#hiding this in the tags but the ‘drop everything if you care about this stuff still or are doing fandom it’s bad’ people

[ouidamforeman]

Might be the 10 pm talking but all the people yelling about how the only ethical choice is to burn everything Neil Gaiman has ever touched creatively, especially his comics, tv adaptations, and good omens in any of its forms, are really giving him an incredible amount of sole auteur credit he frankly doesn��t deserve in these instances and i can’t help but feel that’s falling into his weird celebrity trap. im sure he’d love to hear what a special irreplaceable genius in charge of everything he’s ever touched you think he is lol

(Side note i cannot speak about his actual solo work because i have never finished a single one of his solo books so it’s not really my issue to have feelings with there. But by all means don’t buy any more of them new if you feel right about that)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweaty Palms 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Curtis Everett

Summary: You start going to the gym to break old habits, but new things are scary.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You’ve never been to a gym before. You’ve never been to a lot of places. Crowds are not your forte, public places are your personal nightmare, and strangers make your nervous. Everything makes you nervous. 

You can’t hide forever. That’s the conclusion you’ve come to. It's not a very comfortable one for you but if you don’t change, you’re always going to feel like this. Heavy, deflated, lost. It’s hard to put into words the feeling. The world just seems to pass you by, it functions around you, and sometimes you almost believe you’re not really there. Like a ghost, you just watch it without effect. 

The extra fifteen dollars a month isn’t too much of a stretch. You can hold off on your Kindle addiction for the expense. That’s another thing, you need to start being smart, more practical with your money. 

Planning. That’s something you’re working on. You didn’t come without one. You wouldn’t make it past the door without a set of steps to follow. 

You stop by the front counter first. You ask the woman behind it about how to get into the gym. You bought a membership online. She brings up your profile and issues you a membership card, explaining how you can also download the app and register with your member number. You thank her and continue through. 

You walk along the first floor, the leg machines and the rowing machines being worked by the regulars. You find your way to the dressing room on the second floor and enter with your head down. You try not to look anywhere but where you need to. You find a stall and change, packing away your street clothes, then go out to find a locker to shove your stuff in. 

You emerge with your phone and your new smart watch strapped to your wrist. You glance at the face of it. Your heart rate is already elevated. You unlock your phone and tap the app you downloaded the day before. You flipped through the catalogue of beginners’ workouts but didn’t have any of the equipment to do it yourself. It’s cheaper to just come here. 

You go to one of the spaces laid with mats and stop before one of the racks of weights. You stare at your phone in exasperation. You don’t understand, you’re connected to the wifi but the app just won’t connect. You could try on your own but you really don’t know what you’re doing. 

Ugh, why did you even bother? This is just another failure. You try restarting the app and then your phone, aware of the activity around you. Does anyone notice how clueless you look? 

“Hit it or quit it, little girl,” a man startles you as he brushes by you and grabs a large set of dumbbells, the thirty on the side catching your eye. You shift out of the way and press your phone against your chest, the smooth fabric of your shirt causing it to vibrate as if you tapped the screen. “This isn’t the phone club, it’s a gym.” 

“Sorry, I...” 

“There’s a cafe across the street, you can go play candy crush there,” he scoffs, “seems more your speed.” 

“Must feel real big, huh?” A gritty voice nears from your other side, “real heavy lifting there, pushing around a woman.” 

“Huh?” The first man narrows his eyes as he grips the set of dumbbells at his sides and faces the other man.  

He’s taller than you, muscular but not too bulky. His head is shaved and a dark short beard lines his jaw. Similar hair peeks out from the top of his tee shirt and dusts his toned arms. He slips past you, inserting himself between you and the gym watchdog. 

“Bro,” the first guy sneers, “don’t even start with me. You think you can step up.” 

“I’m not stepping up,” the other man defies, “I’m telling you to mind your business. Take your weights and leave her alone.” 

“Pfft, this some sort of date? You know, this isn’t the Olive Garden--” 

The second man crosses his arms, his back to you as he postures at the other man. He’s silent as he stares him down. You can’t see his face but you can feel the tension roiling off of him. There’s a thick lull as both men stand in a deadlock. 

“Got something to say, bud,” the first guy drops the weights and they boom against the floor. You wince and step back, “go on, I could use the work out.” 

“I said it,” the second man utters flatly, unyielding as he looms like a wall between you. 

“Fucking loser,” the other spits back, “you’re really gonna fuck around for that? Have you seen the skin around her?.” 

The man doesn’t respond. He stays as he is, an unmoving sentinel. The other man growls in frustration. 

“Fucking chicken shit, why don’t you speak up, dude?” 

Still no answer. Just a glare. You clutch your phone against your chest, frozen in horror and confusion. You didn’t mean to start a fight. You hate confrontation. 

Suddenly, the man before you jerks as he’s grabbed by the large man. His back hits you slightly and you drop your phone as he latches onto the other man. Everything happens so fast. The man who came to your defence has the other man on his back on the mat in seconds, a knee on his chest as his fists clasp around the top of his tank top. He bends over him and snarls. 

“Christ, bro, get the fuck off of me,” the man on the floor shoves on his arm helplessly.  

You glance around and notice the audience forming around you. Oh no. You look back to the two men. You step forward and tap the closest man on the shoulder, the one who defended you. 

“Please,” you croak nervously, “I don’t wanna get in trouble.” 

He turns his head, glancing back at you with powder blue eyes made bright by the dark row of his lashes. He exhales and lets go of the other man. He stands and puts his arm out as if to keep your behind him. 

“You really want me to repeat myself?” He sneers down at the other man. 

The larger man pushes himself up and scowls, shaking his head and he turns to stalk off muttering, leaving behind his forgotten dumbbells. The other man bends to pick them up and returns them to the rack. You look down at your empty hands then search the floor. 

You reach for your phone but it’s plucked up before you. The man brings it up between you and holds it out. You take it with a thank you. 

“No problem,” he rasps. 

“I... you didn’t have to--” 

“That guy’s an—he's not nice,” he corrects himself and drags his hand over his mouth and chin, “I don’t like bullies.” 

“It’s my fault,” you shrug, “I was in the way. But er, thanks. I'm... I’m sorry.” 

You turn away and look back at your phone. The app isn’t working. It says it needs another update. 

“You need help with something?” The man asks. 

“I...” you peek at him over your shoulder, “yeah, I... I don’t... I don’t usually... it’s my first time.” 

He nods and hums as he steps closer. You face him and show him your phone. You’re jittery as it trembles in your grip. He’s a stranger. Your whole plan was to avoid those. 

“I got this app to help but it’s not working,” you frown. 

“Try the update?” He points his thick, long finger at the screen. 

You tap and keep the phone visible. The app shop comes up and the update button is grayed out. Underneath, italics read ‘this update is not available for this device’. You frown and bring the screen closer to your face. 

“It won’t let me,” you pout and flick your lashes, mortified. How are you this helpless? Why did you have to have a witness? Several. You look around, some eyes darting in your direction. 

“Hm, well, what are you trying to do? You said this is your first day?” He prompts, “I could... I could help out a little. If you need. I’m no trainer, I just do my own thing but I could try.” 

You bat your lashes up at him then look back at your phone. You don’t know what else to do. Your whole plan has fallen apart because your operating system is outdated. 

“I... I’m not very... athletic,” you explain, “so I can’t go very fast.” 

“That’s okay,” he assures you, “I can go slow.” 

“You don’t have to do that. I can figure it out.” 

“I know I don’t have to,” he shifts and peers over his shoulder, “but how about I stay close anyway,” he moves and you can see the guy from earlier staring daggers from a chest press, “just in case.” 

“Oh, I... I’m sorry,” you tuck your phone into the pocket of your leggings, “I made him mad.” 

“Let him be mad. Got nothing to do with you,” he turns back to you again, “I could take you through some stretches and basics; lunges, squats, stuff like that. As best I can.” 

“Erm, I guess... I don’t wanna be in the way,” you rub your neck. 

“Not in my way,” he says evenly, “lets grab some weights first.” 

He directs you to the rack and without a thought you go to it. He approaches beside you as you realise, you didn’t say yes, you didn’t agree to this, but you don’t know what else to do. 

“Start with some twos,” he advises, “and if you’re not getting a good burn, we can up it later.” 

“Oh, okay,” you grab the dumbbells with the large twos on the side. He grabs the twenties. You feel totally inadequate. 

“So let’s get out space,” he backs up and looks around the mat, “here should be good.” He bends and sets down his weights, "for now, let’s put these aside and start our stretches. You don’t wanna pull anything.” 

You nod and place your weights beside you. You stand and stare at him. He’s in good shape. Great shape. He makes you even more conscious of your neglect. You already feel breathless. 

“I’m Curtis by the way,” he steps forward and offers his hand. 

“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name. 

“Pretty,” he says as he squeezes before letting you go. His hand is huge compared to yours and the gap in your strength is obvious just in that small gesture. 

“Alright, easy, slow, arms out,” he extends arms, “roll your shoulders and your head, loosen up.” 

You watch him and hesitate to follow his direction. You hate that there’s so many people around. You don’t want to look stupid. You’re so ungainly and awkward.  

“Try not to think about it too much. We’re all just here to work out, right?” He says and you shy away, embarrassed that he noticed your discomfort. You raise your arms and start the stretches, “good, you’re doing good, angel. Make sure to breath, alright?” 

You roll your shoulders and head and blow out a breath. Your nerves are pinging all over and your muscles are shaky. This isn’t what you expected at all. Your plans fallen to pieces and yet, it’s not entirely a lost cause. 

“Arms up,” he guides you into the next exercise, “on your toes, reach as far as you can...” 

You obey, letting his voice guide you. His deep, calm timber is almost comforting. The even tenor is a stark contrast to chaotic nervously. You can get through this. 

[fandoms--fluff]

Heyyy, can you do a Stefan x f reader who is afraid of storms / has trauma from all the vampire stuff. And she’s going to bed one night and her window slams open due to the storm and she gets scared and calls Stefan to come over? He comforts her cause she’s crying and things and cuddles with her until she falls asleep.

(Can you tag me if you write it? Thxxx)

Booming Thunder

Flufftober, October 13th

Female reader x Stefan Salvatore

Warnings: storms? and mentions of death?

@lizzielovesmovies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yawning, you put your book away on the shelf before pattering towards your bed. Before you pull the covers away, there's a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning outside your window. You flinch, "Really?" You mumble. It's been storming since two in the afternoon and now it's eleven thirty at night and the storm is still at it.

You turn your lamp off before crawling into your bed. As you get comfortable and snuggle into the blankets another boom happens. You shudder, hiding underneath the blankets and cuddling one of your pillows close to you for comfort.

You've never liked storms, ever since your mother died when she was driving the car in a storm with you in the backseat. You were six at the time and grew up basically alone. Your father being barely around and almost always at work. But you got through it, not caring as much as you probably should.

You have enough problems at hand with almost dying every other week with knowing about the supernatural and vampires in the small town.

After a good amount of time between the booming thunder, you start to doze off to sleep, putting the day behind you. That is until a big flash of lighting comes down and a booming clap of thunder shoots right to your window. It swings right open, flinging one of the hinges across the room, making a big clattering sound.

You let out a screech, eyes glistening with tears. You slowly poke your head out of the blanket and see your window flung open, shaking in the wind and rain coming through it, making your floor and shelving wet. Thankfully the window's far enough away and your bed and yourself aren't getting wet.

But at the moment, that's the least of your worries. You're trying not to cry, but it's being proved useless as you feel tears fall down your cheeks.

You shakily reach over to your nightstand and grab your phone. Punching in the number to Stefan's phone, you call him, hoping he's near it and awake. But at this point, you don't care if you do wake him.

On the third ring, he thankfully picks up, "Hello?" He answers. The good thing is, it doesn't sound like there's any sleep in his voice. "Stefan" Your voice cracks into the phone.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you hurt?" He asks, everything running through his mind of what could happen.

"Umm, nothing bad or dangerous. It's just the storm and the window is broken and I don't know what's wrong with me, ugh." you tell him, your voice shaking. "Can you come? Please?" You plead to him.

"I'll be there as soon as I can" He tells you, hanging up and making his way to your house as quickly as possible.

You pull the phone away from your ear, your hand shaking and drop the phone on your bed beside you. Another clap of thunder rains through the broken window and you hug your pillow closer to you, shivering. "Please, hurry" You whisper, wishing he could hear you, but you know there's no way he can.

In no time, you hear someone entering your house and make their way up to your room. "Stefan?" You call out, really hoping it's him. "Yeah, yeah it's me" Stefan answers, coming into your room and turning the light on.

Once he sees the tear streaks on your cheeks and more threatening to fall, he rushes over to you. He sits next to you and brings you into his arms. "I'm here, I'm here, Baby" Stefan holds you tight against his chest.

"I'm sorry" you whimper. "It's just the storm, I hate them, it brings back bad memories and it broke my window" You sniffle.

He slowly pulls away from you to see your face and then looks over to the broken window.

"Do you want to go downstairs? We can sleep on the couch and stay warm down there. And then I can fix the window tomorrow" He tells you.

"Yes, yes please" You tell him, holding tight to him. "Alright, lets go" He stands up with you still in his arms and carries you down the stairs to the living room. He places you on the couch as he grabs some blankets from the basket in the corner of the room.

He lays on the couch and opens his arms. You crawl into his arms and snuggle close to him, taking in all his warmth. Stefan sets the blankets all around you guys to keep you warm.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Baby" He runs his hand through your hair gently. "Thanks for being here with me" You snuggle into his chest.

"Of course" he places a kiss to your head.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 10

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Scott is frustrated that no one listens to him. Present. Once again, no one listens to Scott.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Before

When Logan was called into Charles's office, he knew it wasn't going to be good.

"Would you care to explain to me why one of my students saw you and Cyclops fighting last night?"

Logan didn't really want to deal with this. He had enough self hatred for whatever he did to make you cry, he didn't need Charles disappointed in him too.

"Are you gonna lecture Scott about it too?"

"I will be talking to him, as well as Remy and Miss Palmer. Fights are something I have to take seriously. What kind of example are you setting for the children?"

As much as Logan wanted to blame it all on Scott, make the little prick pay, he thought back to you. You liked Scott, you'd be upset if Scott got in trouble for you... It was best to just be honest.

