#full cast and fully immersive

[thiefpodcast]

The path to 1,000 downloads per episode

The goal is 1,000 listeners by year’s end, and I will blog my progress.

Season two progress began in earnest this last week. It’s going a little slow, deliberately, (read my 2023 annual reflection), but I am well in to the initial arrangement of Chapter 5. Remember, The Thief starts out as a recording from a Dungeons & Dragons game, so “initial arrangement” is the step where I edit down the two or three-hour session into the main story. Follow The Thief on Patreon for free for more behind-the-scenes progress updates.

In my 2023 Annual Reflection, I wrote that The Thief’s slow-to-emerge product/market fit demanded attention. As a slow-to-produce and expensive story, I must choose how much time and money to spend to produce a podcast that will likely never be in the black.

And what might that look like? While I share actual numbers with my wittan on Patreon, in an advertising-only model where the average advertisement CPM is $25, we would need something like 20,000 downloads per episode to break even. So, I think I will just hand-wave that out of my mind.

But that is a target, and — I don’t know — Saturday-morning me loves a game.

Traction

In “The Phases of Podcast Growth”, 

Jeremy Enns names the trough of growth between 100 and 1,000 downloads per episode the “traction phase.” There is some validation that The Thief’s audience is out there — award nods, glowing reviews, consistent charting in niche genres — but

To move past the thousand-download-per-episode milestone, you’re going to need to get savvier with your marketing, both in the way you position and create your show, as well as how you get it in front of new potential listeners. … While the core idea might have been validated, there’s a lot of work to be done to refine it into a show makes the most of your marketing.

Jeremy’s advice rings true.

Walk before running

I have paid for a lot of advertisements but some axioms need some real research and qualification:

Does my pitch work?

Is The Thief even findable if sought

Is my audience who I even think they are?

This is pretty interesting.

I’ve already been experimenting with my answer to “What is this show?” My latest iteration is

A fully cast, low-fantasy mystery podcast, starting with the catalytic arrest of a City Watchman, leaving all to the only person he trusts: an undermarket draw-latch named "Symphony."

I don’t call The Thief an actual play — which it is — nor do I call it an audio drama. I don’t mention Dungeons and Dragons because some early anecdotal observations were that, well, people who listen to actual plays may prefer the table-relationship to the story, and The Thief all but strips out the former.

But this is more gut-feel than science, although I do have some data from prior ads that I mean to investigate.

Rough plan

I may write about this later but I’ve largely written off the value of organic social media marketing to [my] podcast growth. The CAC — or cost of new listener acquisition — is poor unless you hit the virality lotto. A good ad has exponentially more listener conversion than a good TikTok.

But I’m not doing myself any favors if I don’t question the - ah - “goodness" of that ad. I need to do the work.

The assets — the logo, the copy — resonate with the audience I want

The audience can find the show if they look it up

They can discover the show by looking up certain keywords

Ads mean I must trust the algorithm to deliver to the right people. But, there are other strategies for finding that audience. Namely, collaborate with folks who already have an audience that would like the Thief.

More on that, later.

[catiroll]

𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛// *✲ﾟ*｡⋆

Pairings: Ambessa & Sevika ( gn reader leaning towards fem)

Warning: NSFW, overworking, lesbians, drinking, set relationships.

ΛMBΣƧƧΛ ↣ Cowgirl

Ambessa thrives on control, her every touch and glance designed to draw her partner into her dominance. She demands their attention, insisting they watch her and feel every calculated movement, every deliberate tease, as she takes them apart piece by piece. To her, their surrender is the ultimate proof of trust, and she wields it with both pride and unrelenting intensity, ensuring they never forget the power she holds over them.

Ambessa’s smirk deepens as her amber eyes drink in the sight of the reader beneath her, their chest rising and falling with each labored breath. She takes her time, savoring the power she holds in this moment, her hands trailing over their body with deliberate precision. Her calloused fingers explore every curve and contour, her touch firm but never rushed, as though she’s mapping them out inch by inch.

“You’ve been holding back all night,” she murmurs, her voice rich and commanding, each word sending a shiver down their spine. “Not anymore. I want to feel you give in—to me.”

She kneels between their legs, her broad frame silhouetted against the flickering candlelight. There’s an undeniable confidence in the way she moves, as if every action is part of a carefully orchestrated performance designed to captivate. Her hands glide up their thighs, spreading them apart with an unspoken authority.

“Look at me,” she orders softly, her gaze locking onto theirs. Her fingers press into their skin, not to restrain but to remind them of the power she holds. The reader’s body reacts instinctively, their breathing quickening under the intensity of her touch.

Ambessa leans forward, her lips brushing against the hollow of their throat, her kisses unhurried and deliberate. She lingers, her teeth grazing lightly against their sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps from their lips. Her hands move with practiced confidence, teasing and exploring, each motion designed to leave them trembling beneath her.

“I want to hear you,” she murmurs against their ear, her breath warm and intoxicating. “Don’t hold back from me. Let me know how much you want this.”

Her lips trail downward, leaving a heated path in their wake. Every kiss, every touch is calculated, designed to evoke as much anticipation as pleasure. When she finally takes them, her movements are slow and deliberate, her strength both grounding and overwhelming.

She doesn’t just want to touch them—she wants them to feel her power, to understand the full force of her desire. Her hips press firmly against theirs, her rhythm commanding but never hurried, her body moving in perfect sync with their own.

Ambessa’s voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, low and gravelly. “You’re mine,” she says, her tone thick with possession and pride. “Don’t forget that.”

Every sound, every movement, every moment is hers to control, and by the time she brings them over the edge, the reader is left completely undone, their body and soul marked by the intensity of her dominance.

Sҽѵíkα ↣ Missionary

Sevika thrives in the intimacy of missionary. Grounding her in a way that makes the connection feel deeper and more personal. She loves the closeness, the way their bodies align perfectly, allowing her to feel every breath and every movement, knowing they’re both fully immersed in each other. In this position, Sevika’s control softens, and she relishes in the vulnerability, the shared intensity of their connection as they move together.

The simmering tension between Sevika and the reader has been building for weeks, each lingering glance and teasing remark a spark to an already blazing fire. Tonight, Sevika arrives unannounced at the reader’s doorstep, her presence impossible to ignore as the streetlights cast a glow on her metal arm, giving her an almost ethereal, powerful aura. Holding a bottle of wine in one hand, her other hand brushes a stray lock of hair from her face, her lips curling into that signature, lopsided grin. “Thought you might need some company,” she says, her voice a velvety invitation laced with the promise of more.

The two settle on the couch, the wine flowing freely, laughter spilling into the room like a warm embrace. The warmth of Sevika’s presence is intoxicating, her low chuckle reverberating in the reader's chest as their knees brush beneath the table. Her scent lingers in the air, a heady mix of leather and something deeper, more magnetic. As the reader leans forward to refill Sevika’s glass, their hands meet in a soft, almost electric touch, sending a thrill straight through them. They share a glance that speaks volumes, the kind of look that doesn’t need words to communicate the raw desire building between them.

Sevika’s fingers trail deliberately down the reader’s arm, each touch rough and tender in equal measure, as if marking them. Her body leans closer, her breath warming the reader's ear before she finally closes the gap, her lips ghosting over theirs in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. The taste of wine is forgotten as Sevika deepens the kiss, pulling the reader closer, her hands sliding under their clothes to trace the curve of their back. The heat between them burns brighter with every passing moment, the playful banter between them replaced by pure, primal longing.

Before they know it, they’re moving toward the bedroom, the world outside fading into oblivion. The air is thick with desire, with the weight of unspoken promises and anticipation. Sevika stands over them, her eyes dark with hunger and determination, as she looks down at the reader. The soft rustle of her movements fills the room as she reaches for the purple shimmer hexstrap-on she brought with her, her gaze never leaving theirs. The strap-on gleams in the low light, a stark contrast to Sevika’s confidence, a visual testament to her control. Her lips curl into another knowing grin as she leans in, her voice rough but seductive.

"You ready for me to take you apart?" she asks, her voice low and thick with desire. Her gaze flickers between their eyes and their body, wanting to feel every inch of their submission to her. As she straps herself in, she watches the reader’s every reaction, their body trembling with anticipation.

Her movements are slow at first, deliberate, wanting them to feel every inch of her power, every inch of her control. She guides the reader’s hands to the bed, her fingers tracing their skin with possessive care, grounding them. “I want you to feel me. I want you to know exactly who’s in charge here,” she whispers, her voice husky as she begins to move. Each thrust is purposeful, an undeniable rhythm that leaves no room for anything but Sevika. She commands the space around them, her body undulating with controlled force as she watches the reader, her every movement a display of dominance and unyielding control.

The reader can only surrender, their body reacting instinctively to her, their hands gripping the bed, their back arching under her command. Sevika’s eyes lock onto theirs, holding them captive as she drives them both toward the edge. “Look at me,” she demands in a voice thick with possessiveness. “Watch me take you apart.”

Masterlist

YAYAYAYAY finnaly back I haven’t posted in a while so my bad but yeah I’m gonna make more of these like Caitlyn and vi

ALSO thinking about writing more ambessa shes soooo ughhhh

[hoe4hotchner]

Dust and harmony

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.2k

CW: Nothing really, except reader using an award as a weapon

Description: Hotch and Rossi catch a glimpse of your concert as you're cleaning the house.

A/N: Send requests here

It was one of those rare, blissful days where everything seemed to fall into place. The morning sun poured through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. The coffee brewing in the pot smelled just right. And with a full day off from work, you decided to tackle the house chores that had been piling up the past couple of weeks amidst your busy lives. Your first mission was to clean up the dust that had gathered on the shelves and surfaces around the house. With Aaron at work, you had the whole place to yourself all day, a perfect opportunity to crank up your favorite playlist and get things done.

After a quick breakfast, you got to work, moving from room to room with a cloth and bowl of warm soapy water in hand. The rhythmic beats of your favorite songs pumped through your headphones, helping you find a rhythm as you dusted every nook and cranny. It kept you focused. As you made your way back to the living room, you felt a little surge of energy, the music pushing you to clean with more enthusiasm than usual. You were lost in the rhythm   Your playlist shifted, and Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” started playing. A smile spread across your face as you recognized the opening notes, you couldn’t resist the urge to sing along. The song was powerful and full of emotion, and even though its message was far from anything you’d experienced in your relationship with Aaron, you couldn’t help but belt out the lyrics with all your heart.   You worked your way around the room, singing loudly as you dusted off the coffee table, the bookshelves, and the frames on the walls. The lyrics flowed out of you naturally, your voice filling the room as you wiped away the dust. As you sang the chorus, you reached for an award you'd won in your field of work. It was made of glass in the shape of a pyramid. It sat proudly on the mantle, a symbol of your hard work and dedication.

You were completely caught up in the moment, swinging the trophy around as you sang and danced to the beat, your voice echoing through the house. You found yourself fully immersed in the character in the song, even if it was all in good fun. Your eyes were closed, your heart was racing with the music, and you were unaware of anything else - especially the fact that Aaron had just unlocked the front door and come home.   Aaron had wrapped up his day earlier than expected and, as promised, brought David Rossi along with him. Rossi’s old whiskey decanter had been broken during one of the team's poker nights, and as a result, Aaron had offered to give him an extra one he had at home. They stepped into the entrance quietly, Aaron was so used to moving silently after years of working in law enforcement and hunting unsubs. On a regular day, you probably wouldn't even have noticed him.

