#i don't think i spend enough time thinking this through

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[himasgod]

Kinich x Reader II

Where you have regained your confidence and are healing, and you dare to ask Kinich for physical contact.

(Warning! This is the second part of something I wrote previously, a kinich x r4ped!reader. You should read the previous part to give it some more emotional charge! I repeat the same thing, if you have been a victim of this type of ab4se, you are very brave. You are not alone, and there are many things watching your back, supporting you, many laws, entities, people, users, etcetera… soon you will get your life back and it will only be a distant scar that you will live with, I promise <3)

Natlan’s dim moonlight filtered through the dense jungle canopy, casting faint silver glints over the hut. It had been weeks since that night, since Kinich had learned the truth. Since then, he had kept his distance, his usual gestures of affection replaced by careful words and a respectful space that pained you as much as it made you feel grateful.

He had remained by your side. Despite your fears that he wouldn’t want to deal with the weight of your grief, Kinich stayed. His stubbornness, that same quality that used to tease you before, now felt like a lifeline.

That night, as the fire in the campfire crackled softly, you found him sitting outside, carving something on a piece of wood. The scene was so familiar and reassuring that for a moment you forgot the knot in you chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked, breaking the silence.

He looked up, his expression softening at the sight of you.

“A necklace,” he replied, turning the piece of wood in his hand to show you. It was small and still shapeless, but it looked like a flower.

“It’s nice. Who is it for?”

Kinich smirked, a smile filled with that quiet confidence that was so characteristic of him.

“Who do you think it is for?”

Your felt your heart race. There were moments like this, fleeting but significant, where she wondered if she deserved the patience and devotion he gave you without reservation. Still, you decided to sit beside him, leaving a small space between them.

“Thank you, Kinich,” you murmured after a while.

He set the necklace aside and turned to you, resting an arm on his knee as he looked at you seriously.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything. I…” Kinich paused, searching for the right words. “I just want you to be okay.”

The honesty in his voice made your throat tighten. You nodded, but couldn’t look at him directly. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the half-made necklace.

“I want to try,” you whispered suddenly.

“Try what?”

You looked up, meeting those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you, but never judging.

“Trust again. With you.”

Kinich didn’t say anything at first. His hand, calloused but firm, moved slowly toward yours, stopping just short of touching.

“Can I?” he asked, and you nodded with a slight tremor.

The touch was gentle, barely a brush, but it was enough to send a wave of emotions through you. Anxiety, fear… but also warmth.

Because it was Kinich.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his voice low and calm.

You leaned a little closer to him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Your breathing intertwined with his as silence filled the space between them. Kinich didn't move, he didn't rush you.

After a while, his fingers began to explore, tracing soft lines on the fabric of your arm. It was an innocent gesture, but one charged with intimacy. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment after all.

"I don't want to scare you," he said in a whisper.

"You don't, my love"

For the first time in a long time, fear didn't dominate your senses.

Kinich was a constant, an anchor in the midst of the storm. As his fingers slowly traced the outline of your wrist, you felt something inside you begin to heal.

It was Kinich. And you had begun to slowly heal your wounds from that afternoon. You needed to normalize your life again, to do the activities you liked again, to spend quality time…

And there was nothing you both wanted more at that moment, when you arrived home, than to get back in touch.

You didn't remember Kinich like that. It seemed like after he heard what happened, he didn't dare touch you again, as if you were a ghost. However, every time he was with you, it seemed like there was an invisible band-aid on your heart, a thread that sutured your wounded heart.

You felt clean again. You felt good.

Kinich gently grabbed his flower-shaped necklace that you had hanging around your neck, and gently pulled, his eyes searching yours with some anxiety, as if he wanted to confirm that everything was really okay. When you realized that you would need to take the initiative this time because Kinich didn't dare touch you again out of respect, you brought your hand to his cheek and joined your lips with his.

You missed that feeling, and Kinich had an invisible lump form in his chest, while yours was disappearing in his company.

After a few minutes of tongues dancing with each other and your hand on his cheek slowly caressing, Kinich separated from your lips. His lips were reddish, and he placed his nose in the hollow between your shoulder and your neck.

Patience was not one of Kinich's virtues, as his hands began to make their way to the edges of the fabrics that covered you.

"Are you okay? Tell me, please, if you need me to stop at any time, whatever, tell me."

However, your cheeks were already red when Kinich caressed the skin of your bare back under your shirt with his calloused palm, and your eyes looked firmly into his.

With him, you felt safe.

"I wish… that you continue. Please, Kinich…"

No more words were necessary for silence to invade you, accompanied by the sound of your tongues fighting against each other again, somewhat louder, as Kinich made you sit on his lap and you shyly ran your hands over his torso. Meanwhile, his hands softly touched your back, going up to the clasp of your bra as he whispered lost in your lips,

"Are you okay, love?"

But you probably couldn't be better.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[ryuzakemo128]

Snippet of future one shot

Pairing: Poly141 x female reader (maybe?) / Johnny MacTavish x female reader

cw: cheating, affair, Johnny runs away from home, swearing, Johnny's ex-girlfriend appears.

Words: (so far) 989

Johnny didn’t know where he was going. But he had to go away from all of them. He didn’t want to see any of them. Ever again if he had anything to do with it. The longer he spends away from you. The better it would be.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses because at the end of the day it’s all it is. Excuses, upon excuses. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” 

Johnny didn’t know where he was going. But he had to go away from all of them. He didn’t want to see any of them. Ever again if he had anything to do with it. The longer he spent time away from you. The better it would be.

A mantra to keep himself from spinning out of control. His hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

You saw his tinder profile go back up. Your heart dropped to your stomach, hoping it wasn't him. Your heart begged for it not to be him. 

In Johnny's defence, he didn't know you knew them already. “I want a transfer out of task force 141.” He told Captain Price. It wasn't a request. It was a demand. He was demanding a transfer. 

Price looked up at Johnny, he could feel the anger he had for him, Simon and Kyle radiating from Johnny. He didn't know Johnny could be so pointed, so harsh, so willing to leave them for some other team. 

If looks could kill, price sworn he would be dead already. 

Johnny wasn't dumb like you would have loved to call him behind his back. Demolitions, explosives, that doesn't scream dumb ass like you told everyone around you. Laughing at him behind his back like he wouldn't have caught you in the act with his team members. 

He punched John Price over and over that night until he had to be dragged off. Which didn't stop him from punching Simon, the guy who pulled him off. Who knew such a short guy could hold so much anger? 

When you saw him with his ex-girlfriend the next morning, what did you expect would happen? Did you really think he would crawl back to you on his hands and knees like some kind of dog? No. 

He has more self-respect than that. Far more than you have ever given him. 

Now that you see him crying into the shoulder of his ex-girlfriend. Her arms wrapped firmly around him as his sobs racked through his body. 

Grim, his ex-girlfriend who he broke-up with because things weren't working out between them. They decided it was better to remain friends afterwards. He never told you because you never asked. 

And because you never asked about her. You are about to lose your boyfriend for good. 

In hindsight, you should have asked if had dated anyone prior to you. Too late now, isn't it? You got what you wanted from him, and now he's gone. You pushed him so far, he snapped. What kind of person does that to someone who wants to be with you? 

Perhaps he didn't see it at first. Perhaps he only thought you were fussy about what kind of treatment you preferred to get from him. 

So you listened in to their conversation, you couldn't help yourself, Part of you wanted to know. 

“Sometimes you don't really know a person as much as you think.” She mused, her voice, rich and deep. Not quite deep as Simon's. But deep enough to feel like it scratched something deep in the back of your skull. 

“I wish she would have just broken up with me. I don't know if I can go back there. I don't think I want to see her.” Johnny's breath hitches, swallowing down another sob building up again. 

He didn't want to touch you, you would brush your hand against his, and he would flinch at your touch, pulling away from you completely. 

“She's touching me more now. But I don't like it anymore. I mean, I used to. But now I don't. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 

“Break up with her.”

You swallowed hard when you heard her answer. 

Short. Straight to point. It didn't leave room to budge or for doubt to creep in. 

“I can't break up with her with no place to stay afterwards. Everything is in her name. I forgot how much control I gave her. I don't think I'll be able to get out of this break up alive, let alone sane.” Johnny groaned, thinking about the next steps he wanted to take. 

Grim pulled up in her Ford F-450 Super Duty, something Johnny felt rather intimidating because of how it looked. But right now it was a comforting sight. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty about his choice. But what else could he do? All his anger is dried up, and now he's just exhausted.

Grim put classical music on as they pulled out of the drive way to head to her home in Coventry. In the state where she used to live with him. The place where he could just exist without having to pretend to be someone else. Someone you liked to see more of because it meant you paid some form of attention to him.

Running away from his problems like his mother said he would. What else could he do? What more could he give? 

He didn’t know what to do. So he turned to his ex-girlfriend like a drowning sailor yelling for help in the open seas. Where were you? Possibly in one of their beds. He didn’t care to know more than that. 

He reactivated his tinder profile and put his notifications on ‘DO Not Disturb’. He didn’t want to hear anything from them or you. 

When you came back into your apartment, all of his things were gone, and he was nowhere to be found.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Would've Could've Should've - Part 2

Hi Babes! :D Me again....you guys absolutely blew up the first part of this which I wasn't expecting so like thank you?? 😭😭😭

As I mentioned before never say never….this one’s a love I’ve had for…20 odd years and comes clad in yellow spandex….

