#had a friend outside the fandom send me this and what can i say

[irregularcollapse]

Hey, I'm so sorry to hear about how you feel about the mota fandom and what happened to you :/ I meant to send a message earlier but life got in the way. I hope you're feeling better now, and I can only tell you that your fics and writing are some of my favorite in the fandom. Just by reading your stories, I can tell the care that was put into choosing each word to best convey the story and the characters' feelings, and it is really somethinf I admire :) I hope I can be as good a writer as you someday ❤️ And for the mota fandom, I totally get what you and that anon said! If you'll allow me a bit of a rant, to me, the mota fandom is full of well-intentioned people but I found that one of its problems is that, as much as there is enthusiasm, it is going in circles. Many have said it and I've noticed it too, but some have a tendency to jump on other people's ideas without giving credit or even asking if it's okay to expand, and on more than one occasion I found one of my ideas in someone else's inbox just a week after I'd posted it which threw me off posting any kinds of hc or random ideas, I only post full fics now because I'm scared that people will see an idea/au that they like on my blog and decide to expand on it without my consent or even crediting me for the original idea :/ To me that sucks because what I love about creating is the interactions with people, but because of the seldom posting except for full fics I don't get much 😂 And I know I could post snippet or hc, but the overenthusiasm bordering on no fandom manners that I've noticed stops me from doing that. Also, as a writer, it is quite discouraging to see people constantly reccing the same 5/6 fics/authors. Don't get me wrong, those are GREAT fics and authors, but babes, there are over 1,000 works in the clegan tag on ao3, why are we constantly reccing the same fics as in summer 2024. It feels like people only read the fics with the highest hits count, and from an outsider's pov, you'd think there are only 10 writers in the mota fandom 😭 I don't if it's bc the mota fandom is new so there are a lots of people from tiktok/that weren't on tumblr/in fandom before but it truly feels like fandom manners are getting lost, despite the plethora of incredible creators in the mota fandom. So there's this opposition between the enthusiasm over new ideas that seems to die down as soon as a story is posted, except if if it's one of the big fics from the summer. Imo the actual recognition of fics doesn't follow the enthusiasm of ideas and hcs, which is a bit of a shame I think, and to be quite honest, it made me lose my motivation to write for mota bc it just feels like I'll post a fic, it'll get traction for maybe a day or two, and then it'll be forgotten somewhere when people sort ao3 by number of hits or kudos

Anyway that was quite long I'm sorry, you don't have to answer this at all, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I really hope you know that even if it may not feel that way, you are an amazing writer, who clearly loves your stories, the characters and the words you use, and that is translated to the ao3 page <3 You truly are one of the most talented fic writers this fandom has, and I'd support you and your stories in whatever fandom you may be in ❤️

I assure you, anon, that you're not the only person to feel this way! I've had quite a few private conversations with friends and mutuals about really similar experiences and observations, and how disheartened and uncomfortable it's making us feel.

I guess people don't say anything because they don't want to be seen as sowing discord or being mean. I know that there are going to be people who might see this and interpret it as me "fuelling fandom discourse" or "fandom wanking" or "being a cunt" but actually I'm just talking about how we treat creators in online spaces, and the way that people en masse have apparently forgotten that creators in fandoms are people.

I had another anon tell me that someone laid claim to one of their ideas in the tags of their headcanon post, and I don't think you're the only person whose idea has been stolen and passed to another writer. I'm really sorry that's happened to you, and you're so right to not feel like posting anything because of it! This is truly the kind of stuff that makes people not want to participate or put themselves out there. Sometimes it's even writers doing the stealing, blatantly and without credit. It makes me think that a lot of people haven't shared creative spaces before and don't know how to be polite.

I also 100% agree about the fic rec thing. It's really disheartening to see the same fics passed around over and over again, not only from a writer perspective but a reader perspective. Something that seems to have emerged in fandom spaces over the years is deifying certain authors of popular fics - fic authors being treated like celebrities, the concept of a "must-read fic", even people only reading fics and authors that are already seen as popular/successful. I get that some people don't want to spend time scraping ao3 for niche fics, that's super understandable, but that's also why it would be nice to see a bit more adventure and variety in fic rec lists!

There is a low-key competitive feeling which a few people have mentioned to me - the feeling that there are people who want to "win" fandom or be the most popular/most reccd/most recognised writer, or whatever it may be. I just feel like anything that makes people feel like they're better than others is... come si dice... not good. I think it's a shitty way to treat people you're sharing a creative space with, to view them as competition and commodity.

Writing for consumption or writing for audience approval isn't something I've ever done, but I feel like it's cropping up more and more in fandom spaces too - not just MOTA, either. That's sort of a different discussion, but I do feel it's related to the copying/stealing in a way as well.

Now I also have to apologise for this getting too long! I'm glad you got it off your chest, and please feel free to come off anon at any time, because you've got an ally in me (and others too, I assure you). I think that everything you've said here merits consideration from everyone, at the very very least! It's in the interest of pursuing a more inclusive, supportive fandom space.

Thanks heaps as well for saying nice stuff about my writing! I only ever want to tell stories, and to give people something to enjoy that has clearly been created with care and consideration. I write to express things I want to express, and so it means a lot to me when other people see what I'm trying to say and pick up what I'm putting down. Truly madly deeply, my most boundless thanks!!! ♥️♥️♥️

[macaroni-and-pebbles]

Happy valentines day!!!! Have I ever talked about how much I love you guys? No? Well get ready because I’m about to because it’s Valentines and I have an excuse to be a sap

sort of going randomly here so none of these are in any pattern

anyways!!

@lifemod17 : Hello! I haven’t know you for very long, but it already feels like I’ve known you for ages! Even if we don’t interact a whole lot past the exchanging of skies, I still love it when you come across my dash! The unique and thoughtful ways you respond to every ask are so amazing, making everyone feel heard no matter what was said. Love talking to you, and I hope your day is full of the love you show everyone else!

@hookedhobbies Heya! We don’t talk a whole lot, I know. But I still really like it when I see your profile. You are an absolutely amazing writer, no matter what you write. And it probably doesn’t mean much from me—especially not this late—but I’m so proud of you for passing the bar exam! You’re so incredibly smart and creative and it’s always wonderful seeing whatever you come up with next. I hope you have a wonderful day, and that you and Mr.Kate enjoy your Valentines!

@tonguetyd hihi! We definitely haven’t been moots long, lol. I may not have much to say yet, but I can already tell that you’re an amazing person just based on how you interact with other people! Plus, your contributions to the ST space are so wanted, they’re so neat frfr- hope your Valentines was awesome!!

@corviisquire helloo! We don’t talk much past ocs, but I just wanted to say: you are. super awesome!!! your art is amazing, no matter what you create. (Plus I’m a little obsessed with Varre and Constantine, lol) Love seeing you on my dash!! Hope you had a good Valentines :33

@boy-oh-boyflux-bitch hey mate! I know we definitely don’t talk a lot, but it’s always nice seeing you pop up! Even if I don’t get much of Saw, it’s really cool seeing what you contribute to the fandom!! Hope your Valentines was super awesome!

@mongooseundertheporch Hey Will! I hope that you and everyone you know are doing well. We haven’t talked in a little while, but I just wanted to drop by and wish you a happy Valentines! [And as for you, Roach, I hope everything has been going well for you! It’s always super fun seeing you cross my dash, whether as Will or not. Hope your Valentines has been/went well!]

@thatfuckinjester Jesterr!!!! Hey there friend :D Really hope you’re doing good! Haven’t interacted in a hot second, but every time I see one of your posts I smile a little. You are an amazing writer (no matter what the anons I smited may think) and so so creative!!! The angst you make is just so delicious and hurts the feels in all the right ways. Hope you get some good sleep, and I hope your Valentines goes well :)

@ouijamonstrr Halo, hello! I know we don’t talk much outside of me sending you the occasional bug, but you’re such a cool person!! Musician AND entomologist?? WHAT!!!! Being so awesome is a crime man—Anyways, in all seriousness: it is super amazing seeing you around and having you as a moot, and I hope your Valentines goes well!!

@miss-multi45 Short queen, lol— Yet ANOTHER cool writer moot!!!!! I always love reading what you write, no matter the character! (and i certainly don’t mind finding new hot men to thirst over, lmao) Ur super awesome-sauce, and I hope your Valentines goes well!!

Finally, last and but certainly not least, my husband x2. @polteergeistt . You strange and peculiar bastard/affectionate. You have been such an amazing influence on my life. Did you know you were the first person I ever interacted with on Tumblr? It was so cool, seeing someone I genuinely thought was super amazing respond to my dumb little facts! I’ve always felt safe to be myself around you, because I know that no matter what I say or do I just get the freak thrown right back at me. I’m so happy I get to know you and talk to you so often, even if the conversations aren’t anything meaningful. I hope your Valentines went amazingly, and I’m definitely chomping ur fingers while we eat carmelly shit together >:3

Anyways with all the sap aside, I hope everyone had an amazing day filled with everything you enjoy! I’m sending heart-shaped lollipops and dumb little cards to every single one of you in my heart :33

[yinwaryuri]

[newobsessionweekly]

A night to remember

Part 2 of Secret signals

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: Your date with Tim took an unexpected turn before confessing your feelings. And you wouldn't change a thing.

Fluff | A bit of angst

A/N: Oh, how much I enjoy writing teasing and bantering fluff. If you enjoyed the first part of Secret signals, I think you'll like this one just as much. Also, I wanted to let you know it's the last chance to leave any requests. Starting maybe next week I'll have to focus on studying for med school cuz I have the admission exam in July. Thank you for all your support and requests so far! I really appreciate every single one of you! Lots of love, bubs and take care! ❤️

Warnings: description of panick attack, not proofread yet Requested: yes Words: 4.7k GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across her face. "Tim Bradford, going on a date... I never thought I'd see the day," she teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he grumbled, his embarrassment evident.

But Lucy's grin only widened as she leaned in closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. "So, where are you taking her? Any special plans?"

Tim hesitated, his mind racing as he considered his options. "I haven't really had a chance to think about it yet because someone doesn't keep their mouth shut for a second!" he bursted, his brow furrowing in thought. "But I want it to be special."

Lucy's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned in closer, eager to offer her input. "Well, if you're looking for somewhere nice, you can't go wrong with 71Above," she suggested, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's got amazing views of the city, and the food is top-notch. Trust me, Y/N will love it."

Tim's car was parked outside your place at 9 pm sharp. You weren't ready on time, but Tim knew that. Yet, he still was there as promised, hands sweating and trembling as he moved them frantically from the steering wheel to his lap and back on the steering wheel, a milion times. He was acting silly, like a high schooler on the first date with his crush. But he couldn't help it, you weren't just a crush, you were his best friend. His rock that kept him from drifting apart so many times. And the only person he actually enjoyed.

As he glanced at his phone, he saw the time ticking away. He couldn't help but worry that listening to Angela and Lucy's advice and taking you on a date might ruin the friendship you both cherished. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was worth the risk.

A million thoughts race through his mind, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. What if this date ruins everything between you? What if he says or does something to make things awkward between you? What if he messes up the one chance he has to tell you how he truly feels?

With a heavy sigh, Tim pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Lucy. "If it goes wrong, you'll beg for Tim Tests." he types out, pressing send before he can second-guess himself. Lucy pressed Tim into this after all. Without her nosy personality, Tim wouldn't have acted impulsively and arranged a date for you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you emerge from your apartment, a radiant smile gracing your lips as you approach Tim's car. You're momentarily struck by how effortlessly handsome he looks. Dressed in a casual yet sophisticated attire, Tim exudes a rugged charm that never fails to captivate you.

His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in your beauty.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft and warm as you slide into the passenger seat beside him. "Sorry I'm late."

As Tim's eyes land on you, he can't help but feel a rush of awe. You look incredible, and he can't tear his gaze away. Your smile lights up your face, making his heart skip a beat and your eyes sparkle with warmth, drawing him in like a magnet.

Tim shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he meets your gaze. "No need to apologize," he says, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "You look amazing."

A blush spreads across your cheeks at his compliment, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks, Tim," you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper as you fumble for words. "You're acting strange.

"No, I'm not."

Tim started the engine and pulled away from the curb, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking. There was something about the way he held himself, a quiet confidence that you found strangely alluring.

As the two of you drove through the streets of LA, the sound of the radio filling the silence between you, you found yourself lost in thought. You couldn't deny the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, the nervous anticipation of what the night might hold.

When Tim glanced over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

"You know, Tim, Lucy seems pretty cool," you remarked, glancing over at him. "She's got this energy about her, like she's ready to take on the world."

Tim raised an eyebrow, a skeptical expression crossing his features. "Cool? More like a walking disaster waiting to happen and constantly sticking her nose where it doesn't belong." he retorted, his tone tinged with amusement.

You laughed, shaking your head at his blunt assessment. "Come on, Tim, give her a chance. She's just trying to find her footing," you insisted, nudging him gently.

Tim let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm all for giving her a chance, but she's got a long way to go before she's ready for the streets," he argued, his tone firm.