Instead of a quiet house, they were greeted by the sound of your voice, loudly singing about keying cars and slashing tires. Aaron stopped in his tracks, a mixture of surprise and amusement crossing his face. Rossi, too, was caught off guard, but quickly found himself grinning at the scene.   “Is that…?” Rossi started, but Aaron simply nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.   They moved closer, staying just out of sight, watching as you danced around the living room, the trophy raised high like a prize. You were lost in the song, belting out the lyrics with ease. The combination of your unrestrained performance and the contrast of the lyrics with your actual relationship made for an amusing sight, and Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle softly.   “Should I be worried about your car?” Rossi leaned in, his voice low and filled with humor.   “She just likes the music,” Aaron shook his head, still smiling. There was an unmistakable hint of affection in his tone.   As the song reached its climax, you spun around, still holding the trophy, your voice soaring with the final lines. “I might’ve saved a little trouble for the next girl, ’cause the next time that he cheats…”

That’s when you finally noticed them. Aaron and Rossi stood in the doorway, grinning like a couple of kids caught sneaking cookies from the jar in the pantry. For a split second, your heart leaped into your throat, and you let out a startled scream, clutching the trophy in front of you as if it could somehow protect you.   “Easy there! We come in peace.” Rossi raised his hands in mock surrender, laughter rumbling in his chest.   Your face flushed as you quickly pulled off your headphones, letting them drop around your neck. “You scared me half to death!” you exclaimed, trying to recover from the shock.   “Sorry, we didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said gently, Aaron’s expression softened as he took a step forward, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.   “So, Hotch, should I assume you’re in trouble? That song choice seems a little… implied.” Rossi glanced between you and Aaron, a teasing grin on his face.   Before you could say anything, Aaron turned to Rossi with a knowing smile. “She has a thing for breakup songs. It’s not about us,” he explained. “Actually, she listens to them because she feels secure in our relationship.”

You huffed, more embarrassed than offended, and quickly put the trophy back on the coffee table. “Don't profile me Aaron!” you whined, your voice taking on a playful edge as you grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it at him. It hit him square in the chest, and he caught it easily, his deep, warm laugh filling the room.

“You two are something else,” Rossi watched the exchange with clear amusement, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, the grin on his face widening. “But seriously, I’m going to need that decanter before I get caught up in your little domestic drama.”   Aaron nodded, still smiling as he set the pillow aside. “I’ll get it for you,” he said, his tone gentle as he turned back to you. “You okay?”   You nodded, letting out a small laugh now that the initial shock had worn off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… maybe a little warning next time?”   “I’ll make sure of it,” Aaron promised, his eyes warm as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.   “Nice pipes,” Rossi winked in a teasing tone as Aaron walked toward his office to retrieve the decanter.   “Thanks. Just… don’t tell anyone at the BAU, okay?” You couldn’t help but grin.   “Your secret’s safe with me,” Rossi assured you with a chuckle, following Aaron into the office.

Left alone in the living room, you shook your head, a smile still tugging at your lips.

You glanced around, taking in the room, the warm sunlight, the dusty cloth still in your hand, the trophy back in its rightful place on the mantle.   As you finished up the last bit of dusting, you couldn’t help but hum the tune of “Before He Cheats” under your breath, a smile tugging at your lips. Aaron might have caught you off guard today, but you knew he loved every bit of your quirky habits, just as you loved his.

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work

[mysindividual]

(Unknowingly), his unspoken wish | Aaron Hotchner

*can be read as a standalone but is a bonus scene for the Unknowingly series in honour of celebrating Aaron’s birthday🥹

MASTERLIST

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

summary: your boss is drowning in paperwork when you burst in with a birthday cake and a cheerful serenade, determined to rescue him from his serious face. Your playful spirit turns the mundane into a mini-party and the weight of his responsibilities fades. In that small, cozy space, laughter and connection blossom, transforming an ordinary night into a memorable celebration filled with joy and unspoken wishes. Who knew paperwork could come with cake and a side of chaos?

warnings: boss x subordinate, mutual pining, some fluff and flirting, of course

Aaron Hotchner sat alone in his dimly lit office, the clock ticking softly in the background, marking the late hours of the night. The weight of paperwork loomed over him like an unwelcome cloud, his loose white shirt hanging comfortably around his neck, the collar slightly askew. His tie lay abandoned on the desk, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that hinted at both strength and exhaustion. The flickering light from the desk lamp cast soft shadows across his focused expression as he scribbled notes on a report.

You peered through the slightly ajar door, a smile breaking across your face at the sight of him buried in work. It was a familiar scene—one you had come to appreciate. There was something about seeing him so immersed in his tasks, yet so human in his dishevelled attire, that made your heart flutter. The way he concentrated, the faint lines of stress etched on his brow, made you want to lighten his burden.

You pushed the door open wider, stepping inside with a piece of cake held delicately in your hands, a single candle flickering atop it like a beacon of cheer. Taking a deep breath, you began to sing, “Happy birthday to you…” Your voice echoed softly against the walls, a playful melody breaking the stillness.

Aaron’s head snapped up, confusion flashing across his face for a split second before it transformed into a genuine but tired smile, softening the stern lines of his jaw. He looked at the unexpected sight before him, momentarily caught off guard by your vibrant presence. Weaving your way around the desk and towards him, Aaron turned his chair to face you fully, his brow furrowing in surprise before softening with gratitude. “How did you know?” he asked, the weight of his day momentarily lifting.

“Do you really think you can keep secrets from me?” You set the cake down with a flourish, leaning against the desk, your playful demeanor a breath of fresh air in the still office. “I have my sources,” you replied, your voice teasing and light. “Every birthday deserves a little celebration, don’t you think?” You winked at him, your smile infectious.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, clearly both flattered and amused. “I usually keep my birthday under wraps to avoid… this,” he said, gesturing towards the cake, a hint of bemusement lacing his tone. “I prefer to keep it low-key. Too many people would make a big deal out of it.”

“Good thing I’m not ‘too many people’,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you grinned down at him. “Just the right amount of fun for the birthday boss.”

As your gaze locked, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. The flickering candlelight danced between you, casting a warm glow that highlighted the softness in his eyes. “You’re full of surprises,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent, as if acknowledging something sacred.

“Aren’t birthdays meant for surprises?” you replied, your brows lifting in playful challenge. The candlelight danced in your cheerful eyes, enhancing the intimacy of the moment. “Now, close your eyes, make a wish, and blow out the candle,” you urged, clasping your hands beneath your chin, your heart racing in anticipation.

Aaron sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let go until he did it, knowing too well he couldn’t resist your charm. So he closed his eyes, focusing on the flame that flickered before him. In that stillness, his thoughts turned inwards, settling on a wish that felt profound—a desire that had stirred in his heart for longer than he dared to acknowledge. The truth settled in his heart: you were the source of his joy, the light that pierced the shadows of his long hours.

When he opened his eyes again, he found you watching him intently, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Well? What did you wish for?” you teased, leaning closer, your curiosity brightening the room.

He smirked, the playful banter returning, but he felt the weight of his unshared truth. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “After all, you have your sources.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, pulling plastic forks from your suit’s pocket and offering one to him. As you both shared a slice of cake, Aaron looked up at you, his expression softening. You were perched on the edge of his desk, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes as you dove into the cake, savoring each bite. But as he glanced back at the clock, a question nagged at him. Why were you really here, choosing him over the festivities? He couldn’t shake the thought. While others were out enjoying the night, you had willingly stepped into the dim light of his office, sharing a slice of cake and laughter instead.

“Shouldn’t you be out with the team, enjoying your night off?” he asked, a hint of curiosity threading through his tone. His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away, a reminder of the lively night happening elsewhere.

“Because,” you replied, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’d much rather celebrate with you than be in a crowded bar where no one knows how to appreciate a good cake.”

A teasing smile crept across your lips, surveying the neatly organized office as if contemplating a grand scheme. “I could say I was worried about you, but honestly?” You paused for effect, cocking your head to the side with a playful smirk. “I couldn’t resist the chance to bring a little chaos and cake to your perfectly organized life.”

Hotch leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin creeping across his face as he watched you. It was rare for him to let his guard down in the office, but here you were, radiating a lightness that cut through the heaviness of his responsibilities like a beam of sunshine. You were animated, lost in the joy of the moment, and it reminded him of how much he valued your presence—your ability to infuse laughter and warmth into the often-grim world of the Bureau.

You didn’t just bring chaos; you brought something deeper—a sense of connection, a reminder that even in the seriousness of his job, he wasn’t alone. He appreciated how you lightened his burdens, even if just for a brief reprieve. The laughter and shared cake were small acts, but they brought a brightness that pierced through the usual shadows of his responsibilities.

In that fleeting moment, he felt a swell of gratitude that you had chosen to stay, even if it was just to share a slice of cake. He felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t just about the cake; maybe it was about you choosing him.

“Did you wish for another piece of cake?” you teased, breaking the comfortable silence, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes revealing your hidden intentions as you enjoyed your bite.

“No, but I should have,” he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone as the corners of his lips lifted slightly. “What I wished for might be a little more… complicated.”

“Oh? Now you have to tell me, or I can’t help,” you insisted, leaning closer, your voice dropping conspiratorially. “I have my sources. Was it something about the case? A promotion? Or maybe that I’d bring you cake every year?”

He raised an eyebrow, maintaining a teasingly serious expression. “Let’s just say it was a wish for happiness.” His gaze lingered on yours, and in that moment, a soft connection sparked between you—an unspoken understanding that hung in the air, almost tangible.

You felt warmth blossom within you, the moment stretching as you shared that knowing smile, nodding. “Well, then, I think we have to make that wish come true. Starting with more cake,” you declared, laughter bubbling up as you reached for a fork, your enthusiasm infectious.

The night was far from over, and in that small office, surrounded by scattered papers and the gentle ticking of seconds on the clock, something unspoken began to bloom—a shared wish, yet unvoiced, hanging delicately between you.

As you both indulged in the cake, the storm of paperwork faded into the background, replaced by an easy warmth that enveloped the room. The simple act of celebrating—a birthday, a connection—infused the atmosphere with a sweetness that even the weightiest cases could not overshadow. Each bite of cake felt like a small victory, a reminder that joy could be found in the midst of chaos.

[jermer10]

Could I request Spy and Medic with a reader who pulls them in by the tie for a kiss :00 Thank you in advance ^-^

TF2 mercs being pulled in by their ties

suggestive, gn reader | ty for the ask anon!! ^_^

includes: spy, medic

drabbles under the cut :P

Spy: Spy's study was dimly lit, the soft glow of a cigarette balanced between his fingers casting long shadows across his face. He stood with his back to you, eyes trained on the battlefield outside the window, calculating as always. You approached quietly, knowing full well he heard every footstep, but allowing him to maintain his facade of mystery. Without a word, you reached for the silk tie hanging loosely around his neck. Spy froze momentarily, caught off-guard by the sudden boldness of your touch. Slowly, you tugged at the tie, gently but with purpose. His eyes flickered with intrigue as you pulled him toward you.

He allowed it, curious. His smirk grew wider as he let himself be drawn in, close enough that the faint smell of his expensive cologne filled your senses. The distance between your lips disappeared in a heartbeat, and you pressed a firm, heated kiss to his mouth. For a moment, he stood still, surprised that you had taken control. His gloved hand came up to cup the back of your neck, his lips moving against yours with a slow, practiced elegance. When you finally pulled back, your grip still tight on his tie, Spy gave a soft chuckle.

