#Sorry if there is double posting I do not care enough to check

[joejoeba]

Barfs this up & leaves

[gamergirl-niffler]

Being Married to Haganezuka - headcanons

Relationship between swordsmith and demon slayer was actually unheard of, but you didn't complain at all.

It was really comfortable, you lived with your husband and were close enough to be ready when needed.

Your husband was a difficult person: hot-blooded, extremely dedicated to his craft, and socially inept.

Many were sure he would never find a wife. That was until you came into the village, after all Hotaru was just a man and despite all of his heavy flaws managed to win your heart.

People hated him, and you knew that, but thankfully your presence brightened his image. Just a tiny bit. But still.

--------------

‌He doesn't just talk about work. He rants. 

A lot, actually. 

Thanks to it, you know all about his clients, even if he has very little of those.

"I need to make new swords! And guess for who! For a kid that barely made it through Finale Selection!" Hotaru complains as you hum in acknowledgement while braiding the long black locks of your husband. "I am sure he will be like the others! Not respecting my work whatsoever!"

It's a simple routine before bed. He rants, letting out some of the frustration while your attention calms him down. It's always enough to actually allow him to properly rest during the night. 

‌Sleeping with him is yet another completely different thing.

Once the two of you get into bed, there is no running away. When his arms wrap around you, it's over, you are stuck like this until the sun rises again. He is simply not letting you go. 

Hotaru will never admit it out loud, but that's exactly what he is afraid of, you were the only woman that ever wanted him, so what would he do without you around.

You are his biggest treasure, he is not letting you go. Ever.

‌ Mornings with Haganezuka are much nicer. 

He is calm and rested as you're helping him to get ready for work right after breakfast.

"I hate that mask," You say with a grimace, while looking at the ugly mask in your hand. 

Of course, you understand the whole idea of masks but it didn't change the fact you didn't like them, you preferred to see your husband without it.

He snatches the item from your hand and hands you a shawl. "You better help me with my hair," Hotaru mutters, sitting in front of you to make it easier. "You also should get ready."

With an eye roll, you started to wrap his hair, making sure they won't bother him during the work. "I am just as ready as you are," you sum up, tying the shawl as tightly as possible. 

Once you were done he got up, put on the mask and turned to you. "I love you," he admits, while his hands move to your collar to properly button it.

Looking up at him, "I... I love you too...," you say with a soft grimace, making him frown under the mask. "What's your problem now?”

"Sorry. It's hard to say with that thing on your face," you admit slowly.

"You're annoying," He scoffs and turns to leave.

After grabbing your sword, you could follow him, walking by his side and holding his hand until you reach your post. Only then the two of you finally part ways for the day.

‌Hotaru is the one taking care of your sword. 

How could he not!

Not only he's a swordsmith, but he is also your husband, so his duty to you is doubled or even tripled! Not to mention, the sword is his own creation.

"Did you clean it? Are you sure it's clean? Maybe you chipped it? Let me see!"

You need to keep him away, using your own hands to make sure he won't get to your sword. "Hotaru, love. I am sure of all of it," You sigh, but before you know it he already has his hands on it. 

How did he even do that?! 

With careful eyes, he checks the blade and handle to be fully sure you're telling the truth. 

He couldn't allow his beloved wife to walk around with a sword that isn't properly taken care of. Hotaru wanted to be sure you are safe. "It's getting blunt. I will sharpen it for you. You can take the other one."

And just like that, your husband is off to do his things. There is no stopping him nor making him postpone the work.

Speaking about work!

Hotaru is hard working and stubborn.

Once he gets to work... He. Is. Gone. 

The mix of passion and dedication in his case are actually a "deadly" combination. There is no way of pulling him away. Sadly, even as his own wife, you don't have this privilege.

Once, when you attempted to take the sword away to stop him, Hotaru snapped at you, his voice filled with frustration. "Don't you see I'm busy? This must be done, and I won't deliver a poorly made sword!"

After that, you never tried that again.

He can be gone for the whole day and night while forging a new blade. It's annoying when you cannot spend the evening snuggling with your husband. 

‌BUT you are actually useful when he loses his temper! 

"Y/N-sama!"  One of the young apprentices yells, getting your attention immediately. Kids here love you since you are much nicer than Hotaru, but one of them approaching you while on duty isn't something usual.

"What is it? Did something happen?" You ask, giving the boy a soft smile.

Boy nodded quickly. "It's Haganezuka! He lost it again."

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you nod and quickly follow the boy just to find your husband held by three swordsmiths, while he's thrashing around to get free while another swordsmith stood nearby.

"What happened here?!" You ask with a frown. 

Hotaru growls. "He interrupted my work! I was almost done with the sword! Now I will have to start all over again! I'll kill you!"

You blink and rub your face, no matter how many times it happened, you still couldn't get used to it. "Hotaru. That's enough, let's go home. I will make you mitarashi dangos."

He immediately stops his thrashing around and looks at you. Other swordsmiths look at each other confused and slowly let him go.

Instead of attacking the man that took the sword, he walks to you and hugs you tightly. "Let's go. I want mitarashi dangos."

Of course, it's not the only situation like this. Things like this often happen because of his temper. Sometimes you need to resort to tickling his sides, but this ends in you dragging him back home and him later scolding you for even doing this.

‌ Since he works hard. He gets hurt.

Hotaru hates this, but at the same time he loves it. No one likes to get hurt, and he as a swordsmith sometimes gets his hands a little damaged in his work fever.

It's annoying. Wounds even if shallow still hurt and disturb the work.

Thankfully, he has you and he can always count on your help. He will not admit it, but he loves the way your palms feel against his own when you wrap his injuries.

You are a slayer, yet your hands are small and soft compared to his. Not to mention, you are always so gentle and careful while taking care of you. No one else can take care of his injuries just like you do.

"There you go," you say sweetly, tying a knot on a fresh bandage on his hand. Before he can thank you, you press a soft kiss to the injury. "I told you to be careful and to work less, but you never listen. Is it really that hard to listen just a little bit? For once?”

No matter how many times he returned home with cuts or/and abrasions, you always helped him and then scolded him. Normally he would get angry at someone for talking to him like this, but when it comes to you; Hotaru can't be mad, he actually feels oddly happy you do this. 

--------------

In summary.

Hotaru is a good man. 

Others may hate him for his slightly angry nature, but that's because no one knows him like you do, not even a village chief.

He loves you in his own way and is forever grateful for you and the fact you love him back just as much.

Some people think you may regret marrying such a man, but you truly don't. He is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you wouldn't change him for anyone else.

[lapsthings]

I flunked my math paper again so here's how I think the blue glockers will do in ascending order (no glaze)

0-49%

Zantetsu Tsurugi 🤓

Sad thing is, he genuinely tried. He really gave it his all, immersing himself in study materials for the past week to ensure he was fully prepared. You could find him studying anywhere—whether in the cafeteria, passing through the halls, or even coming out of the toilet. He went to bed the night before confidently, walked into the exam hall confidently, sat down confidently, and handed in his paper confidently. When he received his paper back, he thought the big fat zero on the front meant he made zero mistakes

Igaguri Gurimu 🤡

Whines about studying, but ends up doing it because his parents forced him to. He grumbles as he picks up his book, pumps himself up for a motivational boost, but gives up after skimming the first page. Has the audacity to complain when he gets a failing grade

Gagamaru Gin 🐨

He lives in the forest, so Goatmaru was probably never exposed to the concept of education

Just kidding, surprisingly he does go to school, but my point still stands

Don Lorenzo 🧟

Sorry, bro grew up on the streets, he never went to school 💀. He picked up some basic numeracy from Snuffy, but that’s about it. Couldn’t care less though—you don't need to know about angles to count your cash, okay?

Raichi Jingo 💥

He forgot there was a test but somehow believes he can wing it. His overconfidence is bound to crash and burn when he gets his results back

Bachira Meguru 🐝

He casually picked up his textbook, flipped through all the pages, and called it a day

Charles Chevalier 😝

If someone doesn't specifically tell him to not study, he won’t even bother. Pretends to look up how to solve equations on YouTube, but he's really just watching Skibidi Toilet

Rin Itoshi ⚽

Surprise surprise, apparently he's only fluent in English and sucks at everything else

Otoya Eita 🥷

He’s got the potential to do well, but he’s too busy having fun with girls. Stealthy enough to copy off someone without the invigilator noticing, but gets caught anyway because he forgot to change up his workings

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (post-wildcard)

He does not care 😭

Nanase Nijiro 😇

He gave his all in hopes of passing, but despite his best efforts, he fell short by a few marks :(

50-69%

Kiyora Jin 🍇🍬

He only puts in the bare minimum effort, so he barely makes the cut. Always hovering on the borderline between success and failure

Sendou Shuto 🩷

Goes like “Heh, I didn’t even study,” but the truth is he crammed everything the night before. Manages to pass though, good for him

Tokimitsu Aoshi 💪

He’s plagued by self-deprecating thoughts before, during, and after the exam. He's slightly more confident since his favorite subject is math, however his low self-esteem causes him to overthink, continuously changing his answers. Even after finishing, he’s constantly rechecking everything to avoid careless mistakes. Overwhelmed by anxiety when he gets his paper back, but lights up when he sees he got a decent grade

Aryu Jyubei ✨

He often stares at his study materials, but rarely does more than that. Instead of panicking about how under prepared he is, he’s too busy stressing over a big fat pimple on his forehead. Still ends up with a C…so not glam

70-79%

Niko Ikki 👀

He’d rather play Yu-Gi-Oh, but knows when to prioritize. He only puts in minimal effort, yet manages to get through because he’s a chad

Kurona Ranze 🦈

He sticks to recommended study methods and puts in the necessary effort, but still struggles with some concepts, resulting in a lower grade

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (pre-wildcard)

He actually studies, even reaching out to others for help when he’s stuck. Unfortunately, he forgot to double-check his work and ended up with a lot of careless mistakes

Shidou Ryusei 😈

Huh? How did he end up here?

Hiori Yo 🎮

He doesn’t invest much time in studying, usually too busy being a #gamer. Despite this, he pays enough attention in class to get a good grade

Chigiri Hyoma 🐆💗

He pays attention in class and only studies to cover what he didn’t understand during lessons. Confident in his abilities, he doesn’t spend much time preparing for exams

80-100%

Oliver Aiku 🐍

Believe it or not, he actively listens in class and is disciplined when an exam is coming up. Very chill during the test, but instead of checking his work, he’s checking out girls

Alexis Ness 🪄

You cannot tell me he’s not a teacher's pet. He pays attention in class, completes his work diligently, and can be found in the library during lunch. He has a very organized study plan, so he avoids careless mistakes

Michael Kaiser 🌹💙

He’s smart enough to decipher complex formulas, dissecting problems before arriving at solutions using his own understanding. He truly is the goat

Yukimiya Kenyu 📸

Quite literally a model student. He’s a bit like Ness, but he also participates in group studies

Barou Shouei 👑

Of course, he gets good grades—he’s the king, after all, and he doesn’t settle for anything less. When asked about his study methods, or if he actually studies, he just tells them to piss off and walks away

Isagi Yoichi 🧩

He actually studies every day for about 30 minutes. He knows the key to math is consistent practice. Politely declines any invitations to hang out until exams are over

Nagi Seishiro 💤

Bro, how? He doesn’t study, sleeps in class, never does his homework. I guess he’s just cool like that

Karasu Tabito 🐦‍⬛♥️👑

Oh, Karasu, my beautiful, beautiful…

He’s an accomplished, well-rounded student who excels in every subject, including math, thanks to his determination to avoid mediocrity. His motivation and serious approach to his studies fuel his academic success

Sae Itoshi 😐

Unlike his brother, his academic success comes naturally to him—barely puts in work, barely breaks a sweat. I think it runs in the family

Reo Mikage 💳

You'd think he hired professional tutors, but he doesn't — he’s just that amazing

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING POSSESSIVE !!! CARLOS S. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: carlos didn't need any reassurance especially when she wasn't going to be getting away from his grasp sooner or later.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni), use of explicit language, toxic-esque relationship, possessive!mean dom!carlos, double penetration + anal play, degrading, oral (m receiving) + face fucking/deep throat, impact play, brief breath play, dacryphilia

note: idk what i wrote dawg I'M SORRY 😭 enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

carlos, with all his suave and his talent, was a secured man. 

he knew that. in fact, he couldn’t find himself to care what people may think about his driving skills, or what he’s wearing, let alone his relationship status. 

but there were times when some things were slowly slipping away from his grasp. in those instances, he had to hold on tight and even pull them back where he had them. 

one of those times was during his p1 celebration. carlos turned away for a brief second to exchange pleasantries with the partygoers who approached him, thanking them and telling them to enjoy the party. 

but as soon as he turned back, she was gone. she was leaning over the bar counter as she patiently waited for her drink to be filled up. no— she wasn’t just waiting, she was giggling at whatever the hell lando was telling her. lando wasn’t even that funny, carlos said. 

the more carlos stared, the more his anger grew.

he should be blaming himself for not paying attention to her for a whole month straight, really. the woman asked for his undivided attention even if it’s just for an hour, yet he never gave her that. 

he could be blaming himself right now, with his face drenched in sweat after dancing for too long and his face red in anger and jealousy, but he chose not to head that route.

instead he decided that she should’ve behaved herself even if she had to wait for him.

carlos towered over her, his chiseled body bare and his cock hardened as he looked down at her with a mocking pitiful expression. 

her knees were burning as she knelt down on the carpeted floor of their hotel room, her body practically shaking in anticipation. she had nothing on, her arousal dripping out of her as continued to look up at him with a pleading look. 

yeah, carlos scoffed, as if that’d work this time.

carlos’ face gave her a go ahead— as if she already knew what to do. 

her mouth gaped open and she stuck her tongue out, allowing carlos to push his cock into her mouth. she forced herself to keep her hands on her back, her tongue swirling on the tip of his cock.

her mouth on his length elicited a moan out of carlos, his hands now grabbing her head by the roots. he increased his pace and moved deeper, the tip of his cock now resting at the back of her throat as she felt all of him in her mouth. 

“mi pequeña y buena puta,” my good little whore. carlos muttered quietly, hearing her breathe through her nose despite the tip of it grazing his skin. “ojalá lo supieras mejor.” i wish you knew better.

she couldn’t even utter a word, her words stuck on her throat with his cock shoving them back down. her eyes were watering as she looked up at carlos, who looked down at her once more with a smug expression.