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for her, she's got the best training officer in the department to show her the ropes," you teased, earning a chuckle from Tim.

"Yeah, lucky her," he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But despite his grumbling, you could see a flicker of pride in his eyes at the mention of his role as Lucy's training officer.

As the familiar streets of LA passed by, you couldn't help but notice that Tim wasn't taking the usual route to your favorite bar. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you glanced out the window, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Uh, Tim? Are we going a different way tonight?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

Tim shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I've got a surprise up my sleeve," he replied cryptically, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward in your seat, trying to catch a glimpse of your surroundings. "A surprise, huh? Well, color me intrigued," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Tim chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. "You'll just have to wait and see," he said, his tone playful as he focused on the road ahead.

Finally, Tim pulled the car to a stop in front of a sleek, modern building that towered above the surrounding skyline. The sign above the entrance read "71Above" in bold letters, and you couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

"Tim, is this...?" you began, trailing off as you turned to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

He flashed you a grin, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Surprise," he said simply, his voice soft yet filled with meaning.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what Tim had done. He'd gone out of his way to take you to one of the most upscale restaurants in the city, a place you'd only ever dreamed of visiting.

As you stepped out of the car and followed Tim, a wave of excitement washed over you, your eyes sparkling with wonder. "Tim, I can't believe you brought us here!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing on your toes as you took in the elegant surroundings.

Tim glanced at you, a hint of surprise flickering across his features before a warm smile spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You nodded eagerly, unable to contain your enthusiasm as you rambled on about everything you'd heard about the place. "I've been wanting to come here for months! I've heard they have the most amazing views of the city from up there, and the food is supposed to be out of this world," you gushed, your words tumbling out in a rush.

Tim chuckled softly, a fondness shining in his eyes as he watched you talk. "Let's check it out, then."

As Tim led you towards the entrance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. The restaurant was located on the upper floors of a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the glittering lights of the city below.

The elevator ride to the top floor was swift but exhilarating, each passing floor heightening your anticipation. When the doors opened, you were greeted by breathtaking panoramic views of the city spread out before you, the glittering lights of Los Angeles stretching as far as the eye could see.

As you followed Tim to your table by the window, you couldn't tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing sight. The city seemed to come alive beneath you, a vibrant tapestry of colors and lights that danced in the night. It was a moment of pure enchantment, and you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you as you settled in to enjoy the evening ahead.

Tim couldn't help but smile as he watched the excitement dance in your eyes, a warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your joy. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the moment, marveling at the beauty of the city alongside you.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" he remarked, as he followed your gaze out the window.

You turned to him with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. "It's incredible!"

As the night progressed, you and Tim found yourselves immersed in the magic of the evening. The ambience of the restaurant, the delicious food, and the lively atmosphere created the perfect backdrop for an unforgettable night.

You couldn't remember the last time you laughed that much, the sound of your laughter mingling with Tim's in a symphony of joy and happiness. Each moment spent together felt like a precious gift, a fleeting glimpse into the depths of your friendship and the possibility of something more.

Tim's infectious laughter echoed through the restaurant, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he regaled you with stories from his time on the force. His smile was like a beacon of light in the darkness, drawing you in and filling you with warmth.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by good food and even better company, you felt truly alive.

But amidst the laughter and the lighthearted conversation, there was something else simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken and electric. It was a tension that crackled in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing attraction that pulsed beneath the surface of your friendship.

Yet, despite the palpable chemistry between you, Tim was content to simply bask in the warmth of your presence, to lose himself in the moment and forget about the weight of his own feelings.

And as the night wore on, you found yourself falling more and more in love with him, with every smile, every laugh, every stolen glance. It was a feeling that consumed you, filling you with a sense of euphoria that you never wanted to end.

The restaurant gradually emptied, leaving only a handful of lingering patrons scattered throughout the dimly lit dining room. Tim and you found yourselves among the last remaining guests, reluctant to let go of the magic of the evening.

With a satisfied sigh, Tim leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with contentment as he glanced around the nearly deserted restaurant. "I can't remember the last time I had such a great night," he admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded in agreement, a warm feeling spreading through you at the thought of the wonderful evening you'd shared together. "Me neither," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "It's been amazing. I can't remember the last time you laughed that much!"

As the last of the patrons trickled out of the restaurant, Tim turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what do you say we keep the party going somewhere else?" he suggested, his voice filled with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh? And where did you have in mind?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't know, maybe we could head to a bar for a nightcap or something," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The idea sounded perfect to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Tim. "I'm in," you declared, a grin spreading across your face.

As you and Tim stepped into the elevator, ready to continue your evening adventure, the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

The elevator hummed to life, beginning its descent down to the ground floor.

But just a few floors down, the elevator jerked to a sudden halt, the lights flickering ominously before plunging you both into darkness. A chill ran down your spine as you felt the floor beneath you come to a stop, the suddenness of the situation leaving you feeling disoriented and scared.

"Tim," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the elevator. "What's happening?"

Tim's expression mirrored your own concern as he reached out to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tight with apprehension. "But it looks like we're stuck."

Panic began to rise within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. Trapped in a malfunctioning elevator with no way out, your heart raced in your chest as fear gripped you tight.

Instinctively, you sought refuge in Tim's arms, seeking comfort and safety in his familiar embrace. For a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you as his strong arms wrapped around you, providing a brief respite from the chaos of the situation.

But as reality sank in, you knew that you couldn't stay there forever. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled away from Tim, the weight of the situation pressing down on you once more.

"We need to figure a way to get out of here," you said, your voice determined despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

With a heavy sigh, Tim reached for the emergency call button, pressing it in hopes of summoning help. But as the seconds ticked by with no response, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both of you.

"We need to wait for help."

As the minutes dragged on, your panic intensified, threatening to consume you whole. The confined space of the elevator felt like a suffocating prison, each passing second amplifying your fear of being trapped so far above the ground.

Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as your heart hammered against your chest, the darkness pressing in on you from all sides. "We're going to die in here, Tim," you choked out, your voice trembling with fear.

Tim's heart clenched at the desperation in your voice, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he moved to your side, wrapping you in his arms once more. "Hey, look at me," he urged, his voice firm yet gentle as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"We're not going to die, I promise," he said, his words laced with a quiet confidence that helped to anchor you in the storm of your panic. "Just focus on breathing with me."

His steady voice was a lifeline in the darkness, guiding you back from the brink of despair as he led you through a series of slow, deep breaths.

But the panic was relentless, its grip tightening around your chest with each passing second. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Tim's voice was a distant echo, his words barely registering as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. But he refused to give up, his touch a steady anchor as he guided you through the storm of fear.

"Listen to my voice, focus on my words," he urged, his tone firm but gentle. "You're safe with me, Y/N. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Tim's voice softened, his fingers gently brushing the stray strands of hair away from your face as he continued to soothe your frayed nerves. "You're doing great, Y/N. Just breathe with me, okay? In... and out."

His calming presence enveloped you like a warm embrace, his words a balm to your frazzled mind. With each inhale, you felt a sliver of tension melt away, replaced by a newfound sense of tranquility.

But even as Tim worked to calm your panic, his own worry lingered just beneath the surface. He couldn't shake the nagging fear that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe, that somehow he would fail you in your moment of need.

Yet he pushed those doubts aside, focusing all his energy on being there for you, reassuring you with every word and gesture. In that moment, nothing else mattered but your well-being, your safety.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the sound of your breathing gradually slowed, your panicked gasps giving way to steady, even breaths. And with each passing moment, the darkness seemed a little less suffocating, a little less daunting.

As Tim continued to hold you close, his arms a steady anchor in the darkness of the elevator, he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, hoping to distract you from the looming sense of fear.

"Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse in your backyard?" he asked, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes.

You responded faintly, the memory flooding back vividly. "How could I forget? We ended up with a pile of sticks and a broken arm."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, and your mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw us dangling from that rope ladder."

"I still can't believe we thought we could build a treehouse with just a hammer and some nails," you admitted.

"Well, we were what, eight years old? Seemed like a good idea at the time," Tim reasoned, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"True," you agreed with a chuckle. "But I think we learned our lesson after that."

"Definitely," Tim nodded, a reminiscent smile playing on his lips. "Although, knowing us, we probably found some other scheme to get into trouble with."

"Oh, no doubt about it," you agreed, sharing a knowing look.

As the tension in the elevator began to ease, Tim shifted the conversation to another memory from your past, a smile playing on his lips as he recalled a particularly memorable event.

"Remember when we went to homecoming together?" Tim chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You cringed at the memory, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Oh, please, don't bring that up," you pleaded, shaking your head in embarrassment.

Tim grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Why not? It was hilarious!"

"Yeah, for you maybe," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

Tim's grin softened into a warm smile as he reached out to gently touch your arm. "Hey, you looked amazing that night," he reassured you, his voice sincere.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, right. I was a total mess."

Tim shook his head, his expression earnest. "No way. You were the most beautiful girl there, hands down."

As the memories of homecoming faded, replaced by more somber recollections, you found yourself opening up to Tim about a time that had left you feeling scared and vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing. "When you were back in Iraq, I was so scared, Tim. Every time I got a call from you, it felt like my heart was in my throat. And then those calls started getting shorter and more distant, and I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if you were okay, if you were coming back..."

Your voice trailed off, the memories still vivid in your mind despite the passing years. Tim reached out, gently squeezing your hand in silent support as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your fear and uncertainty during that time.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to worry you like that."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips despite the lingering sadness. "It's okay. You were doing your job, and I knew that. But it was hard not knowing if you were safe, if you were coming back."

Tim's gaze softened, his hand finding yours as he met your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I'm here now," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He paused, weighting his words,"I... I think I have feelings for you from back then," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the most tragic part about this is that I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to."

His admission hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of his words sinking in as you struggled to process the magnitude of what he was saying.

"Tim..." you breathed, your own emotions swirling as you searched for the right thing to say."I mean, I've thought about it too," you admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your tone. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

A flicker of surprise crossed Tim's face, quickly replaced by a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "You did?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I did. And I guess... I guess I've been hoping you'd say something like this for a while now."

Tim's smile widened, a sense of relief washing over him as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Well, I'm saying it now," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "And I meant every word of it."

Tim's touch was gentle yet electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced delicate patterns along your jawline. You found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort he offered in that moment of uncertainty.

His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he gazed into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and longing. In that moment, it felt like the world had faded away.

With a soft sigh, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotion. It was a moment of surrender, of letting go of all inhibitions and fears, and allowing yourself to be consumed by the warmth of Tim's embrace.

As your lips moved together in perfect harmony, the world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the rhythmic beat of your hearts and the gentle whisper of your breath mingling in the air. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken longing, of whispered confessions and silent promises, sealing a bond that had been years in the making.

The elevator finally jolted back to life, breaking the moment, but the warmth of Tim's embrace and the taste of his lips lingered on.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you and Tim stepped out into the lobby, still caught in the afterglow of your kiss. With a playful smirk, Tim nudged you gently as you made your way back to his car.

"Well, that was unexpected," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, swatting his arm lightly in retaliation. "You're one to talk. Who knew getting stuck in an elevator could be so... romantic?"

Tim chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he unlocked the car doors. "I guess stranger things have happened," he remarked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

As you settled into the car, the tension of the past few hours melting away, you found yourself laughing as you recounted the events of the evening. From the unexpected elevator malfunction to the heart-stopping kiss that followed, it had certainly been a night to remember.

"So, remind me never to take the elevator with you again," you joked, earning a mock offended gasp from Tim.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm a great elevator companion," he retorted, a playful glint in his eye. "Just ask anyone who's ever been stuck with me."

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "I'll take your word for it," you replied, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned back in your seat.

As Tim started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, the warmth of his presence beside you filled you with a sense of contentment you hadn't felt in a long time. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, that made you grateful for the bond you shared with him.

"So, about what you said in the elevator," you began, breaking the comfortable silence as Tim navigated through the streets.

Tim glanced over at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, about that. I hope I didn't scare you off."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not a chance. If anything, it's nice to know I'm not the only one feeling a little... sentimental."

He grinned, his gaze returning to the road ahead. "Sentimental, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep it classy."

Tim chuckled, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Well, in that case, I guess I should apologize for any lack of classiness on my part."

You laughed, reaching over to gently nudge his arm. "No apologies necessary. Besides, I think we both know we're not exactly the poster children for romance."

Tim smirked, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Speak for yourself. I've been known to be quite the charmer when I want to be."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "Oh, please. The only charm you have is the one you use to get out of speeding tickets."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

"You know," he continued, his voice soft, "despite all the craziness of tonight, I wouldn't change a thing."

You smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. "Me neither. Even getting stuck in that elevator couldn't ruin the night."

