#And her goals to project her thoughts into others minds. I know! And I don’t care. I do what I want to have fun. Sorry

[yoon-kooks]

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to. 

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?” 

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.” 

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over. 

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings. 

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class. 

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk. 

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten. 

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend. 

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo. 

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with. 

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all. 

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 7

Read Ding here | ~4.6k words

Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.

From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!

Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.

Three minutes.

Each round was three minutes.

She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.

The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.

The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped.

“You told other girls about me?”

“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.

“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.

She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.

She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.

“Let go,” she ordered.

“You’re—”

“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.

“Stop—”

“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”

He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.

Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.

“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”

“Your boyfriend is busy.”

With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.

He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.

Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.

Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.

But she was determinedto get away.

“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.

“Just—”

“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.

“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”

She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.

He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.

Harry wouldn’t get to her.

The mere thought terrified her.

She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.

The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.

“You broke my nose,” He snarled.

It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.

The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.

But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.

It screamed at her to get up and keep going.

She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.

She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.

That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.

She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.

It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.

That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.

She did it.

“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.

Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.

Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.

Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.

He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.

The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.

Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.

But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.

Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.

“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.

“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.

Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.

“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.

The whole arena froze.

She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.

She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.

Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.

Then Harry lunged for him.

*

It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.

But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.

There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.

He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.

Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.

*

Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.

And she stopped it.

Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”

“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.

“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.

“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.

“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.

Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.

“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.

“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.

Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.

“Twice,” she offered weakly.

Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.

“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.

“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.

“Just my head.”

“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”

Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.

The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”

Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.

“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.

“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.

Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”

“He lost because of me.”

“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”

“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.

Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.

“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.

“What, Cupcake?”

“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.

Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.

“Speaking...”

“Is your girl okay?” He asked.

Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”

“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.

“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”

Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”

Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”

It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”

Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”

Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.

“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”

Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”

She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.

“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.

Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.

“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.

“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.

Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.

Ding.

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[kelin-is-writing]

Endeavor is not the only one to blame for ruining the family. Rei is equally to blame for ruining the family as well. She is a completely TERRIBLE and SHIT mother. Has done absolutely NOTHING for her kids. She neglected Dabi, Fuyumi and Natsuo. Willing to replace her own son by creating another kid. That fucked up. Had creepy disturbing thoughts against her own kids just coz they look like their father. Getting slapped is no fucking excuse to further neglect all of her kids by running away and abusing Shoto. As a mother she has no responsibility whatsoever. Rei is no victim. Rei is an abuser who got what she deserved. There's no point in complaining about Endeavor all the time but glorifying Rei. Both are equally bad parents. If you still don't realise that then please don't be a mom. #FuckRei #WorstMotherEver #KillRei

Okay, first of all how about you calm down? We don’t even know each others, but you come into my inbox asking for a not so civil discussion? Yooooo 😂😂😂

And you know what? Yes, Endeavor is entirely to blame actually because everything that happened is a consequence of his big ass man actions and yes, Rei wasn’t a good mother (Nobody said the contrary), but at least she tried unlike someone else who was way too self-absorbed to see anyone else aside from his egotistical self and his selfish goal.

“She neglected her kids”, Well of course she did! Every 2/3 business days she was busy popping out kids like a children machine and not being able to say anything back, otherwise her good-for-nothing and abusive “Husband” would beat her up and blame everything on her. Oh! What a coincidence! Just like how you did right now! Crazy, right? 😃

But what some of you peoples in this fandom fail miserably to grasp, because blinded way too much by whatever you see in Endeavor (or just because you guys like to Victim Blame), is that when the Himura’s sold her to Enji, Rei was prolly underage. Why underage? Easy. Enji is 45 when he’s introduced, while Touya is 24 right? 45-24= 21 and since ALL the married couples in Bnha have a 4 years gap (go check it on their Wikis mwah) and math isn’t an opinion: 21-4= 17 everyone! Wohoo. Right?

Rei was sold to the Todoroki’s when she was underage, but not only that… Enji has groomed her for years, then he started to spiral over greed, fame and power after he found out his child couldn’t achieve for him something that he can’t achieve on his own, because he’s a useless and self-centered beast.

Unlike him who is a whole ass adult when Touya is born, Rei is extremely young AND has become a mother for the very first time so without the guidance and the emotional support of someone who has already been a parent before her, I find it hard to for a woman to deal with both postpartum depression and rising a child alone the way she did at fucking 17 guys. And she has dealt with this over and over for four-freaking-times; Natsuo and Shoto’s ones were even worse because from the scenes alone (manga speaking) you can clearly tell Enji has forced himself on her for the last twos, furthermore Enji beats her up and from Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto’s reaction you can tell it wasn’t the first nor the last time since it has gone to the point where Rei was traumatized so bad that she started hallucinating of Enji’s gaze in her kids’ eyes made her have a mental breakdown. That’s how much he has abused her. All this because her husband was too focused on grooming first his wife and then his kids for the sake of a goal he didn’t have the balls to try reach by himself and projecting his insecurities on his family, because he isn’t enough of a man and pisses in his pants only at the mention of All Might’s name. I can’t take such a subject seriously, if I gotta be honest.

Mind you, this madness continued even after Touya’s death. It was during that arc, after she had dealt with four postpartum depression, depression, the pain of the knowledge that her husband has abused her mentally, physically and sexually and the death of her 13 years old son that everything went downhill for her; yet some of you guys act surprised when she had a mental breakdown? Rei had been in a constant state of brainstorming since Natsuo’s birth, if not even earlier, until she didn’t broke down completely after Touya’s passing. So yeah, maybe she wasn’t the best mother for the Todoroki siblings, but ever since she gave birth to Touya, Rei has been trying her best to be there for them and at the same time preserve her sanity. Because in a situation where she had to deal with four kids and a manchild, someone had to try and keep a semblance of balance in there even if she was one of Endeavor’s victims who’s mental health was being destroyed by a lot.

As I already said, some of you guys in this fandom lack a great amount of emotional intelligence and dare I say most of you lack depth too. I don’t expect you guys to be the most empathetic peoples in the world, really, I don’t, but this is a tad bit too much. Do you guys even try to look beyond your own noses anymore? Or has that gone out of fashion?

Also, what’s this new trend of Victim Blaming peoples who came out of an abusive environment? That’s so… Ambiguous…

Anyways! All this didn’t end for good until the whole of Japan found out his son is a Villain and he waited to beg for forgiveness (something he should’ve done sooner), only when everyone has been caught into the hurricane and almost got offed entirely as a family, which is (if you ask me, since you in my inbox) the most unattractive thing a man of his big ass age could ever do.

Everyone, stay away from peoples who lack accountability and self-awareness, because they’re going to play your mental health like a fidget spinner bubs 🫶🏻💜

Last but not least: if you want to talk this way to me and especially about such topics that bad, don’t do it on Anonymous because I will hardly take you seriously.

All this being said and cleared out of the way, hope you have a good evening 💜

[abibliophobiaa]

Hi Luna! I hope you're feeling better! I hope you don't mind me asking, but I was wondering if you know what happened to Emmy's (upsidedownwithsteve)'s blog? I was away all day yesterday and when I went to read one of her fics last night, it asked me for a password? If you don't feel comfortable answering this, I totally understand. I would also be happy to come off anon to chat directly if that makes more sense. Anyway, can't wait for the final part of RWYLM and I hope you feel better soon! Xx

She actually just posted something over on AO3, for anyone who was looking and searching (I saw a few people asking yesterday alone). I posted it down below.

It’s unfortunate that people on here are just so nasty. And it’s honestly why you’re seeing the fandom continue to shrink. I don’t really understand what people’s goals are. Other than being mean for the sake of being mean.

You curate your own space, and when you run all the writers off this site, what fandom experience are you going to have left? Think about it.

It makes me not even want to be on this site anymore (I’ve already been limiting my time on, which I’m sure many have noticed). And I’m sure I’m not the only one on here feeling this way as well.

I’d just say check on your favorite authors, because it definitely hurts when one (like Emmy and many others at this point) that we all love gets quite literally run off the site. And I’m sure it also prompts some to reevaluate whether or not this is a safe or fun space anymore.

Especially when this is someone (Emmy) who has always been kind to those around her (myself included), and is running her own business and pregnant. She should be ENJOYING this season, and some people just have literally no sense of decorum or common decency.

Remember that WE ARE ALL HUMANS ON HERE.

KINDNESS is free.

Just some food for thought. 🤍

[king0fcrows]

I’m obsessed with whether or not Tom Zane or Alan Wake came first

And the more I play these games the more I think Alan is actually just an extension of Tom

Since we know loops of the spiral exist—

What if Tom didn’t literally write himself out of existence?

If you can’t create from nothing maybe you can’t magically disappear from existence either. You can die, sure, but not just magically cease to be.

So if you need to disappear but don’t want to die, what do you do?

You assume another identity.

You warp realty around you until you were never a poet but an author (have to stay a writer, however, because you have to be true and the truth is your a writer all the way down to your bones) who never settled on the west coast but, in fact, were born and raised on the east coast

(And the love of you life wasn’t a dark haired beauty who was consumed by darkness but a blonde who was scared of even the thought of the dark—as much inborn protection from greedy shadows you could bless her with in the next life)

And from a young age this new version of yourself was given a tool to banish all thoughts of darkness from his mind with the click of a button—preemptive groundwork for if your gambit fails and this new you grows into a man who has to fight off the darkness as well

And when you finish mapping out the trajectory of your new life, you wipe the old realty from existence

(With the insurance that any mentions of your old self will still exist in shoeboxes—just in case the new you needs a little help)

And you begin another loop

—

I think this idea is further reinforced by the fact that Ahti only ever calls you Tom as Ahti can see the entire Spiral and he’s sticking to your original name

Ahti: Not so much evil that not a bit of good as well

(Here Ahti already senses the Dark Presence inhabiting Alan/Tom)

Alan: Can you point me to the exit?

Ahti: The work will instruct its maker. I was gonna get something from the basement for you, but now you can get it yourself.

(I’m unsure if this is implying that:

1) Alan/Tom is a project that holds Ahti interest, so his project asking for something directly is “the work instructs its maker” with Alan/Tom the work and Ahti the maker

2) Ahti is actually “the work” and Alan/Tom is the maker, with Ahti telling him directly where to go

3) it’s just a passing comment on the NEED for an exit from the studio being the impetus for Tom/Alan to go to the basement and get the lamp (so work instructing its maker on the path forward when the maker can no longer remember what’s going on)

Ahti: The more cooks the worse the soup

(Seems to imply Ahti interfering in the story directly weakens the story and thus endangers Alan/Tom. There can only be one deus ex machine here, thank you, and it’s not Ahti.)

Alan: What do you want me to get from the basement? And my name’s Alan, not Tom.

Ahti: No joo, mutta kotapa kun [Well yes, but see] a man’s a man but a man with a tool makes two, Tom.

I think this is essentially Ahti saying “a rose by any other name”—Tom Alan Alan Tom, there is no difference.

“A man with a tool make two.”

Alan is just a tool for Tom to reach his goal of ascension from the Dark Place more quickly.

Alan Wake

A. Wake

the thing you leave behind on the surface of the water (a lake, an ocean) as you move through it

the thing you hold to say goodbye to an old life

the thing you need to do

[ultrone]

Can I request a baby blurb about Spider!Lottie x Black Cat!Nat x reader who’s ordinary? I saw a LottieNat spider-woman au on TikTok and started thinking a lil bit about it. Reader has no clue her gfs are heroes works for the school newspaper and finds out somehow.

★🕸️🐈‍⬛ — 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿 ��𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲 𝘅 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗰𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗮𝘁 𝘅 𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

n/a. i know u asked for a baby blurb but by the time i finished writting this i realized that it was too long, i hope u don’t mind 😭 also ty for requesting this, i love marvel and dc but i currently only write for yjs so it felt like two birds one stone 😼🫶🏼

cw. 1.9k

after receiving a low grade on your most recent english literature essay, you faced the risk of failing the class if your grades didn't improve significantly. fortunately, your english professor, who also supervised the university’s newspaper, was in need of additional contributors and offered extra points if you joined. without hesitation, you agreed. although you weren't particularly passionate about journalism, you found it intriguing enough.

however, a few weeks ago, everything changed. an announcement was made regarding a contest, exclusively open to the twenty students involved with the newspaper. only one student would emerge as the winner, with their story featured on the front page—a prestigious honour typically reserved for seniors or professors. additionally, the winning story would be published in the state newspaper, which would undoubtedly enhance your linkedin profile, or so you thought. but what truly excited you was the ultimate reward: exemption from all remaining english literature exams for the semester, ensuring a perfect a+ as the final grade. this meant you could forego the rest of the english lit classes, and it became your primary goal—to craft the best story and secure victory in the contest.

recently, it was discovered that the two superheroes of the moment were, in fact, students at wiskayok university. how the media obtained this information remained a mystery, but its authenticity had been confirmed. you knew that if you were able to expose the identities of these heroes, it would cause a frenzy and undoubtedly lead to your victory. was it ethical to reveal their identities? maybe not. did you want to spend your summer retaking english class? absolutely not. with that in mind, you channelled all your determination and energy into this story.

as the days passed, your obsession with this personal project grew stronger. you had to admit that ever since you were little, you secretly loved superheroes. so, even though your main goal was to win the contest, you also found genuine interest in it. staying late at school, hiding between the bleachers or on the rooftops, became a routine as you searched for any peculiar signs. you even managed to swipe the absences list from the principal's office and kept track of the students with the highest number of absences, considering them as your prime suspects.

your girlfriends, nat and lottie, tried to convince you to stop this endeavour multiple times, insisting it was dumb and a waste of time—especially since it left you with little free time for them. nonetheless, you remained stubborn as ever, even when lottie offered to get you a tutor who could help you over the summer.

it was a tuesday afternoon after class. you dropped off your girlfriends at the field for their soccer practice, promising them that you would go straight home and wait for movie night, something you hadn't done in a while. little did they know, instead of keeping that promise, you had arranged to meet up with two friends. you had paid them beforehand to stage a scene on the street: one pretending to be a burglar, and the other acting as the victim. the plan worked, and now you found yourself hiding inside an empty trash container, straining your ears to catch snippets of distant voices. carefully, you lifted the lid a few centimetres, giving yourself a limited view of spider-woman and black cat as they removed their suits and changed into their regular clothes, which they had stashed in a backpack. unfortunately, your line of sight only reached up to their hips, as lifting the lid any further would risk exposing yourself to their gaze.

that was until a putrid smell reached your nostrils, prompting you to discreetly turn on your phone's flashlight. as the light revealed a dead rat in the corner, you couldn't help but gag, dropping the lid with a loud thud.

"fuck," you muttered, covering your mouth and nose, attempting to stay quiet, praying they hadn't heard you. but it was too late; barely a second later, the lid was forcefully lifted, and the intense daylight flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you.

you were scared shitless, fully prepared to face none other than spider-woman and black cat, and boy, were you fucked. you didn't even bother thinking about making a run for it, already envisioning the worst possible outcomes.