Another one that was meant to live in the WIP and has taken on a life of its own...

I've had some wicked writer's block but my @ken-dom has still been mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist much like everything I’ve written over the last year and a half.

As always, this NSFW 18+

We've got plans this man and I

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3

You locked the door with a sigh, turning off the open sign. You turned on your heel, making your way back to where Logan sat, leaned back against the bar, watching. 

“What?” You asked, slowing your steps 

“C’mere” he jerked his head and you shook yours. 

“N-no” you spoke quietly 

You had spent a majority of your shift mercilessly teasing him and now the bar was closed and it was just the two of you…and you had a sickening sense of deja vu.

“Why not?” He mused, getting to his feet. He hadn't drank as much as he usually does and you were starting to understand why. 

“I don't want to” you pressed your lips together before dropping your gaze. 

You could sense him moving closer, the heavy footfalls of his work boots. You swallowed hard as his feet appeared in front of yours. 

He was quiet, you were both quiet, and unmoving. 

His hand reached to grip your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him. 

You swallowed hard a second time as he started to walk you backwards. 

You gasped as your back hit the wall and he didn't stop, closing the distance between you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest when he stopped, lips mere millimeters from yours. 

Fingers flexed against your jaw and you let out a shaky breath, struggling to find your voice. 

“What’s the matter?” 

You shook your head as much as his grip would allow. “N-nothing”

He simply hummed, the hand holding your face, moving to run a finger over your cheek; your face instantly flushed a deep red. The gentleness of his touch putting you on edge.

“You think you can spend the night taunting me?” He asked, his voice low, even, and calculated. “Teasing me?”

You watched as he dropped his hand, a single claw slowly appearing from between his knuckles.

“Logan-” you whispered, voice barely audible; the memory coming screaming back and you fought the urge not to go rigid. 

“I'm waiting” he said sternly, his exposed claw dragging along the thin fabric of your t-shirt as he slowly dragged it down the centre, but not enough pressure to peirce fabric…not yet.

Another hard swallow and you shook your head; your eyes fixed on the single blade as it came to rest between your cleavage, Logan having dragged it back up the middle.

He retracted it back under his skin without a word, but didn’t move. He was still close…too close, crowding your space, doing it on purpose; knowing you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He moved to cup your cheek in his hand, instinctively you leaned into his touch, your eyes slipping closed as you felt your knees falter. Finding it very difficult to take a full breath.

“Log-” you started again, cut off mid breath by a bruising, demanding kiss. 

You let yourself be pinned against the wall, thankful for something sturdy as his lips moved against yours; taking a deep breath in through your nose, and in spite of yourself, you couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped from between your mouths as you felt his hand push under your hair at the back of your neck; his fingers tangling in the strands. 

He pressed against you, his free hand finding your hip, squeezing hard. 

You whined against his mouth and he seized the opportunity, slipping his tongue between your lips with a moan himself. 

Your head was spinning, if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you were drunk. 

He tasted just like you remembered; whiskey and stale cigars. Something on any other night you would be repulsed by, but not with Logan…never with Logan…ever.

Finally, you got a grip on yourself, pushing him back gently; very aware of one hand on the nape of your neck, the other tucked up under your t-shirt. His shoulders were warm under your hands as you caught your breath and attempted to focus. 

“We can’t-” you breathed 

“Sure we can,” he countered, his breathing just as heavy and laboured as yours before his lips crashed against yours a second time. 

Your mouth moved against his briefly before you pried your lips from his, reluctantly, taking a much needed breath. Logan simply moved his assault to your exposed neck, his warm, wet tongue gliding over your overheated skin before his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh; making your knees buckle as you gasped against his ear, his strong arm sliding around your back to keep you upright. 

“Fuck, Logan” you whimpered as he sucked hard on your now marked flesh. 

He hummed against your neck with approval, fingers on both his hands curling against your skin. 

Your own teeth sank into your bottom lip as you fought to keep your composure. 

“Not here” you whispered, finally releasing your lip 

He laughed light and breathy against the shell of your ear, making your shiver “Yes, here” he whispered against the shell of your ear “You think you’re going to tease me all night like that and I’m not going to fuck you on every flat surface in this place?” 

His emphasis on the word ‘fuck’ sent goosebumps over your skin and your breath caught in your throat. 

“That’s a lot of surfaces” you whimpered feeling his fingers toy with the waistband of your skirt 

“And once we’re done down here,” he continued, his teeth scraping against your earlobe. “I’m going to take you upstairs, and fuck you on every flat surface up there too” 

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you attempted to squeeze your thighs together; unsuccessfully as the hand on your hip shot like a flash between your legs, keeping them spread apart. 

“Ah ah” he chuckled lightly, his eyes finally meeting yours 

You knew you were flushed, and you knew he could smell the fear emanating from you; but you also knew he could smell the arousal too 

“Logan…” you warned, trying your damnedest to sound intimidating and failing miserably. 

He stepped back, dropping both his hands to his sides; his eyes raking over your form. 

“One,” he counted and you cocked your head slightly as he smirked 

“Two…” he continued 

You stepped out of your black pumps, dropping your height a good three inches, with a smirk of your own before you tore around him toward the back of the bar, toward the kitchen as he continued counting over your shoulder. 

Five seconds, if he was feeling generous…three if he wasn’t….

This was all part of the little game you had found yourself a part of; one you had suggested initially, on a drunken night that seemed like it was ages ago. Count to ten you had told him, ten seconds head start and if he had found you, he would be rewarded. 

Now, instead of ten seconds, you got five….and he hunted. 

Immediately through the door, you dropped out of sight and maneuvered your way around the dark kitchen. Within seconds, the same door you had come through, swung open a second time; Logan’s form looming in the darkness. You quieted your breathing as you watched his eyes scan the dark room. He stepped forward, boots landing heavily as he did, making the floor verberate under your now bare feet. 

Your heart beat hard in your ears as you slipped around one of the small tables, keeping him in sight, his back to you, but you still moved slow and quiet; for every step he took deeper into the kitchen you took back toward the way you had come. 

He had expected you to hide, he always expected you to hide. 

Your eyes adjusted slowly, making it easier to see, but you knew if it was becoming easier for you, it was becoming easier for him too. 

“I can smell you” he declared to the silent room 

You pressed your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your thighs. His promises echoing in the back of your mind.

Every. Flat. Surface. 

You watched as he moved toward the very back of the kitchen, and you quickly got to your feet and tip toed as swiftly as  you could manage, back through the double doors. Logan’s footfalls were heavy behind you for a fraction of a second before they went silent again, but he hadn’t followed you out. 

You clocked the narrow staircase a few feet away from your place behind the bar. Your apartment was your goal, if you made it there, you won.  He was still in the kitchen if you moved fast you could- You gasped quietly, dropping to the floor as the doors swung gently.  Now he stood between you and your exit. 

The bar was darker than usual, you wondered if there was no moon out tonight as you crouched, silently making your way around the front of the bar, stopping before giving yourself away. 

He clicked his tongue with disapproval and you stayed rooted to your spot…hoping he would go the way you’d come. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard the unmistakable scrape of metal on wood. He was slowly making his way to the other end of the bar, dragging his claws as he went. You had a clear path from where you crouched to the stairs, all you had to do was outrun him. 

You stood to your full height and ran for the stairs as if your life depended on it. 

Your foot just missed the bottom step before a strong arm wrapped around your middle, a hand collapsing over your mouth as he snarled “I win”  in your ear, dragging you back toward the bar. 

He turned you to face him, both hands gripping your hips none too gently as he pushed you back against the wall, making the liquor bottles on the nearby shelf rattle dangerously. His mouth claiming yours for a fraction of a second before he yanked your t-shirt over your head, dropping it at your feet. 

You had given up trying to protest, throwing your arms around his neck as he lifted you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist. 

You practically melted into the wall, letting his weight support you fully as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. 

Your fingers pushed through the thick strands of dark hair at the back of his head as you moaned shamelessly against his mouth. 

His hips rolling forward, intentionally grinding the bulge hidden under his jeans against your core. 

You arched your back as much as he would allow, head hitting plaster as you threw your head back with a cry towards the ceiling. 

Logan growled with approval as his teeth scraped over the length of your throat, rolling his hips a second time, this time slower, more deliberate. 

“Fuck,” you grit your teeth “L-Logan”

His breath was hot and heavy against your ear as he chuckled lightly “Don't worry, I plan too” 

In spite of yourself, a whimper tumbled from your lips. 

“But,” he leaned back slightly, pulling your legs free of his midsection, hand still firmly on your hip. “Not right now”

You blinked, processing his words as he leaned back slightly. 

“W-what?”

“You heard me” he smirked, his free hand disappearing up under your skirt, his calloused fingers teasing the inside of your thigh. 

You jumped slightly with a gasp as they were replaced by metal, cold against your skin before it disappeared, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your panties. “Not right now” He repeated, his voice cool and even. 

As fast as it had appeared, his hand dropped from between your legs, but not before his middle finger pushed firmly against that throbbing bundle of nerves and he turned on his heel, leaving you leaning against the wall to collect yourself. 

“LOGAN!’ You nearly shrieked and he stopped mid-stride halfway between you and the front door, but he kept his back to you. 

