#i tried i had this post in my drafts for awhile and want it to be done

[lightvsdark18]

How Milady's passing affected them

Lucifer isolated himself and focused on his work, downing bitter coffee and passing out at his desk. He tried his best to keep his brothers together after the funeral, but it was easier to leave them be and grief in their own way.

He got too into his head and didn't realize his hair was getting long until it touched his shoulders. When he first cut his hair in the Devildom, it was right after falling and wanting to get rid of everything that reminded him of the Celestial Realm. He was emotional shot when he stared into the mirror that day and cut his long hair to a choppy short one, then bursted into tears at what he did.

He always kept it short to represent his new life as a demon, but right now, he couldn't help running his fingers through his longish hair and feeling nostalgic since he always adored having long hair.

He immediately focused his thoughts on his work and ignored his conflicted feelings, figuring he would cut it off later. However, his busy schedule let it grow more that Diavolo noticed his friend running his fingers through his hair and giving a small smile.

"Enjoying yourself?" The new demon king teased, confusing the former angel by the question. "You have been playing with your hair ever since it got long."

Lucifer apologized and said he will make an appointment to get it cut, but Diavolo stopped him, saying to keep it.

"... I don't know. The last time I had long hair is when I fell and it been so long since."

The demon king responded to see the change of appearance to be a new era for the eldest, and to start doing things that made him happy. "You can't keep doing this forever, Lucifer. You have to keep the promise you all made to her."

~~~~

Belphie slept more often and hid away in the attic, refusing to stop dreaming of her, but his coping mechanism was cut short when his twin started to get violent. He had to be awake to focus Beel's attention on not destroying almost everything around him.

His dreams of her kept him somewhat sane during the grieving process until a memory of her saying he looks nice with his hair tied back from his eyes. That dream had him staring in the mirror and pinning his bands back to see how he looked.

The first time he arrived in the Devildom, he felt terrified and wanted to hide away, using his arm to shield himself from the other demons' glares. He grew out his hair to brush parts of it in the front of his face and hide himself without needing his arm.

Maybe he doesn't have to that anymore. He tried pinning his hair daily and received compliments from his brothers and other demons. He did subconsciously cover himself with his arm, but over time he slowly got used to the feeling of having both eyes visible.

One night after another dream of her, she spoke how cute he looked now that he immediately cut his hair to hear those comments again. He felt strange at what he did, but who cared, she could see his whole face now.

~~~~

Asmo buried himself more into his sin and distracted himself with others, but everytime he was alone, he craved her touch again. He often found himself crying in his bed, missing her dearly and how she couldn't comfort him when his heart started to ache.

One night at a club, the demons he was going to be partying with commented on his appearance, his freckles. Asmo froze in fear since he grew to despise them when Devildom of old taught him to do so.

He always hid his freckles after hearing the cruel words and allowed no one to see them, except for her. She was the first person in a long time to see his bare face and call them adorable, oh how he felt at those words.

Therefore, hearing those words from his fans felt wonderful and could see her smiling at him as he sat down and acted like he planned it. There were those who complained about his freckles and how he looks better without them, causing Asmo wanting to retreat to his shield known as makeup.

However, the image of her cheerful face and genuine words helped him fight against the urge. "Who cares if they don't like it, I like it and that's what matters."

Those words stuck to him. "What matters is I like it..."

~~~~

Beel wasn't interested in food. He was still hungry, starving during every meal, but he ate less than normal, not really caring about eating. Every meal felt empty without her there to enjoy it with him.

Because of that, he lashed out and grew violent at anyone who looked at him wrong, especially if her name was spoke like an insult. He often came home bloody from aiming his anger onto unfortunate demons. Belphie eventually stepped in when he finally took notice and attempted to steer his attention to something else to cope.

One night at dinner, Candy, the child she adopted, finally snapped at the brothers. No one talked about her or dare say her name, seeming like they wanted to forget her in Candy's eyes.

Beel remembered her words before she left them. "Don't fall apart when I'm gone."

He took those words and attempted to genuinely move forward without getting violent or having his favorite things feel tasteless, but also, be a protector for the kid.

~~~~

Levi returned to shutting the world out and burying himself in his passion. She was his best friend and understood him, but who can understand him now. He fell back into the self he created when he arrived in the Devildom, rejecting the things he desired and calling them normie because he didn't believe he deserved them.

She broke him out of the cycle and slowly eased him into partaking those normie things, but she wasn't here anymore. Candy tried to hangout with him, but he lashed at them and threw cruel words towards them which added to the child's sorrow.

He buried himself deep in his self-hatred that he didn't realize he was breaking his promise to her until Candy snapped. At returning to his room, he found a photo of her and him together, somewhat hearing her voice when she convinced him to go to the movies together or hangout in the town.

"Levi, let's go to the park and walk around."

Then remembered the promise. "Don't fall apart when I'm gone."

... Doesn't he really not deserve to indulge in his "normie" side?

~~~~

Mammon was almost never in the house anymore from drowning himself in his debts from gambling with no end. He spent his time working to pay off his debts or gambling everything he had. The only time he was at home is when he had to sleep or rarely have dinner with everyone.

His hair was messy, his eyes bloodshot, his body looking thinner than before. He just wanted her back, to tell him off for gambling so much and that he's not helping himself. Candy was his wakeup call from they shouting about them trying to forget her.

Is that what he was doing, drowning himself in debt to forget her?

He turned himself around and attempting to help himself cope in a more healthy way, by ending those debts and stopping gambling so much. He came home more often and checked up on the kid, even offering to hangout with them.

~~~~

It was the first time for Satan to lose someone. He didn't know what to do. He thought he could handle it until he found himself lashing out a lot more at his family and other demons. He tried to suck himself into his interests, but the books felt cold when he went to her room and had to be harshly reminded she wasn't there to be read to.

His room soon became a mess with ripped books and broken walls, destroying anything he could get his hands on. He tried going to cat cafes and pet the cats to feel better, but that too felt cold from her not being there to enjoy it.

He only woke up from his clouded sight when Candy's outburst at dinner. Right, the brothers weren't the only ones who lost someone special, they lost their mother.

Satan started involving himself with Candy, suggesting they help each other out on grieving, soon finding comfort in their family member.

[ctrlhope]

Butterfly (m)

synopsis: he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

j.jungkook x f.reader

୧ ‧₊˚┊: wc: 3.6k

୧ ‧₊˚┊: genre: yandere, serial killer au, college au, dark content

୧ ‧₊˚┊: content: yandere!killer!jk, dubcon, predator / prey, manipulation, fear play, mask kink, slight sub space, slight knife play, strangers to lovers, “public” sex, drug use (alcohol), mentions of blood / injury, threats, allusions to kidnapping, dom!jk, fingering, rough sex, he’s mean but still sweet, obsessed!soft!jk at the end <33

୧ ‧₊˚┊: notes: found this in my drafts back from halloween and i never posted it! so here you go, to hold you over until my long fics are done <33 halloween fic in april lmaooo

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Bum. Bum. Bum.

Your heartbeat is in your ears, pulse racing. It was too loud. Everything is too loud. It’s all you can hear. It’s all you can think about as your heels dig into the harsh forest floor. Your shoes long since been abandoned, mud caking your feet as you try to run. Tries to escape from the demon that had set his sights on you.

Him.

Fuck. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It really wasn’t. It was just supposed to be a fun halloween party! You didn’t really even know if you wanted to go to it or not. But your friends convinced you with the promise of free drinks and guys that were ‘cute enough’ for some random frat.

What they failed to mention? The simple fact that house was in the middle of nowhere. On one side a lake, the other a massive forest.

Like a pretty little trap meant to catch girls like you. Web tangled in the trees just watching for the prettiest butterfly to find its way into. To be caught in the den of monsters that lined every wall of the ancient house.

You were already disturbed when your friend's pretty jeep turned off the main roads, trailing through the woods. Realising just how distant from the rest of society you would be. How every bump of the car sent your little heart into a deeper flutter of anxiety.

Still, you kept your mouth shut. You didn’t want to ruin the night— for yourself or your friends. You trust them. They promised it would be fun. Plus! Their boyfriends were going to be there! So nothing would go wrong!

Yeah. It really wasn't their fault that a lunatic set his sights on you. Wasn’t their fault you started dancing with a man in a mask. Let him lead you to the backyard for a smoke, dumbly followed him deeper into the woods to see his favourite spot. Let him stuff his fingers into your little hole without even seeing his face, knowing his name.

Nah, you did all that on your own. Just a little kitten being led to the slaughter house.

“Okay babydoll…” He breathes into your ear, pumping two fingers deep inside of your cunt. Skirt that was barely covering anything pushed too far up your hips, showing the whole forest just how tight your walls cling to his fingers. How wet you are. How desperate you are for more.

“We’re gonna play a game, yeah?” You’re hardly able to respond, consciousness laced with toxins from earlier that night. Flush to your cheeks evidence enough of just how much you drank— the series of events that led you to this exact moment.

One he had been planning for awhile.

He smiles, throat letting out a low, almost nonexistent laugh. Slowly circling your clit with his thumb, almost mocking the way your back arches. Finding amusement in the way your fingers cling to his arm as his thrusts continue all to slow.

You’re needy, too needy. He knows that well enough. Can tell with the way your hips start to rock, start to squirm. The way your body starts to get bratty on him while your mind is too far in the clouds to realise the position you’ve found yourself in.

You’re cute. Too cute for him to take another second of this. Too cute for him to hold back anymore.

Wouldn’t want you getting too bratty on him anyway, would he? Then his personal treat, the slice of cake he's been waiting weeks to cut into will have to turn into a punishment. Ruin all the fun he’s worked so hard to prepare.

“‘Gonna need you to run into the woods. Fast and as far as you can…” He groans under his breath, the mere thought sending blood straight to his cock, filling his mind with nothing but pictures of you dirty on the forest floor, “And you gotta do your best to stay away from me yeah? Cause if I catch you… I gotta kill you and I wouldn't wanna have to do that… You’re too pretty to kill, you know?”

Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with him? What is he even talking about?

You try to process– try to understand the words that run off his tongue. But it's unfair, everything is stacked against you as he slides the mask off his face. Gives you a first look at his deep brown eyes. Lets you see how gorgeous he is for the very first time.

He didn’t even give you a chance to recover before he started counting down from 30. Doesn’t even move his hand away from your dripping cunt until 20– the expression on your face just pathetic. So close yet so far from the finish line.

Your race was nowhere close to its end. He’d make sure of it.

It wasn’t until his hand found your hip, gently tapping against the skin that your brain even had the chance to attempt processing his words. Figure out the exact meaning behind them while his lips continued to count down with each syllable.

Such pretty pink lips. Maybe he would let you kiss them if you tried hard enough. If you lean up just right maybe he would–

Wait. Wait. What’s happening? What did he say to you?

Your eyes glance down to your thighs, vision dazed as you try to figure out the object that suddenly pokes at your flesh. The sharp tip grazing your soft skin as you take in the metal; polished to perfection. The deep black handle resting securely in his palm, holding himself back.

Your eyes widen, familiarity cresting your features.

Shit. Shit!

You don’t even think about grabbing your own knife until 15, hand quickly reaching for your hip where you keep it tucked away. Too bad he had already taken it, knew the tool you always carried with you well.

Shit, his own personal little Nancy, huh? Perfect for him.

Survival instincts had to take over for you, forcing your feet to the ground. Urging your skirt down as low as it could possibly go as your legs take off in a direction you hope is the house.

Everything is all too much, it’s not enough. Every little sound is getting to you, making you feel like you’re going crazy. Making you feel like none of your senses can be trusted. Like nothing can be trusted except for the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The woods– everything looks the same. You can't distinguish one thing from the next but you know you hear something getting closer. Too close.

If his words meant anything you need to keep fighting, keep trying to live. Even as pain stabs into your toes, sticks break under your feet. Even as you’re stabbed by bushes.

It was like the forest itself was out to get you. Like whatever beast behind it is your real enemy in all of this.

Maybe you can pretend it, maybe in your alcohol-addled brain that’s a little easier to manage than the man running behind you. The one with hunger in his heart that only your soul can satiate.

You try, you really do. But your legs can only move so fast. Can only take so much abuse before they start to slow. Lungs can only inhale so much air before they want to collapse.

Too bad he’s done this before. He can run.

And just as you start to be able to see the lights from the tree line, just as hope starts to fill your little heart, you’re forced into the dirt. Two arms wrap around you from behind, tackling your frame to the ground.

