#I don’t understand how am able to write this much without noticing

[littledeathdove]

Obsessed Mother Miranda…obsessed over you. This has clogged my brain so I must cleanse it by ranting about it.

This whole situation is a ride that no one signs up for willingly — that’s a lie, I know many who would bark to sign up — but why wouldn’t anyone want this situation?

Because Miranda is someone who loves her whole flesh, bones, brain, and soul. I mean look at how she is with Eva and that will tell you your answer. When she wants you, she is going to get you no matter how long it takes or what it takes.

And if she has to take away things she deems as distractions from her claiming your whole being as hers, she will. Even if it means the people you love.

Enough of that though, let’s talk about what happens after you got your ass in this. First off you will start to notice some differences around the village. The crows that are seen as a symbol of protection in the village — that and also goats — are now acting odd…as in they are fucking watching you. Now you would think, hey maybe am just overthinking this. The crows watch everyone and listen to everything, and you aren’t any more special than the other villagers to be stalked by these crows. Or are you?

Another thing about the crows, they are now starting to follow you. There’s no overacting to this because you can see them in the corner of your eye, hopping from roof to roof, following you. Not anyone else, because you’re the only one currently walking down this path. While the seeing crows watching people from above are a common thing and in fact are seen as an indirect sign of Mother Miranda’s presence and protection. It’s not common at all to be followed by these crows. Or at least no one else has talked about such experiences before.

So why is it happening to you? You can’t express any concern you have since everyone in the village will think you are just lucky. So now you not only have to worry about these crows watching and likely listening to you, but you also have to worry about them following you. And you swear you see one outside of your window one night. Looking directly in the direction of your bed, you swear it is watching you sleep. You don’t know if it knows you see it and are surely now awake, but after you move a little too much, the crow flies off.

The only time you get a break from this is when you are in a building with not that many windows, or when you are attending Mother Miraqnda’s services. Speaking about the services, they are even starting to feel an…uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You don’t know why, especially since when you look around it seems that everyone is watching and looking at Mother Miranda. You don’t notice it yet though, but the same woman who has everyone’s attention is giving all of her attention — mostly just a majority of it — to you.

You don’t know that the same woman that you have been taught and trained to believe in, has been stalking you, observing you, and planning. What is she planning? No idea, likely if you will make a good vessel for her daughter. I mean why else would someone like you be giving this certain feeling in her chest, why you become a part of her thoughts if you aren’t the perfect vessel?

But with that same unknown feeling burning up in Miranda’s chest, comes another feeling every time she thinks about kidnapping you when she has the perfect opportunity — and this feeling isn’t so unknown. She knows this feeling, oh yes, it’s a feeling of guilt the same feeling she feels when she thinks of her daughter’s death. Miranda doesn’t understand this, she doesn’t understand you.

This makes it even worse for you, because now Miranda is even more curious, she needs to understand why you caught her attention out of all the villagers, why she feels this disgusting and horrible feeling of guilt when she tries to give you the same fate many villagers had before you. She needs to fully understand all of this for then she can go back to her normal.

After getting ready and dressed up for the weekly service Mother Miranda is holding today, and after dealing with the crows watching you and following you from your home to the church, you finally make it inside the church and the service starts. It didn’t take long for that uncomfortable feeling of being stared at to appear again, but this time you were determined to see who had been watching you throughout these services. You turn your eyes in all directions, looking around while trying to not bring attention to what you are doing. Finally, you catch the eyes that have been burning holes in your body during this service.

You would have never suspected it to be the cold, lightless eyes of Mother Miranda.

Making eye contact with her sent a shiver down your spine like her blue eyes were ice sickles that were aiming to give you frostbite. And the fact she takes at least a good few seconds to look away makes you almost piss yourself. While you are scared out of your mind shitless, Miranda is internally smirking at how you seemed so scared of her gaze on you. Amusing.

You knew deep down in your gut that her looking at you for that long, even if it was a few minutes, didn’t mean anything good. Even if it should…

Those are just a few things that happen as Miranda is slowly becoming obsessed with you. Now I wish to talk about how her personality traits clash with the obsession she has with you. You can find the personality trait analysis/rant I did on Mother Miranda in this post. Anyway on to it!

Mother Miranda is manipulative, she likely changes certain aspects of herself…

Let me go ahead and just say this. You’re not getting away from Miranda’s manipulative behavior, never in a million years will you be able to. Miranda’s manipulation is what leads you to believe that any of Miranda’s concerning or bad actions towards you are completely fine and you are just overthinking.

Miranda isn’t the best person, and she knows this. And she knows that her bad actions could cause you to start leaning away from her, and she can’t have that now. So she will sweet talk you into believing that her doing things like being aggressive towards you at times and stalking you (even when she is out of her crow) is fine. All just so she can keep you to herself.

Miranda is definitely the type of manipulator to give you attention and then suddenly take it away when you do something she deems wrong. Why? Because she needs to train you dear. She has high expectations out of you because she sees you as a lover — a high status if I must tell — so she does this to get you back straight and give you a reminder why you should obey her and act right. You won’t see her crows watching or following you. She won’t talk to you like at all nor will she look at you. She is the perfect player when it comes to giving people silent treatment so trust you’re going to feel affected by this sudden change.

This is perfect for Miranda because that means her small plan is working. When she finally decides to give you attention again, you will soak it up, fight tooth and nail, and be so obedient just to keep her attention. Just like how she wants you to be when it comes to her, and only her alone.

Miranda also loves to remind you of how she is the one protecting you, and how special the privilege is because you have the luck to be protected by such a person like herself. This is another manipulation tactic that she uses to make it seem like you have a debt towards her and because of it, you are obligated to be fine with how she treats and acts towards you. And to also keep you acting right because she could take that protection away and leave you to the wolves. (Not like she would though, she is too infuriated with you to do such a thing)

Mother Miranda is selfish, she doesn’t care about the people in the village…

Miranda’s selfishness is what causes you to slowly lose friendships, relationships with family, and even normal socialization with other villagers. Miranda doesn’t like the idea of you being too close to anyone else, why though? Miranda doesn’t believe others should have what belongs to her, and like I said before she will remove the things she deems as distractions from you giving all your attention to her.

She doesn’t believe others deserve the same rights of getting your attention, love, or energy. No, she doesn’t think of your feelings about doing this. No, she doesn’t think about the feelings of the people she is slowly removing from your life. They don’t matter, her wants and dreams do, and she wants you all to herself like a child wants a local toy for themselves alone.

Miranda will also have you doing things that you don’t want to do simply because of how selfish she is. For example: Miranda will likely have you learn about human anatomy and how to do small surgeries on bodies because she wants you to for then she has an extra hands on deck for speeding up experiments. Be creeped out all you want, whine and complain about it, and tell her you wish to stop it doesn’t matter since she wants you to be doing this. So you are going to honey.

Mother Miranda is a perfectionist, she doesn’t settle for anything less….

Miranda's perfectionist trait is what causes you to keep your physical appearance looking good. And that is also what has you gaining more confidence about your looks. Ok listen, Miranda doesn’t hate anything about your body. She is just too obsessed with you to hate anything about you, and that is why she thinks you are perfect. That is also her excuse on why she is obsessed with you (she doesn’t call it obsession though). Something so perfect has to be made specifically for her. There’s the perfectionist in her talking.

With that said, what I mean by her being a perfectionist about your looks is that she fixes up your appearance so then you can continue to look perfect. Like she smooths out your clothes when she notices wrinkles, she fixes your hair if it’s out of place, small things like that. These small things she does have you gaining the habit of looking for these small things and fixing them before she can.

Miranda also has high expectations for you as a lover because of how much of a perfectionist she is. For example, for you to listen to her and obey what she tells you to do, and finish up the chores she gave you around the house, etc

You and Miranda do get into arguments once in a while due to her getting upset when you don’t reach her standards all of the time. Again because of the perfectionist behavior.

Mother Miranda is sadistic, I believe that woman like seeing people in pain.…

You are a part of those people. The face Miranda makes when she sees you scrunching your face up in pain and whimpering from the feeling — is just downright off-putting.

The love of seeing you in pain only intensifies because she is obsessed/in love with you. So hopefully you can take on a great amount of pain because you’re going to be feeling it way more often now.

Here is the deal breaker though, Miranda is the only one who can inflict pain upon you. Anyone else does it, they will be having their head rolling in seconds after she finds out. It doesn’t matter if it is a villager, a lord, or a damned animal. If they hurt you then they are better off dead.

Mother Miranda is a nerd, sharp turn there, but it’s true…

If Miranda allows you in her lab and allows you to partake in the experiments of the mold, you will soon see a side of Miranda that you never thought existed. A side of her that talks almost nonstop, and if you look more closely you will notice she has a small bit of childish excitement laced in her expressions. This only happens when she is talking about the mold and the success she has experienced in her experiments.

Another thing, you are going to have to lead the conversation for at least three minutes before she takes it over, and it’s also going to have to be about the mold or something scientific.

Though you are likely the only one able to get her to start talking about things first, and have it be not about mold shit.

Miranda will also likely learn a lot about you and become somewhat of a nerd when it comes to you. She could tell someone almost anything they would like to know about you — not like she would though — that’s how bad it is.

She will probably slip up sometimes and tell you something even you don’t know about yourself.

Mother Miranda is unpredictable, you can’t have a set idea of how you believe Miranda operates…

Miranda’s unpredictability is the “fun” part of this whole situation and is what makes it harder to believe if she loves you or not.

One day Miranda is doing what you expect from a lover. Acting sweet towards you, being more touchy than usual, and telling you how you are hers. Then the next day comes and she is acting the exact opposite. She is still possessive but she is more isolated in her feelings, barely giving you attention, brushing you off, and telling you to leave her be.

It’s so confusing but it’s simply how Miranda operates because she just lives behind masks. It’s not that her feelings for you are a mask or a front, but it’s more like they are making Miranda get too comfortable and distracted from her life mission. So she will put on a mask of not wanting you so then she can avoid those feelings she believes to be pulling her away from what she needs to do.

The funny thing is that even on those opposite days, Miranda will still call you her’s. Just this time it seems like she is saying you belong to her just as the other villagers belong to her. Not in the romantic way you are used to.

Another thing about Miranda’s unpredictability is that it can determine how your day goes. If she — for some reason — decides to act more distant that day, that means your day is likely to be fucked up. You are going to be stuck doing chores, wondering why Miranda is acting this way now, and being bored out of your mind because Miranda isn’t allowing you near her.

But if she is in that lovely romantic mood, your day is destined to be good. Miranda will appear behind you randomly and just be touchy for no reason. And then she will go back to her lab like nothing happened. If you have gotten to the point of the relationship where she trusts you in her lab, then you are to not leave her side after you are done with chores. Miranda will also give you more attention that day and be more talkative towards you.

Unfortunately, you can’t expect what you are going to get until you get it because Miranda is good at hiding feelings when she wants to. So until you do something to get a reaction out of her, you won’t know what type of day you’re going to have. All due to her unpredictability.

Mother Miranda is bat-shit insane, there is no denying it because it’s just one of her main personality traits…

This woman will do the craziest shit to have you. Am not joking. She would go as far as transforming into a little kid and bragging about herself in front of you to just get you to be more impressed by her true self.

I could imagine her disguised as a child skipping away after she is satisfied and convinced that you see her in a much better light now after she just praised on and on about how good Mother Miranda is.

Like you would think this woman has limits, but when she is obsessed with you to the point it’s right there with how much she obsesses over Eva, there are no limits she won’t cross.

I could imagine her coming to you as she would to any other villager before she kidnaps you to be her lover. Telling you how you are special and giving you a gift because of it. Telling you to set it in a specific spot in your room since this gift has as much special value as you do. This gift is likely to allow her to watch you even better now when she can’t have her eyes on you. (She got tired of the messy views she sees of you from the windows of your bedrooms when she is in crow from.)

This woman has no bounds, so think of the craziest shit you think someone obsessed with someone else would do, and likely Miranda has or will do it.

Hm, yeah I think that is enough ranting for now. I was going to rant way more but I don’t want to get off track from the original topic. Which I was close to doing multiple times. Anyway, this is just another long rant that I didn’t mean to make this long in the first place. I don’t understand how in the world I can write so much so easily when ranting but not when writing fanfics 😔. It’s actually so confusing.

Hmm, I wonder what I should rant about next 🧐

[weneeya]

soft kiss m.list | rules

pairing. haikyuu x reader

characters. oikawa, osamu, kageyama, kenma

note. apparently i'm not able to write with anything other than haikyuu, so here i am once again! i'm trying to write with different characters bc i love them all <3 don't hesitate to request!

Oikawa as sharing a kiss after a long time

It had been months since the great Oikawa Tooru had left for Argentina. You had pushed him to leave without a single thought ; it was too much of an opportunity for him to just say no because of you. Yes, you missed him like crazy, but you called each other anytime you could, fighting against the timezone. 

Argentina was so far away, and Oikawa was so busy that you didn't have a single idea of when you would be able to see him again. You tried not to worry too much about this, knowing well that he would feel guilty for leaving like this. 

You were with Iwaizumi, laying down on his couch while telling him how you felt about the distance with your boyfriend. After all, it was also his best friend, he was the best to help you right now. Your monologue was cut off by the bell of the door. You looked up to glance at Iwa who simply shrugged his shoulders. 

“You should go open,” he told you, and you didn’t understand why he would ask you to open the door of his apartment after hearing someone ; but you did it anyway, standing up from the couch to go to the door. You opened it without expecting anything, until your eyes locked on a face you knew too well. 

Your eyes widened and you didn’t even know what to say right now. You blinked a few times, trying to process when you heard his voice. “You didn’t miss me?” Tooru teased you, and the second after you were almost jumping on him. He caught you the second after, keeping his balance so none of you would fall. 

You looked into his eyes, still not realizing that he was really here now. What made you realize it was when he leaned closer to capture your lips, his fingers tangling with your hair at the back of your head to keep you close. It felt surreal, because you haven’t felt him so close since what felt like an eternity. 

You kissed him back like your whole life depended on it, your hands cupping his cheeks. It never felt so strong before, perhaps because you never spent so much time away from each other before. 

What brought you both back on Earth was Iwaizumi clearing his throat behind you, arms crossed on his chest and a grin at the corner of his lips. “At least get inside,” he told you, and Tooru nodded, taking your hand in his to get in Iwa’s apartment. You had no idea for how long he would be here, but you planned on enjoying every moment until he left again.

Osamu as a forehead kiss to check your temperature

You had been feeling sick the whole day, but your boyfriend was sadly not here to take care of you. Osamu had a lot of work to do at the restaurant, and he left too early to even notice how bad you could feel. You decided not to say anything to him while he was gone ; he had enough stress with work, he didn’t need to be worrying about you on top of that. 

When Osamu came home after his long day of work, he simply walked to the living room where he knew he would find you. Except that he didn’t expect you to be half asleep, but clearly feverish. You slowly looked up at him, and you quickly noticed the light frown on his face. 

“What’s going on?” He asked you, crossing his arms as you slowly sat back up on the couch. You sighed a bit, before you explained that you spent the day here on the couch, not even able to go make yourself something to eat. It simply made his frown a bit harder on his already tired face. “Stay here, lay down and don’t move.” 

Osamu left for the kitchen, after he made sure that you were really laying down on the couch while he was gone. He came back in the living room a moment later, with a plate in his hands, which he put on the table next to you. You sat back and he took a seat right next to you. “Eat what you can, but don’t force yourself.” 

You took some time to eat a bit, before you turned around to be facing him. You were about to say something when you simply felt his lips brushing against your forehead. It caught you off guard, his hand resting at the back of your head. He moved away a few seconds later, a bit of worry in his eyes. “You got a really bad fever. Come here, let’s get you to bed.” 

You were too flabbergasted to realize that he was already taking your hand to guide you to the bedroom. You didn’t know what you did to deserve such a sweet man, but you knew he would take care of you for as long as you would need it.

Kageyama as kissing your knuckles to ease your anxiety

Exams were slowly but surely approaching, and as always, it made you a nervous wreck. You weren’t bad at school, never really having catastrophic grades ; and yet, it made your anxiety rise like crazy. You were overworking yourself, spending hours on studying to be sure that you would pass. 

It made Kageyama worry a lot. He was bad at showing it, but he really hated those times because you were staying inside the whole day, not even caring a little about your own health. He knocked at the door of your dorm room, and the light sound he heard from the other side gave him the permission to get inside. 

His eyes met your figure sitting in front of your desk, not even looking up at him when he walked closer to you. He sat on your bed, next to where you were, waiting in silence until you would finally look up from your books. 

“Did you need something?” You asked without looking at him, and it made him frown slightly. He stood up, marking your page before closing the book in front of you. Suddenly, you looked up at him, about to say something, when you realized what was going on. You sighed slowly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I just…” 

“I know,” he told you softly, falling on his knees in front of you. He gently grabbed your hands in his, looking up at you. He was bad with words, he knew it ; and he wasn’t really good with showing it either ; but for you, he always tried his best. 

