#i understand that these are hard times for people everywhere but just because someone has it worse doesnt mean that my pain is lesser

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[sweetypouch]

Forever With You

Mr. Crawling

Synopsis: Even your home doesn't feel like a home ever since you left the other world, so you decided to go back and stay with him for good.

Spoilers!⚠️ From END03: I'm Back

Incorrect grammar (pls forgive me)

Mr. Crawling being a cutie patootie

I was really feeling like writing something for him because I luv him so much

Word count: 1,648

Ever since you came back to your own world, life's been peaceful. No mysterious rooms, no creepy monsters, and no blood spilling everywhere you go.

At first it was hard to keep yourself sane, being kept for a long time in a world that's not known to you, being away from your loved ones, being alone without anyone to stay with you, of course it would be tough.

Except there's a certain someone who stayed with you throughout your journey, wandered with you around the endless maze of unpredictable paths, protected you from any threats, and taught you two important things: what is love and what it feels like to be loved.

You know people would criticise you, calling you a 'psycho' or even 'insane' for loving a monster like him. And even if it's him against the world, you know to yourself who to pick.

And it'll always be him.

Now...what was his name again?

Mr......Crawling?

Is that it?

It sounds so familiar, yet so foreign to hear.

Am I right?

Or am I wrong?

Where is he?

Ah. That's right. You both got separated just as you reached the exit, it felt so painful leaving without him, like a part of you was stuck elsewhere. What was more horrifying to see is how your memories of the other world slowly fades like it's just a fever dream you once had. A string of hope always comes at the last possible moment, as if it wants you to be stuck to choose whether to keep on trying to remember everything or just let it disappear once and for all.

For the past few nights you've always found yourself stuck in the same dream every single time: Your body under the blankets of a hospital bed, and he's keeping an eye out for you, laying his cold head on your stomach with half of his face hiding underneath his long, black hair, watching you with that seemingly creepy but cute smile of his as he asks the same question over and over again.

"You like me?"

And every time you reply to him with the same answer again and again...

"I like you"

He'd laugh and ruffle your hair. He'd say how happy he is to hear that as he kept on laughing, muttering "I like you" numerous times.

And you'll always wake up with a tear-stained face and a tightened chest, longing for his touch and his love.

So you made the decision to finally end it all, end all the suffering, and go back to that building with no regrets. You prepared yourself and hurriedly ran outside your apartment to find the place where it all started.

The cold and quiet structure had this familiar breeze flowing even on the inside of your thick jacket. When you finally came across a large mirror with lots of cracks and a single hole just in the middle of it, you know you're almost there.

Shoes clacking on the concrete floor with each step, echoing through the spacious hallway, you wasted no time and stopped just infront of the large mirror. You take a glance of yourself, noticing the redness and the puffiness of your eyes as you carefully touched it.

You must've cried really hard last night.

Too focused on yourself, you didn't notice a single eye observing you through the hole. And when you finally shifted your eyes to meet the familiar man, you quickly leaned closer to the void.

"Mr. Gap!" You called out. Desperate eyes staring at him intensely.

You can sense him smiling just from the way his eyes curled up. It has been so long since you last saw him and you can feel yourself regaining those memories you almost lost.

"Please take me back!" You pleaded, not realizing that there's a language barrier between the two different worlds. Mr. Gap frowned, obviously telling you that he doesn't understand a word you said, yet he knows from that tone of your voice that you need help.

"Need help?" He asked.

You nod without a second, and instantly reply back, knowing you're finally getting the hang of their language.

"Need help return" You uttered out, and he was quick to respond, and you know just exactly what he'll do in exchange for helping you.

His hand suddenly pops out of the hole, curled up like he wants you to give something to him, which is just what he wants. "Give me your hair?" He chuckled, waiting for your response.

You took a pause and caressed your hair resting on your shoulder, you never actually realized how long it has been since you came back to your own world, your hair had grown over alot.

You smiled, a signal that you consented and that's where he was quick on action to grab you and the next thing you knew...

You're here.

You're back.

Now you just wished you were at the same time as him.

You looked to your side and found a cracked hole in a wall, and there goes Mr. Gap with his sinister eye smile. You asked him about the others, referring to them as someone you're with the last time you're here.

Happy was definitely an understatement to what you're feeling right now, it's far more than just feeling happy that you're finally here. You can finally see him again. You thanked Mr. Gap and decided to leave, but before he lets you vanish, he gave you a crowbar. It's not what you really needed right now but it's not bad to bring one just in case.

"Thank you" you worded out, still grateful to him for helping you, you're quite lucky he didn't ask for a heart or you would surely do what you need to do, even if it gets real bloody. He left the shadows and you headed off to who knows where, as long as there's a door or a way out.

With a crowbar on your hand, you walk past several rooms, some are familiar, while some are probably a new one. Encountering some familiar faces was really refreshing, some of them were Mr. Masque, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Machete. It's like a reunion with friends from the other side, but they're not the main reason you're here, you were still dedicated into searching for a familiar crawling man whom you really really want to see.

Finally, after resting for a little bit, you finally found that same room you had in your dream, you immediately turned the knob and walked right in.

No one was there.

You plopped down on the bed, feeling down knowing that he wasn't here, he might still be looking for you but you're already worn out, your feet are sore from all that walking and running.

Maybe if you take a rest, you'll find him next to you the moment you wake up. Lifting both your legs on the bed as you get yourself comfortable, you suddenly hear a weeping noise, like someone is crying.

You stopped moving and waited for it to make noise again, and it scared you for a bit, it was really close to you, but there's no one in this room but you.

It sounds like it's coming under the bed. You quickly looked to the left side of the bed, and found nothing, you had to make sure it's safe to look underneath before going at it. You looked to the right side and found a hair peeking out from under your bed, it was long, and dark.

You got up and sat on the floor, just infront of the dark view from under the bed. Leaning closer to examine it very closely, you shrieked for a second and backed away instantly when a face popped out of the shadows.

It looked at you for a while, before deciding to crawl out of there. Soon, it all came to view. It was him.

"Mr. Crawling-" before you could even finish your sentence, he jumped at you and completely wrapped you fully covered on his hold. Your arms made its way to wrap around his neck, hugging him back with your head buried on his shoulder.

"Found you!" He sounded happy as well, and his crying noises had finally stopped. Now it was your time to cry in his arms.

"I'm sorry" you repeated a few times before finally breaking down. He's confused as a baby, not knowing the reason why you're suddenly feeling sad. And with that he replied back. "Why sad? Not happy found me?" His hands gently pet your head, knowing just how much you need it as your sobs and sniffled echoed through the room.

"Happy, too happy" you replied between your sobs, and looked at him with your puffed-out eyes, he looked even more confused and the way his mouth frowned just showed how much he's clueless to what's happening to you. Without any second, he cupped both your cheeks and leaned closer just close enough for his nose to bump into yours.

"You pain? Hurt?" He asked.

"No, me fine" you assured him, and the look on his face was more than enough to make you giggle because it's still as confused as ever, you shrugged the idea of explaining it to him more further as it could lead to more misunderstandings. You gave him a peck on his lips and smiled. The laughter that comes out of him after kissing him was like a remedy for your pain, and you're finally at rest when he keeps you on his hold, muttering words like, "Me together with you", "I like you", and "Protect you".

"You rest?" was the last thing you heard him ask before finally falling asleep, ready for a new day tomorrow with him by your side.

It's decided. You're gonna stay with him forever.

[mercurianchild]

hey love! what does a Plutonian chart look like? i'm not sure if I have one. how would that affect me?

Strong influence of Pluto…

What a strong Plutonian influence of Pluto in the chart could look like:

Pluto in the 1st, 4th, 7th and 10th house

Pluto aspecting inner planets (Mercury, Venus and Mars)

Pluto strongly aspecting the moon and ascendant, especially tight orbs

TW: mentions of s*x and death!!

Being Pluto dominant or having a strong influence of Pluto means that transformations, ego deaths, feelings of death and rebirth will accompany you for a life time. From my experience, this will be especially harsh in the childhood, youth and maybe in your early adult years. As time passes and as you get older, you might develop self care habits and safety mechanisms to protect yourself and your inner peace. Practising self love, meditation and mindfulness could be important to these individuals, as they could underestimate their beauty and their outstanding personality.

I’ve also seen that most traumatic events happen in the childhood, youth or early adulthood. But that’s just my observation.

Feelings of being deeply misunderstood rise while you are young and this feeling might follow you for years. Constantly searching for someone to understand your complex mind and depth of emotions. These people could benefit from searching for a valve to turn pain, bad experiences and any form of built up emotion into art. Be it writing, drawing, making music…

A reoccurring theme for Plutonians is sexuality. There may be blockages in regards of the own sexuality or experiencing it, but once they overcome this, they literally start to bloom in that area. This could turn into being hungry for power in general (or simply being turned on by overpowering the partner) or in being lascivious. They can be pretty much extreme and freaky in bed, actually. Being intimate never gets boring with them.

I know, this is what you read everywhere, but plutonic people are deeply magnetic and will catch your eye with their intense aura. Even if they are not seen as traditionally beautiful, these natives exude attractiveness and charisma. You just can’t ignore them and they will even stand out in a crowd. BUT! A lot of them don’t have the sex appeal like (for example) Megan Fox has. A lot of them have such an innocence to their appearance, but if you take a closer look you’ll see that they’re like fallen angels.

From my experience, plutonic people will have a deep connection to spirituality or the occult and a profound interest in psychology (for good and bad). They usually get into these things after really hard times in their life. They will attract jealousy and hate like flies, unfortunately and this could take a toll in their self esteem. Even strangers tend to be very competitive and mean to them in some way, because most people simply feel challenged by their presence.

Dear plutonic people,

you ALL are wonderful and you deserve so much more. I feel for every single one of you and I hope you will find true happiness and self acceptance. You’ve been through so much and you deserve the world for all that. I’m sending you all the love you might need right now or later! 🩶

[nothorses]

You've made a lot of really great posts about transmasc experiences and struggles, and they really resonate with me! So I guess I want to in complete earnest ask: why the push for 'transandrophobia' when anti-transmasculinity as a term has been around for longer and faces little friction by comparison? I don't really *dislike* transandrophobia, but its meaning gets muddied everywhere from different directions, while ATM is pretty direct and succinct I feel. It's very clear that it's about TRANSmasculine oppression. I'm not against having a dedicated term at all, but the content of our struggles gets lost in the weeds of attaching kind of understandably divisive terms like misandry and androphobia in an attempt to mirror a phenomenon very specifically about misogyny; it seems more trouble than it's worth considering ATM is right there

I'll be honest, this ask is confusing to me for a few reasons.

When I started talking about transandrophobia around the summer of 2020, the conversations I was encountering were very much, like, a handful of people across Twitter and Tumblr (literally, a handfull!). I picked up "transandrophobia" because it was one of two words I saw in use, and the other- "transmisandry"- felt much less clear and much more contentious. It seemed super obvious to me that people would draw a line from "men's rights activists" trying to push this idea that "misandry", as a systemic oppression of men by women, to "transmisandry", and assume some ill intent where there was none. It's confusing!

"Transandrophobia" was the better of two options being floated at the time, at least in any conversation I saw. "Anti-transmasculinity" was not really a term I'd been made aware of, if anyone at all was talking about it at the time.

I have seen people pick up "anti-transmasculinity" more recently (maybe in the last year?), and this is definitely the first I've seen someone shorten it to "ATM". The people I've seen use that term have been mostly people who seem really new to the conversation, and the vibe I've gotten has been very, like, "we're the Good Transmascs, our word isn't dirty and gross like those other Bad Transmascs everyone hates. you'll listen to us now that our word is Good and Pure, right?"

Which is like... kind of frustrating, and kind of sad, honestly. I think these people honestly believe that if they just choose the right word, all the people who've been dragging me and every other transmasc talking about these issues through the mud for the last 4 years or so will really just stop & listen. If they can just say it right, these people- who have been relentlessly harassing and spreading lies about every single transmasc who came before them for years now- will care what they have to say, and will be willing to engage with them in earnest, compassionate dialogue.

If you just find the right word, all of these people will care about your hurt, your pain, and the suffering of your community.

It kind of breaks my heart. It's an incredibly hopeful, kind, loving way to view the world. It's compassion and patience and forgiveness that these folks are not being given, but that they so badly want to offer to others.

And at the same time, it sucks to be the Bad Transmasc. It sucks to have fought so hard for so long, and for the people I've been fighting for all this time to turn around and say, "you're gross, and dirty, and evil, and everything you've done is a mistake." It sucks to see the people I've been fighting for agree with the people I've been fighting against, and shove me under the bus in an effort to appeal to the people running me over with it. Knowing that the bus is going to aim for them once it's done with me just makes it sadder, yknow?

@saint-speaks wasn't the first person to ever speak the word "transandrophobia", but he is the one who coined and popularized it in its current form. And then he was dragged through the mud so hard and so brutally that some people think I coined it, just because when I defended him (too little and too late, imo) I withstood the mud-dragging better than he did (and gee, I wonder white.)

And now people take for granted that everything everyone said about hymn to justify that frankly fucking evil harassment campaign was true, actually, and we should abandon the word he coined and find one with purer origins.

If you honestly think "anti-transmasculinity" is just a more practical word, that's fine. I don't care what word we use. But they're going to cover it in mud, too. They're going to cover every one of you in mud.

Will you keep fighting for "ATM" once they make it the new dirty, gross, bad, evil word? Will you keep fighting when they drag you and everyone else through the mud for using it? Or will you agree with them, make up a new word, and never look back?

Please don't let us drown in the mud. We've been fighting for you, and we want to fight with you. Please.