“What?” His deep voice amused at your obvious frustration. “Something wrong?” He taunted, echoing your own words back at you. 

You clenched your teeth together, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as he stood stationary. 

“I can't stay,” he said simply “I've got things to do…”

You glared at the back of his head “It's two o'clock in the morning, what the fuck could you possibly have to do?!”

“Not fucking you seems to be at the top of that list” he mused, turning back to face you. “Seems to be the thing that would piss you off the most” 

You took a sharp breath in through your nose and he laughed again. 

“Unclench your jaw babe, it's not a good look” 

“You're not doing this to best me” you finally spoke, but keeping your voice quiet. 

“Oh no?” He cocked an eyebrow curiously 

You shook your head 

“Then why am I doing it?” He asked, arms folding over his broad chest 

“Because you're scared,” you challenged, finally moving away from the wall and moving toward him slowly as you continued “You've got some deep seated fucked up trauma that you don't talk about because God forbid you let someone in”

His eyes narrowed as you came to a stop, a few feet from where he stood. “Stop”

“Did I hit a nerve?” You cocked your head slightly, still aware you were in nothing but your skirt and a bra. “Or a memory?” you whispered

“Don't” he snapped, the warning clear in his voice, but still you pushed 

“Ooh, the dark brooding angry side, like I haven't seen that before. You rolled your eyes. “Come on Logan,” you laughed “You and I both know you're a walking fucking disaster, the screaming nightmares night after night, your drinking problem….other problems”

As you continued, he clenched his hands into fists and you could see the flash of his white teeth in the darkness, the tips of his claws glinting in the moonlight. 

Despite your heart slamming in your chest, you somehow managed to keep your voice even. 

“Don't even get me started on those” you bit, glancing briefly at his hands. “All they do is cause damage….” You intentionally scratched at your scar. 

Logan snapped, claws out, teeth bared, he lunged at you in the darkness. 

Before you could blink, wondering if maybe you'd taken it too far, you found yourself on top of the bar on your back, Logan's weight pinning you there as he loomed over you, nose to nose, claws of his right hand buried as deep as he could get them into the bartop. 

He was breathing hard, jaw clenched tight.  

You jumped slightly as he wrenched his hand free of the polished wood; his eyes fixed on yours. You didn't dare move, not that you could if you had wanted to. 

“Not. Another. Fucking. Word.” He snarled, his breath warm against your already flushed cheeks. 

You managed a half nod before he crushed his mouth against yours, his teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip, making you cry out against his mouth. 

This time there was zero hesitation as he broke your kiss, a quick flash of silver metal rendering your bra completely useless as it fell to pieces. 

Your skirt was the next casualty, his claws running right down the centre, cutting it to useless ribbons of fabric. 

He locked eyes with you, claws retracted as he tossed his shirt into the darkness and worked open his belt, pushing his jeans off his hips, his fingers curled around the waistband of your underwear and you smirked when you noticed he wasn't wearing any of his own. 

You bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips. 

You were breathing hard, but you couldn't will yourself to stop, heart still racing as warm hands pushed your knees apart, Logan moving himself closer. 

“What, no foreplay?” You breathed 

Logan scoffed, his hands finding your hips. “As if you need it” 

He yanked you forward roughly, off the edge of the bar and you gasped, an arm instinctively wrapping around his neck as you caught yourself on his shoulder with the other hand. 

His hands holding firmly under your thighs, supporting the entirety of your weight with ease as your legs found their way back around his waist. 

Neither of you spoke, your breathing was shaky and ragged; his was slow and even. 

His fingers flexed against your thigh, sending a shockwave of electricity straight to your core. 

You gasped, breathing hard enough that your chest brushed against his every time you inhaled. 

“Scared?” He smirked, still painfully close and doing nothing about it, despite the press of his arousal against the inside of your thigh. 

You shook your head slowly, knowing full well if he couldn't feel your heart slamming against your ribs, he could likely smell it on you. 

As if to prove your point, his nose slid slowly along your cheek as he leaned forward, taking a deep breath as his lips pressed against your ear, his weight pushing you back against the edge of the bar. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as his breath tickled your neck. 

“Liar” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. You whimpered, leaning harder against his chest as his teeth pulled on your earlobe, at the same time his hips thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift movement. 

You cried out, arching against him, your nails biting into his bare shoulder. 

Without so much as a second breath he thrust again, using the bar at your back to his advantage, his hands moving to your hips. The bruising ache of his gripping fingers, buried deep in your flesh. The familiar sting of metal biting flesh right above his fingers as you rocked against him, shamelessly moaning against his neck. 

You bent your head just enough to run your tongue over the hollow of his collarbone, a needy moan against your neck sending shivers through your entire body. 

You lifted your head only to be met by a demanding, possessive kiss. Rough and sloppy as one of his hands found its way into your hair. His tongue tangling with yours as your own fingers twisted in his thick, dark locks, pulling hard, a feral growl escaping from deep in his chest as you squeezed your legs harder around his waist as he fucked you harder. 

He pulled his mouth from yours and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Both of you breathing hard, your lungs burning from the effort of it. 

“Logan I-” you managed before a desperate moan tumbled from your lips “Oh, God” Your nails moving to drag down the expanse of his bare back. 

You threw your head back, feeling his arms wrap around your frame, crushing you against his chest as your orgasm rocked your body, your fingernails buried deep in the flesh of his back, his animalistic roar echoing around the empty bar before he collapsed against you. 

You could feel the raised welts your nails had left in their wake down his back slowly starting to heal themselves as he eased his hold on you, 

Your breath caught in your throat slightly as he slid from inside you, leaving you feeling empty…wanting to be full. 

He let your legs slip from around his waist with a sigh, both of you panting hard. 

You opened your mouth to speak, your eyes searching his face and he shook his head almost like he had read your mind. 

“Logan…” 

“Not another word” he smirked

“But I-” 

Before you could protest further, he took your face in both hands and kissed you deeply; your feet leaving the floor as he hoisted you into his arms. You pulled back with a giggle as his beard scratched against your cheek and he kissed a path along your jaw.

“I can walk” you quipped, your arms finding their way around his neck as you leaned against his shoulder. 

“Not once I get through with you” he breathed against the shell of your ear. 

You whimpered and he laughed, smirking against your skin; the ghost of his breath sending a shiver down the length of your spine as he carried you up the stairs towards your apartment.

[etclouie]

Hi!! I just found your blog and I love your writing! Even though I'm a new follower, I do have a couple requests but please don't feel pressured to write for them!! (If this looks familiar it's because this is my second request!)

Could you please do one or both of these prompts with Remus Lupin please? I'm a sucker for that man

82. (100 random dialogue) "seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me"

And/or

50. (150 prompts) "This isn't adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you."

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 82) “seeing you with them made me realise you should be with me” and 50) “this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you” — from 100 dialogue prompts and 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; best friends with feelings, they kiss, reader goes on a date and remus doesn’t like it (then love confessions kinda??), that’s it i’m pretty sure

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; there’s still time to send in reqs btw !!

— celebrate 600 with me?

you had come back from a date with another Gryffindor boy, much to your best friend, Remus’ dismay. 

he hated seeing you going on dates with other boys, his feelings for you having been harboured for years now. 

Remus had caught you on your way out to your date, and he’d been practically pouting ever since. not even Sirius’ terribly awful jokes helped put Remus in a better mood. 

he hated the sight of you with another boy, why couldn’t it be him?

that’s all he seemed to be able to ask himself all night, until he seen you deflated on the common room couch.

as if like usual, he saddled up next to you on the couch and offered a warm smile. you gave him a half smile in return, which made him sigh. 

“how’d it go?”

his voice broke the silence, and another sigh fell from your lips. close to the twentieth one since you got back to the common room, the boy you had gone on the date with heading straight to his dorm. 

“could’ve been better, we just want different things Rem”

you explained, resting your feet on the coffee table and tilting your head towards him. 

his eyes were soft and understanding, but there was a hint of something else there. something you couldn’t put your finger on, but he was dying to tell you how he felt. 

“you okay?”

it was your turn to question him, which he didn’t seem to like too much. his head turned away from you and his eyes stayed on the fireplace opposite you both. 

you knew something serious must’ve been going on, because this wasn’t like the Remus you knew. he never shut you out this much. 

slowly, you scooted closer to him. turning to face him and crossing your legs almost in the shape of a basket while your fingers carefully brushed through his hair, which normally soothed him enough to open up if he ever did shut you out. 

with a reluctant sigh he tilted his head back to you, and he whispered out so quietly it was barely coherent. 

“seeing you with them made me realise you should be with me”

but you heard them, and something inside you was jumping for joy. 

your fingers stilled in his hair, and a slight look of panic shot through him. 

his mind flooded with the fear of your rejection, but he calmed again as your nails scratched across his scalp. his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling and he moved his head closer to you, which pulled a soft laugh from your chest. 

without a second thought, he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. he paused again for a second, pulling back to meet your eyes but you were leaning in again. 

a triumphant noise left him as you kissed him again, your lips soft against his. he wrapped his left arm around you and tugged you closer, settling in his lap as he held you close. 

he ran both of his hands across your sides and all but whined as you broke the kiss, his head was against the back of the couch as he looked up at you as you spoke. 