Your back presses against his chest as he keeps you there, his face right next to your ear as he pants. Breathe heavy in your ear, hearing the way it cracks every once and awhile as he tries to catch his breath. Lips almost on your ear while he keeps you there. Keeps you trapped under him.

Everything is starting to conflict in your pretty little head, body telling you to get away. Try to get him off. Wriggle your hand— anything out to try and fight back. Try and get away before he keeps his promise from before.

Yet, with every movement, every slight twist of your spine or kick of your legs under his heavy frame he only presses tighter, deeper against you. Presses his cock against your barely covered cunt. Makes you feel every inch of him that he plans to stuff inside. Make you unable to breathe while the rocks dig into your skin.

You put up a good fight, you really do. Better than anyone else. It’s too bad everything is going just a little bit haywire behind your eyes. The world starting to feel like a burden as you try to push away the arousal rushing to your gut.

Shit, you should be scared. Should be petrified of the psycho that took you into the woods, the psycho that threatened to kill you no more than ten minutes before. One that had a knife pressed to your skin and a scythe around your heart. But the chemicals in your brain are mixing into something that you can’t comprehend, can’t describe.

Everything feels like too much, he feels like too much and you have no clue what to do. Head completely gone to mush.

It’s almost easier that way.

“Almost got away, doll. But don’t worry. I’ve got you now.” His voice is rough, harsh as he tries to catch his breath. Teeth clamping against the crest of your ear, hips rolling against your cunt without a care in the world. Especially not for the state of your head. Not for the little world you find yourself slipping away into.

Too many extreme emotions happening will do that to you, won't they? Make you so confused that you’ll just take whatever you can manage. Even if that means plunging his blade into your pretty little heart or fucking you until your pussy wouldn’t even consider another filling it.

He prefers the latter. Too pretty for the former, huh?

He can feel the shift in your frame– one of extreme discomfort, entirely tense to one of a docile little pet put on display. The shift behind your eyes as everything becomes too much, little too difficult to understand. As you slip away just enough to make any feelings of pleasure elevate to new extremes. Let fear spur you on.

The only thoughts in your head are ones filled with him. The way it should be. Exactly should be.

Your hips move again, their last attempt to break free from his spell. Their last attempt to try and get away from the maniac. Yet it does nothing more than press his cock harder against your ass, the mock of a grind against the surface that leaves a pretty little mewl spilling from your lips. A grunt catching in his own.

Wow, you actually surprised him.

“Shit, not patient at all huh?” He smiles, lip quirking as he removes his body from you. Removes the only warmth provided in this hell.

You won't run. Not if you know what's good for you.

He doubts you do– led you right into his arms tonight. But that's okay. He can take over for you. Take over everything.

Hands grip your hips, pull you back against him. Let you imagine how sweet he could fuck you if you just behave. The soft rocking of hips against your own, the gentle way he moves compared to the way he holds you heavy on your mind.

You can’t help the moan that spills past your lips. The way your back arches to meet him better. No one could blame poor little you. No one could blame your mind turning off for just a little bit. Not when he has you. Not with the rough texture of his pants pushing against your cunt. Not with the ruined orgasm of before.

Arousal makes your panties stick uncomfortable to your skin. A disturbing wet patch forming against his own pants where you meet. A flutter erupting in your gut at the way he groans. Way he moves you with such ease.

He really could kill you if he wanted to.

You’re not sure if the realisation scares you or spurs you on.

It scares you more to know that it's the latter.

“I’m not either.” He huffs, air thick with fog, “Been too patient for you. Too fucking patient.”

He grunts, pushing your hips back. Back arching even farther against the forest floor. It almost hurts, it’s almost painful. Not that that really matters. Nothing matters when he grips the flesh of your ass, pulls the cheeks apart. Gets a good look at the mess he’s made of you. Can see clearly how wrecked his little girl is.

Pretty panties sticking against your cunt, thighs wobbly from all the effort of tonight. Shit, if he just hooks his finger under them, pulls them to the side he’ll get to see you all. Get to see your puffy lips, fluttering little hole. Get to fuck himself inside while you just lie there and take it. Get so drunk on his cock you might just fall in love.

Shit, maybe you already have, huh?

Good.

He forces your underwear to the side, stares in awe at the way your slick sticks to them. Imagines how pretty they’d look stuffed with his cum. How you’d tumble around the house, not letting a drop spill just for him.

Because you would know it’s what he wants.

“All of this for me?” He smiles, rubbing his thumb through your folds. Collecting your essence, spreading it around all messy just how he likes. How he knows you’ll like soon enough.

You can only whimper, clutch the ground as your head spins. Tries to catch up with every little minstration he makes. Tries to figure out what exactly is happening. What words he’s saying. How to get him to stop, if you want him to stop.

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t think you do.

You’re not sure of anything anymore. Only the sound of a zipper running down, the shuffle of pants forced off hips. The hard head of a cock running against your folds like it owns them. Like it was made for them.

The stretch as he forces himself inside. The way it burns, stings with effort. The short, forceful movements as he fucks himself inside. Makes home in your cunt for no one else but him. Makes you unable to think of a soul other than him. Ruin you for all other men that come after.

God he must be big– how fucking big? You have no clue. You wish you could see. Look into those pretty, crazed eyes. Focus on the little mole under his lip as the pain turns into pleasure. Morphs something dark in your brain to like it, to take it just like a good girl. Make you crave him more than anything else.

But instead you stare at the dirt. Hands clutching at the surface as he fucks himself inside. Deeper and deeper with each slow calculating thrust. Fucks you full of whatever twisted definition of love he possess. Makes you see the light, the exact shimmer in his eyes. See that this is the only way to truly live.

“Shit, baby,” His voice is low, deeper than before as his hips finally meet your own. Finally fills you with nothing else other than him. “Been waiting too fucking long for this. Had to make me wait, huh? Fuck.”

His voice harsh, grip bruising as he tries to hold himself back. One last measly reprise he’ll allow you. One last second he’ll give you before he makes you completely dumb. Makes you see what he knows you need to.

“I-I don’t~” You whimper, though the words fall on deaf ears. Not that it mattered anyway, you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Didn’t know anything except for the way your walls clamp around his cock. Body begging for him, urging him to start and never stop.

He sighs, dramatic, “Little slut, huh baby?”

A harsh thrust punctuates his words, jolting your body forward as you cry. Impatience, ecstasy? He isn’t sure which. Only can notice the way your fingers clench and unclench in the dirt. The way your pussy flutters around him.

“Aww…” He soothes, hips dragging out of your cunt before slowly thrusting back in. The pace slow, antagonising, “Poor thing is having a hard time…” His hips quicken a hair, pretty sounds falling from your lips at the movement.

“Gotta tell me what you need, baby. I can make it all happen then.” A low kiss is placed against your shoulder, the world crumbling around you.

You break.

“Please…” Your voice is soft, too soft, but he hears it. Feels himself cracking as you beg, feels himself lose his mind entirely.

Beg for him. Want him.

His hips suddenly snap, fucking himself into your cunt with force you never thought a human could possibly manage. Fast, hard. Pumping his cock into you to search for his own pleasure. His own release. Forcing you to take it, take all of him while you try to keep up. Try to find your own pleasure in the tangle of limbs.

You hate how easily you do. Or maybe you love it.

“God, fuck.” He can’t suppress his own moans, the feeling of your pussy wrapping so tight around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth is too much. Fills his head with even more nonsense about love. About destiny.

His hips would never even consider stopping. You feel too good. Feel too tight around his cock, feel like he should never stop fucking you. Keep you there forever.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” His breath is harsh, his heart racing as your little sounds only spur him on. Let him know just how good you feel. Just how far you’ve fallen. Just how much farther you’re willing to drown in all things Jungkook.

“P-Please!” You whine, hips arching further. Moving him into the perfect position to scrape against your g-spot with every rough pound of his hips. No clue what you’re pleading for. No clue what you want other than him.

Don’t even know his name. Nothing other than how incessantly you crave him.

“Fucking brat.” He cusses, eyes pinching into a glare as you somehow clamp down tighter. Walls pulling him back in on every thrust. Milking him for everything he’s worth. Making sure you both know your place in this. Know your place after it, too.

“God, been waiting for this haven’t you?” He groans, hips stuttering. He’s too close, “Been waiting for me to fuck you like the pretty doll you are? Make me take everything from you?”

You can only manage a whine in response, cunt fluttering around him. Obsessing in his praise.

Maybe his words are true. Maybe he’s known the exact type of person you are since the moment he first saw you. Maybe he’s right. This is where you’re meant to be. Meant to be with him.

“Shit, yeah. I fucking knew it.” His voice cracks, “Call you a minx but we both know that isn’t true. Just don’t know how to think until you’re stuck on the end of a cock.”

His thrusts somehow pick up speed. Fuck you harder, deeper. He’s sure he could place his hand over your tummy, feel himself fucking you. Shit.

“My cock.” He growls, voice heavy in your ears.

You can't take it anymore. Can’t take another second of it. Nerves tied tight into knots explode, white dotting the corner of your vision as you moan for no one else other than him. Pleasure courses through your veins, pussy pulling him as he falls apart alongside you. A tsunami pulling you under, making it hard to breathe. Making you feel dead and alive at the same time.

Maybe the forest gods were the ones tormenting you. Making you feel better than you had ever thought possible before. Allowing you to see the light of the stars dancing in the sky, so far above the clouds with his cock still pressed so deep inside. Floating through the air as your orgasm runs through you.

He’s no better. A shell of a man as he slowly fucks him cum deeper into your cunt. As deep as you’ll allow. Marking you. Claiming you. Making sure you know your place, even as you finally collapse onto the floor. Finally come back to reality. Poor body too spent to focus on anything else.

It’s okay though, you don’t have to worry. Not about a thing.

He’ll take care of you. Fix you up nice and pretty for your next lesson. Take you away to his apartment, make you fall in love for real. Keep you there, with him, just like you’re meant to be.

Make all of the sick sides you try to hide come out to play. Make you realise you’re just like him.

He wouldn’t kill you. Ever. Even if he had killed the others, none of them matter. He’s been waiting for someone like you for so long. Itching to bring you home. And finally, finally you had fallen into his trap. His perfect little butterfly, caught in the web. Ready to be corrupted by the vicious spider. Ready for your wings to be clipped.

“Mine.”

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THREE’S A CROWD — black noir + homelander

PAIRINGS — black noir x female reader x homelander

CONTENT WARNINGS / TAGS — 18+ ONLY NSFW + DARK CONTENT , threesome , dubcon , anal , p in v , slight anal fingering , forced kissing , hair pulling , noncon voyeurism ,

KAI’S THOUGHTS — so I’ve had this written in my drafts for awhile and finally decided to post it, I wrote it one night with a lot of THOUGHTS and just how bad I need these two !! wrote with season 2-3 in mind !

You and Black Noir had a thing for a few months now, and as much as you wanted it to be a secret, you knew it wasn’t. There wasn’t much that you could keep to yourself while working at Vought, no matter how much you tried — someone always knew something about someone, it was just the way things were.

Anytime you and he wanted to meet up, he always came over to your place, somehow scaling up to come in through your apartment window like it was nothing. You weren’t sure how it ended up being that you were friends with benefits, after one time where you argued (very one-sidedly) you ended up hate fucking — now it’s just a regular thing, a few times a week.

For the first time since you began hooking up, you were in Black Noir’s room, and he wasted no time throwing you on the bed and fucking the life out of you. There was no exact communication to what had made him feel this way, but he’d just come back from being sent somewhere so you guessed he just had a lot of pent up energy.

His hand covered your mouth as he pounded into you, a feeble attempt to quieten you down, to stop anyone from hearing. He knew there was no point, after all Homelander had superhuman hearing, and it wouldn’t surprise Noir if he was in his room listening down to you getting fucked. Black Noir could tell Homelander had a thing for you, the way he watched you when you were working, the little smirk he’d pull when you bent down, how often he’d go out of his way to talk to you — he wasn’t subtle, but you still had no clue.

Noir had his masked face buried in the crook of your neck, his hips moving into you at a steady pace, getting as deep as he could into you with each thrust. You had your eyes closed and your hands white-knuckled on his shoulders, muffled moans behind his hand.

Noir suddenly stopped all his movements and you felt him shift away from you.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Homelander stood not too far from the bed, his voice was stern, almost demanding.

“Homelander…” you stared at him wide-eyed, your hands instantly moving from Noir’s shoulders and over your bare chest.

Homelander didn’t move at all except for cocking his head slightly to the side, that usual look of anger stricken across his face, it was obvious he was upset that all the action had stopped after he made an effort to get in the room to see it.