"Listen Chuck, it was a mistake, but it wasn't Scotts fault, okay? I saw him messing with her sleeve, showing skin she don't like to show. You know how she is about that stuff." Charles nodded and raised a brow, clearly confused by Scotts actions but not jumping to conclusions. "I saw what he did, and you can't blame me for getting pissed, right? We went out back and fought, Remy broke it up. He only touched her like that because she was hiding... claw marks on back..."

Again, Charles was listening rationally. "And what were they from, son?"

Logan rolls his eyes, groaning. "you know what they were from, but it ain't like that. She came to me when I was having a nightmare and I must've scratched her in my sleep. I didn't even know I cut her until yesterday. Scott and I were both just trying to protect her, okay?"

For a long moment, Charles's eyes simple stayed locked with logan, watching him, searching him. Charles doesn't read minds unless he really needs to, seeing it was a violation of privacy he didn't use lightly.

"I know in the past I've told you i wouldn't tell you what to do, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put my foot down about you and our young teacher."

He felt like a weight had been dropped on his stomach. "What?"

"I know a romance of sorts has formed, and I do not know how far it's gone nor do I care to. It needs to end. She is a child, Logan. I know she's opened up to you but i doubt she's told you the full story."

You hadn't, he knew, and Logan growled in frustration. "So tell me!"

"That is not my story to tell."

"But you can tell me not to see her? You don't think she can make her own choices?"

"She can't even choose what to make for dinner without crying. She's not at a place where she's ready to date."

But he'd take care of that. Logan would take care of dinner, he'd drive you anywhere and everywhere, he'd make sure you were happy and healthy and taken care of. You didn't need menial choices! You didn't need independence! You needed protection, a caretaker!

"So you just think I'm so fucking awful I'm gonna hurt that hurt, that what you think?"

"That is not what I'm saying."

Logan paused, staring down Charles and heavy breathing as he tried to control his anger. His hands fist the side of Charles's desk, knuckles turning white. He couldn't leave you alone. As soon as he saw you that day with Remy, he was cooked. By the time he got back to the mansion with you giggling at his side, Logan knew there was no future for him without you.

"Charles." Logan grinds out, jaw clenched. "I'm not going to hurt her. I love her."

At that, Charles softened a tad. "I know, son. But this is for the best. There are plenty of women here, women in this world that you could choose from. Why do you have to pick those you can't have?"

He was referencing Jean, of course.

"It's... not like that..."

You were different. You were soft and gentle and happy. You were kind and loving and you wanted him, him and only him. There was no Scott getting in the way. There were no powers, no mutations. Just a sweet girl who needed him to protect you. You were different from Jean.

"Logan, I'm sorry. But this is how it must be. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt her, but she is fragile. For the record, I would say this if it was Scott, Remy, or Kurt. This is about her, not you."

Logan didn't believe that for a second, storming out the door and right past Scott who was waiting for his turn to speak to Charles.

After

God, this felt good.

The Monday after the schools prom.

2 days after Logan finally made love to you the way he wanted to, the way you deserved.

This morning, Logan walked you to your first class, your arm looped around his. You wore a tight dress for the first time in months to show off the pregnant stomach that swelled with his baby. His baby was growing inside you. The hallways hushed saved for the murmurs of students and teachers as he showed you off, both of you smiling. The secret was out. You were making your public debute.

Logan spotted Scott standing next to Jean, their conversation halted as he lead you to your classroom.

"Have a good day, dollface. I'll see you at lunch."

You beamed up at him in his arms. "You too Lo. I love you."

Then, making direct eye contact with Jean and then Scott, Logan took your chin in his hands and gave you a deep, open mouthed kiss. He heard a whistle from a student, but he didn't care as he slid his tongue inside you.

Scott stormed off, leaving jean behind. No doubt he was on his way to tattle to Charles now that he was back from his several month trip.

*

"I'm fine, Mr. Xavier. Really. Logan is good to me." You sat in front of your boss at his office. Scott had brought the new development to Charles immediately of course, and now you were being questioned. Logan had told you that Charles had instructed him to stay away from you, and now it was your job to convince him that everything was okay. For the sake of raising your baby in a two parent, loving and stable household, you'd omit how this happened, exactly. you'd push away your fears and focus on the man Logan had shown you he could be, not the version you worried was still lurking inside.

"Miss Palmer, Scott seems extremely worried. He is concerned that Logan has forced you into something or has harmed you in some way."

You resist the urge to vehemently defend Logan the way you had to Scott, but remember that that only served to make him more suspicious. Instead, you settle for indignation. "Mr. Xavier," You say in your best offended tone. "Logan loves me. he would never hurt me. he's not like Mark and frankly, I don't appreciate Mr. Summers throwing accusations around wildly. I thought after the incident at the dance where he was proven wrong, he would leave us alone, but he seems obsessive."

A small smile on Charles's face. "And you're aware of their history?"

"Yes, I am very aware. Mr. Summers won back Ms. Grey, so I don't understand why he can't just let Logan be happy. He's not a bad person, you know this. He's a good man, and he watches out for me."

A short pause. "Yes, I am aware Logan is a better man than Scott seems to think. If you would allow me to see into your mind, I can clear-"

"No." You say a little too quickly. Charles didn't force his way into peoples minds. You'd given him permission when you first met him so that he could see what happened to you, see what you did and why you felt no remorse for it. You would not allow that again, knowing what he'd see. He'd see Logan raping you, but he'd never understand why you defended him. He couldn't understand what you saw in Logan, the hope to put it all behind you and start new. "Forgive me, but I'm a private person. There are things I keep to myself."

He nods. "I understand. It seems, however, that you are quite distressed. I can sense it radiating off you. You have to understand my concern."

"Maybe my distress has to do with being raised in a cult, becoming a child bride and being beat for 7 years because i couldn't have a child which I was told was my only purpose in this world?"

Your words hung in the air, tension laced the nervous shuffling in your seat. You place a hand over your stomach. "I apologize, Mr. Xavier. Hormones. I-" You sigh, standing up. "We have an appointment, I have to go." You don't tell him it's your first appointment. You don't tell him you haven't seen a doctor because for the first 3 months you were convinced you would have an abortion. You didn't tell him Logan has to practically drag you here after everything you'd experienced from doctors before.

Charles watches you leave. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, child. We were here to help you. We won't fail you the way you have been failed before."

You almost laugh at that. "Please stop insinuating my boyfriend abuses me. That's how you can help." You open the door to see Logan right where you left him, waiting for you with worry in his eyes.

"Everything okay, Dolly?" He hugs you, eyes connecting over your shoulder to Charles.

"Yeah, everything's fine Lo. Let's go to the appointment."

*

"You can't fucking be serious!" Scott shouts as Remy leaves Charles's office. Scott insisted Charles speak to Remy, that surely her best friend would know something. But when Remy opened the door, and Charles said he's found nothing to suggest you are being harmed, Scott was infuriated.

Charles rolled over to where Scott and Remy stood. "She is insistent she is fine, and everyone we've spoke to says Logan never even raises his voice around her."

"But- months ago, something happened! She wasn't eating, the nightmares-" He gestures to Remy. "You said her nightmares got worse!"

Remy shrugs. "Lovers spat, Cher. She said they worked it out after she found out she was pregnant. It makes sense she's under stress right now, pregnancy outside of marriage is a shameful thing where she grew up."

Scott groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So you don't think it's suspicious she's pregnant? You don't think it's weird she's having sex this soon after leaving all that?"

"Cyclops." Charles warns, but Scott is just looking at remy now. How can he not see it?

Remy glares at Scott. "If you are suggesting Logan raped her you better come prepared to back that up other than this pissing contest between the two of you."

"It's not-"

"Accusing someone of rape is a big fucking deal you can't be throwing around. Last time you accused Logan of clawing her, you looked stupid so I would hope you have something more this time. Well, Scott, what do you have? What grand evidence is there that you can't just let them be happy?" When Scott didn't speak, Remy laughed. "Just as I thought, nothing. Go home to your wife, Scott."

Remy left the room, leaving Charles and Scott alone.

"You can't be serious, Charles."

The older man sighed, looking to his protégé. "Son, you know i respect your opinions and concerns. If you have any evidence-"

Scott heard enough, and stormed out. He wasn't crazy. he wasn't jealous. He didn't hate Logan simply because he fucked his wife. Okay well maybe that was the start. But this? This was wrong. You need help, even if you can't see it.

*

"Look so good like this, baby doll..." Logan mumbled into your neck. You and him laid on the couch watching Gladiator, but the movie was long forgotten. Who was Russel Crowe compared to Logan Howlett? He was hard against you, his cock pressed up against your ass underneath the blanket you insisted on because you were wearing a skirt, his arm wrapped around your middle, caressing your stomach. he was obsessed with your stomach, wanted to touch you there every chance he could.

"Logan, the movie," You giggle but make no attempt to stop as he kissed your neck. You loved the attention. You loved his gentle touches. You were nervous about having a baby, but Logan assured you every step of the way.

The appointment last week had gone well. You told the doctor you hadn't known you were pregnant, that it was a surprise, so he made sure to do a thorough check since you were 4 months along. You hadn't seen a doctor in all that time, but you had been eating well and Logan had brought you prenatal vitamins. Doctor said everything looked normal and healthy, thank god. You hadn't wanted this, not this way anyway, but you'd never forgive yourself if you somehow messed up your child's life with your indecision.

Logan's hands roamed your body under the blanket, humming against your skin. "My pretty wife... my perfect girl..." Logan had said he'd propose, that you and him were gonna get married... you were going to be a wife again. Logan's wife. he'd be different. This time would be different. You'd given logan a baby, so he had no reason to hurt you like Mark had.

"My husband..." You sigh, grinning ear to ear.

"You two are disgusting." Remy spoke, and you suddenly remembered he was in the chair, supposed to be watching the movie with you and Logan. You quickly grab Logan's hand away from where it was about to slide up your skirt, and sit up with a deep blush. Logan had promised to spend more time with Remy, you wanted them to be good friends. They were already casual friends long before you knew either one, but you wanted them to be closer. Remy was your family, the person other than Logan you spent the most time with. You had other friends now, Rogue and Ororo, and you and Emma had even begun to hang out, but Remy was your number one. He was the only person other than Logan and Charles you'd told about your past in full, although you suspected Scott knew from Charles.

Logan sat up with you, but didn't let you go, instead sitting you between his legs on his lap. His hands stayed far more decent now.

"Sorry..." You mumble, but Remy is smiling.

"Don't worry pistache, I'm just happy to see you finally together."

You tried to focus more on the movie, and not Logan's throbbing erection still nuzzled against you and how you were going to take care of it later. Everything was going fairly well. Logan slept in your room most nights, but sometimes you'd wake up to find him gone. Those were nights he had nightmares, so he got up and went back to sleep in his own room. If he was in a bad headspace he'd sleep away from you too, to not risk hurting you again.

Your nightmares, however, would not stop. Nearly every night you woke up in Logan's arms as he tried to gently wake you, the horrors of what you dreamed of still sharp and brutal in your mind. You couldn't understand why they hadn't stopped, why Logan's faded to less and less while yours increased. You were supposed to be in love. your happy ending with a husband and a baby... so where was the happy?

"Well, well, well, look who finally escaped the throuple from hell." From the doorway of the common room, and glib voice pulled everyone's attention to were Wade stood. You'd never met him, but you'd seen a few pictures here and there. He was someone Logan actually liked, and in his very minimalist decor of his room, there was a small framed picture of him and Wade Wilson together. Next to it now sat a picture from your first ultrasound.

"Shit, Wade" You can here the smile in logan's voice. "I didn't know you were coming."

Still grinning, Wade shrugged. "Yeah, well, I might have caused a few issues with the Time Variant Authority. Gross misuse of a time traveling device to save my girlfriend and all that. Gonna lay low for a bit, figured I'd come see you and my favorite piece of Cajun spiced ass."

Remy got up from his chair to greet Wade in a big hug. "Nice to see you too, asshole."

Logan spoke again. "I'd get up to say hi, but I'm pretty sure my dick would be saying hi too."

"Logan!" You admonish, face burning in embarrassment as your lover whispered a half-hearted apology in your ear.

"Oh-ho-ho, trust me peanut I would not be complaining." Wade looked to you. "And just who is this pretty piece of pumpkin pie?"

"Watch it, mouth." Logan growled behind you. "She's mine." Him calling you his made you warm up even more, as if the display every single morning as he walked you to class didn't say that enough.

"I see that!" Wade is nearly chuckling, a twinkle in his eye. Logan went to Wade's right after Jean chose Scott over him, so Wade was very aware of everything he'd been through. No doubt he was happy to see his friend in a better position. "No more crawling back to Jean and Scott like a lost wolvie?"

"I never fucked Scott you goddamn twink"

"Sure you didn't." Wade lifted himself off where he leaned against the wall, walking towards where you sat. You were raised to be polite, so much to Logan's grumbling you stood up. Logan covered his pants with the blanket. "Wade Wilson." He extended his hand. "And you are?"

"Judith Palmer." You gave him your fake name.

"My fiancé." Logan asserts from the couch.

With the blanket off, your pregnant stomach was on full display, and Wade's eyes nearly bugged out of his head looking at you.

"Good golly miss molly, she sure as hell is! Fucking hell, I've been in need of a good tea spill sesh, this is just the right time." A deep breath and a dreamy sigh, Wade looked between you, Logan, and Remy as he crossed his arms, grinning. "So tell me, how did all this happen?"

Sorry it took so long to update!!!! I've been, frankly, very sick. If you havnt seen my posts, I spent one weekend literally friday to monday laid up, so lethargic i couldn't lift my arms sometimes. I have an amazing roommate whose in nursing school who i love dearly who took care of me.

two weeks later im still sick. Not lethargic and feverish but bronchitis now :( suffering.

And i still have school to catch up on.

but i finally got a better laptop thanks to black friday sales which has made doing stuff fast without lagging and crashing unexpectedly.

so, WELCOME WADE WILSON!!!!!!

And scott, poor scott. I've been telling my friend whose not a fanfiction reader about this series and shes been helping me with things, she says the fact that scott is the only one who sees something is wrong and no one is listening to him is "biblically accurate scott summers" LMFAOOOO

We're probs not gonna meet all the xmen, even the ones i actually know. Idk if we'll even see kurt again. but they are around! scott, remy, and wade will be the biggest piece.

thanks so much for all the love!!!

