#but for that one what i want to do is take even longer to write it

[yanmuffins]

waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[rhube]

Listen, having worked in university marketing, I am here to tell you that not all ads are evil or trying to deceive you. People work really hard at conveying precisely the information you need that will tell you if a product is for you.

There are people in advertising and marketing who are well aware of the laws about not deceiving customers and who think constantly about what they can provide evidence to claim, not making stuff up.

And yeah, they're trying to persuade you, but that doesn't automatically mean 'buy this piece of shit we're telling you is solid gold'. It means, 'we really believe in this, we have evidence that it's good and could be a great thing for you, but we need to find a way to tell you that and make you trust us' which takes a lot of thought.

And as a consumer there's a lot of stuff I just wouldn't know about if not for advertising. We need advertising to tell people there are solutions to problems, quality products, and fun things to get excited about.

Advertising isn't inherently BAD. And it's one of the few industries in which creative people can make a liveable wage with their art or writing.

The problem we have at the moment is that a lot of people with no training in making good ads, people who don't care about laws, or are based somewhere with less regulation, who are churning out annoying, misleading, not-accesdible garbage.

And these people aren't researching their audience and tailoring the content to people for whom its relevant. Instead a whole tech industry has grown up where people who know fuck all about marketing have companies that scrape and aggregate your data, who sell it to other tech companies that sell advertising space, which is bought up by yet another automated service that has been trained to get 'the best deal' for the company that wants to sell a product.

That's not how it works when you wanna make a useful ad. You should be doing customer research with your actual customers. Analysing the data you get to tailor both the advert and the advertising space.

But these automated systems talking to other automated systems don't do that.

Like, first off, the data is SHIT. It may not even differentiate content you noped out of from stuff you looked at for half an hour. And if it does, it treats all the content on the page equally. All the stuff you're ignoring is tagged as 'on sites this user spends a lot of time on'. Whereas human customer research, for which customers consent and usually receive some kind of reward, involves tracking eye movements, mouse movements, clicks, and an interview afterwards to ask what they were thinking about and why they stayed on one page over another. This is so much more helpful! It helps make content more useful to users and prevents wasted marketing effort.

But almost no one does it these days because, well, it's expensive. You gotta compensate the consumers you do your research with, design sensible things for them to test, have someone monitor and analyse what they do, and interview them after. That's very expensive compared to a bunch of lightning fast calculations that can all be automated. So companies don't pay to do it properly, and they don't actually tailor their ads to you, and they're not trying to be informative.

At best (and I can't stress enough how rare this is) ads that are based on this data and algorithms and/or machine learning deliver what will get you to look at the ad for longer or click the ad to go to a website. But if that means bright flashing colours and the world's tiniest 'x' so you can't actually close the ad without clicking through, these automated systems are designed to get you to do THAT, not buy the product.

Honestly, I know it sounds like I'm asking for sympathy for the devil, but I have seen this from the tech side, the marketing side, the researcher side, and the user doing the test. I have taken a course on content strategy and heard what academics in this field have to say, and it's honestly not evil. They're trying to adapt to an environment where you're constantly barraged with demands on your attention, so it is in the advertiser's best interest to be clear and tailored and not waste your time.

But unfortunately an awful lot of people have been sold on the idea that these automated systems ARE targeting people who would be interested with stuff that's relevant to them, and they're just NOT.

You can see it if you compare an entertaining TV ad by an established brand who can pay for the research to the vast majority of internet ads. They can be funny, entertaining, informative, even insightful. They can also be stereotyped and annoying of course, but on the whole they're much less of a headache than the nonsense funnel we get exposed to constantly online and in mobile games.

Tbh, advertisers, producers, and consumers have all been screwed over by VC-owned companies that are being squeezed from on high for every last drop of short term capital. And that means automating things because it's cheaper and quicker than human analysis, even if it means the whole thing becomes annoying, unhelpful garbage.

But scale it back and think about your artist friend. Your creator with a small etsy business. Your self-published author. Your inventor with a neat accessibility tool. They aren't producing groceries, but if they don't advertise, literally no one will know their products exist.

Advertising DOES have a good and important role. Under-regulated advertising in a toxic system not aimed at serving producers OR customers is hamstrung and cannot perform that role.

The only acceptable ads should be shit like "groceries on sale" and "free event at the local library"

[ruyakasunshine]

F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is

note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!

This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.

20. Fernando

Grandpa. Need I to say more?

19. Checo

In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.

18. K-mag

I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.

17. Nico Hulk

Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.

16. Valterri

I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.

15. Lance

I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.

14. Carlos

I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.

13. Max

He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.

12. Yuki

I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.

11. Zhou

Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.

10. Franco

Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.

9. Liam

I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.

8. Esteban

He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.

7. Lewis

Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive for— that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.

There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?

6. George

He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.

If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.

5. Pierre

He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.

4. Alex

Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.

3. Charles

The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.

2. Lando

Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.

1. Oscar

Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.

He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)

For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean��” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 8

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

⚠️Caution before reading⚠️

There's some deep conversations in this chapter so I advise to read with caution. A warning is there's heavy talk of Woojin, please remember the names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters are based after. The actions, views, personalities and characteristics of these characters do not in any way shape or form reflect their real selves. This story is all for fun so please keep it that way. No hate. It took me a good two days to write this chapter with many breaks in between. I wasn't sure how I should write Y/n's backstory and had decided on trying to make it more relatable. For anyone who's used to reading my stories either on here or other platforms know I write a lot of things based on my own personal experiences so I can write better endings especially with comfort characters. This series is no different. Please know that I did exaggerate parts of it and everything that happened was years ago and I have gotten away from it. Thank you now please enjoy.

Chapter 8

Y/n’s dry heat lasted four days. Four days of them all taking turns cuddling with her in the nest keeping her fed and hydrated. Every morning and night Minho would kick everyone out of the den and apply the creams to her now mostly healed wounds and make sure she takes her medicine before helping her change into new clothes having been sweating through the previous ones each time. 

The worst day had to have been the second when she became super emotionless and just seemed to be a shell of a person. Her scent even became almost nonexistent. But they stayed with her especially when it caused her to sub-drop that night and they barely got any sleep trying to make sure she didn’t drop too deeply. 

They all slept in the nest with her every night, well except for Hyunjin. He didn’t come home the first night and snuck in the second night when they were all dealing with Y/n’s sub-drop. It was the third morning when her scent went back to normal from it that his beta started telling him she’s his fated mate causing his stomach to drop and his heart to ache. 

He would go downstairs occasionally, pretending to grab a drink or food and would subtly check in on her. That night he silently cried himself to sleep on the couch wanting to be close to her but knew he had fucked up. The fourth night after he cried himself to sleep again Changbin grabbed him from the couch and carried him to join everyone else in the nest. 

Hyunjin woke up the fifth morning in the nest with Jeongin hovering over him curiously. “Hi Innie.” 

“You better apologize to her.” The alpha tries to act dominant but it doesn’t last long as he pounces on him. “I’ve missed you, I hate when you act like that.” 

“I’ll apologize, I promise.” Hyunjin pulls the pup closer to him, happy to be with his mates again. 

“Mins going to kick us out soon to do what he needs to.” Jeongin whispers nuzzling into the betas neck.

And the youngest was right, as soon after Minho kicked them all out and moved to the omega to wake her up. “Come on kitten.”

“Let me sleep, Min.” She rolls over.

“Look at me, omega.” He places a hand in her hair and rubs gently as she whines and looks up at him.

The alpha sighs in relief when he sees her eyes are no longer foggy as they have been.

“You okay baby?”

“My body aches a bit.” She yawns and stretches. “And I need a shower.”

He smiles down at her, happy the dry heat is over. “How about a bubble bath instead? I don’t think any of us are ready for you to be alone quite yet.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve established already that you need to take me on a date first before you can get my clothes off.” She smirks causing him to give an evil grin.

“Kitten, I’ve been taking your clothes off for the last four days.”

“Yah!” She blushes in embarrassment and quickly covers her face with one of the nearby blankets. “I’m sorry you guys had to do all of that.” She whimpers and Minho grabs the top of the blanket pulling it down to see her face.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, baby.” His hand finds its way back into her hair. “You never have to apologize for things like this. We’ll take care of you, always, no matter what. It’s what packs do, especially for their mates.”

“But I’m not even pack.” She frowns. “And I’m not mated to you guys.”

“You are pack, no one can say otherwise.” He smiles at her. “And we’ll get you mated to us soon enough.”

She blushes again and he can’t help but fawn over how cute she is as he moves his hands down to her sides and starts tickling her.

“No, Min, stop.” She laughs trying to wiggle away from him.

“Only if you promise to stop frowning so much.”

“Okay, okay, I give.” She giggles, he stops and smiles down at her.

“There’s that beautiful smile.” 

Chan pokes his head in the door. “I heard her laughing, I’m guessing it’s over?”

“Yeah.” Y/n sits up properly and the alpha sighs walking into the room moving to the nest. 

“You scared us a little, baby girl.” He pulls her to his chest. “But you’re good now and that’s what matters. How are you feeling?”

“A bit achy and in need of a shower.”

Chan frowns a little at this. “How about a bubble bath?”

“That’s what I told her too.” Minho smiles.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need all of you sitting in the bathroom while I take a bath. I think I’ll be okay alone.” 

“For our sanity, please just let one of us sit in there with you.” Chan tries to negotiate. 

“Fine.” The omega crosses her arms. “But it’s going to be Felix who does.”

“Deal.” Both alphas agree.

“I’ll go start it and let Lix know.” Minho stands up.

“Make sure to use Hyunjins expensive bath salts and bubbles.” Chan smirks. “He deserves it after how he was acting.”

Minho nods with a smirk and leaves the den and Chan turns back to the girl.

“My memories are a bit hazy from the last few days but I remember Seungmin helping me when it first started.” She whispers. “But I don’t remember Hyunjin ever being around. Is he still not happy?”

“Well I’ll tell you this.” The alpha coos at her. “Jinnie cried himself to sleep on the couch the last two nights and Bin had to bring him to the nest last night. He hasn’t said anything about you being her for the last two days and considering that and the fact that he was not so subtly trying to check on you, I think he’s realized how badly he fucked up. Just like Minnie did.” 

Y/n nods but also feels guilty for being the reason the oldest beta was crying himself to sleep.

“Sooo…” she rings her fingers together. “What’s going to happen now?” 

“You’re gonna get washed up and it’s the last day you need to take the antibiotics and do the creams.” He explained. “And then we’re gonna sit down as a pack and discuss everything.” 

She nods and starts to overthink about how the pack meeting will go but doesn’t get to worry for long as Felix rushes in tackling her into the nest.

“Hi sunshine.” He purrs. “I’m so glad to see you’re better now.” 

“Hi Lixie.” She nuzzles into him.

The older omega turns to Chan. “Can I take her now?” 

The alpha can’t help but smile at the two. “Yes baby, you can take her.” 

Felix grabs her hand, dragging her out of the nest and into the large bathroom on the first floor where Minho is just turning the taps off for the bath. The room smells of bath salts and the tub is full of bubbles. 

“I put your clothes on the counter.” Minho motions. “And I’ll be back afterwards to help you apply the creams. Lix keep an eye on her. Shout if you guys need anything.”

 Felix turns away as she strips and gets into the bath and once she tells him he’s good he sits against the wall next to the tub and talks with her as she soaks. He helps her wash her back then her hair and once she was ready to get out he left to get Minho again as she dried off and changed into shorts and a bra for the alpha to help her with the creams one last time and after getting her shirt on they head into the dining room.

“Y/n.” Seungmin comes over to her. “I’m really sorry…”

The omega hugs him tightly, surprising him. “It’s okay.” He relaxes and hugs her back. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course pup.” He buries his nose into her neck.