[lazywriters-blog]

Aventurine with an innocent darling who's very vulnerable to his schemes and doesn't understand his motives for gifting her a ring, necklaces, expensive perfumes, and dresses that match his preference, finds it hard to believe that he's doing all this for her without a reason.

Doesn't say anything whenever he puts his hand around her waist and drags her along with him anywhere and everywhere he goes, when he leans close she doesn't move back, in a way Aventurine would find her daring and bold, which he would like. A lot.

Seeing as she never declines or rejects him, his advances, his gifts, his messages, their intimacy, and his touch, he considers her his best friend.

Which in time would soften his heart, they would play games that were to her liking (because he would always have her lose to his bets and wagers) but if you look at it from a stranger's point of view, she's playing a dangerous game and she's falling right into his trap, wearing his gifts, following him around, it wouldn't end well.

So of course, someone would eventually warn her and tell her to stay as far away as possible from the IPC executive, which to Aventurine's dismay, works. She's playing distance with him and doesn't laugh or smile as much as she would have before everything she was told messed up her mind, runs home after he keeps insisting that she stay the night and they could have a sleepover, however, they keep drifting apart every time he gets too overbearing.

Everything she does hurts his feelings and drags him further down.

Losing someone who didn't have ulterior motives, who didn't want him to be their friend for his money, influence, his looks, his luck, makes him all the more clingy and desperate.

He wants her back, so the first thing he does is make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut and never thinks about influencing his best friend. Which works, at least for a while.

He's attached to her, he can't consider losing her after everything they've been through, so even if she doesn't realize it, the damage has been done, and she can never look at Aventurine the same. Surely, he will learn about it soon enough.

He could try manipulating her, but what's the use? They've lost their genuine friendship, and it drives him crazy, makes him bitter, and makes him want to do things to whoever dragged his darling away.

He might resort to desperate measures.

So now, he's doing everything he used to do but ten times worse, giving her endless rows of gifts, and spending an unimaginable amount of money on her in hopes they can rekindle their friendship.

But something is still holding her back.

"You should stay the night," he said in his usual light tone, taking a glance to gauge her response. She smiled nervously, and he knew she would decline.

"No, I gotta get home but next time surely," promising him her next time had gotten old, even though she had only stated it twice. He looked away for a moment, trying his best not to squeeze her shoulder.

"You know, you've promised me that twice already and it still hasn't come true."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want to bother you." she looked down.

"I wonder if it is because of those people. You can easily be manipulated, I've already told you that so many times, so why can't you try to form your own opinion?" he didn't say it in a belittling manner, nor was his tone heavy in malice but anyone could tell something was wrong.

Aventurine has never been passive-aggressive, at least not with her.

"That's... Kinda mean." she tried to pull his arm, trying to shrug off his touch but that didn't stop nor discourage him because he just laughed and pulled her back to him.

"I was just kidding! Surely you would have known that by now sweetheart." he also never called her 'sweetheart'.

She looked at him, his wide grin and beautiful eyes peering down at her had always consoled her but now it was telling her to run away.

But with how tight he was holding onto her, she feared it would be impossible to get away now.

[wonton4rang]

can you do riize bf hcs? 💗💗

hiii, ofc!!! my first riize request/ drabble/ thought, oh my :')

btw, guys, i wanted to make something clear with my riize content, for me riize is 7. i understand that some might be mad at seunghan for having a normal life and dating before he was even an idol, or smoking like he's harming your lungs or something, but i don't really mind. he worked hard to get here and even though he might have come across as someone problematic, i believe we should never mix the idol's personal life with their job (in this case, as it's not something that bad, it's not seungri y'all iykyk). they are people, you talk shit behind someone's back too and you don't get fired for it so please understand this and respect my point of view <3 if you feel uncomfortable with that, feel free to stop reading my riize content and live your life.

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Can I be your boyfriend?

pairing: riize x reader.

warnings: +18, mentions of smut.

summary: how i think riize would be as boyfriends (two povs - daily life + intimacy)

note: i had like over 3-4 weeks with this in drafts because i couldn't finish the maknae line (han, hee & ton) but here it is, hope y'all enjoy !! my first riize post <33 pd. i did NOT read this again so it might contain typos, i will try to correct it asap :')

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shotaro;

daily life: he would be a really funny and nice boyfriend to be around. being so kind and his eye smile being so dreamy that you could literally feel your knees getting weak and that fervent desire of pinching his cheeks. he would definitely selfie text you every time he can, "how you doing, baby?" *insert selca*, "did you eat something already?" *insert mirror selfie*. plus, i also think that he would be the type to like to have you on his lap. idk, it just feels right and natural to me.

intimacy: i have been seeing taro since nct and tbh the amount of sex this dude likes to have is insane. like i just see him fucking you three times a day like a fucking meal. he would be fast yet precise, nothing sloppy or out of place, he would whisper in your ear how much he likes you and would give you a reassuring smile when you were about to come that just melted your heart over and over again.

eunseok;

daily life: contrary to his usual behaviour and demeanour, i do think he would be very touchy. probably not really bubbly or acting all cutesy but he is for sure having an arm around you at all times, acting like it's the most natural and normal thing and like he isn't thinking about the way you breath under his touch with every second that goes by. he would also be the type to stare at you all lovingly when you are saying something and then nod with that "i love you so much i'm going crazy" smile on his pretty lips.

intimacy: i have two things for this one, or he is very dominant or he is a lay back type of person. let me elaborate, in both of them he is dominant but the first one is him actually taking control of your movements, physically manipulating you during sex to get you where he wants, when he wants it. on the second one, is more like he layed back and told you to ride him or something but his face has that smug look that you loved-hated because it meant that he was not touching you and you had to do all the work today. but honestly, i feel like he could also have his lovey dovey days and just make love to you!! also, the way this man loves to receive head has to be studied. it came to me in a vision and i actually can give testimony of it :p

sungchan:

daily life: do you guys know this stereotype of the typical sporty, extroverted, funny, tall, handsome and very loving and centered boyfriend? well, meet sungchan. he would video call you at any time, during his morning lecture at college, during his workout session at the gym, while he was waiting for the showers to empty on the changin room. always, everywhere. he would drop by your house almost every night to check up on you since your job and his daily schedule at college wouldn't allow you guys to meet. he would be the type to be so offended if you ever think he would cheat because he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you !!

intimacy: mr. i'll make love to you on weekdays and get freaky on the weekends fr. he would usually fuck you missionary, looking into your eyes and kissing your lips like a starved man while his dick reached so deep inside of you that your legs would shake. but when the time came, he would also get creative, bending you over the dining table and fucking you raw before pulling out and coming in your ass, ruining your pajamas but making your night the best :((

wonbin:

daily life: princess treatment type of boyfriend. but not just towards you, he is expecting the princess treatment right back. he would dress up so nicely to go and see you, expecting to find you on your best fit too! he would like to help you choose your clothes and even go shopping, getting you both matching jackets and jewelry. idk why but i also see him as the type to like to cuddle at home with you while watching a movie over going outdoors.

intimacy: he has the strength and the body the fuck you senseless but hear me out when i say this man is more of a sub that you could ever imagine. he would try to play it nice and not be so obvious about the fact that he is creaming his pants when you start to move while sitting on his lap, he would hold his soft whines in by biting his bottom lip and then lowering his head to hide the blush across his cheeks. and it doesn't take you a minute to notice and drop to your knees so you can suck him off, feeling his delicated hands tangle in your hair and press you down so he can slowly fuck your throat. just have in mind that your pussy it's next and wonbin has one of the best staminas i've seen in a dancer.

seunghan:

daily life: i personally see seunghan as an energetic person, always trying to be cheerful and thinking of a joke that matches the current vibe, or just laugh along, but i also feel like he'd be a very romantic boy. really into this gentleman persona that would have you weak on your knees and giggling all day, he would take to you to sweet dates, matching couple sweaters and bracelets, long walks at night while you just hold hands and then end up kissing in the entrance of your apartment before trying to say goodbye because he would push you inside and cuddle you all night whenever he has the chance </3

intimacy: yeah i guess we all know where i'm going with this but lord have mercy on you when he decides to show up and say it's time to get naughty. he would start with soft touches, kisses that would slowly get longer and deeper, and a long forgotten movie on your living room while he undressed you on your room. he would be rougher than sungchan but relatively slower, fucking you nice and deep rather than fast and sharp.

sohee:

daily life: pookie. the pookiest pookie of all. but heads up, he might be really cute, his smile might look so innocent that would make you second guess when you said something with a slight double sense and he just look at you like 🫣 he would try to make you food, try to help you around in the house, try to even help you with your homework but would only end up sitting by your side, caressing your frame, your arms and hair, while he made you one or two jokes and sang some lovey dovey tune to your ear.

intimacy: contrary to popular thought, i don't think he is THAT much of a sub. he mainly is, yes, but i also feel like he would be a great dom. like, picture sohee, nicely built body, sharp eyes, playful smirk, freaky hands and sweet yet masculine voice tone whispering in your ear how good your pussy tightens around of his dick, his hands holding your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair... yeah, we need more dom sohee content :')

anton:

daily life: i've always thought that he would be the messiest boyfie ever. he would try to impress you by doing or saying stuff you really didn't care about but you found it so adorable and endearing that you eventually had interest for all the stuff he showed you, because he wanted you to know you had a great and knowledgeable boyfie!! but on the other side, he would just be himself, turning into this boyfriend-best friend kinda thing that you both loved.

intimacy: idk why i feel like he would be a little shy. maybe not shy shy but like he would hesitate at first, not knowing if you'd like this or that and doing none because he didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. however, when he finally gets a hold of you??? gurllll you better be ready. i feel like he's the type to slowly fuck you so good you would end up edging most of the times because he would just be so patient, so precise and yet lacking velocity, but it was on purpose because he would bring your orgasm in a silver plate when he thrusts so fast into you you actually think the bed would crack.

[justasecretflower]

🤍- ouran host club with a Pregnant! S/o

Characters are all older.

Ouran! High school host club

~fluff.

Honey Senpai🍰

- He’s so sweet with you!

- you guys eat cake with each other 24/7

- offers to carry you everywhere if your feet hurt, he’s insanely strong and can lift you up easily.

- gets you all of your cravings.

- lets you hold his bunny when you have mood swings💕

- gets the baby their own bunny before they’re born with the name you picked embroidered on the ear.

- when you cry, he cries.

- you’re crying because you can’t have a craving? So is he, you’re crying because you just saw a video of a baby seal? So is he, you’re crying because you love the baby you haven’t even met yet? So is he, also he’s holding onto the ultrasound with a death grip

- speaks to your belly alllll the time like atp if people are around him they’d think an actual, real adult was speaking to him he’s so engaged in the little conversations with your belly.

“Hmm should we have strawberry or coconut cake first baby…let’s choose both!”

“You know I’ve been so excited to meet you, me and your momma. Look! Here’s a picture of you!” As he shows your belly and ultrasound

“Good morning baby, how are we feeling today?”

“Goodnight baby! Dont give your mommy a hard time this night alright?” He would whisper, kissing your belly goodnight with a bright smile.

- if someone makes you cry or feel insecure about having a big belly he just gives them a look and they run away.

-cries when he sees the tiny baby clothes.

Tamaki Suoh 🌹

- he’s so dramatic 🙄ughhh

- “are your feet tired my love?! You’ve walked 20 minutes already today! Your feet must hurt my baby must be kicking in there ready to rest!”

“Someone get my darling a foot massage and a back massage spa day booked right now please! She must be hurting all over!”

- he’s making sure you don’t move an inch.

- knows more about what you should and should not do pregnant more than you do?

- gets all of your cravings x10. Like, you want some corn? Suddenly, there’s fried corn, corn on the cob, corn off the cob, creamed corn, popcorn, corn and beans, corn on some mashed potatoes. Everywhere, and you best bet they’re the best corn that they could possibly get.

- he finds your bump so cute, you have new maternity pictures every month with a new theme he puts on the wall blown up in size.

- girl dad. Just saying…

- sometimes he just randomly stops his whole charming prince act, gets on his knees and hugs your bump, sighing in contentment.

- spoils the baby rotten before they’re even here.

Kyoya Ootori

-now..you’re not gonna like this but he’s a little disconnected to the child until he meets them irl.

- like, he just finds the kid a tiny bump on his wife’s belly.

-sometimes, you’ll catch him staring at the ultrasound, tracing the outline of the baby carefully.

- he hates getting woken up, but if you’re sick in the middle of the night he’s immediately at your side rubbing your back and asking for some staff to help.

- researches about all of your symptoms, cravings, mood swings, what happens to the body during pregnancy and during the after math in postpartum.

- already has a therapist and a calm down room for you if you get ppd or ppr so that you can simply feel at peace.

-he cares more about you ngl.

“My dear no- you can’t deli meat like that it’s highly risky for salmonella. Put it back now.”

Kaoru Hitachiin

- cries so hard when you found out. Just fell to his knees and started crying.

- he’s more open about his feelings, much softer than his brother, so he’ll talk to the bump and tell you everything he’s feeling, asking in turn how you’re feeling as well and if you need anything.

- very very understanding of your pain.

“I know, I know, you’ll be okay, I understand that it hurts right now though”

“Hey we’ll get through this, what do you need right now?”

When you throw up or are having severe back and feet pains.

- doesn’t let anybody comment or joke about your belly if it makes you insecure. He kisses it and tells you how much he loves you and your belly.

Hikaru Hitachiin

- you’ve never seen him so serious in your entire life.

-it’s like he’s a different person?,.

- he’s extra careful, makes sure you’re protected and feel safe.