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstarr @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[icycoldninja]

Hello! Can you do a dmc boys + V with a rich S/o? Perhaps the boys didn’t know that their s/o was rich when they first started dating but as time went on and the relationship becomes serious the s/o starts to spoil their boyfriends with all kinds of stuff related to the things they like because after the stuff they went through they definitely deserve it.

Aww yes, here you go and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Rich!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-He was completely oblivious to your wealth (as you did a great job of hiding it) and didn't really give it much thought until one day, when his power went out.

-He groaned, suddenly remembering he had no money to pay the bills, but then, astoundingly, the lights flickered back on.

-Was it a miracle? No, even better, it was you. You had paid his bills and gotten him out of debt with Lady--how?! Then you revealed you were rich, and Dante's mind was blown.

-Even after this stunning revalation, Dante still didn't care. He was very thankful for all your help, but he honestly had no sentiments towards being rich. He still treated you the same.

-The only thing he'll ask you for is for you to buy him some pizza, maybe once every week or so. He's not greedy.

-If you decide to shower him with presents anyway, he'll gladly accept and immediately find a way to make it up to you, be it taking you somewhere nice or...something else. No do not read into that

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil never noticed, and never cared. He is far too MOTIVATED to trifle with mundane things such as wealth.

-But then you presented him with a rare copy of a book that was worth hundreds of dollars, and he had to question, how did you obtain the funds for such a thing?

-Thus, you revealed you were absolutely loaded with cash, and Vergil was, understably shocked.

-After thanking you, he went right back to not caring about wealth because now he has this interesting book to read.

-Still, he appreciates it when you gift him little gifts, regardless of what they may be. You could give him a pebble you found on the side of the road, and he'd still treasure it forever.

-To reward you for your generosity, Vergil will do his best to take good care of you, physically and otherwise.

□ Nero □

-Nero didn't think much of it either, cause he's not shallow, but one day, Nico's van broke down in the middle of the road and was assaulted by demons who ripped up the exterior. Repairs were going to be extremely expensive, but then you stepped in and promised to take care of it all.

-Nero had to wonder, where'd you get the funds for that? You sheepishly revealed your wealth and he just shrugged.

-After thanking you and all that, things proceeded as usual, with you and Nero splitting the bills for everything as you always do.

-Nero never asks for anything, regardless of how expensive it is, but you don't care. You shower him with gifts, love and affection because this sweet boy deserves it.

-You two end up leaving little treats 'n things for each other at a designated "drop off" spot somewhere in your house.

-Your gifts always seem to be well thought out and expertly made, proving that you don't just buy meaningless trinkets to appease him, you get him things that truly have value.

● V ●

-V noticed you always seemed to be impeccably dressed, but didn't dwell on the subject since it wasn't all that important. His current objective was to get to know you further.

-Then, as things progressed between you, he found himself constantly receiving little presents on his doorstep, usually wrapped in shimmering velvet bows. There was no name tag and no writing on it, so he had no idea who was doing this or why.

-One day, Griffon caught you placing a little gift box and, Griffon being Griffon, decided to rat you out.

-V then approached you the next day and expressed his appreciation, which led to a massive confession on both your parts. You explained you just wanted to give him the luxury he deserves, and he was very touched, but insisted you didn't need to do that.

-But of course, you don't listen, and continued to spoil him however possible, even if you have to break in at 3:00 A.M. and leave it on his kitchen table.

-Eventually you had him move in with you, where you can treat him like the lovely princess he is.

[somewhat-insane]

Kinda request? You can denial if you don't like.

Sun Wukong x Male!Reader

Just reader take control of everything and shower the king with love hc

Ooo~ Yes! I need more x Male!Reader things in the fandom. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to write gendered readers so I don't think there's actually any implication the reader is male but- just believe I had a Male!Reader in mind- (I hope I understood the request correctly-)

~Sun Wukong x Male!Reader ~

Tags: Ooc, fluff

!!Warnings!!: Wukong's my favorite character so I kinda lost control of this one a bit so just- manage your expectations, mentally ill monkey doesn't know how to be normal about emotions

Doesn't really know how to react at first when you scratch behind his ears and groom his fur and squish his cheeks

He's the monkey king after all! The Great Sage; Equal to heaven! He can't break just because someone treats him with "love" and "care" pfft... but also, don't stop

He's not used to people being so... forward with him in this way

Sure, he's used to MK's enthusiasm and even Mei's impulsive rage, but, aside from a hug here and there, he's not used to such blunt affection

Emotional rollercoaster

"Obviously you love me! I'm the monkey king! ... But also, why don't you hate me?"

He's pretty suspicious for a while but tries to hide it in front of the others

He'll drop passive-aggressive hints but won't be outwardly rude UNLESS you meet his energy in which case he will start being blunt and insult you to your face (though, at this point I'm like 90% sure he's trying to flirt but not even he knows. He just likes going back and forth with you; though he sometimes gets genuinely upset, especially if you mention his past or mental state. He'll sulk for a while but then he gets an idea for a good comeback and is back to his old self)

How and why you show him love will determine how quickly he gets vulnerable with you

If you're gentle with him and just genuinely want to show him love and care, then I'd give him anywhere between a week and a month

One day you do one loving thing too many and he snaps

Literally

You're just letting him lay his head on your shoulder while you play with his hair and suddenly he's snarling and baring his teeth demanding that you tell him what you're planning

"You must be planning something! Otherwise, why would you be doing all this nice stuff and act so affectionate?"

After arguing with him and trying to calm him down, he starts crying and, congrats! Now you have to comfort a crying, immortal, murder monkey who is clinging to you like you'll disappear

After that, I wouldn't say he fully believes you--he'll always be subconsciously waiting for you to betray him--but he does start seeking you out and letting you love on him (and now he returns the affection!)

On the other hand, if you just show him affection to tease him, it could take years for him to fully trust you

Kind of an enemies-to-lovers type thing except the enemy part is kind of one-sided (unless it's not and you hate him and I have to ask, why do you hate him he is literally the best boi-... that may or may not be a murderer but that's unrelated -3-)

He'll lay awake at night replaying times you've made him blush and he'll just be cursing at himself for all the weird feelings you make him feel

He'll go from "knowing you're just teasing and teasing back" to "believing you're teasing and wishes you weren't" to finally "GOd DAMNIT JUST KISS ME ALREADY YOU HANDSOME IDIOT"

Once you get over the trust hurdle, he'll definitely take advantage

Clingy (he could only hold back his inner monkey for so long and now he has to be touching you in some way, shape, or form every second of the day)

The moment you sit down he is in your lap and begging you for affection

Whines... all the time

"Nooooooooo, don't get out of bed, you haven't given me enough pats yet."

Won't let you leave until you give him a bunch of kisses

Uh-oh. Now he's cocky and will show off

It takes a while, but eventually, you have a clingy monkey who melts at your touch.

~

I'm sorry this took so long- As I stated earlier, Wukong's my favorite and I just- I could talk about him forever-

[mullermilkshake]

Twelve days of fluffmas

On the fourth day of fluffmas, my true love gave to me...

Yakuza!Kento & Yakuza!Ino being the duo we adore and being the supportive friend everyone needs.

Day five

Yakuza!Kento x Reader (Kinda)

Tags: Yakuza AU, fem!reader, adorable duo, drinking alcohol, slight angst I guess because drunk Kento is unlike himself, Ino is adorable and he cares so much about Kento

The easiest way to get Kento Nanami to open up was to get him drunk.

Now, Ino didn't do this often because he saw it as disrespectful. But it was getting too much to see Nanami pining over a girl he hadn't spoken with and Ino saw this as an opportunity to let him get things off of his chest without him realising.

So he supplied the alcohol and snacks, and ventured over to the Nanami office after hours to surprise him.

Ino knew about you, like a woman scorned over a mistress her husband was hiding. Only Ino wasn't Nanami's wife, but rather what he saw as his best friend.

He knew his boss was hiding you away because he was too damn scared of just casually 'bumping' into you and seeing if you fancied him just as much as he apparently did.

The thing about the camera network in Nanami's office was that Ino wired the thing himself. So he could see which cameras had been looked at without doing much. What he didn't tell Nanami was that he could access the whole thing via his portable computer.

From what Ino saw, you were a woman working as a hostess, like many other girls in the Shinjuku district of entertainment. So there wasn't anything that he saw that made you stand out, not to him at least but you stood out to Nanami, that was the main thing.

And he noticed that if you were in Nanami's life, he might not take everything so seriously all the time.

So as Ino poured the fifth drink, his liver was already begging him to stop. Though in order to get Nanami to a point that he'd let lose and possibly not remember at all the next day, he had to keep going.

And once Nanami took a swig of the next drink, he didn't stop and instead necked the whole thing down straight.

"This is nice stuff, Ino. Where'd you get this?"

"Oh, you know, just somewhere," it cost him a weeks money just to get that thing.

Nanami's next response would gauge how drunk he was.

He looked down at the whiskey, nodded a little and lazily rubbed his eye. "Somewhere sounds good."

Okay, he might have been drunk enough. Ino had to try before he too was far too drunk to even ask. His poor liver.

"So, who's that girl you look at sometimes on the network."

Ino could have heard a pin drop after that question and for a moment he was sure that Nanami was about to either kick his ass or kick him out. Either one was bad.

"So you found out then?" he looked so deflated. "She's just a girl I bumped into once, but she's perfect."

"Why haven't you just approached her?" Ino asked him out of curiosity, but he was also looking for advice if he ever met someone he was interested in.

"I can't just do that Ino, you'll come to understand when you're face to face with a pretty girl and you don't know which way to look and your heartbeat is sat in your mouth because you're afraid you'll say the wrong thing."

Nanami poured another whiskey and chucked it back before the lid was screwed back on. "What if she doesn't find me interesting, or give me the time of day? There's ten years between us, did you know that? She'll think I'm this old man who preys on young women because I'm a Yakuza and no mature woman would ever get involved because they're smart."

Kento Nanami was only thirty four years of age.

He continued before Ino could get a word in. "She's smart enough to stay away from me and the clan... So I haven't said anything yet. I'd rather just watch from afar and make sure she's safe."

Ino didn't realise you had this sort of effect on him. How long had this really been going on for Nanami to just give up?

"She sounds pretty great."

You were if it made Nanami like this. Ino had never seen him quite like this to the point it was just so out of character for him even with alcohol in the mix.

"She is," he slumped on the desk with the bottle in his hand. "And I'm just... I'm not good for her."

"Well, how do you know?"

Nanami looked up at Ino with half lidded alcohol ridden eyes, rubbing his left one lazily though he was fully coherent at the point. The possibility of this conversation may have sobered him up.

That wasn't good for Ino keeping a low profile.

Oh well, he was past the point of no return now. "You once told me to never quit if I failed, to keep trying. Look where I am now. So I'll tell you the same thing."

He poured another drink for the two of them and took it back for courage. "It's Christmas after all and good things happen all the time, even for us Yakuza guys. So go out and find her, speak to her before it's too late and some other guy sweeps her off her feet."

Now he was sounding like his own father. It wasn't the most sound advice Ino could give him, but it was hopefully enough of a kick to get him moving. Firm enough just like the advice Nanami would give him wherever things got tough.

"If you can't go an approach a girl you like, then how am I supposed to do it?"

"You're right," he said, propping himself up on his elbow and watching Ino with such softness. Though it was because he was drunk. "I'm not setting the best example, am I?"

Ino smiled and leant back in his chair, smiling away and admiring the string of Christmas lights he put up the week prior. "Nah, you're good sir. But make a Christmas wish and see what happens, you know what'll happen if you don't speak to her. So let it go somewhere."

Nanami turned and observed the screens, taking the black and white images in as he sipped on his drink this time. "Alright then, perhaps you're right."

Then he turned back, his eyes more focused and trained on Ino. "I'll do things head on and decide how to approach this. I never thought I'd get a prep talk for you, Ino."

He stood up and wandered over to the screens, just his shadow was visible now in the darkened corner of the room. The golden hue of whiskey swirled around in his glass, aerating in his hand while he watched.

"Also, you could just ask about my personal affairs. There's no need to buy top shelf whiskey to get me drunk, though I appreciate the sentiment."

Shit. He figured it out and sobered up. "What, me? Get you drunk? Not at all sir, I wouldn't ever do anything like that. I just fancied a chat and got sentimental because it's Christmas."

Nanami chuckled and drank, turning to face him one more time.

"You're a terrible liar."

[the-anonmaton]

Whatever Feels Right

Chapter 1 / 4 - Causality

Relationships : Sevika x Reader Characters : Sevika, Original Female Character Rating : Explicit Tags : Kissing, Making Out, Nipple Play, Biting, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Dom Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Body Worship, Nudity, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Safe Sane and Consensual, Aftercare, Gentle Kissing, Undressing, Licking, Foreplay, First Time, bottom reader, Virgin Reader, Anxiety, Soft Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Angst, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, Awkward Conversations, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort Chapters : 4 ( 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ) Words : 17,331

Summary:

What about your first time with Sevika?

CONTENT WARNING: This fic is about an inexperienced reader and the need to stop during her first time, since she’s not ready. Chapter 4 is where some second thoughts are expressed and some anxiety-heavy stuff and panic, but Sevika is a thoughtful lover, so everything is fine.

**********

Yes, this is happening.

**********

You two have been dating for a few months now, it was a known fact to everyone in Zaun. You were the Brute's girl and no one was to mess with you, or else. A few tried, but it was early on in your relationship and they didn't know any better. A couple broken bones by her hand were enough to get the message across to them and the rest of Zaun.

No one was to fuck with you.

Or... Only she was to fuck with you.

And she was about to.

She was about to fuck with you.

Or... She was about to fuck you.

For the first time.

Your first time.

Is this really happening?

**********

You had made out plenty of times and every time was really fucking hot. You couldn't get enough of her full lips kissing yours, or her tongue sliding into your mouth, coxing yours out so she can suck on it. You couldn't get enough of her teeth biting your bottom lip, then gently holding it and sucking and soothing it with her tongue, making you gasp. You couldn't get enough of that tongue licking numerous paths on the column of your throat, from your collarbone to the back of an ear, making you shiver before giggling and pushing her away to look at her mirthful eyes and victorious smile from managing to find another one of your ticklish spots.