He raised your hand closer to his face, and his lips kissed your knuckles without saying anything more. You stayed silent too, tilting your head to the side while looking at him. No words were needed, you simply closed your eyes and breathed slowly. He always said he was bad at showing you affection, but you couldn’t ask for better.

Kenma as kissing your nose to watch you blush

Your boyfriend had never been a huge fan of PDA. In fact, he wasn’t a huge fan of physical affection in general. But if there was one thing that he loved way more than he disliked PDA, it was teasing you in front of everyone. It was his little guilty pleasure, he couldn’t lie about it. 

Kenma was currently streaming, and you were doing your own things in the rest of the house. His viewers knew you well. Even if he wanted to keep your relationship a secret at first, people began to notice things and, eventually, he had to properly introduce you to them. It was safe to say that he never missed a chance to embarrass you in front of his whole chat since that. 

He was just chatting with the viewers, when he heard some noise from outside, which made an idea cross his mind. A light grin on his face, Kenma called out for you. It didn’t take you long to join him, opening the door and raising an eyebrow. 

“Come here, please,” he asked you to walk closer, which you did without understanding what was happening. He gestured to you to lean over him, and when you did, he quickly left a kiss on the tip of your nose. It was fast, but it was enough to make your face burn all of a sudden. 

You stuttered a few words which didn’t make any sense, and all he did was to grin at you. You hated how proud he looked right now. You pushed his shoulder, moving away from the camera angle, and it made him chuckle. Teasing you really was his guilty pleasure.

thank you!!

[sorryimananti-romantic]

to a dying? atinyblr

i don't usually speak about these things, but a lot of blogs (amazing writers) are leaving this platform or taking time off bc of lack of engagement which serves as a big demotivating factor. especially and specifically in this atiny fandom, some things have come to my attention and i just want all readers and writers to take a look at this post and refresh some reading and writing etiquettes, as well as revive the essence of being a part of this fandom.

feedback:

i understand that there are a lot of silent readers on here, but since tumblr is dying and our fandom is not very huge, the least you can do to show the writers some support is like the post. 

which brings me to the point that the like function didn't even exist in the past. this site still runs on reblogs. as readers, to show your favourite writers some semblance of support, you should be reblogging with tags. a simple ‘#ateez x reader’ or ‘#ateez fics’ is enough. it's literally not asking for much– reblogs are the only way writers can get reach.

if you cannot do that bc of your blog's aesthetic or whatever, side blogs exist. if you still cannot do that, a simple anon ask appreciating the writer sometimes saves them.

also, what has happened to the quality of reblogs? readers consume years of writers’ work and efforts in mere hours and don’t even leave any feedback? art in general in all forms is very underappreciated and with all sorts of problems like plagiarism, ai writing and everything, true art and writing is dying and needs to be appreciated now more than ever. we’re literally the last generation witnessing ai take over in all fields of arts. appreciate content creators before it’s too late, don’t be a content glutton!

updates and requests:

asking writers for updates when they specifically mention that they would prefer posting at their pace is wrong for so many reasons– we all have a real life. you, the reader, do too. just like you don't always have time to read, writers don't always have time to write. do you ever see the writers asking their readers 'why have you not read my latest chapter?' 

most of the times, writers mention in their bio/faq post or elsewhere that they do mind being asked about updates. respect your writers, please, and do a little scroll before you send such demanding asks (also, sugarcoating when asking for updates does not make it any better!)

if you are only asking about updates, it demotivates a lot of writers bc these same people will disappear when it is time for feedback. writing is a form of art. we can write, artists can paint, musicians can compose music, but all of it has no meaning unless it is shared with an audience and appreciated. readers are just as important as the writers but there is no way of knowing fics are valued unless feedback is given.

the same goes for requests. you can only send a request when the requests are open, which is usually mentioned in the writer’s bio/faq post. it’s literally not that hard to check if requests are open and it’s basic decency to not send a request when the writers specifically mention that requests are closed. when sending a request, please be courteous. a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ are examples of being courteous when sending requests.

the fanfics in atinyblr:

i understand that you can read whatever you like, but why is it that in the atiny fandom, fics that do not contain smut hardly ever get attention? as a writer, i enjoy writing and reading smut, and while i am not specifically a smut blog, i have noticed how fics containing smut get far more reach than fics that do not contain smut– not just in my case, but other amazing writers as well. 

there are such amazing fictions in this fandom. all fics are crafted with dedication and care, yet stories without smut often get sidelined. writers are not able to express themselves in their writing freely anymore and they simply conform to a genre they know readers will consume, as they are forced to consider adding smut to their stories so they can get more reach in this fandom. i have heard accounts from a lot of writers who were inclined to add smut to an otherwise smut-free fic just for reach.

this is by no means hate to the smut writers. i am also not placing blame on them. smut drabbles have always been in this fandom, and there are amazing smut writers out there, doing their thing. it is the readers here who are failing the writers. readers are quick to talk about the lack of ‘good fics’ or ‘plot’ yet will not even bother searching for these works. there used to be a good balance and appreciation for all genres alike.

i know that smut is what's hot and trendy these days, and drabbles in general, no matter the genre, are easier to read when you want to take a short break. but there is such a lack of longfics in this fandom, especially as of lately, and as someone who has personally witnessed the ratio of longfics decrease exponentially, i felt the need to point this out. appreciate all writers! appreciate all genres! longfic writers need as much validation and encouragement as drabble writers, and vice versa! don't be too harsh on longfic writers for not pumping out fics at the same speed as shortfic writers.

and on that note, smut drabble writers experience a lack of quality feedback despite the high engagement, so readers, please don't hesitate to point out exactly what you liked about a fic, even if it's a short drabble! be kind to those writers, give them time to write and be kind when sending requests! they may post more often but they, too, have a life.

tags:

this is specifically for the people who will post a very normal picture of a member, no caption, but tag it something like #ateez smut, #ateez hard hours, #ateez x reader. and for the people who tag their asks with irrelevant tags– literally learn to tag your post properly, and stop crowding the wrong tags. you're just proving the point that if you don't tag a post with the smut tag or something similar, it won't get reach. if you've posted with a caption, that makes sense (though it still doesn't warrant some of the tags being used there).

as for writers, also learn to use your tags appropriately. fics that do not contain smut should not be tagged with smut related tags. believe in yourself. i get that there is the problem of reach but do not overcrowd tags with irrelevant material.

disclaimer:

this is by no means about me. if i cared about the notes, or lack thereof, i would have stopped writing a while ago. while it is challenging to be a writer here, especially as of lately, i still enjoy posting whatever i write no matter the genre or the word count. but it's a bit disappointing that my planned out fics get much less attention than a simple smut headcanons post that i wrote in the heat of the moment with my friend in literally a few hours as a joke (which has reached almost 10k notes btw in a span of 2 years). sure, it has exposed my blog to new readers but that's about it.

this post is for all the amazing writers who have left, are thinking of leaving, or are struggling to voice these problems because they are afraid of being marked as 'problematic' or a 'hater' or something worse. i am not afraid to voice my opinion on here, and if you think that i am wrong, feel free to interact with this post and correct me because i am not claiming that i am right about this.

these are just the observations i have made as someone who has been actively writing on this platform for about 4 years now, and since i have a decent number of followers, i hope this post gets more reach. do not be afraid to reblog this if you agree, and even if you do not, reblog this so someone else gets educated. i may have missed some points so feel free to add if you want too.

[rollofthed1ce]

y/n cookie gets very very drunk he doesn’t remember what happened

y/n cookie: where am I? Why am I naked? And why am I in bed?

White lily cookie: good morning honey

y/n cookie: AHHHHHH

pure vanilla cookie: five more minutes

y/n cookie: what is going on?

y/n cookie: oh yeah, shouldn’t drink too much berry juice

Screw it. Haven’t written something in a while and need an excuse to write something.

So yeah… no drawing, and some writing practice.

Project OAD - Pollen Overdose Incident

It was a busy night. The sun had set not to long ago. The wind whistled a quiet toon, with most of the residents out about in the night.

A warm glow from the streets lights filled the streets of the vanilla kingdom. Everyone going out to restaurants, parties, drinking, even something as simple as a late night walk. everyone was enjoying themselves in their own way.

Away from the crowds, Pure Vanilla’s castle stood high with this night. A single light barely visible within only one window. Which one? The bedroom. The bedroom you reside in.

—————————————————

Pure Vanilla and White Lily were out for the night, so it was just you all alone for one. Even tho you couldn’t leave his room, you still had some things to do.

You opened up a bottle of juice, chugging it down most of it before pulling it away from your mouth. Some juice spilled on your attire yet didn’t bother to notice. You let out a sigh of relief, clearly enjoying your time as a wide smile from ear to ear beamed from your face. 

“Sugar Swam, this feels amazing hic I don’t remember hic the last time I felt this gr-great.”

Your words were slurred, a bit gibberish, but still understandable. Your cheeks having a blush of red, complementing the orange glow from the dimly lit candle that stood near you. Looking out through the window, you look down at the bustling streets during this night. 

You looked down before chuckling to yourself. “Yeah, they’re not gonna hic be here for a long while.”

You chug down the last of the juice, shaking and putting it to the side before reaching out to a lot of glass bottles of juice. You grabbed one of them and began to chug it down once more. You knew how much they were, thank to Hollyberry, but did know how… great the taste was.

—————————————————

The night had settled down. Most of the residents had left home, the once crowed streets now lay empty with some liter flowing through the wind. A quiet atmosphere engulfing the vanilla kingdom as the lights from houses and buildings turned off one by one. Only one from the castle remained as the only light.

Pure Vanilla and White Lily walked down the halls, holding one another close as they smile warmly. A bit tired, but overall happy. 

“I enjoy our time together,” White Lily said, her tone soft yet slightly worn out. As though she has tired. “I do wish Y/N was with us tho…”

“Indeed,” answered Pure Vanilla, his tone matching White Lily’s, but his face betrayed that of worry and sadness. “But it was nice to spend time with just the two of us. It has been far too long since we had time for ourselves.”

“I suppose so. I certainly enjoyed this, yet it doesn’t feel the same without Y/N. They bring so much life when we go out with them. Just seeing them so cheerful and joyful brings happiness to everyone… to us.”

Pure Vanilla remained silent. He couldn’t really go against it, she was right after all. You didn’t go out that much, yet begged to go out so many times. A bit concerning to him that you wanted to be out for so long, but he didn’t mind, he just enjoyed how much better, bar-able things were when you were there.

He let out a heavy sigh before speaking. “I know. But sometimes, it best if we leave them out. Let them have time for themselves, you know?”

“But what if they get hurt?” White Lily asked. “Or worse, think about being with her than us…?”

The two just stared at each other before laughing out loud. Despite their worries, even they knew you wouldn’t be near her after all she caused you.

The two got closer to the bedroom door, coughing a little on their own laughter. Pure Vanilla reached the door and quietly opened it. Both suspected you to be asleep during this time. Yet when they walked in, they found the bed empty and juice bottles littered around the desk. 

They got worried, their first instinct was to look around, thinking you probably somehow left the room or hid somewhere. Before they could do anything, White Lily was pushed forward as someone held onto them.

“Ack- w-wha-“ before White Lily could say anything, she was kissed on the cheek multiple times before the culprit revealed themselves through incoherently mumbling and rapid kissing. 

Pure Vanilla watched in pure jealousy astonishment as you hugged and kissed White Lily in a drunken, childish manner. A smile shining brightly within the dark room, holding onto a shocked White Lily while rubbing your red cheeks.

Pure Vanilla and White Lily didn’t feel mad or confused, far from it. They felt something much more different. They felt something only they felt when by each others. They felt…

… G O O D

—————————————————

A golden light pieces the clouds, a beam of light filling the room. Slowly you wake up, your head feeling like a rat had replaced your brain and is trying to hit its way out. Your vision slowly returns to you as you look at the edge of the bed. Seeing a robe, sleeveless dress, and some other clothes thrown to the edge of the bed. Looking you, you see your body was covered in kiss marks of blues and greens. Not a single inch of dough was spared. As well as… the smell of juice and lilies?

“What in the…?” You mumbled to yourself, groaning as the pain in your head decided to get worse. You didn’t notice the sound of sheets moving as someone lifted their head up.

“Good morning,” White Lily mumbled, her face and neck having kiss marks of blues and grays all around. She was still tired, looking as tho most of her brain was asleep with one functioning brain cell awake.

“What the-“ you were cut of as an arm pulled you back down onto the bed. Looking to your side to see a sleepy Pure Vanilla cuddling up to you a little more.

“Five more minutes…” Pure Vanilla whispered, White Lily following suit and cuddling up next to you. 

You sat there, unable to do anything as you stare up at the ceiling. With two powerful cookies sleeping next to you. And the inablility to remember what you did last night.

“Not to self: never drink that much juice” you thought to yourself. “But maybe offer some to them just in case…”

I may fix some stuff later. Maybe add some drawings here and there, but who knows

[bamboobooshark]

Hiiii I just found your page and omg I love your writing so much. I actually did get into an argument with my friend, and I deactivated one of my intas cuz of it (long and stupid story) but it was really comforting to read Logan wanting to coddle and comfort someone yk

You can ignore the request if it makes you uncomfortable, but do you think you can write something where the reader doesn't really know or understand what regression is or why they feel this way so they isolate when they feel childish or playful or start annoying people without realizing it and Logan who loves and cares for them starts to miss them and is like wtf and helps them.

Thank you for your writing I hope you have an amazing day.

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ☁️་༘ COMFORT & CONFUSION : 991 WRDS

<RATING : PG, VULENRABLE MOMENTS, CRYING>

A/N : Just a little note for Anon; I am so heavily greatful that my fic was able to bring you so much comfort. I hope you’re recovering well from what happened. Apologies for taking so long to get this out for you, I always get caught up in spilling and detailing my concepts that end up becoming full fics. I truly hope this fic is what you were hoping for <3 !!Warning for a pinch of angst and crying!!

You’ve been isolating yourself in your room since you woke up. You feel so confused with yourself, with your mind, with your feelings. You press your back against your headboard, legs crossed one on top of the other. You gently rock back and forth while struggling to understand how you’re feeling; why you’re feeling the way you do. Yeah, you’ve got a ton of energy right now. You feel like you’re letting your inner child express itself in your mind, yet you’re holding them in as best as possible. You’re terrified of annoying anyone by releasing those feelings, espically Logan. You bite and chew at your lips nervously as you rock a bit faster. Why? That’s the only question you can ask yourself right now. Over and over, your mind fills itself with nothing but confusion of why you feel like this, why you yearn to be so childish, why you’re scared of annoying Logan when he loves you unconditionally.

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as the man knocks on the door. “Everything alright in there, kid,” he asks with his face pressed to the wood. God, the way he calls you kid only makes these foreign feelings harder to suppress. You choke back your tears before responding. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little down,” you reply with a tone that’s involuntarily soft and childlike. Logan raises his brows at the way you speak to him. You’ve never kept yourself away like this, but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. You isolate yourself the moment you wake up, beg him to leave you alone, and then come out quiet and reserved. He continues to press because he misses you so damn bad. He’s willing to do absolutely anything to get you in his arms again. “Please tell me what’s wrong, bub. I promise I’m not going to be upset with you,” he pleads with the softest tone he can force out of his throat. “I mean, I’d be more upset if you didn’t trust me with whatever you’ve got going on,” he chuckles akwardly.

You wipe your tears before inviting him in. The second he realizes that you’re crying, his lips form a frown and his eyes give you a sympathetic gaze. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, I swear,” he scrambles to reassure you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into his arms. You let your cries get thicker once you lean into his. He smells so fatherly. His large, calloused hands make your entire body shiver with comfort. Everything about him is sending an unknown, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve been yearning for. You can’t even begin to imagine what to call it, but your body allows you to relax under his touch. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Tell me what’s up once you’re ready to,” he coos as his hands rub up and down your back. You nod against his chest, letting the thumping of his heartbeat soothe you.

You pull back from his embrace, but hold his hands in your own. His touch is what you’ve been needing. Scratch that, you’ve been needing Logan in general. You attempt to try and explain things, but you end up stammering and stuttering. “I’m sorry, Logan. I just — I don’t even know what to say,” you apologize while looking away from him. He squeezes your hands gently and sighs. “You don’t need to apologize, kid. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be. If I have to wait here for hours for you to get your thoughts together, I don’t mind. You know that, bub,” he tells you sincerely. You look at him and give him the best smile you can considering the circumstances.