-he jokes with you when you feel like you’re in pain or when you’re throwing up to make you feel better.

- finds you absolutely radient when pregnant lemme say..

“It’s so small!” When holding up baby clothes.

- puts his headphones on your belly to have your baby listen to music.

- when you try to do anything that you used to do like play fight or pillow fights he’ll barely even use strength.

“Come on Hikaru you seriously can’t even aim for me anymore?”

“I was! It just went the other way!”

“Hikaru it’s in the bathroom toilet.”

- keeps the ultrasound in his wallet.

Takashi Morinozuka

- 100% your #1 protector

- you’re not lifting a finger near anything that’s easily breakable or that can hurt you.

- one of the times you saw him break the non chalent act is when you first saw the ultrasound. He took a breath in and his eyes lightly lit up

- you’re never on the ground. Like, he’s always carrying you everywhere..

“Mori i can walk you know.”

Mori- “😒…”

- loves to feel the baby kick! He will literally sprint over to you if you say that the baby is kicking

“Mori do you think I’m fat?”

“No.”

“You😭definitely 😭 do😭”

“😟…”

Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles, he cannot get OFF OF YOU!!

- spooning you, he’s big spoon ofc, hugging you from behind, having your legs wrapped around his waist, carrying you bridal style.

Ritsu Kasanoda

-sobbed when he found out you were pregnant

-he’s such a softie like

- he crotchets the baby plushies

- gets the baby blankets, pillows, stuff for their wall, so much stuff, so many toys…

- when he smiles the biggest is when he’s leaning his head on your belly and stroking it gently, talking to the little one inside.

- constantly worried about what’s good or bad for you.

- “hi honey, how’re you feeling today?”

“My precious baby inside of this belly.”

“I’d burn the world for you and I haven’t even met you yet precious baby.”

-his staff is terrified, if they make even the slightest comment about your belly negatively.

-if someone does certainly they’re a rookie because nobody from his syndicate would say that.

- sobs when he goes to ultrasounds with you.

- reads parenting books. Tries to. He can’t focus for that long but when he can he’s reading parenting books.

need requests so bad

Tags

[musickgeek]

Shadows [Alastor x Reader]