"You play a dangerous game, mon amour," he purred, his voice velvety smooth, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "But I do so enjoy it when you surprise me."

Medic: The lab was filled with the usual clinks and beeps of equipment, Medic fully absorbed in whatever chaotic experiment he was conducting. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, and his tie hung askew, as if he hadn’t bothered to adjust it for hours. You approached him from behind, watching with amusement as he muttered something in German, completely immersed in his work. “Doctooorr,” you called, your voice soft but with a hint of playfulness. He didn’t even glance up, waving his hand dismissively. “One moment, just one moment…”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer. He was so absorbed in his notes that he didn’t notice when you reached for his tie, fingers curling around the fabric. You gave it a sharp tug, pulling him toward you. He nearly dropped his clipboard, his eyes widening in shock as he stumbled slightly. “Vhat—" he stammered, but before he could protest, your lips crashed against his, silencing him with a passionate kiss. The initial surprise quickly faded as Medic’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer. His glasses nearly slipped off his face, but he didn’t seem to care, too caught up in the kiss.

When you pulled away, leaving him slightly breathless, his eyes were wide with excitement, lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Mein Gott,” he murmured, adjusting his glasses with one hand while still holding onto you with the other. “You certainly know how to, ah, get my attention.” You gave his tie one last playful tug, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Glad to know that worked." Medic chuckled, his gaze warm and full of admiration. "I might need to be distracted more often."

[hyewka]

or can u suggest any txt fic here (preferably the long ones w chapters) that u enjoyed?

sorry for the extremely extremely late reply but i’ll list some long fics + txt series’s that ive enjoyed with some comments attached to each one. spoiler alert, a completed txt series is pretty hard to find lol

series

lover = lo$er (sub!gyu, virgin fic)

it would be easy to just straight up recommend every @/wildernessuntothemselves series and i might just succumb to that later on but this is pure submissive beomgyu heaven, served as my first real awakening and i would probably attribute most of my sub gyu writing to this fic alone. 10/10, has a love triangle bit and beomgyus kind of insane

criminal conscience (dom!gyu, crime au)

on the other side of the spectrum, this is pussy clenching dom beomgyu goodness and i dont think it gets better than this. the writing is so compelling it fully immerses you in the narrative, even im getting sucked in to beomgyu’s manipulation (whats new really), blaring red flags and all. its currently on hiatus though but i would catch up either way beomiracles is a pretty consistent writer, she’d probably pick it up sooner or later :)

mosquito (soobin)

sorry this is going to be all over the place lol but this is also still ongoing (its only two parts in) but this writer is absolutely insane. narrative feels fleshed out and though it mainly follows soobin’s perspective and feelings, i am quite enjoying it so far. it has some idol x idol action as well, not the main focus of course but it is written in detail

one way (dom!beomgyu, themes of sadism)

this ones a three parter and its completed. by the same writer mentioned previously (soobrat), very very good storytelling, keeps you on your toes and has a hold on your emotions but like mentioned, it has a bit of an extremity in the smut and it is undeniably toxic but its good

sneaky link (dom yeonjun, the other woman trope)

i havent read this in a while but i remember staying up all night reading all of it lol. i would probably not recommend this to people who really cant read infidelity since thats what the fic is based around but it isnt cast in a very favorable light anyway. really toxic, seriously good

fuck you series (sub gyu, enemies to lovers, band au)

its really cute and the e2l set up is believable enough since theyre band rivals. beomgyu is so so so cute in this even if a little insufferable to mc lol. i would also recommend fairyofshampgyu’s now live series but its currently on an indefinite hiatus (its sooo good as well though so if youre willing, you should check it out)

nabi (best friends to lovers beomgyu, no smut)

two parts in, not completed but im following it currently and god i love them together their dynamic is soooo fun to read, you wont get bored

jerk! (enemies to lovers, beomgyu fic, no smut)

its another band au and its also ongoing. there isnt a consistent update schedule so that might be a minus but the most recent chapter was from a month ago so its safe to say it hasnt been left in the dust (thank god). very very good writing, excited to see how their relationship takes off

bullying choi soobin (sub soobin)

submissive soobin and its good, of course im recommending this. its finished and a 4 parter

sugar (dom!yeonjun, dom!gyu)

unfortunately probably forever incomplete but i love it and i might actually go back to reading it for the third time

let me into your world (non smut beomgyu series)

i havent read a soulmate premise in sooo long so this was refreshing to read, good stuff

supermodel (dom gyu and sub i believe)

its just. Amazing. a two parter but a goodie

the city that never sleeps (bsf smut)

also two parts but both parts are pretty long, really good stuff

ok for the life of me i cannot find this one huening series where he was getting bullied by reader and they were secretly fucking?? that one was literally perfect submissive men shit so if you find it if youve struck gold

long full fics (6k+)

telepathy (fantasy, dom!gyu)

a little out of the box compared to all the fics ive recommended so far and thats what makes it so special and good

duality (dom!kai)

i actually havent read this one yet but i will soon, i just thought id add it here anyway since i know ill love it

killer instinct (taehyun fic)

very plot heavy and it centers taehyun mainly. i could go ahead and cheat and just list out every single koqabear fic lmao but this ones a gem, very happy i set aside the time to read it

the redemption of choi yeonjun (dom!yj)

im not personally a fan of the trope but when it was originally teased the smut sounded heavenly and honestly, it is. such a good dom yeonjun here but beware hes a little (a lot) mean lol. he changes by the end

like cat and mouse! (sub gyu, inexperienced)

again, worth the reading time investment. i love submissive gyu, he is everything here and more

love love love (sub gyu, royal au)

i have probably read this a total of 30 times

i hate you (enemy!beomgyu, dom beomgyu)

ok sorry im cheating here a bit this isnt long but its so good you should check it out anyway

[wonniefics]

Streamed passion

Sunghoon is deeply immersed in his live stream, chatting with his fans about the latest happenings and his upcoming schedule. He's casually dressed in a red shirt and sweats, looking relaxed as he engages with his audience. Despite his casual attire, his focus is entirely on the tans, making it clear that he's engrossed in his work.

You're nearby in the hotel room, feeling increasingly frustrated as the stream drags on. You've tried subtle hints to get his attention, but he's too absorbed in the live chat to notice. You feel a mix of irritation and playfulness bubbling up. Deciding it's time for a more direct approach, you prepare to make your move.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you stand up and approach him, making sure to stay out of the camera's view.

You lift your shirt slightly, giving him a teasing flash of skin. Sunghoon's eyes flicker to you momentarily, a mix of curiosity and irritation crossing his face, but he quickly redirects his focus back to the camera. "So, as I was saying, our latest single has been doing really well," he says, trying to sound casual and unaffected.

Seeing that your initial attempt hasn't garnered his full attention, you decide to escalate. You kneel down beside him, your hands slipping under the table.

Sunghoon casts a quick, puzzled glance downward but doesn't pause his stream. He's still chatting animatedly with his fans, oblivious to the full extent of your intentions.

With deliberate slowness, you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the front of his sweats. Sunghoon's body tenses slightly, but he continues speaking to his fans, his voice wavering just a bit. "Yeah, the choreography for the new song was really intense," he continues, his tone becoming strained.

You let your hands move with purpose, slipping inside his sweats. Sunghoon's breath hitches, and he struggles to maintain his composure, his voice becoming more uneven. "We worked really hard on the concept," he says, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to focus on his fans' questions.

Slowly, you wrap your fingers around him, stroking with a teasing rhythm.

Sunghoon's grip on the edge of the desk tightens, his frustration evident.

"The fans have been really supportive, and we appreciate all the love," he stammers, his voice rougher now as he tries to keep his composure.

You increase your pace, your hand moving with more deliberate pressure.

Sunghoon's eyes dart between the chat and you, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The comments start to get more concerned. "Sunghoon, are you okay? You seem a bit distracted."

Trying to push past the distraction, Sunghoon forces a nervous laugh, trying to maintain his professional demeanor. "Yeah, I'm fine! Just a little... overwhelmed," he admits, his voice cracking slightly as he fights to stay focused.

You push his sweats down further, exposing him fully. You lean in, pressing your lips to the tip and teasing him with soft, flickering licks. Sunghoon's breath catches in his throat, his attempts to keep talking faltering. "We've been really busy with rehearsals," he manages to say, his voice barely a whisper as he fights to maintain his composure.

You take him into your mouth, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Sunghoon's hips jerk slightly, and he curses under his breath, his attempts to maintain his composure slipping. The comments in the chat become more concerned. "Sunghoon, you look really flustered. Are you okay?" reads one comment. "Is everything alright? You seem distracted," another comment follows.

Sunghoon's jaw clenches, his eyes closing as he tries to keep talking.

"Yeah, just... a lot on my mind," he says, his voice thick with arousal. He starts to push your head down harder, taking more control of the situation as his frustration grows.

With one final, powerful thrust,

Sunghoon reaches his breaking point.

He groans loudly, his release coming in hot, overwhelming waves. Some of it spills from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to keep up. Sunghoon's breaths are ragged, and he collapses back into his chair, his face flushed with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

The chat explodes with comments, a mix of concern and shock. "Oh my god, what's happening? Sunghoon, are you okay?" "That was intense, did something just happen?" "Sunghoon looks like he's having a hard time."

Sunghoon, still trying to regain his composure, quickly ends the stream.

"Sorry everyone, something urgent came up. I'll catch up with you guys later," he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he fumbles with the stream controls.

As soon as the stream is off, Sunghoon looks down at you with a mix of frustration and desire. Without a word, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hands immediately finding their way to your chest. His fingers grip and squeeze roughly, his breath hot against your neck as he starts to kiss you fiercely.

His hands tangle in your hair, pulling it back to deepen the kiss. His movements are rough and urgent, reflecting his pent-up frustration and desire. You respond eagerly, matching his intensity, your bodies pressed tightly together as the kiss grows more passionate.

After several minutes of heated, rough kissing, Sunghoon pulls away slightly, his breathing heavy. He looks at you with a mix of hunger and determination.

"Why don't we take this to the bed?" he says, his voice low and commanding.

Without waiting for a response, he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He carries you to the bedroom with a sense of urgency, his lips trailing kisses along your neck and shoulders.

The night is far from over, and you both know there's a lot more passion waiting to be explored.

Follow me or jyp will be in ur walls tonight

[ninibeingdelulu]

“You both are..my everything.”

plot- higuruma can’t wait to get home to see his little family

The aroma of simmering spices wafted through the cozy kitchen where you were busily preparing dinner.

Soft evening light filtered in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the cheerful disarray of pots and pans scattered about from your culinary efforts.

You paused to wipe perspiration from your brow with the back of one hand, humming contentedly under your breath.

Though you often felt hopelessly outmatched when it came to mastering the culinary arts compared to your talented husband, you took pride in trying your best to create nourishing homecooked meals for your little family.

At the sound of the front door opening and closing with a familiar creak, your face immediately brightened.

Speak of the devil - you'd recognize the subtle cadences of Hiromi's familiar footfalls anywhere.

"Honey? Is that you?" you called out with a grin, already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, your husband soon appeared in the entryway, shoulders sagging just slightly with weariness from another long day's work.

Yet as soon as Hiromi's rich brown eyes landed on you standing there by the stove - tendrils of hair escaping your messy bun, cheeks flushed from exertion, and sleeves rolled up in domestic disarray - his entire expression seemed to soften and warm.