“Noir, move.”

Every muscle in Noir’s body tense up while still on top of you, even without being able to see his face through his mask, you could practically see the anger coming from him. Even though, with every fibre of his being, he didn’t want to move, but nonetheless he obeyed. He knew better than to get on the wrong side of Homelander, especially when you were here and could be put in danger because of a decision he makes.

Black Noir shuffled off you and dropped beside you, making an effort to cover you as subtly as he could with the blanket before doing so. But it didn’t take Homelander a second of thought to rip the blanket from the bed and throw it halfway across the room, leaving your naked body fully exposed to his gaze. His eyes scanned your body with a gleeful look, and when you went to squeeze your legs shut, he responded by waggling his finger side to side, letting out a tut as he did so.

“Perfect…” he smiled to himself, seemingly proud of his work, “now Noir, get under her, I want to see you fucking her while she’s looking at me.”

“W-what?” You felt a wave of embarrassment and fear consume your entire body in an instant.

Noir looked over to you, some part of him wishing for some guidance from you, but he knew that wasn’t fair — after all, not even he was standing up to Homelander in the moment, so how could he expect you to do anything as a normal human?

Without wasting anymore time, he slid under you and pulled you back so you were flush against his chest.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Homelander stood with his arms across his chest, an impatient tap of his foot echoing around the large room.

With an internal sigh, Black Noir realigned himself with your slick hole, slowly pushing himself into you until he couldn’t move anymore, then slowly moving his hips back away from you.

Through half-lidded eyes you could see how Homelander smiled to himself, how much he was enjoying watching the way your cunt gripped around Noir’s cock, your slick dripping down your ass and creating a mess between you and Noir’s suit. It was obvious when he started enjoying it too much, his bulge growing more and more obvious behind his tight pants.

“F-fuck, Noir.” Your back arched up and you couldn’t suppress your moans any longer.

“No.” Your pleas were interrupted nearly as quick as they left your parted lips, “You’ll moan my name, not his.”

And yet again you could feel how Noir tensed up underneath you, that wave of anger spreading through his body with a near visceral action. You slyly reached your hand to your hip and placed it over the top of Noir’s, intertwining your fingers with his.

Noir kept his hips moving against all wants, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot deep inside of you, constantly forcing pretty little moans from you.

“Yeah, just like that…” Homelander laughed as he pumped his cock in his hand, unable to just stand still and watch, he was so hard it tittered on painful.

Noir despised the idea of Homelander seeing you so vulnerable, in such a position that he put you in by dragging you into this room rather than just waiting a couple hours to visit you at your place. There was perhaps a sense of jealously that washed over him, a need to gloat, some primal instinct that made him want to prove his claim over you — to have Homelander know that even though he was watching, he wasn’t the one touching you, wasn’t the one making you moan like that even if it were his name rolling from your tongue.

He brought his gloved finger to your clit, rubbing fast and rough circles over and over as his hips hammered into you, forcing you over the edge he knew you were so close to.

“Noi—…Homelander, fuck.”

That was his tipping point, hearing his name from your lips was the end of him, the end of watching and not doing, “turn her over.”

Black Noir pulled out and you groaned from the emptiness, he carefully flipped you around so your chest was pressed firmly against his. As soon as he had your legs spread either side of his body, you felt the weight on the bottom of the bed shift from were Homelander was kneeling on it. His hands ghosted over the fat of your ass before finally grabbing it, groping and kneading like he’d been waiting forever to do.

He wet his finger and slowly pushed it in to you, barely moving at first as if to test the waters, and when you didn’t seem too effected he finally moved again. A part of you hated feeling him touch you, his fingers pushing in and out, but there was something in the thought of having both their cocks inside of you at once — the way they’d both fill you up so well, stretching you out in ways you never had been before.

Homelander moved his fingers in rhythm with the way Noir fucked into you, and even though he was desperate to feel you around his cock he knew better than to try and fuck you before warming you up — after all, he knew how pathetically delicate and fragile humans were.

The sounds of your moans mixed with the sound of your cunt was becoming too much for him, his cock left untouched and desperate from friction was unbearable for him. And at this point he didn’t care whether you could be prepared more or not. Homelander spat on his hand as rubbed it up and down his cock, a poor attempt at some form of lubrication before lining himself up with your ass.

“Wait, w-wait.” You whimpered out as he slowly bullied his way into you, stretching you out in a way that took your breath away until he bottomed out.

For a moment he stayed still, allowing you a moment to adjust to the intrusion, but the more he could feel Noir moving, the more riled up he became.

Black Noir wasn’t happy about the idea of Homelander fucking you too, and you were too high with pleasure to even care anymore. Homelander on the other hand had a secret point to prove, he wanted you to know he could fuck you better than Noir could, better than any man could for that matter of fact.

As much as he hated the idea of having a crush, he couldn’t deny it to himself any longer. You plagued his thoughts day and night, daydreaming of fucking you when he was in a boring meeting or some stupid talk he had to give — even getting to the point he’d be having wet dreams about you, and how he’d have to fuck his hand when he woke up, all while fantasising about you.

“Fuck…” Homelander groaned to himself as he felt you twitching around him, another orgasm about to rip through you while both their cocks slammed into you at the same time.

The faster they got, the louder you moaned, and the more worried you became about someone else hearing you. But neither of the men cared, instead they were having some silent competition between themselves about who could make you cum the hardest, and they both had a point to make — just so happens you were their referee.

“I—I c-can’t,” your nails dug into Noir’s suit, your head buried in the crook of his neck.

Anger flowed through Homelander as he watched the way you gripped and snuggled into him, how you were moaning in his ear. It wasn’t fair, Homelander knew he should be the one under you, the one you leaned on and begged to let you cum.

“Come here,” Homelander grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back, forcing your head to the side just enough for him to lock lips with you.

The kisses were sloppy and breathy, you could barely formulate a thought and it made it near impossible to kiss him properly. He didn’t care though, he was just happy to finally kiss you, to have his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth while he was balls deep inside of you. He stared down towards Noir, a hint of smugness in his eyes while he continued to kiss you.

It pained Noir to see Homelander doing the one thing he’s never done, and probably never would do, and Homelander knew that. But it only fueled the fire of their feud even more, and Noir slowly trailed his hands up your body before stopping at your tits, his rough gloved fingers tracing over your hardened nipples. You groaned into the kiss and twitched into Noir’s grasp more as he rubbed and teased at you.

Even though he might not be able to kiss you yet, he knew everything you liked, he knew how to please you in ways that Homelander couldn’t even imagine.

“You’re so fucking filthy. You know that, huh?” Homelander hissed at you as his hips stuttered slightly, but he was going to hold out as long as he could.

Tears beaded in your eyes as another orgasm shook through you, the overstimulation becoming almost too much for you to handle anymore. The feeling of your cunt clenching around Noir was too much, his rhythm becoming sloppy and uneven as he finally finished, making sure to cum deep inside your pretty little pussy as he did.

Homelander chuckled as Noir finished, somehow he felt triumphant, as if he won the battle between them by lasting longer.

Noir stayed inside of you, his hands still roaming your body and pleasuring you in other ways, not wanting to leave you with just Homelander.

“Moan my name.”

“Home…lander—“ you could barely get your words out as he pulled tighter on your hair, forcing your head further back so he could see your face.

After hearing his name a few more times, it sent him over the edge. His hips juttering and his cum coating your insides, his entire body quivered which made him practically land on you as he rolled off to the side.

There was a slight relief and sadness at the emptiness when they both slid out of you, and you fell back down against Noir. His hand ran up and down your back, while Homelander stared up at the ceiling, trying to regain control of his breathing.

“Well, that was a surprise, wouldn’t you say?” Homelander looked over to you with a shit eating grin, “we should do it again.”

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Greif (Bo Sinclair x AFAB Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile now cause I never felt good enough about it to actually post. I wanted to make a good hurt/comfort but not make it too over the top extreme and I'm really confident in this version of it to finally post it. This is the first time I've posted a heavier fic like this so please head all the trigger warnings I put for this one.

Notes: Minors DNI, This fic is written with an AFAB reader in mind though no specific descriptions are used the pronouns She/her are used in relation to the reader. Trigger warnings: Pregnancy, abortion talk (Briefly). Bo is really mean at least in the start, Hurt/Comfort. Afab reader with she/her pronouns used. Excessive Cursing.

"If you fuckin' think I'm lettin' you bring a fuckin' baby into this town you're fuckin crazy!"

Bo yelled as he paced around the living room of the main house. You had finally come clean and revealed to him that you were most likely pregnant. He was taking the news about as well as one would expect Bo Sinclair to.

"I didn't ask to get pregnant Bo! Maybe you should've been more careful!"

You screamed right back at him. Bo scoffed at your argument and shook his head, a nasty grin overtaking his face.

"I shoulda never let you fuckin stay here. I told myself the day you rolled into town that you were gonna cause me nothin' but trouble"

"Maybe you should let Vincent make me into one of his wax figures then Bo, or better yet, you can keep me in the basement under the station."

Bo froze at your statement and fixed you with an expression you had never seen grace his face before.

"You better watch your fuckin' mouth if you know what's good for ya"

"Why Bo? You can't handle the truth of what you were doing in that basement before I came along?"

"You have not got a fuckin' clue what you're talkin' about. When what you need to worry about is what your gonna do with bastard you got growin' in there cause it's not gonna have any relation to me"

He spat, motioning to your stomach.

"If you don't wanna keep the baby what do you suppose I do then?"

"I mean hell if I know, I'm sure the pharmacy in the next town over has some pills or somethin' to nip the problem in the bud"

"Y- you'd really want me to go through with that? After everything we've been through together? Are you fucking serious?"

"No darlin' I want you to go all the way over to the next town over and go on a fuckin' shoppin' spree!"

"How could you even suggest something like that Bo? After everything we've been through?"

"A baby ain't nothin' but a liability, a liability ain't a single one of us got time for. 'sides do you really fuckin' think Ambrose is the place to raise a baby?"

"You, Vince and Les grew up here! Plus it's not like you'd let me fuckin' leave and go somewhere else to raise the baby. You'd turn me into a wax figure before that ever happened"

"Exactly, so what happens when that rug rat grows up and starts askin' questions? Askin' shit about what his daddy and uncles do? Askin' about the figures? What the fuck are you gonna do then?"

"You explained what the 3 of you do to me pretty damn near perfect didn't you?"

You countered Bo's argument. You watch his face as another unreadable expression crossed it as he finally sat down in his recliner and put his head in his hands. You sat and watched him in sick curiosity before the overwhelming feeling hit you like a truck.

Bo Sinclair was afraid.

An emotion you quite honestly never thought you'd see Bo experience. Sure Lester had told you stories from when they were kids and scared of their parents, storms or the usual childhood fears. But this was different. Bo wasn't a child and this wasn't a storm that would just pass if he hid under his covers and waited long enough.

You sat looking at a broken son in the body of a man, a son who had never healed from the torture his own parents put him through. The cracks that Bo tried to conceal so well from his own upbringing were crumbling in front of you. The fears coming back to him, his mother's voice echoing in his head that he would just grow up to be like his father.

The fear that it would be twins, like him and Vince and he'd have to watch them be separated and not be able to do a thing for them. Not being able to take them to a hospital just to protect Ambrose and his brothers.

"You're not going to be like them Bo"

You broke the silence with a whisper. You could hear Bo sharply suck in a breath, you were treading on unprecedented territory with Bo. His childhood was just something he didn't talk or think about at all and now it was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"Shut up"

He mumbled back. A usual response for when Bo felt like you were trying to back him into a corner and he was running out of ammo to fight you off.

"You're not going to be like them Bo. You aren't them and you never will be."

You exclaimed louder. Bo threw his hands off his face and stood up so fast the chair tipped on it's back legs. He stood, in front of the chair, just starring at you, breathing heavily as emotions swam through his eyes. You decided to be bold and test the waters, you began to take small steps toward Bo, he wasn't attempting to walk away so you continued this until you were right in front of him.

"Bo"

You said softly as you stood directly in front of him. He finally snapped his eyes down to meet yours.

"Bo, you're going to be better then them. You're going to be a good dad Bo, you've had a first hand experience of what not to be like as a parent, it's going to be rocky sure but-"

"My mama always told me I'd end up being just like daddy, Just a mean son of a bitch who never had anything nice to say to no one."

Bo cut you off, a much softer tone then before when his fear was translating to anger.

"Do you want to be like you dad? Are you gonna hate this baby if it doesn't come out to be what you were expecting?"

