#and then just like that I understood the story

[neferaskingdom]

♡ What's Me Without You? | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: She’s his forbidden fruit—the one thing Max can never have but can’t stay away from. She’s his calm in the chaos, his greatest temptation, and the silent ache he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

A/N: This story was requested by @pinkinternetstarlight

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen wasn’t sure when the ache in his chest had become a constant companion, a dull, hollow reminder of all he wanted but could never have. Maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the layers of fame, pressure, and expectation. Or maybe it had grown over time, with every laugh that escaped Y/n’s lips, with every soft touch of her hand on his arm, with every time she smiled at him like he was her whole world.

He didn’t deserve her. He never had.

Yet, she was always there, unwavering in her support, her loyalty, her love—though she would never admit it. Y/n wasn’t just his best friend. She was his home, the only person who saw every crack in his armor and stayed anyway.

Max leaned back against the couch, his head resting on her lap as her fingers combed gently through his hair. Her touch was soothing, her presence grounding him in a way no one else could. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was familiar, comforting. It was the kind of quiet that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

But even now, even with her hand softly stroking his head and her scent surrounding him, guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He’d had a terrible race—another mechanical failure, another DNF that left him simmering with frustration. When he’d finally returned to his hotel room, all he wanted was her. Not Kelly, who was waiting for him back in Monaco with Penelope, but Y/n. It wasn’t right, and he knew it, but Y/n was the only one who could put him back together when he felt like he was falling apart.

“I came as soon as I could,” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with worry.

She always did.

It didn’t matter where in the world he was. It didn’t matter what she had going on. If he needed her, she came. She’d dropped everything to be here tonight, flying across time zones and leaving behind her own life to hold him in her arms.

Max closed his eyes, breathing her in. He could feel the tension in her body as she sat rigid beneath him, her free hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She was worried about him—she always worried about him.

“You didn’t have to come,” he murmured, though they both knew it was a lie. He didn’t know how to survive these nights without her anymore.

“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “Of course I had to come. You’re—” She paused, swallowing hard. “You’re my best friend.”

Max’s eyes fluttered open as her hand stilled in his hair. He shifted slightly, pressing his face into her neck, seeking the comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else.

Her skin was warm against his cheek, her pulse steady and reassuring. He felt safe here, in her arms, in her presence. But the safety came with a tinge of guilt, a bitter reminder that this wasn’t where he should be.

But Kelly didn’t understand.

Max could see it in the way her lips pressed together whenever Y/n’s name came up, the way her smile tightened whenever Y/n walked into the room. She never said anything outright, but the tension was there, simmering beneath the surface.

It didn’t matter.

Max knew where his loyalty lay. Y/n had been there long before Kelly, long before anyone. She was the reason he kept going some days, the only person who truly understood the toll this life took on him. Kelly might not like it, but even she couldn’t deny it—Max needed Y/n in a way he would never need anyone else.

He tried to make it work with Kelly, for Penelope’s sake if nothing else. He liked Kelly—she was kind and understanding in her own way, and he adored Penelope. But it wasn’t the same. It never could be.

Kelly had confronted him about it once, in the early days of their relationship.

“She loves you,” she had said, her voice calm but cutting.

Max had frozen, unsure how to respond. He didn’t deny it. How could he? Y/n’s love was written in every small thing she did for him, in every sacrifice she made, in every time she dropped everything to be by his side.

“And you love her,” Kelly had continued, her eyes hard but resigned.

He didn’t deny that, either.

But Kelly had never brought it up again. She knew better.

Because as much as she hated it, as much as it hurt her, she knew that if something happened Max would always choose Y/n. 

Max shifted on the couch, his voice breaking the silence. “Do you ever think about what it would be like? If things were different?”

Y/n’s hand stilled in his hair, her fingers hovering for a moment before resuming their gentle strokes.

“Different how?” she asked softly, her voice careful, cautious.

Max hesitated, his heart pounding. He didn’t know why he had said it, why he was opening this door. But the words were out now, and there was no taking them back.

“Us,” he said quietly. “If we were...different.”

Y/n was silent for a long time, and Max felt his chest tighten, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on him.

“Don’t,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “Don’t say things like that, Max.”

He remembered the first time she had cried in front of him. They had been teenagers, sitting in his room after a long day.

“No one likes me,” she had said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m ugly, and I’m boring, and no one wants to be with me.”

Max had been furious—not at her, but at the world for making her feel this way. He had held her as she cried, whispering reassurances into her hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he had told her, his voice firm. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

She had sniffled, pulling back to look at him with watery eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he had said, his hands on her shoulders. “You’re amazing, Y/n. And if some guy doesn’t see that, then he’s not worth your time.”

He meant it. He always had.

But Max couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, it was his fault she was crying in the first place.

He knew he had chased away every boy who had shown an interest in her. He hadn’t meant to, not at first. But the thought of her with someone else, of her giving her heart to someone who wasn’t him, was unbearable.

So he had intervened, subtly at first, then more overtly as time went on. He didn’t regret it, even when she cried on his shoulder, wondering why no one stayed.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t admit that he was the reason.

Because Max Verstappen was a selfish man. And he couldn’t let a bit of guilt stop him from protecting her.

Max’s fists clenched as he watched Y/n laugh with the guy at the bar. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, Max forgot how to breathe.

Then the guy leaned closer, and Max saw red.

“You okay?” Y/n asked when Max stalked over, her brows knitting in concern.

“Fine,” he said tightly, his gaze flicking to the guy. “Who’s this?”

The guy opened his mouth to respond, but Max cut him off. “You should go.”

“Max!” Y/n hissed, her eyes widening.

The guy frowned but quickly walked away, muttering something under his breath.

“What the hell was that?” Y/n demanded, crossing her arms.

“He was bothering you,” Max said, his jaw clenching.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” she snapped. “He was nice. And now he thinks I’m some helpless girl with an overprotective brother.”

Max flinched at the word brother. “I was just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to scare off every guy I talk to!” she said, her voice rising.

Max looked away, guilt twisting in his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Y/n sighed, her expression softening. “Just...let me handle it next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said quietly, though he knew there wouldn’t be a next time.

Because no one would ever be good enough for her.

Max remembered the night he realized he was in love with her.

They had been eighteen, sitting on the hood of his car under a blanket of stars. It was one of the rare nights he wasn’t on the road, and she had insisted on taking him out to the middle of nowhere to remind him what quiet felt like.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she had asked, her voice soft and wistful.

“Sometimes,” he had admitted, though the future was always a blur to him—races, championships, the never-ending grind.

“I think about it all the time,” she had said, her eyes shining as she looked at the sky. “Where we’ll be, what we’ll be doing...if we’ll still be here together.”

“Of course we will,” he had said without hesitation.

She had smiled then, the kind of smile that made his heart ache, and he realized in that moment that he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life.

But he had been too afraid to say anything, too afraid to ruin what they had. And as the years passed, that fear only grew.

Max didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

He wanted her laugh, her touch, her presence in every corner of his life. He wanted to wake up to her sleepy smile and fall asleep with her head on his chest. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, how he would give anything to be the man she deserved.

But he couldn’t.

Because she deserved better.

And so he kept his feelings locked away, hidden beneath layers of unspoken words and longing glances.

There were moments when he thought about what it would be like to be with her, really be with her.

He thought about holding her hand in public, about introducing her as his girlfriend instead of his best friend. He thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to wake up beside her, to call her his.

But then the doubts crept in, the fear that he would ruin her, that his demons would drag her down with him.

She was too good for him, too pure, too kind. Those thoughts were dangerous, and Max knew better than to indulge them.

Max shifted on the couch, pulling back to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

She frowned, tilting her head. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “For always being here. For putting up with me. For...everything.”

She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “You don’t have to thank me, Max. You know I’d do anything for you.”

And that was the problem.

She would do anything for him, and he would let her, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Max didn’t sleep that night.

He never could when the weight of his emotions threatened to suffocate him, and tonight, it felt heavier than ever. He stayed where he was, his shoulder stiff but unwilling to move and disturb her peaceful slumber. Y/n deserved her rest—she had flown halfway across the world just for him. She always did.

The next morning, Y/n was awake before him, bustling quietly around the small hotel room. Max cracked his eyes open, watching her from where he lay. She had always been a morning person, though he didn’t know how she managed it after such long flights and sleepless nights.

“Good morning,” she said softly, noticing his gaze.

Her voice was warm, soothing, and it wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/n walked over, holding out a cup of coffee. Max took it gratefully, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was brief but enough to send a spark up his arm, one he tried desperately to ignore.

“Feeling better?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

He nodded, though it was a lie. He felt worse, if anything, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he said quietly, staring into his coffee.

“I wanted to,” she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Max turned to look at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her soft smile. She always looked at him like that, like he was the most important person in her world. And maybe he was.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Max had meetings and obligations, and Y/n trailed behind him, her presence quiet but comforting.

It wasn’t until they returned to his hotel room that evening that the tension in his chest began to ease.

Y/n curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Max sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, and it was enough to make his heart ache.

“I should head back tomorrow,” she said after a while, her voice hesitant.

Max’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t want her to leave—not yet, not ever—but he knew he couldn’t ask her to stay.

“Do you have to?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Y/n turned to look at him, her eyes soft. “I’ve been gone from work too long already, Max. I can’t keep disappearing every time you need me.”

The words weren’t meant to hurt, but they did.

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll miss you.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out, her hand resting gently on his. “I’ll miss you too.”

Max didn’t want to let her go, but the next morning, he found himself standing in the lobby, watching as she prepared to leave.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said, her voice firm. “I mean it, Max.”

“I will,” he promised, though they both knew he hated calling her. He hated being a burden, hated pulling her away from her life.

She hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck. Max held her just as tightly, his hands resting on her back.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered.

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure he knew how to without her.

Back in Monaco, Kelly was waiting for him. She greeted him with a kiss, and Penelope ran into his arms, her laughter filling the room.

It should have been enough.

And in a way, it was. Max loved Penelope, and he cared for Kelly. But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

That night, as he lay in bed beside Kelly, his mind wandered to Y/n. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking about him the way he was thinking about her.

Kelly shifted beside him, her arm draping over his chest. Max stiffened, guilt washing over him.

He wasn’t a cheater, but sometimes, it felt like he was. Max loved Kelly in his own way, but it wasn’t the kind of love that consumed him. It wasn’t the kind of love that made his chest ache and his heart race.

That kind of love was reserved for Y/n, and he knew it always would be.

As long as she was happy, he would endure the ache.

Because she deserved better than him.

And Max Verstappen would rather break his own heart a thousand times than let anyone break hers.

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 2: The Dead Ones

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker, @midnightprocrastinator, @lilyalone, @cloudserenity, @wizzerreblogs, @reallynotsoconfident, @deliajo, @bitternsweet, @astterrial, @jjggdfvvy

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You and Bruce were in his office, you let out a puff of smoke as you stood by the window. Taking in the view.

"You know, in Arkham, there wasn't any bars on the windows. More like, plastic glass, so blurry I couldn't even see the moon clearly." The cigarette shortened even more as you took a long drag from the cigarette.

Bruce watched you from his desk, an unreadable expression on his face. You look so. . . it's hard for him to see you as who you are right now. Deep down Bruce knew you'd change some way after Arkham. Which was his sorry excuse for not visiting you. Only reading three of your letters, and stopped, he felt shame when it came to you. For which one of you, he doesn't know.

There are times, he did feel shame of being your father. Horrible, he knows. He's the worst father alive. And that's when he feels shameful of himself.

You let out a small sigh before turning to Bruce, you see the complex expression he had.

". . . You know Daddy, I don't think I ever seen you smile."

You walked closer to his desk and took a seat on one of the chairs. Bruce just silently stared at you. You still call him Daddy. He wanted to feel happy at the fact one thing stayed the same with you. But the way you said it. You said it in such a mocking way. Like it was a joke. Him being your father was a joke to you. It hurt. He rather you call him Bruce in the most hateful way you could.

"Y/n, I'm sorry-" Bruce tries to apologize, but you cut him off with the wave of your hand.

"I'm not here to fish out any apology from you."

Silence fills the room. You sighed again, putting out the cigarette by dropping it into a glass of water. You stood up and approached the vinyl player, you start it up as Bruce raised his brow in confusion. You turn around to face him

"Come on daddy, let's dance." You approached the older man, grabbing his arm and tugged him to stand. Even with how random your request was, Bruce complied, and you two began to slow dance together, the feeling was foreign to both.

The slow music continued as you two danced. You let your head rest on your father's shoulder, staring blankly at nothing. Bruce squeezed your hand. You began to realize. You have never been this close to Bruce. Always 4 feet away.

"When I was a little girl, there was this daddy daughter dance at school. . . I always wanted to dance with you like this. But you were busy. I understood, but it still hurt" Your statement caused Bruce to hold you a little tighter. Before he could attempt to apologize. You spoke up to shut him down.

"Don't you dare apologize."

The two of you continue to slow dance. You closed your eyes as Bruce rests his chin on your head. Closing his eyes. The two of you swaying to the music.

This moment should be a peaceful, loving moment between a father and daughter. But it felt more like an ending to a story that was going nowhere.

"Daddy, I have a question for you."

Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, still holding you tight.

Your eyes slowly open. "Have you seen Mommy recently?" Your question caught your father off guard. Visibly frozen. You lift your head up and see his expression turn a little sour.

"Why?" He spoke, slightly offended. Your spending time with him, why not focus on him?

"She's been missing. For a month. Not even her own family knows where she is. . ."

"Well, I don't where she is. I haven't had contact with her for years."

You sighed and pulled away, turning your back to him. A sign to show you were upset with his answer. Bruce frowns a little at you pulling away, his arms stayed up, almost to reach back for you.

"She visited me, every week, for several years. So please, understand I need to find her." You really were hoping to see if Bruce knew anything. But of course, he disappoints you with nothing. Again.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You got a text from Rex; your grandfather needed you back at the manor. You didn't have enough time to get your things from your old room, so you left Bruce in his office, walking to the front doors, where Alfred waited for you with your coat, along with Dick, Tim and.. . someone else you didn't recognize. But you focused on Alfred, and gently smile to the older man.

"Thank you for the food, Alfred, probably the one thing I missed the most while locked up." You spoke in a joking manner as you turned to let Alfred put your coat on for you. Alfred smiled a little.

"Thank you, miss."

You look up and give the three men a small nod "Dick, Tim . . . And?" You gave the third man a small look of confusion.

"I'm sorry I don't believe I got your name." You adjusted your coat as you stared up at the man and gave him your hand to shake. But the man just stared at you, Dick had to nudge him to snap him out of it.

The man snapped out of it and quickly took your hand and held it as gently as possible. You took notice of the scars on his calloused hand. He spoke in a nervous tone

"Jason, Jason Todd"

You instantly come to a pause.

"I- Uh, Jason Todd?" You know the name. Very well. But the name doesn't fit the face you remember.

But the look on everyone's face says it all, you know this family would not lie about this. You stepped closer to Jason, your hands hovering over his face, Jason could see your eyes glossed over with incoming tears that never fell.