“please don’t think that just because we kissed Rem— i do actually like you, but i don’t want this to be because we’re running on adrenaline”

he shook his head at your words, his touch on your hips softer now. his eyes flicked from yours and down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. 

a sigh pulled itself from his lips before he spoke out. 

“this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you”

you both stilled for a second, your hands laying on his shoulders now and it took everything in you to keep your composure. 

his hands soothed across your sides as you leaned in to capture his lips in a sofr kiss, whispering out against his lips while a smile tugged at yours. 

“i want to spend the rest of my life with you too Rem”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[fiber-optic-alligator]

(Not a request dw) (So, about the two KO fics I was talking about earlier. I think I'm just gonna do the post-time skip one. The other one where Knock Out's human gets moved outta town, and has a few close calls isn't itching my brain good enough right now. I might have to let that one cook for a bit. lol.)

Re: Bumblebee rescuing Knock Out's human after they escape his game at the trainyard.

Once every other week, Bumblebee picks up his Little Pal for their typical hang out session at the Autobot Base. As they are wont to do, they spend the trip there excitedly chatting about what they're planning on doing together once they arrive. "What to do, what to do… … -Maybe a dance party?

"Hhhmmmm… No, that'd get too loud. Ratchet hates when we play music too loud. Or dance. Peepaw Ratch needs it relatively quiet in order to do his work. Haha. He could always use a break!"

"It doesn't have to -bee -loud music. We could -just have - regular music playing while we -hang out." Bee pleads through his spirit box speech, and his Little Pal finds that his bright blue, puppy dog eyes are hard to resist.

"Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhh… True. But we'd probably do that anyways. Haha. Maybe we could play video games? There's this one I found that I think you'll like. It's a racing game with weird tracks, gliding sections, customizable cars, and some killer music!" Bee lets out a string of excitable chirps before he tunes back into his alt form's radio.

"-Crowd cheering sfx- -Sounds great! When do we start?"

"Oh, just after we get to the base, and say hi to everybody. It's been, what, like, a month since last time? It's only polite, after-!!" They freeze mid-sentence like a deer in headlights at the sight of a familiar crimson mech. Of course he was real, they knew he was real. They'd only gotten repeated confirmation from everyone else they'd met that night. And every day since then, when they'd asked.

But. To see him again. To know for a fact that this particular mechanical alien that haunts their bizarre, blurry nightmares actually exists. That Knock Out actually exists, and is here. He's. He's here, and is planning on finally getting his talons on them once and for all! And-

They shake their head hard to dislodge their panic, and shuffle a little lower in Bumblebee's servos to hide themselves from Knock Out's line of sight. Bumblebee looks down at the human shaking like a twig in his servos, and tilts his helm. What's with the shaking? Why'd they pull his digits up, and around themselves like that? Who could they possibly be afraid of here? …-Wait a minute. Of course.

Bumblebee would recognize the tell-tale click of those pedes anywhere.

"Well well well~! There's no need to stop the party on my account. Do you mind if I get a closer look at this new visitor of ours, Bumblebee?" Knock Out purrs as he draws closer, evidently more interested in the human huddling in the scout's servos than maintaining optic-contact with him.

"No can do, man! -They're -Off the menu! -There's no need -to play coy about your -obsession with them -anyways." Bumblebee growls, annoyed that the supposedly reformed Decepticon would even try to get at the poor human again. Especially right after he'd Just helped them get confident enough around Cybertronians to have a good time hanging out around the base!

This doesn't happen with any other human who happens by the base, by the way. Knock Out is loathe to even think about touching humans, typically. Something about "having taste", and a "refined palette" apparently. Whatever that means. But with BB's Little Pal? He's practically obsessed!

Now, he's fixated on them for a while, sure. But being this obvious about his desire to get his servos on them after he's joined the Autobots is new. New, and concerning.

"Oh fine. If you don't want to run the risk of your -eugh- "Little Pal" getting stolen away by the Big Bad Ex-Con, then why don't we all just sit down somewhere and have a nice, long chat, hhmmm? It'd be nice to catch up with each other after So long, wouldn't it?" Knock Out aims the latter question towards the human in Bumblebee's servos attempting to get a rise out of them, if nothing else.

The human clears their throat, and sits up a little to speak. They don't like the way he's talking to/about them, and they've decided that he's going to hear about it. "You know? I'm not feeling particularly chatty today, but maybe we can have this conversation some other day… … … Ah, what was your name again?"

Knock Out lights up at the sound of their voice, despite being a little put out by their refusal to remember his name. It's only been a few months since they'd been swept up in all of this, and they're already So comfortable talking to him like this. How… Cute.

Though, he really only has to take a step closer to shut his Little Runaway up. A quiet growl arises in his chassis, and he laughs- he Has to. The audacity of this human. If only he'd captured them back at the trainyard, they would have Long since lost the ability to sass him like this. How lucky this Squishy little Mouse must consider themselves- Ahem.

"Oh? Have you truly forgotten about me already? And here I thought our fateful encounter that night would've seared itself into your processor for good, lest you find yourself wandering alone at night the way you had been when I found you." At his human's lack of a pronounced fear reaction, he decides to press on with his little speech. He really shouldn't have to reintroduce himself, the human memory isn't that fallible, is it? He may have to remedy that, personally, if it is.

"I mean, we could have gotten to know each other better back then if only you'd stuck around to socialize. Ah, but I suppose you were a little too focused on winning to think about that now weren't you?" Knock Out's attempt to remain casual about how he lost a game he'd rigged so thoroughly in his favor, fails, and bitterness colors his tone.

Nonetheless, he takes another step closer, and reaches out a servo to lean on a nearby wall. Attempting to get a better view of the little one that got away. Bumblebee, in return, readjusts his grip on his Little Pal to block Knock Out's view even further, and quickly strides around the mad doctor before the human could reply to Knock Out's irritable rant.

Primus, how he loathes the effect Knock Out has on them. The way they're shaking right now, breathing unsteadily, and trying to bury themselves deeper into his servos than they could feasibly go. It sucks! They shouldn't have to put up with him! They've already won his game. They've already gotten away! What does he have to gain by terrifying them like this?!

-Whatever. It doesn't matter. He's going to put as much distance between Knock Out, and his Little Pal as possible. No matter what. "Nope. No way. Not gonna happen. -Optimis- won't be happy to hear about this." He keeps his pace steady to avoid shaking his Little Pal around as he goes, but that only allows the crimson mech to catch up sooner. KO's less than casual stride lets him overtake the scout, and pivot around to face him.

"And he doesn't need to. It isn't like I could do anything to them what with everyone keeping such a close optic on me, anyways." If Bumblebee could look less amused about the current situation, he would.

"You aren't helping your case here, -Knockout! -And besides, if they wanted to talk to you -to see you, -they would've approached you first. -The way they approach me. -There'd be no need for you to try, and corner them like this -at all." Bumblebee flexes what he's come to learn about his Little Pal over time, hoping to get under KO's armor. Weaponizing their well-earned faith in him to prove how easy it is to befriend humans if you don't terrorize them.

No amount of false platitudes from an ex-con is gonna charm him into putting his Little Pal into harm's way. Especially with how often Knock Out looks like a ravenous, starved even, Predacon whenever he catches sight of them. Let alone how he acts after catching a whiff of their fear, eugh. Some things never change, huh? Not even after KO became an Autob-"

Bumblebee feels the human shift in his servos, and only has time enough to look down at them before they pipe up with their trademark sass. "Hey you! Knock Out! Why do you still follow me around anyways, huh? You lost then, you keep losing now, and for what? A snack? Why don't you get a life, and go polish your paint job, or something. It's starting to get sad."

The pair of Cybertronians balk at the human's acerbic comment before Knock Out growls loudly, and makes a grab for them. How dare they speak to him like that! Especially when he could just-... Hold on. Knock Out retracts his reaching servo just in time for heavy footsteps, and rumbling laughter to echo from up the hall. It seems they aren't alone any more.

"Hah! Ohhhh you may need to stop by the Med Bay after this, Doc Knock. Pally got you pretty bad with that one!" Bulkhead pulls up next to the bickering mechs, and pats KO on the shoulder as if to comfort him about getting roasted.

"Yes! Well, to answer your question, Fleshy. I am nothing if not consistent regarding how I choose to spend my time. Now if you'll excuse me." Knock Out brushes Bulkhead's servo off of his shoulder, dusts himself off, and stalks off to the Med Bay. Likely to buff out the cracks the human made in his ego... And the ones Bulkhead made in his shoulder.

He doesn't get to far down the hallway before the human responds with one last grumpily, half-muttered insult. "Yeah... You're consistent alright. A consistent pain in my ass."

Knock Out had turned back to watch them as they spoke, and Oh how he wished he could wipe that look off of their face! They don't even look pleased with themselves about that insult either! It seems comments like those come naturally to them now. Ugh. He stomps off to the Med Bay for real this time, chased away by the sound of the Autobot duo's laughter, and begins to see to his paint job once more. Ignoring Ratchet's judgemental, but silent sidelong glance at him.

That human. His human. Has grown So comfortable around Cybertronians that they feel as though they can talk back to him whenever they damn well please. Why, he'd almost be impressed by their boldness, if it wasn't directed at him. Though he is aware that most of their bravado comes from the support they'd received from their new found allies. Maybe he should've taken that game of his seriously, after all.