“I’m also really sorry for how I acted.” Hyunjin stands nearby. “I know it’s going to take some time with everything I said but I’ll work on it as I know now that you are our omega.”

Y/n smiles at him and nods as Seungmin lets her go and everyone moves to sit around the table to discuss everything. 

“So first things first Y/n.” Chan starts, sitting across from her. “You wanted to tell us about what happened before we found you. If you’re not ready yet that’s okay, just let us know when you are.”

“Hyunjin and Seungmin also wanted to explain themselves for how they acted.” Changbin explains, sitting between the two betas. “It will also help give you some understanding about the pack's history.”

Seungmin sighs, leaning back against the chair. “As you saw in the pictures in the tenth bedroom upstairs, we had another pack member, another alpha. That was his room.”

“His name was Woojin.” Hyunjin crosses his arms. “It was back before all of us officially became each other's mates but we had all been discussing it as we understood we were each other's fated mates. We had also all agreed we would be looking for you, our fated omega.”

“But Woojin had other ideas.” Felix growls which was the first time she’s ever heard something like that from him.

“Woojin didn’t see omegas the same way as we do.” Hyunjin watches the omega like beta. “He was very much not accepting of how Felix is when he finally had the confidence to explain his omega tendencies to us.”

Y/n grabs the other omega’s hand for both his and hers comfort. 

“We also saw it very quickly as he had started treating Lix poorly.” Jeongin grits his teeth. “Was treating him as though he wasn’t a person and we couldn’t accept that.”

“I understand that.” She whispers looking down at her and Felix’s intertwined hands. 

All of their hearts break hearing her words. 

“Innie was a late presenter and was a pretty fresh alpha at the time.” Minho pulls the youngest to him. “Because of it he was still learning but he knew to be protective of Lix as though he was his omega and it caused a nasty fight to break out.”

“We knew we couldn’t keep someone like him around.” Chan’s fist is clenched on the table. “We told him he had to leave which caused an even worse fight.”

“There was blood.” Jisung shudders. “And later we found out he had assaulted someone in town.”

“That’s why we keep his room off limits.” Seungmin motions upstairs. “Whatever he left and any photos with him in it the alphas packed up in boxes and left them in there.”

“After that we all agreed for our sake that eight is fate.” Hyunjin whispers. “Why Minnie and I weren’t happy about your presence here. We were afraid of something like that again. Getting attached just for you to do something to hurt us and leave.”

Y/n nods in understanding, unsure what to even say after hearing all of that as she’s still looking down at hers and Felix’s hands. She tried to speak a few times, opening her mouth only for nothing to be said.

Chan gets up and walks over to her chair pulling it out a bit so he can kneel in front of her. “What’s going on in that head of yours, baby girl?”

“A lot.” She mumbles looking at him. “Everything you guys had said as well as me trying to figure out how to tell you my situation.”

“You don’t have to tell us yet if you aren’t ready.” 

“No.” She shakes her head. “You guys need to know.”

“Are you sure?” Felix squeezes her hand. 

She nods and Jisung scoots over to the empty chair on his other side so Chan can take his seat to be next to the omega. 

“Like Innie, I presented late.” She sighs. “My family consists of mostly betas. The only alphas being my grandfather, uncle and youngest cousin. I’m the only omega in several generations in the whole pack. Both my parents, older brother and four younger siblings are all betas. As well as the rest of my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Most other pack members are betas with the occasional alpha.We all originally thought I was one too until I was seventeen and had my first heat. Even before then though I was treated differently.”

“My grandfather is the pack alpha. I was the oldest girl so there were a lot of expectations put on me that I was never able to meet. From a young age, every family or pack event I was the one to do everything. Clean, help cook, set everything up while all the other kids got to play. They would tell me to do several things at the same time and if I didn’t get something done in the time they wanted because I was doing the other stuff first I was reprimanded and punished. If my older brother tried to help me I was reprimanded or punished for putting my load on him instead of just doing it myself.”

“What would they do?” Jisung asks, leaning his head on Chan's arm. 

“At first it was just more chores that would just get stupider, like dust underneath of the dining table or not let me play with the other kids at all or say I didn’t deserve presents on Christmas and my birthday.” She sighs. “As I got older it became I wasn’t allowed to eat or no one was to talk to me for the whole day. Then it was all of that and I was locked in the basement away from everyone for a few hours. Nothing to really physically harm me as my grandfather wanted to look good as the pack alpha.”

Chan looks down at her still slightly bruised wrist with a raised brow. “I’ll get to that.” She whispers. “Everyone in our pack lived in the neighborhood so we were to always put on an act that we were the perfect family.” Y/n couldn’t help but to chuckle as she shook her head. “But we were far from that. My older brother never wanted to come around so my family would use the excuse of how hardworking he is, being busy with school and work. My parents separated and my dad left the pack and mated with an alpha female ten years younger than him and had my four younger siblings. My mom was a verbally, emotionally and mentally abusive alcoholic and anytime she fucked up, pissing her parents off they took it out on me. Would ignore me for weeks or months until I apologized, for I never even knew what, just for it to happen again not long after. Would “forget” to pick me up from school, leaving me there after they’d get my cousins. Prioritized everything my cousins had over anything I had. The worst having been the first time she went to rehab when I was fourteen.”

The omega takes in a deep breath as Felix pulls her closer to him for comfort and Chan places a hand on her thigh. “When I presented my family’s first reaction was to find a doctor who would administer the suppressant injections. The pack didn’t know and they were gonna make sure it stayed that way so every month, on the first, I was taken to that doctor to get the injection done. Wasn’t pleasant, it was painful, felt like it was burning in my veins for the first twenty four hours. I still went to school and graduated high school, even took a year of college. My mom was the main one who kept my food intake restricted to protein shakes and salads. Said that if I ate anything other than that then I would start to become curvier like an omega and they couldn’t have that. She got worse and she went to rehab for the second time when I was nineteen. Then again when I was twenty, then twenty two.”

“And again last week.” The boys were all shocked by this as their eyes widened. “My grandparents said I should stay with them while she's there since my older brother is nowhere to be found. Well at least that’s what they think, he was fed up with them and our mom that he moved to the northern side of Seoul and cut contact with all of them, but I’m the only one who knows that as he’s only kept in contact with me for the last year. He had tried to stay around as long as he could for my sake but he just couldn’t. I don't blame him. I should have realized that staying with my grandparents was a bad idea… They treated me as their maid and slave. I was fed up after the first day and told them I was going back to my house, that I’d be fine by myself. My grandfather said I don’t get to talk to them like that and how I’m a spoiled little bitch that they’ve been going easy on. How they’ve been so nice to me to help keep the illusion that I’m a beta but what they were telling me to do was how an actual omega is to be treated and I should act like one. I yelled at them about how they hate me being an omega and won’t let me be my true self so why would they treat me as such now?”

“That really pissed my grandfather off since he grabbed my wrist as hard as he could, dragging me across the house before… throwing me down the basement stairs. He continued to yell at me as I had gotten up trying to run up the stairs and maybe get past him but he blocked my exit causing me to run into him. After I fell back onto the top step he kicked me in the ribs pushing me down the concrete stairs again, hitting every step on the way down to the bottom. He shut and locked the door and turned the power off down there.” Y/n could feel how angry they all are at this point, the alphas growling softly, the betas clenching their fists, jaws locked, and Felix is now holding her protectively. “Even though I couldn’t see I could feel the bruising and the gash on my arm bleeding. I was kept down there for three days in complete darkness, with nothing to eat or drink. The day you found me was my aunt's birthday so they were letting me out to set up and prepare for it. It was the only opportunity I had so as soon as I was let upstairs I ran for it out the door, only able to grab my car keys on my way out. They yelled at me that if I leave then to never come back, saying that the family and pack would be better off without me. I drove as far as I could with what gas I had left. I thought about going to my brothers but I knew I didn’t even have enough gas to make it to the city or any money to get more. So when my car dinged in need of gas I pulled over as the first public place I saw.”

“The park.” Jisung is in tears as he clings onto Chan and Y/n nodes as she can feel Felix shaking as he holds her, knowing he’s also crying as he buries his face in her neck.

“What would you have done if we hadn’t been there?” Chan grips her thigh. 

“I honestly don’t know.” She whispers and grabs his hand trying to hold back her own tears.

“What do you wanna do now?” Minho hugs Jisung from behind as he leans over to look at her. “If you wish, we can take you to your brother's place.”

“Minho?” Jeongin lowly growls. 

“No Innie, he’s right.” Changbin sighs. “We said it was up to you, pretty girl. If you want to stay you’re welcome to but we aren’t going to force you. So we can take you to your brother if that’s what you want.”

“But you have to promise to keep in touch with us if you do.” Hyunjin smiles at her.

“You guys truly want me to stay?” She looks at each of them in hope. “All of you?”

They all nod in agreement giving a course of ‘yes’s’.

“Then I’d like to please stay.” She whispers and they all sigh in relief. “Is there any chance I’d be able to call my brother though, so I can tell him what happened and that I’m alright?”

“Of course, baby girl.” Chan lifts her chin to look at him. “Just let one of us know when and you can use our phones to do so.”

“We need to take you to get clothes here soon, while we do that we can get you a new phone set up too.” Jeongin stands up and comes around to pull her from Felix to hug her. “That way you will be able to stay in contact with him. You’re safe now, we promise that you’ll never have to go back to your grandparents again. You’re a part of our pack now.”

“Thank you.” She tears up.

Tag list: @pixie0627 @sinfulfic @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl

@blindspot143 @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55

@hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound

@galaxy4489 @kayleefriedchicken @lostgirlinthewoodss @catkight @royal-shinigami

@notevenheretbh1 @passionandsuga @m00njinnie @sukss

[pluralsword]

you could argue that we did this sort of, it's a little more complicated.

You see, the reason we maintain our beard and shave it in specific ways is because transformer women often have helms that fill their face in similar ways at the cheeks or with chin armor. That helped the person who has been with this body the whole time fully absolve of herself of any dysphoria by being able to connect her facial her euphorically to a collective gender identity of womanhood of giant metal transforming robots from space since knowledge of the fact there are a lot of intersex human cis women who have facial hair (and intersex people are as common as redheads) wasn't cutting it for xem (hah). we dysphorically regret having to shave our beard recently to fly across the country out of fear of landing somewhere in an emergency where we'd be arrested for 'doing drag' at a public facility.