Yeah, your make out sessions were hot, making your heart almost beat out of your chest, and you wouldn't trade them for anything. Of course, she knew about your lack of experience when it came to sex, and she was always respectful and tried not to pressure you or make you feel like you were expected to take the next step with her. And your nervous self always appreciated it, especially when a few of those make out sessions were about to cross the line and overwhelm you. But that never happened, because she was always there and she knew how to act to reassure and calm you down.

"Whenever you are ready, baby." She would say, caressing your cheek with a calloused warm hand and a soft smile on her face.

You could only smile back at her, before bringing your hands around her neck, hugging her and nuzzling into her, letting her scent calm you down. The immediate feel of her hands drawing soothing patterns on your back always had you humming contently and falling even more in love with her. Let the whole Zaun think whatever they wanted about her. You knew the gentleness she showed to everything she cared about, and the reverence with which she would handle anything worthy of her attention.

"I love you." You would whisper shyly, hiding into her neck.

"I love you, baby." She would answer back in her raspy voice, and hold you even tighter.

**********

Tonight started out just like any other night, with the two of you having a nice and relaxing time drinking and chatting in your regular booth at The Last Drop after a full day of running assignments for your boss. People were always looking to cause trouble and they needed someone to put them in their place one way or another. Your way was more civilized, since you were in charge of the logistics of Silco's business, and your silver tongue and forceful nature would always be enough to put even the most unruly people in their place.

But not the most stupid.

That's when she came in. The Brute. Your protector and bodyguard. Ready to persuade anyone you couldn't reason with. By now everyone knew to make way and to keep a wide berth when the two of you were strolling through the streets of Zaun. The feeling was exhilarating and you'd be lying if you said that it didn't give you a power trip whenever you caught people's faces looking at you as you passed by, especially with her by your side.

So today was no different than any other normal workday. You intimidated a few people, she punched a couple more, had dinner together at Jericho's and made your way for a nice nightcap at the bar. Business as usual, and you came to like your little routine with her by your side.

It didn't take long for the two of you to start making out in your nice little corner. This was also a part of your routine and you always looked forward to it, because every time it was like a new experience, and you were learning more and more new things about her and yourself.

You learned that she always liked to initiate by nuzzling her nose to your cheek and kissing it gently, making you smile and close your eyes. You learned that you liked to return her advances by turning your head and giving her a lingering timid kiss at the corner of her mouth. You also learned that you loved to surprise her by following up with a forceful collision of your lips with her full ones. You learned that you cherished the way you'd eventually bring your hands to each side of her face while she was dominating the kiss that you had initiated. You learned that excitement would always course through your body when her hands would wrap around your waist and bring you onto her lap.

That's how prying eyes would find you right now if they were to look in your direction. In your booth, you sitting sideways on her lap, left arm wrapped around her neck and grasping at her metal shoulder as if you were to sink out of existence, your other hand cradling the side of her face with your arm squished between your bodies, her metal hand on your knee squeezing gently and giving pleasurable little scratches, and a warm hand wrapped around your waist and holding you there, against her body, kissing you like no one else was in the room with you. And if those prying eyes could look past the point of your connected faces, they would see her tongue sliding along yours inside your mouth.

**********

You knew about her reputation when you came under Silco's employment. You knew of the Brute. How could you not, since everyone was talking about her. About her violent resolutions when dealing with work, or about her more frivolous adventures at the brothel. You had heard a lot of stories and gossip and you decided that you wanted nothing to do with her, except for work matters.

How could you imagine that now you would be in love with her, and she with you.

How could you imagine that now she would be sucking the breath out of your lungs with her kissing and tongue and lips.

How could you imagine that now you wouldn't have it any other way.

**********

And tucked in your little corner of the bar she kept holding you against her warm body and kissing you and making your head spin in the best possible way. And you couldn't help but close your eyes and enjoy every second.

She kept pressing her soft lips against yours, slightly increasing the pressure, just before pulling away to allow both of you a quick breath, making you chase after her, only to capture her lips and feel her smile as you kissed her again. She kept repeating her sneaky game until you moved the hand that was cradling her face to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair and gripping tightly to hold her there so she couldn't pull away from you again. You also gripped her metal pauldron harder, not sure if it was just to keep her there or for your own benefit to have something to ground you. Obviously, she could very easily break free from your grasp, but the fact that she didn't had much to say about her and the lengths she would allow herself to yield for you.

Of course, it would be against her nature to give up control that easily, so that only made her change her little game and give her full attention into rendering you senseless with just her tongue and lips. And she sure as hell knew how to do that. She opened her mouth to dart her tongue out and lick your bruised lips, only to make you open your mouth for her again, an invitation. One she would always gladly accept. She pushed in, finding your tongue, feeling it glide along hers and submit to even her slightest pressure. She kept you there, mouth open, tongue surrendering under her own, breathing hard. It was slow, intoxicating and you loved every second of it.

She let up on her gentle assault with her tongue, but not before she explored the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth, like she did every other time you surrendered to her. When she finally pulled out, you only managed to clear a fraction of the fog in your head before you felt that devilish tongue of hers on your lips again. This time she gently traced them with just the tip of her tongue, right before flattening it to fully lick your bottom lip, making it wet. She then enveloped it with her lips, held you in place with her teeth, sucked at your lip and teased it with little flicks of her tongue, making your eyes flutter and close tight.

You gasped and moaned, as much as you could with her holding your lip, and in your ecstatic state you gripped the back of her neck harder, accidentally pulling at the baby hair there, and heard her groan against you. A second later you felt the hand on your waist applying more pressure and fingers digging in, while the metal hand on your knee moved an inch higher up your thigh. You shouldn't feel a difference, but you did, and it spurred you on.

You closed your mouth around her upper lip, since that was all you were allowed to do with the little freedom your mouth had. Your hand around her neck pulled harder at her pauldron to bring you even closer to her and to fully kiss her. You felt yourself getting more and more excited and turned on, until you instinctively pressed your legs together.

Hard.

And you stilled.

She felt you tensing on her lap and she immediately pulled away to look at you.

Both of you were breathing heavily, every exhale hitting the other's bruised lips and you didn't dare to open your eyes yet.

"Baby?" You heard the concern in her voice and felt her hands easing up on the pressure. Her metal hand returned to your knee, even lower than before, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"I'm so sorry baby, are you with me?" Damn that sweet woman.

You brought your forehead to hers, took a few more deep breaths and swallowed hard, before finally opening your eyes and pulling a few inches away from her face. The first thing you saw was her frown and the concern in her eyes as they were frantically searching for any sign that would inform her of your discomfort or anything that you might need. You could also tell that she was trying to remain patient as she was waiting for a response from you, obviously afraid that she had pushed you too far, something she never wanted to do.

"I want to go home." You uttered breathlessly before going back to keep panting against her lips, your left hand on her pauldron now moving to the back of her neck, resting there, just below your right one that was still gripping her hair.

"Okay baby, whatever you want, I'll pay and we're out of here." She responded and started to move to untangle the both of you, so she could pay and take you away, so you could feel safe and calm again.

Damn that dense woman.

"No." You interrupted her movements by holding her tighter against your body.

She looked at you curiously, but just as she was about to ask you about it, you untangled your right hand from her hair, placed it over her metal one, and dragged it further up your thigh, where it was previously.

"I want to go home." You told her again. Only this time you made sure your tone and eyes got the message across.

Her attention was drawn down, to her hand now resting on your thigh, and then back at you. It took a moment for the baffled look on her face to be replaced by a surprised one. She must have finally taken notice of your eyes too, as their color was almost obscured by your blown pupils. You held her eyes for a second, saw them do a double take downwards and then you felt as metal fingers squeezed at the meat of your thigh and you inhaled and held your breath, only to let it out slowly while looking at her equally wide and darkened eyes. You saw her surprised face getting even more intense, until you realized that you had pressed your legs together again and you were holding them there, trapping her hand between them.

Fuck.

"Are you sure?" She eventually asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Okay. Let's go home."

**********

taglist : @opropheticsoul @archangeldyke-all

Thanks for reading! :)

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

Hellooo it's Thursday morning and I should probably consider going to bed. So today we are gonna drop art and a little bit of writing. I'm kinda obsessing over Josh and Sydari stuff atm writing wise so you get some of that. Thank you to @skyrim-forever for tagging me. I started making this post when I got your tag :3 Tagging @viss-and-pinegar @vivifriend @saltymaplesyrup @archangelsunited @nyarevar @thescrolls-haveforetold

No pressure as usual. Just fun stuff for fun.

Now for wips n shit. Starting with arts-

Got more of his armour done and some deets on those blades. Posting a close up of his face because I'm happy with his pouty face. I just posted the chapter this art corresponds with the other day.

And a snippet of writing below the cut.

Today i'm posting a bit from chapter 18 of Serious Mistakes. Josh finally decides to ask for help from people he can trust. Only issue is that in order to ask for it, Josh must sit on ceremony. Part of it involves granting guest right to Sydari so that she can join Josh and Geldis at the Urshilaku camp. The chapter is Sydari's pov and i've chosen a section where Sydari is meeting the Ashkhan for the first time. She has mixed feelings. Josh hasn't been feeling so great over these last few chapters. ----

It wasn’t long before Geldis came back, though it was long enough for the smoking pipe to have done at least one round about the circle, and Sydari was feeling pleasantly buzzed. Geldis sat beside her and sighed as he reached once again for his drink.

“Go on,” Geldis grinned, “I know you want to know what happened.”

“I mean, sure?” Sydari shrugged as she reached for her drink again, “I’m assuming he’s just being stubborn about something?”

Geldis nodded, “Tel doesn’t want to use his stick and can’t get up by himself. Finally admitted that he probably shouldn’t have pushed it.”

She rolled her eyes a little, “Of course it was that.”

“It was a few things, Etana kinda offloaded a lot on him when he arrived,” Geldis sighed as he downed his drink, “Tel’s a bit emotional, to put it simply. He doesn’t like people seeing that.”

“So, what’s happening?” Sydari asked, her gaze still focused on the pipe that was being passed around the other side of the circle.

“Etana and I convinced Tel that no one cares if he’s got to use it,” He shrugged, sighing yet again, “We told him that the issues going on with the Urshilaku can wait until we’ve finished with Sigrun. I think it’s calmed him down a little. Just—”

“He’s a bit…” Sydari shook her head, trying to dislodge the image of Teldryn back in Glowstone Hall, eyes dead and vitriol spewing from his lips. The version of him that would hold a knife to her throat. Did the nomads know about that side of him? Or had he managed to hide it from them? She swallowed, anxiety welling yet again as the image changed and warped from Solstheim to the depths of Snow Veil Sanctum. She touched her hand to her throat before fiddling with the dark soul gem she wore around her neck. The vibration from the soul trapped forever inside brought her back to Nirn just as Geldis started speaking again.

“I don’t think he’s gonna change again if that’s what you’re worried about?” Geldis stated, his voice was quieter, almost soothing, “Ki, the Wise Woman, has a lot of tricks up her sleeve to keep Tel here. The Urshilaku have been helping him control it for a long time, girl. It’ll be okay.”

She nodded, her gaze falling to the woven carpet in front of her. They fell into a strange silence for a few moments, only ending as the murmuring from the crowd started to die down once again as the Wise Woman rose to her feet. She felt Geldis’ hand on her shoulder as he leaned in to whisper to her again.

“I think Tel’s finally ready.”

She looked towards the door just as the Wise Woman disappeared behind it. A part of her wondered if this was yet another problem stalling everything yet again. She noticed that everyone in the circle had stood, and she followed suit, letting out a sigh of relief as the door opened once again and both of the mer from earlier exited the tent and took their places within the circle, standing behind their seating cushions as the rest of the circle did. She listened to the Gulakhan speak, wishing she understood even a word of what he said. She started fiddling with her necklace again, arranging the thin, gold chain so that it wasn’t getting tangled in the decoration of her glass torc. Geldis nudged her a little as the Gulakhan stopped speaking and she snapped her attention back to the door just as it opened once again— a larger figure appearing just behind it.

“There he is,” Geldis whispered in her ear, “Tel’s gonna address everyone before we all sit down again. Just follow my lead.”

She nodded just as the figure stepped out into the light of the lanterns. She didn’t know what to make of what she saw standing before her.

Teldryn slowly made his way towards the circle, his long, thin fingers grasping the handle of an ornately carved walking stick that she didn’t recall him packing that morning. His skin— what was visible at the very least— was covered in a thin layer of what she assumed to be ash. The layers cracking around his joints a little. He wore a long, thick silk robe that was as red as his eyes and trimmed with gold thread. The sleeves looked as if they could skim the floor if the mer hadn’t rolled them up somewhat. He seemed to be wearing some sort of armour underneath the robe, dark like he usually wore though the material seemed different. Almost like the bonemold that the Redoran Guard typically wore. The darks and reds were accented by gold— the trim of his robe weaved into a set of brilliant, gold pauldrons that extended from his shoulders almost like a set of wings and she noticed he had to turn himself slightly as he made his way through the door.

She noticed that he had tied his usually messy, uneven hair into a smooth topknot, fastened with an equally brilliant golden headdress in the shape of a star. He paused for a moment once he reached the circle before taking a deep breath and stepping carefully over the large orange cushion, his knuckles flexing around the handle of his stick. His eyes locked with hers for a moment and she noticed that the skin around his sockets seemed a little puffy, with some of the paint on his face having been washed away a little, mixing with the dark kohl that she noticed he usually favoured whenever he left the Netch. The dark stains on his cheeks mixed with the bone grey of the ash reminded her of a spectre of some sort. Haunting and a little ethereal— he looked beautiful and a huge part of her hated to admit it.

Teldryn smiled at her for a brief moment before he addressed the group, using that same language that she didn’t understand save for her name. He nodded towards her before she noticed the Gulakhan and Wise Woman move to his side, grabbing his arms as they helped him sit down, slowly lowering him onto the cushion that the Gulakhan had placed down earlier. She followed everyone’s lead, sitting down silently as the group waited for their head to get himself comfortable. She watched the Wise Woman take Teldryn’s stick and rested it against the door behind them.

Teldryn cleared his throat, sitting as straight as he could. He spoke again in Ashland, his voice sounding confident with less pauses in his speech than when she had been speaking with him earlier. Almost as if he’d rehearsed this particular speech a hundred times. Though it could have entirely been because Sydari didn’t understand the language he was speaking. It was an interesting development nonetheless; she hadn’t quite expected any of this when he had first introduced himself at the Netch.