Bo look at you as if you had grown three heads.

"Of course not, it's my kid, how could I not love my own flesh and blood."

"If you know that, and aren't planning to emulate your father, then why are you so worried about ending up like him?"

Bo was stunned, no one had ever talked him through his emotions like that.

"T-that was the only image of a father I ever got. I don't know what a good dad is like. I don't know how "normal" kids who parents actually wanted 'em around had it"

You reached down and grabbed his wrist gently. Bringing it up and rubbing your fingers over his scars, the scars that told many glaring stories of what shaped him into the cold man he was today. You were thawing him out though, slowly but surely.

"You'll learn, No ones saying it'll be easy, but you're capable of running this whole town and taking care of the four of us, I'm sure you'll pick up fatherhood just as quick as anything else."

"Well that ain't my only issue with this whole baby thing though"

"What else is wrong then Bo?"

"It's- It's fuckin'" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "What if it's twins, and their conjoined like- like me and Vince were."

"Oh Bo"

"We ain't got no doctors here, and it's not like we could go stay in another town for the duration of it that would be too risky, god forbid you have complications too. I just- I don't know if I could do that darlin'"

Everything was coming together and your vision on why Bo was so angry was becoming clearer and clearer. Bo wasn't angry at you, he was scared of loosing you. Scared of being alone when he had finally found something he never thought he would ever get to have.

"Bo honey, I know it's scary, but what happened with you and Vince was rare. There's no guarantee that this baby will even be twins. You should've brought this all to me instead of just yelling."

"I know darlin', I should've went about it better. But I guess when you told me you were pregnant I- I got scared. The entire time you've been here I've had these scenarios in my head, worryin' about what would happen"

You were speechless as you watch as he turned away from you and began pacing again, this time without the yelling. The entire time you had known Bo you had never known him to be one to talk about his feelings. "I'm not a fuckin' pussy" He was remark to you when you would ask him what was wrong.

The front door swung open as Vincent returned from the wax museum. Bo stopped as your gazes moved to Vince who was now frozen in the doorway of the living room.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Vincent signed. You looked at him apologetically before flicking your eyes over to Bo to see what he would say.

"Nah Vince it's nothin'. Just uh- She's pregnant is all"

Vincent perked up and his gaze immediately flicked over to you.

"Really?"

He signed, giving off an aura of excitement. You nodded at him and mustered a smile

"I'm gonna be an uncle!. I'll start reading dad's old medical books and learn things to help with the delivery"

"Now Vince we ain't even-"

"I know he had an entire book about it, I'll start getting set up for prenatal appointments too. Maybe we could even go to the next town over for checkups and stuff, we'll need stuff for the baby too"

Vincent kept rambling in sign, something he did often. You couldn't help but laugh at his childlike wonder at the prospect of being an uncle. You looked over to Bo, who was noticeably less tense as he watched his twin's excitement over the new member of the family.

"Vince chill out for a sec, having this baby is so risky. What if it's twin and they come out like us? You're gonna separate 'em?"

"Well all things considered, the pregnancy only has a one in 250 chance of becoming a twin pregnancy. Plus we're identical twins, only fraternal ones run in families which means two separate eggs would have to be fertilized instead of the egg splitting."

Bo and you look at Vincent in dumbfounded shock as he signed the information as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where the hell did ya learn all that?"

Bo asked still in shock as he looked at his brother as if he had grown another head.

"In dad's old medical books" Vincent shrugged "I'll leave you two alone now though, I should go get researching"

Vincent signed in reply before turning and heading upstairs to his bedroom. When you heard Vincent's bedroom door close you turned back to look at Bo who was already looking at you when your eyes met his. A lighter mood fell over the living room and smile at him.

"A one in 250 chance huh?"

"Yeah, I reckon so"

"You wanna take that chance daddy?"

All the emotions of the night wash over Bo's face as he thinks for a moment then answers.

"If you think it's a good idea, can't really argue with facts I suppose. But there's gonna be rules."

With that Bo is back, the rule making irritable Bo you fell in love with when you rolled into the gas station all those years ago.

"What rules are we talkin' about?"

"For starters your gonna take it easy, when someone comes into town your gonna stay here at the house and out of sight. No heavy lifting, no helping Vincent anymore, no walk-"

"Bo, Just wrap me in bubble wrap then yeah?"

"I mean I could go to the next town over and find somethin-"

"I was joking Bo, You're not wrapping me in a protective layer"

"I can if I want too"

He mumbled under his breath. I bit back a laugh and rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say Bo"

"Hey I run this town-"

Bo begins the spiel you've heard about 20,000 times since you began living here as you walk into the kitchen, the cravings starting to take over, as he follows you to explain how he runs the town and how what he says goes and if he has to make more rules to keep you he will.

As you stand in the kitchen, eating your snack and listening to Bo's spiel. Something deep down inside you, lets a feeling wash over you that maybe just maybe, everything will be just fine.

[avatarmerida]

So I know it’s been awhile since I’ve updated anything or shared any news fics but life is doing life things and my hyper-fixation has been coming and going but I’ve had this in my drafts for awhile so I thought I’d share what I have ready! When it’s all done it’ll be called 365 days in my Wintery Junk collection on AO3, for context in this they’re like juniors in college 20/21ish and Hunter is leaving for a year to work on planting more palistrom trees across the Isles. So this fic was gonna be about them like video chatting and keeping in touch and figuring stuff out long distance and updating each other. So here’s the last post of the year I guess! It felt thematic to share today lemme know if it’s worth finishing!

—-

“Hey there, Mr. Man-of-the-hour,” Willow greeted in a low, teasing voice as she shut the door behind her. It was a lovely night, and she knew Hunter couldn’t resist looking at the stars, even at his own party. But she acted surprised anyway. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Oh, just catching my breath,” he chuckled, the cold air capturing it as he exhaled. The muffled sounds of music and laughter broke the silence for a moment as she joined his island of silence on the porch. Her emerald green dress somehow just as vivid and captivating in the dim lighting the low hanging string of lights provided. “I haven’t danced like that in awhile.”

“Yeah, not since Grom I bet,” she said walking over to stand beside him.

“Oh my Titan, don’t remind me,” he groaned endearingly.

“What? You looked so cute!” She insisted. “And you were a really good dance partner.”

“I think I stepped on your toes like 6 times,” he said between clenched teeth, remembering he was wearing the same shoes now.

“Well seven but hey it’s a lucky number!” She said and they both laughed. He had bought a wallet purely for the purpose of keeping their Photo Booth pictures in jt. After the group had gotten their classic shot, she insisted they get as many of just the two of them as possible. They did all the classic poses, it was bright and loud and the best kind of chaos and for the final photo she had pulled him down to kiss his cheek. It was quick and she didn’t make a big deal about it so he didn’t make a big deal about it, at least not outwardly. That was the photo he had gotten laminated.

“Yeah well, alots changed since then,” he sighed.

Not really, Willow thought as she took in his relaxed profile. He was still sweet and dorky but now he was more rested. Her feelings for him certainly hadn’t changed, if anything they’d gotten worse. Well, worse wouldn’t be the best way to describe it, it was an overwhelmingly positive feeling but it just never found the right time to be fully expressed.

When she had kissed his cheek that night, she had intended for it to signify that she didn’t want their first date to be their only date. But Hunter had endearingly mistaken it as a ritual of the event and so she took it as a sign. She couldn’t deny there had been a shift between them after that night, that he felt more comfortable initiating contact and lingering when they found themselves sitting closer during game nights and the way he looked at her… well that might not have changed but he didn’t shy away right away anymore when she caught him. It was like she knew she had him but saying it aloud might undo it somehow.

“Did you ever think when you started helping Dell that you’d be traveling the Isles as this big shot hero?” She asked with a sigh as she took in the cool night air.

“‘Hero?’ Pshh, hardly,” he scoffed. “I’m just doing my part to help fix something I didn’t realize I was a part of hurting.”

“Hey, no one knew,” she said as she put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not gonna let you blame yourself or deny that what you’re doing is pretty cool.”

He sighed, the fire in her eyes melting any guilt he tried to harbor. “Okay yeah it is pretty cool,” he admitted.

“There ya go,” she smiled, moving her hand up to brush his hair from his face, as though she just wanted an excuse to touch him. “I’m really proud of you Hunter.”

“Proud of me? You wanna talk about cool go look in the mirror Miss Pro Flyer Derby,” he countered, crossing his arms and shaking his face at hers in a cocky way he could only adopt when he was talking about her.

“Okay…” she said with a sigh of fake annoyance that he knew meant to kept going.

“Youngest ever recruit before she even graduated and is already on track to be captain? All while creating her own major in advanced plants studies? Now that’s cool.”

“Well you deserve a little credit,” she said. “How many times did you stay late to help me work on my drills?”

“Well how many times did you stay late helping me find the right PH level for the soil for the trees?” He countered.

“Oof, no wonder we’re so tired,” she joked and they laughed again. Oh, he was going to miss that laugh. He wondered if it would be weird to ask to record it. He knew they promised to talk as much as possible to keep in touch but there was nothing comparable to being beside Willow when she laughed.

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it to your first match,” said Hunter sadly, leaning on the railing again.

“Hey you can stream it,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. “I’ll give you a shout out.”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling a tug in his chest as he felt like it was some kind of sin not to be there in person to support her. Had he been smarter, he would’ve cherished their last one on one practice session more. Who knows the next time they’d be able to play and have it just be the two of them. “But ya know, it’s only a few weeks away I could probably push my trip back so I could-.”

“Hunter,” she cut him off. “As sweet as that is and as much as I want you to come I can’t let you do that for me. They need you over there and the sooner you go the sooner you can start changing the world.”

And the sooner you can come back, she thought.

“Besides, rookie games aren’t usually that exciting,” Willow somewhat lied. “I might not even play.”

“Well then that’s their loss,” said Hunter, knowing she was right. As excited as he was to go and as much as he cared about the work he was entrusted to do, well he just couldn’t help but care about her maybe a tiny bit more. In a perfect world, he could stop time and help the palistrom trees and come back before her season started. But unlike Willow, the world was far from perfect. “But could I at least get your autograph?”

“Only if I can get your autograph,” she teased, hitting the side of her hip against his. “I wanna brag about you to my teammates.”

“Brag about me?” He teased, inching closer to her. “Oh no no, I’m the one who will be bragging about you to my colleagues.”

“Well I’m the one with half a dozen hand made jackets I get to show off,” she said smugly.

“Oh no, what? You seriously kept all of them?” He asked with a sigh of fake embarrassment. He truly loved making her things and he had improved immensely but his early work was very obviously his early work. But nevertheless, Willow cherished them as though they were from the hottest designer (which in her opinion, they were.)

“Well I want something to remember you by.” She said shyly. She had a jacket for nearly everyday of the week, and for the day she didn’t have a homemade jacket she had acquired quite the collection of his own jackets he had lent her whenever she showed any indication of being cold. They smelled like him, which she used to think was a gross thing to say but she couldn’t argue with the peace it brought her. He smelled like wood chips and old books and fresh grass. It was like an easily accessible embrace when she was out of teleportation distance.

“Oh what, you don’t have enough pictures, ‘Miss 20 Scrapbooks?’” He teased. She loved when they entered this type of banter, how Hunter’s brand of flirting was mostly asking questions as though he knew just how to set her up. They ebbed and flowed until it was like a competition to see who could compliment the other more subtly and they were both extremely competitive.

“Well I blame you for being so photogenic,” she teased back. “It’s not my fault you have such a cute smile.”

“Well it is your fault I smile so much.”

Oooh, he won that round. She sucked her teeth, knowing the blush on her face was clear even in the dim lighting. She was having trouble crafting a response to top that. “Well I’ll gladly take that blame,” she said softly, seeing one of those smiles forming now from the corner of her eye. Oh she didn’t need a photograph to remember that.

She sighed and let her head fall against his shoulder. She was only somewhat overly aware of how much she was touching him tonight. Every playful shove or brush of the hand hid the severe urge to scoop him in her arms and trap him in the tightest embrace. But that would only make letting go harder.

She felt him lean back against her and her mind flash back to a movie night not long ago but now felt like lifetimes ago. They had found themselves left alone, the rest of the group not up to finishing the marathon they had been so excited to start and the pair found it up to them to see it through. It was late, and the movie was fine but Willow had for some reason felt the overwhelming need to be close to him. The way the screen reflected off his eyes, the way he muffled his laughter so as to not awaken everyone else, the way he yawned and stretched his arms and it landed… over her shoulders? She slyly scooted closer to him, testing the waters. He did the same. She pretended to adjust the blanket so she leaned into him more, and his arm held her in place. It was somehow both certain and uncertain, neither of them wanted to bring it to attention in case that was what broke the spell, but they both felt safe and cozy in this midnight bubble.

