#and i know there are already collections of it but i do not care

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[jaystardust]

‎˙✧˖°📁 ⋆｡˚‧ OFFICE HOURS

Pairing: lee heeseung x female reader

Genre: Manager Heeseung, Workplace, Suggestive, inspired by No Doubt MV

Warnings: Suggestive

Summary: When your boss, Heeseung, demands you to come to the office during a heatwave while everyone else works from home, you’re frustrated by his arrogant, demanding ways. But as the heat intensifies, so does the tension between both of you, turning annoyance into undeniable attraction.

Words count: 3.3K

The heat was unbearable, even by summer standards. You felt every inch of the sticky air clinging to your skin as you entered the building. Your clothes were pressed uncomfortably to you, and the usually spacious lobby felt stifling, a symptom of the broken air conditioning that had sent all employees home. Well, almost all employees.

You took a deep breath, fingers gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you made your way up to the office, the whole building unnaturally quiet, almost deserted. The annoyance simmered beneath the surface, each step a reminder of the early-morning email that dragged you in.

“YN, I require you in the office today. It’s an urgent matter, so please be here by nine.”

The message had Heeseung’s name signed at the bottom, as if he were doing you some great favor by deigning to summon you into the heat-ridden office while he remained cool, collected, and oblivious to your discomfort.

Your phone chimed as you approached your floor, and you saw another message from Heeseung:

“Are you here yet?”

With a huff, you pocketed your phone and headed toward his office, finally pushing open the glass door to see him sitting there, looking effortlessly… handsome, if you were honest with yourself. He was fanning himself with a file, his sleeves rolled up, collar slightly open, and that usual smug look on his face that made your frustration bubble over.

“Heeseung,” you greeted coolly, folding your arms over your chest. “You dragged me in here because…?”

His gaze flickered up, sharp and assessing, a small smirk curving on his lips as he looked you over. “Nice of you to show up on time. And I thought punctuality wasn’t your strong suit.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for giving me an option,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm

He ignored your tone, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly relaxed look. “I need you here to go over the quarterly report in person. There are a few key points I want to discuss, and remote work just wasn’t cutting it.”

You felt the sweat trickle down your neck, a reminder of the oppressive heat lingering in the room. “You know the AC is out, right? Or was that part of your plan?”

A chuckle escaped him, low and quiet. “Maybe I just wanted to test your commitment to the job.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the room and taking a seat across from him. “So, what’s this urgent matter that required me to show up in person?”

Heeseung glanced at you, his eyes drifting to your bare arms, where you’d rolled up your sleeves in an attempt to cool off. “There are some details in the report that need immediate attention,” he replied, his voice calm and measured. But you noticed the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his lips pressed together slightly, as if he was holding back more than just words.

The silence stretched between you, and you shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling the weight of it as the heat pressed down. Heeseung seemed to notice, too, loosening another button on his collar, the sight of his neck and collarbone more distracting than you cared to admit. You looked away, heat pooling in your cheeks, an unwelcome but undeniable reaction to his presence.

“You don’t have to stay all day,” he added after a pause, his tone dropping an octave, softer, almost teasing. “Just until we’re… satisfied.”

You felt a strange pulse in your chest at his choice of words, his voice heavy with implication. He was too close, his presence too intense, and the heat only amplified the tension already thick in the air. You could feel your pulse quickening, each glance, each slight movement building the pressure between you.

The file in your hand felt heavy, but you held onto it tightly, refusing to let yourself get swept up in the charged atmosphere. “Let’s get this over with,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart was racing.

Heeseung’s smirk widened slightly as he reached for his own copy of the report, leaning forward, his arm brushing yours, sending a jolt through you that you couldn’t ignore. You looked down, the movement forcing you to notice the subtle, intoxicating scent of his cologne, a mix of something clean and woody, and the heat only seemed to make it stronger.

Heeseung’s hand came to rest just beside yours on the table, and his fingers brushed yours ever so slightly, sparking a shiver that shot up your arm.

“You’re tense,” he observed, his voice a whisper, eyes meeting yours. “You don’t need to be.” His tone was soft, but there was a glint in his gaze, an invitation wrapped in those simple words.

You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to keep it together, but your voice betrayed you. “If you keep looking at me like that, Heeseung, I will walk out of here.”

“Looking at you?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as his fingers traced a light line over the back of your hand, lingering there. “I thought you weren’t the type to run from a challenge.”

“Maybe I’m just not interested in this kind of challenge,” you whispered, though the flutter in your stomach told a different story.

Heeseung leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek. “I don’t think that’s true.”

The space between you seemed to disappear as he reached up, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering at your jaw. His touch was soft, tentative, but filled with intention, and you felt yourself leaning into it despite yourself.

The warmth of Heeseung’s fingers lingered on your skin, a subtle touch that felt anything but casual. His gaze softened, and for a moment, the cocky facade he wore so easily faded, replaced by something deeper, something… vulnerable.

You swallowed, feeling the air between you thicken. He hadn’t moved, his hand still at your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek, setting off an unsteady rhythm in your chest. Your mind screamed at you to snap out of it, to brush him off, to act unaffected, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from him.

And then he moved, slowly, his lips just a breath away from yours, giving you one last chance to pull away. But instead, you felt yourself leaning in, closing the distance as if you were both magnetized, unable to resist the pull.

When your lips finally met, it was electric, a collision of every lingering stare, every hidden tension that had built up between you since day one. His lips were soft but insistent, coaxing you, drawing you in deeper, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back just as fervently, hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss intensified, a heady mix of heat and desire, as if all the frustration and annoyance you’d felt for him was being transformed into something else entirely. You didn’t care anymore about the temperature in the room, or the fact that this was your manager, or the flood of feelings he stirred in you that you barely understood. All you could focus on was the way his mouth moved against yours, each kiss deeper and more urgent than the last.

