#always feel free to come into the inbox or whatever! I love when people pop up and engage with my more obscure history things

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

I started following you long ago for the lotr works and your work about renaissance Venice that are all greats and already complimented you so sorry If I pop up totaly random again, but I'm amazed by your Marsilio Ficino posts, because I've been into 15th century Lureantian Florence for ages and although at some point I started to read everything else, now I'm returned to my old habits and is so so nice to see anyone interested on Ficino and his boyband the Neoplatonic Academy!

On an exclusive pairing term I'm interested in all thes possible relationships between anyone who lived in 15th century Florence, having been an arts management/culture economics major I'm more into painters/artists/sort off, in particular Sandro Botticelli and his relationship with the Medicis, with Poliziano, Leonardo, but I'm also a Lorenzo/Poliziano/Pico truther, etc. I have to say that with time my appreciation for the Medicis decresed and now I'm more interested in other rich families, patron dynasties and drama annexes including the Pazzi ofc, and with them anything else that went wrong with the 1478 conspiracy.

And Giovanni Cavalcanti/Marsilio Ficino, so many memories from uni years! (I'm Italian so this is our standard study program eheh). I just remember how MF was down so bad for his platonic bro :')

I wanted to write to you a better paragraphs but my brain at the moment is all "yay Pazzi ooooh murder wooo so much philosophy, now I'm going to read a 1919 essay on Jstor about a sodomy process occurred in 1501 of an obscure venetian totally random poet".

Have a nice week and good Ficinanti lectures! <3 (and with all your amazing, wondersful, show stopping lotr fic!) ;D

Ficino and his Boyband is a) a great band name in and of itself and b) accurate because he was forever haranguing them to play music with him since we all know beautiful music, alongside staring at hot men, is a prime way to help get closer to God and the Truth etc.

He even has Luigi Pulci for his Dastardly Band Rival

Lorenzo: can I like both of you?

Ficino: absolutely not. you have to choose. and it should be me.

Lorenzo: mmmmm no.

but yeah! I love when people pop up who are also into all things Ficinian! My brief past life in academia was all social history of early modern Europe - and while I did meddle with things like translation and state and social identity in colonial New Spain (what is now Mexico) and political/state identity in reformation England, my real love was always the Italian city states. Each and every one of them a fun and exciting hot mess. (And particularly queerness and the state in 15th and 16th c...there might be a thematic trend here)

I had an ex describe Florence from 1430-1510 as "a bunch of toddlers piled on a tricycle going downhill at top speed with no breaks" and I think that's accurate.

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in particular Sandro Botticelli and his relationship with the Medicis, with Poliziano, Leonardo

I just have this image of Botticelli in the background yelling commentary at people who are like "that's nice Sandro". For some reason that's how my brain imagines both him and Poliziano.

Foreground: Ficino & Lorenzo arguing about church taxes or something, or Ficino & Pico arguing about Platonic Concepts of Love or whatever

Background: Poliziano and Botticelli sharing a pack of cigarettes making scathing soto vocce commentary on what is happening.

In the wings: Giovanni trying to convince his boyfriend not to do anything too stupid, or at the very least Don't Write It Down & Have It Printed, while Luigi Pulci is like "this is Marsilio we're talking about here. He loves writing things down and having them printed then becoming very annoyed when the Church arrives to knock-knock-knock on his parish door."

-

So I'm working on a Ficino book and I have this mental image in my head of him and Giovanni on a rooftop. It's like 2am. They're trying to get Ficino's father Who Is Now A Demon/Revenant For Reasons into a bag. They look over and see Leonardo da Vinci on the roof with them in a strange contraption.

They all stare at each other.

Giovanni: hey Leo.

Leonardo: hey Giovanni. Nice night for it Marsilio.

Marsilio: . . ...

Leonardo: is that...is that your father with glowing red eyes?

Marsilio: my father is dead, Leo. You know this.

Leonardo:

Leonardo: ok.

Leonardo:

Leonardo: have you told him that? he doesn't look dead.

Marsilio: go away, Leo.

Giovanni: are those.

Giovanni:

Giovanni: are those wings? like....are those wooden wings? are you....are you going to try and fly?

Leonardo: um. yes?

Giovanni:

Giovanni: ok.

Leonardo: this is a uh...this is a moment where we all pretend we didn't see each other isn't it? This is one of those moments, right?

Marsilio: yes. yes it is. Bye Leonardo.

On the street 9 year old Machiavelli escorting his drunk dad home from the tavern: NICE UNDEAD FATHER YOU HAVE THERE FICINO.

Marsilio: oh my god shut the fuck up

Anyway - please enjoy this scene that has been rotting in my head for a fortnight now.

-

I'm also a Lorenzo/Poliziano/Pico truther

always and forever I am with you as a Lorenzo/Poliziano/Pico truther. You don't bury two men in the same grave* unless there are Reasons!

(*you do, in fact, sometimes do that. But I'm ignoring this)

I remember when I was doing grad work at uni Pico and Poliziano were The Hot Thing to gossip about in the staff room. Like I had profs, after a bottle or two of wine, being like "well, Piero poisoned them because of politics, sure, but also mostly because they were probably shacked up with his father at some point and he felt weird about it"

As always, there is the Formal Historian Opinion and the I've Had Two Bottles of Wine and/or My Writer's Hat Is On Opinion. Two, sometimes radically different, things.

Anyway - I'm here for Poliziano/Lorenzo/Pico. At the very least it was Ploziano/Lorenzo then later Poliziano/Pico and maybe there was one really messy Carnival week when it was Pico/Lorenzo. Also maybe Pico/Marsilio but they never, ever talked about it ever again. Marsilio would have felt so ashamed and guilty and Pico would be like "it's kind of like fucking an older brother/uncle and I don't want to think about it" and Giovanni is like "Excuse Me I am your Soul Husband, Marsilio" and Marsilio is like "you have four daughters with your mistress - we have Complications in our relationship ok?"

god everyone was a WRECK

-

I just remember how MF was down so bad for his platonic bro :')

They were married! In their souls! I don't subscribe to it being a one-sided thing. I know some historians and writers have argued that it was one-sided with Ficino being desperate for Giovanni who didn't return the same level of feelings. But I don't really subscribe to that for various reasons.

Now, how their relationship manifested between them, in terms of physical and non-physical love, who knows.

Ficino entered the priesthood in his forties and I believe it was a natural progression for him in terms of his own philosophical journey. It was also a bit of a God Found Me moment. Like a real calling, versus "third son and I need an occupation" which was the case for obviously 95% of the clergy. We know Ficino took his role as priest very seriously and undertook all his duties with diligence and dedication. He kept accounts, did all the smaller administrative tasks that a lot of priests would shove off onto the shoulders of someone else. Nothing was too small or humble for Ficino's attention.

Given that aspect of who he was, and his seriousness with which he undertook his own philosophical teachings and practices, I presume he took all of his vows earnestly and seriously, not least the vow of celibacy. Or he would have tried very, very hard.

Obviously, celibacy in the Catholic Church has a long, complicated history and even in Ficino's lifetime there were still some mutterings about it. Though he was absolutely not one of the people going "hm, maybe priests should be able to have a wife or something."

Ficino's relationship with sex and physical desire was clearly complicated. Made worse, likely, by the fact that the object(s) of his desire were fellow men and we all know what that means in the year of our lord 1470-something.

That said, physical desire was very much intertwined with God, Beauty and Truth in his ladder of love/salvation. It's something he struggled to reconcile - the fact that he firmly believed perception and engagement with Beauty by the Mind, Soul and Spirit of a person is how we are to become closer to God and a person comes to find and know true Beauty through desire. It's one of the foundations over which he and Pico quarreled as it relates to the Platonic understanding of the ladder of love.

Pico felt Ficino's insistence that physical desire be part of salvation was too risky and would lead to sodomy/sinful things while Ficino couldn't perceive a world in which Beauty was understood or discovered through means that were entirely non-corporeal.

It's all a little pear shaped.

The mind tries to reach God through beauty, which is determined by desire.

For a man who was so very cerebral and spiritual - who bled into the mystic and ecstatic traditions of Catholic spirituality - he was at the same time incredibly earthy and corporeal. I suspect his being quite aware of his own body and its urges is what drove a lot of this push/pull that we see in his writing.

There are plenty of letters where he writes Giovanni in a manner that suggests they have certainly partaken of physical displays of love with one another. There's that one where he writes about how he and Giovanni don't need tongues and hands to show love to one another implying, of course, that they have done such things.

He wrote to Bernardo Bembo that Bernardo must have the eyes of a lynx for he perceived that Giovanni and Marsilio were soul-married (or whatever) long before they themselves were aware of it. Which makes me laugh because of what a perfect fucking fanfic set-up that is. Like what? Next you're telling me, Marsilio, that you and Giovanni were travelling once and Oh No There Was Only Bed**.

Bernardo: GET A ROOM.

Marsilio: ?????

Giovanni: ?????

Bernardo: I swear to God and the good mother Mary you two are gagging for each other and need to just fuck about it or something.

Poliziano, in the background: I've been saying that for yeeeaaaars.

(**never mind that everyone shared beds back then so it would have been very normal and they just would have been like "why would there be more than one bed?? you can fit so many people in one bed and we all have minimal furniture. It's 1473.")

-

now I'm going to read a 1919 essay on Jstor about a sodomy process occurred in 1501 of an obscure venetian totally random poet

oh my god, Venetian sodomy stories break my heart because Venice went so hard on punishment in a way Florence just...didn't.

This is what happens when you put a city on a lagoon! It makes everyone paranoid that if they offend God he will sink them under the waves.

Granted, it was quite something in the 17th century when the Ten ordered a review of the Venetian merchant fleet, have heard that there was Much Sodomy & Other Vile Things Occurring and found that yeah, everyone has been fucking each other on boats for centuries now.

And the Ten were like: :O whaaaat and God didn't strike us down??????

Pokemon meme: The Ten Hurt Themselves in Their Confusion.

-

I remember reading one account of a man (I want to say he was a cittadini merchant) who began an affair with his rower. It was a long term thing, the rower even married a (probably illegitimate) niece or something of the merchant. They were very much clearly Lifers.

Anyway - got found out and the two were rounded up and the cittadini guy told his rower, 'Look, just say I forced you. Say it was unwilling on your part and I was making you do it' etc. because he figured as a member of the cittadini class he had a better chance of getting off the hook than his lover who was as a no one.

His lover was reluctant to do that but agreed to the rouse - however, the Ten were on a serious crackdown that year and hauled him in for torture anyway. Despite his being a "victim" and therefore, traditionally, not seen as being as much to "blame" for the sinful acts etc.

During the torture, the rower ended up confirming that no, it was not forced. Yes, he was very much into it. The big kicker was that one of them ended up admitting that they switched "roles" so both topped and both bottomed, which was obviously a big deal in terms of perception of masculinity and culpability in these cases.

Sadly, they both ended up on the pyre and were burned to death between the pillars of the Lion of San Marco and Poseidon in the palazzo di San Marco.

(nb: the details are sketched out loosely here, it's been a while since I read that case so I could be misremembering exactly how things played out)

-

Every time I see pics of tourists between those pillars I'm like, "Do you know how many men were burned to death for sodomy right where you're standing? And how many members of government were hanged for treason (or "treason") and their bodies left so their colleagues got to walk by them on their way into work? I bet there's a ghost in your picture."

It's a bit of a mood killer for tourists, apparently.

annnnyway. Venice and sodomy laws! Heartbreaking!

-

Despite that, the city did have a thriving sodomy scene which is hilarious. Though, as the famous saying went, It takes only seven days for the sun to set on a Venetian law and they must recreate it.

Love that bit in Sanudo's diary where he's like: The Ten, in their wisdom, issued another promulgation reminding everyone that sodomy is illegal and it was read aloud in the Rialto and everyone in the market laughed.

--

ok, my turn to apologize for making this WAY too long. I just - I have the worms they are in my brain and they are going !!!!!!!! about all things relating to Ficino and also 15th and 16th century Venice.

<3 <3 <3 <3

[something-tofightfor]

Fool's Gold 2: The Wonder in the Wait

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M for now - but that will change later.

Word Count: 6,255

Summary: The longer you're on the ship, the more you learn about the man who rescued you - and the people you're surrounded by.

Some things make sense. Others make none. As more time passes, the line between the two blurs. Your growing comfort on the open sea and your blooming attraction to Daavos doesn't help anything.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that read the first two parts of this. I love this little world I'm building, and it's been a lot of fun to tweak Daavos' personality a little without making him unrecognizable.

If you want to talk about this story (or any of my others) please feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs!

Chapter title comes from "Valkyrie" by Caligula's Horse.

Fool's Gold Masterlist

You paused for long moments at the top of the stairs, just looking at what was in front of you. 

You’d expected a ship that was in less than perfect condition, something that might have needed serious repairs or polishing due to the time it spent on the sea and the nature of piracy. 

Instead, you saw grandeur everywhere you looked - gleaming bronze rails, polished carvings on the outer walls of the main cabin, and level decking with evenly cut boards beneath your feet. The design of the ship was sleek, and when you looked up at the sails, you had to blink at how large they were - and at the fact that they weren’t patched or mended. 

Instead, they were pristine and blood red, and though they weren’t fully extended, they were still puffy with the breeze. “We don’t sail at full speed overnight.” Daavos reached for you again, taking your elbow. “We’ll lower them again at first light.” You walked slowly with him across the deck, eyes scanning your surroundings. “My crew are very good at what they do.”

“Your ship is beautiful.” He held your hand as you took a few steps upward onto the deck at the bow, nodding politely at a young man that hurried by and briefly ducked his head as he greeted the two of you. “What is she called?”

He stopped beside you, letting go of your hand and then leaning forward to rest his elbows atop one of the railings. Daavos was quiet, and you took a few seconds to look at him, watching as the sea breeze ruffled the curls on his head. His profile was stunning - a proud, sloped nose, full lips that seemed to be set into a pout whenever he was deep in thought, his neck corded with muscle, but still slender. 

He was handsome, and you had the feeling that whenever the ship was docked, the women in whatever port they chose were falling over themselves just for the chance to interact with him. Unless he has a wife. He said there were women on board, but if she were here, he wouldn’t have put me in their room. You glanced down at your own hands, thinking. 

You didn’t wear a ring. You didn’t have any jewelry that bore a sigil with your belongings. Aside from the bottom of the dagger’s hilt and the strange stamped piece of metal, you’d seen nothing of yours that could even potentially connect you to a house or a family. 

There was always the possibility that you were poor, and that your husband and family were lowborn, which meant that you had nothing of real value to your name. But the material and style of your dress and boots - and the gold coins in them - told you otherwise. 

“You’re on the Sand Snake.” Daavos finally spoke, turning his head toward you. “The finest ship out of -” The Sand Snake? But … 

“This is Prince Oberyn Martell’s ship.” You straightened up, lips parting as your eyes widened. “It was captured after he -” After he died. Daavos stood up, too, angling his body toward yours, but leaving one elbow resting against the railing. “And that makes you the Blood Adder.” 

You took a step back, fear creeping through you for the first time. I knew there was going to be something to worry about. “So you have heard of me.” His smile was still there, and the amusement in his eyes had grown, but he didn’t move closer or attempt to keep you in place, even as you took another half step back. “This was the Prince’s ship. And I did take over as captain after he was ambushed.” He reached down, untucking the bottom of his shirt from his pants and lifting the material up to show you the skin of his abdomen. Despite your apprehension, you didn’t look away as he displayed a large, healed over scar, prominent on his right side. “But I earned it.” 

You knew the story of Oberyn Martell - and his fate - well. 

You didn’t know how or why you had the information, but as you kept quiet and studied Daavos’ face, you tried to think rationally. Let it come to you. After Oberyn’s victory against Gregor Clegane at Tyrion Lannister’s trial by combat, things had escalated quickly for the Dornishman. 

A week later, Tywin Lannister’s body had been found in one of the Red Keep’s towers. The only thing wrong with his appearance was a trickle of blood from his nose and mouth. The following day, an entire company of the Lannister army that was known to closely protect and serve Tywin was found poisoned, all of the men suffering greatly before their deaths according to eyewitnesses. 

There was no outright reason to suspect Oberyn, as he’d been seen with his lover Ellaria in a variety of places throughout the most likely times that the deaths had taken place. But Cersei hadn’t been willing to accept that she couldn’t pin the blame on him, though she’d let the Dornish Prince finish his stay in King’s Landing without incident. 

Weeks later, long after the Dornish entourage had returned home, she’d sailed a portion of her army down the coast and toward Dorne to intercept the Prince’s ship as he sailed north for Pentos. A clash on the open sea resulted in the death of the Prince, the capture of his ship, and a victory for the Queen Reagent, even if she was the only one keeping score. 

But you hadn’t known that pirates took part in the initial battle, and you told Daavos as much, your voice shaking slightly. “They did.” He scoffed. “Cersei Lannister was not willing to sacrifice more of her army than necessary, so she required the assistance of pirates.” He gestured to the ship, his smile almost spiteful. “I kept the name of the ship because when people see her? They remember what one Dornish man was willing to do for those he loves.” He pointed at himself. “And I am the Blood Adder to carry on in the Red Viper’s memory, because I understand what it means to honor those memories. I understand the importance of family and love and vengeance.”

“Did you kill him for this ship?” You held his gaze, setting your shoulders. “Prince Oberyn?” 

“No.” Daavos narrowed his eyes. “I did not.” He sighed. “She tasked one of her men with carrying that order out.” 

“They never found his body.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. “I remember … the news came to us, and he was declared dead because …” You tapped your foot on the deck, thinking. “His armor. People that went to King’s Landing said that Prince Oberyn’s armor was displayed there as a trophy. And they wouldn’t have had the armor unless…” 

“So it seems that you do know some things.” Daavos raised a brow, lips parting to reveal his teeth through a smile. “Just not … anything about yourself.” 

“I know that I must have been on a ship.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “And I know that I had some coin, and a dagger that looks at least somewhat valuable.” He nodded, eyeing you. “I know that the style of my dress is … quality.” 

“The stitching is exquisite.” Daavos winked again, nodding back. “We found you by following a trail of debris floating on the water. With the currents, it seems …” He took a breath. “It seems likely that you set sail from Braavos or Gulltown.” 

You considered his words. Either option was possible, based on what you knew about those ports. “Did you find anything from the ship? A name, a logbook, a piece of sail?” 

“We found wreckage. Some was just broken boards and beams, other pieces looked … burned.” He pointed at you with one ringed finger. “Those burns align with your burns; the ones on your back and shoulders? It stormed in the area a few days ago, we were sailing just behind the weather, so it is possible that -”

“Lightning.” You gasped, thinking back to your dream. “I dreamed about a lightning storm and the smell of burning, and -” 

“This is good.” Daavos smiled and then stepped closer, stopping when you held up a hand. “I am sorry.” He held up both hands, closing his eyes. “I understand that now that you know who I am, you are … afraid of me.” Not afraid, just … wary. “You have no reason to believe me, but I mean it when I say that as long as you are on this ship, you are just as important to me as any member of my crew.” He gestured to the space behind you, indicating the rest of the ship. “I mean you no harm, and neither do any of them. I only take lives when it is necessary.” 

“What happened to the Prince’s men?” You turned and looked at the crewmembers as they worked, listening as their laughter carried to you. “Did they just abandon ship when you became captain?”

“His crew was small on that journey, because it was supposed to be a simple one. Some of them were killed attempting to protect their Prince.” He sighed, finally looking away and staring out, over the water. “I gave others the option to disembark when we made land next so that they could make their way home. A few did that. Most chose to stay.” He looked back at you, his smile sad. “It is a big and beautiful world, and they, like myself, did not want to live and die in the same corner of it where they were born.” 

“They should call you Daavos the Merciful, not the Blood Adder.” You rolled your eyes, turning away from him and crossing your arms before you leaned forward, resting them on the railing. “If what you’re saying is true, you’re the least ruthless pirate on the Narrow Sea.” 

