in the bedroom, last time on the floor wasn’t comfortable,” he said, earning a sigh from his brother who had been kissing his neck.

He was already ready to start, pressing hard against the warmth between Vash’s legs, grinding hard. But he still obeyed the young man’s demand, holding him tightly as he made his way to the bedroom.

Once they got there Vash allowed himself to fall backwards, pulling Nai along with him into the bed. In no time he was being ravished again, warm hand nearly tearing his clothes off of him. Not that he was that much more patient, pulling as best as he could at Nai’s t-shirt.

“Beautiful, perfect” Nai said under his breath as he looked down at his brother, pale lines covering his body, more so his navel area. He brushed his fingers lightly over his skin, smiling at how they glowed a pretty pink-ish hue at /his/ touch. No one else they knew, all humans, could bring such a reaction.

His hand then slowly made its way south, going through soft feathers that covered his pubic, before finally reaching his destination. his fingers teased the little appendages that kept close, tracing the seam between them. He smiled satisfied when they slowly started opening up, wrapping around his fingers.

“Look at you, opening up for me so nicely~” Nai said, fingers playing with the little opening appendages, feeling thinner tendrils wrapping around the same fingers, pulling him close lightly. “Your body is as honest as ever” he nearly purred, looking at a flustered Vash.

They hadn’t been doing this for very long, it had taken some time for Nai to convince him even. But really, no one else was more compatible for either of them as each other, not even other plants. It was shown by just how responsive their bodies were when mating season came.

“You are no better” Vash tried to argue, hand sneaking inside his sweatpants, feeling something just as similar gently grab onto his fingers. Nai groaned as he kept stroking and rubbing, something slowly unravelling and pushing out of him. Vash eventually got impatient and pushed his boxer and sweatpants away.

Similar appendages as he had opened up, but instead of showing a throbbing hole what humans would call a cock had slowly come out. A blue-ish colour, with bumps and ridges covering its length up to a somewhat flattened tip. Little tendril at the base, similar to Vash’s, seemingly seeking out something to hold onto.

Once naked Nai was back at kissing Vash like his life depended on it, fingers pushed deep inside of him. It wasn’t really like he needed to prepare him, their bodies were made for each other and he knew he could just trust him immediately if he wanted to.

But he also liked teasing his twin.

Seeing him squirm under him, lightly begging Nai to fuck him already. Looking as he seemed to be burning from the inside the same way his brother was. The way he could feel thick juice cover his fingers and hand, Vash already leaking so much with barely any attention given to him.

“Naaaaaii, pleaaase” Vash whined, legs wrapping around him and pulling him closer.

How could he refuse him so much when he was so adorable and sexy begging for him like this? With a little chuckle, he finally stopped, despite the stamen-like tendril trying to keep him close. They weren’t left alone for too long though as he instead made himself comfortable between his twin's legs, slowly pushing his cock in.

A shiver ran down his back as his own sensitive tendrils were grabbed by his brother’s, trying to keep him close and unable to move away. Showing just how much Vash needed him, how much he wanted to keep him close right now. Not that he would complain.

He cursed under his breath at the way Vash was holding onto him tightly, velvety walls throbbing around him, feeling like they wanted him to stay buried here forever. He’d normally like to go slow and easy with him, but right now he can’t quite stop himself from pounding into him, too overwhelmed by the need to breed.

And Vash’s cries and moans of pleasure sure aren’t helping in keeping him going slow.

So he trusts, in and out, barely able to control himself, grabbing his brother’s waist so tightly he’ll probably have bruises later on. He doesn’t care though, he loves seeing his twin marked by him. Plus it keeps him from squirming too much, letting him hit just the right spot to have Vash cuming on his cock in no time, even more slick drenching the bed.

Then he feels it, a tightness inside of him, feeling so close to yet unable to really get over yet either. His trust becomes less fast but rougher, trying to go as deep as possible. As if reacting to his own body he can feel how hard it is to pull away as his and Vash’s petal-like appendages start holding onto each other, keeping them locked and closed. All he can do is shallowly trust into him, groaning as he can finally feel something travelling inside his length.

