#YOU REALLY HELPED ME FINISH THIS CHAPTER!!!

[truelovepolinator]

Why I'm So Sure It's Luke

I've been pretty quiet here for a while. Much of that is because of the state of the world. I had a bit of a deep spiral last weekend about things happening in my country.

And I confess that the FB comment and funeral hubbub sent me into a corresponding (though temporary) Lukola spiral to which I was doubtless more vulnerable due to my already depressed state. Did I really have to lose my daily dopamine drip (aka, Lukola) just when I needed it most?

Short answer: Absolutely not.

I had already started to pull myself out of my Lukola spiral by Monday (the other spiral is still very deep), and video and photos of Nic that emerged on Tuesday and Wednesday shored me up until I was back to effing rock solid.

I often see things I don't agree with, even on the blogs of folks with whom I usually agree, and I simply move on most of the time. I don't comment. I feel no need to argue with people in their own blogs. In friendly spaces, I'll sometimes share counter opinions because I believe respectful dialogue and debate are important — and have all but disappeared in this era of instant blocks. And we all want to share information and opinions that help us fine tune our perspectives.

But if they're clearly dug into an opinion that I view as wildly wrong, there's little value for me in arguing with them. Let them think what they want. It's not my job to change anyone's mind.

The jakola takes are the easiest to ignore for obvious reasons. I've written extensively about JD's role in Nicola's life and there's no need to do so here. (Feel free to read my other posts if you need clarity around N & J's non-romantic relationship.)

Instead, the takes I find the most frustrating are from the Lukolas who have lost hope, the so-called "realistic" ones who think that we "just have to accept that they're not together," and maybe even that "Luke is with Ant."

To this, I respectfully say, we absolutely do not have to accept any such thing because the evidence is fully on our side.

Truth be told, I suspect I'm most vexed by these posts because I used to be one of those "realists." In late summer/early autumn, I had fallen victim to the fake narratives created by the paparazzi shots of both Nic and Luke, all designed to imply a certain narrative without either of them actually saying those things were true. I always believed NicLuke belonged together. However, I reluctantly accepted that "I guess Luke is probably seeing her" and "not sure about that guy, but the photos of Nic and him do look cozy."

I understand the impulse to surrender. It's so hard to have faith, to keep believing in something when there's an apparent narrative being constructed in the public eye that tells you you're wrong. It's painful (and feels delulu) to keep believing when you've been let down repeatedly by pap photos you assume are true.

It's very easy to accept a false narrative if you don't have the energy to dig in and really pay attention to all the signs and information available when you look for it. (This is true on the world stage as well, and we should all think very critically about the stories we're being told, but I digress.)

I wrote extensively and in gory detail about how and why I'm so sure about Lukola in my blog post "Nicola and Luke Are Absolutely Together...," which I'll link here for anyone who wants persuasion or reassurance. I won't rehash all of that here, but I do want to touch on a handful of milestones & crumbs, many of which are recent, that make me quite sure about Luke being the man in Nicola's life.

One of the recent assertions I saw was that we need to let go of the significance of the Claddagh ring. (I'm not putting anyone on blast. I can't even remember who said this, and I think it was someone I like, so no offense.) But I could not disagree with this more.

Claddagh rings are worn to represent relationship status more than anything. Yes, they can be given in friendship, but the orientation of the ring on the wearer's finger is fundamental to understanding the ring. Only someone with no connection whatsoever to its heritage or meaning would throw it on willy nilly in any direction they pleased.

Not everyone follows the rules closely. I wore mine for years, on my left ring finger, heart down when I was free, heart up when I was taken. I only stopped wearing it when I replaced it with my engagement ring. (Obviously, I was not following the traditional 4 steps.)

Some wear it just on a single hand, whichever they choose. Some might wear it just while single (even engaged), then replace it when married. Some use it to indicate engagement and marriage when that time comes, others focus solely on taken or not. Admittedly, not everyone follows every step closely.

However, Nicola is from Galway where the ring originated. She is deeply proud of her Irish heritage. There is no chance she would put that ring on any finger with the heart pointing toward her heart unless her heart was taken.

Now, let's remember that she picked that ring up while she was in Galway during the World Tour. She modeled that ring in Chupi photographs, with the heart pointing up (heart taken) wearing the same outfit she wore to the screening. The same screening where she hugged her mother to within an inch of her life, then introduced her mom to Luke. That was the most tearful, emotional intro I've ever seen between a guy and his platonic co-worker's mom, huh?

Hypothetically, could her heart have been taken by someone else at that stage? Well, do you really think a secret significant other — who was important enough to warrant a "heart taken" ring orientation — would be okay with Nicola not only getting the ring while she's physically with Luke (and flirting heavily), but also making that showy, deeply emotional introduction between her mother and Luke? If you were her secret, non-Luke SO, would you be okay with it?

There is literally no chance.

Chupi told us that ring was to commemorate Season 3 of Bridgerton. Again, would a secret, non-Luke SO be fine with her wearing a ring that symbolizes her Polin season with Luke as a symbol of this secret, non-Luke SO's love?

I won't even bother digging into the symbolism of the rings on the hands, but say it were true that she just wanted it to commemorate a special season. If her heart weren't taken, that ring on her finger would have pointed down. She told us the moment those photos were snapped that her heart was taken, and logic tells us that, at that moment in time, it could only have belonged to Luke.

Since then, lots of things have happened. There were pap photos galore, all telling a very different story, right? Again, it's very easy to accept a false narrative when it's spoon fed to you. But gosh, wouldn't those pap photos also provide excellent cover for two people in love, possibly nesting together, who also wanted to keep their love very, very private?

I talk a lot more about this in the above linked blog (and others) and I'm not going to tackle it here. If you don't want to believe it, that's your prerogative, but if you're curious about whether it could possibly be true, I encourage you to have a read.

So set aside the adjacents for now and focus exclusively on our girl Nic. What we know is that she wore that ring consistently through the summer and early fall, on her right hand, heart pointing up (heart taken). Then, in October, she switched it to her left hand.

Again, not everyone follows every traditional Claddagh step, but Nicola is a Galway Girl. If she's been wearing it consistently on the right, then suddenly switches it to the left where she continues to keep it consistently, she's not oblivious to the meaning of that switch. That switch is deeply significant.

Remember, the left hand is traditionally the hand where it's worn to indicate engagement (heart down) and marriage (heart up). And when she switched, she kept the heart pointing up.

Does that absolutely mean she's married? No. As always, we don't know any of them personally, so we can't say for sure. But simple, not-a-reach logic tells us that the way she's worn that ring is significant.

With that ring, Nicola has told us in no uncertain terms that she is in a significant, committed relationship (possibly engaged or married since October). And she's been in that relationship (or at least committed in her heart to that relationship) consistently since at least June (really, late April/early May when she commissioned it).

Will we ever know exactly what happened last summer while she and Luke were apart (Sorrento, Spain, Malta, etc.)? No, we won't — and frankly it’s none of our business (as curious as we may be).

But we know that Nicola's heart was taken by the same person throughout. Because logically, would she really have been so into Luke in June when all of the above happened (commission, putting it on, meeting mom)... then break it off... then, by October, find a new person to be so committed to switch her ring to the left hand? The math just doesn't math on that one.

It was Luke in June and it was Luke in October. And she's still wearing that ring in the same direction as of Wednesday night. So yes, it's still Luke.

But I promised you more recent hints and crumbs to support my certainty. Honestly, @frantastical has this stuff so magnificently catalogued that you really should check out that incredibly comprehensive "Multitude of Morsels" if you haven't already.

Still, here's a small handful of (by no means comprehensive) things I've seen with my own eyes in just the last month that have told me I'm sitting in exactly the right restaurant on exactly the right ship:

New Pink News story posted with an old quote (that would have been approved by Nic's team) where Nicola says, "That's all I want, is the girls and the gays. And Luke."

Both Ryan Wheeler and Shondaland openly shipping Lukola ("get married for real")

Nic's year-end photo dump threaded through with Luke, both directly and indirectly

Luke's year-end photo dump threaded through with Nic

Even one of Nic’s Doctor Who photos, which isn't associated with Bridgerton at all, managed to nod at Luke

Video clip re-emerges of the Featherington women giggling when Bessie teases, "Well, two people fell in looove, I gueeessss," then they all giggle and agree that they can't say who

Both of them unaccounted for over Christmas and New Year's (days that are usually spent with significant others) while the adjacents were both accounted for on both holidays

Old story somehow emerges in which Nicola says Luke makes everything better, and Luke says about the "friends to lovers" story that "that's what happened to us when we met." (I'm probably slightly paraphrasing, but close enough.)

Nicola turns up with a tan

Luke turns up with a tan

Luke comes online very briefly, just long enough to congratulate Nic on her SAG nomination, cheering on his queen, and then he's gone

Nicola posts a birthday photo that appears to be a cozy dinner for two with several hints of Luke, most notably the red and yellow flowers (red is for love; most people focused on yellow being for friendship, and I think that's true, but I also very much think it's for Polin. And either way, "friends to lovers" or "love and Polin," those flowers say Luke.)