-Not a Request Anon

Holy shit dude, this is awesome! It’s like a story within itself! You should totally write a full length fic about this if you’d like to!! You’ve written out the relationship between Knockout and the reader so well with the former’s “redemption” into the Autobot ranks! God, I love the way Bumblebee protects the reader and constantly defends them. It’s like he knows the trust this little human has in Cybertronians, no matter how established, is still very fragile, and there’s no way he’s going to let Knockout ruin the friendship he’s forged with his Little Pal! And AUGH, Knockout still referring to the human as his, even after all that’s happened, it’s so him!!!

[heeambi]

Happy Thanksgiving to you all 🦃.

(Even if you don't celebrate, I just want to show how much I appreciate you.)

I am so thankful and grateful for all the wonderful followers and supporters who have shown their love and appreciation for my blog and me as an individual. Each like, interaction, and reblog mean the world to me, and I appreciate every single one of you for taking the time to engage with my content. Your support has encouraged me to continue sharing my thoughts and ideas, and I can't express enough how much the love and feedback from my followers has inspired me to keep going. I want to take some time to express my gratitude and appreciation to some of the most special people in my life. These are the closemoots and friends who I cherish the most, and I will be taking the time to write individual messages to each and every one of them to show just how much they mean to me.

Eun @jeoism

My dear Eun, words cannot even begin to express how grateful I am to have you in my life. Over the time we've spent together, you've brought an incredible amount of awesomeness and positivity into my life. Every memory and moment we've shared has been a true source of joy, and I can't wait to embark on even more incredible adventures together. Thank you for being such a wonderful person and for making my life so much brighter. Eun, you have a unique ability to make even the most ordinary days feel extraordinary and make me laugh even during the tough times. Your energy and enthusiasm are contagious, and I love how you always seem to find the silver lining in every situation. But beyond that, you're also an incredible friend. You've been there for me through thick and thin, offering a listening ear and a supportive shoulder to cry on. Whether we're sharing laughs or deep conversations, I always feel safe and loved in your company.

Rain @hmusunoo

My dearest Rain, I am so incredibly grateful and thankful for the day we met. From the moment I joined your server, I could feel the positive energy and light you brought into my life. Your decision to create this community has brought together such an amazing group of people, including you of course. Every interaction I've had with you has been filled with kindness and laughter, and I'm thankful for every moment we've shared. You have a way of making even the simplest things feel magical, and your creativity and enthusiasm are truly infectious. You always bring a smile to my face, whether you're sharing your latest sketches or cracking a joke. But beyond that, you've also shown me what it means to be a true friend. You make me feel seen and heard, and I know I can always count on you to be there for me through thick and thin. Thank you, Rain, for adding so much color and joy to my life.

Kaia @pshbites

Kaia, my awesome friend, I want to express my deepest gratitude for the laughter and excitement you've brought into my life. Every moment we spend together is filled with fun and joyful memories that I'll cherish forever. You have a unique ability to make even the simplest activities feel special, and I'm so thankful to have you as a friend. When I think of you, Kaia, I can't help but smile. There's something special about the way you light up a room with your presence, and your ability to infuse even the simplest moments with joy and laughter is truly magical. Whether we're having a deep conversation or just goofing around in the server, I always feel uplifted and inspired by your positivity. You've made my life richer and brighter, and I am so incredibly grateful for your friendship. No matter what we're doing, I always look forward to our time together. You have a knack for finding the joy and excitement in even the most ordinary things, and your enthusiasm is infectious.

Liv @liverspaghett

Liv, meeting you was a true gift, a privilege I don't take lightly. Your unique viewpoint on life has enriched my own understanding in ways I couldn't have imagined, inspiring me and broadening my horizons. I feel so fortunate to have crossed paths with you, and our conversations have been a source of continual fascination and learning for me. Every time we talk, I feel like I'm gaining new insights and ideas, Our conversations are like a breath of fresh air, a chance to step outside my usual perspective and explore new possibilities. I feel so energized by our talks, and I always look forward to the new things I'll learn from you. You have a way of making even the most complex topics easy to understand, and I appreciate the depth of your insights. But beyond that, I just enjoy spending time with you. You're a remarkable person, Liv, and I'm so incredibly thankful for our friendship.

Judah @jaemna

Judah, I want to express my gratitude for our friendship and the moments we’ve shared. Whether it’s talking about random stuff and silly things.. our conversations have been a source of comfort and depth in my life. You’ve always been an amazing person, patiently giving me a space to express my thoughts and feelings, and supporting me in ways I can hardly describe. I’m so thankful for your presence in my life. Talking with you is therapeutic, You’ve been a rock for me, a reliable friend I can count on no matter what. I’m grateful for the bond we’ve formed, and I look forward to many more talks and shared moments in the future. Thank you, Judah, for everything.

Leo @seung-log

Leo, meeting you has added so much joy and brightness to my days. Your sense of humor and kindness have lifted my spirits even when I was feeling down. You’ve been a source of comfort and support in a way that’s hard to put into words. Every time we talk, I feel uplifted and inspired by your positivity. Beyond that, you have a way of making every conversation feel meaningful. Whether we’re talking about serious issues or just sharing our day- to-day experiences, I can feel the depth of your thoughts and the care you put into our interactions. I appreciate the way you make me laugh, and your kindness has had a profound effect on me. You’ve made me look at the world in a different way, and I’m so thankful to have you as a friend.

Alex @hyuukas

Alex, even though you're taking a short break right now, I just want to let you know how much I value our friendship and how much I miss you. Every interaction we've had together has been so meaningful and memorable, and I feel so incredibly grateful for your presence in my life. Our conversations and shared experiences have left an indelible mark on me, and I miss having you around to joke around, laughs, and just chat about life. I know life gets busy, and we all need our breaks sometimes, but I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you and missing your company. I hope your break is rejuvenating and fulfilling, and I look forward to the moment you decide to come back and pick up right where we left off.

Ada @aduh0308

Ada, I have to say, meeting you has been an absolute joy. Your creativity and inspiration have enriched my life in countless ways, and I'm incredibly thankful for the unique perspective you bring to our interactions. Every conversation we have is like a burst of color and vibrancy, lighting up my world and sparking my imagination. You have an incredible ability to see things differently, and your insights always leave me feeling inspired and motivated. Love you pook

(Also! Hope you don't mind the tag..)

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Leathery Love

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here's part one, hope you enjoy

and @lilacwriter07 enjoy your early Christmas present

Lilith: I'm leaving you Lucifer

After twenty years of marriage never did Lucifer ever imagine those words ever being uttered from the love of his life's lips. Especially not on the day of their wedding anniversary.

Lucifer: What?

Was all he could say to Lilith who looked both tired and disappointed with him as she sat at the table with her arms crossed. They were supposed to be eating a meal together, drinking some wine, then watching a movie. They were at home at Lilith's insistence from a few days ago. She said she wanted to spend the evening with just him. No one else was to see what she wished to do.

He just thought she wanted to try something new. Not break his fucking heart in private so no one can see him cry.

Lilith: I said I'm leaving you Lucifer, I want a divorce.

Lucifer felt his heart start to pace as his breathing slowly turned erratic.

Lucifer: But, but, but I, I don't...why Lily

Lilith bristled at the nickname for a moment before answering.

Lilith: Because I no longer wish to be in a relationship where I fell out of love with you years ago. I swore that when Charlie moved out, I would finally bring myself to get out of a place that has only brought me misery.

With that she stood up and headed upstairs. Lucifer was still reeling when about five minutes later she was coming back down with two bags full of her stuff. Her stuff. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight of them. It meant,

Lucifer: Lilith please, I beg of you don't go! Please! Lilith

He ran to her when she got to the doors. She stared him down as he stood in front of her exit; however, Lucifer could only stare up with tears starting to stream out onto his pale cheeks.

Lucifer: Lilith...please my darling I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong.

Lucifer then proceeded to do something he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime due to the man's humungous pride and ego.

Beg

He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged for her to change her mind. Never did Lucifer ever felt so pathetic in his entire existence. He thought that it would get Lilith to at least think about doing something other than divorce. However, the thirty-eight-year-old singer had already made up her mind a long time ago.

Lilith: I'm sorry Lucifer, but I don't think you were ever meant to be mine.

With that she stepped aside, threw open the doors of their large, grand home and walked out. Never to step inside her former home again. All while Lucifer kneeled on the ground in total despair. It was only when he heard a car engine turning on did, he turn around and saw Lilith pull out of the driveway with her purple convertible and proceed to drive away did he close the door behind him to let out the anguish sob that had built up in his throat.

--

(Two months later)

Lucifer felt like his life was slowly falling apart. Ever since Lilith left, she had been sending him papers and been talking through her lawyer to him. Lilith had been one the most shining aspects of his life. In the entirety of their marriage, he devoted to making her happy. Including to working hard to provide for the both of them. So that way she could work on her music career. He bought her anything she wished for; heck he'd buy her the greatest diamond in all the world to make her happy.

In the end he guessed it just wasn't enough. When she sent him the final paperwork to sign off on their divorce completely shut the once proud, strong man down. Lucifer hadn't been out of the house in weeks and had mostly been taking to moping around the house. Or just laying all day in his bed, not sleeping, just staring up the ceiling, wall, or even occasionally the tv in his room that he put on for white noise. He didn't even go to the office.