The reason we say this isn't simply butch per se for us specifically (a human singleton is another matter) is because there isn't an oppositional dynamic between male and female to us. they completely overlap, there's just collective gender assemblage tendencies of components being put together and identified differently (some of our writing mixing alien robot trans material-aesthetic assemblage mixed with gender tackles this, the one that does so most directly so far is our One fanfic. there will eventually be original fiction), the term we use for in our sparktion/hearth/etc. assemblage model that most closely approximates butch is torque, but it is rather different in meaning since it's primarily concerned with the (clash of) momentum literally and metaphorically and not with being masculine (xenogender stuff is fun!). It's also not confined to a physical expression appearance, so helm shapes don't necessarily fit this, and there's no single umbrella for what torque looks like. it's all assemblage, which is very different from the real problem of butch erasure in 21st century human storytelling and history

In addition we've also built up musculature precisely because it is no longer dysphoric anymore to breathe meditatively / heavily when exercising since the chest feels more like how it should, because xey always loved and wanted to emulate the warrior gal vibe (we know this applies much more widely, too, but thought it was worth mentioning), and ultimately that our nervous system now feels so much better exerting strength with HRT than before. but how we dress we think doesn't normally quite fit butch and we recoil at the thought of being more heavily clothed or armored meaning we're perceived as more masculine. the oppositional gender human patriarchy dichotomy is painful to us, we're glad this is changing with a) people understanding how curvy and rounded a lot of armor historically is especially plate, and b) women in armor where sexualization need not mean sacrificing actual armor capacity is becoming more normalized

TLDR you absolutely can be a transfem butch lesbian and we absolutely ended up on a similar but very different route of being torquey zoomdare transfem (taganite) mutualists who will for convenience's sake communicating with other people we share this lovely blue marble with use the terms t4t, sapphic, lesbian, and sometimes butch if we think we have to explain why our gender isn't 'simple' (eugh we hate how reductive that is of binary trans women) but don't think we can get away with explaining xenogender stuff and plurality. unless we are fortunate enough to, I don't know, see our terminology take off or even better that this happens alongside other assemblage models with a growth of a worldwide curiousity and capacity to accept that no one will ever know everything there is to know about gender and orientation so nobody assumes anything of us, takes what we have to say for what it is, asks questions if interested in knowing and knowing us that way, and celebrates what we have in common and what differences we have <3

Is transitioning from male to female to become a butch lesbian a reasonable option?

it is beyond reasonable, it is one of the coolest things you can do on this bitch of an earth

[shizucheese]

An open letter to @samreich and @dropoutdottv

I am writing this letter in response to the statement you posted yesterday, as well as the response of some within your community in response to Jewish people speaking out about it.

I have always admired Dropout for the inclusive space that you had created for marginalized people. Yesterday you showed that I and my fellow Jewish fans are not included in that. Everything I have been able to find shows that this was prompted by Noah Grossman and Rachel Bloom having been on your network recently. From my own research, Noah Grossman has not made any statement about the war in Gaza. Multiple people have pointed this out. The closest I have been able to find as evidence that Rachel Bloom is a “Zionist” is that performed at a fundraiser for a hospital in Tel Aviv. There is no evidence that I could find to indicate that either of them support the actions of the Israeli government in Gaza. You yourselves said in your own statement that to your knowledge no one who has appeared on Dropout has openly identified as a Zionist." What this means is that people saw you had people on your network who were Jewish and had even the slightest connection to Israel, and decided to accuse them of being “Zionists” and you of Platforming them.

Multiple Jewish members of your community have spoken out, explaining to you far better than I could why your response was incredibly antisemitic. I am begging you to listen to those members of your community, and do better. You cannot foster a community or space that is safe for everyone, particularly marginalized people, if you are also fostering a space where antisemitism goes unchecked.

Related to all of this, I want to take a moment to discuss the meaning and history of the word “Zionist.” A member of your Discord community voiced their frustration over your statement and how the word “Zionism” is being used. I will link it here, because I think they and a few others made some very good points that I intend to expand on here: https://www.reddit.com/r/dropout/comments/1gjjver/antizionism_antisemitism_from_a_longtime_fan_of/

I am going to include the response from the subreddit mod here: “This seems to be a reasonable and nuanced take so I don't want to dismiss it out of hand, but since you're using different definitions you're either intentionally or unintentionally creating strawmen arguments that to my knowledge no one here is supporting. If they are, please report it and it will be handled.

I'm definitely not an expert on what the definition of Zionism is or should be, but it's clear that Dropout's statement is not using the same definition you are here, so focusing entirely on the semantics isn't relevant to the actual issues being discussed.”

I realize the moderators of the dropout subreddit are likely not directly affiliated with you, and I will not hold you personally responsible for the words and actions of someone who is likely a fan basically doing volunteer work within your fan community, but their words and actions and the rhetoric that can be found in the subreddit in response to this Jewish person speaking out are indicative of the attitude and treatment of Jewish people that lead to this whole situation in the first place, and the kind of culture that statements like the one you made yesterday cultivate.

There are several problems with the statement the reddit mod made, and the mindset behind it.

The first major one, as many people in the replies pointed out, is that people from outside of a community have no right to tell people from within that community what a their own terminology means. Coopting a word from a culture and then talking over them when people from that culture speak out against it is incredibly problematic. For the record, because I and I know many other Jewish people have experienced this within the past year, if not longer than that: people from outside a marginalized group do not get to tell people from within that group what is and isn’t offensive to their group, or speak over them and tell them that something that people from within that marginalized group say is offensive isn’t actually offensive.

We say that it is important to elevate marginalized voices and not speak over them, so why is it that I’ve seen so much of this when Jewish people try to speak up about their own lived experiences?

Surely there is a way to elevate Palestinian voices and listen to their struggles without silencing Jewish ones?

The second major problem here is that the word “Zionist” has come to mean so many things to so many people that it is essentially meaningless. There is a reason I have largely put the word “Zionism” in quotes this entire time. As such, it is an incredibly bad faith argument to make to accuse a Jewish person speaking out about the use of the word “Zionism” and claim that “it is clear that Dropout’s statement is not using the same Definition as you are” and dismissing it as “semantics.” Especially when the definition of “Zionism” and the fact that it has been coopted by non-Jewish people to mean something different is so central to the conversation at hand?

For some people, “Zionism” is the belief that Jews have a right to self-determination and that Israel has a right to exist. For them, “Zionism” is a wide umbrella term that covers people from those who support a One State solution in favor of Israel and should rightfully be called out for it, to people who support a Two State solution and condemn what is happening in Gaza right now. This is the Jewish definition of the word, and the one that the OP of that subreddit post was using.

For others, “Zionist” means someone who uncritically supports what Israel is doing right now.

For others, “Zionist” means “Jew.” There is a long history of the word “Zionist,” being used by antisemites, and antisemites calling themselves “antizionist” when they are either trying to justify their bigotry or mask it to make it seem more palatable.

If you can take a statement an “antizionist” has made and replace the word “Zionist” with “Jew,” and they suddenly sound like they would have been right at home in WWII Germany, they are that third one and anything they say should be taken with far more criticism.

People who fall under the first and second definitions of "Zionist" also can be described as "Pro-Israel," and bad faith actors often interchangeably accuse Jewish people of being "Zionist" or "Pro-Israel" under the second definition when the reality is those people fall under the first definition and are disgusted by the actions of the Israeli government in Gaza.

So, here’s the problem: based on the complete lack of evidence that either Noah Grossman or Rachel Bloom are “Zionist” by the second definition stated here, it’s hard not to think that the people accusing Dropout of “platforming Zionists” are antisemites dressing up their antisemitism in progressive rhetoric and calling it "antizionism." They saw two Jewish people who had either stayed silent since the war started, or had at “worst” were involved with a fundraiser for a hospital, and labeled them “Zionists,” even though the actual views of both of these people are not actually known.

Your platform and two people who had appeared on it were subjected to an antisemitic campaign involving a threat of boycott, and your response was “to our knowledge, no individual who has appeared on Dropout has openly identified as a Zionist,” and then several paragraphs about the Palestinian people without even a hint of condemnation for the antisemitism at work here. Not even a single acknowledgement that being Jewish doesn’t automatically mean that someone is a “Zionist” by the second definition.

Also, like…the mod on your subreddit claimed it was “clear” which definition of “Zionist” was used in your statement, by which I assume they meant the second definition I provided. But I have personally been accused of being a “Zionist” for being in support of a two state solution, and I know for a fact—because I’ve seen it—that other Jewish people with the same beliefs have experienced this as well. Also there are people in the reblogs and tags of your Tumblr post claiming there are “Zionists in the reblogs” and “Zionists in the tags” when the closest thing I can find to “Zionism” is Jewish people calling out the antisemitism in the statement and the situation, and pointing out that the UNRWA, which you linked to in your post, has connections to Hamas, including members of their organization having been found to have been involved in the attacks on 10/7.

So no, “the definition of Zionism” is not clear here.

While we’re on the topic of Hamas, gentle reminder that Hamas was founded by people who wanted to cause a second Holocaust, their charter explicitly called for the hunting down of and murder of Jewish people as recently as 2017, (I will not link to it here, because there is a history of people getting penalized on social media for speaking out against hate speech by quoting it as if they were spreading that hate speech themselves, but it is easy enough to verify), and they still openly deny the Holocaust happened. To support, financially or otherwise, Hamas in any way is in fact to support Genocide.

When people came forward to express their disappointment in a derogatory word having been used in Breaking News and your Chris Grace special, you listened to them and made a statement addressing the issue and promising to do better. I am now asking for you to do the same for your Jewish fans: listen to what we are saying. Address it. Do better.

Also, before anyone tries to say “how can you say Dropout is Antisemitic when Sam Reich is Jewish?: --something I’ve already seen people do in the reblogs and tags of Dropout’s post and elsewhere—please do not use a Jewish person as a tool to silence other Jewish people. My one-year subscription to Dropout ends at the end of this month. If this has not been addressed by November 30, 2024, I will not be renewing my subscription and will be boycotting Dropout going forward. I urge anyone else who is disgusted by the antisemitism and silencing of Jewish voices on display here to do the same.

Thank you.

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end. 

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him. 

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

[ravengards-rogue]

bright as the morning, soft as the rain

sebastian (stardew valley) x reader

✧ tags : gender neutral reader, canon divergence, a lot of author liberties, alcohol, fluffy, pre-relationship, mildly suggestive but sooo mildly lol.

✧ wc : 3.4k (this is ridiculous lol)

✧ a/n : the thing to get me out of my writing slump being sdv fanfiction is hilarious.

hi! this is the first part to a silly little alternative first kiss series i have planned for the stardew romanceable characters. i think the other ones will be shorter (hopefully but lol).

i will link the rest of them as they get posted. i hope u like. rbs appreciated. also tagging @antique-remains (hi this is fang on my side blog lol)

✧ synopsis : sebastian wants to do anything but think of you. he's failing miserably on that front. sam and abigail are not helping.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

“Earth to Sebastian,” Sam snaps his fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. Sebastian jumps in his skin. “What’s with you today? If you’re not gonna take our pool playing tradition seriously, I’m not playing.”  

He swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. Half-empty Joja-Cola can sits directly besides his pool stick, the faint air of smoke and liquor in the air. Right. He’s here to play pool.  

 He pinches the bridge of his nose with exasperation, shaking off the feeling before scratching the back of his neck.  

“No, sorry. I wanna play, just…give me a sec.”  

“Got something on your mind Seb?”  Abigail prods, unfortunately intuitive. Sebastian scowls at her. She stands to her feet to get closer, sitting on the edge of the pool table with her cheek turned just enough to look at him. Her smile is coy. “A certain someone, maybe?”  

His scowl deepens, lip curled in distaste. “No. Move. You’re in my way.”  

“You’re a bad liar.” Abigail says with a resigned sigh, arms crossed. “You weren’t this spacey last time you dated someone. ”  

“Fuck off,” Sebastian sighs. “It’s not like that yet.”  

Abigail grins before Sebastian can  correct the slip up. “Yet. Yet, he says.” 

Sebastian feels himself blush. “Ugh.” 

He sighs as he stands back up, leaning against his pool stick. Sam stops whatever he was doing (messing with the pool table deliberately, Sebastian assumes), taking newfound interest in the conversation.  

“Oh, you two talking about our new neighbor?” 

“Not really new. It’s been like… what a year or two almost?” Abigail adds. Sam shrugs.  

“That’s true. But it feels new to me anyway.” Sam says. He gives up on pool it seems like, abandoning his stick on the table in favor of navigating to the box pizza balancing on another table nearby and his drink. Sebastian watches him shimmy a slice of the pie, not bothering to blow on it as he eats. “Oh is that why your heads in the clouds? Figures.”  

“I didn’t say that. Abigail said that.”  

“And you’re saying she’s wrong?”  

Sebastian huffs. “…Yes.”  

Sam laughs good-naturedly. “Pfft. Uh-huh, yeah. I super believe you.”  