Luke likes a Jack Rooke post about Big Boys. Bearing in mind that JR is one of Nicola's longstanding, closest friends, this clearly suggests Luke is getting to know him

Nicola swoops in to distract from last weekend's mess with a new, obviously staged pap drop (based on weather, likely from a while in the past and kept on hand for when it was needed), once again protecting Luke and his family

And then there are a handful of crumbs and hints that point to something else that I've been reluctant to talk about. I still won't get into it here, but I will say that there are definitely recent things that are suggesting to me a very specific, very happy story. These include:

ETA: Photo of Nic with two Dunkin drinks & two straws (drinking for two?)

"Shit Stirrer" tee-shirt, holding shirt just so with photo cropped very particularly (who exactly is the shit stirrer in that photo?)

"May your 2025 be as happy as this potato made me" (which potato?)

Video with the hot water bottle

Big Boys (clearly wearing the ring)

And that is literally all I will say about that. But let's just remember that all of this has taken place while Nicola continues to wear that Claddagh ring on her left hand, pointed toward her heart. Even in those silly pap photos with Jake from Monday.

The only times we've seen her without it were when she wore special, fancy jewelry for events (showy hand jewelry that she could prominently display by placing her hands in front of her stomach instead of on her waist or hips). Every other time, it's either there or her hands are (perhaps intentionally) hidden.

Doubtless some "realistic Lukolas" will read this and say, "But you're ignoring all the photos of Jake and obvious proof of how close they are."

To which I reply, "Yes, I am." Because I've written loads about that relationship, what it is, why it is so heavily documented, and what they each get out of it (other than friendship). Again, if you want to know more, feel free to read my blog. But those photos mean nothing to me because I understand the truth that lies beneath them. I have absolutely nothing against Jake. I think he's been a good friend to Nic, but that's all he is.

Meanwhile, we've seen nary a peep from Luke except to cheer on his girl, and going back a bit further, that very happy looking S4 selfie with Nic. Has anyone ever noticed how much more he smiles with Nicola than anyone else? His actual smile ratio with Nic compared to literally anyone else is off the charts.

So, yeah, it's Luke all the way. I don't know for sure when it started (might tackle that in a different blog), and I'm not sure how many times they've pressed the on/off button before locking in, but I absolutely believe they are fully locked in now. The evidence is everywhere.

As always, I say these two things. First, we know nothing for sure until Nic or Luke or both of them together make it absolutely, incontrovertibly clear to us. So could I be wrong? Yes, it's certainly possible. If I'm wrong, I'll admit it, and I admit right now that I will be heartbroken. I'm not going to front about this. But I don't think I'm wrong.

Second, you are very free to draw different conclusions. However, if you wish to do so, I invite you to consider the evidence as presented first. Especially if you've given up the ship because you're afraid to believe.

Have no fear, Lukolas. The evidence is on your side.

[channiesbakery]

study session —

prompt / request — “go on, baby. ride my thigh.” + “people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

pairing — reader + college fwb!hoshi

word count — 617

genre — smut

when you and soonyoung were paired up for a project in one of your lectures, you never thought it’d lead to you becoming friends with benefits.

and you definitely didn’t think he was as needy as he is. soonyoung was never shy about letting you know how needy he was or how badly he needed you.

he never hesitated to tease you with filthy messages and photos during your lectures or to send you a “you up?” text at night. of course, you wanted him just as bad so you always responded.

but with midterms coming up, the two of you hadn’t been able to see each other. when soonyoung asked you to come over tonight, you told him you were busy studying and never got a response back.

twenty minutes later, he’s standing outside your apartment with his backpack and two coffees.

“i figured we could use some caffeine if we’re gonna be up all night studying. or you know, other activities,” soonyoung grins when you open the door.

“if you’re gonna stay over, then all we’re doing is studying,” you say, thanking him for the coffee before letting him set up his study materials in your living room.

surprisingly, you do get a lot of studying done. but your productive study session only lasts so long, until soonyoung decides that he’s done enough studying for the night, switching over to annoying you instead.

“i really need to finish this chapter,” you sigh when he moved to sit beside you. “you’ve done so much studying, baby. take a break,” he mumbles against your cheek.

“i can’t–” “you can. the exam’s not for another two weeks,” he argues, massaging your shoulders. “but i really need to–” he cuts you off again, taking your flash cards from your hands.

“i’ll quiz you on these. if you get most correct, you take a break. if not, i’ll help you study some more,” soonyoung says and you take the offer, letting him quiz you.

much to soonyoung’s delight, you get almost all the questions right. “okay but i really need to study the concepts for the ones i missed–” you start.

“nope. a deal’s a deal, baby. time for a break,” he pulls you to straddle his lap. “haven’t done this in weeks, i missed you,” he mumbled before kissing you.

as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you missed him too. you subconsciously start grinding against his lap as you lazily made out.

he shifts your position so you straddle his thigh. “c’mon, ride my thigh baby,” he mumbles against your lips.

soonyoung rests his hands on your hips as you grind against his thigh. “that’s it, good girl,” he praises.

you grip his shoulders, moving your hips faster as you try to find the right rhythm but you can’t. “soonie,” you whimper in his ear and he just chuckles.

“aw, poor baby needs my help?” he teases, his hold on your hips tightening. he guides your hips along his thigh as you whimper against his neck.

your thighs tremble around his as you reach your high. you relax against his chest as he loosens his grip on your hips, slowing you to a stop.

“so… i guess we should get back to studying?” soonyoung teases. “oh no. you’re gonna take me to my room and finish what you started,” you jab a finger against his chest.

“demanding and bossy. i like it.” he hums before kissing you. “and maybe i like you too,” he mumbles against your lips.

“careful there soonie, i thought we were just friends?” you tease, reminding him of your arrangement.

“people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

[ladykailitha]

The Last Dragon Slayer Part 2

Gosh! It has been far too long since I put out the first chapter (SEVEN WEEKS!!), so I definitely recommend rereading that!

Pt 1

In this we have Steffan and Edwin getting to know each other a bit.

~

Life was slow for Steffan for the first time in all his young years. He wanted for nothing. The dragon Edgewraith and by extension his servant, Edwin provided him everything he could ever want. Fine clothes, good food, and better company.

Edgewraith was witty and sardonic and Edwin was clever and wise.

Was it strange that the two were never in the same room at the same time? Of course it was. Steffan was not fooled. But he understood the need for it. After all, he was a former dragon slayer.

So Steffan quietly basked in the attention from both.

“Steffan?” Edwin called from the entrance to the cave. “Could you come help me with something?”

Steffan smiled from his place by the fire. He had been learning to whittle as something to do while his friend was away. He stood up and brushed the wood dust from his pants and walked to the entrance.

There next to Edwin were two large buck carcasses. They were beautiful and dried properly would last them all winter.

“Edgewraith did a fine job,” Steffan murmured and Edwin turned pink. “I’ll be happy to help you butcher them.”

They got to work, quickly stripping away the hide from the flesh and meat from the bone. “Why doesn’t the dragon butcher them with his claws? Surely he could make shift work of them.”

Edwin giggled. “Sure, if you want the hide rent into strips and the bones cracked into the meat. He’s great for killing and eating the beasts whole, not some much the precision of butchering.”

Steffan blinked for a moment and then nodded. “Point taken. Have you been with the dragon long?” He ducked his head to hide his smile and looked up at the other man through his eyelashes.

Edwin shoved his hair in front of his face to hide his blush and then realized his hands were covered in blood and other animal byproduct. “Oh gross!”

Steffan laughed and gently pulled off his gloves, careful not get anything on his hands. He grabbed a nearby bucket that had water in it for clean up. He cupped his hands and filled them with water. He brought the water over to Edwin and tenderly rinsed away the blood and guts.

“There you go,” he murmured. They were so close. Just a breath away from each other. Steffan wondered what it would be like to just. Let. Go.

Suddenly there was a blast from behind them of the local herald bringing the sheep to the bottom of the mountain.

Steffan stepped back and said softly, “I’ll go grab the sheep, you finish up here.”

Edwin nodded shyly and allowed Steffan to move past him. Edwin looked over his shoulder and watched as the former knight vanished over the hill.

By the time Steffan returned, the meat was curating and Edwin had cleaned himself and everything up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help,” Steffan murmured, following Edwin through the caves with the three new sheep in tow. “And that comment about Edgewraith not doing the work was uncalled for.”

“It’s all right,” Edwin said with a shrug. “The work got done and it was a fair question. I know you meant no harm.”

“I’m glad, because no offense was meant.” Steffan let the sheep into the pen, joining their sisters in their bleating. “If you would like, I could make dinner as recompense.”

Edwin smiled. He had learned early on that Steffan was really good making good food that lasted a long time. “That would be wonderful.”

Steffan smiled back. “Do you think that I could go rabbit hunting tomorrow? Maybe even catch a few game birds.”

“Poaching on the king’s property?” Edwin teased. “Whatever shall you do next?”

Steffan grinned. “As if the farmers and shepherds don’t go a hunting on the king’s land,” he said with a scoff. “In fact I’ll ask one of the kids that like to try and sneak up the mountain for a peak at the dragon where the best game hunting is.”

Edwin cackled. “Those kids,” he said shaking his head. “They should be careful or Edgewraith will catch them and they’ll die of fright.”