You let out a quiet gasp as he pushed you back slightly, guiding you against the edge of the desk. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, filled with a desire that left you breathless.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured, his voice rough, sending a thrill down your spine. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing the fabric of your top, slipping just beneath it to rest on your bare skin.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered, but your hands were already moving to the collar of his shirt, fingers brushing against his neck as you loosened another button, craving more of him.

He laughed, low and quiet, his lips grazing your jaw, down to your neck. “I think we’re both a little guilty of pretending we don’t care,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “But I’ve wanted this… wanted you… from the start.”

His words sent your heart racing, and any lingering hesitation evaporated as his mouth moved along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, making you arch into him, every nerve alight with anticipation. You pulled him closer, feeling the firmness of his chest pressed against you, the sensation intoxicating.

Heeseung’s hands slid to your hips, lifting you onto the edge of the desk as he stood between your legs, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs, sending tingling sensations all through you. Your hands drifted to his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, exposing his arms and the toned muscles you’d only ever caught glimpses of.

You kissed him again, your movements urgent, almost desperate, the heat between you consuming. His hands traced up your sides, slipping beneath your top, pushing it higher until it was discarded somewhere on the floor. His gaze swept over you, appreciation and hunger mingling in his eyes, and you felt a rush of confidence, of satisfaction, knowing you had this effect on him.

He pulled you closer, his hands firm against your back as he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if trying to memorize every part of you. Your fingers traced the bare skin of his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he leaned into you, his mouth exploring every inch of skin he could reach. His name slipped from your lips, barely a whisper, but enough to make him pause, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

“Say that again,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek, his gaze focused, almost reverent.

“Heeseung…” you breathed, the sound sending a shiver through him.

At that, he pulled you closer, his kisses trailing down your collarbone, down to your shoulder, his hands roaming over your body, every touch leaving you craving more. You let yourself get lost in him, in the weight of his touch, in the way his lips traced down your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the earlier arrogance he so often showed.

“Why did you wait so long?” you whispered, tilting his face up to meet yours, unable to shake the question as he looked at you, a mixture of warmth and desire in his eyes.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he answered. “Because… every time I thought about you, I knew I’d lose control.”

“Maybe I wanted you to lose control,” you replied, your voice barely more than a murmur, your hand moving to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm, strong and steady, mirroring your own.

His mouth met yours again, harder this time, as if those words had unlocked something in him. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, and any remaining distance between you disappeared as he lifted you slightly, his lips never leaving yours. The room seemed to fade around you as he deepened the kiss, his hands tracing down your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this was dangerous, that you were crossing a line, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Not when his hands were on you, his mouth against yours, his body pressed against yours in a way that felt both grounding and electric.

You tugged him closer, fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders, his chest, marveling at how someone who could be so infuriating could also make you feel like this, like you were the only person in the world. His lips moved back up to your neck, trailing soft kisses up to your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “Are you sure you want this?”

Your response was immediate, a soft “Yes,” that felt like a promise, and with that, any hesitation he had seemed to vanish. He lifted you in his arms, guiding you further onto the desk, his hands holding you securely as he kissed you, each touch, each movement, a slow, intoxicating unraveling of all the walls you’d built between you.

Heeseung's hands traced along your sides, memorizing every curve, every inch of skin, his touch both tender and possessive. You lost track of time, of where you were, letting yourself get swept away in the heat, in the desire that seemed to consume you both, until nothing else mattered but this moment.

For once, you didn’t care about tomorrow or what this would mean for your work, for the strange push-and-pull between you and Heeseung that had driven you crazy for so long. All you knew was that here, now, in his arms, every unspoken word, every hidden look finally made sense.

As Heeseung’s lips traveled along your jawline, his warm breath fanning over your skin, every nerve in your body felt alive, every touch leaving you wanting more. The heat in the room no longer mattered; it was dwarfed by the fire between you two, something undeniable and electric that had been simmering for too long. Your heart raced as he took his time, his lips and hands exploring every inch of your exposed skin, leaving a trail of warmth and goosebumps in his wake.

His hands moved from your waist, up your back, pressing you closer to him, fingers tracing circles that left you shivering despite the warmth. You couldn’t help but respond, your own hands finding their way over his shoulders and down his back, fingertips brushing the muscles that tensed beneath your touch. Each movement between you felt like a silent confession, a revelation of how long you’d both resisted this, yet how deeply you both needed it.

Heeseung paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his breathing heavy, and the raw intensity in his gaze sent a thrill down your spine. There was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before—something softer, almost reverent, as if he was seeing you for the first time and finally allowing himself to admit what he’d felt all along. The room was silent except for your breaths, mingling in the small space between you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could speak, he leaned in, capturing your lips again in a kiss that was softer this time, yet just as passionate. It was slow and deliberate, a contrast to the urgency that had ignited between you just moments ago. The tenderness in his kiss surprised you, melting any remaining defenses you had. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his jaw, feeling the slight roughness there, anchoring yourself in the moment.

Heeseung’s hands slid up, resting on either side of your face as he deepened the kiss, his thumbs brushing gently along your cheekbones. There was an unspoken understanding, a mutual need to make up for every moment you’d denied yourselves this, and the kisses grew more intense, more consuming with each passing second.

You could feel him smile slightly against your lips, a mischievous spark in his gaze as he broke away, resting his forehead against yours. “You know, if I’d known dragging you into this office would lead to this…” He let the sentence trail off, his grin widening as he searched your face, clearly pleased with the way you were looking at him.

“Oh, I’m sure you knew exactly what you were doing,” you retorted, trying to keep your tone light despite the fact that your heart was still racing.

“Maybe I did.” He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper as his fingers trailed along your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear. “But I didn’t expect you to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, feeling a rush of warmth in your cheeks.