You take a deep, shakey breath after a few minutes of silence before attempting to describe your feelings. “I’ve just been feeling like a child lately. I’ve had so much energy and excitement and joy for no reason. It’s so confusing and it’s scaring me Lo, it really is. I just want an answer,” you explain to him. His thumb rubs against your knuckles lovingly before he presses a silent kiss to your forehead. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry. You’ve got such a big heart, kid. I need you to understand that you don’t need to be afraid to let those feelings loose around me. I’ll love you no matter what,” he promises while holding your face in his hands so you’re looking at him. You nod gently, eyes glossy and wide from the way he comforts you so paternally. “I understand,” you mumble back, letting that same childlike voice slip. Logan gives you a gentle smile, failing to hold back a snicker. “Well would you look at that. You sound so little, baby. It’s adorable,” he says while attempting to hold himself back from squeezing your face. You giggle softly and shake your head no. “It’s not adorable, Lo,” you protest. Your stomach knots as you allow yourself to slip into this pure, innocent state. As soon as Logan begins to coddle you further, that knot unties itself and becomes a flutter in your heart. “If you deny anything else I say, I’ll have to find a way to get back at you for it. You’re too damn cute to not accept that you are,” he playfully threatens. “C’mere you sweet thing,” he growls as he pulls you into his lap. “No! Let me go,” you giggle sweetly, squirming in Logan’s arms despite wanting to stay right where you are forever. “I’m not letting you go, kid. You’re mine. My sweet little thing that I’ll protect with my life,” he declares before starting to pepper your face with soft kisses. You can feel him smiling like an idiot against your skin from the sound of your giggles, the way you smile, and the warmth of your face caused by him.

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: Things get more complicated.

Author's Note: Well here we are. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I am incredibly proud of it. These two have captured my heart and I cannot wait to see this little story through to the end. Harry and his camgirl have been the highlight of my summer so far. Thank you for being along for the ride, and please enjoy one of the most explicit things I've written to date.

New note, 6/25: Also, I went back and made one small edit to part 2. In it, Harry said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; Mentions of THC consumption; Cursing; Flirting; Spoilers for Jaws 1975; Lying, which I assure you hurts to write just as much as it hurts to read; Angst; Fluff; SMUT in the form of unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, anal if you squint; Harry is uncut and baby gravy free; A lot of feelings; Reader is thic; Reader is sort of goth; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader is a sex worker; I gave Harry an appendix scar, don't ask me why

18+, Minors DNI

Ao3

*****

Harry can’t quite believe himself, feeling legitimately nervous as he waits for you near the entrance, but still inside the events venue. Women don’t tend to make him nervous, not at this stage of his life at least. Somehow, someway, you make him incredibly nervous. Perhaps it’s because you’re nothing like anyone he’s ever felt attracted to before. With you everything feels strangely different. So different that he let himself go during the concert, not giving a single damn if anyone who he may know was paying any attention to him or not. But now, after coming down from his multiple highs, Harry’s sure he’d overdone it and he’s sure people will be talking come Monday morning. The question is, though, should he really care all that much?

Shortly after you both agreed to get food together, you declared that you needed to use the restroom and grab your things from the employee area in the back. You explained how you and Vanessa were able to get into the event in the first place with the help of that guy, Charles was it? The venue’s owner, evidently. Apparently Vanessa is usually at these events as an employee, which is in all honesty not much of a surprise. It all makes sense. As he stands there thinking about it, the puzzle pieces of how his evening ended up going in this direction have started clicking together. You’re not from this walk of life and you certainly would have never attended this event without the promise of the musical guest. Harry was only able to meet you due to some wild stroke of fate. Or luck. He’s not sure which. 

Harry himself doesn’t care, but your lack of status makes things even more scandalous when he really thinks about it. He knows that his brow must be riddled with worry as you’re approaching him once again, looking much more casual than you had when you walked away. When he really sees you, though, the worry in him fades away. 

 You’ve lost about three inches to the tasteful black Jimmy Choos you’d been wearing, which you’ve now replaced with short ankle-high black socks and a pair of black and white checkered Vans. The classic slip ons, a shoe Harry hasn’t noticed anyone wearing in a long while. He supposes that they are still popular if you’re wearing them, but most of the people he interacts with on a regular basis would not go for skateboarding shoes even in the most dire of circumstances. It’s an intriguing choice, much like the rest of you.

Your hair is back to being drawn up from your neck and shoulders, though the look is much messier than the bun Harry had ruined in the heat of the moment. You’ve got a black sweater slung over your forearm, and the straps of the heels are looped through your index and middle fingers on that same hand. Your free hand comes to rest on his arm as you move in beside him. Somehow being shorter makes you even more adorable to Harry, and he’s once again thanking himself for taking the plunge to enhance his own appearance. Your height difference is exactly what he imagined for himself when the surgery was possibly just a disastrous idea. At his true height the two of you would be nearly eye to eye.

“There you are,” you say with a little grin. “I bid farewell to the lovers back there so I’m good to go when you are. Van says you better not murder me or kidnap me, or she’s gonna come after you. I told her I’d be fine with the latter and she better not try to save me and ruin our good time.”

Harry nearly chokes at the suggestion, the very notion of it shocking, but your giggle at his reaction is enough to calm him. “You really aren’t like other girls,” he says, at a loss for more to say than that. 

“The highest compliment a girl can receive,” you agree, leaning into him slightly.

Harry looks around the room, noticing a few eyes on them, and he’s suddenly wildly ready to leave. His driver should be pulling up any minute, but he hasn’t heard the ding of a text or felt the vibration of a notification in his pocket yet. His eyes narrow a little as he regards you seriously.

“Listen, I want you to know that I don’t normally behave like that when I’ve only just met someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever behaved like that, actually. I apologize if I came on too strong on dancing with you, or singing those crass lyrics.” Harry says this with a self conscious little pit in his stomach. 

A moment ago he felt very confident that dancing with you in such an erotic way had been the right call, but suddenly he’s not so sure. It’s not enough to throw him off his game completely, but thinking back on how sultry the last hour and a half of his life has been, in a very public place, a wave of true embarrassment surges through him. People like Harry aren’t supposed to act like that, at a charity event no less. He finishes the water in another large gulp, mostly as a way to avoid looking at you directly while you respond. He could really use the next liquid he consumes to have an alcohol content. 

The look you send him is clearly one of gratitude. “Harry, you were great. You are great. I appreciate your concern for me, but I truly had the time of my life with you out there. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if you made me uncomfortable. No apology needed.”

What a relief washes over him. “As long as you felt safe and respected,” Harry adds, nodding once.

You’re nodding in return, smiling unfalteringly. “I felt very safe and very respected. A little worshiped, even. Singing those lyrics was absolutely the right call and at your handsiest you were still very respectful. Thank you for being a gentleman. That’s rarer than you may think these days.”

“Mhm, I’m aware that men in general suck,” he agrees, looking around the room nervously again. 

Now that his integrity has been cleared up with you, he’s not so sure it will be for anyone else who was paying attention to him tonight. As Harry glances around, he catches the gaze of a haughty looking blonde woman whom he knows he went out with once, but can’t possibly recall the name of. Cynthia? Cheryl? Something with a C? Harry remembers thinking it was a fitting letter because she’d certainly been a bit of a cunt, the way she’d spoken down to their waitress being enough evidence of that. Someone like her is the antithesis of what Harry wants in a life long partner. 

The unpleasant woman notices Harry looking and frowns deeply at him, clearly still scorned by his rejection. Then she sees you, how closely you’re pressed to him, and she gives you a once over which suggests exactly what she thinks of you. Her eyes land on your worn pair of streetwear shoes for a long moment, and her upper lip curls in an ugly sneer. 

“Some women suck too, though,” he says with distaste, frowning a little. “Wait, that sounds sexist. What I mean to say is: I think most people suck.”

“Sucking as a person encompasses all genders,” you agree.

Your gaze follows his to the woman across the room, and Harry watches your brow raise, but then to his great surprise you blow the woman a kiss and lean into Harry even more as you lift up on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his neatly trimmed jaw. He’s certain it was one of his gray patches, and his chest swells a little. Normally he’d be horrified that you just did that, but seeing the other woman huff and walk off strikes a chord within him and that warmth he felt spreading through him earlier on in the evening comes back. 

What a curious feeling. 

Once you’ve clearly had your fun you ignore the woman completely, looking back at Harry with a sugary sweet smile on your lips as you rub your bare shoulder into his upper arm. “I may have some money compared to most but I’m not one of these stuffy broads. Maybe I’m wrong with this read, but I don’t think you would be hanging out with me if I was.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry breathes, pleased to know that you’re actually seeing him. That feels new for some reason. “I have a feeling that people like her are going to talk, because we definitely gave them something to talk about…” he trails off, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembers how your body fit against his so well. 

“See, that’s the spirit! We had fun, so fuck those other people. And your reputation is safe with me. I’m not going to run off and tell the ‘who’s who’ that Harry Castillo is an incredibly sexy dancer. Or that his hands were all over me and it was the most amazing I've felt in another’s company since I can’t remember when. Or that his lips are addictive. I won’t even say that he’s quite handsome. Very bite-able.” 

As you say that last bit, you’re leaning over to gently nibble at his shoulder through the white dress shirt. Harry could care less that you probably just stained it red with rouge. He’s never met a girl who wants to openly gnaw on him before, and his stomach flutters in response to it. 

Harry’s shaking his head, wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking about you like that. “It’s not you I’m worried about when it comes to my reputation, it’s the rest of these sharks. I’m sure at least one of them caught a whiff of blood in the water.”

You grin widely, laughing. “Yeah, well, my favorite character in Jaws is Captain Quint, so let the bastards try and take a chomp at you while I’m around.”

His left brow raises curiously. “Doesn’t the captain get eaten by the shark at the end of that movie?”

“That’s neither here nor there, but if it would make you feel better I’ll change my favorite to Sheriff Brody,” you giggle, then you change the subject. “Is our ride here yet?”

At that moment, Harry feels a vibration against his right thigh a barely audible ding goes off. “Actually, I think it is.”

*****

Harry links arms with you as the two of you descend the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, and the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at your gut gets a little worse. You really like this guy, and starting things out with a lie feels like it’s suddenly a huge mistake. But what if you come clean and he ends the night before you’re ready for it to end? Isn’t it best to see the rest of this night through and then see where things go with him after that? There’s still a good chance that he’ll disappear from your life after tonight and then you will have embarrassed yourself for no reason. And, again, it’s not that you’re embarrassed about your profession, but you’re starting to feel embarrassed for being a liar and a coward. That stings a lot, especially when the spark you’re experiencing with Harry feels like it's not nothing. 

Apparently you got so lost feeling guilty and anxious just now, that you completely missed the fact that you and Harry have made it down to the crowded curb. As well as the fact that your favorite musician is no less than twenty feet away as he gets ready to climb into his limo, surely off to some club or afterparty. You also hadn’t realized that you've been staring directly at the handsome celebrity, or that you’re wearing a displeased look on your face, until Harry looks at you with an expression of worry on his own.

What Harry doesn’t realize is that you’re deeply displeased with yourself at this moment, but he must think it has something to do with him. He seems a little self conscious as he looks over at the famous man climbing into the white stretch, frowning as his chocolate eyes meet yours once more. “You know, I can probably find out what party he’s going to.”

Your eyes widen, shocked that he thinks you’re worried about that . “I didn’t even notice him, Harry. I was distracted by something else.” 

“What is it? You seem upset all of the sudden.”

This is it. Your chance to tell the truth. Do it, do it, do i-

“The heels killed my feet,” you lie, adding a wince for effect, though your feet really do ache.

  Apparently lying is just your fucking thing now, you think, shame filling you for a moment. Coward.

“ Oh ,” he looks utterly relieved, and you can’t help but wonder how he can be so confident at one moment and almost vulnerable at the next. It makes you wonder if he’s been a little deprived of certain things emotionally in his life, thinking that makes two of you if it’s an accurate read. 

Just then a sleek black car pulls up behind the leaving limo, and Harry’s opening the door to the back seat for you. “Let’s keep those feet off the ground, then”

“Are you planning to sweep me off of them, Harry?” You flirt effortlessly, feeling a sense of calm wash over you again when he grins handsomely in response, fingers slipping in between yours. That’s it, just get your groove back.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry says, the air of if completely honest. 

As he guides you down into the leather seat, your hands remain joined. He leans down to kiss your knuckles once before letting your hand fall down into your lap. Then the door shuts, and a moment later the door on the other side opens. You’re grinning at him as he slides in beside you. Literally right beside you, not just in the other seat. He’s even using that weird middle seatbelt that no one likes, body pressed closely to yours as you buckle yourself in too. 

*****

Soon the two of you are instead seated across from one another in a twenty-four seven diner splitting a whole cheesesteak and a couple of cheap beers. Both of you remark that neither of you really eats food like this anymore, and that you’ll both regret it when you feel like shit the next day. But damn does it taste amazing. It also helps that you both took some generous hits on the dab pen again before entering the restaurant, making the greasy subs all the more alluring. 

You’re grinning at him between bites and sips, practically moaning. “I’m so glad that they put cheese wiz on this the real Philly way. Fuck, I’m in heaven.”

He nods in agreement, chewing a hefty chomp of his own. “This is very delicious, which means it could definitely kill me. Are you from the Philadelphia area, then?”

“No, the Baltimore area. A dinky town outside of the city. Close enough to Philly, though. I still know a good cheesesteak when I taste one. I just know a good crabcake better.”

“I knew your accent was from one of the two. Philly didn’t feel right though.” 

You smirk, “It’s the weird ‘o’ thing we do, isn’t it? I’ve never been able to shake that.”

Harry shrugs into another bite of his sandwich. “I think it’s cute.”

Downing the rest of your beer, you’re blushing as you tell him, “Well I like your voice a lot. It’s handsome and smooth, like rich caramel in my ears.”

Harry snorts into his own beer, shaking his head with a cartoonish grimace. “Caramel in your ears doesn’t sound pleasant. Come on, Miss author . Is that the sexiest thing you could come up with?” 

“It sounded like a good phrase in my head,” you’re forcing yourself to laugh, ignoring the sick jolt of anxiety he just caused. There are a few bites of cheesesteak left on your plate, but your appetite is long gone.

Harry seems to notice how fake it sounds, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to quit teasing you about that. We don’t have to talk about your writing unless you bring it up. That was rude of me. Shit . I’m not doing a very good job of earning that trust we talked about, am I?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Be fucking cool about it. “It’s okay. I’m not that upset. I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my better turns of phrase, but I can’t help it that amber is the color of your energy, Harry.” Joking as an attempt to re-lighten the mood, you’re grinning when he makes a scrunched face at the reference. But then that lovely face of his morphs into a relieved smile, and your anxiety settles.

“You’re too funny,” he chuckles. “I like your sense of humor. It’s refreshing.”

With a fake scoff, you’re feigning surprise. “You mean to tell me that blondie from the venue back there wasn’t a funny person? I never would have guessed.”

“Shocking, I know,” he agrees, grin handsome as ever. 

A wave of emotion rolls over you when you take a moment to really look at his face, at how beautiful he is and how lucky you feel to be here with him in this moment. The need to speak from the heart strikes you, and you let yourself go a little. “I’m having a really good time with you tonight, Harry. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think meeting you is the thing I’ll cherish more than the actual concert.”

“I feel similarly,” Harry says, reaching a hand across the table for you. You slip yours into his easily, and he gives a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to take you home to your place after this?” Harry asks, eyes darkening a little as he waits for your answer. He looks both nervous and hopeful.

You reply honestly, “If I say no, that I’d like to go home with you instead, will you think I’m an easy slut? I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men, usually.”

Harry shakes his head fervently, laughing. “If anything I’m worried that you think I’m an easy slut. I typically go on a couple of dates before I bring someone home. I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Me neither. I can’t explain it, but this feels different for me. You feel different. You keep saying I’m not like most girls, but you’re not like most guys. Do things feel different for you tonight, Harry?”

He nods, “They do. You’re more than welcome to come home with me, if it’s truly what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you say honestly, scared of what telling the truth in this regard means considering how much you’ve lied about everything else. Every time you’ve had the opportunity to come clean before it’s too late, fear has halted your mouth. Nothing’s stopping your wicked, traitorous tongue this time around, though.

“I like you a lot, Harry.” Confessing this with real emotion behind your words, you’re willingly making this more complicated. It’s as if you’re suddenly uncaring of the consequences you may eventually face for it, stepping blindly into a situation that simply can’t end well because you have to see where it goes regardless. You desperately need Harry Castillo to know exactly what he does to you, and for you to understand what you do to him. You need it more than you need to breathe. 

“I like you too,” Harry agrees, smiling at you genuinely as he wipes his hands and discards with his napkin on the empty plate. He downs the rest of his beer, eyes darkening as the slice of lime slides down the neck of the bottle with the final drops of golden liquid. The way he looks at you feels almost predatory for a moment, like he’s deciding when to pounce. 

“Now, tell me,” he says your name, letting it melt ever so slowly on his stupidly alluring tongue, “if this were one of your stories, what would happen next when we finally establish that the two main characters like each other?"