Tim chuckled, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Yeah, well, I guess it's just one more adventure to add to the list."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude for the shared experiences that had brought you to this moment. "I wouldn't want to go on these adventures with anyone else," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I feel the same way," he confessed, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that took your breath away.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet hum of the car as it cruised through the night. And as you leaned in closer, the distance between you disappearing with each passing second, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them together, hand in hand.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Part of the reason I stopped writing fanfic was because my audience expected sanders sides from me and I was sort of petering out on that series already. There was more to it than that though. I could’ve moved on to other fandoms. Maybe gotten an ao3 account and just been someone that writes for a lot of fandoms. But there’s other things about it I don’t really find fulfilling anymore.

Fanfiction is by its nature really limiting. You’ve gotta stick to certain characters, certain archetypes, certain specific tropes if you want to get back a lot of positive feedback. Or feedback in general.

And constructive criticism doesn’t really exist in fandom space either. People are either really positive about your work or huge dicks to the point of easy dismissal. And that’s partially because of all the unspoken rules. Only say nice things or don’t say anything at all. Which I don’t necessarily disagree with because fanfic is free brain candy made for you by a person who’s just passionate about what they’re doing. It’s nearly cruel to try and offer unsolicited criticism in that kind of situation.

But people just want certain things from fanfiction. Fantasy fulfillment, love, very specific types of catharsis, 14 year old goth kid levels of dark and edgy. And there was a point in my life I was fine with that but I can’t anymore.

My ideas got too different. People stopped reading. I stopped wanting to finish things. My prose style is often abrupt and short and poetic. I enjoy being experimental. Experimentation isn’t generally appreciated in fanfiction. Not as much as it is in published fiction in my opinion.

Yes published fiction has its own issues. Its readers are also creatures of habit. But not quite as much as fanfiction readers. And at the end of the day, I realized I want to be a writer. Like a professional writer. Even if that just ends up being a side thing for me. And fanfiction doesn’t really get you there most of the time. For some select few it has, but those folks are often in the romance or smut marketplace. I am not.

Fanfiction has its place. It had its place in my past. I got a lot of practice. I met some good people. But I don’t really read or write it anymore.

I guess what I’m saying is that if fanfiction isn’t fulfilling for you anymore, you’re under no obligation to keep writing it or reading it. I’ve got a perfectly happy online life these days hopping from one fandom to another on a whim without any fanfiction at all. I feel a lot better getting feedback on my writing by talking with other writers and my friends and family about it. I no longer feel like I’m just sending something out into the world to be met with silence. I’m no longer embarrassed to show people I know in my personal life my writing because they haven’t seen the source material the work is based on. My work is just my work, unconnected to the baggage of a source material. I get more ideas from reading, I’m reading a larger variety of things, I’m meeting people who like reading and writing published fiction.

Fanfiction can be great, it can be for some people the kind of writing they want to do forever. But there’s a whole world outside of it. And depending on who you are, it might be holding you back. Just something worth thinking about.

[angelic-sturniolos111]

Fresh Love Modeling 🍊

You never guessed that Chris Sturniolo would reach out for you to model his Fresh Love clothing brand. You had been following him on social media a while and definitely had a crush on him. What you didn’t know is that when Chris had seen your modeling portfolio he started crushing too. The two of you end up alone in his dressing room together after the photoshoot and things heat up.

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

entirely in Chris’s POV

warnings: cursing, flirty and smuttyyyyy

author’s note: writing this completely sleep deprived :) did not proofread lolz

I want to sit on his lap so bad in this pic

My Fresh Love brand is super important to me and I am so grateful that it has grown in popularity thanks to my fans. I want to grow this brand and reach out to creators and artists outside of the fandom in hopes that eventually Fresh Love Clothing can be sold in stores nationwide. A big part of Fresh Love, and any clothing brand, is the marketing which I take very seriously. I always want to have a diverse group of models, but ultimately they also should be attractive and have a cool aesthetic to be the face of the brand. I had sent out a model casting call last month, and my friend Tril and I were going through all the applications. Tril truly saw my vision and we were usually on the same page when it came to models we thought would work well for the brand.

Today was definitely a “work day” in the house— Nick was editing our recent car vlog, Matt was brainstorming video ideas, and Tril and I sat on the couch on our laptops going through hundreds of model portfolios together. We had been scrolling through applications for nearly two hours and I was honestly bored out of my mind. Luckily, we found a handful of models we like, but I still felt like one was missing. There was a certain look, a certain vibe, that I was looking for and I wasn’t sure what it was but I knew I’d know the second I saw them.

“Hey take a look at this one. I recognize this girl… I think she follows us on insta or something?” Tril says passing me his laptop. Damn. This girl was beyond fine. I scrolled through her portfolio pictures, and I really liked her modeling style. She didn’t look mainstream, which I liked, but she had a really unique look. “Do you recognize her?” Tril said interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I’d definitely remember her if I had seen her before.” I said. I went to the top of her application page, her name was Y/N.

“I like her portfolio and I think she’s a good fit for the brand.” Tril says.

“Absolutely. I really like her. I’m going to accept her application right now.” I said sending her an acceptance sheet back with the photo shoot information.

***

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I always have trouble falling asleep because I’ll have a thousand creative ideas that I bounce back and forth in my head, but this time I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of Y/N. Tril said she followed us, right? I grab my phone and open instagram and typed her name in the search bar, and her profile popped up. She was following Tril and I as well as my brothers, our group account, and our podcast account. Nice, she’s a fan! I went through her posts and God, she was stunning. I wanted to follow her, but I knew if fans saw that they’d get all sorts of crazy ideas and make assumptions so I decided I’d wait to follow her until the Fresh Love shoot would be posted so everyone knew who she was. I looked at some modeling shots she posted, laid back pictures with her friends, and I was unapologetically looking for any signs that she was dating anyone which from her profile she appeared to be single. I saw some of her swimsuit modeling shots she had done recently, and I zoomed in on all parts of her body. Her amazing body. She had these thick thighs that contoured perfectly with her cute ass. My thoughts wandered off, thinking of how badly I wanted those thighs wrapped around my head. I got hard at the thought of it. I continued to mindlessly stalk her instagram before I finally fell asleep… dreaming of her.

*** one month later ***

It was Fresh Love photoshoot day, or as I thought of it, the day I finally get to meet Y/N after crushing on her this past month. I got to the studio before any of the models were scheduled to arrive so I could talk with the photographers and mark out the spaces where I wanted to shoot. I get upstairs and see someone siting in a chair outside the photography studio. When they hear me approaching they look up, and my breath hitches in my throat, it was Y/N. My heart immediately started beating faster, but I knew I had to keep it cool both professionally and so I don’t utterly embarrass myself in front of her.

“Chris! Hey, I’m sorry I know the models aren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Honestly I was hoping to catch a moment alone with you before we shoot.” She says nervously with a big, beautiful smile on her face. She wanted to see me? Alone? I hadn’t realize I went silent for a moment while I was caught up in my thoughts until Y/N interrupted.

“Umm I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just such a huge fan of yours and your brothers, and I wanted to tell you that. Also to tell you I am so grateful and excited to be modeling for Fresh Love. I love your brand and own a few things from it already just from following you for a while now.” She says.

“Oh, no you didn’t scare me! Sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone this early. I’m happy to hear you’re a fan, and thanks for supporting my brothers and I, it means a lot. I really liked your modeling application and I’ve been looking forward to shooting with you.” I replied. I looked and sounded collected on the outside, but on the inside I was definitely nervous. I’m usually super confident talking to girls, even ones that I like, but Y/N had me acting different. She gave me a sweet smile before we walked into the studio together.

The other models started showing up as I led them to their dressing rooms where their Fresh Love clothing was waiting for them to change into. I stood in front of the backdrop for the first set of pictures and saw as the models rounded the corner all dressed in Fresh Love. Y/N wore the emerald green sweat set, and damn she looked good. The bright color just worked so perfectly with her complexion and brought out the color in her beautiful eyes. Seeing my own brand on her body drove me crazy. Man, this chick has me on a leash.

As time went by the photographers took group shots of all the models together, and some individual shots of each of them. When it came time for Y/N individual shots she was a natural. Her poses were relaxed, but strong and confident at the same time. She really wore the brand well and I was looking forward to seeing the results. She wraps up her individual shots and starts walking over to me.

“So, how did I look?” She says giving me a flirtatious look.

“Really, really great. I was thinking maybe we can get some pictures of just us two together for the Fresh Love instagram.” I said.

“Sounds great!” She says with a smile. She takes a step closer to me and leans in slightly, “Should I go change?” She asks but this time quieter so only I could hear. She makes me so nervous.

“Y-yeah. There’s, um, there’s a pair of joggers and a t-shirt in your dressing room if you want to change into that for me.” I said stuttering.

“Of course, anything for you.” She says confidently flirting with me. I think she can tell she made me nervous, and she was taking advantage of it. That’s so hot.

***

This time I was wearing the black hoodie and jogger set while Y/N wore the gray joggers and blue t-shirt. I sat on the couch we were using for the shoot, and she comes out of her dressing room to join me. She looked really great. I smiled at her and moved over so she could sit on the couch next to me.

“I’m thinking for the first few poses we just sit here kinda relaxed, looking at the camera. Then we do some where you stand behind the couch leaning over it while I sit here in front of you.” I said.

“Yeah sounds good!.” She says, and with that we start posing for the camera. The photographer has us scotch closer together, and I drape my arm behind her on the top of the couch. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the camera because all I wanted to do in the moment was to look at her. She moves off the couch to position herself behind it. “Like this, Chris?” She asks.

I turn around and see her bent over, arms crossed on the back of the couch. Fuck, her ass looks nice bent over like this. “Yeah, looks great.” I smile at her. I turn back around and the camera continues to click. We move around slightly to get different angles. She moves one of her hands to rest on my shoulder. I feel her hand slide up the back of my neck as her fingertips gently play around with my hair. The tension was palpable. I sharply inhale, a chill moving down my spine, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool much longer.

“Okay how about we call that a wrap for today. Great job everyone thanks so much for being here.” I blurt out getting off the couch, shaking a few of the photographers hands, before I quickly run into my dressing room without turning back.

***

In the dressing room I can hear the photographers packing up their gear and leave. The other models had gone home for the day, and I wasn’t sure if Y/N had left yet either. I found my answer when I hear a slight knock at the door, “Chris?” She says faintly, “Can I come in?” I’m frozen, I don’t answer before she comes into the room still dressed in her Fresh Love fit. “Are you okay? You seemed kinda frantic towards the end there.” She asks sincerely. I seriously debated telling her I liked her, but I knew that wouldn’t be professional of me.

“Yeah, I just get nervous shooting sometimes.” I lied. Y/N scoffs a little.

“You, nervous? I’ve never been more nervous for a photoshoot before. Having THE Chris Sturniolo sitting inches away for me all day long is something I had only ever dreamed of.” She laughs. “You definitely made me nervous today. God, I’m sorry I sound like such a stupid fangirl right now.” She says looking down.

“I never would have thought you were nervous. You seemed super confident today.” I say.

“Maybe. I tried to be confident so I could impress you.”

“Impress me?” I say a little surprised. She looks up and nods her head. I stand up and approach her meeting her in the middle of the room, “You’ve impressed me plenty, pretty girl.” I’m unsure of where this sudden boldness came from, but I could tell Y/N liked it when her body relaxed, and I could see her whole demeanor change. She looked up at me with seductive eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she runs her hand up my arm before resting it on my chest, “I’m sure I can impress you in other ways too.” Her eyes flash from mine down to my noticeable, growing erection, and then back up to my lips. I can’t keep it in any longer. I lean down and kiss her soft lips, her hand meets the side of my face and my lips part for her to deepen the kiss moving her tongue across mine. We step back and my back hits the wall when her lips move from mine down to my neck bitting and sucking ever so gently.

“Fuck.” I moan softly. I feel her smile into my neck, and she moves a hand down to gingerly palm my boner over my pants.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this all day.” She says breathlessly as she pulls away from my neck to look me in the eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else have you wanted to do princess?” I ask suggestively. She smiles, and with that she drops to her knees. She hooks her fingers in the band of my sweatpants before pulling them down to my knees. She places soft kisses on my dick through my underwear, and the slight contact made me groan.

“Eager, aren’t we?” She says as she begins to pull my underwear down. My rock hard dick springs up and hits my stomach and her eyes widen while her mouth parts. She looks up at me and I begin to wrap her hair in my hand holding it back for her while the other gripped the chair next to me as I brace myself. She plants tiny kisses on my thighs on either side of my dick, and the teasing had my cock twitching with every kiss.

“Please, Y/N, please stop teasing.” I sigh. She runs her tongue from the base of my cock on the underside of my dick to the tip where she licks the precum from the slit. She swirls her tongue around my head a few times before pulling away and spitting into her hand. She spreads the wetness on my length as she pumps me a few times before wrapping her lips around my head and pushing her head forward. I let out a moan when I feel my dick hit the back of her throat. She keeps one hand tight at the base of my cock, pumping and twisting it as she bobs her head up and down on it. I’m a whimpering mess. My grip tightens in her hair as I help move her head at a steady pace. Her hand lets go of my shaft as she moves her head all the way forward, taking my full length into her mouth gagging slightly. I look down to see her already looking up at me with tears forming in her eyes. I felt my dick twitch in her mouth as I was close to cumming, but I tugged her hair and pulled her off my length before I could do so.