He laughed at your words, moving to stand next to you again and mirroring your position, though he kept space between you. “Don’t be fooled. I am ruthless. And I will defend myself and those that I protect. But cruelty for cruelty’s sake serves no purpose in this life. I am no Lannister.” 

The two of you watched the sea in silence for a long while, and you let your thoughts run free. 

His story rang true with what you knew of the Martells and Lannisters. You’d recognized the ship and figured out his name before he’d even confirmed who he was. His crew seemed happy, and the few women you’d seen on the decks and in the hallways below deck looked content and healthy as they moved freely throughout the ship. He’s not keeping them here against their will.  

It still didn’t seem like a typical pirate ship or crew, though you had nothing more than general knowledge to make your assumptions from. But the truth was that no matter how you felt, or what you thought, there was little you could do about your situation. I just need to make it to Tyrosh. That gives me time. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.”  You looked toward him, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for allowing your healer to treat my wounds. I …” You didn’t know if you actually wanted to admit to him how close you’d been to giving up, but decided that no matter what or who he was, he’d brought you on board and deserved to hear the truth. “If you hadn’t found me that day, I was … I was going to wait until sundown, when the sea beasts …” 

“Then I am very glad we saw your boat.” He cautiously reached over, letting his fingertips touch your hand but not pushing for more. “You may not know who you are or where you come from right now, but I’m certain that you have much to live for.” 

“Maybe.” You glanced down at your hands. “I have no jewelry. I have nothing with a house sigil on it. I don’t know who might be looking for me, or where I was going, or -”

“You remembered the lightning.” He nodded, brow furrowed. “You remembered the storm. The way you speak and the information you know tells me that you are educated, and not just in historical events. If you want my guess?” He leaned a little closer, and you did too, captivated by the cadence of his voice and the warmth in his expression. “I think you are from Braavos. And if that is the case, your ship not showing up where it is supposed to be when it is supposed to be there will be big news.”  

He was right. And it’s as good a guess as any. “I have enough to book passage on a ship from Tyrosh back to Braavos.” You shook your head and then covered your face with your hands. “Or … or any other city between here and Tyrosh. You could just … Pentos. You could drop me off in Pentos, and -”

“I could do that.” He sighed, lips turning downward and into a frown. “If it is what you want me to do. But Braavos is just my guess. And if I am wrong? If you make it back to the city and it turns out that you are not from there?” His mouth moved, but no words came out for long seconds. “A woman alone with little money has very few options for survival.” 

“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped and you hung your head, eyes cast down so that you could focus on the surface of the water as the ship slipped through it. He was right about that, too. And while you figured a man like Daavos had spent time in the pleasure houses and brothels in both Westeros and Essos, it seemed that the idea of someone being forced into the profession wasn’t something he agreed with. 

You wondered if he had sisters - or even close friends while growing up - that had been thrust into that lifestyle against their will. Or maybe he just … cares. “May I tell you something else?” 

You murmured a yes, blinking rapidly before you looked over at him. The sun was truly beginning to set, and the light caught him perfectly, highlighting the planes of his face and seeming to make him glow. The sight of him - like that - was distracting, but you forced yourself to pay attention to what he was saying, trying to push the feeling of attraction to the side. It is not the right time. 

“My healer told me some other things about you after she examined you.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “I was not present for any of this, I assure you. But she said that you seem to be healthy. You have few scars, and despite it being crusted with salt and blood from the wound, your hair was … Not matted. No insects. It was singed, but your dress was well made and maintained.” He cautiously touched your hand again, fingers trailing down to take your wrist before he flipped it over, exposing your palm. “There are only small calluses on your hands and feet.” 

He slipped his thumb up and over the heel of your hand and then circled it against your palm, his touch gentle. But wait a minute … From what you could see, his hands were smooth, too - or at least smoother than those of a pirate should have been. There was dirt beneath his nails, but they were well-kept. And so is his hair and his facial hair. 

He traced along one of the lines on your palm, following it up the center of your hand with the tips of two of his fingers, but he didn’t say anything else for almost a minute. “She checked you for … trauma.” You knew what he meant immediately, and instead of attempting to draw your hand away from his, you closed your fingers, trapping his beneath them. “I thought … I thought maybe something had happened, and someone left you in that boat, and …”

“Did she find anything?” You hadn’t even considered the fact that you’d been abused and then abandoned, and even though there was wreckage from what Daavos assumed was your ship, he’d been right to check. 

“She told me no on both accounts, but did not give details.” He pressed his palm to yours and then withdrew his hand, steepling his fingers together, arms hanging over the edge of the railing. “That is a good thing.” It is. “Today must be overwhelming for you, so I will finish the tour by showing you the rest of the ship’s interior. There is a washroom. There is a galley. If and when you are hungry, please find something to eat.” 

“Am I allowed to be out here?” You held a hand up, thumb pointing back and behind you. “Or would you prefer I stay below deck?” 

“You can go wherever you wish.” His smile widened, and you were happy to see it. “You are not a prisoner on the Sand Snake. She is yours to explore.” You thanked him again, and when you both stood up and backed away from the railing, it was you that reached for him, laying your hand on his arm and letting it rest there. 

“I’ll go with you to Tyrosh, Daavos. Pentos is … there’s no need to make a special stop for me.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” He closed his eyes and nodded, the small smile never faltering. “And I’m sure we’ll enjoy each other’s company until we arrive.” 

— 

For the next few days, you got to know the ship and some of the crew. 

The weather was pleasant, and the further south you sailed, the warmer the days became. You saw Daavos multiple times each day, but he didn’t visit you in your room at all. You knew that he’d gone in, though, because the door of his wardrobe was unlocked one afternoon, and one of the drawers on his desk was opened the next, revealing stacks of papers and a few small books inside of it. 

You knew it was wrong of you, especially after he’d been so generous with allowing you to remain in the room even after you didn’t need to anymore. But you couldn’t stop yourself from reading the pages. 

Some of them were Prince Oberyn’s personal items. There were letters from his daughters and Ellaria, sketches of a beautiful woman that you assumed was his lover, and even a few folded pieces of paper that you opted not to read after finding that they were correspondence that he’d never been able to send to the woman before his death. 

There was also poetry, which you absolutely read, your eyes scanning the words on the page as your heart ached for the man that had inked them. You knew who Prince Oberyn was and what he was known for, and based on the pages in front of you, the rumors of his romantic nature had been true. 

But his feud with the Lannisters had snuffed out his life too soon, leaving a woman that was clearly devoted to him as well as all of his daughters without him. It’s not fair, you thought as you shuffled through the papers and put them back into the order you’d found them in. He won that trial outright and there was no proof that he was responsible for Tywin and the army’s deaths. 

There was another stack of papers in the drawer, and those were in a different handwriting, leading you to believe that they were Daavos’. Reading the words of a dead man were one thing, but prying into the life of a man that you knew personally was another, and so with only a quick glance, you pushed them away from you and then shut the drawer. 

It locked with a click, and you stood up, deciding to get some fresh air. 

Twilight was settling over the sea, which meant activity on the deck was light. Most of the crew were in the galley or their quarters and enjoying their nightly meal. You opted to stay on the main deck, settling yourself atop one of the crates there and leaning against the ones stacked behind it. 

Your hands and face were better - the salve Daavos had given you was nothing short of magic. Though the worst blisters were still present, they’d gotten much smaller and no longer hurt. 

Your back was better, too, the healer confirming that you were on the mend. All things considered, the previous days had been wonderful for you, and the fresh salt breeze was likely helping. 

But you still didn’t remember anything about your previous life. 

You’d asked a few of the crewmen if they recognized the symbol on the metal or the mark on the bottom of your dagger, but none of them could help you. You’d inquired as to whether or not they recognized your accent based on their travels, but aside from a vague “you sound like you’re from the North”, there’d been no progress there, either.

But you could read. And if you could read, it stood to reason that you could write, too. You were educated and your body was soft, making clear that you’d never had to do hard labor.  Your clothes and boots were made from fine materials, and were well made, on top of that. The confirmation that your body bore no signs of sexual trauma was a relief, too. 

All of that together told you that whoever you were and wherever you were from, you’d likely had a good life, or at the very least, a comfortable one. “And yet I’m happy here, too.” You sighed and closed your eyes, tipping your head back. 

The crew were friendly, explaining the routines on the ship to you when you asked. You’d helped in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and slicing bread, even helping to cook meat. After the first few days on board, you’d woken up early in the morning, following the schedule of the majority of the crew. You would have helped more, earning your place among them, but they had been unwilling to let you. 

You assumed that was Daavos’ doing. While you appreciated the fact that he wanted you to get better before you overexerted yourself, you wondered how long that would last. Maybe until Tyrosh. You hoped that wasn’t the case, because there were still days to go until you docked there. 

“May I sit with you?” You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, turning your head to the right. “We have not had time to speak today.” 

“Of course, Captain.” Scooting over, you left him room to sit beside you. “We’re what … three days out from Tyrosh?” He settled in, murmuring an agreement. 

“Maybe a little less.” He settled his hands on his lap, one thumb turning the ring on the other in a slow circle. “The winds change near Shipbreaker Bay, and we may be fortunate.” 

“I’m sure the crew will be happy to be on land for a few days.” He nodded, taking a deep breath. “What about you? Do you stay with the ship, or will you enjoy the city, too?” 

“The Three Sisters to Tyrosh is a short journey, so none of my crew are sea-weary.” There was a long pause, and when Daavos spoke again, you could tell that he was amused. “But if you’re asking what I believe you are asking, yes. I intend to make a few stops while we’re docked, and I’m sure they will, too.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat. Of course he understood my meaning. “After we inquire about you, of course.” 

“I can do that on my own.” You waved him off. “It shouldn’t take long. And I don’t want to cut your time short with … your business.” Daavos laughed, lifting one hand to press it to the center of his chest, and despite the slight embarrassment you felt at the subject of the conversation, you let yourself enjoy it. 

He laughed often, the sound carrying on the breeze to your ears throughout the days and in through your open window during the night. You looked forward to hearing it, but you enjoyed seeing him laugh even more, the corners of his eyes creased and a dimple appearing on one cheek. Daavos laughing usually made you want to join in, but that night, all you did was give him a small smile before lowering your head as you shook it back and forth. 

“I told you. I am responsible for you until I know that I don’t need to be any longer.” He reached over then, settling his hand on your knee and squeezing. “Us talking to a few people will not interfere with my business.” Daavos paused, and then sighed. “You still have not told me what you wish for me to use as your name.” 

Truthfully, you hadn’t given it much thought. The rest of the crew were happy to greet you without calling you anything, and you didn’t want to choose something quickly and then remain saddled with it if you never remembered who you really were. You told him as much, and Daavos didn’t reply at first - but when he did, his words stunned you. 

“What if I give you a name?” He looked over at you, waiting to see your response. You? But you don’t know me. How can you … “You were found by a Dornish ship with a Dornish crew, so it only seems right to carry that on and call you by a Dornish name.” 

“You know that much about Dorne? You could choose a -”

“I know a great many things about a great many people.” He nodded. “And I have spent more than enough time in Dorne to have an idea of the importance of the names they often use there.” 

“But I’m not -” 

“I won’t choose Nymeria. I promise.” He winked at you and that made you laugh, his lips curving upward at the sound. “Not Dyanne. Not Emarye. Not Arianne.” He sighed. “Meria? No, no, that is …” Daavos cocked his head to the side, furrowing his brows. “Myriah?” He nodded. “That might …” Myriah? “Myriah Martell and her brother united Dorne with the rest of Westeros by marrying Targaryens. It is a strong name. A good name. And if you agree, that is what I…” He swept one of his hands in a half circle to indicate the rest of the ship. “What we will call you for as long as you are with us.” 

You thought for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. It’s only temporary. Once I remember who I am, I won’t use that anymore. You didn’t mind the name - especially when it was coming from Daavos’ lips. “Alright.” You agreed, shifting so that you could face him. “I accept that.” 

Daavos got to his feet and spun to face you, his smile widening. “Well that was simple.” You stood, too, and when Daavos held out his hand, you took it, the man’s fingers closing around yours before he’d opened his mouth again. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Myriah.” 

You wanted to tell him the same, but before you could get the words out, he was lifting your hand and leaning forward, lips puckered. He kissed the back of it and didn’t pull away before raising his gaze to meet yours. Oh, he … this is … it shouldn’t be this enjoyable to … Daavos closed his eyes and squeezed your fingers before releasing them. “It’s…” You shook your head to clear it. “That is definitely not my actual name, so -”

“One down, endless possibilities to go.” He smiled again, and you joined him in laughter, deciding that in spite of the reservations you felt about your behavior - and what was appropriate with Daavos, you were going to try to be less harsh on yourself. At least while I’m on board. “Your help around the ship has been noticed.” He gestured for you to walk with him, and so you did, the two of you heading for the bow and then up the steps. “But you don’t need to work so hard. You are my guest, not a sailor.” 

“I’ve already kicked you out of your bedroom. I can’t just no nothing. I don’t like being idle.” You paused, turning to look at him. “Daavos, there’s a possibility that in a few days, I’ll find out where I came from and where I was supposed to go, and then you won’t have to worry about me offering help.” 

You felt disappointment gathering in your chest as you spoke the words, the emotion foreign for you. You wanted the truth, wanted to find yourself … but a small part of you wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the handsome man that had saved you from certain death. Handsome pirate… he’s not just a man. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He lifted a brow, one side of his mouth quirking upward, too. I’m going to take that as a yes. “Are you … married?” You crossed your arms and then uncrossed them, very aware that you could have been too forward with him. “I just wonder if you have someone waiting in a port somewhere, or if one of the women on board are -”

“None of the women on this ship are mine.” His smile widened, Daavos letting out a deep breath. “And as for a wife?” He looked off to his right, his expression faltering briefly. “She is my wife in all of the ways that matter to me, but I have not seen her for many months.” He looked back at you, and even though he was smiling, the expression was sad. “This life is not for her, but she understands that I am doing what I must do.” 

You weren’t surprised, but you were a little confused. In all the ways that matter? What does that mean? You were also somewhat disappointed, and there was no way for you to pretend otherwise. Of course he has someone. “Will you see her soon?”

“Very soon.” He grinned, putting a hand on his hip. “It is something that has been a long time coming, and I hope that she is just as excited as I am.” Why wouldn’t she be? You wondered if he was meeting her in Tyrosh - if she was one of the stops that he was planning on making once the ship docked. 

Before you could ask, though, the sound of a clanging bell rang out, startling you - and Daavos. “What is that? Why -”

“That is the signal for rough water. It means things might not be so smooth tonight.” He sighed. “Of course it happens after dark, but…” He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, but when Daavos caught your eye again, the smile was back on his lips. “Let me walk you back to your room.” 

You agreed, thanking him. To your surprise, he offered you his arm to lead you across the deck and back toward he stairs, his hand settling over yours once you’d tucked it into the crook of his elbow. As the two of you walked together, you felt the ship sway beneath your feet. It was the first time since you’d been on board that you felt unsteady, but with Daavos next to you, you kept your balance. 

You made it to the door of your room and he stopped, pulling his arm free from yours. He didn’t say goodnight or turn to leave, though. “Thank you for making sure I got back safely.” You spoke quietly, the flickering lanterns casting light over both of you. “Will the waves make it hard for you to sleep tonight?” 

“No.” He leaned in. “Don’t worry about me.” He wet his lips, eyes searching your face for long moments. It should have made you uncomfortable, but instead you grew warm at the way his focus felt. He just told me he has someone. He just … stop. “You may want to douse the lantern in your room tonight. If it gets too rough, it -”

He was cut off by another lurch of the ship, but that one caused you to lose your balance. You stumbled forward a few steps, both hands rising and then coming to rest against his chest. Daavos reacted, too, his arms winding around you to keep you from falling over. “Oh! Daavos, I -” The ship rocked again, but he had his feet planted that time, and managed to keep you both steady. 

You should have moved. 

The proper thing to do would have been to pull yourself out of his arms and go into the bedroom … but you didn’t. Instead, you let him hold you, your eyes locked with his in the dim hallway. As the seconds ticked by, you felt his hands move, Daavos sliding one of them slowly up your back and pulling you even closer. 

You curled your fingers against his shirt, the material silky to the touch - and for a split second, wondered if his hair would be just as soft. Or his lips. Your eyes dropped to his mouth and lingered there. The desire that had been simmering since the moment you’d first woken up to see him through the gauzy sunlight filtering through his curtains overwhelmed your common sense. Kiss me. Please kiss me. 

 It was him that moved first, Daavos tilting his head to the side as he leaned in, palm flat against your back and his fingers spread wide. He’s going to kiss me. 

But it was you that stopped him, your mouth opening and somehow overpowering your body’s reaction to his proximity. “Please don’t.” He stopped moving immediately, both eyes widening. “You just … your wife. You -”

“There is so much that you do not know.” His lips twisted into a frown as he straightened up, but Daavos didn’t let go of you. “So much, and -”

“You’re right.” You felt the tears gathering and then blinked them away furiously, even as you pushed against his chest to put distance between you. “I know nothing about myself. I might have a husband that spends his time writing me poetry like the kind I found in your - in Oberyn’s room.” The tears fell and you watched Daavos’ face do the same, the man wincing at your words. “I might have someone that misses me the way that he missed Ellaria and his daughters when they were apart, but I don’t know.” 

He spoke then, saying your agreed-upon name and then stopping, head lowering as he shook it. It sounds strange to me, too. “You might. It would not surprise me.”

“But what I do know? Is that you just told me that you do have someone. And they’re waiting for you. And no matter how much I would like to let you kiss me, I will not risk losing your goodwill when it comes to my place on this ship.” You sucked in a breath, pushing on his chest again in frustration. That time, he let you go, taking a step back but not looking away as he let you see the hurt in his expression. “And I won’t hurt a woman I’ve never met by taking something that isn’t mine to take.” 

“I am sorry.” He swallowed, holding up one hand. “It was my mistake.” Your heart lurched at his admission, and you fought to keep your expression even. The ship swayed again, forcing you to reach out with one hand to brace yourself against the wall. Daavos looked away and over his shoulder before settling his attention back on you. “Please don’t think less of me.” 

“I don’t.” Your heart was pounding, but what you said was the truth. You’d both gotten caught up in the moment - and you’d stopped yourself before crossing a line. “It happens. A moment of weakness, and nothing more.” Gesturing to the hallway behind him, you forced a smile. “Go. Check on your ship.” 

He thanked you and then turned away after giving you one final look. But before Daavos had taken more than a few steps, he stopped and looked back in your direction. “I was not just talking about you when I said there were things that you don’t know.” What does that even mean? “Sleep well.” 

Daavos turned away again and then disappeared into the darkness. You stared after him for long moments, trying to make sense of what he’d said - and what had almost happened between you. “I can do that inside.” 

You spoke to yourself, the sound of your voice forcing you into motion. Minutes later, you were inside of the room and in bed. You doused the lantern like Daavos had suggested, which plunged the room into almost total darkness and left you alone with your thoughts - and the memory of his touch.

Sleep evaded you for hours. It had little to do with the way the ship moved atop the water and everything to do with the way that the look of disappointment in Daavos’ eyes had mirrored what you felt as you pushed him away and heard him call the moment between you a mistake. 

