#gd this took too long but i enjoyed it

[hinamie]

completely innocuous vash sheet :) fr practice

[carcarcraziiv2]

I LOVE YOUR JEALOUS APHELIOS AHH. I keep re-reading it!! Can I request a jealous kayn? NSFW or SFW is fine :3

THAT IS SO SWEET, ILYSM FOR TELLING ME THIS <3 <3 <3. Truly, it makes me happy to know people actually ENJOY what I am writing! Gives me a real boost to keep goin', ya know?!

And you literally bet your ass I will, Kayn is my ngjfhdsgjkh just my dirty lil' guy and I love him so gd much.

THIS is going to be NSFW. There will be warnings. I can't NOT do NSFW when I'm doing a jealousy trope. On god though? I had a random urge to make it soft Kayn so.... enjoy :3

P.S. SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE IT <3

18+ MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+ MDNI

TW: Jealousy, violence (literally just a punch), kind of mental illness? (Idk how I honestly classify Rhaast in this AU, but just in case), sex, masked man doing to do (ooo c;).

AS ALWAYS! Enter at your own risk. ILYSM <3

18+ MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+ MDNI

Jealous Kayn

The concert was a success, as per usual. The crowd was dispersing, however a few guys stuck around in the V.I.P area you chose to sit in to support your boyfriend, Kayn.

You chose to help the venue workers begin cleanup duty as you waited for Kayn to come retrieve you. There were round tables scattered about, people having left their empty cups and trash all over the place.

"You don't have to help clean up you know," a friendly young man came over to where you had a trash bag held open, scooping litter into it. "Patrons don't generally stick around for this part. I'm Jack, what's your name?"

"Oh, I don't really mind at all. I travel with the band, so I try to make a habit of helping out," you smile. "I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"Travel with the band, huh? So do you like help w- whoa! You okay?," Jack starts, before you trip over the bag you're holding in front of you and nearly fall.

Luckily, he was there to catch you so you didn't make any more of a fool of yourself.

Unbeknownst to you though, Kayn had just walked in to fetch you. His eyes widened in shock before his brow furrowed, his features turning to a scowl as he witnessed you in another man's arms.

You hadn't even noticed his presence yet, not until you felt a force lift you up by one of your arms so that you were standing tall again.

"Oh, Kayn! The show was gre-," you don't get to finish your sentence before Kayn is throwing a punch at Jacks face. The only thing you can do in response is drop your mouth open in shock.

"Whoa what the fuck man!," the friendly venue worker shouts, his hand coming up to cup his face. You rush over to him, noticing Kayn about to throw another in his direction. You step in front of Jack just in time for the blow not to hit him, Kayn barely stopping before accidentally hitting you.

"Knock it off, you idiot!" You holler, pushing your boyfriend in his chest. He stumbles back slightly, taken aback by your defense of this man who clearly just had his hands all over you.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you watched his face turn from shocked to a scowl. He was clearly upset at you, but you were too upset with him to give a shit.

"Just go back to the hotel, Kayn. I'll find my own way back." Kayn stood there for a moment, his hands balled into fists as he seemed to study you for a reaction.

When you didn't falter your gaze, he conceded.

"Fine. Have fun with him," he snarled, whipping around and stomping away.

As you rushed back over to Jack to apologize and offer him assistance, you were unaware that Kayn still watched from the shadows of the small hallway in which he came from.

You idiot, Rhaast scolded him. "Shut up," he responded aloud. You let your emotions control the situation, you fool. Now our love is embarrassed and mad at us. Kayn hit himself on the head, then smoothed down his hair. "Fuck, you're right," he sighed. Although he knew he should go apologize to both of you, he felt defeated- disappointed in himself. He was so scared of losing you he made a minor situation worse. Not to mention, Yone was certainly going to hear about the incident from the venue management.

At that point, the only thing he could think to do was follow your order and return to the hotel.