" How. . .I thought you were dead. . ." You spoke in almost a whisper.

Jason lets out a weak chuckle.

"I thought you were dead too."

No words could express how much he missed you. When he came back from the dead, back into the family. No one dared to mention you. Even when he asked about you. They acted as if you were dead. But you were only a few miles away. Locked up. The thought alone angers him, he could have saved you sooner.

"Heh, I seem to get that a lot." You coil back and felt your phone buzz. Your ride was here.

"Do you have to leave Miss? It's late, why not stay for the night." Alfred tries to have you stay for at least a night.

"You just got here" - Dick

"The crime has gotten worse lately"- Tim

"Please. . .?"- Jason

You sighed as you opened the door,

"Sorry boys, no can do. Maybe another time." You gave them a small smile and turned to the car that was here to pick you up, but when you took a few steps down the staircase, you turn around where the entrance door was still open with Alfred and the boys stood.

"Oh, and Jason" Hearing you speak his name, Jason immediately perked up

"It was good seeing you. . . alive and all." You gave him a small toothy grin, before finally getting into the car.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Do you understand, how angry Jason was right now? After all this time thinking you were dead, his sweet little sister gone, you were alive, in a cage full of crazy's. He doesn't care if you took a few lives. You didn't mean too, it was an accident.

He was furious with Bruce for letting you get locked up for so long. Because you're staying with the Falcone's, a bunch of criminals that resort to anything if kept on the top.

"She was alive this whole time, and you knew."

Not only was it Bruce, but Dick knew to. Of all people to keep this away from him, Jason wouldn't think Dick of all people would lie.

"No one said she was dead Jay." Dick tried to calm Jason in some way.

"No one said she was alive!" Jason was quick to snap at Dick who just frowned at Jason's tone.

Your reappearance was indeed a shock to everyone and a lot of them are still trying to process it. As for the ones who never knew of your existence, they were trying to find out more about you. Your name has never been uttered, no pictures of you. Nothing. It was like you never really existed.

Thank Tim for that. Who had to remove you completely, so the Wayne name had less pressure on them. But now Tim is trying to gather what kind of rehabilitation you were in. He felt suspicious of your return. The way your eyes would bare into everyone in a sort of creepy way. As if analyzing them, Tim knew if he brought it up to either Bruce or Dick they would not listen to him. Especially by the way they reacted to your return.

So he was lucky Cassandra and Duke came to him first.

"The way she stared at me, I don't know man it gave me the creeps." Duke wasn't saying this out of meanness. You were genuinely making him uneasy every time you glanced at him, even more nervous when you gave him a smile.

Cassandra felt threatened by you. No one but her noticed how you stared at her the most.

"Something isn't right with her." Was all Cassandra said. Something was indeed wrong with you.

". . . Well, she just got out of Arkham, maybe she's a little. . . ?" Duke trailed off. Not wanting to say the word crazy just yet.

Tim silently listened to Duke and Cassandra's concern about you.

"Haven't you known her longer Tim?" Duke questioned.

Tim sat back in his chair as he let out a small sigh. You might have not noticed much, but he was always watching you. From the moment Bruce took him under his wing. You were small. Quiet, and simple. Not like that was a bad thing. At that time Tim wanted excitement, thrill. And you were none of those things, due to the fact you were practically a toddler.

But now, your different. Of course. It's a no-brainer Arkham would change you, he saw it coming. But your change was, unsettling. He hoped you would stay for him to find out more. But it seems your occupied with the Falcone's at the moment. Whatever it is, he's going to find out.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎?"

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Showering with Sunghoon;

Pairing; fem!reader and boyfriend!Park Sunghoon Synopsis; You love showering with Sunghoon. He is the best boyfriend, takes care of you even in the shower, not letting you lift a finger. Not even to wash yourself ;) Genre; Fluff (a bit suggestive) Warning; None (?) Sunghoon is a true GENTLEMAN!! Kinda horny!Sunghoon because you are just too hot (?)

A/N: This is the Sunghoon version of the, 'Bathing with Ni-ki' scenario. When i was writing the Ni-ki one, i already had the idea for this one heheheheh. I can't tell each one of them is my favourite, but... a man like Sunghoon (at least the one in this story) is my dream!!! I hope you guys enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always welcome, thank you so much <3

Also, happy Christmas eve, my loves ♡♡

If there was one thing you loved doing with Sunghoon, it was showering together. Everyone knew he was a gentleman—always opening doors for you, making sure you weren’t cold when you went out, and keeping his eyes on you to ensure you were safe and comfortable. And when you shower together, nothing changes.

Sunghoon knew you better than anyone else. He understood how you always put others before yourself (blame it on being the older sister). So, whenever he could, he took it upon himself to care for you. When you showered together, he refused to let you lift a finger—washing your hair, using all your scalp products, and gently cleaning your skin for you.

So, when he got a text from you saying you’d be taking a quick shower, he rushed home. Stepping into the foggy bathroom, he heard soft music playing—Cigarettes After Sex, as usual. Sunghoon quickly discarded his clothes and approached the shower. Before stepping inside, he paused to admire you.

Your sweet voice carried softly with the music, your head tilted back under the hot water, the droplets cascading down your body like a sculpture brought to life. To him, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he couldn’t be more grateful to have you.

When your back was turned to the door, he finally stepped in. His tall frame came up behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. You jumped slightly in surprise but quickly giggled. You loved it when Sunghoon was clingy.

“You should’ve waited for me…” he murmured into your ear, resting his face on your shoulder as the hot water poured over both of you.

Turning your head slightly, you pecked his cheek. “We have to be quick, baby. I promised your mom I’d meet her at the mall by 3 p.m. We’re picking out new things for her kitchen,” you explained to your handsome boyfriend. Then, you turned around fully to face him.

The water had completely soaked his hair, and he ran a hand through it, pushing it back. You gazed into his eyes, captivated by the view in front of you. His pale skin was drenched and shining before your curious eyes.

“Why didn’t she call me?” he whined, wrapping his arms around you again, as though he wished he could be under your skin, just to be closer to you.

“I’m the one with the interior design degree…” you joke, resting your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours and the hot water cascading over both of you.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond; he simply kisses your hair and holds you close for a few minutes. The bathroom grows even steamier, the air heavy with humidity. You look up at him, captivated by his handsome features— his big nose, juicy red lips, adorable moles, and the depth of his brown eyes, completely drunk on love.

He gazes back at you with equal intensity, his mischievous fingers trailing along your side, sending goosebumps across your skin. The way you look at him—those beautiful, pleading puppy eyes—are enough to drive him crazy. Slowly, Sunghoon leans in and captures your lips in a slow, loving kiss, his soft lips molding perfectly with yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck as your fingers weave through his black hair, gently pulling. His tongue teases its way into your mouth, and the kiss quickly deepens, turning hungry. The sensation of your wet, nude body pressing against his is intoxicating. You finally pull away for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you both catch your breath.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair,” Sunghoon says in a breathy voice, regaining his composure and focusing on taking care of you. His hands remain firmly on your hips as you turn, your back facing him—a sight that makes him momentarily wish his mom would forget about your plans so he could have more time with you.

Noticing he hasn’t moved, you glance back over your shoulder, only to catch him staring at your body with a sly grin, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter making your skin turn white.

“Hoonie…” you call, snapping him out of his trance. A soft blush spreads across his face as he realizes he’s been caught.

“Sorry, princess, I got distracted,” he mutters in a low voice, quickly reaching for your favorite shampoo to get started.

You turn your head forward, giving him better access to your scalp. When his skilled fingers begin massaging your hair, it feels heavenly. He always has a way of being so gentle yet confident, and it makes your knees weak every time.

Sunghoon has a habit of massaging your neck while washing your hair—one hand steadying your head while the other works on your tired neck muscles. You gulp and bite your bottom lip. Today, for some reason, his touch feels even better than usual, making you momentarily regret agreeing to plans with his mom.

“All done. Let’s rinse you off,” Sunghoon says softly, holding your hand as you turn to let the water rinse your hair. As the warm stream flows over you, Sunghoon notices your quickened breaths.

“You okay there, princess?” he asks with a knowing smirk, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

You don’t answer, just nod, your eyes still closed. After rinsing your hair, he applies a bit of conditioner to your ends, gently scrunching them to enhance your waves. While the conditioner sets, he grabs your loofah, squeezing out some of your body wash before carefully lathering it.

You let him take over completely, utterly under his spell. His hands move with precision and tenderness, washing every inch of you—from your neck and arms to your chest and belly. He even kneels to wash your legs and feet with the same care. You watch him with hearts in your eyes, completely smitten by his loving attention.

When he stands again, you turn around, brushing your hair to one side to expose your back. He resumes his task, one hand holding your waist affectionately while the other traces gentle circles over your skin as he cleans you.

Sunghoon smiles when he’s finished, admiring the way your skin glistens, still covered in bubbles. He leans in to press a quick peck on your lips before turning the water back on to rinse you off. Stepping back, he leans against the cold tiled shower wall, his mischievous eyes tracing the path of the drops as they slide down your body.

Noticing his gaze, you smile and gently take his hand, pulling him under the warm stream. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your head against his chest, craving the comforting sensation of his skin against yours. The two of you stay like this for a while, soaking in the moment, until your hair and body are completely rinsed clean.

“Do you want me to wash your hair too?” you ask, looking up at your handsome boyfriend. He returns your gaze with a soft smile.

“No, princess. You can go see my mom. I’ll finish faster if I do it myself,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheek affectionately. You laugh, knowing he’s right. If you stayed, things would likely go far beyond just washing his hair.

“I love you,” you confess shyly, placing a lingering kiss on his perfect lips before stepping out of the shower.

“I love you more,” Sunghoon replies sweetly, his heart swelling at the sight of your radiant smile. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he adds with a playful wink as you close the door, your laugh echoing softly in the steamy bathroom.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetiedarling @mintchocos-things @reikaxslvr If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[ Check out my MASTERLIST; ]

[bulgariansumo]

I see a lot of people in the tags feeling like they can't share their original work until it's complete and published since there's no place like AO3 for original stuff. But there are! Here's a few of the more popular options.

(Note: Traditional publishers tend to not want stories posted anywhere before they do, so keep that in mind.)

Tapas

Tapas is a most known for its webcomics, but it allows webnovels now, too. The most popular types of stories right now are Romance Fantasy (specifically Isekai Regency Romances), Action Fantasy, and BL.

There are slightly different genres available for webcomics, but for webnovels, the genres are: Romance, Romance Fantasy, Fantasy, Action Fantasy, Action, BL, GL, LGBTQ+, Drama, Mystery, Thriller/Horror, Science Fiction, Comedy, and Non-fiction. Stories are allowed to have three genres, but the first one determines where it shows up in searches and rankings. For example, my story is LGBTQ+, Science Fiction, and Slice of Life, but it only shows up in the LGBTQ+ section.

You can tag your story anything you want. Individual chapters are taggable, but that's just for fun, it does nothing for searchability.

Tapas emphasizes bite-sized content, so novel chapters are only able to be up to 15,000 characters (a little over 2,000 words) in length. Users can like and comment on each.

Images go a long way on Tapas, even if you're writing a webnovel. On your story's page, there's space for a banner, the cover (of course), and every chapter can contain a different thumbnail picture. Here's what mine looks like:

Personally, I like to switch the thumbnails with each full mini-story in my novel. I know someone who switches thumbnails based on PoV character, and I've seen people keep the same thumbnail throughout their whole story. It all depends on what you want!

Tapas has a full ban on AI-generated images and text. Mature content is allowed so long as it is appropriately tagged. They're a little stricter on images than text. As long as you're not writing porn without plot, hate speech, or something illegal, you can write pretty much whatever.

There is a Tapas Forums and a Tapas Discord. Personally, I find it easier to chime in and talk shop in the forums. However, the Discord is where Tapas announces contests and offers feature opportunities.

Royal Road

Royal Road is a website that caters to fantasy, sci-fi, and other speculative novels, with a current emphasis on LitRPG Isekai. But you can post other stuff there!

The site has a list of preset genres and tags. You can select up to four genres and however many of the tags you want. Here they are. The images are a little blurry without zooming in, but I included alt text.

If you hover your mouse over the question marks beside each label, it'll show you its definition just in case you're like me and don't know what some of these tags mean.

Your story goes through a 24-hour approval process, and if the moderator decides that it's fit for the site, it goes through.

Just as a heads up, this site has a reputation for being very strict about sexual content, even when it's appropriately tagged. The FAQ doesn't mention there being a limit, but among authors, it's understood that only 10-15% of the words (or chapters??) in a story can contain explicit sexual content. Sometimes less. So be aware of that.

Instead of likes or kudos, stories have the option to be reviewed on a 5-star system. These reviews are either be a short overview of your opinions on a story, or a more in-depth, "Advanced" review rating Style, Story, Characters, and Grammar separately. This helps (or hinders) a story's visibility. However, if you're friends, family, or live in the same house as the author, you MUST state that in the review, or the author could get into trouble.

Readers can comment regularly, but there's also an option to make it so that they can select passages to point out grammar mistakes and things like that.

You can insert images in chapters, but only if they're hosted on a different site, like Imgur or here on Tumblr. You can also put a poll in each chapter.

Royal Road allows AI-generated stuff on its site. There's an option to mark stories as being AI-generated or AI-assisted (using something like Grammarly to spellcheck or clean up wording). The site does have an in-depth search system that allows you to exclude stories tagged this way. However, there's still a lot of stories that use AI covers.

The site also has forums with a bunch of different sections. There's one specifically dedicated to swapping story reviews, but some people there will read, comment, and review on other people's stories just for fun.

Wattpad

Wattpad is probably the most well-known original writing platform. Its most popular story type seems to be any romance involving a rich and/or powerful guy. Sometimes he's a werewolf.

Its list of genres includes: Action, Adventure, ChickLit, Fanfiction, Fantasy, General Fiction, Historical Fiction, Horror, Humor, Mystery/Thriller, Non-fiction, Paranormal, Poetry, Random, Romance, Science Fiction, Short Story, Spiritual, Teen Fiction, Vampire, and Werewolf. You can only pick one of these per story, but like Tapas, you can also tag it anything you want. Each story is allowed 25 tags.

Pictures can be added to chapters, along with a picture, gif, or video above each chapter. Chapters can be commented on and liked. Wattpad's most standout feature is the ability to do in-line comments, where you're able to comment on specific lines or paragraphs. Also, you can see a chart breakdown of your readers' ages and genders.

Wattpad allows AI covers and AI text, and unlike Royal Road, there's no way to filter it out. The site used to have forums but got rid of them mid-2020. It also got rid of DMs earlier this year.

Archive of Our Own

The average person reading this knows more about Archive of Our Own than I do, so I'm just gonna say: AO3 allows original works so long as they're "fannish in nature," otherwise, they'd prefer you not post them there. Original works are tagged under the Original Works fandom.

General Tips

Do not under any circumstances join Webnovel. It's well known for predatory business practices.

If anyone DMs you on one of these sites wanting to sign you onto another, ignore it. It's probably sketchy.