—  

[lorimnnn]

hey babez :3 could u possibly write about how michael feels for a hyperfemme bimbo gf? like he never sees her without heels and lashes on X3 this is shamelessly a self insert lol

i have no excuses. this has been sitting in my inbox and stewing in my mind for way too long but here it is!!! i was so excited to put it out I have no idea what happened lol

hope you enjoy my love!!

p.s. remember to reblog and comment!!!

cw: swearing, canon-typical violence, suggestive themes

~

i feel like a lot of the people who say he wouldn't care because he's literally a psychopathic serial killer forget he was born in 1957. He was literally raised in the sixties--- he won't care BUT HE'S GOING TO NOTICE.

michael is a watcher. long before he approached you he has memorised your routine, developed favourites from your closet, salivated over the doe-eyed batting of your long lashes when something doesn't quite go your way. you will later learn that your missing makeup products and fraying clothes is because of this fucker playing with you.

he's intrigued by you. the way you prance around without a care in the world, legs exposed, everything exposed. it's so scandalous. it feels like a sin to look at you alone.

the confidence that you carry yourself with only arouses him even more. he can't even fully objectify you because you know your worth and have standards and therefore he finds himself wondering what you're like. your personality. everything in between.

it becomes obsessive

when he approaches you, it's to extinguish his desire over your body. over you.

if he lets it go any further he'll---

are you... are you flirting with him?

he doesn't know how to feel with you looking directly at him, flinging comments his way despite knowing, KNOWING who he is. you're not even mistaken, you're just going for it even though he still has a knife in his hand

he already can't resist you

when you start running your hands down his body, he's done. just done.

if you're a bimbo in the 1960s (idfk you time travelled), you're going to be an outsider yourself and it makes him feel closer to you. you're practically a power couple--- two outsiders doing whatever the fuck you want with your lives? marriage. now.

you make him feel like a filthy old man. michael was raised with ideas of a white-picket fence and a busy 9-5 with a pretty wife to come home to. all that jazz. while he isn't that traditional you're going to be uprooting everything he once thought he knew and you best believe that when he looks at you, there is not one clean thought in his head

he becomes possessive tenfold. it doesn't help that you're dead gorgeous. will try stop you from leaving the house. will lock you and isolate you in there if he knew it wouldn't draw attention. why the fuck did you have to be so popular?

so many guys asking after you are now dead. and they keep popping up like flies--- Michael gets annoyed by this really easily. it's probably the only part of your getup and lifestyle that he doesn't really like. since he's a pretty independent killer and likes to go and do his own thing, it sets him on edge knowing he can't leave you alone for a minute without having like, 500 men pile up on his hit list

you get a free scary dog now at least. yay! privileges! feel free to walk wherever you want at whatever time of day or night. Michael will take care of you and castrate any man dumbass enough to even look your way

michael is so obsessed it's not okay

his favourite part about this though is watching you get ready. then tearing it all off you and watching you have to start again. you'll be doing your makeup and his hands will just be running up and down your legs, squeezing your thighs and waist, bruises left in his wake.

you'll be constantly swatting him away because he can't help himself. his hand is always on an exposed part of your skin

he just thinks you're so gorgeous and not in a loving way, but an inquisitive way. he's genuinely affronted by how good you look and he doesn't understand it, that explosive, sensual vitality of yours that can never be snuffed out and is so, uniquely you. he wants to pull you apart and understand you because just like him, you're an anomaly of your time

he already has a staring problem... can you imagine him now? he's not looking away once. it'll quickly get uncomfortable because he just won't stop. doesn't even wanna close his eyes when you're sleeping. everything you do to him is just provoking him. push his face away? he's going to steel himself and lean into your touch. shove him? he's a brick wall and thinks you're feeling him up. yell at him about it? he's unimpressed--- don't you get it? you're literally the centre of his world. why would he look away?

michael is literally feral for you i don't make the rules

tell him you've got nothing to wear and he will go and pick an outfit he's lowkey been fantasising about for a good month, waiting for the opportunity. and it's actually pretty good. depending on how you react, this will become his love language for you--- acts of service.

definitely starts targeting other bimbos and stealing from their closet to give you clothes.

i have a very clear image in my head of The Shape himself, prowling down the streets of Haddonfield and surveying the empty streets of the night, utterly ferocious as he hunts his next kill---

completely softening when his bimbo s/o, previously clinging to his arm like they're on a nightly stroll, trips over nothing.

if your feet ever start to hurt from the heels, he will happily carry you. but not in a cute way. as in a 'I want you around but you're holding me up. I'm going to sweep you off your feet now. Don't fall."

decorate his mask with lip prints

I dare you

you'd think he would hate it but it's been like a few weeks and the lip prints are still there. you know he loves it. he knows he loves it. he will always pretend to be indifferent though and it will surprise you every time. michael can care less about how scary he looks. even with his s/o making him look like a besotten college boyfriend, looking scary is the last of his worries when he's literally a famed killer.

since he's following you anyway, use his pockets. mechanics overalls have so many pockets. and he'll encourage you. if you ever end up walking around at night with him and start complaining that you forgot your lipgloss at home, he's going to suddenly be holding out his hand--- he's a walking, non-talking, portable storage bin and be grateful because this is his only way of showing non-physical affection lmao. i fully suggest you take advantage of this. he doesn't need his pockets anyway, he holds his knife. so feel free to stock him up and rummage around as much as you like

but be warned. if you touch him in the slightest when retrieving your lipgloss from one of his pockets, he's going to think you're sending signals.

holds all your specialists at knife point so you can get your stuff done for free. if you don't like that, just tell him. but he thinks he's helping you lmfao. your poor nail girl is pissing herself trying to glue on your acrylics

just give him lots of kisses to fuel up for the day and he's good (he will stand there and act unresponsive and neutral, but if you don't give him his daily dose of affection he's going to continue to stand there, blocking your path until you do)

and don't be fooled, either. Michael may be soft on you but he is not a soft man

definitely takes sick pleasure in seeing his bruises peeking out of your skimpy clothes, his marks on full display on your neck. it's just so territorial and it's one of the few things that is able to send a rush through him--- knowing that everyone wants you and that you're walking prey, but you've already been claimed

is like an animal around you. give him one signal and you will definitely be devoured--- i hope you don't spend a lot of money on clothes because you're going to find a lot of it destroyed. better learn how to sew

just think of him as your pet rabid dog. full stop.

otherwise i actually think Michael loves his hyperfemme bimbo gf. not that he'll admit it, but you know. he's horrible at hiding it but it has a lot to do with the fact he doesn't try. just stay out of trouble and he won't wreck havoc on your life <3

Michael has always been an outsider.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd become a killer as a kid, although that was the first and most obvious sign. Growing up in the sanitarium had only conditioned him into believing he could never be anything else and that his only mercy would be embracing it. Funny. Now he was rumoured to be the devil incarnate: the ultimate outsider.

But that wasn't the point.

Even if Michael weren't a killer, he'd always been different. A flimsy grasp on emotions and even clumsier responses to things that were supposed to inspire sympathy. Sadness. Pity. The in-between emotions that weren't quite happy but weren't quite sad or angry or scared. But he'd just been slow in development, right? One day it would end and he would wake up and be like the rest of them. It had been a naive thought--- it had gotten Judith killed.

The sanitarium also taught Michael other things, other than the fact that he would never belong in society as anything more than a menace and disruption. He learned that he was a rarity. Some sort of unexplainable anomaly that they had to contain because they couldn't understand, and because he didn't care about changing that, he would never be free. The sanitarium had taught Michael that people feared him because there weren't many of him. So he gave them something real to fear.

He never really came across someone like him. It wouldn't have really changed things, but it would have added bredth to perspective. But Michael would soon find out that anomalies like him came in all shapes and sizes. Anomalies, like you, were just as strange, even if you fit in much better than he did.

You.

He didn't know what to make of you.

"Hey sexy!" A drunkard's voice floated over the heads over the bar and stabbed right into your back. You only wrinkled your nose.

"Um, ew!"

"Aw, don't be like that. You don't mean that." His eyes raked over you. "Looking for anybody, hey? I can save you the time you spend searching."

You look like you're about to gag. "No. Like, never. In a kajillion years."

"Bitch."

"What's the word again?" You frowned. "The men with no dicks?"

"... Eunuchs?"

"Yeah!" You beamed. "That's you. 'Cause you have no balls."

His friends roared in laughter as red crawled over the man's face. You were satisfied enough by then to move on. You knew he wasn't done. He'd probably try follow you home. That made you smirk.

You had a little magic trick up your sleeve for little diseases like them. A magic trick you weren't even sure knew that you knew he existed: Michael fucking Myers.

Michael didn't understand what it was about you that stuck out so much. You were here at the bar for what every other person was there for. Talk. Drink. Fuck, maybe, if you got lucky that was. You were all dolled up like every other woman in the room but it was like the spotlight was naturally attracted to you and he couldn't look away. Was it that tiny little skirt? Your tits pressed up towards your chin by a tight little top? You were so scandalously dressed and hid nothing. Your intentions were clear and yet somehow that repelled people the same way it drew them in.

Michael could tell you were like him. You couldn't relate to the conversations. The difference was that you tried to. They'd just laugh at you and walk away--- another dead tonight.

How long has it been, now? Since he'd started stalking you? A few days? Weeks? Months?

It had never occurred to him that you could be doing it on purpose. Changing with your blinds wide open, bending over when you caught a glimpse of him standing there in your mirror. But the obsession had gripped him. There was no escaping.

And it was distracting him horribly.

You would die tonight, he decided. These... Feelings would die with you.

It all happens in moments.

Him, following you home.

Him, raising the knife above his head.

You, turning before it could meet home, pressing your body against his.

"I knew you'd say hi one day."

Michael stops. Tilts his head.

"Not like this, though." You pout. You run your finger down the cheek of his mask and along the zipper of his mechanic's overalls. Your touch is electric and he can nearly feel it against his skin, the thrills exploding at the slightest pressure. "I'm honestly kind of hurt."

He could kill you now.

Maybe give you a chance to run?

Having you see him and speak directly to him, though, is a dizzying feeling he can't quite seem to recover from. But from the outside he looks stoic. He looks like he's humouring you before your inevitable death, which you inwardly frantically hope against.

"Michael, right?" You taste the word, curiously finding your way around it. "Mikey."

He stares at you impassively.

"I thought you had a crush on me." You draw circles into his chest with your finger and tilt your head back to look at him. "Did I get it wrong?"

Er... Not really.

You were either really dumb or maybe just---

Maybe a little weird like him.

Michael slowly lowers the knife. You take it as an olive branch and push yourself further against him, hard enough to feel the contours of his toned stomach and the rippling valleys of his body. Muscular. Well, he was a serial killer. You could put that thought away for now, though.

"I've been dying for you to talk to me all week. What took you so long?" You bite your lip. "I almost went and talked to you myself. Oh. Oooh. Maybe I should have. I think you're more excited than I am that we're finally talking."

Experimentally, his hand comes up to take hold of your throat. He inspects you--- your long, fake lashes framing filthy doe eyes, the sparkling smear of eyeshadow across your lid that matches your abnormally long and sharp nails. The confidence in which you hold yourself despite being at the mercy of The Shape himself. Genuine.

You're being genuine.

And Michael is... Feeling things. A lot of things. It's almost overwhelming, the onslaught of arousal, the heightened obsession, the near-desperate desire to possess you right there and then---

Mine, he thinks, and he almost says it out loud. Mine.

[cuubism]

I don’t even know if you accept writing prompts, but just *Imagine* this

Dream, has no fuckin idea how Hobs immortality works

His sister just said “you could find out” and gave no other word other than the IMPLICATION that hob is immortal, so aside from knowledge that hob has been withheld from her gift, dream doesn’t know how the whole immortality thing works for hob

Meaning the first time Dream sees Hob DIE

I feel like he’s in for a ride

I always pictured Hobs immortality as a Deadpool kinda thing. He does TECHNICALLY die from whatever killed him, but he pops back as soon as his body heals. Not a fun experience, definitely some trauma involved (being drowned as a being that doesn’t die permanently seems ROUGH) but all in all Hob can walk away from everything pretty alright.

Now if Dream DOESN’T KNOW THAT. If he thinks hob is simply un killable, that could lead to a WORLD of delicious Temporary or Presumed death angst.

*looks at the ancient unfilled prompts lingering in my inbox from years ago* of course i take prompts what do you take me for! :D 😂 i love them, i don't always manage to write them

in retrospect 'you could find out' is QUITE mysterious and ominous, thanks Death.

yeah i usually imagine Hob's immortality working like it does in The Old Guard, where he basically does die but he comes back after a few minutes. i'm still undecided on whether he heals faster than normal, like, for plot purposes it's easier if he does, but there's something compelling also in the idea of hob having to struggle through the same long healing process as other people, just with the certainty that he will heal. i also always ask myself, can hob be permanently injured? like, if he lost an arm, would it... grow back? i don't know the answer to that. i like the idea of him being able to have scars for Symbolism, but him not having scars is also compelling, like, having no real record of anything that's happened.

drowning would... suck, especially as it probably took him ages to break free of his restraints so he probably drowned over and over and over...

dream seems to get in the 1789 scene that hob couldn't be killed by being attacked. but i feel like... like Death is not the only powerful force in the universe and she isn't all powerful. i could see dream being worried about hob being like, destroyed in some other way? like his... Being being destroyed? i don't think there's any being or creature in the story's universe that can't be killed in some way, even Dream can be killed - or, I guess, Morpheus can, is more accurate. so the fear could still be there. either way, seeing hob die would still be a hell of a shock, even knowing it's temporary.

i actually wrote something really similar to this in an as-yet-unfinished fic so i think instead of starting another wip (i have soo many ack) i will just share that scene

[ preface - there was a whole Fight and the Corinthian cut Hob across the throat (rip) and then Bounced because Dream was kind of, well, distracted ]

--

When Hob woke, Dream’s hands were around his throat.

Pressing, holding. Trying to keep him together.

And he was… just absolutely drenched in blood. It lay slick on his hands, smeared up his wrists, soaked in blacker patches on his black shirt and coat, he’d even managed to get a few droplets on his face. Dear God. Hob had almost forgotten how much blood could come out of a human body. It had, fortunately, been quite a while since he’d had to watch somebody exsanguinate.

Their gazes met. Hob’s bleary, Dream’s swirling with colliding galaxies.

“See?” said a voice out of Hob’s eyeline. “I told you he’d come back.”

Hob craned his neck carefully to see. A woman was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, apparently unconcerned by the scene of theatrical death and carnage playing out before her.

“Dream,” she repeated, when Dream didn’t move. “I told you. Let the man breathe.”

For all that her words were spoken lightly, there was a note of concern underneath them. Hob didn’t think it was directed at him, though, even if he had been to one to get his artery sliced open. The woman’s gaze kept flickering over to Dream.

“I had to be certain,” Dream ground out. His voice rumbled against Hob’s ruined throat.

“You don’t trust my word?”

“I had to be certain,” he repeated.

Hob wrapped a careful hand around his blood-soaked wrist, squeezing until Dream looked at him again, and rasped, “Hey. Can’t die, remember?”

Then his chest spasmed and he coughed up a truly horrific amount of blood. Dream released him, with some reluctance, allowing him to turn on his side, and Hob coughed until his throat was clear.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and spat one last clot of blood onto the absolutely destroyed living room rug. “Goddamn. That was a new one.”

“See?” said the woman, gesturing at Hob. “He even has a good attitude about it!”

Dream did not seem comforted by this. His hand fell to rest on Hob’s shoulder and gripped tight.

“Oh, I’m Death, by the way,” said the woman, catching Hob staring at her and waving at him. “Hey.”

“Um,” said Hob.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Death hastened to reassure him. “I’m not here for you. Or, I mean, I kind of am, but not to collect your soul, just because my brother here is a worry wart.”

Hob looked back and forth between them. “You… were worried Death would take me… so you… called her here?” he asked Dream incredulously.

Death sighed. “Not always the brightest bulb.”

Dream watched him intensely. “I needed to be sure she would not.”

“Dream, I told you—”

“I had never… seen you die before.” He held Hob’s gaze, but his expression wobbled into something close to fear. “It was… challenging.”

Hob supposed that knowing, abstractly, that your friend couldn’t die didn’t hold much water when seeing your friend die.

“Oh, Dream,” he murmured. Dream only looked more pained when Hob said his name. Hob found his wrist again and squeezed it. “Hey, it’s alright, yeah?”

Dream swallowed, a very human, nervous thing. “Evidently.”

“Come on, let him up,” said Death, and helped Dream haul Hob up to his feet. They dragged him over to the couch, where Hob sat, hand pressed to his still-aching neck. What a strange moment this made, he reflected. Two Endless, one covered in blood, dragging a half-dead human across the living room. Hob was going to have to give up on his life making a lick of sense anymore.

Dream’s fingers flexed, still slick with Hob’s blood. He wavered on his feet, then said, “I should— the blood,” and disappeared in the direction of the washroom at a rapid pace.

“Can’t he just—” Hob waved his hands in a gesture he hoped conveyed change his clothes magically.

“Could,” Death agreed, perching on the arm of the couch. “But he’s feeling an emotion so I think he needs a minute.”

“Ah.” Dream’s stricken expression hovered in Hob’s mind. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like seeing that forced split in his friend’s composure at all.

“You’re good for him, Hob,” continued Death.

“Because… I got my throat cut and kind of almost died and upset him?” Hob said, expecting her to correct him.

“Yup!” Death agreed cheerily. Her eyes lingered on the hallway that led to the washroom. “Among other things.”

As if any of that was reasonable. Hob leaned against the back of the couch, rubbing his eyes. “You all are so cryptic.”

Death laughed, but didn’t elaborate on what she’d said any further.

Hob lingered on it, though. You made him upset. Hob hadn’t seen Dream upset before, not like that.

Did he ever get upset like that? Or, rather, did he let himself?

Hob quickly found himself also watching the hallway for Dream’s return. He half-wondered if he’d just bolted back to the Dreaming, or maybe gone after the Corinthian, if he’d escaped after Hob had… died.

When he didn’t return for several minutes, Death let out a long breath and got up to go after him.

Now alone on the couch, Hob clenched his fingers in the fabric of his pants, gritting his teeth as a shiver of shock ran through him. Sort-of-dying sucked, but often, Hob had found that the aftermath was worse – human bodies were meant to either die or live, not land somewhere in between, and each time he’d recovered from situations he should have died in, he’d faced a sort of belated panic response, fight-or-flight kicking in with no danger present.

He stood jerkily, stumbling to his bedroom, where he stripped off his absolutely ruined shirt – he was going to have to burn that, he’d look like a serial killer throwing it away – and jeans, and scrubbed off the blood as best he could with a spare towel considering Dream was still hogging the washroom.

He’d just gotten on a clean pair of jeans and was reaching for a shirt when the door clicked open. Dream stepped in, so quiet he was less person and more shadow. Gone were his long coat, and his boots. His black skinny jeans and long sleeve shirt were functionally identical to what he’d been wearing before, but Hob had a feeling the actual blood-soaked ones from before had been destroyed – if they’d ever existed outside of dreams in the first place.

He stepped quietly, barefoot, over to Hob, and Hob looked up and down at this change in attire. “Planning to stay awhile, love?” he asked, a weak attempt at levity.

Dream stopped before him. His eyes were deep and very dark. “You are shaking.”

Hob chuckled self-consciously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, turns out that sort-of-almost-dying is a bit of a shock to the system. It’ll pass, though.”

“It will pass,” Dream echoed, expression unreadable.

“Has before,” Hob said, tension prickling up his spine at the utter stillness of him now. And not the relaxed stillness that Hob had become accustomed to when they sat and drank together at the inn. No, this was the stillness of water about to overflow. Surface tension.

“Before,” Dream repeated, again.

Hob smiled weakly at him. “Promise.”

Dream’s night sky gaze flicked over his face. His shoulders were even narrower without his coat, and the lack of structured fabric made him look softer, human, normal.

But Hob’s friend, his love, his stranger had never felt less normal. He moved in like the approach of nighttime, hovering clouds and darkness and rain, a blanket pulled over one’s head that might cocoon or suffocate.

Hob would have accepted either.

Dream caught him by the jaw with fingers soft as lamplight, murmured, “Promise,” and kissed him.