“Like you’ve wanted this as much as I have,” he replied, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just letting the words hang in the air. You felt your heart pounding, the weight of everything that had led to this moment, the months of stolen glances, of unspoken tension, coming to a head. It was strange, feeling this way about someone who had driven you crazy with his arrogance, his endless demands, yet now, standing here, you couldn’t deny that there was more to him than you’d let yourself see before.

Your hand moved to his face, tracing the line of his jaw as you looked into his eyes, letting yourself truly see him. “Maybe I have,” you admitted softly, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the arrogant, bossy exterior he usually wore was completely stripped away, leaving only the man in front of you, vulnerable and just as affected by this as you were. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes, his hands gently holding your waist, as if grounding himself.

When he finally looked up, his expression had changed. There was a new determination in his gaze, something deeper, as though he was making a silent promise to himself—and to you.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. “I want… more than just this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the unexpected sincerity catching you off guard. You hadn’t thought about what would happen after today, after finally giving in to the feelings you’d both been ignoring for so long. But looking at him now, seeing the honesty in his eyes, you realized that maybe… you wanted more, too.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to intertwine with yours. It was a small, almost hesitant gesture, but it spoke volumes, a sign of the unspoken connection between you, a promise of something beyond the walls of this office.

“So,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze with a playful smirk. “Are you still mad at me for making you come in today?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at him, unable to keep the smile off your face. “I suppose I can let it slide this time… as long as you don’t make it a habit.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hands gently. “Deal. But don’t think I’ll stop asking you to work late if it means we get more moments like this.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he replied, his smirk softening into a genuine smile.

As you stood there together, the heatwave outside forgotten, the hum of the empty office surrounding you, you knew that this was the start of something unexpected, something that would change everything.

A/N : kind of did it in a rush, hope you liked it tho !!!

[vashti-lives]

The making of a woolfellow

Last weekend I decided I would loose my mind if I didn’t make a quick easy project I could hug when I was done. I realized a pattern I was already comfortable with had a very familiar silhouette and couldn’t resist taking some inspiration from @sleepnoises clayfellows!

The base of this guy is literally just Purl SoHo’s Big Snowy Owl as written. As long as you are comfortable knitting small tubes either via magic loop or with double pointer needles this is a super super easy project. I used magic loop for the base, ears, and eye plate because when I young poor beginning knitter I absolutely could not justify buying a bunch of double pointed needles when my interchangeable circular set could also make small tubes, and now I’m very proficient at magic loop and and cannot be bothered to get good at DPNs. But either will work.

I knit as directed until I hit the point in the pattern directions where it tells you to stuff the body at which point I started making minor adjustments for the eventual wool fellow. I added a poly batting liner at the same time the instructions tell you to stuff the body. I always do this in plush toys knit with big yarn because there’s not really a way of knitting big yarn tight enough that stuffing won’t fall out, but in this case it’s also extremely necessary because it gives an extra anchor when you’re sewing in the buttons.

Once I had lined it and mostly stuffed it I took a break from the main project and knit and embroidered one half of the faceplate, for measurement reasons. I’ll put the directions for how I made the faceplate below, for now it just matters that you know that I did this because I wanted to know how big it was so I would be able to place the buttons. For the record my plate was… roughly 8 inches. I cared enough to check but tbh by this point in the project the election was over and my willingness to be precise was basically zero. As you will see. This was also when I rummaged through my button collection and found buttons small enough to be pressed through the plate fabric but big enough they wouldn’t immediately fall back through. Probably 7/8 of an inch??? Idk. Might have been better off with slightly bigger buttons. More on that later.

I didn’t do a great job sewing the buttons on symmetrically because I figured it didn’t really matter and technically this is true but also it would be easier to put the plate on nicely if the buttons were symmetrical.

A naked woolfellow!! Avert your eyes!!!!!

To work out where to put the buttons count ten stitches, put a removable marker, count 8, removable marker, count ten and put a removable marker. Basically you want the buttons (and eventually the face) to be in between one of the 8 stitch sections because the ten stitch sections become the ears/horns.

I pulled random cheap buttons from my stash and sewed them on with a thread shank, but using buttons that have an existing shank would be easier.

As a completionist and because when I finished knitting the body I wanted to be basically done I also knit and embroidered the second plate here and sewed them together using a lazy faux mattress stitch/ladder stitch. Once that was done I went back to the directions and finished the head/ears as written!!

The faceplate is knit almost identically to the bottom of the body save for the fact that there’s no need to purl. I also swapped out kfb for m1L (save the first row) for texture reasons but you could kfb the whole time if you wanted.

This is what I did but depending on your gage and how big your guy is you may want to adjust.

Faceplate: make two

Cast on 8 stitches and join in the round

Kbf across (16 stitches)

Knit

K2 m1L across (24 stitches

Knit

K3 m1L across (32 stitches)

Knit

K4 m1L across (40 stitches)

Knit

K5 m1L across (48 stitches)

Knit

Cast off

Close up hole in middle and embroider the eyes.

As far as embroidering the eyes goes my only advice is to take these three phrases and accept them into your heart:

It's ~rustic~

It's organic

It's a design choice

Some final thoughts:

On the base pattern:

I will note for the record if I was going to redo this— and I will almost certainly be making a second one— I would skip the diamond texture, particularly on this multi colored yarn. It looks fine on the finished guy but for the amount of extra work and wrist strain I don’t think it’s really worth the effort, at this in this context. YMMV and if you’re knitting in a solid color you might weigh things differently but it’s worth noting Purl SoHo’s own variations on this pattern— a bunny and pig— do not include any kind of texture or pattern.