“Of excitement, maybe,” Steffan teased back. “I saw one of them with a black kite the other day. Shaped like our dragon friend.”

Edwin turned pink again but this time there was nothing to stop him from shoving his hair in his face to hide his blush.

“That’s cute,” Edwin murmured. “But he is dangerous and these steep mountain hills just as. I’ll tell them off.”

Steffan snorted, shaking his head. “I’ve tried, perhaps you’ll fair better.”

Edwin grinned. “I know just the thing to dissuade them from climbing up the mountain.” He walked over to a chest and pulled out a small-ish box. It was old and battered, but clearly loved.

He opened it and Steffan peered around his shoulder to see inside. It’s filled with toys and old clothes, much too small for either of them.

“What’s all this then?” Steffan asked, curiously.

“These are for dress-up,” Edwin said simply, “children, no matter the age love dressing up. Times change the characters not the joy.”

Steffan smiled fondly. Edwin again spoke if he was older than his tender face belied. He hoped one day that Edwin would find the courage to tell him he was the dragon, but until then he would keep his friend’s secret.

“I’ve been whittling of late,” he said brightly. “Perhaps I could make toy swords and shields.”

Edwin’s eyes lit up. “That would be grand idea!” He grabbed Steffan by the wrist. “Come, I’ll show you where keep the best wood.”

Steffan laughed as he followed him to another portion of the cave.

“This is where I–” Edwin stopped with a blush. “where Edgewraith keeps the wood for making furniture and the like, the rest goes for kindling and firewood.”

The wood was beautiful. He went through the pile admiring the different kinds of wood. He looked back at Edwin. “Are you sure you wish me to use this for toys?”

Edwin nodded. “Of course. I won’t need it for some time, and I know where to get more. That’s the best part about living with a dragon, you can get far quickly and return.”

Steffan gathered up what he would need and then Edwin showed him where he could find the tools he would need.

“Living long sure has its perks,” Steffan teased. “Always learning new skills.”

Edwin frowned at him a moment. “What do you mean?”

Steffan blanched, realizing he had slipped up. He coughed and turned his head. “Being able to spot good wood from so high up, that must have taken Edgewraith quite some time to learn.”

Edwin blinked for a moment. “Oh! Right. Of course. I thought you had meant me. That would be silly.”

“Very,” Steffan said dryly. He stood up with his load. “It shouldn’t take me very long to finish these. They don’t have to be battle ready after all. Just balanced enough that children can play with them.”

“I’ll air out the clothes and see if any of the other props need fixing,” Edwin said, smiling brightly.

Steffan smiled back and let the excited man lead him back into the cave proper.

~

It took them two days and during those two days Edgewraith would perch at the bottom of the mountain on an outcropping, daring the children to try and climb up the mountain. But as the children were there to see him and so it’s really win/win.

Then Edwin and Steffan come down the mountain with their treasures. There are four children who come every day with a trio of girls who only come if they finish their chores in time.

Matthew likes to believe he’s the leader, but it’s Dylan. Laurus and Wymond kept out of that particular pissing match, content to just play. Laurus’s father was a Moor by way of Rome who had settled in the area and was too good a blacksmith for anyone to think twice about the color of his skin. Matthew and Wymond were sons of shepherds and Dylan was the son of a well known seamstress.

The girls were Eligia, Laurus’s little sister, Eliwen, the daughter of the king’s watch, and Morwen. Well, it was technically Morwenna, but she would bite you if you dared call her that. Her mother was a barmaid at one of the town’s taverns.

All the kids were there waiting to see the dragon. They were surprised to see not one, but two men coming down from the dragon’s cave.

“Has the dragon taken you prisoner?” Matthew asked. “Because we can help you escape if you want.”

“You can’t just ask if someone is a prisoner, Matthew!” Morwen huffed, smacking the back of the boy’s head.

Steffan and Edwin laughed. “No, we’re not prisoners,” Edwin promised. “We help the dragon do things that it cannot in exchange for protection and food and shelter.”

“Have you seen the dragon’s hoard?” Dylan asked excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

This time Morwen smacked the back of his head. “Were the lot of you raised in a barn? God. You’ll pardon these idiots. They have but one brain cell between them.”

Edwin cackled. “It’s all right.” He turned to Dylan. “I have see the dragon’s hoard, but not every dragon hoards gold and silver, and precious gems. What do you think the dragon, Edgewraith, hoards?”

“I bet it’s books!” Wymond said excitedly. “My mother is teaching me to read and do math. I know I would hoard books if I was a dragon,” he added wistfully.

“No!” Matthew huffed, crossing his arms. “I bet it’s the skulls of his enemies, like when he posted the head of the last dragon slayer!”

Steffan and Edwin shared a glance.

“That’s vulgar, Matthew!” Eliwen said. “Did your mother raise you in a barn?”

Matthew blinked at her a moment. “No, but I was raised in a pasture, does that count?”

Eliwen sputtered and stammered trying to get herself out of that one while the rest of the children laughed.

Steffan decided to take the attention off the poor girl and brought forth their prizes. “Come see what we brought you.”

All the kids swarmed the trunk and gasped when Edwin opened it with flourish. There were dresses and robes and capes of all shapes and sizes. Crowns, tiaras, rods, and wands were littered among the swords and shields Steffan had made.

“This will be for your use,” Edwin explained. He held up one finger. “On the condition you don’t go climbing that mountain to see the dragon. He’ll still come and visit on occasion, but every day, either Steffan or I or both will bring the trunk down for you to play with. And then when the sun begins to set, we’ll take it back up so that it doesn’t get ruined by the elements.”

All children agreed to the terms. And they tore the box with all the thrill and excitement they had in their little bodies.

Then Edwin and Steffan sat back to watch over their play.

~

Steffan enjoyed his time in the afternoons with the children. He would do the chores in the morning with Edwin, watch the children in the afternoon, and then spend the evening with the dragon.

Sometimes Edwin would come with him, but most of the time, he would stay in the cave. Steffan knew that this was when he would transform back into a dragon to hunt and search for supplies.

Steffan was stoking the fire to make bread when Edwin came in, startling the former knight. An ember sparked from stove landing on his leg.

“Steffan!” Edwin cried, “Your leg!”

“Oh!” Steffan cried, pulling the ember off his leg and tossing it into the fire. He brushed out the small flame in his pants with a sigh. “I liked these pants, for goodness sake.”

Edwin hurried over to him and checked his leg. But there was no mark at all. “Are you not hurt? Did it not burn?”

Steffan ducked his head to hide the flush of shame that darkened his cheeks. “A father’s blessing to the son he gave away. He made it so that Dragon’s Fire would never burn me. It has some rather unfortunate side effects.”

“Like not knowing you’re on fire?” Edwin asked with raised eyebrows. “That is pretty incredible. But seriously, you’re not hurt?”

Steffan smiled at Edwin. “Truly, I am not hurt. Just a pair of ruined pants is all. Maybe later, I’ll cut them up for scraps.”

“If that is what you wish,” Edwin said, “but how goes the baking?”

“Well,” Steffan huffed a bit of laughter, “other than setting myself on fire, it’s going pretty good. I was about to put the first loaf in.”

Edwin looked at the fire for a moment and cocked his head to the side as he considered it. “I’d wait another five minutes and then it’ll be perfect.”

Steffan stood up and cocked his head to side curiously. “Did the dragon teach you how to do that trick? Knowing how hot the fire is?”

He hoped this would be the opportunity Edwin needed to admit he was Edgewraith. But no.

“Something like that,” he said with a snort derision. “I’ll go bring you more firewood to keep the heat up.”

Steffan shook his head fondly as Edwin walked away muttering to himself about being more careful. He sighed and stoked the fire again. Then at the five minute mark, he put the bread into the oven.

~

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs @chaotic-waffle

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @kultiras @themoonagainstmers

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @notaqueenakhaleesi @stripey82 @estrellami-1 @irregular-child

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 9

Summary: Y/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

A/N: If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I don't write smut, but there are allusions to smut in my stories.

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1822 (approx.)

GIF by dazedandkaitfused

A week later, you were in the lab with Tony & Bruce, ready to go again on the flashback program, albeit a bit unsure if it will give you any more results.

“I’m frustrated Bruce, these memories are coming in little bits, and they aren’t in any logical order either” you told him.  You felt like a whiney little bitch, because so many people had it worse off than you, but this was your life and if you weren’t going to get any more memories back, then you wanted to just move on and hopefully start making some new memories.

“It’s not an exact science Y/n” Bruce explained. “We have to be patient with it and try not to put too much pressure on your brain, it’s been through a lot.”

Bruce sets you up for another round of the flashback program.  Lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to all the wires and probes, you really hoped that today was the day you’d wake up with all, or most of your past back.

You see Steve walk into the lab just as you go under.

“How’s it going Bruce?” Steve asked, hopefully.

“She’s just gone under Steve, I’m hoping today is the breakthrough.  In fact, her seeing you as she went under may be a good thing, it might trigger her subconscious to remember those specific memories that include you and, by association, Noah.”

“Me too, I don’t know how much longer I can handle this if it doesn’t work.  Do you mind if I wait here for her to wake up?”

