#i wanna write sonnets about his beauty

[irlbkgs]

stan in a white lacey slip, stan with knitted thigh highs, stan in kitten heels, stan with garter belts, stan with the scars around his face and red cheeks and freckles from summers spent at the quarry, scarred hand from the pact, stan with a little bralette and some chunky jewelry, his bony wrists even more prominent under a couple bangles, stan with messy eyeliner, stan in a sundress, stan wearing mom jeans and a graphic tee, stan in loafers, stan in docs, stan with crooked teeth and a broken nose that was never corrected, stanley stanley stanley!!

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you. 

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch. 

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced. 

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team. 

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet. 

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?” 

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back. 

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.” 

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.” 

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say. 

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.” 

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.” 

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit. 

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.” 

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.” 

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you. 

“I–” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.” 

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.” 

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed. 

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about. 

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe. 

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.” 

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi. 

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek. 

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time. 

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

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes” 

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.” 

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.” 

“What do you know about Othello?” 

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.” 

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.” 

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted. 

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.” 

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.” 

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid. 

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it. 

Part 2

[littlemisskittentoes]

Year in Review: Favorite Lines

thank you for my darling @happiness-of-the-pursuit for the tag! this was so much fun, it was so lovely going back to some of my earlier fics!

RULES: there are no rules! I am quite literally making this up as I go so please don't take this too seriously ksjhdkh. feel free to share your top three/top five/however many favorite snippet(s)/line/quotes/paragraphs from your published fics (or wips, I don't care!) and don't forget to share the link of course! see below for an example.

from boxing with no gloves

“I can’t… I can’t handle us being my parents, H. I don’t know how to not be in love with you. I don't want to have to learn.”

from i'd be smart to walk away (but you're quicksand)

Alex is responsive and giddy under Henry’s mouth, back arching against his hand. Henry wants to preserve it in the empty champagne bottle. Alex’s skin is burnished gold, stark against the white of the sheets beneath him. Henry wants to paint it, memorialize it in an ornate frame. Alex’s head tips back and his mouth spills moans into the quietness around them like holy water. Henry wants to drown in it.

from you paint dreamscapes on the wall

Henry studied Alex like he was his new favorite book. Like the fall of his head hitting the pillow when Henry bit into his skin held some sort of secret woven between the lines. Like the rush of Alex’s breath into the air around them was a new kind of sonnet, painstakingly crafted to the right meter and rhythm. Henry knew him inside and out.

from you call the shots babe (i just wanna be yours)

Henry thinks he’d untangle his own veins from his muscle, reknit them into something intricate and beautiful, and offer them to Alex with bloodstained fingers and a plea in his smile if it meant Alex would take it from his hands. He thinks he’d cleave himself apart and string up the tattered parts if it meant keeping Alex’s attention on him. In the grand scheme of the things Henry is willing to do for Alex, jostling himself into his lap almost seems like cheating.

from i know heaven's a place (i go there when you touch me)

It’s filthy, stupidly hot, something entirely vulgar. Still, Alex knows there’s a hum in every one of their combined muscles. A mutual understanding between them all that this is something good. A sacrament and a homecoming rolled into one. 

from many times, many ways

They fall together in a billow of sighed laughs and greedy grabs for one another. Henry holds him close, and Alex kisses him back like he’s something prayerful. And this… This is celebration too. 

and a few fun nuggets from upcoming wips!

from don't you call him baby

But the thing about loving Henry is that he understands now, too, that Henry had planted ivy in his chest, something consecrated in whip smart jibes and soft touches, that Alex never realized his body was capable of growing. It has branched out of him, expanding his muscles and lengthening his bones, covering every inch of who he once was and fostering something more in its place.

from it always leads to you (in my hometown)

For Alex— How should I tell you that I have never known myself better than when I see your tells woven through my mirror? That I’d never recognized  my own laugh until it bled  at your pry? How is it possible, that even now, with this foreign age  oaked into your eyes  and your unmistakable drawl  resurrected to something new, your phantom fingerprints  along my skin are still  the only part of myself  I’ve been able to bear loving? Maybe a better man would  find away to love outside of you.  But, darling, the chance of your heart against mine has always made me reckless.