Teldryn Sero was a hard mer to figure out.

[kiddbegins]

Sick Days - Will Halstead

Requested: yes

Word count: 564

Warnings: just sick time

A/n: this is short but will would 100% be annoying about being sick

Masterlist

“Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. You know I’ll have no problem with either option.”

You hated being sick. It was the fucking worst thing that could ever happen to you personally. Sneezing, coughing, hard to breathe, not to mention the soreness in the back of your throat if you took in too much of a breath. It sucked.

That was bad enough alone. But it was amplified by a hundred when your caring boyfriend decided to bring his job home. Yes he was a doctor but you appreciated it more when he didn’t treat you like another one of his patients.

Which is exactly what he did. The first sound of a sniffle and he was forcing you to take vitamins within the next ten minutes. So you’d learned to at least try and hide your illnesses until you couldn’t anymore. You’d done good the last couple of days, orange juice and Dayquill being your best friends.

But it was catching up, today you were groggy, barely shuffling around the kitchen as you attempted to clean up before Will got home from his overnight. The throbbing in your head made things a bit shaky as you emptied the dishwasher and wiped the counters.

All while sucking on a cough drop that wasn’t doing much of anything but tasting decently good as you ate it. You didn’t even hear the front door open, too busy leaning your forehead against the front of the metal fridge, enjoying the coolness it gave off.

“Baby what are you doing?” Will’s voice made you jump, turning slowly. “Whoa, are you okay? You look a little pale.” He dropped his duffel bag as soon as he saw your face, the circles under your eyes practically impossible to ignore.

You attempted to swat his hand away as it came up to your forehead but it was no use, he just dodged the whack and pressed the back of his hand to your skin. “You’re really warm baby, why don’t you go lay down and I’ll make you something to eat, we have stuff for soup I’m pretty sure.”

“Will, I’m fine. I just need to drink some water and I’ll be good as new.” You always tried this, to convince him that you were fine but, spoiler alert, it never worked. Not once. It’d been going on three years and he still managed to baby you.

He shook his head instantly, “Look. Either you go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall, kicking, screaming and all. You know I’ll have no problem with either option.” Will raised his eyebrows at you, propping himself against the counter.

Truthfully it wasn’t even worth arguing. He could pick you up as easily as he could pick up a damn banana when you were in full strength and health, never mind when you could barely open a jar of pickles.

“Fine.” You grumbled, tossing the paper towel onto the counter. “I don’t even feel that sick.” A lie of course, a cough following your words, Will instantly giving a knowing look. One that personally said ‘Are you sure about that?.’ “Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything, now go. I’ll take care of all of this.” He gave a warm smile to you, watching you until you disappeared into the bedroom before turning and finishing whatever you were cleaning and making the dinner that did make you feel the slightest bit better.

JOIN WILL'S TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @winchesterszvonecek, @everything-fandom, @thebejeweledwatercat, @mrspeacem1nusone, @wnbweasley, @alexxavicry, @halsteadbrasil, @firetruckstuckley, @lilithblade, @angelicbxtchthea

[misted-dream]

🦢 A WALTZ IN THE DARK ₊˚⊹ ˚ ༘ ⋆

ACT II THE PAS DE DEUX. | to the programme

chapter info . . . content just yn & dy being kinda cute at the end, mentions of injury, enemies AND lovers this time warnings smoking, alcohol consumption w. count 7.7k

series synopsis . . . the first and last time you and doyoung danced together was 5 years ago. 5 years since the mishap that founded your mistrust of him, at least as a duet partner. with the annual swan lake showing rolling around, you think you finally stand a chance to audition for the leads: odette and odile. it's every ballerina's dream to play this role at least once in their career. little do you know, rumour has it that kim doyoung just so happens to be auditioning for the role of prince siegfried this year.

tags @00127am

You thought that ever since you made that deal with Doyoung that things might be different. That he might start acting like a normal human being with normal human emotions. How silly of you to think that. Truth is, he hasn’t changed one bit since that night you bumped into him. Practices are still wordless. You still barely see him outside of your schedules. And even when you do, he pretends like he doesn’t see you, in the corridors, in the canteen, everywhere. That’s not to say that everything stayed the same.

It’s the week following your run-in with him. A Thursday, so your schedule dictates that you have duet practice with Doyoung.

“Good,” Colette calls out from her folding chair, “You two don’t look like you want to murder each other for once.” She doesn’t know what happened between you but she doesn’t care for it as long as you and Doyoung can look like you can at least tolerate each other.

It’s intimidating when you think about it. How he can go from looking so deeply infatuated one second, then the moment the music is over, his face drops. Eyebrows straightened. Just absolutely no emotion shown through his expression. You can’t help but wonder which version of him is genuine: The one who seemed truly apologetic in the dimmed practice room, or this one. The version of him that he parades around everywhere he goes. How do you even begin to tell what’s an act and what isn’t?

Every time his fingers touch you, you still feel a chill running down you. Though, you’ve come to learn how to hide it better.

Practice is finished for the night. The teal of the horizon begins to blend together with the darker blue of the night sky. Doyoung wastes no time in gathering his stuff the second Colette said that you were done for tonight. You try to do the same but Colette stops you. Her slender fingers wrapped tightly around your arm.

“Before you go, Y/N.”

She takes her hand off of your arm. The red frames of her glasses sit low on her nose bridge and she angles her head downwards to look at you, as if you’re a particularly difficult to read section of a newspaper. 

“I still need to see you land those fouettés. I’m giving you one— …two weeks, before I have to intervene.”

One of her eyebrows are cocked, the brightness of her eyes do nothing but emphasise the severity in her tone. Her harshness isn’t something you’re not used to, but every time she exerts this power over you, you can’t help but feel slightly humiliated. Who wouldn’t? To have someone repeatedly on your tail felt like having them pry open a wound, and before it even has time to scab, they’re back pricking and pouring salt into it. Except that wound is found on your ego.

You take a deep breath in, and try to force your lips into an understanding smile. “Yeah,” you say in a cheery enough tone.

You suppose that’s the way it is in ballet. That’s how it is in many things in life. Everyone’s after perfection, and no one is able to execute it.

This weekend, you decide to do something you haven’t done in three weeks: Stay in.

The last three weekends you’ve spent draining yourself away at the studio, but due to Karina’s request, you decide otherwise this time.

She sends you a message telling you that she’s 5 minutes away from your place. It’s no secret that the pressure of these last few weeks have been steadily building on you, especially to Karina. 

You open the wooden cupboard and pull a bottle of red wine from it, setting it onto the kitchen island in the middle of your open-plan kitchen. A soft orange paints the skyline, clouds pulling from each other like cotton candy. On one end of the kitchen island, there stood the doors leading to the balcony, enclosed by wrought iron fences. Technically speaking, it was a balcony, but in actuality, it was just a ledge—a glorified floor-to-ceiling window that you can open, really. 

You push open the balcony doors and the sound of the city fills your living space. The traffic a few stories down, people’s voices from the street or coming from the open balconies to either side of your complex. You stare off into the horizon, a flock of shadowed birds flies across your field of vision over the city.

Then, a ding sounds out.

You step back inside, walking across your kitchen to the other end of the island where the main door was. You slide open the door chain and push down on the handle. The door swings inwards, and stood outside in the hallway of your apartment complex was Karina, a bright smile on her face. “I got sushi!”

You pour the red wine into a glass that you set down on the island, then another glass next to that. In one hand, you sit the bowl of one glass on the part of your hand that your fingers connect between, in the other hand, you wrap your fingers around the other rim and take a sip as you make your way over to the living space. Karina’s already sat down on one of the bean bags facing the TV. As you pass her, you lower one of the drinks to her and she takes the stem in between her fingers.

She hums tunefully to your offering.

You plop down on the leather couch next to her, careful enough as to not spill your wine. Throwing your head backwards onto the back of the couch, you sigh.

“What?” Karina asks with a slight smile in her eyes, taking a small sip of the wine.

You look at her through lowered eyelids, your head completely resting on the couch. “Nothing. I’m glad you came over tonight.”

She smiles. Shifting in her bean bag, she props one leg up as she leans forward to set down her glass on the wooden coffee table. “Come on,” reaching over, she puts her palm on your knee and gives you a gentle shake, “I know there’s something on your mind.”

Your lips purse together and pout to the side.

You met Karina a few months into your career as a professional dancer. It was a usual day for you, having recently returned to work from your injury. Every time you spotted Karina either on the barre or in centre, she looked so immersed into her craft. You remember being so impressed by her skill and control. Every movement of her arms looked so fluid, flowing from one position to another seamlessly. The power she held in her leaps were something else, as well. Her precision, even in the most consuming of movements, was something to be admired. Safe to say, it was to your surprise when she lined up behind you in the lunch queue and started making casual conversation. “Y/N, right?” She’d asked with a smile.

You found out that day that Karina went to the same conservatory as you. Though a grade below you, she was signed to the company as an apprentice the year you graduated, so she never fully finished her course. She knew of you when you two were both enrolled at the conservatory, but your paths never crossed into more than just a polite smile and a nod territory. Since day one, she had a sort of optimism to her that you’d grown to love and appreciate especially throughout the years. In such an unforgiving and rigid industry, Karina’s softness continues to be your lantern leading you through the dark.

“So?” Leaning back into her bean bag, Karina prompts once again, glass back up to her lips.

You mirror her actions, taking a sip from the rim and disassembling the flavours in between your cheeks before swallowing. “Colette,” you mouth to her as if you two were sharing secrets you shouldn’t be.

Karina’s inquisitive expression urged you to elaborate.

You sigh, bringing your shoulders up and dropping them. “I can’t get my turns right, for Odile’s coda. And she basically told me that if I don’t get my shit together, she’s gonna have to ‘intervene.’” You arch your brow when you recall Colette’s words to you.

“Meaning…?”

“I don’t know—probably replace me.”

There’s a range of comforting words that Karina can pick from to say to you, but a small portion of them would be true. Her hand goes up to her bottom lip, tugging at them as she thinks—a habit that she’d never grown out of. 

“She won’t replace you.” Karina settles on the ‘not true’ section of the scope of her responses, her hand muffling her words. Both you and her know it. And it’s not due to the fact that Karina—or yourself, for that matter—thinks you’re not good enough for the role, it’s just how things are. It’s how Colette is: simple and straightforward. You can’t play a role? Someone else can—and they will. It’s never personal. Except it always feels like it is.

Still, you break out a weak smile at her attempt at reassuring you.

You lean your head back again, eyes now fixed on the ceiling and the base of the lamp that hung low over the coffee table.

“I think it’s my knee,” you admit for the first time out loud. You never wanted to talk about your accident because you were afraid that people might think you were making up excuses. This time, you felt like you were running out of options for explanations.

“Your knee?” At the mention, Karina leans forward in her seat.

“Yeah,” though unintentional, your words come out as a whisper. You clear your throat before continuing, “Every time after practice, my knee just starts hurting. Not insanely bad, but worse than before.”

“I didn’t know it was hurting before.” Karina has this expression on her face that’s almost like she’s interrogating you about this.

You can’t hide the sheepishness in your face and your tone, “It wasn’t serious.”

“Have you told Colette?”

You shake your head. 

“Y/N. You have to tell her.”

“And for what? To give her another reason to start looking for my replacement?”

Karina takes a deep, shaky breath in, like she’s uncertain about something. “Surely, she’d understand. Maybe it’ll at least throw her off your back for some time.”

Your eyes remain fixed on the ceiling. Maybe it’s a good idea. Maybe you should tell Colette. That’s an issue for another day, though.

There’s many different ways to approach the character of Odile, but at the core of it, she’s a seductress. Everything that she does comes back to her motive to seduce—and more specifically, the Prince. It doesn’t come as a surprise to you or your choreographer when your expressions don’t match your intent. 

To pretend to be in love is one thing. You’ve got years upon years of teenage pining experience to fall back on. But the art of seduction? No one has time for that.

‘Look more sultry. Look more alluring.’ Raf had said to you. And to your credit, you try but it’s already hard enough to have to spin and jump and twirl and leap, and now you have to look tantalising doing that? And all that’s considering the fact that you even want to try.

Your hours on the clock has finished for the night, but you find yourself starting to stay behind on most nights more often than not.

Kneeling down in front of the mirror, you rifle through your bag until your fingertips find a small, card box. You flip open the tab of the box and pull out one of the cigarettes, noting to yourself that you only have two others left. Then, you rummage through the pockets of your jacket for your lighter. With your necessities in your hands, you amble out of your room, turning the lights off as you leave. The hallways are fuller than usual, with plenty of soloists finishing at the same time as you. You weave your way through a group of dancers walking down the corridor and slide open one of the glass doors to the garden.

The hallway floors surrounding the garden is taller than the cobblestone ground of the courtyard, making it so that there’s a ledge as you step a foot inside. You sit yourself down on the step, one side of your body leaning against the opened glass door. You slot the cigarette between your lips as you bring up both your hands. One of them sparking on the lighter as the other goes to cover the flame by habit. 

You go to pocket your lighter—again, habit—only to realise that you’re not wearing your jacket, so your second best option was to just put it on the ground next to where you’re sitting. Just as you’re about to pull the dampened filter tip away from your lips, a voice appears out of nowhere behind you.

“You should really quit that. It’s not good for you.”

The surprise of it nearly chokes you, coughing out quietly again and again as the smoke escapes your lips. You look behind you but you didn’t need to see to know who it was.

You manage out one final cough. And towering over you stood Doyoung. Eyes lowered, posture upright, as if he’s literally and figuratively looking down on you.

“Yeah? When did you start caring about what’s good for me?” You put your cigarette back in between your lips right as you finish your sentence, a clear edge of hostility in your voice. Doyoung watches your cigarette between your fingers as you take a deliberately long drag. You’re not even finished when he answers you back.

“When you became my partner.”

What a liar, you thought. That explains why he’s been ignoring you everywhere.

The conclusion that Kim Doyoung is nothing but a liar quickly turns into the fact that he’s a narcissist when you put together the ideas that he’s only talking to you now because you’re doing something—smoking—that he personally frowns upon. And he can’t be having his ‘partner’ tarnishing his reputation.

