#i don’t have the right words to convey any of this well

[ladybracknellssherry]

I’m kinda bummed at myself and it’s been bothering me that maybe it seems like I cared more about their interpretation of the media instead of how they interacted with people.

And it’s just been rolling around in my head for days.

What I really wanted to convey was that based on how they interpreted the media - always coming in with really rigid and really negative hot takes…seeming to use their hot takes interpretations of the media to express very thinly veiled problematic general views…and how they worded them and responded to anyone who responded with any amount of disagreement… maybe because I already knew about the shit-server it gave me that context to really see those things for what they were. But idk if that context should have been necessary. And these negative comments and overt bullying and vitriol at people with different opinions… as well as some high high amounts of self aggrandizement and this attitude that apparently seemed to some as just being “strong” or “confident” read to me like some pretty hostile narcissism.

So looking at things like that, it had always been really distressing to me that other people didn’t seem to see it all for what it was. Like, those things were there on public display on their tumblr. Maybe not always as explicit as it was in their shit-server. But it was there.

So the media interpretations matter to me. I keep thinking about the time in a chat that I responded to someone talking about punk-rock and rockstar Crowley with “I HATE rockstar Crowley.” And it really upset some people. Someone asked why and I said I just don’t interpret his character as someone who would enjoy that sort of attention and life. And when it was pointed out to me how hostile that seemed, I immediately apologized to everyone. I apologized for using “hate” instead of a softer “I don’t like.” But you know what I didn’t do? I didn’t double down and not apologize. I didn’t say “I’m right and you’re wrong.” I didn’t make fun of the people who enjoy reading or writing that characterization/trope. I corrected myself with “BUT I understand we all interpret characters differently.”

And I’m not saying wow I’m a great person for that. I just think that’s a pretty basic decency appropriate response. And I still feel Bad for how I said it.

Which is decidedly NOT how moonyinpisces, saglaophons, and apparently vavoom-sorted react.

Okay. Even if I was just clearing that up for myself. I think I said it right this time.

reminder that good omens is a trans allegory before it’s a biblical one.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

Okay so I had probably one of the funniest thoughts ever to date and.

Aurora teamwork cooking experiment.

[whispers-whump]

Some writing advice

that I like to use when I write. None of this is meant to be taken as hard and fast rules, they’re just things I like to do/keep in mind when I’m writing and I thought maybe other people would enjoy! <3

Never say what you mean

This is an offshoot of the very common “show don’t tell” advice, which I think can be confusing in application and unhelpful for scenes where telling is actually the right move. Instead, I keep the advice to never say exactly what I mean in stories.

By using a combination of showing and telling to hint at what you really mean, you force your reader to think and figure it out on their own, which makes for a more satisfying reading experience.

You might show a character getting angry and defensive in response to genuine care and concern. You could tell the audience that the character doesn’t see/talk to their parents often. But never outright give the real meaning that the character feels unlovable because of their strained relationship with their parents and as a result they don’t know how to react to being cared for.

Your readers are smart, you don’t need to spoon feed them.

Be sparse with the important things

You know how in a lot of movies there’s that tense scene where a character is hiding from something/someone and you can only just see this person/thing chasing them through a crack in the door? You get a very small glimpse of whatever’s after the character, sometimes only shadows being visible.

Do that in your writing. Obscure the important things in scenes by overdescribing the unimportant and underdescribing the important.

You might describe the smell of a space, the type of wood the floor is made of, the sound of work boots moving slowly across the room, a flashlight in the character’s hand. And there’s a dead body, laying in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room, red soaking into the rug. Then move on, what kind of rug is it? What is the color, patterns, and type of fabric of the rug?

Don’t linger on the details of the body, give your reader’s imagination some room to work while they digest the mundane you give them.

Dialogue is there to tell your story too

There’s a lot of advice out there about how to make dialogue more realistic, which is absolutely great: read aloud to yourself, put breaks where you feel yourself take a breath, reword if you’re stuttering over your written dialogue. But sometimes, in trying to make dialogue sound more realistic, a little bit of its function is lost.

Dialogue is more than just what your characters say, dialogue should serve a purpose. It’s a part of storytelling, and it can even be a bridging part of your narration.

If you have a scene with a lot of internal conflict that is very narration-heavy, breaking it up with some spoken dialogue can be a way to give some variety to those paragraphs without moving onto a new idea yet; people talk to themselves out loud all of the time.

Dialogue is also about what your characters don’t say. This can mean the character literally doesn’t say anything, they give half-truths, give an expected answer rather than the truth (“I’m fine”), omit important information, or outright lie.

Play with syntax and sentence structure

You’ve heard this advice before probably. Short, choppy sentences and a little onomatopoeia work great for fast-paced action scenes, and longer sentences with more description help slow your pacing back down.

That’s solid advice, but what else can you play with? Syntax and sentence structure are more than just the length of a sentence.

Think about things like: repetition of words or ideas, sentence fragments, stream of consciousness writing, breaking syntax conventions, and the like. Done well, breaking some of those rules we were taught about language can be a more compelling way to deliver an emotion, theme, or idea that words just can’t convey.

Would love to hear any other tips and tricks other people like to use, so feel free to share!!!

[utahimeow]

“kenma?”

“hmm?”

he doesn’t take his eyes off the tv screen where he shoots at enemies left and right, but his ears are all yours.

“who was your first kiss?”

it’s become a habit of yours to watch his fingers move on the controller, long and thin and dexterous, wondering how he manages to move them in such a swift manner that to you seems impossible.

“didn’t have one,” he says, blunt.

“ever?”

“ever.”

“how?” you ask, both surprised and not—though now that you think about it, through all the years you’ve known him, he probably would have told you if he had.

“all i did in middle and high school was play volleyball and game. didn’t have time to kiss anyone. also didn’t care about it,” he admits.

you suppose if he wasn’t with you or kuroo, he was at home, playing video games. but there was that little obsession of his with shoyo hinata… so you guess it wasn’t a crush after all.

there’s only an ounce of hesitation behind what you say next, because yes, kenma’s your best friend and this could change the trajectory of your entire relationship with him, but also it’s kenma. kenma who you’ve shared a bed and clothes with, kenma who’s seen you at rock bottom and who’s wiped your snot and tears away when you were at your lowest, kenma who you’re attached at the hip with.

“what if i was your first kiss?”

kenma doesn’t falter at your words, not even for a second as he plays on expertly, nonchalant as always.

“uhh, why?” he asks, and you’re triumphant. if it was a ‘ew, no, what the fuck?’ then that’s how you’d know you fucked up. but it’s not.

“it kinda makes sense for me to be your first. also, i just wanna know what it’s like to kiss you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders.

the next few moments are full of nothing but controller sounds and the music from the video game on the tv. in the faint glow that radiates from the screen, you make out a tiny dusting of pink on kenma’s pale cheeks.

eventually he gulps. then, “can we drink first?”

your mouth falls open with an insulted gasp and you have half a mind to smack him over the head.

“if you think i’m ugly you can say that, kozume,” you pout, crossing your arms.

“it’s not because i think you’re ugly, dumbass.”

“then why do you need to be drunk to kiss me?!”

kenma is silent again. he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re staring at him utterly indignantly.

“because i’m too scared to look you in the eyes right now.”

oh.

now you get it.

kenma kozume is such a virgin. and you want him so incredibly badly. in fact you have to restrain yourself from jumping into his lap and kissing him until he can’t think straight.

instead you slide off the couch and head towards his fridge, grab two bottles of asahi and the bottle opener from the utensil drawer before padding back over to the couch, sitting an inch or two closer to kenma than you were before.

you click one bottle open for him, then one for yourself, then without a hint of hesitation you take a confident swig until you’re near chugging the drink.

“chill,” kenma says, side-eyeing you after taking a swig from his own bottle. “don’t want you pulling a himeno on me.”

you let out a noise that’s half-scoff and half-laugh, smacking at his arm. “don’t joke about that. that scene was traumatic.”

two bottles of beer later, kenma’s in-game reflexes start to waver. he’s no longer as sharp as usual, though his tipsy state still trumps the skills of an average player. meanwhile, your head floats with the buzz of alcohol—well, it hovers.

“kenmaaa,” you whine, shaking his arm, when all of a sudden his character is shot to death and the screen pauses as if to deliberately rub his defeat in his face. you stifle a giggle while he runs his hands over his face, though you’re pretty sure it’s not because he lost.

“what?” he asks, but he fails at conveying any real irritation towards you. his voice is small, frail almost.

“i wanna kiss you,” you say. your fingers still cling to the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. kenma’s entire body burns from it. he’s so fucked.