i would LOVE to see your favorite lines! @matherines @affectionatelyrs @inexplicablymine @read-and-write- @gayrootvegetable @rockyroadkylers @wordsofhoneydew @anincompletelist @songliili @hgejfmw-hgejhsf 💖

[neonbeloved]

okay no this looks so surface level but i want to deep dive it so bad. 

c!aimsey being the soldier; i mean they were “the towns knight” yes but c!aimsey fought through so much in her story. she fought through life, a life where she has a dead brother, no true family to rely on that we know of, and was alone and wandering around for a long time. she helped make the smp and create friendships, she fought for her beliefs and fought to live a wonderful life. she battled her choices of staying or leaving and did her best to protect her loved ones. of course, as most soldiers do, aimsey failed to save someone. she failed to save c!guqqie. she learned of the internal war c!guqqie fought and failed to save her from it. the towns knight unable to protect anyone really, everyone slowly walking away from the town she put so much into. the story she created was suddenly a fairytale, forgotten and locked away, the knight/soldier left to be nothing but a whisper to the wind. c!aimsey not only fought but she lived through the aftermath of a battle as well. unable to save c!guqqie, she lived through her regrets and dealt with the passing of a loved one. she carried on, she continued fighting through life, and she eventually moved on and continued a good life. she made peace with her regrets, with the horrors she faced, and lived as peacefully as she could. the forgotten soldier who never really found home, her only home was lost to the earth. im not speaking about the town.

au!aimsey as the poet; this one is actually so interesting!!! i love that au!aimsey is the poet. he is the demon, he is supposed to be cruel and awful and for a time he was. it was never something he wanted to be but something he thought he needed to be. by all accounts, according to his family lineage and his role in society, he should be the soldier or the king; not the poet. why would a demon, a prince from hell, be a poet? au!aimsey is an incredible poet. he is not particularly profound, nor the greatest at his craft, but he is able to see the beauty of life and admires it from afar. he has a unique view that some don’t, he wraps sweet nothings into glittering sentences and can create a masterpiece when he tries. he is but a lovesick poet writing a sonnet for his partner. i like that the poet really ties into his role as the lover within ausmp, it’s really sweet :) but of course, the poet “he will slay you with his tongue” knows how to use his words as a weapon. his words can shoot to kill when he’s mad and often do. he can hurt just as easily as he can love. 

o!aimsey as the king; interesting. i mean of course we can go surface level with o!aimsey is a prince of the end and acts like a king. but, i wanna go into it cause i think i can still put more into it. o!aimsey wants to be the king but he knows that he is not. this is not a bad thing, it was what he was raised to be and where he believes he belongs. he has the qualities of a king, he is loyal when he wants to be and he is outspoken, he is righteous and proper. he wears a crown and parades around the smp like he owns the place. end believes that end has no flaws, or that’s at least what end tells us. but a true king is one who is kind, compassionate, a leader, and has a desire to help. a king needs to be able to have empathy for their subjects and needs to take the responsibility of others. i believe these are all qualities o!aimsey is slowly, *very slowly*, growing into over time. o!aimsey is acting how end thinks a king should behave; perfect. but eventually (if his story continues long enough to permit) i believe end can grow into what a true king is and learn a lot from the people around end. a crown does not make a king, the impact on the people around them does. i hope o!aimsey can learn that someday, it would be nice :) 

soldier, poet, king

[joheunsaram]

Heart telegrams + Heart box + Pink

Thank you 😊

Jeon Jungkook Hates Parties (jjk)

summary - Jungkook hates going to parties. That is until he meets you at one.

pairing - shyboy!Jungkook x Reader

rating - PG

word count - 1.3k (I think lol)

genre - fluff, college!au

warnings - none just a very awko taco whipped jk, also drinking and marijuana use reference

a.n - I hope you enjoy this fluffy first dateish drabble anon! 💜

Let me know what you think! Special shoutout to @sujigguk for the pic suggestion 💜

-

Jungkook hated parties with a passion. He hated the crowds, the loud overplayed music, the stench of sweat everywhere. He hated it all. So why was he now wedged next to a couple making out on a couch that held stains he didn’t want to think about?