To your surprise, Kayn made sure one of the guys stuck around to bring you back, too.

~~~~~

Yone was the one to take you to the hotel, silent for the entire drive until you arrived at your desitination.

"Go make up," he said, unlocking the door. "Kayn's mood will surely get worse after our conversation tomorrow."

"Ugh, thanks for the ride Yone," you sighed, thanking him as you left the vehicle. You entered the hotel, taking the elevator up to the room the two of you were sharing.

Steeling your nerves, you sifted through your pockets for the key card, taking it out and unlocking the door.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon entry, but it was definitely not what greeted you.

Kayn sat shirtless on the patio, a lit cigarette smoldering in the ash tray, his body glimmering slightly from the moonlight caressing his skin.

And when you looked at his face... you saw it adorning his Rhaast mask.

Whatever edgy pity party shit that he is pulling, I don't care. I am staying in here. You dropped your phone and belongings onto the counter, silently scowling at him until his head slowly turned your direction.

You always liked his Rhaast side. So protective and levelheaded. Although very dominant sometimes, he always made your comfort a priority.

He stood, opened the sliding glass door, entered, then shut it behind him without turning around.

"Y/N," he said plainly, putting his hands in his pockets as he awaited your response.

"Yes?" You said, carelessly sassy with your tone as you looked anywhere other than the sculpted man prowling towards you. "What do you want?"

"You know I'm on your side, little one," Rhaast says as he approaches. You took a step back in unison with each of his until you were undoubtedly trapped between him and the white hotel wall. His body radiated heat that seeped into your skin, and you breathed deep to calm yourself.

"Ka- Rhaast. I don't know what to say. What happened earlier was really fucked up."

"I know, I know. Don't worry- I gave him a piece of my mind. That idiot never treats you right," his hand reaches up, gently caressing your face before lifting your chin to look at him.

You can't help your brow furrowing, lip pouting.

"Kayn doesn't treat me badly... he just read the situation wrong."

Checkmate, asshole. Kayn hisses to Rhaast. In return, he takes off his mask, revealing his wild but soft eyes. The contradiction between the obvious curiosity in his gaze and the demanding flicker of arousal made the muscles in your stomach tighten.

"He almost hit you, do you understand? Know's better than to endanger our love like that," his expression was so pained you could only imagine the war that was waging in his head right now.

"It's okay, love... really," you sighed. "I just didn't want any more violence to happen, and it seemed inevitable unless I intervened the way that I did. I know you- or Kayn- would never hit me. And I always know you treat me right."

Rhaast pouts his lower lip, and you have sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him. It wasn't your intention; you really did want to talk about everything... but you just couldn't stop yourself.

The kiss was tender, soft. He let out a sigh when you did it, almost a whimper- so out of character for him. It was almost as if he was relieved. He knew that you had forgiven him. You didn't feel so trapped between him and the wall anymore when Rhaast's hands gently pulled you closer to him to deepen the kiss.

"Thank you for always protecting me, Rhaast. Kayn, I love you," you smile against his lips, your hands touching his face. He pulls away only for a moment to look you in the eyes before grabbing you around your ass and lifting you up. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the bed.

Holding onto the back of his neck, you squirmed in his arms as the he lowered you onto the soft cotton bedding. The bed was cool under the fabric of your clothes, a delicious contradiction to the heat radiating between you and Kayn.

The two of you bite and suck and play amongst each other's lips, your body gradually becoming more and more aroused. When you look back into his eyes, you can tell Kayn has returned.

"I'm sorry, my love, but I can't control myself when it comes to you," he says, a shy but sly smile taking over the canvas of his face. He looks so cheeky, trying to get you to forgive him still even when you're sure he knows your hardly angry anymore.

Now you're just turned on.

"I understand- I can't say I wouldn't have reacted the same way... Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you make it up to me?" You smile back at him, tracing a finger down the soft skin of his muscular bare chest. He tilted his head in response, raising a brow. His body towered over you as the two of you lay there, encompassing you in his thrilling aura.

"You dirty little thing," he cooed before nuzzling his face into your neck, his wet tongue dragging along your skin before placing a soft nibble. You whimpered at the feeling as he continued scraping his teeth along your flesh.

"I would destroy everything for you, my love," his voice is sweet like a summer wind, warm emotions ruffling straight through to your heart. Kayn was everything- the sun, the moon, the stars. In this moment before you share the most intimate of actions, you felt so close to him.

He was being so open after the events that had occurred. You realized perhaps Rhaast was his way of communicating the things he didn't really want to say, and it made you feel warm inside that he was comfortable enough with you to share that side of him.

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when Kayn sat up to help you out of your clothes, removing his own swiftly. Your mouth hung open at the sight of him removing the black leather belt from his pants, the corded muscles in his arms flexing as his fingers fumbled with the buckle. When he looked back up at you with a feline gaze, you swore you could see flickers of Rhaast.

He bends, crawling over your squirming frame. The air was thick with tension as he began caressing your body with his large hands. They were rough on your soft skin as he pinched and prodded your nipples, leaning down slowly to suck them one by one.

There was this thing about Kayn- he never stopped watching you. Always looking at your expression, gauging how certain things made you feel. You were so enthralled by the way he looked at you while pleasing you that that alone had your heat rising.

He made his way down your body, peppering kisses and bites as he traveled. Once he reached your front, you hissed in a breath at the first feeling of his tongue on you.

He licked and sucked, his warm tongue caressing everywhere perfectly as he serviced you.

"Fuck, Kayn that feels so good," you moaned, grabbing his hair and tugging- to which he responded with a growl. You knew how that made him feel, and you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you in that moment. Sure, his mouth felt great, but you knew his cock would feel even better.

He almost became feral, you noticed, as he ceased his movements and sat up, grabbing you and pulling your legs towards him so you were at the edge of the bed.

"You drive me fuckin' crazy baby," his voice gravely, he gripped his thick member, stroking it a few times while looking at you through thick lashes. "I'm going to fuck you, now. Show you who you belong to, right my love?"

"Please Kayn, P-Please fuck me now," you whimpered, your cheeks warm and flushed, a hand caressing your front while the other rested idly by your head.

"I love it when you beg. Only for me, baby. Yeah- fuck," he stammered a bit as he pressed his tip to your entrance, watching his dick become engulfed slowly by your hole. "You're always so gods damned tight for me."

The feeling of his dick had your brain melting, your hand stopping for a moment. Kayn noticed, stopped his movements, and gave you a look.

"Did I tell you to stop, love?" All you could do in response between whimpers was shake your head, and you moved your hand back to keep pleasing yourself as he started picking up the pace. "Gooood, good fucking b/g."

He continued his pace, grunting every few seconds in sync with his thrusts. You rolled your eyes back into your head as you felt yourself climb higher and higher. Kayn leaned down and kissed you passionately, biting your lip as he released you.

"Cum for me, love. I'm not going to last much longer with you gripping me like this. He hissed in his breath as you shuddered and cried out, reaching your climax. Your vision blurred, a few tears dripping down your face as you gripped his forearms.

"Fuck baby- Fuck I'm gonna cum," Kayn groans, whipping his head back. "Take my cum baby, that's it, fuuuuuuck." His hips buck against you as he finds his release and lets out shuttering breaths as he slows to a stop.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty but content as he pulls you up further onto the bed and collapses onto the plush mattress.

"Maybe I should get jealous more often if this is how the night ends up," he smiles, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Maybe I shouldn't have rewarded you for that behavior," you giggle, and he scoffs. "Next time let's talk about it first, unless the person you're jealous of actually looks like he is doing something bad?"

"Yeah yeah, I know," now it was his turn to roll his eyes, returning to his normal sassy self for a moment before softening again. "I really am sorry, Y/N. I love you."

"I know you are. Oh and by the way, you may want to save the rest of your apologies for your talk with Yone tomorrow..."

"Shit," was all he responded, shaking his head. "Great... Whatever, he'll get over it. He loves me."

"Yeah, so do I Kayn. So do I," you smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight my love."

"Goodnight, baby." He responds, and as when you fall asleep you dream of Kayn and Rhaast and the lovely life you share. Even through the ups and downs he will always be your everything.

[iliadicjasontodd]

Hello! 👋 I just wanted to know what your Tim Drake WIP was about if you'd like to yap. You had some thoughts on his character in general and I'd be happy to hear them! What are the issues in canon and what nuances you'd like other people to consider. Thank you!

Hi!! I've been thinking about this ask for days I'm thrilled with it tbh!!

So, from my notes on the WIP, tentatively entitled too much will cause damage:

keep the basis. the wealth, the parents, the genius intellect and the thrusting himself into the role of robin. he thinks little of it. jason in his memory is an unobtrusive, quiet, and mostly unremarkable- if disruptive due to others’ reactions to his class and race- when they crossed into each others’ vicinity in high society and in school, and jason served his purpose until he’d clearly fumbled and outlived it. because robin is a job and a role and tim simply believes he can fill it best. Bruce never entirely forgives this trespass and it weighs over their relationship and, assuming steph and cass and damian still come in in this verse, does colour his ability to trust that jason’s worth is not somehow being degraded by their presence and his ability to trust that he himself does not actually view children as somehow fulfilling a utilitarian role. anyway, tim is driven by a belief in his own self-worth and invulnerability and a fundamental desire to exercise that self-worth in order to mold what he can of the time he lives in in his own image; he has a gd complex, in other words. he wants to be robin because he desires more strength- he desires to be chosen (and so he will never truly be satisfied with having taken the role himself, even if he does get satisfaction from taking and winning things). i enjoy the idea of this cold and irritating and mostly uncompassionate child putting himself in a position that eventually does push him to gain a desire for selflessness, and a desire to not be the best but to be good, even though it never comes naturally to him. he learns from bruce, he learns from dick, and he learns from jason, who, while not literally, does haunt him throughout his robin run as tim learns about him in bits and pieces, at first on accident, and later on purpose. i would keep his mission to find bruce and his altercation with the league of assassins but just have him be absolutely bodied. just fucking destroyed, trying to fix something he doesn’t fix anyway: bruce comes back on his own, and in the course of this he learns the real manner of jason’s death, learns the fact that jason did not die from mistakes tim is simply better than him for not making, and when steph “dies” in part due to bruce and tim’s treatment of her, most of his beliefs about himself crumble under the weight of all of this, and he is forced to build himself back up, but he is never going to be the naturally nice, hopeful, altruistic Robin through his nature. so he puts in the effort to discard as much of himself to fit the role he so naïvely took, believing it was suited for him, that it was his when it wasn’t, but he made a commitment. basically, i want him to be a tragic figure. he will lose little externally- his parents won’t die, he gets the job of his dreams, friends and status- but internally he won’t be at all unscathed or unchanged. i want him striving for this very imperfect goodness, faltering, and then trying again anyway. i want a statement in inherited wealth and main character syndrome, and on the choice to be compassionate and selfless when that does not come easily and must be chosen again and again. i want him cold and egocentric and entitled enough that when he feels guilt, true guilt, it’s nearly, nearly a novel feeling, and it changes him. I want him to have come from a place of devaluing and stepping over the still-warm corpse of a dead boy and i want that to haunt his entire narrative inescapably like an original sin.

Very long. But basically the idea behind this was, for me, turning Tim into something that could be, for me, and for many of the people I know who take issue with him as he is, satisfactory. The goal is to span his Robin days through Jason's revival and Bruce's 'death'. I'm aware he will not fully or even very much resemble the canon Tim Drake because the idea is to take the groundwork and adjust. Because, tbh, the groundwork lain is something that I could find really interesting, but the way he is written and his existence in and of itself is something I find difficult to swallow.

under the cut because I got caught up in the joy of talking shit about Tim Drake:

You asked about my issues with Tim in canon and I have panels from his Robin run that I criticised him for in DMs and other panels saved here and there that I might reblog this and add later but it's almost 2 am now and I have class in like 8 hours, so for now we'll take my word. Basically, Tim was created to be the quintessential perfect unproblematic Robin after Jason was killed basically for-- existing while poor. For having poor parents, for coming from a poor area of Gotham, for having been homeless, for being traumatised by any of this. But not Tim, no. Tim can be equal to Bruce, of course, in a way Jason never could! Tim is everything Robin should be- he is wealthy, and he is white, and he has normal high school problems. Never mind that he cannot pack his own bag, that he has beef with an eleven year old, that he will eventually steal Jason's mantle- not Robin, but Red Robin. He's the best Robin! Tim is a genius and he is a disciplined hero and he goes to beat up Asian people in Paris.

I will admit, a lot of my annoyance with tim stems from his fanon interpretation, which betrays a lot of misogyny and classism, ableism and racism in the fandom, which obviously shouldn't be a surprise. But yeah, in short- in fanon, he often replaces Barbara as a coder or technological genius or genius point blank, often replaces Jason as having experienced homelessness, food insecurity, and even death or torture at the Joker's hands; the amount of fanfiction I have read in which some form of the phrase "Jason suffered, but Tim had it so much worse," has been unironically uttered- often by Jason himself!-in some fucked up trauma olympics that everyone will bend over backwards to have their favourite rich boy win somehow even though no one else was really trying to play is ludicrous. In these cases, Barbara's own Joker-related trauma is hardly ever even brought up. In every case, Jason must repent endlessly for the unforgivable sin- not of murder and desecration and attempted patricide or any of that, no, but of kind of beating up his sort-of brother that's like a year and a half younger than him at most. Tim was neglected, no one loved him, he is neurodivergent and a minor. He is a little helpless child with glass bones and paper skin.

Basically, I think Tim is a deeply flawed character who actually starts from a point in the narrative rich in potential: Bruce has just lost his son, Gotham is going darker by the issue, and the Batman symbol is more haunted than ever, and Robin is never meant to fly again- after all, it's difficult to use wings six feet under. Tim is positioned as different from Jason in every way, which canon used to turn him into some prejudiced cardboard cutout teenaged hero but could be used to make him effectively an extremely particular boy who, for all intents and purposes, is still rather singular to this moment, and could be used to examine being Robin and growing up through an entirely novel (to Batman, at this time) angle. Blood had to be spilled to make space for Tim in the story; I just want to see what happens if I take that and run with it.

[altschmerzes]

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

OH GOSH YEAH THERE IS it's called 'without grace, without understanding' (thanks wrinkle in time) and it's a reimagining of the training arc with roy and jamie in season 3

this got a little long so it is..... under a cut lsdfkjs.

update: 'a little long' this is basically a fic in itself lmfao WHOOPSIES. i guess i may as well actually tag it, enjoy... whatever this is.

started off with me thinking about the myriad of ways that could've been a fascinating plot to use to explore those two characters' trajectories and their relationship to themselves and each other and this sport. roy's lack of trust in himself and his conviction that he ruins things.

and it's like... thinking about how roy's approach is uh. a bit much sometimes and jamie particularly doesn't necessarily react super well to that and has a tendency to take things the wrong way even when they are well delivered, and thinking about roy's concerns this season about his coaching skills. that he's REALLY worried about being a good coach. and the stuff in season 2, where he was worried he was Ruining Phoebe somehow, just.

and there's the jamie of it all. him trying to hard to be better, to do better, not sure how to make it work. how to make it happen. how to be as good as zava, be better than zava. still trying to deserve the second chance he's been given. still a brat a lot of the time bc he is who he is but also trying so hard to be good. be cooperative. be a team player. Work Hard Enough.