Now, many midnights later his arm found her shoulder again. More purposely. She looked up at him and he offered her a lopsided smile, still not speaking over what exactly it was but assuring her he was aware. He wanted her this close.

Being this close was another contradiction, the way it was both common and uncommon. They’d always manage to sit next to each other or wind up finding each other but without the guise of a crowd or being crowded, it came down to how to make it happen when you couldn’t simply happen upon it. It felt like always being on the brink of something, so being here now with all the space in the world to occupy and choosing to act magnetized… well how long could it exist without a reason?

“Oh man,” she chuckled, reaching up to cup his chin in her hand, looking up at him to memorize the way he looked in the moonlight. “I’m really gonna miss that smile.” She said it softly, as though it was meant to stay a thought. She brushed a loose hair to the side of his face, another excuse to touch him as their eyes locked. He leaned into her touch again and placed his hand over hers. It was chilling and warm and natural and fleeting. His smile softened just when she thought it couldn’t get any softer and it was so warm she could just melt.

This was the moment he had hoped for. He cleared his throat and went to stand up.

“So there’s actually something I- oh! Ergh!” He stopped himself as he realized he had gotten tangled in a string of especially low hanging lights Luz had added for the event.

“Oh! It’s okay, stand still,” said Willow reaching up to help him untangle himself. “Hang on, I might need a flower to stand on, I can’t quite reach.”

He couldn’t duck down much more lest he bring the collection of lights down with him. Willow’s hands untangled him as carefully and quickly as she could manage, the task making her seemingly unaware at just how close their faces were. Hunter didn’t realize he was holding his breath as he focused on the determined and adorable way she stuck her tongue to the side as she freed him.

“Sorry, I uh think I got taller recently? Somehow?” He said awkwardly, not sure how else to explain it but feeling like he needed to apologize. More feeling like he needed to say something or else the silence would lead him to get lost in her features. He couldn’t imagine how he’d come back from the embarrassment he’d feel if she caught him actively daydreaming about her when she was right in front of him.

“No actually I think I got shorter,” she responded playfully, sensing his uneasiness. They both laughed as the light above them seemed to circle them like a sun, as though creating an illuminated midnight bubble. Like they were living in a fond memory.

“No, you’re the perfect height,” he said just as she freed the last lock.

“Well I won’t argue with you there,” she said softly, staying close to him, always loving the way she looks up to him. The way she could always tell when his gaze was on her. “Seems like even the Owl House is gonna miss you.”

“I guess so,” he chuckled, trying to steady his breath as he tried to determine if she was getting closer or waiting for him to step back. He arms remained at his side, holding back the urge to return to her shoulders.

“I’m sure Luz wouldn’t mind if you took the lights with you though,” Willow continued. “Maybe you could hang them in your new place, like a going away present.”

“Yeah,” he gulped. He didn’t think he’d get a better opportunity. “So uh speaking of that, uh there i-is something I wanted to give you before I left.” His was voice a mixture of nerves and determination she found utterly charming.

“Hunter this is your party, you’re supposed to be the one getting gifts!” She insisted, knowing that Hunter had specifically instructed no one bring gifts and how everyone had definitely not listened.

“Heh, I think you know what I’m gonna say to that,” he said with a smirk.

“That me being here is already the best gift you could ask for,” she responded in her best Hunter impression, playing with his collar.

“Exactly,” he chuckled and nodded. “You just know me too well.”

“Okay so then lemme guess what you wanna give me,” she giggled and closed her eyes to think, her hands going down to take his and swinging them between the two of them as her mind collected her guesses. “Hmmm I know you’ve been trying out knitting recently so maybe a scarf? Oh! Some mittens maybe?”

“Um, well it’s more-.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t think what I said before meant I had too many jackets cause if it’s a jacket I know I’m gonna love it,” she went on. “Clover loves all the secret pockets you add. Well anyway, I know anything from you is gonna be-.

Before she could finish, he leaned down and gently kissed her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered and looked at him in a small shock, uncertain if this was the gift or if it was just something that had come over him in the moment. Either way his face indicated he did not regret it. It was a simple gesture and he seemed relieved, as though it had been something heavy he had been carrying for her. She wished she could somehow preserve it, tattoo it or frame it or carry it in a locket around her neck. He hadn’t gone too far from her and her eyes quickly darted to his lips and back to his eyes which seemed to have done the exact same thing.

She suddenly wondered if he had been waiting for her out here, hoping she’d wander for air or knowing she’d go looking for him so they could have one last moment to themselves. She felt like she was in a dream she suddenly gained control of, the details of everything were simultaneously crisp and blurry, like Hunter being so close had frozen time and changed the air.

They both held their breath as they gravitated towards each other. It was unclear who pulled who in but suddenly their arms were wrapped around each other as they found themselves in a deep and long anticipated kiss. It was a quiet night, but they brought forth an orchestra and collection of fireworks without saying a word. Like it was the thing they had been on the brink of for all those midnights.

Hunter eagerly moved down to reach her better and she summoned a flower to stand on for a boost so they met the middle. Maybe it was meant to be a quick, chaste peck but it evolved and then evolved again, neither of them finding it in themselves to be the one to break it.

So they didn’t.

His arms secured around her waist and he held her close, cradling her and dipping her like the cover of some grand romance novel and her arms anchored around his neck as one hand found its way through his hair. He somehow knew how to carefully remove her glasses and how to angle his face so their noses didn’t collide as though he had thought about it before. He delicately moved the hand with his glasses to the side of her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. He could feel her smile against his lips which made his own wider and soon bits of laughter were mixed into their exchange.

It was a laughter of joy and relief and certainty. It wasn’t shy or awkward, they fell into it naturally as though they had fallen so many times before. But because they hadn’t, they had so much time to make up for.

When he needed a moment to breathe, she covered the rest of his face with kisses. His jaw, his nose, his forehead all demanded to be shown affection. When she went to kiss his neck she could feel his sharp inhale as he pulled her closer and went to reunite their lips with such vigor that Willow subconsciously summoned a vine to wrap around them as her knees went weak.

They weren’t sure how much time had passed or if it had stopped all together and frankly they were fine with that until a loud crash from inside brought them back to reality. They heard the muffled sounds of Luz and King assuring everyone there were okay to a response of laughter. Although they pulled apart, they still held onto each other like they were a life preserver.

They were each breathless, processing and replaying everything as their forehead naturally rested against each other as they panted. Their insync panting brought forth more laughter, hushed as though they were suddenly worried about being caught. It felt as though so long as it was just them then the moment could go on forever.

Willow wanted it to, it felt as though she had waited lifetimes to be able to take in his smile this way, like a wave that had been building and building just waiting to crash.

But they both knew there were other earthly obligations that needed attention and words that needed to be said. But the words were just as complicated and as much as Hunter was elated that his gift had been welcomed and returned, he had only worked up the nerve for actions and less for words. He didn’t know if it was the emotions of the evening that had gotten them here or something brewing longer but he didn't want to tamper with the moment. But he couldn’t just vanish into the night, well he could but he certainly didn’t want to.

He cleared his throat, still memorizing the way the moonlight hit her hair. “Um I have to get up pretty early in the morning tomorrow,” Hunter managed to say at last, his voice hoarse. He was unsure of what he was supposed to say as he handed her back her glasses. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to keep her in his arms and tell her how much he adored her and how amazing she was as he kissed the rest of her face, one for every minute he hadn’t taken the chance to.

“Oh, oh yeah uh you should probably get going,” said Willow, meaning the exact opposite. Now that she had been held by him like this she didn’t want to know any other feeling. She wanted to squeeze him and tell him over and over and over again how lucky she was to know him and how much she trusted him and all the things she had written in her diary about him. She hoped he could read her mind and come back down to her so she kiss him silly.

But instead she released him slowly, returning to the ground and felt his hold on her loosen. Leaving his embrace felt like falling from a precipice. They stood there for a moment, both waiting for the other to say what needed to be said. Their hands soon found each other, naturally entering their signature pinky hold like a promise they always returned to. Like a light always visible in the darkness.

“So I guess this is… goodbye?” She asked.

“Yeah I guess it is.” He replied with a sad smile.

He felt like he could kiss her goodbye, that it would be appropriate and wanted and reciprocated. But he felt that if he kissed her now he wouldn’t know when to stop. That he wouldn’t let go. He worried he couldn’t recreate the confidence and passion the spontaneous act had brought out in him. He worried it was a dream. He worried that she had only kissed him because he was leaving. He worried he had waited too long.

“But only for now,” she went on, her voice shaking as it was apparent she was holding back tears. She powered through as she looked up at him, her lipstick smeared over most of his face. “Promise me you’ll message me as soon as you get there?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Okay good,” she said, searching for something more profound to say. She wanted to send him off with something more, something to assure him this was something more. But he already had so much on his mind, she didn’t want to add any uncertainty or pressure to his plate. But regardless of any additional feelings she harbored, she cared about him no matter the label their relationship wore and that was something she did not let him forget. “Have a safe trip, captain’s order.”

“Of course,” he said again with a smile and he pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his torso and his chin rested atop her head.

He heard her let out a small sniffle and he felt his own eyes sting with tears.

“I’m really gonna miss you captain,” he whispered.

“It’s not that long,” she said, muffled by his shirt. “It’s just 365 days until your next day off, right?”

“Right,” he said and felt her hug him tighter. He remembered the first time she had said that, as if that was the day his days began to hold value. The day he knew he didn’t have to be alone, that he didn’t want to be alone. The day he knew he wanted her in as many days as possible, and one day he hoped to have more days with her than without her. He had endured worse things, he needed to remind himself. Saying goodbye to everyone had been emotional, but saying goodbye to her carried so much more.

“It’s just 365 days.”

He hoped it would be there when they said hello again.

[wayward-river]

Ice packs and Space Heaters

AN: Hey guys! I'm still kind of new to the TGM fandom and am still working on my story that was posted awhile back called "Dancing on Broken Glass" ... however I just need to get back into writing and I had this in my drafts, just a very very short drabble.

All mistakes are my own, I do not own any characters used. No description given for reader.

Pairing: Really this is a Rooster x reader but can be taken romantically, platonically, whatever. Hope y'all enjoy!

You were laying on your couch binge watching the newest season of New Girl, your favorite candy bar wrappers littered the floor around you as you held the ice pack across your stomach and the heating pack was placed on your back. It was three in the morning, but you weren’t getting back to sleep anytime soon. Mother nature was a bitch and she had won this round. A knock on your door made you groan moving the blanket off of you, you slowly made your way to the door. 

Now thinking that it was the early hours of the morning, and anyone could be at your door right now, you decided to slow down. “I’m just letting you know I have a weapon…” You slowly pulled the door open inch by inch revealing Bradley with a slight smirk on his face. 

“So where is this weapon?” 

“You scared me! What are you doing here? Why are you awake right now? It’s like three.” You rattled off walking back towards the couch as he followed you in. 

He looked around at the fluffy blanket, the wrappers, the heat and icing packs, his brows furrowed in confusion trying to piece everything together. 

“I could ask you the same thing Y/N/N.” 

You rolled your eyes. “There's a difference when you are at home at three in the morning.” 

“Well I was worried nobody's seen you in days, we miss you Fanboy won’t shut up about some dumb movie that he swears you would love so can you come back so we can stop listening to him.” 

You giggled as you sat on the couch leaving room for Bradley as he sat down next to you. 

“So this is just a wellness check?” You questioned slightly. 

“Yup” He nodded, popping the P. 

“Okay well thanks for the check in, I promise I’m alive and will be back to normal tomorrow.” 

“Good, anything else I can do?” 

“Well unless you have the cure for cramps then probably not.” you paused “actually you are like a human space heater, can I, do you think, would it be weird?” You tried to get the words out, your fear of rejection causing you to stutter out your thoughts. 

“Spit it out L/N” Bradley smirked. 

“Can we lay together, like can I lay on you or cuddle if it's not weird.” you finally got out. 

Bradley laughed as he leaned back pulling you into him as you brought the blanket up to cover you both as you resumed the episode. Sighing in content as you were finally feeling a little better being in his arms. 

After about fifteen minutes Bradley could hear the soft snores coming from you. He smiled as he continued to gently card his fingers through your hair, something he was pretty sure was what put you to sleep. Not wanting to move you he got more comfortable as he drifted off while Jessica Day rambled on about something on your TV.