The short story was because he knew you would be here. At least that was the reason he hadn’t left yet.

The long story? Well Jimin may or may not have dragged him here under false pretenses, promising him a bro gaming night at his frat house, only for it to be some kind of Valentine’s hookup party, complete with nauseating heart balloons everywhere. It would explain why he was wearing a hoodie two sizes too big and sweatpants that he hadn’t taken off for the past two days. Jimin was a class A traitor.

Nursing his third beer of the long night, he wished he could gather the courage to talk to you. Instead he sat uncomfortably watching as you laughed with your friends, the two campus celebrities, RM and Suga. If you were intimidating, your company was more so and Jungkook didn’t know why he was torturing himself so.

One more drink, he promised himself. One more drink and he would call an Uber and go back to his comfortable reality where he stalked you on Instagram instead of real life. At least on Instagram his palms didn’t sweat at the prospect of you turning his way.

Downing his cup, he walked into the kitchen to grab his last drink. If he couldn’t get you, he would at least try to mooch off as much free alcohol off of Jimin and his brothers as he could.

“Hey Jungkook,” a saccharine voice called him and his world halted. He didn’t know if he was wasted or if someone had spiked his drink with a hallucinogen but there was no way you were talking to him, let alone calling his name. He stared at you dumbfounded and you just giggled, the pretty trill embedding itself into his brain. He’d be hard pressed to ever forget that beautiful sound. He would probably write a thousand sonnets to it as soon as he got to his dorm room.

“Jungkook?” you called again, and in his hurry to respond, he dribbled the beer down his sweater, earning another one of your pretty laughs.

“Sorry… you know me?” His shock was not inconspicuous in the least, voice trembling just like his hands.

“We sit next to each other in FINE103,” you giggled, a hand covering your mouth as your eyes disappeared into perfect crescents that accelerated his heart. “Of course I know the cute boy next to me!”

“Cute… boy?” he asked, pointing to himself and then looking behind him against his best intentions. There was no way you could actually be talking about him. If anything he was a weirdo… a creep who always pretended to pay attention in class when in reality he was busy sneaking glances your way, imagining what it would be like to hold your hand, if only once.

“Sorry! I’m a little drunk,” you grinned widely, hand covering it up as soon as the smile blossomed over your features, and Jungkook was so so weak.

“Me too,” Jungkook replied, a hand going to his ear to determine if he was as flushed as he felt. The burning heat on his fingertips signified that yes, yes he was.

“Wanna hang out?” you asked easily, as if the question didn’t just make his heart stutter. You couldn’t have known the effect you had on him, otherwise you wouldn’t have just as easily grabbed his hand, guiding him to your little group of friends.

The conversation he had with the other men wasn’t bad. It was actually fun, the four of you discussing the latest Marvel movie, something Jungkook was very much well versed in. It carried on for a while, till the campus radio hosts bid their farewell in search of some weed to loosen themselves up before their show at 2 am.

Their absence left Jungkook alone with you and although he had been an avid participant earlier, he was suddenly rendered mute — your proximity much too intoxicating for him to form words. However, you seemed at ease, turning the conversation to your classes and how hard it was to sketch a person from memory — your last FINE103 assignment.

“I’m sure I made that idol look like a distorted meerkat,” you lamented, leaning closer to him on the couch you shared. “It was almost a hate crime!” you exclaimed suddenly, gasping loudly and Jungkook couldn’t help bursting into laughter at your adorable conclusion.

Even though his heart was still beating as if he was in the middle of a boxing match, somehow you put him at ease. He was never one for starting conversations, preferring them to be handed to him, and it was as if you knew him because you kept asking him questions, slowly coaxing him out of his shell. Till his last drink became two more and he had spent the better part of the night talking to you, learning about you.