[canayams-art]

it's meee, the qianqing anon✨ it certainly been a while since ive been in your asks jsjdjdjd the uni has been crazy and the finals were approaching so i had to force my focus on studying instead of screaming about my faves to anyone who was willing to listen :") but now that that's out of the way for a while now because the second semester has already started, im free to go back to my deranged brainrots sjejejejjeke

OH I ALMOST FORGOT very very late merry christmas (if you celebrated) and happy new years!! 🎉🎉

im rewatching the second season of tgcf at the moment and im going crazy over the small lqq moments i missed in my first watch wjejejek he's just such an amazing character and soo 😍 i love/hate that im now restarting the angst 😭😭

SOMEHOW I ALSO MISSED THE BRIEF BLURRY SHI WUDU CAMEO AND I WAS SCREAMING ABOUT IT FOR HALF AN HOUR TO MY FRIEND!! I CANT WAIT TO SEE HIM IN HIS FULL CORRUPTED GLORY IF WE EVER GET GHE BLACK WATER ARC ANIMATED!! he actually might be in my top three favorite characters from tgcf even if i don't talk about him nearly as much as i talk about mq

anyways. LQQ!! i know i already watched everything and i know that i know what's going to happen but man i am not prepared to go through that again! while i am EXTREMELY glad that we got to see him boil qr alive AND slice him in half, THE PAIN THE ANGUISH THE CONFLICT JWJWIEKEKKEJJE

i don't think i will be getting him out of my head anytime soon :")) im even more salty that he doesn't get a more important scenes later in the series :((

unfortunately ive been a bit brain-dead because of the most boring subjects in the world ughhh so i don't have any new lqq and mq thoughts :(( if you do pls share with me, im dying for every crumb of creativity available skkekekeke

also idk if i mentioned this in my last ask, but it makes me so happy that both you and your followers like these little lqq/mq rants 🥹 it makes me excited to share whatever new idea pops into my brain and know that there are somewhere ppl who get just as excited about them as i do

anyways, i hope you're doing well!! 😽😽

Welcome back qianqing anon!!!

I hope finals went well for you and that you’ve been able to catch your breath again. I also hope you enjoyed the holiday season!

Every time I see or think about donghua lqq I feel so grateful to the production team for depicting the way lqq feels and expresses himself so intensely. I know we all know this by now but his arc really is my favorite within the entire story,,, 🥹 It’s a shame we really only see him in the early chapters and the final ones— I genuinely think his story could easily be its own novel/extra.

Also where does shi wudu show up???! If it’s later in s2 then I haven’t spotted him yet cos I,,,,, still haven’t gotten around to finishing s2 (life got in the way of quality time in lqq land 😭). I feel you though— I find shi wudu interesting in such a way where I love his character but I also feel he 100% got what was coming to him LMAO. Blackwater arc is gonna be so wild to see.

But!! Back to qianqing lol. I was thinking earlier about the fact that lqq answers any personal communication array regardless of who is contacting him. Meanwhile mq haunts the public communication array but gives this vibe that not a lot of people have access to his personal array,,,, made me think about how mq seems like the type who always reaches out to lqq privately, knowing that lqq will always answer, but refuses to give his password in return. Lqq probably asked him once and mq probably told him something like “It’s pointless when I know you’ll answer me no matter what.” (Bonus: maybe mq finally decides to hand his password over when lqq ends up going down to the mortal realm to seek his revenge— like it’s mq’s way of telling lqq that he’s concerned but without flat out saying he’s concerned for lqq LOL)

Anyway! Please always feel free to slide into the inbox. I may be slow to reply to these but they really do make my day. The qianqing brainrot never sleeps 😂

[bastetwastaken]

Thanks for replying back to my message~ I do prefer private massages a bit more to start though I'm not opposed to sharing with people and collaborating things ⭐

Just to give perspective, I'm okay face to face in person with people but online I get a bit (sometimes a lotta bit) nervous, partly cause the delay time between messages can give my head time to tear apart words and color things in shades of worries.

The other issue, I have exactly 0 Puzzleshipping friends and I've not been an active part of a group for a fandom by myself ether which adds pressure, especially with those who's work I admire and really wish I could connect with. Sometimes I feel like I'm outside of group dynamics and get really self conscious but I don't want to cause someone to feel like they -have- to do something.

I used to just hang around a close friend and follow them though whatever they were into but that was years ago and I also went through some life changes. Now I'd like to be part of a community that aligns with my interests and not just stuck in my corner hoping for "some day". I came back to my very first ship here and have been delighted to see how it's evolved~ ❤️💜✨ but I also have still been in that corner, despite trying to comment. It might just me me tho, I've always been by myself in fandoms : /

It's a different kind of feeling to be inside of and participate rather than be impersonally idling and spectating as I have before. You can get sad and disheartened when you repeatedly try and feel like you can't reach ppl and yet see how easily others seem to do it. It can feel like there's something wrong with you even though you know ppl are different and things take time, but that want grows hungry when care catches and latches and can eat you instead.

I just wanted someone to understand the page that I'm on, to know why I might be awkward or missing somethings and need a gentle hand til I grow in those flight feathers, NEEDS EXP PLZ HELP LVL UP 🐦 I want to contribute worthwhile things to whether it's conversing or finally popping out art so I'll keep working attit and I appreciate you being here 🤍🌿

I hope I can give encouragement to you too~ we all need a little kindness and connection, you can come to me too if you need things🌿 You mentioned experiencing a bout of loneliness, I wouldn't mind listening, I like knowing what's going on and we have our rain and shine 🤍🤍 I'm gonna quietly hit up your inbox unless you want to communicate another way = )

I know people use discord, I've seen it but I've never been invited to use it soooo, idk entirely what to do there, you'd have to baby me on that (and I won't always be this long =P)

But thanks again for taking time with me 🌌

We can talk privately friend, that's not an issue ^.^ Feel free to slide into my dms any time!

I understand how you feel, online can be harder than irl because you don't have visual confirmation that the person is free to talk right that second, tone can be lost through just text and timezones, man, timezones. I'm in the UK, so I'm currently on GMT and at the time of responding it's 10:35am. I get you, I have friends in America who are five hours behind me, friends in Europe an hour ahead and a friend in Australia who's just plain living in the future. So finding time to talk can be hard, but we make it work ^^

I think the most important thing is to just keep those time differences in mind, and once you get to know someone better you'll likely realise patterns in when they're around, when they respond faster and when they might be sleeping. It's all a learning experience ^^

I can introduce you to a puzzleshipping server on discord full of lovely people if you like. It's a big server, I won't lie sometimes I get overwhelmed by how big it is, but you can sit quietly in there and just see what people are saying or you can be more active, there's no obligation either way. I know that sometimes we all just need someone to take us to those places where likeminded people are, and just hold our hand a little. We'll sort it in dms <3

My friend, I understand exactly how you feel and you're very much not alone. You're doing something amazing talking about how you feel because that shit is hard. So fucking hard, but look at you, doing it anyway. I've tried to interact with other people, sometimes those interactions just don't go the way I'd like. I've been ignored, talked over and made to feel like I don't belong and believe me when I say that we're not the only ones. It's easy to let those interactions prevent you from trying again, but you're trying again right now and I hope that this time it'll be different for you.

In regards to your other ask- Loneliness can be felt whether you're surrounded by people or not. You could have 100 friends and still feel lonely. You could get 1000's of likes on a post and still feel lonely. Loneliness is not exclusive to any particular set of circumstances, so you're not being ungrateful, you're being honest in how you feel and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I'll wait for your message <3 <3

[give-soup-please]

Again, very soon, because of a few reasons, but tis I, May! 1. Thank you for the fun honey fact - I can't believe that it's copyrighted, although, maybe I can, it's not the weirdest thing I've heard of copyrighted. Fun fact: did you know that the word "Home" is technically copywritten for Facebook? 2. I have consumed water as per the agreement of mutually taking care of ourselves! (This is now a legally binding agreement, you cannot escape) 3. I don't believe in God but GOD BLESS for those chapters/fics you posted, for the love of all that is both holy and unholy I read those faster than I've read anything in my entire life - seriously, I finished all of them in 30 minutes. I do think it is important to say that I agree with you: Enjoying reading toxic relationships and things of that nature in fics, is not equivalent to wanting to experiencing it in real life, or condoning/supporting it in general. I also am an avid enjoyer of such things (and have written a few in private myself.) That does not, in the slightest, mean I support stuff like that. I don't. But wHOO if I don't enjoy reading it... (it totally does not consume 90% of the fanfictions I read... no, it would never...) 4. I don't believe I have ever interacted with you on Discord, I'm not even sure I know what your Discord is, actually ☹️ I have interacted with Munchies though (Not sure if I can say her actual name or not... I haven't spoken with her enough to know) I do want to say, in regards to her, that it is so wonderful that you continue to help and inspire her to write - her writing is amazing and I would be much sadder if that didn't exist (just like I would be sad if you didn't write - I will consume whatever writing the two of you make) 5. One of the most important things I've learned though therapy and experience is that being upset is okay, feeling your emotions is okay. You just have to act on them in a positive way, and deal with them in a positive way. I.e. it's okay to be irritated that someone just walked in front of you and took your place in the grocery line, but that doesn't mean you flip out on them. You probably didn't ask about that, but I did see the reblogged post and wanted to mention it since it was at the forefront of my mind. 6. I don't know why I'm surprised about that A.I. thing, but I am. I can't believe people would take someone's work and do that to it. It could never, and would never amount to what they can actually create, and is never worth it. Not only that, but I am also someone who's fics are all (mostly) unfinished for a variety of reasons. I do plan on finishing them, and finding out that someone did that to it would devastate me and also make me feel underappreciated/like I have no reason to write at all. That's all for now, surprisingly a lot but I do end up getting a lot of thoughts I forget to write down (these ones were just fresh in my mind and I HAD to say something about those most recent writings... damn...) You know the drill by now, you better be taking care of yourself because you're important, and you matter. Drink water, try to do something that might be a little difficult, and also be self indulgent - you deserve it. Your friend,

~May

hello again, may. good to hear from you. and feel free to pop in the inbox whenever, i like your messages.

i really hope that the facebook thing isn't real because i'll be so salty about it sdlfkjsdlkfsdjklf... pomegranate honey is rare and hard to find in supermarkets. you usually gotta go to a specialty jam shop or somewhere similar to locate it, at least where i am in the area.

2. i'll raise a glass of water in your honor, then/gen - i know i need accountability partners sometimes when it comes to self care and taking care of basic needs.

3. i'm really glad you liked it! it always makes me very happy when folks have positive responses to my work. as for the thing about telling people i don't condone certain things, it's just to cover my bases, really. early on in the headcanon project, i did a few yandere requests and someone came in my inbox and told me off about it. i didn't know tumblr back then as well as i do now, and i didn't want to step on anyone's toes. this blog is an attempt at drama free posting, for the most part, and arguments about what writers should and shouldn't be able to write are... hotly contested on this site. (understatement of the century, good lord.)

4. if you haven't interacted with me on discord, then i truly have no idea who you are, and i'm chill with that. you'll reveal what you want to reveal whenever. i don't generally hand out my discord to folks, because i cultivate my circles very carefully and don't want my username public. so for now, that stays secret. i'm honored that she takes inspiration from what i do, it means a lot. i have no idea how i do it, but i'm not gonna knock a good thing. i'm happy for her.

5. good advice. i don't have much else to say about that.

6. yeah the development of AI stuff recently has been... distressing, from an artist standpoint. i've heard people are already trying to use AI to replace certain jobs, and the idea of my 'voice' (for lack of a better word) being stolen to produce cheap/free content is incredibly distressing. i'm a firm believer in AI/robotics being used to handle manual labor so humans have more time and energy to make art, not having the AI/robots make art so... we have... more time to work. there's something backwards about that.

take care of yourself too, ok?

[the-kings-of-games]

Hi! Just wanted to say helloooo and that I only recently started shipping Kizuna (I hadn't met Crow yet and I am still on season 1 *sobs*) BUT THEY ARE SO CUTE RAHHHHH I love seeing your stuff pop up on my dash, makes me smile! So yeah- *awkwardly runs away* Ok ok, and I gotta ask a question. Was Kizuna your first-ever ship involving one of the bois or did someone/something change your mind about them??????

ASDAFHLAGDSAFDSAFDSASADRYWASDA I'm so elated to have you in my inbox and to answer reply, @bibookdemon.

Firstly, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. :D I'm so glad that you ship Kizuna too, omgssssssssss. I've been here so long, and a new Kizunashipper around is just great. (New friend maybe???) I'm always excited to interact with a familiar reader and a Kizuna fan. QwQ Just knowing you exist makes the past three years in rarepair hell worth it. So thank you so much for reading my fics, whether it's a dozen or just one!!! And I'm glad to see you in my notifs tooooooooooo, omgs. \(^3^)/

Second, to answer your question: Kizuna was not my first 5D's ship because as you pointed out, Crow doesn't show up yet until halfway through S1, so my first choice was Kingcrab because I love childhood friends to lovers trope very much. Also, I love their dragons and how much they contrast each other; the details in the character design makes me melt. I love Jack and Yūsei; however, when Crow finally showed, I just went THAT ONE, lmao. My favorite type of characters include tough redheaded characters with happy-go-lucky attitudes who wear headbands (shout out to Lavi Bookman and Kyan Reki!!! And also Kagami Taiga because I love him too!!!)

The thing was though, even when I first saw him and got into him (immensely), I was actually on the fence about adding him with Kingcrab. I think it was because I only had a little experience with polyshipping prior, but the love was growing quickly. My first few Kizuna fics were actually gen. Whatever their relationship is like they are definitely cute and they love each other!

Then I had this epiphany and created the headcanon that Crow is a genderfluid he/him dfab, and then I wrote a Kizuna smut piece and then I wrote ~100 Kizuna fics and now we're here. I dropped through that pipeline fast and hard. That headcanon is my most favorite YGO headcanon, and it really opened a lot of door for exploring Kizuna and their relationship. My Kizuna fics have some of my best writing currently, lmaolololol, because I just wrote so much for them. (When you write a bunch, something is bound to be actually good, you know?) And the thing about that Crow headcanon? People actually like it. :) That makes me super happy.

Though I only have a handful of regular readers, I very much appreciate them all and recognize most of them. ^^ What more, I had two people reach out to me because of my writing, and we became good friends. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I'm think I'm doing pretty good with Kizuna.

Third, thanks for asking, and for reading my fics!!!! I hope to keep reaching out to people to spread the Kizuna love! I hope to keep seeing you around!! Feel free to come talk to me if you like. I'm also shy, it's okay.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Love me some angst!! So true though I can imagine it kinda being like the “want what you can’t have” thing where you’d have to be uninterested to catch his eye..also I’m so excited to read every installment makes me stan bestie a little more like where’s my irl girlie like this??

Oh yeah stagnant is the word I’m looking for…I’ve never prayed on the downfall of a duo so hard before they NEEDED that breakup no matter what all the fans say like please let them develop!! As you mention later in your reply I do think kaneshiro has something in mind for nagi I’m just hoping it happens soon!! What kinda also throws me off a bit is I think in a recent interview kaneshiro mentions that Nagi has no friends outside of reo even within bllk? And I’m like wait what about Isagi chigiri and Bachira at least they literally went bowling together and were gonna meet at a cafe together??? I don’t think you do that with people not considered friends but whatever ig :|

Based off what they’ve all spouted mid match they DEF have a mean streak LMAO gotta let out all that teenager rage somewhere…even polite mom friend yuki based of NEL scenes LOL but I love the duality of it all!

Loser on loser crime fr…reminds me of that one line from the mobile game where Nagi’s like “sheesh rin you have no friends” like boy ik ur not talking

The soccer freak always gets me because the way Rin’s presented makes him seem super popular BECAUSE of his soccer dedication flipping it around and making it his weakness just makes it hit harder

That makes sense! I’ll admit some scenes of him are done nicely but yeah also not exactly my type oops, when I was typing out my last response I was kinda thinking about how his backstory is uh…a little bland…like yeah a passionate boy about soccer but other than that he’s got a healthy family and basically no trauma (good for him!!) but yeah I mean other than his mindset on like evolution not much to explore imo

Get. Out. I was an MLP kid too LMAOOO you’re so right about rainbow dash I feel like maybe he’d try to cover himself up with like king sombra too (shadowy villain to match his ninja shadow steps thing or wtv) and I honestly don’t know how he pulls sm he seems like such a dork too like, ninja butt trap?? Saying bam (bakyuun) at like every other sentence….bro is a geek and it’s showing LMAO I bet he’d be into ninjago

OVER 15K we’re eating good guys…I’m also like constantly lurking the tags waiting for things to pop up which is where I first found you actually LOL I swear the karasu tag was dry as HELL for a good 6 months I kept finding stuff on a diff karasu from some other series and the Otoya and yuki tags are like even drier like please someone…you’re literally saving me rn I have never seen this much Karasu content like. Ever. I would contribute more if I knew how to write but for now I’ll just stick to ideas ig LMAO

That panel living rent free in my brain…more like I’m paying it to stay there omg I cannot wait…I’m also hoping that tabieitaken still get some spotlight in the manga too (I’m so glad Karasu isn’t obsolete in PxG) because how did they go from top 345, not score at all in the u20 match, and like we barely see them in nel (barcha done so dirty don’t even get me started…) like bring the boys back please I know they were the top in bllk for a reason!!

Also I really hope it also gets revealed somewhere the tracks of all the teams?? I wanna find out how they get yuki eventually LOL I tried making a chart myself but lost my mind 3/4 of the way in because I realized things didn’t match up and the many locked off npcs make it hard to accurately discern anything eugh…but trust once 1) that epinagi chapter comes out 2) the light novel for yuki comes out I will be back here flooding your inbox…(as if I don’t alr oops)

- Karasu anon

yes exactly i think you would have to make him feel smth different from how he normally does for him to remain interested long-term. w fwtkac bestie it’s the fact that they dislike another which could lead to a possible romance because he’s so used to girls liking him and him liking them in return that their feud would force him to get to know her in a diff way almost?? idk if that makes sense. and hehe i just posted the last part and bestie is VERY prominent in it so i hope you enjoy!! she truly is such a funny character i love writing her and reader together

YES the breakup was needed!! and everyone who talks abt nagi falling off…yeah he needed that too or else he’d never be able to have a proper character arc 😭 i think w regards to that he just said that nagi isn’t CLOSE to anyone but reo!! which does make sense to me. we see him interacting and being friendly w bachira isagi and chigiri (even karasu surprisingly) but he seems like the type who wouldn’t let anyone in right away. i do think he enjoys hanging out w them and probably considers them chill buddies but he wouldn’t invite isagi to his depression nest apartment the way he did reo. or maybe i’m just overthinking it and he actually just hates everyone 😫

yuki is honestly willing to throw hands at any moment he just seems chill compared to tabieita because those two are on another level 😭 HAHA actually though i’m p sure otoya is the least mean on-field…he kinda just dgaf meanwhile karasu and yuki actively degrade other players 😔 but otoya is so…interesting…off field that it makes up for it (negatively)

HAHAHA omg loser on loser crime fr…pls nagi is actually so mean tbh which makes sense because he is a gamer but also it’s so funny because we’re introduced to him as this apathetic chill guy and then the instant he meets barou he pulls out an entire ARSENAL of insults 😭 yeah i think outside of bllk that dedication to soccer is not making bro popular…like he has no time for friends or hobbies or anything because he’s busy practicing so it’s very much “the best but at what cost”

shidou def has some cool scenes!! and some uh. well. LMAOO but same with isagi like there’s some scenes where i can kinda see the appeal but for the most part he’s too chill and basic looking/acting for me. i also think it’s so funny that some of the characters have such crazy backstories (kaiser, yuki) and then isagi just grew up upper middle class 😓 zero issues in his life just vibes

OMGGG MLP FANS RISE UP my fav was rarity because she’s literally me but i also really liked princess cadence!! and that whole movie w her wedding actually was really good although i obv haven’t watched in ages. HAHAH no you’re so right though he is such a loserrr i honestly think if he ever got over himself and settled down he would be one of the best bfs in bllk just because he’s so secretly unserious. he’s definitely the type to have been super into like. pokémon (projecting because i love pokémon) or smth and he would give entire speeches about why his favorites are the best ones (NOT clickbait 3am gone wrong) and how he plans on beating the champion. he also is so chill i feel like if you tried to prank him or do smth like put makeup on him he’d just be like “ok 👍” and go along with it 😪 IF ONLY HE WASN’T A CHEATER 😕

omg no because i thought the karasu tag was empty and then i tried looking for otoya content (help he’s grown on me so bad) and it was EMPTY. forget abt yuki broooo nobody even knows him 😭 and YES it ended up at 16.1k as i’m sure you saw!! sooo long 😫 also wait that’s so funny…idt i had posted any karasu fics before your requests which post did you find me through??

if you ever do decide to try writing lmk i will def read it!! honestly it all comes down to practice + i’m sure you’re much better than you realize 💖

YES BRO WHY ARE YUKI AND OTOYA GHOSTING ATM??? i can even kind of understand otoya because he’s on a diff team and whatnot and at least his nel ranking is good but yuki is quite literally on bm why did he vanish after mancity 😓 also yesss omg bm vs barcha didn’t even feel like a nel game at all!! i saw a post where someone said they would’ve rather seen tabieita heading a nel team instead of reonagi and honestly i agree because that’s 3 and 4 in bllk right there plus they were introduced as having the best teamwork in all of bllk and that was just never brought up again after third selection?? ig it might’ve seemed redundant but in my dreams tabieita have reunited and are eating it up together 👆🏻

YAYY can’t wait!! i’m so excited for the ln chapters and the new epinagi chapter so i will be ready to yap once they’re out 🫡

[truglori]

Sneaky Link 🔗

Synopsis: Black Reader and Eric find each other online!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Black Reader

Warning: Language, Smutt, Raw sex

Flopping on the bed Y/N found herself bored for the fourth Friday night in a row. This was supposed to be the season of hook ups and living her best carefree lifestyle that she had planned out but yet is was the exact opposite. Being on summer break from college Y/N had to come back home with the schools being closed. It was something she dreaded.