The harsh angles and lines of strain melted from his features in an instant.

With a low groan, Hiromi crossed the distance between you in three strides, startling a laugh from you as his much larger frame enveloped you from behind.

You could feel the tension still coiled tight in the bunched ropes of his muscles as he wrapped those powerful arms around your waist and simply...sagged against you in a full-bodied lean.

"Hey there, handsome." you chuckled fondly, even as his dead weight bore down with that comforting solidity you'd grown to crave like a physical ache whenever he was away for too long.

"Welcome home. Rough day at work?"

Hiromi just grunted in wordless affirmation, nuzzling his whiskered jaw against the crook of your neck as he seemed to liquid-melt against your back.

His lips brushed your skin as he inhaled deeply, the mere presence of your clean, familiar scent already proving a balm to whatever stresses taxed him.

"Remind me why I married a messy little woman who gets her scent all over every inch of our home?" he finally rumbled, a hint of humored gruffness undercutting the words.

"It's downright torturous having to suffer through the day with just the memory of you imprinted on my senses."

You tried and failed to repress the shiver skating down your spine at his rough timbre rasping so sinfully close to your ear like that.

One huge, calloused palm skated downwards to splay possessively over the soft swell of your abdomen, hauling you even more snugly back against the solid wall of his chest.

"Well, I did try warning you about what a terribly disorganized mess you were signing up for." You retorted airily, twisting in his arms until you could face him properly.

Hiromi's chiseled, sharply angular features were thawing into those heart-melting crinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth that you loved drawing out of him so much.

Unable to resist, you leaned up on your tiptoes to dot his jawline and cheeks with a smattering of swift, loud kisses.

"Hey now. Don't smear me up with those sauce-stained digits, woman..."

Despite his put-upon grumbling, Hiromi didn't push you away. Far from it - he simply hugged you tighter, that low gravelly chuckle of genuine amusement rumbling against your sternum as he buried his face into the wild tumble of your hair.

"Actually, that's fine...I don't really mind getting a little dirty if it means immersing myself fully in you again after being away all day," he added in a conspiratorial murmur, so low and velvet-rough that you swore your skin was going to unbraid at the seams right then and there.

Before you could even begin to properly sputter out a response to that deliciously wicked innuendo, Hiromi had already captured your lips with his own in a long, smoldering kiss.

It was intoxicating how thoroughly he could deconstruct your bones into molten puddles with just one nibbling caress of those sinfully skilled lips and wicked tongue.

Eventually though, desperate twin gasps for air forced you to draw apart again - both of your chests heaving a touch raggedly.

You stared up at Hiromi through your lashes, tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw hungrily with your gaze.

Yes, having him back in your arms whole and healthy after the long day apart filled your heart to overflowing every single time.

You drank in the sight of that beloved face, marveling at how unfairly ruggedly handsome features could possibly be...until your wondering gaze slid over to the living room couch where your precious newborn baby girl still slumbered peacefully beside Hiromi's hastily discarded work satchel.

Something behind Hiromi's eyes melted as he followed your line of vision over to that tiny bundled form.

Slowly, gingerly, he disentangled himself from your embrace to drift over towards the couch - long legs eating up the distance with a few unhurried strides.

There was an almost palpable shift in the tenor of his expression as Hiromi eased down onto his knees beside the sofa.

All the hard edges and angular harshness sloughed away, replaced with something infinitely softer and more tender than you'd ever witnessed from him before.

He held himself with infinite care, shoulders rolled slightly inwards as one rough fingertip extended to ever-so delicately trace the fine wisps of downy hair fanning out across your daughter's tiny brow.

Hiromi seemed to positively crave with every fiber of his being as he hovered protectively beside her, committing every tiny detail to permanent memory with those rapt, soulful eyes.

A lump rose swiftly in your throat at the poignant sight of your strong, brash, powerhouse of a husband humbled into devoted reverence before this impossibly fragile new life you'd created together.

You watched him watching her - the most cynical, jaded parts of Hiromi's soul visibly falling away layer by layer.

A profound sense of inner peace smoothed the deep trenches scored across his brow as he inhaled the sweet, powdery scent of your slumbering infant on a ragged exhale.

Hiromi remained that way for long minutes, seemingly lost to the outside world, perfectly content to simply drink in her perfect existence with every sense.

"Hey, Hiro..." you spoke up at last in a hushed murmur, warmth swelling in your chest until it threatened to burst free in a riot of multi-colored ribbons and chiming bells.

"I think it's time to get our little princess transferred to her crib now. You don't want to miss another second of your evening snuggle time with her favorite napping partner, right?"

Hiromi lifted his head sharply at your words, slightly startled as if just now remembering you even stood there observing this quiet tableau.

His plush mouth curved into the most soul-rending, adoring smile you'd ever seen grace his typically gruff features.

It was downright incandescent, lighting him up from a place deeper than you even realized he possessed before now.

"Right...of course. Come to papa, sweetheart."

With supreme gentleness, Hiromi gathered up your daughter's downy form against the broad sloping plane of his torso, cradling her with infinite care.

He pressed his lips to her crown in a lingering brush of devotion before standing with her protectively swaddled in his arms.

Just before vanishing around the corner towards the nursery, Hiromi paused to look back over his shoulder at you.

He seemed to drink in your softened expression and warm smile, letting loose one more quietly contented rumble of masculine affection just for you alone.

“You both are...my everything”

Hiromi mouthed silently, pouring every ounce of depth and solemnity into those five words before continuing on his way, looking for all the world like a veritable god radiating inner tranquility simply from the world-tilting privilege of shepherding his child for even a few brief moments.

Yes, you mused while turning back to continue cooking preparations - you doubted you'd ever seen or experience anything quite as heart-rendingly beautiful and precious as Hiromi in full, unguarded daddy mode.

[babsworlds]

MY SAVIOR.

pairing. Tom Ryder x fem! reader

synopsis. Tom went too far with his love for parties.

warnings. drunk Tom, alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol poisoning, angst.

THERE WAS NEVER ANY DOUBT ABOUT TOM RYDER BEING A PARTY ANIMAL. He loved to party, no matter when or why.

And you were pretty aware of that; most of the time, you partied with him to enjoy yourself and also to keep an eye on him since Tom had no awareness of his surroundings when he partied.

But tonight was different. You were mad at Tom for choosing to go to a party instead of staying home with you for once. You had hoped for a quiet evening together, maybe a movie night or just some time to relax and reconnect. But Tom, true to his nature, couldn’t resist the call of another wild night out.

You sat on the couch, the flickering light of your favorite Harry Potter movie casting shadows across the room. You had hoped that immersing yourself in the world of magic and wonder would provide some comfort and distraction from your frustration. The familiar scenes and characters brought a sense of nostalgia and warmth, but it wasn't enough to fully quell the anger simmering inside you.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to Tom. You couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment and hurt that he had chosen a party over spending time with you. You wished that, just once, you could be his priority.

On the other side, Tom was enjoying himself far too much. More than any other time before. He knew you were mad at him, and in a way, he was mad at himself too. He hated that feeling of guilt and disappointment, so he decided to drown it all out with drinks.

The party was in full swing, with music blaring and people dancing. Tom moved from group to group, throwing back shots and laughing loudly. He was determined to have a good time, trying to push away the nagging thoughts of you sitting alone at home, upset with him.

But no matter how much he drank, the guilt lingered at the back of his mind. He missed you, and deep down, he knew he should have stayed home with you. The more he drank, the more he realized that the party wasn't as fun without you by his side.

He sat alone on the couch, bottles of alcohol by his side, and illegal substances scattered on the small table in front of him. He was barely conscious, his mind hazy and his vision blurred. The room around him seemed to spin, the noise of the party fading into the background as he teetered on the edge of losing consciousness.

Tom's head drooped forward, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. The realization of how far he had fallen hit him hard, even through the fog of intoxication. He knew he had pushed things too far this time, and the consequences were starting to catch up with him.

As he sat there, a wave of regret washed over him. He thought about you, alone at home, likely worried and angry. The guilt gnawed at him, intensifying the already overwhelming sense of disorientation. He needed to pull himself together, to find a way out of the spiral he was trapped in.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” His friend approached him, worry etched on his face. Tom didn't really look good, his eyes glazed and his movements sluggish.

“Hm hmm,” Tom murmured with a weak smile, his head lolling to the side. He tried to muster some semblance of reassurance, but it was clear that he was struggling.

“That’s no fun, man. You don’t look good,” the friend said, concern deepening in his voice. He knelt beside Tom, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Tom's friend scanned the scene, noticing the empty bottles and scattered substances. “You’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “You look like you have alcohol poisoning.”

“Naaah, I’m fine,” Tom said, his voice slurred. His friends gathered around, worry etched on their faces. They knew Tom could usually handle a lot of alcohol and substances, but this time was different. He didn’t look good at all.

“We should call an ambulance,” one of the group suggested, looking around for agreement. The others nodded, their concern growing.

Tom panicked as he heard the word "ambulance”, the thought of medical intervention was too much for him in his state. “No, no,” he resisted, his voice weak and desperate.

“Just call my girl,” Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper. The only thing he wished for at that moment was to be with you. He knew you could handle him, that you would know what to do.

The group shared worried looks as they all realized they didn’t have your number. Tom, noticing their concerned faces, murmured, “My phone case.”

One of his friends quickly reached for Tom’s phone next to him. Behind the plastic transparent case was a polaroid of you, smiling brightly. His friend pulled it out, and on the other side was your number. Tom had always kept this polaroid behind the case, just in case something happened to him.

Without wasting any more time, his friend dialed your number, hoping you would answer quickly. As the phone rang, they all tried to keep Tom conscious and reassured him that help was on the way.

You looked confused as you saw your phone ringing at this late hour, especially from an unknown number. “Hello?” you spoke carefully.

“Hi, Y/n. We need you to pick up Tom,” the unknown voice on the other end said. “He’s like super drunk.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and concern. “That’s his problem,” you shrugged, still mad at him for choosing the party over spending time with you.

“C’mon, Y/n, he looks like he’s poisoned,” the male voice urged, the worry in his tone evident.

This time, you finally listened. As much as you wanted to stay mad, you couldn’t allow something to happen to Tom. Despite everything, he was still your Tom, and you couldn't bear the thought of him being in danger.

You got up from the couch, your phone balanced between your ear and shoulder. "Where are you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I'll send you the location," the voice on the other end replied.

You quickly grabbed your hoodie and slipped it on, already heading towards the door. As you walked, you heard the notification ping on your phone, indicating the location had been sent. With a sense of urgency, you opened the message and quickly noted the address.

Sliding into the driver's seat of your car, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before starting the engine. Your mind raced with thoughts of Tom, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of worry and frustration. He had pushed things too far this time, and you were determined to make sure he was safe.

As you drove through the quiet streets, the glow of streetlights illuminating your path, you mentally prepared yourself for the conversation that would come once Tom was home. You needed him to understand how his actions affected you and how important it was for him to prioritize your relationship.

When you got to the location, Tom and the group were already in front of the building, sitting on the bench and waiting patiently.

“Oh my goddess,” you cursed under your breath as you saw your boyfriend in that state. Tom didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a look of shame, his eyes reflecting his regret.

His friends helped you get Tom to the passenger seat of your car. “Thank you,” you said to them, genuinely grateful for their assistance. They nodded, sharing your concern for Tom.