On the button mechanism:

About the buttons and the double sided eye plate-- I do not know that this is the best way to accomplish this. It's the best I could manage while having an nervous breakdown but I suspect someone clever could think of something better. They are frankly fiddly and even with the batting they are not the most stable. I definitely wouldn't give it to a child like this, even if they're too old for the buttons to be a choking hazard, the whole thing is too delicate.

It would definitely be more functional for hardcore cuddling and squishing if you just sewed it on and didn't worry about it being reversible. I may eventually do this. The buttons might also be more stable if you lined it in a knit fabric instead of (or perhaps in addition to) the batting. I think it would be a good use for a worn out t-shirt.

On yarn and yardage:

Yardage first-- the pattern says the main body uses 180ish yards, but I definitely used at least 200, and maybe a little more. The eye plates also probably took 40 yards total? I'm not sure I didn't pay that close of attention. It was about one ball of Valley Yarns Valley Superwash Bulky. This also doesn't include the Hometown USA I embroidered the eye with. I have absolutely no clue there. 10 yard? 15?

For the curious I knit this out of Malabrigo Rasta which is. An insane choice for this project. BUT a few years ago I splurged and bought 5 skeins in two colors from my local yarn shop because it was shutting down and I wanted to help the owner recoup what she could. Also it was my birthday. I then very promptly ruined all this yarn by trying to wind it with my yarn cake winder and over spinning it. It didn't take me long to realize the gage was not going to be fully consistent with this yarn AND parts of it had way too much energy now and were going to create fabric that never really laid right. I cried. This was like, $140+ worth of yarn. It got stuck in a bag and shoved in the back of my closet in the hopes that I would forget my crimes.

When I was pondering what to knit last week the yarn psychically contacted me and told me it was ready to be a woolfellow. Or maybe I just saw the pattern and remembered it. Who can say. In theory the pattern should take 180 yards of wool, which is just shy of how much I had in this color, out of caution and in the hopes that I would have enough leftover to attempt arms I knit the bottom in scraps of gray yarn leftover from a previous project. I kind of thought the gray wouldn't show but TBH I'm not mad it does, it ends up looking like the bottom is unglazed which is cute. I like it so much that I embroidered my eye on the purl side to match it. Anyway-- as turned out knitting the bottom out of gray was a good choice because I used up almost all the Rasta as it is, I have maybe 1-2 grams left. It's probably because I didn't gage swatch, but it might also be because over-spinning the yarn did weird things to it.

It it is sad the original cropped jacket was not to be but I would absolutely never have bought this yarn to make a stuffed animal and it is so nice. I love it so much. I am absolutely turning the second color I bought into a second guy. It's all got a very pollyana life lesson feel. Sigh.

If you're wondering this guy's colorway is Solis (the other yarn I have is in Azul Profundo, which will also be very nice.) To me the nearly 60 dollars I spent on this yarn is so so much money but I will say that if you want yarn that is a) a natural fiber b) very very very soft and c) hand dyed Malabrigo Rasta is about as cheap as you'll find and it is absolutely beautiful in finished products. You miiight want to get 3 skeins just to be safe.

That said I have absolutely knit this pattern in much cheaper yarns and also gotten nice results. If you're ok working with acrylic yarns I knit it in Hometown USA to make a Totoro-- with some minor alterations-- and it was very cute. I also used K+C Luxe Alpaca Solid from Joann (technically it was under the buttercream line at the time, but it's the same yarn) to knit the bunny version of this pattern. There's also plenty of cheaper wool yarns online that are very nice.

If anyone other than me ever makes a woolfellow PLEASE tag me!!!

[slaaverin]

I feel like we’ve collectively moved on too fast from ‘Are you Sure’?!. Maybe we’re too overwhelmed?

Just wondered what your favourite part was? What shocked you? And what you would have changed ?

Jikookers have always had a tendency to move on from absolutely everything at tremedous speed which baffles me. There are still moments from years ago that still shock me to this day. I think it's because we've always been spoiled rotten by jikook 😂

I'm actually glad to get your ask.

A favorite part is soooo hard to choose, but I think what I liked the most was seeing their general happiness in Sapporo. They were SO happy and SO excited and played in the snow like children, it was quite beautiful to see. It's the trip that meant the most to them and it showed. But I also liked the chaos of Connecticut 😂

I was shocked many times. First with this:

THIS MOMENT.

I was gobsmacked. A slap in my face. Because this statement right there is irrevocably romantic. You can't spin it any other way. There is no blurred lines. There is no alternative. There is no other reason his heart is fluttering. Jungkook right there confessed to the world he is in love with Jimin. AND PEOLPLE DISMISS IT LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED. I'm????? People really see what they want to see. There, he said it. He said Jimin simply holding his shirt is evoking romantic feelings in him. He is attracted to Jimin. And he said it in a very calm collected tone like this is another tuesday. Like this is a known, accepted, normal fact that would not surprise Jimin. He's just informing him. But this is not shocking news. IT TELLS EVERYTHING WE NEED TO KNOW.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk but moving on:

This whole segment was very shocking to me, not because they were particularly close (they are a couple so it's expected) but I was shocked to see they did this in front of a whole group of staff sitting in front of them who would be wondering what the f is happening. To show this level of closeness to a bunch of people you need to have such a high level of trust in each other and in the relationship. They are comfortable enough to show physical closeness and not be bothered one bit with anyone watching them which in itself is very disconcerting because that is not usually the case even in normal people long-term relationships, at least not to this level

The simple "This is see-through" phrase from Jungkook to a Jimin with a devilish smile ready to do mischief was very shocking to me. What was he about to do that deserved this warning? The only explanation would be that Jimin was about to get too close to him physically in the pool. But why would he do this as friends? Friends playing around would not have warranted such a warning. Because no one would have even thought about anything in particular.