“okay, fine,” he says, turning his body to finally face you and criss-crossing his legs on the couch. “this feels awkward though, how are we-”

and you’ve waited long enough for this, and the alcohol that buzzes through your system makes you throw all your morals out the window, and you’re grabbing him by fistfuls of his hoodie and dragging him towards you until your lips smash—literally—together, and finally he shuts up.

you’re not sure what overcomes you, but you’re kissing him like you’re hungry, not quite ravaging him, but years of yearning deep inside of you bubbles to the surface and fills you with desperation.

also, you’re tipsy.

it’s not long before you come back to your senses a little and remind yourself that this is just his first kiss. go easy on him, maybe?

you move away, slowly, as though trying not to startle him, to find a pair of golden feline eyes blinking back at you. they’re swimming with something unintelligible, something akin to… need? you think you must be seeing things. you’re tipsy, after all.

the silence that hangs over the pair of you is heavy—too heavy. it hurts your shoulders. you laugh so that it goes away, covering your face as though kenma’s timidness was contagious and has now spread to you.

eventually, when you peer back up at him, he’s grinning almost… triumphantly. despite the blush that covers his entire face, he looks victorious. his face replaces any words he could say, and he turns back to his game without a word.

you, however, struggle to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“can we do that more often?” you ask, leaning your frame against his, nuzzling your face into his warmth.

“yeah, we can.”

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[janumun]

Jdieos hii so I have a lil request. Please ignore it if you're uncomfortable with it,

Sylus with a virgin reader. Like never touched herself, not even toys, never seen a dick kinda virgin

Just to make sure I'm 18+ 😭

Hey Nonny! Requests are technically closed but since I am very not normal about anything Sylus and LaDS men right now and your request is personally, an interesting topic for me, I don’t mind indulging in a few HCs for both our sakes 😆😆 for how I see him with a beloved, who’s never been with anyone before. Happy Reading!

First Times with Sylus (NSFW/18+ Headcanons)

Tags: virgin reader, oral and vaginal sex, squirting

Good communication is a strong basis of a relationship established with Sylus.

Words are used, desires are conveyed in clear cut actions and mannerisms and Sylus encourages the same of you. Even when the two of you share a kiss for the first time, it is on your terms alone and at the pace with which you wish to drive your relationship further into physicality. 

Scarlet gaze meeting yours from across the warm space in between your faces — the want he parses on your face for more, in the curl of delicate digits you grip against his, as you urge him closer. Lashes trembling shut with the press of your mouths against the other, your pleased little sound of approval breaking against his lips, he swallows into his. 

Soft, drifting kisses he lets warm your body into his; across the curve of your cheek, down the angle of your jaw. 

And only when you haul his face back up against yours in the curl of desperate digits against his jaw, letting your mouth fall open, does he put his tongue into you for the first time. Smile hitching wider against the catch of breath that very new feeling elicits within you. “Any more of trying to hold your breath like that and you’ll turn yourself dizzy in no time.” Thick fingers easing about the back of your head, threading in between your locks. “Breathe through your nose, kitten. Yes, just like that.”

 Your first time is a slow, torturously pleasurable and long process. And not just because of how a single night in Sylus’s bed is enough to ruin a person.

It is also because of his need to prepare you well beforehand — his sheets will be drenched, your pussy worked open, long before he even attempts fitting his cock into you.

[As also detailed at great length in my NSFW headcanons for Sylus] the man is no stranger to sex, he knows his way about it; which in turn also affords him the knowledge of how to handle a partner, especially an inexperienced one, with the proper care they deserve. 

It is only thanks to the enduring stores of stamina afforded to a Hunter through their relentless cycles of training, are you able to keep up with Sylus’s gentle wrecking of your body during your first night. 

Once he’s shed you entirely of your clothes and spread, willing and open, upon his sheets does he move to pace down the length of your body. Devious mouth having long worked your lips and tongue into a mess; he shifts to settle in between your legs. Prying open your legs in the press of large palms, thumbing to ease at the tense tendon of your thighs when you involuntarily stiffen to stone, to have a man down there for the very first time in your life. 

You’d never been with another and a relationship with Sylus had already gifted you with so many of your wonderful firsts.

And you’re ready to let him be the first man you make love to, a fact you’ve never been more sure of. 

You are no stranger to how sex works, in theory —  you may have never indulged before freely in your desires, never having had the reason or drive to indulge in pleasuring yourself, before him but you certainly do understand what it entails, broadly.

And yet, when Sylus’s mouth settles across your wet heat to lap, you know nothing else in this world could’ve ever prepared you for the way your hips spasm up into his steeled hold. 

Not used to the way the pointed edge of his tongue curls up into your walls to work your pussy open for himself. Humming into your folds, the gravelly vibrations of it traveling all the way up, as if to your very womb. 

“Relax yourself, kitten. There you go, good girl.” Clenching in on him so tight, to filthy words and praises he warms into the night. 

“You’re going to tear through the sheets if you grip them any harder.” He hums. “If you do need something to hold on to, ” Guiding your white knuckled grip to loosen, and towards the mussed strands of his hair. “My head is right here, sweetheart.” 

Trudging you uphill, slow, sensuous — this man takes his merry time —  towards a devastating peak. Ministrations gentling when he feels you close, causing you to gush your frustrations across the angle of his jaw, his nose brushing up against your clit.

A combined assault of lips, tongue, gentled teeth and fingers working you into ruin — he keeps you suspended for hours within that torturous, precipitating state of desire. 

And when you finally fall— 

It is the most wonderfully disastrous feeling you’ve ever experienced in your life, orgasming so fucking hard, you feel your wetness spurt onto his eager tongue, trickle down the strength of his jaw. Eyes giving in to grey at the corners with the vehemence of your release before you black out, with your lover’s mouth still buried within the space of your legs. 

When you next wake up, Sylus is soothing your nerves against the kisses he feathers at your temples.

“Better now, sweetie?”

Your disorientation unfurling back into the present before you give him your consent, assuring him you are alright.

He’s unraveling you open so many more times after — a terrifying incarnate of self-control — on his fingers coaxing open your hole for what’s to come.

You’re nearly delirious with mad desire by the time you feel the hot roll of his cock against your drenched thighs, working your slick onto his length before he positions himself at your slit.

Pushing into you, gentle, slow.

There is no pain, owing to how he’s had you so overly prepared — only the discomfiting stretch of a foreign ingression you’ve never before felt in your life. 

Sylus’s thrusts into you are languid and superficial the first night you are his. Lazy, wonderful pleasure, he brings upon the two of you. 

He is well-endowed down below and he understands that well; his full length he doesn’t try coax you to accommodate during your first time together. Not ready to overwhelm you with his full size just yet. There will be time for that, later.

When you are much more stretched, much more used to his girth, sweetie. 

End Notes: Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated if you are so inclined. ❤️

Tagging @bitches4lifebro , @catboi-anon , @samanthagnicole , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @chocomii-chan , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @Cas-tiel13 , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lordchula-thegrandrula

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[valeriehalla]

I have gotten a lot of messages saying that they really love the presentation of CURSE/KISS/CUTE. Often the commenter in question can’t say what exactly it is about the formatting that they appreciate, but that it just reads well and looks good. Well!!! Allow me to bare my wealth of secret knowledge for you once and for all:

I sorta just did some research into book typography...?

Here’s something you should know about web development, alright: typography on the web is really, really bad. The tools we have at our disposal—HTML and CSS—are incredibly powerful, but they are set up to fight you every step of the way towards Good Typography. When you know what you’re looking for, you can fix all the common issues quickly and easily. But it’s not easy to know what to look for, because

problematic typography is overwhelmingly the norm on the web, and

good typography is invisible.

Here’s a screenshot from CURSE/KISS/CUTE episode 0:

Now, I don’t want this post to come across as prescriptive. It is not my intention to tell you, “This is what good typography looks like, so follow my lead exactly.” I made a lot of choices with the typography of my web novel: many of those choices would not make sense in other contexts. What I want to convey to you is what those choices are, so that you will know they’re available to be made.

I mentioned that the web “fights you” when it comes to good typography. What do I mean by that? Well, check this out:

This is how that passage of text renders “by default.” In other words, this is how a web browser would render that text without any input from me about what styles to apply. It kind of sucks ass! But it also looks pretty familiar, right? This is not that far off from how a lot of websites—even websites full of prose (looking at you, AO3)—render text.

I think the most illustrative thing to do here would be to walk you through my thought process and show you, step by step, what decisions I made to turn this unstyled text into the styled version you see in the novel.

So, first things first:

1. We have got to shrink that text column.

Computer monitors... are wide. They are wider than they are tall. They are so wide, and they have so many pixels. This means you can fit a lot of characters on them. If you wanted, you could just have a wall of characters from the left side of the screen all the way to the right side. Talk about efficient!!

You should never, ever, ever do this.

This is one choice that I actually will make a prescriptive statement about, because it’s supported by quite a lot of research: fairly narrow text columns are more legible. Specifically, research seems to support the idea that a width in the range of 50 to 70 characters per line is the most comfortable for people to read*. Every font is different, so it takes a little doing to turn that “characters” figure into a pixel measurement; I went with 512 CSS pixels for the maximum width of my text column:

Isn’t that just so much nicer to read already?