As you climbed into the car, you glanced over at Tom. He seemed to be barely holding on, his head resting against the window. You knew that you needed to get him home safely and that the conversation about his behavior would have to wait until he was in a better state.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you stared straight ahead at the road, refusing to look at Tom. “You’re fucking asshole,” you said through a sob, quickly wiping the tears away with one hand while keeping the other on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry,” Tom murmured against the window, his voice weak and filled with regret.

You rolled your eyes at his apology, feeling a surge of frustration. How could he think that a simple “sorry” would make everything better? The hurt and disappointment you felt couldn’t be erased so easily.

The car ride continued in tense silence, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you. You wanted to be angry, to shout at him for his reckless behavior, but the worry for his well-being overshadowed everything else.

“You’re my savior, Y/n,” Tom broke the silence, his head now turned towards you. You looked at him with a confused expression. “I love you,” he said again, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You didn’t answer. Even though you loved him more than he would ever know, you couldn’t find the words to express it. The mix of emotions—anger, relief, love—left you speechless.

“Y/n, please say something,” Tom demanded, his hand resting on your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You took a deep breath, feeling the block in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. “There’s so much I want to say,” you trailed off, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. “But I don’t know where to start.”

You threw your hands in the air, frustration bubbling over. “I mean, I love you, but I hate the way you act like I’m not your priority,” you cried out, your hands landing back on the wheel.

“But I know you don’t—” you turned your head to him, ready to continue, only to find him asleep. The sight of him, vulnerable and exhausted, softened your anger.

Deep down, you wished he would just understand how you felt. You felt like he didn't truly listen to you, like your emotions and concerns went unheard. As you drove, the weight of that realization pressed down on you, filling you with a sense of loneliness despite Tom being right there beside you.

[suguslve]

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— WE'LL NEVER LAST SO WHY CAN'T I LET GO OF THIS?

synopsis: loving malleus felt like a dream come true, a beautiful, perfect dream—but what would it be like to wake up and face the reality of returning to your world?

♰ pairings. malleus draconia x gn!reader

♰ genre. fluff to angst (?) idk i think its just full on angst hehe

♰ word count. 1.2k

♰ a/n. oh lookie here another angst!! you can't blame me for writing angst bcus this is all my friends ever request. lowkey (highkey) inspired by laufey's song promise. enjoy reading and lmk your thoughts!

You two weren’t bound to last—your love was a ticking time bomb, and with every passing moment, you felt the weight of the inevitable end pressing down on you. You dreaded the days that followed, each one a reminder that soon, the love you shared would crumble into nothing. You tried so hard to push the thoughts of leaving aside, to immerse yourself fully in the present, but they lingered, persistent and quiet. You knew that leaving would break you, carve wounds so deep in your heart and soul that they might never heal, but you could never walk away—not when he looks at you every time with so much love and adoration—as though you had woven the stars and moon into the night, casting light into a world he saw as nothing but dark and gloomy. And so you gave in, finally accepting the love that he was more than willing to give.

He never thought he’d feel like this, never thought that the day would come where someone would be able to tug at his heart strings—yet he wasn’t upset, quite the contrary rather. For the first time, he felt alive in a way he never had before, the walls he’d built around himself through time finally began to crack. Vulnerability wasn’t something Malleus was used to—but strangely it felt warm, normal, right. When he fell for you, he fell hard, wanting nothing more but to surrender every fragment of his soul to you. Who would have guessed that the great powerful mage would be capable of something so delicate?

Loving Malleus was easy, as did being with him. He was the epitome of a gentleman: greeting you with a gentle kiss on your hand and softly kissing your forehead whenever he bid you goodbye, surprising you with beautiful flowers “just because”, wiping away your tears with the softest touch, and soft whispers of his unwavering devotion. He knew you better than you knew yourself, recognizing your feelings even when you kept to yourself. He doesn’t push you to explain what’s troubling you; instead, he holds you gently, offering a warm embrace that speaks to you in ways words never could. He loved you in every way he knew how to. And he knew that loving you would also mean letting you go. 

“Hush now, child of man. It’s going to be okay,” his voice was muffled as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of you one last time. You felt the warmth of his tears against your skin as his grip tightened, as if he were holding onto the last thread of something beautiful. Your sobs erupted once more, harder this time, your heart breaking as you cried into his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair in a feeble attempt to soothe you. God, you were going to miss him.

“It’s not going to be okay! Wanna stay here with you, just like I promised.” Your voice broke. He then pulls you away from his embrace, his eyes bloodshot, tears staining his face. He tried to hold a smile, but it was fragile, as if he were breaking inside too—which, he is. Despite all the hurt and pain painting his features, he still looked beautiful, curse him and his gorgeous face.

He anticipated this, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I know,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I know, but sometimes promises... are not meant to last. And it hurts me greatly, my love.” His hand brushed your cheek, his touch soft and gentle. "But I can’t do anything to change things, I wish I could, but I can't... not this time."

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the thought of never feeling his warmth again, never having late-night walks with him again, never hearing the corny jokes he pulled just to make you laugh, never hearing his voice again, never seeing him again. “I don’t want to forget you, Tsunotaro…”

His expression softened, but it didn’t stop the tears that slipped from his eyes. He stroked your face gently, trying to memorize the feeling of you. “You won’t forget me,” he said, but his voice trembled, betraying his own doubt. “I’ll always be a part of you, even when I’m not there, because a piece of me will always live within you, just as a part of you resides in me, forever intertwined. In every step you take, in every laugh you share, in the quiet moments when you think of me. I’ll live in those.”

The thing with love is that it breaks you as much as it heals you, and though you don’t regret being with Malleus, you regret not having enough time with him. There was never enough time to keep loving each other as you longed to, never enough time to bare your heart completely, never enough time to love him with all the depth your heart had to give before the world demanded you let go.

You connected your forehead with his, feeling him once more. Malleus’ face twisted with pain, his own tears mixing with yours. “I want to be with you as well, maybe even more than you do, but we can’t twist fate, my dove. You belong in that world, and I belong here.” he says, and you don’t know if he’s convincing you or himself, maybe the latter. 

You knew deep down that his absence would create a void that nothing could fill, and you couldn’t shake the fear that in the end, the memory of him would start to fade, piece by piece. “I’ll miss you, Tsunotaro, so damn much.” you whispered, your voice shaky, the weight of your words heavier than you had ever known.

“I will too, child of man.” he responded, his voice low, thick with the same sorrow that gripped your heart—and he kissed you. A kiss that was filled with sorrow, yet so much love. A kiss that would forever be engraved in your memory. A kiss that he made sure you will never forget. A kiss that you knew would be the last. As he pulled away, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his gaze tender, but filled with an undeniable weight. You could see the love in his eyes, but there was also the painful understanding that this was it—this was the end. The end of something beautiful, something irreplaceable.

You reluctantly pulled away from him, the pain of doing so almost unbearable, and started making your way toward the mirror that would lead you back home. Before stepping through, you glanced back at him. “I promise to visit when the time comes. Make sure you don’t fall in love with someone else while I’m gone okay? Or else I’d kill you myself.” you joke, as he chuckles in response.

“I wouldn’t even dream of being with someone other than you, I’ll be awaiting your arrival, no matter how long it takes.” You turned your gaze forward, fearing that when you looked at him for much longer, you’d run back into his arms and refuse to leave. 

“I love you, Malleus.” you whispered, just before stepping into the mirror, knowing you were leaving a piece of yourself behind.

“I love you too Y/N.” he answers back but you didn’t even hear him, because you were already gone, taking his heart with you.

When you turned around, the mirror had vanished, and so had he. A strange sense of relief washed over you, being back, but deep down, you knew this wasn’t truly your home. Because home wasn’t a place—it was a person. It was your Tsunotaro. It was Malleus.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[ingravinoveritas]

This past week, I traveled to London to see Macbeth. Everything I had heard and seen about David, Cush Jumbo, and the overall production convinced me that it was not to be missed, and so I took the crazy chance of purchasing a ticket months ago, and it was the first time I've ever gone to another country just for a play.

Ever since I was a kid, I have been going to Broadway shows, and the experience of live theatre has always been something incomparable and incredibly meaningful to me. Seeing something beyond Broadway, however, never felt possible until now. This opportunity arose at a moment when I was finally able to seize it, and now that I have attended the play not once, but twice (thanks to a lovely person who was able to help me obtain a £25 day ticket), I can say that Macbeth was, without question, the most amazing thing that I have ever seen on stage.

What follows is my review/thoughts on the production, and I will try my best to avoid spoilers (though fair warning that one or two may arise, so proceed with caution).

In high school, Shakespeare was something we were taught. It was an assumed part of the curriculum, labeled as a classic. Yet it seemed to exist in a time capsule--a product of its era, and of an English language barely proximate to the one we speak today. We learned Macbeth on the page, in annotations and themes and meter, rather than something pulsing, beating, living. Something that makes us feel. And for nearly two hours in a beautiful Victorian theatre in a little corner of the West End, all I did was exactly that.

I felt. And after seeing this play, I am not the same person on a molecular level that I was before.

Everything about this play--from David's mesmerizing portrayal of Macbeth to Cush Jumbo's wrenching turn as Lady Macbeth to the entire ensemble cast to the staging choices (light, sound, and so on)--is extraordinary. It is breathtakingly ruinous. It is so fully immersive that by the end you somehow feel bruised, viscerally disgusted and wrung out in equally beautiful measure.

It's almost misleading to say that we the audience are simply watching the play, because thanks to the binaural audio design (headphones), we are in Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's minds, and become accomplices to the characters' wicked deeds. When the porter (Jatinder Singh Randhawa) comes on to provide comic relief at exactly the perfect moment, it soon becomes clear that it is a distraction from our own discomfort at what has just happened. But it is a short-lived respite, as we are soon plunged back into the action and the characters' spiraling descent into madness.

In terms of David specifically, seeing him on television or on any screen profoundly pales to seeing him on the stage. In much the same way that the stage is Michael's natural habitat, it is also David's. The way he moves, the way he holds himself when he's not even speaking--which I got to see up close when he knelt directly in front of me on several occasions--is meticulous. David becomes the character he is playing, down into the pit of his soul. He disappears so thoroughly that I very quickly forgot that I was even watching him.

So many people can recite Shakespeare, but there is a marked difference between recitation and what David does. Together, David and Cush make Macbeth and Lady Macbeth feel like the Bonnie and Clyde of the Elizabethan age (only hornier). And the themes the play invokes--greed, fear, jealousy, power--are shown to be themes not of a particular era, but of humanity. David especially is so preternaturally good at making all of that unbearably real. He not only makes Shakespeare accessible to the modern world--an already difficult feat on its own--he makes it timeless.

For the last ten minutes of the play, I felt like I stopped breathing. The evil that Macbeth perpetrates, and the realization that he has not become like this, but rather that this is who he has always been, hits full force. As much as this play is very definitely an ensemble piece, David is the standout. He commands the stage, and at no point is he more powerful than when Macbeth is falling apart near the end.

(On a purely aesthetic level, this is also when David looks most beautiful--the wild hair, the form-fitting shirt heaving with the rise and fall of his greyhound lean chest, and the majestic sweep of the kilt with every frenzied movement. The complete erosion of the line between sanity and insanity, but also showing us how tenuous that line was to begin with. And he is utterly gorgeous while doing so.)