"babe?" you heard, the surprise evident in the familiar voice, pulling you back to reality. in an instant, you opened your eyes and found lottie standing right in front of you. perplexed, you glanced beside her, catching sight of nat, whose arm was lifting the lid.

you rose to your feet, surveying the area, only to discover that the superheroes had vanished. "what are you doing here? you said you were heading straight home," nat questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

you were about to reply, stumbling over your words as you tried to come up with an excuse when something caught your eye. it was the backpack lottie was carrying—the same one spider-woman and black cat had used to retrieve their clothes just moments ago. shock washed over you, and the realization hit you like a bucket of cold water.

you stared at the backpack in disbelief, still trying to wrap your head around the entire situation. it all made sense now. their sudden disappearances, getting late to almost every single date, the frequent class absences, the mysterious phone calls. you knew they were up to something, but sure as hell you never thought it would be this. they weren’t even on your suspect list.

lottie and nat slowly shifted their gaze toward each other, guilt and embarrassment written all over their faces. it was clear that neither of them had expected you to stumble upon them like this. "we can explain," lottie finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

"why didn't you tell me?" you inquired, furrowing your brows as you patiently waited for an explanation.

nat shifted nervously from one foot to the other before finally taking a deep breath and replying, "we wanted to, but… we didn’t know how."

lottie nodded in agreement. "we didn't want to put you in danger, y/n, and we also didn't want you to worry," she added.

she began to explain further about her and nat's secret side gig. "we started doing this not long after meeting each other," she said, her voice laced with guilt.

nat stepped closer to you, her gaze apologetic yet determined at the same time. "and we know that keeping this from you wasn’t fair, but we thought it was the best thing for our relationship."

you felt a wave of emotions surge through your body: anger, confusion, worry. part of you wanted to yell at them for lying and keeping secrets from you, while another part reminded yourself that they were only trying to protect you. but if something bad happened to them or even worse—if they died while doing this—you didn't know how you would cope with the guilt.

lottie seemed to sense your distress and quickly stepped forward, her face full of determination. “hey, everything’s gonna be alright,” she said with a gentle smile, taking your hand in hers and soothingly stroking it with her thumb. “i promise.”

you sighed, tears welling up in your eyes. "i just want you both to be safe. i don't wanna lose you," you said, looking at them.

"but you won't," lottie reassured you. "we know how to take care of ourselves," she said.

"yeah, don't worry about us, babe," nat chimed in. "lotts' spidey senses are top-notch, and i have killer claws. see?" she showed her claws off with a mischievous grin, snarling playfully as she tried to make you laugh.

“dumbass," you said with a smile, nudging her shoulder. nat retracted her claws and used her thumb to wipe away your tears. "seriously though, don't worry. we'll be fine. and our top priority will always be to protect you and make sure you’re okay. we love you, y/n, a lot." she moved her hand to your cheek, softly stroking it.

"i love you too," you replied sincerely, hugging both of them tightly. they kissed your head simultaneously as lottie rubbed your back and nat stroked your hair. "but if you ever hide something like this from me again, i swear i'll kill you," you warned them as you playfully tugged their ears simultaneously, making them complain.

"okay, okay, we get it!" nat cried out as you finally let them go.

“owie," lottie said, rubbing her ear with a pained expression.

"you two act all tough in those suits but can't handle a little ear tug," you teased them.

before you could even laugh, one of them lifted you up and carried you away in her arms.

"holy fuck!" you yelled out in fear. "get me the fuck down!"

you tightly held onto lottie's body, closing your eyes shut as she held you securely in her arms. she had put her mask back on and was swinging between buildings with her spider webs. nat was right behind, using her claws and speed to leap from building to building, quickly catching up.

you could feel the wind rushing by your face as you sped through the afternoon sky, the scenery below becoming a blur. just as you were starting to get used to the exhilarating feeling, lottie gently landed on the ground, bringing you to your destination. opening your eyes, you realized you were on your room's balcony.

"what are we doing here? aren't you two going back to practice?" you asked.

"the last thing i wanna do after dealing with some burglar jerk is going back to school and putting up with taissa's annoying-ass team captain attitude," nat replied wearily, entering your room and tossing her backpack on the floor before flopping face-down onto your bed.

"yeah," lottie agreed. "and we thought this would be a perfect time to start movie night," she said as she hopped onto the bed beside nat and patted the spot in the middle, looking at you.

"fine… but we're gonna have a serious conversation about this later," you warned them. nat just hummed dismissively in response. "and you better start installing life360 on your phones," you commanded.

nat and lottie exchanged glances and made complaining faces at each other. "see? this is why i didn't want to tell her," nat muttered, her voice muffled by the pillows as she plopped her face back down.

“if you don’t do it i swear to god i’ll—” you started to say, but your words were cut off as lottie shot a spiderweb toward your mouth, silencing you. you began to mumble angrily, trying to remove it, which caught nat's curious gaze. she burst into laughter at the sight, and lottie couldn't help but join in. just as you managed to take off the spiderweb and were about to scold them, lottie shot another one, this time towards your body, pulling it swiftly and causing you to fly towards the bed, landing right between them.

as soon as you landed, they snuggled up to you and showered you with kisses all over your face, making you giggle and try to stop them with your hands.

"still mad at us?" lottie asked once they stopped.

“mmm, not if you let me pick today’s movie,” you negotiated.

"fair," nat said, grabbing the remote as the three of you snuggled together under the covers.

[hxhhasmysoul]

Did u see these posts: https://linkspooky.tumblr.com/post/744136721881530368/hello-friend-i-thought-id-use-your-post-as-a . https://linkspooky.tumblr.com/post/744086250489774080/so-i-was-genuinely-surprised-last-week-when-we ? Honestly, I think am starting to dislike the Megumi & Killua comparisons more than I ever maybe did the Killua & Gojo ones (like I also saw a comment saying Megumi is smarter than Killua, and I don't think Megumi is dumb, but like how?). I'm not saying Megumi is a bad character, but he is not (imo) better-written or have a better arc than Killua (who has one of the best arcs ever).

P.S: Off topic from me complaining about Killua getting compared to JJK characters (which I was mostly neutral towards doing, but now, I might be becoming a bit less neutral). Great and pretty Palm, LeoPika, and Illumi's art u just reblogged!

The biggest problem with what that person writes is the value judgement. I don’t necessarily disagree with the stuff they say about Megumi, at least they see that Gojou forced Megumi into being a sorcerer and that’s rare. They also seem to acknowledge Megumi’s character flaws, even if I don’t exactly agree with every argument they make about him. And I especially don’t agree with how they compare Tsumiki to Alluka. 

They are right that Megumi tries to use others, Tsumiki and then Yuuji as justifications for his existence. And it’s true Killua uses the people he loves as a crutch because he has no goals of his own, because all his life the goals of others were forced onto him and he’s really lost at the beginning of HxH. 

The difference is that Killua’s relationships with Gon, Alluka and Nanika are very deep, he also grows close with others: Ikalgo, Palm, Bisky and Leorio, there’s clear potential for him developing a friendship with Canary. Killua also projects to some extent onto Gon, and onto Alluka too. But that’s something everyone does. Killua does it to a normal extent, the Gon in Killua’s mind is partially imagined and greatly coloured by Killua’s crush, but Killua quite often actually understands how Gon feels, or accurately reads the situation between them. The things he tells Gon don’t make Gon worse because they feed into Gon’s issues.

He does enable Gon, and he doesn't know how to help Gon after Kite's death, but his presence still helps Gon in those moments. He doesn't make gon better but he doesn't make him worse either, they are just two kids who are in a situation that's just too much for them to handle.

When Killua tries to enforce what he thinks is best onto Alluka and Nanika, Alluka puts him in his fucking place and he very clearly understands what he did wrong. Because he’s capable of seeing Alluka as a real person, he can see past the image of Alluka that exists in his head. 

Megumi’s relationships with Tsumiki and Yuuji are superficial, bordering on parasocial. The things Megumi tells Yuuji make Yuuji contract Megumi’s cog mentality. Megumi acts like he knows shit, how he's very smart and Yuuji buys into that, because Megumi reads a lot and knows long words. And Megumi also buys into that, and thinks he can talk with authority about who's to blame for what. Or which people deserve to be saved.

Megumi barely spends time with Yuuji in an active way, he just passively tags along and frowns and sighs, and he downright rejects Tsumiki and everything she stood for when she was conscious. He’s upset that Yuuji lashes out at Hana because Yuuji is mourning Nobara so fucking deeply. Megumi is taken aback because he never mourned Nobara, he never tried to get close to her, but more importantly, despite him thinking he cares about Yuuji, he has absolutely no clue how Yuuji is feeling. He projects his own idea as to who Yuuji is onto Yuuji. Yuuji the good selfless person who needs to be protected by Megumi but not engaged with, not reached out to. He has no idea who Yuuji really is or how he feels, nor does Megumi care. He never cared what Tsumiki felt or who she really was, and the whole situation with the bridge showed very clearly that Tsumiki led a life of her own and Megumi didn’t even know, and likely it wasn’t a completely pure and uwu life. But to Megumi what matters are his own made up versions of these two people. 

And this is actually okay, these are flaws and they are a consistent characterisation. I don’t like Megumi much but I will defend his right to be flawed, I will defend him from all the Gojou fans who pretend Gojou didn’t make a child soldier out of a little kid. Or who pretend that it isn’t clear that Gojou left Tsumiki and Megumi to fend for themselves in their daily life and just borrowed Megumi to force him to work so the two kids had a place to live and other necessities. And I will defend Megumi from anyone who tries to deny him his right to a fucking mental breakdow.

But what they write about Killua is extremely shallow, the mentions of Gon and Yuuji, and the paragraph about Maki, those are downright upsetting. They show very clearly that they will write whatever needed to prop up their fav. And I really don’t get what drives people to do this kinda stuff.

They honestly undermine their arguments (some very solid) about how nice Megumi’s arc is, because they can’t just argue their case. No, they need to bring another character into it and attack that character. It’s always a foolish thing to do. I get that they might not like Killua as much or think he’s overrated. But Killua was not needed for their argument. Everything they get wrong about Killua weakens their arguments about Megumi. And Killua’s relationships with his close ones really highlight the issue with Megumi’s. And the person never addresses that. 

I think I’ve seen maybe their posts or similar posts about Megumi, not exactly comparing him to Killua, but for example posts about how he’s the true MC of JJK, where Megumi’s fans argued about how complex Megumi is and how there’s nothing to Yuuji. And this person’s posts are just written to prop up Megumi by dismissing and discrediting other characters. 

The JJK fandom is vicious to most characters that aren’t sexymen. Megumi is much more liked in the fandom than Yuuji, but yeah, one can consider him disliked if one compares him to how people are about Gojou, Getou, Nanami, Touji, Chousou, Higuruma, Sukuna or even Kusakane, Shu and Ino. Also as they rightly notice Megumi isn’t overpowered so he gets a lot of shit, something Yuuta never gets. As to Maki, this person clearly doesn’t give a shit about her, so not only they very clearly didn’t pay attention to Maki post Mai’s death, they also have no idea what the fandom says about Maki. 

They also write as if the way the fandom treats Megumi is unique, when Yuuji gets that far more and over everything. Even Sukuna got that just because in the battle of JJK sexymen, Gojou truly is the strongest and his fans are fucking rabid and allergic to canon and the text of JJK. 

Gege’s love for HxH somehow creates the need in the JJK fans to compare the two stories and their respective characters, and I’ve never seen it done right. In this case it really just cheapens what they were trying to say.

[burnwater13]

Cad Bane, standing on a street in Mos Espa, facing Boba Fett in full armor. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu had never met Cad Bane. He wasn't really sorry about that. Sometimes you hear about a person who was very important to a friend or mentor and you think, ‘Wow, I wish I knew them too’. That was the not the case for Cad Bane. 

Grogu had asked Daimyo Fett how he’d met the Duros bounty hunter and the older man hemmed and hawed and finally Fennec Shand replied for him. 

“He was unlucky.”

That pretty much settled the matter. Grogu knew that Fennec had no love lost for Fett’s one time teacher, but since the Daimyo nodded at her words, Grogu learned all he wanted to know. He’d met and spent time with people who had ended up being less a friend and more an enemy over time. He didn’t recommend it. You never really questioned why they turned out to be so awful, but you asked yourself why you didn't see through it all much sooner. 

Grogu might have said that Dr. Pershing was a person like Cad Bane. He was obsessed with what he wanted and thought he was doing the right thing and pursued it pretty relentlessly. But it had all failed and Grogu was happy about that. 

Fennec told him that Pershing was nothing like Cad Bane. 

“Coruscant is riddled with people like that. All hoping that if they could only get the attention of the people in power, they could achieve some ridiculous goal that no one else valued. The people in power called Cad Bane in to do the work that they were afraid to do themselves. Bane wasn't afraid of anything and that’s why the Daimyo is here and Bane is buried in the bantha paddock.”

Grogu was surprised at that. He didn't know why, but it seemed pretty odd. 

“That’s where I put all the… stuff I don’t want people like your pal Pershing to use for cloning projects. Trust me, if I’d had my way, Moff Gideon would have never had another chance to go after you or your dad. He would have ended up as fertilizer for the rancor’s favorite plants.”

Wow. Grogu had always know that Fennec was a very straightforward person with great tactical skills and a first class strategic mind, but he forgot how nuanced she could be. She was kind of the opposite of Cad Bane. 

When he first met Fennec, Grogu was kind of worried about having another master assassin in his life. IG-11 had been very effective at that work and as person who generally thought that all life was good, it was quite a challenge to have friends who made a living at ending lives. Even if those people were volunteers according to his dad. 

But the more time he spent with Fennec, the more Grogu realized that she didn't just end people. She solved problems. If she could do that without ending the person, then fine. Take those Nikto gang members. She didn’t pick them all off during some sort of clean up operation after they had dealt with the Scorpenek annihilator droids. She just got rid of the ring leaders and that sent a message more effectively than a complete blood bath would have. At least that's what his dad told him. 

The Mandalorian was very impressed with the levels of restraint that Fennec had displayed. Considering the Mandalorian view of enemies, Grogu figured that Fennec had displayed the patience of a Jedi Master. 

“Buddy, I don't think you want to tell her that. I’m not sure she reveres the Jedi as much as you do.”

But Din Djarin was wrong about that. Fennec had told him once that she never got involved in the problems that included the Jedi.

“Listen kid, the whole point of the work I do is to solve problems. If I’m not solving the problem, I don't get paid. The whole point of the Jedi was to solve the same problems I was generally assigned to resolve, but they had access to weapons I could never bring to bear. There’s no such thing as a fair fight which is why I don’t take risks like that. The Jedi always had an advantage, so I found other problems to solve. That’s why I’m still here and a lot of other folks aren’t.”

Fennec hadn’t been smug about that either. She hadn’t pointed out that the Jedi had been almost entirely wiped out. She didn’t say ‘I told you so’ or anything like that. She had patted her midsection where her mods were and that’s what convinced Grogu that she and the Daimyo were nothing like Cad Bane. Boba Fett had gone out of his way to save her. And she had stuck around to help him solve problems on Tatooine. 

This was definitely the way.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

What a Pair we Make

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: dd/lg dynamics (no age play, although he gives her lots of stuffed animals and cutesy things), daddy kink, spanking, kink negotiation, mentions of abusive relationships and bad childhood, edging/orgasm denial, PIV sex, fingering

Summary: A series of short scenes depicting a very loving growth and evolution of a dd/lg relationship with Marcus. 

A/N: There’s no plot to this. I just love, LOVE, LOVE writing conversations about kink negotiation and discussing kink and the cute sort of awkwardness they can carry. The following is just several related ‘slice of life’ scenes that don’t really connect other than the throughline of a kink relationship, inspired by some unhinged DMs with @littlebirdsbookshelf. It’s mostly soft, although there is some explicit smut in some scenes. Dividers are by @firefly-graphics. Please note: reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent and has trouble communicating when upset, although no specific diagnosis is ever mentioned. 

A Further Note on Setting: There is a scene in which these two go to the National Zoo, but the actual zoo I’m describing is based on the one I regularly go to, both for plot conveniences and because I do not want to spend hours looking at a Zoo map to write my dumb stories. And because rays are cool.

Masterlist

You fume as you stalk into your building, slamming the elevator button several times in rapid succession, as if you could solve all of your problems by hitting this one button.

You’re not sure who you’re mad at. The VP of Sales, for giving you a very public dressing down for your “leadership” on the doomed project you were handed two months into your employment, that–shocker–ended up being implemented poorly, with not enough resources to achieve all of your goals? Your boss, who didn’t say a goddamn thing during the worst Zoom meeting of your life, not sticking up for you or standing up for her team?