so you get into the actual training of it, right. they're working together one on one, and roy is pushing him. hard. and i looked at that and went. okay this is supposed to be humorous but also what if we took it seriously. what if roy pushed him TOO hard and jamie just let him because he’d do basically whatever roy told him to and thinks he’s supposed to shut up and not whine and Be Good. and this somehow ends up pushing jamie so hard he’s just completely exhausted or hurt somehow and roy is absolutely horrified by this. and is like NOPE i cant do this i shouldn’t be doing this and doesn’t really communicate to jamie why he’s calling it off. he just does it. so jamie thinks he’s done something wrong and roy thinks he’s protecting jamie by (freaking out and) walking away and it’s a MESS they gotta sort out.

somewhere in there there's a thing with roy and the coaches or the diamond dogs as a whole, right. after he's walked away from training jamie one on one and their relationship is extremely strained bc roy is spiralling beyond proportion like Oh Fuck, Oh Gd, I Was Ruining Him, I Was Hurting Him and jamie is like He's Done With Me He Don't Want Fuck-All To Do With Me. so things are... weird. they're not really talking. they're both upset and hating it. but roy sort of. he doesn't stop coaching jamie again at all, but he does sort of. he pulls back. he goes stiff and distant and doesn't engage. he doesn't ice him out like in s2 but he's not. there. either.

and so they're talking and he's like. (in his mind the training is like. paused. they're Taking A Break.) but he's like. i need to talk to you about jamie. and the others are like... yeah, sure seems like it! and roy just admits. i don’t know how to train him. what i know how to do isn’t working. what worked on me isn’t working (ted/beard/someone voice maybe it perhaps Didn’t Work On You in a good way, but-) so What Do I Do.

which gives ted the opportunity to pay it forward with some advice and just - positive reinforcement. maybe try approaching this differently. he’s destroying himself trying to make you happy, make you proud, do good in your eyes. he idolizes you, not sure how AWARE of that you are, but he does. still. maybe try using that - tell him what he’s doing right.

(and that's the fuck of it all right is like. there's this part of roy that's been wondering if he's a bad coach for the opposite reason, too. he's been wondering if he's been too soft on jamie, and maybe that was the problem. it was something that was gnawing at him, before jamie worked himself sick/hurt and he realized his approach was massively backfiring, that like... maybe he was a bad coach because he couldn't be harsh enough. but he couldn't just. he couldn't stomach being like the coaches he'd had, he just couldn't do it. and then that happened, and obviously that wasn't it, but it was in there somewhere)

but so he talks a bit about that there, like, it comes up somehow - the coaches he had when he was young. when he was a kid and when he was coming up. he talks about how he was trained and they’re like right okay sure and how do you feel about those coaches now? how did they make you feel about yourself? is that how you want jamie to feel about you? is that how you want to know he feels when you talk to him?

he doesn't. he doesn't want jamie to feel like that about him, to feel like that when looking at him. because roy respected those coaches and wanted them to be impressed with him but he was afraid of them too. and he never thought for a minute that he ever lived up to their expectations. and fuck, gd, he never, ever wants that for jamie.

and that's the point ted and beard and company sort of gently make to him too like.

and so it's like. he trusts you. he looks up to you. he'd do anything you asked him to. that's good, that helps, but it means you gotta be careful too, y'know?

so he has to figure out a new approach. and it's like. roy doesn't need a personality transplant, don't get me wrong. he's never gonna be ted and he doesn't need to be. that's not the goal here. it's about figuring out how to be tough without being mean, right? and maybe a little about figuring out how to let himself soften.

(especially since half the time it’s his own younger self he’s hollering at imo. and so treating jamie better sort of asks him to realize he should’ve been treated better too. Be Kinder To Him And In Doing So Give Your Own 24 Year Old Self Some Gentleness And Grace.)

so roy offers to resume training with him after some other stuff happens etc, this is the part i have less thought through lmao.

(there's a subplot also with isaac and captain stuff and figuring out there's something up with jamie and not knowing what and trying to piece it together. love that too.)

and there's a scene in the end, right, where we get this whole... they've sorted things out, they're resuming training again, roy has extracted a promise from jamie to Speak The Fuck Up if things aren't going well, and he's promised to be less of a hardass generally, and then there's a bit where he like. apologizes for ever having been that hard on jamie in the first place and not thinking about whether that was the right approach.

and jamie just... he shrugs. he's not affected by this. "gotta make sure i don’t go soft, yeah?" and roy is like. no. absolutely not. stop right there.

which is when roy then makes the very specific point that like. when they talk about jamie’s performance on the pitch and how he should approach it sometimes he needs to be a prick, and he needs to worry about being permissive or passive or whatever else, but even if they have to bust out a thesaurus they will not be referring to him as soft. we will not be using that language here. do you understand me?

which... jamie. doesn't, really. he's like ??? and tries to brush it off at first like pshh that’s just the same thing “don’t want to be noncommittal or passive on the pitch ain’t that just the same thing as soft just more letters” and roy is like no. no it’s not. there’s implications in- in calling someone soft that there ain’t in there, and even if it is, so what. that’s a word that’s been used to hurt you. right? and jamie’s just kinda sullenly silent and roy goes right. which is why im not fucking using it. that’s the fucking point im trying to make here. if i can help it im not gonna fucking hurt you because i really don’t want to.

which y'know. is a lot. it's a lot for both of them. but they figure it out.

i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while tbh but keep being like no that’s excessive- that’s dramatic- whatever this arc is gonna turn into it doesn’t NEED to turn into an angsty character/dynamic study- but honestly who cares. why not have fun with it. why not get into some of the vast unexplored potential here. maybe one day i will.

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

OC Questionnaire

tagged by: the lovely @kaylinalexanderbooks thank you!

tagging: Open Tag as usual, and softly tagging @thegreatobsesso | @mysticstarlightduck | @winterandwords | @chayscribbles

Your OC interview questions are: 1) What's your go to coffee order (or equivalent for a fantasy/sci-fi world)? 2) What is the first thing you notice about your appearance when you look in the mirror VS the first thing other people notice when they see you? 3) Who would you consider to be your closest friend and why?

My questions: 1) What is your stance on lying? 2) Do you enjoy people watching? 3) What is the best decision you ever made?

I'll answer with two OCs that are my absolute faves and two that I need to develop more: Princess Snow (FSF), Nickelle (TCIO), Astra (GD), and Tris (FSF).

Responses under the cut cus this is long XD:

Snow (Fractured Stars Falling WIP)

What is your stance on lying?

Snow folds her arms and says firmly, "Even if it's for a good reason I don't like it. My stepmother used lies to hurt me and others, I won't use them unless absolutely necessary, and even then I'm going to feel terrible about it the whole time. I refuse to be that kind of queen."

Do you enjoy people watching?

"No, not really. It feels weird to watch people without a reason to be doing so. It feels dishonest and sneaky to me."

What is the best decision you ever made?

Snow swallows harshly, clenching a fist as she holds back tears and avoids looking at the person who asked the question. "I finally saw through my stepmother's lies. I took over the throne and had her thrown into the deepest dungeon of the palace, after years of giving her excuses and too many second chances. But I was too late to... to save my best friend from getting killed by her because of my stupid mistakes..."

Nickelle (The City is Ours WIP)

What is your stance on lying?

Nickelle bristles at the question, looking at the person who asked suspiciously. Then she shrugs, picking at the glove of her superhero suit. "If it's for a good cause, I'd say it's fine."

Do you enjoy people watching?

She thinks about it for a moment, fiddling with the patches on her leather jacket. "From a distance, in the city yes. If you can get up to one of the rooftops and sit on the edge it's a great spot to watch people go by."

What is the best decision you ever made?

Nickelle looks around to see if anyone is watching or listening in. "I made a choice to protect this city and my team. Other people might not like my methods, but I'm doing what I have to. Hence why I have to do it under another identity, since other people might have... more negative feelings about my methods. I don't like it either, but this has to be done."

Astra (Galaxy Destroyer WIP)

What is your stance on lying?

Astra shrugs, and says like a true thief and space pirate, "Oh yeah it's fine. Sometimes it's the only way to get what you need. Especially in a galaxy where P.I.E. made everything so damn expensive. If I need to lie and steal to live, I'm fine with that."

Do you enjoy people watching?

Astra looks around for potential targets. "For a chance to make a little money off of an unsuspecting idiot? Absolutely, it's not just enjoyable, it's how I make a living."

What is the best decision you ever made?

Astra thinks for a minute, going through all the things she's done and stolen as a space pirate, and all the times she made a not so smart move. "Well one of the worst decisions I ever made was trusting another pirate on a job, he stabbed me in the back and left me high and dry. I don't know about the best decision though, maybe becoming a thief despite the mixed results? Mixed results yes, but I can't imagine being anything else, and the benefits outweigh the risks- in my opinion."

Tris (Fractured Stars Falling WIP)

What is your stance on lying?

Tris presses her lips into a thin line, her hand tightly gripping the hilt of her sword at her side. "Only if it's for a really good reason, and no one gets hurt. Otherwise, lying is just wrong."

Do you enjoy people watching?

She shrugs, the cloud of tight coils that make up her hair bouncing with the movement. "I never really thought about it. Kaye and I prefer to keep to ourselves most of the time. Watching people for no reason has never really interested me."

What is the best decision you ever made?

Tris thinks about it hard for a minute. "I'm not sure, maybe entering the fighting tournament for the prince's hand to get out of my stepfamily's... well it's my family's house but they were going to kick me out at some point anyway. Anyways, joining the tournament to get away from them... well it got me away from them, but I saw and did things in that area that I wish I hadn't... but on the other hand, if I hadn't done that, I probably wouldn't have had the chance to see Kaye again and spend more time with him. Despite the terrible circumstances..."

~

(apologies for the weird formatting on the taglists, I'm trying to make sure everyone gets tagged bc I think I figured out why tumblr was being weird with tags earlier)

FSF Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art

@mjjune @fiercely-raging-writer @wildswrites @corishadowfang

@surroundedbypearls @serenanymph (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

TCIO Taglist: @friendlyneighborhood-writer @jessica-writes22 @rose-bookblood @yejidoesthings

@space-writes @cljordan-imperium (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

GD Taglist: @fiercely-raging-writer @aesa @writeouswriter

[revelale]

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is. Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing! Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together. Credits to Neffi.

Name: lilly!

Pronouns: they/them.

Birthday (no year): april 4th.

Where are you from? What is your time zone? pst (gmt-8).

How long is your roleplay experience? well, i started when i was eight, so twenty? years now? embarrassing for me.

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? neopets, LMFAO.

How were you introduced to TOA? i'd just finished up the gd route for 3h when chuu, an old member, posted about a fe group on twitter. so, i dmed her and then asked about it and then delusionally manifested a blog and url in like roughly 8 hours. fun fact: prior to that, i'd only ever played one canon, lol!

Do you have any pets? yes, my awful little dog.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) wiiiiinter. it rains the most and i can just get jackets to be warm if it's too cold.

What is your IRL occupation? used to be a journalist, now i'm? in product development for stationery, lol.

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? mostly handicraft stuff? i like building lego sets, assembling dioramas, doing puzzles. i started learning how to crochet yesterday! i'm very bad at it!

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? mostly jrpgs, but lots of puzzle-y indie games. i started playing sea of stars reeeecently, but haven't gotten very far on it. a metric ton of otomes, lmao.

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: dragon, and dragonite! close runners up are bewear and ludicolo, lmfao.

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! i jokingly mumble "i'm thinking miku miku oo ee oo" when i'm struggling, but so my brother took that as "i really like hatsune miku" and now i have four figurines of miku just spread out in my room. i fear every time he goes to round one because i will just have another one.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? an old friend of mine told me to give awakening a try because she thought i'd like that i could date people, lmfao. it worked. NJKLRENGJKLRGR.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? eeeeverything post-awakening, short of three hopes. i also gave sacred stones a try and then got intensely mad when tana kept dying, so i stopped.

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: awakening, then rrrr. i haven't touched one in a while, so i actually couldn't really say.

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! inigo, fogado, hubert (toa pilled)—this is where i admit i don't actually have any favorites in game, but i do in toa, lmao.

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! sobbing, i don't have any. I'M A SHAM.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 naur, but i one day wish to experience chasing the high everyone else does.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: chrom by curse, but olivia. - Fates: inigo. PARDON ME, LAZZY. tttheeen, idk. kaze. lmao. - Three Houses: claude...... and sylvain now. i love a man that's all red flags. it's a parade, not a warning! - Engage: pandreo................. still pandreo.

Favorite Fire Emblem class? PEGAKNIGHT SUPREMACY.

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? in my greatest delusions, i'd be an armored tank unit, but the reality is i'm probably the villager hiding in their house after you swung by to let me know something was coming to murk me/us.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? golden deer, lmao. i just like their vibe.

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? wwww, i actually started doing archery recently and i'm not bad at it, so i think probably something in that vein for a boon ....... i'm also weirdly strong, so maybe gauntlets? lmfao. everything else is what i'd be bad at, rifp. an athletic creature i am not.

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? probably firene. it'd make sense for my name to be lilly, eh.

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔t-o-a, lmao.

Current TOA muses: shiro & pandreo!

Past TOA muses? cynthia, shigure, lon-qu, constance, bylad, kiragi, kinu—i forget all the other ones if any, oops.

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? cynthia! and maybe? lmao, she's evolved so much past her baseline in my head that i think it'd actually be quite difficult to pick her up again, but she also has such incredible capacity for interesting relationships.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? clown, usually with depression.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? oooof, really calculating and intellectual types! i'm not very good at it and my style of writing doesn't super lend itself to that because i tend to spell out their every thought, lmao. the only reason i could write constance is because she was simultaneously the smartest and stupidest person in the room at any given time.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? oh, i'm a comedy relief writer first and foremost. any situation where i can put people into a yes-and context is fun for me. but, i am realizing i do really enjoy dramatic scenes too for character study and exploration.

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? nnnnnot right now. i find that most of the spiciest moments i recall are ones that just happen by circumstance instead of planning.

Favorite TOA-related memories? on chapril, i got the mods and everyone else to change to chad icons when a new member abruptly showed up and i died laughing.

Present or past tense? present! past? i do both. king of tense changes that make no sense.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? no preference. i just use small text because i like lookin' at it.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 if i entertain it for even a second, i will have to make the blog right now and i don't have time for that but god i want to.

[elxgantcaptain]

My Peter and Wendy review :/

I didn't like the film >:c

But that was going to be obvious. I've not really enjoyed many of these 'live action' films of the OGs. I just found this version of Peter Pan very... Lackluster. It needed MORE, it felt like it was missing so much, it didn't explore what we wanted to see? It needed to EXPAND! Urg, it was just so frustrating. Not only that, but it felt like they took lines they knew did well in the older live action films thinking it will hold weight? NO. Do your own thing. Make something gd NEW already!

But there are SOME things I liked about the film.

Theres a lil breakdown of things I liked and didn't like under the cut. There ARE spoilers tho.

Things I LIKED

The transfer into neverland - that time stand-still thing, very interesting! Not seen that before in the transformation into neverland, I kinda liked it.

How Wendy couldn't 'see' sometimes - Such as seeing the pirates on the ocean and then the lost boys being like 'She's too grown up', it seems like an interesting concept but it wasn't really explored???

The Crocodile - NOW THATS a croc. Its huge and its eye shape and jaws are as I would have pictured a live action telling of Tick Tock, especially in the face.