“Not at all Steve, pull up a chair and get comfortable.  Last week she was under for about 3 hours, so I’d expect this session to last about the same time.”

Steve grabs a chair and pulls it up beside the hospital bed you are in. Over the next few hours, he sits and watches, he gets up and paces the room, he finds a paper and pencil and doodles to pass the time.

“Is it normal for it to take this long?” Steve enquired of Bruce.

“Like I said, last time it was about 3 hours and she recovered a good chunk of memories.  I’m hoping that this is a good sign that there’s a big portion of memories coming back to her.

Suddenly, your body starts shaking as if you are having a seizure. Steve knew you didn’t have epilepsy or any other seizure like issues.

“Bruce, what’s happening?  Stop it now.  I’m serious Bruce, get her out of this trance or whatever it is she’s in.” Steve was panicking because there was nothing he could really do to help right now.

Bruce stops the program but you don’t wake up immediately.

“Bruce?” Steve asked quietly, worried that some permanent damage may have been done and that you’d never come back to him and Noah.

“Umm, I’m trying here Steve” he replies. “The program is finished, she’s just not waking up.  I’m double checking her vitals but everything seems stable, I’m just not sure why she won’t wake up?”

“Do something Bruce.” Steve shouts.

“I’m not sure what else to do Steve” he says. 

“Bruce this is your program, this is your knowledge.  This is on you to fix it.  We can’t lose her Bruce. Noah needs her and so do I.” Steve is so distraught he was almost crying.

For the next few hours, Bruce and Steve sat and paced and did everything they were doing when you were under earlier.  Tony came and went, monitoring your status and researching things that he and Bruce could do to help bring you out of the state you were currently in.

Steve was beside himself, he felt exactly as he did when you were in the hospital originally.  He hoped that this would have a different outcome in that you’d wake up with at least some of your memories.

All of a sudden you stirred.  The first person you see is Steve.

“Bruce, she’s awake.” Steve sighs with relief.  “Oh thank god you’re awake Y/n.  I was so worried we were going to lose you.”

You looked at Steve, sudden realisation in your eyes.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked him.

“Tell you what Y/n?” Steve asked you, then it hit him.  He knew exactly what you were asking.  “You.. you remember?”

“Yes, I remember Steve” you responded.  “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that we were together?  If I’d known that I wouldn’t have gone off for weeks, or been such a bitch towards you for cheating when you clearly weren’t?”

“I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you but you didn’t want me to explain anything, you said no explanation would change what had happened.  On top of that..”

“No on top of anything, Steve” you interrupted him, anger in your voice.  “I deserved to know the truth.”

Steve sighs, exasperated but understanding of your outrage.  “I tried, I really did” he reiterated quietly. “All I wanted was to hold you and have you know you were mine, but the doctor told us not to and every time I tried to explain you shut me down.  I just wanted to see you with Noah, he’s really missed you.”

“Steve, Who’s Noah?” you ask, confused.

Steve looks at Bruce, thinking, how can she remember me and not Noah?

Steve wonders how to answer that question.  “Umm, well…”

You get agitated with what seems to be more secrets that people won’t tell you “Just tell me goddamit!  I’m sick of things being kept secret.  I’m a big girl, I can handle whatever you’re going to tell me.

Steve looks at Bruce and shrugs.  He’s had enough of this pussyfooting around and not telling you important things.  Regardless of what the doctor had said, Steve thought maybe it was time for you to learn everything you were still missing and as he’s about to answer you, Tony walks in, interrupting everything.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

Bruce smiles at him “Well, she finally woke up.  And we had a breakthrough.”  He points at the bed where Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding your hand and looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky just for him.

“She remembers?  Thank god.”

“Not everything” Bruce answers. “But she remembers him and their relationship. There’s only one thing left.”

“Noah?” Tony half asks, half states.

“Yeah, Noah.” Bruce answers sadly.

Bruce and Tony watch you and Steve, happy to see you back together, and positive you’ll remember Noah soon.

The next morning, you wake up in bed, snuggled into Steve’s chest.  You look up and see him awake.

The previous night, after Bruce had let you go, you and Steve had stayed up late, talking through a lot of things and working through everything that had happened and your reaction to it all.  You now accepted that it was partly your fault that he hadn’t told you the truth earlier, you’d been particularly bitchy towards him any time he'd tried so you can’t really blame him for giving up.  At least you know he kept trying, even when you shot him down, time after time.

Despite his determination last night, he hesitated every time he thought about telling you about Noah.  Mainly because of what it could mean for Noah if you took the news badly. 

“Morning Captain, how long have you been awake?” you asked.

“A while.” Came his answer.

“You know it’s creepy to watch someone sleep?” you laughed.  He didn’t so you asked “Hey, is everything ok?  Is this about Noah?”

Steve looks at you with surprise that you mentioned Noah.

“What do you remember about Noah?” Steve asked, hoping you were remembering him as well now.

You sigh. “Nothing, I don’t know who he is, but your reaction yesterday when you mentioned him and I didn’t know makes me feel like I should.”

“Well, I can tell you but it’s one of those big things the doctors said we shouldn’t just dump on you.  I don’t want to make things worse but oh god, I need to tell you.  It’s up to you.”

“Maybe we should talk to Tony and see what he thinks?”

“Sounds good, but I’m going to be selfish right now and say I don’t want to move, I am just enjoying being able to hold you again, and have you know that you’re my girl, not someone else that I’m cheating on.”

“Well, there’s something else you could be doing with your fiancé and we can talk to Tony later?”

Steve looks down at you and laughs.  The laughter fades and his eyes darken with desire.  He leans down to kiss you, shifting so you are on the bed and he is half on top of you.

“I love you Steve.  I’m glad I remember.  Please, I need you.”

“I love you too Y/n.  Always and forever.”

Some time later, Steve wakes up to an empty bed.  He panics for a moment then hears you singing in the bathroom, which brings a massive smile to his face. 

He goes into the bathroom, finding you soaking in a massive bubble bath, eyes closed, singing away.  He stands watching you for the longest time, you don’t seem to sense him standing there.

“Oh dear”  You exclaim, the water sloshing in the tub as Steve joins you.  You turn around so your back is against his chest and lean into him.  He wraps his arms around you and you stay that way for what feels like forever.

“Steve?” you turn your head and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah babe?” he lands a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m a prune. I need to get out of this water.”

Steve laughs “Well, the water is getting a bit cold anyway.  Do you need any help getting out sweetheart?”

“Haha, it’s my brain that’s busted Steve, not my legs or arms.” You joke with him.

“Just offering a hand if you need it, my love.” He says. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy with the view as it is.”

“You’re terrible Rogers.  Actually, there is one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask away sweetheart, I’ll tell you pretty much anything you want to know at this point.”

“Do I have an engagement ring - I mean if I was, or am, your fiancé, I’m guessing you liked it enough to put a ring on it?”

Steve almost chokes with laughter at you quoting a Beyonce song. “Oh yeah, I sent it away to be cleaned and it needed a couple of new hook things on it, I don’t really know the ins and outs.  I should talk to the jeweller about getting it back.  By the way, keep tonight free, because I am taking you on a date.”

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash @mrsnikstan @harrysnovia

[starlost-maniac]

I Slept with My Boss - Ch 3

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, pia, protected sex, one night stand, mxf, mxm, multiple orgasms, multiple partners, club/drinks, voyeurism, pet names, daddy kink, double pen, oral, public sex (no witnesses), user is called a slut this chapter, slight asphyxiation, squirting, Mean SeungIN

Pairing: ot8 SKZ x fem!reader

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

dividers made by @cafekitsune

It was the weekend, and Yoonae wanted to take you out again. You allowed her to take you to a new club that did karaoke, but you told her that you would listen. Not participate. She complained playfully but agreed.

You didn't drink any alcohol tonight, opting for just juice. Yoonae drank plenty and sang a few songs between other patrons or with other patrons. When she finally made her way back to you, she probably sang about 10 songs already. The patrons loved her.

"Are you sure you don't wanna sing, Y/n?" She asked, sitting next to you. You smile and shake your head.

"I'm sure, Yoonae. I'm not much of a singer." You watch the stage as two men walk up, selecting a song. Yoonae watches as well, grinning.

"They're cute. Maybe I can get them for you." She giggles.

"What is with you and getting me two guys at once?" You laugh. You didn't really mind it, but you were curious. She just shrugs.

"Two is better than one?" She looks at you, wiggling her eyebrows again. You can't help but laugh. The duo on stage sing a few songs, and Yoonae goes to them once they're done and off the stage to see if they'd be interested in a hook up with you. You don't know how she manages to get these guys to agree when you normally have such trouble getting a guy's attention.

She walks back over to you, grin on her face. She sits down next to you. You watch her and raise a brow at her.

"They own the club and saw us walk in. They are definitely interested in you, Y/n." You stare at her, shocked that the club owners were interested. "They said to go to the VIP section in an hour, and the bouncer will let you in." She winks at you.

"I think I may actually need a drink now." You laugh a little. Your friend questions if you really wanted one and buys it when you say yeah. You end up downing it quickly, finishing the rest of your juice as well before heading to the VIP area. The bouncer looks you over and raises a brow. He refuses to let you in.