But JK needed to warn him anyway. Only reason? If they are a couple and Jimin was about to get *CLOSE* like couples do in the pool. Which he was about to do looking at his devious smile. He was about to do something at least. Something that could not pass as friendship otherwise Jungkook would have said nothing. Much to think about.

He blurted it. Like it just came out so naturally. Jungkook has no chill whatsoever. This man is flirting blatantly in front of the entire world. While Tae was there. How could beautiful clouds even compare to Jimin. Jungkook only sees Jimin and he doesn't care for anyone to know about it. It's just what it is. Jimin or nothing. Everybody else can go home. Thank you Jungkook.

Of course one of the most shocking:

I already made a quick post about it but this was...this was....I have no words to this day. Can you believe we saw this? THE LEVEL OF INTIMACY. THE QUIETNESS OF THE MOMENT. THE KNOWING.

They knew. We knew. No one said a word. We were all intruding. I was frozen and holding my breath, my mouth wide open with shock and my heart was beating in my chest and I had to pause afterwards because this was jawdropping.

And I've seen many people that did not get it. But with everything we know about jikook thus far, everything they have been through, the growth, the ever expanding love, this moment was incredibly special and in a way quite emotional to witness.

This is their normalcy. Sharing a bed and intimacy and physical and emotional closeness.

AND THEY LET US SEE IT? CAN YOU BELIEVE? THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE!

If you told me in 2018 we would witness this, I would not have believed you. This is beyond my wildest imagination. This is not even about the fucking butt-slap. It's the whole mood of the scene. It's the tenderness. I was on the floor.

I think this is the most shocking thing I've seen as a jikooker including MMA 2018.

This was shocking. Not the act itself. The shock was in the hesitancy of Jungkook. Of Jungkook allowing himself to share this tender moment with Jimin in a train full of people in Japan (of all places, where people don't show intimacy in public) but this moment was too important for Jungkook to pass it up and he almost didn't do it but then he thought fuck it and let himself go completely. What a beautiful and meaningful moment. How special and precious 💜😭

This was a really insane moment too. Jikook being tangled together god knows how in this car and Jungkook looking drunk on love showing off Jimin like a proud and posessive boyfriend. Just wow. I certainly didn't expect this but I can't say I'm not happy �� They couldn't look more like a couple here

I'll finish with this picture that really shook me. Jimin's name on JK's chest. I don't know what else to say. If people wanted them to spell it out, well this is spelled out, literally. It's all here.

There were so many great moments and I feel we could talk about it for hours but I'm gonna wrap it up.

My last answer is probably gonna pin me as a hater but honestly I don't really care I know where I stand. What I would have changed to AYS would have been Tae not coming to Jeju. Look, I love Tae, I have no issues with Tae, and jikook were fine with it so this was fine, but I felt sometimes uncomfortable because I felt his presence was a bit misplaced, and you could feel it in jikook's behaviour too, so Jeju had a bit of an uneasy feeling to it. I think Tae didn't add anything more to the show. I would love to see more of Tae in any other setting, I love him in group settings in general, but I simply felt it was a bit of a wrong place wrong time situation. But I still enjoyed Jeju a lot it was just not my favorite.

Otherwise there would be nothing I would have changed to AYS. (Maybe Jimin not suffering this much? 😂)

Anyway thanks for your ask I had fun and take care anon 💜

[balkanradfem]

I don't get to talk about feminism in real life, because it's not an accepted topic here, it's an 'evil harpy movement' still, despite it getting women the right to vote, own property, own a bank account, be able to be paid for work. The consenus is that normal women don't need to be feminists, we already have the right to vote so what more could we possibly want. I do get to talk with young women about it! When I have some teenagers or young adult women in my life, I am telling them all about it, showing them all the violence statistics, instructing them on all possible methods of abortion, and they are genuinely stunned to gain this information they've never had access to before.

But yesterday, I was at plant lady's house, and I breached the topic of feminism, because I had just entered a feminist book club, and joined a little group of croatian radfems, so I was all up in my ideas about it. And I love the plant lady, she's a beloved figure in my life, but she is both against feminism, and a huge fan of conspiracy theories. So when I started talking about feminism, she interrupted me to tell me that she heard that women, are not in fact, responsible for feminism, but it's actually males in power that are pulling the strings. I explained that we don't even allow m*n to participate in what we do, but she was sure she's right, because, males in power thought it would be cool for women to have jobs and pay taxes, so they invented feminism, to collect more taxes and have more workers. And I knew I couldn't argue her about it because conspiracy theories exist to null every argument against them, right, no matter what I say, she'll have a more incredible explanation. So instead I changed the topic to the problems of sexual violence against women, domestic violence, normalization of pedophilia, and treatment of women like objects due to rampant pornography.

And she's like, no, that doesn't happen, most people are normal and have normal marriages and treat women normally, and these problems, are not the problems of 'feminism', these are things everyone is against – and I say no they're not, m*n don't care, they don't fight against any of it, in fact they're the perpetrators of 90% of these crimes. Then she launches into a story of an abused woman who refused to leave her husband because she loved him. I explain to her that this is incredibly common and it's called 'cycle of abuse', and we can resolve this by teaching women very early on about this cylce, that it can easily happen to them no matter what kind of husband they choose, and to recognize the signs early, before it comes to worst, and for women who are going trough it, they need all this euducation too. What is happening currently is nobody is talking about it and we pretend it doesn't exist and then victim-blame women when they get abused. Most abused women don't even recognize they're being abused because they're being isolated and told it's their own fault. Then she launched into another story about a woman who she knows was battered who escaped. Then she mentioned another situation she knew with a violent husband, and another with a drunk one. And I'm listening to her like. Hey. You said this doesn't even happen, that it's incredibly rare, but you personally know this many cases? And you know me, I've been living in violence too, remember?