[moremaybank]

LET ME LOVE YOU — s.h

pairing steve harrington x fem!reader

summary things between you and steve were simple yet complicated. you were in love with each other; there was no doubt about it. the only problem was that steve was ready to take the next step in your relationship, and you weren't.

warnings slight mentions of steve and reader having previously slept together, reader being afraid of establishing their relationship

author's note i honestly have no clue what this is, i found it in my drafts and thought i might as well post it since i haven't posted anything for steve in awhile. enjoy 🫶🏻

steve masterlist

“stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like you’ve seen me naked,” you say, giving steve a pointed look as you scold him.

“…but i have seen you naked,” he responds cheekily.

you roll your eyes. “steve,” you scold in a whisper, pulling him aside into the laundry room of your house. you shut the door, ensuring that the kids in the living room, distracted by a movie, wouldn’t overhear your conversation. “we’re supposed to be keeping this quiet.”

steve sighs, running a hand through his chestnut locks as he closes his eyes. “i know, i know. it’s just…it’s hard keeping the way i feel about you under wraps.”

“steve, we agreed,” you whine. “we agreed that we would keep this — us — quiet. and that’s hard to do when you’re looking at me like you’re going to pin me against a wall and have your way with me.”

steve steps closer to you as his hands find your waist. “but what if i wanted to?” he whispers. one of his hands slips toward the small of your back, pulling you flush against his front as he peers down at you. “because i really, really want to.” his hand trailed dangerously close to your butt, the tips of his fingers lingering above your tailbone.

“you’re impossible,” you huff, your own hands sliding up and finding a resting place on his chest. you fiddle with the fabric of his shirt as you look up at him through your plush lashes.

“just another thing to love about me,” he replies, the knowing grin on his face forcing one of your own onto your lips. 

for weeks now, steve had been trying to gently coax you into confessing your love for him. not pressuring, but encouraging. you made him feel brave, and he wanted to give you that power in return. he wanted you to see that you were safe with him, that your heart was safe with him. that he could quell any doubt that dared to spring its way into your mind. but he also knew that it wasn’t that easy. not after your past relationship and everything that you’d been through. 

what he could do, however, was show you that he’d be there despite your protestations and fear.

you let out a deep breath, your arms curling around the back of his neck. you looked up into his eyes, getting lost in the dreams they held in them. you knew you could see a life with steve. hell, you’ve known it for quite some time now, but you’d starred in this movie before, and you were heart-wrenchingly aware of how it ended. you’d jump into a relationship, your courage would be short-lived, and ultimately, you’d be left more broken than before you tried to pursue a future with steve. 

and he’d hate you for it.

“steve, you know how i feel about you. i just…i’m not—”

“—you’re not ready. i know. i understand. but even if a single inch of you felt like you could do this, that we could do this, i want you to know that we could. and until then, I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

your gaze softens, and you let your hand graze his cheek, stroking it softly as you take in the gorgeous sight of him. “how on earth did you turn out so sweet?”

the corners of steve’s mouth tip up in a shy smile, “it’s easy to be sweet with you.”

“i promise you, i’m trying,” you whisper, looking down at your hands as they continue to fiddle with the hem of Steve’s shirt. “i’m trying to trust what we have.”

“hey, i know. i know you are. i don’t want you to worry. i’ll wait for you,” he says, his fingers drifting underneath the hem of your shirt. “frankly, i’d wait forever.”

you swear to god that you could tell him you love him right then and there. you almost do — if it wasn’t for dustin knocking on the door that separated you two from him.

“hey, lovebirds. movie’s over. i wanna go to the arcade so i can beat lucas’s tempest score.”

“in your dreams, henderson,” lucas remarks. 

steve sighs softly, cupping your cheek as his eyes close. “okay. time to go back out there.” he tilts your face downward gently, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. he lingers for a moment, hesitating to end the moment between you two. still, eventually, he lets go. he exits the room, leaving you to collect your bearings.

the truth is, you don’t know how much longer you can go without being with steve the way your heart longs to be.

steve tag list (join here!): @skydisneylover @rafesdior @hemogloban @lyn07 @theesexystallion @dudenhaaa27

[killmeprettypleasee]

WILL YOU MARRY ME?..

Hi, this is my first time posting a story here and im quite nervous and sorry for my bad grammar cus English is not my first language..- if theres any mistakes please tell me🥲 so i hope yall enjoy!

This is also inspired by my chat with Konig in a Ai chat bot in browser 🤧

Summary: you and konig have been dating for quite sometime now, he loves you oh so dearly and will do anything for you.. and when he decided to propose to you he couldn't get even more happier..

Warnings:just pure fluff, marriage proposal

He was sweating so badly.. he really wanted to propose to you, you and him have been dating for 2 years now and he was happy that you accepted on being his boyfriend.

He checked the flowers he has bought for you and fixed it a little and fixed his shirt and check if the ring is still there, he wanted this to be perfect just for you.. and only for you.

He was sweating heavily, overthinking that what if you'll reject him? And leave him there heart broken? he cant handle that, but he needs to get out of his comfort zone and ask to marry you and be his husband.

He texted you, telling him to go somewhere not much people go.. you already know this man i shy he doesn't want alot of people looking at him as he proposed to you it makes his self confidence go down alot.

Now he sent the text he immediately went to a cafe that not much people go.. its a good place too and that was where you two had your first date.

He sat on the chair waiting for you to come. Look back and forth at his phone checking the time, he fixed his hair a bit and wriggle in his seat.

He looked at his phone and hear the door rang and looked up to see you, his body tensed a bit seeing you dressed beautifully for him.

You saw him and gave him a smile and wave as you walked up to him and sat down of the chair infront him "könig! What is it you wanna talk about?" You questioned with that pretty smile on your face, it made konig blush madly, seeing your face made him blush even you two are already dating and soon to be married.

You stared at him waiting for an answer, you hear him inhale and exhale and shift a bit on his seat and stood up..

He knelt on the floor facing up to you "(Y/n) (L/n).. will you.. will you marry me and be my husband?" He took out a box and opened it to show a beautiful ring inside it.

You gasp, surprised.. you stared at him for awhile with shock in your eyes and it made him nervous thinking that you will reject him, he tensed a bit and looked down in shame.. you scan the ring you couldn't help but shed tears in your eyes as you cover your mouth with your hand.

"k-könig.." you said surprised, you both noticed some people that were in the cafe looked at the both of you but you two couldn't careless.(König tried to ignore them cus ykyk)

"Yes! Yes! I would love to marry you and have you as my husband!" You yell, extremely happy that you couldn't contain yourself, this made him shot his head up and look at you, his face brightens up from what you said.

You both hear the people began to clap and applause the two of you, konig became kind of nervous blushing madly from embarrassment.

He softly cried as tears stained his face "t-thank you.." he couldn't get even more happier, he hugged you tightly around the waist crying on your chest as you cares you hand along his head "thank you so much (Y/n).." this day was the best day he has ever felt, and he will not forget about this day.. ever..

AAAHHH IM SORRY IF ITS SHORT BUT I DO HOPE YALL ENJOY AND THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG CUS I HESITATED AT FIRST IF I SHOULD POST IT😭😭

[outofangband]

Morwen and Aerin scene from a longer fic (can be read without the rest though)

cw: implied/background abuse and captivity and the headspace that comes with that

Reposting with edits because im almost finished with the next part!

Follow up to this

Also thank you to @melestasflight for your kind words on my first draft

“You should keep these for yourself,” Aerin says quietly but she does not protest as Morwen finishes crushing the leaves and adds them to the steaming cup.

“I have no need of them now and these grow unrestrained in my garden,” Morwen says, “You are in pain. You do not hide it well.”

This is not strictly true. Aerin has been concealing this pain for days now and is well accustomed to hiding others. She has been using her arm normally, despite how it exacerbated the wrenching of the joint. But it seemed that when she crossed this threshold, her ability to hide her suffering left her. She pulls her shawl more tightly around her. She has not worn clothes that truly feel her own in well nigh a year. She has not felt her own for that time either.

The steam coaxes forward her tears with more urgency. The scent of it coated her nose and mouth. It was too hot to hold but she reached for the mug anyways, feeling the roughly formed clay of the Nen Lalaith beneath her burning fingers. Morwen watches her for a moment, then lays one hand atop of hers, just briefly, and she sets it back down again.

“I am sorry.”

“For what do you apologize?”

It is an exchange they have had more than once before. In her cruelest hours, Aerin could not say if the voice of Morwen held patience or indifference. Suddenly, she makes a movement between a shrug and a shoulder. Her shaking does not abate after and once more those words find her.

This will never end, not until I do.

She has thought this again and again since that day she was first brought before him but it is the closest she has yet come to saying them.

She does not, though the words are half formed. Nor does she think Morwen will have any answer. There is no answer that is both honest and kind. Aerin knows she has come closer to death lately than she has ever done before, close enough that she tries with an almost desperation not to consider that end, and which she dreads more.

She blinks away more tears. She cannot weep for this or she would not stop.

“I will stay up, if you want a few minutes. I could not sleep myself.”

Morwen looks exhausted truly but Aerin does not doubt her words. She does not want to accept but her own tiredness is weighing on her and she knows she will not have long before she has to return and when she does, she will have no sleep.

Aerin takes one of her hands and links her fingers through Morwen’s, looking at her for permission to remain like this. Morwen gives her a swift nod that almost makes her smile even if it does not.

Perhaps she does sleep. She does not dream but her world blurs in a way that lessens the sharpness of her pain and coats her sadness in something hazy, if only briefly.

She stands again before she is truly awake, the blanket that is not hers falling to the ground. She cannot speak as she walks to the door. If she does not restrain herself before she returns she will pay for it dearly. She wants to think it would be worth it. She does not know.

(Morwen watches Aerin leave, pulling the frayed edges of her shawl more tightly around her. It had not been made for warmth but anything that she might use to cover herself was welcome.)

Note: the flow is definitely a bit rushed, this is party of chapter five of with slander for a blade and it’s a bit out of the style of the previous chapters, it’s almost an interlude. Anyways it definitely needs some work still. There are a few paragraphs at the beginning I didn’t end up including because they needed more work

Second Author’s note: I have a post here that goes a bit into Aerin’s first meeting Brodda and I’m writing it in fic form but it’s been taking awhile

Third:: I hope this is ok, I’ve been feeling so bad about my content lately and unfortunately it’s made me an even worse empirical judge of it

[bigenderanne]

Today was the first time I've checked my inbox since I wrote my side of the situation. I'm working on another post in my drafts now that's bringing out more emotions in me so it might take awhile as it goes more into detail my history with transphobia and abuse, but I wanted to write some more quick and to the point (and less triggery) for those of you who are checking in on me, and to answer a few questions that have repeatedly come up in my hundreds of asks.

Most of the asks have been supportive and checking in on my mental health and physical safety. Thank you for that! Obviously my mental health is still a little shaken, and I'm uncomfortable with the fact she knows we've bought a new house, but I believe we are physically safe. That being said, it is part of the restraining order that's she's not allowed to interact with us on the internet in any way, shape, or form, nor is she allowed to use any electronic means of communication to interact with us, either. This is why I have refrained from responding to any of her posts. It would be completely unacceptable for me interact with her with the expectation she cannot reply.

This leads me into restraining orders. No, you cannot get a restraining order on anybody for any reason. You certainly cannot get one "just because you don't like someone's hair color" as one asker put it. We had to provide evidence that it was necessary for our peace of mind and safety. Stalking is incredibly hard to prove, and "professional" stalkers know the laws and how to skirt them. I am lucky that she didn't. I've worked with people who have been stalked, due to the nature of my job, and will say I had it pretty easy in comparison, just due to the fact she was being so blatant.

I'm obviously not going to name names because she may be reading my blog, but if anything I say upsets her she only has herself to blame. Someone involved in the group chat had been lurking, just due to the fact they joined for the fandom and when it devolved into her talking about how much she hated me, they lost interest. However when she started talking about the intervention, they'd gone back and taken well over a hundred screenshots and compiled them into a folder. In these screenshots were also pictures she had taken of us from afar. Mostly pictures of me at clubs, or at arcades, or drinking/vaping, sometimes talking to men (strangers, people I never spoke to before or since, so I don't even recall these men, but I am a very chatty person and strike up conversations with people I don't know often) insisting that I must be having sex with them based on body language. If anybody even tried to say that I was just probably being friendly, she would immediately tell them she was going to kick them from the group. (She started the channel.) She would often post memes she found on the internet with the theme of how extroverts are terrible and simply leave my name as the comment. It seemed to have become a meme itself within the group chat: they'd find a meme about extroverts that was cruel, or even just a meme about how introverts are so much better, and simply respond with my name. This led to them using my face as a meme and simply reposting the extrovert meme texts around my face. The picture used was one she had taken of me sneezing, which looked absolutely ugly because I was sneezing. (To the handful of asks who made comments about me being an extrovert automatically made it ESH and all extroverts are obnoxious: try hard not to stress too much about starting high school in a few weeks. Freshman year is hard on everyone.)