It's also at this moment in the play that we see how skillfully David has manipulated the audience. Where Michael uses a character's emotions much more overtly and aggressively--sniffing the audience out, stalking around the stage, feeling as if he's about to pull you up with him--David is far more controlled. He draws you in slowly, carefully, and it's only when we see the depths of Macbeth's depravity (notably killing Young Siward) that we realize the truth:

He got us. He made us the witnesses to Macbeth's malice, made sure we couldn't look away. And now we are complicit.

If I had to pinpoint any negatives about the play (which is extremely difficult to do), it's that there is only a brief moment where the pacing lags just slightly, and it's because David is off stage for a considerable period of time. The cast is absolutely incredible, bar none, but the energy doesn't quite maintain that high level when he is not there.

Also, from a sensory standpoint, this is very much not a sensory-friendly production. There are several instances of sudden loud noises in the headphones (which I found especially jarring), as well as the use of flashing lights, and considerable use of smoke at multiple points. All of these were more acute because I was sitting in the Stalls (second row), so I can only speak to it from that vantage, rather than from other locations in the theatre. But for anyone who is autistic (as I am) or has sensory-processing challenges, be advised that this play is definitely inaccessible in those respects.

When I left the Harold Pinter Theatre that night, I felt as though my entire central nervous system had been rearranged. There genuinely is no way to be normal about this play, because it is not a normal play. It takes apart everything you know about Macbeth and puts it back together in the most unexpected, electrifying way. It is the beauty of destruction, and no one embodies that more perfectly than David. Even days later, I can still feel the buzzing of my skin, the blood rushing through me, fingertips tingling from some heady combination of arousal and fear. (Or as Dr. Frank N. Furter once put it: "A mental mind fuck can be quite nice...")

The moment the lights went to black, every single person in that theatre was on their feet in a standing ovation. The applause was thunderous, and seemed even louder in the wake of the complete silence that preceded it.

I had sat in that silence--awestruck, captivated--and thought to myself that I could watch this production forever. And I would go back and do it all over again right now if I could. If you have the means, the opportunity, it is an experience I cannot recommend highly enough.

David is truly a master of his craft, and yet performs without a hint of ego. He gives everything he has and leaves it all on the stage. And what he and this team of people have come together to give us is something I will remember for the rest of my life.

(Pictures taken on 10/12/2024.)

[youngsadlesbian]

REFLECTION OF ANOTHER STAGE

pairing: taylor swift x daughter!reader

summary: while taylor swift is dominating the stage and winning over crowds, you’re discovering your own talent—but not in the music spotlight. theater and acting have caught your eye, and every school play or amateur short film is a chance to shine. the problem? taylor is so immersed in her tour and career that she never realized how much you’ve fallen in love with another art form.

a/n: i'm completely obsessed with taylor swift x daughter!reader stories and i decided to bring this one (and others) here. hope you like it!

word count: 1k

warnings: pure fluff

Taylor Swift’s return home was quiet—at least, as quiet as it could be when you’re Taylor Swift. The house felt untouched, save for the subtle changes that only a mother would notice. A new plant by the window. A different candle burning on the kitchen counter. And a script, thick and dog-eared, sitting on the couch as if someone had just been rehearsing.

Taylor paused mid-step, brow furrowing as she picked it up. Scribbles in the margins, highlighted lines, and character notes sprawled across the pages.

“What in the…” she mumbled, flipping to the cover.

“The Phantom of Middlebury – A Theatrical Experience by the Senior Drama Club” And there it was. Your name, bold and unmistakable, under the cast list.

Taylor’s eyes darted to the kitchen, where a colorful flyer was pinned to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a cat.

“OPENING NIGHT: FRIDAY! COME WATCH THE MAGIC UNFOLD!”

Taylor squinted at the words as if they might rearrange themselves into something less surprising.

How did she miss this?

\*/

That night, as you sat at the dinner table scrolling on your phone, Taylor casually brought it up.

“So… this play on Friday?” she asked, ladling pasta onto your plate. “I saw the flyer.”

Your fork hovered mid-air, and your eyes flickered to hers in alarm. “Oh. Yeah. It’s just a small thing. School play.”

Taylor’s head tilted, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Small thing? There’s glitter on the flyer, and it’s literally the only thing on the fridge. It’s practically screaming for attention.”

You laughed nervously. “I didn’t think you’d be that interested. It’s not like… y’know, music or anything.”

Taylor leaned forward on her elbows. “Let me get this straight. I can write ten-minute ballads about the most niche feelings, and you think I wouldn’t want to watch my own daughter perform on stage?”

You shrugged. “It’s not the same. Acting is just something I do for fun.”

“Fun is where it starts.” Taylor pointed at you with her fork. “Don’t underestimate fun.”

\*/

Taylor was not subtle.

She arrived at the school auditorium a full thirty minutes early, armed with oversized sunglasses, a hoodie, and, to your horror, a giant sign that read: “YOU’RE MY ARTIST OF THE YEAR!”

The auditorium was dimly lit, and she sat front row, smack in the middle, like a VIP section had been reserved just for her.

As you peeked from backstage, dread filled your stomach.

“Oh my God,” you whispered to your friend, “she brought a sign.”

Your friend stifled a laugh. “Is that Taylor Swift? With a handmade poster?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

And there she was—Taylor Swift, internationally recognized superstar—grinning ear to ear with glitter penmanship like it was her first concert ever.

The play began.

Each time you stepped on stage, Taylor leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, fully absorbed.

When you delivered your monologue, she whispered (loudly): “She’s so talented… I mean, look at her.”

A couple of parents chuckled nearby, and your teacher threw a glance in Taylor’s direction.

At the dramatic climax, Taylor let out a very audible, “YES! THAT’S MY DAUGHTER!” accompanied by a clap that echoed across the auditorium.

By curtain call, your cheeks burned. As you bowed, you could practically hear Taylor snapping photos with the enthusiasm of a proud soccer mom.

When you finally escaped backstage to peel off your costume, Taylor was waiting in the hall, holding a bouquet of roses and… cupcakes?

“Cupcakes, Mom? Really?” you teased, plucking one from the box.

Taylor grinned, shrugging. “I was going for a whole ‘proud mom but also dessert enthusiast’ vibe. Nailed it, right?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but warmth filled your chest.

\*/

A few days later, Taylor knocked on your bedroom door with an excited glimmer in her eye.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, sitting cross-legged on your bed, “I’m filming the video for ‘right where you left me’ next week. The director’s been looking for someone to play the lead actress in it.”

You nodded slowly, not sure where this was going.

“And… I thought maybe you could do it.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what? You want me to be in the music video?”

Taylor nodded earnestly. “You’re already in acting mode, and it’s not a flashy video. It’s… very folk, you know? Moody, emotional. I think you’d be perfect.”

You hesitated. “Isn’t that… nepotism or something?”

Taylor laughed. “Nepotism is hiring you because you exist. I’m hiring you because you’re good.”

You stared at her, unsure. But the excitement in her voice, the softness in her gaze—it was real.

“Alright,” you said finally. “I’ll do it.”

\*/

The set was a rustic café, straight out of the evermore universe. Dusty light streamed through the windows, illuminating vintage furniture and chipped cups.

You sat at the table, dressed in a muted vintage gown, the air heavy with silence. The director adjusted the camera as Taylor hovered nearby, watching intently.

“Okay,” the director called. “Action.”

You stared off into the distance, eyes glassy, hands trembling slightly. The scene demanded heartbreak—the weight of being left behind.

Taylor’s gaze never left you.

During a break, she leaned over. “You’re incredible. Seriously. I almost cried.”

You smirked. “Almost?”

“Fine. I cried a little. Whatever.”

She pulled out her phone, snapping more behind-the-scenes photos. “Hold the cup like that—yes! You’re the actress of the year.”

When the video finally premiered, social media lit up.

“WHO IS THIS GIRL IN TAYLOR’S VIDEO??” “Wait… is that her daughter? She’s SO good!”

Taylor wasted no time.

“Yup. That’s my girl. ❤️” she posted, sending fans into a frenzy.

The hashtag #TalentSwift trended for days.

You watched the flood of comments, half embarrassed, half exhilarated. For once, it wasn’t just about being Taylor Swift’s daughter. It was about you.

“You know,” Taylor said one night as you scrolled through your phone, “I always thought the stage was mine. But I think it might be yours too.”

And sitting there beside her, you realized she was right.

[dreamscribee]

💎A Night of Forever💎

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿

ღ Anthony Bridgerton x female reader (18+ sligth smut part at the end)

ღ Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. To fully immerse yourself in this enchanting love story, I encourage you to start from the beginning. Enjoy the journey!

ღ Sumarry: Y/N and Anthony's wedding day is a joyous celebration of their love. After heartfelt vows and a lively reception, they share a deeply intimate and passionate first night together as a married couple, marking the beginning of their life of happiness and love.

ღ word count: 661 (words), 3,736 (chacters)

ღ Thank you so much for all the love on this series! This will be the conclusion, but I wanted to give you a little something before Season 3 comes out tomorrow. I hope you've enjoyed reading and escaping reality for a bit. I can't wait to create more short stories like this one for you. Just a small heads-up: since this final chapter is romantic, it’s rated 18+ for the slight smut part at the end. Enjoy!

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿︵︵‿ ︵ ‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵︵‿

The day of Y/N and Anthony's wedding dawned bright and clear, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the grand estate. The gardens were in full bloom, their vibrant colors mirrored in the smiles and laughter of the guests who had gathered to witness the union of two hearts bound by love.

Y/N stood in her dressing room, surrounded by her closest friends and family. Her wedding gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin, hugged her figure gracefully, the train flowing behind her like a river of moonlight. She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As the ceremony began, Y/N felt a calm wash over her. The chapel was adorned with fragrant blooms, the air filled with the soft hum of anticipation. When the doors opened, and she began her walk down the aisle, her eyes immediately locked with Anthony's. He stood at the altar, looking more handsome than ever in his tailored suit, his eyes brimming with love and awe.

The vows they exchanged were heartfelt and sincere, each word a promise of eternal devotion. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Anthony's kiss was tender yet passionate, a seal of their love that drew cheers and applause from their guests.

The reception was a joyous celebration, filled with dancing, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. But as the night wore on, Y/N and Anthony found themselves stealing glances at each other, their hearts longing for the moment they would be alone.

As the last guests departed, the newlyweds made their way to the bridal suite, their hands entwined. The room was a haven of romance, lit by the soft glow of candlelight and adorned with rose petals scattered across the bed.

Anthony turned to Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. "You are a vision, my love," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long."

Y/N's breath hitched as she looked up at him, her heart racing. "And I, you," she replied softly, her voice trembling with anticipation.

With a gentle touch, Anthony began to undress her, his fingers moving with reverence and care. Each piece of clothing that fell away brought them closer, the air between them charged with an electric tension.

When Y/N stood before him, clad only in her delicate undergarments, Anthony paused, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. "You are breathtaking," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

He closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. As their tongues intertwined, Y/N felt a heat ignite within her, a longing that had been building since the moment they first met.

Anthony's hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he finally lifted her and laid her on the bed, Y/N's body was aflame with desire.

Their lovemaking was a dance of passion and tenderness, each touch, each kiss a testament to the love they shared. Anthony's movements were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Y/N's as he brought her to the peak of pleasure again and again.

In the quiet aftermath, they lay entwined, their bodies glistening with the sweat of their shared passion. Anthony brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's face, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took her breath away.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "More than words can ever express."