Enemies to lovers? Warnings: Allusions to death and murder

You and Alastor can't stand each other, but your shadows beg to differ (1.1K)

~~~~~

In life, I was a mastermind of manipulation. A con woman who could sweet talk anyone into anything. I had money, I had influence, I had control. People came to me when they wanted something, but it always came with a price. For some, their lives. Some people just have no respect for the hand that feeds them. They called me the Shadower because they could always feel me watching. I had eyes and ears everywhere. It was only a matter of time before someone else got the upper hand, and shot me right between the eyes. The circumstances of my death make me so angry, I choose not to think of it much.

When I arrived in Hell, my surprise was brief. No doubt that I belonged here, but I didn't expect it all to be real. I didn't expect to have such dramatic changes in my appearance. My teeth became sharp, my eyes crocodilian, my nails became claws. I looked scary, and I liked it. Was I supposed to give my old ways up? Ha! As if. I built my empire from the ground up before, I could easily do it it again with all my knowledge. And now, I had real magic power, and I could really be a shadow. I was accompanied by a sentient shadow, a helpful friend in my business. I had a quick rise to power, becoming one amongst the Overlords.

They didn't seem to know what to make of me, and I was addicted to their intrigue and fear. Who could be next? They didn't dare cross me and find out. I didn't care much for the others besides a general sense of respect for each other's strength. But there was one, Alastor, who I could not stand. His smug smile, his stupid static voice, his ego. He always had to be the center of attention, and just couldn't stand that he was no longer the talk of the town.

"You don't even have your own gimmick."

"Just mad I do it better, Smiles?"

"Ha! Are cheap words the best you've got?"

"Ha ha, at least my words are audible. And I'm not the one with a tacky bow tie."

"Ha ha ha! I hate you."

Despite our animosity, there was one thing we could agree on. It's infuriating how much our shadow creatures love each other. The first time we'd met, our shadows bounded for each other as if they were old friends. His eyes widened in shock, but his smile never faltered. I hardly quirked my eye brows at the scene. It was like two dogs playing at the park. The red demon tilted his head at an awkward angle as he inspected me. "My, my! What a playful friend you have. You must be the new arrival everyone is just buzzing about. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon. I'm sure you've heard of me." He introduced, offering his hand. "Not in the slightest." I said, shaking it. His eye twitched, but his smile widened.

Ever since then, at every meeting, we had to pretend our shadows didn't fly together like magnets. It almost would be amusing if it weren't attached to that piece of shit. I simply don't understand it. Is it comfort in knowing there is another like them? Or is it all just a game to piss us off further? It's hard to tell. Sometimes it seems like they don't notice anyone else in the room, but sometimes they seem like they're sat together, gossiping about us like old ladies. Every time we left each other's presence, they seemed to reach for each other, not wanting to be torn apart. I have no idea if Alastor has noticed it. That would require him to have half a brain.

One night I decided to go to a speakeasy I frequent. I sat at the bar alone, but I could feel the fearful eyes on me. I smile behind my drink. I thought tonight was going to be a good night, but I was wrong. I didn't even know Radio Boy was around until I felt my shadow slipping away. They were dancing freely to the upbeat swing music, having the time of their lives. I scowl, and flag the bar tender for another drink. Maybe if I turn around, I can pretend it's not happening. Alas, the radio static fills the room, overlaying the music. I feel a presence behind me, but I already know who it is. "Alastor." I say, still facing away. "Why (Y/n), I never expected you to have enough class to visit to such an establishment."

"You came all the way over just to say that? You must be more obsessed with me then I thought." I say calmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of me turning towards him. I can feel the comment burning up inside him. I smirk. "I could say the same. It's almost as if you were following me. You must admit, this does seem more my style." Finally I turn around with a shrug. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

His eyes narrow. "An interesting turn of phrase." Our shadows join us, seemingly swirling around people us excitedly. My shadow forces me out of my seat. My glass falls to the floor, shattering, and my body collides with the deer. "Watch it!" I growl at the two incorporeal beings. Alastor seems just as angry, his static getting louder and his limbs growing. I hiss with hostility at the act, letting my claws out. In the blink of an eye he returns to normal. "Coward?" I ask. "No. I simply came here for a relaxing night, not a fight. I can't be ruining my favorite place after all." I notice the bar has mostly cleared out save the employees and musicians. When it looks like two Overlords are about to have a turf war, you don't want to be around if you're the little guy.

The shadows begin dancing along the walls as the music returns. "Hm. Perhaps we should follow their lead." Alastor suggests, holding a hand out in a gentlemanly fashion. "What's your play?" I ask skeptically. "I'm simply suggesting to have a little fun amongst our banter. After all, it's been awhile since I've had a worthy dance partner." I smile coyly at his words, and take his hand. "Alright, but I think this proves who's obsessed with who."

"Keep dreaming, my dear." He says, twirling me to the beat. "Are you sure you can keep up with me?" I ask, matching his rhythmic kicks and skips. "Don't forget who grew up doing this. You don't know everything." For once, our words aren't laced with so much hostility. I guess tonight will be a good night after all.

[just-pug-things]

Tips for artist learning?

Draw. And have fun doing it.

To elaborate.

Many people who ask and answer this kind of question are thinking about tutorials, guides, and courses to improve their artistic skills. You will hear things like, "You need to work on your fundamentals," and be pointed in the direction of guides like DrawABox or Proko or Ethan Becker's Youtube channel or the many, many other resources that exist. Beginners need to build their skills, right?

This is the incorrect starting point. And why is that?

Before I started drawing Just PUG Things, I drew very irregularly. Every time I tried to draw something, I was struck by my own inadequacy, my amateurish lines, scribblings that failed to transform into beautiful, elaborate illustrations. Drawing was an uphill struggle as I tried to draw faces that weren't disproportionate, taking hours to draw something that always looked so, so wrong.

I was discouraged from drawing by people around me. My drawings were scrutinised, labelled as weird (I couldn't draw faces), innapropriate (I was trying to draw people) and immoral (I was trying to express the pain I felt).

Everywhere on social media I was surrounded by the beautiful art made by incredible artists. And instead of admiring them, all I could do was peer down into that endless valley between our skills and despair. I was jealous of their ability, devoid of joy in my own. Why was I struggling so much when someone on the internet could do something better, faster?

Every time I picked up my pen, it was like fist fighting an active anthill; painful pointless punching that results in nothing. It was like this for years, but I couldn't give up making art nevertheless. I felt like I'd shoved myself into an iron maiden and was unable to leave.

Does any of that resonate? Does any of that feel familiar? Does any of that make you think, "That's me!"

Then first and foremost what needs to be repaired is your relationship with art. To rekindle the love for art that will keep the flame of your candle burning bright. To make it a part of your life routine so you make art because that's just what you do. Lynda Barry's book, Making Comics, was my inspiration when things got hard. It will not matter how many guides you read, art courses you complete, Youtube videos and TikToks you watch if you never make any art.

After that? The art learning gets easier.

Get a personal project (like, oh, I dunno, a weekly comic about a game you love) where you encounter art problems and think, "I don't know how to do that," and then start looking online (or in libraries) for what other people did to solve that problem.

Get interested in the craft so the studying and learning isn't merely a chore but something fun and exciting so you're actually motivated to draw hundreds of boxes and cylinders and enjoy it.

Get really obsessed with a character and draw them so many times that their essence gets directly injected into your bloodstream.

Get time to enjoy other forms of art that does not immediately appeal to you and try to understand what is so captivating about it to others who love it.

(Get friends like mine, who encouraged me to to start drawing Just PUG Things, which started as a 'ha ha wouldn't it be funny if I drew the tomfoolery in duty finder idk how to draw any of the stuff but-' 'you should do it' and now here we are. They kept my spirits up during times where I couldn't do it myself.)

But first and foremost: Draw. And have fun doing it.

[inkskinned]

something that stuck with me once, way back in middle school when i was still learning how to write - my teacher said "writing shock and tragedy is easy, it's humor that's the hardest."

i have been up and down the halls of academia. i have the fancy degree and the experience in publishing. i think i paved most of my own road with the little bricks of sorrow i had stored inside of me. i know i did it mostly with works that are blisteringly lonely. i know why we write like that. it's lifesaving.

but yeah, i mean. i also know how much people think that "sad" media is the same thing as "good" media. our human desire to connect is so hard-pressed that we immediately latch onto any broken themes. the bullied kids and the tales of inspiration. people keep saying things like "glass onion" and "everything everywhere" weren't actually good. because, you know, they're. happy. or happy-ish. happy enough. and we only value art if it's grimdark-adjacent.

do you know - people still consistently whine at me that my writing would be so good if i just capitalized things. i used to flinch. i get kind of a weird, vindictive little rush these days - i get to say thank you for the comment! i have chronic pain and this is how i conserve my hands so i can write more during the day :) grammar isn't real anyway! and now they're trapped in the room with me, you know? i get to pull out my map and show them how grammar is not the same thing as good writing.

writers have this thing. we scratch at our insides, constantly, prying our lives apart into splinters. prying the splinters apart into atoms. when we combust something into poetry, we control it. it cannot hurt us if it exists outside of us rather than burning a hole through the bottom of our lungs. it's not a wonder to me that so much of what i make comes out like a death gasp. i spent a long time at the bottom. i keep going back, too. when you're down there for so long, the only thing you can exhale is fumes.

but humor is hard. humor needs timing; which i can't promise in a paragraph. i can kind-of force it through careful spacing, but i have no idea how fast you're reading these things. humor needs a somewhat awareness of your audience, when really - anybody could be looking. humor needs us to understand what the joke is, why it's a joke, and to think - ha! that is funny. in tragedy, everyone understands the metaphor of a kicked puppy. in humor, you need to introduce them to the concept of a dog.

and forget about positivity. forget about anything not made for adults explicitly. every time i see a well-made children's media piece, i feel fucking horrible for the creators. most of the time, people see children's media as being sort of "not worth" applause, even though i'm pretty sure they have to work twice as hard. i have no idea how hard it must be to not be able to have your character just say. "well, fuck." something about a message of peace or friendship or caring - for some reason, that makes the media not for adults. like, okay. i'm pretty sure my father actually, out of all of us, could use a good book on how to control his temper and talk about his feelings.

but whatever. i write a short story about my ocd, and how it's fucking killing me. it gets an award. it gets published. i write a short story about my ocd, and how i'm overcoming it, and how my days are getting lighter and starting to flourish. i keep getting ghosted. no response. it just is lacking... something.

is this it, forever? you can be an artist, okay. but the trade off is that the things you make - if they're happy? if they're joyful? people will say it's stupid and pandering. you bite your nails off. you file your teeth. you hear something inside of you breaking.

the other day in a writing group, someone i'd thought of as a friend said: "you write so much better these days! i love what you make when you'd rather be dead."

[slytherinslut0]

tldr: respect eachother.

this is the post i’m referring to. read this first. 🤍

there are a few different topics id like to cover here; before i begin, please know that i am coming wholly from a place of respect and understanding, while also feeling the need to defend my friend. mari (@thatdammchickennugget) is one of the sweetest, full hearted individuals i have had the pleasure of meeting, and she did not deserve to be spoken to like that.

most important; respect.

the fact i even have to reiterate this fact is disheartening in itself, but, please: give respect, get respect. at the heart of this fandom, we are all here for the same reason. to read and write for characters we love. it seems that sometimes, perhaps we forget this fact and we focus too much on the analytics of it all.

i understand the frustration, i too was once a new writer and can promise you the feeling is not lost on me. you are valid for having these feelings, but there is a right and a wrong way to go about it.

there simply has just been too much hate in this fandom lately. there are tensions for all sorts of reasons. shaming and mocking people for making friends and fostering safe spaces is not how this fandom has ever operated. ‘big blogs’ are humans with feelings, the exact same as you, and to immediately assume the reason they aren’t reading or reblogging your fics is because they don’t want to support anyone except their friends is an unfortunate stance to take; given it’s simply not true.

perhaps you may be forgetting that there are real lives behind these screens. lives with traumas and grief and heartache and stress. not actively reblogging every fic we come across doesn’t equate to not wanting to support, it may just simply mean that we’re going through some shit and don’t have the time to read as much as we’d like to.

for new writers, a side note;

if you’re a new writer, you need to assess within yourself why it is you’re writing. there’s going to be low points, topics or themes not as highly sought. low notes do not depict your worth, and to point fingers at others because they’re not supporting you the way you want them to, screams to me, someone who is writing for all the wrong reasons.

interactions and reblogs are so fucking appreciated but shouldn’t be the root of why you are doing what you’re doing. i write for tom more than anyone and his fandom is the smallest aside from blaise. the amount of writers that actively reblog my fics is very very low, and that’s okay. no one owes me or you anything.

i’m going to wrap this up by saying this; over half of my mutuals are small blogs or nonwriters. i have made majority of my mutuals on here by interactions alone, wether it be me searching for fics or them commenting on mine. it’s easy to make friends, it’s easy to find those supports, you just have to reach out.

i will always encourage every single one of you, to send me your fics, to tag me in them, whatever the hell you want to do. it’s hard to be everywhere at once. i have always been loving and welcoming and inclusive to everyone, i know all of you know this. if anyone wants my support, do not ever be afraid to ask it. i will not bite you, i will not ignore you, i will not tell you to get lost.

reach out. i’m here. 🤍

[ifancyharry]

Bad habit (1)

In which YN is Harry’s daughter’s teacher, and she and Harry used to be friends in college; fluff; angst; dad!harry

Word count: 4.5k

First days of school were always chaotic, and YN, despite having been a teacher for two years of her life now, never got quite used to the tantrums little kids would throw on first days — and maybe the following week, or until they felt confident enough in the school environment that they didn’t miss their parents to the point of crying at the mere thought of them. 

September always carried with it a nostalgic feeling that YN loved, and she usually found herself thinking about warm sunny August days spent sunbathing and eating pasta salads. Her teacher salary didn’t allow much room for vacations, but YN managed to always find contentment in the premises of her hometown.

That’s what she’s thinking about when she walks through the school’s doors that Monday morning, waving at a couple of her coworkers to greet them. She usually was far more chatty, but she was feeling fidgety at the thought of meeting her new baby students, and she didn’t trust herself enough to chat with someone; who knows what she could say! 

No one truly understands YN, she’s younger than her coworkers and sometimes she feels like no one really cares about what she has to say. It’s been that way since she was a little baby, really, so she’s gotten quite used to it, and she doesn’t feel bad about it.

She often wonders if maybe there’s something wrong with the way she communicates, but her students seem to understand her rather well — as much as little kiddies can understand —, so she always crosses that thought off the list.  It doesn’t necessarily have to mean there’s something wrong with her, so she doesn’t know why sometimes she wonders if things would be a little different if she was different in the first place. 

She wishes it came a little easier, people never really seem to understand how hard it is to talk. It’s why she loves her job so much. Kids are easy to talk to, because most of the time they don’t remember conversations and they never question her on why she’s being quiet or in her mind, like most of her coworkers do. 

The bell rings at 8.30 sharp, and YN tries to put on the most heartwarming smile she knows, because she understands sometimes first days can be though. And not just for kids.

“Hi!” She coos when she sees a little girl walking in her classroom holding her mum’s hand. 

“I’m Miss YN, it’s a pleasure to meet you! What’s your name!”

The little girl hides behind her mum’s leg and YN frowns jokingly at her. 

“She’s shy… her name’s Amy” the mum says, throwing YN an apologetic look. 