Read other people's stories if you have the time. There's a chance they might like yours too.

If you don't know where to start finding other stories to read, participate in Read for Reads (Review Swaps on Royal Road). Not every story is gonna click with you, but I've found some of the coolest hidden gems from those.

Forums on novel websites are usually full of other creators. Advertising might get you a new reader or two, but not many.

Some of these sites (especially Royal Road) fall victim to web scrapers posting stories to another site. The good news is that they also copy usernames, so the authors still get credit. Also the views and likes on the other sites are often made up. No one really visits these them except for the authors who found out they've been stolen from. I don't really know what the end goal is... I think Tapas might the safest from this, since you can't copy-paste text from there, but that's just a hunch.

Was wishing there was a positivity post for original fiction writers since I see so many about how fanfic writers are doing so much for their communities even when they're not actively writing, and then I thought:

Be the change you want to see in the world.

So this is a positivity post for the writers out here who are working very hard on stories with no established community. Who can't talk about their blorbos and plot lines and brainstorming to anyone and expect them to know what any of it means. Who don't have much to share publicly, but are hoping they will one day.

You're doing a lot of hard work, and I recognize and appreciate what you're putting into the world, even when you're resting.

[redwinewhiteroses]

The answer to the question on your mind

What will the Oracle say?

I was inspired by @capellla 🤍 who made a similar reading and I LOVED IT SO MUCH! You should definitely check out her reading.

I'm using the Wisdom of the Oracle cards in this reading and not tarot cards. You can pick a shade to receive an answer to whatever question you have in mind. The question can be anything but I won't give a yes/no but rather a general forecast on whatever it is that you are asking about. So it is going to be in the format of a combination of messages, keywords or a simple description.

Also a reminder, this is a very general reading because everyone's going to have different questions. So take the essence of the message and leave out what doesn't resonate.

Total Angel

You know the answer deep down. If you tune in and read between the lines, you will know what you should know. Your intuition is powerful, use it wisely to receive answers. Even if you think it's not easy sometimes to find the right answer, the message here is to ask and you will receive. And nine out of ten times the answer is already known to you as an intuitive nudge. You just know, don't you?

For some of you there's a message to trust your intuition for it is right when it comes to this question you are asking about.

And for very few of you, the answer is to listen intently, be sensitive and have empathy, maybe for yourself or to someone else.

Manifest It

There is some chaos and conflict here. It seems to me like there's a clash of opinions or an internal conflict of some kind. Whatever it is you are asking about might not be going smoothly as you wish. Thoughts or opinions are in a muddle. There's friction here and a hesitancy to cooperate on something. It's important to choose your battles wisely and as much as you desire to be understood, you should also try to understand where others are coming from.

For some of you, this conflict is happening purely because of a misunderstanding and a lack of insight.

For others it's because of your stubbornness and your rigid nature of not wanting to compromise and being inflexible is prolonging this state of chaos. Also you don't need to be right all the time and it's fine even if you are not.

Good thoughts

Good fortune is knocking on your door. I see a lot of positive thinking in this group and I wouldn't be surprised if you are into manifestation techniques. You are attracting abundance using your manifestation skills and law of attraction.

Success is all yours. If you've been working hard on something, know that your rewards are on the way.

There's also a message that you will be discovering even more things to be grateful about. It's all in your mindset, the more positive your thoughts are, greater treasures you will find. Abundance and fulfillment are major themes here.

Don't forget to share your prosperity and happiness with others you care about about.

Balanced

Take things slow. There's no need to rush. It's important to live one day at a time.

Whatever it is you are asking about, the answer lies in the present moment. You have to focus your energy on the things that truly matter to you, that has a bigger say in shaping your future for better or for worse.

I'm getting the message that it's important to write a good story for yourself right now. You have everything you need right now.

Stay present and create your dream now. A lot can happen right here, right now, there's so much potential that you don't even see. The past nor the future holds that power, only the present moment can give what you need.

Protection

Right when I started this, I felt like this is about a relationship. Loyalty, devotion and commitment are major themes in this group, whether it is about a relationship or otherwise.

There is undying loyalty and commitment from this person and they truly value your commitment. There's nothing to worry about for they have a loyal heart and they show it to you every day. Right now if you look around, you can see and feel that devotion that they have towards you.

For some of you, there's the message that you should remain faithful to your plans and work towards achieving them. Put in the work now with great commitment if you want to achieve desired results in the future. Your commitment and loyalty is being tested right now.

This message is for a very few of you, and that is if you've been yearning for something more passionate or exciting in your relationship and you have this desire to pursue someone else in search of that, the message here is that you already have loyalty and commitment from the person who loves you. Are you as loyal in return?

Major Change

Closing out a cycle and making amends is the main theme here. I sense some hurt and lack of closure that is here from the past. There is some unresolved hurt and unfinished business and you never really got around to seeing things through.

There could've been an argument, but you walked away without really gaining closure. So even if you want to move on, you are still bothered about the what ifs, the unsaid and the unexpressed thoughts and feelings.

It is important to heal, but it starts with letting go. Make peace, forgive and set yourself free.

In order to really move forward, you need to address the issues and fix what's broken. Clear out what's no longer serving you, gain clarity and learn the lesson. Unless you close out this cycle, you are going to be burdened without an end.

Finish what you started in order to move forward. If you've been taking more and more of something but not really completing what you should have already, you are only accumulating unwanted burden. It is very important to make amends for your highest good.

For some of you, there's a clear message that something needs to end. Nothing is ever lost or wasted so endings are nothing to be scared of.

Reflect

There is uncertainty and a sense of loneliness here. It's as if you feel like you don't belong or fit in. There's this lack of connection and feeling like you are on your own.

It's important to delve deeper and be closer to your core values and truth. This sense of belonging that you think you need must come from within in a way that is so personal to you. It is not in the outside world for you to find.

Even if you feel misunderstood by others and you feel left out, as long as you have yourself and you believe in your own truth, you are never alone.

Be completely yourself and be unapologetic about it, the people who see you for who you truly are will always find you and support you.

Never dim your light or think that you are not enough. Never think you have to be someone else to be accepted. You are amazing just the way you are.

Explore your preferences, likes and dislikes and get to know yourself fully, and try finding people or communities that resonate with you. You'll be surprised by how many like-minded individuals are there who really get you.

Lucky Babe

Finally you have approached the light at the end of the tunnel. I wouldn't be surprised if you went through a dark night of the soul recently. There's two very contrasting energies here and you are at this switch where you are moving from the bad to the great times ahead.

There's recovery, renewal and joy. It's as if you lost/broke something but now you are patching up all the pieces together to create someone new altogether.

For some of you, I see you coming out of a period of isolation and putting yourself out there more experiencing the warmth the world has to offer. Being lively and feeling full of life.

Finally seeing bright colors again, feeling alive and enjoying life comes to mind. You could meet someone or find something that helps you overcome the shadows of your past. It's as if it/they heal you and make you forget unpleasant things. A much needed change is here to welcome you to a new phase in your life.

And for others, I see new relationships, new friends and opportunities coming in. There's new beginnings and growth for existing relationships. Those who've been single for a long time, I see a lot of good fortune for you.

Something exciting could happen.

Perfect Harmony

Be honest and truthful to yourself and to others. See the truth for what it is. Don't try to alter it the way you want it to be. You are only deceiving yourself. This is the core message I'm getting.

For some of you, the message is to openly communicate with your partner, family or friend etc. Clear and honest communication is very much needed. It is important to speak your truth and to listen to others speak their truth.

For some of you, it might be necessary to put some effort to seek the truth of something yourself. Discover what lies at the core of something and don't just accept the face value of it.

Transparency, true wisdom, unveiling something and dropping the mask is also a message here. Clarity is being provided to you and you should be open to embrace that truth.

Right Path

You are finally finding the strength to complete something. It's as if you've been putting something off for many weeks, months or even years but now you are going to persevere and see it through.

Learning something, mastering a skill and being dedicated to a task is coming through as well. It's important to make amends and learn so you can have better opportunities in the long haul.

Go the extra mile comes to mind. Take a leap of faith and endure through this so you can finally complete this cycle.

Finally accomplishing something that was long overdue and willingness to be resilient is seen here.

Do not procrastinate or give in to instant gratification but instead look into the future, think of the long-term and engage in continued action.

Make sure you finish what was left unfinished.

Empowered

Take action, make a move, start something, by all means begin whatever it is you are asking about.

You have the power to make things happen so go ahead and put that creative powers into good use.

This is the sign you've been looking for, now is the perfect time to act. Don't hesitate a single bit for now the destiny is in your hands.

Take the lead, assume the position of a leader, take matters into your own hands and be confident in your ability to move forward towards victory.

For some of you, the message is to embody masculine energies and to be more assertive and bold.

You can expect to be busier than usual. A lot of action is happening.

Divine

Breaking cycles, escaping toxic habits that kept you stuck in a never ending cycle is the main message here.

You can feel as if the past is repeating itself or you have been here before, and it is only because there is something that you have to learn and integrate into your life. I see some personal growth and self-improvement happening for your highest good.

It is important to revisit this pattern from a new perspective. Learn the lessons and apply that knowledge to break free from what no longer serves you. Only repeat what works, NOT what doesn't.

Chaos and conflict will only happen if you run in circles without really addressing the root cause of the problem. I see some unnecessary drama as well that has occurred due to repeating the same mistakes.

For some of you, being attracted to familiar partners and repeating an old story might be true. It is as if you get to do things differently this time with the wisdom you didn't have the last time. It is important to not get stuck in a loop though.

I think some of you are clearing out some sort of karma from your lives and it is making you realise important things about yourself and the way of life. As difficult as it might be, you will eventually get out of it and mark the end.

This reading should not be used as a substitute for professional advice. Please use your discernment before making any important decision. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Dividers by : @anitalenia @strangergraphics @aquazero

Photo taken from Pinterest. Credit goes to the rightful owner.

[accihoe]

Christmas Surprise

Pairing: Sergeant!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: I don't want to spoil it, read and find out 💕

Warnings: mentions of war and army stuff

A/n: Merry Christmas, folks. I hope you all have a blessed day. I think it's kind of obvious what the story is about, but I hope you like it.

Read this pls❤️

Xxxx

"It's a pity James won't be making it this year. He's scarcely been around for Christmases since Papa passed, and Y/N seemed to have changed that, I thought. Though I suppose he is part of the army now, and they need him for war and all that."

"I was under the impression that all soldiers in training got Christmas off. But I know nothing about military matters, so don't trust my judgment."

Y/N stood in the hallway as her sisters-in-law spoke, Rebecca and Rudy (I made Rudy up for the sake of the story). Her heart beat heavily in her chest as she stared at the framed sketch of James Buchanan Barnes, drawn by Steven. G. R. .

With a smooth of her hands down her apron, she walked into the kitchen. The chatter instantly and awkwardly shifted to the peas that stood on the counter, and Rudy scattered to look for the rolling pin, that was tucked into the front pocket of her apron.

"It's alright, I heard. And Rudy's right. Jamie was supposed to come home four days ago, but for some reason him and his commando friends got refused dismissal or something."

Rebecca sighed, setting down her eggnog, and went to Y/N, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Y/N/N,"

"Becca, it's quite alright. I really understand your concern, I do. I just feel bad for Jamie. He often spoke of his fondness for Christmas."

Rebecca gave another sad sigh and looked at Judy, who understood the silence.

"Well, on a different note. We've managed to scrounge together some canned versions of James's favourites. It ain't the real deal,"

"But it's pretty damn near."

Rebecca finished Rudy's sentence, allowing a little humour to fill the space. Y/N chuckled lightly, picking up a can of peas. This Christmas would be their 5th without Rudy's husband Joe, their 3rd without their father, and their 16th Christmas without their mother. And now, it would be their 3rd with Y/N, and 1st without Bucky. The three sisters (minus Y/N, merely Bucky's girlfriend, but they went by that nickname), were left to spend Christmas by themselves.

A knock at the door pulled the three women from their thoughts. They shared a look: that was not a feminine knock. It could mean one of three things;

•James was home by some miracle

•They were about to geat dreaded news about James

•The old man next door sent by his wife for sugar

•Rebecca's secret admirer (though this thought was only shared by Y/N and Ruby, and had James been there, him too)

"I'll go get it."

Y/N rushed to the door, heart pounding excitedly. To her dismay, it was Tom, the butcher's son. Y/N's heart sank and her smile faded to an annoyed expression.

"Tom. What can I do for you?"

"Merry Christmas, beautiful."

Y/N sighed, about to close the door when he handed her an envelope. Y/N cocked a brow, hesitant to take it.

"What's this?"

"It's from the post office. Mr. Bennett asked me to deliver it to you. Says the sender pleaded."

Y/N reached to take it but Tom pulled it back.

"Uh uh, first, Malcolm sent you something, and you need to take it before I give you your letter."

Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I am not obligated to take it."

"Well I'm not obligated to give this letter to you. It's just a favour."

Y/N narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a fine line.

"Fine."

Tom picked up a wrapped tin box and handed it to Y/N. Her gut sank, she knew what was in the tin. Tom placed the letter on the box and left. Y/N retrieved inside silently and placed her belongings upstairs in her room. She locked her door and ripped open the paper, sighing heavily when she saw the note on top of the expensive boots she'd been dreaming about.

Just a glimpse of what a real man could give you. Merry Christmas.

The note read.

She felt too bad to open the letter she knew was from James.

-Fast forward to eating time-

After the girls had dished up and said Grace, they sat at the table, ready to eat. Another knock sounded at the door, a man's knock. But a specific pattern belonging to only one man.

"James!"

The three girls said together and got up, but Y/N beat the rest to the door. The door was jerked open, blowing Y/N's hair from her face from the friction. Her stomach swarmed with fiery butterflies when her eyes registered the man before them.

"Buck,"

His signature grin spread across his face before he stepped forward, dropping his bags. Before she knew it, her lover was crushing her bones (just about) in a hug. Y/N's arms wrapped around his neck as he stood on a step lower than her. She felt his figure move as he inhaled her scent.

"What are you doing here? I thought you weren't allowed?"

"I'm not. But no command from any general jackass is gonna stop me from seeing my baby on Christmas."

Y/N laughed, pulling away to flick his forehead before hugging him again. The 'three sisters' made quick work of fixing Bucky a plate while he freshened up upstairs. Y/N couldn't keep her eyes from James as they ate the lunch. She could see the beginning of stress on his features, the slight fatigue from training, but there was something else.

He'd always been a pro at masking his true feelings, but the usual "Bucky shimmer" in his eyes was missing. He tried hard not to lock eyes with Y/N over lunch, but he couldn't keep his eyes from her. Though it'd been a mere two weeks, he'd missed her.

"Becks? I feel something is the matter with James. But I don't want to worry him asking, or pry, he just- oh I don't know he seems off."

Rebecca put down the plate she was washing and turned to Y/N with her own signature look.

"If anyone knows him well, it's you. So I'd say to trust your gut."

With that, Rebecca returned to washing the dishes. Y/N smiled faintly at the tilted floors of the Barnes' kitchen and nodded to herself.