Y/N smiled, her heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Anthony," she replied, her voice a soft melody. "Forever and always."

As they drifted into a peaceful slumber, their bodies still intertwined, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.

[deramin2]

Matt Mercer's Impressive Voice Acting

Critical Role Presents: Winter's Crest (A Holiday Album) really hits home what an incredible voice actor Matthew Mercer is. Once in a generation talent.

Voice Acting legend Mel Blanc was known as "The Man Of A Thousand Voices." (Probably an underestimate.) Matt Mercer's voiced around 2,250 voices in the Critical Role campaigns alone (not counting sound effects), many so distinctive the audience can tell a recurring character from voice alone before they're formerly reintroduced.

And now the Holiday Album shows that he can also belt out singing very well in some of his goofiest accents and have then fully come through. Which is so incredibly hard. The rest of the cast did a great job as well, but Matt's parts were harder and more exaggerated.

Everyone in the voice acting/TTRPG performance professions around him seems very impressed by his skill, but I don't see as much acknowledgement from average viewers. Like, "Oh yeah, he's that guy who can just talk in any voice that he collects like a parrot and hold full on conversations with himself and make a lot of mouth sounds. Pretty immersive!"

Meanwhile if you actually run the numbers it's like saying that once a week you get to hear someone improvise voice acting as difficult as Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 or Violin Concerto (which are so difficult they were both considered unplayable in their day). Do not feel bad if you can't live up to Matt's performances at your table. You probably can't play pickup basketball like LeBron James either, or do gymnastic flips like Simone Biles. That's part of why Matt himself tells people they don't need to be like him to run games well because everyone has their own special skill.

Just gotta sit back and appreciate an artist working at the height of their ability to do something very special. Admiration and aspiration can drive new artists to develop their own incredible skills, but the statics of reaching that skill level are against you. It's the end of the Bell Curve, not a minimum to have fun. Treating Matt's skill as a mark to measure everyone else against will just make you perpetually and unreasonably disappointed. You can be much happier just cooling for everyone's different skills and strengths instead.

We get to see something very special and difficult every week done so well in looks easy. I love running that math from time to time to remind myself just how cool it is and not let normalcy diminish that awe.

[silcodependent]

Sway Chapter 16

Silco x Fem!Reader

4K Words - NSFW (18+ Violence) Warning: Violence, Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape

If you would like to skip potentially triggering content stop reading at the line: “They threw me--ME--out! Bullshit! I told them--you were mine but they didn’t listen. I told them. I told them you were mine.” Nox spoke quickly and quietly, in looping phrases. Was he talking to you or to himself? And pick up at the last 2 lines of this chapter.

The audience was a live wire and so were you. The audible gasps of the crowd reached your ears in the rafters as you were lowered in bit by sparkling bit, seated elegantly on a life-size crescent moon. The notes rang out from the piano casting a spell of silence throughout the room. The overture gave way to beginning notes of the melody, breathing life back into those who looked on struck with awe. The familiar tune of Only a Paper Moon started quietly on the piano, the two of you alone in front of the masses. Your sweeping movements atop your celestial chariot was reminiscent of something ancient and divine. A presence both fully forgotten and intrinsically recognized in the collective memory of those looking on. 

The soft notes of the piano gave way to the surging energy and sound of the rest of the band unveiled by the drawing of scarlet velvet curtains. The music moved from verse to pre-chorus to chorus as you proceeded to perform, to swing, to strip from your perch sending glittering pieces of your costume raining down on the audience below. The bellowing cheers that greeted you nearly drowned out the band. A pity really, the music was truly beautiful and adapted for a full band just for tonight. They had been practicing for weeks. But it was hard to complain looking down at the faces below thoroughly immersed in the world you had created.

The house was packed. Sold out according to Remy and looking out over the full seats below, you believed it. Every seat filled, every table and booth spoken for, and every spot someone could stand was crammed with bodies, Undercity pressed into the sides and shoulders of Piltover’s elite. The sight had you smiling from ear to ear. You needed the encouragement on a night like tonight, Silco’s absence still haunting a hidden piece of you.

But you were a professional, a true and dedicated artist who would not look back. And once you began, you found it shockingly easy to push the evening's earlier events from your mind as you focused solely on the performance. The conversation with the audience. And my, how they spoke back. It was the loudest you had ever heard them and that was saying something. You had missed them in a way you hadn’t understood over the last month, and they made it clear they missed you too.

As good as you were at staying present, there were a few moments that you were unable to keep those striking eyes of fire and ice from your mind. The first had come during your second number, placed intentionally at the top of the show for him as much for you. A tribute and thank you for all he had done for the Royale Sweet, which now felt wasted. There had been a faint tremble in your breath and in the right arm of your first arabesque when the music had begun. This dance inspired by Silco, written after your morning together, a daring blend of Ballet and Burlesque. Would anyone else understand or appreciate something so outside the realm of your typical performance?

Once you had forced that shuddering breath from your lungs, you forced out all other thoughts too, losing yourself to the complete focus of the dance. Pirouettes, Grand Jetes, Sissonnes, and Sissonne Attitudes executed with deft and joyful precision. It surprised you just how much of Ballet’s storytelling lent itself to burlesque in the quiet smaller moments. Casting a coy look over your shoulder during a perfectly placed Derriere. Untying the ribbon to your wrap during Shenae Turns across the stage. The way your breasts would bounce just so as you went on pointe. The way your pasties gleamed under the stage lights as you moved through your Port de Bras circle. You loved the impressive moves but the simpler ones seemed to be key to engaging in the conversation of Burlesque. The softness in your hands and shoulders at each reveal. The audience seemed to hold their breath as they watched you. As you finished the final phrase of the dance, holding your pose to your dismay and delight you could see patrons jumping to their feet with their applause. A standing ovation. It left you in awe. Enough to soothe some of the pain of who this dance had been for. A gentle salve to knowing that the eyes this had been meant for would never see it. A welcome reminder that this art was wonderful, beautiful and worth it--no matter where the inspiration had come from.

The second time Silco entered your mind that night was during one of your final acts, one that had been built around audience participation. You had planned to give it to him. To find him in the audience, mark him as your victim and give him every bit of your special attention. That plan in tatters, you eyed row after row for another victim.

You certainly had extra time, you had planned your beats with time to get to Silco in one of the back booths but with him gone you could take in all that the room had to offer. You spotted a rowdy group from the Academy three rows back, all loud and obnoxious, save one man that looked wholly out of place. A small uncomfortable smile lingered on his soulful features yet he appeared happy to be here, taken by the show and glamor of the evening. His large brown eyes glistened with curiosity but there was a sorrow that seemed to contour his handsome countenance. To his left you noticed a cane. A mantra rang in your head, learned from long ago: An outsider recognizes an outsider. You had found your victim.

Making your way to him through the mass of people, the men to his left only got louder with your proximity. The man seated beside him was rather beautiful, and he seemed to know it, flattening his broad shoulders against the back of the banquette with the expectation of your approach. A devilish grin spread across your lips as you locked eyes with his, a bright hazel that stood out against his olive skin and dark hair. He smiled wide, a heat now burning behind his gaze that quickly transformed into confusion as you stopped squarely in front of his friend. The man before you was nearly his friend's opposite; pale, slight, longer well kept chestnut hair, large features-- but damn if he wasn’t just as beautiful in a way that pulled at your heart. There was a quiet melancholy that surrounded him, telling you a story of a life of being unseen and passed over. Not tonight. You would make sure of it.

You sat on the table in front of him, notably free of any drinks or glasses, earning you loud cheers and gasps from the audience as well as a wide-eyed stare from your victim. You kicked a leg over him in an impressive display of your flexibility and pressed your heel into the banquette just beside his head, moving your other leg to mirror it, giving him a private view of the area between your legs with both of your legs spread framing his face. His blush was impossible not to notice, but you found it endearing. Breaking from your script you reached forward to caress his cheek, his jaw. Another display of your flexibility. His amber eyes met yours in an intimacy that surprised you. Something indescribable in the connection found in them, in the way they saw you. It felt rare and raw and fully enchanting. Like making love. Something you could get lost in with no desire to be found.

You forced yourself back to your practiced choreography, playing with the gossamer fabric panel of your skirt that hung between your legs, the only bit of modesty provided in your positioning. Casting the fabric over his face, its drawn out airy descent gave him a slow sizzling peek at what lay beneath. The shouts from the other men at the table were deafening. The friend to his right had forgotten his disappointment and had instead moved to delight at watching his friend alternating between cheers and staring in slack-jawed amazement. You laid back on the table, with a slight arch to your back, moving your hands slowly down your body in time with the music. Those large golden eyes felt like the languid touch of a lover as you felt them follow your every move. Your hand was his soft and tantalizing, dragging down your neck, your clavicle, your breast, your ribs, your stomach laden with intent. Finally your fingers reached the apex of your thighs and tugged the panel of your skirt free, lifting yourself off the table with the extreme arch in your back. The crowd went wild at this move, just as you had planned. Drawing your head back up to meet his gaze you were greeted with the sight of those big brown eyes with their pupils nearly blown out at the sight of you. Gods help you, you loved it. Teeth pressed into  your lower lip you leaned forward, wrapping the panel of your skirt around his shoulder like a scarf before kicking off the wall into a slow controlled flip into a standing position. This nearly brought the house down and you still had a bra to take off. 

You sauntered back towards the stage reveling in the roar of the crowd, leaving your victim behind to the hollering and congratulatory claps on the back from his friends. From the look on your victim’s face, he could hardly believe what had just happened himself. You were happy it had been him. Happy you could give him the attention that made him like he belonged here. He did. Everyone belonged here. But you couldn’t help but think of how you had planned those moves, that moment for someone else. Imagining the hungry look you had wished to see on Silco’s face brought a heat to your chest. A thought you forced down with the final reveal of your pasties.

The music built to its final crescendo as you shimmied, twirling your tassels, each crystal catching the light and dancing in it. For a single suspended moment you were the tantalizing, glittering fantasy. But moments like that were never long enough. As the horns eked out their ending notes, your eyes caught the movement at the edge of stage right. A figure, a man, attempting to climb on stage? Colored splotches swam in your vision from the stage lights as you tried to make out what was happening between moves as the song drew to a close.

The clapping covered the sound of raised voices at the foot of the stage as you quickly made your exit, ducking behind a curtain backstage to get a better view of what exactly was happening. 

Nox. It was always Nox. 

Had he been here the whole time? It was surprising to see him here after the falling out with Gabriel, although you supposed it shouldn’t be. When had Nox let anything get in the way of his good time, friends or family be damned. The sharp sound of angry voices came a split second before the sound of falling glasses and a toppling table. What was Nox doing? Drunk no doubt, but you’d never seen him violent. But there was no denying it as you watched this stranger from the safety of the dark. His hands on one of the bouncers, shoving, screaming, raising to hit him. A gasp broke through your lips. Who was this man? Not the Nox you knew. Not the goofy guy who had closed the bar down with you all summer long. Not sweetheart with a snaggle-toothed smile that had asked you to marry him a dozen times and meant every one. You didn’t know this man at all.

His words came to you distantly, as though there was a part of you that refused to hear them.

“She’s mine! That was supposed to be me- Move! She wants me-- she’s mine!”

Nox was down before he landed a single blow. A hard hit across his face and he crumpled to the ground. You weren’t sure he was still conscious when the bouncer dragged him towards the door. Nox… It made you sick. But there was no time for the sorrow and disgust you swallowed. The show must go on and with one more number before the finale it certainly would.