“Hi, Amy! It’s okay. I understand shy.” She nods, crouching down on her legs to be at eye level with the small kid, “since you’re the first one, why don’t you choose your desk? Your mummy can help you pick it out?” 

The little girl nods her head against her mother’s jeans and YN smiles brightly at her.

With time, more kids start to come in, and YN greets all of them, trying to be as warm as possible. She talks to their parents and lets them stay with their children until they get accustomed to the classroom. Some of them already have friends, and it’s always easier for them to let go of their parents’ hands; for others, it takes a while, and YN tries to be as understanding as possible, especially with them.

When the clock strikes 9 am, only one chair is empty, and she wonders if maybe the school had mistaken the number of students who’d come in. She’s about to introduce herself to the class of small kids that are looking at her with bright eyes and shy smiles, when she hears a knock on the opened door, her body turning quickly at the sound.

She feels lightheaded as she takes in the image in front of her, and she grimaces in surprise. It’s Harry. The Harry. 

Many years have passed since the last time she saw him, but she knows she’d recognize him everywhere and in anytime.

He was three years older than her and used to hang out with her group. They attended the same creative writing class and she remembers how his knee used to brush against her thigh when he would fidget in his chair, readjusting his body as he cussed at the uncomfortableness of the wooden chairs.

She remembers how he always used to ask her for pens, sometimes for a spare sheet of paper or if he could borrow her laptop’s charger because “fuckin’ hell, — he would say, and YN would blush a little at the way he would close the space between them, reaching a hand to grab for the charger —  mine's completely gone ’n all m’work’s in there! Days worth o’work!”

He’s standing against the doorway, his body leaning against it, holding a pouty little kid on his opposite hip. 

He looks the same, a bit older, maybe, his hair less disheveled and his clothes more serious — he’s wearing grey tailored pants and a sweater vest with cherry blossom flowers on it, he lost the skinny jeans and his adored Chelsea boots, but it’s definitely still that guy she used to have a crush on all those years ago.

“YN?” Harry questions, tilting his head to the side in surprise. YN notices as the little girl in his hold buries her face in his neck, trying to hide from the attention.

“’s me, Harry! Y’remember, right? From college!” YN blushes a little at his words and tries to regain control of her body as she seems stuck to the linoleum floor. 

She’s a little taken a back at his remark; he thought she wouldn’t remember him! How would that even be possible, YN doesn’t know.

His voice hasn’t changed, it’s still the same scruffy and deep voice she used to blush upon hearing, and she remembers vaguely that one time on one of their usual hang outs, when he picked up a guitar and started singing, a little drunk on cheap beer, and she remembers wondering how his voice would sound whispering tender words in her ear…

“Of course I remember!” She smiles, trying to hide her nervousness, “of course!” She repeats, and, deep within her, she really hopes she’s coming across as cool and not as that completely shy and weird girl who used to have tons of pens and a crush on her older classmate who seemed to always steal them.

 “The world really is small, huh?” He remarks, a cheeky grin spreading across his mouth. 

“Yeah” she breaths out, smiling shyly at him, “it is.”

“Teaching, huh? I can see it” he says, nodding his head as he looks her up and down jokingly, and YN feels herself fluster under his gaze. She doesn’t understand why she still longs for his approval, but there’s something really tantalizing in the way he said ‘i can see it’, as if he was telling her a secret about herself she couldn’t wait to hear.

“And who is this?” She replies quickly, tilting her head to take a closer look at the baby on his hip, hoping to shift the conversation from her to him. If he’s bothered by the sudden change, he doesn’t show it, instead, he brings a hand to cup the little girl’s head and pats at it gently, “This is Aidi” he smiles proudly, “m’daughter”.

Oh… Oh!. YN doesn’t know why she’s so surprised by his remark. If she remembers correctly — and she does, because YN isn’t one to forget details easily — he should be around 29 now, a perfectly appropriate age to have a three, four (YN can’t be sure, she looks small but she hasn’t seen her face still) child, as much as there really could be an appropriate age to be a parent. 

Maybe, but she doesn’t like this thought and she doesn’t want to linger in it more than she needs, it’s what — or, should she say, who — comes with a child, that startles her: a partner; and at the idea of Harry being married, she feels lightheaded. It feels weird, thinking about the Harry she used to know, being married. Not that he wasn’t marriage material, he often used to say how he wanted to have a family pretty young, it’s just weird to her how his life could have gone on and there’s parts of it she wasn’t around to participate in.

She tries to scramble her brain and see if she remembers Instagram posts of her friends at his wedding, or at least an engagement dinner, but she can’t find any, but she isn’t sure if that’s because she isn’t in contact with her old friend group anymore.

“Hi, Aidi” she coos, raising her hand in a wave when the little girl raises her head from her father’s neck. “I’m YN, it’s very nice to meet you” 

Aidi has light brown hair wrapped in a beautiful braid, and YN wonders if Harry was the one that did her hair or his partner did, her eyes are unmistakably her father’s, a deep shade of green, with a little twinkle to them that makes them so unique. 

YN remembers many times where she had found herself thinking of the correct term to name the color of his eyes, if ever it existed, and she always came back empty handed. When she thought they were a deep forest green, he would look at her and they’d be a mix of green water, like the color the lake behind her grandparent’s house would turn out in the spring. Other times — YN noticed mostly at night —, they would be a dark shade of green, like the way a forest would look in the rain if she lived in a dark academia movie.

Aidi opens her pouty lips to let out a shy ‘hi’, but when YN takes a step closer to them, she snuggles closer to Harry, clutching his sweater in her small hands.

“’s the reason we’re late…” he sighs, “she’s nervous” he explains, and he lowers his head to look at his daughter’s face, the arm that’s holding her against him flexes a little and Aidi squirms in his hold, holding tighter — if possible — on his shoulders.

“It’s okay” YN smiles softly, but she isn’t talking to him, “first days can be a little though, huh?”

Aidi nods her head against her father’s neck and YN raises her eyes to meet Harry’s, and she flusters when she realizes he was already looking at her, an amused twinkle shading his gaze.

He tries to lower her down on the ground, but the little girl just squeezes his sweater tighter and kicks her legs out in protest, so Harry raises again with a sigh and Aidi resumes happily her previous position on his hip.

“Y’re bein’ irrational about this” he stresses, but YN looks at him amused, because it’s not like a little kid understands what ‘being irrational’ means.

“I’m s’sorry” he smiles nervously, shaking his head, “she’s not usually like this.”

“’s okay, you could… you could stay, for today… let her get comfortable?” YN suggests in a low voice, hoping Aidi isn’t listening to her. She doesn’t know if Harry needs to go to work, despite how much the school advises the parents to take the first day off, because children never really go willingly and always need a little push, she doesn’t know if he received the email, perhaps his wife did and didn’t let him know? YN feels silly for thinking like this. She’s usually rational about these kinds of things, and she never lets herself linger in inappropriate thoughts about her students’ parents, but he isn’t just a parent, and despite him being someone else’s Harry, there was a time where she fantasized he could be her’s. 

Fantasized is the correct term, because as I said YN is pretty rational in her daily life and even in her daily daydreaming, and she knows rather well how Harry never even spared her a thought, in college. She was just the girl that lent him pens.

“Figure I could stay” he nods, more to himself really, and YN wonders if maybe he has to inform someone that he’s not coming home right after dropping Aidi off, “really just needed to go grocery shopping, but I guess we’ll go after, huh?” 

Aidi seems to light up at the suggestion and she raises her head to look around the classroom.

“Daddy is stayin’?” She asks hopefully to YN, and when she nods her head, Aidi squirms in her dad’s hold and demands to be let down.

Harry chuckles at his daughter and throws a quick amused glance at YN when Aidi begins to tug him towards a small, baby blue, round table, where a couple of kids are coloring a drawing YN had printed out and left on the table before their arrival that morning.

Harry isn’t the only parent that stayed, and despite some of her coworkers disapproving of her method of teaching, she knows the kids had to warm up to her slowly, and if she demanded the parents off, it would be extremely difficult to get in their good graces.

She understood first days could be though, and she remembers how hard it was for her every time she started something new, a feeling that never really leaves you (not even many years later, when she no longer has first days), so she would let the parents stay as long as they could.

Of course, when she suggested Harry to stay, she only had Aidi’s best interest at heart, it wasn’t like she wanted him to stay, and perhaps talk to him, or maybe catch him looking at her with the corner of her eye when she was busy playing blocks with a baby student. It wasn’t like that at all. So why was her skin burning under his gaze for all the two hours he colored with his daughter?

…

Harry and Aidi leave around noon that day, and when Harry complains that it’s too early and he needs a couple of hours in the afternoon to work, YN reassures him quietly while Aidi is putting her little coat on, that she’ll get used to school hours and she’ll slowly but eventually want to stay longer; it’s always like that, and kids are simple beings, and pretty similar in their behaviors. 

So he leaves with a resigned sigh and a chatty baby on his hip, and YN follows them with her gaze before going back to give her attention to the little kid fussing in her lap and chatting her ear off about his holidays in the countryside during the summer.

She smiles and nods her head every once in a while, to assure him she’s listening and is interested in his story, but she can’t help but let her mind wander to the thought of seeing Harry for the first time since college. He looked so mature and put together, she feels small and silly in her choice of outfit (simple jeans and a sweater with a bunny printed on it — that the kids loved!), and she wonders wether Harry was making fun of her when he told her he saw her as a teacher. What did that mean? She doesn’t remember talking about a teaching career with him, and she certainly doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with being a teacher, at all. So, was he making fun of her? He must have been joking and she, as always, didn’t get the joke. But why did it matter? 

She doesn’t know, and she tries to think about what he possibly could’ve meant that didn’t involve making fun of her, but came up empty handed, and once again, she finds herself thinking about him the same way she did in college, with a tang bitter taste of ‘what if’s.

…

“Sorry we’re late… Someone was a little grumpy this mornin’, huh?” 

The rest of the month had gone by quickly; YN isn’t required to come in every morning — she alternates mornings with the other teacher, Miss Enya, so she doesn’t get to see Harry as often as she’d like, and when he comes to pick up Aidi in the late afternoon (he had started to pick her up a little bit later with every day that passed, claiming he could really use the extra hours to work, and he had told YN to call him if Aidi started asking about him), he greets YN with a brief wave of the hand, which is kind of awkward, both to him and to YN, but she goes with it and waves back.

Sometimes, when Aidi takes a while to get her little coat on, and she takes her time saying bye to her classmates (because she’s very much a loving kid and she can’t just leave without saying goodbye, her daddy always tells her it’s impolite!), Harry chats a bit with YN, mostly about the weather (“’s crazy, this weather! ’s so hot I think I’ll melt”)  or about Aidi, asking her if she’s been good and whether she’s getting along with the other kids, and YN is polite, always polite, she answers his questions and laughs a little at his jokes, and in a way, it feels to her like time hasn’t passed, and she’s still that girl that used to have a crush on her older friend in college.

It’s Wednesday now, September is almost over and with it the warm days, leaving place to the chilly weather sneaking on you when you’re least expecting it.

The week had been calmer than usual, kind of uneventful, really, a couple of kids got sick with the flu at the beginning of the week, and by mid week the class was almost halved, whether they really got sick or their parents were just preventing that from happening, YN didn’t know, but it was fine either way and she understood the precautions taken.

That’s why when Harry comes in that morning, a little after 9 am, YN waves his tardiness off nonchalantly, “it’s okay!” She smiles at him kindly, “most of the kids are at home with the flu, though” she pouts, looking around the room at the small group of students playing with legos on the floor.

“Oh! Sorry to hear that” He reciprocates her pout, letting his daughter on the ground and holding out her small backpack for her to take.

They watch as Aidi walks slowly to the coat hangers, hanging her backpack on the hook and then her little coat.

When she takes a seat on the table to color a cute bunny YN had printed that morning, Harry shifts his eyes to glance at YN beside him, that is still looking at his daughter lovingly.

“Tha’s a nice shirt ye’re wearin’!” He chuckles, rising his brows and pinching the fabric of her shirt between his thumb and index finger. 

YN tries to control the redness that creeps up on her cheeks when she turns her head to face him, looking down at her shirt with a printed bunny dressed up in a ghost costume, where his hand is still holding the pale yellow fabric of her shirt between his fingers.

“This is a very fancy shirt, Harry. I take bunnies very seriously” she pouts, her brows dipped. 

“Oooh,” he coos, “yeah, I remember.”

“What do you mean?” She says.

This thing with bunnies had started when YN was around five (her first stuffed animal had been a bunny and she found great comfort in Mr Carrots — that was his name), and it kind of stuck with her; whenever she had something important to do she would have a little bunny with her, whether it be a pendant on a necklace or just printed on her shirt, she’d feel comfort knowing she’d have a bunny with her.

“I remember” he repeats, “from college. You had that… that necklace, I think. Oh, and the notebooks, I remember those as well.” 

“Oh.” YN doesn’t know what else to say, and she knows she’s being awkward, of course she knows! But what is she supposed to say? He remembers probably the most intimate detail about her, and once again she is stuck asking herself, what does it mean? For him to remember? Does it have to mean something? Because it’s not like she was hiding the bunnies… she had them splattered on her shirt! 

“Yeah” he nods, eyeing her carefully. He retreats his hand quickly, almost as if the shirt had caught on fire and his fingers’d started to burn, and he clears his throat, embarrassment pumping through his body.

“I have t’go, now.” He chuckles nervously, “need t’get Aidi tha’cereal she always eats in t’morning”.

“Of course, of course” YN nods, waving a hand in front of them to dismiss him. 

He waves at her awkwardly before stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, turning back towards the door.

YN doesn’t wait for him to get out of the classroom before she turns the other way, walking towards the group of kids that are playing on the ground.

…

“‘llo?” 

“Harry? It’s YN, well the… the school” YN rambles, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she holds the thermometer against Aidi’s temple.

She’s got the little girl curled in her lap as she lulls her back and forth, trying to soothe her the best she can, because she knows from experience that the infirmary always scares kids the most; apparently when painting the school no one thought about extending the silly cartoon characters that are painted on the classroom’s walls to the infirmary as well.

“Yes, ‘f course. Wha’s wrong?”

“Aidi’s burning up… I’m taking her temperature now, I think she’s… she’s sick?” She doesn’t know why it comes out as a question, but it does, and YN curses herself in her head for being like this. She’s got told many times to be careful when calling the parents, because most of them freak out simply from seeing the school’s caller ID, so she needs to be really more considerate in the way she delivers news.

“’s okay, I’ll come get ‘er, yeah?” He says, and YN hears shuffling from the other side of the line, and she wonders if he’s putting on his coat.

He sounds calm, and she’s glad she didn’t worry him, because it’s really just a fever and there’s nothing to worry about, but Aidi is little and she’s hurting, and she’d understand if Harry had freaked out a little bit.

“Okay, yes, yes” she agrees.

“Be there in 10”, he says, and she hangs up the phone and puts it back in the back pocket of her jeans.

She wonders if Harry has notified Aidi’s mum, and for a brief minute, she ponders whether she should ask the little girl in her lap, but then she feels extremely guilty she would even take that in account, and she tosses the thought out of her head, reminding herself it’s none of her business.

“Your daddy is coming” she coos, and Aidi shifts in her lap to look up at her. 

“Miss YN, my tummy hurts” she whines, big tears pooling in her green eyes that look up at her and YN feels her heart clutch in her chest.

“I know, I know” she nods, petting her hair to help her soothe a bit, lulling her back and forth.

When the thermometer’s timer rings, YN removes it from her temple and winces when she checks the temperature.

“Just a few more minutes” YN whispers against her hair.

After what could’ve been five minutes, but felt like hours, YN sees Harry rush through the school’s infirmary, and when he spots them he raises his brows in a greeting manner.

“Hey” YN whispers to the sleepy toddler that’s curled up on her chest, “your daddy is here”

“Daddy?” Aidi mumbles in a small voice, raising her head to look up at her dad.

She knuckles at her eye and YN smiles softly at her, petting her hair once again.

“Hey” Harry sighs, crunching down on the ground to be eye level with his child, “how ye doin’, bug?” 

“Hurts” she whimpers, raising her arms to signal him she wants to be picked up.

“I know, ’s okay” he props her on his hip and starts rubbing her back soothingly, cooing soft words in her ear.