You liked to watch sunrises over sunsets, you preferred old school hip hop, hated mumble rap and sketching even though you took a lot of art courses, and your favourite movie was Your Name — same as Jungkook. He had held you on such a pedestal in his head that it was surprising to find things in common, to learn that you were normal, just like him. He could see the two of you becoming friends, sharing homework, texting during class, studying together. That is, until a simple sentence halted all his thoughts.

“You know, I’ve had the biggest crush on you since I saw you drawing that adorable dog in week two,” you commented nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t stopped his world on its axis. He was sure he would stutter if he opened his mouth, so with an ever deepening blush, he just stared at his drink, hoping he wasn’t dreaming this moment up.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that,” you backtracked, smacking yourself on the lips in repentance. It looked like it hurt so Jungkook followed his instincts, gently grabbing your wrist to stop the movement.

The moment he did so, however, it was as if he was seeing you for the first time, your gaze locked onto his. He didn’t know how long the two of you stared at each other, but he couldn’t look away, hellbent on memorizing each freckle on your face.

“You have a freckle under your lip,” you whispered, eyes dropping to his lips and Jungkook had to hold his breath lest he wilted into the wind. But then he was looking at your lips, gulping at how pretty they looked, lipstick smeared away a little from the middle, making them that much more enticing. Never in his wildest dreams would he have conjured up his dream girl being so close to him, your finger slowly raised in his direction till you were lightly caressing his lower lip, tracing it, leaving behind tingles he felt all the way to his toes.

He didn’t realize he was still holding your wrist until with a burst of courage he was using it to pull you closer, meeting your lips with his briefly, if only to break the spell you had on him. Yet when you looked away shyly, giggling nervously, he fell even deeper, his hand leaving your wrist to bravely lace his fingers with yours. Giddily, it seemed, you scooted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, hand squeezing his tight, and Jungkook felt as if your giggles were contagious, coaxing his own from deep within his chest where his heart bloomed a thousand times it size.

“I like you,” he whispered into your hair, hoping his confession would be muffled into incoherence, yet still wishing you’d reciprocate.

“I like you,” you granted his wish, fingers playing his in your lap as you turned to look at him, shyly pecking his lips just as he had done earlier. It helped give him the courage to wrap his arm around you, resting his head on top of yours as he cuddled into you on the lumpy frat house couch.

Jungkook hated parties with a passion, but he was so glad he came out to this one. If only so he could fulfil his dreams at least once.

-

Hope you enjoyed the fluff! For more check out my masterlist 🥰

[sickness-health-all-that-shit]

Your eyes are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen 

(originally written as part of this prompt challenge)

They’re lying together in bed, on their sides, facing each other. Spent, sated, happy. Just looking into each other’s eyes, pleased smiles on their faces. Ian’s been stroking Mickey’s cheek over and over with his thumb.

“Your eyes are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen,” Ian says softly, earnestly.

Read under the cut or continue on ao3

“Fuck off, man.” There’s no heat in Mickey’s words. He’s almost giggling, in fact, thinking how Ian says the weirdest fucking things when he’s sleepy and has just gotten laid.

“I mean it, Mickey,” Ian insists, serious. A small frown has appeared on his forehead as he tries to come up with the right words to express how he feels. “I don’t know why I don’t tell you all the time. ‘Cause I definitely think about that all the time. So, so pretty…”

Mickey hates it, but he starts blushing at Ian’s words. He really doesn’t like that. Blushing like a fucking girl.

The glee is now fully gone from his mood. This isn’t funny anymore.

He needs Ian to cut it out already. He needs Ian to stop.

He pulls back a bit from Ian’s touch, like Ian’s hand is burning him.

“Why are you being so fuckin’ weird?” There’s reproach in the way he says it, in his tone. It means something like Why are you embarrassing me? What am I supposed to say to that? We don’t talk like that to each other, so why are you starting now?