*****

Harry’s tongue is buried so deeply in your cunt that the end of his broad nose is simultaneously and unceremoniously kneading into the sensitive, swollen nub begging for attention just above your wanting slit. It occurs to you that you very well could get off from his nose if he keeps this up any longer but just when you think that, his appendages disappear, and the airy chill on your soaked mound is enough to sober you up a little. You’ve half a mind to complain that he stopped, beginning to prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

But then there’s a swift, nonpainful swat to your inner left thigh.

“Lay back down,” Harry commands, growling in a voice dripping with a dominating tone that could send you off to the other side if you let it. “Nowhere near done tasting you yet.” 

 You’re on the kitchen island in Harry’s insanely lavish apartment, the skirt of your red dress pushed up over your waist to expose the lower half of you. Your black thong is hanging from the faucet on the kitchen sink, where it landed perfectly when Harry threw it behind his head without looking. You’d wanted to laugh at the bullseye, but Harry’s determination to get between your legs stopped you from being silly. Instead, you let him spread you, wailing and moaning as he proceeded to eat you out better than you’ve ever had it in your entire life. That you can confidently say, and you’ve had a handful of mouths bring pleasure to your body over the years.

Harry’s a pro beyond pros, knowing every little nuance to a woman’s most sacred of needs. 

He proves that when you follow his orders, laying back down to give him full access. His tongue runs from the base of your slit slowly up to your aching clit, stopping to swirl around it a few times before suckling lightly. Then he stops abruptly, repeating the entire pattern all over again. Each time he shows extra attention to your engorged nub, your body heats up even more and the cries of elation spewing from your wanton mouth echo through the apartment’s high ceilings.

Harry Castillo is secretly a madman, you’re sure of it, and his sexual vigor is right up your alley. The man is still fully dressed. You have no idea what his dick looks like, or the rest of that surely inviting body, and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. They are still firmly secured in the bodice of your dress. 

Upon entering the apartment, Harry told you that if he didn’t get a taste of your pussy before the two of you did anything else, then he was liable to explode. 

Hearing him say that as he effortlessly lifted your ass up onto the gorgeously finished wood countertop? That made you start to fall for Harry Castillo before he ever put his mouth to your flesh. 

“Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart. Ever since we danced,” Harry says into your folds, hot breath and facial hair causing your back to arch in anticipation. He’s practically nuzzling your vagina with his entire face, spreading your wetness and his own saliva all over himself. You keep yourself neatly trimmed and waxed at all times thanks to your secret profession, and Harry seems to appreciate this immensely. “It’s even better than I imagined. So pretty and soft and wet for me, aren’t you?”

“All for you,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to try and coax his mouth back onto you. “ Please , Harry,” you’re begging, voice husky and needy, “I was about to cum before you stopped.”

The chuckle Harry lets out is low and handsome, nearly sending you over the edge with the very sound of it. You feel his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even more. Then his tongue starts trailing each of your labia majora, one after the other. 

“I’m well aware of that, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for you to cum yet.” A kiss to your inner thigh. “Soon, though, I promise. Just be patient for a little longer.” A kiss to the opposite thigh. “Let me take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of.”

Then, without warning, two of his thick fingers enter you at once. They wiggle about a few times, getting fully coated in your fluids, and then he’s pumping slowly.

Wide-eyed, your head tilts up so you can look to where he’s seated between your legs on the footstool he’d pulled up when this encounter began. “ Harry ,” you breathe.

“Yes?” He asks, grinning devilishly up at you.

“You’re amazing,” you say dreamily, grinning widely to yourself as your head lay back down. 

Soon your orgasm is steadily building again, core tingling from the combination of his fingers curling sharply into your g-spot, and the darting flicks from left to right of Harry’s expert tongue. This time he doesn’t deny you, boring into your clit with more intensity as a third finger finds your entrance.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me what you can do,” Harry coos lasciviously, then digs into his meal with a ferocity which finally tips you all the way over the edge.

Grunting and shaking, your body convulses with your hands braced against the countertop. It’s as if you’re trying to push all of yourself into Harry as the orgasm rocks through you, and then suddenly everything feels too sensitive and you’re hissing at him to lay off a little bit. 

He does, and as you breathe heavily in the aftermath of your bliss, he trails kisses all over your stomach before laying his head down on your belly button. Hands shakily prying themselves from the wood, you snake them into Harry’s soft brown hair and begin to comb your fingers through it. 

“You were so lovely,” he remarks, voice almost dreamy. “You came so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”

Your own voice sounds throaty, almost foreign to yourself. This isn’t like the fake voice you put on for work, this is real sexual tranquility. “Thank you, Harry. That might be my best orgasm to date. Not joking. I’ve received oral from a handful of people and I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what you just did."

“Well I will always try to ensure that your next one is still your best to date, then.” 

Fuck. He’s talking like this isn’t going to be a one night thing. And after the tonguing of a lifetime, you know you don’t want it to be either. You’re so royally fucked, and he hasn’t even actually fucked you yet.

Realizing this, you begin to sit up a little, causing Harry to lift up from your belly and look at you curiously. So you quickly explain, “I need you, Harry. All of you.” 

Harry stands, lifting you to sit up more with your ass sliding off the edge of the counter. He’ll have to clean that massive wet spot in the morning, but you pay that little mind as your bare feet touch the cool ground. Your knees begin to give out as your skirt falls to rest below them. Harry catches you easily as you wobble into him with a soft moan, and then without a word he’s sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You’re a little nervous, given that you’re a few jean sizes up from someone like Vanessa, but he’s kissing you on the forehead as he easily carries you from the kitchen to the master bedroom with little strain.

There he lays you down on a bed of white satin, a bed so ridiculously huge that you can’t help but giggle at how tiny you feel laying in the center of it. 

Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt, smiling down at you fondly. “What’s funny?”

You’re shaking your head, laughing. “This bed is ginormous, Harry, and I haven’t called something ginormous since I was a kid. But it’s an appropriate adjective, this thing is cartoonishly big.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asks, smirking. His shirt is gone, now his undershirt. The body hidden beneath is one well maintained with diet and exercise, defined lean muscle tone showing you as much. Naturally tan, with dark body hair and an appendix scar, he looks so utterly beautiful to you. His hands are going for his belt, and suddenly you’re up on your knees, scooting forward towards the edge of the mattress. “Wait, please let me,” you ask sweetly, hands already reaching for the black leather strap and silver buckle as Harry’s hands instead move to find the zipper leading down the right side of your red dress. 

As you unbuckle him and slide the belt from its loops, discarding the thing to the side, Harry is simultaneously unzipping you. He lifts the fabric, tugging upwards, and your arms lift to accommodate the rising garment as it’s peeled from your body. Harry, aware of how nice the dress is, gently hangs it over the back of the stylish black accent chair across the room. As he turns to really take in your fully nude appearance, a warm smile so sweet crosses his features. There’s lust in the expression, sure, but his eyes wash over you several times and each time it looks as if he’s almost overwhelmed by what he sees. 

“I’ve never seen pierced nipples in real life before,” he remarks, mesmerized by them as he leans forward to cup both breasts in his hands. The pad of each thumb runs gently over the black barbells, stimulating the raised nubs of flesh nestled between. 

For a moment you’re self-conscious about them, frowning a little. “Are they too much? Ex-goth girl, remember? They’re a relic of the past, but I loved them too much to get rid of them. The lip and the eyebrow had to go, though.”

Shaking his head, Harry frowns a little too. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I love them. It’s just a little new for me, that’s all. Will I hurt you if I play with them?”

Relieved, you smile at him with a shake of the head. “No, as long as you’re careful not to yank too hard, obviously.”

Harry takes that as permission to dive in, and both his hands and his mouth spend a good few moments ravishing your ample breasts. Squeezing, pinching, licking, biting. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says your name, “what a prize you are. Though, I don’t entirely know what I did to win.” 

“As if you’re not a prize too,” you say, rolling your eyes a little as finally he moves his crotch back within reach. You make quick work of undoing his trousers, and then he helps you yank them down his legs, stepping out of them. Gripping the elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs, your movements are slow and deliberate as you pull down and forward. The trail of dark hair below his belly button is growing wider and thicker by the inch, trimmed neatly but still prominent. Slowly the base of him becomes visible, and then in one swift move his erection is springing free. 

A little gasp escapes your lips at the sight of him, not only pleased to see his foreskin still intact but truly shocked by his size. You’re not entirely sure how long he is, certainly long enough, but the massive girth of him is really what makes your mouth water. The anticipation of that thing stretching your walls is enough to make your core heat up again, ready for round two. 

“You like him?” Harry asks, smiling down at you as one of his hands strokes your hair. 

“I love him,” you agree, licking your lips as you lean forward to take him into your hand. Harry moans, hips bucking slightly. Having worked with an uncircumcised cock before, you know how to grip him and gently pull downwards, unveiling his swollen head and the delicious little bud of precum waiting for you. “Now this is a prize. You even get to unwrap it,” you say with a flirtatious giggle, adding, “and dare I say it's ginormous . There I go using that word twice in one night.”

When your tongue flicks out to lick that offered drop, Harry’s whole being seems to melt into you a little. Grinning, you widen and slowly take him into your mouth. Adding a little bit of pressure and suction, you slowly begin to work him in and out as the hand gripping him continues its rhythmic pumping. The little whimpers he’s making for you are music to your ears. 

“Oh shit , sweetheart, you’re doing great, keep going,” Harry’s encouraging, both hands in your hair now as his eyes slip closed and he throws his head back a little. “ Fuck .”

You’re gagging, trying your best to fit all of him down your throat as a bit of drool dribbles down your chin, when suddenly he’s stopping you. He’s pulled out and he’s trying to push you to lay down. He even leans down to lick at one of your pierced nipples, his hand resting between your breasts as he pushes. 

“Wait, I wasn’t done yet,” you pout, reaching for him again. 

Harry growls, a primal noise from a refined man such as he, and he’s urging you backwards onto the white bed more. As you lay out below him and the gorgeous man is crawling between your legs, they instinctively bend and come to wrap around his hips a little. Your hands come to rest in the middle of his back, fingers gripping in anticipation of what’s to come. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance and, still slick from Harry’s treatment of you in the kitchen, your cunt welcomes him into your body easily. 

A great cry escapes you as the width of his cock stretches you out considerably, the line of pain and pleasure blurred as your walls clench and squeeze, half trying to accommodate him and half trying to expel the painful intrusion. 

Three slow, gentle pumps are all it takes for Harry to enter you all the way to the hilt, and when his tip presses painfully into your cervix, the moan you let out is quite guttural. 

Then his lips are on yours, and your legs are hooking behind him at the ankles as he really begins to pound into you. His hands come to your ass, sliding below each cheek. With the leverage this gives him, Harry lifts your hips from the mattress completely. Thrust after thrust he’s relentless, and another orgasm is already starting to build deep within your needy core. 

“You’re going to make me cum again,” you whine between heavy breaths. Head lifting up to bite into his bicep, the need to cling to him for dear life has taken over completely. The only thing you have left to grab him with is your teeth, and so you do.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Harry’s mouth is against your ear saying, “taking me so well like a good girl. I was right when I sang that to you earlier; Little pussy fits my dick so perfectly.” He pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh as you writhe and whine for him. “You’re going to cum again, this time with my cock buried all the way inside you, sweetheart. Need to feel you contract around me. Then, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you up with mine.” 

Fearful, you practically start to push him off of you, terrified of the consequences if he were to cum in you. “I’m not on the pill! Or anything!” 

He stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at you seriously as he brushes hair from your eyes and kisses your forehead. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago. It was my forty-fifth birthday present to myself when I decided I definitely don’t want kids.” After he says that, he begins to slowly gyrate his hips into yours again, and you’re lifting to meet his movements in tandem. 

Then you kiss him with everything you’ve got. 

“ Fuck, Harry ,” you moan, “I think you might actually be fucking perfect for me.”

And with that, he fucks you until you’re practically braindead, completely stupified by his cock. You ride him a little, and then he’s on his knees taking you from behind off the edge of the bed. For a moment he migrates things to the bathroom, where he props you up on the sink and pounds into you standing up. 

Then it's back to the bed with your legs straight up his body, crossed ankles resting on his right shoulder. He’s holding them in place with his right hand, and his left is gripping into your thigh so hard you’re sure to have five small bruises where his fingers are indented into your smooth, damp skin. Harry’s done an expert job of edging you once more, changing positions each time you start to get close, his own stamina and restraint a marvel. It’s starting up again, though, and this time he’s not stopping to switch things around. 

“Close again, Harry,” you spout out through thick moans, a small part of you wanting him to prolong this more even though the rest of you is screaming in agony for release. 

“Go ahead,” he says sweetly, smiling as he kisses your calf and looks you right in the eyes. “Let me see that face while you cum for me. You look so beautiful stuffed with my cock, sweetheart. Show me .” 

Then he bites down on the same spot he just kissed, and your second orgasm overcomes you. Your muscles clench around him so hard, clinging to the very thing causing them to do so. Harry lets out a gorgeous sounding moan, leaning more of his weight into your legs as the pleasure of it seems to take hold of him. 

He’s parting your legs as you come down, twitching against him as he readjusts into a more basic missionary position. Your arms come to wrap around his neck, just as your legs move to wrap around his waist. Shortly after that, Harry’s own grunting cries of culminating ecstasy are ringing throughout the high ceilings of the bedroom. He’s convulsing against you and you’re instinctively cradling his head, peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses to guide him through it. A few more gentle pumps and he’s eventually sliding out of you with a great sigh. There’s almost instantly a distinct leaking sensation running down the crack of your ass. 

He’s kissing your forehead, then looking right into your eyes as he gets comfortable beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m great. How are you?

“I’m perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”

“Your body felt so good, Harry,” you’re sputtering out, grunting as your own body is again twitching in a brief aftershock of sexual bliss. “Everything felt so good.” 

Harry is nodding in agreement, looking up at the ceiling with this handsome little grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, his eyes are filled with wonder as if looking up at a star splattered night sky. He looks so youthful to you at that moment, de-aged ten years for a split second. “I haven’t had sex that great in- Fuck . I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex that great, and I thought I was having great sex pretty regularly. You’ve single handedly and irrevocably changed my life tonight. I hope you know that.”

You’re also looking up at the ceiling, deep breaths causing your breasts to rise and fall. What Harry just said is so true that it almost hurts to realize it. Things have changed, feeling suddenly like so much more than the one night stand you’d been anticipating. It doesn’t seem like the high endorphins is making you think this way, though. You’re well aware of what that feels like. Something about this night with Harry Castillo feels real. More real than anything you’ve ever felt with another. “Same goes for you, handsome. Ruined all other men for me in a single night together. It’s practically criminal.”

As you look over at Harry, his hair mussed and face flushed, a blush creeps into your cheeks at the notion that the wetness you feel running down you is actually him . Allowing him to finish inside was a genuinely new experience for you, and the thrill if it is so unlike what you were expecting. If anything you assumed it was going to feel gross. Cum always equalled babies in your book, so you never thought it would ever feel this amazing to know some of it is buried deep inside you and the rest of it is dripping onto the bed below. To know it’s the cum of this man in particular? That adds an extra layer to the feeling. 

It felt so different to embrace your lover in the heat of his orgasm, being so used to the empty, cold sensation of a pull-out and the inevitable warm spray to some other part of your body. There’s always been this sudden disconnect right before the moment of a man’s climax, but with Harry you got to ride it out with him, completely connected all the way up until the end. Connected in a way you never have been before, not even with a female partner. The notion of this stirs something deep within you, and your heart swells for the man placing kisses to your shoulder while he’s catching his breath. 

The most satisfying peacefulness washes over you as you tell him, “I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before.”

His brown eyes darken slightly, and Harry looks both surprised and a little pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Really,” you’re grinning, “I don’t want kids, so that shit was always very off limits. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that you would understand, but that was very special for me. Thank you, Harry.” 

He leans over, grinning like a madman before kissing you passionately. “It was an honor to fill you up, sweetheart. I’d do that every single day if you’d let me.” 

*****

You and Harry ended up spending the entire weekend together against your better judgement. The longer time you spent in his company, the more the stupid fucking lie was hanging over your head. But your weekend with Harry proved to be downright magical, and the more the two of you got to know each other, the less easy it started to feel to come clean. You thought about doing it so many times, and each time your anxiety would stop you. What if he truly hates you after he learns the truth? He might not, you never know. But even after so many long talks and lovely sex and shared laughter, the truth is inevitably going to change the way he looks at you. The very thought of that sends your nervous system into an overload, and strikes a deep crack through your already straining heart.

Harry Castillo makes you feel the way the romantic novels that you most certainly do not write make you feel, and your greedy ass wasn’t about to go and fuck up what was turning out to be the best seventy-two hours of your life thus far. Morally gray as it may be, Harry could know the truth after your beautiful weekend together. You felt that you deserved at least that before you light the fuse that will blow this situation to hell whether you want it to or not. 