“Fuck you both.” 

“Come on, Seb. It’s not like everyone in town doesn’t know.”  

Sebastian’s frown deepens. “Not everyone.”  

Sam seats himself on the couch again and Abigail joins him. It creaks under the weight of them as they get comfortable together. Sebastian stays where he is, sitting on the tables edge with a drink in his hand and an itch for a cigarette.  

Sam counts on his fingers. “Your mom knows. My mom knows. Abby’s mom knows. If they all know then our dads definitely also know. Who else does that leave? Our towns tiny dude. Like I’d say Elliot doesn’t, but he’s here on Friday’s and he catches up with gossip all the time. So basically everyone.”  

“…Shit.”  

“See? Told you.”  

Sebastian doesn’t need everyone to know what’s going on between you. He doesn’t even know what’s going on between you. It’s taken him longer than he cares to admit to even acknowledge that there was something there. And he didn’t know it was mutual until recently when Abigail came dropped by to tell him she overheard her dad explaining old Pelican Town traditions on dating and romance. 

(Abigail always describes things in excruciating detail, adding all the bells and whistles. This makes her great to play the Solarion Chronicles with.  

It also makes her  good at artfully recounting interactions. He can easily picture you the way she said she saw you, overalls  half unbuttoned, dirt covered and leaning over the counter just slightly giving Pierre your rapt attention.   

The thought of it is enough to trigger some sense of affection he’s never entirely felt before.)  

It’s not like Sebastian is against the idea of dating you, it’s just— 

“I think you should go out with them Seb. I like ‘em a lot more than your exes.”  

Sebastian sighs. “You guys know why I’m on the fence.”  

Sam shrugs. “Does they even count though? They’re not actually from here. They live here sure but they didn’t grow up here.”  

“Right? That’s what I think too. Might as well go for it.” Abigail shrugs, glancing at Sebastian. “I really don’t get why you’re hesitating. Something else has to bugging you.”  

“I thought that too.” Sam adds. 

A faint blush creeps up his neck. He loves his friends and sometimes, he appreciates how well they know him. Times like this, he thinks it wouldn’t kill them to be a little less perceptive.  

They’re not wrong. It is something of a flimsy excuse to try not to think about you. Sebastian has always had a not dating policy about people he grew up with. He nearly dated Abigail in highschool and it was a shitshow. So he’s vowed to never do it again.  

But that’s not the real reason he’s been rejecting the possibility in his head. He uses it more for himself than anyone else. It’s not like he can give them the real answer because he thinks it’s one hundred times more embarrassing.  

How the fuck is he meant to tell them the reason he keeps hesitating to define your relationship is because he feels like he likes you too much?  

That’s the real reason he’s going in circles about it. It’s so cringe it makes him want to break out in hives but well, it is true. Sebastian likes you—like really fucking likes you—and it’s freaking him out because he thinks it’s the first time he’s really liked anyone.  

Dating has never been all that fun for Sebastian. It wasn’t something that felt meaningful. He dated mostly in college and only one of those relationships lasted a significant amount of time. And even then the relationship was never all that genuine. They ultimately broke up because Sebastian realized they were fundamentally incompatible. As bad as it sounds, there wasn’t a real sense of attachment there, not once. It was just convenient for both of them. He realized at that point he should probably just focus on himself.  

That was about when he moved back home to the valley to live with his family in his post graduation.  

And he had honestly expected it to be another few mundane years, akin to his early adolescence. He was so sure that he would spend it with the same restless feeling in his stomach, the same longing to be somewhere else. If he could never feel any belonging, at least he wanted to be somewhere he could blend in. He thought for sure moving back to Pelican Town was going to be nothing but dreadful and boring and existential. That he would come back and remember why he wanted to leave in the first place.  

Until one day, someone from the city moved into the old, overgrown farm and turned the entirety of the valley upside down.  

When you met for the first time, Sebastian honestly didn’t care. Nothing goes on in Pelican Town, so he figured you’d be the main subject of gossip for a few weeks before ultimately blending into the background of his life just like everyone else. He also didn’t think you’d last long living here. You were part of the corporate rat race he so detests and you didn’t grow up in the valley. It’s a hard place to get used to after living somewhere more populated.  

Against all odds  though - you did stay. And you’ve integrated yourself so much with the people living—himself included here it kind of baffles him. He doesn’t entirely remember what it was like before you came here.   

Sebastian couldn’t have predicted in a million years that that stupid help wanted sign in front of Pierre’s store would start actually being useful. But lo and behold, at least three times a week he finds you with full pockets - jogging after whomever last posted to give them what they need. And you do that without anyone really asking you too.  

You’re just so… helpful. And social in a way he can’t describe. Everyone in town has nothing but nice things to say about you. You’ve given everyone a gift on their birthday thus far. You’re keeping the entire economy afloat with your farm right now and you regularly clear those mines out for monsters. You even paid for the bus to get repaired, too - so now it’s up and running again.  

You’re full of surprises. And easy to adore, himself included.  

What surprises him most often is how easy it is for him to be around you. He doesn’t turn you away even when you visit his room sharply at 9am and hover over him in bed. He doesn’t get even the slightest bit upset when you have a mundane and disruptive conversation hours before he usually gets up. He keeps everything you’ve ever gifted him, and he often thinks of inviting you to things he does with his friends. He smiles when he sees you running around doing some chore, frantic and covered in muck - all mess and sunlight.  

You’re… nice. Honest, hard-working, and cheerful. Kind. Sincere in wanting to know him. You should completely and utterly exhaust him given those are your main characteristics. You should be someone he’s simply fundamentally incompatible with. 

But more than anything, you’re thoughtful. And it disarms him so utterly he feels overwhelmed by the thought. From the start, you put in a lot of effort into maintaining connections and he was no different. It’s just impacted him so much more than he thought it would. If he lets himself think too far on it, he really won’t stop thinking about you.  

To the point he’s been picturing what it’s like to live on the farm.  He’s in deep. 

Despite all of your idiosyncrasies, you really seem to give a shit about things in a way that feels utterly foreign to him. This extends to anything and everything. It extends to Sebastian, and it shows in the ways you don’t undermine him. Little things. You take his work seriously and apologize for disturbing him, you don’t immediately take the side of his family when he talks about them despite being friends with them too, you don’t interrogate him about what he is or is not comfortable with. You show up and linger in his life, and then you go off to your own thing. 

More and more, he gets the urge to stop you before you go. It’s too much. It makes him act…lame and he’s not too fond of it. He’s never really felt this strongly about anyone before and he’s a little bit of a wreck about what it does to him. So it’s not that he doesn’t want to date you, but more that he does so bad he doesn’t even want to admit it.  

 But well.. He isn’t sure it’s even working. As soon as you walk into a room it’s like— 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a while, only to get pulled out of them by some big commotion happening in the main part of the saloon.  

“Ah, you’re here. What perfect timing kid,”   

Shit. Shit  

Only somewhat obscured by the distance and wall separating their space from the bar - Sebastian catches a glimpse of you and feels something uncomfortably warm in his chest. His friends both make little oooh sounds, no doubt planning to do something stupid. He should intervene but he gets too caught up in pretending he doesn’t see you. Turning away stiffly, he pretends to be looking at something else while he listens on your conversation. It’s not too hard to hear, anyway.  

“Hi, Pam.” He can practically hear the smile in your voice. “Here’s your ale. Managed to grow a hops plant indoors this season so the brew is pretty fresh. It’s strong, fair warning.”  

A beat of muffle conversations follows up with a a loud sigh. “That’s exactly what I needed. Your pretty good with your liquor and spirits, huh kid? Thanks for the drink. Here’s what I owe ya.”  

“Selling alcohol under the table at my establishment? Tsk tsk.” Gus adds.  

It’s at this point Sebastian lets himself look at you properly. You lean with your elbows against the counter. You look a mess like usual, but you’ve got on a cowboy hat today that Sebastian finds ridiculously cute. You smile at Gus sheepishly.  

“Sorry. Can I buy myself a drink to make up for it?” You offer.  

“I’ll do you one better and give it to you on the house.”  

“Aw, what? Can’t let you do that Gus.”  

“You can and you will. You’re always looking out for everyone. Here, it’s a nice imported IPA. Nice and cold. Have a drink and go relax. Some of your friends are here too tonight I think.”  

“Oh?”  

On cue, you turn your head to the group of them. When you and Sebastian meet eyes, you brighten visbly - all smiles. He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t even catch Sam next to him until he throw an arm around his shoulder and waves you over.  

You weave through the tables until you cross the threshold of their little hide-out. Abigail greets you first with a short sidehug before you go over to him and Sam.  

“Hey,”  

“Hi Sam.” You pause, tilting your head. “Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than usual.”  

Sam beams. “I did! And you’re the first one to notice, other than my mom. Goes to show who my real friends are,”  

Sebastian nudges him, pulling away from his grip. “I see enough of your face everyday. There’s nothing for me to observe.”  

“It looks nice,” You add. Charming and genuine. Sam smiles at you. 

“Thanks,”  

Sebastian is weirdly jealous until you address him in conversation. “Hey to you too Sebastian.”  

His heart thumps. This is ridiculous. He swallows. “Hey. Uh. How have you been?”  

Awkward. So awkward. You smile a little and lean on the pool table besides him with your drink, taking a sip. “Good. Busy as usually getting ready for Winter. Renovated our coop recently so I’ve got a whole bunch of baby bunnies I gotta take care of. Went and bought another heater, some extra hay. Just farm stuff. Not very interesting,”  

“I find it interesting,” He replies quickly. You lip twitches in a smile.  

“I’m glad.”  

“Baby bunnies sound so cute,” Abigail adds. Sebastian glances at her as she joins the rest of them. “What else have you got in there?”  

“A little of everything. Chickens, ducks. I’ve got a void chicken too, kinda freaky. Oh and these little dino looking guys.”  

Abigail looks bright eyed. “Would it be like… weird if I asked to go over? I kinda wanna see them?”  

You laugh. “Not at all. I don’t mind. You could honestly go over whenever but it’s hard to navigate the farm if I’m not there, though I’m trying to fix that this upcoming winter.”  

You glance then at Sebastian, eyes almost sparkling. “You should come over sometime, too. You’d like the void chicken I think. And I’ve got a slime hutch.”  

Sebastian sputters at the obvious invitation only barely managing to cover up the shock to his system. You don’t seem put off, but it’s obvious you know what you’re doing. He’s going to explode.  

Abigail and Sam make not-so-subtle eye contact before Sam clears his throat.  

“Well, uh, me and Abi are gonna head out. We’ve got some stuff to catch up on, but there’s still a few hours until the saloon closes so you two should stay here and finish up  our drinks and stuff. Uh… yeah. See you again,”  

Sam nods, quickly rifling for his things. Abigail follows in his foot steps.  

“Mhm, yep. See you,”  

Sam gives him one last encouraging look before turning around and leaving. The two of them scurry off in a blink of an eye, before Sebastian can get a single word in about the situation or tell them to stay. And now he’s alone with you, quietly wondering if it’s as awkward as it feels.  

You’re the one to break the ice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”  

Sebastian blinks. “Uh no. Not really.”  

“Me either. We should stay back then, for a little while.” You offer with a shrug. “Why not, right?”  

Right. Sebastian is being really chill about this entire interaction. “Right.”  

“I’m glad I got to see you tonight,” You say, out of the blue. Sebastian nearly jumps in his skin at the admission. “I’ve been pretty busy with the growing season ending so I haven’t been you know, able to come by as often. I don’t know if it made a huge difference to you but—“ 

“It did.” He blurts out. Your mouth opens then closes again, a blush crawling up his neck as he tucks his chin in embarrassment. “It was uh, weird for me. I know you’re busy and I like my alone time but I did… miss you.” 