“Don’t you love when someone expresses how much they care about you with their show of apathy towards you?” You remark, almost with an impatience in your tone, but a playful sarcasm on your face instead. Smoke pours out of your lips with every word that you speak, and you blow the rest of it to the side. The heat spreading from your chest comes as a shock to you. Before this, you hadn’t known truly how much it annoyed you that your existence went by unnoticed by Doyoung, although you knew it had to be an act.

Doyoung squats down so that he’s near enough eye level with you, elbows resting on his knees. He tilts his head to the side, eyes scanning your face quickly, then the stick sat in your fingers, burning itself away slowly. “Don’t tell me you’re stressed because of me,” he mutters lowly.

You lean forward an inch or two. “Believe me when I say you’re the root of most of my problems nowadays.” 

Doyoung holds back a subtle smirk on his lips, but not enough that you can’t completely pick up on it. He eyes your cigarette again, “Then, I guess you better stock up on those.”

He stands up and walks across the hallways into his practice room.

You turn your body, facing the inside of the garden. Glancing to the side, you see that the stick has burned down to nearly the filter. You quickly stub it out against the cobblestone before it gets to burning your fingers.

Days feel more like dreams to you. The repetition of what you do everyday is starting to blur the arbitrary line that separates every 24 hours from each other. And when you step foot into the shared studio between you and Doyoung, this very feeling engulfs you. 

Colette is sat in her folding chair, fingers typing away in a fit on her screen, and Doyoung is rummaging through his bag in the corner.

The conversation that you had with Karina crawls into your mind. Is today the day? You’ve been contemplating telling Colette ever since that night, but you haven’t been confronted with a chance, yet. You take cautious step after another into the room. The soles of your shoes making a light smacking noise as it lifts the linoleum flooring along with it with every step you take. You try to subtly keep an eye on Colette as you walk past her—making an effort to gauge her mood before you decide if you should tell her or not. She looks happy enough today.

You slump your bag down in front of the mirror, mind preoccupied with weighing the pros and cons of the decision that’s kept you up several nights in a row now. You’re so out of it that you didn’t even notice you set your things down right next to Doyoung, when you had to option to do so literally anywhere else.

He doesn’t say anything, simply looking up at you with a slightly inquisitive look. Then, he quirks his eyebrows when you meet his gaze. Though normally, you probably would’ve made some sarcastic remark about this, you didn’t today—or couldn’t.

You leave your things where they are, and step towards where Colette is—her attention still solely fixed on her phone.

“Colette, I have something I need to tell you.”

Your hands are brought up to your stomach, fingers interlocking with each other and then unclasping, and then locking again. She looks lost into her own world, not even a slight hum or a nod of the head to acknowledge you standing right in front of her.

“Colette?”

“Hold that thought,” she finally replies, holding out one finger towards you, head still angled down.

“It’s—”

“I have something exciting planned for you guys today!”

She jumps up out of her seat, catching you off-guard as you stumble one step behind you. Your lips mouth into an ‘Um’ shape, reluctant to ask her about what’s so exciting about today. Lucky for you, Doyoung took the pleasure in asking.

“What is it?”

“Costumes!” Colette exclaims, excitement practically bursting out of her. “They’re coming now!”

And right on cue, a metal clothing rack rolls in through the practice doors. The designer and her assistant both pushing the costumes in behind it. Right away, you spot your two distinct tutus and a couple of blouses for Doyoung.

The rack comes to a halt right in front of you. Colette instantly goes to grab a hanger with the Odette costume hung up on it. It’s both traditional, and beautiful.

The bodice of the costume fashions a plunging neckline, of which is lined with white feathers. There are crystals decorating the bodice, scattered all over the corset but primarily concentrated at the neckline. The tutu itself is showy, for sure. Bigger than any other tutu you’ve ever worn. There are multiple layers to it, and you’re surprised that it can even fan out by itself due to how heavy it looks. The bottom layers are made out of tulle, the surface of it outlined by embroideries in golden thread resembling those of feathers. On top of that, actual feathers are finely sewn into the waistband of the tutu, blending the bodice in. The whole costume, instead of being white, has the slightest hint of blue to it, making it so that it’s more of a bright white. It looks like the pure embodiment of heaven.

“Go on!” Colette urges, “Try it on!” She pushes the hanger into your chest, making you grab ahold of your costume. Then, she grabs multiple blouses off the rack and hands them to Doyoung, urging him the same.

The two of you listen to Colette, pulling your costumes on in front of the mirror. Your bodice is absolutely tailor-made to fit you. Colette can’t stop shaking her head and mumbling out words of awe and wonderment when she looks at you.

You glance over at Doyoung all the way across the room from you. His blouse the manifestation of royalty. His costume, like yours, consists of a white blouse with a deep neckline, with a fancy looking jacket layered atop of it. The jacket has the same matching gold embroidery all along the hems, the sleeves and the closures. The buckle in the front and the puffed-up shoulder pads adds to the regality of it all.

You study him in his costume. Looking him up and down, and back up again. He doesn’t notice this, or at least you don’t think so; he’s too busy ogling at himself in the mirror. His chest is slightly exposed by the depth of the blouse’s neckline, making it so that you can see the contours of his collarbones and his pecs. 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, he looks exactly like the part he’s playing—a Prince. 

The designer walks around you, holding up the waistband of your tutu. She clips the excess elastic together and she looks over to her assistant, mumbling something you can’t hear too well. “Nearly perfect,” she points at the black tutu still on the hanger, “Now try this one.”

After the designer finished marking down any adjustments the either of you needed, practice continued on as usual. During the midst of it, you’d forgotten all about the beginning of the session when you first walked in, that is until Colette of all people reminds you.

“Oh—you wanted to talk to me, Y/N?”

Your arms are held up above your head, hands trying to pull back loose strands of hair that’d flown free from the hours you’ve just spent exerting yourself. “Uh, yeah,” you quietly respond, a bobby pin clenched between your teeth.

You eye Doyoung, only to see that he’s doing the same. As soon as you meet his gaze, he looks away, back down onto his bag that he’s holding open to stuff his water bottle into.

Colette glances down at the watch on her wrist, “Well, come on, then. I have places to be.”

You take the pin out from between your lips and slide it somewhere into the back of your hair. “Um,” you mumble as you walk on closer to Colette. The same nervousness that had burned within you earlier returns, but this time, it’s even more amplified with the presence of Doyoung, for whatever reason.

Suddenly, you don’t feel like telling Colette anymore, and it’s not even because of her.

You try to speak as lowly as possible, almost muttering under your breath. Colette, however, doesn’t pick up on this too well, prompting you to speak a bit clearer.

You breathe in. “My knee. I know I’ve been causing you some trouble lately, but just give me some time. I’ll sort it out.” You don’t know if that was quiet enough so that Doyoung doesn’t hear and you don’t want to look in the reflection to see his reaction in case he did. “I promise,” you whisper.

Colette hears you this time, though, and her expression instantly softens. Her lips open, mouthing an ‘O’ shape, and her brows furrow in understanding. Colette lays a gentle palm on your shoulder, lips pursing together as she takes a deep breath in. Then, she sharply exhales. 

“If you really can’t do it, tell me.” She continues with a subtle shaking of the head, “We still have time now, but when it’s further down the road…”

You give her a firm, eager nod.

On the surface, you want to—need to—seem understanding. It was the reasonable thing to do. But deep down, all of what she’s saying just serves as a reminder of how replaceable everyone and anyone is. If you were to change how you viewed the situation, you can’t say that that’s a bad motivator, but it’s not the greatest one either. 

When you turn back around, Doyoung isn’t at his spot anymore. You’re looking at an empty room with the contents of your bag spilling out onto the floor in one corner.

You swing your bag over your arm. Colette left moments after your conversation hurriedly to some meeting. You slump down onto the floor, knees tucked up to your chest and arms wrapping around them—not caring for your posture. The silence of the room rings in your ears, and that’s when you notice the sprinkling of raindrops against the window of the practice room.

The view outside is monochrome—all varying shades of grey. The sky was a light grey with pockets of white poking through, the buildings looked duller than usual under the gloom, and the streets were a dark grey, the rain further darkening the concrete. You watch one tiny bead of rain slowly run down the glass pane, rolling into other beads as they tumble down together.

“Is that true?”

Jesus Christ. Your shoulders jump up and your head turns to the door.

Someone sure has a habit of sneaking up on you unannounced. 

Doyoung’s hair is unstyled, the front parts of it covering his eyebrows and nearly touching the rims of his glasses. A white long-sleeve hangs loosely on his frame, with the fabric on his shoulder bunching up under the strap of his bag.

This is the first time that he’s shown up to practice looking like he’s actually showing up to practice. Usually, he’d make more of an effort to present himself—not that he even looks that much different. You hadn’t noticed this subtle change in his appearance until now, as he’s sneaking up on you, once again.

He approaches you gradually, a steadiness in his pacing.

“What?” You mumble with your eyelids fluttering as if you’re blinking back your consciousness, not even truly registering what he’d said—you’d been too caught off-guard with his sudden appearance.

“What you told Colette—is it true?”

He’s now a step or two away from you. This scene feels familiar, too.

For a split second, you truly have no idea what he’s referencing, but then it comes to you.

“About me sorting myself out? Yeah, I hope it’s true,” You respond in an attempt to hopefully deflect the conversation. A sarcastic expression draws on your face with your brows raised. You look away from Doyoung and into the mirror where you can see the two of you in the practice room as if you were a third person observer.

You were expecting a snarky remark coming from him but you don’t get one. Instead, you can see him just watching you intently in the reflection, as if he’s at a lost for words.

“About your leg,” he bluntly states. No audible emotion, no wavering in tone, just three plain, simple words.

It’s as if your eyes are drawn to Doyoung like how opposite poles of a magnet are drawn to each other. When you look at his face, there’s a solemnity to his features that’s teetering on the verge of unease.

There’s only one train of thought running through your mind. It’s that version of him again from that first night in the practice rooms. You can’t quite decide whether you like this Doyoung more, or the normal Doyoung more, but in this moment, you know you much prefer the unaffected version of him. 

You’ve never been one prone to sharing your vulnerabilities, especially not with someone like him. You’re not intending on starting now. “What are you asking me?”

“I think it’s pretty clear what I’m asking.” He says this in such a matter-of-fact manner, it’s hard to assess what his motive here is. Does he care? What is the goal here?

You’re trying to analyse the situation, but to Doyoung, he just wants to know. All the mental gymnastics you’re doing in your head—Doyoung does none of that.

“To you—probably.” Still, you continue to try to diffuse this weird tension between the two of you. You get up on your feet, clapping your hands together to get rid of any dust on them. You mutter out a quiet, “Well,” under your breath as you walk towards your things in the corner. Doyoung watches you in silence as you pack your things up; unlacing your pointe shoes, pulling them off and shoving them inside the bag.

You slide the strap onto your shoulders and get up to leave. As you walk by Doyoung, you feel the familiar touch of his fingers wrap around your wrist. The cold of his hands raise goosebumps all along your arm, and simultaneously freezes you in place. 

“Let me fix this.”

His voice is soft, and gentle, unlike his grasp on your wrist. 

Your eyes dart downwards towards his hand on you. You try to squirm free of his hold but he doesn’t let you. “Let me go.”

“Let me fix it,” he repeats.

“Fix what? There’s nothing you can do,” Your voice trails off.

Doyoung looks into your eyes, gaze unfaltering. The window to the side of him reflects in his irises, making his eyes appear glassier than normal. Without taking his eyes off you, he slowly starts to loosen his fingers around you.

“It’s my fault,” Doyoung says this in a way that’s as if he’s exhaling his words. The syllables following each other as he breathes out.

You look at him, and he doesn’t shy away and avoid your gaze. You’re looking at him and he’s there, fully. Just a few months back, you’re thinking of what you would give to have this very moment. To have him acknowledge his mistake, and to fully take responsibility like he’s doing now. Just a few weeks ago, you accepted that you would never get this—that Doyoung isn’t the type of person to bring you this kind of closure. And yet, here you are, with him standing right in front of you in a confrontation that you thought was impossible.

It’s not an apology, like that first night. It’s recognition. And now that you have both from him, you can’t help but wonder: why doesn’t it feel as relieving as you thought it would be?

“It was an accident,” you correct him. You speak those words aloud and they echo inside of your head. Those same words that you had to tell yourself over and over, the same thing that you had to convince yourself of through the years, now you’re here using them again.

“An accident that I caused.”

There’s an eerie feeling inside of you. This conversation isn’t productive, and it’d do more harm than good if you continue letting Doyoung play the blame game.

“It’s not your fault. And I’m fine now, aren’t I?” You lift your foot and stick your leg out slightly, turning it from side to side.

Doyoung watches for a brief moment before he begins again, “Just… Let me make it up to you.”

“And how are you planning on doing that?”

His eyes are back on yours and you notice the slight dip of his Adam’s apple as he swallows subtly. He sucks his lips in, lightly rehydrating them.

“Whatever you need me to do to make this right.”

Your stomach emits a faint grumble, but clear enough in the otherwise silent practice room that you’re sure both you and Doyoung heard it. You try to hold back a chuckle.

“Pay me back with dinner. That’s what you can do.”

Doyoung and you first agreed on dinner at some restaurant close to the both of you. However, those plans were quickly replaced not long after they were made. Simply due to the reason that Doyoung usually cooks his own meals, and he didn’t want to smear his perfect record.

Originally, he was supposed to treat you to dinner the night he asked, but something came up, so it got moved to tonight. It’s been a week since you agreed to let him cook dinner for you and it hasn’t really crossed your mind until now. 

You’re standing right in front of your mirror, contemplating what to wear. Maybe you could’ve—or should’ve—given more thought to this. And it’s right now that you’re just beginning to question what tonight is.

It's just a casual dinner between friends, you tell yourself. But, you’re not friends. At least you didn’t think you were to him. Or maybe it’s just what you said it was—something he can do to ‘make up’ for his mistake.

All of this is running through your head as you’re holding up outfit after outfit up to your reflection. Your bed is littered with shirts, jeans, skirts, dresses; anything that you’ve ever owned. You’re not sure what kind of message you want to send with what you’re wearing, and you didn’t know if it really mattered, anyway.

Eventually, you narrow down your options to two dresses. One of them being a fitting black dress; sleeveless. The other is also black, slightly more appropriate for a club setting with the way the neckline is cut. You settle on the more modest of the options.