Home for her wasn’t the best place to be. Between her judgmental and nagging parents and older brother, Chris, Y/N was ecstatic when she discovered that she would be going to a school that was over three hundred miles away. Being four hours away gave her enough freedom knowing that she didn’t have any one breathing down her neck or snitching to her parents about whatever she did. With it only being her sophomore year Y/N loved the college lifestyle.

Getting up she went to her window to open it and put in her square fan. Her air conditioner that she always kept in her room was now being used by her brother so she had to settle for this. Turning the knob she felt the warm cool breeze coming through and taking up the room. Walking back to her bed she logged into her laptop going onto the web browser. Clicking the history she found the website she was searching for and tapped it.

Quick Link popped up on her screen. It was a site that allowed people to meet and chat with other people. Even though Y/N has been going on it for weeks now back and forth, she never met one person that she has chatted with yet. She was okay with talking to them online and even over the phone but the thought of seeing them in person scared her. With all of the Lifetime movies and ID channel she would watch, doing something as small as meeting up with them could be dangerous.

Y/N scrolled through her recent messages. She had over ninety-nine notifications. She knew that she wasn’t going to reply to them all, only the once she found cute. It was like a broken record being played. They all inbox her with the same messages, hey sexy! Y/N rolled eyes at the un-originality. To her it seem like the guys didn’t even try to put in any effort.

Tapping on the keyboard she began to text back the handful that she found attractive when she got two notifications. Hurrying up her sentence she exited out of the chat and clicking on her new direct messages.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Y/N, what in the hell is yo ass doing on this shit...10:35pm

HandsomeAssNigga👅- And I know you still online. I can see the green bubble by ya picture...10:36pm

Y/N squinted at the name. Who the hell was this texting her like they knew her? The question alone made her stomach flutter at the idea of getting caught on a dating site by someone she knew or knew her. Clearly this person recognized her enough to boldly message her. Clicking on their username she went to their page. Her heart stopped and thighs clenched at the same time.

It was Erik fucking Stevens aka her brother’s childhood best friend. Chris and Erik were the same age and only three years older than Y/N. Growing up Y/N stayed crushing on Erik. It was his braids that he rocked back in the day that had her drooling over him but also how nice he was to her. Y/N remembered the time when she was a freshman in high school and Chris and Erik were both Juniors she would always get a ride with them every morning in his 2005 Honda Accord. He would steal glances at her through his rear view mirror that only she would catch but to afraid to ask him about it.

There would be times that she would find underwear from a girl tucked under the backseat. Y/N heard about the rumored that went around the school that Erik was a player. An experienced one at that. He was grown before his time and with the way the lucky girls who had a chance to sleep with him describe it, he gave dick like he was a grown man as well.

Hearing that did nothing but spark the flame that she felt about him. She wanted to experience it herself. But being the quiet and timid person she was then, she never did. It wasn’t until Y/N went to college where she lost her virginity her freshman and started having sex on the regular with her ex who was also her first. From the first few times they did it, she could never cum from penetration. Y/N thought it was normal and that every girl dealt with it until she shared a few stories with her friends and they would tell her about the way their guys would make them squirt.

Squirting was something Y/N always wanted to do but could never achieve with her guy. She loved feeling him inside of her stretching her open but he was a quick pumper. He came too fast for her and couldn’t last long enough to get her to nut. So after every session she would take her bullet and tortured her clit until she felt her cream escaping her hole. Not having sex since the last time she was at school had Y/N body extremely horny and hot and ready like a little ceasars pizza.

Clicking through his pictures had her clenching her thighs. After he graduated high school, the graduation was the last place she seen Erik. She wasn’t even sure if Chris and him were still close friends. But what she could say is that he grew up very nice. He now had dreads that hung over his eyes with a clean shape up to top it off. His teeth pearly and white accompanied by gold canines he was wearing in every other picture and last but not least his body was everything. Standing at 6’3 and looking like a solid 215 from her view Erik was fine as fuck.

Giggling and embarrassed with herself she replied back.

BlackBeauty- Erik omg...this is so embarrassing. How did you find me?...10:40pm

Biting the nail on her thumb she waited for him to answer her. To her surprise he wrote back fairly faster than what she expected.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Noticed yo little ass on the explore page. I know you not on here meeting with these wack ass niggas...10:42pm

She laughed re-reading his message. To her it sound like it was possessive but she didn’t want to over think it.

BlackBeauty- Never!! I am not stupid. I haven’t met one person yet...10:44pm

Hitting the send button she rolled her eyes noticing herself getting desperate from his attention.

HandsomeAssNigga👅-Okay bet! I don’t wanna have to fuck you up youngin 😈...10:47pm

Biting her lip, she stared down the emoji. She wondered what that meant. She wondered in what way did he meant when he said he would fuck her up. At this point Y/N was dripping between her thick thighs.

BlackBeauty- What about you? I know you out here fucking these bitches you meet on here. Don’t lie lol...10:49pm

Y/N didn’t want to seem nosy, she was just trying to make conversation.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Damn you cuss now? And second of all don’t be worried about what I do with my dick. I’m grown and that’s different...10:51pm

Bringing a hand down to her covered pussy Y/N caressed it. The warmth coming through her panties and cotton shorts. She didn’t know what it was but the way he was responding had her feeling a type of way. She wasn’t the shy young girl anymore he used to know and she wanted to make that clear.

BlackBeauty- I’m grown too Erik 💦...10:53pm

Her heart beat sped up when she sent the text not knowing how he was going to respond.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- To who? I know ya young ass ain’t out here fuckin yet. You was too shy for that last time I saw you. Even if you was, I know you ain’t getting know real dick...10:55pm

HandsomeAssNigga👅- What’s that emoji supposed to represent? Ya pussy or sum shit? Let me find out Y/N 👿...10:56pm

There goes that little devil that had her questioning herself again.

BlackBeauty- I get dick on the regular. Good dick! And yes Erik that emoji reps my pussy. Same young pussy that’ll be too wet for you to handle! I’ll have you drownin in my shit...10:59pm

Y/N could always talk a good game online. It was where she could be get as nasty as she wanted without actually putting in work. The guys who would hit her up loved her foreplay that she had spit over the internet and she was fortunate enough where they never pressed her to meet in person.

HandsomeAssNigga👅- Bring that pussy here and I’ma show you if I’ll drown in it. Stop fucking playing with me Y/N if you not gonna pull up. I don’t do this back and forth teasing shit. You tryna do a Sneaky Link or what?...11:02pm

Checking the hall Y/N seen that the lights were off. Her parents were most likely sleeping and Chris always worked Friday nights. This was the perfect time and opportunity to leave. She would have to sneak the keys from the key holder and use her dad’s car to get to his place. Y/N didn’t do this on the regular but because it was Erik she was curious. She wanted to see for herself if all of the rumors were true. Y/N was going to fuck him tonight.

BlackBeauty- Send me the addy..I’m on my way...11:04pm

________

After showering and preparing for her dick appointment Y/N successfully snuck out of the house. She put his address in her GPS. It was a twenty minute drive to get to his apartment. Putting the car in park and turning it off, Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach grow while walking into the building. Taking her phone out she went to his message and looking up the apartment number he gave her. Apartment 3B.

Knocking on the door. She held her hands together tightly. She was beyond nervous and rethinking her decision as her heart kept thumping. She couldn’t believe that she was really going to go through this. After so many years of fantasizing about him in her room she was finally going to see the real thing. Y/N only wondered if it was as good as she hoped.

The door swung open showing Erik sipping on a glass of dark liquor. In nothing but a tight wife beater that clung to his chest and his sweats that hung low Y/N could see the print poking through so visibly. It looked like he was free balling it.

“Damn ma. You wasn’t lying about getting grown. You look good as shit.” Erik sipped from his glass. He stepped aside inviting her in.

Y/N smiled softly going inside. She only took a few steps in and stood to the side waiting for him. She heard the door lock behind her as it caused her to gulp hard on her spit.

Erik eyed her with his low eyes. He chuckled seeing that she was clearly nervous.

“So that’s ya thing?” His voice was low and deeper than what she remembered.

“What’s my thing?” Her soft voice speaking up.

“Talking shit online but quiet it person.” He stated putting her on the spot.

Y/N smacked her lips and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She turned facing his livingroom.

“Nah ain’t no whatever. What’s good ma? Where that big girl energy go?” He walked up behind her pressing his body into hers. The hand that wasn’t holding his cup wrapped around her waist gripping the small pudge on her stomach.

Y/N shivered when she felt his dick on her ass. Her assumption was right. He wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath his sweats. She could feel the coldness of his chains on her shoulder when he leaned on her due to her only wearing a tank top. She grabbed his hand, not pushing him away but holding on to him.

“I’m here aren’t I?” She gazed at him over her shoulder.

He smirked at her smart remark. “You need anything before we start? A drink, blunt, something to help you calm ya scary ass down.” He teased.

She pushed his hand from around her waist and folded her arms. “I’m not scary Erik. If I was I wouldn’t be here.”

“Then why you barely saying shit?” He licked his lips.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s just been a while since I saw you. You look...different.” Playing with her diamond earning, she occupied her fingers.

“I may look different but I’m still the same Erik that used to jack ya brother up every time he fucked with you when no one was looking. Ain’t shit changed about me ma so you can relax. I’m tryna take care of you tonight.” He spoke stepping closer.

They were now face to face. Y/N’s frame staring up into his 6’3 one. When she would inhale she could smell his expensive cologne mix with the Hennessy he’s been sipping on since she got here.

“Okay.” She answered with a bite of her bottom lip.

Erik groaned at the action. Both of his hands behind his back now, he bent down to her level to meet her halfway. “C���mere.” He demanded a kiss with messy dreads hanging over his eyes.

Meeting him where he was, Y/N listened giving him one. The taste of the dark liquor transferring over to her taste buds from his tongue invading her mouth. The warmth of it made her melt under him and causing her head to lean back. She was already growing weak just from the kiss.

Erik reached behind her slapping her ass and gripping it with his free hand. “Fuck you doing all that for and I ain’t even do shit yet.” He spoke against her lips peaking through his eyelids.

“Hurry up then daddyy.” Y/N whined.

“That’s my name for the night? I like that shit.” He walked them backwards until they reached his room which wasn’t far away from the front.

Placing his glass down on his dresser he lifted her up by her thighs, picking her up. Y/N squealed from the unexpected action. She held onto his neck hoping he wouldn’t drop her. Erik chuckled playing with her ass cheeks before laying her down on the bed gently.

“You sucked dick before...miss grown?” Bringing his hand down, he massaged his print through his sweats.

Leaning up on the palm of her hands, Y/N nodded answering yes. She did it plenty of times with her ex, who she could make cum quickly off of head alone but the way Erik was grabbing his tool made her think differently.

“So what’s up then? Come show me what that mouth do?”

Kicking off her sandals Y/N got off the bed. His eyes stayed glued to her. Getting on her knees in front of him she tugged the sides of the grey sweats and pulled them down to his mid thigh. His dick sprung out almost hitting her in the face had she been centimeters closer.

Long and thick was what it was. A beautiful smooth brown texture covered his heavy package. Y/N felt her mouth watered thinking about how her cream and juices would look being all over it. This man was truly blessed and so far proving the rumors to be true.

Erik twisted his hips side to side wagging it in front of her. He lifted the wife beater up and tucked it under his chin so that he can get a good view.

Grabbing the base of his length Y/N eyed it. She was trying to figure out ways to be able to swallow this monster without choking. Sticking her tongue out she tapped his tip against it. A string from her saliva on her tongue being attached to his head every time they separated. With her prior experience and watching porn she grew to have her own technique.

Y/N allowed the spit to build up in her mouth when she sucked on his tip. No nigga likes dry head and she wasn’t going to start giving it today. She wanted it to be extra sloppy for Erik. Tightening her jaws she went up and down on his dick. Taking only about four inches of him and using her spit to stroke the rest of him. With just the little bit of his length she was able to take she could already feel him reaching her back.

“Fuck that throat feel good. Shitt!” Erik groaned gripping her tight kinky curls and putting them into a ponytail. He tilted his head watching her go stupid on his dick. He sucked in his lower lip when she began to swivel her head around.

Long drips of spit went falling down on her black tank top. Erik’s eyebrows scrunched up the moment he felt her take his balls in her mouth and suck on them lightly while stroking his tip. His stomach started to tighten and his toes dug into his carpet. This girl was trying to take his soul the way she sucking him up.

“Man whatchu doing Y/N?” Erik asked amazed, closing his eyes for a second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had head this good.

“I’m showing you that I’m grown daddy.” She answered coming up.

Now both of her hands were focused on playing with his balls while she sucked his tip and some of the few inches she was able to reach. Her eyes stared into his not stopping at all. She had him right where she wanted him. She could tell from the way his breathing sped up that he was getting weak and ready to bust a nut. Y/N tightened her suction to make it happen when she felt him pull her off by her hair.

Erik took one hand gripping her spit covered chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “Fuck is you doing sucking my dick like that ma? You tryna make me hold you hostage for the whole night?” He asked seriously.

Y/N giggled. “I just wanna make you cum Daddy.” She reached for his tip and gripped it making him jerk forward.

Erik smacked his lips annoyed that she had him feeling like sensitive. “Chill with that. Let me fuck you first before you suck this nut out.”

Helping her up and placing her back on the bed Erik slide off her biker shorts tossing them somewhere. Underneath them she had on some cotton hipster panties with little rainbows spreaded everywhere. Erik laughed when he seen it.

“Why you wearing shit like this ma?” He teased stepping out of his pants and getting on the bed.

“Because it’s cute. Why you worried about what I’m wearing instead of taking them off?” Y/N mocked his question.

Erik smirked bringing his hand up to the piece of cloth and ripping them straight down the middle and threw them on the ground. A gasp left Y/N lips as she was shocked from him doing that. Slapping his forearm, her lips went into a pout becoming upset.

“Erik, I just brought those two weeks ago.” She smacked the hand that was rubbing her thigh.

“You said to take them off. My bad. That’s the way I usually do it.” He lifted her legs by the back of her thighs while he consoled her as a distraction.

Y/N was frustrated at the fact that he ripped her new panties but also that she wasn’t going to have any to wear back home after this link.

“I don’t care how you do it, you shouldn’t have- ohh shiitt!” Her rant was cut off with the sound of moans leaving her mouth.

Holding her legs by the back of her knees Y/N glanced down to see Erik flicking her clit. The tip of his tongue felt wet and firm, in a good way. She really started to feel it when he took one hand and spread her phat pussy lips. Now her clit was out in the open and more accessible. Erik’s eyes met hers through his dreads when his lips wrapped around her bud and began to suck.

“Mm fuck...daddyy!” The sensation had Y/N’s hips thrusting to meet his vacuum like suction. So powerful and wet.

“I want you to cum on this fuckin tongue!” His words were muffled by the lips of her pussy surrounding his but it was enough to reach her ears. Taking a hand he smacked her outer thigh making his demand clear.

Her warm and slick juices ran out of her opening. It was something about the way he commanded her to nut that made her wetter and willing. Y/N liked to be dominated. Lifting up the tank top and pulling it up to her chest she tweaked and flipped her nipples adding to the stimulation. For her the feeling of having her nipples played with while getting her pussy ate made her orgasm a hundred times better.

“Eat this fucking pussy b-babyy-“ She whimpered feeling a tear slide down the corner of her eye.

Even though he noticed it, Erik didn’t stop. The juices that he caught in his mouth made it hard. He loved a good tasting ass pussy. Y/N definitely had one. Moving his assault from her clit he put his tongue in her tight opening. He began to fuck her with it. Erik put his hands under her ass cheeks and got a good cuff before bringing her back and forth on his stiff tongue. With the way her legs were still in the air he could see Y/N toes curl the second he started the action. She began leaking so quickly. Erik chuckled inwardly when he felt her walls squeezing on him.

“Mhm.” He moaned teasing her.

Y/N was cumming from the second time just off of his mouth alone. She reached down to rub her clit while he stuck his tongue deep inside her. She ain’t never got head this good before back at college. Her thighs began to shake as she felt another mini orgasm hit. Her pussy growing sensitive and overstimulated.

Grabbing his dreads she lifted his head up. “Daddy you was eating my pussy so good. Fuckk!” She moaned with a quiver in her voice.

“Now I’m bout to beat this pussy up real good too. Turn around. I want that ass from the back.” Erik barked getting on his knees.

Swiftly taking off her tank top, Y/N turned around like he said and got on all fours. She felt a firm smack to her right ass cheek. Moaning she rocked back and forth and twerked each cheek individually. Y/N looked over her shoulder behind her seeing Erik watching her move it so effortlessly. His hands went up to her waist and pulled her closer to him. Now she could feel her mound rubbing against his bare hard rock hard stick.

“Doing all this ass shaking, you better not try to run from the dick. I don’t want none of that.” He gripped a cheek spreading it watching her pussy lips follow.

“I’m not gon run daddy..I promise.” She reassured him softly.

Erik gripped the base of his length. Smacking it against her her clit he played with it for a while to warm her up. When he heard her moaning and seen her backing up against him he knew she was ready. Erik sent a drip of spit on the tip of his dick and rubbed it over it with a free hand. He teasingly dipped in and out of her tight hole. Y/N pussy was tight as fuck and he knew he had to work his way in. Getting deeper and deeper with each inch her warm wet walls clung on to him.

“Ooh fuck!” Y/N eyes closed not expecting him to feel like this. Erik was stretching her pussy out. Her arms sprawled out in front of her gripping his sheets.

“Tight ass pussy you got. What happened to getting dick on the regular? Hmm?” Holding her down by the small of her back Erik made her arch deeper as he stroked her slick walls.