*A commenter reminds me that I’d be remiss not to point out that the research on column width legibility isn’t completely conclusive. You do want to limit the width of your text columns, but going over the 70 character-per-line recommendation isn’t necessarily the end of the world, and you might have good reasons to do so. I did not: as mentioned, one of my goals was to mimic book-style typography, and books by nature have fairly restrained column widths, on account of they’re books.

2. Picking a font.

I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow on how I decided what font to use. The short story is that I asked some designers, and one of the recommendations I got was the free font Crimson Pro, which I took a liking to immediately:

It’s just an all-around attractive serif font, but one thing I really like about it for use in a novel is its highly-visible quotation marks. They’re just kinda jumbo! They’re real big! Easy to see! In a novel, those things aren’t just ornamentation. It makes a great deal of practical sense for them to stand out just a bit. It also has a fairly large x-height, unlike a lot of the more traditional options, which is good for legibility on a computer screen.

3. Adjusting the line-height

Web browsers default to a line-height of about 1.2em, which, as you can probably tell, is quite cramped. If you go and Google “optimal line height for legibility”, you’ll get a number of results right off the bat suggesting 1.5em. Sounds good! Let’s do that:

Well... hmm. That’s definitely an improvement, but between you and me, it actually looks a bit too spacey to my eyes. I wonder why?

I’ll cut to the chase: the 1.5em recommendation makes some assumptions about the font you’re using. In Arial, the letter “A” is about 0.6em tall; in Crimson Pro, it’s about 0.5em. That means that there’s no one-size-fits-all solution to spacing your lines, because different fonts have different amounts of empty space baked in. How annoying!

Let me tell you something about the kind of nerd I am. When I had this realization, I grabbed some books off my shelf and pulled out a literal micrometer. I started measuring the line-heights against various font features to see if there were any patterns I could spot in professional typesetting. Here’s what I found:

Almost every book on my shelf spaces lines such that the distance between one baseline and the next is about three times the x-height. How cool is that? I clapped my hands like a seal when I put this together.

Adjusting the line-height to match what I observed in the wild gives us this:

It’s a subtle difference, but to my eyes it feels just right. It’s almost like magic!

4. Paragraph spacing...

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Probably the most controversial choice I made with CURSE/KISS/CUTE’s typography was to opt for book-style paragraph indentation rather than web-style paragraph spacing—like so:

I did this for a few reasons:

It’s what I’m used to. I’ve read a lot of books, and this is just the way that books are formatted. I think for something aspiring to the title of “novel”, there’s value in making it look the way a reader probably expects a novel to look.

A novel has a lot of paragraph breaks in it. A paragraph in, say, an encyclopedia entry might go on for half a page or more; whereas it is unusual for a paragraph in a modern work of narrative prose to run for more than a handful of sentences, especially in any scene with dialogue. Because paragraph breaks are so common, spacing between paragraphs in a novel results in a lot of wasted space. Also, subjectively speaking, the additional space seems to me to lend an undue amount of weight to paragraph breaks. I’m just starting a new thought; there’s no need for a 21-gun salute, you know?

Having said that, here are some good reasons you might decide not to do paragraph indentation anyway:

Doing it right requires a bit of extra legwork. Notice how the very first paragraph in the image above has no indentation. That’s because it’s the start of a new section, and the first paragraph in a section traditionally goes unindented. This is an easy detail to miss, and it can be difficult to wrangle CSS into doing it for you automatically.

Web users don’t expect it. For the first decade of the web’s existence, there was no good way to do paragraph indentation; by the time CSS rolled around and made it easy, paragraph spacing had already become the norm. And while CURSE/KISS/CUTE may be a novel, it is also, specifically, a web novel!

But it’s my house and I get to make the rules, so I went with indentation. Incidentally, there seems to be a dire lack of research into the question of whether indentation or spacing is more legible for readers—but the data that does exist appears inconclusive at best. So, the choice really does come down to vibes.

5. The tragedy of justification.

You’ll note that one way in which I did not make my web novel look like a paper novel is the text alignment. It’s un-justified: the right margin is ripsaw-ragged.

This is because it is not possible to justify text on the web.

Oh, you can try. Look right here: there’s a CSS property for it and everything. Just turn on “text-align: justify” and...

Nightmare! The interword spacing on that first line is almost as wide as the indentation!

Reader, I’m afraid that your web browser is simply too dumb. That’s not the browser’s fault: robust algorithms for justifying text without creating these distractingly huge gaps between words have existed for many decades, and modern computers are powerful enough to run them in real time with little performance impact. It’s just, uh—nobody has ever bothered to implement them into web browsers. It is the damnedest thing.

I tried, I really did. You can mitigate this problem a bit if you enable automatic hyphenation, but browsers are unfortunately also kind of dumb at hyphenating. Firefox, for example, will refuse to hyphenate any word containing a capital letter, so any sentence with a lot of proper nouns in it is a lost cause. I tried manually inserting soft hyphens with a text preprocessor I wrote myself, but still these overjustified lines plagued me: when the text column narrows, for example on a phone, even hyphens can’t save you. The line-breaking algorithm is simply too naïve to optimize for well-justified text, and that’s not something you can fix as a web developer.

As a result, my heavy-hearted recommendation is to never use text justification. It’s just too distracting.

6. And then some extra stuff just for me

I added drop-caps because it looks neat and I made the ellipses spacier because I think it looks good when it, uh, when they are spacier. I think that looks pretty good that’s just my opinion though.

That’s all! Hope you learned something bye!!!

[moonstruckme]

And since you're such an angel, I would love some:

snow angels with doctor!remus

Thank you and please hydrate 💧

Awee you're too sweet to me, thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: blood (not a lot? if that helps), dizziness/lightheadedness

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 686 words

Remus cups your face in his hand, brows woven together in concern. “Did you eat lunch?” he asks you. 

“Yeah.” 

“What’d you have?” He swipes his thumb gently over your cheek before leaving you, going into the nearby bathroom. 

“A sandwich.” You sound a bit defensive, which isn’t strictly fair. You know you gave Remus a bit of a fright when he came home to find you lying on the rug between the living room and the kitchen, too scared to get up. It was perhaps a tad dramatic—you could’ve walked over to the couch if you’d really wanted to, you’re sure—but you didn’t see any point in pushing yourself when you felt so dizzy and shaky on your feet. Remus has taken it as more cause for alarm than you have. 

He comes back with a blood pressure monitor and a couple of other things, setting them on the kitchen table in front of you. “That sounds fine,” he murmurs, taking your arm to slide the cuff up it. You have the sensation of swaying in your seat, but you’re not sure if it’s really happening or only in your head. “And it’s been going on for how long?” 

“Since maybe two.” You lean sideways so your head rests on his chest. Remus’ free hand comes up to hold it there gently, pinkie stroking the baby hairs by your temple as the cuff inflates around your arm. 

“You should have called me, sweetheart.” 

“I was okay,” you tell him. “I didn’t really think I was gonna pass out or anything, I just thought it’d be safer to sit down.” 

Remus’ hum conveys some disapproval, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s worthwhile to continue arguing with you. The blood pressure monitor beeps, and he leans forward to read it. 

“Hm, that’s normal.” He takes the cuff off you with a satisfying ripping sound. You curl and flex your fingers against the odd feeling. 

Remus holds your head to his chest with his free hand while he leans forward, grabbing something else off the counter. He takes your hand, but you pull it from his grasp when you see what he’s holding, sitting up. 

“Remus,” you whine. 

He chuckles at your tone. “Dove, it’ll be quick.” 

You let him take your hand again, but don’t allow him to pull it near that clicker thing. “Is it going to hurt?” you worry. 

“No.” 

You make a low, petulant sound in the back of your throat. Ordinarily you might be embarrassed for it, but you’re feeling rather self-pitying right now and entitled to some sulking. “Really?” 

“Yes, love. Relax.” 

Still feeling mistrustful, you allow him to pull your hand closer. He pricks the pad of your finger. 

“Ow—Rem!” 

“It’s okay,” Remus shushes you. “All done.” 

“That hurt,” you complain, vindicated, as he collects the bead of blood on a reader. 

“I know,” he admits. “It does, a little. But only for a second, yeah?” 

You make your displeasure known through your silence. 

“Look.” Remus takes your finger, kissing the back. “It’s better now, see?” He brings your head to his chest again, and it’s difficult to keep from softening when he kisses that, too. “Sorry, dovey.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, begrudging, only because he really does seem to feel a bit bad. 

“Mm.” He reads your blood sugar. “You’re at ninety two.” 

“Is that good?” 

“It’s normal.” Remus holds your cheek again, looking down at you and stroking pensively with his thumb. You’re not sure if he’s feeling for something or just touching you; you’re happy either way. 