"You're not on the list." He crosses his arms.

"I was told the owners wanted me to come here in an hour." Your voice was getting quiet.

"Right. And I'm King Henry the 4th." He rolls his eyes. Just as you turned around, you saw both the men who said they were the owners coming up.

"Frank. Let her in. She's our special guest for the night." The one with black and blonde hair said. The bouncer straightens up and nods, apologizing. He steps out of the way, opening the rope barrier for all three of you. The two owners smile and lead you inside.

The first part of the VIP section is just like the regular bar, but with exclusive access. The second part is private rooms downstairs and upstairs. They lead you to a booth downstairs and have you sit, sitting on either side of you.

"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing here?" The owner with short black hair asks, looking you over.

"Honestly, my friend is taking me out. Trying to help me get over someone." You say, a bit nervous.

"I think we can definitely help with that." The black and white-haired one says. "As long as you're ok with it, obviously." You look the two owners over. They give off fox and puppy vibes.

"I am. My friend wouldn't have come to you if I wasn't." You laugh a bit.

"Good. Color system, because we will get a bit mean. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's ok. I'm green." Both the men grin. The one with fox-like features grabs one of your hands, his other hand wrapping around your waist. He pulls you into his lap, making you straddle his lap, your dress riding up. He smirks when you squeak, seeing your cheeks flush.

"You are really beautiful, by the way." He snakes his large hands around you, placing his hands on your ass, squeezing. You squeak out a thank you, which makes them both laugh. The one that reminds you of a puppy moves closer, reaching up between you. He gently grabs your breast, feeling your nipple harden through the fabric.

"No bra?" He chuckles, pinching your nipple through the fabric, making you gasp softly. "I wonder what other delicious sounds you can make. I.N, since you have her in your lap, go ahead and see what sounds you can pull from her." He smirks, leaning back against the seat.

I.N smirks and reaches up, pulling the top of your dress down, uncovering your breasts. Leaning down, he bites your nipple before harshly sucking on it. You wince a bit at hard he bit you, but moan right after. Your hands snake up to his hair as his goes back to your hips. He pulls your hips down, making you grind against him, his cock hard in his pants.

I.N groans against your nipple as you moan a little loud, your head lolling back some. Holding onto him, you grind against him slowly, letting out breathy moans. The fox-like boy releases your now tender nipple.

"She makes beautiful noises, Seungmin-hyung." He mumbles before moving to your other nipple, repeating the actions. Seungmin chuckles beside him.

"Such pretty sounds." He mumbles, palming himself through his slacks. I.N releases your hips, reaching between you to undo his pants, quickly pulling his cock out. He releases your nipple with a pop and looks up at you, grinning when he sees how flushed you are. He takes one of your hands and moves it to his leaking dick. You grasp him and slowly start stroking. His lips part slightly, a soft moan coming from his lips.

"Feels so good.." he mumbles. He pulls a condom out of his pocket, watching as you stroke him faster, teasing his tip with your thumb. He grunts as his hips buck into your hand. He opens the condom and takes your hand off him, slipping the rubber on. He grabs your hip with one hand, the other slips between your legs, pulling your panties to the side. He pulls your hips closer to him, pushing you down onto his length, hard. You moan out and arch your back some.

"Mm..fuck. You're so tight." He groans out, pushing you down completely onto him. Seungmin watches from his seat next to you. I.N leans forward and bites the crook of your neck, groaning against your skin.

"What's your color, sweetheart?" Seungmin asks, still palming himself.

"Green." You gasp out. "So fucking green.."

Seungmin smirks. "Hear that Innie. She's still green." Jeongin grips your hips with both hands, still biting onto you. He helps you move your hips, releasing your neck before placing kisses along where he bit. You grind your hips into his, moaning out. You feel him deep inside you, his tip pressing against your cervix. He sits back in his seat, watching as you move your hips in a circle.

As you start to bounce on him, he reaches up and grabs onto your breasts, squeezing them and pinching your nipples. You moan loudly, your cheeks flushing when you remember you're in public. Both men chuckle.

"Be as loud as you want. Remember we own this club, and you're our special guest for the night." Seungmin says. Your cheeks flush a bit more and you nod slightly. I.N thrusts up into you before pulling you off him. He maneuvers you so you're turned around on him, your back against his chest now. He slips his cock back into you and groans. One hand creeps around your neck, squeezing.

"Color, darling?" I.N asks. You squeak out a 'green' and moan again. His other hand lays on your stomach as he thrusts up into you hard. He bites onto the other side of your neck, leaving more bite marks across your neck and shoulders as well as sucking large hickeys on you. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder as Seungmin reaches over to slip his hand into your panties.

"Sorry, Innie. I need to touch her." He says, fingers finding your clit, slowly circling the nub. You try to arch your back, I.N holding you down against him. He releases your neck slightly so you can breathe, his thrusts getting harder as Seungmin rubs your clit faster. The fox-like boy groans when he feels you clench around him.

"Gonna be a good little slut and cum for us, hmm?" He squeezes your neck again, grinding up into you, making you moan loudly. You arch again as much as you're able to, cumming hard around him. I.N groans as he continues fucking you through your high before he cums inside the condom, his cock twitching as he cums. Seungmin takes his hand out of your panties, smirking. I.N releases your neck and turns your head to face him. He kisses you deeply and groans into your mouth when you clench around him again.

"Color?" He mumbles, kissing across your cheek to nibble on your earlobe.

"Green." You gasp out. The boys chuckle. I.N lifts you off him, Seungmin puts you into his lap next. You feel his cock against your ass. When did he take himself out? Jeongin takes his condom off and ties it off as Seungmin has you bending forward on the table. He puts his own condom on and pushes himself into you harshly. Seungmin grabs one of your hands and holds it against your back, making sure he isn't hurting you before he bucks his hips up to yours.

"Such a little slut. Letting us fuck you like this, where anyone can see you." He grinds into you. I.N chuckles and reaches over, grabbing your ass as Seungmin fucks into you hard. He moves so he's half kneeling on the booth chair, fucking into you deeper. I.N smacks your ass, your cunt clenching around Seungmin hard. "Mm. She's likes that, Innie." He lets go of your arm and grabs onto the back of your neck, keeping you down on the table.

"Does she now?" The black and white-haired boy grins, smacking your ass again. You gasp and moan, clenching around his friend again. Seungmin groans and leans down, placing kisses along your back. He leaves hickies of varying sizes. He sits up and smirks, happy with himself. Reaching around you, he finds your clit again and circles the sensitive nub. I.N slips his fingers down to your other hole, immediately slipping two long fingers inside. You arch your back and let out a grumbling moan.

"Such a good fucking slut." He snaps his hips into you hard, his cock head pushing hard into your cervix. You gasp and moan, tears starting to drip from your eyes. "Color, sweetheart?" They ask.

"Don't..don't stop. Gr-green..so so fucking green." They both chuckle, I.N slipping a third finger into your ass as Seungmin fucks as hard and fast as he can. He rubs your clit harshly as he groans.

"Fucking cum, slut. I want to feel you cum so fucking hard around me." Seungmin just about growls at you, gripping your neck a little harder but not hard enough to leave marks. You feel your eyes roll back, moaning loud as drool dribbles out of your mouth. I.N finger fucks your ass as fast and hard as he can, Seungmin grinding hard into you, the sound of his hips against yours almost audible over the club music beyond the VIP area. You arch your back some, palms flat on the table as you cum hard. You clench around both men, your body shuddering at how hard you came.

"Fucking hell, hyung." Jeongin says, laughing in excitement. "I've never seen a girl cum this hard before." He continues his ministrations in your ass as Seungmin keeps fucking into your sopping cunt.

"She squirted too, Innie." Seungmin chuckles. "I felt it. We are taking her upstairs after this." He grins. He grunts loud as he thrusts into you once more, cumming into the condom. He releases your neck and holds your hips. Leaning down, he places soft kisses along your back, trapping I.N's hand between your bodies.

"You ok, darling?" I.N asks, leaning over to look at you. You nod a little, a soft 'yeah' slipping from you. Seungmin stands up straight, carefully pulling you up with him as I.N slips his fingers out of you. Seungmin sits down, still inside you, pulling you into his lap. The boys look at you and chuckle. "You look absolutely fucked out. Let's get you upstairs and get you some water."

They fixed your dress and panties, discarding their condoms in a bin on the way upstairs. Bringing you to the third floor—surprised your legs still worked after that fucking—they brought you to a room that read 'Authorized Personal Only.'

"First time we get to use this room with a patron and not with the others." Seungmin chuckles.

"Don't tell Jinnie. He'll get so jealous he didn't get to watch." I.N laughs, shutting the door behind you. It looked more homey than usual VIP rooms do. Seungmin leads you to the bed on the other side of the room as I.N went to get you some water and something quick to eat. Once they were sure you were sated, they asked your color again. Once hearing green, I.N had his lips on yours, quickly taking your dress and panties off. Seungmin grins beside you, getting a proper look at your body.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He whispers out, reaching over to pinch your hard nipples, making you moan into I.N's mouth. "Be as loud as you want here. No one will be able to hear." He leans over, kissing and sucking on your neck, groping your breasts. "Innie.." I.N let's out a sound so Seungmin knows he's listening, moving to kiss your lips. "I need to fuck her mouth." I.N pulls away, gently pulling your lower lip with his teeth, a mischievous grin splayed across his lips.