Which would have been worse if Lucifer wasn't the boss of his toy company. Even if lately, he's been having his brother/partner Mammon and his assistant Moxxine take care of his work for him. Speaking of family, his brothers, sisters, and even daughter had seen how bad his depression had been and wanted to help him. Especially his daughter Charlie, who went to her Uncle Ozzie and begged for her to find a way to make him feel better. Since him and Ozzie have been the closest out of all seven siblings. Oz had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work

Lucifer: A sex dungeon?!

Lucifer sat across from his brother in his living room while in his robe. Oz noticed he also had deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair looked a bit oily, and he appeared to be growing some hair around his muzzle. However, despite his shaggy appearance his body was rigid, his stark blue eyes wide awake as he took in what his brother just suggested.

Ozzie: Hun, please I know this might seem a lot and too soon after...

Lucifer: I don't care about ugh her. Look Oz even if I wasn't hung up over losing my wife, I don't think it would be right to go to fucking prostitutes!

Ozzie: But that's the thing though I really think these girls or boys can help you, Luci!

Lucifer: How!? How in the hell can they help me!?

Ozzie: By helping you get over Lilith. If you're with one those bad guys down, there soon Lilith will be nothing more than a distant memory. Plus, I distinctly remembering you telling me about this one domniatrix porno you kept watching. You kept telling me how you wish you could be Lilith's naughty boy. Well now you can do that! Just you know not with her.

Lucifer: I told you about that. Since when?

Ozzie: Since that time at that barbeque back in July where you got drunk and confessed to me.

Lucifer must've been hard hammered drunk to have told his brother about that. Since usually Lucifer was extremely private when it came to what happened in his bedroom. The blond man opened his mouth to once again reject his brother's offer but then stopped to think about it. It had been so long since he'd been in the warmth of someone's arms in the bed. Even before Lilith left, she had been distant from him for quite some time.

It actually was the reason for Lucifer looking up on those sites in the first place. He knew no love would be with the person he'd be with; he still wanted to forget about his heartbreak. Even if it was for only one night. Taking a breath, he looked straight at his expecting brother and said,

Lucifer: Alright, I'll go.

[unabashedly-so]

Reaching

word count: 920

warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, and kind of self-destructive vibes I guess?

Similar to and taken some inspiration from @snailmail444's fic, "Elliot Situationship"; but I promise while are inevitably structural similarities, the content is, hmm, unfortunately organically homegrown. Hope you don't mind the mention--it's a fic that stuck with me and I just felt it fair to acknowledge the similarities! 💕

----------

Elliott needed a muse; you needed a release. Neither of you were ready for commitment, but neither of you were ready to be alone.

So together, per the agreement, you do everything except love.

He reads you his manuscript. You tell him the town gossip. You dance, you drink, you dance some more, you drink a little more. You discuss philosophy, politics, religion, family, and all the things neither of your last partners knew very much about. You smell salt in his hair, the cherry wine on his breath, and taste the cherries when he kisses you.

It’s well past 3am—and not for the first time nor for the last—when he asks you if you’ve ever…? And the answer is complicated—it always is. When he listens, you’re certain you see it—in his intention, disbelief, sadness, care. When he holds you in his arms, it’s secure.

Then you make love. Or, you would, but it can’t be that, so you… what was the word he used, ever the wordsmith?

“Fuck.”

He tries to say it smoothly, but it trips out of his mouth like an accident. Elliott doesn’t curse. He could euphemize, allegorize, wax poetic… but whenever it comes to this, he curses instead.

He is gentle, tender, slow as he lights sparks down your body.

The first several times, everything feels right in the world. Riding the high of release and connection, you hardly notice it’s not the same. Then its absence begins to grow heavier on you, time after time, until you finally recognize—it hurts.

You spend your days raking yourself over different scenarios: we have to stop doing this, or I can’t keep doing this, or this is no longer beneficial for me, or you’ve begun to mean too much to me, and always, I’m sorry.

You spend your nights chasing, reaching for what you know you cannot have, and telling, lying to yourself that the act of reaching is enough. Because you can’t, but you do. You do, you do, you do.

If you think you are in love, and you feel like you are in love, then how far of a reach is it to say you simply are?

Pain’s like that, too.

“Harder,” you tell him the next time he’s between your legs.

He kisses you just below your ear, whispering as he does not falter in his steady pace, “Patience, patience…”

“Harder.”

Now he pauses. He looks at you, his beautiful auburn hair tossed in a way he never lets anyone else see, and you look at him. His voice is soft but firm.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

--but there’s a lift at the end, you heard it. He’s weak for you. “You won’t,” you lie, sinking your teeth into his weakness. “Please.”

You blink and hope the lowlight hides what had welled in the corners of your eyes when he’d stretched you to tears only moments ago.

His eyes hold yours in the winded silence between you. He opens his mouth to say something, then looks away, lips pressed into a thin line.

This is what we signed up for, isn’t it? If you don’t love me, then fuck me like it.

“Do it,” you press.

And not without hesitation or passion, he does.

It hurts, but at least it’s an honest hurt.

Afterwards, you lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart gradually find its steady rhythm again. His arm is wrapped around you. He pauses before he kisses your hair, where his lips do linger.

When it is time to leave, because someone must always leave, his fingertips trail against your skin. For a split second, you imagine they twitch, reaching, as if to grab you and bid you stay. But you stand up and only feel the chill of empty air on your skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve done this together, too, so there’s a ritual around leaving. You go through it with mechanical precision. He thanks you for coming by, says he enjoyed your company. You say the same, and together, at an arm’s length, you do both mean it.

“Good night, Elliott,” you bid him as you reach for the door.

“Good night, love,” he says back to you without flinching.

Why would you say that? you want to scream, Why would you say that?

And so, instead of screaming, you don’t say anything at all. You open the door and step outside and away from the cabin, and maybe the door closes behind you, maybe not, it doesn’t matter. Your eyes transfix on the sea as the roaring of the waves crashing against the shore drowns out everything else. They swell, they break, they reach and reach and reach, and then they’re dragged back, cast back into the devouring void. To be re-congealed, reformed into swells destined to break again and get dragged back again—

and reach. And reach. And reach.

It’s high tide, and the sand an arm’s length away is solid and cold from a wave for now receded. Another wave swells, breaks, reaches, and is dragged back, leaving barely a trace to show so that each wave looks fresh and new, and not an infinite plus one.

You are not so lucky. Though your tracks in the sand quickly erode in the breeze, you will hold the memory from each and every time you find yourself here again.

How many more times will it be?

You begin to count the waves.

[literaticat]

It took me a while to stop crying and resolve to help people who will be targeted (starting 1/20/25). I am also trying to reconnect to even a scrap of joy, by tiptoeing back into writing. But...I keep analyzing my WIPs through the lens of how That Guy will be making half the country feel, wondering, "Is X funny enough? Is Y topic too serious?" Help?! Is it worth writing/querying anything that's not totally escapist? Are there genres that should just stay in a drawer right now?

No need to wait until January to help people! :-)

As to the writing piece: I think you are overthinking it. And hey, I get that! Half the country is still somewhat in "reeling mode", it hasn't even been a month, no need to make any huge decisions or change the course of your writing life or fret about queries that you aren't ready to send anyway right this second. Give yourself some grace. Do some deep breathing.

Nobody knows what the future will bring.

Hey, maybe people will want to read more than they ever have and publishing will thrive across all genres. Maybe there will be an unforeseen trend of books about cowboys in space or something that will make a genre flourish that we haven't ever even thought of before!

Or, maybe the tarriffs will eff publishing up so badly we won't need to worry about ANY genres anymore. Maybe he'll sell us all to Daddy Vladdy for a nickel or start Civil War II and we'll all have to become resistance fighters. (Or, maybe we'll get lucky and the meteor will come; that might be better, because I don't have much to offer in the way of actual resistance fighting unless the troops need children's books or cookies!)

But since none of those lines of thinking are particularly helpful or healthy, maybe let's not focus on speculating about all the random possible scenarios. It's too much! Your brain will break!

Here's what is within your purview: YOUR LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD. That includes your work, yes, but also your home, your family, your personal behavior and habits, your physical and mental health, and the well-being of your communities (both literal, like, the people who live near you, and figurative, the people near you or even across the country or the globe with whom you have shared values, etc)

I'm not an expert obvs, but I do feel like, when I stop "reeling" and thinking about whatever bizzaro outrage some politician is perpetrating and start thinking about what tangible things I can do to help support MY LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD, I feel a lot better. More useful.

(Like, how about instead of doomscrolling, I actually take that time and put my impotent rage to use pulling out the dying tomato plants and getting the yard ready for winter? How about instead of crying into my pillow, I gather a bunch of stuff to donate to a local charity? OH LOOK, I FORGOT ABOUT THE NEWS FOR A WHILE AND GOT THINGS DONE AND MADE MY CORNER OF THE WORLD BETTER! And now I'm tired and can take a nice shower and watch something silly on TV and go to sleep! Yay!)

What I'm saying is, AFTER you do the deep breathing and give yourself grace and all that stuff -- maybe DON'T think about your WIPS through the lens of "OMG what horror show is that freak in the white house doing" or "what will random terrible people think about what I'm doing" -- but rather, think, how do *I* feel about what I'm doing?