"If it's alright with you, I think I'm going to have a word with him. See if he's alright."

"It's fine by me. Judy's the one you should be worryin' about. Now go, shoo, before she comes back from her rendezvous in the powder room (yes I'm implying that she's taking a dump)."

With a giggle shared between the younger girls Y/N scurried upstairs, knocking on the door of the guest bedroom, her bedroom for the holidays.

"Give me a moment."

James called back.

"Jamie, sugar, it's me."

"In that case give me two moments."

Bucky sassed. At least he was being himself. Y/N pushed the door open, thankful it wasn't locked. She instantly knew what was off. The stupid boots from Malcolm.

"What happened to respecting a man's privacy?"

He frowned at her.

"Darling I don't believe you get much of that in the army, and besides, I don't want us to spend the little time we have together on the blessing of a day brawling about a stupid third party inconvenience."

"So the fella you've been seeing is called 'stupid third party inconvenience?'"

Y/N shook her head with a soft laugh.

"I'm not seeing anybody, James."

"Then what's this?"

He pointed toward the boots, that remained untouched. Y/N sighed, putting the lid over them.

"My letter is right next to them. You didn't even open it. Though perhaps a mere letter that I split my ass to get to you isn't 'manly' enough is it?"

"James, language, and please, let me explain."

His furrowed brows dropped slightly, and Y/N took his silence as her opportunity to explain.

"You remember that rich kid whose father owns the country club?"

Bucky nodded apprehensively.

"I accidentally knocked my bag off a table a few weeks back, and he assisted me in picking up my belongings. He hasn't left me alone since. He's had his friend, or more like servant Tom deliver things to me ever since. Tom wouldn't give me your letter unless I accepted his gift. And I knew what it was going to be, but I was so horrified at his gesture, that I felt too ashamed to open your letter. I'm sorry."

".....Well he's not man enough to enlist."

James said after a moment of silence. Y/N chuckled through her nose and nodded.

"And he's not man enough to deliver the gifts himself."

Y/N nodded, smoothing a hand down James's arm, and then took ahold of his hand.

"You're all I want, Bucky. Believe you me. There's no overly priced pair of boots that could make me change my mind about that."

It was Bucky's turn to laugh at her comment.

"But does he know you've got a suitor?"

Y/N nodded, an irritated expression across her features.

"He knew when I dropped my bag, he knew when I was at the train station to send you off and he waited there to talk to me. And the gifts have ampled since your departure."

Bucky's jaw ticked, and Y/N felt his fingers clasped around hers twitch.

"What do you say you and I pay him a visit and return his gift?"

"Isn't that a little rude, especially on Christmas day?"

"Dollface, we're amidst a world war, I couldn't give a damn about being polite to a jackass who's tryna steal my girl."

"Buck you know he'll never succeed, right?"

"I do trust so. But still, I want to rub it in his face."

"James, baby, come on. If we give him a reaction, he'll probably like it. It'll give him the impression that he's getting to you."

"You were always the clever one in this relationship. So what do you suggest we do, miss smarty pants?"

Y/N hummed, pretending to think as she rubbed her chin.

"Well, for starters, you never call me that again. And, perhaps you and I dress nicely, beg Becca to use her camera, and post him a picture of us with Christmas regards written on the back."

"Not mean enough."

"There's a twist?"

James cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I'm wearing the boots he sent."

James's face broke out into a boyish grin.

"Sounds more like it. I'm in. Get dressed, dollface, I'll use my baby blues on Becks."

"Work your magic Sergeant."

Y/N called as he left the room.

Xxxx

Fin. Merry, merry Christmas, people. I've derailed a little, I'm sorry. Never forget the true meaning behind Christmas, and never forget that you're loved.

Lots of love and best wishes

(Yes I am planning on a pt.2 depending on how well this does)

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

So many people have shared their stories in the notes on this post.

If you’ve ever had to rehome an animal and feel like maybe you failed them, or maybe they/their new people think badly of you - please read the notes on this post.

If you’re thinking about rehoming an animal and wondering how to know if it’s the right choice, or if they’ll be okay - please read the notes on this post.

I want you to see how much understanding and support exists. I want you to hear about animals who were happier, better off, for a change in household, even if it was hard for the people. It is okay to make that choice, and this post contains many positive examples to help you if you need to hear it.

A lot of comments have expressed surprise at the fact I prefaced my response by expecting it to be controversial. The fact that it isn’t, on this site, goes to show you how uniquely at least the community in the blog’s extended orbit thinks about animal welfare. I found a post I made in 2016 about this exact topic in response to a “forever home” infographic that was making the rounds, and the notes have such a different tone. That mentality still exists in other spaces online, in the marketing and messaging of many rescue groups, and even just as a common and highly anthropomorphic sentiment. As mentioned in the notes of this post, people to this day are shamed by shelters or people in their lives when they choose to surrender animals.

I’m really glad this ask has gotten so much visibility and so many responses. The amount of empathy in peoples’s comments, and the stories shared from both perspectives - who have rehomed animals and those who have taken in rehomed animals - they’re all so important for people to see and think about and learn from. And maybe it’ll all pay forward other pets in the future, too, by helping people making a hard decision about their beloved animal know they’re supported and understood.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[fangdokja]

He’s your family, but he doesn’t act like it.

❤︎ Synopsis. In his eyes, she was never just a daughter—she was a possession, a fragile masterpiece, he would destroy the world to keep as his alone.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Stepfather x Reader

♡ Novella. Paternal Privilege - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,879

♡ TW. incest, non-con, poverty, financial manipulation, psychological manipulation, mental conditioning, child abuse, slight voyeurism, non-con touching and kissing, toxic relationships, possessiveness, social isolation, dacryphilia, choking / breath play, lack of physical and relational boundaries, degradation, humiliation

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

It started with the first mistake. A small one, insignificant by any standard except his own. Your fingers had brushed against his wallet as you attempted to slip it free from his coat. He caught your wrist before you could blink, the pressure of his grip a cold promise of retribution. You had snarled at him then, like a feral thing backed into a corner, your teeth bared despite your thin, malnourished frame. There was no pity in his expression as he looked down at you, only calculation.

“Interesting,” he had murmured, his voice devoid of warmth, as though he were examining a broken artifact. And then, after a moment’s pause, “I think I’ll keep you.”

The words had meant nothing to you then. Just another cruel twist of fate in a life already riddled with suffering. But over the years, their weight became unbearable, a chain you could never break. He had dragged you out of the filth and into his world of cold luxury, and you had learned quickly that safety was not synonymous with kindness.

No, the world had beaten that out of him long before you were ever born. What he offered was an exchange: safety for obedience, education for diligence, and resources for loyalty. You were to be molded, not cherished. Shaped, not nurtured. Your position in his house was not as a daughter but as a contingency—a blade sharpened for a task he hoped he would never have to assign you. He had an heir, after all. A son, crafted in his image, though far too reckless to carry the weight of his empire. And you? You were insurance.

But even insurance had to earn its place.

He was precise in everything he did, including the way he broke you. His methods were not born of cruelty for cruelty’s sake—he considered himself above such baseless indulgence. Instead, every punishment was calculated, a lesson delivered with surgical precision. The sharp crack of his voice was worse than any physical blow, each word stripping you down until the fire in your eyes flickered weakly, struggling to remain alight.

If he was pleased, he could be almost generous. A dress for a gala. A rare moment of praise. But those instances were so fleeting that you learned quickly not to crave them. Craving led to disappointment, and disappointment bred weakness. You had no use for it.

It would have been easier if he had hated you. Hatred, at least, could be understood. But no, his disdain for you was something more insidious—a quiet, festering annoyance that had grown over time, fed by your stubborn resilience. He had molded his empire with ruthless efficiency, bending men and markets alike to his will. Yet you, a filthy stray he should have discarded, continued to resist in ways that set his teeth on edge.

Your “brother,” however, had no such struggles. He moved through the household with a veneer of charm that fooled everyone but you. Behind his polished facade was a predator, his words slick with venom and his hands far too comfortable in places they shouldn’t have been. Your stepfather seemed blind to it—or perhaps he didn’t care. After all, his heir was above reproach, even if that heir was a misogynistic bastard who treated women like disposable trinkets. His failures were excused, his indulgences overlooked. Meanwhile, you bore the brunt of every misstep, every perceived slight, every ounce of anger your stepfather refused to direct at his golden child.

You were an itch beneath his skin, a flaw in his otherwise perfect calculations. He told himself that was all you were: a contingency plan, a tool. A sharp blade, forged under his watchful eye, meant to protect what he had built. Nothing more. Nothing else.

But even tools could tempt.

────────────

He didn’t know when it began—the slow erosion of his detachment. Was it when you've just become of age?

Perhaps it was when you started to move with the grace he had demanded of you, each step deliberate, each word measured. Or perhaps it was when he saw the way others looked at you, their gazes lingering too long, their intentions transparent. He told himself it was annoyance, nothing more. A natural reaction to the idea that something he owned could be coveted by others.

He began watching you more closely, though his scrutiny was nothing new. He had always been a man of observation, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. But now, it was different. Now, it wasn’t just your mistakes he cataloged, but the way your lips parted when you spoke, the faint shiver that ran through you when his hand brushed yours during training, the fire in your eyes when you argued with him.

And, when his son cornered you in the study one evening, his hands grasping at what wasn’t his to take, the rage that burned in him was far from paternal. The sound of his cane striking the polished floor as he entered was enough to send the boy scurrying, but the fury in his eyes was directed not at his heir, but at you.

“You provoke him,” he said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. “With your defiance. Your insolence.”

You didn’t respond, your silence a shield you had long since perfected. But he wasn’t fooled. He had always known what simmered beneath your stoic facade. That fire he had spent years trying to extinguish still burned, faint but persistent, waiting for the chance to consume him.

He should have been disgusted by the thought, but disgust required a level of humanity he no longer possessed. What he felt instead was something far darker, an obsession that sank its claws into him and refused to let go.

He knew every inch of you—not just as a father knows a child, but as a man knows a woman.

And he hated it.

He hated the way your presence stirred something in him that should have stayed buried, hated the way his control slipped in the quiet moments when you were near. He should have been disgusted, ashamed. But shame required a conscience, and he had abandoned that long ago. Instead, he leaned into his desire, rationalizing it as yet another form of control. You were his, after all. He had taken you from nothing and given you everything. Your brilliance, your strength, your very survival—none of it would exist without him. What right did you have to deny him?

────────────

The irritation began long before he realized it. It was insidious, threading itself into the fabric of his daily life, coloring every interaction with you until it became impossible to ignore. He would never admit it—not even to himself—but you had become a constant presence in his mind, a thorn he couldn’t remove no matter how deeply he buried the ache.

At first, he told himself it was logical. Practical. You were a tool, after all, and tools had to be maintained, watched, controlled. But over the years, his attention drifted from your utility to other things—smaller, infuriating details that gnawed at his composure. The way you carried yourself with an air of defiance, even when bowing your head in submission. The way your voice, sharp and cutting when you dared to speak back, lingered in his ears long after you’d been dismissed.

────────────

The bathhouse was a room built for indulgence, decadence dripping from every polished tile and gilded faucet. Steam curled lazily in the air, clinging to the pristine walls and diffusing the soft, golden light that bathed the space in an unnatural warmth. The water shimmered like liquid silk, its surface disturbed only by the faint ripples of your movements.

You sat at the edge of the pool, your back straight and your chin raised with that same deadpan defiance he had come to both loathe and crave. You didn’t look at him, though you knew he was there. He always was, leaning against the doorframe with the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a vice. His gaze was as sharp as it was cold, raking over your exposed skin with clinical precision that belied the storm brewing behind his steely eyes.

“Strip,” he had commanded earlier, his voice devoid of inflection, as though the order were as routine as breathing. And perhaps it was, by now. You hadn’t protested—there was no point. You simply stared at him with that infuriatingly neutral expression of yours before complying, peeling away the layers of fabric with a mechanical detachment that mirrored his own.

He told himself this was necessary. Routine. Logical. He needed to ensure you were in peak condition, free of scars or weaknesses that could jeopardize your role in his carefully constructed empire. After all, you were an investment—a tool he had polished and sharpened to perfection.

But as his eyes traced the curve of your collarbone, the delicate jut of your ribs, and the subtle swell of flesh that hinted at a beauty he had tried to ignore; for the first time, he felt the first stirrings of something far more dangerous than annoyance.

Even at eighteen years old, you were thin, still too pale, too small; but at least you no longer the skeletal shadow he had first dragged from the gutter. The malnourishment that had once defined you had given way to a wiry strength, and though you were far from perfect, there was a resilience in the set of your jaw and the glint of your eyes that made his teeth clench. He hated it—the way you had clawed your way back to something resembling vitality, despite everything he had done to strip you down to nothing.

But he hated himself more. For looking too long. For noticing the faint sheen of water on your skin, the way the droplets clung to you like a second layer of clothing before slipping away, exposing more of you with every languid movement.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and he curled them into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking softly. He told himself it was irritation. Annoyance. That you were nothing more than a distraction—a necessary evil in a life that had no room for weakness. But the tightening in his chest, the heat pooling low in his abdomen, betrayed him.

“Bathe,” he ordered, his voice sharper than he intended. It cut through the silence like a blade, and you glanced at him for the briefest of moments before turning away, sliding into the water with a grace that made his stomach twist.

You didn’t speak as you began to wash, your movements efficient but unhurried. The water lapped at your skin, soft and inviting, and he hated the way it seemed to caress you in ways he could not. His eyes followed the path of your hands as they trailed over your arms, your neck, your shoulders—lingering on the places where flesh met bone, where softness gave way to strength.

There were no scars. No deformities. No imperfections to justify the intensity of his scrutiny. But he continued to watch, his expression a mask of indifference even as his thoughts spiraled into territory he refused to acknowledge.

You were beautiful. It was a truth he had avoided for as long as he could, but now, as the steam curled around you like a lover’s embrace, it was impossible to deny. The defiance in your eyes, the fire he had tried so desperately to extinguish, only made it worse. You were a contradiction—soft and hard, fragile and unyielding—and it made him want to tear you apart just to see what lay beneath.

His jaw tightened as he pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer to the edge of the bath. You didn’t look up, but he could see the way your shoulders tensed, the subtle shift in your posture that betrayed your awareness of his presence. It was a small victory, but it was enough to stoke the embers of his control.

“Raise your arms,” he said, his voice cold and clinical, though the command lingered in the air like a challenge. You obeyed without hesitation, lifting your arms above your head in a gesture that left you vulnerable, exposed.

He crouched beside the bath, his gloved hand brushing against your skin as he examined you with the precision of a craftsman inspecting his work. His touch was impersonal, detached, but the heat of your skin seeped through the thin layer of leather, setting his nerves alight. He traced the lines of your muscles, the curve of your spine, the delicate ridge of your ribs, searching for flaws that didn’t exist.

“You’ve improved,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “At least you’re not the walking corpse you once were.”

Your lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I aim to please,” you said, your tone as deadpan as your expression.

He hated that, too. The way you could needle him with so little effort, even when you were at his mercy. It made him want to crush you, to shatter the carefully constructed walls you hid behind and leave you trembling in his hands.