“can’t take it anymore, bonita?�� carlos cooed mockingly, making her shake her head while she continued to get her mouth fucked.

carlos pulled her mouth away from his length, making her gasp. he chuckled quietly, “good because i’m gonna make sure you know who you fucking belong to. on the bed.”

in a typical day, she’d be stubborn enough to resist and roll her eyes at him. but she knew exactly what she had done to piss him off like this and she knew better than testing him, and so she obliged and went to the bed on all fours. 

it didn’t take long for carlos to get around and kneel on the mattress, his hand gliding down her soaked cunt as she shivered from his touch. 

“who told you to act like that?” carlos asked her firmly, his voice low and his fingers slowly prodding her cunt.

she didn’t utter a word, instead she bit her lip as she didn’t want to displease him anymore than she did earlier.

he was growing frustrated from her silence. he didn’t have that much patience for her sudden quietness, especially when her behaviour was loud enough to defy and make carlos jealous. 

she let out a loud whimper when he struck a blow to her cunt, her clit sending aroused and pained signals to her brain. 

“who?” carlos still didn’t get any answer. he slapped her cunt continuously, each slap was rougher than the last as she cried out. 

she was unable to let out a word, her brain was getting too fuzzy from each strike and each derogatory word that escaped carlos’ tone. some sinful parts of her wanted to be treated like this after a whole month of not being taken care of by the ferrari driver. that’s why she behaved like she wasn’t his back there.

by the tenth time, he pulled his hand away and watched her cunt throb around nothing. 

“still nothing?” carlos asked despite the fact that he’s not expecting any more answers from her.

she couldn’t even remember hearing him move around as she was already entering her hazy state. she was keeping her composure, yet despite all of those attempts she was driven away by his cock as he entered her fully without a warning. 

she cried out, “fuck!” her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the sheets beneath her. carlos thrusted hard, pounding her like he was stating his frustrations to her.

“you love this don’t you?” carlos growled lowly, his one hand gripping her hips while the other collected her arousal and slid two fingers in her back hole. his cock entered her cunt at the same pace as his two fingers, penetrating her until she couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“did you really think i won’t punish you for behaving like a slut?” carlos asked her, making her shake her head insistently as she cried and sobbed. tears fell down her cheeks as she felt immense pleasure from his continuous fucking. “ah, so you did it because you know i’ll be punishing you?”

“if you wanted some reminder of who owns you then you could have just asked me, bonita,” carlos crooned mockingly, his hand that gripped her hips pulled her up by the throat. he pulled her body closer, her back on his chest while he continued fucking both her holes. 

he squeezed her throat and released the pressure. he muttered in her ear, “what would everybody think if they found out that you like to be treated like a whore when i don’t give you attention, hm?” 

her mouth let out nothing but incoherent words, feeling her walls clenching around him as she whined pitifully. 

“they can see it already, bebe,” he whispered, nipping at her ear as she gasped loudly.

“so fucking tight and good for me,” carlos continued, “whose pussy is this?” 

her mouth gaped open as she tried to utter something. carlos squeezed her throat, restricting her airflow as she cried out, “yours, carlos, fuck! yours!”

“yeah?” carlos whispered heatedly, now increasing his pace as he chased her high and his. “these holes are mine, yes? no one else’s?” 

“yes- hah- fuck, yes ‘m yours,” she babbled, her voice pleading with him as her walls clenched around him.

he let out a loud grunt as his thrusts slowed, his cock still sliding in and out of her hard as both of them reached their high. her walls milked his cock, painting her insides white with his load as her legs trembled and gave up.

she knew that if she simply asked for his attention, he wouldn’t give it— he’d make some promise that he wasn’t going to follow through and he’d forget about it.

perhaps it was a great idea to remind him that some things were meant to slip out of his grasp, and that he should continue holding onto it tightly. otherwise, she wouldn’t be fucked out as she wished to be.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness

[chronic-escapixt]

Longing

post-merge!Kai x f!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, yandere, stalking, magical drugging, Kai's POV

summary ~ Kai develops an obsession with the first person to show that they care about him

Our story starts with the day that I died. Well - technically I didn’t ‘die’. But I almost did. I could feel it for weeks now: non-stop nosebleeds and night sweats turned into something much more serious than I wanted to admit. 

I could barely stand up straight when I finally dragged myself to my dear sister, Josette’s apartment. I had to swallow a lot of pride coming here. Since the make-shift merge granted me my own magic (sorry little brother) , I thought I’d never have to ask anything from any of them again, yet here I am.

Doubled over, clutching my abdomen, where every one of my failing organs fights over which can kill me the fastest, having rang the doorbell for the second time.

That’s when I hear a sweet voice behind me.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I don’t move or even respond at first because there’s no way she’s talking to me.

Then I feel her step closer, “sir..”

That’s when I turn and notice the micro-expression of shock on her face as she glimpses my sunken features and sickly pallor. Oddly enough, she doesn’t recoil away from me. She’s more concerned than anything.

“I don’t mean to sound like a stalker but I just saw you struggle the whole way up the stairs. Do you need an ambulance or could I call someone?”

She’s beautiful, okay.. like a major babe. Making it all the more embarrassing when I trip through my words. I should excuse myself because I feel lightheaded and socially deprived doesn’t even begin to describe the last two decades of my life, but I find myself flustered.

“Are you okay?” she repeats slower. She genuinely cared about my wellbeing even though it didn't benefit her at all.

I snap out of it. “yeah.. I’m fine.. just here to see my sister. She’s a doctor, so I’m hoping she can work her magic on me.. so to speak..” I try to straighten my posture, but my shoulders sag right back down pathetically. 

“Oh! You’re Jo’s brother?” 

“Yeah, we’re super close.. we’re twins actually.” 

She gives me a weird look then laughs out loud, “you’re funny.” I force a short chuckle at the expense of my aching ribcage.

It’s just like Jo to interrupt our conversation when she finally answers her door for me. 

“Kai?” she looks me over. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I thought I’d visit you since im not feeling the greatest and your neighbor here was kind enough to check on me.”

“Y/N?”

She greets Jo with a smile then turns to me.

“It was nice meeting you, Kai.” I could've died happy in that moment, watching her lips form the sounds of my name.

She continued, “I really hope you feel better and maybe I’ll see you around.”

I watched her disappear into that apartment of hers. Apartment B25, on the right side across from Jo’s. I’d learn it had a balcony that I could view from the storefront of the coffee joint across the street. 

My smile left my face when I turned back to my sister. For once in our lives, Jo actually helped me. It turns out I just needed her magic, the missing piece to complete the merge. 

Days went by and, my body felt better than ever, but my chest still felt achy. Like a weird gnawing right behind my sternum that bothered me at night and kept me up with sad thoughts. Ever since that weird crying fiasco, I started using the internet to look up these feelings I experienced based on my symptoms. Apparently, I was feeling longing.

I couldn’t ignore it for long, especially not when my memories of her face became hazy. I couldn’t remember if she had a beauty mark on her right or left cheek or that precise shade of hazel in her eyes. 

She became my obsession where all I could think about was the next time I could be around her. More and more I wanted to possess her. Keep her all to myself like a selfish child with their favorite toy. 

I learned her schedule and spent countless afternoons at that coffee shop across the street watching her come home after her classes. I found reasons, any reason at all to be in her building just so I could talk to her. 

I even told her I was a chemistry major just so I could finally get through the threshold of her apartment and smell the space permeated with her lovely cinamony scent. We’d sit together on her floor and I helped her study for her upcoming exam. Chemistry is surprisingly similar to alchemy and potions.

I’d watch her lips when she drunk her favorite cappuccino when we met up for coffee, my eyes never leaving the sight of the frothy milk left on her upper lip. 

I planned a murder when her out-of-state boyfriend decided to come visit her. Brock? Bruce? It doesn’t really matter because I made sure that asshole was out of her life for good. He was a douche anyway and she’s too pure for someone like him. It didn’t take me long to realize he was cheating on her. It wasn’t messy. I took a more refined approach and melted his brain with a simple spell before sending her every screenshot and the most brutal heartbreaking words I could think of sent from his cellphone.

Then I was her shoulder to cry on. I was the one that reassured her that she was enough. She was more than enough. She was perfect. 

I grew tired of watching her agonize over a shitty dead guy, making everything about him. So one night, when I got her drinks from the bar, I muttered a short spell to make a little potion to put her to sleep. I carried her home with me and tucked her into bed before climbing in next to her and pulling her into my chest. That gnawing was finally gone. No longer longing. I felt something else, but I didn’t care to google it because it felt so good I just wanted to enjoy it in the moment. I kissed her forehead and softly told my sleeping beauty that she was mine. 

And I’m never letting her go.

@daisy-renae @quinsly @ditzyzombiesblog

Taglist

[dwaekkicidal]

Day 3

˚ʚSeo Changbin x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Day 3 of my 1K follower celebration! Today is praise with Changbin ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k (950)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, praise kink, bin yaps a whole lot, rough sex, creampie (pee after sex pls<3), breeding mentions

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes:  i usually write bin getting praised/worshiped but ill switch it up this time around :3 also sorry if this feels sloppy, i had a bad day and couldn't proofread it as well as I wanted lol

Read the other days here!

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

It started a few months ago. You were on your knees with Changbin’s hands wrapped in your hair and his dick down your throat. It was going like usual until he got lost in the pleasure and found himself mindlessly throwing praises at you. It wasn't unlike him to do so, but the sheer amount was more than you've ever experienced. “Atta girl, Bunny. Fuuuck. You’re so good at this-” He saw the way you reacted as well as the way you were extra insatiable later that night. Changbin might be your silly little boyfriend, but he is a very attentive person. So from that day on he slowly started doing it more and more, even more so outside the bedroom.

If he caught you right out of the shower he would run his hands all over your body and tell you how much he loved it. “Bunny, your skin is so soft! You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.” Or, if he was balls deep in your mouth, he would never shut up about how good it was. “You’re doing so well, Bunny. Ahh~ You take such good care of me-” 

It was small statements, sure, but over time he did so often until the point where all his conversations with you ended in some sort of praise. You loved it! But you also hated the way it made you dripping wet and brainless the second it left his mouth. You just could never get used to it or be normal about it, no matter how hard you tried. So when you finally sat him down for a talk about it, he made a promise to always take care of you when he "accidentally" put you in that mindset. Which is exactly how you’re in your current situation: with blurry, teary eyes and your cunt spread wide open on his dick <3

“Look at this pretty pussy… All. For. Me.” He enunciates each word with a sharp thrust, hitting your G-spot directly each time and causing you to clench tightly around him. He throws his head back, groaning loudly at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. His tongue pokes his cheek and his eyebrows furrow as he pounds into you with more force.

“Keep taking this dick. Juuust like that, princess. Fuck..” His voice sounds so desperate and it does nothing but make you wetter. The sight of him is drool-worthy enough, but the way he holds you down and fucks you like a toy is enough to make you start drooling. His eyes eventually flick up to your face to check on you and he does a double take when he realizes that you’re actually drooling.

“Aw, my Princess. ‘Binnie’s dick feels too good, huh?" He bites his lip and leans forward, folding your legs into your chest. "Hmmm?~” “B-Binnie-” He thrusts roughly, cutting you off and making you gasp. “God, I love the way you say my name. Tell the whole world who gets to fuck this perfect fucking body of yours.” You throw your head back, your mind feeling foggier with each word out of his mouth.

He could tell it was affecting you and his chest inflated with pride at the fact that he was the one doing this. You were his perfect girlfriend, his pretty baby, and his sexy fucktoy. Nobody was allowed to see you like he was, and the fact only encouraged him more. His hips continued to slam against yours as you both held eye contact. He pushes his lips against yours and mumbles against them. “Gonna cum for me, Princess? You feel so perfect around me. 'Gonna make me cum too.”

He whines loudly when you pull away from the kiss, only to falter his hips when you start to beg. “B-Binnie, ‘want you to cum inside. Please! I’ve been good, Binnie, please-” His hips slow and he looks down at you with blown-out eyes. “Yeah? My pretty Bunny wants to be bred?” You nod your head frantically and grind your hips against his as much as you can, desperate for him to move faster. He sits there quietly for a few seconds as you whine.

He suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. You squeal and crane your neck to look back at him confusedly, only to be shoved into the sheets by a hand on your nape. “Oh, my sweet Bunny…” He slips inside your walls again and goes at an unforgiving pace right off the bat, desperately chasing both of your highs.

Your orgasm didn’t get the chance to fade so you cum around him suddenly, squeezing him like a vice and making him double his efforts against your suffocating walls. “You sound so fucking hot when you beg. Don’t worry, Bunny. Binnie’s gonna take good care of you.” Your nails claw the sheets and you wail into the mattress as the pleasure turns to overstimulation. He seemingly goes deeper and slams his hips against yours harder.

“Gooood girl… Gonna pump you nice n' full, maybe even give you a kit or two.” His moans pitch and his thrusts become sloppy as he starts to fill you. His previously erratic thrusts turn into meticulous, sharp ones. Ones that shove him as deep as possible with the promise of a problem for future you, as he promised. But in the meantime, present-you is too focused on the way his cum drips from you, only to get shoved back in by two fingers that curve into your G-spot.

He smirks widely. "Mmmm.. Think you need another load. Need to make sure your sexy body is thoroughly claimed."

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

[unsolvedjarin]

pleeeeeease something fluffy and domestic about jenson😩😩😩 there is not enough fics of him AND after those beautiful pics he posted i crave slmething tbh anything that has to do with him

CORNY

pairing: (jenson button x driver! reader)

summary: you and jenson finally have a peaceful anniversary, but both of you have surprises for one another.

note: i love love LOOOOVE this idea so much. saying yes any day to domestic jenson. i had so much fun writing this, hope you have fun reading it too!

content warning: none, just a lot of domesticity and once again, say it with me, my verb tenses bouncing like frogs!

“And you’re sure you can handle this?”

“She’s a three year old, what harm could she possibly do?” Fernando asks. You look at him with faux seriousness in your eyes, “A lot. You can’t even begin to imagine.”

Jenson chuckles at your antics, double checking if you had brought all the things your daughter needs for the weekend. It was you and Jenson’s anniversary, and Fernando had volunteered to take care of your daughter so you could both get away.

“You know, if you told me back in 2016 that I would be taking care of you two’s child, I would have never believed it,” Fernando remarks, looking at the three year old dead asleep in his living room.

“Why, ‘cause you can’t take care of children?” You joke. He shakes his head in response, “No, because I never thought Jenson would have the balls to make a move.”

The mentioned man looks up from what he was doing when he hears his name, not fully invested in the conversation. “Sorry?”

“I said I never thought you would have the balls to make a move on Y/N. You pine for four years and all of a sudden have a burst of confidence, I still don’t understand how you did it.”

“Well some things are better left a mystery, eh Nando?” Jenson teases, nudging him on the side. “Besides, you don’t need to know how, just that we’re here now and we’re happy.”