Y/N’s mouth couldn’t close or make a sound. From the position he had her in she couldn’t move or run if she wanted to. Pinned down and made to take it. Erik was dicking her down. His heavy fat dick busting her pussy open and touching her stomach. Fuck that. He was putting it in her chest. Y/N reached behind her to hold on to his wrist while he pounded her pussy with precision. Her face smashed into the bed. His dick was too good for her.

“Ooh baby... Daddy don’t fuck me like this!” She shouted not knowing what she was saying. Y/N didn’t want him to stop but she couldn’t handle the pressure he was putting on her bladder.

Erik didn’t have just a big dick that could stretch a pussy out. He knew how to fuck with it. When he stroked he didn’t use his whole body he worked his hips and that’s what drove bitches crazy about him. Erik would fuck like he was trying to make a baby.

“I thought you came here to get fucked?” He asked lifting off her. He bended one knee and balanced his weight on his foot pressing it into the bed. His hand wrapped around her throat as he caught a rhythm making her throw it back on him.

The sound of skin clapping filled the room. Y/N’s arch was now the deepest it’s ever been with Erik choking her from behind and making her head tilt up towards the ceiling. Cramping in her stomach let her know that she was about to break. She was finally about to cum from penetration alone. His curved tip would press on a spot she didn’t know she had there causing her legs to convulse. Her whimpers and moans only encouraged him to keep doing what he was doing. Which was tearing her pussy up.

“Shiitt!!” She cursed grabbing onto her titty to have something to hold on.

Erik bit his lip seeing her ass tremble from her orgasm and feeling her squeezing his dick with a vice grip. He slapped her left cheek before pulling out to flip her over on her back. Looking down at his meat it was covered in her creamy juices. His dick jumped at the sight.

“Good ass pussy.” He mumbled in a trance.

Using the weight of his hips he thrusted finding his way back inside of her. The warm wet tunnel closing in on him. Erik lifted up the wife beater that was still on in the mist, and brought it up under his chin tucking it to move it out of his way. His hands found the back of her thighs and pinned them against her chest. He began stroking and getting deeper from the angle.

Being trapped from his hold that he had on her, the only thing Y/N could do was bring her hands to his hips trying to interrupt his movements. Y/N didn’t like this feeling. He was going too deep. Deeper than what she was used to. Shaking her head from side to side she pushed at his hips that only kept going due to her weak and trembling arms not being able to produce enough strength.

“Move ya fuckin hands.” He demanded while keeping his steady stroke. Erik cussed under his breath hearing the smacking sounds coming from her hole that could be mistaken for a pot of mac and cheese being stirred. That’s how good Y/N pussy was.

Her tight walls gripped his dick. Erik looked between their bodies watch the beautiful art being made. Her pussy following him whenever he pulled out to the tip just to be sucked back in. Pussy as good and wet as hers always got him to bust hard. He was close. Leaning down to her neck he kissed and sucked her skin while having her pinned down taking his length. Erik felt her walls slick up and knew she was about to nut again.

“Let that shit go mama.” He whispered in her neck.

Y/N’s nails scratched against his back. Her eyes wailed up with tears feeling the pressure in her stomach building up. She lost count of how many times he had made her cum tonight but she knew she was grateful and only prayed that this wasn’t the last time she got dick this bomb.

“Unhh.” She couldn’t produce any words. Her toes curled as she gazed at the ceiling feeling her body shake.

“There you go.” He pecked her neck.

Erik talked her through her nut while he continued to chase his. It wasn’t long before he felt his dick throb and grow inside of her. Pulling out he climbed on top of her holding his body up with one hand pressed into the bed as he stroked his dick with the other. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked his tip. She could feel his seed spilling on her tongue and traveling down her throat. She wasn’t usually a swallower but the way he had just fucked her he deserved to have his dick milked.

“Ahh shit!” Erik cursed caressing her jaw as he watched her suck him dry. She was cleaning both her juices and his nut off of his dick.

A popping sound escaped her mouth when she released him. Y/N’s body couldn’t move as she laid back staring at him with disbelief. Erik caught her face expression.

“What?” He asked standing on the side of the bed.

“Nothing. It’s just the rumors that I heard about you were all true. You do give some good dick.” Turning to lay on her side Y/N smiled.

Erik laughed. “Yeah well I could say the same about you.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Little birdy that goes to your college told me about how good ya pussy was. Had to find out for myself.” He smirked at her.

“Erik what are you talking about?” Y/N sat up.

“I’m talking about your ex that you fuck from time to time is my second cousin. Nigga couldn’t stop running his mouth about you. Small world ain’t it?”

He paused watching the confusion clouding over her face. “Besides why else you think I had hit you up tonight? It damn sure wasn’t to reminisce over the past.”

Taking off the wife beater, Erik leaned down to kiss her lips before walking away.

______________________________________

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[marvelsswansong]

i have a headache 😔

anygays, how you doin' ? i'm excited for the Eddie fic btw 😻 i've been listening to rock all day cus im in an eddie type of mood if ykwim?

okay bye <3

😞😞😞 nooo that sounds awful! But the rock part sounds great! What have you been listening to?

For rock, I definitely lean towards the more pop side of things, love Avril and Willow, Poppy is a def fave, apparently beach bunny is considered a rock band? And I'm obsessed with them atm...

I'm not doing the best - I've been having a pretty difficult time managing my ED because one of my biggest triggers is when I'm upset and I had some upsetting things happen this week out of my control. I also have the next two weeks off from work and I never do well when I have too much free time - I love being occupied and busy, my ED thoughts otherwise get too loud and I resort to harmful behaviours haha.

But whatever. I'm gonna book a birthday dinner for me and my close friends soon for my 21st coming up in August and I'm trying to talk to some people about how I'm feeling so I don't make things worse. Fanfic writing also helps in it's own way.

Anyways, love u, thanks for swinging by my inbox! Always love seeing ur username in my notifs <3

[bqstqnbruin]

8 Letters

OR: 4 times he couldn’t say he loved you + 1 time he did

Ok, here we are with the very over hyped Vince fic! This was inspired by 8 Letters by Why Don’t We and has been swimming around in my head for a while before I realize it fits with this himbo. 

Shoutouts to the following (and hopefully this is short because this is not an awards show even though it would be fun to pretend it is): @vincecdunn because Nikki’s the reason I’m on the Vince train so as retaliation I’m just going to keep sending her ideas for more fics to write, @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys and @broadstbroskis for allowing me to come into your inboxes and be annoying and bounce ideas off of, and then @pettypetey and @pumpkinpatchmakar for the ways to say I love you and I’m 100% forgetting people but that’s just because I suck

Other people who wanted to be tagged: @all-time-fanatic @marialovesdean @oyeinpayne @ghstandpucks @maybehockeymaybenot​ @itzelmunoz and @thecasualyogi (unsure why it isn’t letting me tag you sad boi)

So, here we go, all 7.8k words of this 4+1

______________________

I

Tonight was one of the first nights in a while that the two of you were able to spend together, Vince on the road on and off for what felt like longer than usual and you just drowning at work. Any chance you got to be together at this point was almost always spent alone in the comforts of your place or his. You were spending it at your place, watching him stand at the stove as he cooked dinner for the two of you. 

“God, who you have thought someone could look so sexy stirring pasta,” you admire him, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him. 

He laughs, putting the large spoon on the counter, turning around to face him. Vince approaches you, pulling you close to him. His hand finds the small of back, the other tilting your chin up to him. He bites his lip, looking down at you. “You think that’s sexy, just wait,” he says, his lips planted against yours before you can say anything else. 

You pull away at the sound of splashing water, seeing the pot boiling over. “Ah, fuck,” Vince releases his grip and runs to turn the burner down, you laughing as he goes back to stirring the boiling bubbles away.

“You know what’s great about this?” you say, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

“Oh no,” he mutters, bringing the pot over to the sink to drain the excess water, knowing that whatever you’re going to say isn’t going to be great for him. 

“You get to clean up.”

He puts the now empty pot back on the stove, shaking the remaining water off the pasta in the strainer, “But I made the dinner!” 

“Yeah, and then you made the mess.” 

He turns to you, a mischievous look on his face. “You’re evil,” he says, lunging at you, lifting you off the ground and sending you into a fit of giggles as you try to wriggle your way free of his grasp. 

“Vince!” you squeal, your arms overlapping his. “Put me down!” 

“I like holding you, though,” he whines, putting you down without letting you go.

You turn around to face him, putting your hand on his face, tracing a random pattern on his cheek with your thumb. “Hold me on the ground and after you put the pesto on the pasta,” you tell him, giving him a quick kiss before pushing him away. “I thought you didn’t like pesto?”

He shrugs, putting pasta into the bowls you hand him. “I’m not crazy about it, but it’s your favorite, so I’ll put up with it for you.” 

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks over something so simple. “You’re nice,” you tell him, in a sing-songy voice, taking a bite of the pasta.

“Only to you,” he says, sending you a wink that makes your insides flutter. 

Properly full from the simple dinner, after you clean the dishes and Vince cleans the stove, you retreat to your bedroom where you planned on spending the rest of the night. “What do you want to watch tonight?” Vince asks you, settling onto your bed with your TV remote in hand. 

He reaches his arm out, gesturing for you to come snuggle up next to him, perfectly fitting against him as he kisses the top of your head, the warmth from his body comforting you more than the blankets that covered your bed probably ever would. “Gossip Girl,” you insist, knowing what his reaction would be.

Vince groans, throwing his head back. “Come on, that show is so bad.”

You look up at him, imitating the puppy dog eyes and signature pout he would give you all too often when he was asking you to do something. “Yes. But that’s what makes it so good to watch,” you plead.

He rolls his eyes, giving in and pulling it up on your Netflix. “Now how could I say no to that face,” he tells you.

“You can’t,” you tell him as he pulls up the show. 

Letting out a small, “Yay,” you earn a giggle from his lips before kissing him quickly and settling into the show. You start with the first episode of the second season, Vince stroking your arm absentmindedly, laughing at how cheesy the show is. He steals the occasional glance at you, loving how closely you could pay attention to anything in front of you, analyzing, critiquing, admiring what was before you. You did it with anything and everything that you fixated on, something Vince could never do and something he loved about you.

Not that you’ve said you love each other yet. But, you were the only thing he could focus on outside of hockey at any moment. 

“The true reason I should stay right where I am and not get in the car,” the two of you watch Blair Waldorf on your screen in her scene with Chuck Bass. “Three words. Eight letters. Say it, and I’m yours.”

The screen cuts to Chuck, his hesitation. “I-I...”

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear,” with Blair getting in the car, leaving Chuck standing there watching the girl he knew he loved drive off with his heart. 

That part always made you cry, letting out a soft sob at the sight of the character you hated the most, actually experiencing heartbreak, slightly humanizing the demon that you thought he was. Vince, paying more attention to you than the show, had no clue what was happening.

“This is a dumb question,” he starts, watching you wipe the tears that had fallen down your face, “But what are the three words?”

You sit up, your hand placed on his thigh sending a chill through his body. “I love you.”

His eyes go wide, swallowing hard. Given what just happened in the episode, he knew it was ridiculous to think, but he couldn’t help but wonder if what just happened on your screen would happen right now. “Are... are those the words or are you telling me?” he asks, his voice shaking.

You hesitate for a moment. You had been together for five months already. He was the person you trusted the most, no matter how dumb he might be sometimes. You would do anything for him, and you were sure that he would do anything for you. You thought about him constantly, but you had never been in love before. Whatever you felt for Vince was something you hadn’t felt for anyone. “Both,” you decide, seeing the panic wash over his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m not gonna leave you if you don’t,” you reassure him.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying to muster up the courage to actually say what he wanted to. He knows how he feels about you, but, “I can’t say it.” You knew the pain you felt at hearing those words flashed over your face for a moment because of the quick, “I’m sorry,” he let out before getting up off your bed and heading for the door.

“Vince, hey, wait,” you say, chasing after him and beating him to your door. With your back against it, you look at your boyfriend, panicked, breathing fast, hands shaking. “Vince,” you say his name again, hearing it coming from you calming him down, “You don’t have to say it. I promise. Just please, don’t leave.” 

He studies your face, the pain that he just caused you still showing. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his head.

“Hey,” you say, tilting his head up to look at you. “Listen to me when I say this: it’s fine. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it just because I did. I told you that because I do love you. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I can’t force you to love me,” you tell him, smiling through it. He had to know it was a fake smile, just using it to hide how you really felt. “You still want to be with me, right?”

He hesitated for longer than he should have, even though his answer popped into this head immediately. “What? Of course I do. Can we just,” he takes a deep breath, trying to find his words, “Do you think we can watch something else?”

You nod, taking his hand and leading you back to your bed. You just fucked everything up, didn’t you? But Vince’s panic and now lack of attention to even the Netflix catalogue he was scrolling through was more worrisome than him not saying he loves you. “Actually,” you say, gently taking the remote from his hands, “Do you think we can talk about this? Like, I’m ok with it, but, I don’t know, you’re kind of worrying me.” 

He can’t look at you, staring at the TV instead as the now muted screen flashed with characters he didn’t recognize. “I don’t know,” he lies. “The girls I was with before I met you kinda fucked me up I guess.” You could feel your heart breaking watching him like this, more so than when you watched Chuck and Blair. “I thought I was in love with them, but then it always ended with them using me for my money, because I play in the NHL, for sex. I mean, my purity score thing is so low for a reason, right?” he jokes, you trying to smile even though you could feel yourself wanting to cry. “Fuck, one of them even called Sammy because she liked him more while I was asleep in the bed next to her and asked him to go pick her up.” 

You take his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Using the pads of your thumbs, you wipe away the tears that you got on him, unsure if they were just yours or if he had started crying, too. “I will never do that to you,” you assure him. “I’ll even call Sammy and tell him that you’re better.” 

He laughs, sniffling a little bit. “Can you do that every day? Really wear down his self esteem.”

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, happy that he was at least smiling again. “I’m not going to emotionally destroy a man.” 

“But it’s Sammy!”

II

You, Nikki, and Patricia were sitting on Nikki’s couch together, each with one glass of wine for the night because of the need to drive later, pizza, popcorn, and much more junk food than you would like to admit. Dressed as if you hadn’t seen daylight in years, you all had on sweatpants, sweatshirts, hair tied back, makeup free, everything that would signal to an outsider that you had all stopped caring, but to you, it was just a night in after work. It was a much needed girls night, the stress of work getting to all of you while you sat there with your best friends trying to find something to watch. With the boys off on a road trip, you could definitely use the company. Part of you was bothered by Vince not saying he loves you, but could you really justifiably get upset but that? 

“What are we watching?” Nikki asks, pulling up Netflix, practically forcing you to relive the conversation with Vince from the other night. 

“Uh, Gilmore Girls?” Patricia suggests.

Without saying a word, Nikki plays the episode she left off on, Rory and Dean celebrating their anniversary together by going out to what was supposed to be a nice, sweet night. 

“What do you think Connecticut is like?” Patricia asks about the setting of the iconic show. 

“My ex in college was from Connecticut. Nothing good comes from Connecticut,” comes from Nikki, you barely hearing her as you fixate on the episode.

“Gilmore Girls comes from Connecticut.”

Without missing a beat, Nikki says, “One good thing comes from Connecticut.” The two of them keep talking, you barely hearing anything they say as you watch Dean and Rory in the car that Dean had built for her, telling her he loves her for the first time. Rory doesn’t say it back, the same expression on her face that you say on Vince’s that night. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Nikki asks, snapping you away from the show. 

“Oh, nothing, why?” you lie through your teeth, your best friends exchanging concerned looks.

“You know that you’re crying, right?” Patricia asks, snagging the remote and pausing the episode.

You reach up, feeling your now damp cheeks, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were there that were brimming in your eyes. “Oh, wow,” you let out, laughing a little bit. “I guess the episode just got to me,” you lie again. Nikki sits there, eyebrow raised, lips pursed as if to say ‘bitch, please,’ while Patricia just sat there, waiting for you to answer. “I told Vince I love him,” you start.

You get cut off by the two of them screaming, “Oh my god!” and “What did he say?”

“He,” you sigh, debating on telling them the truth or not. “He panicked and couldn’t say it.” 

Both of them gasp, you trying to figure out what emotions they felt; anger, sadness, disappointment, you swear all of it flashed on their face.

“Dump his ass!” Nikki yells, loud enough that her neighbors could probably hear her. 

You take a handful of popcorn, throwing it at her in response, Patricia laughing and dodging the mess the two of you were creating as kernels flew past her face. “I’m not dumping him! He said he’s afraid of getting hurt,” you tell them once you stop throwing the food at each other. 

“Does he think you’re going to hurt him?” Patricia asks, concern washing over her face.

“If he thinks that, you dump him,” Nikki pips in.

“You cut that out,” you fire back, pointing your finger at her. The ridiculousness of the simple action made all of you laugh, forgetting for a moment the conversation at hand. 

“Do you really love him?” Patricia asks another question, both her and Nikki with the same expression on their faces.

You feel a soft smile growing on your face, nodding. “I really do. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him. Can we just talk about something else, please?”

They go back to talking about Connecticut, you trying to keep up with their banter. 

“Wait, so why did you date that Connecticut boy?” you finally join the conversation, asking Nikki.

She shrugs, shoving the popcorn that was still in the bowl into her mouth. “Connecticut boys have money. I figured I could get some nice shit from him.”

“So you're a gold digger?” you tease her, Patricia nearly spitting out her wine.

Nikki sits there, mouth open pretending to be offended. “Talk about being a gold digger, you’re dating a professional athlete!”

You mirror her look, Patricia laughing as the innocent bystander in this. “Fuck,” is you can muster out before the three of you are laughing together. 

“How could he not love that!” Nikki says once you catch your breath, pointing to the smile on your face and immediately making you turn red.

“Are you flirting with her?” Patricia asks

“Someone has too,” she shrugs, winking at you while sipping her wine.

You sit there, in awe of her bluntness. “If Vince were here he would get mad at you.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Patricia asks, changing the subject before Nikki can flirt with you more or make other snarky comments about your boyfriend.

“You see,” you start, setting down your glass of wine, “Vince told me they were going to California but when I checked the schedule it said they were going to play the Florida Panthers tomorrow,” you explain, all of you unable to contain your laughter, “so I think he’s confused.” 

The three of you fall back into a rhythm that doesn’t involve talking about your boyfriend who was just about off your mind. After a few hours, you’re all yawning, the single glass of wine having no effect on you as you drowned out the alcohol with more water than anything so you could drive, Nikki kicking you out so she can go to sleep. 

While you and Patricia are walking to your cars, your phone starts buzzing, an incoming Facetime call from Vince. You answer, immediately turning the camera away from you, “Hey, babe, I’m walking to my car.” 

“And you’re not showing me yourself because you don’t want me to see the guy walking you there?” he jokes, smirking at the camera. He was in the bed in his hotel room, the white sheets pulled up just low enough that his chest was exposed, shirtless as he always was when he was ready to sleep. He knew what he was doing; showing just enough of himself that it would drive you crazy enough to be distracted.

“Yeah, this is the man,” you tease, panning over to Patricia getting into your car, “Say hi to Vince!”

“I’m stealing your girl!” she yells, ducking into her car and shutting her door, Vince’s laugh echoing in the air. 

You prop your phone up in the thing your mom got you, suctioned to your dash so you can still see your phone while driving, even though you told her you had Apple CarPlay and had no need for it. Driving down the street, you fall into a mundane conversation with Vince about getting to Florida, teasing him for confusing it with California, telling him about the girls night you just had.

“Come on, show me your face!” you hear him whine. Without taking your eyes off the road, you know exactly the look on his face: those green eyes of his wide like a puppy, his bottom lip jutted out and if he weren’t holding his phone, his hands would be intertwined in themselves under his chin to show you he was begging. 

“No, I look gross. My hair is tied back, I have no makeup on, and I’m in a groutfit.”

“Have you ever seen me?” 