And she just looks at me. Realizing for a second that it's not that rare. She didn't argue with me. She previously really thought about each and every case she knew as an outlier, something so improbable and rare that it wasn't really a social problem. She told me then, that we can't really help these people, because police only makes it worse, so what do we even do. I told her it's important that we talk about it, that we offer resources and teach women early on to recognize abuse, and to make a point of not blaming women for it, to make it clear any male could do it to them at any point, to be ready for it, to reconsider marrying, to have a separate bank account, to never let their survival and housing be completely dependant on a male.

I also indulged her to think why women can find themselves in these situations in the first place? If we're so equal, how come it's possible women don't have anywhere to go to, and need to stay in the abusers house to just survive. I said it has something to do with parents usually leaving their houses and properties to sons, and expecting daughters to move into their husbands places, and she again said 'no this doesn't happen', and I went 'well why don't these abused women just move into their own houses they inherited from their parents' and she again, had no arguments. It's not the sole reason though, women earn less too, get less promotions, get paid less for the same job, still mostly do unpaid labour, dedicate a big part of their life to raising children on their own, they don't get to accumulate funds and properties in the same ways m*n do.

Anyway, while we were having this entire conversation, her 18yo daughter was there, listening to us, and miraculously, she seemed to agree with me! When the plant lady claimed 'there's so many normal ones out there', the daughter interrupted to say 'no mom, there's no normal m*n out there, I can't find anyone normal', and I immediately supported her claim with agreement. I was so happy to be a little feminist influence on her and to validate her point! She was also wearing a shirt that said 'grl pwr' and I was like 'yes this is great' even though it's just a liberal catchphrase, it's still a sign of wanting women to have power in the world that doesn't believe a word they say.

I think the type of attitude the plant lady has is extremely common for women in our country, in fact she was very receptive to what I was saying. She knew about this many cases of domestic abuse, because she was often the safe person for these women to tell, and she has been helping the ones who escaped, me included.

Most women I know will launch in defense of males and trashing of women as soon as you mention feminism, because it's the only socially accepted thing to do. I believe we all have women in our lives who are not malicious or terribly ignorant, but affected by the mainstream beliefs that women are asking for too much, already have everything, and are at fault for everything that happens to them; this is incredibly pervasive and impossible to debate in a conversation. It's so ingrained in women to go against anything that makes m*n look bad, it's almost considered a sin and a hate crime to even think this way. Like something a bad, selfish, bitter, irrational and greedy woman would do, and nobody wants to be dubbed that. I remember thinking this way myself when I was a teen; I wanted to hold males responsible so bad, but the shame of being seen as this hateful and bitter person was getting to me, to the point where I would silent down and not speak out.

I used to get so angry at anti feminists, and would avoid indulging with the topic because it would irritate me so much, but I've gained more understanding as I go on, and can now tolerate the opposing arguments when I know they've come from propaganda and social pressure, rather than ignorance or hunger for approval. I'm more effective being able to indulge a little! Not a lot though. If I spent a lot of my time trying to argue with anti-feminists I would in fact, wither and die.

[ghostgirl-22]

Your new fic about art is making me think about brat dom art squeezing patricks throat to get what he wants

Ay! My darling<3

—-

It goes something like…

When Patrick’s back to acting like a brat, flirting with other boys during Art’s Burberry photoshoot in London. Thinking Art can’t (won’t) do anything about it because his persona is supposed to be professional, calm, collected and so well rehearsed in public. But when Patrick makes a show of sneaking off to the bathroom to fuck another male model, Art just loses all decorum. He follows them to the bathroom, yanks Patrick by the arm and pushes him up against the door of the nearest stall just after it slams shut behind them.

“Hi,” Art says gently, but it feels dangerous.

“Did I break you?” Patrick asks, trying to play it off like he doesn’t care but his brain is already short circuiting because of the way Art manhandled him.

Art smiles and cups his fingers around Patrick’s throat. Gentle, but firm. Patrick swallows, his heart suddenly racing. Art must be able to feel it going crazy against his fingertips.

“I thought we agreed you were gonna stop fucking random people.” Art says softly, his lips so close to Patrick’s that Patrick can’t help sticking out his tongue eager for just a taste.

“I was just… I wasn’t really gonna do anything.” Patrick says, letting out a breath as he gets one lick before Art presses him harder up against the wall.

“I know you aren’t,” Art sighs, resting the side of his head against the stall and pressing his lips to Patrick’s cheek, hand still on Patrick’s throat he squeezes just a little tighter. “I know you’re impatient.” He says in Patrick’s ear. “I know you’re doing all of this because you want to fuck me. God. It must be so fucking embarrassing that you can’t fucking control yourself but that’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He moves to look at Patrick head on again, pretty blue eyes darting back and forth.

“Mm, I just… ‘m sorry,” Patrick says carefully, his heads all scrambled. “I just— you’re wearing all that make up and clothing and stuff and you look so pretty I need to—”

“You don’t need to do anything, Patrick.” Art interrupts. “You just really, really want to.” There’s that same gentle tone with the dangerous edge.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, his mouth feels so wet he has to swallow to keep from drooling. “Fuck it, you’re right. I just want to fuck you in your pretty clothes, can I please?”

“Look at you…using your words,” Art smirks. To Patricks surprise Art kisses him, lets Patrick settle on the toilet seat and fuck him. It’s especially delicious because he’s still wet from what they did in the backseat of the car at lunchtime. Art’s fingers find their way back to Patrick’s throat, while he’s riding, while they’re kissing. Art’s squeezing a little tighter and a little tighter and just a little bit tighter till Patrick’s light headed and dizzy and Art’s moaning and coming, spurts of it getting all over Patrick’s t-shirt and face and chin. And while Art’s losing it he just grips Patrick even tighter.