Or are you mad at yourself for the sum of your small mistakes and missteps early on, caused both by lack of leadership support and your own naivete? Are you angry at your idealistic optimism, charging headfirst into this job and happily taking on new responsibilities, not understanding that you were being handed this project because no one in their right mind would want it? Or… are you upset because, at the most critical moment, you couldn’t manage to form the words to actually speak up for yourself, choking on your successes and looking like an idiot in a meeting where it felt like everyone was out to get you? 

Of course, the easiest punching bag is always you. You, who’s always struggled in one way or another with fitting in, and now the entire sales team knows your name and hates you. You, who’d bounced around from dead-end job to dead-end job before finally landing this first big break–a tiny little cog in a massive organization, where anonymity is your friend, and you hide in plain sight behind massive spreadsheets and reply-all emails. When shit hits the fan, though, you stumble on your words, your tongue feels thick in your mouth and all the thoughts in your head can’t seem to find their way out of your mouth.

You’re not cut out for it, you decide as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival on your floor. You may as well quit, before they force you out. Which is fine, half the time you’re hardly a functional human being, let alone able to manage this failed project, the ire of your coworkers, and still somehow cook dinner for yourself. 

It’s too much.

The door opens with a bang, and you flounce into the living room and throw yourself down on the couch. Marcus’s shoes had been on the mat beside the door, so that means he’s home before you, probably in the bedroom changing out of his work suit into something more comfortable. The two of you have lived together for about three months now, and have slipped into an easy routine. 

Sure enough, in a few minutes, Marcus comes out of the bedroom, wearing track pants and a plain gray t-shirt. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says cheerfully, coming around the back of the couch and giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“Mm,” you respond, shrinking away from him even though you crave his presence. You always do this–you push everyone away, isolate yourself, your own worst enemy. 

“Someone must’ve had a bad day,” Marcus remarks, not dropping his friendly demeanor. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m a failure,” you state dramatically. “Literally. This project is tanking, and it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” Marcus says gently. 

“It is,” you insist. “And even if it isn’t totally my fault, even if the damn thing was doomed from the beginning, it doesn’t matter, because I’m being blamed. Very publicly, I might add.”

“Really?” Marcus sinks down on the couch next to you. “Where the hell is your boss in all of this?”

“It’s no secret that she’s scared to death of our VP,” you mutter. “She’ll never say a word against him.”

“That’s shitty management,” Marcus says, ire in his tone over your treatment. 

“Yeah?” you snap. “Well, it’s fucking happening, I don’t have any control over it.”

“Hey, I know,” Marcus replies. “It’s nothing against you, I was just saying–”

“Isn’t it?” you demand, your voice becoming high-pitched and shrill. “I might get fired, and it’s my fault.”

“I–I really don’t think that’s true, and even if it is–”

“I’m not cut out for this,” you say suddenly, putting your face in your hands. “I don’t think I’m one of these people who can handle the normal, day-to-day pressure of corporate America. I just don’t think I can. I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re plenty strong,” Marcus assures you. “You are.”

“I’m a basket case.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah?” you counter. “Remember last week when I freaked out when the store was out of zucchini, and I had to make an entirely new plan for dinner? Who does that?”

“Some people have a harder time with change,” Marcus points out diplomatically. 

“Ugh!” you cry. “You’re no help!”

“What can I do?” Marcus asks softly, touching your arm, trying desperately to forge a connection, and it makes you feel even worse for lashing out. Through all things, Marcus just wants to feel connected, and here you are, pushing him away because of your own personal bullshit. 

“I don’t know,” you cry out, just so frustrated with everything that you can no longer carry on a reasonable conversation about it. 

But then, almost unbidden, an image flashes through your mind. You blink several times in rapid succession to dispel it. No, that’s ridiculous. 

“What?” Marcus presses, noticing the change in your expression.

“N-Nothing would help,” you say. “It’s just my own personal shit that I have to work through.”

The image returns. You, laying in Marcus’s lap, getting the catharsis you need through something physical–

“Okay,” Marcus says, frowning. You can tell he doesn’t buy it. 

You can’t stop thinking about it, now. His hand coming down on you again and again, finally giving you a reason to let go of it all. No. Marcus wouldn’t. He doesn’t mind rougher sex, sometimes, but he’s hardly sadistic about it. Everything he does, he does for your pleasure and enjoyment. 

That wouldn’t be about pleasure or enjoyment. It would be about release. Just… being allowed to feel things instead of being stuck in your head. 

“You know,” Marcus says softly, “you can tell me anything. I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll want to hear it.”

You shake your head from side to side.

Except, your denial lets Marcus know that there is something on your mind. 

“I just want to understand,” he murmurs, his hand stroking a gentle path up and down your arm. 

“I don’t know what I need,” you mumble. “But I keep–I can’t stop thinking about–”

Marcus nods patiently, but doesn’t speak.

“I–I wonder if you would… spank me,” you say under your breath. 

Marcus’s eyebrows raise. “Come again?”

See? You knew he wouldn’t go for it. “Never mind,” you say, shaking your head again. “I just… I dunno, some kind of physical release feels like it could… help.”

“Hang on,” Marcus says. “Don’t dismiss it. Let’s talk.”

"It's stupid," you protest. 

"You haven't even given it a chance," Marcus points out. 

"It was a fleeting thought," you say. 

"Was it?"

"...No," you whisper. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"About being spanked?" Marcus asks. 

"About you. Um, spanking me. Not just in general. You," you clarify. Marcus is an integral component of this fantasy. You've never wanted this before, but something about this relationship with Marcus makes you want… something more. Something as-of-yet undefined and unexplored.

"About me?" Marcus asks, smiling. He scoots closer, putting his arm around you on the couch. "Tell me."

"I just feel… safe, with you. And sometimes I think about how you… take such good care of me. And it makes me want… I don't know."

"Makes you want… more?" Marcus supplies. 

"I don't know," you repeat quietly. "I'm not… I'm not wording this right, I can't find the words right now, I'm not in the right headspace," you murmur. "I'm stupid."

"That's certainly not true," Marcus says firmly. 

"I c-can't talk right when I'm having a rough day," you stammer. "It's too hard, I–"

"Then don't talk," Marcus says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. "I'm gonna ask you a few questions, and you can just nod or shake your head, okay?"

You sink with relief, nodding.

"Okay. Question one," Marcus says with a sheepish expression. "Do you want me to spank you?"

You can't keep eye contact, but you nod, looking down at your hands. 

"Okay," Marcus replies softly, reassuringly. "Next question. Can I trust you to say 'stop' or tap my leg if you need to stop?"

Another nod, still looking down.

"Last question," Marcus says, and you can hear his smile. "Do you love me?"

An easy one. You bob your head up and down rapidly, making eye contact and smiling for the first time that night.

Marcus’s smile widens. "I love you, too. And hey–I'm always here to help, okay? No matter what it is you need."

You nod again. 

Marcus scoots back, sitting back on the couch. "Come here," he instructs quietly. "Come lie across my lap."

You feel silly as you come to your stomach, face down in Marcus’s lap. You consider saying 'never mind,' but part of you is so curious, wanting to feel this so much, you don’t open your mouth. 

Marcus gently pulls your leggings and underwear down, and you inhale sharply. You didn't expect him to do that. It sends an extra frisson of desire down your spine.

"Still okay?" Marcus asks, noticing the small tremor. 

"Yes," you whisper. 

Marcus's fingertips gently trace up and down your cheeks. "How many should I give you? Ten?" he asks, his voice a little rougher than normal. Does he like this, too?

You think for a moment. Ten doesn't seem like enough, not if you want to really feel it. 

"Fifteen," you whisper. 

Marcus is quiet for a few moments. "Okay," he says. "Fifteen."

His fingers stop tracing you, and you automatically tense in anticipation. You count your breaths for stability–one, two, thr–

Marcus’s hand comes down on your left cheek and you squeak in surprise. It stings, but it's not too bad. It's the jolt that startles you more than anything. 

Another sharp sting on your other cheek, and you press your lips together and whine softly.

"Why are you being punished?" Marcus suddenly asks above you. 

Oh. You have no idea, you didn't think about this at all. 

Slap. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell me why."

You suck in a breath and try to think. One thought comes to you immediately. 

"Because I'm being stupid," you mumble bitterly, thinking of your inexplicable outburst earlier. 

Smack. "That is absolutely not it," Marcus says, his voice far more firm than it had been before. "I want you to really think about why for the rest of your punishment," he says, before dealing you another hard thwack on the alternating cheek. 

It already kind of hurts. He's done what, five? And you can already feel your cheeks burning with friction. You try to think about Marcus's question, you really do, but already your mind feels like it's emptying, unable to focus on anything but the sharp stings on your ass as Marcus deals out six, seven, eight, nine–

You start crying on ten. Huge, globular tears that run down your face as you sob in relief and pain. 

"Remember to say 'stop' if you need," Marcus reminds you, but he doesn't stop. His hand comes down for the eleventh time and you give up trying to staunch the flow of tears and simply cry loudly into the couch cushion.

After the twelfth, Marcus asks, "Now do you know why you're being punished?"

You don't. You shake your head as you continue to sob. 

Slap. "Because you're not being kind to yourself," Marcus says firmly. "And I can't stand to watch you beat yourself up over and over." Smack. "So it stops now, understand? I don't have any problems doing this again."

His hand pauses for a moment. "Tell me you understand," he says. 

"Yes," you sob, open-mouthed, as all the tension you've carried all day–or hell, much longer than that–breaks, and you feel like you're floating away when Marcus delivers the last devastating slap. 

The punishment has stopped, but you can't stop crying. You take huge gulping breaths of air as you try to get yourself under control, and Marcus is pulling you up and into his lap properly. 

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You can cry. You don’t have to try and stop yourself.”

You nod your thanks into his shirt, clutching at him desperately. 

“Shhh,” Marcus soothes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The two of you sit there for God knows how long. You, sniffling softly into Marcus’s shirt, and him holding you through it. The longer you sit there, the more you realize: the internal pain you’d been feeling has been washed away, replaced by a bone-deep sense of relief. 

Eventually, the tears subside, and a wave of gratitude washes over you. You close your eyes, breathing Marcus in. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Marcus asks quietly. 

“Yeah, actually,” you answer at the same volume. “I really do feel… better.”

“It helped?” 

You nod. “I just kind of feel… blank, and floaty.”

“That’s good,” Marcus says. 

“Did you–” you start. “Was that–okay? Like, it wasn’t too much, or… bad, or–”

“I don’t like causing you pain,” Marcus begins, and you cringe. “No, hang on,” he says. “But I do feel good when I give you something you want, or need, and it–it seems like you needed that, in a way. And,” he says, swallowing. “I, uh–” he ducks his head, chuckling.

“What?”

“Well, getting to spank you raw like that was… surprisingly hot,” Marcus admits, blushing lightly. 

You let out a watery laugh and tighten your hold on Marcus. A word escapes your lips, then. One word that, in hindsight, would change your relationship, your life, forever. 

“Daddy.”

Whispered, barely audible, muffled by his shoulder. More of a reflex than anything else. 

Marcus’s only reaction is a sharp intake of breath that he lets out slowly. His hand gently rubs up and down your back. You don’t think he’d heard, but then, just as quiet–

“I’m here. Daddy’s got you.”

“Can we talk?”

For a moment, you panic. That phrase has never heralded anything good in your life, ever. Seeing your alarm, Marcus quickly changes tactics. 

“Nothing bad, I promise. I wanted to talk about last night,” Marcus says, sitting down next to you. 

Oh. Right. Last night, when you’d asked Marcus to spank you out of nowhere after having a bad day. Well, technically, it wasn’t out of nowhere. It hadn’t been the first time that mental image wormed its way into your brain, but it’s not like you know how to actually talk about something like that. 

“I’m sorry if that was weird–” you begin.

“Not weird. I may be wrong–but I don’t think I am–” Marcus says, grinning, “–but liking to be spanked is very common.”

“I know,” you grumble, your face heating exponentially. “I’ve been on fucking Pornhub, too.”

Marcus laughs loudly. “Caught me,” he teases. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. “What, then?”

Marcus swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “You… you called me something,” he says quietly. “And I can’t get it out of my head.”

You don’t say anything right away, waiting for Marcus to continue. Eventually, he does. 

“I hear it in my head every five minutes, I swear,” he says with a little huff of laughter. “And all I know is that I wish I could hear you say it again.”

“Daddy?” you whisper with a small smile.

You don’t miss the way Marcus shudders. “I don’t know why I like that,” he laughs softly. 

“I may be wrong, but I don’t think I am,” you say with a grin, mirroring Marcus’s earlier statement, “but liking being called ‘Daddy’ is pretty common.”

“Touche,” Marcus murmurs, grabbing your hand and kissing your palm. 

“What a pair we make,” you say softly. 

“I think we make the perfect pair,” Marcus protests. 

“I like calling you ‘Daddy,’” you admit, your voice barely audible. “You–you take such good care of me. I’ve never felt more… safe, with anyone,” you tell him. “I know I’ve mentioned that my, uh, my childhood wasn’t a great one. My mom… she fled an abusive relationship in the middle of the night and took only me and what she could carry,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh. “I remember fucking crying because I had to leave all my stuffed animals behind. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing? We were fleeing for our lives, and my dumbass was worried about–”

“Shh,” Marcus hushes you quietly, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You were a kid. You didn’t know.”

“Anyways,” you mutter, “I spent the next, I dunno, twenty years? Feeling unsafe and unmoored, and now suddenly there’s–” you swallow, “–there’s you, and it’s the healthiest, most positive relationship I’ve ever had, and I feel like I can finally… exhale. Does–does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Marcus murmurs, between kissing your forehead and temples over and over again. “Yes, honey, it does.” He’s quiet for a while, the both of you just existing together in the moment, reveling in the security of Marcus’s arms. After a long while, he speaks again. 

“What was your favorite? Of the things you left behind,” Marcus asks you softly. 

“Oh,” you say, laughing softly. “I had this bunny. It came with a book that I loved–The Velveteen Rabbit. My mom used to read it to me, and I’d just flip through and look through the pictures when I was alone,” you tell him. 

“What happened to the book?” Marcus asks, but you can tell from his tone that he already knows the answer.

“It’s long gone,” you say wistfully. “Wish I knew what edition it was.”

Marcus abruptly pulls you into his lap for a crushing hug. “I’m glad you feel safe with me,” he says, emotion choking his voice. “Please, always feel that way.”

“I will, Daddy,” you whisper, burying your head in Marcus’s neck. “I really, really will.”

You don’t know why it surprises you that, in less than a week, Marcus has a gift for you. Coming home from work, you walk into your bedroom to change into some sweatpants, and nearly fall to the ground at the sight that awaits you.

On the bed, propped up on the pillows, sits a simple brown stuffed bunny with large, floppy ears that look impossibly soft. And, sitting next to it, is a book with an old, worn cover. 

You gasp and surge forward to pick it up, flipping open the front cover and raking your eyes over the title page. The Velveteen Rabbit.

“It’s a first edition,” comes a soft voice behind you. 

You spin, and Marcus is leaning in the doorway, watching you with a small smile. 

You pick up the rabbit next–it feels just as soft as it looks–and hug it to your chest, burying your face in its soft fur. 

You don't remember the last time someone purchased something so simple and yet so meaningful. 

You look at Marcus with unnaturally shiny eyes. "Daddy…" you whisper with a watery smile, "I love it."

"Come here," Marcus says, and you don't have to be told twice. You stride forward, bunny still clutched tightly to your chest, and allow yourself to be wrapped in Marcus's arms. 

"Thank you," you whisper into his chest. 