Slowly but surely little eggs start being laid inside of Vash, being pushed deeper as others just as slowly pop inside. And he just loves it, seeing the look on his brother’s face as he being filled up with eggs, looking blissed and satisfied, body glowing more than ever, humming slightly.

He knows they won’t keep the eggs, but it still won’t stop his brain from being proud and possessive of this moment. Watching as Vash’s belly slowly start to grow a little as more eggs are being pushed inside of him.

But even when the eggs are doing being pushed inside it’s not quite finished. Nai is soon gently trusting his hips again, as much as their locked body will allow it. It doesn’t bring much friction but it is enough to have him cum properly, filling up the young man with a sweet liquid that should fertilise the eggs and keep the safe.

It only make Vash look even more bloated. If only those stupid humans could see him like this, see who Vash belongs to.

He only stops when he cannot pump anymore inside of Vash, taking a moment to look properly at his twin. Vash always looks so good, but like this he looks devine, just like he should always be, filled up with Nai.

Then he sees arms reaching out to him, Vash whining out his name. It all it takes for him to lean down, allowing himself to be pulled closer, kissing him slowly and gently, more so than he did before. He moves them around to lay down more comfortably, waiting for their bodies to finally agree to let them go.

He can’t wait to be pumping more eggs inside of Vash, wondering just how much he’ll be able to accept inside of his body before it’s too much even for him.

To see him looking fully pregnant is such a sight he cannot pass on.

He also knows, despite his instinct hating it, that it will be just as fun watching and helping Vash lay them too soon. Watching as he slowly push everything out of him, gushing with Nai’s semen.

But for now they can relax, they have a lot of time to do all of this.

[thevioletfury]

Domesticity– Kuro One-Shot

Summer heat and unfamiliar places lead to restless nights. Ciel and Elizabeth talk. Married life fluff. Rated T/M(?). 2k words.

“Can’t sleep?” Ciel’s voice rang out from his place in the balcony doorway, his slender frame leaned against the frame. He appeared more boyish than usual; standing barefoot with tousled hair and wearing a matching pajama set that were rolled at the ankles and wrists, an homage to his former self. Now at 19, his youthfulness continued to find ways to stick around.

“Well, thrashing around in bed would only irritate both of us, so I’m trying to bore myself back to sleep”. Elizabeth responded without glancing up from the page in her book, Walden by Henry David Thoreau, illuminated by a single candle on the glass table next to her. She sat curled up in a chair on their balcony, though it was really her balcony since she was the only one who used it. “It’s far too stifling inside, I couldn’t take it anymore” She admitted plainly. 

It only took a couple strides for Ciel to take his seat next to her. Height was one of his indicators that he was not a child anymore. At around 15 he’d caught up to Lizzy’s height, and by 17 he noticed he could see clear over the top of her head. “The manor still isn’t to your liking?” He posed to her, his gaze wandering off into gardens and forest below them. 

Three months had passed since their wedding, though if you told her it had been merely days, she would’ve believed you. Nothing was to her liking because this manor was not hers, it was theirs. Frankly, Elizabeth was not used to sharing anything prior to marriage. She had a brother, but their lives were entirely separate. Then suddenly on a random day in April, she was sharing an estate, a name, and a bedroom with someone else. It was incredibly odd to her to not be waking up in the same room she had been for the past 20 years of her life. The adjustment had been difficult on Ciel too, that went without saying. He had been quite comfortable with his solitude and enjoyed having control over the frequency of company. On that same day in April, that privilege was taken away too. They were always in each other’s space and still trying to find the rhythm of their life. And now, to agitate things further, it was the peak of summer. 

Unable to come up with a more eloquent response, Elizabeth said, “It’s just hot”, sighing softly as she adjusted in her spot. If it weren’t for the optometrist nagging her about reading in the dark, she would’ve snuffed out the candle ages ago. Even the slightest amount of heat it emitted was seemingly canceling out any scarce breeze that came along. Finally, she closed her book in her lap. “I’m just restless, it’s no one’s fault but my own”.