Patrick nearly passes out with one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever experienced in his life. He wants to scream but he can barely make a sound, his heart’s pounding in his ears. His body is thrumming all over with wave after wave of pleasure and he can’t breathe. Art just kisses him, doesn’t even let up. Patrick tastes Arts soft lips and feels the edges of his vision start to go black. He just knows he’s gonna black out or just die and if this is how he dies it’s so fucking worth it and that’s when Art finally lets go.

Patrick gasps for air, coughing at the same time. “Fuck,” he says when he can finally formulate a sentence. He’s still feeling the aftershocks of it all. Probably spilled more inside Art than he ever has in anyone.

“Oopsie I didn’t squeeze too tight did I?” Art asks with mock innocence.

Patrick smiles, breathless. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

Art smiles back at him and gets up, letting Patrick slide out. “Can you behave now?”

“Mmhm,” Patrick nods, but he can’t help but ease his fingers inside just a second to feel the mess he’s made in him before Art can get his briefs and fancy expensive pants back on.

“Don’t touch,” Art says smacking his fingers away. Patrick smirks and bites down on the one finger he managed to get inside.

”You like the make up right?” Art asks, when he’s half dressed and zipping up his pants.

“Oh god yes,” Patrick says idly brushing his fingers along his spent cock.

“Good, once you clean up lets see if they can cover those marks on your neck so we can meet Tashi for drinks like normal people after this.”

Patrick laughs. “Yeah. Right. Like normal people.”

—

I’m not all that confident with writing the D/s elements but I did my (unproofread) best lol. Thanks for your idea nonnie!

[junktastic]

Hi everynyan,

Some of you will remember that I was taking names/addresses to send out free stickers in September. I am almost done sending them out now, so here's a quick update on that.

The Good!

I like this a lot! It's fun to do. For reference, I'm printing, laminating, and cutting these myself at home, so I'm learning a lot about my machine. I like being in charge of the quality control, I like doing the logistic work. Idk. It's fulfilling to me.

It's also really delightful to see names on the list who I've known of for a long time. Old and new faces, people all over the world, I love seeing people adopt a catgirl. :3 And for free! I'm by no means making a lot, but being able to provide something fun and physical to the people who enjoy my art for free is just! Wow!

The Bad!

Everything that could have gone wrong during this process did, which is why they're going out so late. The at-home manufacturing process was relatively simple but the materials kept being funky, or I'd do something wrong, so I'd have to toss something that I'd completely fucked up, OR I'd just miscount how much stuff material I had left. It's been a pain in the butt, so I'm glad it's done and that I've learned so much from it. I ALMOST FORGOT, I DESTROYED ONE CUTTING MAT MAKING THAT ROGER STANDEE FOR MY WEDDING LOL SO I HAD TO SPEND TIME CONDITIONING THE NEW CUTTING MAT! UGH!

There's also: the money. I know it's gauche to talk about it, but doing this was pretty expensive. I live in Canada now, and most of the letters were going out of Canada, so that postage added up. Materials cost, time, it's a pretty good chunk of change, but I didn't go broke so I want to do it again.

The Other?

I definitely want (and plan) to do this again very soon. I'm talking within this month. I'm making Christmas cards! I've already set money aside for this so it's all good, and it involves less at-home manufacturing since I can just reach out to a local print shop.

I know some people were wary of the google form, but I can't really find a better alternative at this time. MailChimp has had at least one major information leak in 2024 alone, so I am not sure where else to turn for collecting addresses at this time. I had a few people who did not give me towns/zip codes, and the street address would have three or four towns in that state alone with that address. Since I didn't collect e-mail addresses, I didn't have any way to reach out to entrants about this. If you don't see your sticker in the next few weeks, this might be why! I also plan on adding a checkbox just to confirm that the person requesting the sticker is over 18, NOT because I plan on sending anything saucy, but I know what it's like to be a teen with parents who open you mail, an I don't want to cause problems for anyone because Mom and Dad think fairies are satanic or something.

Most people I've talked to about all of this have really emphasized that I need to reopen my Patreon. I'm not saying anybody is wrong on this, but it just makes me feel so uncomfortable. I think anyone who's followed me for a while has seen me try and fail to do art full time or, hell, even have a schedule for something, and I've failed every time. I'm so scared of failing people again. How can I ensure that I'm producing things on time, to a standard I am happy with, that anyone willing to support me (in this economy?) would also be happy with? It will probably happen, but I'm just so... Plus, with all honesty, I have a commission backlog that I need to finish first! I'm bad at the business part of this whole thing, I think. I'm a blue-collar labourer in my heart.

That's my update! I wish you all well, please stay safe and take care of yourself and those around you. I'll post again when I'm collecting addresses for the Christmas cards.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

if it's ok can you do a bad sanses x scp child reader. where nightmare find them in her negative universe all alone trying to survive (since she lost her father and friends) cause something bad happened and takes them in as their healer (cause the child doesn't want to kill). nightmare found her when she was 7/8 years old, nightmare would see a bit of his passive self in her, and the child would be neutral with the whole situation given they have seen crazier things from where their from (and just wanted to escape their situation from their world). but is a good kid and despite not wanting to hurt anyone she would rather get themselves hurt to protect those she cares for (would literally take a hit from anyone who tries to hurt dadmare, killer, horror and dust because of their past trauma and defend them with her telekinesis). their drawbacks of their abilities is if she gets extremely hurt or looses a limb when having zero energy she can't regenerate until her stamina is helped (energy like full sleep and have food or beverage basically having good stamina) but still can't die. (this is based off an oc of mine so here is more info with a pic to help) she sometime would have her breakdowns like the others from past trauma (also her soul would be perseverance) I'm sorry for the long read i hope your ok with this and if you have any questions I'm happy to answer :3

Holy shit this took too long to write-

Featuring: Nightmare, Killer, Dust and Ted.