“Yeah?”  

He’s almost too afraid to meet your eyes. When he manages  - you’re smiling fondly, sweetly with a sense of amusement. It rolls off of you in waves and it becomes clear to him in that split second that you don’t really intend to hide how you feel despite him being so hellbent on making sure he does. You’re not hiding that you like him. It feels stupidly warm and fuzzy.  

You look like you’ve been working all day and you smell a little like grass and rain in a way that makes him want to draw that much closer to you. So he does, leaving into your space.  

“Yeah.” He manages, barely getting the words out without being a complete wreck. “It’s new for me.”  

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever they say.” And then, even more sweetly. “I missed you too.”  

Fuck. You’re… fuck.  

Sebastian pretends to wipe something from his face just to cover it and make his blush less obvious. This is embarrassing. He likes you so much and for what.  

There’s a million things he wants to tell you but he can’t find the words for any of them. So he tucks in on himself and wonders how the fuck he would ever go about actually dating you.  

You inch closer to him. Tentative, until your thighs are touching. He doesn’t move away.  

Suddenly, you’re close to him than you’ve ever been. Looking from the corner of your eye, Sebastian turns his head to meet your gaze. You’re an inch apart, and he’s looking at your lips - slightly chapped from the weather. The faint scent of alcohol on your breath makes him dizzy. Your smile is what does him in ultimately. A subtle tug at the corners of your mouth, a little teeth. Something about it precious.  

“Hey,” You mutter.  

“Hm,”  

“Can I kiss you?” 

He responds with leaning forward to do it first. It’s chaste and easy, and he does it because you’ve already taken so many first steps and he should, at least, take this one. So he leans into kiss you and it feels like his whole body is melting. It’s brief and light and he pulls away before it feels like it should be over.  

You part for a breath, a single heartbeat - before your hands go up to cradle the side of his face. You kiss him deeper that time. A real kiss where he can taste you enough to know that you drank - one he would only want to do in the privacy of this confined spaced. He feels you in your entirety  - returns your gesture with a careful hand on your waist that you don’t pull away from.  

And it doesn’t stop. Like neither of you want it too, despite everything else. Despite the fact he’s doing this in the bar of his hometown where everyone will gossip about it without doubt, and despite knowing that  - the drive to kiss you is stronger than his usual sensibilities. So you kiss and kiss and kiss, short presses followed by long, firm ones. A slight brush of tongue, the soft nip of teeth as you tease and tug. All mirth and amusement and fondness and bravery and god he is so into you it’s ridiculous.  

You manage to pull away from each other after a while. His lips are tingly. And there’s a sheepishness to you both that makes it hard for him to look your way.  

“Hey, Sebastian.”  

He clears his throat.  

“Uh. Yeah?”  

“I’m gonna ask you out tomorrow. Properly.”  

He blushes. “…I’d be cool with that.”  

You grin. “Yeah?”   

Shit he’s happy. He is not gonna get a lick of sleep tonight. He smiles a little to himself.  

“Yeah.”  

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[concreteangel92]

Do you write angst? Could you write something? You decide 😊

The One Who Never Was

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Warnings: Noah being a complete and utter fuck boy, talks of sex but nothing detailed, breakups, playing with someone’s feelings, gaslighting, love bombing, mental and emotional abuse, depression, co-dependency, unhealthy relationships, fwb, situationship, no happy ending in this story, drinking, self destructive behaviour, let me know if I’ve missed something!

Noah is not a nice person in this fic, if that is going to bother you then please don’t read. I did also picture long haired Noah when I was writing this.

I hope you all enjoy (if that’s the right word for a story like this ahaha) and I’m hoping to get back into my writing this week as I’m not back at work until Saturday (if I’m well enough) and this is the first time in about 6 weeks that I’ve been able to rest and do nothing so I’ll try and be productive with it

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @Ima1986 (never lets me tag you properly for some reason?)

“Hey fancy meeting up today? Feels like it’s been ages”

You nervously sat there waiting for Noah’s response, in your mind already knowing the answer.

You and Noah had been in this ‘situationship’ for a year now, you’d started off as just friends and then one night, it had all changed.

You’d not long been out of a bad relationship when Noah first text you and asked if you wanted to hang out, you knew what he wanted and at first you thought it was a good idea, help you move on from the last dickhead that you’d been with.

“Best way to get over a man is to get under one”

So you went.

After that night, Noah then wanted to date you, he’d asked to take you out for a meal but you’d politely declined as you wanted to stay single longer so you could heal but you spoke about being friends with benefits with him instead, something he was completely up for. Looking back, you had no idea of everything that was about to happen.

•••••

You were sitting on Noah’s sofa, a film was on in the background and Noah was cooking you both dinner.

“What do you think of this?”

Noah had walked back into the living room with his hand under a spoon, you wrapped your lips around it to taste his home made sauce for the chicken he was cooking.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! Since when did you cook?”

He gave you a big smile and a cheeky wink as he replied “I’ve always loved cooking, it’s even better when I have someone to cook for”

You’d both be curled up on the sofa, eating his amazing food before you’d spend the rest of the night together in his bed.

Noah had this power of making you blush with every word he said, he always made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

“You’re like no woman I’ve ever been with”

He’d text you first always, told you how he felt about you and that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Oh shut up!”

“I’m serious, I don’t know how I’ve got so lucky to be with someone as gorgeous as you”

The fact he’d accepted the friends with benefits over an actual date made you feel he would wait for you, that he completely understood that you needed time.

And let’s talk about the sex. The sex was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, he was such a pleasure dom, making sure you were completely satisfied again and again and again.

No man has ever made you feel the things that he did, he was willing to do everything with you.

“Whatever you want to to try, I’m down for it, even the weird shit”

“Weird shit? 😂”

“Any kinks you might not have tried because others think they are weird, I’ll do it all for you”

Noah always held you until you feel asleep, you fighting it, not wanting the night to end.

“Shhh, I’m here”

His fingers would gently caress your cheek while your eyes became heavy, feeling so warm and content in his arms

You’d wish you had longer, knowing that by morning, you’d both be going about your day and then never knowing when you’d see him again due to your schedules.

At some point, during the long into night deep chats, the dinner dates, the small details that Noah always remembered and done, you fell for him.

••••••

“Sorry I can’t today, busy in the studio”

That was it, it was so cold and blunt, there was no warmth in his messages anymore. Not that your heart allowed you to fully see it.

You felt the tears prick at the corner of your eyes as your heart became heavy and you felt the sinking feeling in your gut.

All of your friends have told you to leave him, that he’s making his feelings clear but every time you have tried to pull away, Noah always had the right words to say or a good excuse for his actions.

So you stayed.

And here you were, a shell of the person you used to be, when you first started this with Noah, you had such a spark in your eyes and you felt so happy.

Now, happiness with him was like a drug, he was like a drug. You knew he was bad for you, you knew he was killing you. But you couldn’t stop.

You stared at the screen, almost like your will alone could change the words. You scrolled up and saw it was much the same.

“Hey you about today?” “Sorry I’m working today”

“Fancy some dinner later?” “Maybe. I’ll text you in a bit”

Unless he messaged you…

“Hey baby, you free today? I miss you”

“Yeah I’m free, what do you fancy?”

“You 😏”

“Cheeky haha no seriously, what do you want to do?”

“Come to mine and hang out?”

You knew every time that it would lead to sex, you prayed it would, so you never said no to him.

You convinced yourself that he loved you as much as you loved him. Over the last year, you’d never felt anything like it before.

The only way you could describe it was that whenever you were with him, your soul felt at home. It didn’t matter what you were doing, you could be doing nothing and you were so contented to be around him.

You were always laughing together, you fitted together physically and just overall seemed like each other’s perfect partner.

You saw him for who he was, not this big rock star. You knew the rumours about him but you saw another side to him, a side he wouldn’t let many see. You knew he loved you deep down. Noah just struggled to show it because of his past.

You knew you shouldn’t make excuses for him, what’s the age old saying?

If a man truly wants to be with you then they won’t let a single thing come in between you.

And Noah gave you excuses most of the time, would take hours to reply and then blame it on work. You knew that wasn’t always true but you just accepted the behaviour because you’d fallen in love with him.

You’d fallen in love with the man who made you laugh until your belly hurt, who looked at you like you were the only other person in existence. Noah had recently said that he loved you back for the first time.

••••••

2 weeks ago, the last time you saw him in person.

You’d gone out for a few drinks with your friends and knew Noah was out already so you gave him the invite, not actually expecting him to show up in all honesty.

So when you arrived at the bar so see Noah stood there with your favourite drink next to his, your heart swelled within your chest.

The smile he gave you matched your own, his hug was so warm and for a moment, you felt like the whole world had stopped.

You sat down with your friends, both next to each other and clearly not paying attention to anything else around you other than each other.

In the words that your friend text you later….“A bomb could have gone off in that bar and neither of you two would have known, you couldn’t take your eyes off each other”

You both laughed and chatted all night, it only when you were outside getting some air that you decided to be honest.

“I love you Noah, I know you won’t say it back because you’re scared but I love you”

Noah stood and stared at you for a moment before he smiled and brushed your hair behind your ear.

“I love you too, always have”

The feeling in that moment was indescribable, the man you truly believed you were meant to be with had finally said those words back. He had finally admitted his true feelings.

The rest of the night you felt like you were walking on a cloud, you knew now that everything was going to be ok. All the heartache and loneliness before Noah had lead you up to this moment. To know it was all worth it.

You couldn’t stop smiling all night, even after he’d said that he needed to go, you gave him a big kiss and a hug and said that you couldn’t wait to see him again and finally start dating properly and have a relationship.

For Noah to ghost for you about a week, every message you sent was left unread, all the phone calls ignored.

Every time you felt your heart shatter, how could he do this? Surely not after he’d admitted he loved you? Who can do that?

Your friends were adamant that he was playing you and that you needed to block him.

You sat and cried your heart out, you drank your pain away and tried to find the answers at the bottom of a bottle, you’d do anything to numb the pain that you were feeling.

The feeling of having your whole future ripped away after just being given to you was soul destroying. You have hardly slept, hardly eaten. The weight was falling off your body as the days had turned into weeks.

It was only a few days ago that you’d finally had a response from him.

“Sorry been so busy with work, hope you’re ok”

But when you tried to arrange to see him, you got all the excuses once again. The never ending story of this game of cat and mouse.

You’d even confronted him about his behaviour.

“How could you tell me that you loved me to then ghost me? Who does that?”

“I wasn’t lying to you, I honestly have been busy, I can’t just drop everything for you”

You knew it was wrong, but you still wanted him, you craved him.

••••••

Sipping on the vodka in your glass was the only comfort for you at this moment. You’d text your best friend but of course just had the same old reply.

“Just block him, he’s made his feelings clear, he’s making a complete fool out of you”

You decided enough was enough, you’d walk over to his and see him in person, you couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore.

Walking to Noah’s was almost like a dream, but not the good kind, the feeling of dread was making you feel sick with every step, especially by the time you were outside his front door.

Taking a deep breath, you rung the doorbell, every nerve in your body on edge in preparation for the confrontation you knew was coming.

After a moment, you heard the sound of footsteps before the door swung open to reveal Noah’s tall frame.

“What are you doing here?”

You were sure you looked awful, dark circles around your puffy eyes, hair a mess.

“I needed to speak to you, can I please come in?”

Noah looked annoyed but stepped aside so you could enter.

“I haven’t got long, I’m going out soon”

Your chest became tighter at his words, the excuses already starting.

“Then just be honest with me Noah. What the fuck am I to you?”