"You might not have gotten what you needed, what you deserved as a child," Marcus murmurs into your hair, "but that won't happen with me."

Your breath catches at the quiet ferocity in Marcus's tone, but at the same time, a little sliver of doubt worms its way into your brain. This isn't his responsibility, it says. This is too much of a gift for him to possibly give you. 

"You don't have to, I dunno, take care of me or anything like that," you tell him in a small voice. "I don't want to just be a… a burden."

Marcus huffs a laugh, as if you'd just said something incredibly ridiculous.

"Oh, honey," he chuckles, "I've never wanted anything more."

It doesn’t happen all at once–there are many more funny, sometimes awkward discussions where you and Marcus hash things out, negotiating this new side of your relationship. 

The crux of all of them, though, is that, for the first time, you feel safe just being… you. You start to indulge more in the little things that bring you joy–things that you might have dismissed as frivolous or silly before, but now that Marcus is really paying attention, he notices.

Like he notices one day in the supermarket, when the two of you are buying groceries for the week, how your eyes linger on a bin of stuffed toys near the checkout. Already in line, your cart full of groceries, you look down at them, one hand reaching out briefly to touch a cute little avocado with big, sparkling eyes and a tiny smile. Something in its goofy expression makes you smile, giggling softly at the toy. 

Normally, you’d continue through the checkout aisle, putting down the stuffie with one last fond smile and returning to the task at hand, putting your groceries on the conveyor belt. When you turn, though, Marcus is watching you–with the same fond smile. 

“Here.” He picks up the same stuffed avocado you’d been admiring. “Is this one your favorite?”

“It’s–it’s nice,” you say, “but it’s fine, I mean–it’s silly, what am I doing to do with–”

“Let me spoil my baby girl,” Marcus murmurs in your ear. “Let Daddy spoil you, honey.”

He hands you the toy with a crooked grin and a quick kiss on the forehead, and you can't contain the happy smile that spreads across your face. "Thank you," you whisper. 

"Of course," Marcus answers softly. "Now help me with the groceries, hmm?"

As your comfort level grows, you realize that it’s not just about feeling a newfound sense of joy, getting to experience things that you’d lost out on as a kid. It’s not really about those things at all–it’s about safety. It’s about care, and protection. It’s not about the silly, blush-pink socks with little bows on the ankles that you like to wear around the house, kicking your feet as you type on your laptop, it’s about the care and the trust they symbolize. You’re safe to be completely and utterly yourself, to be vulnerable. You can allow yourself to slip back to a time where you felt the most vulnerable, except this time, Marcus is here to catch you. 

As much as you feel safe and fulfilled by your new dynamic, Marcus seems to thrive in it as well. Now that you’ve essentially given him license to lean into that part of him that just wants to take care of you, he doesn’t hold back. You know by now that Marcus likes to be given a direction, and now that he has this, he blazes forward with enthusiasm. Marcus likes to be useful, and it’s as if you’ve handed him the world’s most powerful tool. 

Marcus has always wanted to help you, whether by going to a few of your therapy sessions and holding your hand, or simply by being patient when you struggle to find your words. He’s one of the few people you’ve known that doesn’t try to finish your sentences or speak for you. 

It makes you finally start to feel comfortable in your own skin, like you’ve finally come to the realization that you don’t have to try to be any different, not even for Marcus. On hard days, when you need his touch but don’t necessarily have the words to ask for it, you know that all you need to do is gently butt your head into his arm or shoulder, and he’ll turn with a soft smile and kiss the top of your head while he winds his arm around you. 

You’ve never had anyone’s touch be so soothing.

Even still, there are bad days. Days where everything is too much and the words are caught in your throat and like the fighter you always have been, you push through it with sheer, stubborn bullheadedness until you collapse on the couch and draw a blanket over your head and breathe, like a little ghost haunting your living room for a little while. 

“Hi, honey.” The words are always so soft-spoken, like he’s afraid he’ll startle you, as if you hadn’t heard the click of Marcus’s key in the lock moments before. 

“I’d like to try something, is that okay?” he asks, and you nod. 

“Can I see that pretty face?”

After a few more breaths, you lower the blanket and are greeted with the warm, brown eyes of your partner, and, in spite of yourself, you smile a little. 

“There she is,” Marcus says softly. “My little girl.” He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Will you follow me?”

When you nod, Marcus stands and walks to the bedroom with you in tow. When he strips off his shirt, you look at him warily. You can’t, you think. The sensory overload would be…

“Do you trust me?” 

You nod for the third time, and Marcus approaches you and gently pulls your shirt over your head as well. 

“Come lay with me,” he says, taking your hand and pulling you with him as he gets on the bed.

You allow yourself to be enfolded into Marcus’s arms with a shaky sigh. He gently pulls you on top of him, so that you’re laying fully on his chest, and his hand trails up and down your spine. You have to admit it, the feel of Marcus’s bare, warm chest against your cheek and the rise and fall of his breaths is already starting to loosen the tight coil of tension in your body. 

Your eyes fall closed and you surrender to the feeling of being surrounded by Marcus. He doesn’t speak until your breaths lengthen and the muscles in your shoulders start to relax.

“I read this study a while back,” he murmurs, and you feel the words against your cheek when he speaks, “that skin-to-skin contact affects adults just as much as it does infants. There’s a whole range of physiological responses–heart rate goes down, blood pressure goes down, cortisol, anxiety levels, pain…” he huffs a little laugh, running the backs of his fingers up and down your neck. “I told myself I’d try it the next time you were having a hard day.”

You smile and tighten your hold on Marcus. “Such a scientist,” you murmur. “Testing hypotheses and whatnot.”

Marcus chuckles, and you smile too.

“It’s not a good study,” you tell him. “Your sample size is one.”

“Well,” he concedes with a smile. “Then we’ll have to do this again.”

You do. It becomes a habit on bad days, so much so that all you need to do is nuzzle your face into Marcus’s chest and tug at his shirt and he'll chuckle affectionately, pulling you over to the couch and letting you lounge, topless, against his bare chest as you watch a movie with the sound turned low. 

It's never sexual, even with your breasts exposed and your nipples pebbling in the cool air. There's always a clear distinction between this, the loving way in which Marcus cares for you on bad days, and the times when you're intimate. Before Marcus, you'd never paid all that much attention to non-sexual touches, but this man seems to thrive off of touching you. He has an uncanny ability to make something as tame as a caress of your shoulder into something highly erotic, while at the same time showing you that even touching an intimate area–like the way his hand gently rests on the underside of your breast as he holds you–can be comforting and chaste. 

"Daddy," you whimper pitifully. "Just… just a little longer, just a little more, just–argh!" You let out a cry of frustration as the little vibrator leaves you again and Marcus pauses the timer on his phone. 

"Four more minutes," he announces. 

"I can't go four more minutes," you whine.

"You said that at ten minutes, too," Marcus teases. 

"You always say you like to spoil me," you pout. "Why are you making me wait?"

"I am spoiling you," Marcus counters playfully. "Think about how good it will feel when you're finally allowed to come." 

You writhe uselessly on the bed, your hands restrained loosely above your head by a pair of lacy pink cuffs with little bows on them. They're only velcro; you could pull out of them easily, but you hardly want to. You know how much Marcus likes the look of you like this, and you get off on the feeling of perceived helplessness. 

"Besides," he says, rubbing soothingly up and down your inner thigh. "Oh, how I love seeing you beg for me. I love seeing you like this. Daddy's little mess."

Marcus touches the little vibrator to your clit and restarts the timer, and you keen in frustration as you try to keep yourself under control. "C'mon, just four more minutes," he says. "You can do it."

Fifteen minutes, he had said, holding up your little vibrator. Fifteen minutes of this before you're allowed to come. 

You've somehow managed to last eleven without completely breaking apart, but the last four minutes are torture. You're so close to the edge that he has to pause every thirty seconds or so, and whenever he pauses, so does the timer.  

"Two minutes," Marcus murmurs gently. "You're doing so well. You're being so good for me, baby girl." He pauses the timer again and rubs his hand up and down your arm. "So good for me," he repeats quietly as you shake for him. "Catch your breath, it's okay."

The next two minutes might last a lifetime. When he stops for what seems like the tenth time and you let out a high pitched whine of frustration, Marcus brushes the hair from your forehead and says, "You've got twenty seconds left. I'm not gonna pause again, but you have to be a good girl for me and hold it there the whole time without coming, can you do that?"

You nod, biting your lip with determination. "Okay, Daddy," you whisper. 

"Good girl," Marcus whispers back. 

He restarts the timer and you try to take deep, even breaths, not allowing your body to do what it wants and fall off the edge. It feels impossible, especially when Marcus announces fifteen and then ten, and it feels like you can't possibly last another second. He starts counting slowly down from five, four, three, but your body is already seizing up as you fight the inevitable. The heat rises inside of you, and all you can do it grit your teeth and hope you can make it to one, when your mouth falls open and you start to come. 

Marcus drops to his elbow beside you, not moving the vibrator from your clit, and hovers close to your face, whispering little praises as your pussy clenches violently.

"Perfect," he soothes. "Perfect girl. See? It feels so good when Daddy makes you wait, doesn't it?"

You nod pitifully. "Thank you, Daddy," you whimper. 

"No, no," Marcus chuckles. "Thank you, baby girl. You do so well for Daddy."

"I want to feel you," you tell him softly. "Will you fill me up?"

Marcus smiles wickedly as he pushes his underwear down, freeing his cock. "Baby," he says with a chuckle, "Daddy will fill you up anytime you ask."

He lines himself up and, keeping his face close to yours, slowly pushes inside. 

"My girl's choice," he rasps. "Slow or fast?"

"Hmmm," you smile teasingly, thinking about it for a moment. "Slow."

"Oh yeah? You like it when Daddy takes you apart inch by inch, don't you?" He asks as he reaches the deepest point within you.

"Yes," you answer blissfully, tipping your head back as he starts to to thrust, undulating his hips perfectly slowly, just like you'd asked. 

“You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” Marcus says as he collapses onto the couch next to you.

“Oh! That bad?” you ask, curling into his side.

“No, just… really unbelievable. There was an elephant at my crime scene.”

Immediately, you pull back to look at him. “What?”

Marcus smiles at your reaction–from the glint in his eyes, you can tell he did it on purpose. “I swear. A real, live elephant.”

“Why?” you say with a little laugh.

“I was at the Smithsonian National Zoo,” Marcus explains, grinning. “One of the pieces the elephants painted was stolen.”

Now you’re even more confused. “The elephants… paint?”

“Yeah, you know, they train the elephants to hold a paintbrush, and they auction off the paintings for fundraisers,” Marcus says. “They’ve got a little gallery in the exhibit.”

“I’ve never been,” you say quietly. 

“To the National Zoo?” 

“To any zoo.”

Marcus’s lips part, and for a moment his eyes are sad–mourning for something you never had in the first place, before he perks up, realizing that now he gets to be the one to show you. 

“Well,” he announces. “We’re just going to have to change that, aren’t we?”

Just a few short days later, you’re wiggling with excitement next to Marcus as you stand in line outside of the zoo. 

“Excited?” Marcus teases.

“Yes,” you answer matter-of-factly, not bothering to hide it.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle as he grins. “Good. Where to first?”

Your eyes flit from sign to sign as you enter, momentarily overwhelmed by your choices and unsure of where to begin, before something catches your attention, and you know exactly where you want to go. 

“Aquarium!”

You love it from the moment you walk in, taking in the darkened room lit by the otherworldly glow of the water. The first large glass window you come to contains an entire coral reef, with hundreds of different types of fish and one very ugly green eel that makes you giggle.

“Look,” you whisper in awe, hardly able to tear your eyes away. “Daddy, look.”

“I am looking,” Marcus says beside you, but when you turn, he’s not watching the fish at all.

He’s watching you. 

“What?” you pout.

Marcus smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing, baby girl.” 

His hand is always a comforting weight at the small of your back as the two of you stroll slowly through the gallery, until you come to a room with one large, open tank with low walls. Lips parting in surprise, you rush forward to look. It’s full of rays, swimming slowly, moving majestically and gracefully around the tank. 

“You can touch them,” Marcus says beside you.

“What?” “The rays. You can touch them.”

You finally notice that many of the people around the tank have their hands submerged up to their elbows.

“No way,” you whisper. 

“Yes, ray,” Marcus jokes beside you, and you elbow him in the ribs.

“Daddy.”

Marcus chuckles and you step forward, leaning over the tank and slowly sliding your hand into the water.

“I’m afraid I’m going to freak out if one of these things touches me,” you say with a giddy smile. “Do you think they’re slimy?”

Marcus shrugs. “I dunno, I’ve never touched one.”

“Stick your hand in the water.”

“You first,” he laughs. “Look, here one comes.”

You press your lips together with excitement as one of the rays swims along the side of the tank toward the two of you. It passes just under your hand, and you gasp as you feel its skin below your fingertips.

“Oh,” you exclaim softly. “Oh, that’s weird.”

"Weird?" Marcus laughs. 

"Yeah, it's like, the smoothest thing I've ever felt, but it's soft and spongy."

"That is weird," Marcus says, his nose crinkling. "Hey, look, it likes you."

Sure enough, the ray turns around and comes by for another pass, one fin gently splashing the side of the tank as it swims by. It does it again and again, and you watch it with a disbelieving expression. 

"Believe it or not, rays are quite social," a zookeeper says, noticing your odd companionship. "They can be playful, splashing people to show off, and they can form bonds."

"It does like you," Marcus breathes, watching the ray swimming underneath your fingers. 

"That one's been through the ringer," the zookeeper comments. "It was rescued from a fishing net. See the big scar on its fin?"

You blink, looking at a line of darkened skin that you'd thought was simply color variation. "Oh," you whisper. "Poor thing."

"She's usually not very social," the zookeeper says. "I've never seen her do this."

"Is that right?" you say, smiling softly. "Are we friends?"

You stay there for a long time, until your fingers are pruny, in awe of the strange friendship. 

Marcus, as always, is patient, and ends up chatting with the zookeeper, who's happy to share information about her research to the two of you.

"Hey," Marcus finally says, with an amused smile. "We've got a lot more zoo to see."

"I know," you say quietly, strangely reluctant to leave. 

"This isn't the only time," Marcus assures you softly. "We'll be back."

Smiling sheepishly, you nod and withdraw your hand from the water, waving goodbye to the ray. 

"That was the weirdest thing," you say with a laugh. 

"That was adorable," Marcus hums, kissing your cheekbone. 

The two of you walk through the rest of the zoo, you tucked into Marcus's side as you look at every exhibit. Finally, you find yourself back where you started at the entrance. 

"C'mere," Marcus says, grabbing your hand. "One more thing."

He pulls you into the gift shop, smiling as you take in every conceivable type of stuffed animal lining the shelves. 

"Pick your favorite," Marcus says. 

"I don't know if I can narrow it down," you say with a laugh, overwhelmed with the sheer number of choices. But you walk up and down the aisles, looking at seals, tigers, penguins, orangutans, and sloths. They're all so cute. You bite down on your lip, looking around as you consider, and then you see it. 

Back in one corner of the store, an entire shelf dedicated to… 

"This one," you whisper, picking up a stuffed southern ray. 

"How did I know?" Marcus chuckles. 

You pause, a decades-old cycle of doubt worming its way into your brain. "Are you sure?"

Marcus frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You always get me so many things… you spoil me too much."

Marcus raises one eyebrow in challenge. "I don't spoil you too much. I spoil you just the right amount."

He gently takes the ray from you, pays for it, and hands it back. He's quiet on the walk to the car, and it's making you uneasy. 

"Daddy… are you mad?"

"What? No. God, no. I just…" Marcus sighs, leaning against the car. "I hate to think that you see this as spoiling you, baby girl. I don't see it spoiling you. I see it as giving you everything I want to give you. Everything you deserve."