But instead, he stood abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive. “Finish quickly,” he snapped, turning on his heel. “I don’t have all night.”

As he walked away, his fists clenched at his sides, he told himself this was the last time. That he would not let you crawl under his skin again.

But he knew it was a lie.

────────────

You were a nuisance. A distraction.

He hated distractions.

He watched you more closely than he should have, his irritation mounting with every interaction. Your silence grated on him, as did the fire behind your eyes when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. You were ungrateful, insubordinate, stubborn to a fault—and yet, there was something about you that held his gaze longer than he liked.

It disgusted him, or so he claimed. But the disgust felt hollow, an excuse to mask the truth he didn’t want to face.

────────────

One evening, he found himself lingering in the doorway of the study, watching as you hunched over a stack of reports he’d ordered you to prepare. The soft glow of the lamp cast your features in sharp relief, highlighting the set of your jaw and the delicate curve of your neck. His irritation flared at the sight of you, so focused, so determined to meet his impossible standards.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You startled, your pen slipping from your fingers, and he felt a flicker of satisfaction at the way your shoulders tensed.

“I’ll finish soon,” you replied, your voice steady but low. Controlled. Carefully devoid of emotion.

He hated that, too—the way you had learned to mask your feelings around him. It was a skill he’d forced upon you, and yet now it only served to irritate him further. He wanted to see you break, to hear your voice tremble with fear or anger or anything that betrayed the composure you clung to so desperately.

“Soon isn’t good enough,” he snapped, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind him. The click of the latch seemed louder in the silence, a reminder that you were alone with him now.

You didn’t look up, your hands clenching into fists on the desk. The tension in your posture was subtle but unmistakable, and it only fueled his annoyance.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his tone low and dangerous.

You hesitated, and that hesitation was enough to set his teeth on edge. When you finally raised your eyes to meet his, he saw the defiance flickering there, faint but still alive. He had tried so hard to extinguish it, to strip you of the stubborn fire that made you so infuriatingly difficult to control. But it remained, smoldering just beneath the surface, and it filled him with a rage he couldn’t fully explain.

“Do you enjoy testing me?” he asked, his voice softening into something almost conversational, though the edge of danger remained. “Is that what this is? A game to see how far you can push before I break you?”

You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough.

He crossed the room in three deliberate strides, his hand slamming down on the desk beside you. The force of the impact made you flinch, and for a moment, he savored the flicker of fear that crossed your face.

“You’re mine,” he said, the words escaping before he could stop them. His voice was low, almost a growl, and the intensity of his own admission startled him. “Every breath you take, every thought in that insolent little head of yours—it all belongs to me.”

Your lips parted as if to protest, but no sound came out. He leaned closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and smoke filling your senses.

“You think you can hide from me,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Pretend to be obedient while plotting your escape. I know you, girl. I know what’s underneath that mask you wear. And I promise you, if you ever try to leave me, I will make sure you regret it.”

The threat hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. He straightened, his hand brushing against your cheek as he pulled back. The touch was brief, almost accidental, but it left a trail of heat in its wake that made your stomach churn.

“Finish your work,” he said coldly, turning away. “And don’t make me wait again.”

As he left the room, his irritation simmered beneath the surface, mingling with something darker. He told himself it was just annoyance, that you were nothing more than a tool—a disobedient, infuriating tool that he would one day bend to his will completely.

But deep down, he knew the truth. You were more than that. And it infuriated him.

────────────

The air in the university courtyard carried a deceptive warmth, laced with the chatter and laughter of students unwinding after a long day. He stood in the shadow of a column, his broad frame hidden by the angle of the building, his piercing gaze fixed on you. You were seated on the low stone ledge of a fountain, and for once, the frigid wall you carried in your demeanor seemed to have melted.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The faint, almost imperceptible curve of your lips wasn’t the cold smirk of defiance he had grown used to, nor was it the bored, deadpan expression that often made him feel like you were barely holding onto existence. No, this was different. Your eyes, usually dulled with exhaustion or indifference, sparkled as if illuminated by a light he had never seen before. It was a look he had never managed to elicit from you—not through his cruelty, not through his control, not even through his calculated acts of kindness designed to bind you closer to him.

And the reason for it was standing in front of you. A young man, tall but wiry, with an unpolished charm that radiated in the way he spoke, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he recounted some inane story. You were listening, fully enraptured, even leaning in slightly as though you didn’t want to miss a single word. When he said something particularly idiotic, you laughed—a soft, almost breathless sound that struck him like a blow to the chest.

He could feel the storm brewing inside him, dark and consuming. The rage was almost chemical, rushing through his veins and clawing at his composure. You had never laughed like that for him. Not once. Even in your moments of forced obedience, your submission was mechanical, begrudging, and full of resistance. But here you were, glowing in the presence of someone who was nothing more than a pathetic shadow of a man—soft where he was hard, open where he was closed.

He couldn’t stand it.

He had already investigated the idiot, of course. A second-year student in your entrepreneurship program, the type to coast by on charm and mediocre effort, his assignments always late but forgiven by professors who couldn’t resist his charisma. He was everything that disgusted him: undisciplined, carefree, and lacking in the ruthlessness it took to truly succeed. And yet, somehow, this fool had managed to reach a part of you that he never could.

The realization cut deeper than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just the jealousy—though it burned like acid in his throat—it was the sense of failure. He had spent years shaping you, breaking you, molding you into something that belonged to him and him alone. You were his creation, his possession, his daughter in name, though he could never see you as just that. He had taken everything from you—your freedom, your choices, your innocence—and yet, this man had managed to plant a seed of rebellion in you with nothing more than a few smiles and an open heart.

That night, he sat in his study, the light from the fireplace casting sharp shadows across his face. His fingers drummed against the edge of his desk, a restless, impatient rhythm that betrayed the turmoil within. He had always prided himself on his control, his ability to suppress the baser instincts that threatened to consume him. But this…this was different.

He hated the way his thoughts circled back to you, to the softness in your expression as you had listened to that fool, to the way your lips had parted in awe when he made some insignificant observation about life. It wasn’t the you he knew—the cold, detached creature who met his cruelty with deadpan defiance. No, this was someone he didn’t recognize. Someone he couldn’t control.

He clenched his jaw, the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like he might snap. The rage wasn’t enough to drown out the darker thoughts that lurked beneath it—the shameful, forbidden desires he had buried deep, convincing himself they didn’t exist. But now, as he replayed the scene in his mind, those thoughts clawed their way to the surface, insistent and unrelenting.

He told himself it was for your own good when he decided to tighten his hold on you. He would sever this connection before it could take root, crush whatever fragile feelings had begun to bloom in your chest, and remind you who you belonged to. You were his, whether you realized it or not.

────────────

The next morning, when he came to fetch you from the university, his presence was a storm cloud that seemed to darken the air around him. Students parted like the Red Sea as he walked through the campus, his cold, predatory gaze fixed ahead. When he found you, standing once again with that insufferable idiot, the corners of your mouth lifting in what could almost be described as a smile, something inside him snapped.

“Get in the car,” he said, his voice low and even, though it carried a weight that made you falter. The warmth in your expression faded instantly, replaced by the detached indifference he had come to expect.

The young man—stupid, oblivious—had the audacity to laugh. “Wow, strict parent much?” he joked, oblivious to the way your guardian’s eyes narrowed, sharp enough to cut.

You didn’t look at him as you walked toward the car, your movements stiff and deliberate. But he saw the way your hands clenched at your sides, the way your shoulders tensed as if bracing for what was to come.

When you were alone in the car, the silence was suffocating. His hands gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, the tension radiating off him in waves.

“What was that?” he asked finally, his voice calm but deadly.

“What was what?” you replied, your tone as flat and detached as ever.

His jaw tightened, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed out the window as though you could will yourself to be anywhere but here.

That was when he reached over, his hand gripping your chin with a force that bordered on painful, forcing you to look at him. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch, and for the first time, you saw something unhinged lurking beneath the surface of his carefully constructed facade.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

You didn’t flinch, but the flicker of fear in your eyes was enough to stoke the flames of his control. He released you abruptly, his expression smoothing into a mask of cold detachment.

But the storm inside him raged on.

────────────

The car rolled to a halt in the shadow of the sprawling mansion, the silence that followed heavy and oppressive. The engine hummed faintly before he turned it off, his movements measured, deliberate, and yet brimming with barely contained fury. You sat beside him, your posture rigid, your hands resting lifelessly in your lap. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t need to. The seething heat radiating from his side of the car was palpable, and you knew what was coming.

He didn’t speak at first, letting the silence stretch and tighten around you like a noose. The interior of the car seemed smaller than usual, suffocating. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, sharp and dissecting, and you fought the urge to shift under it. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

But then he began.

“You’re a fool,” he said, his voice calm and steady, like a blade sliding effortlessly between your ribs. “Do you know that? A naïve, reckless little fool who doesn’t even understand the world she’s playing in.”

You didn’t respond. You never did. His words washed over you like acid rain, eating away at whatever feeble defenses you had managed to build, but you wouldn’t let him see it. Your face remained impassive, your gaze fixed on the dashboard.

“Do you even comprehend the danger you put yourself in?” he continued, his tone sharpening like the edge of a knife. “Do you have any idea what kind of people would love to take advantage of someone like you? Or are you so desperate for attention that you’ll throw yourself at the first imbecile who shows you a shred of interest?”

Your jaw tightened, the only sign that his words were cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he pressed, leaning closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, venomous hiss. “You crave validation so much that you’re willing to make a spectacle of yourself. Laughing, smiling—sparkling like some lovesick little girl. Do you have any idea how pathetic you looked?”

His words hit their mark, but you refused to let them sink in. You stared straight ahead, your expression a mask of indifference.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice cold and biting.

You didn’t move.

“I said, look at me.”

This time, his hand shot out, gripping your chin with bruising force and turning your head to face him. His eyes bore into yours, icy and unrelenting, and for a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in their depths. Rage, yes, but something darker, something hungrier.

“You don’t get to ignore me,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Not after the display you put on today. Not after humiliating me with your stupidity.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, your voice flat, your tone carefully devoid of emotion.

“Exactly,” he snapped. “You did nothing to protect yourself. You did nothing to consider the consequences of your actions. You think that fool you’ve been wasting your time with sees you as anything more than a conquest? A challenge? Someone to use and discard the moment you’re no longer interesting?”

His words were harsh, cutting, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

“You think I don’t know what he sees when he looks at you?” he continued, his grip on your chin tightening. “You think I don’t see it too?”

The admission hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, the mask of control he always wore seemed to crack. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold, calculated detachment that had always defined him.

“You disgust me,” he said finally, releasing your chin with a flick of his wrist as though even touching you was a burden. “And yet, here I am, cleaning up your mess, protecting you from your own stupidity. Do you know why that is?”

You didn’t answer.

“Because you’re mine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And no one—least of all that idiotic boy—gets to take what’s mine.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint ticking of the car’s cooling engine. You wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at him, but you did none of those things. Instead, you stared out the window, your expression blank, your heart pounding in your chest.

────────────

The weight of his control lingered in the suffocating air as you reached for the car door handle, desperate to escape the storm of his presence. But you barely had time to process the thought before his hand shot out, knotting itself in your hair with a cruel precision. His grip was tight, the sting of his fingers digging into your scalp sharp enough to draw a gasp from your lips—a sound he drank in greedily as his other hand yanked you back toward him.

Then his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t a kiss in any romantic sense. No tenderness, no warmth. Just heat and fury, the brutal claim of a man too far gone in his own obsession. His lips crushed against yours with a ferocity that made you jerk back instinctively, but he followed, his grip tightening as he tangled his fingers further into your hair, forcing you to remain where he wanted. His teeth caught your lower lip, dragging, biting hard enough that the copper tang of blood burst across your tongue. You choked on the sensation, on the taste, on him.

Your resistance, fragile as it had been, shattered entirely. The rigid mask you’d held together cracked beneath his onslaught, leaving you vulnerable, raw. The disgust, the anger, the helpless rage—all of it spilled out, written across your features in a way you couldn’t hide. And he reveled in it.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips with a savage dominance, exploring, claiming every inch of you like a conqueror. There was no room to breathe, no room to think. His free hand found your jaw, holding you in place as his lips bruised yours, as his tongue tasted the fear and hatred you didn’t dare voice. You clawed at his arm, your nails raking against his skin, desperate to make him stop, to push him away. But it was like trying to move a mountain.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

The metallic taste of blood mingled with the faint sweetness of your own breath, a combination that set something alight in him. You could feel it in the way he pressed closer, caging you against the car seat, his body a fortress of unrelenting heat and muscle. He was consuming you, branding you in ways that no one else ever would. Because he wouldn’t allow it.

This was your first kiss. And he made sure it would be unforgettable—for all the wrong reasons.

When he finally pulled back, his movements were deliberate, controlled, like a predator savoring the aftermath of the hunt. But he didn’t move far. His forehead almost brushed yours, his lips still ghosting over your trembling mouth, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, could see the faint smirk curving his bloodstained lips.

You were a wreck—wide-eyed, your cheeks flushed a traitorous red, your chest heaving as you tried to catch the air he’d stolen. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared at him, as his expression remained infuriatingly composed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost tender if not for the cruel edge that laced every word. “Pathetic. So easy to break. So easy to ruin.”

You turned your head away, but his hand caught your chin again, forcing you back to face him. The movement made the raw sting at your scalp flare, but you didn’t have the energy to fight.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t look away from me. You wanted to act like a fool, and now you’ll deal with the consequences.”

His thumb traced your jaw, deceptively gentle, before he tilted your face toward him, studying you like you were some fragile, precious thing. But his eyes… there was nothing gentle in them. Just that icy hunger that terrified you more than his words ever could.

“This is a lesson,” he said, his tone clinical, as if he were dissecting the very essence of you. “You need to understand the danger of men. Of what they’ll do when you’re so oblivious, so unguarded. But they won’t get to you. Do you know why?”

You shook your head weakly, your voice stolen.

“Because they’ll never have the chance,” he continued, his lips brushing the shell of your ear now, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. “You belong to me. Do you understand? You’re mine. Your smiles, your tears, your body—everything. And I will kill anyone who dares to take what’s mine.”

The words were a promise, spoken with the kind of chilling finality that left no room for argument.

And then, just as abruptly as he’d started, he released you.

“Get out,” he said finally, his voice cold and dismissive.

The sudden absence of his touch was almost as jarring as the assault of it had been, leaving you scrambling to recover, to collect the fragments of yourself he’d shattered. You pushed the car door open, stumbling out into the cold night air. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, your heart a panicked drumbeat in your chest as you ran toward the mansion without looking back.

But even as you fled, you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare turn around.

From the car, he watched you, his expression a mask of cool detachment. But inside, he was burning, the lingering taste of you on his lips like gasoline to a fire. He let himself admire the way you moved—unsteady, vulnerable, utterly his. And he smiled, a dark, satisfied thing.

Fear suited you. Fear made you his.