It’s as if you’re using your budding feelings for Harry to bargain with yourself for victory, but either way you’re liable to lose and deep down you know that.

The charity concert was on a Friday, so when the two of you woke up late into the morning on Saturday, Harry asked you if you wanted to stay for a while. He’d already taken the liberty of having his assistant drive over with a few different outfit options for you, and one swimsuit. All correct sizes, and all something you would have picked out for yourself, which gained Harry even more points in your book.  

‘A while’ started with french pressed coffee and a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado toast, all made by Harry himself. Then ‘a while’ progressed into having sex again, this time on the living room couch, then once more on top of his washing machine after he’d started a load of laundry. You’d joked about how you could use another load too, and Harry ran with it. He ate his own cum out you while the machine whirled to life under your body, just before filling you up with even more of him. 

After that, the two of you went down to the lavish pool in Harry’s building. An over the top extravagant amenity with a gorgeous view of the city, and probably the nicest pool you’ve ever had the pleasure of swimming in. Once the two of you started to horseplay, however, things very quickly took a turn for the sexual once again. Harry’s finger had slipped inside of your tastefully high-waisted bathing suit under the water, and when his hidden erection pressed up against your bare leg, the pool was a thing of the past. 

That time he fucked you in his shower, bent over at the waist as hot water cascaded around your already enflamed body. When you begged him to take your ass in lue of your pussy, the man in question had moaned into your shoulder, “you’re a dream come true, sweetheart,” and he delivered what you asked for beautifully.

His assistant also brought you a small handful of basic beauty products to choose from. As you were later lathering on a serum nicer than any brand you’ve ever bought, even with your recently raised standards, it dawned on you that Harry probably spent at least five or six hundred dollars, if not more, on all of these things for you. That kind of casual spending, on you no less, made your head spin a little. 

You may pamper yourself all the time, but it’s wildly different when a man like Harry Castillo is the one doing the pampering.

In the evening Harry ordered takeout from his favorite place in Chinatown, and given that the both of you didn’t have a single bodily fluid left to give, the night was filled with conversation, snuggles, and soft touches. He let you pick out a movie, and the two of you fell asleep spooning on his couch (also ginormous, by the way) halfway through Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1993.

On Sunday, after breakfast and one more go around in the oversized bed, Harry took you to the Central Park Zoo. His almost boyish energy around all of the animals was so endearing to you, especially when he lit up for you around the bats. Given that the winged animals played an integral role in the events which led to your dalliance with Harry, he felt the need to commemorate the weekend by purchasing you a stuffed one from the gift shop. You never even saw him go for the register, preoccupied by a rack of silly t-shirts. So when he presented it to you upon exiting, you’d thrown your arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of central park. All the while your mind was screaming at you to tell him the truth, but you listened to your body instead. 

From there he took you to a ridiculously nice Italian restaurant, where he confessed to you over pasta that he’s never been in love and he’s scared that he never will be. That confession had shocked you, even more so when he quickly followed it up with a warning that if you said yes to what he was about to ask, then you were taking on the risk that he’s incapable of the feeling all together. The notion of him being incapable seemed silly, considering how affectionate he’d been with you thus far, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

Then Harry reached across the table, and the next confession came pouring out of him. He told you that he wanted to try to feel love, and he felt something with you that he honestly hadn’t before. Not love, not when you barely know each other, but that spark that they talk about in the movies. One little spark, but enough to grab his attention and hold it fast. 

After making your head spin with his honesty, he proceeded to say that the last couple of days truly meant a lot to him and, with the deepest sincerity in his chocolate eyes, Harry Castillo asked if you would let him see you again. Seriously, and exclusively. 

Your answer was the easiest one to give in the world, and yet instead of shining bright like the sun as it should have been, your heart suddenly felt much more like the moon hanging ominously over the city. While the front facing side of your heart swelled a bright, glorious red for the possibility of a relationship with this man, the side cast in shadow was already starting to shrivel and turn gray with guilt. 

*****

As you finish frantically pacing the floor and vividly telling a couch faring Vanessa everything about your weekend with Harry, sparing her the gorier sexual details, your stomach lurches and your heart sinks. While you’ve been wildly wrapping up the story, a great, ugly scowl has been slowly encompassing her normally beautiful features. There’s no hiding from your best friend, that’s just a fact. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” you try to diffuse, hands up.

“Listen my ass ,” she says your name sharply, stabbing you right where she wants to. 

You wince .

“I’m glad that got your attention, bitch.” With that, Vanessa pats the cushion beside her. “Sit down, your energy is stressing me the fuck out .”

“Sorry,” you say, complying.

“We are both grown-ups here, so I’m going to speak plainly.” Vanessa bores into you with her dark eyes, making your throat seize up. “You know what you need to do, or you’re going to fuck up what is potentially the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I know,” you breathe, frowning. “I’m going to have to finish one of my novels and get it published."

Vanessa groans ferociously, hands clawing over her face. Then she whacks you in the head with a pink throw pillow. “No, you stupid slut! Tell him the fucking truth! If you let this go on too long the damage will be too severe to repair.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say, hanging your head. You’re going to have to hit the bong several times in order to sleep tonight, the horrid pit in your stomach will make sure of that. “Fuck, Van. I really am stupid aren’t I?”

“You are. But I love you, and maybe if you handle this situation correctly then Daddy Warbucks will love you too,” she says, grinning a little as she uses the silly nickname. You can already tell she’s going to drive that into the grave with over-use. 

Her change in mood warms you, and the anxiety melts away a little. Feeling more like yourself, you send her one of your signature, Vanessa exclusive eyerolls. “Are we really going to call him that?”

“If you’re really going to date him I am,” Vanessa giggles. 

“What if he really can’t feel love, Van?” You ask her, frowning. 

Vanessa shrugs. “If that’s even a real thing. Sounds to me like he just hasn’t been in real love yet, not that he simply can’t feel it. But if it is true, then at least he was an interesting chapter of your life and a good lay. Date him for a few weeks before you worry about that, anyway. What if you’re the one who doesn’t end up loving him?”

As she says this, your phone buzzes against the coffee table. Reaching over to grab it, your eyes bulge a little at the name associated with the text notification. He just dropped you off a few hours ago, surely you’d assumed it would be a few days before you heard from him again. But here he is, making your heart flutter from the other side of the city. 

Harry Castillo: Two nights with you beside me and I’m spoiled rotten. You were right. This bed is ginormous. Sleep well, sweetheart. 

“I think he’s going to make not loving him incredibly difficult, Vanessa.”

*****

Monday morning Harry’s seated in his office doing the complete opposite of working. He’s on his phone, which makes him a hypocrite considering he recently instructed the management team to start cracking down on that with the associate employees. 

He simply can’t help it. You’re literally all he can think about, to the point that he’s a little worried that something is wrong with him. You’d responded to his text last night, but you haven’t said anything to him since and he’s fixating on whether or not it’s appropriate to text you again so soon if you haven’t texted him first.

Fucking cellphones, Harry thinks bitterly, chiding himself for behaving like a teenager as he sits the phone face down on the glass top protecting his cherry desk. He looks at his computer, opens an email, reads the first three words of the subject line, and then he’s picking up his phone again to check it despite the fact that he knows it hasn't gone off.

Nothing. He groans, feeling like an idiot as he reaches for a sip of coffee. He doesn’t put the phone back down, though, instead he pulls up his camera roll and the couple of photos of you he snuck over the weekend. 

The first is of you, in nothing but one of his black t-shirts and a lacy black thong, your back mostly to the camera as you sip on a mug of creamy coffee. You’re looking contently at the view from Harry’s kitchen window, sunlight streaming all over you. He loves your profile in that one, and the way the light accentuates your features. 

The next is a photo of your naked silhouette in the frosted glass of his shower. 

The third photo is of you at the zoo, happily captivated by the animals and paying no mind to the fact that Harry just had to capture how beautiful and carefree you looked in that moment. 

He’s never taken candid photos of a lover before, nor has he obsessed over receiving a text from one. He certainly never paid this much mind to when Lucy would or would not contact him, and he’d been prepared to marry the woman for Christ’s sake. 

Harry also never once called Lucy ‘sweetheart.’ Or any pet names, now that he thinks about it. Never a ‘baby,’ or a ‘honey.’ Not once. He would always greet her with a simple, somewhat awkward ‘hey you’, and he mostly just called her by her name. 

You come into his life and suddenly he’s throwing around the term of endearment like his life depends on it, and somehow not hearing from you yet is driving him mad with anxious energy. Harry Castillo is a man who is very rarely anxious. 

What is wrong with him? 

There were a lot of people at the charity event, and at the zoo. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Yes, surely he’s getting sick and that’s why his head’s not on straight.

Then the phone vibrates in his hands, and your name flashes just above the image of your grinning face. His heart leaps from his chest, breath hitching. He taps it before it can swoosh away with the rest of his notifications, and a feeling of calm washes over him as he reads the message.

You: Missing your avocado toast this morning. :(

It shows that you’re typing, and then a second message pops up. This one is a photo, however. In it, you’re wearing a black graphic t-shirt advertising what he’s certain is the band Type-O Negative . Your hair looks insane, adorably so, and you’re pouting cutely over a sad looking cup of yogurt.

Harry’s got half a mind to cancel his meeting and take you out for brunch, but before he can even think of a response to text you back with, his younger brother is barging into his office without knocking. He’s the only person besides their mother who can get away with that .

“What, Peter? I’m busy,” Harry says, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t seem very busy to me. Is that her you’re texting?” His brother’s voice is saying. 

Harry looks up sharply, glaring. Words aren’t necessary.

Peter grins, plopping himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk. He takes a long sip of his own black coffee, eyeing Harry the entire time. “I originally came in here to complain that I missed the surprise Bad Bunny show, which I’m very upset about. Charlotte being pregnant is ruining all my fun, but don’t you dare tell her I said that. Anyway, then I heard a rumor that you found yourself a new woman at the show, and that the two of you got to know each other very well on the dance floor. I just had to come hear all about it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow even more at his annoyance of a sibling. He loves him, but he could also strangle him at any given moment. “Get out of my office, Peter. I need to prep for the meeting at eleven.”

“Yeah cause you were doing that so dutifully before I walked in,” Peter laughs, taking another generous sip. “So is that her you’re texting, then? What’s she look like?”

Harry groans, “Yes, it’s her.” Then his eyes flick back down to the open text thread, and when they land on the adorable photo of you with your pathetic yogurt, the joyful little smile which creeps onto his lips simply can’t be helped. 

Peter’s jaw drops, “ Oh . Oh fuck , Harry. This is a wild development. I wasn’t expecting this today.”

Harry’s gaze moves back to his brother, eyebrow raising at the look on his face. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Peter’s sharp laugh is one of disbelief. “She’s the one, man! I’m calling it. You’ve never looked like this before. Not once in my entire life have I seen that fucking look on your face. It’s the only explanation!”

“Bullshit, Peter,” Harry scoffs, looking away but not back down at your image. He has to consciously make himself not, knowing Peter would notice and use the impulse against him. “You know my opinion on that.”

“Whatever, big brother. Suit yourself. As the one of us who has fallen in love, I think I know what I’m talking about. But I’ll let you figure that shit out for yourself. Wait until Charlotte finds out, she’s going to go nuts.” As he says this, Peter is already getting up to leave. “See you in the conference room. Please actually prep for this though. I need you out there. Text her back and then think about her later. Trust me, it gets easier the more you get used to it. Love is fucking weird, man.”

“I am not in love with her,” Harry argues, shaking his head. If anything, what he’s feeling is infatuation more than anything else, right? 

“Keep telling yourself that, bro. And for the love of Christ, get your shit together for this meeting.” And with that, Peter is gone as quickly as he came. 

Harry looks around his large office, at his view of the city below, and wonders if there’s any validity to what his brother just said. Another vibration goes off in his hand, and the excitement he feels is like a jolt of caffeine straight to his heart. 

Only, it’s just his calendar reminder letting him know that his next meeting is in fifteen minutes. The deep disappointment he feels leads him to conclude that Peter doesn’t need to get Harry’s hopes up like that, but there’s a nonzero chance that his baby brother actually knows what he’s talking about for once.

*****

Next

Previous

Masterlist

*****

Taglist: @cheyxfu @notahappystan

[beneathashadytree]

Hi everyone!

It’s Ramadan now, so I’m quite drained as I write this, but I just wanted to let you all know that I’ve been suffering from a severe complication to my disability for 6 months now. I haven’t been able to sit, stand, sleep, or move at all without excruciating pain. The only mild relief I get is when I walk for hours. I will try to visit the teaching hospital in these upcoming weeks, and hopefully I’ll be able to undergo confirmatory tests and x-rays, so I can somehow find free/cheap treatment that I’ll be able to afford.

As for my commissions, they are currently closed (so I’m not receiving any new ones), but I’m slowly progressing through the ones I already have—remember, I never leave any work undone! My schedule and health are just downright nasty. But I do go through my backlog of commissions in chronological order, so watch out for yours!

Just so you all know, I’ve been posting my works in the meantime on Twitter. I haven’t updated my masterlist here in months, so that’s part of the plan after I get better. If I’m gonna be completely honest with you, ever since I started receiving harassment in my ask box, and started noticing a plethora of people—both on here and on Twitter—claiming that they admired my works only to turn around and completely plagiarize them down to the vocab and the jokes, I’ve been feeling very discouraged. It’s very upsetting to see and I hated that my work so blatantly stolen, so I just stopped posting on here altogether. It might’ve been an overreaction on my part, but coupled with how overwhelmed I was by my life and work, I couldn’t bring myself to type and format and organize on Tumblr.

A very silly little update: I’ve actually joined 2 new fandoms on the side as we speak! I don’t write for them, but I do read a lot of fics about them right before bed. Drum roll please… ATEEZ and Seventeen! They’re such cool groups, and their discography is very fun. Would definitely recommend them, especially the former if you prefer mature-sounding music, and the latter if you’re a fan of bubbly upbeat music.

Thank you all so so much for being incredibly understanding and kind to me, even at my lowest. You’re all gems, and I mean it. I love you all dearly, and am looking forward to making it back here❤️

[reveriederayne]

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

james potter x reader; 991 words

A/N: to get back into writing decided to write about James. He's the scum of the earth in canon but God do I love his fanon version. Anyway, here's this thing I did instead of studying.

CW: reader's house is not specified; reader is extroverted but in a quiet way; james was in love with lily; lily and severus are friends; let me know if I need to add anything else !

At eleven years old, a little bit into the year when everyone started settling in, you never would have guessed that at some point you would have the attention of none other than James Potter. Sure you were pretty outgoing, mingling with different friend groups without much trouble, and you considered yourself pretty attractive if you do say so. But you were… quiet. Not like the boy who commanded attention of an entire room with animated speech and loud persona. People heard him before they saw him, and in both cases, it was a treat for them.

You on the other hand were not noticed unless you wanted to be; your steps calm, your mannerisms as well. But when you spoke, everyone listened to you, and when your friends and acquaintances planned a get together, you were always invited. But your differences weren’t what made you so sure of not being able to draw his attention. Lily Evans, aka the love of his life as he kept repeating to everyone, was the only one he cared for and he kept pinning for 5 years, all of her rejections coming in one ear and out of the other. People were still questioning how she kept her head on her shoulders with him not understanding the word no.

You still remembered talking about it with the red haired girl, coincidentally James not being far away.

“I still don’t understand how can he keep doing this. Five years ! Did he transfigure his brain into a rat or something ?” She exclaimed, huffing as she continued walking to your shared class.

“If you want to, I can give him a little warning. I’m sure Snape would enjoy making that sort of potion” You snickered at the thought.

She turned to glare at you, but you could see her lips quirking upwards. “Do not bring Severus into this. Gryffindors and Slytherins already have their useless rivalry without your intervention.

“But you would enjoy it, am I wrong ?” You playfully leaned into her, and she only rolled her eyes in response, letting out a “maybe” before entering the classroom.

After that, everyone at school noticed how the infamous marauder didn’t bother her anymore, not even a hello in passing. It was like all those five years meant nothing. Some people questioned him of course, but he decided to instead answer with “I moved on, this happens guys” Yeah right, as if. There’s a difference between having a passing crush and an obsession for five years. Oh well, Lily was happy that his obsession with her passed, even joking with Severus about how he finally “learned a counter spell to his brain-rat problem”

And that brings us to the seventh year, where he started paying attention, to you. But unlike with Lily where he declared it loudly and proudly, it was more subtle with you. And it didn’t even start with you personally, but with your friends. You noticed him sliding in the middle of group conversations, which wasn’t that odd considering he got along perfectly well with each Gryffindors, relatively well with Ravenclaw and Huffelpuffs and… he could tolerate Slytherins, as long as they didn’t speak to him. And unfortunately for you, you couldn’t overhear one of those interaction that took place just out of earshot.