He looked slightly shocked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re my friend y/n, I care a lot for you, you know that”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Do I? You told me you loved me and then ghosted me! No one is this fucking busy Noah! I’m tired of the games, I want you to be honest with me!”

The tears had already started, leaving a warm trail down your cheeks as you spoke.

Noah seemed to look anywhere but you, not able to meet your eyes as he answered.

“We have already been through this, I’ve just been busy”

“So you keep saying. May I remind you Noah that you originally chased me! You were the one who wanted to date, you were the one texting me and doing everything you could to make me fall for you! And now what? You just can’t be bothered anymore and don’t have the balls to tell me? You scared you’ll lose your booty call if you do?”

The last year was finally catching up with you, all the games and played feelings were coming to the surface, something you could clearly see was bothering Noah.

“Or are you too scared to actually commit because you’re frightened of getting hurt?”

“Are you for real? I’m not scared of anything!”

“Then why?!”

Noah throw his hands up in frustration and paced around.

“Because I don’t want to be with you! It’s that simple! You’re not the only girl I can have or have had! You’re a joke, you’re treating me like I’m your fucking boyfriend and I’m not, we were never dating!”

You stood in shock, how could he say that, although you never had an actual label, you’d been a couple in every way but the title and he knew that, he even wanted the two of you to be ‘exclusive to each other’.

But now it was starting to make sense, why he wouldn’t take it further.

“So you made me feel like I was the only woman for you, why? You told me that you loved me, said you wanted to be with me. Fucking hell, we even sat and told each other about all the dark shit in our pasts! You once said to me that I was the one person you never wanted to hurt!”

Noah’s face had become hard, a sign that he was shutting down from the conversation.

“And I didn’t. I’m not your boyfriend, I never have been and never will be. You’re making this all up in your head and you’re acting crazy. I’d like you to leave right now”

Your body was shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop falling as you stared at him. Your voice came out as barely a whisper.

“Where’s my Noah gone? My Noah would never have done any of this?”

Instead of answering, Noah simply opened the door, void of all emotion on his face. You stood in complete disbelief before you admitted defeat, your pride had already been shattered and you couldn’t take anymore.

You ran out of the door and kept running down his driveway. You collapsed at the corner of his road, the tears never stopping as your crying pulled your breath from your lungs.

You pulled out your phone and found Noah’s chat, the sinking feeling you had was confirmed when you’d tried to call but realised you’d been blocked.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it, your Noah, the man who made you feel so special and loved could never do this. Where was he?

•••••

The days turned into weeks, turned into months and the heartache never stopped.

Noah had ripped out your heart and broken you as a person. Your friend’s were always concerned for your mental state as you tried to navigate a life without him without any closure.

You didn’t see him again, unless it was online, but you knew he was just fine. Every time you saw his photo, he looked so happy and care free, he was living his dream, the band was starting to go viral and you knew this was only the beginning.

The rumours of who he was dating of course started to spread, each one like a knife to your heart.

You never got the closure your mind needed, you had to move on with no answers. Trying to piece yourself back together.

It was the hardest break up you’d ever gone through, and although others may say “well you weren’t actually together”

That was worse, he was the man you had completely fallen in love with, who never truly loved you back but made you feel like he did.

Noah was the one who never was.

[bitethedevil]

If you’re taking writing prompts consider-

Raphael reacting to Tav/Durge confessing they’re in love with him

I made it a Durge because I haven't written a lot of Durge stuff (fun fact: the first longer fic I ever wrote was with a Durge warlock that had Raph as a patron, but I never released it). Raph is being a bit of a manipulative dick in this one, but what's new. Also, I'm slow as fuck at replying to my asks (especially prompts)

Love

Clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack.

His office was deadly quiet except for the sound of his claws tapping on the hard mahogany of his desk, a dangerous rhythm that she knew immediately what meant the second she heard it. The rhythm echoed her heartbeat as she waited for her patron to say something. She was in trouble.

He was leaning against his desk, looking at her and keeping her in suspense. A cruel smile stretched over his face, as he saw how she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She had defeated monsters, mindflayers, gods…even the biggest monster of them all, her father. Still, nothing made her stomach churn more than the thought of Raphael’s wrath.

The feeling humiliated her as much as it thrilled her and drew her closer to him. She had been a god in her own right with all the lives she took under Bhaal and the cult she had led in his name, but this mere cambion brought her to her knees.

She was like a moth to his fiery flames. Everything about him excited her: his cruelness, his gracious mercy at times, his power plays. He felt like home. There was something safe and known in that cruelty that drew her closer. It was something she understood the rules of.

Click clack…

“I have always questioned your loyalty,” he finally said and moved his claws up to his face to look at them as he spoke. “It is no secret that I am prone to play favorites, but perhaps I made a mistake when I took you in…”

His yellow eyes looked up at her. His comment hit her like a punch to the gut and she knew as well as him that that was the intended effect. She hated the feeling of disappointing him. She hated that she felt that way about it even more. She cleared her throat.

“What is this about?” she asked quietly.

That was the wrong question. She could see it from the way his tail flicked in irritation. She had taught herself every one of his physical cues. They were subtle sometimes, but easier to read in this form. The man had total control over his body, but the devil was just a tad less composed.

“What is this about?” he repeated his question in a smooth, even tone. “Many things, my dear.”

That was another thing she had learned: it was never just one thing. Raphael held grudges. He archived every little mistake in his head in neat files, so he could throw them in your face when you stepped out of line.

“You came crawling to me after your father spat you out, after defying me at every turn and without a crown for me. You begged me to take you in, and yet I question your devotion to my cause. You owe me a grand debt when it comes to loyalty. A debt you have not yet paid back with your services, and one that I now question if you will ever pay back if you keep associating yourself with the wrong people.”

She had wanted to give him the Crown of Karsus. She had liked him even back then. Her companions had fought her every step of the way, and with her dealing with Bhaal, she had too much on her plate to fight them on it.

“It wasn’t my choice, Raphael,” she pleaded. “You know—”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off impatiently with a wave of his clawed hand. “I have heard all your endless excuses…and I graciously forgave you, didn’t I? You would have been a bloody stain on my carpet long ago if I had not. What I cannot forgive is disloyalty.”

“Raphael, please,” she pleaded quietly. “Just tell me what I have done. I’ll make it right.”

Another flick of his tail. His nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but he quickly schooled his features back into one of indifference.

“What were you doing in Waterdeep?” he asked slowly, each word as heavy as a brick.

That was what all of this was about. She had visited Gale. Gale who had been the very reason that the Crown of Karsus did not go to Raphael. Gale and her had started out as friends, but it evolved to something more along the way. It did not work out. Gale was too perfect, too functional for her. She broke his heart, and she would be lying if she said that this fact wasn’t taken into consideration when she gave up on trying to give to the Crown of Karsus to Raphael.

“I was just visiting,” she admitted. “Nothing more.”

“Just visiting,” he repeated with a hint of venom in his voice. “Just visiting an old flame that snubbed your patron of what was rightfully his, is that right? Is he well, our dear Gale? Does his new unburdened life suit him?”

“We are friends—”

“Friends,” Raphael said with a cruel laugh. “How awfully sentimental of you, dear. How soft you have become. I remember a ruthless woman who murdered her way through Baldur’s Gate. That woman, I could have used. It seems that your father has stripped you of everything that once made you interesting.”

That comment made her furious. It made her blood boil, but then why was she on the verge of crying instead? Why did she find herself pleading instead of yelling?

“Gale and I have been through hell and back,” she said. “It doesn’t change my loyalties for you. Please, Raphael.”

“I will NOT be made to look a fool!!” he roared with a sudden fire in his eyes.

The sound boomed through his office. She flinched. His tail flicked from side to side now. He looked her up and down. It seemed to please him how she was turning pale at his words and tearing up. He returned to his calm and collected demeanor as quickly as he got angry.

“Why are you crying?” he asked without a shred of sympathy in the question.

She tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She just wanted him to understand that she was devoted to him, and that this was all a mistake. She had not meant to cross him or make him angry, but merely to visit an old friend. His nails started tapping on the table again as he waited for her to speak.

“Can’t you— can’t you see that I’m only loyal to you?” she sobbed. Clack, clack… “I made a contract with you because I wanted to work for you. I’m yours, and only yours.” Clack, clack, clack. “Can’t you see how I only want to please you? How much I love you?”

Clack.

He froze for a moment at the oddly heartfelt confession that escaped her lips. She had not meant for that to come out, but he was great at pressuring her into saying things she didn’t want to admit. It was a humiliating confession. She hated being so vulnerable and weak. She wished that she could stuff the words right back down her throat. He wasn’t supposed to know.

A smile spread over his otherwise frozen face. He looked her up and down and let out a small huff of laughter. He looked like a man who had just been handed the perfect weapon. His hand left the table and beckoned her closer with a finger.

She walked over to him, unable to look him in the eye. He tilted her head up with a claw under her chin. He towered over her in that form.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She looked into his yellow eyes. He was smiling at her.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated.

The humiliation in the confession was more apparent this time, and he was eating it up like it was the best meal he had had in centuries. He laughed her straight in the face.

“Oh, dear,” he said with a chuckle. “A creature of habit, aren’t you? You poor girl…”

She swallowed hard. She should have just shut up. His thumb ran over her jaw and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch set her aflame, despite the excruciating embarrassment she was feeling.

“Do I remind you of your dear old papa?” he asked, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Is that what this is about? It is always the fathers, isn’t it? Still searching for the approval of a cruel master, even now. Perhaps you haven’t changed at all, my dear…”

She kept quiet. He leaned closer as if sharing a secret. She could smell wine and tobacco on his breath. His thumb rubbed circles on her jaw.

“Tell me,” he whispered to her. “Where did your dear Gale fit into this picture? I’m awfully curious.”

Her eyes flicked to his lips for only a second, but he didn’t miss it by the way his smile widened.

There was only one acceptable answer and she prayed that she would choose the right one. She shrugged.

“He didn’t,” she said quietly.

That was the right answer from the way his smile widened.

“No, I would imagine not,” he said. “Too…boring…wasn’t he? He was not enough of a challenge for you, so you discarded him.”

There was a hint of guilt in her eyes at his words. He tutted gently and caressed her cheek.

“Who could blame you?” he cooed. “People like us won’t concern ourselves with boredom. You were right in choosing to focus on greater things. Gale was easy. Pleasing him was easy. He would not make you fight for it like I will.”

That promise made a shiver go through her. Raphael grabbed her arm and tugged her even closer, until she was standing between his legs with her chest pressed against his. His hand came to rest on her hip. He pressed his forehead against her, his nose touching hers. He was tantalizingly close.

“You are mine then, aren’t you?” he asked. “Only mine.”

She nodded. He gave a dangerous smile.

“You want to please me,” he said. “To make me happy…”

Another nod.

“You love and adore me.”

Another nod. His lips were so close she could almost taste them. His thumb was rubbing circles into her hip. His tail was flicking side to side, but not in rage. It was more like a cat that is ready to pounce on an unsuspecting prey that it had been sneaking up on for a while.

“You will write a letter to Gale Dekarios and say that you are unavailable for any future visits,” he whispered against her lips. “That you have already done plenty for him and that you never want to see him again.”

His lips brushed lightly against hers before he pulled away, stealing her breath. She chased his lips, but he only smiled and pulled away further. She knew she had to earn it.

“Go. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?” he said with a smile and let go of her.