He hums softly. “Do you feel tired as well?” 

“A little, yeah.” 

“Headache?” 

You tilt your head back to see him. “What’s it mean?” 

“I’ll take that for a yes, then.” His lips curve softly. “I’m not completely sure what it means yet, but I’ve got a couple of theories.” 

“Can you fix it?” you ask, though really you have complete faith. Remus always fixes it. 

He kisses your head again like he knows what you’re thinking. His lips make a soft landing just short of your hairline. “We’ll see.” 

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas. 

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter. 

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. “Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn’t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 

“The…scrunch?” he asks. 

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away. 

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth. 

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan. 

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now. 

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you. 

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again. 

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles. 

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness. 

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

[sungiescheotluv]

can i call you tonight? ⭑.ᐟ park jisung

pairing: park jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, hidden feelings, incoherent writing of me being soft of jisung 🥹

summary: they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. in your case, your night-time calls with your long-time friend, jisung, reveal a lot more than the darkness of the sky.

notes: wow, wow, another post! wasn't expecting to post so soon, but i was writing for another project i'm working on and saw this post and said what the heck, let's give this a go! ☝🏾🤓again, this may be incoherent because i don't proofread this until later on (sorry for any errors) and because my feelings are a bit all over the place lmao. anyways, hope you enjoy and hope to see you soon! much luv <3

A lethargic film coats your eyes, the familiar sting of exhaustion winding your eyes shut. You should go to sleep. Quit this charade and call it a night. And yet, in the darkness of your bedroom, you pat against the soft expanse of your sheets, feeling around for a phone so bright you squint when brought to eye level.

No new notifications.

You huff into your pillow, definitely not pouting. Your long-time friend, Jisung, is away, chasing his dreams with his closest friends, NCT Dream, who are currently on tour. A busy year filled to the brim with schedules make it hard to keep in touch, much less meetup, but Jisung makes the effort. Whether it's at the crack of dawn or late into night, you can always rely on a call from him, explaining his day's events and asking about yours. You work odd hours, sleep odd hours too, so in a way, despite the distance between you, things still work like they had all those years ago.

From what he last texted you, he’d be able to call you in three hours - after the concert. It's a battery in your back, lighting up from a long day at work. It’d be late for you, but it didn’t matter. You wanted to hear from him -  his muffled chuckles at your lame jokes, his endless interest in what you were up to (even if it was never as interesting) and have his deep voice lull you to sleep. It was like he was right there with you, shrouded in the lowlights of your room, holding you close and never letting go. Not oceans away, not out of your grasp and out of your mind.

Just as you’d given up on his call, your phone buzzes against your pillow, the lowtone reserved for Jisung. With a tired groan, you press Accept.

“Did I wake you?”

It’s amazing what years spent together did to you two, no need for words to convey any and all thoughts. Well, some of them anyways.

“No, I was just dozing off,” you mumble. “How was the concert?”

“Good. The energy was threw the roof, the guys and I really enjoyed ourselves,” Jisung falls into his routine, back supported by a heaped blanket with his phone against his chest. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old,” you huff. “Any interesting signs?”

“None if you don’t tell how your day went,” he argues, and you roll your eyes.

Classical Jisung. Always attentive, always seeing right through you.

You relay your day to him, pinpointing how gorgeous the sky looked on your way back and how he would’ve loved the view.

“The picture I sent you doesn’t do it justice,” you explain.

“Getting to see it through your eyes is good enough.”

You cough, momentarily caught off guard by how much that made your heart flutter. “Anyways, the signs. We were talking about signs.”

Jisung lags a bit, an unconvinced hum coming through before he speaks. “Not any I haven’t told you about,” he hums, the drum of his fingers thumping through your phone speaker. “There was one that asked me to put my ring on their finger.”

“If you gave away that wrapped nail ring, I swear-”

“I didn’t even give it to them, I just took it off my finger and had it in the air,” he chuckles, stirring something warm in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

A wave of sheepishness washes over you, face buried into your pillow as you mumble. “It’s just…a nice ring, is all.”

“You think so? I would’ve thought you’d prefer the Chrome Hearts one.”

“It’s nice, but the nail one's better”

“Oh, I see,” he teases, all-knowing and you hope he’s none the wiser. Hiding things from each other is not your norm, but when they involved feelings that could fundamentally change the fabric of your relationship, you tried to embrace change. Maybe some hope too. That maybe he wasn’t calling you at late hours because you were available, but because he wanted to be with you as much as you did. “That’ll be the first place I visit when I get back.”

“What place?’

“The jewelry store where I got the ring,” he explains, dull fingernails tapping against the surface of his phone. It’s one of the things he does when he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, a habit you’re sure he’s totally unaware of. Regardless, it soothes the elevation in your heart rate, tingles running down your back like hot water. “Well, first stop is your place, then the store.”

“Matching rings is a bit..”

“What?” he asks, in that low tone that makes you putty in his large hands. “We’ve got matching shoes, hoodies that I had to restock because you keep stealing mine and matching necklaces. I don’t think rings are much of a stretch.”

You couldn’t argue there. Especially since you curled up in your bed in your latest steal - a simple black hoodie that is oversized and still smelt like him. You couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge how the faint scent of citrus, jasmine and him didn’t force you to count sheep. You also couldn’t bring yourself to admit the eruption of goosebumps over your skin when Jisung clasped the necklace on you, his fingers grazing your exposed skin in the process. It took everything in you not for your knees to give out right then and there.

“You’re only convincing me because I’m half asleep.”

“I see how it is. I’ll take it anyways,” he hums, a closed mouth giggle vibrating off his chest. It’s oddly intimate, being so close yet far away from him. “I wish you were here.”

Something ceases in your chest. Your heart? Your lungs? You’re unsure, but whatever it is has your eyes shooting open, a vague thump of your heart echoing through your weightless limbs. Usually, you’d be able to tread this line carefully, a tight-rope you’ve perfected to a science, but something about the darkness, the late hour makes you more vulnerable. More forthcoming.

You don’t deflect in a joke, or find some way to turn this back on him. You simply answer back. “Me too,”

You hesitate. “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Wow, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in the last five years.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“No, no - don’t go,” he chuckles, but there’s something in his voice that’s pleading. That makes you stay. “I guess, I just…that was sweet of you. Thank you.”

You turn your head, as if scorched by his loaded gaze. “Don’t mention it.”

A quietness falls between the two of you, one that doesn’t call upon ideal conversation but allows you to gather your cloud-like thoughts, to drift further into your dreamstate where in one reality, you’re able to confess your feelings and get your happy ending.

“If I fall asleep, just hang up,” you mumble, like the words escape you. “No need for an earful of my snoring.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jisung argues, and if you could, you’d roll your eyes. “It’s like white noise.”

“Are you seriously comparing my snores to white noise right now?”

“It helps me sleep, so I’d say so,” and then silence. Almost a deafening one, as if he’d realised the weight of his words and wasn’t sure what to say next. You gulped. “You know,”

“What?”

“You’re the only one I’ll talk to this late, right?’

You shift, suddenly hyperaware of every sensation inside and outside your body. “No.”

He hums, as if to say Huh. “I thought I was a bit more…obvious about things.”

That has your attention, your hand clawing just beside your lit-up phone. “Obvious about what?’

Silence again. And in all the years of your friendship - days spent indulging in sugary ice cream on sunny days playing hopscotch, running through your high school hallways to get lunch first, the prideful smile he had on your university graduation day - no silence has felt this way. Something other than comfortable, like the moment you teetered on the edge of your seat and held your breath for.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?’

And there he is, so sweet and bashful. Probably hiding his beautiful face behind his pretty hands, a downturned smile and flush against his soft skin. Oh, what you’d do to kiss the beauty mark against his cheek.

“Considering I don’t know what it is, then yes. I am.”

You have an inkling, because you’ve spent the better part of your life with him, but you’re not one for assumptions. You’d rather hear it from him.

“When I come back,” he starts, cautious yet earnest. “I’d like to take you on a…real date.”

“Platonically or?’

“There’s nothing platonic about the way I feel about you,” and you can hear it, the smile in his voice. And now, you’re the bashful one, again burying your face against bundled feathers as your cheeks burn like the sun. “What do you say?”

“That I’m glad I didn’t miss your call,” you chuckle, the leaps your heart fluttering against your chest that tickled with delight. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you smile. “Hurry back soon.”

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

And before you know it, he's at your door, smile sheepish and ring in hand. His hands tremor ever so slightly and it melts your heart, your hands folding over his as you lead him inside, a new chapter of your lives together unfolding.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Aftercare w/ Ateez ♡

♡ Pairing: ot8!ateez x fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/suggestive/a lil drop smutty

♡ Warnings: mentions of sex/penetration, lots of physical affection, and a bunch of fluffy, lovey dovey vibes.