You roll your eyes, hitting the button to flip the camera now that you were at a red light. “Yes, I’ve seen you. You’re hot,” you say without shame. 

“Fuck,” you hear him let out a long and low whisper. You roll your eyes at him, even though you can’t help but blush and smile at the way he was practically visibly drooling over you. “I didn’t know gross could be so beautiful.” 

“I look like a Founding Father, shut up,” you say, glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the heat rushing to your cheeks. 

He laughs again, making you smile even wider at the sound. “Who would have thought I would like sleeping with a Founding Father.” 

“That is necrophilia!” you scream, loud enough that you could probably be heard outside your car, drowning out the sound of his laugher. “I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again!”

You pull up to your building, getting out and walking to your place while Vince rambles on about something that Sammy had done on the plane. “Oh!” he says once you unlock your door, startling you and almost dropping your phone, “Look what I got you!” 

“You got me something?” you ask him, walking through your dark apartment into your room. 

“I saw and I liked it and thought you would like it so I had to get it!” he says like a giddy child. He holds up a small stuffed puppy, shoving it almost too close to the camera, “Can you see the tag on his collar?”

He pulls it away slightly, the letter on it becoming clear. “His name is Vince!” you exclaim, the biggest smile on his face as he holds it next to him.

“Because you say when I get excited I remind you of a little puppy.” He sits there with the small stuffed animal pressed to his face, beaming at his purchase that he couldn’t wait to give you, even though he ruined the surprise he had anticipated because he couldn’t wait until he got home to see you. You take a screenshot, unable to hide how adorable you found him in that moment.

“I love it, Vince. I can’t wait for you to get home,” you say to him, a big yawn coming from him. His eyes get droopy, the way he gets before he’s about to fall asleep, a lazy smile on his face that means he felt the same.

You settle onto your bed, turning on your tv to watch whatever was on. You sit there in silence holding your phone, yawning a few times yourself. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna go to sleep,” you say, leaning over to turn off your lights, “I love you,” you say, forgetting that you're upset over his inability to say it back, seeing that he was already asleep, anyway, unable to return with a response. 

III

You were swamped with work, having to hustle on a Saturday to get everything done. Vince was tired of being cooped up inside, only really going out when he had practice or a game, so he was the one to suggest going to the coffee shop half way between your apartments in order to just be somewhere that wasn’t the four walls of your apartments.

“You’re not working,” he says in a teasing voice, watching you sit there staring out the window at the people passing by.

“I just,” you sigh, “I don’t want to do this project.”

“Can I help?” he asks, getting up from his seat and standing behind you, just enough room between your chair and the wall for him to fit and lean against you. “You’re on Facebook.”

You look up at him, an innocent look on your face. “I’m using a rewards system!” you defend yourself. “I was working for half an hour, so I’m watching a video as a break.” You scroll back to the video you were just watching as he rests his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the slightly. You find the video of an artist with a bunch of metal strips, twisting them into a metal tree art piece. You turn to him, eyes wide with excitement, a huge smile on your face that he can’t help but roll his eyes at, mirroring your smile. “Isn’t it cool?”

“You’re acting like a child. That’s my job,” he says, kissing your cheek before going back to sit down.

“That just means you’ve rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’ve rubbed off on you?” you wonder, scrolling to find one more video to watch. The next video is scene from That 70’s Show, and old favorite of yours that you haven’t seen since it was taken off Netflix. Eric and Donna were in a car, probably the Vista Cruiser in one of the earlier seasons judging by how young they look. The captions on, your sound off, you read the scene instead of watching. It was Donna telling Eric she loved him, only for him to panic and respond with, “I love cake.” The smile on your face disappears, looking up at Vince and thankful that he was paying more attention to his phone than he was to you. 

You just wanted him to say he loved you. You were sure that he did, and you had told him that you did. But he couldn’t say it. You were constantly going back and forth between being ok with it and being upset by it, knowing that it wasn’t fair to force him to say something if he didn’t mean it, but also knowing that it wasn’t fair to you to spill your guts to him for him to remain closed off. 

You take a deep breath, switching back to the tab that had the new marketing pitch you were working on. You get to typing, focusing on the project while you see four other cursors working on different parts, occasionally switching to another section to check one of your partners' work while they do the same for you. You barely notice the people around you, the coffee shop practically packed to capacity as an afternoon rush came in. Vince would look up from his phone, stealing the occasional glance while you take no notice. 

You both jump at the sound of someone knocking on the window next to you. Look up, Vince knew who it was immediately, irritated by your “Oh my god!” sqeual as you practically leap from the table to run outside.

Vince watches as you jump into the guys arms, a huge smile on your face, unable to read your lips as you talk with him. The guy was more attractive than Vince had remembered. Fuck, he looked like a model, and there Vince was, a hockey player, mad about it.

“How have you been?” you ask your friend Jack, someone you hadn’t seen in years. 

“Pretty good,” he tells you, his arms lingering on your waist once you pull away from the hug you practically forced on him in the first place. “You?”

“Good, busy. Getting out with my boyfriend instead of acting like an old agoraphobic couple,” you tell him motioning to Vince sitting at the table, arms crossed over his chest. You both wave to him, Vince mirroring with a wave and a very unenthusiastic look. “Who’s apparently tired from practice,” you lie, hoping he would buy the explanation for Vince’s unexpected attitude. 

“Isn’t he a hockey player?” You look back at Vince who’s now looking down at his phone, nodding, a soft smile on your face as you just stare at your dumb boyfriend. “You really have a thing for athletes, huh?”

You roll your eyes, knowing what he was referencing: Jack was technically your ex, having hooked up a few times, gone out on a few dates, he even brought you to a family wedding of his because you were seeing each other when the invitations went out, breaking up not long after the event. You never called him your boyfriend, and as far as you were concerned, you weren’t his girlfriend, but still, you weren’t just friends. “Hockey players are a little better than baseball players, bub,” you tell him, knowing it would hurt his ego a little bit.

He scrunches his face, pretending to be hurt but laughing anyway. “You always know how to hit a guy where it hurts, Y/L/N,” he tells you, both of you nodding. You were about to tell him goodbye, missing your chance when he says, “Do you think I could meet your new guy?”

You feel your breath stop for a moment, your eyes going wide at the thought of your ‘ex’ meeting your boyfriend. “Uh, sure, if you want to?” you tell him, obviously unsure of the situation that was about to unfold. “Vince?” you snap his attention away from his phone, the two of you standing over him. “This is my friend Jack. We went to school together,” you say, Jack extending his hand for Vince to shake. 

Vince swallows hard, a wave of jealousy washing over him as this guy stands in front of him. “Nice to meet you,” he says, a cold tone in his voice. You shoot him a look, Jack taking your seat while Vince pulls you into his lap without you expecting it, planting a firm kiss on your lips. “So, Jack, what do you do?” he asks the guy sitting across from you, holding you tight around your waist as if he were marking his territory.

You look at your boyfriend, confused by why he was acting like this. He sends you a soft smile, his eyes flickering down to your lips, making you melt a little as you turn your attention back to Jack. “I work in marketing.”

“Oh, just like, my girl here.” 

‘My girl?’ you mouth to yourself, unsure if either of the boys saw you. 

“That’s how we met,” Jack starts, a little confused as well by Vince’s actions. “We were both marketing majors so we had all of the same classes.” 

Vince keeps on asking Jack questions, practically leaving you out of the conversation, occasionally kissing your cheek while Jack was talking. 

“Wow, you two are clearly in love with each other,” Jack points out, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Vince freezes, his heart racing against your chest as Jack gets up. “I’ve actually got to get going, but it was great seeing you, Y/N. We should catch up again.” 

You nod, agreeing with him as he leaves, taking your seat back across from Vince, glaring at him. “What the hell was that?” 

 “What? I can’t kiss your cheek occasionally?” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. You watch as he stares out the window, Jack still in his view. 

“You never do it like that,” you point out. Then it dawns on you: “You were jealous! Why were you jealous?”

“I was not,” he pouts, his arms crossed. 

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” you squeal, careful not to be too loud in the quiet environment. His face turns red, his lips pursed as he stares out the window, clearly ready to deny it. You reach over to poke his cheeks, just to agitate him. 

He swats you away, hating that you were right. “You think I’m cute?”

“Why were you jealous?” you ask again. 

“You think I’m cute?” he says, leaning on the table.

You smirk at him, imitating his body language. “We both know I’m going to win this so you should just answer me now,” you say slowly.

“He’s the guy you dated in college,” Vince says.

“I never showed you his picture.”

He hesitates for a moment, knowing the exact reaction this was going to illicit: “I saw the pictures you posted with him on Instagram.”

You stop and think for a moment. The last time you even saw Jack was a few years ago. “Those pictures were from my freshman year of college. You’ve scrolled that far back on my page?”

He sticks out his bottom lip, eyes wide to give you his puppy dog face. “Sometimes, when I miss you, and I know you’re busy and can’t talk, I scroll through your Instagram so I can see your face.” 

You feel yourself melting at his words, the face he was giving you making you love him that much more. “Come here,” you tell him, pulling him up around the table. You take him by the collar down to your level, giving him a sweet kiss. “And, yes, I do think you’re really cute,” you say to him, kissing him again. 

IV

Vince watched in awe at his teammates. All of them were drunk, him, for once, being the most sober one around as they entered the bye week that took place around All-Star Weekend. He was waiting for you to show up, anxiously checking his phone to see if you had texted him anything saying that you and Patricia were at the bar. He hated being the only sober one, especially since it meant he would have to play dad if something happened unless you two showed up soon. 

“You’re not drinking?” Sammy asks him, two beers in hand. Someone would think one was for Vince, but, no, both were for Sammy as he put the openings of both bottles in his mouth at once. 

“I’m waiting for Y/N.” 

“You’re whipped!” Sammy slurs, sitting down next to his friend in the booth he was refusing to get up from while he anxiously shakes his leg waiting to see you, rolling his eyes even though part of him knew he was right.

“Stop that,” Vince says, getting up and trying to shake his friend off in the crowded bar.

“You love her, right? I mean you have to love her to be like this,” Sammy insists, something he wouldn’t be doing had he not been drunk. Vince opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted. “Dude.”

“You know I can’t say it,” is all Vince can let out. Sammy knows his past, Sammy knows what has happened to Vince. Saying it would mess something up. Those eight letters would ruin what he had with you when they were out in the open. 

“I don’t know how to talk about this with you,” Sammy admits, eyes narrow since he was thinking about it anyway.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this with you.” 

Before Sammy can say anything else, like magic, you appear at his side, Patricia in tow. “Hey,” you say to him, kissing him as he wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls away, looking over your shoulder to see Sammy making faces at the two of you, Vince giving him a look that told him to go away without you noticing. 

Patricia wanders off with Sammy, leaving the two of you by yourselves. “How far deep are they?” you ask, dragging him to the bar so the two of you could start drinking, knowing you couldn’t drink so much that you would catch up with them, but enough that you wouldn’t have to act as the mother of the group.

“We’ve been here for an hour so I expect someone to be throwing up soon,” he laughs, not dropping your hand when the two of you sit down. 

“If you’re drunk, do you have to take care of them?” you ask him, signalling to the bartender to come take your drink orders. You fall into conversation, watching Sammy strike out with multiple girls, Patricia spending the entire night with a single guy following her, something she clearly enjoyed as she milked at least four free drinks out of him.

“Think she’ll go home with him?” Vince asks, nodding over to Patricia as he finishes what might have been this third drink that night. As far as he knew, no one was throwing up, but now, he didn’t have to worry about it if he was just a little drunk.

You shrug, putting down your now empty glass. “If they both want that I guess.” You could feel yourself getting bored and tired, wishing that you and Vince could just leave and go home yourselves. But he looked like he was having fun watching the guys, a smile on his face whenever they did something stupid. You study Vinces face, his slightly pursed lips and his eyes sparkling as he watched Sammy strike out with what was probably his fourth girl of the night, Vince smiling as he couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. Your attentioned is pulled away by your phone buzzing in your hand, Nikki bombarding you with texts. 

‘Have Vince watch these with you ;)’

She sends you two clips, both from a Halloween episode of New Girl. Unfamiliar with the show, you tap Vince to have him watch over your shoulder. You watch the two girls get into a limo, one going as far as exclaiming, “Hey, look! I’m in a limo! I wish I could have really long legs so I could stretch them out the length of the limo!”

The camera switches to a guy, telling them to have fun, saying, “I love you,” an immediate look of regret washing over his face, the girl in the limo responding with finger guns while her friend behind her mouthed, ‘No.’

You swallow hard, texting Nikki back yelling at her for it, definitely partially a product of the alcohol. You don’t even bother to look at the second video, afraid of what it would be and what it would bring considering the first one brought an awkward silence in the middle of the loud bar.

“Did you tell them?” he asks quietly, sitting back down next to you. 

You straighten your posture, forming a thin line with your lips. “Yeah. I did. It was bothering me more than I thought it would and they figured it out.” 

“How would they figure it out?” he snaps, his voice a little louder than it would have been had he not had so much to drink. “That’s not something you can just read on someone’s face.” 

You take in a deep breath, knowing that people were starting to turn to look at the fight you were about to have. “Come on,” you grab him by his arm, leading him outside so at least if you started really fighting, they couldn’t kick you out. “Look, we were watching something where someone said I love you and the other person didn’t and I started crying,” you explain to him, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

The people around you in the city were staring as they walked by, two idiots on a weird night causing a scene in a public. “Y/N,” he says, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand.

You snatch it away, startling him that you were so quick. “No, Vince. I know I said it was fine,” you sob, “But it hurts. It hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you back. And I know you’ve been hurt before, but you’re letting that get in the way of you and me, and I don’t know how much longer I can handle being in love with you when you won’t even say you love me.” 

He drops his head down, tears falling down his face while you were trying to fight your own from falling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for being afraid, but I am.” 

“Do you love me?” you ask him, taking a step towards him. 

He looks up at you, both of you crying. His eyes are red, he looks like he’s in pain. He tries to say something, only to shake his head, taking you in for a hug before either of you can do anything else. You can feel him crying in your shoulder, one hand in your hair, the other at the top of your back. You stand there for a moment in shock, not sure how to react. You react into his hold, trying to calm him down. You had never seen him cry like this before, in fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him cry at all. You pull his head off your shoulder. His face soaked with tears. “I think you need to go home,” you tell him, wiping the tears from his face. 

He doesn’t say anything, just pulling you in for another hug when the guys and Patricia stumble out of the bar. “Hey, we’re going to go to another bar,” Patricia tells you as you shake your head, signalling that she shouldn’t ask what was going on. “Do you guys want to come?”

“We can?” Vince questions, only looking at you, his face still red from the sobbing he had just done. “Unless you don’t want to.” 

“You go with them. I’ll be fine, I want to go home anyway,” you insist, trying to push him off you. If there was one thing you hated, it was the kind of girls who made their boyfriends miss out on things with their friends because they insisted on attention, but you also didn’t want to be with him at this moment.

He smiles at you as you try to force yourself to not succumb to his looks, refusing to let go of you, “It’s not worth going with them if you aren’t going to be there with me.” 

“Then don’t go. I’m going home.” You break free of his grip, turning on your heels and walking down the street to go home by yourself. 

+one

“Dude, have you seen Nikki’s snapstory?” Sammy’s voice comes through Vince’s phone.

“No, why?” 

The concern in Sammy’s voice resonated with Vince, “I think you need to go look.”

Vince puts his teammate on speaker to go find one of your best friend’s story. “I’m looking now, hold on.”

Nikki was in her car, a picture of your favorite flowers in front of her steering wheel, your apartment building in the background. She had captioned it with ‘Bought my best friend flowers to go tell her I love her because her boyfriend won’t say it.’

“Ah, fuck,” Vince mutters, closing out the app.

“What are you gonna do about this?”

“I gotta go,” he says, hanging up before Sammy can say anything else. 

-------

You run to the door when you hear the knocking, hoping it was Vince since you hadn’t heard much from him since that night at the bar. Instead, you find Nikki standing in your doorway with your favorite flowers. “What are these?” you deadpan, still a little irritated with her.

“Vince won’t say I love you so I figured I would,” she tells you, kissing you on the cheek and brushing past you. “I love you!” she says, dramatically, plopping down on your couch and putting her feet on your coffee table.

You look at the flowers, biting your lip. You just wanted Vince to say it. But you get it. “They’re just eight letters. He doesn’t have to say it when he can just show it. And you sending that video the other night does not and will not help anything,” you scold her. 

You hear her scoff as you go to put the flowers in some water. “You know I was right to send that video. How does he show you he loves you? How could he possibly tell you he loves you without saying ‘I love you?’” 

Rolling your eyes, knowing that she’s seen him show you loves you plenty of times. You could either argue with her more over what she did, or just list the ways you knew she was already aware of. “He always makes sure I’m the last person he sends a text to or calls at night and the first person he does that with in the morning. Even if he wakes up in the middle of the night and answers someone else, he’ll still send me another text right after. He’ll give me his pickle whenever he gets them because he knows I love them, even though he does, too. If he sees something on the road that he thinks I’ll like he gets it for me to surprise me with when he comes home.” You can feel yourself starting to cry thinking of all the way Vince has shown he loves you. But you really just wanted to hear those three words. You just wanted that verbal confirmation from him.

“I mean, babe, that’s great, but if he really meant it, wouldn’t he say it?”

You join her on the couch, trying to figure out how to answer. “Not everyone is good with expressing their emotions with words,” you shrug, unable to look at whatever expression she had on her face. “He’s been hurt before, when he’s told a girl that he loved her. I understand why he wouldn’t want to flat out say it to me.” 

You get up, going back to your kitchen to at least fake the need for a glass of water. “Well, what else does he do?” you hear Nikki call over the sound of your tap. 

You swallow, unsure if listing the ways was making you happy or sad. “He asks me to call him when I get home so he knows I’m safe. He’ll snapchat me funny faces when I’m sad because he wants to see me smile. He’ll even leave the guys if I’m upset and stay on Facetime with me until I’m happy. When we’re in the car he has my playlist on because he wants to listen to my music because it makes me happy. He doesn’t have to tell me he loves me.” 

“Yes he does,” you hear from the other room, a voice that wasn’t Nikki’s. You see Vince standing there, bags in hand, Nikki slinking away into the other room to give you privacy. 

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” you ask him, giving him a kiss for the first time in what felt like forever, trying to take the bags from him when he pulls away. The two of you walk over to your couch, setting the bags down and hearing clinking from inside. “Can I look inside?”

“No, not yet,” he stops you, taking your hands in his to prevent you from reaching in. “I’ll get everything out. Just, just trust me.” He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “I told you I couldn’t say...it because of the girls I’ve said it to before. And god, I’m the worst for not saying it.  But you deserve so much more.”

“Vince, what are you talking about? I don’t need mo-”

He cuts you off, handing you the first thing in the bag. A bottle of your favorite wine, a note taped to it. “You’re my partner in wine,” you read out to him, laughing at the goofy grin on his face telling you that he was proud of himself. 

A bag of your favorite coffee grounds is placed in your hands next. “Words can not espresso how much you bean to me.” 

A can of your favorite soup. “I ‘canned’ live without you.”

A snack pack of pudding. “Thanks for pudding up with me.” 

There was food item after food item with a note taped to it with a different pun revolving around what he thought about you. He went to the grocery store for all your favorites, handing them to you one by one until he gave you the last item in the bags: a bar of your favorite cheese. “Sorry about being so cheesy.”

You look at him, seeing the embarrassed look on his face. His cheeks were red, unable to make eye contact with you but smiling anyway. “Well, now I don’t have to go grocery shopping,” you joke, him laughing along with you, “Vince, I love this.” 

“And I love you.” 

You can’t help the smile on your face, staring into his green eyes as his expression mirrors yours. “Really? I mean, I knew,” you explain, “But I didn’t think you’d say it. Why now?” 