I move the chair I had been grabbing onto with one hand as my other reached for her chin and guided her to stand.

“Sit.” I demanded. She obliged and sat in the chair as I got to my knees and started pulling the sweatpants off of her. I caress her thighs with my big hands before pulling her thong off and I stare at her dripping wet cunt.

“Did I make you this wet?” I ask, and all she can do is shake her head. “I want you to use your words pretty girl.”

“Yes.” She whines out. “You always make me this wet.”

“Always?” I question. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” I ask. She nods her head again.

“Yes.” She says.

“Do you use your fingers when you touch yourself, princess?”

“Yes” she says. My fingertips move agonizingly slow up and down her folds spreading the wetness around.

“And who’s fingers do you imagine are pumping inside of you when you’re touching yourself baby.”

“Yours Chris. Always yours.” She moans out. Without warning I shove two of my fingers deep into her cunt eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. I pump my fingers in and out of her at a fast pace causing her to grip the back of my head roughly, my hair tight in between her fingers. I kitty lick her clit and curl my fingers inside her.

“F-fuck Chris.” She moans out. I continue moving my fingers in and out of her while I lay my tongue flat licking up and down her clit, sucking on it for a few seconds at a time. She pants, trying to catch her breath as she breathes heavier.

“Chris. CHRIS— I’m gonna cum.” With that I immediately pull my fingers out of her and raise my head.

“Not yet, princess. I want you to cum all over my cock for me baby.” I wrap my arms under her thighs and lift her off of the seat carrying her over to the makeup vanity counter across the room. I place her down and she stands facing me.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt to take it off, and I abruptly stop her grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Leave it on princess. I want to watch myself fucking you while you wear my clothes.”

My hands reach her waist and turn her around roughly pushing down on her upper back to bend her over across the counter. I look in the mirror to see her flushed face and eyes blown with lust. I had never been so sex hungry before. I ripped my hoodie off, and began to align my dick at her entrance. I slid the head of my dick in between her folds getting it nice and wet before I pushed in slowly making me groan loudly. Y/N gasps as I enter her, not ready for my size. I bottom out and stand still, letting her adjust to my length. Suddenly, without warning she begins to lean forward and back moving herself on my cock.

“Please move, Chris.” She begged. I smiled at her in the mirror. I started moving in and out of her with slow, hard thrusts. Her walls were warm and tight around my cock. We moaned together as I kept the steady pace.

“Chris?” She says.

“What is it princess?” I look at her in the mirror, half of her now messy hair covering her flushed pink face. She adjusts her arms to grab the front of the countertop. She lifts her chest up slightly, and the FRESH on her shirt is now visible in the mirror.

“Fuck me. Harder.” She pleads, and that was all I needed to hear. I went absolutely feral. I grabbed her hair with one hand making sure to pull her up enough that I could see her Fresh Love shirt in the mirror. My other hand laid flat just above her ass, pushing down so I could balance myself as I relentlessly thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

“Fuck. Fuck, Y/N! You feel so good pretty girl.”

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…” She whines breathlessly.

“Good girl. I want you to cum all over my cock for me.” I say back. We make eye contact in the mirror and I feel her walls clench around me sending a pulsating sensation through my cock, and I knew I was close too. Her face scrunches and she repeatedly moans my name. I feel her cunt tighten and relax around me as she comes all over my cock, and we maintain eye contact as she does.

Seeing her face while she came on my dick was what I needed. My thrusts got harder and sloppier as I felt my dick twitch inside her.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N! Oh, FUCK.” I moan loudly as I feel myself release my big load into her pussy, my cum coating her walls. I thrust a few more times riding out my high before pulling out seeing our orgasms drip out of her cunt. Y/N turns to face me, and tries to stand but fails as her knees wobble and she grabs the countertop as to not fall down. My hands grab her sides to help balance her.

“You’re amazing, princess.” I say to her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I place a gentle kiss on her lips before moving my hands to the bottom of her shirt pulling it up. She raises her arms up as I lift the Fresh Love tee over her head. I crouch down and gently begin wiping her clean with the t-shirt.

“Chris! Not the Fresh Love shirt!” Y/N says surprised and in a concerned tone of voice.

“Baby, it’s my brand. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” I smirk, earning a cute giggle from her.

**********

This was my first time writing smut and I think it’s kinda trash but lmk what your thoughts are.

- Kay 🖤

[reginamillls]

I wanted to spread some good vibes in the fandom, so what are five cute headcanons you have about BuckTommy or Tommy? 🥰 And if you want to, send an ask like this to someone else.

OH THIS IS CUTE ty for sending this to me

1. I AM A CAT DAD TOMMY TRUTHER

so obviously he has one in the future but I'm imaging a much smaller, younger Tommy who would sneak out and feed the stray cat in his yard

who coaxed the cat to trusting him and who found the cat a home when his father wouldn't allow it

for a little while he had something soft in his life who loved him just for him

2. Tommy is the kind of guy who is aware that he's a big guy you know? he helps people get things off of the top shelf in grocery stores and volunteers to help pick up heavy things - he's the friend who actually means it when he says he would help someone move

3. one time when Tommy was really low and was just so tired about hiding things, he came across a food tuck that had a pride flag pinned proudly to its's side - all of the food was puns and it was run by three college aged kids and the owner - Tommy sat outside on a picnic table near the truck for the longest time and when he finally ordered - something sweet, this man has a sweet tooth - it was met with a smile, something bright when things were hard, and he followed this truck on instagram and when he was finally out he would bring people to the truck and he is one of their best customers and the owner has a picture of Tommy with the truck on their socials and they make food up for him on the spot - and when he brings Buck there for a date they all know who he is "THE FAMOUS EVAN" and Tommy blushes so hard

4. Tommy's clothes are comfortable and practical, he has a few "good shirts" for the occasional dates but otherwise he just picks what fits - at some point he picked up a jacket from a thriftshop and didn't even know it was designer until someone pointed it out - when Buck buys him a soft cashemere sweater for the colder weather, Tommy wears it and kisses Buck softly and he starts adding a little more color in his wardrobe, but he never feels pressure to, he just likes Buck's smile when he wears them

5. Tommy "avoid lonlieness through various hobbies" Kinard has made candles, he's taken chocolate making classes, he rock climbs when he cans and has had several ball room lessons, at some point he even tried horse back riding, he's done a little bit of everything and later he shares these various hobbies with the family he finally finds

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm. crying. I didn't realize the Leona parallels... I'm so leonapilled I accidentally alude to him in random places (/jjjjj) 😭😭😭😭😭 but now that you say it... Yeah that's exactly how savanaclaw students see him, huh... I hadn't thought about it that way... I mean I don't think you're as intimidating as he could be but I guess it does fit in a way.... PARALLELS EVERYWHERE 😭😭😭

thank you for stating your boundaries clearly too !! now I'll try to keep them even more in mind 🙂‍↕️ from the things u listed I think I may have sent an ask once asking smth that could've possibly made u uncomfy but I kind of realized just after I had hit send 😭 I was like "wait maybe she wouldn't be comfortable answering this"... And ever since I always read my asks 73829193 times before sending them 😭😭😭 I deeply apologize for that... I think I've never asked smth like that again tho so I hope I can keep our interactions (on anon and outside anonymity) as comfortable as possible for you ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ I'll try my best for it not to happen again !!

Ew 💀 You see Him everywhere now… My condolences… YElxnsksbwjGaxxaga But yeah, I’m not a muscular tattooed cat boy, not by a long shot 😂 Best I can hope for to intimidate people is to make my best whimpering bird noise.

I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to… Him before, so that’s an interesting observation. I believe the characters I most frequently get compared to are Lilia (by the public/readers) and Jamil (by my friends). I guess Lilia because I’ve been told it’s hard to discern my age because of how I bounce between serious analysis/advice and half legible brain rot?? And Jamil because I tend to be pragmatic and dry in private but still end up playing the part of older sibling to others.

To the comment about the income thing, it was in the context of fandom and not asking for actual financial advice. I believe the gist of the (now deleted) ask was that someone was under the impression I was frequently commissioning artwork and wondered how I afforded it. This happened a while ago so I don't remember exactly why they might have come to that conclusion. The ask wasn't phrased rudely or anything, I just found it uncomfortable because I'm not okay with telling online strangers about money, finances, my spending, etc. I think most people would be uncomfortable with that, honestly.

While I do have a tag for advice, it's reserved for like... gameplay tips and reminders on fandom etiquette. It's NOT meant to encourage people to actually come to me actively seeking counsel. (In hindsight, perhaps a poor choice of word on my part 💦) If those advice posts ended up helping you out in some way, that's great! I'm happy for you. Please just remember to not impose on me too much. (Not sure if it's the turn of season or recent fandom news, but I've been getting a lot of spam or really lengthy asks lately.) I'm not here to be the unpaid therapist that the Twst fandom so often jokes that Yuu is. I'm not here to change the world and teach everyone to get along (which Yuu is voluntold to do www), either. I'm here to do my own thing, and that's it.

I appreciate that most people that interact with me are mindful about my boundaries 😅 Sometimes I do feel like I need to remind my audience of what those are, but thankfully I haven't really gotten flack for it.

[stoicman-wbk]

Who is your favorite side character from Wind Breaker??

I had the feeling me sending everyone asks would turn back on me eventually hahaha Thank you!!

But ahhhh how do I choose a favorite?!

Well, my top two are Suo and Sakura, but I consider them both main characters (along with Nirei and Umemiya), so I’ll go with the three side characters that kinda tie for third place as my faves overall. I am terrible with choosing, so I’m just gonna ramble about them all:

Kiryu

I freaking love this boy and I can’t wait til we get to his arc because I need more of him!!! I love how chill he is. Unlike Suo, who ACTS calm, Kiryu genuinely IS calm. He comes from money, but he is super down to earth and treats everyone equally. He’s selfish in the sense that he values his own space and hobbies and is comfortable ignoring everyone while he sits off on the side and just does his own thing. But he’s also selfless when he needs to be. He goes out of his way to protect people that can’t protect themselves, and even after the immediate danger is out of the way, he sticks around and gives his time to whomever he’s saved (like that girl) to make sure they feel safe and comfortable. And he is NOT afraid to become cold towards anyone that threatens that person’s comfort, even if accidentally (Tsugeura). And on top of that, I love how subtly jealous he is of Suo never breaking a sweat and always coming out of fights unscathed. I think it’s really funny tbh. And despite being a rich boy, he’s a delinquent through and through. Baggy clothes worn improperly, face full of piercings, a whimsical hotdog phone case, a room full of silly decor and fun trinkets - he is absolutely not what most people would picture when they think of a rich kid. And I love him for breaking that stereotype. Kiryu just overall has a really fun personality and I can’t wait for his character to be further explored.

Sugishita

Gods, this boy is so autistic (I say as an autistic person). He’s one of my faves probably because of how relatable he is to me. Anyway, he’s a guy who is seemingly quick to anger but at his core, he is calm and just wants to live a peaceful life with his loved ones and take naps whenever he can. He’s got selective mutism and has a lot of trouble speaking to others and expressing his feelings. And he struggles with even understanding WHAT his feelings are. And that makes him frustrated. And he often needs his own feelings to be spelled out for him by others. People who haven’t gotten the chance to know him (pretty much anyone outside of his grandparents, Ume, and the four kings) assume he’s always angry and unapproachable (he just has a case of chronic resting bitch face) and often start shit because of it….which is what led Sugi to developing the habit of immediately fighting anyone that insults him or the people he cares for (such as Sakura). And because of all this mixed together, he’s afraid to step out of his comfort zone and grow as a person, which leaves him even MORE frustrated because he sees this guy (Sakura) come outta nowhere and immediately start growing into a major important figure for Bofurin. And that prompts him to push himself further and try to improve himself by changing the way he’s been doing things and UGH I AM JUST SO PROUD OF THIS FICTIONAL CHARACTER. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND CAN’T WAIT TO SEE HOW HE GROWS.

Anzai

This fandom really seems to sleep on Anzai’s character because seriously, THIS BOY IS SO IMPORTANT. He is the first one in the class (aside from Nirei and Suo) to approach Sakura in a positive manner. And he cares so much about his friends (even the ones he hasn’t spoken to in a while) that he’s willing to face an entire ARMED gang on his own despite having already gotten his ass kicked by them. And he cares so much for the guys at Furin that he doesn’t want to get them involved because he doesn’t want THEM to get hurt fighting HIS battles, despite the fact that he is literally SUFFERING. And he is SUCH a comically bad liar that even Sakura can’t be fooled by his nonsense. And after everything goes down, Anzai is not afraid to cry. He is so in touch with his emotions, and that extends to how he frustrated he is toward his friends for trying to do things on their own (the hypocrisy of this boy, fr). But later when Sakura tells the class how he feels, Anzai is the first one to scold him and knock some sense into him. He feels very strongly about his friends and he is not afraid to let them know it. And all that aside, he is incredibly funny. Like Suo, Anzai teases the shit out of Sakura. He’s a lil gremlin that thrives on chaos, teasing and rough housing with the others whenever he can - honestly the most teenage boy acting character in this whole series, I think. And I just love him to death. I really really hope we see more of him, even if it’s just small interactions.