♡ A/N: This one's a request from a darling anon who wanted some Ateez aftercare so I'm here to deliver. I hope this is everything you wanted it to be, my love!

♡ Hongjoong ♡

Hongjoong loves nothing more than to shower you with words of praise and affirmation. When you’re done making love and you’re draped across the bed, your naked body beautifully displayed for him, he’ll start applying tender kisses to your lips, whispering to you how utterly magical you are. He’ll praise you for how good you were for him. How good you always are for him. His lips will lightly skim the softness of your skin, sprinkling kisses all over your body. Your breasts. Your belly. Your thighs. Right between your legs when your clit’s still sensitive from the night’s activities. The whole time repeating those praises like some sort of prayer. Praises that make you feel loved and safe and beautiful because you are.

♡ Seonghwa ♡

Seonghwa’s favorite way of caring for you is running you a nice candle lit bubble bath. He doesn’t get in with you, not because he doesn’t like the feeling of your body wet against his but because he lives to pamper you. He’ll sit on the edge of the tub, washing you up, taking his time to give proper attention to every part of your body, making sure his touch conveys the depth of is affection for you. He could spend all night watching the warm, soapy water drip down your body. And the way your breath hitches when he gets to your breasts, rubbing your still stiff nipples beneath his palms, drives him crazy every time. He wants you to feel as good as you do when you reach your high and his touch is more than enough to bring you right to the edge again.

♡ San ♡

San gives massages that could make a girl feel like she’s in heaven. His strong hands smoothing fragrant oils across your naked body as you lay there allowing your tense muscles to melt into his touch. He could chart his course around your body with his eyes closed. He’s done it a thousand times. He knows how to ride the curves of your hips, applying the perfect amount of pressure to bring that euphoric feeling back to your body. He’ll run his strong hands across your ass, soothing the sting of a few slaps he dished out in the heat of the moment earlier tonight. And no matter how many times he’s done it, it never gets old for him. He never gets tired of exploring your body and taking in all the ways it responds to him, letting him know that it loves him as much as he loves it. As much as he loves you.

♡ Mingi ♡

Mingi will find any excuse he can to keep his tongue down your throat and a shower together is the perfect opportunity to do it. When he guides you into the shower, his lips are at yours the entire time, his long arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close. The water always spends a minimum of five minutes just rushing over your bodies. It’s like kissing in the rain only infinitely more intimate. When your lips are tender and you’ve nearly run out of air he’ll finally let you go, turning you around to wash you up, starting with your hair. That man can massage a scalp so well you find yourself purring with pleasure. Don’t even get him started on your body. When it’s your turn to wash him he’s more than eager to let you. He’s addicted to your touch and savors every second that he can feel it.

♡ Jongho ♡

Jongho isn’t known as someone who’s big on physical touch but it’s a different story entirely when it comes to you. There’s nothing he loves more than to have you in his arms. Truly, nothing compares to the feeling of your skin pressed to his, your limbs intertwined as your head rests on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, feel how in sync it is with yours. He likes to kiss the top of your head, his fingers teasing the small of your back, trailing up your spine to set off sparks that leave you buzzing inside. It always pushes him to the point that he’s pulling you up and into an intoxicating kiss, the head of his cock teasing your clit the tiniest bit before he’s easing you back down, leaving you both hanging in that perfect space between arousal and serenity that keeps your mind all fuzzy in the best way. 

♡ Yunho ♡

Yunho started singing to you one night when Alexa decided she didn’t want to play your favorite song and it’s been a tradition ever since. When the night has been particularly long and your body’s lying limp in his arms, he’ll stare into your eyes like they’re as beautiful as the night sky, singing songs that make your heart flutter. He gazes at you so lovingly that you lose yourself in those warm brown eyes, feeling as wrapped up in them as you do his embrace. You always get so giggly when he leans in to kiss his way down your neck or along your collarbone. It’s like you can feel the melodies vibrating through your body, making parts of you sing that you didn’t even know had the capability to. Even if you’re exhausted, his voice awakens something inside of you that makes you want to risk it all and beg him to devour you all over again which he would gladly do.

♡ Yeosang ♡

Yeosang would stay up forever with you if you asked him to but, on those nights where he knows you need your rest, his favorite thing to do is take a nap with you. All wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket, your favorite show or movie playing on the TV. He watches as you fall asleep, your breathing growing softer as you drift off to have the sweetest of dreams. Only then can he fall asleep too, dreaming of that quiet moment in the middle of the night where you’ll wake up again and plant kisses all over his face, your sleepy eyes barely open. He’ll wake up and kiss you back, kisses so sweet you can’t tell if you’re awake or if this is still a dream. Pulling you on top of him, he’ll explore your figure beneath the blankets, slipping inside of you once more, making love to you much gentler this time around. He’ll have to repeat the cycle of putting you to bed all over again but it’s not like he’s complaining. He never would. 

♡ Wooyoung ♡

Wooyoung keeps a fridge filled to the brim with your favorite snacks and he’s always excited to surprise you with that new one you keep saying that you wanted to try. Feeding you makes him so happy. Seeing the way you smile when you really love something, doing your little happy dance while you straddle his lap. It’s the cutest thing he has ever and will ever see. He’s sure of it. If there’s a crumb or a drop of anything on your lip it gives him the perfect excuse to kiss you, suckling at your soft lips as your fingers rake through his dark, velvety hair. He kisses you until the flavor of whatever you’ve eaten has faded, pausing to check in on you and see if you want more. More food? More kisses? More of him? More of whatever it takes to keep you feeling as good as you do at this moment. Whatever it is, it's yours.

[reidrum]

castling | s.r.

A/N: another deeply self indulgent hurt comfort angst who’s surprised…i wrote this kinda fast so if it’s messy and cheesy sorry :/

cw: gn!reader (pls lmk if i missed something that doesn’t make it gn), hurt comfort, mentions of depression, ambiguous sadness, trivialization of chess, inaccurate chess jargon?, spencer is a darling

summary: in which reader finds it hard to open up and communicate their feelings with spencer, so he comes up with an idea to help

wc: 1.4k

not proofread sry

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

_______________________________________________

It started during a game of chess, when Spencer was showing you different special moves.

“It’s called castling, the idea is that you move the king two spaces towards the rook and then switch their places to allow more protection for your king than if it was in the center.”

“Why would you want to move the king towards the outside, that seems counterintuitive.”

“Smart girl, that’s a good question,” he says fondly, “It’s kind of a last ditch effort in a sense, the rook is essentially expendable but the castling moves the king out of the line from key pieces like the other king and queen.”

“So, it’s like a rescue mission.”

He smiles, “Like a rescue mission.”

You smile back and continue with your next move. Spencer watches you in earnest as you deliberate the best plan of attack, even though he knows he’s gonna let you win by the end anyway.

“How was your day today?” He watches your demeanor change quickly, your shoulders sagging slightly and your eyebrows furrowing. He knew the answer, he’s a great observant and even more so when it comes to you.

“It was…fine.”

“Just fine?” he challenges, moving his bishop.

You nod and move your knight. You’re waiting for him to move his next piece when you realize he’s not looking at the board anymore.

Looking up you see hazel eyes staring right back at you, “Sweetheart,”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He sighs, “You know,” he moves his pawn, “this isn't the first time that you’ve had a hard time communicating with me how you feel.”

A deep sigh leaves you now, it had always been a struggle for you to show emotion so openly to those you love, mainly Spencer. You just didn’t want to worry him with the throes of your mind, and while Spencer appreciated the sentiment he reminded you repeatedly that he’s there for you through it all and just really wants you to take advantage of that.

“I just want to help you, angel.” he says softly, “I can’t do that if you don’t let me in. You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong, just that something is wrong.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “I know Spence. I—It’s just, saying out loud that I’m—whatever—makes it real. A—And then you get so worried and I get more anxious—“

“Hey. It’s my job to worry about you. Because I love you,” he places his hands on yours, “But, I was thinking what if we had a code word or something, just a single word, and you can say it or text me or anything and I’ll know that you’re not feeling well.”

Your face softens at his proposal. The irony you face is that your brain has convinced you healing can be done alone, that if you’re the one who fucked up the road you should be the one to repair it. While you know logically healing is more effective when you have support, it doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept the help you need, that Spencer feels you deserve.

“I think…that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” he replies, “Do you want to pick the word?”

You think about it for a few minutes. You don’t want to do a silly word like banana or chicken, you want something that maybe doesn’t sound serious but would still convey the intent of the code word.

“Does castling work?” you offer softly.

Spencer’s face morphs into something you can’t quite decipher, but to him it’s a mix of adoration, love, and pure empathy for you. He’s just so touched by the fact you want to use that word, after just discussing the significance of that move. It’s an honor that you trust him enough to be your protecting rook.

“Yeah, that’s perfect angel.”

You give a small nod, “Check.”