“Boo, corny.” You butt in, giving Jenson a playful thumbs down.

“Hey you’re supposed to be on my side, I’m defending our love out here!”

Fernando grins at your banter— it reminded him of the good old days. Back when Jenson was on the grid along with him in Mclaren, hearing his teammate constantly pine over their friend— you— who happened to be a driver as well.

Ever since he could remember, Jenson had been head over heels for you. Sure during your rookie year he had only seen you as a friend, but the years following that, there was no time Fernando can remember where Jenson wasn’t trying to grab your attention or trying to impress you one way or another.

It was astounding how you hadn’t caught a clue on just how much Jenson liked you during those days. He had even given up his so-called ‘playboy’ lifestyle back then just to impress you, but the only reaction he had ever gotten from you was “So no more free drinks for me from your hookups when we’re out? Shame.”

“Are you absolutely certain you can handle this, Nando?” You ask the Spaniard, causing him to snap back to reality.

“Please, I got this covered, trust me,” he boasts. If only he knew what chaos was in store for him this weekend.

You say your goodbyes to Fernando and give your child a kiss on the head, making sure she doesn’t wake up. Stepping out the front door, you see Jenson staring far into the distance while waiting for you.

“You alright Jense?” you ask him as you walk towards the car. He doesn’t say a word until you both get in the car and close the doors, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“Alright? I’m fucking fantastic!” he exclaims. You grin at his sudden burst of energy, shaking your head. Speaking softer this time, he adds, “This is the first weekend I’ve had all year without our kid. And don’t get me wrong, I love her very much, but I missed spending time with you more.”

He gives you a chaste kiss, pulling away to look at you with so much love. God, he could never be sick of this sight. You give him a soft smile as he adjusts to pull the car away from Fernando’s home, headed back towards your own.

You didn’t say anything as he started driving, unsure how to breach the topic you wanted to talk to your husband about. You wanted this weekend to go smoothly, after all it was your anniversary, but also because it was the first actual one on one time you’ve had with each other in god knows how long. With you still racing and him with his job, you didn’t see each other enough as much as you would like to.

Of course you were always home whenever possible, doing your part in taking care of your kid, and they always tagged along to races when they could— but to you it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were doing Jenson wrong with pursuing racing while he had to do most of the heavy lifting at home.

So you wanted to retire.

You thought it was reasonable, after all you had been racing since 2012 save for the year you stopped when you were pregnant. You were satisfied with your career and your two world championships. Sebastian Vettel had told you last year that when you know it’s time to retire you just know, and you think that time is now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jenson asked, pulling you out of your train of thought.

“Are my thoughts that cheap?”

“Okay, dollar for your thoughts then. Jesus, we really are in an economic crisis.”

“Corny,” you reply, slapping him on his shoulder with a grin.

“Ah, but you smiled.” Jenson teased. It made you roll your eyes at him fondly, “Eyes on the road you silly man.”

The rest of the trip home was spent in comfortable silence, Jenson putting his hand on your leg whenever you reached a stoplight. He claimed to have the whole weekend planned, and was seemingly very excited to show off whatever it was he had in store. You asked him a week ago if you could get a clue and the only response you ever got from him was a shrug and a simple “Well there’s no fun in that now, is there?”

Pulling up to your house, you contemplate when exactly is the right time to tell your husband you’re retiring. Not before his surprise, no definitely not, that would ruin it. But you weren’t so sure if after the surprise would be such a good idea too, especially if it would ruin the spirit of the weekend.

“Want something babe?” Jenson asks as he approaches the house bar. He had it made last year on his birthday, a gift for himself, he had said. Safe to say not a single speck of dust has been found on that countertop nor has it been left abandoned for a day since it’s been made. It was his favorite thing in the house, besides you, of course.

You shake your head to his question, instead opting to lay down on the couch with an oomph, turning on the television to see if anything good was on. “So what’s your big secret surprise plan? Can I know now?” you question Jenson, looking at him from your position.

He gives you a knowing grin in reply, moving towards you with his drink. He takes a sip of it before closing the TV so you would focus on him.

“Hey I was gonna watch!”

Ignoring your comment— because he knows you weren’t really going to— he bends down to kiss you on your forehead and mutters, “My plan, my darling,” he gives you another kiss, “Is to stay home all weekend.”

You give him a confused look.

Was that it? Was that the big thing he had planned? Not that you were complaining of course, any time spent with Jenson was good to you. But it puzzled you why he had kept it a ‘secret’.

“Confused?” he asks, giving you a knowing look as he picks his drink back up and takes another sip. “I would be if I were you.”

Now absolutely muddled, you get up from the sofa and follow him towards his beloved bar. Sitting on one of the stools, you’re unable to find the right questions and simply shoot him a look that said ‘what?’

Jenson grins, leaning on the counter so you were face to face with each other. “So, you’re probably kerfuzzled.”

You had used that term once when you accidentally forgot the word ‘confused’ and it had become an inside joke between the two of you.

“Yes, I’m kerfuzzled, Jenson. So you have nothing planned this weekend?”

“Well besides me cooking you the most delicious home cooked meals and treating you like the absolute goddess you are,” he says, inching closer towards your face. He gives you a light kiss before continuing normally, “Then no, I have nothing planned.”

“So all that buildup these past few weeks, nothing.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jenson smirks.

“You seem oddly proud of yourself for that,” you tease. While you were confused with the whole situation, you had no problem with it. A weekend with Jenson alone was everything you could’ve ever asked for, especially after a stressful season.

“I am proud of myself. Wanna know why?”

“You’re asking an awful lot of rhetorical questions today. But sure, why are you so proud of yourself, sweetheart?”

“Because,” he beams, “I have noticed that throughout this entire year, we’ve spent only two full days together, just the two of us. One of those days we spent shopping for our son’s new bed, and another one of those days was spent doing our taxes. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“We haven’t properly shagged this whole year?”

“Close, but we will circle back to that later tonight,” Jenson winks. “No, what I was trying to say is that we haven’t spent time with each other. At first I had planned a trip to Italy for this anniversary of ours, then I thought, well you’d already been there for the Monza Grand Prix. Plus, it felt like just another chore we would be doing. That’s when I had an epiphany.”

He pauses for a second, seemingly waiting for a reaction from you. Rolling your eyes, you question, “Fine, I’ll bite. What epiphany did you have o great philosopher?”

“Well I’m glad you asked. I realized that with such a travel packed schedule all year round, going on a vacation for our anniversary would be boring to you. Not only that but the travel itself would be tiring, and we would be focused on the itinerary more than our anniversary itself. Therefore, I have brilliantly concluded that the best thing I could set up this year was not only something we haven’t done in a while, but something relaxing while at the same time thoughtful. That’s why— drumroll please— my surprise is a weekend at home.”

Jenson takes a small bow after his whole speech, grinning at the way you slowly clapped for him with faux annoyance. You had to give it to him, he was spot on. You weren’t really up for any big trips on your week off, especially when that was practically what you’ve been doing the whole season.

“First of all Jense, I do actually love your plan, and I love you,” you say, giving into his antics. He smirks in reply, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m just thoughtful like that.”

“Okay, don’t push it,” you retort, but with no malice. “But my question is, why did you keep it a secret? You know you could’ve told me if we were just staying home.”

“Yes, I could’ve told you, but because I didn’t tell you, you mentally prepared for more traveling, and now that I’ve told you that we’re staying home, it feels more refreshing, no?”

Damn him and his smart mind. You forget he was smarter than he usually lets on. The media had labeled him as a himbo of sorts back then, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Well, except for that one time he nearly left the stove on before a race weekend. He still gets reminded of that everytime you leave the house.

“Wow, that’s actually impressive,” you concede, leaning back on your chair. Jenson pours you your favorite drink across the bar, despite you declining earlier. He knows that in the five minutes that have passed you’d now want a drink. He knew you too well. “You really thought this through, huh?”

“Of course I have. I use ninety-nine percent of my brain power on you.”

“Can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”

“Assuming that I use only ten percent on anything else, then it’s a compliment.”

You snicker at his joke, taking a sip of your drink. From your peripheral vision you can see Jenson watching you intently while leaning on the wall, as if it was the first time he had ever seen your face. Even as you put your glass down, his eyes still follow the lines of your lips and the curves of your cheeks, with a soft smile plastered on his own face. He seemed so…content.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say while looking at anything but him, a light blush on your cheeks you try to hide to no avail. So many years together and yet he could still make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. It was so silly.

“Like what?” he asks, despite knowing what you meant. If only you knew that you made Jenson feel the same way he made you feel, if not even more.

“Like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m looking at you like I usually do.”

“Yeah, sure. If you usually looked at me with puppy eyes and like you’ve discovered the secret to life in my eyes,” you retort, playing with your drink, still refusing to look him in the eye. Jenson chuckles, before pushing himself off the wall and leaning on the bar, using two fingers to move your chin and face you towards him. Your faces were inches apart, his soft yet smug smile still evident as he looked at your slightly parted lips then at you. “Darling, you are the secret to life.”

Jenson’s words linger for a second, before you snigger and push him off of you. He laughs too, knowing how corny what he just said was. While you were touched with what he said, you just couldn’t help but laugh at the seriousness of it all. You were well past love declarations in your relationships. Now those declarations were in the smaller things, like how he texted you whenever he saw something that reminded him of you and how you buy him books from every country you visit– also the reason you had to expand your library recently.

“God you are– ha!– you are so corny. That was worse than some of your dad jokes,” you cringe.

“I thought you love my dad jokes!”

“I love them because of how corny they are. This…this took the cake though.”

“Jeez, can’t even profess my love for you anymore without being made fun of. What has the world come to,” Jenson says sarcastically.

It reminds you of when he first confessed to you back in 2016.

“I can’t— I just can’t carry on without you knowing. Y/N, I am so hopelessly in love with you. And I know this is so out of the blue but if I spend one more minute with this secret I might explode. So please— please, Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

A moment of silence passed. The usually busy streets of Monaco felt quiet outside the bar that night. It was just the two of you.

This is a prank. This must be a prank. Snapping to your senses, you replied, “Very funny. Who put you up to this, was it Fernando? I’ll kill him. Or was it Seb? He’ll get it worse if it was him.”

Jenson rubbed his face before moving a step closer to you. “Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you. I have been, for so long. No one put me up to this but myself.”

“You’re drunk, that’s what you are. Let’s get back to the hotel,” you reasoned, to yourself more than to him. You tried to walk away but he didn’t let you, taking your hand and making you face him.

“Y/N please just listen to me I— I can’t breathe without you, I can’t sleep without you, I can’t live without you. It’s you, it always has been. I understand if you don’t like me back, in fact I’ll take it with pride but please— please don’t abandon me. Please don’t leave me with no answer.”

“Don’t do this,” you begged him. “Don’t lead me on.”

“I’m not leading you on, Y/N. I swear to you, I am not. This is real. Am I so bad?” he asked, practically near to tears. He had kept this secret for so long that spilling it all out felt so overwhelming.

“You’re not bad Jenson, god that’s not it,” you laughed ironically, as you felt your eyes water. “It’s because— oh fuck it. I love you too. I love you too, okay? I have since 2014. And I— I didn’t wanna answer you because if I wake up tomorrow and find out this was all because you’re drunk then I will be so heartbroken I don’t think I could live with it. And now that this is all out there I— I don’t know what to do.”

Your words hung there for a minute, both of you emotionally vulnerable in a random street in Monaco at three in the morning. Then, Jenson, with teary eyes, slowly smiled. “You mean that?”

“More than anything. So please, tell me you’re not just saying this all because you’re drunk.”

“No, no of course not,” Jenson quickly replied. He moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but thankfully even in his inebriated state he knew to take things slowly. Instead he hugged you tightly, holding you as if you would disappear. You hugged him back, resting your teary eyed face on the crook of his neck.

You both stood there in silence for a moment, not caring if anyone saw you, which was unlikely because of how empty the streets were. When Jenson pulled away you missed his touch, but he immediately held your hand and asked with a grin, “Well, now that that’s over with, we can go back to the hotel. Wanna take care of a drunk guy?”

You laughed, wiping away your tears. “Do I have a choice?”

“No, sorry. You’re contractually obligated to take care of me for the rest of the night and tomorrow.”

You both start walking to the hotel, the streets now seeming more lively than they were a second ago. It was almost as if the background noise had come back.

“Jense,” you started, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked. Jenson practically melted on the spot at that. “Even if you regret your decision to tell me all of that today, please promise me you won’t break our friendship.”

Jenson turned his head to you at that. Couldn’t you see just how much love he held for you?

“Even if I regret my decision— which I won’t, by the way, because I’ve been dying to say this for four years— nothing will change between us. We’ll still be friends, trust me on that at least. I’ll always be here for you. Now c’mon, it’s starting to rain.”

He pulled you by the hand, both of you running to the hotel as the rain got louder. He slept in your room that night, you didn’t do anything, he just wanted your company. The next morning he regretted nothing.

“Penny— no, sorry— dollar for your thoughts?”

Jenson snaps you out of your trip down memory lane, taking you by the hand and standing you up from the bar stool. He wraps his arms around your waist and you sling your own around his neck, sighing contently.

If there was one thing you could never be sick of, it was the way Jenson looked at you. Always, without fail, when you catch him staring at you, there’s so much love and adoration in his eyes that you feel overwhelmed with a sense of lovesickness.

You never wanted this moment to end. You wanted more of these, more peaceful and loving moments with him and also your daughter. It makes you remember the piece of news you wanted to tell him earlier.

As you both stand there in the middle of your quiet house, just enjoying the company of each other, you lean your head on his shoulder. It was now or never.

“Jenson, I’m retiring.”

He pauses his soft swaying for a moment, and you pull away to look at his reaction. He looked shocked yet at the same time calm, as if he had been expecting you to say that.

“Is that what you really want? I mean, I’m not opposed to it, but baby you still have so much left in you for racing. Shit I mean, you could even win another world championship.”

“Sure I could. Let me just catch up on Max who has a 200 point difference with me, easy peasy,” you scoff with a grin, slapping him on his shoulder. “Yes, this is what I really want, Jense. I’ve thought about it a lot and I think it’s time. I’m satisfied with how my career has gone, and I think it’s time I pulled my weight around the house and our daughter.”

Jenson raises his eyebrow at you, “You do pull your weight. Do you think that you don’t?”

“Well I’m definitely doing less than you,” you sigh.

Jenson could tell the topic was upsetting you, and he reached for your hand to squeeze it. “Darling, you do enough around the house and for our kid. Sure, I’m with her more, but that’s just because I have a freer schedule. There’s no malice in you being away for work. Plus, you make insanely more money than me, which is also part of pulling your weight. If you’re thinking of retiring just because of this, then maybe you shouldn’t yet.”