[lottluvs]

Take Chances. (🪵 )

pairing : lottie matthews x fem reader … c / w : descriptions of nausea , descriptions of violence , self - violence , derealization, fluff . ( short-ish little drabble as a writing exercise ! fast pacing , descriptive . )

summary : nothing could’ve prepared you for this , a plane crash with your soccer team , and being in the forest with them was nothing you could’ve readied for . the wilderness drove you to deteriorate mentally faster , however it seemed advice from the past drew you closer to someone you’ve learned for for oh so long .

lottluvs , feel free to translate with credit . . open to criticism 🌱

a/n : i am so sorry, i wrote this at like 12-2am, and didnt proofread it at all, sorry for the weird pacing, but yay first one shot :3 my requests are open !!

The cicadas humming echoed more words than you spoke in weeks, their tune seemed to drown out your thoughts, waking up later than everyone else, silently, and with no purpose. Even the thought of getting up to survive was starting to get tiring, you were a teenager, this wasn’t something you wanted to ever have to deal with, none of these girls should’ve had to. 

As you rose from your makeshift pallet on the floor, the blankets draped on you somewhat too perfectly, you noticed that the cabin was clean of the warm bodies that littered it in the night, and even the late risers were by now gone as well. Your mind was still settling into the new day, ears ringing with the fuzz of your pillow. You begin to recall everything, the plane ride, crashing, surviving.. no, it wasn’t surviving at this point. It was scraping together whatever mess you called rations. Even so, that was only for your physical health, if you were to say you were surviving mentally, not even the slightest wind would hear your lie. Unfortunately, recalling everything wanted to make you fall back asleep, and let the delusion your brain would find in the comfort of dreams take over once more, but the thought of repeating the day over and over again gave you to pure spite to not go back to sleep. You wished for just a little longer your brain would forget this mess, this horrible loud mess. “Just five more minutes.” You thought, hearing your mother’s voice ring in disagreement, the voice seemed far away, but it was certainly there.

Standing up, you breathed in dusty air, restless, dirty air. Nausea from starvation hit you like a brick, eating once every few days in little portions really made you appreciate what you had before this horrible accident. Folding your blankets into one nice pile took no more than two minutes, two minutes sharp that you counted. Time was precious, so why not keep the memory of something you may not be able to do ever again in due time? Walking to the door, with a hand rubbing your stomach similarly to how your mother would comfort you by rubbing your back, took even longer. “Do I have to? I mean do I really have to?” Those words bubbled in your mind as you placed a dirty hand on the handle to open the worn door. 

Bright. It was excruciatingly bright. The smell of pine and the breeze filled your nose with a chill. Standing on the porch carrying baggy eyes and messy hair, looking around to see a few teammates working around, some minding their own business, some presenting their personality as if it was just another day living casually. Your eyes flickered before yawning and popping your fingers, walking out into the courtyard of what would soon be your last ringing bell, or that’s how you felt. The first one to stop you was Shauna, Shauna Shipman, one of the Yellowjackets midfielders. 

“Where were you?” Her voice was tired, but the sound of genuine ask was there.

“I slept a little too late I guess, no one woke me up, I assumed someone would.” You responded with your dry lips once stuck together parting with exhaust. 

“That’s okay, I was just worried I guess? Um, do you want to help me store and skin this faun? Like you were supposed to since you were next for this duty? Nat caught it this morning.” Shauna motioned to something behind her, idling her arms after, waiting for a response.

“I don’t see why not.” You spat out, hoping Shauna wouldn’t mistake your exhaustion for a negative tone, walking in the direction of the faun, of which was barely visible through the toned green leaves. 

You heard Shauna follow behind, picking up her pace when you eventually got to the scene of the deceased creature. She started to talk about how to “take care of the animal,” but honestly you couldn’t help but tune her out, you listened to the trees sway, the birds call, and you swore you could hear the roots of the trees shiver under your sore feet. Eventually, tuning Shauna back in would leave you in the middle of her conversation about how to store the game. You nodded in approval, feeling bad that you weren’t listening, because for some reason, you felt like Shauna needed this. This mentoring, maybe it let her feel like she had a bigger role. You walked over to full view of the small deer, Shauna handed you something wrapped in cloth, and got to work on the start of the process. 

Unwrapping the cloth would reveal a black handled knife, a shiny and what seemed to be recently cleaned blade. You locked positions, starting to stare at the weapon you wielded, looking at the skin of your fingers, moving to the palm that crowned the cloth and knife. You continued to stare as you began to get dizzy, your eyes felt like they were carrying weights, and the rough ground seemed to blur. Your own brain felt like it was betraying you.. “do it,” a voice rings out. “You cant go on right?” You felt your facial features drop, as not even your own hand was recognizable anymore, the skin that you bore wasn’t yours, right? It just didn’t seem right. What felt like a numb space of dull void that was your left hand picked up the blade firm, turning it blade down. Letting the cloth fall from your hand, you felt your lightheaded thinking churn, your eyes dilating, your stomach drop, as the nausea from waking up not even an hour ago began to stick to the front of your stomach, and your planted feet all combine into a feeling of external dread, as the blade kissed your skin, a hurtful form of abuse, the gorgeous deep red stained every line on your palm, making rivers of blood through your skin, dripping onto the ground below, it was a smooth and clean cut, at this point, you couldn’t even feel your hands, you didnt cut too deep into your palm before you felt something on your stomach, it wasn’t that feeling of your stomach deciding to throw up or not, it was warm. 

As you began to lock back into reality due to a the rush of adrenaline, Shauna snapped around to stand directly in front of you grabbing the knife blade first, somewhat cutting into one of her fingers, not as bad as you sculpted your hand.

“What the f— oh my god. Hey— what is going on with you?!?” The voice of concern that was so familiar hit you like bricks even though it was a whisper, it began to pull you back to fond memories. “This is—.” Shauna threw the blade onto the table and held your palm upside down, taking the absent cloth from the ground and covering it, applying pressure. You heard her take a breath before she sighed, it wasn’t a sigh of annoyance, rather a sigh of unease. “Hey, please talk to me..” 

For once that day, your brain formed a genuine thought that you were present for, what was going on with you? You looked at her soft features. The features that brought you comfort even before the crash. Your mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was the noise of silence and dead words, you’d left yourself dumbfounded. You felt bad Shauna had to waste any stamina she had left worrying for you. But at this point, you couldn’t even tell why you did that to yourself, was it self hatred? Hunger? Or was it the fact it was so hard to recognize you were a real person anymore. You’ve felt like prey this entire time. Never the one that’s one step above.

Shauna and you were good friends, in fact, she was the one to convince you to try out for the Yellowjackets in the first place. Turns out, you were a lot faster than you thought, placing you right with Jackie as a striker, a goalie-scorer, a game changer. During practice, you’d always be with Shauna, chatting up a storm and pissing off your already over stressed coach. Compared to current day, back then you were any normal teenager, bright, excited for the future, sociable, and one of the best features about you? You were approachable, and your team felt like they could go to you for anything. 

You recalled those thoughts quietly, stuttering out a few incoherent words before Shauna grabbed your other hand and squeezed it, calling you back to your unfortunate reality. “Shauna I don’t.. know. For once I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. Normally I can voice myself..  normally I’m in control, but now it’s like someone hit a reset on my brain. Nothing works anymore, im starting back on square one.” You squeezed her hand back, taking a breath in, wincing as the pain in your hand finally started to settle, waiting for her response, and looking at the ground now. 

“…That’s the most honest anyone here has been for a while I feel.” She let out a sharp chuckle before sniffling the strain of her allergies back into her nose and sighing. “This isn’t like you though, and.. by this I mean.. I feel like at this point everyone is different in some way, or in denial in SOME way.” Shauna rubbed your crimson stained hand gently with that oh so stupid concerned-confused pout on her face. “It’s weird to see how our situation changed us. You know?” 

You stared at Shauna, she was right, and you hated it. Subsequently, your hand began to throb with pain, almost as if your body, separated from your mind, was saying “gotcha.” You pulled away from Shauna and held the cloth to your hand, not even giving true word to her statement, just a slight nod, and you began to walk off toward the cabin again, holding your hand, not even for your own safety, not even for your own survival, but for a comfort, a longing, something you missed oh so dearly. Not even trying to hide your hand, you step towards the cabin, eyes not up, rather on the flaky pine needle and leaf covered ground beneath you, shakily breathing. However, as you approached, something stopped you, a whisper, something, someone? 

Your vision is blurry, dizzy even, you cant tell if it’s from the blood loss, or your brain playing tricks on you. You look around, focusing in on movement to your right. The only coherent thing you could see is that it was some form of being, you dont know what it was, but it needed it you there. Needed it near you. Was it you? Or was it this beast? It didnt matter, the lustful pull of this incoherent whisper was enough to draw you in. Walking, no, with a strong pace of a dizzy limp, you rushed toward whoever this was. It just felt right.

The forest no longer felt like a maze, rather, a clear magnetic force. You stopped in your tracks when you felt like it was right, when it felt like you were right. Locking into the vision in front of you, you held your hand more secure and looked around, where was this silhouette you saw? Just then, you heard what pulled you here, what was really behind your sudden mission. 

“Did the wilderness… bring you here too?”

That voice, that cracky, but strong, smooth voice..

…

“What do you mean I have a crush on her??” You shouted at Shauna, giggling as she shushed you for being so careless. Your cleats hit the ground echoing along either the remains of your voice, ringing throughout every locker room locker.

“Okay well, it’s not like, friend level, like that’s totally not normal.” Shauna snorted at you, teasing you. Rolling her eyes before turning to you fully. “Like— I get the wanting to be friends with her, like a squish or something right? But the way you talk about her, oh my god, you’ve sooo got a crush.” Her hands motioned along with her words.

“I mean. Shauna you’re the only one who knows I’m.. not exactly straight.” 

“So? No one else knows, but I feel like.. I don’t know. Like I don’t think anyone would make fun of you for it, maybe like.. Nat as a joke, Mari because she’s… Mari… but that’s it, I never did when you told me.” Shauna beamed. “But maybe that’s just because we are friends.” 

“How the fuck do I tell Lottie Matthews that though, she’s going to catch on too fast, like okay she doesn’t know that she makes it impossible to focus when she clears the ball to me up the sideline, because I’m too busy staring at well… her, and then the stupid dream we got like stranded on an island together.. and ALL the other stuff.” You finished your statement with a giggle. “I just don’t know. Maybe one day I’ll own up to it, but not anytime soon.” 

Shauna sighed at you. “Okay, but you should always take chances..” She reciprocated the laugh with a giggle, taking your hands in hers and rocking in laughter, just as normal teenage girls would do.

…

“Lottie..” You mumbled, as she got closer to you, allowing you to see every scar and marking her face had to offer, and god did her face offer jewels upon jewels.

“…Whats this?” Lottie gently lifted your hand, as you winced in response, seeming as you finally snapped back into reality. Her hands pulled back a bit before peeling the dyed cloth off of your scar. 

“Ah, that’s— I just got hurt while helping Shauna, it’s not a big deal, honest.” Holy shit, and now you’re LYING to her, as she decides to offer touch comfort to your shameful hand injury.