___

You knew he wouldn’t judge you, that’s the whole reason you came up with this system. It felt like an emergency contact, which it was, but in a “How bad is too bad before I call?” type of way.

Laid down in your bed, you stared at the glow of your phone with your messages with Spencer open. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, daring you to make a move.

Nothing even really happened today, it was just one of those periods where you were in a funk. The voices that lingered in your brain fed you disguised truths and cynicism, and it was hard to feel afloat with support when you couldn’t even tell what was pulling you down.

It didn’t matter though, your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes amongst the disarray of your room which satirically matched the chaos in your mind were proof enough that maybe, you weren’t okay.

In this moment it would be stupidly easy to ignore it all and wallow in your own sorrow—Spencer was away on a case and you didn’t know when he was coming back.

So in a leap of faith, or perhaps a lapse in judgment, your thumbs twiddle a message out and press send.

castling

You toss your phone aside and try to avoid thinking about it. He’s probably busy, they’re on a case so he’s probably drawing out the geographical maps or maybe he’s on a raid or maybe he’s—DING.

Cautiously grabbing your phone, you slide the notification.

I’m on the plane, going to land in about an hour or so. I need to make one stop and then I’ll come straight to you, okay?

You stare through the blurriness of your eyes caused by your tears, the words blending together. Before the guilt of texting him and making him aware of your depressed state sinks in, another text comes through.

I love you. See you soon, angel.

Another choked sob releases from your throat, and you put the phone down before any more emotions try to infiltrate you. At some point you end up falling asleep on the bed, your body curled in on itself from the lack of warmth a nice blanket or Spencer could’ve provided.

You’re only stirred awake when you feel a soothing sensation on your head, long nimble yet intentional fingers sifting through your hair. You attempt to open your eyes through the thin crust it’s formed from crying so much, and you’re squinting for the first few moments of vision before registering the human in front of you.

“Hi honey.” Spencer whispers softly as you come to.

“Spence…when did you…”

“Just a couple minutes ago,” the hand in your hair comes to rest on your jaw, “How are you feeling?”

Tired eyes finally meet his brown ones and find nothing but reassurance and concern.

Oh. You’ve worried him now.

The last string of resolve snaps as your face crumbles in and you mutter out apologies mixed in with sniffles and sobs. Spencer moves from his knelt position in front of you to slide in next to you on the bed. He gingerly gathers you in his arms and tucks you into his side whispering it’s okay and you’re safe and i’m here.

After a few long minutes your breathing evens out. “You came.” you sniffled.

He pulls back to look at you with watered eyes, “You called. I’m so proud of you.”

You mumble under your breath, “I didn’t even do anything.”

Spencer shakes his head and tucks you right back in place, feeling the floppy fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, “I know a version of you that would’ve held it all in by yourself. Thank you for letting me be here for you.”

You turn your head into his chest further, letting the hot tears and snot stain his nice button up. His hands rub trails up and down your back, his head bent down to your ear whispering sweet nothings to you. With Spencer delicately taking your defenses down maybe you can finally admit to yourself that you were just too soft for all of it.

“Where did you have to stop by?” you wonder.

He smiles and readjusts you against his body, “I picked up Thai food,” “And some candy, sour of course. And there may be a Snoopy stuffie as well because it reminded me of you.”

You feel a different weight on your heart, not one that’s constricting but one that’s embracing, comforting. In a life where you’ve rarely felt taken care of, or even being worthy of that care, you know with certainty that Spencer would never let you go a day without knowing how much love and care you deserve.

[sxcret-garden]

Ateez Reaction ღ Their s/o experiences verbal shutdowns

ღ Ateez all members x gn!reader ღ words: ~200 per member ღ genre & warnings: reaction, comfort, a hint of angst but everything turns out well ღ reader: no descriptions of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used

a/n: I'm not 100% satisfied with how these turned out, but I wanted to post them anyway, in hopes they'll be a comfort to some^^

Hongjoong:

he’s a little confused to say the least when one day you decide to tell him about your verbal shutdowns

he’s never actually heard that there’s a term for this, neither has he considered this as something that simply happens to some people and isn’t something that can really be overcome

so after the initial shock he decides to just listen to what you have to say first of all, wanting you to explain it in as much detail as possible so he could understand

and you’re mostly telling him this so he won’t worry too much and know what’s going on when it inevitably happens in front of him for the first time

so when he asks about how to help you in such a situation, you’re caught off guard

he makes it clear that he really wants to support you, but since he’s never experienced this himself, he wouldn’t know how to do that intuitively

and when you stumble over your words trying to come up with an answer, he ends up chuckling at you being so flustered all of a sudden

“It’s okay, we can take this slow.” - he reassures you

once you’re calm and collected again, he listens intently, and in case you’re not actually sure what would help you the most during a verbal shutdown, he also offers to do some research with you and help you figure that out

Seonghwa:

listens very intently when you tell him about this, and also takes you very seriously

he’s curious to know everything about your verbal shutdowns and how to help you whenever you experience one, but he also doesn’t want to overwhelm you with questions

so after the initial conversation about it, he makes sure to do a lot of research, looking up other people’s experiences, tips, etc…

he wouldn’t forgive himself for accidentally saying or doing the wrong thing and making matters worse, so he’s very dedicated to learning whatever he can about this

and he will be so supportive, suggesting using communication cards, or some kind of signal only the two of you know about for when you lose the ability to speak temporarily

and once it does happen, he proves just how well he researched the whole topic, because he’s quick to understand what’s going on, and he doesn’t pressure you to speak in any way

instead he leads you somewhere where you can recollect yourself, and he gives you the space you need to feel comfortable and safe with him

Yunho:

gets so worried the first time you have a verbal shutdown in front of him

you were mid-conversation about a bit of a difficult topic, and suddenly you go completely quiet, so he immediately figures something must be wrong

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he calls out to you, but you can’t react, because you don’t even know whether you should nod or shake your head

he comes closer and carefully reaches out to you, resting his hand on your upper arm as he observes you closely with furrowed brows and helplessness reflecting in his eyes

“Did I say something wrong?” he throws another question at you, and this time you manage to shake your head

and thankfully he decides to just wait it out and stay right by your side for now, because after a few minutes of racing thoughts you finally succeed in conveying to him that you can’t talk right now

tells you it’s okay and that it’s enough if you just nod or shake your head, before offering you a hug which you gladly accept

once your speech has returned to you and you explain to him what exactly happened, he will listen intently and make sure to ask about how you want him to act if it happens again, so that he can properly help you through this

Yeosang:

he gets so worried the first time you have a verbal shutdown in front of him that he doesn’t know what to do

he tends to struggle with figuring out how to deal with unexpected situations like this too, and especially when it’s about seeing a person he cares about suffer while not knowing how to help, he just panics internally

manages to stay calm on the outside though, and once some time has passed he will definitely ask you about this, because this guy will literally be unable to relax until he knows how to deal with such a situation

and when you explain to him that sometimes you simply can’t speak no matter how hard you try, everything clicks in his head

“Oh my god… I thought I said something wrong and upset you…”

now that he knows what’s going on he’s relieved

and he’ll feel even more at ease when you tell him what you want him to do (or don’t want him to do) in a situation like this

but even if you haven’t fully figured out yet what helps, he’ll be more than happy to try anything you suggest

though he will still worry, but at least like this he won’t freeze up anymore and can actually support you!

San:

another one who’s worried sick when he first witnesses you in a verbal shutdown

a thousand thoughts are racing through his mind at once when you suddenly stop answering upon him asking you a bit of a sensitive question

he’ll immediately think it’s all his fault and that he has accidentally hurt you deeply, and seeing the guilt on his face is eating away at you, especially because you currently lack the ability to explain yourself

so you do the only thing that feels possible right now, and you shake your head vigorously as tears of helplessness well up in your eyes

and that’s when he decides that comforting you should be the top priority right now

so he offers you a hug, and when you accept it right away, he’s a little relieved

“It’s okay…” he whispers close to your ear, “You’re okay, I’m here.”

will sit you down somewhere comfortable, get you a glass of water, and stay by your side for however long it takes you to get out words again

and even if you haven’t spoken after a while, he’ll eventually figure it might help to also get you a pen and paper, in case writing down your thoughts is something that’s possible for you in that moment

Mingi:

he isn’t looking at you as you’re talking to each other, facing away from you and having most of his attention on his phone - or so you think

because when he brings up something that causes you to shut down and become unable to talk, it takes him mere seconds to realize something’s off

turns his head to find you staring at him, completely frozen up and struggling with all the words circulating in your head that just won’t come out

instead you begin tearing up because you hate that this had to happen now and at the same time you feel guilty about it

you watch as Mingi gets up slowly and approaches you

“Y/N…?” he quietly calls out to you, the worried expression on his face only causing you to feel worse

however, this guy isn’t stupid, and he’s seen this happen before

and although he didn’t understand what was going on the first time, he’s starting to get it now