Ciel looked at her. She had grown up too, more than himself, he’d argue. Her hair was always down, framing a face that had sharpened from once being stout. The way her eyebrows were always slightly furrowed made it appear that she was in a constant train of deep thought, a trait no doubt adopted from her mother. Sharp, calm, and opinionated was how he’d describe her. All her girly traits and pleasures were still there under the hard shell she had created to protect herself, just over time they became more strictly reserved for those closest to her. He understood this all too well and did not question her when she had started to change. He’d been numb to her beauty before, but the longer he stayed around her, the quicker the ice within began to thaw. 

Her explanation was met with a hum. It’s not that he was indifferent to her discomfort. If she asked for something, he’d see to it immediately. They both knew this, sitting and silently staring at one another in the darkness. “Should we go for a walk?” He suggested, gesturing to the vast acreage at their disposal below. 

Elizabeth turned her head slightly in confusion, like a dog that can’t understand what is being told of them to do. “At this hour? And with no shoes?” She asked, her book moving from her lap to the table as she adjusted her nightgown around her legs. This was another thing she was not used to: the freedom that came with marriage. There was no more chaperoning or parental observation. It was just the two of them and the privacy their home provided. It was freeing. Surely, she understood that this was quite the paradoxical take on marriage for the times. Many women her age, many that she personally knew, would rather describe their arrangements similar to that of a bird having its wings clipped. Grounded, caged, and miserable. Ciel never made her feel that way though, intentionally or not. 

“Shoes can be easily acquired” He responded cooly, a successful attempt at humor in her opinion. He sat forward in his chair, his own tiredness revealing itself around his eyes. If he felt compelled to, he was close enough that he could reach out and touch her, but he didn’t. “I think it would help if we did” He said as a way to compel her to agree with him. He used this tactic often, even if it really was just for her benefit. 

Contemplating, her eyes narrowed at him, waiting for him to change his mind or suggest something else. Reciprocated silence was all she received, causing her to reach over and pinch out the flame. “Alright, let’s find you some shoes then” She said as she stood, taking his arm and tucking her book under the other. 

-

They walked arm in arm through the garden paths, the white moonlight lightening everything enough to be navigated in the dark. The pair was silent, not stopping to admire anything like you normally would in the daytime. Despite being closer than ever before, they didn’t know what to do with each other. Marriage had widely opened the door for intimacy, but the furthest they’d got was fervent kissing and uncertain groping. The truth was that neither of them were ready for the consequences that came with the act of being intimate; that they both agreed on. In the first few weeks of their marriage, Elizabeth realized something else. Most of their personal interactions throughout adolescence had been centered around conflict. It had been fighting, bleeding, arguing, testing, and crying. And now that there was no conflict, they did not know how to interact. Now there was just domesticity that they were both unfamiliar with.

“Do you have a favorite animal?” Ciel asked out of the blue after some time, choosing which paths they were walking along. He knew them best.

The question dragged Elizabeth back down to Earth from her thoughts so suddenly that she wasn’t sure he had even opened his mouth to speak. Perhaps the walk really was helping her become tired. “A favorite animal?” She repeated back, mostly to make sure she wasn’t completely hallucinating. 

“Yes, if you have one” He responded simply.

Elizabeth thought about it for a moment. This was one of the lesser profound questions she’d been asked by him, grateful in her exhausted state that it lacked complexity. She mentally narrowed it down to a few options before giving her final answer. “Deer. I think deer are my favorite. I’ve always had an affinity towards them”.

Ciel turned to her at this, though she did not move from his arm, so they were standing terribly close. Marble benches and statues around them were exceptionally illuminated from the moon. “And why is that?” He asked. 

Even given the warmth in the dead of night that had bothered her so badly before, she couldn’t help but lean into the heat he was giving off. “Well… they’re pretty innocent animals. They’re too small to be put to work but too big to be domesticated by humans. So they just… exist”. She explained to him, allowing their bodies to continue moving in tandem. 

“Do your parents know about your fascination with deer?”. His voice almost carried some laughter in it. It was ironic given that her parents were avid hunters, taking pride in slaughtering an animal she cared so deeply about. Even Ciel knew about this obsession, which caused her to smile as a childhood memory resurfaced in her mind. 