You frown, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, you promised yourself you wouldn’t. “It’s just— I feel like I’m missing out on my life, you know? On our life. I’ve been driving karts since I was four and now I’m fully grown and I’m still driving. But this— this is new. Our family. And I want to be here for it. For you.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Jenson mutters, before taking you for a hug. He holds you tightly, just like he did all those years ago, your head in the crook of his neck with tears pricking your eyes.

He holds you there for a moment, and you feel safe in his arms like you always do. Even when everything changes he’s there, and just like he promised many moons ago, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Look who’s being corny now,” Jenson mumbles into your hair after a pause of silence. It makes you giggle, and you pull away from him.

“And look who ruined the moment,” you retort. You try to walk back to the bar and get your drink but Jenson keeps his grip on your waist, pulling you back towards him. You shoot him a look but he simply grins, pulling your waist even closer to him.

“I love you, just in case you ever forget. Happy Anniversary.” He mumbles, kissing you on your nose, making you scrunch your face. Jenson thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

Taking his face in your hand, you smile at him, looking satisfied. This was it. This was everything you ever wanted and everything you could ever want. “I love you too, my everything. Happy Anniversary.”

“God, corny,” Jenson mutters, before kissing you fervently and with all the love he could muster. You feel him smile into the kiss, and you do too.

Pulling away, you sigh with a smile, content. Jenson smirks at you before commenting, “You better save some of that for tonight, darling.”

You match him with a grin of your own, “Only if you can keep up.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: double chapter day! Thank you to @alicedopey for the ask! I see you girl.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Cotton drags over tinted skin, flecks it red catching along with the new blood trickling from the split. A hiss passes through clenched teeth despite your gentleness. The act reminds you of when your daughter was only six, crying over a scraped knee as you covered it with a Spongebob bandaid. You don't have any of the yellow strips now, just the roll of gauze and medical tape.

"Ah," Nick clenches his jaw again.

"Sorry," you murmur, "it needs pressure."

You push your thumb against the cotton and he winces, forcing a smile as he crackles out a chuckle.

"I can handle it, honey," he assures you as you hold the cotton above his brow, his other brilliant eye looking up at you. "Just like you handle me so well."

You don't respond. Your boss is a mercurial man. One moment, charming, the next rigid and ignitable. You've learned it's better to just go along with whatever mood he's chosen.

"Other guy looks worse," he remarks as you lift the cotton.

You nod, "I'm sure, sir."

He laughs again, closing his eyes with a sigh. He sits reclined in one of the leather armchair, his head tilted as you tend to him. It's after midnight. You're supposed to be at home sleeping. Your daughter's coming back from college for the weekend, you planned on brunch.

You sift out the box of slender steri-strips and bend over him, carefully sealing the gash above his brow. He's a handsome man. Objectively, you must admit it. Dangerous, too, but you don't wonder about the cuts and bruises. He has a shining badge that tells you more than enough.

"Hands of a goddess," he purrs as he opens his other eye again.

You stand and gather up the waste, packing away the medkit. You thank him plainly and fight the urge to look at the clock. You wad up the used gauze in your fist.

"Sir, is there anything else tonight?"

He lifts his head, both eyes on you now. He considers you as he sits straight and grips his knees. He stands and shrugs, spinning on his heel and striding to the mirror hung on the wall, just above the low table decorated with brass and oak.

"Did I interrupt you?" He asks as he checks his reflection. His left cheekbone is purpled and scraped.

"No, I was only sleeping," you say. You try not to let on that it doesn't come easy or often for you. It's not his concern.

"Mmm," he squints at himself and winces as it tugs at his wound. "Well, you can find an extra room here, drive back in the morning."

"That's kind, sir, but I'm okay," you back up, "I'll clean this up and go if there's nothing else."

"You'll just be back tomorrow," he turns and crosses his arms.

"Um, it's my day off, sir."

He clicks his tongue and nods, "forgot."

You force a small smile. No big deal.

"Got big plans then?"

You hesitate. He doesn't usually ask. You shake your head. You don't think he really cares.

"Would you like some scotch before I go then?"

He inhales, chest rising deeply before falling again. He drops his arms and slips his hands into his pockets. One tail of his shirt is untucked and his jacket is splotched with dark stains. He is sauvely unkempt.

"Sure," he grumbles as he paces before the artificial fireplace.

You dip your chin and leave him. You toss away the garbage and tuck away the kit. You wash your hands before you return to the den and take the thick-bodied decanter from the cabinet. He stands with one hand on the mantle as he stares at the floor.

You pour him a glass and bring it to him. He accepts it without looking up. You ask him if he wants the rest left out for him. He says it doesn't matter.

You bid him good night as he resumes his pensive trance. The adrenaline slakes away and now he's coming down. He'll be in for a good sleep, a lot better than your own. You'll be lucky to get a few hours before you're due to meet Josephine.

🥃

You smile across at your daughter. Every time you see her, she seems more grown up than the last. She has a pretty flower pin in her hair and her lips are glossed the perfect shade of rose. She reminds you of your age, both in a good way and a bad way.

You don't fail to notice the other looks in Josephine's direction. Joey, she corrected you when you picked her up. The changes in her make you feel stagnant. You suppose that comes with age too. You're done blossoming, you only have the wilting ahead of you.

"So, exciting," you say as you pinch the stem of your glass, a pair of mimosas between you as you await your entrees, "you got an internship."

"Um, yeah, it's not bad," she pushes her shoulders up, "my boss is okay, I guess."

"That's good, most bosses don't earn much more than 'eh' as a rating," you kid, "sorry, kiddo."

"Mom," she warns.

"I know, sorry," you correct yourself, "I'll try not to do it again."

You remember being her age. Caught in between adulthood and childhood, not wanting to be reminded of the latter.

"It's fine," she sighs, "I just... I'm trying to be a grown-up, you know?"

"Oh, you've got lots of time for that, Miss Lawyer," you trill, "you are very grown up. You know that, don't you? I'm so proud of you."

"Still got a far way to go," she sips from her own glass. You couldn't have ever imagined your daughter with prosecco sparkling in her hand, but there she is. You almost can't believe she's yours. "Let's talk about you. That's a lot less stressful."

"Ha, but boring," you roll your eyes. "You know, same old."

"Oh, trust, I could tell by the dark circles."

"Oof, you did not," you cackle, "Josephine-- Joey."

"You should try some vitamin C cream--"

"Don't," you warn her with a point across the table.

She giggles and her eyes flit around. There's something else. Something she's not telling you. But she wants to.

"What's going on?" you prompt.

"This is such a nice place," she looks at the table and fidgets, "thanks for breakfast, mom..."

"But..." you add on.

"I... hate to ask but..."

"You need money," you utter, "that's okay. We can make it work. What's it for?"

"Books," she says, "I kinda ran out before I could buy them all, so..."

"That's okay. I'll see if I can't get a few extra hours at work then."

As if he could hear the very allusion to his existence, your phone flashes with a private caller. It's Nick. It's only ever him. You flip the phone down to hid the call.

"Take it," your daughter insists, "it's fine."

"No, it isn't. It's my day off. It's our day," you say, "it can wait."

She smiles. She's so pretty. You can't help but feel inadequate next to her; your own daughter. She's young and vibrant and you're wearing a blouse you bought a decade ago that squeezes your middle a bit too tight.

"Like I said, I'm boring," you sit forward, "tell me about the good stuff. The juicy stuff. Any boys-- or, men?"

"Mom," she snipes.

"What? I gotta live vicariously through you."

She rolls her eyes, "no."

You laugh. You always loved teasing her. She's hard-nosed and too focused to worry about the piddly troubles caused by boys. Or...

"Any girls?"

She looks at you with fire in her eyes. Ah, that's it.

"What's her name?" You goad.

"No, it's nothing. We're not even-- I mean, there's no one," she takes another gulp of her mimosa.

"Sureeee," you drag out the word teasingly, "how many more of those to spill?"

"Enough," she warns, "what about you, huh? You seeing anyone besides your soap operas?"

Now it's your turn to frown, "no," you answer evenly, "I... don't think that's in the cards for me, honey."

"Mom, it's okay," she softens her voice, "dad wouldn't... he would want you to be happy."

"Mm, he would, but he was my happy," you bat your lashes against the singeing heat. "I'm okay, really."

"You deserve someone," she says. "You don't have to be alone."

"I am alone, doesn't mean I'm lonely," you deflect. "Anyway, let's enjoy this. I don't get enough of you."

"Alright, twist my arm, I'll settle for free mimosas and a breakfast bowl," she gives a snarky grin.

You smile. She's the hope you have left. You hope that she never goes through the same pain again. One loss is enough for both of you.

🥃

Joey orders and Uber and you sidle in next to her. You clutch your phone over your purse as the haze of the mimosas fogs in your vision. You may have indulged a bit much.

Your phone shines and you look down. 'Private'.

"I see what you mean about bosses," Joey chides.

"It's not-- not a big deal," you dismiss the call.

"Mom, maybe it's an emergency," she sniffs, "he's been calling a lot."

"He's an adult, I just sweep up his crumbs," you wave her off.

Your phone lights up once more. You're starting to get paranoid. Still, you have to maintain boundaries. Today is your day off.

You exhale and sit back. You watch the city smear by and yawn. The restless night tingles on your eyelids.

Finally, you get to your apartment and slump out of the Uber. You stop as Joey helps you tip the driver with the app and you carry on into the lobby of your building. The feeling of the world passing you by lingers beyond the car ride.

Upstairs, you get Joey settled into the room you haven't changed since she left. She puts her bag on the bed and hangs out in the living room as you put on a pot of coffee. It's too early to be this tipsy. You yawn and your phone once more comes to life.

You swipe it up and tell Joey to help herself to the coffee as you sweep out of the room. You head down the hall and step into your bedroom as you answer, "Mr. Fowler."

"You're busy?" Nick asks.

"It's my day off," you say firmly.

"Yes, we talked about that."

You're quiet. Confused. You try to recall the last time he bothered you outside of work. When you're not being paid for it, you never really hear from him.

"Is something going--" you stop and suppress a hiccup. It's more dehydration than the alcohol. "On?"

"I have guests coming," he says, "thought you might like some overtime."

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry, but--"

"Clearly you're disposed," he says tersely. Is he mad?

"I wasn't expecting--"

"It's fine. It was an offer. I can manage on my own."

"Of course, sir, I wouldn't--"

You flinch as the line cuts and the call goes dead with a bloop. You pull the phone away from your face and furrow your brow. Really? He hung up on you.

You toss your phone on the bed. Whatever. Forget him. Even if you weren't three glasses deep, you wouldn't leave Joey just to kowtow to his pretentious friends.

[kels-valley-blog]

one tries to fly away: a cringefail farmer x harvey fic

first time posting fic on tumblr, so not sure what i'm supposed to be doing :D anyway i was possessed this afternoon and wrote this fic featuring @clarisinne's cringefail farmer and harvey. i liberally mixed metaphors in this fic, which i am not sorry for in the slightest.

crossposted on ao3--please enjoy!

---

Harvey divided his life in two, in much the same way a historian splits history. For the historian, the ages are separated by the death of a Galilean man. For Harvey, there was before and after her.

For both Harvey and historian, time was reckoned by the coming of a savior.

He didn’t recognize her as such right away, partly because he wasn’t entirely aware of his own misery. He knew he was sad, sure, and he distantly felt the years piling up on his shoulders. But these feelings were familiar, and he had long since stopped noticing them. He didn’t remember a time when loneliness hadn’t been his faithful companion.

(A bird born in a cage does not miss the sky.)

Harvey, for his part, had made quite the comfortable life for himself in his cage. He’d decorated it with the few joys and achievements he had. The iron wires that wrapped around his life were predictable and study. Most days, he forgot to miss his long-dead dream of flight.

She had entered his life like a fireball, a meteor burning bright against his sky. Out of control, she hurtled from the heavens, crashing against his comfortable imprisonment and crushing some of the cage bars quite badly. She disturbed him.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about being disturbed.

He had seen her, fluttering around the town, bumping into everything and always popping back up with a flushed smile. She drew his eye—a spot of color against the dark and drab world. When she burst into the clinic, braids flying and eyes bright, he had no choice but to let her in.

(Looking back, that had been the moment when his life shifted from one age to the next.)

And she was clumsy, and loud, and she seemed to slam doors more often than not, and she rattled Harvey’s world in a way that no one had before. She dragged herself into the clinic at all hours, nursing all manner of cuts and bruises and broken bones. She brought him jars of pickles and lukewarm coffee carried from the farm, and sometimes the crushed remains of a plant she’d foraged on the walk into town and shoved in her pocket. And she was kind, and earnest, and lord she was cute sometimes, and—

And oh.

That feeling was new.

(A breeze blew through the bars of the cage.)

But he didn’t get ahead of himself. He was nothing like her—he would never be. She was, quintessentially, free, and he would always be held down by something: his job, his eyesight, his own fear. What use did a skylark like her have for someone as leaden as him? 

She did not seem to care about the weight on his shoulders—or perhaps she was just not aware of it. Maybe she hadn’t yet realized that this heaviness he carried was as much a part of him as his hands or his heart, and that he would never be able to join her in her carefree life.

Well. He would enjoy this for as long as he could, anyway. It was nice to have some fresh air, after all this time. For now, he would just be as good of a friend as he could manage—try to smile at her, try to keep her from dying in the mines, try to listen when she spoke. (These weren’t hard tasks at all—with the possible exception of keeping her from dying. That proved surprisingly difficult.)

And everything was nice, once again: a status quo, maintained. Harvey knew where he stood with her. He had been lonely for so long that this new type of heartache could blend in easily enough. He was fine. He just wanted to help her, wanted to double-check that she hadn’t hit her head in the mines, wanted to make sure she didn’t have any brain injuries—

She told him that she liked him. She ran away.

(The door to the cage cracked open, just a bit.)

And they didn’t fall in love right away, which didn’t surprise him—but she didn’t realize her mistake either, which did. She was just as awkward in courtship as she had been in every other aspect of her life, and she still carried with her that wild energy that always made his heart beat a little faster. What was a man supposed to expect from someone like her? How could he predict the way the wind would turn next?

They went on a date, and she fumbled over her words. She looked at him, sometimes, like he was worthwhile, and that made him feel all sorts of funny—like he was tumbling from a great height and wasn’t quite sure when he would land. 

He quite deliberately didn’t let his mind wander to their future—the worst thing he could get right now was false hope. For all he knew, she would soon come to him, tell him that she was sorry, but he was just too boring and sad and cloistered, and she had a whole life ahead of her. She would fly away, and he would stay here.

Then she tackled him, and she crushed a bouquet into his arms. She choked out a half of a garbled question and then promptly hurled into the grass beside him.