“I think she’ll be fine with some bed rest… it’s normal for kids to get sick this time of the year” YN reassures him, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Yeah… ’s just… she’s never been sick ’n I don’ know how… she’s little” he takes a big sigh and looks at her, his panicked eyes burning in hers, and it’s only then that YN realizes he’s worried. Of course he is! And how stupid of her to think he wouldn’t be. It’s his child and she’s in pain, YN doesn’t have children of her own and she can only imagine in a certain way what could it mean.

“Harry, hey” she squeezes his shoulder with her hand, “she’s going to be fine. It’s just a fever, yeah? Just a fever”

He nods at her words, albeit unconvinced, and he tilts his head to look at his little girl that’s sleeping with her face smushed against his shoulder, her cheeks red with the warmth of the fever.

“It’s going to be fine” YN repeats.

…

New message:

from: YN

to: Harry Styles 

Hi, how are you?

Hi, Harry, how is Aidi?

Hi, how’s it going?

Hi, Harry, it’s YN. How is Aidi? How are you? :)

YN sends that last text and throws her phone on the couch next to her, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

She sighs loudly before picking up her phone again and unlocking it, the messages app opens immediately and she reads again the text she’d written, the smiley face at the end mocking her.

“Fuck!” She whines, “A fucking smiley face?! Why are you so awkward!” 

She doesn’t wait for him to answer before she gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen to cook something for dinner.

She’s staring at her empty fridge when she hears her phone’s chime, and she hurries back to the living room, a pep in her step as she anticipates in her head what his answer could be.

from: Harry Styles

to: YN

Hi!! She’s okay now, the fever’s  gone down a bit, but she still isn’t eating :(

And I’m good btw

How r u?

She reads the text probably four times before responding, and this time she tries not to be as serious as she was in the first one.

from: YN

to: Harry Styles

I’m good too

Happy to hear that :)

Not that she isn’t eating… that sucks :’(

from: Harry Styles

to: YN

<3

YN feels her heart skip a beat.

He sent a heart. A heart!!! If she was 14 years old she’d do a little happy dance and probably think about it for the rest of the evening, but she hasn’t been 14 in a long time, and she sticks to just liking his message and locking her phone, making her way back to the kitchen to finally eat something. 

She isn’t 14 anymore, yes, but she can’t help but think about that heart for the rest of the evening.

…

Aidi comes back to school a week later, and she greets YN with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, and YN holds her tight to her chest, happy to see that she’s alright. 

YN and Harry both watch as Aidi greets her classmates, a pep in her step as she runs to them, ready to tell them all about the bad bug she caught that made her sick (as her daddy had explained).

“I’m happy to see she’s alright” YN says, smiling fondly at the sight in front of her.

“Yeah… me too” he sighs, “I wanted to thank yeh… fo’ takin’ care of ‘er”

“Harry” she chimes in, “it’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do, though. Y’re a teacher, aren’t yeh? Not a nurse” he shrugs, smiling a cheeky grin at her.

“You do have a point” she laughs, nodding her head, “but you don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything special.” 

“Still” he shrugs once again, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. “We should catch up… sometime… ’s been s’long” 

“Yes” she nods swiftly, maybe a little too excitedly to not be embarrassing, “yes… I would like that”

“Fine then… I’ll text yeh, yeah?” He says, taking the keys of his car out of the pocket of his coat and playing with the keychain with his fingers, rolling it around absentmindedly.

“Have t’go now”

“Yeah” she agrees, but he’s already turned around. 

YN doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline that’s making her see things, or if maybe she’s the one that’s coming down with a fever now, and it’s making her delusional, but she swears she saw a bunny shaped keychain attached to his car keys, and she feels her heart beat loud against her chest. She really hopes she isn’t imagining things.

PLEASE let me know if you want part 2 and if you liked this!!! 💞

Read part 2 here!!

[youngsadlesbian]

hellooo how are you? i just read your most recent fic and got obssessed omg its so cute😩😩 a while after reading it, i had an fic idea but im not a writer, so im just passing it to you bcz i liked your writing so bad, pls honor me✋😔

what abt a fic where r is nat and bucky daughter and she has a bit of the super soldier serum and that obviously made her kinda 💪 yk? and when she's at school some girlies are falling so hard over her. you could write it over the years, like when she's 6-7 and a girl wants to hold her hand on the school break, walk around and kiss her cheek, super cute omg😭 when she's 10-11 a girl gives her chocolate and a flower and r would be so confused omg i just feel it. and of course, at 14-15 she starts to like a girl and she would be so-- like idk just imagine her coming back home after a day at school smiling and telling nat abt that girl, and nat convinces her to ask the girl out, so she takes r to buy something for the girl (idk what, i never asked someone out💔💔) and later they could date or not, ill let if for you.

omg that's so long im sorry, but pls pls do it😭😭🙏 ill be waiting so anxious for this

STRONGER HEARTS

pairing: bucky barnes x natasha romanoff x daughter!reader

summary: being the daughter of two superheroes wasn't easy, especially when you ended up inheriting a bit of your father's super soldier serum. and especially for drawing attention from other kids, even when you didn't quite understand what that meant.

a/n: idk if this turned out exactly how you wanted, but i tried my best while taking advantage of my free time at work and my burst of creativity. hope you like it, dear <3

word count: 2,6k

warnings: none, just fluff.

It started early, this whole thing about you being... different. Not just in the way your parents, Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes, were literal superheroes with more than enough stories of their own to tell. No, it started with you.

You were only six years old, and already things were starting to get confusing. Not because of school—math was math, recess was recess—but because of the way other kids, especially the girls, looked at you.

You were at recess, standing by the jungle gym, when it happened. A girl named Lily, the same age as you, came bouncing over with a big smile.

"Hi!" she chirped, her blonde pigtails bouncing.

"Hi," you said, glancing at her curiously.

Without hesitation, Lily reached out and grabbed your hand, holding it tightly.

"Come on! I want to walk with you around the playground. You’re so cute!" she declared, pulling you along.

You blinked, not quite sure how to react, but you didn’t resist either. You didn’t mind holding her hand, even if you didn’t fully understand why she wanted to. As you strolled around the playground, Lily kept looking up at you with an expression you couldn’t place. Every so often, she’d giggle and give your hand a squeeze, like holding it was some kind of special prize.

At one point, she stopped and kissed your cheek before running off with a squeal. You stood there, completely bewildered.

Later that day, you told your mom what happened.

"Mom, why did Lily hold my hand all recess and kiss my cheek?" you asked, still confused by the whole thing.

Natasha laughed softly, crouching down to your level. "Well, sweetheart, sometimes people like being close to others they find... cute. Maybe she thinks you're special."

"Special?" you scrunched your nose. "Why?"

"Because you’re you," Natasha said with a smile, ruffling your hair. "You’re going to have that effect on people."

You didn’t fully understand at the time, but you would soon learn that having an effect on people was something that followed you everywhere.

By the time you were ten, you were starting to notice that your classmates were behaving a little strangely around you. Particularly the girls. They were often staring at you, smiling shyly when you walked by, and sometimes even blushing. But the most confusing moment came on Valentine's Day that year.

You were at school, sitting at your desk, when a girl named Emily approached you, her cheeks bright red. In her hands were a small bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates.

"Uh... these are for you," she said, looking like she was about to explode with embarrassment.

You stared at the items she was offering, completely perplexed. "Why?"

Emily blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "Because... I like you?" she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You frowned, still not understanding. "You like me? Like... as a friend?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, like... I like like you."

Now you were even more confused. "What does that mean?"

Emily blushed even harder, pushing the flowers and chocolates into your hands before darting off. You sat there, staring at the gifts, completely dumbfounded. What were you supposed to do with them?

Later that evening, you brought the chocolates home, placing them on the kitchen table in front of your dad, who was reading the newspaper.

"Dad, what does it mean if someone gives you flowers and chocolates because they 'like like' you?" you asked, your face a picture of confusion.

Bucky lowered the paper, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. "Ah, the old 'like like' situation, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. "It means she has a crush on you."

You blinked. "A crush?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "She thinks you’re cute and probably wants to spend more time with you."

You stared at the chocolates in your hand, still trying to wrap your head around it. "I don’t get it. What am I supposed to do?"

Bucky chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Don’t worry about it, kiddo. Just be nice, and let her down easy if you're not interested."

You still didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but you nodded anyway, trusting your dad's advice. But this wasn’t the last time you’d find yourself in confusing situations like this.

It wasn’t until you turned fifteen that things really started to make sense. Or at least, you started to make sense of the feelings you’d been having for a while now.

Her name was Chloe, and she was in your class at school. She had bright eyes, a soft smile, and a laugh that made your heart race. Every day, you found yourself staring at her from across the room, completely mesmerized. You’d never felt this way before.

Whenever you were around her, you’d get flustered, your words tumbling over each other. It didn’t help that she seemed to like spending time with you, which only made your crush even worse. By the time you were halfway through the school year, you were completely and utterly obsessed.

"She’s just... so pretty," you sighed dreamily, sitting at the kitchen table one evening after school.

Natasha glanced over from where she was cooking dinner, raising an eyebrow. "Pretty, huh?"

"Yeah," you said, resting your chin in your hands. "Like, really pretty. And smart. And funny."

Bucky, sitting nearby with a book, exchanged a knowing look with Natasha.

"Sounds like someone’s got a crush," Natasha teased lightly.

Your face turned bright red, but you didn’t deny it. "What do I do? I don’t know how to talk to her without sounding like an idiot."

Natasha smiled, walking over to sit beside you. "Maybe you should ask her out."

You blinked in surprise. "Ask her out? You think I can do that?"

"Of course, you can," Natasha said with a shrug. "What’s the worst that could happen?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking it over. "What if she says no?"

"Then you move on," Bucky said, setting his book down. "But you won’t know unless you try."

It was easier said than done, though. Asking Chloe out seemed like the scariest thing in the world. But the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to. So, naturally, you turned to the people who could (theoretically) help: the Avengers.

The next day, you found yourself in the Avengers Tower, nervously pacing around as you waited for some of the team to show up. You’d decided to gather as much advice as possible before making your move.

Tony Stark was the first to arrive, sauntering into the room with his signature smirk.

"So, I hear you need help asking someone out," Tony said, folding his arms. "Lucky for you, I’m a master at this."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Here’s what you do: build her something. Like a mini Iron Man suit. Girls love that."

You blinked. "Uh... I don’t think I can build a suit."

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Details, details. Just wow her with something impressive. Trust me."

Next up was Thor, who entered with his usual dramatic flair, his hammer in hand.

"Ah, young love!" Thor boomed, clapping you on the shoulder. "The key to winning over a maiden’s heart is boldness! Sweep her off her feet! Declare your feelings loudly and with great passion!"

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously. "I don’t think I should yell at her."

"Nonsense! Nothing says romance like shouting your love from the rooftops!" Thor insisted, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

As more Avengers filtered in, the advice only got more absurd. Clint suggested using arrows to spell out her name in the sky, and Bruce—though more subdued—suggested writing a thoughtful essay about your feelings. You were starting to think none of this was going to help.

It wasn’t until you sat down with your dad, Bucky, that you finally got some real advice.

"So, you’re really into this girl, huh?" Bucky asked, sitting across from you with a serious expression.

"Yeah," you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "Here’s the thing: you don’t need to do anything crazy. Just be yourself. Ask her to hang out, maybe go grab some ice cream or something simple. You don’t need fireworks or Iron Man suits. Just be honest."

You looked at him, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "You think that'll work?"

"I know it will," Bucky said with a soft smile. "She’ll appreciate the real you more than anything."

Taking your dad’s advice to heart, you finally mustered up the courage to ask Chloe out. It wasn’t as dramatic as Tony or Thor would’ve wanted, but it was honest.

"Hey, Chloe," you said one day after school, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "Do you maybe wanna go get ice cream with me this weekend?"

Chloe’s eyes lit up, and she smiled. "I’d love to."

Your heart skipped a beat when Chloe said yes. For a moment, you were frozen, unable to process that she’d actually agreed to go out with you. But then, slowly, a wide grin spread across your face.

"Great! Um, I’ll text you the details?" you stammered, still trying to keep your cool.

Chloe nodded, her smile warm and genuine. "Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it."

As you walked away, a giddy feeling bubbled up inside you, and by the time you got home, you were practically floating. The moment you stepped into the apartment, you dropped your bag by the door and burst out, "Mom! Dad! She said yes!"

Natasha looked up from where she was sitting on the couch, a knowing smile on her face. "Told you."

Bucky was sitting nearby, his eyes lighting up with pride. "See? Told you all you had to do was be yourself."

You flopped onto the couch between them, still buzzing with excitement. "I’m going to get ice cream with Chloe. This weekend. Can you believe it?"

Natasha chuckled, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I’m happy for you, sweetheart. You did good."

"Now you just have to survive the date," Bucky teased, winking at you.

You laughed nervously. "Yeah… right."

The weekend came faster than you expected, and soon you were standing outside a little ice cream shop, waiting for Chloe to arrive. Your hands were stuffed in your pockets, and your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest.

When Chloe finally showed up, you felt your breath hitch. She looked even more beautiful than usual, with her hair down in loose waves and a light smile playing on her lips.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft as she approached.

"Hey," you replied, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. "Ready for some ice cream?"

Chloe grinned. "Definitely."

The two of you went inside, ordered your ice creams, and found a quiet spot by the window. As you sat across from her, the awkwardness you’d feared didn’t show up. Instead, you found yourself talking easily, laughing at her jokes, and feeling more comfortable than you ever thought possible.

"You know," Chloe said after a while, twirling her spoon in her cup, "I’m really glad you asked me out. I’ve kinda liked you for a while."

You blinked, taken aback. "Wait—really?"

Chloe giggled, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, but… I guess you do."

You felt your face heat up, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from happiness. "I do. I really do."

The rest of the date went by in a blur of laughter, smiles, and shared glances that made your heart race. By the time you were walking Chloe back to her place, you were already thinking about the next time you’d see her.

When you reached her doorstep, there was a brief, sweet moment of silence between the two of you. Chloe turned to face you, her eyes soft and warm.

"I had a really great time," she said, her voice gentle.

"Me too," you replied, feeling a little breathless.

There was a pause, and then, without thinking too much about it, you leaned in and kissed her cheek. Chloe’s smile widened, and she gave you a shy wave before heading inside, leaving you standing there with the biggest grin on your face.

When you got home, your parents were waiting, both of them pretending to be casually occupied, but you knew they were dying to know how it went.

"So," Natasha said, raising an eyebrow. "How was it?"

You dropped onto the couch with a happy sigh. "It was perfect."

Bucky smirked. "Told you all you needed was to be yourself. None of that flashy stuff."

Natasha smiled warmly, sitting down next to you. "We’re proud of you. So… is there going to be a second date?"

You grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. "I think so."

Just then, Tony walked into the room, raising an eyebrow. "Did I hear something about a date? Did my advice work?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Please, Tony. If she’d followed your advice, she’d be building an Iron Man suit for the next three months."

Tony looked indignant. "Hey, building suits is romantic."

You laughed. "Actually, I didn’t need a suit. I just asked her out, like Dad said."

Tony sighed dramatically. "Ah, young love. So simple and pure. You’ll learn one day, kid."

Over the next few days, the Avengers couldn’t stop teasing you about the date. Clint would randomly shout "Smooth move!" whenever he saw you, and Thor kept encouraging you to "declare your love loudly, as is the Asgardian way!" But in the end, it was all in good fun, and you found yourself loving the chaotic but supportive family you had.