Seungmin picks you up and tosses you onto your back, crawling over you, his face between your legs, cock hanging over your lips. You lift your head and take the tip into your mouth. You moan as he licks between your folds. He lowers his hips a bit, slipping a bit more of his cock between your lips before he starts fucking into your mouth.

I.N kneels on the edge of the bed, slipping a condom onto his cock. "Watch your head, hyung." He spreads your legs and positions himself at your ass. Seungmin shifts a bit, putting his head in a better position so his friend can fuck you while he eats you out. Seungmin groans against your cunt as he watches I.N's long dick penetrate your ass. He carefully slides his own dick down your throat. You moan around Seungmin as he shoves his tongue deep into your entrance.

"How's she taste, hyung?" I.N bottoms out inside your ass.

"So fucking good. Probably the best pussy I've had in a long time." He sucks on your clit, inserting three fingers immediately inside you, making you arch and clench around them. I.N holds onto the back of your knees, keeping your legs spread wide for them as he starts fucking into you slow and hard. You hold onto Seungmin's sides, nails digging into his skin as you suck hard on his cock, hollowing your cheeks. Seungmin grunts when you accidentally scratch him and I.N chuckles.

"I can not wait to fucking taste her." I.N grins, grunting as he fucks into to your ass hard and fast. Seungmin curls his fingers inside you, making you arch your back and scratch him again as you suck on and moan around his cock. You clench hard around the men as your orgasm crashes over you quickly. Neither of them let up until Seungmin cums down your throat and I.N cums into the condom. They both pull out of you, Seungmin licking up your release from your cunt and his fingers before they switch spots. Seungmin's wrapped cock now at your ass, and I.N hovering over you, his cock at your lips and his head at your cunt.

They fuck you and eat you out like this until you're all cumming again. You are amazed at how much stamina they both have. They give you a little bit to catch your breath, helping you drink some water.

"Still green?" Seungmin asks, laying next to you now, your head on his chest. He was playing with your nipple absentmindedly. I.N laid on your other side, rubbing your clit slowly, scrolling on his phone. He wasn't really paying attention to his phone, instead listening to the soft whimpers that you made at the over stimulation. You nod at Seungmin's question, breathing hard. You feel his chest rumble with a quiet laugh. "Think you have at least one more in you? I wanna fuck you with Innie." You nod again.

"I think I can do one more." You let out a breathy laugh. Both boys chuckle. Getting up, they both grab a new condom, putting it on their still hard lengths. I.N picks you up, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he easily slides into your sensitive entrance. You let out a shuddery moan and lean your head on his shoulder. Seungmin steps up behind you, prodding your ass with his tip, carefully sliding into you. I.N holds onto your ass as Seungmin holds onto your thighs. They carefully lift you and drop you onto their cocks, pulling deep moans out of you. You felt extremely full with them both inside you.

"Look at this little slut, hyung. She's taking both our cocks so well." I.N says, looking at his friend over your head. Seungmin smirks as he thrusts up hard into you. "You like having our cocks stuff you full, slut?" He asks you, gripping your thighs.

"Y-yeesss…" you moan loudly, your nails digging into I.N's back. Leaving scratches up to his shoulders, you arch into him as you clench around them both as you cum.

"Such a good fucking slut, arent you?" Seungmin whispers in your ear. "Our little slut." He chuckles, fucking you faster. They cum nearly at the same time together. Seungmin slips out of you, going to the bathroom to discard his condom and to get a clean rag to clean you up with. Laying you on the bed as Seungmin steps to the bathroom, I.N slips out of you and helps you drink some more water. Seungmin comes back out and switches with I.N so his friend can go get clean. Seungmin cleans you gently, placing a few soft kisses to your lips.

"How you doing, hm?" He asks softly. "We weren't too rough on you?" He sets the empty bottle on the floor by the bed. You shake your head.

"Mm-mm. I enjoyed it." You smile before yawning. I.N comes out and lays on your other side, draping his arm over your stomach.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself tonight. Now get some rest." He kisses you a few times before all three of you settle down for the night.

Taglist:

@honeyybbuubblleess @gnabnahcbby @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 @kenia4 @sweetprincessleah

[seastarblue]

Author Ask Tag!

phew.. so I’ve been tagged quite a bit: thank you to @aromanticsky , @asher-writes , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @theink-stainedfolk , and @aalinaaaaaa for the tags!

my bad if I missed anyone who also tagged me I’m working on catching up with these ^^

I’ll be doing A Golem’s Guide for this one !

———

What is the main lesson of your story?

People are not 100% good. Nor are they 100% evil. If someone does something wrong, what matters is what they do after. If someone does something right, what matters is if they keep that up. (Very shaky but this is the general lesson idk lol)

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

My inspiration comes from a lot of things (music, things I read, stuff from dreams) but I never really committed to writing all of them down, lols

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

Arbor’s main goal throughout the story is to figure out who he was, and figure out if he can be redeemed for what he’s done. My goal, simply put, is to finish the damn story (/hj), but inspiring and entertaining others is always a plus to me!

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Uh. Next question? (I don’t know yet.)

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original! And I think I’ll finally make an AO3 for it too.

When did you start writing?

I remember getting a letter in fifth grade to join a poetry club (I kept a notebook on me and scribbled sometimes) (I didn’t end up going). I’ve only started taking writing seriously since about last January, so a year or so.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

If something doesn’t seem to work out, be it a plotline or an arc or just something, take a step back and come back to it with fresh eyes. Works wonders, trust me. As for the lovely people I follow… well there’s quite a bit but I’d like to pass the mic to a few in particular (in a no pressure way ofc); @write-with-will @sunflowerrosy @thebookishkiwi @abiteofhoney @corinneglass and @vesanal !

and I think I’ll also…

taglist time! no pressure as always <3

@sableglass @dioles-writes @viridis-icithus @allaboutmagic @paeliae-occasionally

@astor-and-the-endless-ink @vsnotresponding @nightlylaments @ancientmyth

@thebookishkiwi @verdant-mainframe @threedaysgross @fifis-corner @bamber344

@seafloor509 @viwritesthings @abiteofhoney @rumeysawrites @pizzamanstan

@vesanal

oh and also open tag!

Blanks under the cut!

What is the main lesson of your story?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When did you start writing?

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures ( chapter two )

18+ 3.8k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, lite somnophilia, breaking & entering, petty theft, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 2/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is the most powerful man in the world, and all he wants is to be yours.

After spending the majority of your evening and the following morning anticipating being fired, walking into work the next day feels like traversing a thinly frozen lake, each step webbing out in precarious cracks.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so: you clock a handful of surprised looks from coworkers who’d attended the meeting and took note of the tension between you and Vought’s golden boy.

Maybe they’d taken bets on whether or not you’d be coming in this morning.

There’s no sign of Homelander on your way in. Not that you were expecting him–yesterday was the first time you actually saw him in person–but you still find yourself on the lookout. It’s hard to say whether you’re anticipating or dreading him. Part of you is still expecting to open your door and find a letter on your desk politely informing you that they’ve determined you aren’t a good “culture fit” for the company, and that your probation has been terminated.

After all, who in their right mind would take your side over Homelander’s?

You push open your office door, and sure enough, there is a letter waiting for you, but not in the way you expected. You stand in the doorway, staring in quiet incomprehension. The envelope, crisp and bright white, is propped up in a bed of rich red roses sitting in a pretty vase upon your desk. You glance behind you before you step inside, closing the door behind you, and approach the desk cautiously. You pluck the paper out of the bouquet, taking a moment to smell the flowers–they smell as good as they look–before you carefully rip open the envelope, tearing the small american flag sticker that sealed it.

Inside, there’s only one word on the folded piece of paper, scrawled in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Truce?

You can’t help the incredulous little bark of laughter you give at that. It’s not even an apology. It’s a demand that he expects a gratuitous bundle of flowers will help you swallow, like taking medicine with a spoonful of sugar.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say quietly to the letter, setting it down on your desk. You give the roses one last sniff, testing one of the soft petals between your fingers. You wonder if what you said actually got through to him.

Homelander has no real reason to smooth things over with you: you’re no one. He’s posed no risk to himself by coming after you. He could no doubt have you fired by complaining that your marketing tactics don’t align with his brand. It’s hard to imagine Vought denies him much.

Yet he is apparently negotiating peace. It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.

Or maybe it’s just more than you expected.

You sit, idly tapping the letter against your desk. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think him handsome. Homelander wasn’t the first man to ogle your tits while you gave a presentation, but he was certainly the first to fluster you like that when he did. His sly smile had made you want to slap him, but there was a questionable little part of you that thought about kissing it better afterwards.

Taking in a steadying breath, you slip the letter into your desk drawer and adjust the flowers to the side, admiring them a moment before you pull out your laptop.

If Homelander can behave himself enough to let you do your job without public humiliation, you can afford a truce. You don’t need to forgive or condone him to be civil, or even to continue having your own private fantasies. A little guilty pleasure now and again never hurt anyone.