────────────

List of Fandoms and Characters

Ace Attorney: Barok van Zieks

Blue Lock: Jinpachi Ego, Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi, Endeavor, Shouto Todoroki

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: Light Yagami

Demon Slayer: Muzan Kibutsuji

Dishonored Series: Anton Sokolov, Daud

Genshin Impact: Dainsleif, Zhongli (Rex Lapis / Morax)

Haikyuu!!: Kei Tsukishima, Wakatoshi Ushijima

Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Sunday

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Illumi Zoldyck

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: Duke Illuster Starbe, Nemeseus

Jujutsu Kaisen: Kenjaku, Ryomen Sukuna

Kill The Hero: Park Yong-Wan, Se Jun-Lee

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Aamon

Naruto Shippuden: Madara Uchiha

One Punch Man: Boros

Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan

TOUCHSTARVED: N/A

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Error! Sans, Ink! Sans, Nightmare! Sans

Wuthering Waves: Geshu Lin

Your Throne: Eros Orna Vasilios

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa

[elliereject]

nailtech!reader x mechanic!ellie drabble!

this came to me while I was doing my nails (cuz I’ll be damned to pay $40 for 3 strips of paint that’s gonna grow out in week)

the first time mechanic!ellie sees you, is also the first time she ever steps foot in a nail salon, clad in her jumpsuit since she had to come right after her shift. dinas wedding was coming up and she requested that all her bridesmaids gets a matching set of acrylics

mechanic!ellie who thanked dina for letting her just get her short nails painted the simple lilac colour all the other girls were getting.

mechanic!ellie who almost trips over the wet floor sign when she sees you working with a client, looking so focused and so beautiful.

mechanic!ellie who allows a few of the other girls to go ahead of her so she can time it right and get paired with you.

mechanic!ellie who feels her heart melt when you shoot her a warm smile and ask her what she’d like done and if she had a reference picture.

she stares at you blankly, and you tell her you’ll just do something you think she’d like and that you'll change it if she wants.

mechanic!ellie who feels her heart pick up in pace when you grab her hands to inspect her sad excuse of a nail bed.

mechanic!ellie who’s caught of guard when you ask her if she scrubs under her nails

mechanic!ellie clears her throat and says “of course I do” after laughing like you had told her the funniest dad joke in the world (she doesn’t and you didn’t)

mechanic!ellie who tries to crack a joke/flirt?? with you by saying “you look stressed, is painting nails that hard?”

mechanic!ellie who’s confused when you shoot her a sideways glance while cutting her rockhard cuticles because she’s a clueless, grimy, loser.

mechanic!ellie tries to lighten the tension by telling a joke, “hey uh, do you know how you can tell if a mechanic had sex?”

“..what?”

“their middle fingernail’s clean.”

it’s one Joel had told her when she was younger and she hadn't quite understood it, but once she took on the business…well let’s just say it was pretty accurate.

mechanic!ellie who chuckles nervously when you give her a blank stare before cracking a small smile,

she got you.

mechanic!ellie, now that she knows you don’t think she’s a waste of space, talks to you easier and finds out that you’re still in school, but your aunt owns the salon, and you’re working here for experience. your favourite colour to work with is blue, and you once had to tackle a lady who tried to leave without paying.

all’s going well until mechanic!ellie asks you what you’re in school for and shoots you a look when you say this.

“seriously? you don’t want a real job where you like actually work with your hands or something?”

mechanic!ellie says because she’s a STUPID, clueless, grimy, loser.

“what the—this is a real job and I do work with my hands.”

“no, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t actually.” you end the conversation by putting both her hands in the curing machines and getting up to help one of your coworkers.

to mechanic!ellie’s surprise, when the machines beep it’s not you who continues working on her nails, but one of your older coworkers. she feels a pang of confusion and hurt in her chest but quickly shuts it up as she notices most of the bridal party is already done.

mechanic!ellie who looks at her hands a sighs, it was..alright, after you left the lady who took over didn’t really know what you were going for, so it was kind of mismatched but from far away it looked fine.

mechanic!ellie who pays and leaves with the rest of the party and feels her heart sink when she waves at you and you completely turn around.

mechanic!ellie who tells dina about what happened over FaceTime later that night and is taken back when she calls her a stupid idiot.

mechanic!ellie who finds out just how much work nail technicians go through to be able to run a business, plus how much they do for others.

mechanic!ellie who after hanging up googles a bit more about nail techs and reads stories or watches videos about people explaining how their nail tech practically saved their life and how nail art is a way for someone to express themselves as well as a tedious art form that takes patience and heaps of skill.

mechanic!ellie who feels like the biggest idiot ever and gives herself 30 minutes to wallow in self-pity before deciding she needed to find a way to make it right.

mechanic!ellie shows up to your studio right after dinas wedding, still clad in her lilac and off-white tailored suit, luckily she caught you outside just as you were locking up.

mechanic!ellie who apologizes profusely for being such a dumbass, infodumps everything she's learned about nail techs from her research, and explains that she thinks you're very cute and would love to get to know you more.

mechanic!ellie who trails off when you begin to giggle.

"so you did some research?" you offered her a small smile.

"tons," she nodded. "and i'm sorry."

you leaned against the door and smiled wider this time, "you already said that."

she nodded again, "right."

the two of you stared at each other for a second.

mechanic!ellie who breaks the silence first.

"would it be forward to ask you to accompany me as my date to the after-party?"

"it would," you tease. "but i accept."

mechanic!ellie who lets out a sigh of relief before pulling a gorgeous lilac and lily bouquet from behind her back.

"thank god, because it would've been really embarrassing if I'd won the bouquet toss for nothing."

you take the flowers, your smile faltering as you gaze down at your dusty crocs and polish-stained apron "you sure i'm okay to go like this?"

"you look beautiful." mechanic!ellie says honestly.

you nod but she still senses some apprehension, in a quick motion, she reaches behind you and into a potted plant placed before the entrance, smearing dirt on her pants and suitjacket.

"ellie!" you gasp which turns into a shocked giggle.

she grinned, "see, now it just looks like we’re making a statement."

you roll your eyes playfully and the two of you walk, arms interlinked, to her truck and only separate so she can open the door for you.

if anybody wonders who you are, nobody asks, although the two of you do garner a few judgemental glances at the state of your attire.

mechanic!ellie still with that grin on her face pulls the two of you from the open bar onto the dance floor when a slow song starts up, gathering you in her arms and swaying slowly to the sappy music.

mechanic!ellie who knows her face is practically fluorescent after you place a peck to her cheek.

mechanic!ellie who doesn't care one bit.

— ★

sorry if the first part of this is buns i wrote it like over a year ago and just finished it now it’s also my first time writing a blurb like this :p

[supermarket-goblin]

Phoenix Wright celebrates Almost Christmas. Maya helps him shape traditions. The tree always has to have one parrot ornament, an old photo depicting Miles and Phoenix as kids playing while Gregory Edgeworth keeps an eye is put up in a festive frame, some part of their day involves walking down to the lake. When Maya leaves, he tries to get Larry involved but the holiday period is a busy time and he's got his own traditions. The first person he truly gets to share it with after Maya is Trucy. He introduces her to these things as if they are normal but Trucy's Christmas tree has never had a parrot before and why does her new Daddy insist on this place specifically for their walk? She goes along, learns and performs the traditions without any understanding. When she is around ten or so, she meets Uncle Miles, who wants to spend Christmas with them. She tries to explain their traditions to him and she can tell his feelings on the subject are mixed. He rolls his eyes at the parrot on the tree, he stares fondly, with a longing, at their photo. "Why?" Miles asks Phoenix when he thinks Trucy can't hear as they take their walk around the lake. "Why do you keep revisiting these memories?" The disbarred attorney just smiled. "Because as horrible as it all was, it saved you. It helped me prove to you something I already knew, that you aren't a murderer."

Miles tried to respond at that, only to be interrupted by Trucy, asking him about his Almost Christmas traditions. He gave her a and took her hand and talked with her as they walked. After that, a new frame appeared in the Wright home every Almost Christmas, clear fold lines in the newspaper clipping of the story of Manfred Von Karma's conviction.

Apollo instantly understood what Almost Christmas meant, his hero worship of Phoenix Wright providing him with all the information he needed. It would seem like an odd thing to celebrate, until you see the way the Edgeworth and Wright look at each other.

Athena was confused by what Wright meant by "stepping Almost Christmas up a notch" after he got reinstated. She soon found the office was home to a fair few more fireworks than she had recalled. Trucy was working on a whole new parrot puppet just for the occasion. She'd met Miles Edgeworth briefly in Germany one time but here, in the anything agency office, preparing for Almost Christmas, he was almost a completely different creature. He had stepped into the office with two tote bags, placing them on Wright's desk (which he seemed not to notice or pay attention to) and removing from them a series of frames containing photos and newspaper clippings and even a doodle of a radio with the caption "It's Almost Christmas." When Apollo later filled her in on the story behind Almost Christmas, she was shocked, but she supposes for the Wright Anything Agency, wild and unimaginable shouldn't be a surprise.

[clairedaring]

Ahead of the Spare Me Your Mercy Finale premieres, here's an interview with screenwriter Lux on the portrayal of Euthanasia in the series

(source: mgronline; machine translated with minimal edits, my apologies for any inaccuracies)

The series "Spare Me Your Mercy" (Thai title: การุณยฆาต), airing on Channel One31, is approaching its conclusion. Starring Tor Thanapob Leeratanakajorn and JJ Krisanapoom Pibulsonggram, the series is based on a novel by Dr. Sam Isaree Siriwannakulkorn under the pen name Sammon. Known for works such as Manner of Death, Triage, Bite Me, and the recent 4MINUTES, Sammon's novels often intertwine themes of BL (Boys' Love) with medical narratives.

However, in this Channel One adaptation, the producers emphasized that the focus is not on the BL aspect but primarily on the medical themes. Lux Sirilux Srisukon, the creator and scriptwriter of Spare Me Your Mercy and a skilled member of the production house, explained the reasons behind adapting this story and delved into the nuances of the plot. Even though euthanasia is not yet legal in Thailand, the story explores how patients may make end-of-life decisions without violating medical ethics.

“Sammon's novels are mostly BL novels and include numerous love scenes. However, we deliberately chose not to present it as a BL story. While the characters are two men in love, we approached it with a dark drama style. The characters are gay, but we don’t offer [fan]service in every episode or include NC (explicit) scenes. This was our intention from the beginning when we started making this series.

We did this not because of censorship, airtime or actors. But because what we are trying to tell was heavy and serious. Having NC would steal the attention of the story because what we were going to talk about was dark drama and euthanasia. Some fans of the novel might be disappointed, but we think we have other fun things to offer, even if there’s no NC scenes. Our way of thinking is that this is not like a series that serves [the audience] (t/n: I understand Lux is trying to say that this isn't a feel-good, healing vibes serving drama).

For instance, in traditional male-female dramas, if the protagonists fall in love, they simply do. Similarly, this story is like any typical drama—it’s not about portraying same-sex or opposite-sex love, but it is just two people who love each other. We depict love scenes the same way we would in any regular drama. Viewers will see that these two characters love each other because we don’t see gay love as different from heterosexual love. It’s just two people finding each other, forming a bond, and falling in love.

When we spoke with the original author, she was also very supportive of this shift because she also wants to highlight the theme of euthanasia. Sammon's focus is also in line with the adaptation but since she is also a Sao Y and a BL novel writer, she understood her audience and enjoyed writing in that style.”

Lux says that she wants to clear up the misconceptions that many people may have that euthanasia must be caused by illness/ medical conditions, not because of life dissatisfaction or laziness and want to inject death.

“We wanted to portray what euthanasia really is because there are many misconceptions. People often misunderstand it in two extreme ways. First, they see it as equivalent to suicide. Second, they see it as an escape for those dissatisfied with life. For instance, some on X (re: Twitter) think, ‘I don’t need to think about the future; I’ll just live my life and then get an injection to die.’ That’s not possible anywhere in the world. That's a misconception.

Euthanasia doesn’t mean you can request an injection to die simply because you’re tired of life. Even in Europe, where euthanasia is legal, there are strict requirements. You must have a certified medical condition specified in the law, endorsed by at least two medical specialists, and the illness must be truly incurable and that you are waiting for death. The purpose of this law is to prevent these individuals from suffering. Instead of suffering for another year, they can die. It's not about being bored with life or lazy to live or not liking yourself when you're old, so you let them inject you with a lethal dose. They don't do that. Many people misunderstand that if you don't want to live, you can go for euthanasia.

But on the other side, some people say they wish the law would pass so they wouldn't have to take care of themselves when they're old. I'm bored, so I'll just go and get an injection. That's not how it works. Even in countries where it's legal, they won't do it. Or if a father has an illness that is still treatable, they won't allow it either. It’s only available for those truly nearing death, as certified by medical professionals. In cases where it is allowed, in countries where this law has been passed, as I explained earlier, and they only provide euthanasia to the relieve suffering of patients who are waiting for death.

And there are some countries that have already passed the law on euthanasia, and they have changed their minds and gone back to using the old law. The term 'euthanasia' itself is not beautiful. There can be many legal loopholes.

For example, a patient is very sick and old, but they don't want to die, but their relatives don't want to take care of them. They go and arrange for euthanasia. But if there aren't laws for it, there will be legal loopholes to allow murder. Some people may not be able to move or walk, but they still want to live. They don't want to die. The most important thing about euthanasia that doctors must discuss, which we will demonstrate in this case, is the patient's wishes. You must do it with awareness and a genuine desire to do it yourself, not pressured by relatives.

It's not like, "Mom, I can't take care of you. You're such a burden. Let's take you to get an injection." We understand that this is a sensitive issue. We don't want to cause arguments, but we want you to understand what we're trying to convey. Think seriously. Because if the day comes when the law needs to be changed and you don't understand it, when you ask yourself if you really want the law to be changed, we won't be able to answer because we don't really understand it.

Euthanasia in Thailand — Is It Suitable?

“Euthanasia is a thought-provoking topic. We interviewed doctors, and they said that euthanasia isn't suitable for wealthy people. If you ask a doctor in an expensive hospital, he will say that euthanasia is not suitable for Thailand because [the hospitals] already have everything that patients need to get through their final days well. But the condition is that you need money.

However, for poor people, just getting painkillers once a month is difficult. They have to endure the suffering. The doctor who wrote this article is the one who visits patients' homes. In small hospitals, when they encounter such cases, they think, 'Maybe there really needs to be something. Isn't euthanasia a necessity?'. Poor people with terminal cancer, in excruciating pain, but there is no one to take care of him, bring him medicine, or take them to see a doctor. Do they have to lie down and suffer like that? How are they supposed to live?' The accessibility to and public health welfare of our people are not equal. This is what we really wanted to convey.

I understand that BL fans might be disappointed, but if we focus on NC scenes to make people swoon, the core of the story will change. The weight of the story will go more towards that than the presentation of euthanasia.