“So…” He started, sitting down on the sofa next to a guy he noticed you talked often “You friends with her ?” He asked nodding into your direction.

“Yes…”

He let out a hum, drumming his fingers against the soft fabric “And… do you have any advice for someone who fancies her ?’

The boy gave him a deadpan look before glaring at him, “If you harass her like you did with Evans when she says no, I will hex you so often you won’t even remember how you originally looked like” his whispered words making James audibly gulp, but that didn’t stop him from adding “if she says no”

Since that day, you saw more and more of him, like right now when you were playing on your guitar near the black lake, when you saw the dark curly hair out of the corner of your eye. You turned to look at him, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Need something Potter ?”

He had a sheepish smile on his face. It was an odd sight seeing his hesitate, but you guessed it's something that came after he matured a bit.

“Can I… sit next to you ? You play nice”

That made you smile, even if just a bit. You patted the place next to you, before going back to playing. He sat quietly next to you, watching you, drinking in the sight of you in the daylight.

He started chatting you up, asking you about your guitar playing, and then about your other hobbies, your life in general and you did the same. You spent the whole afternoon talking with each other, and that’s how you found yourself gasping at the sight of the sun almost set.

“Bloody hell, we will definitely get detention if we don’t hurry back”

He cracked a smile and you two ran towards the castle, him pulling you by your hand. Fortunately you made it just in time, though the two of you would probably need to skip dinner.

“That was nice” He said turning to you, a little bit breathless, his brown cheeks taking a darker shade. “We should do that again”

“Almost get detention ? You have an interesting way of spending time with a girl Potter”

“It’s reserved only for you”

That actually made you blush a bit, but you quickly shook your head and went to your dorm. “Go find to your friends Potter”

He watched you walk away with a grin on his face, proud of the reaction that he made you have. Approaching you in private was his best move and he’s glad that he learned from his previous five year lasting mistake.

© reveriederayne; every work posted on this blog is my own. I do not give anyone permission to copy, translate, or repost my works anywhere under any circumstance.

[mythica0]

Levity

🎂: Epic the musical

🧁: Odysseus

🍫: Hermes

Summary: Hermes decides to cause a little mischief in the most fun way he knows how.

A/N: FUCK IT IM WRITING FOR EPIC. I am obsessed with Hermes and also very lee for him. Like there is a primal need within me to be wrecked by this man. This was very fueled by my lee mood and said desire to be wrecked by Hermes. (I basically just wrote what I wanted but happening to Odysseus haha) Hope yall enjoy this very self indulgent thing I wrote! :D

Cw for some pretty intense tickles

(P.S don’t question how Hermes does stuff it’s God Magic)

Levity

Hermes was bored. He had nothing to do, and he wasn’t the type to just sit around. No, he wanted to cause chaos. He wanted to spread mischief and jokes and make someone laugh or groan or smile, or even better, all of the above.

He decided to target his great grandson, and also his friend, Odysseus.

Ody had been on a journey after the Trojan war to get home, it’s been a month or so, and they were still just sailing. Hermes decided that the captain could use a little levity, a break from the monotony of daily life.

So he flew over to the ship and snuck on, heading towards the captains quarters.

Odysseus was working on some sort of Nondescript Work. Sitting at his desk with a quill in hand.

It wasn’t fun, but it was necessary. He stayed up late into the night, gazing out at the moon and ocean outside.

He started to feel as though he was being watched. He gazed around the room, but after not seeing anything he brushed it off.

Meanwhile, Hermes was snuck in the corner and ready to begin to cause some trouble. He started by slowly and steadily raising the.. ahem.. sensitivities… of the captain.

At first it wasn’t noticeable, after all nothing was actively tickling him, so how would he know he was getting increasingly ticklish with each passing second?

But then- the motion of his clothes against his skin felt tingly. And then the air blowing past his neck made him want to scrunch up.

Eventually it got to a point where any sort of motion at all made him giggle, and at this point he knew something, or rather, someone was messing with him.

“Alrihihight who’s doing that.” He did his best not to move to much, as every motion sent waves of ticklishness through him.

Hermes flew out, showing himself.

“Hey there, Odysseus!” He giggled, smiling tauntingly.

“Ohof course it’s you, Hermes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And whatever is that supposed to mean?”

“You like to cause trouble. This seheems on brand for you. Now can you please return me to normal? I’d appreciate being able to move without laughing.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Well, I mean, I can, I just don’t want to.”

Odysseus groaned.

“In fact, I think I’m going to take advantage of this~”

“What does that mean- HermeHEEHES!” He was cut off by his own laughter as the god flew over to him, scratching gently at his ribs.

Odysseus immediately knew this was going to suck. Hermes was barely touching him and yet he was already incapacitated by the sensation. It was so much stronger than it would’ve been normally.

“Hehermehehes cuhuhut ihit ohohout!”

“No way! This is so much fun! Dont you agree~?”

“Absohoholuhuhutely nohoHOT.” He lied between loud fits of laughter. It was so BAD and he was barely touching him! His increased sensitivity was extremely apparent, his nerves lighting up and firing rapidly at the smallest touch. But despite that- it was kinda.. fun? He couldn’t understand why, but the unbelievably ticklish feelings plaguing his nervous system felt good. It felt nice to just let go and laugh his head off, unable to do anything to stop it.

“I don’t think that’s the truth~ you seem to be having a good time to me~.”

“NohohoHo IHIM NOHOT- EEHEEHAAHA” peals of laughter echoed from him as he tried to protest, even though he didn’t really mean it.

Hermes moved up, starting to tickle the underarms of the king. This was a much worse spot for him, and his laughter became louder. He couldn’t breathe, but yet it felt so nice. He was giddy with the feeling, pounding his fists on his desk to try and expel some of the happy, ticklish energy building up within him.

“Tickle tickle tickle~ aren’t you such a ticklish little thing~ yes you are, yes you are!” Hermes teased, giggling with him.

Odysseus blushed furiously, and covered his face, but was unable to form words through his laughter. Hermes saw that he was struggling to breathe, so he lowered his ticklishness back down. Not fully to its normal levels, but enough so that he could get a good breath in.

“HErmehehehes plehehehease stohohop! I cahahant Tahahake ihihit!” Tears of joy had formed in his eyes, and he was struggling to not let them fall.

“Aww, don’t say that, I believe in you! And you better hope I’m right~, cause I don’t plan on stopping aaaanytime soon~” the trickster moved his hands to Odysseus’ tummy, squeezing gently.

“Uhughh, yohohoure a jeheherk!”

Hermes scoffed in mock offense. “Uh! You have the audacity to call a god a jerk? I come in here to provide some levity and I get called a jerk?! I cannot let that slide.”

“Yohou cahame hehere fohor ehentertahainmehent ahand yohou knohow ihit!”

“Yeah, I did. I also came here because I wanted to see some laughter, is that such a crime? And your sass is unwarranted. I’m turning your sensitivity back up-“

“Whahahait dohohont- ihihim sohorhorry!” The phrase ended in a squealing laugh as Hermes made good on his promise, turning his ticklishness up extremely.

“Are you actually sorry or are you just saying that so I’ll stop? Cause I have a feeling it’s the second one. And that’s fine- it just means I’ll have to tickle and tickle and tickle until you mean it! Doesn’t that sound like fun~”

Any protests the captain tried to make were consumed by his booming laughter, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. His nerves were on fire in the best way, every bone in his body telling him to laugh. He felt as though the tickling sensation was at his very core, going deep into his body and mind.

Floods of dopamine hit his systems, overwhelmed by the tickles. He couldn’t stop laughing, he couldn’t stop smiling, and as much as he hated to admit it, it felt amazing. It was unbearable in such a good way, shocking his nerves over and over with light, bubbly, happy feelings. Tears had long since fallen, the overwhelming happiness and laughter forming as droplets.

All the while Hermes kept teasing, his lilting voice so flustering. Hermes was also having the time of his life, seeing someone who was usually so sad and stoic broken down into heavy fits of laughter, wide smile splitting his face.

Just then the playful god had an idea for a game, he stopped for a moment, allowing Odysseus to catch his breath.

The laughter died down into smaller giggles, perpetuated by the phantom sensations left behind.

“Hey, Odysseus~ how about we play a game, hmm~?”

“Oho gohoodnehess.. hehermes plehehease, I cahahant!”

“All you have to do is laugh~ and you’re already doing great! All I’m going to do is harvest some of the delicious laughter that’s all over this farmland~” he taunted, scooping up Odysseus and plopping him on his bed on his back, and then straddling him.

“Whahahahat? EHeehAHa!” His laughter increased in intensity once more as Hermes began to pinch at his sides and ribs.

“There’s some little laughs here~ gotta get those.” He spoke playfully.

Odysseus was slightly confused, but he couldn’t bother to wonder about it, his brain turned to mush. Laughter and giggles still echoed from him.

“Ope, this one’s being a little stubborn~” Hermes lilted, pinching repeatedly at a spot he’d found was particularly bad.

“Hermehehehes, plehehehease stohohohop!”

“Nah, I’m not done yet~ don’t worry~ I’ll stop once you really need me too.” As a god who loved to tickle others(I mean, he might as well be the god of tickling too at this point.) he had a knack for knowing when someone truly couldn’t take anymore, and Odysseus had not yet reached that point. He still seemed to be enjoying himself, no true panic behind his eyes.

“Hey, there’s a really big laugh here! Let me get it!” He acted as though he was an excited farmer, harvesting his crops. But it mostly wasn’t pretend, he was, in fact, excited to be doing this. Happy to spread laughter and joy, and a little bit of chaos along the way. He dug into Odysseus belly, with the exact pressure to make it agonizingly ticklish.

Odysseus was dying, (figuratively, of course) it tickled so much, and he couldn’t do anything about it! He felt as though he was at the gates of tickle heaven, joyful tears streaming from his eyes from the force of his laughter. It was a great workout, that’s for sure, with his stomach and face sore from the effort but in a way that was sort of pleasent.

“Man, it’s just not coming out! Maybe I should try eating it right from the vine, hmm~” he knew what that meant, and he was full of a giddy anticipation, waiting for the moment that Hermes would-

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of a raspberry right in the center of his tummy, followed by gentle nibbles. Odysseus was weak with laughter, pounding his fist on the bed below him and kicking his feet.

“Om nom nom nom! Wow! This laugh is really tasty! Let me find some more!”

He continued the game, pinching and digging at various points across Odysseus’ torso, occasionally nibbling and blowing raspberries, sometimes many in rapid succession.

All of Odysseus’ thoughts were taken up by the tickles. All that he could think of was how badly it tickled, how badly it made him want - no need- to laugh. He was reduced to nothing but a massive puddle of laughter.

Eventually, Hermes noticed Odysseus was done, and hopped off him, lowering his ticklishness back to normal.

Odysseus continued to giggle, breathing heavily in between the fits.

“Ohoho myhyhy gohoodnehess…. Thahat wahas soho bahad…. Hehehehaha.”

“How ya feeling~ happy?”

Odysseus was too giggle high to think of anything but the truth. “Ye..Yeahah. Ahand tihired..”

“Oh, good~ glad to have brought some joy. How about you get some sleep, hmm? You definitely need it after that.”

“Thahat… sounds lihike a good idea.” Odysseus agreed.

“Glad you had fun, Ody~” Hermes teased, honest with the words. As he turned to leave, he heard one last sleepy, giggly phrase.

“Thahank yohou Hermehes… I needed thahat.”

The god smiled fondly. “No problem, it was a blast for me too.” And then he flew off, leaving a dazed, sleepy and giggle high Odysseus behind.

———THE END————————————————

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE • BOYCOTT TLOU

ꫂ ၴႅၴ — 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕!𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆

a vague continuation of this, but you don’t have to read it to understand this one

song: vicino a te — stevio cipriani

summary: after your first, brief encounter, ellie sends you a letter — with this sweet, foreign feeling blossoming in her chest, she’s too nervous to say anything in person.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fluff, letter format, ellie’s pov, yearning, kinda love at first sight, mentions of (greek) mythology, religious imagery, probably ooc, flowery language, not proofread

a/n: i should be writing other, bigger projects but i love letter writing so much, they’re the purest form of love

Dear moonlit one,

How terribly confused you must be by this letter; I am sorry for it in advance.

Perhaps it might have been more appropriate to visit you, to speak more than a few pleasantries before scampering off into the night, but, as you may have noticed… well, I have no talent for speaking.

How ironic that seems coming from a poet! Words are my profession, perhaps even my religion. I suppose, however, I can only wield them with ink and not with my lips. I have always been this way; a penchant for the quill in preference to conversation.

That is why I write to you. I can be honest here, without my nerves getting the better of me.

I want to express my deepest apologies for my insolence on that revelrous eve. Rushing off without so much as a goodbye in spite of your good nature was unkind of me, and there is no justification for it. Even so, I must explain myself;

Excuse my cynicism and my continuous irony, but I have never believed in a fairytale love. I have an apt appreciation for the picturesque and I feel deeply about many-a-thing; these qualities have made me an adequate enough poet, for I can replicate the beauty of the world that surrounds me. I can structure stanza upon stanza inspired by a scent or a face. I am an observer, therefore I have endured.

But a love that strikes as abruptly as a serpent unsheathes its fangs? A love that robs the lungs of air and renders one’s body feather-light? All because of a glance, a smile, a laugh— of course I was skeptical. How could one not be?

But it was not until I saw you on that argent night, dreamy and gentle, that I could at least come to an understanding. You appeared like the goddess Selene, so very luminous that no words could form in my useless mouth. What was I to say, in that moment? What words spoken could have done justice to the divinity before me?

And your laugh, oh, that laugh… it was as if the sound of your voice was laced with the very harps of heaven. I have not been able to listen to another’s joy without missing the beauty of yours. How foolish I am.

Why do I ramble in such a way? What I mean to say is that your mere existence has awoken me to the pearl ensconced within the centre of our lives. A precious and delicate thing that hit me, unabated. That is why I left you in such a hurry. I was enchanted, and I was afraid of it. In that moment, I was afraid of you, too. The power you held over me was seizing.

But I have gained my bearings. Of course, I cannot say that I love you, a stranger. I know near-nothing about you, and yet, in these sleep-laced hours before dawn, I wish I knew everything.

Sealed within this envelope are dried apple blossoms, birthed from a late-blooming tree. The little buds make the paper smell fragrant, but they also reminded me of our fleeting encounter. And of you; sweet and vibrant. Cheerful, even towards a person you had never spoken to. I hope they soften the suddenness of my letter.

In earnesty, I pray that you write back to me. Even if it is just to reprimand my audacious behaviour, that would be enough.

With sincerity,

E. Williams

[florineseexpertfanfic]

Amy-, Chapter One

Title: Amy-

Rated: General Audience

Summary: Shadow is not sure how to express himself. It doesn’t come naturally or easily for him. But he needs to figure out things, so he decides to write letters to a certain hedgehog- letters he never intends to send.

A/N: Written for Shadamy week! I wanted to have a slightly angst-y, yearn-y feel. Hope you all like it! Updates Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday!

CHAPTER ONE: IN THE RAIN

Amy-

I wish I was the type of guy who could love easily.

The type of guy who could hold your hand.

The type of guy who could talk to you. 

The type of guy who could share an umbrella with you.

But… I’m not that guy. It doesn’t come easily to me. I see you with others. How you are so warm and inviting. How you care so much about their day. How he looks at you, and you look at him. When I am in my lowest moments, I wonder… what would it be like, if I wasn’t… myself.

But this is who I am. I watch from a distance. I never let anyone get close. I let my pain shape who I am, and I can’t seem to break out of that mold. 

Maybe one day, I’ll be able to tell you.

Maybe one day, we could share an umbrella, and walk through the rain. You could tell me all about your day. I could hold your hand.

But that is not me.

I’m not that type of guy.

-Shadow

The rain beat against the windowpane, matching his melancholy mood. He wasn’t certain of what to do. Shadow the Hedgehog sighed as he closed his notebook and slid it into a desk drawer, locking it away from prying bat eyes. 

The notebook was for him, and him only. The idea came to him one day months ago, when he needed to get something off his mind but could not- would not- talk to anyone about it. He remembered Maria Robotnik. Maria used to keep a small diary, in which she would write all her innermost thoughts. She told him that sometimes, things needed to be said, privately. A diary was a close friend. Something that can hold all your secrets, wishes, and plans who won’t tell you ‘No’ or tease you for your feelings.

He smiled when he remembered that she threatened him with bodily harm if he even dared touch her diary. 

That day, he stopped off at a store and picked up a plain notebook. He just picked up the first one subject notebook he saw, not really caring what color it was. It wasn’t until he had gotten home and settled at the desk in his bedroom when he noticed what the notebook looked like.

It was pink.

Without thinking, he opened up to the first page and began writing.