As your relationship with Chloe blossomed, word spread quickly throughout the Avengers Tower. It wasn’t long before all the Avengers were curious about the girl who’d captured your heart.

One day, as you were training with Steve in the gym, he glanced over at you with a grin. "So, when do we get to meet this girl of yours?"

You nearly stumbled over your own feet. "Wait—what?"

"You know," Steve continued, chuckling, "bring her around to meet the team. We’d all love to meet her."

You blushed, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I don’t know… It’s kind of a big step, introducing her to you guys."

Steve gave you a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry. We’ll behave."

You raised an eyebrow. "Will you, though? Because Tony and Thor don’t know the meaning of 'subtle.'"

Steve laughed. "Okay, fair point. But still, she sounds great. I think we’d all like her."

You thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe soon."

As your relationship with Chloe continued to grow, you found yourself feeling more confident, not just in your relationship but in yourself. Your parents, Natasha and Bucky, were always there to support you, offering advice when you needed it and cheering you on from the sidelines.

One evening, as you sat with them on the couch, watching a movie, Natasha wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

"You know," she said softly, "we’re really proud of you. You’ve grown into an amazing person."

You smiled, resting your head on her shoulder. "Thanks, Mom."

Bucky nodded from the other side of the couch, his voice gentle. "We’re lucky to have you."

In that moment, surrounded by the people who loved you most, you realized just how lucky you were. You had a family that supported you, a girl who cared about you, and a future that was wide open with possibilities.

And no matter what came next, you knew you’d be ready—because you had the best parents, and the most chaotic team of superheroes, right by your side.

[yuutakuns]

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I have been thinking very deeply about Yuuta in a relationship. I know ultimately he's a cutie that is just the sweetest to his partner but I'm sure we can all agree that there is something so dark and twisted in the way he loves.

Yuuta is the kind of partner that feigns contentment. If you're happy, then he's happy. Or so he thought. It's not that he's unhappy, no, he is extremely happy. But it is exactly this happiness that he cannot let slip and get away. It is because of his anxiousness that he feels he has to grasp for you closer and closer. More than anything, he just wants to be with you.

Content Warnings: MDNI (minors do not interact), 18+,toxic relationship, manipulation, possessiveness, dub-con, cervix fucking, creampies, size kink(ish), afab reader (genitalia mentioned), idk I’m a degenerate, kinda proofread kinda not

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It starts with little things.

Yuuta tries so hard to be understanding. He knows it's not healthy to be this obsessive. He knows that it's no good for you and it's not good for him. But it's times when you're out with other friends or making time for other people when he feels his heart twist and turn wretched at the sight of you smiling with others. It's this nagging insecurity that eats at him.

When you tell him you made plans to hang out with Yuuji and the others this coming weekend. Yuuta smiles.

"That's great. I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun hanging out with Yuuji! I know you'd prefer to be around someone a lot more positive than hang out with me more than you need to."

Of course Yuuta knows that this is not at all what your intentions are. But he can't help but feel relief in the way your smile drops and your face tinges with worry.

"Yuu- What? No- That's not at all why I'm going out with them-"

"It's okay. You don't have to explain. I know what being around me too long is like. I wouldn't really want to, either."

It's conversations like these that make Yuuta feel like you two are meant to be.

The way you are so willing to drop everything for him, to decide that it's fine. I don't at all mind being with you again this weekend! I don't have to go out. Let's stay in together, I don't want you to feel left behind.

He thinks you're too kind for your own good.

It's little things like this that build up. The way you start to become more isolated from everyone else, telling them sorry, I have plans this weekend or oh, I can't make dinner tonight after all. It's when you choose Yuuta over anyone and everyone else that his heart soars.

It's when you become completely and utterly dependent on Yuuta that he smiles the brightest.

You can't go on without him. If for some reason you do go out alone you know that he's texting you, calling you, or even showing up to meet you. He's everywhere. It's only to make sure that you're safe, of course. You're useless without him. Who knows what trouble you could get into. It’s better this way.

It's when you agree to move in with him. It's safer to be close to each other, and now Yuu doesn't have to go out to your apartment every night to check on you. You're safe right beside him. You don't think you've ever seen him happier.

"It's okay, you'll always be safe when I'm here. So that's why, I'll always follow you wherever you go," Yuuta hums into your ear as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of cold fingers slithering up your body and pressing on your neck as you lay paralyzed. You always wake up in a sweat, fear coating your brow. You chalk it up to a case of stress getting to you.

It's strange. The closer Yuuta and you get the farther you wish you were from him. But if it means Yuuta is happy, then why should you complain?

It's nice to see him smile so widely. You know that he's always been the lonely type. Maybe he just needs to be close to someone for once, to feel genuine security and love.

That's what you remind yourself anyway, as you let Yuuta use your body to satiate his hunger.

Yuuta never used to be so rough. Sure, there were times when you'd try something new or indulge him in an act. But this was something else entirely.

Big fat tears stream down your cheeks as Yuuta rams his thick cock into your pussy. It was a tight fit, as usual.

Sometimes, Yuuta takes it slow and preps you nice and sweet. It reminds you more of the old times when things were a little more simple. But sometimes something possesses Yuuta. You see it in his eyes. It's dark and empty, like a black hole wanting to swallow you hole.

You sob as Yuuta fucks into your dripping wet hole, nails digging into your soft thighs as your tits bounce up and down from his thrusts. Yuuta grunts softly, breath shaking as he drills into your pussy, smiling as he watches you make the most fucked out expressions. His cock was so fucking hard, he felt so happy being so close with you. Being so connected with you. He loved feeling the way your walls clenched around his dick, the way your cunt milked him.

You didn’t really want to have sex tonight. But you felt so guilty for rejecting Yuuta. He always looked so hurt when you said you weren’t up for it. Your heart ached when he asked, “Do you not want to be close with me anymore? I’m sorry if I did something wrong. I always mess everything up.” He always knows how to get under your skin.

You moaned as Yuuta stretched out your gummy wet walls. He always knows how to open you up, how to own you completely.

“S-so good. Your pussy is so good. Always so so so good for me. Do you like that? Am I making you feel good? Tell me.”

You sobbed, your cunt clenching around his cock in the most delicious way. “Yuu- I can’t- S’too much— You’re too much—“ You managed to choke out, eyes rolling back whenever his tip fucked into your cervix. You felt his dick twitch at the sound of your sobs.

He was in so deep, situated between your open legs. Your legs held up over his shoulders as he bent you in half. You could feel his cock as your walls clenched around him, your slick dripping and squelching as he fucked into you. It was so lewd.

You covered your face with your arms instinctually as tears prickled out the corners of your eyes. You were so overstimulated. Yuuta slid his hands over your body to move your arms, holding each down on the side of your head. You couldn’t even have this.

“Look at me, don’t hide. Ngh- I want to see you. Wanna see your pretty face— Ah, show it to me. Show me what’s mine.”

You looked up at him, vision blurred from all the stimulation. He looked down at you, expression adoring as he continued to mercilessly pound into you. You moaned. He was your Yuuta. Your sweet precious Yuuta. Your love, your light. How did it become like this?

Yuuta grunted. “ ‘M close— so close. Can I cum? Can I cum in your pussy? You’re so good baby. You take me so good. I love you. I love you so fucking much. I wanna own you. I wanna be closer to you. Let’s become closer, yeah?”

He maneuvered his hands to grasp for yours, entwining your fingers together as he rammed erratically into your sopping cunt. You cried out soft little moans as you felt his cock piston into you.

You were also close, pussy clenching around his cock. “Yuu- ‘m close— so close, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me baby, cum on my cock. Give me everything. You belong to me. Everything you have belongs to me.”

You came hard, eyes fluttering shut as slick spilled out everywhere onto the bed. You felt so spent.

He let out a sigh as he humped into your used pussy, cock twitching as he released his load into your cunt. He filled you up, made you whole. His cum dripped out of your pussy as he made himself comfy on the bed, still inside of you. He held you close, nuzzling into your neck.

“I love you. More than anything.”

“Yeah.” You sucked in a shakey breath, “I do too.”

[ssentimentals]

f1 pairings as love tropes: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo

childhood friends to lovers

'and whenever i look back, you were always there. if only you knew what a comforting thought that is.'

one.

max gets the best present on earth in a shape of new bike at his seventh birthday. it's big, blue and very cool, so of course the very first thing he does after thanking his parents is rush one block down the road and knock on ricciardo's family front door with an urgency that might look like someone's dying. it's daniel who opens the door and wide grin that splits his face when he registers who stands in front of him makes max feel like that run and him getting sweaty was all worth it.

'maxy!' dan greets and he's fifteen and their age gap should've made it awkward to be friends but max's happy that it didn't. 'whatcha doing here, birthday boy?'

'i've got a bike! a really cool one!' max proclaims, puffing up his chest a little. 'you should come and see!'

daniel smiles softly at max, laughing. 'sure buddy, but let me grab your present first and we can go, yeah?'

'you got me something?' max asks in awe, giddy with excitement. 'what is it?'

he waits patiently for daniel to come back with a plain shoe box and when max realizes what's inside, he freezes up for a second. daniel only smiles, stepping closer and wrapping one arm around max's shoulders. 'you really got into geography lately,' daniel says, letting max hold the box himself. 'i don't have much allowance, but i got you this cool globe - it has lights and you can turn them on at night. you said you want to travel in the future, remember? you said that you want to travel-'

'- everywhere and anywhere in this world.' max finishes for him.

there's nothing much he can say apart from simple 'thank you' but even those two words don't want to come out. max is suddenly struck with an emotion to big for him to name, but daniel apparently understands him perfectly, because he pulls him closer to his chest and ruffles his hair gently with 'happy birthday, maxy' whispered quietly. when max looks up, daniel is smiling but it's not that wide and cheeky smile everyone knows, but more private one, a small thing that makes max feel special. dan always looks at max like max saw main couple looks at each other in the movies and it makes him feel all fuzzy inside. he wants daniel to keep on looking at him like that forever.

two.

the thing about having daniel as a friend is that no one is daniel, no one can replace him.

last year of high school is kicking max's ass without any mercy. it's hard not to lose your mind between divorce of your parents, having to pick university and getting ready for the exams. he's trying though; pushes through with a bitter smile on his face. he shuffles through people, too: high school feels like a battlefield with everchanging cliques and groups of people with their everchanging opinions. max doesn't like crowds, can't care less about dick measuring competitions and stays away from any fights. max sticks to charles - or better, charles sticks to max - and by default he hangs out with whoever charles hangs out. it's surprisingly okay most of the time - they all study together, go out and party together, play football together. they pat his back when he fails a test, hug him when he scores a goal and carry him home when he's too drunk and his limbs won't cooperate. so all in all, everything's okay. or maybe not, because if everything was okay he wouldn't be calling daniel at two am, drunk, leaning on a tree not far from his house so he won't disturb his father.

'what- hello?' dan's voice is rough with sleep. 'who- who is this?'

max swallows. he is seventeen and daniel is twenty five and last time they spoke was on christmas, when dan called just to say 'merry christmas, maxy!' and then hang up. they text sporadically, sometimes send each other funny memes on social media but phone or videos calls became rare and max is honest with himself enough to admit that it hurts him. no one is daniel. he thinks of all their childhood memories: of danny standing up for him against bullies, of them riding their bikes together and he-

'dan,' max chokes up, trying to control his sobs and doing a shitty job at it. 'daniel, it's me, it's-'

'max,' daniel breathes out like a prayer. 'max, max, what happened? where are you?'

he sounds like he's worried and it tugs at max's heartstrings. he is never sentimental but something about daniel, something sacred and intimate about him, something like mine mine mine, something too big for him to understand makes him incredibly emotional. max doesn't say anything but whine slips out of his mouth and he slumps on the tree, feeling completely drained.

'oh maxy,' daniel whispers. 'my maxy. talk to me, sweetheart. what's wrong?'

max's head swims with my maxy and sweetheart from daniel's lips and with a crystal clear clarity he realizes how much he misses him, how he hates this distance between them, how them growing apart and eventually never talking again is his biggest fear.

'max, darling, you are scaring me,' daniel speaks up and there's urgency in his tone that makes max focus on the conversation. 'what is it? do you need me to come and pick you up?'

it's at least three hours drive from the city to which dan moved out to here and the fact that he still offers it makes max sober up. daniel still cares. they are still friends. 'everything sucks,' max supplies and loud snort on the other side makes him smile. 'it's just...a lot.'

daniel hums in understanding. 'i bet. why don't you tell me about it?'

it's hard to talk about feelings in general, but it's a bit easier to do so with daniel. max sits on the ground and talks for two hours about all of his life updates, letting it all out to dan, who listens carefully. he sometimes gives advice, sometimes simply tells max that it's okay to feel this way and by the end of the call max feels ten times better.

'go to sleep, max.' daniel whispers when max audibly yawns for the third time. 'and call me whenever you get like this, okay?'

'i miss you,' max mumbles, yawning again.

daniel sighs. 'i miss you too,' he says but sounds very sad saying so. 'now go back to sleep.'

only when he's halfway in the bed, max understands that he never asked how daniel is and didn't learn a thing about him.

three.

max is twenty and he's trembling with nerves. he keeps on trying to fix his hair but only messes it up even more and eventually gives up right when daniel picks up. his bearded face makes max blink in shock first and his loud laughter brings him back to the present.

'surprise!' dan shouts, pointing at his beard. 'cool, huh?'

'you look ugly,' max blurts out because he's panicking.

daniel only laughs harder at this, knowing that max never means any of it. he knows max better than max knows himself and that thought makes max more decisive about this conversation. he thought about it for such a long time and he finally is planning to confess. to tell daniel, who he saw in flesh last time over five years ago that he likes him. well, first he'll say that he likes boys and then he'll add the last part. it will go well, charles said, smiling. if you two are as close as you say, it will go well. and usually charles is annoyingly right about everything, so max prays that this time he is right too.

only he isn't. max was ready for everything but not for the defeaning silence on the other side, not daniel's shocked expression. and he can understand the shocking part but he cannot understand the silence. daniel is never silent, ever. he is loud, his mouth is always blabbering some bullshit, he always has something to say. but apparently not to max, because all he lets out is a quiet 'holy fuck, maxy'. and it's not in the 'holy fuck, i like you too, maxy' or 'holy fuck, maxy, never knew you'd be gay!'. it's really nothing and it hurts max more than he could've imagined. 'you're not gonna say anything?' he rasps out in an accused tone. 'gonna stay silent?'

daniel looks... almost hurt, really. it makes no sense. he's twenty eight and he is supposed to be the smart one, but what he says is the most stupid shit max has ever heard: 'i- thanks for telling me, for coming out, i mean. but i think- maxy, i think you are confused.' seeing max's expression, he quickly adds: 'like, not in your sexuality! i mean in liking me part. we've known each other for so long and i know that we love each other, max. i think you're confusing the liking part because you can't like me that way, you know? not me and not romantically.'

it makes no sense. nosensenosens nosense - 'fuck you,' max spits out before he can think it through. 'you cannot tell me what i feel and-'

'maxy, sweetheart-'

'do not call me that!' max all but screams, enraged. how dare daniel call him that when he is rejecting him outright?! 'honestly- you know what? fuck you. fuck you for thinking like i am dumb and don't know what and who i like!'

it's all wrong. it's not how it was supposed to go and daniel's hurt expression haunts max for whole month as he deletes his number from his phone and blocks him everywhere else.

four.

max is twenty five and life is good, actually. he's got a fine job with a good salary, settled in a nice enough place that doesn't get disapproving looks from his mother and travels two times a year. by this age he also got a hold of his sexuality and has even two long relationships under his belt. charles still sticks to him but right now they're work colleagues and with the amount of time they spend together, max believes him to be his closest best friend. all is good and the ache in his heart about daniel settled long time ago; it doesn't hurt anymore. sometimes when wave of nostalgia hits him, he reminisces about probably the most solid friendship he ever had in his life, head gets full of daniel's smile and his laugh. charles is great but he is not daniel. no one is daniel; even charles didn't come close to what he and daniel shared, the kind of trust and sense of belonging that max is yet to discover with anyone else. no one is daniel and that's a good and a bad part of this life: no one broke his heart like daniel did and no one came close to him like daniel did.