The series will also feature other things to consider, one of them being a ‘living will,’ which has been legally recognized for decades. You can write a letter of intent stating that you are seriously ill, unresponsive, a vegetable, and do not need to be resuscitated. It is similar to a will, a 'patient's will', however, if you become unconscious and don't have full mental capacity, you won't be able to do this. And the doctor cannot not save our life because it is unethical. If doctors do not help, it will become a criminal offense, which is the same as letting us die.

This is legal and there's laws for it, but no one knows about it. It can be done without a lawyer, just with witnesses. We make one copy for ourselves and another for the hospital where we receive treatment. If we have the symptoms listed in the document, the doctor can let us go without providing treatment. We have to do it ourselves, relatives can't do it for us. This is not a legal loophole, there is a law for it, it's just not promoted. This is legal tool that can be used instead of euthanasia because it comes from the patient themselves. Everyone can become terminally ill. Cancer can happen to anyone. And when you're in those situations, how would you deal with it if euthanasia is not legal? You have to think ahead about what you will do."

tagging @recentadultburnout who can help vet for me if there are any inaccuracies from these machine translations

[justmeinadaze]

Not Alone Part 3 (Eddie X You)

A/N: This Y/N is currently me and while out getting snacks I realized I needed to write this into existence. Maybe one day I'll meet a partner like this... If you're spending the holiday by yourself, know you aren't alone <3

Warnings: being alone for the holidays, mentions of grief, Eddie comforting

Word Count: 1056

Eddie Masterlist

Eddie heard it in your voice and saw it in your face when he talked about Christmas with his uncle.

“Yeah, he usually gets the day off so Wayne makes some burgers and we watch A Christmas Story.”

“Aw that sounds like fun!”, you grin as you take in how his face lights up. 

You loved seeing how animated he got when he talked about certain things but when it came to family sometimes his face would drop. He missed his mom and told you that his dad used to ruin the holidays most of the time by being drunk or absent all together. From what he told you, it sounded like Wayne was making up for lost time and new memories that couldn’t be made since his sister-in-law passed. 

“What do you guys do?”

“Oh, uh, my dad used to make a big show of Christmas and make a huge meal. Pull out all the stops.”, you giggle. “He loved giving us presents and seeing us smile.”

“Sounds about right from what you told me.”, he chuckles. “What about now? Do you guys carry on the traditions?”

“Um, yeah absolutely. My mom makes a turkey and we get to together to just talk and watch Christmas movies like you and your uncle.”

Your smile fell ever so slight as your eyes glazed over causing him to reach for your hand. 

“Well, after, if you want to come over and share a burger you absolutely can. You know you’re always welcome over here, sweetheart.”

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re never intruding, babe.”

After knocking on your apartment door, he waited, hoping for your sake he read the signs wrong but as the door slowly opened his heart broke. 

“Eddie? H-Hey, baby, what are you doing here?”

Your voice was gravelly telling him immediately you had been crying. 

“Come on.”, he murmured as his hand gestured absently out the door. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

“Sweetie, I can’t. I don’t want to bother you—” Before you could finish your sentence, he collected you in his arms and began heading towards his van. “Eddie, wait! I’m in my pajamas! I haven’t even done my hair.”

“You still look beautiful to me.”

***

“I can’t put my arms down!”, the little boy in the movie whines eliciting a loud cackle from Wayne as he sips from the beer can in his hand. 

“You know, Y/N, my mother, Eddie’s grandma, used to dress up me and Allen in all those layers like one gust of wind would freakin’ blow us away.”

“Pfft, thankfully my mom didn’t hate me that much.”, Eddie teased as his uncle tossed him a playful glare. 

You laugh as you curl up closer to the metalhead’s side and take a bite of the fry on your plate. 

“Ah commercial. I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette real quick.”, Wayne announced before rising to his feet and disappearing out the door. 

“How are you doing down there? You alright? Need a refill?”, Eddie asks as he cranes his neck to meet your gaze and his fingers brush your hair away from your face. 

“No, I’m alright.”, you smile as you tilt up to kiss his lips. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem. You’re always welcome here, baby. You’re never a bother. I’m going to get that tattooed on you somewhere so you can look at it and always remember.”, he jokes as he pokes your side. 

After you pull back to fully sit up, he does the same knowing you’re about to tell him something you struggle to say. You always pulled away slightly when you felt like you were about to tell him something heavy. He thought maybe it was your physical way of protecting yourself. As if you were expecting him to explode by your news so you wanted to be able to run and be safe. 

Eddie did everything he could to make you feel physically, emotionally, and mentally safe but he understood that sometimes your mind won the internal battle over anything else. 

“I haven’t spent Christmas with my family in years. When my dad died… my family struggled to cope especially my mom. She’s strong willed you know? ‘I don’t need therapy. I’m fine. I can handle it.’ But…every holiday…it’s like she forgets about me. We don’t do anything.  I don’t even get a text or a phone call… Then of course my siblings have their own families with their own traditions and since my mom is in her own head she doesn’t scold them for not even calling either. 

For years, I called or invited myself over…forced the family to spend time together…but these past couple of years…I can’t do it. I want them to think of me first for once. God, that’s so selfish.”, you sigh as you hide behind your hands. 

“No, baby, no it’s not. Hey. Look at me.”, Eddie coos as he lightly pulls at your wrists and reaches out with his fingers to dry some of your tears that had fallen. “It’s not selfish. Like you said, you tried for so many years and it went unnoticed AND unreciprocated. You deserve to have someone put in the same effort you do and then some. Your dad always did, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here, sweetheart.” After moving your plates and drinks to the side, he collects you in his arms and holds you tightly to him, rocking you gently back and forth as he pets your head allowing you to cry in his embrace. “Everything’s ok, Y/N. You’re safe with me, babe.”

After a while, your tears stop as you both focus on the tv in front of you and he smiles when you laugh at the boy on the screen. 

“You know I did that once.”

“Eddie, no!”, you tease as you lightly smack his chest.

“Oh, of course. Put my tongue on the pole and it got stuck. No one had to dare me or nothing. I just did it.”

“Oh my god.”

The door slams shut as Wayne wipes his boots on the mat and grins when he sees you in his nephew’s arms before taking a seat back in his chair. 

 “Hey, Ed. Remember your junior year of high school when you stuck your tongue to the pole?”

[rei-ismyname]

Merry X-Men Holiday Special Highlights

Happy holidays, everyone! It's been about a year since I started posting about the X-Men on Tumblr and if it wasn't for all the lovely folks who engage and discuss it wouldn't be so enriching. I'm super anti-capitalist and anti cultural Christianity so it's less 'Happy Christmas' and more 'I wish y'all the best.' ❤️💚

I wonder if Lockheed speaks Hebrew

Here's Kitty Pryde celebrating Chanukah in Genosha and remembering her father. Leading the special with an explicitly Jewish character observing a Jewish holiday is great, but the notion of saving the world by becoming president of the USA is a dubious one. The USA is an imperialist entity built on deep seated systemic inequality and worse. Even the most progressive of presidents is beholden to that. It doesn't mean we shouldn't try, but Kitty is kidding herself about 'saving the world the right way.'

Nature Girl hates Christmas, and it's hard to argue with her reasons. The parts about warmth are weird to me because I live in Australia where Christmas is always hot AF. One of the few days I hope for rain, tbh.

I'm not sure if Bobby quite understood what 'eschewing capitalism' means but this looks pretty fun. That tie dye X-Men tee slaps and I want one. I wonder what Kubark thinks of this human holiday.

This story with Magneto coming around on the pointlessness of lighting menorahs does the rounds every now and then, though not as much as I'd expect. The kids are particularly plucky and eloquent, and the one who emphatically tells Magneto he's wrong is a legend. I'm fond of any story where Magneto rethinks his beliefs, and this is a nice one.

It took me a while to notice that this is written by Charlamagne tha God, possibly because it's kinda funny to imagine Ororo knowing who that is. Idk why, I've just never seen any stories indicating that she's into Hip Hop culture. I like that it's a rejection of turning the other cheek where bigoted assholes are concerned. You can't reach some people, and there's no obligation to exhaust yourself trying. Fuck em. The Michelle Obama mention is a bit on the nose.

Old man Logan is cutting firewood and being gruff, as he does. Kurt gives him a picture of himself, which is a baller move. I was under the impression that this Logan was an alternate reality Logan, and doesn't have a particularly close relationship with these X-Men. Nothing about Logans makes sense, sometimes you just have to accept it as cute and cool.

Glob does stuff! Is that meant to be mistletoe? We don't have it down here. He nails up some plant matter and then chills by himself. Little bit depressing, but I can't talk.

Bobby Drake has a party! Interestingly neither Jewish nor Christian, but a pagan holiday that's become a bit more popular (like Christmas and Easter.) Hope is watching Cable do... something, in a recorded message from when she was the universe's most unpopular baby.

Some kids are sharing the rumour that Magneto merked Santa, which is hilarious. It's obviously untrue, not least because Santa is Mags' mutant brother. Kurt lectures them.

Jubilee beats up Arcade (yay!) and quotes Home Alone, rescuing Shogo (who's spending this Christmas as a dragon in Otherworld.) I really don't like Arcade, though he has done two excellent things. Torturing Sinister and creating the Proletarian - worker's hero of the Soviet Union.

Nightcrawler and Storm show up and Christmas is really just a backdrop for a light anti-capitalist tale. Cool! I'd expect Cyclops to be in this book, but no. It's Chuck-less as well.

[lightdancingwords]

Come Find Me - Part Eight

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 3,369

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, mentions domestic violence/intimate partner violence, mentions police work, a little bit of angst, communication problems, profanity, discussion of teen sex (18+ character)

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Please see this post regarding future story posts.

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

Chapter Eight: A Bump In The Road

It had been almost a week since you and Beau went on your official ‘first’ date. Life complications kept interfering and being a sheriff meant Beau was busy, especially when he was coordinating calls about cars sliding off the road and citizens needing help.

You absolutely understood and had no problems waiting… because now you knew something was happening with him. Every time you flashed back to that kiss, to that restaurant, you felt your heart swell with love and adoration.

Doris caught you that Monday morning with the goofiest smile on the planet and keyed right in. “Well, it’s about damned time!”

You blinked at her, startled. “About time..?”

“Oh don’t get me started with your innocent look,” she said with a fond scoff. “Beau’s been walking about with the same silly smile.”

You couldn’t help it, you grinned. “Really?”

Doris rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, really. He isn’t on Cloud Nine. I think he’s in Cloud Heaven.”

Your smile warmed and widened. “We kissed,” you confessed. “He took me to Ciao Bella and oh, Doris… it was wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and there was a firmness to her tone that spoke volumes. “You two deserved some happiness.”

You paused, then admitted, “I didn’t think I could trust again, Doris. But every step of the way, Beau proved I could, even when I didn’t ask him to.”

“He’s a rare man,” she said with a nod. “Stubborn, Lord yes, but a good man.”

“I’m scared.”

Doris studied you for a long moment, then said, “It’s okay to be scared. Even when I knew it was going to happen, I was scared of facing this life alone without my Stan. I loved that son of a bitch and I also hated him. When he was gone and I was free, Adam snatching me up terrified me.”

“How… how did you get over it?” You dreaded asking that question. Doris seemed so strong, you envied her strength of character. You hated how you constantly felt weak.

“I did it anyway. That fear only works if it wins in holding you in place. So do it scared.”

You thought back to how you finally confronted Beau. It worked, because it gave him the kick he needed… and where your relationship was now.

“Do it scared,” you mused.

“Exactly.”

You thought about that all day as you fielded phone calls from clients who needed their insurance because they apparently forgot how to drive in snow. Just as you were grabbing paper from the printer, you heard the door chime. “Hi, I’ll be right with you,” you said absently, and then turned around.

With a start, you saw it was Emily! With a smile, you got up and greeted her. “Emily, hey! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hey Y/N,” she said with a shaky smile.

That cued you into realizing something was up. “Is everything okay?”

“Um… can I talk to you? A-and you won’t tell my dad?”

Your brows swooped up. Carefully, you sat back down and regarded this young woman. You recalled Beau telling you Emily had just turned eighteen, so legally, she was an adult. But she was also just a kid….

“I can’t make that promise, Emily,” you said gently.

“It’s nothing bad! I just… I can’t ask my mom because she’s my mom, but I also need to talk to a woman.”

Baffled, you stared at Emily. Alarmingly, you worried if it was because maybe she was pregnant and wanted a ride to an abortion clinic. “I… um…”

“C-can I just… tell you?”

You nodded, praying you wouldn’t be caught in a situation where you’d have to help someone in a difficult situation.

“So… I’ve been with this guy, Tyler, for a few months now. He… I guess he’s my boyfriend—”

“You guess?” you asked in disbelief.

“We never really made it official,” Emily said defensively. “He said he wasn’t ready and I didn’t want to be one of those girls who pressured the guy, you know?”

Oh God. You had an inkling where the conversation was going, and prayed you were wrong. “Yeah, I’ve… been there. Go on, Emily.”

“Well, Tyler wants to take me on this really romantic date and… I think he wants us to do it.” The way she fidgeted made you think of Beau, and you wondered if he was ever an awkward teenager.

“‘It’?”

She blushed, and looked away skittishly. “You know… it.” She dropped her voice to a loud whisper despite no one else was in the office with you. “Sex.”

You found yourself wishing a giant sink hole would form and swallow you up. You actually waited several seconds, before deciding you weren’t so lucky.

“Emily… are you a virgin?”

Her face turned redder and she ducked her head. “Oh God,” she said, rubbing her face. “I… y-yeah. I really want it to be great and I really like Tyler. I just… don’t know what to do!”

“Emily, this is really something you should talk to your parents about—”

“No, I can’t!” She let out a breath. “Dad would turn all red and stutter and mom… when she gave me the ‘talk’, she kept harping on how love is really special and…”

“You felt patronized and shamed at even thinking about sex without love,” you hazarded. For some reason, Carla gave you that impression. Emily confirmed it a moment later.

“Yes! And I just… oh God, this is so embarrassing!”

She had no idea. You took a breath and decided to do your best. “Emily,… I was in college before I slept with a guy. We were both rather drunk and it was so embarrassing, I ended up being single for a year after that.”

Her eyes widened at your bluntness. She leaned forward, listening.

“Sex… can be really great. Exciting, even, especially if it’s with someone you have great chemistry with… but you shouldn’t rush into it.” You tried to articulate your thoughts. “You shouldn’t have sex just to get it over with or think it’ll make the guy love you. You should have sex when you feel ready for it. Whether it’s a one night stand or the beginning of a relationship, you need to be the one who decides to take that step for the right reason.”

Emily pondered that, biting her lower lip just like the way Beau did when he was lost in thought. “Does it ever get easier?”

“Relationships?”

“Yeah. Like… it’ll get easier… right?”

“I wish,” you said with a rueful smile.

“Ugh. Great.” She fixed a curious look on you. “Is it getting easier with my dad?”

“It is, actually,” you admitted. It was so weird having this conversation with Emily. She was your—God, did you dare call Beau your boyfriend?—she was Beau’s daughter.

“Can I ask how did it change?”

You thought of a random text message that you boldly sent, of the way you confronted him after he began avoiding you. Of how he gave you the space you so desperately needed, that when it finally happened, it was perfect.