Hook and Pan having a history - I'm not against the whole idea of 'Hook was once a lost boy' kinda deal, the idea of them knowing each other was pretty cool, about how he left and grew up and changed and Peter finding that growing up and evil are the same thing... And how he banished Hook because he missed his mother. Thats really sad.

Tigerlily - She's a good character and they handled the 'indians' quite well in this, down to the fact she speaks the language too. Idk but i really like how she referred to Pan as 'little brother'

Hook's explanation to Wendy - I like how Hook struggles with himself and Neverland, how he slowly started to forget his own mother and home, how he TRIED to leave Neverland after Pan banished him but couldn't get out. He was lost at sea until he was rescued by Smee. 'My time for joy is lost'

Pirates singing - I'm just a sucker for Shanties

Wendy's happy thoughts of the future - Thinking she could be happy when she starts to grow up, I found that kinda sweet.

Hook is known to be the best sword fighter - Just that.

"Do you know what really hurts about getting old? Its not the creaking bones, or the dashed dreams or even the sense of death drawing ever nearer... Its knowing that your best friend can look you in the eyes and not recognise you."

Things I DIDN'T LIKE

The acting felt so forced in places - WIth Hook it was 'I am sooo evil, don't mention hands because i have lost a hand, don't mention pan cause I want to kill him' and with the kids it was like, VERY overdramatic. 'Ohhh PEETTERRR~' yuck

Captain Hook's hook - Just... No... It literally just looks like a very bad fake hand that his hand is literally holding onto, covered by long sleeves

Wendy - Just... Wendy, she confuses me. She doesn't want to grow up but she continuously talks about growing up and sounds very mature. I suppose thats how its supposed to be? But she places blame, she calls tattletale and she just... She just doesn't seem like a believable character?

Costumes - Some of the costumes are just not... Good? I don't like Hook's overall look? Neither do I like some of the pirates and the lost boys? Its all very higgilty pigglity with the pirates outfits, which i can understand why, its stuff they may have stolen or found over the years in Neverland but it was very 'hey look I'm a pirate and I'm quirky!' and with the Lost Boys, I always thought it'd be better to wear real animal skins rather than all the fake cuddly toy looking ones?

The direction - Pick an angle, are you dark and serious or are you fun and goofy?

Neverland - Why can't it be brighter? Why does it looks so dull and boring? There are some interesting concepts there, the 'castle' they stay in along with the trees. As they enter Neverland it looks amazing and bright with the mermaids etc and then it just gets... BORING? I want to see bright colours, magic, the mysteries and beauty of an Island where things don't grow up! Where was that?

Timing felt off - The story feels rushed in some areas? Like, it didn't feel like a FAMILY at the very beginning? They didn't show Wendy's true conflict about leaving to go to boarding school, nor did they establish a good family dynamic? It felt like they rushed the croc scene and Hook's panic?

Transitions - Whats with some of these transitions between scenes? Like that random circle one after Wendy smacks Pan in the face????

The parents - Again a poke at how it didn't feel like a FAMILY? They just don't seem to react as you probably WOULD when a bunch of strange wild children enter your house without permission and trash your kid's room. And the look the mother gave towards Peter as he left, did she KNOW Peter???? Was she his sister? Descendant? IDK???

How it felt like Hook and Peter became 'friends' at the end - It wasn't fully revealed, but it felt like it was hinted at. NO.

[todaysbiggesthits]

The Exam

Best Music Moment of 2023

Code: openly weeping and slyly recording alien boy's set at subT. sitting at sandy liang nyfw spring show and hearing harmony's "i am so lucky and nothing can stop me" while all of the bows in the world traipsed by. witnessing raphael and guillerme's post-dinner mid-80's french pop rock sing along session in chantilly. seeing phish cover "albuquerque" with gd by my side. christmas song jamon with Arden in central park on dec 24.

JD: August: Springsteen's rendition of "Nightshift" at Giants Stadium. October: Something made me want to listen to what I could only remember as a scary Ozzy Osbourne song they used to play on The Bear that went something like "Bury Nation." The actual lyrics upon figuring it out were so much more stupid and hilarious than I could have imagined. Got many delightful yuks and spins out of this jam.

November: Enjoying a wild stew of crass while spinning 100 gecs on my first ever stroll of the Vegas Strip.

Best Shows Seent in 2023

JD: 1. Bruce Springsteen at Giants Stadium 2. Panda Bear and Sonic Boom at Knockdown Center 3. Hamilton Leithauser at Cafe Carlyle 4. The Walkmen at Webster Hall 5. A. Savage at Bowery Ballroom 6. Beach Fossils at Knockdown Center 7. Aunt Puke and Goth Jafar at the Exhaus Latta after party at Jean's

Codeman: washer - alphaville 3EB - salt shed alien boy - subT future trash - subT basement the hold steady - salt shed phish - united center a. savage - bowery ballroom

Confession of 2023

Codem: it took a full eight months of encouragement to finally listen to 100 gecs because i was certain that they were going to sound like let's eat grandma.  i was wrong, they do not.  

Biggest Disappointment of 2023

JD: Happy Mondays cancelling their trip to the US after we were so pumped to get tickets.

Cig: i thought i could hold off on buying tix to see ovlov on a sunday night in chicago only to have the show sell out and i then spent a full 45 days trawling craigslist for a ticket that never appeared.

Most Overrated of 2023

Codem: i zigged when boygenius and caroline polachek thought i would zag

JD: Feel like I should be more into Wenzdee.

Make It Stop 2023

JD: It isn't even make it stop because it's over and there's no going back, but watching Travis Scott's "Circus Maximus" long form film was a fascinating study in the terminal stage of aesthetics that we're living through. Truly the most dispiriting experience of the TBH era.

Codemin: new blink album

Biggest TBH Regret of 2023

Code: not trying harder to see 100 gecs + liturgy in nyc

JD: Second the above. Also got some insane pangs of regret upon seeing the Billy Idol setlist at King's Theater and a clip of "Nicotine and Gravy" from Beck's MSG show.

Detective Murtaugh of 2023

Code: there was a WAOR-type song quoted during phish's tweezer and i cannot for the life of me figure out what it was. i've been wracking my brain weekly, but i can't seem to jar anything loose.  

JD: My most played song of the year was Charles Mingus - "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat."

Resolution for 2023 Status

Codem: -pony up and go see a show at salt shed. fever ray?  How It Went: seent two of em and neither were fever ray?! -load neil’s discography onto my phone. i’m too often humming his tunes and then can’t play powderfinger on the way home from the office. How It Went: subscribed to apple music just to get ol' shakey in my ears again

JD: More Lou. How It Went: Best: Songs For Drella Max Utility: Coney Island Baby Most Desired Cheap Copy at a Record Store: Legendary Hearts

Resolution for 2024

JD: Think I'm going to lean on The Smiths to get me through all the election miz this year.

Code Man: 1) expend similar effort in finding new music next year and try to stretch myself past the usual suspects 2) go to more shows on my nyc wknds

Most Anticipated of 2024

Code: i'm putting all of my eggs in the dom basket, everything else will be gravy

JD: I've got nothing, so let's double the cosmic pressure on Dom.

[philcmenabadadink]

cisfemale — ever hear people say PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL looks a lot like NATALIA DYER? I think SHE is about 19, so it doesn’t really work. The FREELANCER is here because THEIR VAN BROKE DOWN and they are from WOODSIDE, CA. They can be WHIMSICAL, but they can also be APATHETIC. I think PHILLY might be N/A. ( snot goblin. 20. est. she/they. )

hi hello friends ,,, i bring to u my third character and the Newest Muse i have created ... which means i’m still working on her ! so pleathe bare w/ me as i have no idea how she’ll rly truly turn out. but !! as always, give this a LIKE and i’ll come bother u !!!

TW: CANCER, IMPLIED TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. MENTAL HEALTH )

a e s t h e t i c s

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers.

general info !!

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th lmao !!

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: ??? $500 ebay mystery box. pansexual if you had to label it.

pinterest

stats

biography !!

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are ... eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children ... it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels...less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen ... van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way. 

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

she gets medication, and life is normal.

it’s four years later and they’re in vermont when their good ol’ trusty van - affectionately named florence - breaks down in a town called livingstone. the cost is more than they have at the moment, and they’re stuck. philomena thinks she likes the town - but she doesn’t know about the watershed. 

personality !!

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in livingstone - would hate to make enemies whilst florence is getting repaired.

they’re staying in a motel, currently, in the cheapest room they could get. philly will still visit florence. will sometimes go home with strangers purely to take advantage of a comfortable bed and a shower with better pressure.

it’s a common occurrence - she doesn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weasels her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. 

will consume a n y t h i n g you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggles.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

wanted connections !!

random encounters - she’s new in town and doesn’t know many people - if anybody at all, so :-)

alternately, people she’s run into with elektra during their journey. whether they’ve stolen from them or stayed with them somewhere or just, ate dinner with them. anything.

someone whose couch she’s crashed on after a night of whatever - a party, adventure, etc.

people she does jobs for !! people who commission her to make stuff for them. people who need a babysitter.

people who think she’s weird - and those who like it. or those who hate it. people who don’t understand her - people who do, in their own way.

someone trying to get closer to her but she keeps slipping out from between their fingers.

a parental / older sibling figure !! they take one look at philomena and instantly want to swaddle and protect her.

people who take an immediate liking to her. people who introduce her to the music scene. people who show her around town.

someone who catches her stealing or about to dine-n-dash.

late-night walking pals.

a dealer b/c weed ? a thing.

someone who gets into a debate with her about conspiracies or superstitions or anything !! someone who gets frustrated at her apathy.

somebody who just immediately distrusts her for whatever reason.

??? you don’t have a smartphone ??? cue someone trying to teach her how they work - and philly hating it !!

thrifting pals.

m a y b e a hook-up, eventually, but it’s questionable.

something unrequited, likely on their end b/c philly is ... a hard egg to crack.

maybe something returned !! eventually. slowly. slow.

god ... someone she just tells her entire life story to. like this meme. 

i’m rly down to brainstorm and think of anything !!! dnt forget 2 leave a like :)

[ev-pierce-writes]

Quantum Entanglement

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 6.4k (oops)

Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)

Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.

Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.

AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.

---

There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.

As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.

So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.

He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.

And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.

"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.

You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."

"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.

"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."

Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."

"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.

"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.

Steve nodded. "Just moved here."

"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."

You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.

So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.

The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.

Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.

Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.

"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."

You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.

"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."

"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."

"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."

You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.

"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.

But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.

When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.

As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.

Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.

"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."

"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."

You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.

"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."

He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.

"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."

Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"

Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."

He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.

"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."

Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.

Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.

"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.

You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"

Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.

"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."

You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?

But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.

It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.

And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.

But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.

It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.

At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.

"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"

"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"

The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.

You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?

"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"

Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.

You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.

"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"

Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.

"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.

"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.

"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.

You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.

He waited for your instruction.

"Undress me."

He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.

Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.

"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.

"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"

There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."

You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.

You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."

Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.

"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."

Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.

"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.

"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.

Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.

Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.

"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."

"No, definitely not."

"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."

"Where?" he teased.

"Everywhere, big man."

Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.

Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.

Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.

"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.

He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.

And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.

Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.

"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"

"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."

"Kiss me, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am."

He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.

You gasped. "Oh, God."

Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.

"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.

"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.

You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."

"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.

"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"

"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."

Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."

"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.

"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."

The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.

But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.

"Tell me what you need, darling."

"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."

Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.

"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."

You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.

When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.

He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

wendy again no problem (18 jan. 2022)

“I should make this a regular thing!” she said and failed and also died

ANYWAY, first blog-shaped post of the new year, hopefully I will be able to do this about once a week but I ain’t promising a particular day just yet

READING: I have not done as much reading lately as I would like :/  I am still chipping away at Star Wars: Ronin and enjoying it so far.  I also acquired MDZS vol. 1 and physical copies of Gideon and Harrow the Ninth (I read the latter two late last year), as well as the complete storyboards for Hayao Miyazaki’s Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro (1979).  Someday my will to sit down and read will return long enough for me to make some gosh dang progress.