"Daddy," you breathe, starting to tear up. 

"You're everything to me," Marcus says quietly. "So I'm gonna give you everything. And if all I have to give in exchange for literally everything I want in my life is a few stuffed animals? Baby, you're getting the raw deal, here."

You laugh a watery laugh. "His name's Pancake, by the way."

"Pancake," Marcus chuckles, opening the car door. "That's cute, baby girl. Did you have a good time?"

"Of course I did," you answer. "I always do with you, Daddy."

"Daddy, aren't you going to bed?"

Marcus gives you an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, baby, Daddy’s got a big press conference tomorrow and I'm nowhere near prepared."

"Oh," you say, disappointed. "But I'm really tired."

“That’s okay, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

“But I miss you when you’re not there,” you pout.

Marcus looks up from his laptop with a wry smile. “You want Daddy to come tuck you in?”

You let out an involuntary shiver at his words. 

"Yes, please," you whisper. 

He grins. “Go get ready for bed, then. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You giggle and hop up from the couch, hurrying to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You throw on your favorite tank top to sleep in, leaving only your underwear on the bottom. As you’re getting into bed, Marcus comes in and sits beside you on the bed. He kisses you unhurriedly, taking his time moving his lips sensually against yours. You sigh into his mouth–he’s such a good kisser. Just as you start to lose yourself in the act, Marcus smiles against your lips.

“Lay down, baby girl.”

You obey, smiling dazedly up at him as your head hits the pillow.

“What’s Daddy’s rule?” Marcus asks softly. 

“Don’t move,” you answer dutifully. 

“That’s right. Get nice and comfortable for me.”

You arrange yourself half on your side, half on your stomach, with one leg bent to the side and Pancake tucked under one arm. 

“Good girl,” Marcus whispers. His fingertips trail down your spine, over the fabric of your underwear, and then down, where he gently pulls them to one side to allow his other hand to touch. He sucks in a breath when he dips his fingers dip shallowly into your pussy, collecting your slick and rubbing it onto your clit. “Always so wet for Daddy, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you sigh contentedly into your pillow as Marcus starts rubbing in slow circles..

“My perfect girl, do you like it when I play with you?” he teases.

“Of course I do, Daddy,” you answer. “Would like it better if you gave me your c–”

“Shh,” Marcus chastises. “Not tonight, baby girl. I’m just trying to help you relax.”

You whine softly and shift your hips impatiently, and Marcus stops. 

“No, no,” he chuckles. “Stay still for Daddy.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, taking a deep breath and letting it out as Marcus’s fingers start to move achingly slowly on your clit. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Marcus soothes. “You’re doing so well for me. Look at how relaxed you are. You look so sweet, lying there and letting me take care of you.”

Your breath starts to come in pants, and you have to fight to keep yourself still as the pressure inside you starts to rise. 

“That’s it,” Marcus whispers. “Nice and slow.”

Marcus is a patient man. He doesn’t rush toward your climax; he never speeds up the movement of his hand. He slowly builds you up until the fall becomes inevitable.

Your hands tighten into fists when Marcus finally pushes you over the edge; your mouth falls open and a little, ragged whimper comes out. Other than that, you don’t move a muscle as you come undone, and it brings all of your focus to the way your pussy clenches over and over again.

“Good,” Marcus whispers. “Good girl.” He gently pulls your underwear back into place and covers you with the blanket. “I love you so much, baby girl,” he whispers into the skin of your temple. 

“Daddy,” you say softly, your eyes already closed. “You do a really good job. You take such good care of me.”

Marcus is quiet for a minute. “I’m glad,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. Clearing his throat, he adds, “I’ll be with you soon.”

His lips ghost against your temple once more before you hear him padding out of the room. 

[esoteric-joke]

Interview with BoosBabycakes

(#Interview2)

Welcome to the next interview of The Dear Writer Project. This time I had the pleasure to interview the wonderful Morgane/BoosBabycakes.

Morgane about planning out her works, working with deadlines and more:

What does your writing process usually look like?

Well, usually it’s always kind of the same process for me, whether I found a prompt on fest’s list or if I have an idea of my own popping in my head.

When I’m drawn towards a prompt, I then have to write down ideas for the story as they come to my mind. Like I will write them randomly in my notes and then, when it’s time for me to start writing, I have to lay out a plan. I can’t go in blind, that’s not how I work. I need to lay my plan, the number of chapters, what will happen in each chapter (not very detailed, but ideas for example).

I also can’t write two stories at once, so I have to fully focus on one before I can start a new one. I usually write when I have the time obviously, when I’m not working and so it can take more or less time for me to write one chapter.

When I’m done with a chapter, I reread it and then I send it to my betas. I have two that read the chapters when they’re done. They mostly help me with the grammar and syntax. I have one or two other betas (depending on their availability) who also read the chapters right away, but their mission is to help me with the story itself, if there are plot holes, inconstancies and such.

Then when the story is done, I have proof-readers that read the entire story and correct things that might have been left out.

After that stage, when they’re both done, I reread the entire story myself one more time and then put them out.

How much time do you invest in writing?

I definitely can’t write everyday and I can’t really sit down and write knowing I’ll only have an hour. I need to know I have time.

I like to write scenes entirely if I can, and not cut them in the middle. But sometimes I don’t have a choice. So it’s mostly on the weekends when I have a full day I can dedicate to writing.

On which of your stories did you write the longest?

I don’t really remember but I think You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime did. It usually takes me a few months to write a longer fic, and when it’s for a fest and you have a deadline there is a bit more pressure so you have to kind of push yourself to write sometimes.

You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime is also Morgane’s longest fic to date.

Does the aspect of having a deadline make it easier for you to write?

I don’t think it does.

Sure it gives a goal and it can help with the motivation, but sometimes it can also be stressful because you know you have to put out a fic in a certain amount of time, and that adds pressure.

It’s nice to also have no strings attached and be free to write and go at your own pace when you’re not writing for a fest.

Do you have an idea which of your works came together the fastest?

I honestly don’t know.

I want to say Invisible String, because I wrote it outside of a fest and the story just came to me so fast in my head.

What work of yours was the hardest to write?

I have to say They Say That Time’s A Healer for obvious reasons.

I don’t think any of my other works were hard to write, but this one is very personal and some chapters were very difficult to write and not cry at the same time.

If you’ve an idea in your head, how do you decide if it’s going to be a oneshot or a longer story?

I mean some prompts speak for themselves and I know if it’s going to be long but for others, I’m convinced it’ll be a one shot… and I end up with over 40k… Just like the one I’ve written for the blff.

I’m really awful at planning the number of words, because I always end up writing more than what I originally thought I would. As I write I often get inspired and add things or I write a scene and it is way longer than what I had in mind but I go with it.

What inspires you most while working on a story?

Sometimes it’s music. For some fics, they are inspired by a song. One that I heard in my car and had the idea popping into my head. That’s the case for Love In Slow Motion and my next fic which will be for the angst fest next year.

Apart from that, I get inspired by movies/tv shows or just my own head.

Morgane also often gets inspired by things she sees in real life and sometimes even searches for places while she travels that she could potentially write about.

For Clear Blue Water she chose an actual painting that exists in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It’s called La Trahison des Images (The Treachery of Images) also known as This is not a pipe.

The rooftop cinema is also a real place in West Hollywood, California and it’s called the Melrose Rooftop Theatre.

Also, the Cité de l’Espace (City of Space) in Satellite is a real museum in Toulouse, France.

Did you ever experience writers block?

I’ve never experienced it really.

I’ve had moments where it has been harder to get in front of the computer because in my personal life it was kind of hard as well at that moment, but it was never a moment where I couldn’t write at all. I’ve never had that.

Are there things you find frustrating, annoying or just really difficult to write?

Oh for me it’s the smut part. For reasons that I will keep to myself, I find it very difficult to write smut in a way that I always think it’s not good enough. I feel very insecure about those scenes.

Also the scene where there are a lot of characters at the same time, like OT5 scenes for example, are fun to read but man they are hard to write.

Finding the pace, the banter, it’s very hard.

Is there anything you can tell me about any future projects of yours?

Oh well, I have a fic coming soon for the blff, and I registered for the angst fest for next January.

I also have a couple of ideas for potential sequels… I won’t say more about this hehehe.

I also have two ideas that I don’t know if they’ll ever see the light of day, because I easily get caught up in fests.

In the next part of the interview, Morgane answered my questions that were more specifically about her works.

Morgane about processing grief through writing, experimenting with different tropes and weirdly named ice cream flavours:

What work of yours is your personal favourite?

I love all of them and I have a few personal favorites I’m not gonna lie.

Though if I had to choose one, I think I’d say Invisible String. This one was such a “love at first sight with the prompt” kind of thing. For the little story, I had registered to the blff in 2021 and saw the prompt that will later become Invisible String, but at that time, I wasn’t ready to get into such a story and I also fell for another prompt. So the next year, I registered again, and the Invisible String prompt was still there… But I fell in love with the prompt for Satellite and took that one.

However I couldn’t get the other prompt out of my head, it was stuck in there. So I waited for the registration to be over and asked the fest if I could write the story outside of the fest.

They accepted and while I was writing Satellite, the entire story for Invisible String came to me. I threw it down in my notes. Ideas, moments, plot lines, and when I was done with Satellite, I threw myself into it. It was just so much fun and complicated to plot and plan at the same time. I don’t know I just have a soft spot for this story.

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who isn’t familiar with any of your works at all and why?

Oh god that’s tough as well, um…

I wouldn’t recommend an A/B/O because not everyone likes that dynamic, but if they did I would recommend either Invisible String or War of Hearts. Invisible String for the story in itself and War Of Hearts because it deals with an important theme in my opinion.

A/B/O aside, I think I’d recommend Satellite. It’s a very fluffy one and I think it represents my writing quite well.

But I really think this question should be asked to the readers really, I think they’d know better which one to recommend than I do.

Is there a work of yours that was planned to go completely different than it came out in the end?

No, I don’t think so.

How did you come up with the idea for Clear Blue Water, Came And Brought You In and the unusual characteristics for their species?

This was a prompt for the rom com fic fest. It was specified that Louis should be a vampire and Harry a mermaid and that they had to hide their identity to the other.

After that, it’s kind of hard to explain because usually it just comes to me.

I had the prompt and the ideas came and I knew I had to have them in a place where there is water of course and where it doesn’t rain that much, but then I had to come up with ways for Louis to be in the sun, and so it just follows after that.

I inspired myself with characteristics from the vampires in Twilight, The Vampire Diaries and my own mind.

As for Harry, I searched on the internet the characteristics of mermaids and I kind of made up my own traits for him and his species in this story. I thought: Well, it’s my story and it’s a fantasy so I can do whatever I want with the characters.

I didn’t want Louis to be the bloodthirsty vampire stereotype, I wanted him to be different and so I was a bit scared of the reaction of the readers because I usually see people asking for lust and vampire Louis biting Harry and all that and for me it wasn’t even an option in this fic.

Then I came up with this kind of legend about the two species and the rest is history.

Morgane also told me in a conversation outside of the interview that she wanted to show that Louis didn’t have a choice and that he had to struggle a lot with his new identity after he was turned. She didn’t want it to look like being turned into a vampire was a blessing in this story.

Clear Blue Water, Came And Brought You In is your only fantasy-themed fic (if we let the a/b/o ones aside). Is anything fantasy-themed like that planned for the future or if it’s not planned, would you just like to write another one?

No other fantasy fic is planned for now, but I’m not opposed to writing another one if a prompt in a fest or an idea appeals to me.

They Say Time’s A Healer, How Long Is This Burn Supposed To Last? is based around your own horse’s story. Why did you decide to but your pain and your experiences with grieving a pet in a story?

I think at the time I hadn’t really dealt with what had happened and it felt like it would be therapeutic in a way for me to put it down in writing. It was a way to externalize those feelings.

Not a lot of people feel the same or understand what it means to lose a pet so I also wanted to show the relationship between a horse and their rider, so people could understand a bit better, maybe.

[🚨big spoiler alert for people that haven’t read the story🚨]

How much of that story (besides Kartoon being sick and passing away) actually happened?

Harry’s fall and injury happened to me exactly like it did in the story. Except that for me it was only about two years after I got Kartoon. I also couldn’t ride for three weeks after that.

The moment where in a flashback, Harry takes care of Kartoon’s abscess happened as well. He really had one and it was hell to treat.

The time where he got stuck in his stall happened as well. He had scratches on his hips and all, my poor baby.

Also, the part where Harry learns about Kartoon’s condition after the party and everything that happened after that to the final moment of Kartoon, happened exactly that way to me.

I described it exactly as I remembered. The call, the chase on the road, the moment he came down and out of the truck, inside the warehouse and being by his side, saying goodbye and finally the waiting room and the final decision. I didn’t have a partner, but my Dad was with me, so that part is different obviously.

The box in which Harry keeps the plaques and the hair of the tail is real as well, I have the box on my nightstand. I never really open it but it’s there.

When Harry cries in Chapter 9 after getting the bill for the operation was a real moment as well.

The river spot is a real location and of course Kartoon did some competitions, but never at a national level like in the story, so I changed that too for the purpose of the plot.

The aftermath and when Harry tries to ride another horse, it was what happened to me as well, the name of the horse was the same and I couldn’t go through with it. The end of the story, regarding Harry’s feelings and his journey through grief and towards riding again is what I’m feeling.

Morgane never felt ready again to ride another horse and so, even if people told her that they would’ve loved it if Harry took that step of riding another horse in the end of the story, she decided to not do that. She wanted the story to represent her feelings and her grieving even if her readers would’ve preferred it differently.

The story does have a bittersweet ending.

After the interview, Morgane told me that Ice Tea and Dusty the cats are also very much real and sent me a few very cute pictures of them.

How did you come up with all the ice cream names in Summer Sun, Something’s Begun?

I searched for weird ice cream flavors first, then I searched for puns around the flavors.

As you know I’m French and English isn’t my first language so finding puns can be a bit tricky.

Morgane’s favourite ice cream flavour is a classic creamy strawberry. Bonus points if it has chunks of strawberry in it.

In Invisible String Louis writes his own book at the end to tell their story. He mentions it’s going to be a trilogy. Is that supposed to be a little spoiler for two more parts that are maybe coming in the future?

I’m going to disappoint a lot of people but no it’s not…

But never say never I want to say…

In my mind, Louis was writing his journey without Harry in the first book, the second book was Harry’s story without him and the third one, my fic, is their journey to coming back to each other.

So yeah maybe one day I’ll be brave enough and will do it, if people are interested to read that…

Morgane told me that if she’s ever going to write another part, it wouldn’t be about the villain of Invisible String coming back.

You don’t stay in one trope or genre but rather experiment quite freely with them. Why is that?

I just like to challenge myself and experiment.

I want to write different things, different tropes, so there is a bit of everything for anyone who wants to give my stories a try.

I also think, it’s more interesting to change things up and not stay in one particular trope, but that’s completely personal as some other writers might feel more comfortable with sticking to something they mastered.

What was your favourite trope you wrote to this day?

I don’t know…

I love a/b/o for sure but otherwise I don’t think I have a favorite one.

Is anything completely new planned genre or trope wise?

I’d say that the angst fic I’m planning is something different because it will deal with heavy bullying and homophobia.

Also I’ve always wanted to write a fic where Harry is a ballet dancer and this one will be it.

Satellite is your most popular work. Why do you think it got so popular?

I have absolutely no idea.

I was genuinely, and still am, surprised by the love and enthusiasm this fic generated. I honestly didn’t think it would have this success.

It’s a moderate success compared to other writers and popular fics of course, but for me it was pretty big when the story hit 1000 kudos. It was my first and my only fic with that amount of kudos.