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled on long enough. Haha I just really really love these three.

Thanks so much for the ask and giving me the opportunity to gush about my favorite side characters!

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[trainsinanime]

I'm still considering whether I'll do any non-vague posting about this, but let me just say: Writing long and erudite posts about what you think is wrong with a French children's TV show does not absolve you from the accusation that you're doing… let's call it entry-level analysis. A post can be long and well-written and still just regurgitate the most basic, boring points, and some of them plainly wrong.

Actually maybe don't read this, it may be too salty itself.

"Adrien is sometimes too pushy", "Marinette is sometimes a stalker", "Alya is a bad friend because she's unwilling to bully a random new girl just because Marinette said so", yeah, yeah, we've heard it. More than once. Way more than once. Yes, even with receipts and quotes. Trust me, it's been discussed. These are the kind of standard hot takes of someone who is doing their first attempt at critical analysis, and I actually think on some level we should encourage that. I do believe fandom should be beginner-friendly in all regards.

But man, it can be annoying to read sometimes. Especially when someone uses these hot takes to justify the existence of salt fics. Let me be 100% clear here: Salt fics are not a reaction to flaws in the source material. Salt fics are materially different from fix-it fics. This becomes more clear when you track these patterns over fandoms, and in particular look at my favourite example over in Fairy Tail (sic).

That fandom has a number of fandom-specific plots, like some "angel of death sends main character back to relive the origins with the knowledge they had later" (also very popular in Harry Potter back in the day), but also one that is just 100% salt specific: It's about Lisanna, a childhood friend of the male lead Natsu, coming back from the alternate universe she was trapped in, and displacing Lucy, the female lead, who eventually leaves, sad and depressed, while nobody cares about her. The sentiments are all the same: Feeling depressed, feeling annoyed that your friends are suddenly interested in the new girl, feeling like you don't belong anymore, leaving your friend group to punish them and so on.

There are some differences as well. This whole thing was back in the days of Fanfiction.net, when crossovers were in a whole other section of the site and thus not easily findable, so the whole "…I'm going to run away to somewhere where people want me" never had the frankly hilarious addition of "…and when I'm there I'm going to marry Batman!", which spawned a whole sub-fandom in ML (its fans tell me that it's not all salt; I haven't bothered to check).

But the most important difference: The inciting incident never happened in canon. People just thought it might. In canon, Lisanna did return from her alternate dimension… and then immediately became a forgotten background character. Lucy and Natsu remained just as in love as they always had been, which is to say, very much except they don't seem to notice it. Their relationship was never strained even for a moment.

And still people wrote these stories that are functionally salt fics, with the same storylines, same emotions, same beats. Because salt fics are not about fixing what is wrong with the show. If they were, they'd spend all their time discussing the terribly fucked-up metro map. Salt fics are about exploring feelings of loneliness, isolation, "why are you hanging out with here when I told you she sucks" and just pure spite, in a way that you don't really see outside of pop songs. That is the end goal. The characters and plots are just a way to get there, and they will get twisted as necessary.

This is critical for understanding and discussing the phenomenon of salt fics. Alya is not actually getting demonised because she acted a bit stupid in one episode where everybody but Marinette acted a bit stupid. It's incredibly weird to hear this argument, and then all the supporting quotes for it, in the same post, right underneath, are all:

Alya: Okay, but do you have any proof? Marinette (angrily): Arrghlwargl! No!

Like, come on. Alya is getting demonised because people really want to. Because it works for the kind of story. These stories assume that it's Alya's job to always support Marinette unconditionally, and that any deviation from that, no matter how minor, is a highest order betrayal. And then they go full Count of Monte Cristo on her.

(Well, not really, that could almost be fun. Nobody ever has Marinette imprisoned for fourteen years, get out with the help of a hypnotist monk, use a buried pirate treasure to buy an island, then manipulate a telegraph line to… It's all just torn notebooks and such. Boring.)

The idea that people hate Alya for mostly valid reasons is just plain wrong and shows that you've missed a huge part of what's happening in the fandom. You could use all the Alya hate as an entry point into analysing what her role is in the show, how people in the fandom perceive her role, how people in the salt dom perceive her role, how her role and her personality shift depending on the needs of an episode at the expense of a consistent character and so on. There is some great analysis in that direction out there already, but more wouldn't hurt. "Alya is a bad friend sometimes because of Chameleon" remains an uninteresting take no matter how well you word it, though.

And that's just Alya. Adrien hate, for example, is its entirely own field. In short: Yes, some characters in this fandom are over-hated. Try digging deeper next time.

[gethoce]

Sending a little ask, as I just happened to see your tournament post...

If you think you don't want to revisit any of that with all the other stressful stuff going on, you can skip this! It's nothing big outside of offering sympathy to you and some commiseration from someone in a similar place! Though I do have a question about including Valfrey in a little piece of tribute art at the end!

-

[Tourney Sympathy Section!]

I know we don't know each other extremely well (though I've seen your comics for a while and always admired how much work you put into each one and also your amazing and unique world building) but I'd like to offer hugs (...or whatever you're most comfortable with in place of those!) and sympathy.

I tried to keep a smile up throughout the tourney but I experienced some of that kind of back-talking too. Someone in the server (who I would like to think I became friends with eventually and really respect as a creator) called me a hypocrite way early on and said straight up that I could never understand what the rest of the competitors were going through because I ran a "popular" blog. It shut me up for a good long while ^^ Not saying this to convince you to forgive anyone, just that I know how upsetting the comments would casually get in that place with little to zero apologies to follow… And that I too felt extremely isolated because regardless of how well my posts on here did, I never -knew- anybody in the fandom or had ever talked to anyone before this event.

Anyway, lots and lots of sympathy. ^^ I'll try not to fill this message with "oooh, me as well!" but...I also saw my OC get fairly flanderized by folks, particularly with everyone in the Discord trying to treat him like a kid which, despite his age being a literal kid, that kind of treatment is something that would immediately rub him the wrong way. For me, I ended up kind of throwing in the towel and going with it eventually, and it took a lot of work to mold him back to something more closely resembling my original vision of him. I actually really admire you for standing strong with your character + lore despite how easy it was for things to get jumbled with everyone trying (or not) to figure everyone out.

...And I'm sorry if I was one of the people who mischaracterized Valfrey. I actually went to check out her toybox page VERY early on in the tournament (because I was fascinated + loved how their name came from Morpho's original name + the valkyrie thing) but I admit that some of that might've gotten overwritten or confused with time...

-

[Question Section!]

Lastly, given your experiences were a mixed bag, I wanted to ask... 

I have one more piece of tourney art to post this month as a conclusion to the second-chance finals - it's a very short piece with Noir and Rope MF going to a tug of war convention. Because I thought it would be sweet, I included starstruck and Valfrey in their little group too (Valfrey in their smaller butterfly form.)  

But if you would rather I leave her out of this because it's tourney related, I can do that too! Or if you think they wouldn't travel in that form or...?

Basically, after reading everything you went through, I want to try and get them right! (For clarity's sake, it's currently just a little cameo with her perched atop the human vers of Noir's head. I thought that would be okay since he's a lost soul already in that form!)

I hope I don't ramble too much, putting it under the cut just in case!

[Sympathy Section]

I do appreciate hearing about your similar experiences a lot! Makes me feel a little less alone in that whole thing... <3 I feel like people sometimes forget that we too are people. Like, I know how it's like to not be known at all. I've been there for many many years and only recently found a bit of a niche to enjoy.

I've been online for a good 15 years by now, (and given how you're about a decade older than me you can probably relate), naturally I've had my fair share of soul crushing experiences in which I posted something I worked very hard on and it got absolutely zero interactions. Just straight up nothing. It's not like we came online for the first time and immediately had people flocking to us as though it was a natural talent.

I've only been actively drawing Kirby fanart for about two years, the first time in a decade anything I've done actually managed to get some attention. It's worth noting that I don't even think it's possible to even climb that high within a niche fandom like Kirby. Even the biggest blogs that focus solely on Kirby aren't actually that large. The divide feels all the more unnecessary.

I like to tackle esoteric topics while the largely popular wholesome genre is something I really do not vibe with, naturally I don’t actually build up that much of a following. I'd have to force myself to do it and have a couple of times, but I don't want to make that a habit. I'm in this not for any fame but to have fun and get to talk with others about a franchise I've loved for as long as I can remember. Before the tournament there were only one or two people I could regularly talk to. I think having a friend group within the fandom is not only more rewarding than "fame" but also a lot less lonely.

Anyway, can I just mention how impressive it is to see a human OC like Noir find a footing in all of this? My creativity has been called into question for using a "common species" instead of something "more original". While humans aren't commonly used within the larger Kirby OC side of things, I'd imagine people would think of the species as "uncreative" even though there is much to dabble into in terms of lore just as there is for the orbs. People come here largely for characters that aren't human and yet your amazing writing and art managed to overcome that burden and Noir managed to capture people's attention!

I'd imagine many just looked at his design and made some assumptions and characterised him based on that alone instead of engaging with his lore, just as they looked at Valfrey and came to the conclusion that if she is a butterfly she must be a reaper and nothing else... and thank you so much for actually reading her toyhouse page! I've since rewritten it entirely in hopes of perhaps making her lore more clear in the future. It can be tough properly introducing OCs with a lot of lore. I'm grateful for anyone who actually takes their time to look into it!

[Question Section]

I'D ACTUALLY LOVE THAT OMG it'd be an honour to be included in all that!! Valfrey coming in in the butterfly is just so cute and hilarious. She can sit on top of Noir and be carried around a little LOL. Valfrey does like to observe things a lot in that form, I can totally see this being in character! <3

[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 010

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Lante, Fontaine, lowkey Dion too

AUTHOR'S NOTES: These chapters are so short I'm sorry guys 😔. Maybe once I'm done I'll combine the chapters or something to make them longer and have fewer chapters because this is NOT it 💔

Also thank you to my lovely wife friend @orngbanana for telling me all the stuff for the side characters I forgot everything

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

It has been a week since that shit-coloured hair ASSHOLE tried to assault you, though you’ve lost count of the days, each one blending into the next in an endless cycle. Now, you find yourself seated in an carriage, headed off to Yggdrasil. The rhythmic clatter of wheels against uneven terrain does little to ease your discomfort. You shift awkwardly in your seat, glancing across at Roxana, Dion, and Griselda. Unlike you, they seem composed, practiced in this environment. Meanwhile, you are forced to sit beside Lante, his presence a heavy weight pressing against you.

He leans in slightly, his voice smooth yet laced with underlying menace. “Keep your guard up and look pretty,” he instructs, his lips curling into a smirk. “I want them to focus on you. My new doll.” Doll. Ew.

The words, much to your dismay, send a shiver down your spine, but you suppress the urge to flinch. I know better than to show weakness before him. Lante watches you closely, his sharp eyes scanning your face for any sign of defiance. “If you screw up,” he continues, his voice lowering, “you’ll be punished.” I already know that. You don’t have to remind me. I wonder where he’ll send me. The illusion room?

You nod stiffly, your hands clenching into fists in your lap. The threat lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. He’s not one to bluff, and you have no desire to find out what the punishment entails, thought you can probably guess based on his… history.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at Dion. He’s as composed as ever, his expression unreadable. Your thoughts drift, to the previous week - to Fontaine, his hands grabbing at you, the suffocating fear that had clawed at your throat. And then to Dion, stepping in between, his voice cold and steady as he metaphorically pried Fontaine away from you.

He even asked if I was okay. He could have just did what he needed to do and left it at that. But he asked… he never did that before. You remembered the way Fontaine sneered at you, as if blaming you for Dion’s interference. Maybe it was just convenience. Maybe he didn’t like Fontaine that much so he interfered.

But still, something about the way he had stepped in so swiftly, so decisively, made you wonder. There had been no hesitation, no calculation. Just action.

Lante leans back, seemingly satisfied, before shifting the conversation. “Have you attended events like this in your old world?”

You hesitate for a brief moment before shaking your head. “No,” you answer carefully. “I wasn’t invited to these kinds of gatherings.”

Lante raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And why is that?”

You consider your response. The truth is something you refuse to share, not with him. “I was focused on my studies,” you say instead. “My family didn’t think it was necessary for me to attend. These events were more for my father.”

Not a complete lie, but not the truth either. It’s a partial truth, at least. I hope it’s enough to steer him away from further prying.

He acknowledges you for a moment before letting the topic drop. “Your world,” he mentions. “Tell me more about it.”

“It’s very modern,” you reply, grasping onto a safe topic. “The clothes are different. The buildings, the people - everything feels different compared to here.” And I miss it. Even the things I used to hate. Still… if I had a chance to go back home… would I take it?