Nodding as she briefly closed her eyes to recall the story. “Yes, in fact when I was young, maybe 9 or 10, I wrote my father this long letter about how I didn’t want him to hunt deer anymore. He was upset that I was defying him in a way but also impressed that I was able to speak my mind so freely at a young age”. She said up to him, leaning her head against the side of his arm. 

Now, he was laughing, or really more of an amused chuckle. Probably imagining the dramatics of it all, something her father was an expert in. “Please tell me you remember what you wrote in that letter. Or still have it stored away somewhere so I can read it”.

“Something about how deer are God’s creatures and that it’s cruel to hunt something just because it doesn’t serve a human purpose”. Elizabeth smiled as she replayed the scenes, looking much different from a child’s perspective. It really was an earnest attempt on her part. “My father won’t give the letter back to me. So if you want to see it, you’ll have to ask him”.

Satisfied with her reply, they fell back into a comfortable silence. They were not keeping track of time while they walked, though it was obvious morning was approaching as the sky slowly transformed into a deep shade of blue instead of black. Eventually, the question was reciprocated.

“Owls. I think they’re fascinating” Ciel answered after his own pause of contemplation. “I don’t have some historical emotional attachment like you do though, so my answer is far less interesting”, he teased. At some point, they stopped underneath a tree that made the manor appear small in the distance. 

“You know–” She started, having detached herself from his arm to lean against the tree instead. “– now that I think about it, you’re a lot like a deer”. 

“How so?” He inquired back, crossing his arms across his chest as he waited for a response. He felt that she was always coming up with the most intelligent things to say. It always impressed him.

Smiling, which was never a good sign from her, reaching her hands forward to rest on his chest. “Well… you have these big, round, beautiful eyes that everyone can’t seem to resist” She started, eliciting an eye roll from Ciel. “...And you have these long limbs you still don’t seem to know what to do with” She continued, enjoying the way it made him shake his head and smile. “And I think you’re very innocent, regardless of what you think”.

Ciel looked at her for a long while, finding strange comfort in her words. It wasn’t necessarily a compliment, but rather a fond observation he was unaware she’d been making. Years in the making, he’d bet. He knew too that partially he was being taunted back, but did not mind. “What about the whole domestication part? Do you think that’s accurate too?”. He asked, disguising his need for confirmation as playful banter.

Her eyes narrowed again as she considered her reply. She saw right through the disguise. Normally she would gush over him, tell him that he’s a fantastic husband and even more reliable partner, and to never question it. Deeply, she still believed all that to be true, but chose a different response instead. “I do, but I’m more than content to just exist with you. There’s really nothing else I’d ask for in this life”. 

So, they returned back to their manor and their bed, no longer restless. Still hot, but definitely not restless.

[wistfulwatcher]

i feel like your roman candle; misty/nat, 8k, explicit

written in response to a series of tumblr erotic prompts (since i ended up getting many more than i was expecting, i have combined the ones that fit!).

prompts used: caught masturbating, torn lace, against the wall, fingers (@igotreallyreallytiredofmyoldurl), “do that again”, hair, panting, love bites, taste, restrained, desperate, tease, on the edge, and in public (if you squint)

read here on ao3

[nekoannie-chan]

Desearía que no fuera verdad

Pareja: Malvado Ex!Steve Rogers X Lectora agente de S.H.I.E.L.D., ¿? X Lectora agente de S.H.I.E.L.D.

Palabras: 1079 palabras.

Sinopsis: Intentabas olvidar tu antigua relación con tu exnovio Steve.

Advertencias: Steve malvado, Ex novio, antigua relación violenta, rompimiento, celos, antigua relación tóxica, nueva relción.

N/A:  Esta es mi entrada para 2K Writing Challenge with the song prompt #13 and the dialogue prompt #4:

“Happier than ever- Billie Eilish.”

“Confío en ti. Solo no confío en ellos.”

También puedes leerlo en Wattpad y Ao3.

        Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Anótate en mi taglist aquí.

Otros lugares donde publico: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @black23​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​  @azulatodoryuga​

Te moviste incómoda, sabías que todo lo que Steve estaba diciendo en la televisión era mentira, pero después del haber arreglado todo el caos que Thanos había causado, él cambió… o tal vez no, y siempre había sido así, simplemente sabía muy bien cómo actuar, después de tantos años, sabía cómo fingir que era un víctima.