But Ian seems to be ignorant of all those complaints. He just keeps staring into Mickey’s eyes and rubbing his cheek with his thumb.

Until Mickey averts his gaze, that is.

“Hey.” Ian’s brow furrows. Mickey looks upset. He doesn’t understand why Mickey’s upset. “What’s wrong?”

“You just—” Mickey bites the corner of his lips, searching for words. “You can’t just say that shit to me, man.”

“Why not?” Ian asks. “It’s true, and I want you to know. I want you to know how I feel about you.”

Mickey’s expression softens slightly. “I know how you feel about me.”

“Well, I want you to know how I feel about your eyes. And your mouth, and your nose, and your arms, and every single little part of you.” Ian moves his gaze down Mickey’s body as he speaks, playfully grabs the muscle of his bicep a little. “Why’s that so bad?”

“I dunno.” More lip-biting. “Feels weird.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Never had anybody say nice shit about my eyes. Or anything else about me.”

Ian twists his lips. He hadn’t really considered that. There was never much love and validation to go around in the Milkovich house. Not like the Gallaghers had in their home.

“But does stuff like that feel weird coming from me?”

Mickey grins slowly. “Not really. You always were a sappy motherfucker.”

“Shut up.” Ian lightly smacks Mickey’s chin with the back of his hand. “What I mean is, if it makes you feel weird when I say stuff like that, I won’t. You just gotta tell me, okay?”

Mickey chews on his lip in thought, frowning.

“I’ll still think all that, though,” Ian adds with a smirk. “I’ll be writing fucking sonnets about your beauty in my head. You just won’t have the privilege of hearing them.”

It’s Mickey’s turn to shove playfully at the side of Ian’s face, a big smile stretched on his face–both their faces, as they wrestle around on the bed for a while.

Then Mickey is serious again. “I don’t know. Maybe you could…say something every once in a while. If you want. And I’ll see how I feel. I want—”

Mickey interrupts himself. Ian waits for him to finish his thought in his own time.

“I want that shit. I wanna know what goes on inside your head when you look at me. Especially if it’s nice shit. And I wanna try sayin’ nice shit to you, too.”

Ian smiles brightly at that. Leans in quickly and kisses Mickey’s nose obnoxiously. That makes them both erupt into laughter as they launch into another round of shoving each other on the bed and play-fighting.

Some things come more naturally to them than others. And Ian knows it’s going to take time for Mickey to get used to being appreciated and lavished with affection.

Ian can wait, though. They’ll learn and they’ll grow, together.

Just like always.

----

thanks to @shameless-notashamed for reading this over!

[autumn-oceanopromises]

@grimfox​:

speaking as someone who wrote predominantly dark, edgy, torn rippy lovelorn lovelost traumacausing traumacaused poetry before I started doing the count (I don’t remember the url which inspired me to start counting, but I’m fairly certain I started keeping count out of spite -- there was this dude called steven I think and his profile pic had a guitar who reblogged his own stuff to boost the note count, iirc, and I got jealous that he’d got up to 300+ while I was plugging away without numbers. anyway it means something very different to me now so I probably should thank him if he’s still around on tumblr. this was like ten years ago. eight. eight years ago.). I set myself a goal to write 10,000 poems to get me out of a less dark and more featureless stretching gloomy void, and although that number on my blog does say 9000 to go.... It’s really closer to 8000, or will be as soon as I hit (1000); there’s about 1000 lots darker, ragier, nihilisticer, frankly kinda narcississississticer poetry before the brackets started up. Technically the first 1000 was all that dark and desperate stuff, albeit mostly just raw ramblings, and the rest of this, definitely the last 500, has been all the shit that’s happened since then and while moving towards contentment, being happy, and being self-loved (since this gigantic anthology also involves at least three relationships, all the way through their romance and through their ending). In a lot of ways this poetry is my recovery or is at least signposts along the way. So if nothing else you know that it’s at least possible that being content doesn’t make other people lose writing.

......I got super sidetracked, but what I meant to say was - in regards to you: you won’t lose your poetry. You won’t, you won’t, you won’t.