Before you knew it, you were giving your final wave goodbye from your signature martini glass, which had been modified into a champagne coupe for the evening to celebrate the reopening, and watching as the curtain fell on your most momentous performance to date. The crowd had been incredible, better than you could have ever asked for. All your hard work had paid off and every nerve in your body vibrated with elation. Joy and relief washed over you as you basked in your glass, in no hurry to rush this moment. You had no idea how truly tense you had been and now that it was over--you could finally breathe. And that’s just what you did. Tossing your head over the back of the bowl you filled your lungs with a deep breath through your nose, holding it a beat before releasing it slowly into the air above you. A small moment out of time. A quiet pause at the foot of chaos. A gentle appreciation of now.

It wasn’t long before you were toweled off and redressed to meet your public in a favorite costume of yours, an ensemble of shimmering emerald from your garters to the extravagant necklace you wore and everywhere in between. The time flew by in a dizzied blur meeting each of the patrons that lingered after the show. Incredibly kind as they were, you were slightly disappointed to see who wasn’t among them. Silco was nowhere to be found and neither was the gentleman you had used earlier in the evening. As the adrenaline of the night wore off, you found yourself desperate for your bed.

“Congratulations to the Princess of Piltover!” Remy exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I hope that’s not a title that sticks.” You mumbled into his chest.

“There’s never been anything like you and there never will be. Tonight’s show was proof of that. They adored you! More than I even thought possible!” Remy’s words were sincere, even if the champagne seemed to lead the conversation. 

“Thank you.” You said looking up into his warm honey-brown eyes. He truly was dashing. It made you wonder why he wasn’t sharing this evening with a special someone. 

“You have a lot to be proud of.” He added with a gentleness that was at odds with the kind of celebration that surrounded you.

“So do you.”

“This is just the beginning, kid. The sky's the limit!” Remy said, raising his glass and finally releasing you. It made you realize how cold you were. How utterly tired. 

“Well for tonight, it’s the end. I’m exhausted.” You tossed over your shoulder as you pulled on your coat. You loved this coat. It was an outfit unto itself and made the cold weather more enjoyable just by the wearing of it. 

“Headed home already? You haven’t even touched the champagne!”

“Tomorrow!” You called back to him as you made your way to the stage door.

“Sleep well! You deserve it!” Remy shouted over the chattering sounds of the bar determined to drown him out. It was nice to see the place lively after a show, even with only a handful of people lingering, speaking excitedly as the staff cleaned and closed around them. It felt like you had truly built something and you had.

Still, you welcomed the quiet and the cold air on your face stepping through the stage door into the stillness of the night. The alleyway and loading dock cut into the hillside provided you a perfect reprieve from the eyes of patrons. From the eyes of anyone really. The stage door was little more than a light at the end of a dingy tunnel where you loaded in most of your props and the club unloaded most of its trash. For all the glamor of a place like this, sometimes you felt more at home beside the dirt and dumpsters. There was something unpretentious and fully necessary that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you found it comforting.

“There you are!” Rasped a voice from behind you.

Whirling, you turned to see Nox pushing off the brick wall of the club, his face cut and swollen from his fight with the bouncer. It made you wince just to see it.

“Nox--”

“They threw me out! Can you believe that?” Nox said just a bit too loudly. Something was off. That uncanny feeling from earlier returned as you studied him carefully.

“They threw me--ME--out! Bullshit! I told them--you were mine but they didn’t listen. I told them. I told them you were mine.” Nox spoke quickly and quietly, in looping phrases. Was he talking to you or to himself?

She is mine. His words from earlier rung in your head, now with the show behind you you were able to fully absorb them. 

“Nox--” You repeated forcing a hard swallow. 

“How could you touch that guy like that? HOW?” The harsh echo of his voice bounced off the bricks lining the alley. 

“Nox I didn’t--”

“It should have been me! All this time, Irene. You know it. You know it! We’ve been doing this dance for months.” He was closer to you now, something strange and staccato in his movements that made your hair stand on end. 

“Nox I was glad to see you--”

“I know! I know!” He interrupted, “But you still let it happen. You let them. You let him--” His words descended into frantic rambling more and more with each sentence.

“I don’t know what you're talking about, Nox.” The exhaustion of the night creeping into your voice. Whatever this was, this wasn’t drunk. You’d seen him drunk a hundred times, but this, this frightened you. Scared you stiff and left you frozen in place.

“It’s obvious. So obvious. But you--you just won’t let it be. You’re mine, doll. Always have been. Why can’t you see that…” His voice was almost a whisper now as he leaned into you, taking your face in his hands.

The warmth of Nox’s breath washed over your face and you took in his glowing yellow eyes. His hands were sticky on your skin and made your skin crawl. His face drew closer to yours and suddenly your stupor was broken as you pressed your hands into his chest and pushed him away with all your force.

Nox stumbled several steps back but managed to keep his footing. He lifted his head slowly to drink you in and the expression of rage carved into his features stole the breath from your lungs. Trembling you began back away, one shaky step at a time. 

“Enough!” He growled. 

He was on you in a flash. Arms and hands harshly gripped every part of you in an endless array you couldn’t escape from. Your limbs were not your own as you pressed and scraped and fought. His lips on yours drowned out the sound of your cries. Nox’s desperation evident as he forced open your lips, strangling the sounds of your protest with lips and teeth. Suddenly Nox hissed and you stumbled out of his arms onto uneven concrete. He was bleeding, a thin scratch below his cheek bone shone under the single street light. Quickly you looked down at your hand finding a matching hue coating the tip of your finger.

“You’re mine.” He growled again, charging toward you. Hands and feet uselessly scraped the ground as you tried to back away only to collide with the dumpster behind you. Strong rough hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you forward in one harsh motion. You let out a small yelp as your head hit the ground from the force. Nox was strong, stronger than he looked and with spots dancing in your vision your stomach churned with the realization of just how helpless you were.

“Nox, please--!”

“You’ll see. You’ll see, Irene. We’re meant to be. You’ll see.” He repeated like a frantic mantra as he pawed at your clothes, lifting your coat and fumbling for your garter belt. You screamed. You kicked. You flailed your arms wildly past the point of any formulated plan, just one desperate shot in the dark after another.

“Nox stop!” You shouted, “Don’t-” Your words were interrupted by the feeling of a hand in your hair pulling your head cruelly off the ground before slamming it back into concrete with a force that stopped the words in your mouth and replaced them with an agonizing groan.

Your head was warm and wet and darkness came in clouds at the edge of your vision. A dream, surely. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. The weight of your head lolled to one side and you watched as Nox ripped your underwear, unable to summon the strength to move.

“Nox…” Your voice was a hoarse whisper. 

No. No.

Your breath came in short bursts as you tried to move your twitching fingers. As your brain screamed to you useless body to move, to do something, anything.

Nox’s hands were at his belt and he was muttering all the while.

“You’ll see, you’ll see. You’re mine Irene. You’ll see.”

A feeble whimper forced its way past your lips, willing all your strength into your legs, a last ditch attempt to get away. But it was futile. Nox pressed himself on top of you repeating the same sick phrase again and again.

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.”

A distant part of you hoped that your injuries, that this darkness would take you before you could feel him force himself inside you. That same part of you wondered if you’d live through this, wondered if you wanted to. 

This wasn’t Nox, this was some monster. Some yellow-eyed demon who had devoured the man you knew and was going to do the same to you. He was going to eat you alive.

In the darkness above you there was a glint of silver that arched through your vision like a shooting star and in that millisecond you made a wish. Help.

Then it was warm, terribly warm and wet. Eyes flitting to the source you saw Nox’s head lowered, reaching, reaching, clutching. He looked up at you desperately, eyes wide, grabbing at the collar of your coat, revealing the crimson cascade that flowed rhythmically from his throat as his hot blood spilled over you, the evidence of a life extinguished. Your eyes locked with his as you watched the life retreat from them. Nox was dead, his lifeless body draped over you as you looked on unable to move. Then there was a heavy shift as his body was rolled off you and onto the ground beside you with the kick and prod of a metal toed boot.

Snapping to your senses you scrambled back as far as you could before you met the familiar cold metal behind you. Trembling, you forced in a shaky breath watching a tall dark figure wipe the scarlet from his blade on the fabric of Nox’s shirt, returning it to the shining silver you had wished upon moments before. Straightening to his full height, he seemed to grow impossibly taller and taller still, his face finaling turning from Nox’s lifeless body towards you, still half cloaked in shadow. The unmistakable light of a red orange orb, a glow in the darkness.

Silco pocketed his knife and extended a hand to you.

“Sorry I’m late.”

[stormyoceans]

MONICA'S INCREDIBLY BIASED TOP 5 GL SHOWS OF 2024

1. the loyal pin. a period piece QL with a (believable) happy ending and a fairytale-like quality to it that was able to charm me from the very first episode. while the pace of the story can definitely be slow at times, i was personally just too absorbed in the world that this show created to mind it. the display of traditions, customs, and food from thai culture, along with the beautiful cinematography and the colorful cast of characters, all helped to achieve this fully immersive experience, giving the perfect frame for anin and pin’s romance. becky as anin was also a revelation.

2. ayaka-chan wa hiroko-senpai ni koishiteru. I ADORE THIS LITTLE SHOW WITH ALL MY HEART AND SOUL. i admit that, as a bisexual woman myself, i found the bisexual erasure pretty maddening at first, however i am willing to forgive it in the face of how bright, lively, sweet, and at the same time deep and full of emotion this series is. it’s an age difference office romance that actually addresses the generational gap between the leads by exploring how society’s view on queerness changed throughout the years, and it does so by being funny, delicate, and unapologetically lesbian.

3. reverse 4 you. this is where my bias comes through, because while this show is far from perfect, i have the biggest soft spot for it. in general i tend to really enjoy stories that feature any kind of time related powers, but compared to others the true strength of this series is the familial bond between wa and vi, which shines as much (if not more) than the romantic relationship between wa and four. i do feel like the story needed at least one more episode to wrap up the loose ends more neatly, as some things kinda left me baffled and pretty confused, but my love for this little family of three makes me willing to overlook everything else.

4. pluto. if my meter of judgement to make this list had only consisted in chemistry and performance, then this show would have definitely landed in the first three spots, as namtan and film are incredible in it (the bridge scene in episode 11 is one of the most memorable of the year for me), however some of the plot points don’t sit quite right with me, and the execution of others was a bit lacking, so i unfortunately had to detract a few points. still, i enjoyed the show a lot: it presented a unique story in an interesting way, there was never a dull moment, and not once i skipped the intro because the OST is just amazing.

5. the secret of us. this show being so low in the list doesn't sit quite right with me, but at the same time it doesn't have the originality or the effectiveness in storytelling that other ones have. what it has, however, are ling and orm showcasing fantastic chemistry and very natural acting, which elevated a plot that im not usually particularly fond of (exes meeting again years later) and gave a lot of personality to their characters. the happy ending also feels earned, and some of the side characters are very memorable.

+ honorable mention (because once again, im a cheater)

23.5. i wanted to do a quick shout-out to this show because i feel like the fandom tends to give it a way harsher judgement than it deserves. while the second half did have a few things that bothered me, i still find this show a very accurate representation of teenage emotions, and the way it depicts young queer love healed the part of me that didn't have this kind of series growing up. all in all, it brought me a lot of comfort, and im incredibly grateful for that.