“There is no need to lie, this is definitely self inflicted, too perfect of a cut.” Lottie held your hand up a little higher, so she could see it better, the height difference between you two was palpable, and it made you swallow as she touched you. Soft, careful, thoughtful. Everything. Why did she— no why do you have to be so nervous..? Her dark lightly curled hair pushed back, her eyes gazing over you before letting go and stepping back, those sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Something brought us two here, so, let’s talk.” Lottie whispered, signaling for you to find a place on the ground to sit, allowing you to rest first, including picking the spot, and yet she still held your bloody palm, almost guarding it from the ground. Your stomach flipped, but this time, from butterflies, if only you didn’t mess up your hand, maybe, just maybe, she would hold it. Maybe you could be bold and wrap your fingers around hers, but no, right now, your mind has control over you like a parasite. You aren’t thinking coherently. Lottie plopped down next to you, your hand still in her care

“Mmkay,” you mumble as you sit, enjoying the fact you get to sit. “I just.” You take the order of starting the conversation. “I feel like this.. this has made me worse, I don’t know, I don’t… I don’t want it to be this way, ever since I woke up its like I’ve been awake because I have to be. Not because I want to, I didn’t even feel me do this. I didn’t FEEL it Lot.” You hiss, energy kicking back in, pointing to your cut. “I didn’t WANT to do this, it’s like something was.. puppeteering me. Something wants me to harm myself. I hate this dizzy feeling. I hate, hate, hate it. God why is this happening to me? To us? I HATE this constant feeling of wanting to throw up, sometimes not even at something in front of me, but of the thought I might.. I MIGHT actually die out here. I wont get to tell the people the things I want to tell them, live with them, live my life, pursue MY life, and watch those close to me pursue theirs. I wont watch my children grow old, I wont see my mother, my father, my family.. I wont get to see them live, and I just have to be SATISFIED with that Charlotte.” You took a deep breath, and as you began to rumble more, a swift movement caught you off guard. 

Lottie grabbed you by the shoulders and drew you into a hug, not a side hug like they’d do as a “good game,” line at the end of a soccer game, a full, wrapped hug, the pressure was there, everything, every element of the hug. You felt your eyes widen as all you could do was cry. Not many tears filled your eyes, but the stinging and punishment was there. You turned into her chest, your hand sunk into her wool jacket, staining it with your awful impure red. You bled into her body in more ways than one, tears and blood sunk into her, as she was silent. You didn’t know how badly you needed the warmth and radiance of someone else. You needed the feeling of support, of love, if you could even call it that. As quick as she pulled you in, she let you go, but this time, she laid you in her lap, head on her thighs. Lottie placed a hand on your head. Shushing you kindly, mumbling affirmations of reassurance to calm you down, but at this point, you were too worked up to even do anything. You hurt. So bad. But there was another part of you that made you realize, you were laying in Lottie Matthews lap. The one you crushed on. The one that made you feel butterflies for the first time at practice, the one that made you miss the chance to score. The one that made you feel unearthly. 

“You know, I’m sure most of us feel that way. So many factors the forest has put us up against. We have lost so many, and yet, we have gained so much too.” She cooed, brushing her fingernails through your hair, spacing out as she did, looking at your face, and you could feel her gaze, but there was no comment needed. “If anything, we have learned to take chances. Any we get, that’s what the wilderness wants us to do.” Her voice rose a bit, almost as if she was inspired.

Take chances.

Take chances.

Take chances?

You looked ahead into the bushes, the brush, and the distance ahead, you thought about way laid beyond. But Lotties words rung in your head as if it was a catchy song like the ones she used to play on tapes in the locker room. “Take chances..” you mumbled. Once again, those cicadas spoke up, their loud wails yelling in your ears. The wind whispering, adding comments to their vocals. As you sat up, and looked directly at Lottie, she didn’t move, didn’t say anything, simply, she smiled. That small smile, the one where her eyes squish and speak words, like the cicadas, without understanding their non-spoken words, you understood thousands. You thought about Shauna, and all of her advice, you thought about those practices you spent looking at Lottie, and all the time you spent thinking about her, doubling it, and storing it in the back of your mind thinking it was shameful.

“Lottie.” You whispered, sighing, tearing up in the slightest.

“Yes?” She whispered back.

“…Lottie I—��“ You choked on your own words, hesitating. You moved your bloody palm up to her face, sitting fully on your knees now. Shameful. Shameful you thought. Words attempting to run out of your mouth like a river, and stopping like it was blocked by a dam, and yet every dam must break eventually. Every factor was against you right now, your own body even played tricks on you. Every organ, every nerve. Lotties facial expression didn’t change, she didn’t move either, the only thing that did move, were her deeply toned eyes, directly into yours. Blinking off-beat with your own. Un-synced. Even so, there was something so special about that. However, you pulled your hand away, your flight mode got the better of you, why was it so hard? It’s just you two, and after a-

“Don’t…”

Silence. Both of you silenced. Your thoughts interrupted by her reaction. She slowly placed your hand back onto her cheek, drawing a slight smile on her face. Your own face confused before Lottie drew in closer. 

“Ive known since day one.” Lottie smiled, drawing her warm body closer to yours. “Ive seen the way you’ve looked at me, the way you get distracted, all of it.” Lottie smiled, pressing your hand into her face. You could feel every muscle in her face move, all for you. She’s gorgeous. Absolutely ethereal. 

“But why now..?” You speak as if you weren’t hiding this from her for years, you look at her mouth, dumbfounded by your own idiotic question.

“I have been waiting for you.” Her eyes shut as you both close the gap.

Nothing, silence, it’s just you and Lottie. Connected, together. Her lips are soft, fairly chapped, but you can still feel the layer underneath. You feel her hand move to your hip, pulling you even closer. Feeling every fiber holding this girl together shiver. Even you yourself are still in shock, but god are you enjoying this. It’s like she was able to finally silence your brain, for once you feel.. “normal,” more than normal even, you’re with Lottie Matthews. One of the Yellowjackets defenders, sitting here with you, and she’s being intimate. 

You pull away for air, your lips leave, but there is still longing for more, and she displays that by pulling you even closer, moving her hand off of your bloodied one, and into your hair, softly kissing, minutes pass, as you share her hands exploring you, as your uncut one holds her by the hip. Eventually, you both tire yourself out, separating lips with a strand of saliva, Lottie smiling as it drips, clearing off of her now unchapped lips. 

“So, how do you feel now?” Lottie says breathy.

You lean into her chest and close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Better than ever.” You chuckled looking at your palm with a few wet spots, most of it dried by now, looking up to her neck, planting a kiss under her chin, allowing her to breathe a giggle.

“Good, I knew the wilderness brought us here for a reason, my love.”

🌱.—

[mydarlingclaudia]

taste like the fourth of july

note : dividers are from @/rookthornesartistry. I FUCKING LOVE LANA DEL REY AND I LOVE HER UNRELEASED SONGS GUESS WHAT THIS IS INSPIRED BY!!!!!! SUGAR DADDY CHRIS!!!!!!! OOC DONT WORRY ABOUT IT!!!!!! this is really short but I've had this in my drafts since 9/9 and I finally got it of motivation to write it so it was either getting written tonight or not at all and if you saw this as a wip in a wip tag game and you thought it was gonna be smut sorry lmao

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy @withonly-sweetheart @onlyasimp4nobody

desc : sugar daddy. established-ish relationship, fluff, a bit suggestive, age gap (mid twenties - late forties), fem!reader, re8!Chris, not proofread

You love him ‘cause he tastes like your favorite liquor, and also because of the fat wad of cash he’s willing to hand over if you just bat your eyelashes at him. Well, that might be the reason, anyway. Not one of the sweetest men you’ve ever been with, but definitely one of the best.

Chris will buy pretty much anything for you. Expensive shoes you’ve been staring at in magazines? Yours. A watch that’s way too expensive but you like the color? It’s on your wrist the next morning. A cute new swimsuit? It’s yours as long as he gets to watch you model it.

There seems to be only perks when it comes to continuing on with whatever is going on between you and Chris; the money, the gifts, the vacations, the sex. Only downside is him going away for work, but that’s only a small downside, it doesn’t scare you away. Chris isn’t leaving you uncared for, anyway. The $1,000 he gives you the night before he heads out is supposed to be an apology, that’s what he says, at least.

Chris isn’t totally sure why he’s still doing this, he always thought of himself as a more traditional guy, you know, get a girlfriend that would eventually become a fiancée and after that a wife. But when he met you at this nice little restaurant, sitting all alone at the bar, eyeing him the whole fucking night, what was he supposed to say to you when you tapped him on the shoulder and asked him for a cigarette? No? It was a lucky enough guess that you even assumed he had cigarettes on him, maybe the smell of the smoke clung to his clothes more than had thought.

You hadn’t even asked if he was married, you probably saw his ring finger that lacked a wedding ring and took that as a green light.

It’s probably better this way, Christ, you’re twenty-six and he’s forty-eight. Chris could waste a few thousand dollars on you, give you a few years of his time, there’s not much else that he does besides work.

And you’re pretty, you’re worth the money.

So who is he to deny you? It really is a win-win.

But it’s not like you and Chris are exclusive, you were both able to sleep with whoever you wanted, no hard feelings if you do or don’t. And you did, for a little bit, before you started questioning whether or not Chris did the same. You never noticed another woman's clothes in his apartment, no lipstick-stained shirts in his hamper, nothing. You stopped seeing other men maybe a week after Chris had found a few fading hickeys on your hips and left darker ones where they once stood.

Okay, saying you love him might actually be a bit of a lie, but you’re pretty sure he’s lying to you too when he says it back. You’re not one to look things over too much, even if he does truly love you, that just makes your situation better.

Another great thing is date night.

You love vacations just as much as the next person, but Chris' job doesn't guarantee any amount of time longer than a week off. So vacations are a treat, typically a birthday present for either you or Chris, go somewhere with a great beach and greater drinks.

Date night is at the very least once a month, Chris always calls you a few days before, tells you the time and place and you just stand there and nod before blowing him a kiss over the phone as a goodbye before hanging up.

He takes you out, buys you dinner, gets you a new dress or a new necklace depending on how you're feeling that night, then drives you through the city before heading back to either his or your place.

You will admit that you find it funny when he doesn't know how to react to what you do. If you want something, say it, okay? Don't send him nudes, he's told you time and time again that he prefers seeing you face-to-face and not on a tiny screen that doesn't capture the whole view. You think he prefers it that way because then at least he can reach out and touch you instead of trying to type things out on his phone only for them to end up being deleted seconds later.

The morning after date night is never awkward, at least not usually. You either spend the day at Chris' or he takes you out shopping again before dropping you back at your place. You still feel sore most mornings.

This is one of those mornings, you can still feel the burn between your legs and the sting of bites, scratches, and beard burn left behind. Chris isn't there when you grope around for him in bed, but he's quick to come to your rescue as you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on before the door opens and he steps out.

"You up?" He's straightening his shirt out when he asks you, not looking at you as you sit up in his bed.

You stretch and rub your eyes, "Mhm," You mumble, Chris finally looks at you.

"You usually sleep like a log."

"Can you blame me?" Another mumble and he smiles, walking over to you and placing both his hands on the side of your face so he can lean down and kiss the top of your head. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Got called in, something important, apparently." He sighs, you push forward and lean against his ribs as he brushes through your tangled hair with his fingers.

"It always is."

"Mm, don't pout."

"Don't want me to miss you?" As always, whenever you tease him, he only responds to you with a light scoff before he smiles. Chris pulls you away from his ribs so he can cup the back of your neck and get you to look at him, his thumbs trace over the edges of your jaw and you hum.

"You still want something from me?"

"A pony," Chris rolls his eyes this time, kneeling so he can wrap his arms around you once you giggle.

"We're going out again once I get back." You think you hear him murmur, "Not to get a fucking pony." under his breath even though you can feel his breath in your ear, but you know he's saying that more to himself than to you.

"Surprise me?"

"Sure," Chris pulls back and kisses your cheek before his lips meet yours, his kisses are as slow as they always are. Chris breaks the kiss for a second only yo mumble, "Do you feel alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit." You press a kiss to his closed mouth as you play with the ends of his short hair.

"I gotta go," You sigh and kiss him again before you pull away from him, he kisses the corner of your mouth before he stands up. "Go have fun today."

"I will."

"Good, I wanna see what you bought later." You lay back down again as Chris starts to pull his jacket on and head for the bedroom door.

"Don't be too late," Your back is already turned towards the door when you call out to him, you don't see the smile he shoots you over his shoulder before he leaves.