You get more things to write about instead. Way more things. You don’t ever really lose the stuff you write about now. You just also get the climb, you get the peak, you get the times when you're on top of the world and you're so in love with someone or with the world and you want to capture it forever. you also get the frankly really fucking frequent backslides, you also get the moments where you catch your breath and you go, oh shit, the world is beautiful. My world is beautiful. I’m good (enough). She's gorgeous inside and out and I'm so damn lucky I can't even make words. My world is amazing and I get to see it and I get to be here. you get to look back at where you came from and damn, that’s a long way you’ve come but you haven’t gone anywhere at all at the same time. because truth is that none of us get happy endings with a snap of our fingers. we all had to, have to, work for it, the ups and the downs, the pulling ourselves away from the grasp of that shit that’s got a damn firm hold of us.

--and poetry is form: and the other reason why you won’t lose your poetry, is that poetry at the end of the day when the night falls is a skill, the way you’ve learned how to play with words, it’s seeing all the facets of them, seeing the way they bend and snap into place, nesting/bedding/ in sand, the twist of them and the rhyme of them knowing what rules to break and what rules you wanna break the feel and the flow and the flight and the rhyme and the form. and the form, whether it’s pantoums or free verse or sonnets or ghazals or duotyches or villanelles or haikus or tankas or shi or sagas or ballads or couplets or all the shallow and the deep stanzas of reversals and mirrors and hijacks and loveletters and collabs and messages and raps and songs; there’s so much ground to cover and so much to love and learn and freely explore and master. and you don’t lose that. you don’t lose your tips and tricks that make writing poetry easier and faster for you. and even if you do you can get them back again. So even if you go away, even if you take a hiatus for years and years because you’re happy, at last, you’re happy, you won’t lose your poetry.  

Because - at least, I feel this way, especially when it comes to poets and writing poetry - writing poetry is like a clam polishing a pearl. You get a bit of sand caught in the filters, an intrusive thought, kinda, and then you polish and polish until something comes out of it. sometimes you polish for like months, other times you give it one good scrub with the clam-cloth and dump it back in the ocean. Sometimes what comes out is a misshapen bead attached to like four other camel-hump beads, but you like it. Sometimes what comes out is a pearl and everyone starts craving it but it kinda looks like a flat ball to you. sometimes the flat balls start looking like pearls after the ocean’s had a go at it. I got faster and faster at polishing sand lumps that I kinda like for myself. You will too, if that’s what you want. sand lumps and lava lumps. I don’t know what I’m saying. Where did this metaphor go, wtaf.

I don’t know if you’ve ever read something by inkskinned? that open letter on your tumblr kinda reminds me of the secrets series she did, years back - the series that really propelled her gigantic rise (yes, her words 100% did it because her words are still mad beautiful ten years on, but also because it really was in the zeitgeist of tumblr poetry and prose of the time. i own her book. i love her stuff. please read her stuff if you haven’t already.) i was fortunate enough to do a collab with her when she was still collabing with people, before that gigantic and massive rise. maybe i’ll get to see you rise too. you definitely deserve it.

anyway. what i meant to say was: like the secrets series, you’re channeling something wider and vaster and beautiful, to put gorgeous words to what people put in your inbox. and maybe it feels like losing, right now, to be happy and loved and content, like it feels like you’d be losing a part of you that you find to be beautiful, maybe it’s the only thing right now that you feel is beautiful about you. because the dark is beautiful, even when it’s bloody and gory and raw and painful and visceral. but it’s not the only thing that is beautiful about you, and you won’t ever lose your poetry when you become loved and content and happy.

you only ever gain. you only ever gain.

if i become happy and loved and content, will i lose my poetry? stay tuned

[opalescient]

haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

-

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

-

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

-

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

-

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

-

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA ��💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

-

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

[thebiasrekkers]

The Witching Hour: Fly with Me

Pairing: idol! I.M. x POC Female

Type:  One Shot

Genre: Smut, Idol au

Links: FAQ || MONSTA X Masterlist || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