We have limited time on this earth -- do you WANT to spend your time on this? Will working on this bring you joy? Does the idea of writing it excite you? Will it reading it bring other people in your communities joy, or hope, or escapism, or important information, or inspiration, or *something else positive*? Those are the kinds of projects you should focus on, imo.

Obviously I have no clue what "Trends" will be coming up in the future, or what the publishing landscape or the world will look like at all -- but I DO SUSPECT that what we will need the most is books that bring something positive to the table. Whether that means a book full of pure delight/escapist entertainment, or reminders about what is beautiful in the world and special about humanity, or tools to help people enact change, or fuel for the next generation of rebels and resistance fighters, or whatever it is.

And, I think that "something positive" could come in the form of fiction, nonfiction, and pretty much ANY genre or category.

(Probably not a great time for extremely bleak / hopeless books, and certainly not a great time for books that you yourself are not passionate about. Writing and publishing is hard enough - don't do the projects that are a misery on top of all that!)

[sweetmariihs2]

A rant about girlhood, autism and growing up: feeling like you didn't grew up enough.

I grew up and I still love childish things. I love dolls, I love cartoons, I love girlish music and clothing, I love fictional characters, and overall I love the overall girlhood experience. But it's not the "I've grown up and I'm trying to get back to it" kind of thing that we always see on social media, what I mean is that I never really grew up. The years have passed since I was a little girl and I still love Barbie and Disney, but not as in a way like "I'm an adult, I consume adult content, and every now and then I watch some animated films, I admit that I like them, but I still live a more mature life", but rather "I never stopped being who I was as a child". All my tastes are still the same. I don't balance mature TV shows/content with cartoons, I only watch cartoons... most of the time.

I'm going through a transition phase now into adulthood... high school is about to end and everyone around me seems to have matured more than I have, even the girls who are known for listening to Lana Del Rey and wearing Coquette fashion, which is a group I fit in with very well too. Apart from the girls who are practically adults (and who already have a romantic and financial life, speak in a mature way, and are already considered women) I also feel more immature than the girls I identify with the most due to them liking "immature" things.

I feel mature enough to think and make responsible decisions; I have a lot of emotional maturity and people tell me that I give great advice. But at the same time, on the other hand, I run to my room full of objects from my childhood and spend some time reading, talking, and listening to music about characters from media that are mostly made for children.

One good thing about still loving the exact same things you loved as a child is that you will always have the same things from when you were little today, and you won't get tired of them. The bad thing, however, is that I feel weird about not "growing up." I guess liking these things is a part of me, but at the same time I can't help but feel like the gap between my childhood and adulthood is sometimes too small. I hear people talking about growing up, talking about the infantilization of my generation, I see others who used to be like me now being very different and it's a natural process... but is it infantilization even when I'm just being myself? What would be "infantilization" about my tastes in the eyes of others that to me are just part of who I am as a person? I don't see myself not liking my favorite genre of movies, clothes, music, art, just because I decided to "cure" myself from a supposed "infantilization". I do wonder if I'm unwell for loving the stuff that I love... but it's in a "am I ill for being who I am?" kind of way. It must be awful supressing what is in your heart because people see it as an illness.

I am responsible with my words and behavior and I often see "mature" people making decisions that to me are immature, like being impulsive. It's like I'm somewhere in between maturity and childishness and I get pushed back and forth by people on both sides of the way; I don't fit in with either one, but sometimes I do, for a short period of time until I get pushed back to the other side again. Too mature for children and too childish for adults.

I constantly feel nostalgic about things I used to like, and I feel like the line between past and current tastes is very thin at this point in my life. It confuses me and I think about people's words about growing up, but how can I grow up if I'm already mature and that's who I am? When I was a child I expected to grow up and turn into an adult adult, like if this would just happen naturally. Now I grew up and turned into an adult version of the tiny version of myself. Still and adult, still me, but not normal enough for others, apparently. Sometimes I feel melancholic because as a child I was free to like the things that I still love today without any judgement... well, sometimes. Let's not talk about bullying.

I watch Toy Story, I sometimes feel the urge to play with my toys, I feel like carrying them around with me like a child, but I fight the urge not to do it because I have to adapt - or rather, be an adult.

The fact that I'm autistic (I was diagnosed at the beginning of the year) also probably plays a big role in this, which is another situation that I've been balancing throughout all these years, as I was very normal for the weirdos and too weird for the normals, making me not fit into any of these boxes and consequently just being excluded from social groups for being too weird and being deprived of possible support and inclusion for being too normal. The fact that I hyperfocus on "childish" topics says a lot about my life and the media I consume, because suddenly my mind is completely occupied with things like Sofia The First, and I externalize this a lot. I collect children's magazines of this show, I want to have the toys, I want to dress the toys in clothes. It's normalized on the Internet for people to be from fandoms considered childish, the problem is that I'm often seen as childish even by them. Making a friend who likes The Amazing Digital Circus and having to explain to them that I'm genuinely very passionate about Sofia The First always provokes laughter and I have to laugh too and imitate a "hear me out" behavior in order to be socially accepted. "You shouldn't adapt to please others! Be yourself!" Unfortunately, this is how it is to be yourself in today's world, using tactics to remain true to yourself while acting like it's no big deal until that friend gets used to you like this.

Being an artist is also something that seems to be involved. I like animations to dissect the characters and understand the artistic choices in the writing, design, soundtrack. I don't just like a character or a work, I open it up and analyze every aspect because I love art. When I get a doll in my hands I look at its proportions, design, color palette, I know its backstories, fears and character development within the work they were in. I genuinely love listening to Disney songs, Barbie songs, My Little Pony, and even cringy anime rap... The fact that I am an artist and hyper-focus on animations and love having collectibles (mostly toys, since they are programs for children)...

You know that scene in Toy Story 2 where we see Jessie's owner, Emily, grows up and left her childhood behind, and in the end she gives Jessie away with her toy collection? I feel like I'm an Emily who grew up and kept loving horses and Jessie. I grew up, but I'm still the way I am, and even though I like that, questioning it makes me a little dysmorphic...

People talk about it like it's a defect, and point fingers to other who do the same to say that they're infantilizing themselves. To a point that when I go to the mirror and when I see myself I wonder how did I grew up so quick. I wonder if the problem is my body growing too fast or my maturing process being too slow. But I matured, I think mature, I just love childish stuff, and this makes me overwhelmed. I want to be who I am but being who I am makes me confused and insecure. "Am I doing the right thing by... being myself?" "Am I mentally ill for staying like this, acting like a child even though I'm a grown up?" "Do I even act like a child? I know that I don't, that's not it." Could my desire to be able to carry a toy around with me be related to autistic people having stuffed animals/objects to regulate themselves?

Sometimes I feel the urge to put a doll in my bag and carry her with me throughout my whole day, touch and admire her closely when bored, look at the fabric, paint and sculpt and then have fun taking pics of her doing different activities just seems so nice. I sometimes wanna have awkward conversations and talk about my silly little cartoons like I'm a child talking with not so many social norms like adults usually do. I wanna sit and watch my favorite genre of media, animation, without being whispered about or laugh at; and by that I don't mean someone who watches cartoons sometimes, I mean someone who only sees that stuff. I want to dress up like a princess and make tea parties because I love the simplicity and innocence about those things. Gosh, I'm even waiting for my little cousin to grow up just little a bit more for her to be able to play with dolls with me, cuz I want to go back with playing with them and there is not even a single living soul in my whole social circle that wouldn't judge me if spoke about this!!!

I feel like I'm a little girl in an adult body sometimes, but I do feel like an adult too. I don't understand if I'm like this because I'm autistic, I'm an artist, or if I'm doing something wrong, like infantilizing myself. I don't behave like a child, and I don't do anything for anyone, I enjoy my tastes for myself! The feminine urge of being confused and happy about yourself at the same time. It's a real struggle.

[lucien0501]

LETTERS (Wolfstar Oneshot)

Summary: Letters from Sirius Black to Remus Lupin from Azkaban. He isn’t allowed to send the letters so they’re only one sided, which definitely makes it sad. There are a few mentions of fun past Marauders moments/pranks!:) Harry Potter Marauders Fandom

Note: I do not support the views of the author (I am a trans person so....no🤬) but I love these very gay characters so much that I had to write about them!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Hints of mental instability, losing memories because of dementors, definite angst, mentions of Lily and James’ death, brief mentions of sex, swearing, Sirius’ hate for Peter Pettigrew, death threats towards Peter Pettigrew, and overall kind tragic because Sirius is stuck in Azkaban.  Let me know if I missed any!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moons

I'm not sure why I'm writing to you--we're not allowed to send or receive post from Azkaban, but you know that already. You always seem to know everything, you're smart as hell.

I'm not going to waste parchment explaining everything, I already spend too much time rehearsing what I'm going to say. Lily and James, Remus. I still can't make myself believe it, I'm not sure I want to.

I want to ask you not to forget about me, not to believe I'm a traitor. No, that's a lie. I want to ask you to wait for me. I'll come back to you one day, I promise. It’s selfish of me, to hope you won't move on. But I've always been a selfish bastard, you know that too.

I can't remember your eyes, Remus. Or your laugh. I try, every day to conjure you up from my memories, but the Dementors are slowly sucking you from my mind, one day at a time. I'm terrified of losing you--our years at Hogwarts, for good. I'm scared that one day I won't remember what you taste like, your oversized jumpers, the sounds you make when you come. I love you, Remus, and the Dementors prey on love, it's a feast to them.