“Can’t say it?” he assumes and you nod, still fighting your tears

“That’s okay… I’ll just stay here until you can.” 

stays beside you and eventually starts rambling about how he understands that sometimes words can be hard and it can happen

and just listening to his voice like this eventually helps you feel at ease, until eventually you manage to speak again, thanking him for being by your side

Wooyoung:

this guy here does not understand what a verbal shutdown means when you first explain it to him

“Huh? If you have something to say… just say it?”

he feels it's best to encourage you to get over whatever's stopping you so you could talk anyway - which is less than helpful to you, knowing it doesn't work like that

so when you lose your ability to speak when you're out with him and some friends upon him asking you just the wrong question, you get anxious about how he would react

however, as soon as he sees the panicked look on your face and realizes that you really can't say anything, even after he repeats his question, he begins to understand

excuses himself and you and then takes you away to a quiet place where you two can be alone

offers you a hug and when he sees you nod he holds you tight, not letting go of you until a quiet "thanks" slips from your lips

needless to be said, now that he's starting to get what's going on, he is very curious to know more about it, and how to best support you during a verbal shutdown

Jongho:

when you’re in the middle of an important conversation and you suddenly stop replying, his first reaction is confusion

he can feel himself getting frustrated with you, because you were talking about a topic he feels the pressing need to get answers to, but when your reaction to seeing the hint of anger on his face is to take a step back to get further away from him, it starts to dawn on him that your silence is probably not about him at all

calls out your name in an attempt to appease you, and when his expression softens, some of the tension leaves your shoulders

still, you can’t talk

so you stand there in silence for a while, with you unable to look at him, so what you don’t notice is that in his head he’s going through all the different ways to handle this situation, trying to figure out how to help you

in the end he simply pulls out his phone, opens the notes app, and holds it out to you

“Maybe you can type it out…?” he suggests, and when you realize that he’s not mad at you or disappointed, tears start welling up in your eyes

“Oh my…” 

offers you a hug with open arms, and when you close the distance between you to accept it and to bury your face in his chest, he makes sure to comfort you first and foremost as he pats your head and holds you close

[rowie264]

Jinx x jinxer!reader. First meeting

You don’t really know how you ended up like this.

Truth to be told... you never really believed in your “leader”, if Jinx could even be called that. You didn't even fully dye your hair blue like the others. Just a small strand. In your eyes, Jinx did nothing but blow up the Council and redirect the Grey to Piltover. But even then… it was enough for you to make you join “Jinxers”.

You knew her actions will cause problems to Zaun. But you were so fucking done. You were too tired of being a rug under pilties boots. And maybe that was what Zaun needed to finally reach point of no return and fight back. And you wanted things to change.

So one day your hopeless gray life turned blue.

And now you were here, using your artistic abilities to portray Jinx as a kind of savior and leader of the revolution, as you were asked to do. Only instead of flag and shit you drew her with bombs and explosions. It was more like the image of Jinx you had.

“My eyes and nose are not like that.” Someone’s raspy voice reaches your ears.

You turn to face the intruder and see a girl sitting on the beam above few meters away. Somehow you just knew it was Jinx. You felt it in your gut, even though it was the first time you had encountered her.

You couldn't see her face completely hidden by the shadows, but you could see the color of her eyes. Pink, like shimmer.

“It’s the closest description I’ve got.” You say, too calm for a person who’ve met a Loose Cannon. And before you can stop yourself you add: “Maybe you could pose me so I could do it right?”

After that, there was silence between the two of you. Jinx didn't seem to expect such a reaction from you. You were surprised by your carelessness as well. She was dangerous and insane after all.

“Why not?” she says after a couple of seconds, probably agreeing out of boredom, and jumps off, landing smoothly like a cat.

As she comes over, you finally see her face. It does differ a little from what you were drawing. You also notice how short she is. She wasn't as intimidating as some people described. Although, perhaps, it was such thoughts that led many to their deaths.

You start correcting your painting, glancing at her from time to time, trying to convey her features as accurately as possible. You could lose yourself in art, even standing next to the most wanted criminal. Maybe you were crazy too?

“I'm not a hero you make me out to be, ya know?” Jinx suddenly comments after some time, looking at portrait of herself. Judging by the way she was tapping her feet, it took a lot of effort for her to stand still.

“I am aware.” You respond distantly too focused on your task, barely paying attention to anything around you. You almost finished.

“Then why?” She asks tilting her head and observing you like a hawk.

You take a step back, glancing at the wall to check everything one last time. “Why not?” you repeat her own words from earlier.

Jinx huffs, hiding that she's confused by your answer again. You're not like the other Jinxers she's met before. You treated her almost indifferently, like an ordinary stranger. Not like symbol of Zaun, not like Loose Cannon, but just… Jinx.

“So whatcha gonna do for me for posing to ya?” she casually changes the subject.

“You didn't mention that I have to pay you.” You frown at her, inwardly cursing yourself for being so carefree for not asking earlier.

“Don’t sweat it, toots, I don’t need money.” She waves her hand dismissively and you are not sure if paying with something else is any better.

“Then what?”

“Hmm… let's see…” Jinx walks around you, wondering what to ask you. “You drew me… so it would be fair if I drew on you back, don't you think?”

“Draw me, you mean?”

“I didn’t stutter, toots.” She scoffs pulling crayon out of her pocket.

“Don’t move.” Jinx orders and grabs your wrist. Without asking your permission, she starts drawing something right on your arm.

You didn’t protest – out of your safety and curiosity. Her grip was firm but surprisingly gentle. You couldn't help but look at her tattoos until your gaze landed on her face. This close, you could see her freckles. The word “cute" flashed through your mind as you stared at her in fascination.

“Here!” She suddenly announces with a beaming smile, pulling you out of your little bubble. You look down at your arm and see little pink clouds painted from wrist to elbow.

“Don't wash it off until I meet you again.” Jinx says and walks away, disappearing into the shadows without explaining anything, leaving you wondering when you'll be able to meet her once more. But to some extent… you want it to happen.

And until then, you would try to keep the clouds on your body.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

Dating but not really (Tim Drake x Reader)

Prompt: Tim and you are totally dating. His brothers are just being skeptics... right? (2.3k words~)

 The cool swish of the doors opening alerts Tim of a presence, Jason’s heavy footfalls giving him away before his voice.

“Hey Tim you joining me on patrol tonight?” 

Jason’s voice echos across the Batcave, as he crosses the expanse of corridor to reach Tim sitting at the Batcomputer preoccupied with a surveillance task.

“Can’t tonight, I’ve got a date. Dick’s gonna join you instead” he replies without looking away from the screen.

Jason raises an eyebrow at that. He crosses his arms as he comes to stand beside Tim, assessing him with a skeptical look.

“A date? Well who’s the lucky girl?”

“It’s a date with (Name)” he responds, still distracted by his task.

Jason nods, seemingly impressed “Nicely done, bout time you finally asked her out. Your moony glances at her across the room was getting somewhat nauseating”

Tim nods at that, only half paying attention at his brother’s words. 

A beat passes before he whips his head towards Jason, “Wait what? This isn’t a first date”.

“No? Still didn’t muster the courage to ask her out? Well don’t worry little guy, I’m sure eventually one of your ‘hangouts’ is gonna turn into a date”

Jason knew (Name) was one of Tim’s closest friends, he also knew that Tim had a crush on her since forever, but the boy seemed to get far too nervous and tongue tied to actually act on his feelings.

Tim sputters at Jason’s words, “What-no that’s not what I meant. We’ve been dating for two months now”

Jason balks at his words “What? Really? No way”, his brow furrows at the thought.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim asks, seeming to take offence at Jason’s reaction to his revelation.

“Well, I guess I couldn’t tell things had changed between the two of you. I mean she comes around a lot, I didn’t really notice anything different in your interactions” he shrugs.

Before Tim can answer, a beep draws their attention. They turn to face the entrance of the Batcave as it opens, Dick walks in.

“Hey Dick, did you know that Tim and (Name) were dating”, Jason’s voice echos across the cave as the third brother approaches the duo.

A bright almost congratulatory smile appears on Dick’s face, “Really now? Nicely done Tim”

His words accompanied by a fatherly pat on Tim’s back, seeming quiet chuffed by the news.

“Yeah, They’ve been dating for the past 2 months” Jason adds, his tone still conveying a sense of disbelief which causes Tim to give him a look.

“Oh” 

Though Dick was surprised, he was much better at masking his expression than Jason, the only tell being the slight widening of his eyes which he quickly schooled into one of his bright smiles.

“That’s nice” he quickly added before there was too much of a pause. Tim only huffs in response,

“Why is that seemingly so hard to believe?”