EDIT: Ah, I almost forgot!  At work this week I read some of The Secret History of the Mongols, an epic 13th century Mongolian text on Genghis Khan.  You can read it in English for free here.  This reading choice was inspired by the listening section below.

WATCHING: @stardustalix and I are still slowly streaming The Untamed together; I believe we just finished Episode 15.  I think we both lost it a little at the Homoerotic Cave Scenes (TM) a few episodes ago.  Unfortunately I don’t think I have anything constructive to say about the show at this point, but I’m at least having fun!

I watched some more of Lupin III: Part 6 despite my better judgement previous lack of investment.  I watched the second Mamoru Oshii episode (ep. 10) just for funsies: it was weird, but nowhere near as weird as I’d expected it to be, and it was a surprisingly good Fujiko-centric ep.  After that, I skipped right past eps. 11-12 because I really could not give less of a shit about the Sherlock Holmes arc and reading the Wikipedia episode summaries was enough for me.  Episodes 13 and 14, however, were rather shockingly decent; it’s the first time ANYTHING this season has felt like Lupin to me, and they did so with a good helping of domestic LupGang (esp. JigLup) content to boot!  We got to learn another piece of Lupin’s backstory, and so far, it seems competently written and I actually don’t hate it!  We shall see how the rest of this arc plays out.  I quite liked Mercedes, Lupin’s one-off, pink-haired rival here, and I really liked seeing a darker side of Lupin at the end of episode 14 even if he ultimately pulled his punch, so to speak.  Now that’s something I’d love to see explored more, especially if they’re going to restrain themselves and do the gd character work instead of just pure, unexplored edge.  (Unrelated to whatever Lupin’s up to, man, this must be a rough season for Zenigata stans.  The man’s barely showed up at all and he’s always accompanied and restrained by other characters instead of getting to be his true, unhinged, Lupin-obsessed self.)

I need to watch more of the new Lupin III: Part 1 dub, which thankfully seems to be getting better after the disastrous first episode (though to be fair that’s a rough episode all around).  I LOVED the episode 7 dub, especially the iconic ending scene with Lupin and Goemon, but the whole thing was honestly great.  Lang and Ruff in particular never disappoint.

Since I haven’t made one of these since last year, here are all the movies I’ve watched so far in 2022: The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), Lupin III: Dragon of Doom (1994), Encanto (2021), Raya and the Last Dragon (2021), Nightmare Alley (1947), Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021), and about half of Vertigo (1958) before I got too sleepy and had to stop for the night.

LISTENING: This past week or so’s albums of choice (for my morning and evening commute) were:

The Gereg - The Hu (recommended tracks: “Yuve Yuve Yu”, “Wolf Totem”, “The Great Chinggis Khaan” - Xiran Jay Zhao mentioned Mongolian rock in one of their videos, blessedly reminding me of how much this band slaps)

Sketches of Spain - Miles Davis (recommended track: “Concierto de Aranjuez” - Lupin fans, if you like Jigen’s “Tornado” theme, this is the piece it took inspiration from)

Blue in Green - Miles Davis (secretly Jigen at it again, because the title track was mentioned in this fantastic fic which everyone should read)

Encanto - soundtrack (all the sung tracks are bangers but “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” has gone particularly viral for a reason)

I did take a history of jazz course in college which left me with latent semi-informed Jazz Enjoyer Tendencies, so while it was weeb reasons that brought me back to it this week, I was glad to be reminded that hey, I like this music, I should listen to it more often.

PLAYING: A rare category!!  This week I finally, finally started playing Disco Elysium after @sybilius, @jacopo-belbo, and @venhediss all enthusiastically recommended it to me over the last year or so.  Stat-wise, I went with 2 Intellect, 3 Psyche, 4 Physique, and 3 Motorics, with Visual Calculus as my Signature Skill.  Gameplay-wise, I haven’t even gone to look at the body in the courtyard yet because 1) I’m being thorough and 2) this game ate my laptop battery for some reason (will try turning down the graphics more next session), but I have at least talked to Kim (!!) and Garte the Cafeteria Manager.  So far the vibes and the soundtrack are impeccable.  I also discovered that I’ve been mentally mispronouncing Revachol for over a year (while I’d had the stress right, I’d assumed the ch was more of a k, like in cholera or alcohol, certainly not sh).

I’ve also been kicking relative ass in Duolingo Japanese, so, there’s that.  I made it all the way to the Amethyst League but I’m not sure if I’ll bother keeping up with the leaderboard as much at this level; we shall see.  Material-wise, I’ve mostly got the hiragana down and am beginning to learn the katakana, and I have learned a few conversational basics (poorly explained as Duolingo is wont to do, but a lengthy Discord call with my brother helped clear some things up and give me a preview of some grammatical stuff that might appear soon).

OTHER: It snowed here!!! :D  I also made very tasty ramen for everyone on Thursday or Friday night and then a big batch of beef stew on Saturday.

Goodnight mes amis, sleep well, I’ll most likely subject you to more of the usual nonsense in the morning.

[baejl]

hold my heart

exo 10th member

somi and jiyong end things up

Yeah, there's nothing I can say at all You can't hold my heart no more

[As I said before, this is the end of our fav couple aka Somi and GD. It’s shorter than I’d like it to be, but I tried not to drag it too much because it’s just too sad for me. Enjoy crying like I did while writing 🥺]

masterlist 🌻 requests are open feedback is always important to me!

Somi placed her shoes just like she'd do every time she visited Jiyong, placed her jacket on the coat rack and walked into his house. However, unlike the other times, she was sad. Not sad, disappointed.

Falling in love has always been a struggle for her, since a little girl. 

She tried it once and, well, it was a disaster. Then, almost two years later, she allowed herself to fall in love with Jiyong, seeing in him what she couldn't see in the first one: true love. 

But no one ever told her that love could fade away. 

"Somi?" she heard his voice calling from the kitchen.   

"I'm here..." she answered, entering the kitchen.

She walked next to him and ran her hand over his shoulder before placing a quick kiss on his lips, feeling that familiar small of cologne and cigarettes. But now, all that seemed empty.

"Hi, baby girl." he mumbled against her lips. "How've you been?"

Somi pulled the chair close to him and took a big sip of whatever was inside his cup.

"Fine, and you?" she hissed, feeling a burning sensation on her throat. He nodded.

"Good." he mumbled.

Losing herself in her thoughts, she started tapping her nails on the wooden island. Jiyong took a deep breath and place a hand on her tight, sending shivers through her body.

She'd miss that. 

"We need to talk." he said, taking the words out of her mouth.

Somi gathered all the strength inside her and looked directly at him, silently agreeing. 

You know somethings have to end, but you never want the end to come. Although Somi had the feeling she and Jiyong would last forever, the signs were more than clear to anyone, it was just a feeling. 

Busy schedules, non-stopping promotions, the hate coming from everywhere, ignored messages, unanswered calls, dating rumours, having to lie to most of the people because they were too afraid... It was all falling apart and there's nothing they could do because they had tried everything. 

After a long time with their gazes locked, Jiyong decided to break that silence. 

"Where did we lose ourselves?" he asked in a sighed and the way he said was like taking Somi's heart out of her chest. She hated when he was sad. 

"I don't know." she answered in a whisper and shrugged her shoulders because she really didn't. 

Before he could say anything, Somi interrupted him. She needed to know something. 

"Jiyong, did ever love me?" 

He shut his mouth and looked away from her eyes and with that, Somi knew he didn't. 

"You're an amazing woman." he said, looking back at her. "You've been through so much already at such a young age. The way you see always see the good in the world makes me ashamed of myself. And me," he sadly giggled. "I'm a fucking mess. There's this hurricane that follows me everywhere I go, and I can't let it hurt you as it did to the other people. You deserve much more." 

"I do, that's true. But I want you. With all your mess." she answered him, sounding way cold than she'd like.

Somi wasn't necessarily mad at him, she was mad at herself for being fool enough to believe on her own illusion that they could be something more. 

Jiyong took a deep breath and ran his hand on his hair. 

"Somi, please. Don't make this harder than it is." he groaned. "I'm already hating for looking like I used you with Play and I-." 

Somi made him stop when she raised a hand to him, as a sign for him to stop. 

"Don't. I'd never feel used by you." she simply said, the words dying on her throat as she felt her eyes tearing up. 

Just a few people ever saw Somi crying for vulnerability: her parents, her members and Jade. Every time she cried on stage or with anyone else, it was for a happy reason. And she wouldn't let Jiyong see that side of her. 

It was decided, that was the end. 

"I hope you can find someone who's able to love you as much as I did and that you can love this someone back." Somi confessed, looking inside his eyes. "We all deserve to be loved, even with our flaws." 

"I wish the same to you, Somi." he said, giving her a sad smile. 

"I'll tell my manager to bring your things and take mine tomorrow morning." she told him, getting up from her seat and trying to avoid any eye contact with him. 

"As you wish..." Jiyong mumbled, nodding. 

He made the first move and went next to her, leaving a long kiss on her forehead and Somi felt a tear rolling down her cheek. When he stepped back, she wasted no time in getting out of that place that once represented good memories to her. 

Somi followed her way to the shoe shelf, putting her shoes on again and taking her coat from his chair, looking at him one last time. 

"Goodbye, Jiyong." she whispered. 

"Goodbye Somi." he replied. 

Closing the door behind her, letting out a loud sob. With that, more than never, Somi learned that love arrives exactly when love is supposed to.

And love leaves exactly when love must.

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR

Alright y’all a likely final WWR coming at you, you know 3 months late the day of the dreaded s19 premiere. This definitely gets ranty and emotional, if you’re a Gibbs stan scroll the fuck away & don’t send me hate anon. This is bittersweet and it hurts and I’ve been living in denial for months but I needed this little bit of closure before the writer’s absolutely fuck it up in less than 6 hours. I hope you enjoy my emotional ramblings & I’ve absolutely loved writing these for the past two years, i’ll miss it & your reactions to it dearly ❤️

Badass Ellie is allllllways a treat, and protective nick contrasted to her making albeit slightly reckless decisions is top tier. And then followed up by him being impressed as hell??? He’s like damn my girl just did that and I am not turned on, no way, we are working I am not turned on, nope. Nick sitting at Ellie’s desk in the beginning PLS. Feet kicked up feeling mighty comfortable for someone who hates sitting at a desk 👀 only ok with it when it’s Ellie’s, huh Nick? Also I love that he’s sticking with the nonchalant approach like he did when he found her looking up Eastern Europe locations. He knows if he pushes too hard it won’t go well, but he is still concerned for her well-being. Those pieces slowly clicking into place that something isn’t just off- it’s worrisome off. Because while yes he’s still nonchalant he’s a touch more serious this time, ignoring her attempt at a brush off and claiming “he wants answers.” It’s a subtle step up from 18x14, but it’s there. His spidey senses are tingling and he’s getting less and less able to hide his concern for her 🥺 even if he tries to play it off as flirty banter because yes he’s still gd impressed with her moves and even tells Vance as such essentially. 

Flash forward to at the stash house and they find the files plus the mini debrief back in the bullpen…I truly am inclined to believe Ellie doesn’t know here. I mean sure she realizes that the timing fits to a certain extent—she was at NSA when this happened, but I don’t think she knows this is the beginning of her end. She’s like “oh they’re selling secrets too” and “my contacts are all gone” like…I just, she seems too casual and not at all on edge. Idk so far I’m just not getting that vibe. She even brushed off McGee with the whole that was ten years ago almost like she didn’t remember it? But then at the same time she did bring up the whole legal vs ethical- she hedged, but she did mention it. She was not super gung-ho about OMG THIS WAS SO UNETHICAL WTF HOW COULD THEY DO THIS so still……..idk lets continue haha

Ok her knowledge of guns is slightly concerning but also Nick finds it concerning AND hot, boy can’t help himself lets be honest. That “damn” that slips out please, so many sirens going off in that head but also you’re just like well fuck talk dirty to me some more babe. Aaaaand here we go, here’s why I know Ellie didn’t know that odette was going to plant that shit right now. “Whoever took them from the NSA’s code-level servers risked a lot more than their career” with a little like duh face from Ellie SCREAMS that she did not, would not, EVER do that. The leak was fabricated by Odette and the fact that it would be planted during this case was all Odette unbeknownst to Ellie. Or why the fuck would Ellie so casually and somewhat judgmentally be like “who TF would leak something like that, man they stupid, committing treason and whatnot.” And Ellie is SHOOK when Vance tells her it was her. Like shook as in, blinks several times, shifts her weight back, glances at McGee with a flash of surprise in her eyes. That body language screeeeeams being caught off guard. If she had leaked those documents and if she had known this was a plant, she wouldn’t be caught off guard. And no matter how well you can try and play the part, that body language is legit. She’s shocked someone would even think about that and oh man, Nick. Nick’s face hurts me (and I know this is just the beginning). Because a man who has always seen himself as the bad egg, the criminal so to speak, the one who would do something shady before any of the others. He is shook and angry that Vance could even consider accusing Ellie of this. And then there’s the genuine concern etched on his face (and I’d know, the screen is currently paused on his face staring at Ellie with a worried furrowed brow and pain clenched in his jaw) because he knows logical Ellie wouldn’t do this but also he knows he’s been seeing little puzzle pieces fall into place of suspicious behavior and this is just one more thing that doesn’t sit right with him- doesn’t fit the woman he’s come to know and love. And while I know he truly believes she didn’t leak the files, I would bet right here he’s concerned about what the fuck she’s gotten herself wrapped up in. 

And she continues to be adamantly against this, like Eleanor Raye Bishop would NOT ever leak intel, not as a baby NSA analyst who believed she was doing the right thing always in her role. Never once bringing up questionable ethics, she thought it was the greater good, that little patriot. She’s so adamantly against it and then Vance asks if she was framed, and I think that’s the point where Ellie realizes this is Odette. The word framed all of a sudden clicks it all into place and she picks up it might be “go time” for her. Her glances over at Vance have changed, they’re more cautious, calculating. She hears they’ve been leaked over ten years ago and she knows that she didn’t do it 10 years ago so this very well may be the notice of eviction from Odette. The “we’re coming for you, Agent Bishop” and her little look, oooooh Ellie is fired up. Her switch flipped and she’s now gotta hunker down and defend herself until she can confirm with Odette. Vance doesn’t even let her get a word in to “fight” for her innocence. But the fact that she’s getting sent home pisses her off, she wants to be close to the investigation, know what’s happening, and I’m sure a part of her still resists being dubbed that traitor of the state. Who knows, Odette may have never told her how she would become a disgraced NCIS agent, and this may have pissed Ellie off because her integrity is something she prides herself on. Her line, “I’m not Gibbs […] I’m innocent line” is like a tiny bright spot to chuckle in during this dismal finale. Gibbs hate train right hereeeee

Love that Kasie is immediately on the Ellie defense side, not looking forward to her reaction to Ellie leaving IF they even decide to show us. 

Gibbs telling Ellie “sometimes there’s nothing left to be said” when he fucking up and left the team without so much as a goodbye or sorry for committing police brutality like fuck outta here Gibbs. Ellie is CLEARLY vulnerable right now, she’s been accused of leaking classified documents aka committing treason, she’s suspended, she’s on the brink of going on some dumbass undercover op and is begging, pleading, for any sign from you- her boss and father figure- not to do it. That he shows remorse for leaving the team without a word, that he regrets his decision to just disappear on them, that he wishes he hadn’t or he had done it differently. ANY kind of sign to tell her not to go through with what she’s about to go through. Literally any sign, and instead Gibbs gets defensive and bites back that she’s picking the wrong time in her life (LIKE HELLO YOU JUST SAID IT RIGHT THERE IDIOT, SHE’S GOING THROUGH SHIT MAYBE YOU SHOULD FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS BUT NO YOU’RE WRAPPED UP IN GIBBS LA-LA-LAND AND HAVE SAID FUCK YOU TO YOUR SUPPOSED KIDS), so now Ellie is even more pissed and gets defensive back telling him he doesn’t even know what’s going on in her life and if that’s not a desperate cry for help I don’t know what is. like she is begging you Gibbs to pick up on it and figure it out, begging you to do your job that’s you’re supposedly so good at and save her from going through with this stupid mission. And then Ellie realizes that he stopped caring about them. He’d gotten so wrapped up in what he was doing, he stopped caring about their lives, the problems they were facing, anything. Him *not* realizing something was happening??? This is Gibbs, this is the man that always knows what’s happening before you even know what’s happening. So the words “I’m starting to realize that” hit like a fucking dump truck. He’s too preoccupied with his own boat-making nonsense that he can’t be bothered to have even an inkling of an idea of what’s going on in their lives. And he doesn’t seem to care that he’s dropped them from his life. And that’s when it hits Ellie, he’s never coming back. He’s cut the team out of his life and he doesn’t care. He has no regrets, he can’t even be bothered to have a single regret. And I think that, right there, is when Ellie decides she’s all in. I think there was always a small part of her that was hesitant to go along with odette. Hesitant to just upend her career and her relationships (aka Nick, but we’ll get to this), all of it. But hearing that the man she looked up to even though he’d made some mistakes, the man she viewed as a father, the one person who’d taken a chance on the nerdy analyst long ago, the one constant through all the turmoil she’d had, just left? Just left without a goodbye, without remorse, without even a parting thought for her? That was it for her. Whatever brainwashing Odette had fed her that she’d pushed back against from fully taking over finally broke free. And with it, Ellie grieves, she’s tearing up from knowing what she’s about to lose. Lose the man she viewed as a father, the coworkers that were like a family, the partner she’d found herself loving like she’d never loved before. 