You can’t know that Homelander is observing you throughout this internal conversation, watching through several layers of steel and concrete, his parted lips curving into a slow smile as you accept his offering. You can’t know that you haven’t just acknowledged a truce, but an invitation.

No, you can’t possibly know what’s to come.

Two days later, you diligently change the water that the roses in your office sit in. They’re doing well, the crimson buds having unfurled into a splay of velvety petals. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger and stroke it absently. Homelander has continued to be a scarcity, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him. Quite the opposite: you spend most of your working hours either looking at or thinking about his face to the point where it’s starting to follow you home each day.

That’s what you tell yourself when you think of him outside of work hours, anyways.

It’s been long enough now that you wonder if the flowers were the end of it. He was simply covering his ass with a half hearted gesture that slightly resembled an apology so that you could both comfortably drop the subject. That was entirely fine by you so long as he actually did improve his behavior.

A familiarly brisk knock at your door catapults your heart up against the cage of your ribs like a spooked hare. It’s the exact same beat, you’re sure of it. You stay quiet, half expecting to be barged in upon, but when nothing happens, you move from your desk and open the door yourself, intentionally blocking it with your body.

Sure enough, Homelander stands tall on the other side. He flashes his signature smile while your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m the one who can help you,” he says brightly, that spread of teeth downright wolfish. He lifts a handful of papers that have been stapled at the corner, gesturing for you to take it.

Still wary, you take them from him and shift, wedging your foot to keep the door firmly in place while you flip through the pages. Your brows furrow as you recognize chunks of your own presentation. Understanding dawns when you realize that he’s annotated them.

“You read my presentation,” you say, unable to mask your surprise.

“Obviously. It’s my image on the line, right? Got some notes for you, but I have to say: y’mostly nailed it,” he says, reaching out to rest a gloved hand on the doorway.

“Mostly?” You echo, quirking an eyebrow at him as you look up from the pages.

“Yeah, mostly. Again, I have some minor notes,” he says, wiggling his other hand in a vague gesture. “But I figure I owe you praise on a job mostly well done.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Crossing your arms, you abandon your stern foothold on the door in order to shift your weight, your incredulity showing in every inch of your body language.  “What you owe me is an apology.”

Homelander’s grin softens into a smile that’s no less challenging. “Looks to me like you’ve already been enjoying my apology,” he says, leaning slightly to gaze past you, to the bundle of roses sitting prettily on your desk.

You briefly glance over your shoulder, but your expression remains impassive. Unimpressed. “That? That isn’t an apology. An apology would include the words I’m sorry.”

He scoffs a dismissive laugh, swaying back to look away, but you persist.

“I’m serious,” you say, luring his ocean blue gaze back to yours. “I want you to say to me ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation. It won’t happen again.’ “

The two of you hold each other’s gaze with all the magnitude of two gunmen in a duel, hands steady over your proverbial pistols. 

To your surprise, Homelander does not fire back. He raises a dainty white flag.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation,” he says, words slow and measured. You watch his tongue flash over his bottom lip, wetting it attractively. You fight to not let your eyes linger on it. “It won’t happen again.”

You swallow, suddenly finding thought and speech an impossible task. You weren’t prepared for such raw, ready obedience from him, nor the intensity in his gaze that follows it. He reminds you of a charmed snake–docile so long as he is transfixed.

“Good,” you say, the word half a sigh. Homelander’s lips part and he breathes in like he’s caught wind of something particularly delicious smelling. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you took the time to do this,” you say, gesturing with the documents in your hand. “I’ll go over them and get back to you.”

He reaches out, bracing his hand on your office door. You half expect him to push it open, but he merely holds it there. “We could go over them together,” he suggests slyly.

“No,” you say, clearly disarming him. He looks as though he’s forgotten the meaning of the word. “I’m in the middle of another project at the moment.”

The leather of his gloves creaks faintly in your ear as he flexes his grip on the edge of the door. While what you’ve said is true, it’s also serving as a test. Words and flowers are pretty things, but only actions always speak the truth.

“At the moment,” he repeats, gears visibly turning in his eyes. “So… Later?” He extrapolates, displaying an uncharacteristic tentativeness alongside his obvious displeasure at the taste of rejection. You even see a glimmer of hope in the mess of his expression.. 

He did pass the test. You suppose you can reward him for that.

“Another time,” you say, giving your door an exploratory push. He relents, his hands sliding down the length of it before falling away as he takes a half-step back. “How about tomorrow on my lunch break? 1:00 o'clock sharp.”

He splits into a smile that looks more genuine than any of his you’ve seen before. “Aaalrighty-roo. Sounds gooood to meeeee,” he says, drawing out his vowels more the closer he gets to actually having to leave. At your silent, amused stare, he claps his gloved hands together with a muffled thump! and takes a few more steps backwards. “Yooooou’ll see me… tomorrow.”

Your smile pinches along with your brows. What a strange way to phrase it. “See you then,” you say, watching as his face is eclipsed by your closing door. You wait a beat and then let out a thin thread of breath from your pursed lips, resting your weight on the door.

Looking down at the papers in your hand, you push off from the door and head to your desk, flipping through them.

Such a strange man, you think, carrying the notes to your desk. You set them down next to the vase of roses and try not to think too much about the unconscious smile your lips keep settling into for the rest of the day.

Homelander’s got you hook, line and sinker. He’s certain of it. He lingers on the other side of your door just long enough to watch you through it while you settle, a charmed smile set on your lips. He can already imagine how those lips would feel against his own, how they’d taste. He swallows thickly and looks around before he departs, already plotting his next move.

The two of you have a date tomorrow, and in order to be at the top of his game, he’s going to have to do a little additional research. Knowing your work was a good first step. The next one will be learning about you.

Following you home is the easy part. It ultimately feels chivalrous to do so once he realizes you walk home even at this time of year, when the sun sets long before the work day ends. He drifts above you, cocking his head curiously. No wonder you walk. The streets are packed as tightly as sardine cans, and your apartment garage isn’t much better. The claustrophobia of it all serves as a stark contrast to the openness of Vought tower.

The interior of your apartment provides an even sharper juxtaposition to his penthouse. It’s tidy, but the comparatively low ceilings and minimal floor space still make it look cramped. Somehow, you simultaneously have too much and yet not much at all, the confinement of a downtown apartment making what minimal affects you do own seem crowded together.

That only becomes more apparent once he’s inside, slipped in through your balcony after sleep has taken you. Why would you bother to lock your balcony when you live on the 8th floor? It works out perfectly for him.

In all fairness, your living room feels cozier once he’s standing in the center of it. Your walls are lined with an assortment of art pieces and photographs, and the shelves are well stocked with books and knick-knacks. You have a decent film collection displayed on your media console, and he can’t help but snoop through it, bending at the waist, examining through the rows. He cocks his head.

Odd. You’d think an employee of Vought would have at least a few VCU films. He runs his index finger along the spines, slightly adjusting them flush as he goes. Pursing his lips, he straightens up and looks at the closed cabinets on either side. The left one yields an untidy assortment of electronic odds and ends, cords and the like. Nothing of much interest other than an indication that while you like to keep up appearances, you aren’t quite as together as you’d like people to think. 

It’s on the right side, however, he finds what he’s really looking for.

“Bingo,” he whispers, smiling to himself as he scopes out your little hidden collection of Vought hero flicks. Specifically, his films. He’s less interested in the handful of others you own (Queen Maeve: Her Majesty, Black Noir: Insurrection, Lamplighter: The Bright World, etc) and more so in the fact that you have nearly his entire catalog tucked away. 

Nearly. You’re missing his eighteen part miniseries, Homelander: Brightest Night.

At least that gives him something to gift you.

Closing the cabinet, he meanders about the rest of your apartment. You have some plants in varying states of decay, with only a few cacti looking to be in decent shape. Either your work keeps you too busy to properly mind them, or you just like the idea of them more than the reality. It tells him that you’re looking–and failing–to fill a void in your life. You want to feel less alone in your home, you want to nurture something. You just haven’t found the right something yet.

Striding into your kitchen, arms folded behind his back, he peers through the cheap wood veneer of your fiberboard cupboards, unveiling an unusually broad assortment of mugs. There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme: holidays, locales, characters, and a menagerie of patterns. 

He hums softly, pivoting out of the kitchen and down the hall, his steps preternaturally light. He listens for the beat of your heart as he draws near, tunes it in alongside the shallow cadence of your breath. Deep asleep. Good.

The walls are lined with pictures of you and others. Friends or family, he can’t say, but you look to have an abundance of both. He rarely sees himself in photos that aren’t promotional material. He pauses to straighten a picture frame, and finds himself so viciously jealous of the man sharing the frame with you–his lips pressed to your cheek, your laughing smile so genuine he can nearly hear it–that he almost knocks it to the ground.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he continues on.

Your bedroom door is open. He slips in silently, pausing just through the doorway. Your bed's a queen, too big for just you. You’re sprawled comfortably amidst pillows, limbs splayed in just such a way that he can easily imagine fitting himself in the empty spaces between them. He can smell the lingering burn of the candle you’d lit when you got home. He picks it up off your dresser, reading the label: Cup ‘o Joe. 