Amy-

I had a really good time with you at the concert. More than I could ever say. The music was loud, the crowd was annoying. It was very hot, and the smells… it was horrible.

But you were having a great time. You sang, and danced, and waved those glow sticks over your head. The pink glow from them illuminated your face, and there was a point when I found that I couldn’t look away. You looked really pretty. 

I wish I could have told you.

I never really listened to Sabrina Carpenter before. Just whatever comes on the radio. But she was amazing, like you said. Or, at least, I think she was. I don’t really remember paying attention to the actual show. I really just let your enjoyment become my entertainment.

Amy, I want to confess something. When we were walking out of the venue, you grabbed my wrist and held on. You laughed and said ‘Don’t lose me!’. I knew you meant not to lose you in the crowd, that you wanted to stick together for safety. I understand. But I don’t want to lose you. I wanted to hold your hand. I wanted to clasp my fingers through yours and not let go.

I really wish that it was an actual date, and not just two friends going to a concert. But I don’t think I would ever say so. I don’t know how. I’m too gruff, too ‘brutish’, as Rouge says. Physical contact and good emotional well-being is not exactly my strong suit. Besides, you would never think of me in that light. That is something I learned a long time ago. You care for another, and it is something I accepted. 

I think, if anything, I just want you to be happy.

-Shadow

The notebook was becoming filled with letters to Amy. Most of them were about how he felt, and what he wished he could have done differently. It became, in his mind, ‘The Amy book’. The whole idea of keeping a journal was to sort his thoughts and feelings. To log events, to try to make sense of the world he was living in. 

But he had no issues with letting people know how he felt about any situation. He was honest and open about his past. Everyone knew what he had been through. Everyone knew his dislikes- and there were so many- and his likes. Everyone seemed to be comfortable with who he was. 

But when it came to Amy Rose, the heroine of Mobius, he found himself unable to do anything. The more time he spent with her, the more he found that he really cared for her. More than anyone else, really. And it scared him. The people he tended to care for ended up dying. So instead of being forthright with his emotions, he decided to keep writing them down, never sharing them with anyone.

So he remained a friend. He was there for her when she needed him; they would go shopping and go to concerts. But he kept a distance from her. Shadow watched as she would laugh with friends, making sure everyone was taken care of at whatever event they were at. 

Then there was Sonic. It was obvious to everyone that he and Amy had a thing. It was only a matter of time, honestly, before they sealed that deal. Shadow tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest when he saw the two of them together. Most of the time, he was fine. Sonic was annoying, and had sawdust for brains- but he was a good guy. He knew that he didn’t have the highest of regards for the ‘Blue Blur’, but he didn’t outright hate him. Shadow couldn’t. Sonic was a brave, noble and true friend. He would bend over backwards for anyone, even his enemies. 

To say Shadow was jealous wouldn’t exactly be the truth. Sure, a little bit of jealousy was there. Sonic could laugh things off easily. He wasn’t afraid to be affectionate with his friends. Tiny things like that that Shadow wanted to be better at, but it felt odd to him. No, Shadow was not jealous of Sonic, despite what a lot of people thought. Sonic was Sonic. Shadow was Shadow. Two sides of the same coin. Both with different faces, but the value of their worth was equally matched. 

So if Amy Rose decided to be with Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow wouldn’t be surprised. They fit well together. 

But there was still a small part of him, niggling around the back of his mind, that couldn’t help but ask… ‘What if?’.

What if Shadow was more forthcoming with affection? 

What if he confessed to her, and came to find that she had feelings too? Would he be able to handle it? Would he be able to be… a boyfriend? 

Though he wished he could be the guy that could hold her hand, he knew that he wouldn’t. He tried to imagine himself as a Casanova, a suave and sophisticated gentleman who could sweep any girl off her feet. 

But that. Wasn’t. Him.

And he couldn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Not even for her. 

But, he could sit at his desk, watching the rain as it fell. He could daydream about bumping into her in the street. Amy forgot to check the weather that day, and didn’t know that it was going to rain. With no hesitation, he would offer to walk her home; she would join him under his umbrella that was just big enough for the two of them. Big enough to stop the rain from soaking them through, but small enough so she would have to wrap an arm around his arm and stay close. They would take the long way, and talk. 

It was a nice dream.

But it was only a dream.

Click here to read Chapter Two!

[willowthegrey2]

First

Larissa Weems x Original Female Character

Note:

So it's been *checks notes* two years and a bit since I last posted a fic. That's about right for me. Anyway, quick disclaimer, Serena Talon is my OC for Larissa fics so far. This story isn't canonically related to Hope in a New World, but Serena looks the same and has pretty much the same personality. I'm just much too lazy to create a new one right now (oops). I was inspired to write a slightly more angsty hurt/comfort fic for Larissa so let's see how good I am at that. Enjoy!

I don't own anything except for the characters.

Chapter 1

She met Morticia when she first moved into her dorm. She had 3 suitcases of just clothing and the rest were boxes of books, study supplies, and magazines. Morticia snorted with amusement as Larissa carefully unpacked her clothes first and everything that followed suit was elegant, beautiful, and ornate, right down to her bedsheets. Morticia introduced herself with a quiet confidence. The type teenagers longed to master without really trying. Despite it all, Larissa stuck to her like glue, signing up for the same classes Morticia would take, sitting at her table in the cafeteria, putting her name on the signup sheet for clubs with her. Morticia was always there when everyone else’s company was fleeting. 

Larissa Weems went through so many emotions in her teenage years at Nevermore, especially in regards to Morticia Addams.

She admired her when Morticia seemed to know the answers to every question in class. When she would fence better than those boys who wouldn’t give the girls a second glance in phys-ed. When her assignments were used as examples in class. How she got her eyeliner straight on the first swipe and identical on the other eye. How she always knew what to wear that day and never seemed to run out of clothing or ways to style it.

She hated her when Morticia would say something in passing to her that was supposed to help. ‘Oh Larissa, you know we’re just going to the mall with the girls. You don’t need all that on.’ When Larissa would overthink every single item of clothing on her body in hopes that Morticia would approve of her outfit and still, Morticia would always have something to point out that would make Larissa’s fragile self-esteem deflate further. When she asked Morticia to study with her, Morticia would be able to focus and understand everything while Larissa was fiddling with her pen and re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. It didn’t matter that she got A’s because Morticia got the same grade with her own flair.

She envied her when Morticia effortlessly captured the attention of everyone around her. They would laugh at her jokes, compliment her looks, ask her to hang out. When Morticia didn’t seem to second-guess every sentence out of her own mouth, every expression shown on her face. No overthinking, no anxiety about who she was. Morticia was just… Morticia.

She loved her when Morticia told her that she wanted her as her fencing partner, to be her co-pilot for the Poe cup, to go shopping with her for a Rave’n dress.

She’d shiver with humiliation when she thought of it now but Larissa tried shapeshifting to look more like her when she was younger. The school was massive and nobody seemed to notice whether or not Larissa was there anyway, so she’d become a different person and look just slightly like Morticia to see if anyone treated her like that. Like she was divine.

Black hair. Brown hair. Hair down. Hair straight. Hair curly. Black dress. Shorter height. Longer legs. Longer torso. Larger breasts. Smaller breasts. Long nails. Short nails. More makeup. Less makeup.

Well, it wasn’t Morticia’s looks or clothes or voice that made her the school’s version of God’s gift to earth. She was charismatic. She was confident. She was unique and individual but in just the right way so that most people loved her and those who didn’t were looked down on.

The only ‘benefit’ – if one could call it that – that Larissa got while shapeshifted was hearing what people really thought about her.

‘You know, the tall chick? Always dresses like she’s trying too hard.”

‘That’s half the girls in the school.’

‘Girls hit puberty first, right? Whatever. I mean the girl who’s always with Morticia.’

Oh, the blonde? Yeah. You think that’s her real hair colour?’

‘Who cares? She’s a shapeshifter, every hair colour is natural for her.’

‘True.’

‘But if I told her to shapeshift into like… Marilyn Monroe or something, would she?’

‘Why Marilyn Monroe? Can’t think of a more modern reference?’

‘I could but I don’t think she’d understand it the way she talks about those black and white movies as if they’re not incredibly boring. Plus, Marilyn Monroe is hot. I bet I could even get her to do the voice. At least that way she’d be interesting or something. I can’t believe she thinks anyone cares about fashion or learning about the art history of paintings in the Louvre or whatever. Like, what are we? 70?’

‘She’ll probably have a cat to tell it to in the future.’

‘I give her 25 years.’

‘I give her 10.’

‘The tall chick.’ ‘The blonde.’ ‘The girl who’s always with Morticia.’ ‘The shapeshifter.’

Being principal didn’t really change that. It was the closest she got to someone acknowledging her, but it was within a professional capacity.

What she wouldn’t give for somebody to use her name, just once. To think of her. To see her, to notice her. To call for her. For her to be their first choice.

-

‘Good morning, Principal Weems.’ ‘Larissa, do you mind looking this over?’ ‘Hey, boss, when’s that report due again?’

They never asked her how she was, if she was all right. They didn’t care about her day or her weekend or even what she liked to drink. Did she radiate some sort of insecurity? Insincerity? Arrogance? Were they just intimidated because she was their boss?

For 25 years she worked at Nevermore. Almost 30 had she lived in its halls. She spent less time in a house of her own than she did at the school. Her social life consisted of her colleagues, people in town she was more or less forced to associate with, and the occasional outing she would get from a moment of weakness on dating apps. They rarely went well. The longest relationship she had lasted three months in university before she swiftly broke it off.

She could count the number of times she had sex on her hands. She didn’t even know what constituted sex anymore. Penetration? Once or twice. Heavy petting? A few times. Having an orgasm with a partner? Never.

It was easier to just not think about such things. She loved her job, as difficult as it was. She almost died and when she woke up in the hospital, the only people there to greet her were nurses, a doctor, and a couple of cops. She’d never felt so alone, so scared at the idea that she would have to heal alone, leave the hospital alone, go home alone. She cried when they left, so much so that she got a headache from the dehydration that felt comparable to a hangover.

In Jericho, barely anything had changed. Normie-outcast relationships continued as normal, strained and shrouded in distrust. Colleagues came and went, students graduated or dropped out. Hardly anyone died anymore though, thank goodness. Wednesday seemed to have calmed her morbid curiosity for the time being.

The librarian has retired. Larissa is hardly surprised, the only person who has been there longer than her is Ms. Bennett. A sonokinetic, rather good at keeping the library quiet. None of the students enter anyway, but the few who do practically have their voice ripped from them. It sounds more violent than it is, but Ms. Bennett always reasoned that until one checked the book out, they had no reason to make noise.

Still, nobody said her name.

-

Larissa is quick to hire a new librarian. Serena Talon. Pronounced ‘Tay-lon’, so the young woman has informed her. Telekinetic. Good for stocking books back on shelves, she supposes.

Twenty-six years teaching at Nevermore and for the first time, one of her colleagues walks up to her at the end of the first week of school and says; “Good evening, Principal Weems. I was wondering if you would like to get something to eat with me.”

Larissa accepts in the same quiet, polite way she always speaks but her heart does a gymnastics routine in her ribcage. She doesn’t know what this is for. To discuss business? To suck up to her? To ask for a raise? As presumptuous as it may be, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Or maybe, perhaps, possibly, someone perchance wants her company.

----------

Note:

High school is freaking rough, okay? Except for Morticia. She did fine. Wait... she did kill a guy... yeah, never mind. Thanks for reading!😊

[slytherinboysvip]

Slytherin boys- Confession letters

( No Blaise in this one, I’m sorry to my Blaise girlies</33 )

Mattheo Riddle-

You opened your book bag to find a extremely folded up piece of notebook paper with a bunch of random rose doodles around it and opened it suspiciously

I don’t know what i’m doing right now, this is honestly so stupid. Anytime I’m near you it’s like I get a rush of shit i’m not used to and if I told you this in person I think id shit myself so take this and my awful wording. Y/n I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what love was, that rush of emotions I brought up before I understand what it is now, I’ve loved you, and I’ll continue to love you if you’ll let me, please Y/n, let me love and protect you forever. - your favorite dada partner ;)

Theodore Nott-

You were sitting in the Library when Theo walked passed and left an envelope in front of you, before you could question anything he hurried off seemingly in a rush, your name was on the letter so you opened it slowly

Y/n, If you’re reading this that means I wasn’t a little bitch and actually gave it to you, so congratulations. I’m going to make you work for this so get your translation book out, Hai cambiato la mia vita y/n, onestamente non so cosa farei senza di te a questo punto, tutto quello che so è che ti amo e voglio che tu sia mio, tutto mio, vero? (You’ve changed my life Y/n , I honestly don't know what I would do without you at this point, all I know is that I love you and I want you to be mine, all mine, will you?)

Draco Malfoy-

You were sitting in class when Draco sent over one of his flying bird notes, you were surprised it was for you, and were even more surprised when you saw them contents

Dear Y/n,

I don’t mean to seem so formal, but I honestly have no idea how to do this. Anytime we’re in the same room you’re all I can look at, everyone else disappears. You’re so gorgeous. You practically live in my head at this point, I understand we’re not the closest Y/n, but we can be. All I’m asking for is once chance with you, I promise you won’t regret it. - D.Mꨄ

Lorenzo Berkshire-

You were sitting at the black lake while Enzo was messing around near the water, while he wasn’t paying attention you noticed he had a letter with your name on it in his bag, so you decided to open it

I doubt I’ll ever actually give this to you, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the rejection of the most amazing, beautiful, and talented girl I know. I can’t get you out of my head love, merlin, love. I love you. There I said it. I Lorenzo Berkshire am in love with you. I’m definitely never giving this to you I sound insane. Fuck Y/n, you seriously have no idea what you do to me.

Tom Riddle-

While studying with tom he slipped you a note before getting up and leaving with no added words

I hate the way you make me feel. I hate that I can’t hate you, and I hate that you make me feel things. Be mine Y/n, I could make your life so much better, I’ll give you the entire world all you’d have to do is say please. Be mine and you could have everything you desire and more.

Im so sorry I have no idea what to write for Blaise right now loves, but hopefully you enjoyed this, I will make a part two of the post I made about Theo a couple days ago don’t worry <33 Alsooo I just want to let yall know that all the italian is google translated so Im sorry if the translations are wrong, but what I put is what they should say :)

[sweetieviktor]

"take me back to the night we met", feat. viktor.

summary: you knew he was dieing, but seeing him using shimmer was too much to bare . based on the song "the night we met", by lord huron.

word count: 720.

content warning: season 1, act 3 spoilers! idk if shimmer use count as a cw, but anyways this is angst and it doesn't have a happy ending!

author notes: there's so much time since i've written fanfiction!! but i loved doind this one and i swear that i cried while writing this. and this may be very ooc and doesn't match the scenes in season 1, act 3, but i dont have time to watch it again now and i was so hyped up bcs of season 2 that i just had to write something, yk? also, there may be some typos or grammar errors even though i re-read this like 3 times i think lol. but yeah, here it is!

you came back to his lab expecting to see him doing good, maybe working on his research, too focused on any stuff he was doing at the moment and not noticing you by the door, but he wasn't in there, or so it looked like.

he was hunched over his desk, in his hands was a glass tube, the remaining of the purple liquid shimmering in the dark room, illuminating just enough to draw his weak silhouette amongst the shadows.

“viktor…?” was everything you said while getting closer to him, walking with slow steps, trying to make no sounds to alarm him.

“stop.” raising a hand, that was all he said.

just as you were told, you stopped on your tracks, observing that, his once perfect hand, was now painted in a shade of purple, the same that was inside the glass recipient.

it can't be. right?

“what you did to yourself?”

“i did what needed to be done.” he was so baretoned, you didn't understand why he seemed so rude, so crude, so… unlike him.

when his words settled in, it felt like your stomach was turning, wrapping itself around your guts, making you sick. you felt sick, for him.

“please, please, viktor, don't tell me that you're using sh-” “yes.”

of course you knew about his condition, of course you knew he wasn't doing good at all, and mostly, you knew that things were meant to end, one way or another. but you didn't think he would kill himself like this.

and this was all you needed to break.

“why you didn't told me? i could have helped you, we could find a way to work through it,” the tears started to prick on your eyes, your voice breaking, the anger at yourself pooling into your core. “you wouldn't need to use shimmer, vik...”

the feeling that the universe stole and took all that once mattered to you was what drove you insane. the feeling that you could make things different, make things better, the oh so simple solution that you could find, if only he had told you.

“it’s not that easy! you wouldn't understand if i told you sooner. no one would understand it, even if they tried really hard to.” he turned his head towards your direction, looking at your face for a brief second, before turning his gaze back to the ground, his purple irises trying to focus on something that wasn't your saddened face, now, feeling his own eyes burning, burning even more than the blood running in his veins. “we are in piltover, the city of progress, and yet, i am stuck behind, and i'm dieing. so, i needed to do something, and i did.”