Well. If Harvey hadn’t been in love before, he certainly was now.

And that was the feeling, wasn’t it? That creeping sensation of warmth that had plagued him for months now. It was love, plain and simple. He was so unused to it that it had been hard to identify. And yet, there it was, stubbornly spreading its wings.

(For the first time in a long time, he let himself look beyond the bars that surrounded him.)

She hovered there, nervously within reach and clearly fighting the urge to run away. And yet he dared to hope that she might truly feel the same—that she might love him, in her way. That perhaps, she was just as scared as he was.  She didn’t know it, of course, but she had been the first one to truly reach out to him in so long—that freckled, calloused hand held out like a lifeline, to pull him up out of the fog that hung near the ground. 

He was frightened, sometimes, by the sheer intensity of his feelings. It was a lot for a man to handle, especially one like him, unaccustomed to how happiness felt. The brightness blinded him sometimes. 

He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

By this point, he had recognized her for what she was, and understood that nothing was going to be the same from this point out. Even if she did decide that it was all over, he would be better for having known her. He wouldn’t be able to go back to the cold metal of his containment, not knowing that there was a whole world just beyond. 

And then, in the absurd twist that he should have come to expect from his life, she took it into her head that he was leaving her (as if he wasn’t head over heels for her, as if he hadn’t been for months.) She poured out a litany of fears and insecurities, a deluge of pent-up pain that didn’t give him a chance to speak against the onslaught. She stood toe to toe with him, and she challenged him to tell her exactly how he felt.

He answered with his lips against hers.

(The cage shattered around him when she kissed him back.)

Harvey soared.

fin

[condenhorn]

short, insecure m!reader + tomas

content: NSFW, fluff, HUUUGE praise kink, tomas has a cunt, idolization, implied slow burn, OOC for tomas(?), hung reader

a/n: found out that tomas was 6’0-6’2 in the older games so i wanted to do something. sorry in advance bc i didn’t double check spelling and grammar before posting…enjoy!

enrolling to be a part of the lin kuei was difficult, especially since majority of them doubt your ability and presence because of your unfortunate size circumstances, but tomas gave you the benefit of the doubt from the beginning. that’s how you grew to adore him.

though you certainly had the strength, you were not the best at stealth, giving their location away was a definite feature that made bi-han angry and kuai liang disappointed. but with practice from tomas, it was much less of a problem.

putting your damnest into missions to make tomas proud. to the point where you overloaded yourself to take care of everything. and that was the last thing tomas ever wanted. for you to burn and stress yourself out over the missions because of first impressions.

to the point where he had to beg bi-han to stop giving you missions for a while until you got yourself together. while he knew that you could handle your ground, it still doesn’t equate to him nearly having a panic attack when you got injured one day and didn’t wake up until hours later.

dabbing the blood off your arms, bandaging your scars, spreading hydrogen peroxide—for it to burn like hell— but it was reassuring. warm. his hands rough and calloused, but they were tender as he nursed you back to good graces. sayin that he was proud of your work but you had to calm down before you kill yourself. and with those eyes, how could you say no?

and you notice that each time he has to stitch you up, he pats your head or shoulder as a sign of encouragement. that you’re still kicking at the end of the day, and that alone was enough to keep you going. to get stronger and better.

begging to spar with either of the brothers. with tomas willing to help you out all the time with a sweet smile. and that’s how your adoration soon turned into a crush. that you were doing the best you can and improving as much as you can. and tomas was your cheerleader through and through.

one day while he was tending to you again after getting an arrow to your side during a mission, he patted your head, saying that you did a great job and that you shouldn’t stress about it.

you were down in the dumps because this was the umpteenth time this week that you’ve gotten injured during a mission and it has taken a dig at your self confidence and worth. being shorter than average is enough trouble even outside the lin kuei but messing up constantly was worse.

on the verge of breaking down, you hug tomas, startling him as you press your face against his chest and nearly lifted him up in the air from how tight you held him. muttering that you’re forever grateful for him. that you want to get better for him. so that he doesn’t have to worry about you anymore, much as he is now.

tomas’s body was growing hot under your touch, stiffening with shallow puffs. but he still continued to pat your head as you held him close for what seemed to be a lifetime, a relieved breath from him as he cards his fingers through your hair, rewording his praises to bring you more motivation.

since then, there’s been a tonal shift in your relationship. tomas was open to hugging you more often, you notice that he presses your head between his pecs each time he does which doesn’t make your crush on him any better. in fact it makes it worse. hearing his heartbeat felt forbidden oddly.

or oddly enough as his brothers has to point out how long tomas held you for. making him clear his throat, saying sorry, and suddenly breaking the hug apart which left you feeling empty. your eyes betrayed as he walked off to train with the brothers eyeing you, both getting a jist of what’s going on. bi-han rolling his eyes and kuai liang with a shit eating grin, you now shutting down every question they ask.

you’ve had enough, the crush made you distracted during spar sessions and potentially missions when tomas was close by. he was racking your brain in a good and bad way. it hurt. and you know it’ll hurt when you finally confess your feelings to him, expecting nothing to come out of it.

but when you see his eyes widen and his body stiffened, suddenly there was a sign. a subtle but clear sign as his eyes started to avoid yours. fingers tracing over his weapon.

you asked him how he felt and he was unable to respond, seeing that his cheeks grew hot under his mask confirmed it. but you still wanted to hear it. hear from tomas that he wanted you as much as you wanted him until he confirmed your suspicions.

and now you were definitely giving it your all in missions as to not mess up. because afterwards was time with tomas. and that’s time that can never be replaced. though you do get injured now once in a while—which still takes a dig at your self worth—you understand that it’s a part of being human and what makes you human; trial and error.

and trial and error it was since the thought of fucking tomas was awkward. you were nervous about hurting him or not satisfying him enough. but when tomas saw your cock for the first time, his cunt throbbed from how long and thick it is. guessing what you lack in height makes up with your cock because damn, was he wishing for you to confess earlier than you did.

tomas was more than willing for you to fuck him but you refused, sticking to eating him out and rubbing one out before going back every time. and each time this happened, tomas grew more and more desperate.

his cunt was begging, aching for it. even insisted on teasing you with his dripping cunt before you shot him down again and again and again. but little did he know that it was chipping away at your walls when he spread his pussy and looked at you with somber eyes once you had him come in your mouth, wishing, pleading for a tease of your cock. anything. even allowing him to suck you off was something. but you refused all.

with a time crunch—having a mission in fifteen minutes with bi-han on the prowl—tomas took his chance and pulls you into the nearest bathroom available, stripping his shirt while slotting his lips with yours.

he pushes you onto the toilet, making you see as he strips himself of his pants for him to reveal his dripping pussy, his shirt hanging off his upper limbs. eyes trailing down to your lingering bulge.

before you could have the chance to protest, he was already pulling your pants down, your cock slipped out of them proudly and twitched with tomas’s breath grazing. cursing yourself, you refused him at first, saying the same things you said beforehand but tomas shut you down quickly, saying that it wasn’t fair that you satisfied him but he couldn’t do the same to you.

muttering that he wish he could suck you off, tomas hoped for a next time as he hovered over your cock, your tip gliding against his folds prior to him sinking on your cock. choking on his breath as he held your head close to his bare chest, whimpering from how you filled him. stretching him out over your dick muddled your mind of any regrets you had of fucking tomas, his walls practically clinging onto your cock.

once his thighs were flushed with yours, tomas was shaking, his heart quickening had you asking if he was okay, rubbing his backside. to his reply whining that he underestimated how big your cock was and he was on the verge of cumming.

but tomas’s cunt tensing around you was agonizing to say the least when you fuck into him slowly, hearing his pleas and wants for you to go faster, that you were doing a good job with him moving with you.

and that kept you going at an all time high with tomas squirted over your thighs and cock not even a few minutes in, the sounds of your dick fucking into tomas grew louder, the latter slumping his head against the crook of your neck to muffle his cries.

don’t stop. oh god, don’t stop, tomas babbled continuously. his legs giving in had you hoist him up, prying apart his asscheeks and fucking into him effortlessly. chasing that high, wanting more of tomas’s praise. balls slapping against ass, tears wetting skin and legs quivering with tomas’s desperate mewls.

with your cock twitching inside of him, tomas squirted a second time, his juices coating your cock again while contracting your cock to cum inside him already. grunts and groans as your pace fastened. zoning in on the tight, wet walls surrounding your dick.

for the final time, you rammed inside tomas and came, wet hot stickiness filled deep inside tomas with him barely able to muffle his screams. heart beating out of his chest while you rubbed his sides to cool him down, kissing his neck had him shiver under your touch and whimper that it felt too good.

you guys definitely got your asses handed to you after you arrived thirty minutes later than you’d hoped, bi-han endlessly scolding the two of you and having to train overtime.

at least you’re not compensating for something, but you do learn that the more you stay, the more people welcome you for who you are as a fighter. though they did doubt your abilities at first, tomas is your number one backer, your first supporter through and through.

and tomas loves to give you a reward for each mission you complete, so that’s something to look forward to <3

[thatfreshi]

Hiya, I love your writing style! This is more inspo than a request -- but you know how there's posts floating around about how Astarion's disdain for heroics and good-alignment characters is really a reflection of his feelings about no one ever helping him or rescuing him? What if Tav worked that out and said, "I'm sorry I took so long" -- or something to that affect 👀👀

I imagine this takes place in act two, but before you meet Araj

tw - gore

Recommended Song: Your Power - Billie Eilish

You woke up to a startled shout in the camp, somewhere to the left of your tent. You're not necessarily a heavy or light sleeper, but this would've woken anyone up. There was a fight somewhere, and soon after you realized the shout came from Astarion. Sure he could be mouthy, but loud? It's not really his thing. You grab a knife from beside your bedroll, off to investigate the sudden kerfuffle. When you get there though, Astarion has handled the camp intruder, who is now lying dead on the ground. He doesn't notice you at first as he investigates the stranger's bags, looking to see if he had anything of importance.

"Are you alright?"

Your voice sends shivers up his spine. He's not used to kind questions, at least ones without poor intentions.

"No, I am dead and splayed all over the grass Tav. Shame you didn't help me fast enough! Guess you're not so great at playing hero all the time."

At first, you read this as his normal shitty banter, but there's a spite behind his words, bile.

"Did he-"

"Nope, didn't do anything, I am fine! You may go back to sleep now and dream of all the damsels in distress you haven't found yet."

You take a couple steps closer, worried about how closed off he's being, worried he's hiding something from you. Although, that wouldn't be rare of him.

"Oh what, you think I didn't kill him? Do you need to double check? Here's some proof."

Astarion then plunges his dagger into the chest of the dead man a couple more times, clearly tense. He doesn't unhand his blade after, and simply meets your eyes.

"I can handle a spare rogue. Now, leave me be."

Anxiety bundles in your chest.

"I... you seem unwell."

He scoffs.

"It's you that's made me so unwell, so if you want to sit there and be concerned, perhaps you should look in the mirror."

Where was this coming from? You take a couple more steps, and he turns his blade on you, standing to meet your stance.

"Lower the dagger Astarion."

"Or what? I've been through hell already, what can you do?"

"I don't want to hurt you, and quite frankly I don't know why you'd want to hurt me. I've only ever protected you, assisted you in how many fights, helped you how many times!"

"And that's precisely it. You pass along a silent helping hand, sit there and listen to my woes, pick me up off the ground when I'm wounded, and for what?"

You're taken aback. What kind of question is this? Who would ask something like that?

"Because I care!"

"No. Because you want something from me. That's how it always goes, right? I fall into some peril and a kind creature says, 'oh you poor thing, I'll keep you safe,' and then suddenly I am trapped. No, you won't fool me. Kindness is a means to an end, and I will not be that end again."

Your argument has now woken up everyone in the camp, a few souls rubbing their eyes and wondering why you're yelling this late.

"What would I want from you Astarion? We all want the same thing, the tadpoles gone, the Absolute destroyed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I don't know how you don't see that!"

"Then why sleep with me at the party?"

He has now officially aired your business out to the entire camp, but no one says anything. You think about the question, wondering what he could possibly mean.

"I... I slept with you because you offered and I thought it would be fun, and-"

"And what? Because you wanted to hold something over me?"

"No! Because I... because I think I'm falling for you."

Astarion is frozen for a moment, because you seem like you're being genuine right now.

"You know I've used those tricks on everyone in the book, right? Thousands of people have gotten the 'I love you' spiel, you're not special."

A few tears come to your eyes.

"No, it's not that. You say pretty things, sure. But there's something about you, your voice, your eyes... you're, comforting. And when you said you wanted to have sex I figured it might be my only chance to be that close with you, because you're so damn guarded. I guess I was right."

He sheathes his dagger.

"I know you're not used to people being nice, but I like being nice! Especially to you. I know you're trying to keep yourself safe, I don't blame you, but what's the point in freedom if you don't try to use it to live a little?"

Astarion meets your eyes again, tearing up a little.

"The second I drop my guard, I'll have the rug pulled out from under me, the other shoe will drop Tav. I'm not going to take the chance that you're that other shoe."

You try to close the gap between the two of you.

"But wouldn't it be so freeing to just try? You know I see it right? Those little smiles that cover your face when you think I'm not looking. Why can't we just try?"

You try to reach out for his hand, and he hesitates.

"It would be so easy for you to use me."

"I'm telling you I won't, I promise."

"Promises are often empty in my experience."

You try to catch your breath, wiping the salty streaks off your face. When you're ready to give up and tell him to forget you ever said anything, he takes your other hand in his.

"But maybe... just maybe you're right. Trying, it does sound nice to try."

You hold yourself back from squeezing his hand, not wanting to scare him off from the interaction.

"I know you think my whole do-gooder thing is a ploy, and I'm sorry that you've been lied to, but not everyone promising salvation is out to get you. At least I'm not, and I'm here now. I'm here now."

For so long, you wanted to reach out to his heart like this, feel something real with him. You go to wrap yourself around him slowly, and soon after, he reciprocates the embrace. Astarion doesn't say anything, and just sobs into your shoulder. You move your hand to his hair.

"You're free now, it's okay."

The audience hasn't seemed to leave, shocked by the rather tender moment they've witnessed from their tents. You catch a glimpse of Wyll crying a little at the scene. When Astarion removes himself from your side, he wipes at his eyes.

"So now what? Emotional vulnerability isn't really my thing you know."

You both laugh a little.

"Whatever we want I guess, whatever feels right.

"And if I... don't know what feels right?"

You smile.

"Then we'll figure that part out together."