Lante listens, though his interest seems fleeting. Soon enough, the carriage slows, signaling your arrival. You step outside, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. The towering grandeur of Yggdrasil stands before you, its looming presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Roxana steps closer, her voice low as she reminds you, “Remember Griselda’s lessons.”

“I know,” you say, straightening your posture, perfecting your mannerisms. This isn’t your world, but you’ve had to adapt quickly. Any misstep could mean consequences far worse than embarrassment. Failure isn’t an option.

As you step inside, the lavish hall is filled with people, figures both familiar and distant. Your eyes scan the room, and your gaze locks onto three particular faces - Noel, Luzark, and Dante. Recognition strikes immediately.

Noel, the youngest leader of the Veritium house, sits idly, his expression one of lazy indifference. Yet you know better. Behind that flippant demeanor lies something much darker, something unhinged. He is detached in a way that makes your stomach churn. The memories of what he has done, what he is capable of, are vivid in your mind. The way he once lured Roxana to his mansion, calling her his Luna - it speaks volumes of his delusions.

How can someone so terrifying look so nonchalant and bored?

Your gaze shifts to Luzark, a man who carries an unspoken fear of women, a phobia never truly explained in the story you remember. His past is riddled with shadows - an absent father who exploited their wealth on drugs, a mother who drowns her burdens in alcohol, trying and failing to keep it from him. He stands rigid, his body tense despite the grandeur surrounding him. I wonder if he even notices how much he’s unraveling before everyone.

And then there is Dante. A presence that feels almost spectral despite his solid form. You know what fate awaits him. The tragic ending written into his story, a thread interwoven with death and betrayal. Does he sense it? Does he know what’s coming?

Before you can dwell further, Lante’s hand presses against the small of your back, ushering you forward. Keep your filthy hands off me you freak. Your breath catches as you are led toward the Pedelian family, and your eyes meet those of Cassis Pedelian.

The male lead.

He is as handsome as you remember - soft golden hair, sharp yet warm eyes, a natural charm radiating from him. Unlike the others in this hall, there’s an innocence to him, a gentleness in the way he regards you. He’s surprisingly cute… for a sixteen year old. He makes me want to stuff him in my pocket and ambush him with love and affection.

With perfect grace, he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a polite kiss against your knuckles. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice smooth and genuine.

You blink, momentarily thrown by the sincerity in his tone. This is real. This is happening. Wow, what a stark contrast to the Cassis we meet in the first Season of the manhwa. This was before the trauma, huh? What a gentleman.

Your heart pounds as Cassis’s gaze lingers on you, curiosity flickering in his expression. There is no hidden malice, no veiled threat - only polite interest.

Lante speaks first, exchanging pleasantries, his grip on your back a silent warning to behave. You offer a polite nod, careful not to meet Cassis’s eyes for too long. There is a tension here, an unspoken game of control and power, and you are just another pawn in their world.

I remember the story. I remember him. But he does not know me. Not yet, anyway.

[chippedshake]

Sodapop angst !! 🫶

thank you so so much the fandom needs more sodapop and generally I forget about him

(gonna kill three birds with one stone and write that song fic based on never knew a heart could break itself and also fill in the "fic based on your favourite song at the moment" slot from my the outsiders bingo card)

You're getting used to sleepin' in an empty bed

When Ponyboy comes back for the holidays, he sleeps in his old room again. It's never doubted, never questioned, never talked about with Soda. It just... happens.

Of course they knew he would have to get used to sleeping alone once he went off to college, even if the nightmares never stopped. But Sodapop had always assumed he'd be glad for some comfort at night, even if just for the holidays.

Apparently not.

"What's up with that?" Soda asks Darry the moment Ponyboy closes his bedroom door behind him. Darry turns to look at him, confused.

"With what?"

"Him sleepin' alone."

Darry shrugs. "Ain't it better for him to be used to it? You aren't gonna be there forever."

Soda turns away, looking back at the closed door in front of him, ignoring the quiet aching in his chest. I would be. I would be there forever, helping him fall asleep if he needed to when he's eighty years old.

He sighs.

"Guess so."

I'm getting used to the pain

It takes a couple days, but eventually Soda learns to embrace it. Embracing the happy moments during the day, when Steve manages to get some time away from the mechanic's he's been hired at and Two-Bit is forcibly separated from his girlfriend, that the whole gang — or what's left of it — spends together.

He laughs at the right times during Ponyboy's college stories and asks the right questions about Darry's recent promotion at his bookkeeping job. And the knowledge that Ponyboy's leaving in a week and Darry's leaving once he saves up enough money can be buried deep down below everything else so that maybe it isn't as terrible a feeling.

So farewell to Oklahoma, thanks for holding onto me

Everyone seems to want to leave Tulsa. Ponyboy's college isn't even in Oklahoma, Darry won't stop talking about leaving and never coming back, even Steve talks about "leaving this shithole behind".

Is Soda the only one that likes it there? The whole Soc-greaser conflict has calmed down, anyway.

Is it really that bad to not want to leave?

The way I'm holding onto all these memories

Is it really that bad to want to stay in the only place he can remember his parents? The only place Johnny ever lived, the only place he ever knew Dally?

Is it really that bad to want to stay in his childhood city, to not want to escape from a place that has been nothing but inviting to him? Why is everyone obsessed with leaving, with getting out of the city?

It's not perfect, but it's home, and it's all Soda knows. Nowhere else will be perfect either.

Is he the only one to realise that?

I hope you're happy, but I miss you madly

Ponyboy calls them sometimes, but he mainly sends letters. They take longer, but he really puts the time in and tells them everything. He has a friend named Mike, apparently, who he's been spending a lot of time with.

Even helps with the nightmares, sometimes, he says.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion, and Sodapop can't believe it's his reaction to Ponyboy getting the help he needs.

But if he no longer needs him, if his brothers don't need him to be there for them, what's he even there for? He always knew he wouldn't get far in school, or get a high brow job. He would work in a filling station the rest of his life, and that was fine when he had Sandy and Steve and Darry and Ponyboy.

Sandy's in Florida now, Steve's found a new job, Darry's saving up, and Ponyboy's already left.

With all of them gone, what's left in Soda?

Don't hold it against me, but I'm not even close to

Soda's emotions have always been big, overflowing, taking up every part of him. Eventually, he can't hold them in any longer and they just fall out in a horrendous case of word vomit.

It happens now, too. Instead of Steve, as it tends to be, Darry is on the receiving end, and he's the one to have to wrap an arm around Soda's shoulders and tell him they won't leave him behind. He's the one to look around awkwardly, desperately, looking for someone to help him, and come up empty-handed.

Letting you go yet, reality's frozen

He can't bring himself to accept it. His mind has frozen the world around him because he can't process that people are leaving, leaving him behind to deal with everything alone.

The Earth is turning, the world won't stop moving, their home is falling apart—

But in Soda's little bubble, everything has stayed the same.

'Cause I can't take the photos of us off the shelf

And even years later, when he's living in a small apartment in New York with Steve, his nightstand is still littered with photos of his brothers, smattered across the country.

Darry in community college, Ponyboy teaching English in a city where no one knows him. And Soda's with Steve, fighting for their rights, pretending like they aren't scared of being beaten.

They send letters, they call sometimes, but it's not the same. And Soda still falls asleep looking at those photos.

I never knew a heart could break itself

[bluelavendre]

Title: "Surviving Together"

Fandom: BTS

Pairing BTS ot7 x Reader

Zombie Au inspired a bit by All of us are dead series

Chapter 21: "Heroes in the Night"

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second. The raw determination in his eyes makes the officer freeze for a fraction of a second—but it’s enough. Jungkook’s hands shoot out, gripping the officer by the collar and yanking him away from you with startling strength. The officer stumbles back, momentarily losing his footing.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Jungkook growls, his voice low and menacing. His protective stance in front of you sends a wave of relief coursing through you, but your heart still pounds with fear.

The officer regains his balance, his expression twisting into rage. “Stay out of this, kid!” he snaps, lunging at Jungkook.

Big mistake.

Jungkook sidesteps the man easily, his reflexes sharp and precise. With one swift movement, he delivers a hard shove that sends the officer crashing to the ground. Gravel skids under the man’s body as he sprawls out, cursing loudly.

“Don’t touch her again,” Jungkook says, his voice steady but brimming with fury. His chest heaves as he stares down at the officer, daring him to try anything else.

Before the officer can make another move, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon rush forward, their faces a mix of anger and concern. Taehyung immediately places himself between you and the officer, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might snap.

“You’re done,” Namjoon says firmly, towering over the man. “You’re not going anywhere near us again.”

The officer grits his teeth, but he’s clearly outnumbered. He scrambles to his feet, muttering curses under his breath. “You’ll regret this,” he spits, pointing a finger at the group. “All of you.”

Jungkook steps forward, his gaze like fire. “The only one regretting anything tonight is you.”

As the officer stumbles toward his car, defeated, you feel a rush of gratitude for the boys—especially Jungkook. He turns to you, his expression softening as he meets your gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle now. His hand brushes your arm, and the warmth of his touch grounds you.

You nod, though your voice trembles as you reply. “I’m okay... thanks to you.”

Jungkook gives a small smile, but his eyes are still stormy. “I’ll always protect you,” he says softly, and the sincerity in his tone makes your chest tighten.

Moments earlier, back at the cabin, Yoongi, Jin, and Hoseok had been sitting around, anxiously awaiting the arrival of more rescuers. The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wood and the rustling of leaves outside. Jungkook, however, couldn’t sit still.

“I don’t trust this,” he muttered, pacing back and forth. “Something feels off. They’ve been gone too long.”

Yoongi, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, nodded in agreement. “That officer... something about him didn’t sit right with me.”

Hoseok, trying to lighten the mood, joked, “Maybe he’s just bad at making friends.”

Jin, sitting by the window and munching on what little food was left, shot Hoseok a glare. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Hobi.”

But Jungkook was already moving. He grabbed a weapon—a sturdy wooden plank they had found earlier—and headed for the door.

“I’m going after them,” he declared, his voice firm.

Jin stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. “Wait, wait! You can’t just go alone. What if there’s trouble?”

“Then I’ll deal with it,” Jungkook said, determination written all over his face.

Hoseok sighed dramatically, grabbing his own makeshift weapon. “Well, I guess I can’t let you have all the fun.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but pushed off the wall, following the others. “Let’s go. If something’s wrong, we’ll deal with it together.”

The group followed the faint tire tracks the police car had left, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. Jungkook led the way, his steps quick and purposeful. The others struggled to keep up, their breathing heavy as they trudged through the uneven terrain.

At one point, Jin tripped over a root, letting out a loud yelp as he fell face-first into the dirt.

“Seriously, Jin?” Hoseok said, trying not to laugh as he helped him up. “This isn’t the time to be clumsy!”

“I wasn’t clumsy!” Jin protested, dusting off his clothes. “The ground attacked me.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, sure. Blame the ground.”

“Can you two focus?” Yoongi snapped, his voice low but sharp. “We’re not on a nature hike.”

As they moved forward, Hoseok stumbled over the same root Jin had tripped on earlier, letting out a startled shout.

Jin turned to him with a smug look. “Oh, look who’s clumsy now!”

“Not. A. Word,” Hoseok muttered, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Jungkook, ahead of them, stopped abruptly. “Quiet,” he hissed, his voice tense. He pointed ahead, where faint voices could be heard—yours and the officer’s.

They picked up their pace, and the moment Jungkook saw the officer grabbing you, he didn’t hesitate.

Back to the Present

The officer’s car disappears into the night, leaving a tense silence in its wake. The group huddles together, catching their breath as they process what just happened.

“Are you hurt?” Yoongi asks, his sharp eyes scanning you for any injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, though your voice wavers slightly. “Thanks to Jungkook.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking away as if trying to downplay his actions, but the others don’t let it slide.

“That was reckless,” Jin says, though there’s admiration in his tone. “But also kind of amazing.”

Hoseok grins, patting Jungkook on the back. “You really went full action-hero back there. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to,” Jungkook mutters, his ears turning red.

Taehyung steps closer to you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? I should’ve done more.”

You glance at him, feeling a complicated mix of emotions. “You did enough. All of you.”

The tension eases slightly as everyone gathers around, their bond feeling stronger than ever. But there’s still a lingering sense of unease—what if the officer wasn’t alone? What if the promise of rescuers was just another lie?

For now, though, you’re together, and that’s enough.

As the group begins to walk back toward the cabin, Hoseok turns to Jin with a mischievous grin. “So, about that root you tripped over...”

Jin groans loudly, throwing his hands up. “Oh my god, Hobi, let it go!”

Yoongi smirks, shaking his head. “You two are hopeless.”

Despite the fear and uncertainty, the lighthearted bickering brings a sense of normalcy to the group. You find yourself smiling, grateful for the small moments of levity amidst the chaos.

But as you walk, Jungkook stays close to you, his presence comforting. He doesn’t say much, but the way he occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re okay, speaks volumes.