“what you don’t understand is that you're destroying yourself, viktor. destroying yourself so slowly that it almost feels like torture. i fear that i wouldn't be able to see you for another day.” you sobbed, the tears rolling down and he didn't dare to look at your eyes again, he knew that you were crying. he knew it and he couldn't bear the thought that he was the one that made you cry. “if there is a god somewhere, i wish they could turn back time and take me back to the night we met. maybe things could be different, right?”

looking at him, a weak, nervous smile was all you could get out while crying, thinking to yourself when things started to get this wrong and how you let it happen, without even realizing what was wrong. how could you let him do this to himself?

your body was shaking, it felt like the whole world was trembling. the nonstoping thoughts hammering your head, your heart a mile per minute, the air in your lungs wasn't enough. everything, everything seemed like it was crushing down on you, right in this moment.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry... i need to go. now.”

you needed to get out of here, you needed to breathe.

you headed back to the door, wishing that some cold breeze would cool you down, would just stop your mind and racing heart. wishing for him to be fine again. praying for any and all gods that lived in the skies and beyond, praying for him to be alive. just for a bit more.

[artificialroux]

anise and creep by radiohead…. because i’m writing for anlora!!!!! tagging my sweetie pie @logansdogmotif because ofc i am…

(i don’t care if it hurts/i wanna have control) this lyric being anise’s connections to the games itself. months before being reaped, anise had gotten married to the man whom her sister was supposed to marry before her death, forced into the mold of her sister who is completely opposite of anise. where her sister is gentle, anise is anything but—or at least she pretends to be, concealing the kindness with the needs to be different and defiant. she feels as if she isn’t able to be herself with anyone and the games are, as tragic as it is, her only outlet—her escape from the world she was forced into. she sees being reaped as gaining control back over her life, building an image for herself which is eventually turnt into something else, an attempt to duplicate velora’s existence since the marketing of an underdog from district 1 went so well last time.

(i want a perfect body/i want a perfect soul) this lyric reminds me of anise’s connection to the capitol! she, despite her clear distaste for snow and the people within the capitol, wishes to be loved. she wants to be the capitol’s darling for the sake of being loved, even if the version that is loved isn’t her. they cover her scars and despite how she feels about it, she doesn’t attempt to fight back because she dislikes them just as much. and if they believe this part of her is unattractive, then it is. she wants to be perfect, and even if that means being rid of the things thay make herself her, she’s willing to do it.

(i want you to notice/when i’m not around) okay so. anlora mentioned. anise deep down adores velora, beneath the jealousy, there’s something unconditional about the way she loves her mentor. after they sleep together and velora does everything to deny it, anise feels this intense pang of rejection. she’d never had many close connections like the one she has with velora and on top of her desperation to be loved, being cast aside by someone who she thought could love her without change—hurts.

(you’re so fuckin’ special/i wish i was special) ok so i’m actually currently writing something for this lyric.. but imagine this as anise talking to velora. throwing out harsh insults because she feels rejected and the only way her brain nows how to handle it is making velora feel the way she felt. even then, she can’t keep the trembling out of her voice—she wants to believe she means every word she’s saying but she knows she doesn’t, and velora knows just as well.

UGH THIS IS SO GORGEOUS OH MY GODDD!!!! your writing is so so elegant and everything flows so SMOOTHLY!!!

the song lyrics all fit freakishly well!!! i love the little writing excerpt at the bottom ... the toxic wlw jealousy fueled love and passion??? velora being jealous of anise because she is her own person! she doesn't try to be a pretend fragile girl like she did, which she respects but also tries to change to keep anise safe and marketable for her games..it's her only form of love she can broadcast and give to anise as she sends her to her death!

she's so happy when she returns alive, only to find their relationship fractured as anise is married to another man, and the envy building up between them has just gotten more and more intense, twisting into a hatred and love all in one!!

anise who is unable to understand that velora is a victim of the system just as much as her! UGH i love them.

[frozenjokes]

Another Much Needed Follow Up About Love and Aromanticism, Where It’s Time We Cleared Things Up. Oh, And Mumbo Is Here Too.

this fic can be read on its own as a one shot, but I would recommend reading this first, as the context provides a little more insight on why the characters are reacting the way they do to each other

Over the course of a couple weeks very little changed. Mumbo spent the majority of his time planted in one place, anchored somewhat in the shallows so he could lift his head and listen to what the humans were doing on the days they came around. As much as it pained Mumbo to be so still so much of the time, it was a necessary evil if he ever wanted to heal, and he very much did. It didn’t matter how little he moved his tail at this point, anything he did would only result in his condition worsening.

If it wasn’t for Scar, he would have left a while ago. The humans didn’t come every day anymore, but they came often enough, and they certainly noticed Mumbo’s lack of activity. Grian tended towards keeping his distance, which didn’t bother Mumbo at all, but Scar really went out of his way to be there; sitting close (a gesture Mumbo was beginning to mind less), bringing him human trinkets to look at and play with (always exciting), but most importantly Scar brought food, and a lot of it at that; Mumbo wouldn’t have been able to stay without it. He often wondered where Scar got the many bags of fish he brought; it wasn’t all very fresh, so it was probably supplied from a human stockpile, but regardless, Mumbo was grateful. He wasn’t often in the best of moods and didn’t speak very much despite the fact he was sure Scar would have been ecstatic to talk with him, but he hoped regardless that Scar knew how deeply grateful he was.

Today, Scar and Grian were sitting on the shore together, shoulder to shoulder as they bent over one of their human activities. The first time Mumbo saw them drawing together, he had asked to see (saying ‘What’ over and over again seemed to have gained several different meanings over the weeks), but Scar had showed him that the paper they wrote on got ruined in the water, ripping easily, so it wasn’t something Mumbo could learn about personally. That was okay though, he was content to watch.

“Okay,” Scar began tapping the writing utensil (‘pencil’) to his lips, “Do we have anything to revise about the list this week? I don’t think very much new has happened.”

“Read it again, will you?”

“It’s right here in front of your face, do I really have to?”

“We’ve been over this Scar, I’m conditionally illiterate. Like right now, you got me up early and I’m tired and the words are so far away and I don’t want to. Also your handwriting is atrocious.”

“I’m tired too! It’s not my fault my fish guy needed me to show up at 6 AM.”

“You have a car, Scar. And a license.”

“Oh hey! Look at this cool list!” Scar directed Grian’s attention back to the paper, Grian only rolling his eyes before letting Scar continue. “Well, I won’t go into detail on my notes about what he eats because that’ll just bore you, but to put it simply, basically everything that’s got meat on it. Fish, shellfish, red meat, chicken, mostly just fish is what I’ve been giving him though, since I’m assuming that's what makes up most of his diet. Want to make sure he gets all the proper nutrients, you understand, you understand.”

“Uh huh.”

“As for ‘Likes,’ we’ve got fish, human stuff, Scar, Grian-”

“Scar first?” Grian cut his friend off with a raised eyebrow. Scar blinked several times before answering.

“What?”

“Scar, Grian. You put your name before mine.”

“Well this list wasn’t meant to be in order, but if it was, my name would absolutely go before yours.”

“What! No it wouldn’t. He likes us equally. Mumbo and I have a mutual understanding that we do not want to be anywhere near each other most of the time. We respect each other. From a distance.”

Scar smirked, throwing Mumbo an amused look as if he understood anything that was going on. “You know if you wanted to you could also bring him gifts and stuff. Nothing is stopping you. You could even bring him his fish if you wanted to, he wouldn’t know the difference. I wouldn’t care. There’s really nothing to be afraid of, especially now when he’s so docile like this.”

“I’m not afraid of Mumbo.”

“No?”

“If anything, he’s afraid of me, Scar. I got him in that net, I’ve gotten close to killing him a couple times- he knows it, Scar, he knows. He knows what’ll happen if he steps out of line, that’s what. I told him. I told him all about it.”

“Did you now,” Scar chuckled, nudging Grian playfully, “Well in that case, I’m definitely sure he likes me more. And I’m sure you’re perfectly content with being feared, but if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to help.”

Grian huffed, “I won’t. Continue though.”

Scar lingered for a moment, a gentle fondness etched on his features before turning back to the paper, reading, “Well, he plays around with those vines and roots and things sometimes, he clearly is very curious, he likes to learn, and I think he likes birds, but he might just be staring at them because he wants to eat them. I put bugs in our ‘Neutral’ category since every time I try to give him a bug he just eats it, but I can’t tell if he just eats bugs or if he’s scared of them or something.”

“I highly doubt Mumbo is afraid of bugs. I doubt he cares.”

“Well, you never know! In ‘Dislikes’ we’ve got nets, sleeping bags, being touched, fighting- actually this isn't super related, but I really want to set up a Good and Bad system with him. A thumbs up thumbs down kind of situation. I was thinking about it all last night- we aren’t very good at communicating what we like or don’t like, and this feels like a good solution, but I’m not exactly sure how to tell him clearly what I’m trying to do. How would he know thumbs up means ‘good.’ And vice versa? Maybe bad would be easier to start with, but at the same time he kinda seems like a bite first ask questions later kinda guy.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Definitely start with thumbs up. With any luck he’ll understand that thumbs down is the opposite and you can go from there. I think you could probably associate the gesture with things Mumbo likes. The tape measure, fish- he knows smiling is a positive thing even if he doesn’t smile himself, and he knows what ‘yes’ means as well. With enough of that, I think he’ll grasp the meaning pretty quick.”

“I think so too,” Scar paused for a moment, thoughtful, “You know, this doesn’t just have to be a me effort. You could come and speak to him as well. He would know you’re putting in the effort if you wanted him to like you more.”

“He likes me plenty!” Grian switched from relaxed to exasperated on a dime, throwing up his hands as Scar laughed. “He likes me, Scar.”

“I know he likes you. But I also know he doesn’t have the full picture. He doesn’t know how much time you spend brainstorming how to teach him things, or how to relieve his stress, or worrying when he’s not feeling well. I just want him to know you aren’t as distant as he probably thinks, especially if it bothers you. If you wanted to get a little closer and help me with the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ gestures, that’d be a start.”

Grian was silent for a long time, brows creased tight above his eyes. “Maybe,” he said finally, almost quietly, “But not today. I’m too tired.”

“Yeah, me too,” Scar sighed, content, letting his head fall to rest on top of Grian’s, who squeaked, jumping so hard he accidentally jabbed at Scar’s chin with his shoulder. It must not have hurt though, because Scar didn’t seem to mind at all, unmoving. Slowly, Grian untensed, his head falling gently on Scar’s shoulder. Mumbo had a somewhat ridiculous pang of longing despite still holding a strong aversion to any human touch at all. They just looked so relaxed- anyone would wonder what it was like to be human. Though, while Scar closed his eyes, Grian didn’t quite look satisfied, something like conflict sitting across his features. He sat like that for a while, eyes moving, but not quite looking at anything at all, apparent restlessness building. Then he stopped. Closed his eyes. Opened them.

“Scar, are you aromantic or are you just fucking with me? Because I outright refuse to believe anyone is actually this clueless.”

Scar opened his eyes. Silence. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh???” It was safe to say the two of them did not look relaxed anymore, Grian jerking away, “Scar, what does ‘uh oh’ mean. You can not just say ‘uh oh’ and nothing else.” Mumbo’s fins raised at the tone of his voice, but Mumbo cringed back when Grian whipped around to face him with an aggressive point. “No. You stay. Scar, I need you to say more right now.”

“I-Sleeping, I mean, we weren’t sleeping yet- but resting like- not friends? Not normal? Bdubs- I am going to strangle that man!”

“So you’re aromantic?” The words leapt off Grian’s tongue like an accusation, but he relaxed almost immediately after, sighing into his hands, “You’re aromantic. Okay. Good. Okay.”

“I- I mean I don’t love labels. I don’t really know, I don’t know much of anything at all, really. I’m sorry, Grian, I didn’t- did no one tell you I have a horrible track record for these things? Did you want me to ask you out? I still can.”

“Goodness, Scar, no! You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you’ve just been sending incredibly mixed signals and I needed to know what was going on with you before my head exploded and my brains went all over the place and poor Mumbo would have to witness that and we don’t want that, do we? We don’t want that. This is fine, though, we just need to work out some boundaries.���

“What if I did want to though? To ask you out?”

Grian stared. Scar stared back.

“You do not want to.”

“I’ll have you know, I like you plenty a lot! I like you all sorts of ways, and if you also like me, then that’s cool! I’ll tell ya, when I had my little politics phase, my campaign manager was this great guy, Bdubs, we’re still friends, too, have you met him? Anyway, he’s a pretty touchy guy as well and he convinced me all sorts of things were totally normal friend stuff. Oh, we had this great cushy chair in our office and it was only really meant for one person, but sometimes we’d both be so tired and just squeeze into it and it wasn’t any sort of comfortable at all, but in a way it kinda was. Like inside. You know?”

“Scar, do you actually want to ask me out or are you just saying that because you think that’s what I wanted.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Not what I asked.”

“Well, Grian, it really doesn’t matter to me either way!” Scar gave Grian a big smile, like these words were the ones that would definitively solve their dispute, but the expression started to drop when Grian looked mortified. “Is..” Scar started, unsure now, “Something wrong?”

Mumbo had never seen such a wide range of emotions cross Grian’s face before his head dropped onto his knees with a soft thunk. “No. It’s fine.”

Scar stared for a long while, a gentle churning of thought moving behind his eyes. He relaxed, scooching to give Grian a little space before smiling again, the expression soft. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Sure, Scar.” Grian’s voice was muffled between his knees, and given his face was covered, Mumbo had no idea how he was feeling.

“So there was this one time in high school where I was good friends with this girl, and she was awesome, just the best, and we hung out like constantly, and y’know how people get sometimes all pushy asking about dating and stuff, but you also know high schoolers who can’t communicate if their life was on the line. So all my friends are like dude, you guys are literally dating, aren’t you? And I say no! I insist we’re not every time, I insist! Yes, we went out together often and we talked for hours and her family had some money troubles so a lot of the time I offered to pay, you know, normal stuff, it was normal, I promise, but one day I get this call, right? From one of her friends! And this girl just starts ripping into me, like, seriously! She’s telling me all this stuff I had no idea about- telling me my friend is so confused, that she doesn’t feel pretty around me, that I’m always trying to avoid intimacy- that I refused to kiss her! And I was like what, whoa there! No one has ever tried to kiss me! Why are we talking about kissing people? She thought we were dating, Grian.”

“I got that.”

“And then she dumped me! My first breakup, and I didn’t even know! I was kinda bummed, too, I had always kinda wanted to kiss someone, but I thought they’d tell me first! Y’know, that they wanted to. I would have been so ready! The worst part is I think my guy friends were trying to tell me we were dating, not just teasing me. They also thought it was funny though, so. Who knows.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know, right! And this other time in college there was this other girl- we had mutual friends and stuff and we were at a party and just absolutely wasted and she grabbed me by the collar and she said ‘SCAR,’ she yelled in my face, she said ‘I’ve been FLIRTING with you for WEEKS and YOU’VE been flirting BACK. ARE YOU GAY?’ And I said, drunk, ‘A little bit!’ And then we danced all night. It was awesome. She was so cool. That kinda stuff happened a lot in college, actually. Guys are a bit more direct, which I appreciate. I’m a little stupid, I need the extra help sometimes.”

Grian tensed where he was sitting, quiet for a short pause before speaking, “You’re not stupid, Scar.”

“I mean. A little bit.”

“No. You’re not stupid.”

Scar was silent for a long while, staring despite Grian’s head still being buried in his knees. “I don’t know about that.”

Grian lifted his head, shaking it ‘no.’ He blinked a couple times before shaking his head again, a little more forcefully. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just talked to you like an adult and told you how I was feeling. Sometimes you’re just really confusing, and that’s not your fault, you just.. go about the world in a different way. And it’s not a bad way either, it’s not wrong. If people can’t communicate exactly how they’re feeling to you, that’s a them issue. You’re not stupid. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, Scar. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I really thought we had some sort of understanding- and I did mean it when I said we could give this a shot. I like dating, Grian, I always have a lot of fun! I can be- I know I can be- I have trouble sometimes, I just ruin good things-”

“Scar, stop, please. I don’t want anything you don’t want. Period.”

Scar didn’t seem to know what to do with that, staring uselessly at his own hands before looking back up. “I want it, Grian,” he stressed, his arms trembling, but Grian only stared, lips gently parted.

They both looked.. So sad. Mumbo longed to help, to sing, to do something, but he was stuck outside of their world.

Grian extended his arms. “C’mere, buddy.”

Scar collapsed into them, shaking as he did. Grian didn’t move, rubbing slow circles on Scar’s back while he cried. There was a certain focus behind Grian’s eyes, a certain calm as he held his friend close, and Mumbo.. well, it was clear Grian didn’t need Mumbo’s help. So that was the power of human touch.

He’d have to learn it one day.