Masterlist

Nightmare

Ah yes. Another dumb kid for him to add to the collection.

Since you were quite useful with your healing powers and all, he took you in. Big mistake.

Nightmare now finds himself caring for another kid (the other kids are the Killer Dust and Ted), oh well.

Is very impressed with your ability to regenerate limbs.. it's... Fascinating..

His grumpy self turns into one a bit more content.

You're like a memory of himself in the past, the voice that always keeps ticking in his mind, except you are real. "I am too.."

Didn't find out about Killer bringing you into missions until Ted came furiously to him demanding to know why would his boss let a child go to mass murderer missions.

Spoiler alert, he didn't know and quickly became enraged, that's his kid, how dare Killer bring you to missions without his knowledge!?

Nightmare finds it adorable when you try to protect him, he's already a god silly, he can't die!

Dust

Stay still, he wants to study you.

He may or may not like SCPs...

Holds a notebook and pen, writing down any information he can get out of you.

Impressed with your powers, but not surprised, he knows Nightmare wouldn't take in a healer who can't defend themselves.

Watches in the shadows, if you need him just call his name.

Finds Killer's idea of bringing you to missions dumb, but there's nothing he can do can he?

You two may have time alone, and he uses that time to gossip about Killer's dumbass.

On really really rare occasions, he'll vent about his past, about the guilt he feels about his actions.

Killer

Another one to be influenced by him.

Nightmare doesn't let you near killer without supervision, that's a big no no.

He doesn't want to wake up hearing laughter with his face painted with permanent marker again.

Killer likes having someone around, especially because you can

He finds it cute when you try to protect him, you're not even to his waist! How are you going to fight a fucking god like dream?

Well, his jaw is on the ground now. "HOLY SHIT NIGHTMARE WHAT KIND OF POWERS DOES THIS KID HAVE???"

Yep, he's bringing you in missions now.

Also Killer named a cat after you.

Ted

The fact that you need to be healthy to be able to regenerate is the perfect excuse for him to cook more food.

He repays you when you heal him he makes your favorite dessert.

Ted thinks you're too naive and innocent for battle, and gets pretty annoyed every time you go in missions with them.

Even knowing you can regenerate and defend yourself it still keeps him worried, what if you run out of energy?

Also blames Killer for any scratch you get, he's the one who made you go with them so he's the one to blame.

He's the one who's with you almost 24/7, acts like an actual big brother, may even apresent you to his Papyrus.

When you defend him in an argument, he feels so fucking special, no he doesn't have tears on his eyes you're just hallucinating.

[wigglesforonce]

were back on the mindless spreadsheet grind. just me and my laptop slowly handtyping all of fernando alonso's qualifying results in his f1 career

[coconut530]

CHECK AND MATE ♟️

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[svtskneecaps]

so what i'm putting together from osmosis and the wonderful livebloggers and the incredible arkanis english updates account is something like this

Prefeito Jota: Hello, I'd like to hire you to investigate what happened in my city/island(?)!

Bagi, who was previously "invited" to a mysterious island/city by its elected official, subsequently trapped on the mysterious island/city, investigated the deep mysterious history of the island/city, came to no conclusions, found her brother after years of searching, was separated once again from her brother, gained and lost an adopted daughter (possibly to being kidnapped by the island government, which was evil), gained and lost a demon fiancée (possibly to being dragged back to hell, so there's no way to find her), gained and lost a close demon friend to dubious circumstance (did he die for his children? is he with skeppy in the gas station?), and has had an unknown amount of time to process and/or suppress all of this: Sure! :D

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[goldensunset]

i cannot stand those quirky overly-friendly-to-the-point-of-crossing-boundaries teachers and professors who make you do icebreakers or fun facts about yourself at the beginning of the semester bc their questions are always the exact sort of stuff that you never wanna answer. but they just keep asking bc they think you’re just being shy and cute. ‘what are your hobbies? what kind of music do you like? what’s a topic very personal and important to you?’ MAN i am not subjecting myself to public humiliation like that for being very far removed from the norm nor am i opening up about my deep-seated personal problems. i don’t know you i don’t respect you you are not entitled to anything outside of my graded work. i’m just trying to prevent everybody in the room including you and i from becoming incredibly uncomfortable. just take the hint when i deflect your questions and pretend to be boring

[humanmorph]

what did brnine do to asepsis anyways

... is what I wanted to make the post about (I'll elaborate) but I was looking through a transcript for info & this is so funny to me. Keith

I should make a compilation sometime bc last week Ali said something about integrity that reminded me of a specific lyke moment & made me laugh... I knew I wrote it down somewhere I just can't find it now.

[mcalhenwrites]

I'm not going to pretend it doesn't make me angry that I spend months and years trying to peddle my work to make ends meet, that I spend so much time mentioning my books and comms and everything, and people ignore that consisently... But the moment I finally break under the hopelessness - when it's obvious that it's fucking futile, that almost no one deems my work good enough to share with anyone else - suddenly they're concerned and scolding me. I'm working several jobs, bathing, generally keeping things clean, and I do this with several health problems including chronic pain. I found out that one of my cysts is growing and I may need to have it surgically removed. Which means potentially missing work to recover. Which means more money I lose. I spend so much time crawling out of the hole and it goes ignored, but the moment I just give up bc I don't have any strength left, suddenly that's my fault and I'm mentally sick. And that kind of makes me wish my entire situation upon people, and when they whine that it's hard, well fuck you, you thought I could ace it so surely you can, babe! I hate being angry about this, but it's just so exhausting to tell people who accuse me of not trying that I HAVE I HAVE SO FUCKING HARD AND YOU DID NOT PAY ATTENTION THEN Or you know you're attempting to gaslight me by claiming I didn't try despite that I obviously have worked my ass off trying, and that's so much fucking worse