Eugh. He never cared for coffee, and the artificial sweetness surrounding the note is cloying. Your perfume, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind. He notices the bottle alongside a few other of your things and puts the candle down in favor of that, popping the cap off. The smell hits him before he sprays it: vanilla first, then amber and something more woodsy. It’s less impressive by itself than it had been on you.

Still, it’s yours. You chose it for yourself.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he lightly sprays into the inside of it before he sets the bottle back down, recapping it. It won’t be the same, but he’s driven by the compulsion to spirit away any little pieces of you that he can. Just enough to satiate himself until he can have you properly.

That’s when he sees your blouse from today in a careless heap at the top of your laundry basket next to your dresser. Licking his lips, he tests the feel of the garment between his bare fingers. He’s always been sensitive to fabrics, and while the blend of this one is fairly cheap, it’s been worn and washed enough that it’s soft against his skin. He grabs a handful of it and lifts it to his mouth, brushing it along his lips, under his nose, and he deeply inhales your lingering scent mixing with the fresh pump of perfume.

He bites back a moan, screwing his eyes shut. His cock gives a dull little throb. Fuck, the spell you’ve cast on him makes him ache just for the smell of you, makes him salivate. He swallows it back, letting out a rough little breath as he reluctantly puts the shirt back down. Under it, he spies a little flash of something black and lacy. His stomach clenches, and he’s reaching for it before he can stop himself, fishing the black panties out of the heap and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t afford to overindulge. He won’t be able to control himself if he does, but he also can’t bring himself to put the little slip of fabric back down. He imagines he can almost taste where your sweet cunt had been pressed to it. Christ, he’s practically drooling. Out of sheer impulse, he yanks down the zipper of his pants with a quiet hiss of metal against metal and hastily pushes your underwear into his cup, biting down hard on his lip. He grinds once against his hand, savoring the feel of the fabric against his cock.

He’ll enjoy them far more than you’ll miss them.

Zipping himself back up, he carefully pulls open your top dresser drawer. He curiously pushes the contents around, mindful not to overly disturb, and his knuckles bump something solid. He shifts one of your bras–another near painful pang of arousal at the reminder of your breasts–aside and finds, to his delight, what any good marketing department would describe as  “a large purple massage wand.”

A vibrator. He chews his bottom lip briefly, turning it over in his grip. An exciting find on all fronts. It’s smooth and decently hefty, good quality. You deserve even better. You might be capable of indulging yourself with this, but he could make you scream. You’ll never need a silly little toy again. Not when you have him.

Homelander moves to put it back in the drawer, but–

“Fuck!” He hisses when the button catches on his finger, and suddenly the damn thing is buzzing.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chants mentally, jabbing at the buttons in an attempt to silence it, but pressing the same ones only makes the accursed device louder. In a frantic move, he grips the neck and squeezes. There’s a soft crunch beneath the silicone, and as abruptly as it had begun, the buzzing ends. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest. He listens to the silence, to you.

He looks over his shoulder. No movement. Your breaths remain shallow.

Christ.

So much for leaving no trace. He slips the busted toy back amidst your underthings and snatches his glove off of your dresser, tucking it under his arm. He hones his attention on you as he approaches your bed, assuring himself that you really are still asleep. He stands there for a while, admiring the part of your lips and the haphazard splay of your pajamas and where they cling to your body.

No bra.

His bare hand flexes. Being so close is too much of a temptation. He wets his lips with a quick slide of his tongue and bends down. He ghosts his fingers just over your cheek, not quite daring to touch. He can smell the faint remnants of your toothpaste on your breath, your shampoo, and beneath it all, you. It's intoxicating, it's…

Your brows furrow slightly in your sleep and you make a soft noise, interrupting his thoughts. He wonders if you’re dreaming–dreaming of him, perhaps. He’d like to think so. He’d like to think that you’re just as affected by him wanting you as he is, and that’s the real reason you invited him to lunch. He saw it in your eyes when he echoed your words, the thrill that went through you. He could have gone to his knees for you in that moment and had you in giving himself to you.

Desperate for just a taste, he kisses ever so gently between your brows, his own breaths matching the cadence of yours. Divine. You're divine. So effortlessly perfect and so aware of your own power. How could he not want every part of you?

He means to leave it there, to walk away with nothing but the slight salt of your brow on his lips, but the pull is too great. He's greedy, drunk on the smell and the taste of you, on the feel of your panties pressed up against his cock, and he can't stop himself from sampling your lips against his.

It’s the barest hint of touch, and yet the contact lances electricity through him like he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. Your lips are soft, soft, soft. He knew they would be. Everything about you is so fucking soft. It takes everything in him to pull away, standing back to his full height.

He's aching, yearning so intensely he could rip the covers away and take you just like this, shake you awake, declare himself and have you. Would you scream, or would you have that same look of affronted understanding of him? You see him in a way few are ever brave–or stupid–enough to dare.

Not yet.

He won’t spoil the game. He agreed to play by your terms. As far as you’re concerned, he’ll do precisely that. You’ll be none the wiser in regards to his little reconnaissance mission–anything could have happened to your vibrator–and the two of you can play your little game as if you stand on equal footing.

Sucking in a silent breath, Homelander leaves alone, but not empty handed.

He’ll make very good use of his little trophy tonight.

( chapter three )

[longagoitwastuesday]

Every day I am haunted by the fact JJK could be amazing but it will be just idk Bleach or something

[dolokhoded]

i'm sorry to all the projects i never finished because i was too depressed and once i was back i simply couldn't be assed anymore every time this happens a little bit of creativity dries up in me and i just can't jump back in again hope you understand

[orcelito]

Just finished rereading ITNL chapter 2 again

Yknow, it's long felt like a weaker chapter to me, especially compared to chapter 1. It's a Necessary chapter, but it's basically an entire chapter of introspection. Add in the fact that I wrote it in a single day and was half falling asleep by the end of editing it, but pressing onwards anyways bc I wanted So Badly to get it out that night...

The Legato part was the weakest for that. I remember staring at it and breaking my brain just trying to make it sound better before just giving up and posting. But when I worked on my full-fic re-edits about.. a year ago now? A year and a bit. I think it was October ish of 2023. But I focused on that part again, trying to get it up to my standards to be satisfied with it.

Coming back to it after some number of months, my brain relatively fresh, I think I actually did a pretty decent job. Despite being an introspective chapter, it really drives home how Wrecked vash is about it all. I like to say that chapter 1 is like a thesis to the fic, where you get vash's goals laid out pretty clearly (him picturing the things he wants to fix + him picturing his dream of having all the people he loves around a table with him, including Knives. It serves as motivation for him jumping back in time in the first place and it remains his driving force throughout the fic). In contrast, chapter 2 is... almost a secondary thesis. We see his doubt, his fears, his panic. We see the things that he's going to be struggling with throughout the whole fic. His wish to handle it all on his own, as well as how overwhelming it all is to him. Chapter 2 is the necessary second side to chapter 1's thesis, showing the weakness in his own strength and drive.

The cracks in his own unstoppable force.

Idk it's just interesting to me. Having been away from it long enough, I think I really do appreciate chapter 2 after all.

[digo3d]

Currently obsessed with the Stressors oneshot so I'm actually gunna turn it into a full story because all of what I want to do in it is too long for a oneshot so yeup

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im pyrr pyrriax and im in my trimonthly artist arc, lord help me and all the projects that are currently sitting in my drafts while i am lured in by the siren song of drawing

[vykerr]

I'm cookin a little, might post eventually

[fourswords]

forgot how fun writing hurt/comfort is actually it's been so many years since i did this

[mimicteruyo]

After jumping the gun by over a year and making such a mess of the initial draft that I had to scrap the entire thing, I have finally written a functional chapter outline for working title Ain't Your Fairytale.

[galaxythreads]

hod to copy and paste this from reply bc it got to long.

yo. youre a great writer. i made this account to follow all other ao3 writers i love and adore, including you. and i read all your supernatural fics. started with your "homesick yet darling?." i read that one bc of the powers sam tag (a personal fave), and i simply had to read the rest. you just write your characters' pain and trauma so well. and realistic too. like of course they have problems and of course they dont want to talk about it and so of course they all suffer more than needed. like that is so real to the supernatural characters. and everytime i saw an update to that fic i got really excited and really scared bc my boys were in trouble and it just kept getting worse for them. you are really good at that progression. like it feels awful and it feels real. and i am not the biggest jack kline fan, but you made one with "omission lies and false truths." like hes just a kid, and no one tells him anything and so of course he has trauma. you make me see him in a different lens so whenever i see him on screen on rewatch im like baby boy is going through the horrors of family. :( i mean i knew that already, but you make me appreciate that more. also, i got my now-but-not-then-ex into fanfiction thru your fic "level seven." i also read your some of your loki fics. i just rly like sibling angst time and you do that so well. so like thx. appreciate you. thumbs up emoji here.

I am giving you an enormous hug and I think I owe you like at least half my self-esteem now. Thanks. Seriously. I don't really get asks about my SPN stuff and this was so good to hear. This entire ask is incredibly sweet and I really appreciate you taking the time to write this all out. thank you.

this gif is a little obnoxious but i'm not sorry