Ugh poor hurt Nick, he’s willing to do all the grunt work that he abhors in order to free up McGee so he can save Ellie. Nick knows he doesn’t have the skills and I think that’s killing him even more so. He can’t just do it himself, he has to rely on someone else to clear her name (to which he bumped back to last name in a last ditch attempt to maintain distance and keep some semblance of emotions in check, which is failing miserably), and that is killing the doer we know and love. LOL “so you’re both wrong” this poor man I love him, I can’t wait for the tears that will come from me later 🥲 nick immediately taking Jessica’s help, I love it. He’s like I don’t give AF who will help us but I am clearing this woman’s name if it’s the last thing I do. And then she walks in and he’s frozen. All these emotions running through him and then she’s there?? And she ignores him??? Ignores all of them?? Rushes past and storms up to the director on a suicide mission??? Yeah this is why I said that conversation with Gibbs was her last nail in the coffin. She hadn’t decided to go through with it (hence why she hedged earlier with Vance) and then he went and was a piece of shit so she said the hell with it and went all in. She can’t even bring herself to speak at Nick, barely looks at him, because she knows, she knows if she speaks to him, if he gets a chance to try and talk her down in the heightened emotional state she’s in after talking to Gibbs, she won’t be able to hold it in. She won’t be able to deal with seeing emotionally charged and hurt Nick. So she ignores him and McGee and does what she thinks she has to do. How hard did it have to be for Ellie to tell Vance not to defend her, and that their intel was correct? 🥺🥺 it goes against everything she’s ever stood for and she just went and did it. She hates liars and yet she lied. She loves her country and yet she claimed she committed treason. Her body language once again screams uncomfortable but trying to play it off. She’d nodding and repeating it over and over because she needs to convince herself of the words. They leave a bitter taste in her mouth and she can’t stop it. All she can do is clench her jaw a little tighter and get it over with and convince herself. 

Nick is in disbelief, obviously. McGee looks like he’s five seconds from breaking down because his little sister is supposedly a traitor??? Like he can’t believe it. He’s hurt she would do something like this even though he still knows in his gut that it can’t possibly be true. And oh FUCK the part where Nick’s voice cracks asking if Vance fired Ellie. Fuuuuuuuck me. This man’s heart is breaking for what’s happening to Ellie and being completely in the dark about it. Sure they weren’t really clear on what “they” were after The Talk but still. He thought she was open with him. Ever since the jail cell, things had shifted and he thought she’d been honest with him. He’d picked up on those little things, but maybe it was just training or something, NOT committing alleged treason and quitting the one career she loved. Not leaving him in the dark and vanishing without so much as a word. Not that. Because she KNOWS his past, she knows how much shit he’s been through with people in his life leaving without so much as a goodbye. And his voice continues to crack asking about what’s going on because he’s literally in shock. McGee is desperately trying to keep it together, keep some sort of figurehead for the team. Nick is in shambles ok, just like I’m in shambles. He’s adamant she didn’t do it because he KNOWS her. He knows she would never in a million years leak classified intel and now he’s just confused like a lost and kicked puppy. She didn’t DO IT, and she’s not answering her PHONE. He just wants to talk to her, he just wants to know she’s ok, wants to comfort her, wants to convince her to stop and it’ll be alright and he’ll take care of her and he’ll save her because that’s all he wants to do and always has, right? Save her. Save her from everything in this world that could hurt her. Protect her from life’s dangers. Protect her because he can’t bear the thought of losing her. And that all is crumbling down around him. All of it, crashing down like an avalanche, ready to bury him alive in grief and guilt and despair and anger. How am I supposed to TALK to her, he just wants to fucking be with her. He just wants to be there. With her. For the rest of their lives.

Ellie looking at the hat, please. That’s a lifetime of regret packed into one facial expression right there. She’s looking at that hat, the one she cherishes from the moment Gibbs hands it to her, and knows it’ll be the last time she ever sees it again. It’s not something she can take with her, and it’s full of fond memories—most happy, some sad, a few bittersweet—but memories that have made her life whole the past 8 years. And there’s officially no going back, she’s admitted to treason, there’s no way out of that. She’s having to say goodbye to all of her career without saying goodbye to any of them, all of that is wrapped up in that hat. A hat that’s so simple but signifies so much to her. She definitely was not expecting McGee to come out and so her rebuttals to him are exasperated and grasping at straws initially. She tries sarcasm and then she tries to brush it off “it doesn’t matter, it’s done […] I get that, I don’t want to talk about it” when McGee voices that he’s hurt over this and her reputation matters to him. Because he’s like another brother to you dammit Ellie. Yeah he’s grown since he said Ziva was like a sister to him and just stomped on your heart, he didn’t say it then but you’re like a sister to him too Ellie. I love that he fights her on it, and Ellie is like shit I have to come up with something. I don’t think she expected McGee of all people to fight her on this and I’m so glad he did. A little bit of growth because he is not going to see another person he views as family leave him again. And Ellie’s half assed excuses please, all of it is just such BULLSHIT because when they first debriefed she was just like “ethical? Hmmm” nothing more, nothing about being a vigilante and being up in arms over this like she claims she was. Bullshit Ellie, bullshit. And the PARALLELS TO FUCKING GIBBS. THIS IS WHAT YOU DID GIBBS, THIS IS YOU. LOOK WHERE YOU FUCKING PUSHED ELEANOR BISHOP TO STOOP TO. McGee begging her to regret it and Ellie pulls a Gibbs and is like NOPE. WONDER WHERE THE FUCK SHE LEARNED THAT FROM HUH. Gibbs you are singlehandedly responsible for this shit and how Ellie broke Nick’s heart and whatever happens to her on this stupid mission. I’m glad your dumb boat blew up, you deserve it. 

“I don’t want protection” because I can’t have you all following me. 

“It kills me that I lied to the people I was closest to” not about what you think I’m lying about but what I’ve been hiding. It kills me that I can’t tell you the real reason for this. It kills me.

“It wasn’t years ago for us” McGee rip my heart out please it will hurt less. And Ellie just playing into all of it. Knowing that she needs him and everyone else to hate her and not trust her. Her entire livelihood and backstory rely on them hating her and not following her, believing she’s the enemy and she’s hid these kinds of secrets for so long. Believing she’s a criminal and it was all a farce. She has to play into it. She has to. It’s the only way she will survive, they’ll survive. Odette likely fed her this shit, cut all ties, make sure no one follows, make sure no one is attached, burn all bridges. 

Ah and we’re back to pissed Nick. Nick who doesn’t like to be left in the dark ever, let alone when it deals with Bishop. Getting his edgy self being rude to Kasie but Kasie doesn’t even bat an eyelash. She knows Nick is hurting and she reaches out to him, she doesn’t take his tone to heart because she knows. Nick saying he wouldn’t know how she’s doing is just like a knife to the heart. He wants to know, desperately. He once thought he was the person she would go to in times like these but now all he’s getting is radio silence, a cold shoulder, and screened phone calls. He’s in visceral pain from the thought of her going through this alone, pain from everything he once thought true and good being destroyed in a day’s time. And Kasie is shocked that Nick hasn’t spoken to her. If that doesn’t tell you she knows that they are a thing and the gravity of all this, I don’t know what will. Nick should have spoken to her, clearly he wants to, in every other situation he would have already. But Kasie (and Jessica) just realized Ellie is shutting Nick out and that is Not Good. 

Back to Gibbs. Fucking asshole he is. McGee comes to you desperate to help his sister, Gibbs’ “daughter” and he goes “I think she’s at a crossroads” ???? Acting like he didn’t fucking encourage her at this so-called crossroads???? Like ???? The fuck???? Her crossroads was painfully obvious when she came to talk to you and YOU basically treated her like you couldn’t care less about her. That you had no clue what she was dealing with in her life and said as much. So yeah, she WAS at a fucking crossroads until you SHOVED her into oncoming traffic and said have a nice fucking life. AND THEN. McGee wants to help her and Gibbs tells him he can’t??? “Not this time” bitch this is YOUR FAULT. YOU COULD HAVE HELPED HER. COULD HAVE TALKED TO HER AT LEAST SOMEWHAT AND YOU DIDN’T. YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T REALIZE SHE WAS SPIRALING AND THAT YOU DIDN’T REGRET LEAVING YOUR SO-CALLED FOUND FAMILY IN THE DUST AND GUESS WHAT. SHE WENT AND PARROTED YOUR WORDS RIGHT BACK AT MCGEE SO FUCK YOU GIBBS. 

Ooooh Nick looks lethal, love that look, hate why he has that look though. Lol Nick getting ready to go murder the dude in interrogation because he set up Ellie and he’s just ignoring the fact that she claims she committed treason because he already knows there is literally no way on earth that she did it. And Vance realizing that Nick needs to stand down like fiiiiiiinally someone realized it. Obviously he isn’t gonna listen and poor Nick, this boy has it bad and he’s truly just SO WORRIED for what Ellie is about to do. Because right there, the confirmation that the file was a plant, that was the final puzzle piece falling into its perfect place. Every single thing he questioned, every little moment he’d replayed in his head, it all made sense. And he was so very pissed she hadn’t come to him- and honestly I think part of him is trying to ignore the WHY that’s behind that because he truly wouldn’t be able to think straight if he went there. I think that would be his end, going into the why she didn’t trust him, why she lied, why it hurts him so much. It would be the end, and yet…we’re just beginning here. And of course he knows exactly who is manipulating Ellie, he hadn’t trusted that scum from the start. So of course he goes straight to Odette’s cabin and lays in wait, probably pouring over all the documents and things Ellie did or didn’t leave behind there. 

Ellie pulling up in the truck and that heavy sigh? Yeah, she’s still not convinced this is a good idea. She’s running on emotions but that logical part of her (and deep down, her heart, knowing what she’s about to do- who she’s about to cut out of her life) is whispering of how very bad an idea this is. She still has to gather her willpower to get out of that car but when it’s Gibbs calling her? The same Gibbs that basically just kicked her out the door without so much as a wave goodbye? Yeah, the emotion just came rushing back, pushing the logic aside. She claims she can’t tell Nick because no shit if she has to look him in the face and lie and still say goodbye, it’ll kill her. She’s honestly not sure if she can go through with it. 

OH we back to a Gibbs hate novel, hold on. “I’M REALLY PROUD OF YOU BISHOP” WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I’M REALLY PROUD YOU’RE THROWING EVERYTHING YOU EVER WORKED FOR AWAY, PUSHING THE ONES YOU LOVE THE MOST OUT OF YOUR LIFE, SACRIFICING YOUR ONE SHOT OF LOVE THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE DESERVE THE MOST. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU. Oh fuck OFF Gibbs. “Following your gut” oh shut UP. I just don’t understand this part. I don’t understand it, and I’m trying so hard for it to make sense, for it to be in character. Like does Gibbs have any clue?? I’m sure he recognizes the signs, I’m sure he has an inkling at this point. So how would he be proud? How the FUCK would he say he’s learned some stuff from her. Does he mistakenly trust Odette because of what she did for Ziva? Is he just so self-absorbed he doesn’t completely comprehend what Ellie is doing leaving Nick behind??? And Rule 91 is a load of shit. “When you decide to walk away, don’t look back” how FUCKING STUPID. Like Gibbs of all people, you should understand that is a SHIT rule. You’ve lost the people you loved dearly and you think she should just never look back? Like are you saying this so that Ellie has a clear head for the undercover op? Are you hoping she doesn’t get herself killed by being wrapped up in what she left behind??? What the actual fuck. Stupid ass rule honestly. It’s what you live by Gibbs and look how well that turned out for you. Look at the family you ditched. Nice fucking job. 

“It’s done” and “what are you talking about I did everything you asked” ok she’s 100% being manipulated and almost blackmailed somehow. There’s no other explanation. Eleanor Raye Bishop wouldn’t do this shit. Not willingly, not if she knew how much Nick loved her and how much she loved him (which if her words in just a minute are any indication, yeah she had a fucking clue). Odette calling Nick a loose end just SCREAMS how she purposefully fucking chose the moment Ellie and Nick started to get close to decide it was time for Ellie to go undercover. I just KNOW it. She’s a manipulative bitch and there is no limit to the rock bottom she will stoop to. 

Ellie knows who she’s talking about and the just look of fuck I have to actually tell him to his face. The doubt and grief and guilt and all of it, flashing across her face as she realizes she has to do this. She has to face this, she has to lie. She has to break his trust (not that she hasn’t already) something SHE made so painstakingly clear she needed from Nick. Nick is rightfully *pissed* I mean who can blame him. Ellie with her, “I have nothing to be sorry for.” I know Ellie is just doing her best to burn bridges, the hesitation and avoidance leading up to this lends itself to no other interpretation. She is going to say anything and everything to make sure Nick does not follow her. Make sure he stays as far away as possible from her. She can’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in some way from all this. Even though he may not get physically hurt, I don’t think she realizes the heart break is going to be worse. The painful part is Nick understands, he understands why she wants to do undercover. He had seen that glimmer in her eye when they were Charlie and Luis, he gets it, he’s been there. And he wishes so desperately he could impress every lesson he’s learned on her right then and there but at the same time he knows it won’t change a thing. He just wishes in vain that their love would change her mind, even if logic wouldn’t, their love surely could. I think Ellie starts to realize just how much Nick can see through her and that’s why she owns up to the fact that Odette planted the files, and also why I believe the leak was all an elaborate hack that Ellie didn’t know about. 

Then we get to the even more painful part of Nick giving us a glimpse of his raw heart. The why now with a voice crack and Ellie’s hedge at now wasn’t her choice with her own voice cracking, just is so so so telling. She could lie, she could really work at burning this relationship in a blaze of glory but she doesn’t, she owns up to the fact that she didn’t purposefully choose now (aka right when they were starting to figure things out between them), she’s not pulling the strings. Nick coming back with so you had a choice is like the little 5 year old boy whose dad is walking out on him again and it just HURTS. And at the same time Ellie is also the young, insecure agent right now who just wants to prove herself. She wants to be viewed as “ready” and the man whose opinion she bases way too much of her self-worth in didn’t say he was proud of her until she was upending her career to go on some deep cover op where she ditches everyone important in her life. 

“How long?” “Too long.” Yeah ok FUCK ME. They both know exactly what they’re talking about without even saying the actual words. Ellie’s voice cracks once again because of the emotion in Nick’s voice and what he’s implying. It pains her to leave him and what they’re becoming behind. It viscerally hurts her, you can see it on her face. She doesn’t want it to be too long, but she knows it will be. She can’t fathom that he’d stay or wait for her, she doesn’t think she even deserves that. 

Tbh it’s so hard to put this all into words. To fully convey to you how angry and hurt I am over this shit. Ellie’s being manipulated and hurt that she has to burn this bridge and push Nick as far away from her as possible. She thinks its her only out and what should be expected of her based off her conversation with Gibbs because then she parrots his exact words back at Nick when he begs, literally begs her to say something after she was willing to leave without saying goodbye (which we know is because she didn’t think she was going to be able to look Nick in the eye and still go through with it all), “sometimes there’s nothing left to be said” like fuck you Gibbs for planting that in her head. There’s PLENTY left to be said. Clearly Nick was not pleased you blew him off Ellie, he wants you to say anything that would make this make sense (we all are tbh) and she says you know my *favorite* line, “I didn’t mean for us to happen.” Nick is all of us with his “something else” because WHAT THE FUCK. This is how I know Ellie was going full throttle with her strategy of pushing Nick away. This was the one thing she could say that would hit hardest for Nick. The man who is insecure about anyone truly loving him and him being a person deserving of a love that “stays” and for Ellie to say she didn’t mean to fall in love and even though they did she’s still going to leave because it was never in the plan, just damn, stab him in the back and twist that knife Ellie. And just like her body language this WHOLE TIME 💀💀💀 she’s just shaking her head because she doesn’t even believe her own words, she doesn’t want to confront this, she doesn’t want to end this. There’s tears in her eyes because everything she’s saying is a lie and it hurts it hurts so damn much but she has to. She’s been manipulated into believing she has to do this, has to say these things. And his body language too, I mean he is tight. He is standing so rigid, hands clasped behind his back because he’s trying to convey openness and vulnerability and it’s so much growth for Nick, so much growth and Ellie is still ripping his heart out and stomping on it. And when she chokes out that goodbye you can hear and feel how final she believes it to be. She doesn’t think he’ll stick around or even want to. In this vein I think she underestimates his love for her here. And if the show goes a different way with it, they’re little bitches. It is in character for Nick to do everything in his power and outside of the rules to find & save Ellie. I will riot if I don’t see unhinged Nick some point early in s19 (I say like I’m going to watch religiously), because that is the only logical reaction to her leaving like this. 