In the distance, the cabin comes into view, its warm light a beacon of safety in the dark. For now, you’re safe. But the memory of the officer’s actions lingers in your mind, a chilling reminder that not all threats come from the infected.

To be continued...

[lokischocolatefountain]

Salvation

Series Masterlist

Kind of a sequel to Say No to Me, but can be read as a standalone fic

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (warnings: mild choking, name calling, Papi kink, Mami kink, handcuffs, crying, spanking, fingering, mild cuckolding kink. Justification of violence and American imperialism?? Idek you guys)

Word count: 5.8k words

Summary: Shaken to his core by witnessing Colonel Carillo shoot a kid, Javier comes home guilty and questioning the role he plays in the war against drugs.

A/N: Say No to Me did soooo well, so I wrote a little more about about Javi and his wife. Hope people like this too 🥺🥺🥺. Warning: The characters’ views on violence and geopolitics are not my own.

“I don’t see the difference.”

“What do you mean you don’t see the difference? Those assholes poison this country, poison the US. We’re trying to stop them.”

It was their first argument. Leave it to him to bring work home and argue about it with the pretty professor he’d been dating. His job was always a point of contention for them. She didn’t care that he flaked out on dates, forgot to turn up for dinner with friends and slinked into bed late at night with no explanation as to where he’d been. No. What she worried about was the fact that he was a man with a gun.

The first time he met her outside the restaurant the both of them frequented, he was on a raid where her friend happened to live. He’d opened a door, gun in hand, just like he opened many other doors in Columbia in his quest for men associated with the Medellin cartel. He’d surveyed the rest of the place like he always did. Behind the woman was her. The beautiful woman he’d been buying buñuelos for at the restaurant like he’d buy a drink for a woman at a bar. The woman who’d smiled at him in a silent thanks each time the waitress brought her the buñuelos he ordered for her. The one who reciprocated by sending him coffee.

She never saw him the same again. She stopped meeting his eyes when before, she’d always looked around for him shyly. She stopped eating at the restaurant, opting instead for takeaways he found her eating in her car. He’d confronted her, sweet-talked her and gotten her to take his buñuelos again. Talked her into having coffee with him every morning and took her back to his place to fuck.

They always wondered out loud to each other what life would be like had he not done that.

“I wouldn’t be picking up dirty socks from all over the apartment.”

“And I wouldn’t find hair clogging the drain. But I would also be perpetually single.”

“And that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Bad thing. No wife to come home to. No one to wake me up with a warm wet mouth around my cock.”

“Jodón!”

“Te amo, Cariño. Eres mi corazón, mi conciencia.”

If he weren’t a married man, he would have driven to the brothel he used to frequent before he decided he would go on a date with her. He’d take the first willing woman he saw and fuck his pain, his frustrations, his failures into her. She’d be nothing but a warm wet thing in which to bury everything for a bit of cash.

Doing that with his wife didn’t take away the pain or the frustration. It produced guilt. Finding hand-shaped bruises and bite marks on her body made her hide her face in his chest to keep her sweet shy smile away from him. But it just made him feel undeserving of her, like he was tainting the one truly good thing in his life with his violence and brutality.

Her black and white perspective on his job changed eventually. Marriage wouldn’t have been possible without it. For the first time, he felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her into marrying him. When it was just coffee and sex, she insisted that he keep his gun and badge away from her sight. They scared her. He felt offended that she wouldn’t accept him whole.

Eventually he stopped hiding work from her. She grew comfortable with his gun on their bedside table along with her pretty night lamp, books, personal diary, jewelry, and framed picture of their wedding at the embassy. She no longer flinched when she wrapped her loving arms around him and found his gun tucked in the back of his jeans.

He changed her, turned her into someone who could casually listen to him vent about the day to day violences of his job. Turned her into a woman who shared a bed with the kind of man who stood by as his colleague put a gun to a kid’s head and pulled the trigger. He wanted to drive off to the closest bar and drink himself to death, but as though on autopilot, he’d already driven himself home. He parked the jeep in the garage, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

What should he have done to stop Carillo? Could he have stopped him at all? It wasn’t as though he knew what the man would do… Or maybe he did. He couldn’t plead innocence over Carillo’s actions when he was the one celebrating his return, knowing fully about his cruel tactics. He sensed something was off when Carillo made those kids kneel on the ground, hands on their heads. Some of them still had baby fat in their cheeks. The Colonel knew what he was going to do. It was why he left Steve behind.

Steve was given immunity from these cruelties. While he’d been a bachelor when he first met Carillo, Steve was always the family man with a pretty wife to go home to. And now a baby. Now, he was also a family man with someone awaiting his return. Did Carillo not know that? Did he not see the glimmering gold band around his finger? Or did Carillo see something in him that indicated he was prepared to witness such horror? Something that said he lacked a heart unlike Steve. How did Carillo manage to go home to his wife and kids? How did he hold them in his bloodied hands?

“Javi?”

She’d opened the jeep door and he hadn’t heard a thing. He was truly out of it.

He whispered her name as she cupped his cheek, taking all the comforts that her touch afforded. He closed his eyes and swallowed as the guilt set in. The kid’s parents would need comfort tonight, not him. He didn’t deserve this. He should pry her hand off of him, reject her gentle touch. Stop her from tainting herself further.

She leaned close to him and he hummed gratefully for the proximity that allowed him to breathe in the fresh scent of her citrusy soap and her coconut shampoo.

He said her name again, like a prayer, like she was his god and he, a devotee who sought her for salvation. “It’s going to be okay, mi amor. Whatever it is…It’s going to be okay.”

“I need you,” he said as he nuzzled into her neck.

“You have me, Javi. I’m right here, whatever you need. Okay?” She swept her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp, already taking care of him.

He hopped out of the car with a renewed energy now that he had her permission. “Need you right here, baby,” he muttered hurriedly and curled an arm around her waist, picking her up and placing her on the hood of the jeep. He tugged at the satin tie holding the robe together, untying it to reveal her in her purest form. No underclothes, no jewelry except her rings, just her. He palmed her shoulders and pushed the garment off of her, holding himself back from ripping it off when she took a few seconds too long to free her arms from the sleeves.

He spread her legs apart, mumbling, “Need to see you, querida. Need to see your pretty pussy.”

He placed a hand on her belly and pushed, forcing her to lie back down on the hood. It had to be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t think beyond getting his dick wet. She said whatever he needed, so he was going to take whatever he needed. He was going to take everything he could out of her, leave her spent and unable to offer him anything more.

He pushed her legs wider, spreading her out obscenely for his eyes. Her body held marks of their passion. Her knees were bruised from kneeling at his feet and bringing him pleasure with her lips. Bruises of various colors were scattered all over her, tainting the pure smooth skin she brought into their relationship.

She left her marks too. If he looked in the mirror, he would see the crescent shaped scars she’d left behind, some still healing from spilling blood for her. He would find that her name was etched on every scratch and bite she left behind, claiming him as hers and contrasting between the scars he did not ask for, scars he earned chasing sicarios on rooftops.

Javier was marked by all the successes and failures of this perpetual chase of the bad guy. He’d tripped, fallen, jumped from balconies, been shoved into walls, pistol whipped and grazed by bullets.

She’d asked him for one thing only when he was on one knee in front of her— Give me all of you, Javi. So he did. He came home every evening, touched her with hands covered in the blood of the innocent collateral damage in this war.

He bent over her and pressed his chapped lips on her plush ones as his hand found her breasts. She tasted sweet as she always did. There was something beyond the sweet treats she was so fond of. It was just her, just the sweetness of her heart and the kindness of the words uttered by those lips. Once upon a time, she did not like his taste. Their first kiss had her pull away, face scrunched and the lips that’d rejected him complaining about the taste of cigarettes. He used to keep a pack of gum on him at all times- in his pocket, in the glove compartment, on his bedside table, in the living room just to rid himself of the vile taste of his terrible days so he could drink her sweet moans from her lips.

She no longer complained. She’d gotten used to it, had grown to like it even. They didn’t want to waste time washing away the day’s traces before getting lost in each other. They took each other as they were, accepted the ugly and the gruesome, the sweat and the weariness, the mistakes and the guilt.

He released her from the kiss and nudged her chin up by his nose. She whimpered quietly and returned her hand to his shoulders to push his leather jacket off. He helped her out, shrugging the garment off and letting her hands run over his chest with only the thin gray shirt separating them. He nibbled on her chin, reining himself back so as to not bite too hard. She had to be a few orgasms in to enjoy such roughness. He fondled a breast in his hand, pinching his index and middle fingers together to tug at her nipple.

The vibrations of her moan as he kissed down her throat went straight down to his cock. He marked her all the way in his journey from her neck to her cunt. Kiss, bite, suck, nip. Kiss, bite, suck, nip. Kiss, bite, bite, bite—

Mine, mine, mine.

Fingers found her cunt faster than his lips that were busy marking her as his. He rubbed her with his tainted hand and she raised herself off the hood of his jeep to meet his hand. He pushed her back down and placed a firm hand on her belly, pressing down to send a message.

Stay down. Obey.

She stayed put, taking only what he gave. Slick coated the tip of his finger as he pushed between her pussy lips. “Were you touching yourself before I came home, querida?”

“Yeah,” she managed to voice.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” He asked as he pushed a finger in, roughly and with no mercy. She gasped silently as she squirmed on the metal surface.

“Sorry,” she whined as he found the spot inside her that drove her wild, one that her dainty fingers couldn’t reach. “Papi, ‘m sorr—” she shrieked as he pinched her clit.

“What did I tell you about touching what’s mine?” He asked, getting irrationally angry about her pleasuring herself. Useless. Useless on the job, useless at home. An absent and neglectful husband whose wife had to resort to touching herself.

“That everything that’s yours is mine too.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she recalled the sweet beginnings of their marriage even when spread out in the most vulgar way for him.

“Everything. Except this,” he said, palming her cunt. “Let me just have this. All for myself.”

“So you’ll be a good boy and share everything else? Lend my ass to some other guy, it’ll be f—” she gasped mid-sentence as he grabbed her throat and pulled her up to meet him face-to-face.

“You letting other guys in when I’m not looking, baby?” He asked, applying the slightest pressure around her neck. He knew she would do nothing of that sort. He wouldn’t either. For all his faults as a husband, he was loyal. But they liked pretending sometimes. It played into his insecurities a little, into his fears of being so inadequate for her that she had to look elsewhere. It wasn’t a fear for him sexually. Yet. But it angered him when she asked a colleague to do so much as put up a shelf in their living room. That was his job as her husband.

“Hmm, sorry Papi… He was right there and I really missed you,” she played along as she thumbed his lips.

“Told you you were all mine, baby…” he said, pinching her clit just hard enough to bring her the pain she craved from her. She jumped and wrapped her legs around him, the heels of her feet digging into his back.

“You just told me that just now! How was I supposed to know before this?”

“Put a ring on it, didn’t I?” He said before he took her left hand and thumbed her rings. “I put three on it, in fact. What else is a man supposed to do, hmm? Put a collar on you?”

Her breath hitched, letting him know that she very much liked the image he put in her head. He took it as his cue to continue, “Would you like that? Hmm? I’ll finally make you look like the bitch in heat that you are.” She tightened around his finger and dug her feet into his back harder as though she wanted to pull him closer.

“Hnnngg please!” She whined as she began fucking herself on his middle finger. He added his ring finger, making her fuck herself on the finger that showed the world who he belonged to. Showed the world that he belonged. Showed him he wasn’t a lone man, that there was someone home who gave a fuck. He pressed the pad of his thumb on her clit, circling it gently, barely touching as she used his fingers for his pleasure.

“Javiii!” She cried his name, her voice grabbing at his heart. He belonged. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled her flush against his chest, needing to feel her skin against his.

“Yeah, baby. ‘M here, I’m yours,” he whispered into her neck and sucked on that spot that was bruised from all the times he’d wrapped his lips around it because he knew it made her melt in his arms.

She moaned his name over and over— Javi, Javi, Javiii— and he drank in all of it as he fucked her with his fingers. It grounded him, her moans. Told him she was real, this life they had was real and pushed away the horrors he’d participated in. He was just Javi, her husband Javi who just came home from work and made her scream his name. Not Agent Peña.

“Come for me, Cariño,” he encouraged when he felt her nearing her peak. He continued doing what he was doing, kept up the pace, kissed her neck and squeezed her tits, taking turns between each one when she finally collapsed in his arms, dropping her entire weight on him as she gasped for breaths.

“Want more,” she whined, her voice raspy from screaming his name. She palmed him through his jeans, making him hiss before she moved up to his belt buckle and tugged impatiently. “Want your cock, Papi.”

“Greedy little thing,” he scolded before kissing down her neck. “I just made you come, didn’t I? You’re still shaking but you already want more?”

“Pleeeeease!” She cried, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting her hands roam his chest. “I missed you.”

“Missed me? I fucked you silly in the morning before you went to work. Did you forget?”

“Missed you all day. I thought about it the whole time, thought about your cock.” She said, palming him through his jeans. He managed a smirk, trying his best to not let her know how much her touch affected him already.