'this place is too crowded,' max shouts to charles, looking warily at the crowd. he doesn't mind a good party but this place is new and the line towards the entrance is ridiculous. 'is there a second floor?'

'with balcony, yes.' charles points at the staircase, which is barely visible due to poor lightning. 'go there, i'll hold your place. carlos will be here soon with lando.'

with a nod, max rushes to the fresh air as fast as he can, dodging all the people on his way to the balcony. it's a bit chilly but max always liked the cold, so he braces himself against the wall, sighing. he thinks of next vacation when he hears a gasp and shocked: 'maxy?'

max turns his head so fast, he gets a whiplash; his eyes widen at the sight of a way too familiar man. daniel hasn't changed at all - same big energy exudes from him even when he looks shocked, same dark curly hair, same idiotic mustache, same pretty brown eyes. daniel has changed a lot - his tan is even more prominent against his all white outfit, his shoulders are broader, chest bigger; he looks aged up, mature and - fuck. he still looks like everything max will ever want. daniel also stares back at him, blatantly checks him out and max hopes he's not hallicunating by the flicker of desire he sees in his eyes.

'it's really you,' there's awe in daniel's voice as he takes one step closer. scent of his fresh and citrusy cologne hits max and he shudders, which dan mistakens for being cold. 'oh, are you cold? you can take my jacket.'

'i don't need your jacket,' max bites out because he- he doesn't know. what is happening? what daniel is doing here? he came back tot he city? how is he supposed to act? he can't pretend like nothing happened and he's not about to be all nice. part of him wants to punch daniel in the face and another one wants to push him against the wall and slot their mouths together.

daniel's face crumbles and he takes a step back. 'max, i...' running fingers through his hair, daniel sighs heavily. 'we haven't seen each other in over a decade. i- can we talk?'

'about what?' max can't keep venom out of his voice even when he tries. it's simply impossible to look at daniel and not feel.. anger. guilt. jealousy. sadness. he feels everything and he's never been good with emotions in general. daniel looks good, like he has his life together and maybe has a wife and two kids and a big dog-

'fuck, max, about anything!' daniel lets out, throwing his hands in the air. 'i haven't seen you in so long-'

'whose fault is that?' max asks, raising his eyebrow. he knows it's childish. knows he should act mature and like he put it all behind him, but that'd be a lie. 'i'm not the one who-'

'you blocked me.' daniel interrupts, voice forced and strong. 'you are the one who cut me off, max.'

'i had my reasons.' max hisses, tensing up. 'you know them very well.'

and this is it. he thinks daniel is going to roll his eyes and leave him now, tell him that he is an idiot and a child for stucking up on this for such a long time and he'd be right, max knows. only daniel doesn't do any of that; he slumps against the wall, closing his eyes and pinching bridge of his nose. his whole posture screams defeat and for a wild second max wants to step close and hug him, comfort him, because this is still daniel, his daniel, but-

'this is very long overdue but i do want to apologize.' daniel's voice is muted and max has to step closer to be able to hear him. when daniel looks up, his brown eyes are full of regret and max's chest tightens. 'i was a fool, maxy. still am right now, i think. i got scared, you know? i knew i loved you but i always was a big brother figure for you. you always looked up at me and called me when you needed support. when you told me all of that i just- i honestly thought you were confusing everything. of course it was wrong of me to say what i did. i know that now, many therapist sessions after.' daniel chuckles sadly, shaking his head. 'and then you blocked me and i couldn't reach out and i lost all contact with our mutual people and.. yeah. then i learned through my mom that you started dating some nice block and,' he shrugs. 'i mean, why bother, yeah? she said that your mother is very happy for you and who i am to come back to your life? so i let it go, maxy. i-'

'don't call me that,' max lets out, shaking a little. his heart is beating twice as fast as usual and he really can't wrap his head around what he heard. 'don't- i am not maxy to you.'

max wants to cry. seeing daniel in flesh and hearing maxy from his mouth is too much, too intimate, it reminds him of everything sacred in his chest. maybe daniel feels it. feels all the conflicting emotions, can see how max is trying to pull himself together. or maybe it is just daniel, who always knew max better than max knew himself because he smiles sadly and reaches out to take max's hand in his. 'you will always be my maxy. we both know it.'

and it shouldn't be that easy. max should argue and fight and tell daniel to fuck off and watch him beg. max should walk away and not give a second chance. but max only hears 'i knew i loved you' over and over again in his head and his heart can't let it go. a hole named daniel in his heart tears open, leaking all the feelings, filling his heart with all the longing. he's breathing heavily and when daniel gently cups his face in his hands, all max's resolve crumbles. daniel looks at him like he's precious, like he always looked at him since the day they became friends - with reverance and awe. 'how i missed those beautiful blue eyes,' daniel whispers, stroking max's cheekbones with his thumbs. 'god, look at you. i'm sorry, max. i'm thirty two and i'm still an idiot. for what it's worth though, i never forget you. and we can go our own ways now, but max...' daniel brings their foreheads together, 'maxy, sweetheart... if there's even a slight chance of you not walking away right now.. god, the things i'd do to have you back. will you forgive me, max?'

it shouldn't be that easy. only it is. max nods and then he's in daniel's arms and life feels complete, finally. life goes on but this time with daniel in it and it's- it's better than he would've imagined. because life with daniel is bright. it's him teasing dan about his age and then getting punished for it in bed so good, he has trouble sitting the next day. it's him waking up in the middle of the night to smack dan's chest to get him to stop snoring. it's him having every single accomplishment of his celebrated like he won an award, because dan says that every little thing about him matters. it's him having someone to fall into, to lean on, always, all the time. it's him getting serenaded in the mornings because dan is in love and he wants max to know it. it's everything what max kept somewhere deep in his chest with 'dream' tag on because he never thought that this would ever be true. but when the very first thing that daniel does in the mornings is to roll over and plant a kiss on max wherever he can reach first with a whispered 'morning, my maxy, my sweetheart' - he knows that reality is so much better than dreams.

a/n: this one...sucked the life out of me. my fucking god. like i made myself sad with this and i don't know why i do this to myself, but hey, ending is great!! right?? - nini

my other formula 1 works are here

my seventeen works are here

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sin and Holy

Summary: Lorgar wants revenge on Guilliman, but ends up becoming obsessed with his lover, deifying her.

Lorgar Aurelian/fem!Reader (Roboute Guilliman/fem!Reader background)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, possessive behavior, kidnapping, religious kink, foot fetish, voyeurism

Author's note: Blame our mind worms of "lorgar foot worship plotline".

Word count: 2017

Song: Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin

Everything I've ever done Everything I ever do Every place I've ever been Everywhere I'm going to It's a sin

The end of the perfect city marked the beginning of a new and better world. But not one world, city or even house is built in a short time. Everything requires time and human will. Lorgar Aurelian understood this while he was looking for answers to his questions.

And even with the acquisition of true faith in Chaos, he knew that victory would only come with time. He wouldn't be able to defeat the Emperor right away. Bring the gifts of the four gods to the Galaxy. Just like he won’t be able to get you right away.

You immediately caught his attention. Roboute Guilliman's personal remembrancer, whom he took with him everywhere. The sightless would say that the mortal girl is too talented. Envious people would laugh at the fact that the primarch of the Ultramarines turned arrogant. But Lorgar knew who you were. Chaos told him.

Lover of Roboute Guilliman. A secret that his brother kept from everyone. Even from the Emperor. If Lorgar had been quick to anger, he would have told the primarchs about you. Would separate two lonely souls. But he did not dare to do this. It wasn't time yet. But soon he would make his brother grieve and suffer. He would have destroyed what was dearest to his heart, as he did with the Monarchy.

“I read your poems,” you carefully strike up a conversation with the primarch, clasping your hands. Your look is innocent and full of sincere kindness. Not admiration or awe, no. You saw him. His soul. - “They are wonderful. In truth, your poems calmed me in hard times.”

You don't flatter or mock him. Lorgar doesn’t need to glance around the room to understand that you approached him yourself. Without Guilliman's knowledge. The bastard who dared to smile at Aurenlian when he was forced to kneel humiliatingly. Anger almost covers the man, but your embarrassed smile dispels the rage like wind blows away fog.

"Thank you." - The primarch smiles softly, fascinated by your gentle influence. “The next time we meet, I will bring you a new work that no one has seen yet. I'm sure it will change the entire Imperium."

Aurelian was above mortals, he was a primarch and the chosen one of Chaos. And yet he was wrong. He could never hurt you. Because he loved you. Stronger than Roboute. Tighter. More furious. Almost to the point of obsession, consuming his soul.

You were beautiful. Your smooth movements were like a soft wind, and your voice was like the whisper of leaves. A soft, gentle light emanated from your soul. Like a ray of sunshine on the water. Your kindness and sincerity of words were like music or scripture. How can he wish evil upon such a beautiful and divine being?

And how can someone not notice your beauty? Not to value and treat as if you are worth nothing? But his brother exceeded all expectations. Through the warp, Lorgar watched as Roboute spent time with you like ordinary mortals. You talked heart to heart, laughed and sometimes even argued. And on special evenings, the man would please you while you gave yourself to him without reserve.

Your body bent on the silk like a reed in the wind, your skin covered in hot sweat. You moaned muffledly, holding onto the headboard with force. Lorgar couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, absorbing your figure, desperately trying not to look at Guilliman’s head between your legs.

While you two indulged in sin, Aurelian, with the help of the forces of Chaos, watched over you. Insatiably and greedily, feeding the laughing Prince of Pleasure with his torments. It seemed to the man that he would make a sound as soon as you opened your mouth in a pre-orgasmic state... but the miracle ended when Guilliman decided to stop and looked at your irritated face with a smile.

“You did this again! I beg you, please, one day finish it!” - you giggle and throw a pillow at the primarch, unable to be angry with him for long. Roboute defends himself from the attack with his hand and shrugs. His eyes sparkle with merriment and his smile is self-confident.

“Can’t help it. I love teasing you too much.”

Roboute leans on you with his whole body, and you continue to laugh into his chest, hugging his warm body tightly. Not noticing Lorgar's bestial gaze, full of black rage. But he could do nothing but continue to watch as Guilliman began to enter your holy gates.

It wasn't enough! You deserved better. Real worship, not primitive sentimentality. And Lorgar was eager to show you this. Longed to touch. Inhale the smell of your hair, feel your sweat and tears on your tongue. Feel the warm skin under his palms. Hear quiet moans.

He wanted you to let him love you. Wanted you command him to praise you, deify you and worship you. And he wanted you to beg him for ascension until you both burned in the fire of desire.

But you don't. After all, you are a kind and beautiful girl, whose soul barely casts a shadow in the Immaterium. But bright as a ray of sunshine, which he want to touch. You are too innocent and pure to turn your attention to a primarch mired in the mud. And so he has to act on his own.

Horus's betrayal came like thunder from a clear sky. What a pity for Guilliman that it was at this time that you decided to visit your family and went to your home world on the ship of the Rogue Trader. Lorgar kindly provided you with protection, assuring you that you would be safe on Fidelitas Lex.

And it was true. You weren't in any danger. Lorgal had enough strength to protect and hide you from all the horrors of the Galaxy. And to his delight, he has enough time to spend time alone with you. This is still a relatively calm time for now. To know you. To feel. To open.

“I heard about what happened on Khur. - you stammer, your eyes turned to the floor, full of regret. - I'm sorry. It's horrible. What you went through and how the poor people suffered. Roba- Lord Guilliman did not want to do this, he was following orders.”

“Let what is past remain in the past. I hold no grudge against my father and brother. - the primarch whispered half-truths like an insidious snake. Still, he was grateful to the fall of the Monarchy for leading him to the real truth. - And I don’t want you to be sad. This is between me and Roboute. It has nothing to do with you.”

You look up at him and Lorgar can hardly contain a sigh of admiration. Surprisingly, you, unlike most mortals, were not amazed by his greatness. However, this had the opposite effect. It was Urizen who was amazed by you.

“You are very kind.” - you smile softly, like a mother, seeing the child’s face for the first time. - “Even in this dark time, I am grateful to meet you. I will never forget this moment.”

And although you may now shake with fear at the sight of the primarch and the Word Bearers, Lorgar knew that everything would change. He believed that you would rediscover your love for him. Unfortunately, he had to use... force after the Drop Site Massacre. You were not a prisoner, but you will still have to be kept locked up for some time. For your own good.

He can’t help but admire your beauty, your radiant soul. How you are in only a white nightgown (Lorgar got rid of all the clothes with Ultramarines colors) after walking around the room, run onto the red silk bed. How your pure image merges with sinful chambers.

The man smiles softly and approaches you, forcefully squeezing a basin of clean water in his hands. He has waited so long for this day when you can become his. When a primarch can touch the greatness of a mortal girl.

“Lorgar,” you say his name quietly, trying to calm him down. But the man just clenches his teeth, feeling like everything in his lower abdomen is filled with sinful lead. - “P-please, don’t do this. I’m sure Roboute will forgive you, you are brothers after all.”

You no longer call him Lord Guilliman. You're still in love with him. What a shame. It's making his teeth hurt. But Lorgar, with tenacity worthy of a primarch, continues to smile at you, kneeling. He doesn't want to scare you even more. You are tender and fragile, he must take care of your holiness.

“The floor is dirty, and you walk on it completely barefoot,” - he himself took the shoes from you. A sharp impulse that the primarch himself did not understand. - “Please, let me wash your beautiful feet with clean water.”

His voice gradually becomes lower from the dark secret desire and you, whining, sit down at the very edge, dangling your legs. And like a righteous soul, you try not to tremble or make sounds as the primarch lifts your skirt, all the way to your knees, which he kisses in turn.

Lorgar sighs heavily, fighting the temptation to lick your whole legs. But he still takes your foot and gently massages it in the water. Alas, this action only inflames the furious heat within him. Those little feet, dainty heels and tiny toes. An absolutely exquisite and elegant piece of art. He is so absorbed in what he is doing that he almost doesn’t hear your voice.

“Please let me go. F-For him, duty comes first. H-he will protect Terra.” - you sob from the way Lorgar squeezed your limb. - “Roboute will not look for me, Lorgar. He won’t.”

The world freezes and even the Immaterium trembles from the overabundance of the primarch’s feelings. How terrible agony and destructive rage gives way to peace. Calmness. By grace. And it's all because of you.

"Yes. He won't save you." - his gentle words, designed to calm you down, only make you more sad. And the primarch cannot help but admire your suffering as a righteous martyr. Which only plunges him deeper into sin. - “And this is his greatest mistake.”

Lorgar carefully brings your washed foot to his mouth and kisses the tip of your toe Before wrapping his mouth around it, sucking gently with moan. His mouth filled with saliva, and a shiver of excitement and awe ran through his body at the fact that he was able to touch you. To your wonderful feet that carried you through this mortal world. He was ready to kiss every piece of ground you walked on.

But instead, filled with your blessing, he gently kisses your foot, licking and biting. Every toe of yours, every vein line on your skin. Lorgar bites your ankle lightly and foreign blood seeps onto his tongue. Tastes like heaven.

The primarch looks up at you pleadingly, studying your face, wet with tears. Is this a vision of the future, a trick of the eye, or is your soul shining brighter than usual? He didn't know. But Lorgar was sure that he saw a halo above your head, which his brother stubbornly did not notice, treating you like an ordinary mortal woman. But Lorgar is different. He won't allow you to be treated like that.

He was and will be a sinner. He was always blamed for everything. But you gave him hope. And he will fully thank you for the healing that you brought to his soul. He will put you on a pedestal above the rest of the world. After all, this is exactly what you deserve. You just don't know yet.

The words fall from his bloodied lips so quietly that they are almost inaudible. But you hear. You can’t help but hear and you cry, choking with tears. Praying for help from all the saints from the books you have read, denying that you became one of them for the primarch who kidnapped you.

“Let me worship you.”