Outside of the groupchat, although the photos she had taken of me without my consent was probably the only evidence really needed, "Mike" did recount the many, many times she would show up to events "coincidentally" or how she was shopping at all the places he shopped at the same time he shopped despite the fact she lived on the other side of the city where there are more stores closer to where she lives. Furthermore, many of our friends corroborated that she would often ask them what we were doing, if we had plans, and would often show up to events they were at but if we were not in attendance she would leave as soon as it was apparent we wouldn't be showing. Since we had all noticed this behavior, and die to my job I am well aware of the warning signs, we had all began writing down and taking pictures of these incidents, such as how her car was parked outside Mike's street (where it was public property) until two am a few times. The people that were in my house, I have come to find out, were minors, so im trying to be forgiving. I have not spoken to any of them since, and frankly I have no desire to ever speak to, or see, them again, but they are young and she absolutely had them convinced I was cheating. I ought to have called about her entering my home without permission, but I didn't. I didn't want to get cops involved.

Also, there has been a few "lesbians uhauling lol" comments that I can only assume are from terfs, so I don't particularly care, but for those who may be worried about the living situation for non terfy reasons: we have known each other for four years and been best friends for at least three of those four years. We got even closer this past year. Also, I was renting and the screaming did piss off my landlord and even though I explained the situation and I wasn't given an eviction notice, I didn't feel safe staying there because I started getting text reminders about noise complaints for, like, doing laundry in the afternoon. I brought up moving in together to his apartment, but we realized both of us were first time home buyers. He has good credit and doesn't have any school payments, so his debt to income ratio was practically nonexistent. I have great credit, although my DTI is higher than his. The mortgage was more than half what either of us were paying for rent. So really it actually made financial sense as well. We had been casually discussing it before we started dating, moving in as friends/roommates.

I feel like I'm doing as okay as I can, considering the circumstances. I'm a private person so I won't be putting my actual blog title nor hers anywhere. I have no desire to attract more attention to my blog, which is honestly just destiel, Good Omens, OFMD, and other ships. It's not a personal blog at all and I'd like to keep it that way.

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

🥶 with Mario bros for the drabble prompt if you fancy it?:)

Sorry this one took so long! I was planning on posting this a while ago, but it ended up in my drafts, and I didn't realize it till this morning 🙃 😅