The kiss. It’s a beautiful fucking kiss and it’s ruined by context. It’s an emotional kiss, Ellie throws her body behind it, gripping his face with both hands because she doesn’t want to let him go (even though she’s going to), she clutches to this memory like she clutches to his face. Nick’s clenched expression because he doesn’t want to open his heart up to more heartbreak but when he leans into the kiss and gives the kiss back you know he’s a goner. And maybe a part of him doesn’t care because this may be his last memory of her for a long time and he’s going to burn it into his memory too. It’s why he keeps his eyes shut after she’s left for so long, he doesn’t want to open them and the reality of her retreating back be the last thing he sees of Ellie. He wants the kiss to be the last thing, he doesn’t want to face his reality. His hands had even come out from behind his back, reaching out to her subconsciously willing her not to leave. Meanwhile, Ellie opens her eyes for that last kiss on the cheek to get one last long look at Nick, one last look that will hold her over for who knows how long. A look at his vulnerable face, a face she loves. A look that she hopes will keep her warm at night even though she knows she’ll never get it this close to her again because there’s no way in hell that Nick would entertain the thought of them together again after what she’s done. She doesn’t look back because she can’t. She can’t see Nick’s wounded face just standing there, broken or she won’t go. And Nick tries to stand resolute, the anger and pain flashing across his face before he grits his teeth together and *hopefully* resolves to find Odette and kill her I mean save Ellie I mean kill Odette 🙊

Anyways, there’s only a very specific way this entire finale makes sense. And I know Emily’s pregnancy threw it for a loop, but they can still SOMEWHAT fix this. Do I think they will? Hell fucking no. I have zero expectations, in fact negative expectations. I have a feeling what we were supposed to see is Nick going on an absolute swan rampage to find Ellie and clear her name throughout the first couple episodes of s19 and with Emily leaving the show, I’m not sure how they’ll twist this. I can see why they thought this was a fun cliffhanger because it would eventually be resolved and I do believe they would’ve eventually gotten ellick together after Nick found her. But unless Emily comes back at the end of the show, that won’t happen, at least not on screen. And with that I just 🥲 I’m still mad, I’m still broken inside but yeah. I’m a masochist before anything else apparently and so I made myself rewatch and write this out. A bittersweet pissed off adieu to the WWR. maybe one day i’ll find another ship & show that gets this level of meta out of me, but it’s been real ellick, it’s been really real ❤️

[shanscript]

🥵With Kenma, and the song is Latch - disclosure. I prefer being sub tho

who: kenma x n!reader

what: adult characters, sugar daddy & sex toy collector kenma, bondage, nipple clamps, suction vibrator, just trying whatever you like, reader called kitten

wc: 438

//screams// THIS. SONG. omg anon it’s been on so many playlists. i love it so gd much. anyways, enjoy sugardaddy!kenma (that’s got too much backstory)~ sorry if this one’s a mess, i wrote half of it at work 💕

Kenma Kozume gave you everything you could ever want: designer clothes, gourmet meals, the latest smartphone before it even hit the shelves. Kenma spared no expense to spoil you rotten, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a dream come true. But there was one thing you’d been aching for: great sex. Maybe you just weren’t together long enough yet for him to be completely vulnerable with you, but every night he spent at your apartment was… awkward. Kenma always seemed distracted, so unsure of himself.

Fearing your relationship might take a turn for the worse, you asked to change it up. Why couldn’t you spend the night at his place? Just this once. Needless to say, the results were beyond your wildest dreams. It only took a few seconds of him showing you around his bedroom before he introduced you to the impressive display of sex toys in his walk-in closet. Each one looked more expensive and mind-blowing than the next. You gaped in awe, you never would have guessed. 

“People.. like collecting things, right?” Kenma asked evenly, casting a side-eyed glance at your bewildered expression, “Well…”

You finally shut your mouth once your brain caught up to his words. “Yeah,” was all you could manage.

“Which one would you like?” he asked, watching you closely. This entire situation felt eerily similar to your frequent trips to the boutique. Now it was your turn to feel distracted and unsure.

Before you could blink, you found yourself writhing on Kenma’s bed, wrists bound above your head, clamps twisted tight around your nipples, and a suction vibrator dragging across your sultry skin. You cursed your indecisiveness as the overwhelming sensations threatened to tear you apart. You watched through knitted eyelashes as Kenma reached for yet another toy from your selection.

“B-baby… sss’too much--” you forced out with a moan.

The buzzing between your legs clicked off instantly. Kenma crawled up your hips, gently releasing your nipples and hands from their restraints, leaving your skin tingling. He planted both hands to either side of your face, looking you over with heavy concern. This was new.

“I… just want,” you tried to catch your breath, “you.”

A grin twitched at the edge of Kenma’s mouth. He leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. His slender fingers trailed down your torso and between your hips, raising goosebumps as they went. For the first time that you could remember, you felt close to him. Not to mention, your orgasm. Kenma curled his tongue behind your teeth before flicking it up out of your mouth. “Anything for you, kitten.”

tip me on ko-fi 💕

[lazywonderlvnd]

you are so gd talented and I would love love love to see your take on a possessive draco (like Harry when he gets territorial over Theo in TCL)

you are so kind pls.....thank u so much 😩 here’s a drabble for you, angel, hope you enjoy and sorry it took a hot minute! ❤️

He’d never have let Draco do this normally — it’s hard for him, and not in that work-through-it-and-you’ll-be-better-for-it kind of hard, all it does is make him tense and angry — but he can see the slight mania in Draco’s eyes and the fear and desperation, and it’s all of that plus the hectic flush on his cheeks that convinces Harry not to fight it when Draco shoves him down onto the bed and points his wand and suddenly Harry’s wrists are bound to the headboard.

“Better?” says Harry drily. Draco’s jaw clenches and his eyes blaze. If he’d known how obvious he was, how clearly Harry could read all of his emotions on his face, maybe he would have gone to some trouble to take it down a notch. He tugs lightly at his bonds, testing them though he doesn’t plan to break them. He simply wants to determine whether he could if he wanted to. To his fascination, he’s not totally sure he could. They’re incredibly strong, which means there had been significant emotion behind the spell. “D’you feel like telling me what the fuck this is about yet?”

Draco doesn’t answer. He points his wand again, and then Harry’s clothes are gone. He can’t imagine a more vulnerable position to be in: tied up and naked. At one point in his life, the idea of Draco Malfoy seeing him this way would have been second only to Voldemort himself seeing him this way. Not anymore, of course.

Now all this does is make his cock twitch and start filling with blood.

“What’s with you?” he asks. Draco doesn’t answer again; he disrobes himself without magic, then slips off his shirt and trousers and climbs onto the bed, a knee on either side of one of Harry’s legs. He looks quite mad, and lucky for him he’s just fucking perfect enough that he makes madness into something ethereal. His hair is free from its usual product, tempting Harry’s bound hands with how soft it looks. The combination of helplessness and arousal makes his breathing shallow and loud, his chest rising and falling too obviously for his taste.

“Something wrong, Potter?” Draco purrs, fingers curling around the base of Harry’s cock, slick with magicked lube. He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing through his nose, but Draco only squeezes and he has to clench his jaw to keep in a noise. “You know, you couldn’t look more appealing if you were a six-course meal and I was starving.”

“Is that right?” Harry says. It’s strained slightly, and he lets out a hoarse laugh. He opens his eyes and meets Draco’s, doing everything in his power not to lift his hips into the constant, torturous slide of that perfect hand. “Keeping in mind, of course, that you’ve always been a bit of a slut for it I do have to say you look more ravenous than usual.”

Now Draco laughs, mockingly, and he speeds up his hand. He starts twisting his wrist at the top, palming over the sensitive, engorged head, and dipping his thumb into the slit like he’s trying to coax out more pre-come. He looks like he’s barely restraining himself from leaning over and using his mouth instead; he’s got a good and proper fetish for Harry’s cock, an obsession that rivals only his love of riling Harry up on purpose just to monopolise his attention. It only makes it more impressive that he hasn’t done it yet.

“Keep talking, Potter, I have all night. And I’ve always wondered how you’d look all worked up and edged past endurance.”

Something flutters in Harry’s stomach, a heady combination of shock and arousal and nerves. The look on Draco’s face, the implications of his words, they’re making Harry deeply uneasy as much as they’re turning him on.

“Is that your plan?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level. “You wanna watch me struggle?”

“Well that’s only part of it,” says Draco. He lets go of Harry’s cock, curved up against his stomach, thick and heavy with blood, and crawls up his body to press a series of kitten-soft kisses onto his neck. Harry closes his eyes again and breathes through his nose. There’s an instinct to resist that’s kicking in which he’s desperately fighting. He wants to know what the fuck is going on first before he decides to shut this down. Draco’s lips drag maddeningly up to his ear. “The other part is reminding you what you’re gonna spend the rest of your life missing if I ever catch you fucking around on me, Potter.”

Another pulse of shock rocks him. He stares up at Draco with his lips parted, confused at first until understanding catches up with him and his face flushes. 

“I see you’ve figured it out,” Draco says silkily. His hand goes back to Harry’s cock, still hard and throbbing, and now he bends and puts his lips to the head. He sucks lightly at it like a particularly good lolly, making Harry’s toes curl, ripping a half-mad groan from his throat.

“I dunno what you thought you saw,” Harry bites out, tugging unconsciously at his ties, “but I wasn’t planning on fucking Jenkins. But it’s good to know you’re keeping a jealous eye on me at work, love.”

Draco sits up and swipes his thumb over the wet and sensitive glans again. Harry loses himself for a moment and bucks his hips.

“Maybe you weren’t planning on it,” says Draco mildly. He traces his fingertips along the underside of Harry’s straining prick, dancing along the nerves, every vein engorged with blood, leading him along a knife’s edge towards a feeling of frighteningly unfamiliar vulnerability and desperation. “But you were thinking about it,” he coos. “Did you picture it, Harry? Pushing him against the wall face-first and filling him up with your cock?”

Harry’s head falls back against a pillow and he lifts his hips again, searching for friction. He’s so hard it’s beginning to hurt now and he’s slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood to his brain.

Draco’s hot, wet mouth engulfs him then, taking him down to the root so he can feel the throbbing head press just slightly into the tight channel past his uvula. His mouth falls open and he lifts his arse off the bed, trying to fuck Draco’s perfect throat, but he makes it difficult by always pulling back just enough to make it impossible. He’s actually shaking, muscles straining, as Draco works him at his own deliberately slow pace.

“Draco,” he rasps. His fists clench in their bonds. He can come this way, it’s building with a terrible force in his stomach. But it’s building slowly, as if his body itself has allied itself with Draco in an effort to make him struggle and suffer, all for the harmless glances he’d been shooting Jenkins lately. “Fuck. I —”

“You what?” Draco goads him. He replaces his mouth with his hand again, sliding it leisurely through lube and his own spit and Harry’s pre-come, little spurts of it continuously dribbling down its turgid length. “Sounded suspiciously like you were about to say please …”

Harry grits his teeth and swallows back the begging noises threatening to burst out of him. More blood rushes to his prick, turning the head a worrying purple. He wonders in a slightly hysterical, half-insane way whether he could die from this. From needing to come this badly and not being allowed to. From refusing to beg for it, even when it hurts.

“Well,” says Draco as he releases him and climbs up to straddle his waist, positioning himself above Harry’s cock. It rubs against the cleft of Draco’s arse, teasing him with the possibility of all that tight, gripping heat, and Harry lets out a low moan just thinking about sinking inside of him, of all that friction that’s so close but so fucking far. “At least the Wizarding world can sleep soundly knowing their hero doesn’t easily give into torture.”

“Bully for them,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “Now sit on my fucking cock before I decide to hex you.”

Draco laughs. His pink lips part tantalisingly; the long line of his throat glimmers with sweat and drives Harry to the very brink of fucking madness.

“Are empty threats usually effective in your experience?” Draco asks. He grinds himself along the length of Harry’s prick and lets the head catch on his hole, which he can tell is only loosely stretched. Which also means Draco’d been fingering himself before. 

Harry flicks his bound hand and Draco jumps, looking satisfyingly surprised for a moment. Even in spite of his predicament Harry manages a shit-eating grin. Hexes and jinxes are hardly effective done wandlessly but Harry’s rather adept at pulling off a decent Stinging Jinx.

“D’you think that’s a good idea?” Draco asks when he’s gathered himself. There’s a new flush on his cheeks, though, and it’s gorgeous. “Hexing me when I could easily leave you here hard and wanting?”

Harry opens his mouth to make another sarcastic remark (because he can’t fucking help it, even with his libido screaming out in agony for him to fucking leave it, just let Draco have this power trip) but before he can say anything Draco’s lining up and bares down until the head pushes through the ring of muscle — and he stops there. And Harry’s always been good at biting back vocalisations, an ability to stay quiet no matter what is a highly useful skill for an Auror, but when Draco stops and merely squeezes around the head of his cock he lets out an utterly tormented groan, bucking his hips only for Draco to lift up and away. 

“Fuck you!” Harry yells, tugging again at his ties and shouting at the futility of it. Draco’s watching this with glazed eyes and wet lips. “Fucking just — god, just sit on my cock, you fucking inbred little cocksucker!”

And Draco laughs, loudly. He bends and touches his lips to Harry’s sweaty forehead, then to his mouth, then his damp and heaving chest and over his stomach and finally delivers a few more chaste kisses to the skin above his pubic hair. Harry’s cock bobs next to his face, pulsing and throbbing and aching. Draco drags his tongue up the side of it and then presses his lips to the head, suckling gently, torturing Harry on purpose. And Harry, he’s not actually sure how much more of this he can take. His arms are aching now. His cock feels too engorged with blood, tight and hard and painful. He physically can’t stop himself from bucking up against Draco’s mouth.

He groans in frustration when Draco pulls off again but then he’s sliding Harry’s cock back into his arse, and not just the head this time. He sinks all the way down, enveloping Harry in all that throbbing, gorgeous heat, and he squeezes so perfectly around him, and Harry cries out and lifts his hips and tries to fight his restraints.

“Not thinking about Jenkins, are you?” Draco says lightly. He rocks his hips a little and Harry whimpers. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard himself whimper like that before.

“Fuck no,” he gasps out. “Just you.”

“Just me,” Draco repeats. He lifts himself up, pauses, and then sinks back down. He hands go to Harry’s chest and he does it again, again, again, fucking himself properly now and Harry can see he’s beginning to lose himself to the sensations finally. That glazed look is back in his eyes and there’s sweat beading at his hairline. “Nobody else could do this to you, Potter.”

Harry would have agreed to anything at this point but he still means it when he nods frantically, beyond caring now that he’s at a major disadvantage, that Draco has successfully taken him apart the way he’s so used to doing.

He’s about to come when Draco stops moving again, seated fully on his lap. Harry lets out a string of curses and creates bruises on his wrists where he strains and wrenches madly against the silky material binding them. 

“Draco, please,” he hears himself say. It hardly even sounds like him. “Please, fuck, please, I need — I need to come …”

“I know,” Draco coos. He bends forwards again and kisses him, soft and languid and a little mocking, and Harry’s cock twitches inside of him. “And I’ll let you. But you have to do the rest yourself.”

“What?” Harry asks deliriously. Draco lifts up until just the head is still being squeezed inside his tight heat, and Harry gets the message. “God,” he breathes, even as he bends his knees and plants his feet flat on the mattress, his hand trying of their own accord to reach for Draco’s hips, but they can’t. “You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