Maybe it is the link between Louis and his son, or the growth of Harry and also the growth of his relationship with Adam that appealed to people. I don’t know.

Is there a work of yours that you’d like to get more attention than it has right now?

My new fic is just getting out there so I will give it some time.

But otherwise, obviously They Say That Time’s A Healer is one that I’d like people to discover but I have to say that I’d really like for Clear Blue Water to be a bit more noticed.

Is there a work of yours that you would have rather not published in hindsight or have you already deleted one of your works because you didn’t like it anymore?

I’ve never deleted any of my fics and I don’t think there are any that I regret.

I mean of course I’m a bit embarrassed or rather insecure of my first ones because I was a baby writer back then and I’d like to think that I’ve improved since then, but I’d never delete them because they are part of my journey.

Now we’re at the part of the interview where I asked Morgane a few personal questions about her becoming a part of the fandom and her preferences when it comes to fics she likes to read.

Since when are you in the fandom and what made you become a fan?

Okay this is a long story…

So obviously I knew about 1D when I was younger but I never really listened to them because I thought I was too old… I know it’s ridiculous but yeah.

One day I was on YouTube looking at videos and I stumbled upon a video that was about Harry and Louis and Larry Stylinson. I got really intrigued with it all, these two boys and the band itself and I started to listen to 1D a bit, and I realized I kind of liked their music.

After that, I got very curious about Harry and Louis and typed Larry Stylinson on YouTube and that was the start of the downfall, you could say.

I found Freddieismyqueen and well, I never came up the rabbit hole after that.

I also got curious about their solo music and tried Harry’s, then Louis’, then Niall’s and here I am.

I officially came into the fandom in 2018, so rather late compared to some OG fans.

Did you ever got a weird/funny comment under one of your works or other social media about your works and if yes, what did it say?

I don’t think I’ve ever got a really funny one but the majority of the comments I get are so sweet and loving really.

I got a harsh one one day, which wasn’t really a comment but a note someone put on their bookmarks… But I can see them…

It was about They Say That Time’s A Healer and let’s just say that it made me cry and definitely not in a cool way…

Did you ever get a good/sweet comment that stood out and that you still have in mind sometimes?

The comments that say that I’ve somehow helped them or made them feel better just for a little while always stick with you.

Harry or Louis?

I often get the question, even with my friends. They usually ask me, but I genuinely can’t choose between them.

I know some people will say that there must be one you love more than the other, but I really don’t. I love them both so much, for who they are, and I can’t imagine choosing one over the other. I’ve loved Harry first, but then I discovered Louis and they just have a place in my heart.

Your favourite Harry era and your favourite Louis era?

My favorite Harry era is long hair Harry and for Louis the Made In The A.M. era I would say.

Morgane also told me that if she could, she would absolutely write all of her fics with LHH.

Your favourite movie with H?

My Policeman of course.

Who’s your favourite writer in the fandom?

I would say seducedbycurls because my favorite fic is from them.

Morgane’s favourite fic is Cold Little Heart.

Is there a fic that is not necessarily your favourite or from your favourite writer but is still kind of stuck in your head?

Take Me To Church by wickedarcher_08

What makes you want to stop reading something?

Oh I don’t read sad endings in fics, in books (like outside of the fandom) I don’t really mind but for Harry and Louis I can’t.

I also can’t read a fic where Harry and Louis cheat on each other or are abusive towards each other, it’s a no for me.

Your favourite Song and your favourite artist at the moment?

I’m a swiftie (sorry everyone) and the last few months I Can Do It With A Broken Heart is kind of the soundtrack to my life and in general I’ve been listening to Taylor a lot and Louis’ live album.

You do mention the series Friends and the movie Love Actually a lot throughout your fics. Are those your favourite movie and series?

Yes! Sorry about that, haha.

Friends is my comfort tv show and it’s the same for Love Actually. I watch it every year at Christmas and I rewatch Friends every year, too.

The most unusual thing that inspired you?

Huh… I don’t know if this can be considered as unusual, but I often get inspired by real life things. If I experience something or I’m just doing something random and then, bam! Something pops up and I’m like “wait a second, this could work”.

For example not long ago I was on a plane back from Louis’ festival and right there in the plane I had an idea for the fic I was writing. Nothing happened particularly, just the context inspired me.

Morgane also told me that she often gets inspired by little videos she sees on TikTok or Twitter/X.

I’ll Reach Out My Hand To You, I’ll Have Faith In All You Do, the second part of her Ballet Recital Series was inspired by video she saw on Twitter/X where a dad went onstage to help their child with their performance.

Her little canon series It’s A Larry Life was inspired by a few TikToks that her best friend sent her.

Who would you most like to read an interview from?

Oh, maybe stylinsoncity. They said they were leaving the fandom but still, their fics are simply iconic.

I also asked Morgane to give every fic of hers a colour and a season. Here is the outcome of that:

Welcome to Scotland: I picture it blue and in Winter

You Are My Dancing Queen: It’s black and white for me obviously and Winter as well

I’ll Reach Out a Hand For You (the entire series): I picture it powder pink and Winter

With My Body And Soul I Want You More Than You’ll Ever Know: I picture it Yellow and Spring

Summer Sun Something’s Begun: I picture it turquoise and Summer of course

You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime: For me it’s yellow and purple, I don’t know why and Winter, too

They Say That Time’s A Healer, How Long Is This Burn Supposed To Last: For me it’s brown and black (Kartoon colors) and Summer

Love In Slow Motion: It’s Gold and Autumn

Satellite: It’s purple and Winter (the fic goes over more than six months but yeah)

Under The Paris Sky: Light pink and Summer

Invisible String: Gold and brown and autumn/winter

My Arm Might Be Broken, But I Won’t Be Broken Down (the It’s a Larry life series): Royal blue and autumn

War Of Hearts: Red and autumn

Love Me If You Dare: Mint green and Winter (the fic happens over several years but winter is an important part of their lives)

Clear Blue Water, High Tide Came And Brought You In: Pink and blue and Spring

You’ve Taken My Heart By Storm: Orange/gold/silver and Summer

A huge thank you (again) to Morgane, who was just the sweetest person ever.

I really appreciate that you wanted to participate and therefore support this project so much.

Thanks for being so patient and curious throughout the whole process.

[lucedilunax]

New Jersey - J. Marino

THE TRILOGY OF LOVE PART II

previous part | next part

pairing: John Marino x fem!reader

summary: John and Olivia moved to New Jersey but the two years were pure rollercoaster of emotions for them

warning: mentions of cheating, constant arguments, swearing, NSFW, graphic sex, angst

words: 3.3k

note: second part is here!! we're getting close to the end of the John & Olivia story

masterlist

---

August 2022. New chapter for Olivia and John had begun. It was like dream come true. Their new apartment was fully arranged by her. She made this place feel like home compared to Pittsburgh. Everywhere you could see framed photos of them. Cosy and colorful pillows were on the couch in the living room. In every room, she put a scented candle. John haven’t minded this because he saw how much joy it brings her. In free time, both of them were walking around city, searching places for dates.

When they settled down and were done with unpacking, Olivia started hunt for a new job. The last thing she wanted was to live on John’s cost. This brought many disagreements in between them.

“Baby, you have to go to the grocery store and buy things that I couldn’t afford”. She said walking into the kitchen with bags.

“Why didn’t you use my card?” He asked with confusion written on his face.

“Because that’s your card and your money and I won’t be spending it”.

“Liv, I gave you my card so you can pay with my money and not yours. I know you don’t have a lot of savings and you know that I can afford living for both of us”.

“That’s the exact reason why I haven’t used it. I don’t wanna live on your cost”. Olivia said while she was unpacking bags.

“You are so stubborn, it’s unbelievable. You are not earning money, yet you are spending them when you know that the purpose of me giving you my card is to use it”. Sometimes, John hated how independent she is.

“I know that I’m not earning any money, you don’t have to remind me. Also, I never asked for your card so here you have it back”. She grabbed her wallet and handed him the card.

“I gave you so keep it”. He said and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

“You went to buy grocery for both of us and bought them with your money. Now you’re back telling me to go there again because you couldn’t afford some of the things. I’m trying to help you and you are pushing away my help when I know you are struggling with searching for a new job and keeping up with your savings”. John crossed the room to wrapped his arms on her waist. “That’s why I’m making such a big deal out of it. Just let me help you… please”. He pleaded.

“Fine. But when I find new job, I’ll pay you back”. She said and he laughed.

In October, both of them became busy. John started season with new team and Olivia got a dream job on Wall Street. First months were fun but with time, they started to drift apart from each other. She was leaving the house when he was still sleeping. At evenings, she was busy with projects and they didn’t have much time for each other. Olivia started to miss his games because she was too tired to go. John understand that until he found out that she’s not watching his games even in TV.

“How’s the game against Seattle?” She went to kiss him when he entered the apartment.

“You haven’t watched?” He asked.

“No but I’m willing to listen your story”. She said. He was hurt by her confession.

“Well for your information, we won. Oh and I scored goal but I guess you don’t care. I won’t keep you busy from your serious job”. He said with venom in his voice and went to the bathroom. She followed him.

“What the fuck that supposed to mean?”

“You heard me”. He said completely ignoring her.

“I’m sorry that I’m busy and can’t drop everything just to watch you and your friends skating with sticks and trying to hit the stupid puck!”

“Sometimes I wish you could drop it”. He mumbled under his nose but she heard him loud and clear.

“Fuck you Marino. I thought you would support me”.

“What about support from you? I don’t feel it either”. John knew he went overline with his words when he saw her face on the edge of crying.

“I moved here for you. I’m always here for you. I cook and clean the whole apartment so you don’t have to. No matter how tired I am, I do everything so you can have easier life. I’m sorry that I haven’t watched couple of your games!” She screamed and left the bathroom.

Then it hits him. John realized that he’s been too harsh on Olivia. She sacrificed her safe life in Pittsburgh just to be with him. He knew she wasn’t ready to work in her dream destination but she followed him. In fact, he haven’t been doing anything in their apartment because she was always there to do it for him. John knew he fucked up when Olivia haven’t came to sleep in their bedroom. Next morning he woke up earlier to go and buy her flowers and breakfast from her favorite place.

“I’ve bought you your bagel”. He said shyly.

“I’m not hungry”. She ignored him still mad after yesterday’s argument.

“Look, you can give me cold shoulder all you want but just listen to me and eat the bagel. You know how I feel about you skipping breakfast”. She sat down and started to eat when he continued.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been to harsh on you. You have every right to be mad at me. I deserve it. It’s just… I feel like we barely see each other and I was just hoping that you watch my games. I know that the work is important to you and I shouldn’t even suggested you to drop it. You deserve to be where you are. Also, I want to thank you for everything. I haven’t been saying this a lot but I’m grateful to have you in my life and I’m thankful that you are taking care of me and the whole apartment. I love you Liv”.

“Apology accepted”. That’s all she said to him and left to get ready for the day.

“I know you have free today so what’s your plans?�� He asked hoping that they can go somewhere.

“I have a full list of chores to do”.

“Let me handle it”. He proposed.

“You don’t have to. I know how tired you must been after the game”. She said mocking him.

“Liv, you are tired too. Please, I want to help”. After a minute of thinking, she agreed.

“Fine, here you have it”. She ripped a page from her journal and gave it to him.

Olivia washed her plate and left him. John really wanted to prove her that he was sincerely sorry. When he cleaned the apartment and bought groceries, he realized how tired she must been all the time. After he was done, he went to the bedroom.

“I see it now. You have every right to be tired. I’m so sorry Liv”.

“Shame that you saw it after you did what I’m doing every single week”.

“I promise, I’ll be here for you from now on. I’ll never blame you for skipping my games”.

“Thanks. Can we lay and just cuddle? I missed you”.

“Anything for you”. He kissed her and grabbed her waist so she could lay on top of him.

After this argument, John knew that he has to be better for her. It wasn’t the easiest task when New Jersey qualified to the play offs. He was barely home. All the time, he was training and put all his focus on hockey. Olivia missed him but she knew that he wants to lift the Stanley Cup. Unfortunately, Devils lost to Carolina in second round. She tried to talk with him about this..

“How are you?”

“I got eliminated in second round, I feel fantastic!” He said sarcastically.

“You know that I’m here for you to listen and try to put your mind on something different?”

“With all the respect Liv, but you don't know shit. Just leave me alone”.

And she did. Olivia didn’t wanted to be his punching bag. She started to feel not wanted in her own apartment and made spontaneous decision to go see her friends in Pittsburgh. She told John that she’s leaving him for couple days but he didn’t care. He was still heartbroken after the lost game. Olivia haven’t tried to reach him. She put her focus on her friends and spending time with them. She had wonderful week, free from all the worries. On the other hand, John was losing his mind. For the first time in two years he was by himself in the apartment. He missed his girlfriend.

The week they spent apart showed him how much she means for him. John knew that he have to propose to her. He wanted her as his wife. He already saw her with his last name on the back when she was coming to his games and now he wanted her to have his last name. He bought the ring and now all was left for him to wait for her.

John remembered that she didn’t wanted traditional proposal so he had perfect plan for this. When Olivia came back, he suggested her to watch a movie. She gladly accepted his offer and laid on the couch next to him. In the middle of the film, he kneeled in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She asked confused.

“The past week without you was terrible. It made me realize how much I need you next to me and how you make my life less miserable. I know I’m being difficult but I love you with everything in me. Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” He asked, scared of her answer. He was aware of the fact that she’s only 23 but he never been so sure about something in his life.

“Yes, oh my gosh, yes! I would love to be your wife”. She jumped into his arms and kissed him. He took her left hand and put ring on her finger.

“I love you so much future mrs. Marino”.

“I love you too Johnny”.

On holidays, the couple went to John’s hometown but they vacation was ruined when Olivia received a phone call.

“I just got call from work and I have to come back. I’m so sorry Johnny”. She said sadly.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, stay with your family. You haven’t saw them in months.”

“Call me when you get there. I love you”.

“I will. Love you and I’m sorry about that”. She kissed him and went to their room to pack her suitcase.

Olivia haven’t told John the whole truth. The reason why she left was related to her promotion. She was trying to be manager of her team and she got it. She had to came back to sign the papers. She was delighted but when they told her that she has to live near Wall Street and be available all the time, she freaked out. How she supposed to say John that she’s not gonna live with him in Newark anymore?

Olivia started to settle down in her new apartment in New York without John’s knowledge. She didn’t wanted to drop the news during phone call, but John decided to visit her and returned to their apartment. To his surprise, he met empty space from her things. He tried to call her but she wasn’t picking up. He started to think that she made up the phone call and decided to leave him. The fuel to his thinking was fact that she has been really close with one of her colleague from work. He never felt insecure about their relationship until Ben came to her life. Hours later, she saw seven missed calls from John and called him back.

“Hi, sorry but I had meeting. How are you?”

“Were you on a meeting or just fucking other guy?” He asked coldly.

“On a meeting, why would you even suggest that?” She was shocked by his words.

“I wanted to surprise you and came back earlier but I guess you decided to leave me for Ben”. He said with disgust.

“Oh no…” She haven’t got a chance to finish her sentence when he spoke again.

“I thought you are better than this. You should at least have a dignity to break up face to face instead of cheating on me. All the time you were just going for my fame huh? Have a nice life with this dick”. He haven’t waited for her response and just hung up.

Olivia was heartbroken by his words. She run to her car and drove to their apartment hoping that he still gonna be there. Luck was on her side because he stayed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked.

“Let me explain everything”. She begged. When he haven’t said anything, she continued.

“The phone call I got was from work. I applied to be manager of my team and I got the job. I had to came back to sign new contract. After this, they told me that I have to live closed because I might be call in the middle of the night to show up. They rented me an apartment and I took my stuff to move there. I didn’t wanted to tell you that through phone call and I was waiting for the moment you return. I never thought you’ll decide to surprise me. Sorry that I went behind your back”. She said with her tears rolling down her eyes.