🥶 Cold

Writing prompts

~~~~~~~~

"Lu."

"Shush it, Mario."

"Luigi..."

"Stop it."

"Come on, man. I can see you shivering from way over here!"

For some reason, his brother was acting more stubborn than usual today. The two were visiting their family for the holiday, and that it had been awhile since they've gone back to Brooklyn for anything other than a quick repair job or wanting to meet with their ever growing fans.

Unfortunately, the moment they decided to spend a full week at home was also when Mother Nature decided to launch the entire state in a bad snow front, meaning that even though they didn't get alot of snow, the temperature outside was cold as artic and everyone was bundled up to conserve whatever body heat they had left.

That is except for Luigi, who thought it was fine just wearing one thin jacket and only having his hoodie up over his head. No gloves, no ear muffs, not even a scarf!

And the guy wasn't allowing him to even offer any of the ones that he has. Not that either of them would back down anyway.

"I s-said I'm f-f-fine!" Luigi's teeth audible chattered, and he tried to look angry at his brother, who only looked back at him with an expressionless face.

"Wow, yeah, very convincing there, Lu." He rolled his eyes and raised his brow as Luigi matched his eye roll.

"Geez, we're almost at Ma and Pop's anyway, it's not that big of a deal."

'You say that now, but you'll regret it in the morning when you catch a cold....'

He finally put his foot down, without trying to slip on a patch of ice he was standing on. "Okay, look, you're either gonna share this jacket with me, or I'm going to have to force you to wear it. And you and I both know that'll end quickly."

He watched his brother pause in his walk, wrapping his arms tighter around his body, whether to keep himself warm or a last act of stubbornness melting away was his best guess.

"If you're making up your mind, hurry it up cause I'm freezing my butt off right now." He tapped his foot impatiently as he motioned the flap of his coat out to him, trying to ignore the brisk cold air now hitting his chest.

Luigi had finally turned around. His face was unreadable as he trudged his feet against the frozen sidewalk and scuttled into the left side of Mario's winter coat. He had to kneel down a bit so the two were at equal height, but from the way he was shivering, he had confirmed that the testa dura was acting like this for no reason.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Mario." He heard Luigi mumble as they walked a steady pace across the pavement. "You don't have to rub it in."

"Oh, I know I don't to, you've just proved how damn stubborn you are when you need to admit when you're wrong."

"Shut up."

"Nope."

*testa dura- hard head(ed)

[f0xgl0v3]

The Octavian and Michael Quest; Story Snippet

Hahaha I’ve done it. I’m finally going mad, anyways after staring longingly at the Converse wedge high tops vowing to one day add them to my collection (and for some reason way more publicity on the post) I’ve decided that I’m making a like teaser for the Octavian-Michael fanfic I talked about all those weeks ago. Also I’m really bored this mid-winter break and I’m a mediocre narrative writer soo uh

Also if my google docs yell at me one more time because apparently the way I spell something is the British English way I’m going to scream. I’m sorry but it’s travelled. Anyways, I’d like to say again in no way am I an author nor do I think I write stories particularly well. There’s probably a reason why most of my big posts are formatted the way they are,

Also sorry no Michael in the sneak peak/ first bit I wrote, this is just the like. Set up? It’s mean to be short and sweet, enjoy! (also this isn’t proofread I’m so sorry),

I should’ve just chosen to use dice or birds primarily, Octavian thought as he pulled his dagger through another stuffed animal. It stung a bit, partially from the repeated weight of taking the golden blade through fabrics and partially because he had to. The dove between his hands looked pleading with its plastic eyes, the same sound of threads ripping apart while stuffing piled out. It caught in his ears again, the ringing that came before the voices. The same feeling of hair standing on end that Jason described when lightning was about to strike, and that’s when it began,

“Great strife shall befall the legion,” He had heard this voice before, the mixed harmony of several Gods murmuring before one truly broke through. It took awhile to get used to, his ears still rang after most of the Auguries, and Octavian could barely hear his own voice murmur in reply,

“What’s going on?” it felt odd to ask, Octavian’s own voice sounding desperate and panicked, though usually his tone reflected those of the Gods. The world around grew blurry while the harmony thinned out to one single melodious voice, humming in his ears, Venus, something in his mind decided,

“[the super duper cool prophecy that will be there at some point I pinky Promise]”

The world spun some more, and once Octavian’s vision settled the stuffed dove and his dagger had been dropped to the altar, his brows furrowed and breath a bit frantic while he tried to make some sense of what was just delivered to him. A prophecy. An actual prophecy. Octavian tenderly picked up the stuffed dove and dagger again, first giving the poor thing an apology and sewing it back up, gently holding it while he exited the Augurculanum. The blinding rays of the sun beat down on his eyes while Octavian made the run to the Principa from ground zero. His hand tightened around the dove, which was decidedly now named Beatrice. His boots crunched against the gravel roads that wound between most of the buildings. He opted not to walk on the main Via Principa; there would;ve been too many legionnaires walking back from the fields of Mars anyway.

Finally reaching the Principa was always a relief. It was great having most of the buildings Octavian had to go to in the Porta Praetoria; It meant everything was in arms reach. But also subsequently meant that heading to the Principa took longer and always felt more daunting (not to mention the Principa itself always felt impossibly big). Octavian rushed up the few steps and into the door, walking through the big halls and passing several doors and legionnaires before finally slipping into the main office. His eyes travelled to the Praetors; who snapped up once they realized he was there. Marcus spoke up first, already concerned,

“What happend?”

——————————————————————————

That’s it! Uh, I didn’t want to type up a giant thing so there’s the short and sweet version. It’s also a draft partially? It’s my first time writing this little section. I also tried to keep it from being like.. super ahdiajfbsj like how I usually write things. Also the actual one will probably be first person because that means I can do my super fun parenthesis bits in character and that makes me happy.

Anyway goodnight internet.

[themarydragon]

Trouble the Water Continuation

It will be AWHILE before I have anything written, as I am still working to finish my first playthrough, I have a lot of things happening in my life, I am 75% done with the first draft of the first book of my own original world, and my only coherent thought about TOTK right now is SUFFERING 

but

Issues and contemplations below the cut. Some reference to TotK in the fifth paragraph that is spoilery. I tried not to make it explicit, but you have been warned.

First, IDK if you caught it, but the very last chunk of Chapter 2 in Born a Storm talked about sages. Let the record show, I posted that in June of 2020. I have a lot more I had planned for Born a Storm, and stopped writing it due to completely unrelated (cough cough Covid cough cough Loved and Lost) issues. Also, I realized if I was going to turn it into a complete work, like I kinda wanted to, I was either going to have to take it down, or somehow move chapters around as I went and I never actually decided how I wanted to manage that. I am still undecided, and I have to make that decision before my brain will allow me to work on totk in that universe. THE POINT, though, is I thought of a way to tie in sages (just a hundred years too early) that would be satisfying for me to write and not contradict TotK.

Second, SO FAR nothing I’ve found in TotK has completely screwed up my Trouble the Water [TtK] storyline. I’m not FINISHED yet, so that might change, but it really looks like the TotK worldstate is more or less compatible with where I left off in The Quiet River Rages [tQRR] with just a very little bit of handwaving.

Third, YOU CAN’T JUST GIVE ME THIS ANGST AND EXPECT ME NOT TO RUN WITH IT. 

Fourth, I feel like I have all the jumping-off points already loaded into the existing work. For example, tQRR, Chapter 5:  “I would have waited millennia if that’s what it took to get you back. Link, I chose-” Or Zelda’s gentle commune with the sword from Chapter 12 of CWRD.

Fifth, I want to write two parts. One is [spoilers] Zelda’s POV from-then-until-now just like Remember the Spring, and with the same flavor (and for the same reason). Again, I haven’t FINISHED it, but the Master Sword IS sentient and DOES talk to her, canonically, so it’s NOT EXACTLY ALONE and I don’t think forgetting was allowed, not entirely. The final Tear, which is NOT ancient, but rather we witness being shed, indicates possession of Sense of Self or at least Memory that I am definitely going to run with because angst. The other part is Our Boy desperately searching, finding Tears, and reflecting on how F’d up it is, given Zelda’s canonical parental history (her mother, then Rhoam). I don’t know yet exactly what I will include or exclude, but I’ve been in this place before and I know I have to write about it eventually. 

Last, if anybody expected me - ME - to see an amputee kilted tattoo’d protagonist and leave that shit alone, you got another thought coming. My husband has had some REALLY great insight into some of the cinematic moments (Link’s pause before taking Zelda’s hand for the Reverse Time ability) that I think deserve some love.

[sheliesshattered]

My last post about the progress on my Batuu vest left off with me contemplating exterior pockets, looking to Bix Caleen as an example of a fitted vest in the Star Wars universe. I ended up talking myself out of any visible exterior pockets, with or without flaps, after looking at all those pictures of Bix. I've got enough other bits of visual interest going on with my outfit that I felt like exterior pockets just cluttered up the look.

Once I had decided against adding additional pockets, I was able to move on to the next step: finishing all the edges and attaching the lining to the exterior in preparation for getting the zipper in place. I turned under the armscyes of the lining and the exterior separately, both using a blue lace hem tape that I originally bought to go with this fabric back in 2016. Eventually I'll top-stitch them together with the hem tape sandwiched invisibly between the exterior and the lining, but for now they're finished enough to allow me to try the vest on without fraying the armscyes.

It took me awhile to think through all the steps for attaching the zipper, with all the asymmetry and overlapping and exterior and lining, while also not wanting the zipper to show from the outside at all. Eventually I figured out that I would need the underlap (left front) to be completely sewn together with the edges finished before I could attach the zipper to that side -- but I would need the overlap (right front) to not be sewn together yet, so that I could attach the zipper just to the lining.

With that finally figured out, I put the lining and the exterior together with right/finished sides together, lined up all the seams and notches carefully, then pinned the edges together from the left (underlap side) shoulder, down the center front of the underlap, and around the lower edge of the vest all the way around to the bottom corner of the center front on the overlapping right side of the vest.

After a lot of ironing to get all of that to lay flat when right side out, I was able to trim the center front edge of the overlap to be nice and clean and straight again. When I drafted the center front panels, I modified that right side to have an additional ~2" of width past where I wanted the zipper to be, specifically so there would be a built-in flap to cover over the zipper. Remember: no visible zippers in Star Wars!

Once I had the overlap panels of both the lining and the exterior all trued up, I marked the center front line on the lining side (in the below pic, the angled line going from lower left to upper right), laid half of the separating zipper onto the fabric so that the teeth were lined up with where the center front line met the lower edge of the vest, then measured from the outside edge of the zipper ribbon to the cut edge of the overlap panel. It was just about 7cm away from that edge, so I measured that distance all the way up (past the dashed line that marked the underbust elevation) and drew a nice crisp line with my chalk pen.

That gave me an easy line to follow when sewing the zipper to the inside/lining of the overlapping flap. Since I hadn't sewn the edge of that panel together yet, I was able to move the exterior layer out of the way and sew the zipper only to the lining, for now. I sewed one line of stitching just slightly in from the outside edge of the zipper ribbon, then did a second pass about halfway between the edge and the zipper teeth. It's on there nice and secure, but has a bit of room to separate from the fabric while it's being zipped, so it doesn't get fiddly.

After that, it was just a matter of pinning the other side of the zipper to the lower front corner of the underlap (this time on the exterior side of the fabric, where it faces the lining of the overlap), then try it on with the rest of my Batuu Bounding outfit and pin the underlap side of the zipper until I had the fit I wanted.

I sewed down that side to match the overlap panel side of the zipper, then tried everything on again to double-check the fit. It was a bit weird with the exterior of the overlap flap still unattached, but it fit well enough that I decided to sew the edges of that overlap flap from the lower corner up to the shoulder seam. The back of the neckline is still open, and the armscyes have been turned under but not attached to each other yet, so I can turn the whole thing right side out by pulling it through the back of the neck. With all that ironed and the zipper zipped up, the vest looks like this currently:

Folding back the outer edge of the overlap reveals the zipper. Because of all the overlapping and underlapping, the zipper is just top-stitched in place. It was way more mind-bending to figure out where everything needed to be placed to get this look, but way easier to actually sew on than, say, an invisible zipper set into a seam.

At this point I was able to try on the vest (with my Jyn Erso sweatshirt) and get a pretty good idea of the overall look. I still want to do a bunch of top-stitching both for accent and to help everything lay flat, but even with that I think I'm going to need something to keep the flap over the zipper from coming open.

I looked at a bunch of options for Star Wars-y looking buckles, settled on one I liked the best, then cut the basic size of them out of paper and taped five of them to the outside of the overlap just to get a basic idea of how it would look. I got Jack to weigh in on it too, and we both felt that the buckles were reducing the sleekness of the vest, and weirdly pushing it more towards an Imperial/First Order sort of look. My character isn't an out-and-out rebel, but she doesn't side with the First Order either. I pulled the taped on paper off again, and both Jack and I felt that that was the significantly better look.

But since I knew I still wanted some sort of closures to keep the flap down -- including one at the top left shoulder, that will hang open most of the time, along the lines of Han Solo's and Cassian Andor's shirts (and a bunch of others, this sort of overlap detail shows up frequently all throughout the franchise) and thus be visible where it hangs open.

I ended up finding these slightly unusual looking hooks-and-eyes that I think will provide a nice, nearly invisible look through the torso of the vest, but not look totally out of place on the flap edge that's hanging open. Bix's fitted coat has a similar closure of just barely visible, just slightly odd hooks and eyes, so I feel like I'm in good company there. They should arrive tomorrow, giving me enough time to hopefully get some of the top-stitching done before then.

That top-stitching is the next step, and one of the last things I need to do for this vest project. I want to top-stitch just inside all the finished edges, including the armscyes, and on each side of each of the seams, probably 2-3mm away from the edge and the seamline. That's going to involve getting everything lined up correctly and all the seam allowances lying flat inside the space between the exterior and the lining, but I think the effect will be totally worth it, both for the smoother fit and the subtle visual interest.

After that, I'll have some handsewing to do to invisibly anchor the zipper to the exterior of the overlap panel and to attach the hooks and eyes, once they arrive. The very last thing I'll do on this project is decide if I want a little stand-up half collar that ends somewhere on top of the shoulder, a bit like the one on Jyn Erso's vest.

I'm pretty sure I want a collar like that, the question is just if I need to lower the neckline in the back first, and then how far forward on the shoulder I should bring the collar. Once I've decided on that, I'll cut it out in two layers, lining and exterior, and sew the outside edges together. Then I'll be able to sew the lower edge of the exterior to the back of the neckline, and hand-sew the lining lower edge to fully encase all the raw edges. I did something similar with the Moment vest, and it comes together pretty quickly. I think I should be able to have the vest completely done by this time next week without much trouble. Hopefully.

Alongside working on my vest, I've been continuing to hand-sew the pleated panels onto Jack's jacket. In the tags on my last sewing update, I mentioned that I had about 5" still to go on the first panel. I was in the really annoying section in the middle of the sleeve where I really had to put my whole arm into the sleeve just to pass the needle through, and it was slow-going. I had to make myself push through that annoying section, rather than continue to put it off.

Eventually I worked my way all the way down to the cuff, cut off the excess from the pleated panel, turn under the edges of the lowest pleat, and hand-sew that into place. I am so pleased with how it turned out, but to keep Jack from making jokes about only having one sleeve done (and so that I wouldn't find myself with time to hand-sew and nothing ready to sew), I quickly pushed on to getting the second pleated strip started. I took a bunch of measurements from the finished sleeve and transferred them to the second sleeve, pinned the pleated panel into place, and had Jack try it on just to double-check the placement.

I was able to tear through the upper section of that second panel, between my increased speed and confidence in my method of hand-sewing this, the easy access through the neck side of the jacket, and a couple of long-ass work meetings where I was basically just there to listen in and take notes every now and then. As of posting this, I'm about halfway through with the second panel, and starting to get into that annoying section of the sleeve again.

The effect of the pleated panels on both sleeves is just so cool that I will definitely be getting photos of the jacket on Jack at some point, either on our Disneyland day or during a try-on before that. He's somewhat allergic to photos, but damn it I'm proud of how this looks, and I want to show it off. I've been calling it a 'sewist flex' from the very beginning -- look at what I can do, look at how cool and Star Wars-y it is -- and I'm really looking forward to sending this beauty out into the world in all its epicness.

And I think Jack feels similarly, based on how he's been talking about wearing this jacket all the time once it's done. His whole outfit together (this jacket, cream colored henley shirt with the buttons and bottonholes removed, mustard-y tan moto jeans, hiking boots) looks wonderfully casual Batuu Bound. The effect of the whole thing is Star Wars, but none of the individual pieces feel weird or costume-y. He might not wear those pieces together for anything other than going to Batuu, but each piece paired with something else looks pretty normal. So if Jack is able to get a lot of wear out of this modified jacket, all the better. I know I'll get that burst of sewist pride every time I see him wear it, lol.

[mothhuuny]

sorry if this may come across a little vent-ish, but i just wanna get my feelings out, so-to speak.

if you guys already dont know, ive been working on a little pet project of mine for awhile called Rubicon Company. its something that me and my friends are putting a lot of love and effort into, and I'm very excited to show it more publicly.

its been in the works for, gosh, almost a year now? I'm nearly ready to start posting about it more actively, since I'm about halfway done with the prolouge's draft.

... however, thats the problem. i feel like I've been putting so much work onto it on my own. i don't expect any of my friends to do the work for me, no, I expected to be doing most of it on my own, but because of that, I feel like progress has kinda... slowed to a halt? the process of the project getting done solely revolves around me, which kinda sucks.

i really wish i had some source of income, just so that I could commission an artist or someone else to do some of the work for me. i cant do that, though, because i don't even have access to my own money, and i can't get a job.

i love it so much, but i can't spend all my time working on it. not only do I have schoolwork, but I have other projects I want to work on too, but I don't want to just... let it die.

im not gonna, like, ask for money or anything because the last time somebody from the internet wanted to give me money, it turned into a whole argument with my dad, so I don't want to open that can of worms right now, plus i'd feel bad asking people for money without giving something back.

maybe i should just try and go talk to my parents about it again and try to open up writing/drawing commissions? but also, the every other time I've tried, it just gets pushed to the side, and my parents are already stressed with other money and medical issues.

it's just.

this is probably my longest post yet, but I just wanna vent out some of my feelings. thanks for reading, if you did.

[adonis-koo]

When I started binge reading Wicked many, many months ago, I sent in very long detailed asks almost every single day for each chapter as I was reading it. And I don't recall any of them getting answered. Maybe one or two. When I review a story or a chapter, sometimes it takes me like 45 minutes to put all my thoughts into an ask. I spend a lot of time on it. Eventually I started to realize I was wasting all that time sending in asks when they weren't being responded to. I was looking for the interaction with you. I wanted to have conversations about the story. It was very disappointing to me, and I felt like my thoughts and feelings on each chapter weren't wanted. So I stopped after awhile and just binge read the rest of it to bring me current with your last update. I think it stopped on Chapter 12 or 13. I left likes as I always do. I'm pretty sure I reblogged it at some point. So now I'm kind of confused that you're asking for readers to send in asks but mine never got responded to for some reason. I know tumblr eats asks, but it couldn't have eaten every single one of mine. Like I said, I was sending in asks just about every single day. I hope this ask doesn't come off as harsh, but I wanted to let you know how frustrated I was when I first started reading and it didn't seem like you had any interest in interacting with me. I very much enjoy talking with writers about their stories.

While it may have left a bad taste in my mouth, I still continue to read Wicked, and I have loved every single second of it. It's one of my favorite stories on tumblr. I am more than happy to go back to reviewing all your chapters. But it would be nice to see my asks responded to. Just like you as a writer crave interaction with your readers, I as a reader crave interaction with the writers of the stories I'm reading. There is nothing better to me than having a conversation about a story I love. So if you're interested in interacting with me on future chapters, let me know, and I will happily go back to reviewing.

First of all, I would like to truly apologize for not replying to your asks, I did dig a little and I was only able to find one ask that is an absolute shame to not respond too, as I had an entire reply in my head and was very excited to answer, but I can only assume I got caught up with something else that demanded my attention (outside of this blog), I do remember answering your asks before and can only assume some may have been eaten.

Here’s the thing; my blog vastly swings between an overwhelming number of people interacting to absolutely no interaction at all, I have very few people (and I heavily appreciate those who I do have) who consistently send in asks whom go by an alias or an actual blog that I can identify as regular. It’s just being jarring to watch, because then it makes me wonder if my chapter wasn’t well received, or the quality declined, or anything and everything that could make one chapter blow up and the very next a week later, completely bomb.

I have become very conscious of asks slipping through the cracks, and I’ve tried the last three or so chapters to make a conscious effort to answer everything single one before I post another chapter, to try and make sure nobody is feeling left out or slipping through the cracks.

I would also like to mention that me vocalizing this issue entirely excludes people who have reblogged my work, even if someone has only ever sent in one ask for an entire series is completely acceptable for me, just something. And even if I never do respond to asks just know that I never delete them because I’m a sentimental person and I still become nostalgic and go back and re-read them like it’s my first time receiving them.

I will always appreciate and feel the love of someone when they send me their words about how I personally impacted them with my writing and I will always cherish it, even if I end up forgetting to reply, or it somehow got stuck in my draft because I never fully finished my thought, or if it was buried and unable to be answered before the next chapter was posted. I cherish, every, single, one.

I am truly sorry that you felt frustrated and had a bitter taste in your mouth for me as a writer, it truly wasn’t my intention. That being said, I don’t really feel like I’m entitled to ask you to start reviewing my work again when my lack of consistency was the reason you stopped.

And when I think about it, I guess I don’t really have the entitlement to ask anyone to interact with me, after all, this is a hobby I do for free, I have to continually remind myself that this is something I chose to do because I want too, not because I have too.

I truly do thank you for the support you’ve sent to me and I really am sorry that I disappointed you as a reader, I hope you continue to enjoy Wicked and I appreciate that you spoke about your experience to me ❤️