Draco laughs until Harry thrust brutally up into him, and then he’s moaning instead, fingers curling against Harry’s chest. Harry has no way of changing angles, of trying to hit Draco’s prostate or make him scream, so instead he focuses on his own pleasure, because really, at this point, it’s what he deserves. He slams up into him over and over, shaking the bed, making his thighs scream with the effort, and by the time he feels his orgasm approaching his dripping with sweat and his shoulders are killing him and he knows there must be terrible bruises on his wrists.

“That’s it,” Draco goads him. His own cock is bobbing precariously above Harry’s stomach, red and swollen and dribbling pre-come out of the slit. “Put your fucking back into it, Potter, fuck me like you mean it.”

Harry lets out a tortured moan and puts his fucking back into it. He feels Draco’s body tense up and clench around him and then release, nails digging into Harry’s skin, and come covers both their chests and hits Harry’s chin.

The soft, exquisite noises Draco makes push Harry past the edge himself and he comes inside of Draco with his veins thrumming; he fucks madly up into him until his come is leaking out around his cock and still he keeps going, sliding through all that slick, working himself until his shaking and weak and can hardly move. Draco takes over again, rocking on top of him, milking him of every last shudder and shiver and moan. 

He lies there panting and limbless, and when Draco releases his bonds, his arms fall to his sides and he groans at the soreness of his muscles.

Draco’s kissing him then, drawing his lips apart and ravaging his mouth with his tongue. Eventually Harry lifts one of his aching arms and puts a hand on his cheek, thumb grazing smooth skin.

After a minute and then two and then three, Harry finally mutters, “You didn’t really think I’d sleep with Jenkins, did you?”

Draco draws back and pushes some of his hair out of his face, considering Harry from his place straddling his hips.

“I’m still figuring you out,” he says after some consideration. Harry lifts both eyebrows.

“We’ve been together two and a half years.”

“Yeah,” Draco says. He lifts up and off of Harry, making him hiss. “And I’m still figuring you out, Potter.”

“Right back at you,” Harry says drily. He loves the way it makes Draco grin.

[jtsfavslut]

SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK [GD]

Description: No strings attached. That was the only rule.

Inspired by ‘SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK’ by Joji, with a happy ending.

Warnings: Soft Smut (barely anything)

Word Count: 3.09k+

Slow dancing. The only passionate dance where you can’t truly see your partners face. Such a passionate dance. That’s what Grayson felt his relationship with Y/N was. And it sort of was. It was supposed to be intimate and that was it. No feelings; Just pleasure.

Impersonal, is what some would call it. He knew her, he knew every inch of her, but not the way he wanted to know her. He wanted to know what she liked. What she disliked. Things that no one knew about her. Like her favorite band, which he already knew, but other things that were meaningful to her. 

‘Gray come over’ was the text that had managed to break Grayson's thought process.

It was the person he wanted, but the wrong context. 

With a sigh, he responded with an ‘omw’ and left his apartment and made his way to hers. A million thought racing past his mind as he drove until he was finally knocking on her door.

“S’missed you,” she muttered before pulling him inside, smashing her lips against his.

“Missed you too,” he whispered, but she didn’t hear it, he didn’t want her to anyways. 

He meant it in a completely different way than she did.

“Gray,” she moaned at the feeling of his hands traveling around her body before she gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off his body, as he did the same thing to her.

His lips latched onto her neck, painting a pretty picture which he was sure she was gonna remember him with.

“Fuck I’ve missed this,” she moaned at the feeling of his hands gripping her ass causing a smirk to spread across his face. 

“Yeah? How bout’ this?” he asked before his hand moved down to cup one of her most private places, making shivers run down her spine.

“Mhm,” she moaned before her hand caught hold of his jaw, pulling his face up to her’s and pressing his plumped lips against hers. “Quit the teasing,” she muttered against his lips, a chuckle being his response. 

“Yeah? What do you want?” he asked, making her groan. 

He knew she hated that. She hated begging. The asking. The feeling of vulnerability. 

Yet he was the only one, who made her feel that way. That made her beg, make her ask for what she wants. 

“Come on angel, tell me, what do you want?” he asked, the small little pet name causing a field of butterflies to erupt in her stomach, while he blushed because it slipped. 

“I want you, Grayson,” she muttered, slightly annoyed while Grayson’s ego grew. 

“Then you have me. All of me,” he spoke, whispering the last part before laying her down on the couch, his hands quickly slipping her small biker-shorts off her body, his eyes traveling down her almost naked body, while his hands slipped the rest of their clothes off. 

“Don’t take it easy on me Gray,” she smirked, making his eyes turn dark and cold, and full of lust.

“I wasn’t planning on to,” he smirked before slamming his dick in her pussy, a pleasure-filled scream falling past her lips. 

“Oh my God Grayson don’t sto-...do- don't stop please,” she moaned, taking a second to gather her thoughts as her eyes paid a long visit to her brain.

“You like this? You like how I’m destroying your tight little pussy? You little whore,” he grunted making her eyes widened. 

Not that she didn’t enjoy that, but Grayson wasn’t the type to use those types of words, at least with you. 

“I do. I do so fucking much,” you moaned and felt his hand move from your back to pressing his thumb against your clit.

“Good,” he muttered before fasting his pace, causing a string of curse words to fall past her lips.

And that’s how it went. Teeth clashing, purple necks, toes curling, earth-shaking orgasms, multiple times. 

“Oh my god, you’re gonna have to leave town every weekend,” she sighed out of breath while her hand was still tied to the headboard.

“I was still in town Y/N,” he said causing her eyes to widen, “Have you been with anyone else?”

“What? No. I’ve been talking to someone, but I think I got confused,” she said, her words stabbing his heart with every letter that it was made up of. 

“Oh,” was the only thing he said before getting up, wrapping a blanket around his waist and walking over to her, untying the knot, freeing her hand.

“Where you going?” she asked when she noticed him walking away. 

“Take a shower,” he muttered before walking away and leaving her alone on the bed.

And that’s how it went for a couple of weeks. She would text him the quick ‘come over’ and Grayson would be on his way like a lost puppy, while she did and didn’t do whatever she wanted. 

This time Grayson said no. 

He simply said no. Causing a frown to spread across her face at his attitude. 

Maybe he’s having a bad day? Was her only thought. 

She truly cared for him. Maybe not in the way that he wanted, but she really did.

With a sigh, she got up from the couch slipping up a pair of sweatpants with a simple t-shirt, and a dirty pair of air forces. 

She left her small and humble apartment, got in her car, and drove to his. Her mind clouded with questions and a bit of pain.

Why was he so cold? Did he not want to do it anymore?

Those were the main questions. The only ones that she wanted an answer to. 

So with a click of her key, she locked her car and made her way to his door. 

After two knocks a confused and shirtless Grayson opened the door, sweat dripping down his forehead, probably from his workout. 

“What are you doing here?” he casually asked, making her think he didn’t want her there.

“I came to check if you were okay,” she muttered, and a scoff was his only response for a couple of seconds.

“Why? Because I said no I wouldn’t be okay? Because I didn’t go crawling for you means I’m not okay?” he spoke as his words turned louder over time, hitting her with a pang of hurt because she had no idea of what he was referring to. 

“What? No. I came because I care for you and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she whispered, suddenly being washed away with emotions. 

We could say you were not a confrontational person, but when it came to people you cared about. So this? This, you were hating.

“You care?” he scoffed with a sarcastic laugh, “You care? Y/N do you? Do you really care? Or are you just saying this because I didn’t want to hook up with you?” he said earning a scoff from her. 

“Alright, what is going on? This is not the Grayson I know. And no, I’m not just saying that because your feelings are more important than a quick hookup,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at his sudden attitude.

“Grayson, I can’t finish myself up,” the girliest voice she thought she’s ever heard, shouted from inside his apartment, and she nodded her head with a chuckle

“I guess you’re completely fine, go finish her up Gray,” she sarcastically said before turning around and leaving. 

Was she jealous? Maybe she was. But that wasn’t the reason why she was upset. 

She was upset because he was her best friend. He was her best friend and he blew her off to be with a barbie wanna bitch, well that’s what she called her. The point was, she was hurt because he was angry at her. And she didn’t know why. 

Meanwhile, Grayson was upset at himself. Thinking he ruined the only thing he had. Even if it’s not what he wanted, he at least had it in some way. 

Even if it was impersonal, but now he had nothing, and he was angry. 

“Leave. Please,” he told the girl once he walked into his bedroom. 

“What?” she scoffed. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood anymore,” he sighed, putting on one of his t-shirts when suddenly the scent made its way to his nose. 

The scent of her perfume. A scent he adored so much. The scent of her. That scent represented her and no one else.

“It’s okay. I heard your conversation. You love her don’t you?” she asked, getting up from his bed and putting her clothes back on while he sighed. 

“I don’t know. But I know she doesn’t feel the same way,” he said and she nodded her head and sat down next to him. 

“Have you spoken to her about it? You never know until you try,” 

“I didn’t think I could make it more obvious. I’m always replying to her texts as soon as I receive them. She says come over and I drop everything I’m doing and get there in under 5 minutes, I’m always making sure she doesn’t need or is missing anything. How more obvious can I be?” He spoke and she listened. 

Meanwhile, Y/N had no one to vent to. No one to hear her, no one to listen to her. 

She was confused. So confused when it came to her feelings. And Grayson knew that. She was always confused, so she wondered what she did to make him upset.

But she couldn’t come up with anything. She hadn’t done anything bad. She hadn't broken the rule, at least not verbally so what exactly did she do?

She decided to ask him. But not now. She thought he needed space so that’s what she’s going to give him and plenty of it. 

Three weeks to be exact. She gave him three weeks before standing in front of his door and knocking on his door, except this time, a blonde girl opened it, with a smile that Y/N could see right through. 

“Is Grayson here?” she spoke in a monotone voice. 

“Yeah, why?” The girl asked, fixing the collar of her shirt.

“Can you tell him Y/N is here and that she needs to speak with him,” she said, the girl’s face dropping at the mention of her name. 

“Sure,” she muttered before closing the door and walking to get him, which took a couple of minutes for unknown reasons. 

“What?” he said after he opened the door, she looked down, refusing to look at his face. 

“How’d you know?” was the only thing she asked. He stepped out and closed the door, not wanting his private conversation to be heard by anyone. 

“What?”

“How’d you know I broke the rule? I never told you,” she said again and he shook his head. 

“What rule Y/N? What are you talking about?” he asked, getting impatient. 

“The one fucking rule. The one rule that said I wasn’t supposed to fall for you! How’d you know that I did? Because I never told anyone. Is that why you broke it off without any explaining whatsoever?” She questioned and finally looked up at him. Only three weeks and he already looked different, he had a beard, and his hair was a bit longer.

“I didn’t know that. That’s why I broke it off,” he whispered and she shook her head.

“Then what was it? Because you seem happy now. Just blow me off with no explanation. And who is she?” 

“I stopped it because I fell in love with you. I fell in love from the minute I saw you walk out of the smoothie shop. And I knew you didn’t love me back, so I stopped it before I got more hurt,” he explained and she nodded her head. 

“Who is she?” she asked again, disregarding his previous statement. 

“Alex,” he whispered.

“Are you together?”

And when he stayed quiet, she knew. She knew they were. 

She knew she had lost him. Lost him to someone she didn’t know existed. 

She lost him because she wasn’t clear about her feelings. Or lost him because maybe they weren’t meant to be. After all, everything happens for a reason; Even if that reason makes no sense at the time. 

“Bye Grayson. I wish you the best,” she spoke before turning around and leaving. 

This was now the second time. The second time she left that building feeling heartbroken. The first being when she came to make sure he was okay and he blew her off, and this time he rejected her with no words. 

It was true what they said. Mixing sex with friendships wasn’t always the best. And it was true. Maybe if she never introduced the idea at all and told him how she felt, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. 

But the many ‘what if’s’ were not helping at all. They were what if’s after all, an alternate universe of some sort, and that was it. 

In the real world, she was lonely, and he wasn’t, and that was it. 

Her apartment felt different. It did ever since she came back that day. It’s been two weeks and she no longer hears his obnoxious laugh that she loved to hear. His loud voice echoing through the hallways. His horrible singing voice coming out of the shower. Her giggles as he chased her through the apartment. Before his arms wrapped around her and he slammed her down on the couch, before pressing his lips against hers. 

At that moment she should’ve known. 

She should’ve known that she was desperately, and deeply falling in love with him. 

And that he was with her. 

She missed him. She truly did. She missed everything good about him and his bad habits. 

She missed yelling at him to put the toilet seat down. She missed yelling at him to dry the counters after he made a mess with water after washing the dishes. She missed his cute corny dad jokes that made her laugh until tears were streaming down her face. She missed the way his hands felt when they were on her body. The feeling of his lips against hers. She just missed him. 

And he missed her too. He missed getting yelled at, even when he found it annoying at the time. He missed chasing her around until he finally had her cornered and she had nowhere to go then picking her up. He missed her ‘come over’ texts. He missed her tiny hands wrapped around his neck. The way she chanted his name when he was hitting oh so perfectly. He just missed her. 

They just missed each other. But they were too stubborn to go see each other. They were equally stubborn which wasn’t that good of a mix. Arguing over the silliest things. If Grayson saw green it was green, if Y/N saw blue it was blue.

“Grayson that was at least three times,” she argued and he shook his head. 

“It was three,”

“It was not. If it was three we still wouldn't be here,” she scoffed.

“How are you gonna tell me how many times I threw the ball?” he asked, emphasizing the I.

“By telling you. I was watching you. It was five and the conversation is over,” she groaned before walking away. It takes two to argue, and by walking away she also had the last word, 

And that’s just who they were. Argued over something silly, then be perfectly fine a couple of minutes after.

They also missed each other's presence. When you’re around a person almost all day, every day, and they’re suddenly gone, you don’t only miss them but you also miss the feeling of the person being there. And that’s what was happening, they were missing their energy. 

Getting fed up with the waiting, and sadness, they both got up, at the same time, and walked to their cars and drove to each other's apartments, and knocked at the door, knocked but no one answered. 

‘Open the door’ was the text that they sent to each other. Grayson quickly clicked the little phone icon and called her, each ring adding on to his nerves. 

“Where are you?” he asked the second she answered. 

“In front of your door, where are you?” she replied, anxiously chewing on her nails while walking back and forth. 

“At your door. Stay where you. I’m on my way,” he replied and hung up, racing down the stairs and driving over the speed limit, what was usually a ten-minute drive turned into a five minute one.

Filled with so much emotion, a few tears manage to fall past his eyelids as he ran up the stairs to his apartment.

The sight of her nervously walking back and forth while chewing on her nails was enough to make his heart swell. 

“Y/N,” he said, causing her to turn around and stop her pacing. 

“I love you,” they both whispered before falling into each other. 

“I love you so fucking much,” Grayson muttered against her hair, she tried to hold back her tears but couldn’t.

“I love you more. So fucking much Gray,” she said against his chest, the vibration running through his entire body. 

“I missed you,” he said, picking her up before unlocking his door and walking inside. 

“I missed you more,” she smiled as he sat her down on his island in the middle of his kitchen. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he said, making her chuckle. 

“I’m serious, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you said looking away, his staring causing her to blush. “I missed your stupid loud laugh, and your horrible singing, your dumb jokes, I just missed you,” she said causing him to smile, he placed his finger on her jaw, softly turning her head so that she was facing him. 

“I missed you too. I missed your cute and loud laugh. Your corny dad jokes, your little baking moments, yelling at me like you’re my mom, I missed my best friend and I missed you,” he spoke looking directly into her eyes. 

“Remember when I told you not to follow me?” he randomly said and she sent him a look of confusion. 

“I said ‘don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms’,” he said and she nodded her head. 

“I was telling you, that I love you,” 

Tags: @ghostlydolan @guiltydols @evergreendolan @blazedgraysons @rhyrhy462 @simplyxdolxstyles @thecoletomysprouse @ydolanssss @dolansdavidson @vintagedolan @dolanissues