Pulling it on over your head, you can feel a slight tinge of embarrassment colouring your cheeks. You look into the mirror, suddenly becoming increasingly aware of what you look like. Self-awareness isn’t something you’d lacked, especially as a dancer, but tonight… it was different. You felt aware of yourself in a different way for better or worse.

You attempt to shake this feeling off, reminding yourself that tonight is just another regular night—nothing special to it. It’s just dinner.

After making yourself feel a little less on edge, you grab a nearby matching purse and throw on a jacket, then, you head out. You make your way to Doyoung’s apartment not too far from yours. It’s about 15 minutes away by walking, even less if you’re taking the subway. Considering how small the city really is, it’s not a surprise that he lives so close to you.

You take a second glance at your phone to make sure you got the right address before knocking on the apartment door. Your fist raps firmly against the wooden surface. For the first time tonight, your head is blank. Don’t get it twisted, the nervousness is still in you like it’s seeped into your bones, but any thoughts—doubtful or not—are nowhere to be found; only the echo of your knocking ricocheting off the walls of your mind.

The wait in between you making yourself known and Doyoung opening the door to his apartment is painful. Excruciating anticipation waltzing in every muscle of yours. You consider turning back around, walking away before Doyoung sees you, but before you even have a chance to move, the door swings open.

And there he stood. Head a little bit below the door frame, eyes widened, and an open stance. His black button-up is undone at the collar, exposing just enough of his collarbones that you know he left them undone for that very purpose. One side of his shirt is loosely tucked into his jeans, which had a leather belt wrapped around it. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you can see steam rising from behind him. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You greet him first, waiting for any indication to be let in. Instead, Doyoung stands in the way of the doorway, eyes fixed on you.

“Um—You’re not burning anything, are you?” You ask lightheartedly, a finger pointing over his shoulder to where the steam is.

It’s like Doyoung snaps awake with a shake of his head. “Oh!” He looks over his shoulder at the pot on the stove. “No,” he reassures you as he turns back to you. Simultaneously, his body moves out of the way to let you into his place, “Sorry—Come in.”

You step through the doorway into his apartment. It’s similar to yours; an open-plan kitchen with two other rooms and a balcony. Except, his balcony can actually be considered one. Through the glass doors leading outside, you see a small square table with a white tablecloth over it, two chairs set up on either side. There’s two empty wine glasses placed on top.

“You have a nice place,” the hesitation that you can hear in your own voice made you want to crawl up and fall through the floor. Small talk has never been your forte. 

Doyoung shuts his door quietly and he turns back around to face you. “Thanks,” he takes a shallow breath in. He drops his arms from behind his back to his sides, straightening his posture subtly. “You look nice.”

And there it was again. His change in demeanour. You’re so focused on the sudden flash of indifference on his face that you don’t even pay attention to his words. It’s not like tonight wasn’t already confusing for you, he had to go and add to that confusion himself.

You mumble out a quiet, “Thanks,” not knowing what to think of his compliment. You’re grateful for the tiny hum of classical music in the background as you and Doyoung both stand somewhat awkwardly away from each other. You divert your eyes away from him and spot where the music is playing from—the vinyl record player tucked away in the corner of the open room.

It doesn’t surprise you that Doyoung is playing classical music as he cooks—he seems the type.

“If you want, you can sit down,” he speaks up. Doyoung extends a palm towards the balcony, “Dinner’s nearly ready. I’ll bring it out.”

You pull your lips into a tiny smile as you walk past him towards the glass doors. Sliding them open, you feel a gentle evening breeze brush against your skin.

Not only is his balcony better than yours, his view is also better. The platform looks over the main street, and you can’t help but wonder how the hell did he manage to rent a place like this. Directly across the wide open road are other apartment complexes, but on the ground, there are countless cafés, bars, restaurants, flower shops—everything. The warm glow from the lights within these establishments light up the street in a mellow manner.

You pull out one of the patio chairs and sit yourself down, a gentle wind blowing past again and getting caught in your hair. The faintest whisper of the symphony from inside travels all the way to you. You take in a lungful of fresh air—as fresh as city air can be—and lean forward on your palms placed on the edge of the seat.

It’s not long before Doyoung comes out with two plates in his hands. He sets one down in front of you first, then the other in his place.

“Do you want a drink?” He offers softly.

“Yeah, sure.” You get the feeling that you might’ve answered him a little too eagerly.

He disappears inside and shortly comes back out with a tall tinted bottle in his hand. Doyoung takes a seat across from you, his attention fixated on the things set out in front of him. He takes your glass into his hands, pouring a red wine into it carefully. Then, he does the same with his own. Once he’s done, he sets the bottle down onto a little trolley to the side of the table which you hadn’t noticed before.

He takes his glass, tipping its rim towards you. You take that as a signal and mirror him.

“Cheers.” You clink your glasses together, a clear ring sounding out as a result. Doyoung notices that when you go to drink your wine, you are most certainly not pacing yourself the way you should. One gulp, and the cup is a quarter-full, having only been half-empty when he poured it out.

One drink then turned into two, which quickly turned into another. The evening had gone better than you’d expected, better than you’d hoped. You thought that it might as well be you and him eating in detention for how conversation-less it usually is between the two of you, but tonight proved you wrong. Frankly, you knew it had to be due to the alcohol.

The pair of you explored many different topics: the weather; if aliens are real; whether or not you believe in astrology; your biggest dreams; cereal or milk first; et cetera, et cetera. But the topic of the reason for this whole night never came up, or the two of you were just extremely skilled in avoiding talking about it.

“After I graduated from the conservatory in Seoul, I wasn’t set on what I wanted to do,” Doyoung’s words had a slight slur to them, barely noticeable if you’re not paying attention. He picks up his glass from the table, this being his third of the night. “I was 18 at the time. I took a year off to travel and by the time I turned 19, I found myself here in Paris,” he continues, an easy flow in his voice. He takes a sip of the wine, “And I fell in love with it.”

You’re leaning back into your chair, swirling around the glass in your hand. Before you can even think of what to say back to him, Doyoung speaks again.

“What about you? How did you end up here?”

He downs the entirety of the contents in his glass, face turned away from you. You lean forward onto the table as Doyoung sets the goblet down lightly. Tilting your head away from him, you watch as the red liquid swirls and ripple over in the bowl with the movement of your hand, creating a vortex.

You return your gaze back onto Doyoung. His cheeks are lightly blushed; the tip of his nose, too. You exhale sharply.

“I’ve always been here. Guess I knew what I wanted to be since I was little and… I stuck with it.”

“That’s impressive,” Doyoung comments. You can tell he’s half there and half not.

“I suppose,” you mutter under your breath. You’re confident that Doyoung couldn’t hear you.

There’s a beat of silence, with the music in the background finishing right at this moment. Then, it starts up again. You hadn’t been paying particular attention to Doyoung’s choice in music for the earlier part of the night, but this particular piece catches your attention. And it looks like it catches his, too.

The familiar introduction passage travels all the way to the balcony fadedly, despite it’s lively nature. You recognise it as the accompaniment to the Black Swan pas de deux that you have practiced with Doyoung numerous times now.

The two of you share a glance before Doyoung gives in.

“Shall we?”

You hesitate at first. This is silly, you thought. Doyoung extends a hand towards you. 

“I don’t have my shoes,” you counter.

“So, what? It’s not serious,” he urges you playfully, hand now closer to you.

Then, you give in. You place your palm into his as he leads you back inside of his apartment. There’s enough space inside for you to move around comfortably, but not to perform a whole duet. The two of you half-heartedly dance along to the music, mainly relying on muscle memory for the piece. For the second time tonight, your mind is blank. You’re only tuning into the music and letting your body move the way it wants, no thoughts dictating your actions at all.

A part of the choreography calls for Doyoung to place his hands on your arms from behind you, and wrap them around yourself, which is then followed by Odile rejecting this show of affection. Doyoung’s touch on your forearms is delicate, like a feather brushing past you. Yet, there seems to be a moment in which he holds on and lingers in his position for a little longer than expected. In that same very moment, you didn’t want to move on with the choreography, sending him away with a firm denial of his fondness. The Prince’s fondness.

The first parts of the music comes close to finishing. The last vibrato of the violin sounds out as you spin into Doyoung’s arms, flesh out an arabesque, shift into fifth position, and lean your torso forward. Doyoung slides onto one of his knees, hands catching your waist as you tilt into him with one leg up in the air and arms behind you.

Your wrists flick downwards right along with the last notes of the melody.

Your faces are close to one another. You feel that if you were to lean forward even just an inch more, the tips of your noses would touch.

The music comes to a halt. That’s when the sound of your breathing alongside Doyoung’s becomes noticeable. You can feel your chest burn with every rise and fall. Doyoung looks deeply into your eyes in a way that he’s never done before in all the times you’ve finished this piece with him. It’s like he’s watching himself in the reflection of your irises.

“And this… is where you’re irrevocably in love with me,” you whisper, not being able to hold back a tug at your lips as you did so.

Doyoung chuckles. His hands are still gripping onto the sides of your waist firmly.

Your arms begin to feel heavier by the second, so you set them down, putting both your hands onto Doyoung’s shoulders. Your leg goes down as well, meeting the other on tip-toes against the floor.

Doyoung doesn’t look away for one moment, and neither do you. You’re still catching your breath when you feel a pull on your hips.

You stop breathing.

Doyoung’s face is now even closer to yours. You can see every minute detail of his features; the way his eyelids folded, the individual hairs of his brows, and his defined cupid’s bow. That was something that you never noticed about him, and now you can’t pull your eyes away from it.

He watches you observe him, and he does the same.

Without even knowing, you inch your face closer and closer to Doyoung’s.

Until finally, your lips meet his. 

END OF ACT II

© misted-dream 2024

[safetycar-restart]

So I was doing a deep dive on your account cause your stuff is gold 👌🏻👌🏻and I found this post

https://www.tumblr.com/safetycar-restart/716054638514896896/hey-shels-i-hope-you-are-feeling-much-better-now

And the farm au! Oh my god it lit up my brain like nothing else… and cause I too love angst…

Bunny Charles and Arthur being used to being spoiled bunnies, living the high life, all luxurious life but then their dom realized just how needy and dependent and expensive keeping two bunnies are and they do the equivalent of dropping them off on the side of the road in a box… so now poor bunnies are out in the cold harsh world and just don’t know what to do…

They just start walking back in the direction of home because maybe Dom made a mistake? and forgot them? But it’s a long cold walk and when the sun sets they see a warm light in the distance - your little cottage and farm, gardens full of yummy food and a welcoming warmth.

You wake up to two bunnies curled up in front of the fire place, covered in dirt with tear tracks

Or maybe you have a stall in the local farmers market and one day you hear just gut wrenching yips coming from the nearest alley and when you check it out — cat!max is there hiding and nursing a broken tail. Maybe his dad was yanking on his tail as a punishment and it broke/sprained it and max lashed out and ran away. Obviously you can’t leave poor kitty by himself, so you grab some of your supplies and spend the day slowly getting max used to you to allow you close enough to bandage his tail up. When you finally do that, he’s just curled up in your lap purring and out of his mind on catnip and genuine love and care and he just follows you home when you go to leave

Or maybe your farm is in an area with a lot of hunters and you’re taking a small hike cause it’s a gorgeous day for when you hear pained howling. Wolf!pierre and Carlos are caught in a bear trap or up a tree in some netting and it looks like they’ve been there for a while. You quickly get to work in getting them free and coax them to come to your house to fix them right up.

Or maybe you finally feel that you’ve settled nicely into your new farm and decide that it’s time to think about finding a hybrid for company. Maybe it’s luck or maybe it’s fate but you meet the pair of cat!oscar and dog!logan - they’ve bonded and won’t be separated but everyone they’ve tried stay with only wanted one not both…

(Like I said ☺️🙈 this ask sent like fireworks through my mind (love love love your writing!!!) -🦚)

I've had this ask in my askbox for months and oh my god every time I read it I get obsessed. I hadnt answered it yet because I knew I needed to set aside quite a bit of time because I knew this would be so long 😂

Here is the link to the original post so you don't have to search the URL, I'd suggest giving this a quick read for context if you're confused. It's very short but does explain it all :))

Right okay so the general premise is this: you own a farm in the hybrid!au with all sorts of drivers that come along and join. We can do this as a poly type thing or we can do it just as you run a farm and one driver comes along, whatever you guys would like to discuss! I think I'll tag everything with 'farm!au' but then also add 'poly!farm!au' to any posts that involve any sort of poly situation.

All of the stuff discussed by the anon above are just so so so perfect!!!! I'm gonna discuss each idea in a bit more detail each under their own heading and then we can go from there :))

BUNNY!CHARLES AND BUNNY!ARTHUR:

Aw poor little bunnies!! My immediate thought was that maybe their original caretaker/owner had died and they were handed over to whoever their dom has chosen and that was very much the wrong choice. They do try to get along with their new caretaker, of course they do. But bunnies are by far the most high needs of all hybrids, they're social creatures and they need constant attention or else they'll get sad and lonely.

Maybe bunnies need attention from people who are not bunnies as well? They need caretakers who are gentle and attentive and when their new person cannot do that and they start acting out (they can't help it!! They want attention!!), yeah they end up on the side of the road.

I definitely think for these two you wouldnt even get an option. You sort of just walk into the living room and two bunny hybrids are sleeping next to the fireplace.

CAT!MAX:

I love the idea of finding Max outside somewhere like at a farmer's market. I think maybe his dad left him there not to abandon him but to teach him some sort of lesson? Max is just curled up trying to keep quiet and waiting for his dad to decide he's had enough punishment and come fetch him. You manage to convince him to come home with you, promising him that you just want to get him into some nice clean clothes and get a good meal in him and then you'll call his dad for him.

Except well... Max feels so safe with you? He keeps on forgetting himself and purring or gathering blankets. He's never felt this warm and cared for. You offer to let him stay the night and the next morning you're supposed to call his father like you promised but well... Needless to say that never happens.

WOLF!CARLOS AND WOLF!PIERRE:

I feel like these two would have started out as enemies but they were forced to stay together? Like maybe they got separated from the rest of their pack and only had each other. They became much closer and got used to just the two of them. They don't trust anyone else. They manage on their own and are almost feral?