But they can't take away my hate, my need for revenge. I fucking hate him, I hate him I hate himIhatehimIhate--

Pads

*

Moony

Do you remember the time we shagged on the big couch in the common room and James found out? He was so disgusted he didn't sit there till Christmas.

Do you remember the time that we all got drunk and played Seven Minutes In Heaven and I charmed the spinner so I'd get you? That was our first kiss. I remember.

Then there was that time that we slipped Snivellus a potion that turned his hair pink for a week. We thought it was the most brilliant thing we'd ever done. Did he retaliate? I'm not sure anymore.

Remember when we snuck out to Hogsmeade through the secret passage and almost ran into Professor McGonagall? Did we get caught? I don't remember.

I'm trying to remember. I have to remember

Padfoot

*

Rem

Half my bloody family is in here, you know. It makes for a wonderful reunion, lots of cursing and threats of murder-- just like old times! 

I wonder if my parents are proud of me now, after what they think I did. After what everyone thinks I did.

I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry for all of it, for the way I must have hurt you. I wish I could actually send these letters and wish I could talk to you again. Just for a few minutes.

There are so many things I should have done differently. So many things.

Sirius

*

Remus

I wonder where you are, now? What you're doing? 

It's been five years now, for all I know you could be dead or married or finally realized you're better off without me. I wouldn't blame you for the last one. 

That thought haunts me every day, that I'll get out of here and I'll find you and you'll say that you've moved on and none of it matters now.

Cause I will find you. I'm getting out of here, one day.

Sirius

*

This will be my last letter, I'm almost out of parchment and there's no way in hell they'll bring me more. Maybe I'll write on the walls to keep myself from going mad. 

I'm so sorry for everything that I did. For everything that I failed to do. I never told you enough how much I loved you and now it's too late.

I'm going to get out of here, I promise. I have to. 

I'm going to kill him, fucking rip him apart with my bare hands, damn my wand. 

And then I'm going to find you. And everything is going to be alright because then I'll be in your arms. 

[mothgirl-number-4]

[You're leading Beau through the House. He's been… Nice. Asked the questions you knew the answers to, at least.] [He asked you where you were from.] [You told him you forgot.] [You're in the House's garden now. He's been looking at all the various flowers, plaques with descriptions grabbing at his attention like a moth to a lamp. You sit on a bench, close enough to hear him rattling off the facts he's reading from the signs.] [He says he thinks signs are really important, but he doesn't know why. You talk to him about it, and he mentions the stars before freezing mid-speech.] [He starts rambling everything he can remember about stars, and you try to make sure he doesn't push himself too much. It's not enough, as he coughs up a speck of blood, but you use some healing craft (it hurts, but you don't care) and sit there with him.] [You tell him everything you can remember that he didn't already tell you, this time actually making sure nobody gets hurt.] [He asks about one of the stars names, Regulus.] [You can't tell him much, but he decides then and there that, as a symbol of being part of Vaugardian culture, he'll Change his name to Regulus.] [He says it feels right. You reply it feels nice to say.] [It's half-true. It's easier, at least.] [You spend the rest of the time trying to come up with better nicknames than Reg, which is harder than it really seems.] [You end up calling him Sunshine. It's only slightly ironic.] [You end up agreeing it'd be for the best if you stick together for the time.] [You feel a pit in your stomach as you acquire the Memory of Sunshine. You don't tell him about it.] [He picks one of the flowers, asking of course, and you choose one as well.] [He picks a willow, you pick a zinnia.]

[This is your last day.] [You'd berate whoever forgot to remind you, but you aren't going to make another clone of your past self over something so petty.] [You can't sleep.] [You stare up at the ceiling for the sixth time this week. It's starting to feel like the clocktower. You need to get out of here.] [You get up, passing Sunshine as you sneak through the halls.] [None of the Housemaidens are awake, but it's mostly habit at this point.] [You're in the garden again.] [You walk over to a comfortable-looking patch of grass, and lie down.] [You look up at the stars, alone.] [It's familiar, but different. Different is good.] [Your Sunshine told you that the open roof design was made so that the plants could get enough sunlight to grow, but that they put a tarp over it in winter so that snow won't get all over everything.] [The perfect amount of care so that you won't wither, and that you will grow.] [What a wonderful idea.] [You turn on cue to someone who isn't there. You say all the right things without anyone to hear them.] [It's not even your script and yet you still memorized every word.] [This isn't getting you anywhere.] [You move to a stump in the center of the garden. One of the Housemaidens told you it was enhanced by craft to grow and decay at higher speed than usual, a symbol of Change.] [It's not fast enough to bother you, at least.] [There's a neighboring stump, one crafted out of stone, made to never Change. A duality in eternal life and eternal death.] [You don't know whose bright idea it was to make the stone stump, considering it seems very contrary to Change, but you can appreciate the gall.] [Regulus walks in. He says he didn't know you were here.] [He wears his only other outfit, armor of darkless with lightless stars speckling here and there.] [Sitting on the parallel stump, he gazes up at the stars. You can see tears fall from his eyes.] [He is happy, and you're unsatisfied] [You're... Unsatisfied?]

"Which one is your favorite?" <"I don't have one, yet."> "I thought you might like the one you named yourself after." <"Not everything's in a name, guiding light."> "Is that your new nickname for me? How cute." <"I thought hard about it. Something to fit your one for me. ...Do you like it?"> "...Yeah. You're good at nicknames." <They look up to the stars alongside you. They seem deep in thought.> "I thought you were asleep." <"I was, I think. I thought the same of you."> "I take pride in my acting skills." <You do often catch them wearing a smile that doesn't belong on their face.> <"You are very good. I always preferred songwriting."> "Oh?" <"The rhythm that goes with the tune, the meter and rhyme, it's just enchanted me, I feel."> <"...I don't know how long this has been the case, but I know it to be true."> <They look jealous. They clearly haven't realized it, since the false smile hasn't taken its place, yet.> <They begin to hum a tune. It sounds like a comfortable place, a time of love. It sounds like children playing and birds singing. Then, they stop.> <You, in turn, hum your own tune. A Change hymn of ticking gears and twisting architecture. Of the nature of life and how it goes around and around. Then, you can't remember any more.> <You don't know how you feel about Change, but you are ever so grateful for its followers. You cannot deny it that these Houses are marvels of craft. You smile.> "I'm heading back to bed. You?" <"Yes, I feel I should as well. May I accompany you?"> <They give a bewildered look. Maybe they don't- > "But we'd be heading the same way anyway?" <Oh.> <"There are many paths to the same destination."> <After a moment's pause, they sigh and let you come along with them.> <You dream of weeping willows that cry and a great shadow overtaking your own. You will not remember these when you wake.>

[Your time is done. You're satisfied.]

[You couldn't take your role back, but that's his fault for leaving you alone. You're satisfied.]

[You're satisfied. You fade at last.]

...

[You feel a thread pulled to its limits. A fire burning hot hot hot and something breaking, failing, rotting. You gag on nothing as starlight beams out of your eyes and mouth.]

[The string pulls, choking you as you attempt to scream, but you have no mouth. You attempt to cry, but you have no eyes.]

[The thread snaps.]

[You feel a pulling in your head.]

[And you feel your heart..

p

o

p

]

[You wake up in a room. The first thing you take in is UNIMAGINABLE PAIN. You scream and scream and scream- there are footsteps. You hear the familiar sound of healing craft as the pain subsides the slightest bit. Not enough to be anywhere near comfortable, but you aren't screaming anymore.]

[You sit up, hands grasping at what you realize far too late are bedsheets. They rip in your hands, piercing craft chugging through your fingertips like the drip drip drip of blood.]

[You're already babbling apologies when]-

"Oh thank goodness you're awake, bright stranger."

[That voice. Not from the healer you don't recognize them but you turn to the neighboring bed- you're in an infirmary? -and see another stranger.]

[You recognize that accent but you don't recognize... Him?]

"[Who-]"

[You cough on your words- Vaugardian, Loop! Try again~]

[The familiar stranger looks at you with wonder.]

"Say- say that again, will you?"

"[What, 'who?']"

"No- what was that language?"

[You don't know.]

"[I don't know. Where am I?]"

[The familiar stranger- you're just going to call him the King, it's too similar to be a coincidence. You've never been lucky enough to even consider otherwise. -looks disappointed before lighting up again. His Vaugardian is rough, but understandable.]

"Ah! You're in the Bambouche house of change! Or uhm... The one closest to Bambouche I think... I couldn't really understand them the best."

[The King looks awkward. How could this pathetic whelp end up as the intimidating monster that killed- Blinding- He's speaking]

"They call me castaway, but I prefer Beau, he and him, please. What about you?"

[Oh this is hilarious. The Change god thinks its so blinding funny doesn't it. You're laughing. You're cackling and guffawing and]-

"[Siffrin, they/them, nice to meet you!]"

"Oh, like the savior?"

[What.]

[redibinch]

Laserfrog wedding ceremony in the rainnn

[runawaymarbles]

at this point i am simply uninterested in any opinion on a hot-button political topic that treats human beings as a mass of meaningless hypotheticals

[queer-crusader]

Man this day has taken it fucking out of me