[mudzdale]

for anyone who may be interested in creating a Habitdoll of their very own... here is, to the best of my ability, the organized pattern that @nottodaylogic has so kindly requested & patiently awaited (':

notes & instructional thoughts below the cut! (read: this is a freaking essay. good gog. i am so sorry)

--

each of these images is meant to be 1 printer page each. i included a line on the 2 habit parts so they could be cut out & matched to each other at that line, to achieve his full size. obviously you, the dollmaker, are welcome to resize & readjust as you see fit (:

i included 2 versions of his upper body - one with the smaller head size i used, and one with the larger head i wish i had used. please choose whichever you prefer at your own discretion. the smaller head certainly isn't bad - that's why i still have my first draft doll! but to my eye the larger head is preferable.

--

i included my clothing patterns which i adapted from Chelly Wood, legendary creator & distributor of free patterns for doll clothes. they are not perfect translations to the Habitdoll's cartoonish body plan, of course, but imo they serve the intended purpose decently enough. if you wish to use these patterns i've adjusted, please see Miss Chelly's video tutorials for the pants and the coat (that said, please take the coat pattern in particular with a grain of salt - obviously we are not adding a hood, piping, etc., but it should help with the overall construction of the garment).

i also did not add a lining to his clothing, or any other part of this plush, because i worked exclusively with NO-PILL FLEECE - i found it too thick to be worth adding any kind of lining to, but of course your mileage may vary if you use a different fabric, etc (: follow your heart!

his shoes are of course just his foot pattern, only a little larger - be sure to hem the tops! they are falling off all the time, however; if you do not plan on changing his clothes very often, you may consider tacking them onto his ankles with a couple of stitches. i did not want to mess around with buttonholes, so his coat is just closed with some velcro.

the trim on his coat & pants... i added them by sewing folded rectangles onto the inner hem of each piece. this is probably cheating, but i don't care. please double-check the length of your navy parts before adding the blue, to make sure the lining adds the appropriate amount of length - trim (as in cut) the navy as needed before you hem!

--

of course, if you wish to skip this mess entirely and cut out simple, 2D clothing patterns, chuck jones' grinch style...

that is also perfectly valid! definitely way easier to do. good gog, the challenges i faced with this clothing.

--

as i noted in my first Habitdoll post, making habit's face pieces with felt is the wiser thing to do. however, i haven't had any issues with the raw edges on his fleece coming apart yet... select your fabric at your own discretion, but i definitely recommend felt.

his eyes are created by cutting out the eyeline+eyelashes in black, then layering the orange eye on top of that, and then layering the black pupil on top of that!

--

Habitdoll's hair construction was VERY TRICKY. i am so sorry i cannot provide detailed guidance here. as you can see on the pattern, i extended what would be the curve of the head pattern so i could drape my first piece over his head, and pin down the darts i found from there. then i just sewed down the darts, trimmed the excess fabric away to follow the curve of his head, and then did the same with the 2nd hair piece.

after making sure the 2 pieces matched each other, i sewed them together partially, then sewed them to his head. i recommend really stuffing his "hairline" so it stands tall and gives you the space you'll need to attach the bangs.

and speaking of his bangs, my final sin... i did not provide a pattern for the ones i actually went up going with because they were a combination of freehand & experimental luck (you are welcome to try something with the one i Did include in the pattern, if inspiration strikes you).

to recreate what i Actually did for the left ones, i believe i traced a quarter for the smaller circle, and then something else - maybe a bottlecap? - for the larger circle. cut 2 of each of these, sew together, & invert. stuff them both, close them up, then stitch a spiral into each - see me with questions if needed 😅 attach to his hairline with a ladder stitch.

his right bang was a total crapshoot. i don't know if i can explain how to recreate it - hideously embarrassing, my apologies ): i just took a cut of scrap fabric, then folded it in half and stitched it shut... curled up the large end, stitched that so it stayed curled, and then ladder-stitched it onto the hairline. obviously you may headcanon his hairstyle completely different from me, so my hope is you can find a different way to give him that hair if needed. again: i am so flipping sorry. i am happy to help problem-solve if needed (':

--

these patterns do NOT include any kind of seam allowance. please add at your own discretion - i prefer to just eyeball them as i cut the fabric, myself. i alternated using whip stitches and running stitches as needed throughout the project; i trust the user of this pattern has enough experience to judge which is best. however, if you have questions or feel you need guidance on any parts, you are welcome to send me an ask or DM, and i will do my best to assist! (:

thanks for your patience!

[lalal-99]

of dirty cheats {h.j.} | track 6

©July 2023, June 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: The one where you're hungover and visit home.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: Aaaand, I'm back! I'm sorry for the long wait, but if you've kept up with my life, there's been so many things going on... Anyway, this chapter concludes the overwork of previously posted chapters, and the next one will be brand new. I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please leave comments and reblogs. They always encourage me so much!!!

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

You woke up the following day with the sun shining in your face and your head spinning.

Nausea overtook you within seconds, so you rushed one hand to your temple in an attempt to massage the pain away. It lifted some of the discomfort while also shielding your irises from the light, but it was hardly enough. Every effort to get up got cut short when you noticed Jisung’s arm snug around your waist, holding you close. It took you a couple of seconds to untangle one arm and reach for your alarm on the bedside table.

7 am. You shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.

Five more minutes of dozing and some careful wriggling later, you sat up, taking a moment to asses your state. The initial urge to throw up subsided once you came to a standing, although you still moved with care. It wouldn’t have been the first time, your initial assessment was completely off.

Your whole body was in a state of freezing, even once you had gotten dressed. Slipping yesterday’s clothes back on, you snatched one of your boyfriend’s hoodies, so you wouldn’t catch a cold on your way to your place. Also, your mini-skirt was too mini to be considered everyday attire. The length of the hoodie would shield most unwanted attention to your exposed legs.

Worry spread in your veins when you noticed Felix’s empty bed while gathering your belongings.

After the party Jisung and you had decided to sleep over at his place for convenience. It was distinctly closer, and you needed to get him into bed sooner rather than later. Which turned out to be tougher than expected. He had quite a lot to drink as the night progressed, so you stayed with him. Felix hadn’t made it home after your run-in in the bedroom back at the frat house, and his absence filled you with concern. He couldn’t have been avoiding you on purpose, could he?

“Baby?”

You turned to your hoarse boyfriend, whose eyes remained shut as he searched for your body next to him.

“I’m here. You alright?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in two hours when I’m all caught up on sleep.” After about 4 hours of actual rest, you weren’t doing much better than him on the tiredness scale. Still, you were up, and he— wasn’t.

“You’re not going to your class this morning?”

A sarcastic chuckle and Jisung rolled over, pulling the blanket deeper into his face.

“Can you close the blinds before you leave?”

You did so after slipping into your shoes. It annoyed you that Jisung was skipping class—this habit being one reason his grades had suffered back in High School. Yet, there was nothing you could truly do about it. He was in no state to tend to anything but his sleep deprivation, and you knew how he could get when overtired. After all, you were driving back home later today. You figured he would be less annoying once he had caught up on at least some of his sleep.

“I’ll be back at 10 to pick you up. Can you be ready by then?”

“Sure.” You knew there wouldn’t be a further answer, his mind already dozing off again. You left the room to be on time for your own morning lecture. One of you had to be responsible, after all.

The morning progressed so slowly, it was painful.

By the time you reached your class, you had somewhat woken up. A very intended goal, achieved by two double shots of espresso and a cold shower. Although your headache never truly left you, you made it through the first two hours of the day. Turned out, Jisung wasn’t the only one skipping morning classes today. About a third of the chairs in the lecture hall remained empty, thanks to Jackson and his gift of throwing amazing parties.

Unfortunately, that third also included Yuqi. Without her and her endless chatter about the latest trends or her latest crush, it was harder to stay awake. You must have dozed off half a dozen times, so you might as well have stayed in bed after all.

The anticipation of home was the one things that helped you power through. It had only been about two weeks since your move, though you already missed your family like crazy. This, by far, was the longest time you had been away from them. Ever. The thought of walking your hometown streets again was the light at the end of the tunnel— in this case Macroeconomics 101.

You must have mentioned your excitement about visiting home countless times to Jisung. So, why was it that when you reentered his dorm three hours after leaving, he hadn’t moved at all?

“Dang it, Jisung, you said you’d be ready by 10.”

“Why are you mad? I’m perfectly on time.”

“It’s 10:05, and you are still in bed. Unshowered.”

“I’m getting up already.” Your annoyance rubbed off on him, his tone raspy from alcohol, lack of sleep and irritation. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Said panties, mind you, the same ones he couldn’t wait to get into the night before. He definitely hadn’t sounded so frustrated at you then.

You suppressed a scolding reply, aware of how it held power to start a full-on fight, making you even less on time. It took a lot of willpower to push the urge to confront your boyfriend about his choice of words down.

Stumbling out of bed, Jisung picked up some fresh clothes and his shower gel, before leaving with mumbled sounds of disapproval. A heavy reek of sleep and alcohol veiled the room despite the open window, so you moved closer to it. The nausea, yet again, vanished.

You ran your hand down your tired face, letting your bag fall onto his sheets.

“Is he always in a mood when he’s hungover?”

You sighed, “It’s really frustrating.”

Felix nodded, letting his phone fall onto his pillow. You could feel his eyes lingering on you, lip caught between his teeth and his leg bouncing, restless. It didn’t take more than a glimpse from your peripheral vision to identify his mood. Tired, nervous. Anxious. Of course, you knew what he was biting his tongue about. Remembering his shock and angst when you had walked in on him yesterday, it surprised you, he even spoke to you. And you were even more surprised when he was the first to mention it.

“Y/N?” You met his glances with a kind smile, leaning up against the wall. “I wanted to talk to you about something. About what happened— yesterday, actually.”

“You mean when I walked in on you?” His earrings dangled along to his nod. You swore you heard his heart pounding through his chest.

“I was wondering... If you— whether you saw—” He struggled to find the right words to voice his question before giving himself a push. “Exactly how much did you see?”

“Well,” you started, getting up and walking over to his bed to join him. Having this conversation with him called for physical proximity. “I saw you in bed. Naked, and with someone. With—” You cut yourself off, sending him a comforting smile. Felix’s face was about as white as fresh snow. By the time you ended your sentence, fear clouded his irises, “A boy.”

A tear slipped out of his eye and into his lap as he stared at his hands. He was avoiding your gaze, so you brought your hand to his back, rubbing him through his shirt. Hopefully consoling him. You could feel his shallow breaths become steadier, so your comfort must have worked in some ways.

It took him a few more deep breaths to speak up, your silence helping him voice his thoughts.

“I haven’t really told anyone. Ever.”

When he turned to face you, you saw a hint of dread in his eyes. As though he was expecting a negative reaction to his revelation. Or that you’d out him to everyone. Had it been anyone else, that assumption would have hurt you. Though you figured this reaction was only fair, coming from him. He barely knew you. He couldn’t have known how unreasonable his fear was.

“How long have you known?” you questioned, trying your best to not overstep the boundaries. To help him understand how you wouldn’t feel any different about him because of what you saw. What you now knew about him, as apparently the only person on earth. Well, apart from that guy he had been with the night prior. He must have figured from contextual clues.

“Honestly, I always sorta knew. But I only started accepting it a few months ago. I tried dating girls for years, but it never felt right. The guy from yesterday... He was kind of—” Felix stopped again, trying to find the right words. “He was my first guy.”

“Oh, honey!” You pulled him into your chest, your hands wrapping around his body. Felix soon hugged you back, holding on so tight your shirt wrinkled. As though he had needed this hug more than anything. It lasted for a couple of seconds, maybe even a minute, tears hitting your shoulder and drying on your shirt. “Thank you for telling me,” you mumbled against his skin. The burden of keeping his secret hidden fell from his shoulders with every tear.

“Thank you. For accepting me.”

“Of course.” As you drew away, he wiped the tears from his cheeks, eventually calming down. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I should tell my family first, but I’m afraid they won’t take it as well. They don’t really— believe in this stuff.”

“Well, you can always come to me when you need someone to talk to.” You shared a moment of eye contact, smiling at each other. “Now to the important stuff. Who was the guy?”

Chuckling at your question, Felix took a tissue from his nightstand, blowing his nose. When he met your gaze, you saw a spark behind the watery curtains. “It’s this guy from my Psychology class. We never talked before yesterday. But then we shared a moment and somehow— I don’t even know how, but one thing led to another. Kinda like in the movies.”

“Damn, that sounds like straight from Hollywood. Was he any good?” Judging from Felix’s suggestive expression, eyebrows raising and eyes gleaming, you could tell his answer. “I take that as a yes. Well, I’m very happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have minded some further details on last night. Whether Felix would be seeing the guy again outside of classes. Or whether he even wanted to or rather explore his options, now that he had the opportunity. Felix, too, seemed eager to finally have someone to talk to about this.

It was the creak of the door thrown open that stopped your conversation. Jisung rushed in, hair wet from his shower, fresh clothes clinging to his moist skin.

When he noticed your proximity, Felix’s eyes reddened, Jisung’s eyebrow quirked. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing,” you replied, sending Felix a wink as you rose from his bed. “Are you ready?”

“Two more minutes. I need to pack some things.”

“Are you kidding me? I told you to pack your stuff two days ago.”

And just like that, your mood suffered another hit, although you tried to not let it affect you too much. When Jisung started throwing random items onto his bed, you sent Felix a sarcastic eye-roll. He couldn’t help a relieved grin from spreading, the Mount-Rushmore sized rock finally lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, since you’re already pissed, I might as well tell you now.” What an awful way to start a sentence. “I’m not sober enough to drive yet. So, you’re gonna have to get us home.”

Not the easiest task with your brain still thumping against your skull, but at least Jisung could help you stay awake.

When you were younger, you used to be embarrassed by where you lived.

You had always felt bad for your privilege. Guilty even, seeing none of your friends lived a life close to the one you had. Most of your friends lived in small and run-down apartment-complexes, confined to little space and sometimes even sharing a bedroom with several siblings. Blame the recession that had taken its toll on their parent’s income.

It mostly seemed like they had made due with it, finding their content in it. It was still uncomfortable whenever you invited anyone over to your place.

You felt the worst about growing up rich when you met Jisung.

His dad had left the family when he was seven. His mother stranded alone in an apartment she couldn’t pay for and with two children she hardly had the money to feed.

She already worked one full-time job when his piece-of-shit father left. She needed to pick up another part-time one just so they could afford their most basic needs.

By age ten, Jisung supported his mother’s second job, cleaning the houses of the rich and wealthy on weekends. With his sister in a time-consuming gifted program—paid for by a scholarship—he had no other choice. Jisung needed to put his own interests behind if he wanted to keep the roof over their heads. Being the sweet son he was, he did exactly that. Without a single complaint about the afternoons his friends spent hanging out at the mall or enjoying their hobbies.