But then one of them gets caught in bear trap. The one not trapped tries to free the other of course but they can't. It's the fear of losing their only person that leads them to come into your yard. Maybe they had seen you quite a few times? Like you live on the boarder of the forest and they often see you walking in your garden and in the forest and you always seem calm, so the one not trapped comes to find you.

You follow him to the other one and help free him. They try to scurry off but the one is too injured. You convince them both to come back with you and let you care for their injuries. And they just never end up leaving?

[berrypass-de-murdler]

82. Murder in the Park

Well I feel decent for the first time in a while so I'd love to introduce you to some stuff -

#1, I finally realized that it doesn't matter if people don't care about the cartoon so as long as I have the most dedicated followers, @itzr4v3n, @royalleblue, and @kirvee (sorry for tag ;w;) Your support means everything to me and without it I wouldn't have bothered making it this far in

Now it's time to meet the world's first Inspector Irratino plush-

Ok he's a little more rough than Aureolin.

I can't stop snickering when I look at him he's SO GOOFY HNGGGG

He will be mine forever

Sorry logico your bf's been kidnapped/jk

And also

Designed once more by Fletchinderat here is Superfan Smokey, the problematic 8-year-old dragon who is taller than many adults. A murder superfan and stalker, he is always in Logico's way and loves to commit his own crimes.

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logi goes to a park. It’s so fantastic. Except for the dead guy.

LOGICO: OHHHHH, YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME I CAN’T DO ANYTHING FOR MYSELF!!! [faceplants and sobs, so mature]

Pearl is there.

PEARL: OI. IH’ PUUHL.

And so are Tangerine and Lavender and Tuscany who also followed him to Hollywood or something??

LOGICO: WH- WHY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?? TUSCANY: I have to MONITOR you. LAVENDER: Wouldn’t YOU like to know why. LOGICO: YES I WOULD, YOU BASTARD!!! TANGERINE: We’re doing a good job - we almost distracted him from the murder!

Tusc and Lav glare.

TANGERINE: Oh oops.

Logico legit can’t tell who’s done the murders anymore, because even the ‘innocent’ love to make themselves look as suspicious as possible.

PEARL: A’ A’ U EUHD OV THE REW-BEE TOT’S RAUND E’? SAY ISSA GOOD WAY’TA MUH’DA! LOGICO: …I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying. 

Tuscany is hiding in an ancient zoo with tiny cages and nothing in it. Except her, I guess.

LOGICO: Why are you in a zoo. TUSCANY: DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’M A WILD ANIMAL. And as an academic, I can assert Mx. Tangerine was at the Hollywood sign. LOGICO: Don’t you character-relevant dialogue quip at me, Mother.

Pearl, meanwhile, is attempting to sing.

PEARL: TWUYNK-GULL TWUYNK-GULL WEE’OOL STARE RANDO: MY GOD, SHUT UP!

After thinking of the line over and over again in his head, Logico still can't figure out what the hell Pearl was trying to say to him. He needs to do something better with his time.

(Skype noises)

IRRATINO: LOGUUUU LOGICO: EW, no. How are you doing? IRRATINO: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Logico drops the phone. Into a lake, too!

LOGICO: NOOOOO! IRRATINO: Oh my god Logico don’t cry, Jesus! LOGICO: I’M NOT CRYING IDIOT, I DROPPED THE PHONE INTO A LAKE! IRRATINO: Ohhhh yeah. Wait, how is it still working? 

Logico grabs for it and brings it out, drippin’.

LOGICO: ANYWAY, I’m at the PARK and I need some murder help.

IRRATINO: Yay! I’ll do some marot stuff. 

He does some marot stuff.

IRRATINO: Chancellor Tuscany was seen with a log. LOGICO: How does that help? IRRATINO: [shrug] Gotta go, my dishwater is VERY sad right now. BOOOP!

It turns out Tuscany was STILL running from blackmail… and finally got the person who was threatening her.

TUSCANY: Logico, you monster! You were my prized student and now you’ve exposed two of my murders? LOGICO: You’re keeping count? Not even I do that. TUSCANY: That’s OUTRAGEOUS! I wish you were still in college so I could expel you.  LOGICO: Yes, well, sad things happen sometimes.

Lavender is cheesing by the Hollywood sign when someone runs by and shoves him off the cliff. It’s Tangerine - they finally got their ruby. They wink at the fourth wall and take off.

The end!

Lel that had nothing to do with movies

Anyway I'm feeling better <3 Hope it lasts longer than my last happy break

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[olderthannetfic]

Re, this anon: https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/719669829313953792

Yeah, well... that's the point of a bunch of internet activists: they throw the stone and hide the hand, screeching that, if you're doubting their innocence, you're an imperialist racist who should never be allowed on the internet.

Stitch, the person they're picking up a lot of their schlock from, is a master in this: they attack people, and the moment those who got attacked ask what they've done that's wrong or ask to have a one-on-one conversation with them, they shut everything down, screenshot whatever they received, block the person, and then go on Twitter whining about being a victim of racism because their words weren't listened to like the Gospel. Over and over again.

After the TOG racefaker scandal broke, I went through her blog and, just as I had expected, she too followed the same modus operandi: attack, screenshot, block, cry about being a victim of racism because people didn't let her insult them and demanded explanations about her ranting, wannabe-academic, posts.

They're not the only ones who do/did this, but these are the two examples of constant "harassment is good if I do it, but I'm the only victim and the others deserved it" cycle that come to my mind as of now.

When you're looking at End OTW Racism, you have to expect the same thing. They don't have answers, they don't want to have answers. This whole movement (horribly organized, horribly promoted, horribly everything) is nothing but a huge stroke of ego for its organizers.

You know how antis accuse others of being racist or pedophiles or whatever else because, that way, the accused cannot defend themselves? This is the same thing: if the OTW doesn't address their manifesto, then they're racist because they refuse to acknowledge it; if the OTW does address their manifesto, then they're admitting that they didn't care about racism until the moment they were called out on it and their concern regarding racism within the OTW is manufactured.

It's a win-win situation for them because, no matter how much you try, if you don't fully and absolutely agree with them, you can be branded as racist.

If you scroll through the End OTW Racism tag on Twitter, you'll see plenty of people (and especially the organizers), tweet stuff in the same vein as "I went to olderthannet's Tumblr and oof," not so subtly accusing all the people who raised valid concerns and asked valid questions of being racist.

I'm also not the first person who mentions this, but Stitch does seem to be heavily involved with the project, and even if they weren't, their words have been used to build the manifesto, and they amplified this crap through one of their Teen Vogue articles.

Now... not only Stitch is known for acting in bad faith, attacking creators of colors, branding them as Uncle Toms, purposefully making fun of them if they don't agree with them and sending their followers to attack and harass, but, just in April, they were being dragged because of another article they wrote, in which they compared writing fics about bad fictional characters to worshiping serial killers. Weeks before that, they were being dragged because their fanbase of antis discovered that their fics included incest, something that goes greatly against their preachings.

How big of a coincidence is it, that Stitch needed to have their image cleaned of all sins and suddenly a group of people drops a manifesto and hashtag about racism in fandom, founding a movement Stitch fully and absolutely agrees with and can rave about for days on end? A movement that offers very vague answers and plans, and those creators attack anyone who doesn't immediately agree with them, to the point that no questions can be ever asked about it?

Unless I'm shown actual evidence that Stitch isn't involved with this, nothing will convince me that End OTW Racism was launched for any reason that isn't to rehabilitate Stitch in the eyes of their chronically online audience.

--

[rt-lots]

i want a baby update in stardew valley NOWWWWWW

i was just talking to my dad about how i want to do more stuff with the babies in stardew valley so i decided id make a post detailing all my wishes. if you know me personally you know that my biggest dream is a sdv-esque game where relationships r the focus and the farms the second thing, so these ideas probably would fit better in a game like that. but I DONT CARE and i LOVE THE LITTLE BABIES and i WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM

i want to take my baby everywhere if its a newborn i understand keeping it in the crib all day, but i wanna carry the baby!!! even if i just hold it over my head like an item. i want to carry my baby and interact with villagers and have them go "aww cute baby!" or if my characters a boy i want clint to go "aw haha babysitting today are you?" and i want to go "NO!!!!!!!!! IM RAISING MY CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!"'" and then put down my child and beat them up. when the baby is a toddler i want them to be able to follow me anywhere and ride on my horse with me (or, alternatively, have to run really fast behind me to catch up with my horse) and i wanna be able to take my child to the mines, and if i get knocked out in the mines, i want my spouse to fucking berate me and drop me down to 4 hearts and im NOT JOKING!!!!!!! THERE'D BE A WHOLE SPEEDRUN CATEGORY FOR IT AND EVERYTHING DONT YOU SEE THE VISION?

i want to play with my baby it can just be an animation of the farmer sitting on the floor with blocks or something, and it can serve no purpose other than to pass the time IDC!!! we could play hide n seek on the farm or tag with my spouse and other kids or there could be a little minigame like journey of the prairie king or something. but with babies. i want it to be EXACTLY journey of the prairie king actually, i think you should be able to teach your toddler how to play like in abigails 2 heart cutscene and its ai is like so fucking bad at the game cuz therye 4 years old and you have to carry it thru all the levels. i wanna go to the beach with my baby and have them have a cute little animation of them splashing in the shallow water or watch them chase around my dog. i want goddamn COCOMELON ON THE TV!!! ANYTHANG!!!

i want to make npcs babysit my baby i want it to be a requirement that your kid has to have someone looking after them. by default penny is like the only npc who will always say yes so its not Fucking impossible, but if i have like 8 hearts w someone i should be able to go to their house, baby in tow, and ask "hey can you look after my baby?" and theyll say yes but like it or dislike it depending on who they are. i want funny dialogue about what my kid said or if they missed me if we have low hearts. i want to force my farmhands to babysit my baby too. again i want my spouse to drop hearts with me if i go leave the baby unattended

i want to teach my baby things ive never really cared for the babies growing up past toddler age, but i want to teach them how to do things. i want them to get up at like 12pm, waddle outside, stare at a singular tile of plant for 40 in game minutes before holding the watering can above their little head and spilling it everywhere on the dirt. i want to buy my baby a teeny tiny fishing rod and teach it to fish, and i want my baby to fish exclusively trash until its level 9. i want my baby to plant wild seeds in random spots on the farm and get sad if they dont bloom. i want to take my baby to the goddamn mines !!!!! i want my baby to give me random things it picked up. and if i let slimes in the house i want that baby to FUCKING KILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this has been a list of things i want in the stardew valley baby update. everyone hates the kids but i LOVE having little babies running around and i want them to do more. and i think i want to do more things with my spouse too while im at it, and i also want to hug my friends. but one thing at a time. one baby at a time

[malriex]

The Morning After

Alpha Cole Cassidy X Omega Male reader

Tags: omegaverse, a/b/o, smut, Cole Cassidy, overwatch 2, male reader, fluff, alpha, beta, omega, short, situational writing, fanfic

WRITER'S NOTE: First time doing this kind of stuff so yeah I probably suck.

Cole just got out of the bathroom half naked wearing his pajama trousers already done with his morning routine, as he wipe his face walking towards the bed. He grabs the blanket off revealing his lovely omega underneath, laying in bed naked, all curled up asleep like a child. You immiediately hide your face down irretated by the light glowing across the room.

Cole gently climbs in, crawls towards his omega and leaning over him adoring his beauty. Cole began kissing gently from the lower back to the upper back and last to his nape. As you made a muffled squeal

"No !!!!!"

"What do you mean??" Cole continues to kissing your nape and savoring both sides of your neck.

"NO !!!!" As you wiggle your left shoulder giving a hint to cut it out.

Cole pause for a second confused of what you mean. "Come on Darling can you tell me what it is ?" he ask.

As you turn your head facing Cole with an angry pout. "LOOK WHAT YOU DID !!!!!" as you point your neck riddled with hickeys and bite marks.

"Awww Darling, I'm sorry I can't help it, promise it won't happen again." as he slimes and kissed your forehead. However you're still angrily pouting about it knowing it's a lie.

In order to change the subject, Cole began wrapping you with the bed sheet and carrying you to his arms as he takes you to the shower. Where he gently sat you down in the shower bench, he turns on the shower and adjusting the temperature according to your liking, while Cole is busy taking care all of your needs.

You took the bed sheet off you're covered with and began to sat down on the shower floor, as you reached down with your fingers trying to unload what Cole left in you last night. The slower flows down like rain as you crawl towards it to soak in, to feel the warm water all over your body, as you continue your business you moaned a little because you spread it a little wider.

Cole came back and drop everything he's carrying for he witness his omega in a pitiful state. He runs towards you and carry you off the shower,

"No! Don't" you plead.

"Why ?" Cole asked

"I'm ....... I'm trying to take it out" you mumbled.

"Oh !? ....... OH !!!!" Cole realize what you mean.

As the shower continues to flow, Cole sat down on the shower floor getting soaked and you sat on his lap, hugging him with legs wrapped around his waist. Cole looks at you with a gentle smile as you're a bit embarrassed to look back at him the fact that you're fully naked and the position you both are in.

"Now relax, let me take care of it" Cole assured.

Cole's fingers reached down and touched your entry point, your body immediately jolted and hugged him tightly. Cole paused for a second,

"You ok !?" Cole asked.

"Yeah.......It .... it feels different when someone else do it.........just. Go on." you mumbled.

Two of Cole's fingers went in slowly and carefully, he begins to move his fingers, as your back suddenly bends slightly inwards as Cole continued move his fingers, you began to moan even louder. Cole's fingers strokes in and out even faster. Your breath are heavier as you hugged Cole even tighter, as your body continues to twitch.

"YES! ...... AH!" as you screamed between moans.

Since you're sitting on top of him and leaning towards him, Cole took advantage of this and kissing and licking your chest and neck. As water dripping and sliding down your skin. Cole is savoring each and every second of it. As you moan even more.

You finally climax, your body feels tired and weak as you rest your head on Cole's shoulder still panting as Cole is also catching his breath. And took a rest for a few minute.

As Cole is about to stand, you push him as he lie down on the shower floor, he's surprised by that as you're sitting on top of him you place your hand on his chest and began to move your hips slowly rubbing your crouch to his as you can feel that he's hard.

"Darlin' STOP !!!" He pleaded.