Dick was trying to think of a delicate and diplomatic way to frame his answer, but Jason’s bluntness beat him to it,

“I don’t know, guess I’ve never see you both be all gooey and in love”, now that Jason thinks for a beat, he thinks it’s probably for the best, he shudders at the thought of being subjected to two lovebirds in his own home. A shiver passes over his body. 

“Are you trying to say I’m not a romantic boyfriend?” 

“Well that’s not-“

“Where’re you taking her for your date today?” Jason butts in before Dick can placate Tim’s simmering nerves.

“We’re going to the library.” Jason raises an eyebrow at that, which causes Tim to add with  a rather exasperated huff “It’s a study date”

“And pray tell how is that any different from what you’d do before you started dating?”

“Come on Jason, I’m sure Tim and (Name) enjoy old haunts but also have new spots they like to explore from time to time” Dick came in on Tim’s defence with an assured smile, which slowly dropped into a surprised ‘o’ when he took in Tim’s sheepish expression.

“Well, I mean we’ve not really changed much of our routine since dating” Tim muttered, feeling less confident with each word. Were they supposed to? The two of them had a comfortable routine, and (Name) seemed happy with the arrangement. But was he supposed to be the one suggesting new ideas? Was she waiting for him to say something?

“Tim” Jason tuts, with a tone of disappointment mixed with affection that an elder brother would admonish their younger with, “Maybe you should put some more effort into this, I mean you if you really like her you have to show her that. If you just continue as you did as friends how’s she ever gonna know?”

Dick nodded, though he offered a more sympathetic smile. 

Tim wasn’t all too surprised by Dick’s stance on the matter, he was known to be a hopeless romantic among the brothers, sometimes going overboard with his grand displays of affection and high production movie-esque date ideas. Now Jason on the other hand wasn’t all that overt about his affections, though he tried to come off as tough and unassuming Tim had happened to stumble across his somewhat poorly hidden stash of Jane Austen novels in his room once before. 

But if even Jason feels like there’s more Tim can do for his budding relationship, maybe he really is missing the mark. Not for any lack of care on his part, but perhaps a result of an ignore is bliss, what with this being Tim’s first serious relationship.  

He looks back at them somewhat apprehensive, “So what do you think I should do?”

The two brothers glanced at each other, twin smirks adorning their face before they turn back to him

“Don’t worry little brother we’ve got you”.

———————————————————-

You found yourself a nice shade speckled spot on a park bench, enjoying the feel of cool breeze on your skin. You decided to enjoy the pleasant weather while you waited for Tim, who texted you he’d be running late. 

Your back was against the wood, knees pulled up, as you looked up at the sky, warm sunlight  peeking through the thick leafy overgrowth of tall trees.You were almost dozing off to the delicate sound of bird song till you felt a large shadow block out the light. Squinting an eye open to examine the sudden presence, you end up having to blink a couple times to register what you were looking at.

Tim standing in front of you. Expected.

But Tim holding a giant bouquet of flowers which almost overpowered his frame? Unexpected.

“Tim?” The question in your tone was not directed at Tim himself but rather at his appearance.

He was wearing a blazer with a pressed white shirt, which was odd given he’d usually show up in shorts and a T-shirt for your library dates. You’re quite certain he’s wearing a different cologne too. And is his hair slicked back with hair gel? Your examination of his get-up only adding to his nerves. 

Tim felt stiff and hot in the blazer, ‘Smart Casual’, those were the words Dick used to describe his look.

’A sharp look says you’re putting in the effort and care about how you show up for your date’ Dick nodded sagely as he fixed Tim’s sleeve cuffs. 

Jason observed the interaction with a light frown, he stepped up when Dick moved aside and loosened Tim’s collar, tilting one of the edges so they were no longer symmetrical.

Noticing Tim’s confused glance he added “Well you don’t want to look like a Toy Solider either, you need some personality, few tweaks and you’ll be artfully scruffy’.

So here he stood, a questionable blend between smart casual and artfully scruffy, not feeling all too much like himself. 

“Hey. Uh- these are for you” He says as he shoves the bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers towards you.

A short laugh of disbelief escapes you, the gesture is sweet but fairly out of the blue.

“Thank you. They’re wonderful… is there any particular reason for this?” you ask as you accept the flowers.

Tim feels his face flush, reason? No there wasn’t any particular reason, unless of course you count his brothers giving him a rom-com interlude date makeover as one.

“Well I just- just thought they’d make you smile” the words tumble out of him, hesitant and shy.

He always wants to make you smile, he hopes you know that. But perhaps his brothers have been right, maybe he’s been too subtle about his feelings. Maybe you don’t know how your smiles cause blood to rush into his cheeks, how his heart flips when he’s the reason behind them.

“Also I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner later today?”

“Oh, that sounds nice. Your place or mine?”

“How about a restaurant this time?”

He’d take her somewhere nice, somewhere that takes reservations. That’s some indicator of fancy right? 

And he’d pay, cause ‘that would be the chivalrous thing to do’, Dick’s voice echos in his ears.

Unless of course she wants to split the bill, in which case he ought to ‘respect her wishes and give her space’. Right, Jason’s words also ring true. Even if they happen to be pulling him towards two different directions.

Tim’s inner turmoil paints an expression of conflict on his face. You’re finding his behaviour quite odd, almost as if he’s acting out a role. Your eyes narrow as you consider him, causing the poor boy to stiffen further.

“Tim, do you think I’m angry at you?”

He blinks “What? No- no of course not” he replies with a strained laugh, his eyes widen slightly as he reconsiders your words 

“Unless you are?” Was that supposed to be a trick question? God he’s not good at this, maybe he shouldn’t have skipped that Tarot card reading by the self declared witch on Tiktok  last night, is this karma?

A short laugh escapes you, not unkindly and not direct at Tim, but rather at the situation at hand. 

“Well the flowers, the blazer and dinner date all together come off as an apology attempt. It’s not all very… you” (Name) shrugs.

Tim’s shoulders drop, “Yeah I guess not” A dry chuckle escapes him as he runs a hand through his slicked back hair. Part of him is relieved you’ve seen through him, but worry still gnaws at him.ffff

You pat the space on the bench beside you, he offers a weak smile before sitting beside you.

A sigh escapes him, his gaze remains firm on the gravel below, “(Name), you know I care about you right?”

You blink, the question seemingly out of the blue, though the doubt swimming in his eyes conveys that this is something he’s been mulling over.

“Of course I do Tim” 

“No- like I really care about you. More than friends” he pauses, frustrated at his inability to convey what he’s really thinking “This- what we have, it’s not just some summer fling to me. I really cherish it and I’m-”

He flinches as he feels your hand over his, he hesitantly meets your eyes, feeling his pulse steady at your gentle gaze.

“Tim I get it. I feel the same way…. what’s this really about?” 

He had to bite back a laugh, of course you’d catch on to his distress even when he struggles to find the words to voice it. 

“I don’t know if I’m doing enough. If this all just feels too casual- cause it’s not to me. It’s just when I do try to express it through a grand gesture it feels too artificial and forced… you saw right through me’

“Oh Tim, that’s what this is about?” A sigh of relief escapes you at his confession, you shake your head at him with an exasperated smile “For the record, I like what we have… it never felt like a fling, why would you think that?”

“Well- the lines between friendship and romance feel so blurry, I don’t know if I’m doing it right… I mean when was the last time I got you a bouquet of flowers” he asks, agitation evident in his tone. 

“Actually this is the first time you did”, Tim winces at your words but you squeeze his hand before he can spiral into a worse case scenario

“You don’t get me bouquets of flowers. You get me pretty daisies you find on your walk which remind you of me”

You fingers flick at his uneven shirt collar “And you don’t wear white shirts with blazers, you wear band tees and mismatched socks”

This draws an embarrassed laugh out of him “Right, not exactly a trend setter am I?”

His eyes flit to your warm smile, it comforts his nerves, it always does.

“Maybe not, but it’s you. And I like that. I mean, I like what we have… don’t you?”

God yes. Of course he does, it all seems to come so naturally to him. It’s so easy. And that’s what worries him, that maybe he’s taking it all for granted. Maybe he’s not able to show you how much you really mean to him. 

He gives a stiff nod “Of course I do. I just… I don’t know if it’s enough. If this is what it’s supposed to be or if I’m missing somethin-“

“Tim” you interrupt what would turn into a worry filled ramble by placing a hand over his, “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks it should look like, we get to define that for ourselves. Trust me, you’re more that enough. And you make me very happy”.

You peck his cheek so as to reemphasise your point, causing a light flush to adorn his cheeks.

“Alright. I’m glad…” That’s all he can muster right now. 

His mind’s a jumbled mess, thoughts flit around like agitated butterflies, but they’re soft, warm thoughts so he doesn’t entirely mind. One day he’s going to figure out how to tell you just how much he feels for you.

All in good time, he might ask his brothers again, only if he's really desparate. But for now you seem happy to figure things out as you go, and he’s all too happy to oblige.