WC: 2.2k

Warning:  Switch!I.M, established relationship, unprotected sex, oral [f receiving], cockwarming, multiple orgasms, back at it with the Amazon position shenanigans [classic and kneeling], messydreamy sex, pining?? [he makes me wanna write poems and i don’t understand it. ;.;]

A/N : poem /spoken bolded words are mine. Moodboard by me. Again this mofo makes me flowery and fucking poetic. I don’t know why, that’s the vibe. So here’s another longer installation into this...series of moments. Wanna make your friends feel better? Write something for them. 

The Witching Hour - pt 1

Songs: Horizon - I.M.,  시든 꽃(flower-ed) - I.M

© thebiasrekkers (Admin T). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

A boy thinks about a girl that sets his soul ablaze. Thousands of miles separate them again, as they are want to do. The distance makes him frigid, unable to find warmth in the burn of the sun at high noon. He feels empty, void of even the most base emotions. He lives in a world of black, white, and brown alcohol with no ice. 

How do I see you?

Because the ice kills the burn, he wants the burn so that he can feel it. 

Strong. 

A boy thinks about a girl that sets his soul ablaze. The tapestry of the world passes him by as he travels to and fro. Faces are dark and bland, but he hears the sound of their jubilation. He hears the sounds of their admiration - for them. 

For him. 

Soft encased in steel.

His eyes are bright, nonetheless, as the flames of a performer burn within him. It races his blood, heats his skin, quenches a thirst now and again. But he misses her. He craves her. 

He wants her. 

Weary of the world.

A warm, sepia-toned vision fueled by heaven and hell. She gave him yin and yang. She gave him pleasure and pain. She offered, and he inhaled it as life itself. She gave him vibrancy, and he knelt at her feet. He prayed to her altar in the most earnest of ways. He prayed that she would continue to bless him. He prayed that she would continue to see that his world would be nothing without her inside of it. 

But yearning to find your place within it.

While inside of him - he longed to be inside of her. Complete and forgetful of the outside world, praying with her name falling from his lips. They sought enlightenment in the endorphin chase of their connected bodies. 

Beautiful to all but yourself

That was then - and now? Thousands of miles separate them, as they are want to do. 

Precious to me

--My Air--

Stop that. I can feel your mind wandering in my direction.

I see a goddess, regal. 

His phone vibrated on a desk in another hotel room. His eyes slid to the message that popped up across the screen. Lips lifted in the barest of smirks as his fingers swiped across the keyboard of his phone. He was writing sonnets, poems, and confessions. He erased them all, the overspill of his bleeding heart. 

And I am your throne.

--The Poet--

I miss you.

--My Air--

You always say that.

--The Poet--

I always mean it.

I am your gilded seat.

--My Air--

Kyun...

--The Poet--

Please. Come to me. 

“I’m so fucking selfish,” he muttered to himself with a bitter laugh. 

The phone was tossed to the side of the bed as he laid an arm across his forehead. The gentle patter of rain lulled him to sleep. He dreamed about random things, images of strange things twisted and warped inside of his subconscious. He finally zeroed in on the thing he wanted the most. Right before he could indulge in that wispy figure - his phone vibrated again. 

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes because he refused to believe the message - an address. He balked momentarily before grabbing a mask and his hat while shoving his wallet into his jeans. There’s apparent confusion on his face as he punched the button for an elevator. He was nervous and anxious by the time the Uber came around.

He bit into the tip of his fingernail as the ride crested into the thirty-minute mark. And then it was over. He was slightly outside the city. He paid the driver a hefty tip before stepping out into the rain. The modern cut of the two-story home seemed to loom ominously as he looked at his phone. He doesn’t care about the rain soaking him through as he texted her back. 

--The Poet--

I’m here.

Take your place upon me.

“So am I,” a familiar voice responds as the door opens. He’s at the top step, skin steaming as he reaches for her. He looks pitiful, letting the rain seep into his clothes. They stare at each other, erasing the world down to their existence. 