He smiles at you, taking your hands in his. “Because Nikki shouldn’t have to tell you she loves you because I can’t.” 

“You’re welcome!” you hear Nikki yell from your room, both of you laughing.

“Oh my god,” he lets out at her obvious eavesdropping, his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. “It’s not fair to you that you told me how you felt and I couldn’t tell you how I really felt.”

“Vince, you don’t have to apologize,” you try to tell him. 

“No, no. I do,” he says, dropping your hands and cupping your face. His thumb traces along your cheekbones as he keeps going. “I chose shitty girls before you, and them hurting me ending up hurting you. I love you, and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to say it. You’re the only one I’ve ever really loved.” He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet. 

“I love you, too.” 

[rowansparrow]

I really want to get into writing, both sfw and nsfw, but every time I sit down to write I go blank or get scared to do it. I don’t know why I’m scared but that’s just what ends up happening. I really want to ask you and @djarrex for tips/pointers/advice, because you two are some of the best writers I’ve seen on this site, but I always chicken out before I can. -✨

Hello anon! Sorry it took me so long to respond to this, and thank you so much for your kind words!

I rambled a bit, so I'm putting everything below the cut.

I think the best advice I can give is to remember first and foremost that you are writing for YOU, not for anyone else. Obviously, engagement/notes/people reading your work is nice, but don't base your worth as a writer purely on engagement. Write the things you love, write the things that make you happy, and at the end of the day, if even ONE person reads your work, even if that one person is you, I'd consider that a job well-done. Don't let the fear of writing hold you back. Just write, write whatever comes to mind. And also, you definitely don't HAVE to post writing if you aren't comfortable with it! Like I said, writing can (and should!) be something that makes you happy, and that starts with the realization that you are writing for yourself, and for your own enjoyment. Don't let the desire to write for others take away from your enjoyment of the craft.

As for more technical advice, here's what I've got for you:

Don't wait for the moment you sit down at your notebook/computer/typewriter/whatever you use to start writing. Instead, write little pieces wherever you can. I use the notes app and also the voice app in my phone like crazy. If I have a random idea for a bit of dialogue or if I suddenly get inspired while I'm out and about, I'm frantically jotting things down in my notes, or sometimes if I'm driving, I'll get suddenly inspired so I'll switch to my voice app and just talk out loud to myself, processing the plot.

For example, here's a screenshot from the notes in my phone where I was brainstorming WBIT (with some stuff crossed out for spoilers):

It doesn't have to be anything fleshed out! You can just jot down whatever you're thinking about and see what it becomes when you sit down to write. If I find myself getting stuck while I write, I go back through my notes/audio recordings and see if there's anything in there I can use. It's very helpful. :)

I also HIGHLY RECOMMEND reading, tbh. In order to write a lot, you gotta also read a lot. Read other people's fan works, sure, but also read books, read poetry, read the news, read anything you can get your hands on. There are so many stories in your head, and sometimes the key to unlocking them is reading a really great word or phrase from somebody else.

Also, if you're shy about posting work/anxious about getting engagement/any of the following things, feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs any time! I'm more than happy to help however I can. :)

Okay, I'm passing the mic to @djarrex now so she can add on if she wants.

[grievedeeply]

I love you so much (platonically).

It’s so hard to find quality Mike fanfic content, especially when it comes to x readers.

I hope you don’t mind if I make a habit of popping into your inbox whenever I feel like it and ranting about my love for Michael.

I don’t have anyone to talk to about this stuff, so the prospect of a potential outlet is really exciting for me. Also, I’d like to see if you’d like to learn about my FNAF AU? Particularly, I would love some feedback on it. I’m really excited, and I’m still stuck on figuring out if my William was a good dad or not. I want him to be a good dad, mostly because I personally have a craving for a healthy, wholesome family dynamic (as my aunts and some cousins are jerks), and yeah. But I also think it would be interesting to explore him being a poor parent, at least, to Michael at the very least, because I feel it would be interesting psychology-wise and also good writing practice. Feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Also, I’m sorry for the tangent and huge text block.

Have a wonderful day/night/whatever!

- Artsy ^_^

heyyy sorry this took me FOREVER to get to. i had to scroll through my inbox to find it, but if you're still around, i'm happy to hear your thoughts whenever you want to pop in!

i'd love to hear about your au! it sounds really interesting and i always love hearing about what people are up to with fnaf related stuff! william is far from my favorite but i love thinking about him being a good father in some universe :")

[domjaehyun]

omg heyyy six thirty anon again living rent free in ur inbox B)x. BAE. my favorite song is six thirty now…. do u understand what you have done. the impact of this is global. but also my top three in no particular order are my hair, six thirty, and motive but also 34+35 remix which makes 4 yes but that remix is running in a league of her own sorry. HAECHAN IS JUST SOOO SEXY. like. it’s not funny anymore. like if i knew him in real life PHEWWWW like he could be ANYONE any random motherfucker literally but if he had THAT singing voice and that sense of humor my panties would be DROPPING no questions asked. like idk if you watched the dream hotel content that came out like a day ago but the way he was solving those puzzles LIKE WHY MY COOCHIE THROBBING MISTER?????? there’s something sooo intensely attractive about intelligence that may not show through like ‘oh i know a lot of math and science and 500 languages’ but like someone who can think their way through puzzles and problems and are like clever in a manipulative (but not negative) way and are intelligent with their WORDS like they always have something insightful and clever to say and people who are just really SHARP like so so quick to understand things. and like you said THE FACT THAT I CAN FEEL THAT FROM HIM EVEN THO HES SPEAKING A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LANGUAGE???? like i just KNOW his iq is high. and he’s so fucking funny literally a star on variety shows and is always carrying the humor like he is so hilarious he makes everyone laugh all the time and that is so fucking attractive like come here i want to show you off. also about changing the fics like girl maybe this is The Haechan Show. and what about it. like if i was haechan i would not be humble the world is a stage and EYE am the main character. he deserves everything ever i want him sooo bad. and also i totally agree and think the poll thing is a good idea but also. write who’s inspiring you. no point in forcing out a fic for someone when they’re not really who your thinking of. of course, do whatever you like OBVIOUSLY this is your blog you run the show always and it is always always up to you but i’d love for you to just write whoever and whatever you want because at the end of the day i’d much rather be reading something you were inspired while writing instead of something manufactured to fit a preexisting notion you know? but like either way it’s gonna be bombbbbbb because it’s not like if it’s not for haechan you’re going to be slaving away at the computer struggling to get words out like bby u got this regardless !!!! haechan so sexy saying his name 3 times in the dark in front of a mirror praying he shows up.

me, quickly falling in platonic love w six thirty anon: 🥴

look AWAY y'all... this is private... (under the cut.... bc u make me feel chatty.....)

WAIT BLS STOP THATS SO CUTE ALSO I'M . im taking it as a sign / a flex that 3 of the 4 songs you like most from the album are the songs i already published fics for (34 + 35 counts bc in my defense . the remix did NOT exist when i wrote it) the remix is EVERYTHING TO ME IT'S MY 3 FAVORITE ARTISTS ARE U KIDDING.... ARE U K I D D I N G.

and no fr haechan is . the literal sexiest mf i cannot take it . can he please stop i am going through it every second of the day. i could be sipping water and then haechan pops into my mind and my day is just . ruined. derailed entirely. and yEAH NO ACTUALL YLIKE . he reminds me . of the guy i worked w over the summer one year and like . listen . that dude . he liked me . a Lot . SO . HAECHAN WE COULD BE SO GREAT TOGETHER PLS JUST GIVE ME A CHAAAAANCE . haechan..........did u know we could duet..... we could sing together ..... we can have . concerts at home . i'll let u shine whenever u want .

"WHY MY COOCHIE THROBBING MISTER??????" i want you to know i actually just almost died from laughing at this......like i actually made so many loud and alarming noises that one of my cats ran over and was watching me.... then i proceeded to beg for mercy/my life in breathless sobs ....... then i exhausted myself and sat here like . entirely limp and eyes closed.... only opened my eyes bc my cat kept sniffing at my face in alarm.......

BUT NO FOR REAL . actual book intelligence tends to fall very short for me in terms of like. impressing me. like i dont actually care if you can recite random facts to me 💖 but if you have sexy logic and reasoning?? I WILL SWOON. I REALLY WILL. like okay...i have a secret for u again......... *whispers* i rly . actually . am capable of much higher levels of thought than i let on most of the time..... i like to . play dumb 💖 bc thinking is a lot of work and if ppl think i know nothing then they will not ask me shit i don't want to answer 💖 hHHHh THE WAY I WANT TO SPEAK SPECIFICALLY ABT THIS INSTANCE I HAD W THE GUY THAT GIVES ME HAECHAN VIBES... BC I THINK IT'D BE . SO ACCURATE... *screeches in anguish and shoves my fist entirely in my mouth*

but no actually like . haechan your mind is so sexy king please pick me king pick ME choose ME love ME!!!!!!!!!! no fr if i was as fucking perfect as he is i would . never fucking shut up . no one could tell me ANYTHING !!!!!!!!! EVER !!!!!!! LIKE MF DO YOU SEE ME?????

HSDFJGKD STOP "girl maybe this is The Haechan Show. and what about it." ...........YOU ARE A TERRIBLE INFLUENCE BUT . you are saying exactly what i want to hear so keep it coming baby i love to hear it 💖 everyone strap in bc if i decide to indulge my haechan thoughts to the fullest extent........... praying for all of u 💖

but YES youre so right your brain is so sexy love that for u omg ... you're v right i just Really Really Like Haechan and want to . give him as much appreciation as he deserves and for me,,, i could make my admiration clearest by expressing it through....art..... (yes right now i am . saying that explicit smut fanfiction is art. bear w me) but yes...... H...hhH...thank u......

ANYWAY THANK U BABY I LOV U ... i cannot summon haechan to my home i think i would die of embarrassment.... i'm in my jopping hoodie and i look A Disaster ... maybe one day when i am Hot and Dressed Up and my room is not A Mess 💖 will scroll through witchtok and do every single one of those spells that ppl are like "do not fucking do these unless you want them to be literally obsessed with you." and i will take notes and do each one 💖 kidding that's a lot of work and also scary so . will not do this but in a perfect world.... yeah....

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Nine: Letters, Lovers and Loyalties

A/N: This is the ninth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Yet another letter dropped into the lap of Aria Dumbledore as she sat absentmindedly sketching. Dropping her quill back into the small pot of ink which balanced on the arm of her chair, a small sigh escaped her lips. She had been expecting another to arrive any day now.

Aria allowed herself a small glance in the direction of her desk where the ever growing pile of unopened letter sat gathering dust. Disregarding her drawing, Aria traveled to her desk, fingers fumbling with the edge of the envelope. Admittedly, Aria's mind had been focused on that small pile of letters the past few days, and consequently the man who sent them. She couldn't bring herself to reply to his constant inquiries, but she had considered there was no harm in opening a few of them. She longed to hear from him, though she had been in denial for so long now she wasn't sure what to expect from his most recent letters.

Waiting no longer she ripped the paper from its wax seal, her eyes quickly scanning every word on the page.

My dear Aria, Though I know you say you cannot reply to my letters, I write them all with the hope that you will find the time in your busy schedule to at least read them. As always things are quiet here without you. Too quiet. I miss your voice. I miss hearing you sing to yourself in the shower thinking no one can hear you, I miss hearing you hum as you wander aimlessly through the house, I miss watching you draw as I pose for you, but most importantly I miss holding you in my arms. I long for the end of the school year when we will be reunited and I will have nothing to miss except maybe writing these letters. I long for a response to my letters, my darling. I simply must know that you miss me as I miss you. In the mean time I will continue to write to you to keep myself distracted from everything terrible happening in the world, by simply thinking of you. All my love, S.

Aria couldn't help but feel a great pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach for ignoring the letters, but she couldn't bare the thought of reading them, while she was still coming to terms with how she felt when she decided to leave for Hogwarts. She knew immediately she would not be able to maintain a long distance relationship with him. Though he was the first man she had ever loved she had been too cowardly to confess her feelings for him in person, let alone on a piece of parchment. She knew she was a pathetic coward from the moment he told her he loved her and she could not find it in her to return the favour. Her cowardice was more than proven the day she left for Hogwarts. Aria had planned to break up with him, to avoid further heartbreak down the line. But she could not even find the courage to do that.

Instead she was living in denial. In her mind they had broken up, and refused to face up to whatever she was truly feeling until it was absolutely necessary. Her plan had been to distract herself as much as possible, suppress her feelings and just forget about the situation completely. And to be totally honest her plan had been working for her, with the exception of a few off days such as today. However when it came time to wake up and face the music she had no idea what her plan would be then.

Leaving the letter open on her desk she took a stroll around the grounds of Hogwarts to clear her mind. The time to figure out all of her problems was not now. She was still a young, carefree woman and she didn't want the burden of guilt stopping her from living her life however she so wished.

Arias walk led her to the village of Hogsmeade, and after working up a light sweat, the young professor opted to pop into the Three Broomsticks to quench her thirst.

Unsurprisingly for a late Tuesday evening the place was barren. Besides for a drunken wizard practically falling off his bar stood, a crazy witch whispering to herself and two well dressed men, sitting out of place in a side booth, the place was completely deserted. Planning to only stay for a pumpkin juice Aria took a seat at the bar and begun chatting to the same barmaid who had served her and Severus all those weeks ago.

"Busy night?" Aria joked, rolling her eyes at the drunk to her right.

The woman laughed in return, handing over a glass of pumpkin juice. "This is pretty much the standard, at this time." She shrugged, polishing off a perfectly clean glass, to keep herself busy. "That one over there doesn't even order anything, but its not worth the hassle kicking her out." She gestured to the old hag in the corner, her perfectly polished nails glistening in the dim bar light.

"I wish I could say I felt sorry for you, but a break away from the chaos that is Hogwarts is a slight relief." Aria sighed. She was still not used to being around so many people all the time having spent the past few years alone, besides her mother, she often needed time alone to breathe.

"Oh, then you must be new. I've had my fair share of lonely professors spend an evening behind my bar, and I usually remember who's spilled their whole life story to me. Though you do look familiar, what do you teach?" She finished up with her glasses, leaning her elbows on the bar to get a closer look at the younger woman, her breasts practically falling out her blouse.

"I'm just an apprentice for now. I'm the new Potions Mistress." Aria smiled, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Oh yes, now I remember. You came here with that Severus. He's not unfamiliar with our whiskey selection, if you know what I mean." Both women rolled their eyes in unison. "He doesn't seem to talk much though, I can't say I know anything about him. I must admit I was surprised to see him with a gorgeous young witch like yourself."

"You weren't the only one." Aria scoffed, finishing off her pumpkin juice.

"Well it makes a little bit more sense now." She laughed, a set of pristine pearly teeth emerging from her red glossy lips.

It seemed Aria was not the only one who had been admiring the woman's beauty, and almost right on cue the drunk decided to look a little bit more lively, demanding another pint. Reluctantly the barmaid obliged, shooting Aria an apologetic look.

Aria couldn't help but notice the gruff looking man practically throw himself over the bar in order to get a good gawk at the barmaids behind. The slightly older woman seemed unfazed by the mans actions, in-fact Aria wasn't entirely unsure she wasn't enjoying the attention. Choosing not to interrupt as neither party seemed to object to the altercation, Aria kept her mouth shut.

That was until the man's attention turned to her. The barmaid disappeared from view, presumably to refill the barrel the drunk had practically drowned himself in. "Haven't seen you around here before." He started harmlessly, though Aria did not miss the way his eyes seemed to scan the whole of her body.

"Just moved into Hogwarts, haven't seen much of Hogsmeade." Aria admitted, but made the conscious decision to turn away from him, hoping not to engage in any further conversation.

"You a friend of Ros'" He asked, intrigued, while downing a good half of his pint.

"Not really, no." Aria shrugged. "I didn't even know her name until just now."

"Rosalind Rookwood." He edged his seat closer to Arias. "Fantastic barmaid, though I wouldn't say it was her best profession." He winked.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Aria turned her nose up at the man, just praying he would leave her alone.

"Well, you know, bein' a barmaids fine an all, but it doesn't always pay the bills. Miss Rookwood's got her fair share of stories to tell, and not all of them her own." He laughed, the potent stench of his alcoholic breath suffocating Aria as he leaned in closer, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders. "If it turns out teaching isn't for you, just know you'll have a loyal customer in me." He hiccuped, his free arm, reaching down to stroke the woman's exposed thigh.

Instinctively Aria gripped onto his wrist, forcing it off of her. "What the hell do you think you are doing!?" Aria exclaimed, pushing the man away from her. "Don't you dare lay your hands on me again."

The drunk showed no sign of guilt or remorse, he simply chuckled to himself, revealing a shocking lack of teeth. Disgusted, Aria made to move but found herself cornered against the bar.

Fortunately the altercation had caused enough disruption to alert the two men having a casual evening drink. Instantly one rushed over to her aid, stupefying the old man. The second man followed suit and made it his business to remove the frozen figure from the bar.

"Are you alright?" The first man asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine, thank you for stepping in." Aria smiled, brushing herself down, as though she was riding herself from the drunks disgusting touch.

The man returned a boyish grin, his eyes bright blue and full of kindness. Aria had never seen anyone like him. His presence was almost cartoon like, with positivity radiating from him. Aria couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, her smile growing just by looking at him. His energy was contagious.

"Is... is there anything I can do to thank you?" She tried your shake herself back to reality though remained entranced by him.

"Nothing at all. I'm just glad I was here to help." He extended a hand, almost nervously, introducing himself. "Alexander Turner, pleasure to meet you."

"You too." Aria blushed, unable to break eye contact with the man, and was now incredibly aware of how dumbfounded she must look. "I'm Aria" She stuttered, the sound of his friend retuning sending her back to reality. "I apologise for staring, but I just can't seem to take my eyes off you, you have an enchanting aura about you. I'm sorry if I may seem a little strange."

"There's no need to apologise, I get it all the time." He laughed, though not arrogantly, it was sweet and innocent. "My mother's a Veela." He added, almost embarrassedly, upon noticing the slightly look of confusion appearing on Arias face.

The couple shared an awkward smile, both at a loss for words.

Alexander's friend passed by the pair silently, slapping him encouragingly on the shoulder before disappearing behind the bar, Rosalind following closely behind.

Aria noted the difference in both attitude and appearance in the two men, finally able to distinguish between the two. The friend was tall and broad shouldered, his hair messy though not long. He gave off a sort of American football, "bro", fratbroy vibe. In other words kind of arrogant and full of himself. Clearly he saw himself as the one in control. Alexander on the other hand was more slim, but not skinny. Tall but not lanky. Innocent but not naive. His clothes appeared similar to his friends but presented more neatly and well put together. She assumed he felt sorry for his friend, knowing his Veela parentage would gain him lots of female attention, and in return Alexander simply allowed himself to get pushed around to boost his friends ego.

With a roll of his eyes Alexander practically confirmed her theory and Aria couldn't stop herself from laughing once more.

Knowing that while Rosalind and 'Braydon'; as he turned out to be, would not be returning any time soon, Aria and Alexander chose to occupy one of the booths and get to know a little bit about each other, where Alex truly confirmed all of Aria's suspicions.

Upon Braydon's return, he flashed his rather large biceps, kissing each one in turn as he flexed them, before letting out a hearty growl, presumably this was a display of male dominance among his kind. His kind being; douchebags.

With another roll of her eyes Aria bid farewell to the men, thanking Alexander once more for his heroic rescue.

"How about a date?" Alex called nervously as Aria had just about reached the door.

"I'm sorry?" She replies, caught off guard.

"A date, here, with me. What do you say?" Aria shook her head unable to look away from that damn charming smile of his.

"I'll agree to a few drinks." She clarified. "Just send me an owl, you know where I'll be." And with that she disappeared once more down the path to Hogwarts, the grey sky above all the while threatening to rain down on her.

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @lizlil​