Again, John jumped into conclusion and blamed her for something instead of having conversation with her. He felt guilty for even thinking that she’ll cheat on him.

“I’m sorry Liv. I know it’s not an excuse but when you haven’t picked up my phone calls and I haven’t saw any of your clothes, I just thought you want to leave me”. He said embarrassed.

“Johnny you have to trust me. We’re supposed to get married one day and you think that I would cheat on you?”

“I have nothing on my defence”.

“Maybe living apart will be good for us”. She said after she calmed down.

“What?”

“Look, we are arguing all the time. We still gonna live close to each other but both of us will be having their own space”.

“I guess you are right but I’m gonna miss you, especially when I’ll be coming back at nights from games”.

“Johnny, here’s key to my new apartment. I still have keys to this. We are living 40 minutes from each other. If you ever get bored or lonely or whatever, come to me. I’ll be doing the same thing”.

“I love you Liv and I’m so fucking sorry”. He kissed her.

“I love you too”.

In fact, living apart rescued their relationship. They started to appreciate every moment they spent together. New season started for John and more work for Olivia. Despite their busy schedules, they had time for each other. They felt that they are falling in love again. When John knew that he has free morning, he was driving to her place. On weekends, Olivia was staying in his apartment.

On Valentine’s Day, John had away game in Nashville. Thankfully, New Jersey won and he even got an assist. When he returned to her apartment, Olivia decided to reward him. She started to kiss his lips while he was laying in her bed and she was sitting on him. He depended the kiss and grabbed her ass. She took off her shirt and he could see her new black, lacy bra. He immediately put his hand on her boob and licked his lips.

“You like what you see?” She joked.

“You are gonna be death to me woman”.

He got rid of his shirt and pants leaving him only in underwear. She unhooked her bra and John in a moment manhandle her to be on top. John started to kiss her chest and played with her nipples.

“Stop teasing Johnny”. She moaned.

“Someone’s desperate”. He laughed.

“Just fuck me already”.

“Your wish is my command”.

John took off her shorts and panties. He kneeled in between her legs and started eating her out. Olivia moaned loudly when he put his finger inside of her.

“Gonna have you ready for my cock baby”.

After couple seconds, he added another finger and she started to beg him.

“Please Johnny, fuck me, I wanna cum around your dick”.

He took out his fingers and put them into her mouth. She cleaned them with her tongue and moaned around them. He pulled his boxers and started fucking her.

“Oh Johnny, right here”.

“I missed your pretty pussy. So perfect for me”. He leaned to kiss her.

John set ruthless pace. Olivia couldn’t stop moaning and screaming his name.

“I’m gonna cum”. She said breathing heavily.

“Hold, I’m almost there”. He told her firmly and started to rub her clit.

“Can’t, feel so good”. She moaned.

“Cum for me pretty girl”. She screamed his name when her orgasm approached. He cum inside of her and fucked her through her climax.

John fell on the bed next to Olivia and cuddled her. After couple of minutes, he lifted her and ran a bath for both of them. An hour later, when they left bathroom, he helped her dress up for bed and they fall asleep.

Season was over for John very quickly. In April, he played last game because Devils haven’t qualified to the play offs. He was frustrated and unmotivated to do anything. He was living all the time at Olivia’s apartment and felt jealousy. He knew it was dumb but he was envy of the fact that she can work every single day and be successful when he’s stuck in between four walls. When he finally swallowed the tough pill, they were back in normal condition. Until another information dropped.

“Liv, we have a problem”.

“What happened?” She asked panicked.

“They traded me”. He sighed.

“Where?”

“Utah, more specifically Salt Lake City”.

“What the fuck? They sending you to another part of the country?”

“Yes”.

“What are we gonna do? Gosh, I’m getting déjà vu”. She joked.

“Well, you are going with me so we should start packing”. He said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Absolutely not, I’m not going”.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m staying here. I worked my ass all my life to work on Wall Street and I’m not gonna drop my dream job because you are traded to Utah”. She crossed her arms on her chest.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” He couldn’t believe what he heard.

“Yes Johnny. I love you but I also love my job here. I don’t want to start over again”.

“Oh so I can start new chapter but you can’t?

“You picked this life!” She screamed.

“And you picked me so get used to it!” John yelled at her and she flinched. He never screamed on her. He was always the calm one in their relationship. When he saw her reaction and went to apologized to her.

"I'm sorry for yelling”. He hugged her.

“I don’t want to move on Johnny, can we at least try long distance? If we see that it’s not working for us, I’ll sacrifice myself and come live with you in Utah”. She proposed.

“Fine. I love you Liv”. John wasn’t the happiest men to agree on this but he knew it’s the best for them. He leaned down and kissed her.

They don’t know that next months are gonna be the most challenging time for them. Does they relationship survive long distance and can they have a happy ending?

---

Thank you for reading! Tell me what do you think it's gonna happened in Utah chapter❤️

[gayloraura]

i’ve been itching to try and actually figure stuff out in regards to my “take folklore and run with it” thing for a while now, so yesterday i sat down with a blank notebook and started writing in it. the structure is sort of inspired by videos about commonplace books that i’ve watched in the last week or so, but i’m definitely not using it like people typically use commonplace books lol.

i have a “goal” section at the front (after a few pages of blank space for an index), but it’s turned into more of an overview. just stuff about what core characters there are and where they came from, James’ gender (~ambiguous~), what i’ve decided about the town they live in, etc.

then i went through all of betty (the song) and dissected it, basically. starting with a more “swiftie” POV where James and Betty are already in a relationship, he just fully cheated on her, and now he’s begging her to take him back. i got very critical of James here, i understand why swifties hate him so viscerally. to quote myself: (in regards to the second verse) “where it went wrong was when you cheated on her, you prick”.

i decided there was no way i was going with that narrative as it was - James is really painted as an asshole and it would be difficult to find myself wanting them to be together, if i wanted to make a bunch of other songs about them (which is the entire goal of this project, obviously). so i also wrote down my “alternate interpretation”, which more or less the narrative that i originally had in my head when i first heard the song and had no context all. i’m just gonna put everything that i wrote here because this is my favourite part. (with some grammar & vocab edits, because i can properly do that in a digital medium)

James and Betty are in an extremely homoerotic friendship/situationship, and the song is them (mostly James) trying navigate that while also dealing with a homophobic environment.

Inez’s gossip would be more along the lines of “i saw them doing gay stuff with this random girl”.

“the worst thing i ever did” on its own makes me think of some brutal internalized homophobia, but then we get to the second line and it follows up with “was what i did to you”. like it’s been flipped on its head and James knows that it hurt Betty a lot in couple different ways, so they’re saying “it was the worst thing i ever did because it hurt you, not because it was gay”. (i had a bit trouble phrasing that, so hopefully it’s understandable)

the reason James went along with the affair because they were frustrated with the status of the situationship and wanted to get their mind off of Betty. obviously that didn’t work, and they thought about her the entire time. this part is not much different from the vanilla interpretation, but the main difference is that they weren’t official (or even approaching that), so James looks much less like an asshole.

a point i had always been confused about the vanilla interpretation - i might have just been overthinking it, but whatever the case it helps to have an interpretation that makes sense to me. in the bridge, James says he dreams about kissing her (which i always thought kind of sounded like they never had before), but then at the end says “kissing in my car again” (so they have?). i thought it would make sense if in this “alternate” one, they had kissed once (in James’ car), and it made things awkward. maybe shortly before things got weird?

“stupid friends” is an insult to injury for swifties. for me, it means the friends are stupid because they’re homophobic (christians?) like the rest of the school and town (which is great framing for other songs like Love Story). when James says “will you kiss me in front of all your stupid friends”, they’re basically saying “will you care what they think? will you want to be with me out in the open?”. they don’t want to be shoved back into the closet now that they’ve been outed.

lastly, this is more of a nitpick. i’ve always found it strange that a 2 teenagers of the opposite sex would be allowed to spend the night together - i would understand sneaking out (or in?) on occasion, but the song makes it sound like it’s most of the summer. it makes way more sense to me if it was 2 (perceived) girls having sleepovers or something.

[starwarsbean]

Love Against the Odds

Warnings: Fake Dating. Alternate Universe. Smut/ Fluff. Sexual tension.

Pairing: Tech x F! Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you’re having a good day! This is the second chapter to this series. I’m still unsure of how many chapters there will be. If there are mistakes so sorry it’s late for me. Just let me know. Please heart and share. <3

Summary:

We see Techs part of the storyline. Understanding his part of the story.

Chapter 2

Tech was sitting at his office. Typing a way on his keyboard. Taking small sips of his black coffee. He was setting long term plans for the company making sure the company reaches their goals. Techs intelligence, dedication, and determination made him succeed in his role. His analytical skills helped him guide the company in the right direction. Tech always thought things logically and rationally. His mind was focusing on work most majority. The other half of his mind was on his brothers and Omega. Tech always cared for them deeply. He had his own way of showing it. His head was always typing away on the keyboard working on a new project. Tech knew he was a critical boss and can come out as harsh. He never intends to be so critical, but it’s common knowledge to him. He is blunt on his employees. Articulating what he wants done. Most majority of his employees did not enjoy being around him at any events or even enjoy working on a project with him. They would all walk away when he walked into the room. Even small talk would lead to them excusing themselves awkwardly. Tech felt like an outsider regardless if he was in a high position. Sometimes he would get rather lonely.

“Sir, your phone is ringing it’s your brother Hunter.” Techs assistant walks in to inform him.

Tech nods his head and picks up the phone. Techs assistant quickly walks out the office room.

“Hunter, what is it?”

“Good to hear from you too tech.” Hunter says sarcastically.

“What is it? I’m currently working and I have an important dinner tomorrow.” Tech ask a bit annoyed.

“Yeah you’re always working tech. How about you come swing by for a game tonight. Wrecker and Omega really miss you.” Hunter says.

“Well I’m really busy and I don’t know if it’s certain I’ll be done by the time.” Tech looks at the time.

“Well how about you take a break for your family and just come by. Bring your work with you.” Hunter says. Omega is in the background begging for tech to come.

Tech hears Omega wanting him to come by. He sighs.

“Alright I’ll come by just for a few minutes.” Tech says giving in.

Omega grabs the phone away from Hunter and thanks tech for giving in. Hunter grabs back the phone and laughs.

“See you then Tech.” Hunter hangs up

Tech looks at work realizing he’s almost finishing his work. He continues to concentrate till it’s time for him to go. Tech packs up his stuff when he’s finished. He heads to hunters place. He stretches his long arms and his neck. Feeling a bit stiff from typing all day. Tech arrives at Hunters place. Omega opens the door before tech can even knock.

“Tech! You came!” Omega says happily. Her blue eyes full of joy from her brother visiting her.

“Well I don’t think I had a choice.” Tech says with a little smile.

Wrecker pops by the door and punches tech shoulder playfully. Making Tech roll his eyes at his brothers action. Wrecker laughs while he teased him. Tech walks inside and goes to sit on the couch.

“Good to see you too Wrecker. Didn’t think you’d be so excited to see me.” Tech says while pulling out his work from his bag.

“Oh come on you brought work with you? We’re suppose to play a game!” Wrecker looks at tech confused.

“Yeah Tech we want you to play the game with us. You’ll like the game. It’s very strategic.” Omega says while sitting next to tech on the blue couch.

“Sadly, as much I want to beat you both at this game. I have lots of work to do.” Tech says while typing in his keyboard.

“Come on Tech.” Omega pleads.

“Omega…Wrecker.. I told you both Tech was busy. As long as he’s here. We get to enjoy his company.” Hunter says coming from the kitchen with some homemade nachos.

Wrecker walks over to eat a chip. Omega rolls her eyes in defeat. She groans as she sets up the game. Tech notices the changes in Omega. Realizing she’s getting older. Her blonde hair grew out a bit more. She was a bit taller too.

“Tech! Do you want some nachos?” Hunter ask while placing the nachos on the table.

“Not right now.” Tech says.

Wrecker and Hunter shrug, eating their nachos.

“When are Echo and Rex coming back from their double date?” Omega ask giggling.

“Look at you being nosey.” Hunter says smiling at Omega.

“I’m just asking that’s all. Maybe they will want to play since Tech can’t.” Omega says with a smile.

Tech looks up from his work. He pays attention to what they’re talking about.

“Rex and Echo went on a double date?” Tech ask getting amused at this conversation.

“Yeah Tech something you should be trying.” Wrecker says while laughing.

Tech rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“I have no time for romance. Or any sort of relationship. It is not something I want to try.” Tech says firmly.

Hunter and Wrecker sigh. Omega pops a nacho in her mouth.

“Tech.. maybe you could try dating out. You’re always caught up in work. Sometimes you don’t realize what’s out there till you try.” Hunter says while scratching his neck.

“Yeah you’re so caught up in work. You hardly see us.” Wrecker buts in

“Nonsense. I do not need to try. I’m busy and that is all.” Tech says sharply

“Maybe if you found someone you love you would be a lot happier. There’s more to life than just working your life away.” Hunter chips in.

“I am happy. I finish my work and I go to bed. My routine is on schedule.” Tech looks up at Hunter and Wrecker annoyed

Hunter and Wrecker look at each other and sigh knowing that they tried.

“We just care about you tech. We just wanted to see you try something out besides just work.” Hunter says.

Omega looks at them. She frowns then looks back at the game. Hunter noticed Omega starting to look down. Wrecker and Hunter sit on the floor with her and begin playing the game.

Tech sighs softly as he looks at them. Why would falling in love help him? It only leads to disappointment from seeing his brothers past relationships. Dealing with relationship issues was not worth it. Just because you love someone? It didn’t make sense to tech. Then again he never tried falling in love or meeting anyone. Work was his main focus and his life. No one could possibly change that…

Rex and Echo walk into Hunters place. They both are extra happy. Rex had a certain smell of perfume. It was so strong it made Tech nose clench. Echo had a smile on his face.

“Guessing you both had a good time on your guys double date?” Hunter says with a smirk.

“It was pretty nice. She was a great women. Most definitely will be seeing her again.” Rex says.

“I’m doing the same thing. My date was kind and understanding.” Echo says while cleaning the table of leftover nacho cheese.

“Glad you both had fun. Maybe you guys can bring them over so we can meet them.” Hunter says happily for his

Tech listens to their conversation. Feeling a bit annoyed. He was truly happy for his brothers dates going well. He just wanted the whole dating conversation to get out of the room. He notices an error in the dinner menu. He messages one of his employers annoyed. Due to his irritability from his brothers he was being a bit critical on Heras error. She was one of his best employees, but he was in no mood for errors. After finishing the messages. His brothers call his name. Tech looks up.

“Tech, are you almost finished?” Wrecker ask.

“No. One of my employees made a mistake for tomorrows dinner event. Now I have to make sure they correct their error.” Tech says firmly.

“Will there be single people at the dinner event?” Wrecker says with a laugh.

“I am unaware and do not care. That is not my main objective at tomorrows dinner event.” Tech says sternly

“I wasn’t asking for you. I was asking for myself.” Wrecker looks at Rex with a grin.

“In that case I do not know.” Tech looks at them.

They all just nod and get back in to the game. Echo and Rex try out the game with Omega. Everyone expect Tech was screaming in fun. Hunter laughs as Echo loses to Omega. Tech looks at them feeling a bit left out. He packs up his work to head home. Not wanting to ruin their fun.

“I’m going to get going. I have lots of work to do.” Tech says.

Everyone waves bye to Tech. Before Tech leaves Hunter pulls him to the side.

“Tech, from what we said. We’re just worried about you. We just want you to experience other things besides just working.” Hunter says putting a hand on techs shoulder.