“Thought you were more professional than that, bebita. Did you rub one out in the restroom thinking of me? Take a break from teaching to touch this wet little cunt for me, Mami?” He asked as he touched her gently, knowing she was still sensitive from how he played her with his fingers.

She shook her head and nuzzled into his neck, her bashful smile catching his attention before she could hide it away from him. “Can’t disappoint my darling wife, now can I?” He teased, quickly unbuckling his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans to free himself. She reached behind him and squeezed his ass before she grabbed his gun and set it aside on the hood.

The cavalierness of her action struck him. The woman who was frightened by the mere sight of his gun was now handling it casually. If he had noticed it any other day, he would’ve been proud. But not anymore… He had changed from the ambitious fool he used to be in Laredo. And he had changed her.

“Hmm yeah, don’t want your wife letting other men in her ass,” she teased as her hands roved over his torso, the pointed tips of her nails making the hairs on his arm stand up. She reached his dick and wrapped her hand around it when he decided enough was enough. He slapped her hand away, pulled her off the hood and turned her around before pushing her back down face-first. It happened so quickly that she didn’t seem to realize what had happened.

Usually, he felt guilty only after taking his frustrations out on her. Now, he felt the guilt had already begun to surround him, thickening the air he breathed until he felt it was choking him.

“Stay right there,” he ordered, holding her down as he reached into his pocket for his handcuffs. He snapped the cold metal around her wrists and leaned over to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna take you rough, cariño. Can you handle it?” When she nodded, he asked her again, “Will you let me fuck you hard? That’s okay tonight? I need to hear a yes. A clear yes.” The nodding wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t feel right in the head and he needed her to be clear.

“Yes, Javi,” she said, turning a little, her cheek pressed on the hood as she met his eyes. “I want it. I’ll tell you to stop if it gets too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he pulled his leather belt off through the loops of his jeans. As the leather cracked in the air, he noticed her ass clench. He grabbed a handful of her behind and let go before swatting the flesh. Mesmerized by the jiggling of her behind, he let her find reprieve for a few second before he repeated the motion for the other cheek. He reduced the gaps between each slap to her ass, enjoying her screams and cries, unbothered about whether they were waking the entire damn neighborhood.

When he felt she was adequately prepared, he folded his belt in two, holding the metal buckle tight in his hand and wrapping the excess leather around his fist to make sure he didn’t accidentally hit her with it. They liked leaving marks on each other, but none that would be as painful and permanent as the damage metal would cause. He reached between her legs and found her pussy, wet from her cum, making her let out the soft sounds he would lock up in the depths of his mind to look back on whenever he missed her.

“Love the pretty sounds you make for me, bebita,” he praised, pleased with himself as he caught her dazed smile. As much as he liked seeing her in the throes of pleasure, he liked it more when he could bring out her sweet smiles. It made him proud, knowing he could do that to her.

“Think you forgot the belt, Papi…” she said softly, her tone contradicting the depraved thing she was requesting.

“So eager,” he mumbled, his words buried by her scream when his belt made contact with her ass. “Quiet, querida. You don’t want to wake our neighbors. Don’t want them to run over here to check on you now, do we? They might accuse me of being an abusive husband and I will be forced to explain that my little pain-slut of a wife begs for this shit.”

She trembled underneath him, holding her hand up to seek comfort. He took her hand glady, entwining their fingers and giving it a kiss before he dropped it back down. She huffed in disappointment, making him feel just a little guilty for taking her comfort away from her. Promising himself that he would give her all the love and affection she needed after this, he slipped his ring finger inside her. He was met with no resistance and he enjoyed how she took him in, enjoyed how she dripped down his finger and coated the gold band with her deliciousness.

“You would like that, won’t you? My little exhibitionist. I knew you were one when you made me finger you in my jeep before I could take you home for a proper fuck,” he reminded her of their first time together, delighted in himself as she tightened around him. He gave her a few quick pumps before withdrawing abruptly to make her taste himself on his fingers. He tightened his grip around the belt and landed another one, the black leather kissing her skin. His hand effectively muffled her scream, but she bit down on him hard, making him hiss.

He fucked her mouth like he fucked her pussy, aloowing himself to be satisfied with how her tongue swirled around his fingers. Forgetting himself, he pressed himself against her ass, grinding to relieve himself just a little. She pushed back at him and he took a step back, realizing what he’d done.

“Mierda!” He cursed. This was not the right time to rub the rough denim of his jeans on her sensitive behind.

“Lo siento, mi amor…” he apologised, bending down to kiss her temple. “Just… can’t wait to have you.”

“Just a— just few more, Javi baby…then— and you can have me,” she breathed out between pants.

“How many more? How many can you take?”

“Four. Each. No breaks, just go. Alternate it.”

“Sí, Mami,” he nodded, taking her command. He crumbled up the soft tie of her robe and pushed it into her mouth before he stood back and took quick aims, raining her with one hit after another.

Her cries and screams were muffled by the cloth he’d shoved in her mouth, but he was certain she would be heard if someone happened to walk by the garage door. While this was a safe neighborhood thanks to it being embassy staff quarters, late night screams were unfortunately not a rare thing for the city. At other times, it chilled him to the bone and made him want to send an armed bodyguard with his precious girl wherever she went. Now, he contented himself with the fact that nobody would come knocking to check on the poor screaming woman.

He pushed his jeans down to his knees and lined himself up with her tight, wet heat before forcing himself in.

“Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” He grunted, alternating each word with a thrust into her pussy. She gripped him so tight, so good, so fucking good.

“Dios mío, Mami. Tan perfecto,” he spewed praises, grabbing her hair with his fingers and giving her a painful tug to force her to show him one half of her face. She was utterly debauched, freshly washed hair all tangled up in his hand, eyes glazed over with everything he gave her, lips bruised and swollen and cheeks covered in her tears. He was sick in the head, he knew that and God, she knew that too. He was a sick fuck, making her cry for him, getting himself harder in her cunt as he watched her spill more tears from his thrusts.

“Lo siento,” he mumbled, still giving her what brought on the tears in the first place. He knew she wanted it, she’d told him so several times, reassured him as she cradled him in her loving arms. She understood him, sometimes more than he did. She knew the depths of his wretched would and found herself a place in it rather than running away screaming.

But that didn’t make him stop apologizing, “Lo siento, Lo siento, por favor… Mi amor, perdóname, por favor—” his words caught in his throat and he let out a sob around her name. He let his tears fall, bent over her and slipped an arm around her shaking body to pull her close to himself. He buried his cries into her neck as his thrusts slipped out of rhythm.

She spat out the cloth that he’d stuffed her mouth. “Javi? Are you okay, baby?”

He shook his head, unable to hide himself from her any longer. “No te merezco,” he whispered.

“Uncuff me. Wanna— need to touch you,” she begged. He snapped her cuffs open, having left it unlocked for her safety. Her hand was on her immediately, comforting him with her touch.

“Javi…I got you, honey. I got you,” she reassured him, taking his hand in hers and giving him a squeeze. He peeked out a little like a frightened yet curious child and caught the gleaming silvery metal of his pistol on the hood. It simply sat there, too close to his wife, not inspiring the fear it should in her. He’d ruined her so much that she could simply have it in her line of vision when she took him.

“Lo sien—”

“Javi, Javi, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, mi amor… It’s alright.”

“Dime que me quieres,” he begged. He needed to know, needed to hear that she still loved him even though he doubted she would if she knew Agent Peña as much as she knew her husband Javi.

“Te quiero, te amo, Javi. Mi amor, mi corazón, mi—” she whined as he unknowingly hit a spot. All these years knowing her and he somehow didn’t know that this did it for her. He repeated the motion, thrusting in the exact same angle with the same vigor that made her cry so sweetly.

The world turned hazy around him and for just that moment, he was just Javi, just her Javi. He belonged to her and the pleasures she brought him, belonged right in her sweet pussy that made his lips moan her name over and over and— He let out sounds he didn’t recognize to be from his throat as she gripped him like a vice and he struggled with the in and out motions, needing to just bury himself in her for eternity and never leave. As though she’d heard his plea, she granted him the high he’d come home craving, pushing him over the edge yet holding onto him, keeping him safe, keeping him hers.

He stayed put even after he’d spilled inside her, needing the closeness, needing to surround himself in all her goodness whether he deserved it or not.

“Javi…What happened, baby?” She asked, caressing his hand with a tenderness that warmed his heart. “What were you apologizing for? What happened?”

He removed himself from her and turned her around to face him. He kept his eyes on the ground as he retrieved the robe that had fallen to the floor. He draped the fabric around her and she stumbled as she took a step ahead. He pulled his jeans up and zipped up before he surveyed her form. She couldn’t walk without limping. Fuck! He was the piece of fucking shit.

He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him on his chin and then on his cheek, keeping her eyes on his as he carried her through the corridors. It was thankfully too late for anyone to be wandering outside.

He laid her out on the couch when they got home, opting to sit on the floor at her feet rather than next to her. She let him place his head on her lap and even massaged his scalp with her caring hand. He shut his eyes and let himself get lost in the feeling, needing the comfort despite being undeserving.

“You were right,” he spoke quietly into the night.

“About what, mi amor?” Another time, he was sure she would have laughed and said she always was.

“When you said you didn’t see a difference. Our first fight. You said you didn’t see the difference between them and us. ‘S bad no matter who does it, the violence. Guns.”

“That was a long— why are we talking about this now? Is that what’s got you so worried? Javi, I didn’t know what I know now. It was a very…reductive way of thinking about it. I told you that much later.”

He felt he’d manipulated her somehow, put the perspective of the bright-eyed young Javier who’d come to Columbia to be ‘the good guy’ who put bad guys in jail and saved the world or whatever the fuck he thought he was going to do. He had done good, sure, but the bad… Oh god the bad.

“Carillo is back.”

“Yeah, you told me…”

“Whenever we go on a fucking operation, the guys we’re trying to nab are always a step ahead of us. Escobar’s got informants everywhere. Kids. Some the size of your nieces. Couple teenagers. Bad situation at home, either they don’t have a choice, or they don’t yet understand what the hell they’re doing… I thought we were just going to scare them. We rounded them up, Carillo was doing the talking. This kid got too mouthy, you know that kind of teenager with the ‘fuck the police’ attitude and enough blind courage fuelled by his newfound independence… It just felt off, baby. I should’ve done something, but— This is how it’s going to go from now on and everyone will turn a blind eye because we’re just that desperate.”

“Javi… Tell me what happened.”

“He shot him,” he managed to say. “Carillo shot the kid. To make a fucking point.”

Her hand stilled in his hair and her eyes widened. “I want to think there’s a difference, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday to see it. Escobar’s using these kids to save his own ass and we’re killing them to send him a fuckin’ message.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

It was a statement, but he replied as though it was a question. “I didn’t pull the trigger.” He was a piece of shit, but he needed her to know that he hadn’t gotten that bad.

“You can’t carry others’ sins on your back, Javi.”

“I was there when—”

“So were the others. And Carillo pulled the trigger. You think he’s at home apologizing to his wife?”

Yeah but you didn’t marry Carillo.

He shook his head and she took his face in her hand, cradling his cheek like he was something precious. “You do what you can, Javi. Your hands are as clean as can be for a DEA Agent. You can’t bear other men’s sins. And you can’t change how entire governments operate.”

“You wouldn’t have said that before.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have. Back then, I didn’t have to stay up all night waiting to hear my husband’s car arrive so that I could run to him and see for myself if he’d come home to me in one piece. I was on the outside before but now I’m in the heart of it, with you. I know you try to shield me from the worst of it. I see how you and Steve whisper about work instead of talking out loud. But I’m not naïve. I know you’re in danger most days and there are some things that you just have to do.”

“I have blood on my hands. I’m not the same man you married. And you’re not the same, I changed you. I made you believe in something I don’t believe in anymore, pulled you into my mess and—”

“It’s okay,” she declared with a quiet smile. “As long as it’s not your heart. As long as you’re not bleeding out on the streets. If you need to get blood on your hands to keep yourself alive out there, I won’t stand in your way. I don’t want you thinking about whether I would approve of the morals of what you did. I don’t care if I change. Change me, get the blood on your hands on mine and I’ll clean you up before I have to send you back out there. I don’t care who has to bleed for you to see another day. I’ll always take the man you are when you come home, no matter how much you have changed. I know in my heart that you’ll never do what Carillo did. I know who I married and it’s not a Carillo.”

She pushed his errant curls out of his face, bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “You are the same man I married. You have heart. And you want to do the right thing. Unfortunately,” she said, taking a deep breath. “There are just some things you can’t control and you just have to let go of it to face the next day. You can’t do that with others’ sins on your shoulders. You know you have enough of your own to lug around.”

She allowed him her comforts, her words and her touch and the warmth of her lap as he put his head down. He wasn’t wholly convinced by her words, but closed his eyes knowing she would be there when he came home. She would have him, broken down and full of guilt. He would come home to her for the rest of time and find salvation in her arms and that would be enough.

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