When you invited Jisung over the first time, your friendship only weeks old, you felt ashamed. He lost control over his facial muscles, his jaw slacking when he saw the entrance of your house. He almost passed out when you showed him your new Nintendo in your room. Jisung forgot all about the expensive gaming console once he realised you didn’t have to share it. Neither your toys nor your room, which already took up the space of his whole apartment. A Queen sized bed occupied the middle of your room, and still left enough room for a motherland of games.

It wasn’t until Jisung invited you to his apartment, that you fully understood his mesmerisation with the simplest things in your house. Like the fridge, which was taller and broader than the two of you combined. Or your couches—plural, not singular.

You tried hard not to let your pity show while meeting his mother and sister. You feared you’d say something to offend them, making them feel bad or appearing like a snob. Needless to say, you didn’t talk much that afternoon.

Jisung never once gave you any reason to feel any more guilty than you already did. He assured you time and time again that you had nothing to be ashamed of. You had your own hardships, your own problems. And his family was doing fine. He couldn’t remember a time not sharing all their meals at a tiny table or sleeping in the same room.

Nothing about that changed when you fell in love at 14, two years after meeting.

Still, that same guilt knocked down your self-esteem whenever you passed the mansions of your street in Jisung’s rusty, old car.

Your boyfriend had slept through the whole two-hour drive from campus to your home. It had annoyed you in the beginning as you had hoped to get some time to talk. As your carefully crafted playlist progressed, all annoyance faded into the air. Plus, speeding down highways and crawling through neighbouring villages made you nostalgic. By the time you arrived home, Jisung had caught up on his sleep and you were beaming in excitement.

Your dad was already waiting for you, ever so happily smiling as he hugged you.

“I’m happy you��re home,” he mumbled against you as he pulled you in. His statement wasn’t needed with how visibly content he was, having his only daughter and future son-in-law back.

“I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”

“We,” Jisung corrected, nodding to your dad. “We missed you.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here. Brunch is ready as soon as you are.”

At the mention of food Jisung’s stomach rumbled, sending him into a laugh.

“He’s ready, too,” your boyfriend translated the sounds as you placed your bag beside the door.

The TV played in the living room, overshadowed by the juicer-sounds in the kitchen. The smell of fresh oranges filled your nostrils, your mouth watering as you stepped through the doorway.

“Is that orange juice I smell?”

“Y/N!” The young woman jogged around the island, pulling you into a bone-crashing hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, Jia.”

“What about me?” Jisung questioned, taking over your space once Jia let you out of your hug.

“I missed you too, but a little less.”

“Wow. Thanks, sis.”

“So, how’s university? Tell me everything.”

Jisung did. He told his sister all about his dorm, new friends and courses he visited. All the while, you only had one ear with them. The other was searching the attached dining and living area. Soon enough, your eyes joined as you wandered the lower floor of your house. You identified a pair of tiny dinosaur-themed socks discarded on the coffee table. The couch stood buried under plastic toys and books, a children’s show playing on the flatscreen.

When you found the rest of the room empty, you exited the living area altogether. As soon as you set foot into the hallway, you finally heard a familiar voice call out to you. Your head turned and you found a small figure running towards you. Quick reflexes came into play when he all but jumped into your arms, making your heart jump through your chest.

“Mama!” Tiny arms wrapped around your neck and tears immediately filled your eyes.

“Hi, baby.” His breath hit your neck as your heartbeat accelerated. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he answered as you picked him up, giving him a small peck on his cheek.

“He couldn’t stop talking about seeing you again. He barely slept tonight.”

With your dad by your side and your baby in your arms, you reentered the kitchen. When he saw Jisung, your son’s eyes reshaped into hearts.

“Papa!” You couldn’t set him down quick enough before he began sprinting towards his father.

Jisung picked him up and spun him around once before hugging him tightly against himself. “Hi, Ki. You miss me?”

“Yes,” the boy agreed, his smile reaching from one ear to the other. Seeing him so joyful made your heart swell and you swiftly wiped your tears away. For the first time in two weeks, you felt at home.

“Should we eat?”

Your dad was already one step ahead, carrying the pan filled with pancakes from the stove to the table. Four sets of tableware were set up neatly as fresh-cut flowers decorated the scene. Food from all sectors of the food-pyramid occupied the dark wood, making your mouth water.

“Did you set the table, Dad?”

He laughed at your assumption, “I wish. It was this wonderful lady right here.” He pointed at Jia. “Remember, you can move in whenever.”

“You might say that now,” Jisung interrupted, taking the seat between Ki and his sister, “but wait ’til you actually live with her. She’s a slob. A big-brain slob, but a slob.”

“Says the boy who uses his dirty underwear as parquet flooring.”

Ki giggled at that mental image, munching away on the food his grandfather had set on his plate.

“We haven’t lived in the same room for 3 years. I’ve changed.”

“Y/N, back me up here.” You looked at Jia while filling the fresh orange juice into the glasses by everyone’s plate. “You’ve lived with him for the past 3 years. Does he still keep his dirty clothes anywhere but in the hamper?”

After he had moved from his childhood room into yours a few years back, you remembered this habit of his. Vividly. It had been the main reasons fights would break out between you. Other than the constant debate on how to raise a baby, of course. Over the years, it had gotten better; his clothes landed closer and closer to the laundry basket each week.

“He tries, but he never mastered reaching into the hamper. I don’t know how someone’s aim can be so off.”

Jia laughed, Ki joining in once he understood your words to be of the joking kind. He was at that age where he tried mimicking the people around him. That included emotional reactions from the ones closest to him. And to think you were missing this crucial part of his childhood.

“Complain as much as you want. Ever since we moved to campus, I’ve been very diligent about keeping things clean.” Your expression told him that you had seen his room and didn’t quite agree. “At least Felix never complains.”

“This Felix guy sounds like a catch.” That you couldn’t disagree with. “Glad you got a decent roommate.”

“He’s alright. Although—” Setting his fork and knife beside his plate, Jisung took a sip from his glass. “What were you two hugging about before? You seemed… close.”

There was no undertone to his question other than wanting to know the content of your talk. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jisung was hinting at something.

“Nothing. Just small-talk.” Not a lie, but not the truth either. Though you figured a little white lie couldn’t hurt, knowing all it did was hide the secret Felix had shared with you. Jisung wouldn’t have judged Felix if you had told him, but you didn’t believe it was your right to out him. Especially after promising you wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Really? I could swear he was crying or something.”

“Oh, that? He was going through some personal things.” A little closer to the truth but still not revealing the whole story. Jisung seemed to believe you, and why wouldn’t he have? Had it been something that concerned your boyfriend, you would have told him. Didn’t have a reason not to. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

“Alright.” Your boyfriend picked his cutlery back up, slicing some of his son’s food for easier eating. “You’d tell me if it was serious, though. Right?”

“Of course,” you agreed as you beamed at your son. His mouth was stuck in a grin while he shoved spoons full of pancake into his mouth. “Everything’s alright.”

Brunch continued with little distraction. The topics reached from your future sister-in-law’s studies, which she was about to finish, to your son’s upcoming birthday. Still over a month away, but you could never start planning too early. It almost felt like you had never left. Your family, spending the late morning like you had any other weekend before moving to live on campus.

Your son’s lack of sleep showed right after he finished his plate. Despite his best efforts to keep himself awake, his eyes fell shut every few seconds. After missing you so much the past weeks, he wanted to spend any minute with his parents. It broke your heart. Of course, you knew it was better this way— staying close to campus and concentrating on your studies while your son stayed with your dad. Providing him the childhood he deserved. Still, it hurt you, knowing Ki missed you so much. Your own pain played a critical role in that feeling as well.

“I’ll take him to bed,” Jisung explained as he lifted his son from the high chair. Ki waved at you, already half asleep, as his father carried him out of the room.

Your dad had left a minute or two earlier, telling you about a discovery he had made while cleaning the attic. Thus, Jia and you were left to clean up the table, which you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to catch up, something you had wanted the past few weeks but had never found the time for.

“So? How’s Uni for you? Did you make a ton of friends already?”

“I don’t know about a ton. But I did meet some people already,” you told her as you filled the sink with soap and water. “There’s this girl, Yuqi. She’s in my marketing classes, and she’s very nice. We get along great. And then, there’s Felix.”

“Sungie’s roommate?”

“Yes. He’s also very nice. I can see us becoming close.”

“That’s good. You never know when you’ll meet those people, but some of them will stick forever.” You nodded at her words, feeling like you had found two of these forever people in Yuqi and Felix. You had hardly met anyone you could open up to like you could to them, not even your High School friends. “How’s my baby bro doing on the friendship front? Is he adapting?”

“Surprisingly so. Jisung found a group of boys he’s been hanging out with. They seem cool; down to earth. They’re having a positive impact on him already.”

Had Jisung overheard your conversation, he would have most likely confronted you. Why would you talk about him behind his back like this? As though he was a social outcast you had to chaperone in his endeavours to make friends? However, he would have had to agree with you in the end.

Since you met him, Jisung hadn’t had the easiest time meeting new people. He was often awkward in social situations, and the lack of a filter caused him more problems than it fixed. You for one, loved him for it, as you always knew what was going on in his mind. Other people, not so much. In the past, Jisung had gotten himself in trouble due to saying the wrong things in tense situations. His social anxiety had only worsened the older he got. Having made friends already—without much effort—was a big deal.

Jia, being his older sister, knew about his issues.

“I’m glad he’s doing alright. It sounds harsh, but I wasn’t expecting him to make friends. Or worse.” She placed the dishes in the dishwasher as her eyes met yours. “He could have made the wrong friends.” You could tell where she was going with this. Her transition felt rather forced, but who could blame her? You, for one, had expected her to ask even earlier. “Speaking of—” And there it was. “Did you run into him already?”

Sighing at her words, you started scrubbing the pan below the soapy surface of the sink.

“We did.” Jia nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Seems like Jisung and him kept in contact. He invited us to this party at his fraternity yesterday.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Yup.” From her reaction you knew that she wasn’t satisfied with that. Jia was trying not to get too caught up in how you had talked to the one person she never wanted to think about again. After all, she couldn’t control who you ran into and chose to spend your time with. That went for both you and Jisung. Although, you were a bit more reserved about your relationship with the one who shan’t be named.

“I’ll regret asking later, but—” Again, you knew exactly what she was about to ask. “Did you meet— her?”

You placed the clean pan onto the rack to dry, taking off the cleaning gloves to hang them over the tap. You had thought a lot about how to approach this, but couldn’t come up with a painless explanation. So, the truth it was.

“I think so. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I believe she might be my roommate.”

A huff escaped Jia’s lips at the irony. “Of-fucking-course, she’s your roommate. And let me guess. She’s super nice and not at all a bitch who stole my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t cheat on me and break my heart. That was all him.”

The glimmer of hurt in Jia’s eyes reminded you of that afternoon you found her crying on your doorstep. Her makeup smeared over her face and body trembling in your embrace. The pain wasn’t the same depth as three years ago, but you could tell it had left a scar. How couldn’t it have?

Jackson and Jia had been together for three years when she discovered his infidelity. There had been talks of marriage already, when he decided to throw it all out the window. And the worst thing, Jackson even tried to deny it when she confronted him. What he didn’t know was that Jia had seem them together. Two hours she had driven to campus to surprise him one weekend, and all to see him hugging and kissing some hot piece of ass. That’s how Jia had described her boyfriend’s affair after spotting them together. It had taken her around a minute to realise what was happening, then she up and left again.

A surprise phone call later that weekend Jackson answered with shock and denial. Not five minutes later, Jia decided she couldn’t hear it anymore. Like that, three years ended in what you could only describe as the second most heartbroken you had ever seen a person.

So, yes. The woman was still hurt. She was still in pain. Although that pain had morphed into hatred along the way.

“If it’s any comfort, she doesn’t seem to know you existed. And—” The next part was a shot in the dark. Hopefully, Jia would understand the humour in it all. “She started dating a woman immediately after Jackson. Said he made her realise she’d be better off without a man.”

That, Hwasa had told you in confidence. But seeing as it lightened the mood, you didn’t regret telling Jia. “Okay, that does make me feel better.” The atmosphere lightened up after that, though Jia needed to get one last thing off her mind. “But, you should keep track of that friendship between Jackson and Sungie.”

“You think?”

“Jackson himself might not be the problem. As hard as it is for me to say, he has a good heart. But that hardly goes for those friends of his. They’re some sketchy people.” Jia’s eyes showed honest concern. So much so that it worried you a little. “To this day, I believe he wouldn’t have done what he did, had his friends not had as much impact on him. They kept telling him he was too hot to let opportunities for hookups with random girls pass by. That our relationship was holding him back from reaching his full potential. And that’s a literal quote I overheard one of them telling him over the phone.”

“What? That’s crazy. Why did Jackson let them talk like this about you?”

“Who knows? But the matter of fact is that Jackson is a confident man. Always was. My brother, however...”

You understood she was hinting, again, at his social introversion.

“Since Dad left us, he’s been searching for a father figure in the older men around him. Do you remember that guy, Wonho, he hung out with in High School?”

“Do I? The dude was the personification of steroids.”

“Exactly. And Sungie had the biggest man crush on him. You do recall how that ended, right?”

“He broke his wrist trying to lift double his weight.”

“I love Sungie to the moon and back, but he has serious daddy issues. Not that it’s any his fault.” Jia had a point in everything she said. Even though you hoped Jisung couldn’t be manipulated, you understood it wasn’t impossible. “That Wonho-guy was his hero for months, and he wasn’t even trying to be. Imagine what could happen if some seriously sketchy guys meet him and see a trainable puppy.”

There was a moment of consideration as you imagined what Jia had described. Jackson and she had been happy before they went to university. Much like you and Jisung, they had been together a long time. Still, something inside you told you that Jisung wouldn’t hurt you like this. Jackson was a good guy, and they had been good together. But they also had their fair share of issues. Jisung and you, that was a whole other thing. You were soulmates. You had a son. Other than sweeping them under the rug, you talked about your relationship problems.

You wanted to voice those thoughts to Jia, but before you could do so, your dad and Jisung entered the room. Your dad carried a thick book, showing it to your boyfriend, who laughed at whatever he saw on the page.

“Baby, how were you so cute as a baby? I could eat you up.”

Your confusion resolved when your dad explained the situation. “I was showing an old photo album to Jisung. I found a stack of them in the attic.” Flipping the page, another chuckle escaped your dad’s lips. “Look! It’s you and your father. Gosh, I haven’t seen this picture in ages.”

At those words, a smile spread over your face as you made your way to his side of the book. And sure enough, there you were. Sitting in a flowerpot as your father held you up, smiling into the camera. The unfamiliar image warmed your heart, despite the tinge of sadness that appeared whenever you saw a picture of him.