Tech looks down and thinks. He knew his brothers were worried about him working all the time. Tech thought nothing of thinking it’s part of life. His honey eyes behind his goggles look around the room. Avoiding eye contact with Hunter.

“I understand your concern. I must get going.” Tech says while shutting the front door behind him.

Hunter sighs as he watches Tech leave. Omega and Echo call Hunter back over to play the game.

Tech gets to his own place. Placing his work on his table. He goes to look what’s inside his fridge and cabinets. Realizing he forgot to go grocery shopping. Not having much food nor was he in the mood to cook. His stomach grumbling. He makes a reminder to send his assistant to pick up his groceries. Tech grabs a granola bar and a cup of vanilla yogurt. He eats it fast from how hungry he is. The crumbs of the granola bar falling down his shirt. Feeling annoyed of the mess he made. The crumbs falling on the kitchen floor. He finishes his snack and cleans his mess. Finally receiving a email on the correct forms from Hera about tomorrows dinner event. He goes over the details and list of names. He sees a brand new name he’s never seen before. Thinking of how nice the name is. Wondering if he’s met this person before. Techs alarm goes off for him to shower and get ready for bed.

As Tech lays in bed he starts thinking of what Hunter said. Did he really need to date? Why was it so important to experience? He pulls his blankets over his body. Tech did not understand the concept of dating. How dating works is not logical and super complicated. It was odd to Tech to think of love. He never thought of the idea of him dating. The questions continue to wonder his mind. Did he even need the experience? Yeah, it would be nice for him to find that person to spend the rest of your life with. Even start a family with. But, Tech knew he none of that would happen. His work was his purpose, not love. An idea pops his mind. Fake dating would work. He wouldn’t have to fall in love and deal with the reality complications of dating. His brothers would stop nagging him. Tech could continue his work while tricking everyone. It was a brilliant idea for him. Something he should’ve done years ago. Tech slowly writes down his idea. After, he finishes he lays back down. Wondering who would even agree with this idea. Tech drifts off to sleep.

[absoluteaudacitywrites]

Lake Time Loop

A little while ago I had a plan with some other writers to write a fic where Henry gets stuck in a time loop at The Lake and has to hear Alex confess he's in love over and over again, night after night, while he tries to figure out how to get out of the situation. We each wrote a section.

Unfortunately the project fell apart due to one reason or another. The thing is, I'd written my whole section and I really like it! It's very angsty, which is out of the norm for me. So, I thought I'd share it here as a throw-away piece of writing that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

Enjoy! (Oh and tw: heavy alcohol consumption, vomiting described in detail, dark/self-harming thoughts from Henry)

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

Henry is losing his mind.

He has to be. He can’t actually be stuck in a time loop. He must be in a little padded room somewhere, imagining all this. Repressing his gay urges has finally sent him spare.

If he is imagining, or even worse, if he’s not, there seems to be no consequences here. In that case, why does he have to keep behaving in a manner befitting the crown? 

Maybe, Henry thinks, just maybe, if he gets drunk enough today he won’t have to comprehend the look in Alex’s eyes at the lake. He’ll simply get too sloshed to understand or care. It’s as good a plan as any, stuck as he is.

“Woah,” Alex says, as Henry pours a generous measure of brandy into his tea directly after breakfast. He’d sent a PPO off to a local town to buy him some supplies while everyone was still in bed. Buying brandy at seven in the morning; only in the USA. God bless America. “You okay there?”

“I feel like I’m getting a cold,” Henry lies, taking a large gulp of his beverage. It burns going down in exactly the way he was hoping it would. “This is a common home remedy in England.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him, but Henry holds his gaze until he shrugs. “If you say so.”

Henry surreptitiously keeps up the cups of tea until lunch, switching to the sangria which has been made when the others start drinking with the meal. He has more than a buzz going already and he knows he is on his way to his goal of getting sloppy. He distantly wonders if the loop will re-set without him getting a hangover. 

After lunch everyone heads to the lake, a cooler of beers being carried down by Alex and Oscar, and Henry sits on the edge of the short dock with his feet in the water, drinking cold lager with the determination of a man possessed. He doesn’t swim. He can’t really feel his arms and legs very well anymore and he doesn’t want to drown. 

A morbid thought tells him that might be an effective end to his means. He drinks some more beer about it.

“Hey baby,” Alex says, swimming up and tugging on Henry’s leg. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Henry manages to slur. “I’m having a great time.”

Alex stares up at him, looking thoughtful and slightly concerned. “Okay,” he says eventually, and swims back to June and Nora. Henry can see them talking quietly, and catches the moment that June flicks a glance at him over her shoulder. He’s obviously worrying them, but he finds it hard to care - both because he’s very drunk and because he’s sure that all of this won’t matter tomorrow.

When the others get tired of swimming they all head back to the house, and Henry, having lost count of the number of drinks he’s had, finds that it is somewhat difficult to walk in a straight line. Almost immediately Alex is under his arm, gripping him around the waist and helping him walk the short distance to the house, where he dumps him in a chair on the porch. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, crouching down with his hands on his knees so he’s at Henry’s eye level. 

“Nothing,” Henry manages to mumble. 

“Henry, you’re completely hammered,” Alex says, and he sounds upset. “I know that’s not you.”

“No you don’t,” Henry slurs. “You don’t know me …. know me as well as you think.”

Alex’s eyes widen and he looks quite hurt, but it’s momentary and his face softens into sympathy. “I’m getting you some water,” he says, heading inside, and Henry wants to scream. Getting drunk wasn’t supposed to make Alex even more affectionate towards him. Why isn’t this working?

Slowly, on legs that won’t quite work, Henry stands. He still has half a bottle of brandy stashed in the room he’s sharing with Alex. If he can get that and down it, he hopes he’ll simply black out, removing any likelihood that Alex will confess.

When Henry walks into the house it’s clear he’s being talked about again. This time Nora, June and Alex are clustered around Oscar. They all look up as he enters, and concern is written across all their faces. Henry draws himself up to his full height and ignores them, staggering across the room and using furniture to keep himself upright, his sights set firmly on his goal.

Halfway across the room a strong hand clamps around his arm. “Son, where are you going?” Oscar asks, his expression deeply concerned. Alex is hovering just behind him. 

“‘m gonna lie down,” Henry manages to lie. Oscar gives him a searching look, but then loosens his hold.

“That might be a good idea,” he says. “But we should get some water in you first.”

“Don’t need it,” Henry says, turning towards the bedrooms again. This time Oscar lets him go, and through his haze Henry hears him telling Alex they’ll keep an eye on him during the afternoon. He makes it to the bedroom and quickly finds the brandy, lying down on the bottom bunk and hiding the bottle next to him under the sheets.

Alex comes in the room with a glass of water. “Will you please drink this?” he asks softly, holding out the glass, and Henry’s heart gives a lurch in his chest. Why is he doing this again? He’s obviously hurting Alex, who he has never wanted to hurt even for a moment. He forces himself to sit up and takes the glass, draining the water without looking at Alex and passing it back. 

Then, unable to look at the sad expression on Alex’s face, he turns and curls in on himself, hoping Alex will leave.

It hurts a lot when he does. Henry pulls the brandy out and drinks as much as he can in one breath, sick of the day and Alex’s hurt and this whole fucking loop he is stuck in. He pulls the bottle away from his mouth and pants for a moment, his hand slipping on the bottle and sloshing quite a bit of the brown liquid onto his chest, then finishes off the rest in a second pull.

The warmth of the brandy burns in his chest and Henry feels his stomach begin to roil against all the alcohol in his system, but as the spirit takes effect on him his vision begins to narrow to a point and his thoughts swim and then he feels nothing at all.

“Henry? Son, can you hear me? June, get a bowl. He’s breathing, I cleared his mouth out, he’s going to be okay, Alex. Mierda, why would he do this? Has he been under any sort of stress?”

Henry lets out a soft, involuntary groan. His face is sticky, especially around his mouth, and all he can taste is bile.

“Henry?! Henry, can you hear me?” It’s Alex’s voice, sounding strained and panicked. He feels hands on him, and then there’s some shuffling and they’re removed.

“Mijo, I know you’re worried, but you’re not helping. Just leave him for a moment, will you? Nora, can you -”

Henry hears Alex swearing and Nora cajoling and then there’s the sound of a door closing and their voices become more distant. He wants to stop them, to tell Alex to come back, and that he’s sorry and he knows he fucked up, but he can’t move. He tries to open his eyes but all his eyelids do is flutter. He groans again and feels the sensation of vomit surging up his throat.

Someone, Oscar he supposes, holds his head over the edge of the bed as he expunges the contents of his stomach. He vomits so hard it comes out his nose too, and by the time he finishes he’s letting out cracked sobs and his face is wet with sweat and tears. Oscar’s strong hands push him back onto the mattress and he feels a towel being wiped over his face. Slowly, he manages to squint his eyes open, and he finds Alex’s father on his knees next to the bottom bunk, looking at him with concern written across his features.

“Do you know where you are, Henry?” he asks.

“Lake,” Henry manages hoarsely.

“That’s right. What day is it?”

“S-Saturday?”

“Okay,” Oscar says. He watches Henry for a moment, a frown settling on his face. “I’m not going to ask why you purposely tried to drink yourself into a blackout,” he says in a low voice. “But I can tell you I am not impressed.” He sighs, looking Henry over. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my son is in love with you, and as his father I am now invested in making sure he’s not with someone who is going to make these kinds of selfish, self-destructive decisions.”

Henry shuts his eyes. Oscar keeps talking, but he doesn’t hear him. His plan has failed. He got drunk enough. He made himself sick. 

But he still had to hear that Alex loves him.

[soracities]

hii sorry for sliding this in ur asks (u can totally not answer it if u don’t want to) i think i’m madly in love w a girl but we have gone on only two dates and idk if i’m rushing things a bit, but i have a strong feeling that she might be the one. the way i absolutely can’t stop thinking about her in my waking and sleeping hours, this is literally tearing me apart idk what to do about it — do u have any advice? pls help me if u can, really appreciate it <33

sweet anon you are both in the PR stage you're in love with an idea right now, not a person--not saying you do not genuinely like her but you do not know each other enough to have a grasp of her as a person, you only know how she makes you feel and all these feelings are a response to something from within you: they are hopes and projections fuelled by excitement and maybe a dash of novelty which is very common (and normal, we've all been there) but they can create a bit of a smokescreen that makes it harder to look at your situation clearly, if that makes sense.

i think it will be helpful to try and pause for a bit to ask yourself where those feelings are coming from and what they are in response to-- what exactly is it she gives you that you have not had before? what is her presence representing for you? why is this so important to you? when you are thinking about her constantly, what exactly are those thoughts about? are they in the here and now, or an imagined future? are they based on anything solid she has said or done, or are they more your own daydreams and hopes taking centre stage? is there anything in your life that you feel is lacking or empty and that these feelings are a welcome distraction from?

again, absolutely not dismissing your feelings here but i think it's very easy sometimes to let the excitement of finding someone we like (and who likes us back) run away with us sometimes. at this stage, because it is so early, and because you don't know someone enough they are, essentially, kind of a blank slate for you to pin your own feelings and hopes to--as i said, everyone goes through this at some point, but it's important to try and maintain awareness of this so that you are able to be attentive to the other person as a person, and yourself, too, in a way that is fair to the both of you and allows you to express yourselves, and meet each other, openly and honestly. most realisations we have about a person in these scenarios first require us to know that person for themselves--and this takes time.

i think it's important, right now, that you allow yourself to keep busy and remain active in your life outside of your dates and conversations with the girl you're seeing--not saying to ignore her at all, but to make sure you have other lines of focus too and not to neglect whatever you enjoyed doing, or the other relationships, activities etc that you had before her: keep in touch and meet up with your friends often, or set little goals for yourself during the week--eg., "i'll get in an hour at the gym on thursday" "i'll go for a swim" "i'll try this new restaurant with a friend" "i'll go to the cinema to see xyz" "i'm going to try and make this recipe for lunch / dinner / dessert" etc.

forcing yourself not to think about someone is borderline impossible and is only going to make them an even more powerful presence in your mind (trying not to think about something requires, by definition, that you do think about them which makes for a fabulously frustrating circle) so the best thing to do is to limit how much free time you actually have to do that thinking in--this way your brain is occupied enough that it cannot spend as long fantasising and YOU can stay relatively sane.

i hope your interactions with this girl go well, anon, and i hope that as much as you can, you're able to check in with yourself and understand how you're feeling so you can put everything into a more intentional and aware framework for yourself as your feelings evolve. hope this helps even just a little, sending you lots of love (and support!!) 🤍

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Keep Writing When it Feels Impossible

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Shameez Patel Papathanasiou is here to share her advice on how to set yourself up for noveling success:

National Novel Writing Month is almost over. Some authors managed 50K In A Day (my wrists scream at the mere thought), some are steadily hitting that 1667 daily word goal, and others have fallen behind—and that’s when writing starts to feel impossible. 

Don’t. Give. Up! 

Even if you’re under 50,000 words by the end of November, you’ll come out with something: perhaps 20 000 words, exciting characters, or at the very least, a new idea. 

Keeping at it when you’re juggling a full-time job, parenting, and surviving a pandemic is tough, but you can do it. Here’s how: 

1. Sprints

This concept is not foreign to any seasoned WriMo. My personal favorite is a 10-minute sprint because regardless of how busy I am, I can find 10 minutes, be that after I inhale my lunch or the 10 minutes I usually spend creating stories in my head before falling asleep. 

With some practice, you can write between 250 and 500 words in a 10-minute sprint, and if that is all you’re doing every day, that’s okay. Consistency is key. 

2. Writing-On-The-Go

For years I thought I had to set up my space and get in the zone, but one night, after years of being stuck in bed beside a sleeping toddler, I stopped doom-scrolling and opened a Google Doc on my phone instead. Within months, I had an 80,000-word first draft. 

While I realize that some of you use Word or Scrivener to draft, it would help to keep a Google Doc handy for those days you find yourself waiting at the bank, outside your kid’s school, or even for when you’re lying in bed a little bit too cozy to get up and fetch your laptop. 

Trust me, you won’t remember the idea you’re promising yourself you’ll remember. Write it down or send it to yourself in a voice note. Your phone is a powerful tool, use it!

3. Writing Buddies

This is another thing that NaNoWriMo has blessed me with. While writing is often seen as solitary, it doesn’t have to be. Having a close group of friends who write not only means they’re there to encourage you and keep you company, but they’re also there to critique your work and to cheer for you on the days you doubt yourself. 

4. Don’t Compare

Don’t compare word counts, don’t compare the time taken to get published, don’t compare the number of awards, don’t compare anything. Your writing journey is your own for more reasons than even you know. It will happen when it happens in the way that it is meant to happen. If your writing buddies are succeeding before you, remember that there are also others behind you. 

A line from one of my favorite poems comes to mind: If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Which leads me to another line from the same poem: 

5. Be Gentle with Yourself (And Your Work)

First drafts are supposed to be messy. They’re your first attempt at a project, which makes it your worst attempt too. And in every revision, you will create something better and more beautiful. Acknowledge this and allow yourself to play around with characters and worlds, to feel joy in the story you’re writing, to vomit out the roughest form of the story you’ll one day share with the world.

We’re almost there, and no one else can write it the way that you do. Do your best!

Shameez Patel Papathanasiou is from Cape Town, South Africa. She is a civil engineer by day and an author by night. Her literary adventures take her to worlds filled with magic, monsters and someone to fall in love with. Shameez fell in love with fiction at a young age. Her parents fondly recall her first handwritten story completed before the age of ten, titled The Treasures of Zombie Island, which surprisingly featured no zombies at all. She has been writing ever since. Her debut fantasy novel, The Last Feather, is out now—it, at the very least, features a feather.