—Porque esa mierda es embarazosa —Steve dijo en la entrevista.

—Tal vez no deberías de ver eso, no quiero que te pongas triste —él te dijo mientras apagaba el televisor y dejaba el pastelillo en la mesa de centro.

—Está bien, estoy bien, en serio —aseguraste viéndolo a los ojos.

—T/N.

Hacía varios meses que no pensabas en él, ahora eras feliz.

«Cuando estoy lejos de ti, Steve, soy más feliz que nunca», pensaste, la semana pasada habías disfrutado de actividades que tenía muchísimo tiempo que no hacías.

No obstante, comenzaste a pensar en lo que había ocurrido mientras estabas con Steve a la vez que tomabas el pastelillo para comerlo.

Steve no respondía el comunicador, estabas preocupada, tal vez algo le había ocurrido y necesitaba refuerzos o tal vez…

Sacudiste tu cabeza para alejar esas ideas, a los pocos segundos Steve apareció, no estaba herido, aunque si se veía muy molesto.

—Me diste un susto de muerte —dijiste acercándote, Steve ni siquiera te miró, simplemente continuó su camino.

“Confío en ti, solo no confío en ellos,” Steve dijo cuando le informaste que tendrías una misión con amigas, que también trabajaban en la Organización.

Al final pediste que te cambiaran de equipo, habías discutido con Steve por eso.

—¿Estás bien? —él te preguntó.

—Si, solo pensaba —respondiste.

—Puedes contarme lo que sea, lo sabes.

—Desearía poderlo explicar mejor —aunque ya le habías contado lo ocurrido, más lo que era evidente que la mayoría de las personas había visto.

—Tomate tu tiempo, puedes decir todo lo que quieras.

—Desearía que no fuese verdad y que nunca hubiera pasado, que todo fuese un sueño. Cada día era horrible y yo terminaba más aterrada.

Siguieron conversando un par de horas.

Finalmente, habías tomado una decisión respecto a tu antiguo departamento, lo pondrías en renta, únicamente habías ido por algunas cosas que se te olvidaron, te sobresaltaste cuando escuchaste la puerta principal cerrarse, nadie más que tú tenías las llaves, pero de pronto recordaste que Steve nunca te las había regresado.

Te asomaste, ahí estaba parado Steve, tal vez te había estado espiando todo este tiempo y por eso habías tenido esa extraña sensación durante la semana.

—T/N, tiempo sin vernos —Steve te saludó, tragaste saliva.

—Steve, ¿qué haces aquí? —cuestionaste, tratando de no ser obvia, buscabas tu celular.

—¿Buscas esto? —Steve te mostró el celular.

—¿Qué quieres? —repetiste.

—Hablar, nunca supe porqué te fuiste de la casa —él respondió—. No digas que es justo.

—Claramente no eras consciente de lo miserable que me hacías.

—Por favor, yo soy lo mejor que te ha pasado en toda tu vida, no lo supiste apreciar.

—Y todo lo que hiciste fue hacerme sentir triste.

—Vamos, T/N, deja de hacerte la víctima, creo que al menos necesito una explicación.

—Siempre dijiste que eras un incomprendido, solo por quien eras antes del suero, pero eso no significa que realmente seas buenas persona.

—Oh, vamos, ¿es en serio? Tu siempre hacías todo lo contrario a lo que decías que harías.

—Así que, si realmente quieres saber los motivos por los que te dej��, deberías de reflexionar todo lo que pasó, lo que hiciste.

—¿Insinúas que fue mi culpa que huyeras con quien sabe quién? —Steve espetó.

—No, lo que estoy diciendo es que ya tenía tiempo que yo ya no te amaba por la forma en la que me tratabas. Porque yo nunca me trataría tan jodidamente así, sabes, yo me merezco algo muchísimo mejor —contestaste.

—No, T/N, tienes que admitir que no fue mi culpa que hayamos terminado, sino de las de tus amigos, porque tú solo escuchas a tus malditos amigos.

—Eso es mentira, Steve, tú eras quien me intentabas apartar de todo el mundo, pero gastaría mi saliva.