“I found my voice and I used it,” you said. “I took that bold step, put my heart on the line, and I got so lucky.”

“Wasn’t it scary doing that?”

“God, yes,” you admitted with a breathless chuckle. “Your father could’ve ignored me, turned me away, but he didn’t, because we were actually wanting the same thing. A relationship works when the two in that situation feel the same way.”

In that moment, you caught a glimpse of the person she might turn into. Wise, intelligent, with enough sense of humor to balance her out. “Thanks, Y/N… I really needed this.”

“You’re welcome,” you said kindly. “I hope your decision is, whatever it turns out to be, makes you happy.”

“Thanks.”

—

“God, darlin’,” Beau grumbled over the phone as you drove home Friday night. “It was supposed to be our third date and instead I have to cancel, again. I’m about to go mad.”

You chuckled. Beau sounded so frustrated, because even as he grumbled, he’ll do his job. He wouldn’t leave people without help. Oh, he could have assigned his deputies to it, and he was, but he was one of the rare specimens of leadership where he actively participated as well as ordered. He refused to sit in his warm trailer while people were out in the cold.

Montana had the rare bout of snow every night and chilly days that left slick patches of ice everywhere. Friday night was the first night in a week that didn’t have snow. However, there were issues with black ice and a particularly bad accident on a bridge led to numerous calls to redirect, assist, or otherwise manage.

“Well, TGIF? You can always stop by afterwards and we can at least see each other,” you suggested as you carefully turned a corner.

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, and a trace of flirtatious energy came through. “I just might use that invitation to neck you all night.”

The mental image of your neck covered in hickeys had a flash of heat through your core. “That actually sounds like fun. I’ll pencil you in up until midnight.”

He groaned through the phone. “Christ, darlin’. Just midnight? I was thinkin’ at least ‘til dawn.”

“Someone’s ambitious,” you replied, your voice rich with humor.

“Someone has a gorgeous neck that I wanna—Jesus Christ, Pop!” You heard him cuss a blue streak, the phone held away. “Just five minutes, darlin’,” he sighed when he returned to the phone. “Just five goddamned minutes with my girlfriend. That’s all I ask. The universe is conspirin’ against me.”

Your breath hitched at being called his girlfriend, and smiled shyly. “No matter how late it is tonight,” you decided then and there, “I want you to come knock my door.”

“Yeah?” He sounded so hopeful, it warmed your heart.

“Yeah. Knock on my door, Beau.”

“And what will I get when I do?”

“The best kiss this side of the Mississippi,” you offered, pulling into your driveway.

“Now that, darlin’, will make putting up with this insanity worth it,” he declared. “Best prepare those lips of yours. I’m claimin’ them tonight.”

You grinned. “I look forward to it.”

“I gotta go, darlin’, but…” He paused and you wondered at the hesitation. “I’ll see ya tonight.”

—

It was supposed to be a quiet night. Some tea, maybe a book to read. A chance to spend a minute with Beau. Everything positively domestic, peaceful, something you needed after the weeks of heightened anxiety and the mess with Mark. Instead, you got a call.

From Emily.

Seeing her name pop up on the Caller ID surprised you. For a moment, you couldn’t recall why she’d be bothering you late on a Friday evening. Then you remembered it, her visit to your office.

“Hello,” you answered.

The sudden crash of sobbing and a partially hysterical Emily was not what you expected.

“Emily?” You sat up straighter in your easy chair. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“C-can you come get me?” she asked, hiccuping as she swallowed air to calm herself down.

Dread flooded your being. What if she’d been—You couldn’t even finish that thought out of dread. “Of course I can,” you said instantly. “Where are you?”

She rattled off an address. “I… I got into a fight with Tyler,” she said sobbing. “I’m at the gas station. He refused to take me home.”

Anger boiled in your belly. Tyler was definitely rapidly going down the list of men you disliked. “I’ll be right there,” you said firmly, getting out of your easy chair. “Just hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, sniffling in the background.

You hung up and quickly grabbed your winter boots and coat. You barely paused to snatch up your car keys and headed out the door, the sound of her crying echoing in your mind. You should call Beau, you knew that, but he was busy and Emily… she needed a friend more than a parent.

It took you longer than you liked to get to the gas station due to the black ice. Your car barely crawled across the ice and you didn’t want to be added to the list of people needing help. When you got there, you saw her outside, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. At first glance she looked okay, but you had to make sure.

“Emily,” you said, getting out of the car.

She let out a sob and nearly bowled you over in a desperate hug. “I’m so sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call and if I told my dad he’d kill Tyler and—”

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, cutting her off. You wrapped your arms around her and rubbed her back. “Just tell me: are you okay? He didn’t… he didn’t force himself or anything?”

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. You felt the knot of fear in you loosen. Thank God. It would not have been a conversation you’d want with Beau. “He just…. C-can we talk about it in your car?”

“Of course. Come on, honey,” you said gently, leading her to the car. Once she was in the passenger seat, you went to the driver’s side and sat down. You turned on the car for the heat, and faced her. “What happened?”

Emily sniffled, wiped her eyes. “We… we were at this party. He took me to one of the rooms, locked the door, and was all ‘I’m so glad you decided to do this, baby’,” she said in an approximate male voice, then screwed her face in disgust. “I actually felt like he… like…” She made a sound of frustration.

“Like you were a prize to claim?” you suggested, watching her.

“Yeah! It was like that! I felt so gross. I told him I changed my mind and he… he was mad, asking if I didn’t love him, and—and I just told him I wanted to go home,” she said, the distress leaving and anger took its place. “He said that because I wasn’t going to be a loving girlfriend that I should just leave. So I said fine! I’ll leave!”

You smiled, feeling a spark of pride for her. “That was very brave of you.”

“I just… y-you said that it should feel right. And it didn’t.” Emily looked at you beseechingly, seeking reassurance.

“Hey… if you weren’t ready, you weren’t ready. I’m not the one who gets to decide that, Emily, you are. Not Tyler, you.” You placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “That Tyler didn’t respect that is unfortunate. But you did the right thing by leaving and calling someone.”

She swallowed hard and rubbed her face. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N.”

“Tell you what… why don’t I take you back home with me, get you some tea, and then I can take you home?”

“Yeah…. Yeah, please?”

You nodded, started the car, and drove her back to your home. She rode the way quietly, calming down. At one point she looked at her phone, rolled her eyes, and turned it off. She said nothing, and you decided not to press the point.

However, when you got home, you saw Beau’s truck. He was outside your door and turned when he heard you pull into your driveway. “Darlin’, hey, there you—Emily?”

Beau froze at seeing his daughter come out of your car. He glanced at you, then at her, more than a little confused and uncertain. “Em, everythin’ all right?”

“Hey dad. Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. She was quite the sight, red-rimmed eyes and puffy.

He frowned and walked over to her. He put one hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I’m here for you, honey,” he murmured.

Your heart ached at seeing the worry on Beau’s face. Maybe you should’ve made her call Beau, but you wanted her settled and feeling safe first. This kind of conversation would be a difficult one at any age, for any parent or child.

Beau gently pulled Emily away, and you heard them speaking in low, indistinct voices. You stood there, uncertain, and decided to just wait. Yes, it was cold, but you’d be okay. Right now, Beau having this conversation with Emily was more important. He was important to you, and by extension, so was Emily.

“He what?!”

You looked up, saw the fury on Beau’s face. Emily was desperately trying to calm him down.

“That son of a bitch—”

“Dad, stop!” Emily grabbed a hold of Beau’s arm.

“Beau,” you said his name gently. “Listen to your daughter.”

He closed his eyes, and mustered up his composure, his calm. He took a few breaths, let them out slow, misting in the cold air. “You’re right, darlin’.” He turned back to Emily, gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Em. Just… God, I’m sorry ya went through that.”

Beau pulled his daughter into another hug, planted his lips in her hair. “I just want to protect ya, honey. I know there are some bad people out there.”

“I know, dad,” she said, clinging to him for a long moment. It broke your heart at how tender the sight was before you. “But… nothing bad happened. I left, I called Y/N….”

“Em, why didn’t you call me? Or your mom?” Beau asked, his puzzlement clear.

“I just…” Emily looked down and mumbled, “I was afraid you would get mad.”

“God, no, Emily, never,” Beau insisted, pulled her into another hug. “Mad at him, God yes. But never you. I promise, never you.”

Emily burrowed into her father’s arms, clung to him. You watched, absurdly feeling like an outsider in a family moment. Maybe Beau picked up on that, because he glanced over at you, and fixed an intense look of adoration on you.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said quietly. “Thank you for being there for my Em.”

You smiled slowly, warmth blooming in your heart. “You’re welcome, Beau.”

He took Emily into his truck, planning to take her back to Carla’s home before he headed home. Once she was settled in the passenger seat, he came right over to you. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss that took you by surprise. Then you let out a soft sigh and melted, returning the kiss with fervor. He lingered, savoring the moment, cherishing you. When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

“So much for neckin’,” he whispered to you with a smile.

You let out a small laugh, your heart racing. “That’s okay. Maybe tomorrow.”

He met your gaze, pulled back enough to brush his hand across your cheek. Something flickered in his eyes and your breath hitched, wondering what it could have been. “Tomorrow, darlin’. Maybe lunch?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you again, a quick peck this time. “Good night, darlin’.”

You watched them pull out from the curb. Emily waved at you from the passenger window, and you waved back with a smile. It made your heart ache to watch Beau leave. How did he become so wrapped up in your life that just him leaving made you miss him that much?

He called you his girlfriend. The thought still made your heart flip and swell. He was just so… you couldn’t even find the words. You smiled to yourself; the first throes of a relationship were always jittery, exciting, and full of energy that made you bounce everywhere. You definitely couldn’t get enough of him. It was different now than it was when you just went over to sleep outside his trailer.

You took a deep breath and went back inside your warm home, your heart full, even as you missed him. Just as the door shut and locked behind you, your cellphone pinged with a text message. Curious, you looked and your smile widened.

It was from Beau.

It read: I miss you already.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2, @foxyjwls007

[dead-dolphins]

Depressive Christmas thoughts below that I will delete later.

Honestly, this Christmas was terrible.

People often say that Christmas loses its magic as we grow older, that adulthood takes away the joy. But for me, it’s never been like that. Christmas has always been special because it meant being surrounded by family, the familiar warmth and love we shared. But this year, Christmas just felt empty, and that’s because my grandpa’s no longer here.

It’s strange, because I’ve always known, deep down, that the elderly people we love won’t be with us forever. It’s a part of life, something we should accept. But for some reason, I never really let it sink in. In my mind, I convinced myself that my grandpa would always be around. And now, these months without him have felt like waking up from a dream—a dream where everything stayed the same, where he was still here, where he never really left us.

The silence where his voice used to fill the room is suffocating. I never realized how much of my life was anchored in the little things he did—how he always made everything feel like it would be okay. I took that for granted, assuming he’d always be there. But now, that familiar warmth is gone, leaving a cold emptiness behind.

These days, I find myself looking at old photos, remembering the sound of his footsteps, his voice, the way he’d sit in his favourite chair—reading, telling stories, or simply watching the world go by. It’s hard not to feel lost without him, like a piece of me is missing, a part of my life that will never be the same.

I can’t help but wonder if this is what growing up feels like—facing the truths we try so hard to avoid. The reality that people leave, that time moves forward whether we’re ready for it or not. I thought I understood that, but now, it feels like a lesson I’m only starting to learn. It’s strange how something so universal, so inevitable, can still hit so hard when it touches your life in such a harsh way.

[bekolxeram]

Unfortunately, I don't have the means to donate this time, (Stupid expensive health issues🙄) but I'd still like to express my gratitude to Bucktommy and this fandom for the occasion.

Not that my life has ever been sunshine and rainbows, but 2024 has been particularly difficult for me. I started the year the sickest I've been for years, then one of my uncles passed away in February. He was 88. He had been slowly succumbing to dementia for quite some time, so almost everyone agreed a cardiac arrest was a blessing in disguise.

I wasn't close with him, but my mother was, and naturally, I had to spend pretty much the entire March accompanying her to all sorts of traditional ceremonies for the dead. All my uncle's children, my cousins, came back from abroad as well. They enjoyed hanging out with me back when I was a toddler, but then I slowly grew up into this weird, moody kid of few words, and we kind of drifted apart from there.

Family reunions were never awkward despite my gloomy existence though, they had their fun aunt who never ran out of things to talk about. To them, my mother's the life of the party and an exemplary woman, who went through tragedies in life but still manages to come out stronger on the other side, who unfortunately had to re-enter the workforce later in life to support her physically ill husband and her mentally ill teenage daughter.

What they don't know, is that while she's a fun aunt, she's not a fun mother. She was dealing with the stress and frustration so well because she always had an outlet at home. Someone she had total ownership over, officialized by a piece of birth certificate. Someone she could do whatever she'd like to, emotionally and physically, because in my culture, it's simply an alternative, maybe outdated method of parenting, not a crime.

I've had time to process my messy relationship with my mother, I've come to (mostly) accept it for what it is. Watching my cousins all rushing over to my mother with open arms to console her, watching my cousins' children playing around, having fun with her, while my existence was barely acknowledged, was actually more triggering than I expected. It acted as a sobering reminding that not only do I have merely a handful of friends since I left church, I in fact don't have any family left either. They're all my mother's family, not mine.

It was probably the most lonely and isolating experience in my life. It's like I was trapped inside of my head, my head that was gradually turning into a bottomless pit of nothingness.

Then Tommy Kinard drove through cross town traffic just to clear the air in person. He expressed how much he wanted to be a part of a family. Then he took his shot and got the boy in the end.

I just felt... understood. Watching Bucktommy's story play out on screen gave me some rare moments of joy and much needed hope. I felt like if Tommy could find happiness later in life, maybe it wasn't too late for me either.

If you've had experience with depression, you'd know how sometimes getting out of bed, brushing your teeth feels like an uphill battle already. Motivation is precious and hard to come by. I was so motivated creatively by Bucktommy and people in the fandom who resonated with the story just like me, that I wrote series of posts analyzing every scene in S7, I learned how to make gifs to illustrate the humor I found in all of us, I figured out how to edit video especially for my vision of a Brad-nado, I even wrote and posted my first fanfic ever.

And I just love how we refuse to give up hope, even after the breakup. We cried, we whined, then we doubled our effort writing fix-it fics, continuing their story on our own terms. Now, we even manage to raise thousands of dollars for charities in 24 hours in the name of love.

Sorry for the wall of text all about myself, I hope I don't come across as a self-absorbed jerk. I always thought I would never make it to 30, it started feeling like a real possibility in March. What happened instead was that my 30th birthday came and go because I was too busy screaming about Buck batting his eyelashes at Tommy when he was receiving a medal.

I'm sitting here, typing this out, looking back at my 2024 at the end of the year, only because Bucktommy happened and I had the pleasure to cross path with you all. I know, it's stupid, it's just a TV show, but I can't really imagine how my life would turn out if I never had Bucktommy, where I would be right, or even if I would still be at all.

So, thank you, for making life worth living for me again.