“Your father was so handsome,” Jia said as she caught a glimpse.

“The most handsome,” your dad agreed, looking up from the page. “He did some modelling work while we attended law school and was good at it, too. Even made it into some magazines. He was so handsome even, it took me months to finally muster the courage and ask him out. And thank God, I did.” With those words, his eyes met you, still completely captured by the picture. “He would have been so proud of you, honey.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile plastered your face. Oh, what you’d give to have the chance and talk to him one last time. You would have told him so many things. Most importantly, you would have told him about the family you had found between all the grief and loss. The ones surrounding you, being the closest to you. And, of course, Ki. The love of your life.

No doubt, he would have loved your father as much as you did.

Next Chapter >>> coming soon

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[captain-mj]

Hi, can you continue the dragon fic?

Whether you continue it or don’t, I also wanted to say that I love your fics!

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO POST THAT I AM SO SORRY

This is the last part btw

Part 1 Part 2

Soap fed Ghost breakfast. He was finally getting some weight back. His wings were much heavier than Soap realized so he had quickly upped his food, trying to keep him well fed at all times. Ghost would choke down what he could, finally able to get more than a few pieces of bread down. 

Soap looked at him gently, holding Ghost’s cheek again. Ghost had also finally learned to accept the touch. Soap tried to keep himself in check about it as well, but Ghost was… fucking there. Again. 

“Come on. Few more bites, yeah?” 

Ghost glared at him a little but took a few more bites of meat from between Soap’s fingers. 

“Of course, My King.” 

“Simon.”

“Ghost.” 

“Simon.” Soap repeated. “You don’t have to call me that.” He ran his fingers through Ghost’s hair, not to touch this time, just to fix it out of his face. “You’re freezing.” 

Ghost shrugged and looked away. 

“How does a hot bath sound? Try to heat you back up.” Soap smiled at him. His worry was clear. It’s why Ghost had a hard time staying mad at him. 

“It would help. No real point though. It won’t hurt me to be like this.” It just hurt and made him feel empty and sluggish. 

Soap shook his head. “You’re not comfortable. I want to make sure you feel alright.” He got up and Ghost expected him to order a servant to do it. Instead he fixed the bath himself, setting a fire underneath the tub so the water would heat up faster. It was close to boiling and the idea of sinking down into it was… Very appealing.

Ghost shook his head slowly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Si-….. Ghost. Get in the bath.” Soap said it gently and Ghost finally listened. He sank in until he was fully submerged. 

Heat. Visceral and hot and life giving. It swarmed around him. Far too hot to be comfortable for a human, otherwise he was sure Johnny would follow him. He stayed down there as long as he could before coming back up for air. 

Soap gently started to comb through Ghost’s hair. He was careful not to touch the water. 

Ghost reluctantly relaxed into the water again. It felt so nice. 

Once he was done, he was given a robe that was a little too small but wrapped around him at least. He felt weirdly taken care of. 

Soap continued to dote on him even after he got out. He gently rebandaged each wound and kissed over the bandages. Ghost was a slave to his whims. Soft and pliant. Something dead had taken over. Crawled into his ribs and pushed out what he was previously. 

Soap kissed his forehead and brought him back to bed. “Lay on your stomach for me.” 

Ghost did as he was told, eyes closing. Warm hands touched over his wings, checking every inch for breaks or wounds. Once he was satisfied they were fine, he gave Ghost a kiss on the forehead before laying next to him. Not touching this time. 

Ghost moved so his head was on Soap’s chest. He curled up a little so he’d seem smaller. 

“Simon.” Johnny whispered against his hair. “Simon…. Simon….” He repeated it like a prayer. Gentle and soothing. 

Ghost went limp and fell asleep. 

His time mostly passed the same way. Soap doted on him. Anytime Ghost managed to ask for something, Soap would get it.

A fire? Of course. Gold jewelry for the start of a hoard? Absolutely. Soap’s undying love and loyalty? He didn’t ask for it but he certainly had it. 

A king was on his knees for him. Soap was fixing his clothes and had sank down so he could do so. He then tied Ghost’s shoes, pressing his cheek against his thigh while he did. It was unnecessary, Ghost was fully able to do that, but Soap insisted. He kissed Ghost’s fingertips gently before double checking him once more. 

“Alright. You’re good to go outside.” 

Ghost nodded and slowly followed him. He was well dressed now. There was enough to cover all of his skin which was good. 

Soap led him down the halls of his castle and introduced him to people. To different servants and knights and others. All of whom treated him with an intense amount of respect. Most wouldn’t meet his eyes, as if he could somehow smite them. Right now he could barely make a spark so that wasn’t going to happen. 

They didn’t touch him either and their eyes lingered on the way Soap held his hand or his arm or just in general kept him close. 

It was unnerving. But Ghost assumed he would get used to it like everything else. 

Soap tugged him outside into the sun. The gardens were completely abandoned so he was safe to do what he wanted, according to Soap. 

“Stretch out. Maybe try flapping your wings. I want to get you back to normal.” 

Ghost flapped his wings once. Twice. He gave up. It hurt. His wings were really heavy. 

Soap smiled. “Great job! Do you want to walk with me?”

Ghost followed him around the place. His muscles were unhappy with the sudden movement but he was tired of staying in bed all the time. The bed was definitely an improvement from the floor though. 

The company didn’t hurt either. Soap had been growing on him lately. 

Johnny. Johnny had been growing on him lately. 

“The clouds.” 

Soap paused whatever he was doing to glance at Ghost, looking excited at the prospect of him speaking. “Yes?”

“I wish they did feel like cotton. It would be nicer.” 

Soap nodded. “Yeah. They were freezing.”

“Can’t wait to see them again.”

“Will you take me up there?”

Ghost paused and looked at Johnny. “Yeah. I will.”

Soap smiled at him and just stared. Unnerving. Too soft. Too nice. 

Simon kissed him. Carefully. Johnny felt warm against his skin. 

“Hello Simon. It’s nice to see you again.”

“I called for you. When I left. I tried to stay.” 

Johnny grabbed his hand gently and squeezed it. “It wasn’t your fault Love. I promise.” 

Simon leaned into him, drinking it in. The warmth. The smell of flowers. Everything. Especially Johnny.

“Going to take care of you. Make sure nothing like this ever happens again.” 

Simon melted into him fully. He purred loudly and rubbed his cheek against Soap’s like a giant cat. “Missed you so much… So very, very much.”

Soap pulled back and started to kiss him again. Feverish and desperate. “Simon. Simon. Should’ve never left that day. Should’ve taken you home.” 

Just like before. Little flames leaking off of Simon’s body. Setting flame to the grass around them. Never touching Johnny’s skin though. 

They circled them and flickered as Johnny encouraged Simon to kiss him however much he wanted. Let them both fall to the floor and melt into each other. 

Simon finally felt warm again.

[soft-pine]

woke up to these lovely DMs and while I'm of course not going to post this person's account, I am going to respond publicly. (cn discussion of SA)

okay so to preface this, you're somewhat correct. what we are doing - what we are all doing is an interpretive task. objectivity really doesn't exist - on my side or yours. and i'm not claiming it does. i have said and said again and said over again that i'm not trying to exclude or skew things. but sometimes i am simply not going to interpret a scene the way someone else does. and that's okay. please take your own notes! hell copy-paste mine and delete everything you don't like! add whatever you want!

that said, i made these notes with the intention for it to be useful to other people so if it seems like something is categorized wrong or not included, we can talk about it. i've said and said again and said over again that i am open to specific feedback. and where i have received specific feedback, i've made the small changes suggested!

but this is not specific. and honestly is virtually meaningless to me at this point. just because the notes don't sit right with your feelings about the show is not, in and of itself, proof i've missed anything. especially, especially because one of the reasons i made this document is because i saw frequent, unsubstantiated claims get circulated widely and i wanted more information to fall back on. so tell me what i've missed specifically or don't bother.

i'm sorry that you don't like that post. but honestly things can have some fucking layers. do both sam & dean make jokes to each other that make light of SA & demons, yes. are they both men who were raised in a misogynistic culture and have better and worse moments at treating each other and those around them with respect, yes. do i fucking hate meg and wish she would stop assaulting both of them, YES!

was i pointing out that there is a pattern of dean thinking about femininity and women and being embodied as a woman, yeah. it's not like i cannot engage with that comment in multiple ways. it's not like it's not in my notes.

but also like i don't go search up posts about sam's gender by people who are primarily interested in sam and say how their post is shitty to or diminishing of or not fully accounting for everything dean has experienced. that would be a waste of my time and theirs. i'm sorry i didn't talk enough about waffles in my post about pancakes but you're not in an ihop. you're in my kitchen right now. i make pancakes. we are eating pancakes.

but i take issue with again and again. point me to it. show me where dean does this again and again? like i am genuinely asking what am i missing. where is the repeated mocking? tell me what episode, what scene and i will add it to my notes and my understanding. heck! if you don't have that information, i'd take a gifset or a sam-centric meta post and put the puzzle pieces together myself.

i don't know what to tell you. these notes were compiled over the course of over a year and two full supernatural rewatches plus some. i am currently rewatching supernatural. i am never not watching supernatural. i am never not taking notes.

and i fully own my dean-centric POV. that's not gonna change. but that doesn't mean that as i was watching the show, side-by-side with the transcript page open, rewinding and double-checking and adding notes, that i was just leaving things out willy-nilly that didn't fit into my view. honestly, when i started these notes (primarily to record how sam & dean articulated their feelings about john), i didn't expect a lot of these categories to turn out this way. i don't need them to be like this to love dean and i was and am open to corrections that change these numbers. but you have to tell me what they are. and not just claim they simply must exist.

now on to this. honestly if you've been even an ounce as careful looking over my notes as i was making them, you'd find that a lot of the dialogue about possession being like SA comes from dean. that is not to say that i don't think that's how sam experienced it or that he can't feel it without saying it aloud or that fans can't interpret that that is how he is likely feeling.

but don't come here and tell me i need to consider this when i fucking marked down all the times in season 5 that dean compares the prospect of michael possessing him to rape. when i watched the scene in 14.03 when dean undresses the clothes michael dressed him in. when this is like one of the main themes of my main fic. like you don't know me. dont come on my blog and scroll down far enough to find a post you hate and then tell me you can somehow know all my thoughts on a topic that post wasn't even about.

i have never claimed that dean is being victimized by sam. if that's what you get from my notes that honestly says more about you than me.

and that's the real issue isn't it. i simply must be so biased but you all... all the people yelling at me that i've missed so much are, what... not engaged in an interpretive task with inherent imperfections and bias?

i am trying to be as honest, open, correctable, and sincere as i can about this but i don't have to skew my document until the numbers look right to you.

[sparkanonymous]

Let's get one thing out of the way; I messed up.

If you want to go more in-depth, read this post. If you don't want to, here's the jist of the situation: For the last year - I think - I have been coloring Raj's skin tone lighter. This is completely and utterly my fault.

I'm not going to make any excuses, in fear that it will give others an excuse for their own deplorable actions. Though I don't see myself as a racist person, this is still an example of colorism, and I can't stand by it.

Total Drama is something I hold dear in my heart, and Raj is one of my favorite characters in the entire series. The fact I did him this dirty makes me never want to draw him again.

I'm so sorry. All I can do is apologize, and that's definitely not good enough. I will do better in the future. I don't want anything like this to happen again, and I won't let it happen again.

There is nothing I can say that'll fix this situation. I have disappointed myself and hurt an entire community of people. I hope I can eventually make up for my mistakes, but I know that isn't possible in a short amount of time.

I don't expect this to be taken lightly; it shouldn't be. If this is the last I see of some of you, I hope you take care.

The rest of this post directly responds to parts of thesicklycowboy's post.

○■○■○

For this portion, I have also edited Raj's hair to be the correct color. (I didn't know where else to put this part, sorry.)

I won't be responding to everything, as I do think the post was well-spoken and something that certainly needs to be said, just parts that I felt I should respond to.

Blue is for them, and red is for me.

"So when you were addressing this and saying "it's color theory" excuse why did you not show your earlier pieces of Raj as well? The ones with far darker hair and deeper skin tones? You only referenced all the ones after after the lightening had begun."

As mentioned before, I don't know when the lightening began. The pieces I grabbed for comparisons were the ones that I could actively get the flats for. A lot of my previous pieces have been deleted from my iPad after being moved to my laptop for storage reasons. While you can tell that Raj is darker in my oldest TDI posts, I wouldn't have been able to color grab the original skin color to compare it to the others, which is why I added ones that I could find the flats of directly off of my page. I do wish I had gotten the flats for the oldest ones, but I can't really do anything about that now.

"The beginning of your ask responses is blatantly false and you contradict yourself at the end? So why keep that whole schpiel at all?"

Here is the part that they are referring to: "I didn't? I think he just looks lighter because of the filters I used on top of it."

I left this in for transparency because I genuinely thought that that was actually the case. But it wasn't. This is why I added, "Looking into the color issue..." I wanted to double check the claim because it very well could have been an issue. And it was.

... "And not yet another piece that is still super light."

Okay. I think I might know what the problem is here in particular. I add texture overlays (the layers with the filter of 'Sl' - Soft Light) to give my pieces... y'know, texture. The layer color I use is usually an off-white. I do this in all of my pieces because I thought it might help with keeping my work safe from AI, and because I like the paper-like look that it gives my art. I didn't put it over the entire piece because the background already has a ton of texture.

The one above is at 50%, and the one below it is at 30% for both Raj and Bowie.

Here is the same piece with the texture overlays turned off:

(Left is w/o the overlays, Right is w/ the overlays)

I don't want this argument to seem like I'm lessening my actions. This is the only thing that I think I have the right to stand up for. Texture is something I most likely won't take out of my work, though I may replace the texture overlays with something that is more full proof against AI, like those AI-disturbance layers that Ibis Paint has.

None of my actions were excusable, but I felt this needed to be explained.

Other than that, though, I don't know what else I could possibly do to fix the piece, considering I have fixed Raj's skin tone in this piece.

○■○■○

The rest of the post is not something I feel the need to respond directly to. I do think you should go and read the original post criticizing me and decide what you want to do in this matter.

This was not a "silly mistake." What I have done is genuinely messed up. I'm not going to run from this situation and say that I was ever justified in my actions. Because I never was.

I can only hope to be given the chance to amend this situation with future works, whenever that might be. I will most likely not continue to talk about this unless asked to. Idk what else I could possibly say that wouldn't make this situation worse. I am the guilty party, and the only thing I can do is learn from this and do better in the future, which I will.

Again, I am so sorry. I have fucked up, and I am prepared to take the consquences of my actions.