—Mientes, aparte dudo que alguien quiera salir contigo, todo el mundo me cree y sabe quién eres y todo lo que hiciste.

—Nunca dije nada malo acerca de ti, simplemente le dije la verdad a quienes me preguntaron —dijiste.

—Deja de mentir, siempre te gustó llamar la atención.

—¡Y nunca hablé mierda de ti! —alzaste la voz—. Arruinaste todo lo bueno, había muchísimas cosas que me encantaba hacer y tú te encargaste de hacer que lo odiara —te estaba costando trabajo, permanecer tranquila, de nuevo el miedo hacia él volvía a aparecer—. Eras mi todo.

—Lo sigo siendo, pero no lo quieres aceptar, vamos T/N, si te portas bien, todo saldrá cómo debía de ser.

—Y no intentes hacerme sentir mal.

—Solo estoy diciendo que deberías de considerar las cosas —Steve tenía una sonrisa burlona en el rostro.

—Te apropiaste de todos mis momentos para brillar, sabes que los planes siempre funcionaron yo era la que hacía los planes y tú te llevabas todo el crédito, ¿por qué crees que tus últimas misiones han fracasado?

—Tú me necesitas.

—No gastes el tiempo que no tengo, vete por favor —pediste—. No me siento relacionada a ti.

Steve se rio. — ¿Por qué sigues haciéndote la victima? tú fuiste quien me abandonó.

—Simplemente déjame sola, carajo.

—Rogers, es mejor que te vayas, T/N ha sido muy clara, no te ama, no quiere estar contigo —una voz masculina atrás de Steve, sonreíste al verlo.

—No te entrometas, Rumlow —Steve respondió.

—¿Qué vas a hacer? ¿Me vas a amenazar? Porque conmigo no va a funcionar, será mejor que te vayas, de todas formas, informaré a S.H.I.E.L.D. lo ocurrido —Brock amenazó firmemente.

Steve le dirigió una mirada de odio antes de salir del departamento.

—¿Estás bien? Creo que llegué a tiempo.

—Mejor que nunca, al fin pude decirle todo lo que quería, ya no amo a Steve Rogers, él puede seguir creyendo que es la mejor persona del mundo, pero un día la verdad saldrá.

—¿Aún quieres ir a cine?

—Claro, llevo meses esperando que la película se estrene, no me lo perdería por nada del mundo.

Tomaste las llaves del automóvil, después de la película, le dirías a Brock que si habían aceptado que a ambos los transfirieran a otra sede de S.H.I.E.L.D. en otro país, empezarían de nuevo desde cero, una nueva vida juntos, ahora eras feliz.

[neallo]

going to try a new writing technique / strategy tonight i think. being very mysterious here but i will report how it goes <3

[lunarbuck]

Hi Jane!! I love the idea for your soulmate AU writing challenge 🩷 so many wonderful prompts to choose from! If it’s available, can I please have number 12 - You see in black and white until you meet your soulmate - then you can see colors?

#12 is all yours my dear <3 have fun!!

2k writing challenge

[tempestaurora]

devastating news. started writing angstober fics and then forgot for three weeks that i was doing that and now i only have 1.5 fics and october is less than a week away.

[ghostaholics]

plsplsplsplsPLEASE keep writing ewb!ghost I’m screaming rn pleeeeaaaasseeeee😭🙏 ur writing is so good😭😭😭 I need those two idiots

have a good rest of ur night

their first sexual encounter happens because soap literally locks them in a very small storage closet for an hour and ghost doesn't give her a turn to sit on the crate that he's occupying; she's literally only been standing for twenty minutes, but obviously takes the opportunity to sit on his leg because she really can't be bothered with him which leads to some thigh-riding in the dark

[enigmatic-mystery-777]

It Started With A Book

It's a Saturday date night for you and Daniel, spent at his apartment. It's after dinner as you amble around that you discover he's taken the book of shadows home with him. You start to read the first incantation aloud, trying to practice your pronunciation so you can impress him. When he rushes in to stop you, things take a very spicy turn between you.

Taglist: @stargaterevival @frostysfrenzy @cuillere @jgem87 @geekygumiho @riverageleis

Disclaimer: I'm not great at smut 😅

...but I wanted to try lol