He claims her in a rush, breaking enough to lock the door. She pushes the jacket from his shoulders. He presses his wet body against hers, and he is whole. Their tongues tangle together as he dips enough to grab the back of her thighs. He maneuvers enough for the hat and shirt to be discarded. 

He was finally bare-chested, moist, and burning against the thin fabric of her t-shirt and flimsy pajama shorts. He could feel the heat of her against his abdomen. His fingers grazed through the soft coils of her hair. “How?” He ate at her mouth, teeth tugging at the sweet gloss of her bottom lip. “How are you here?” 

Her legs were locked with a vice grip at his sides. She shook her head, a finger placed to his lips. “Let me ease your burden,” she offered a dulcet purr of sound as he stepped back until his legs hit the edge of a bed. There was the scent of sandalwood and dragon’s blood in the air. A scattering of candles bathed them in soft light. All the things that called to his dark poetic heart. 

And face the world... 

He released her, letting her slide down the hard rippled planes of his body. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in the soft flesh of her stomach. His fingers dug desperately into her hips as he inhaled the scent of her. Her fingers ran through the wet strands of his hair. His fingers slid under her shirt, which she promptly removed. She reached for the waistband of her shorts, and he stopped her. 

She saw the hungry gaze in his eyes and let her hands fall away. She knew that look; he made sure she did. A soft smirk lifted the corner of her mouth. A fingernail raised the point of his chin. “Then make your offering.” 

He pressed his face against her covered heat. He knew there was nothing beneath these shorts. He could feel that wet spot growing beneath his lips. He ghosted over the pajama-covered imprint of her pussy. He knew its shape and its secrets. He opened his mouth and sucked at the cloth that kept him from that treasure. He pulled the fabric taut until it slithered between the lips of her pussy. He could taste her with each pull, his tongue snaking out to tease her clit. Sucking furiously until a wanton moan bubbled out of her. 

He yanked the shorts down while he leaned his back against the edge of the bed. He pulled her forward. That hungry took in the length of her body, a warm sepia tone glistening in the dark. 

And all his.

He palmed her ass, bringing her forward until his mouth was in a perfect position. The first tentative flick of his tongue had her thrusting toward his mouth. “Use me,” he said with another flick. “Take me.” The flat pad of his tongue pressed against her clit, sliding down toward the entrance of her sex. Trying to collect her taste, lewd wet sounds of his tongue stirring the slick that pooled. 

His cock was trapped in the tight wet fabric of his jeans. She settled over his face, looking down at him. He noted the look of possession in her eyes as she grabbed a handful of his hair. He moaned into her pussy, tongue out and stiff as she fucked herself on his face. A hand raised to capture a breast, fingers pinch tugging at her nipples. 

She switched from a slow, languid pace, steadily increasing as her pleasure built. He could feel the quiver in her thighs, the clench of her pussy on the tip of his tongue. She threw her head back as he pulled her forward. He opened his mouth wide to take all of her in. A rapid flick of his tongue and the sneak of a ring-studded finger had her crying his name. 

She fell forward, shaking as he pumped her through the explosion. He was sure he came in his jeans, and it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was inside of her. She gasped for air, her body shaking as she moved to the side to fall on the bed. She heard the thunder in her ears, and she was sure it was the storm outside. 

It couldn’t have anything to do with how he ate her like a main dish. Her eyes felt like marbles in her skull. She leaned up on her elbows as their gazes met. He slipped the finger covered in her essence in his mouth again. 

Her head tilted to the side as he stood, her foot lifting to press gently into the outline in his jeans. “Take them off.” 

Head high.

He reached for the button, the zipper, their gazes still locked. The band of Versace underwear was barely in the frame before he sprung up hard against his stomach. He felt her eyes on him as he grabbed the base of his cock. It was as if his body wept for her attention. 

She sat up, leaning forward, her tongue swirling to collect the taste of him. His eyes rolled shut as she lapped at the angry tip of his cock. He looked down as those plush lips engulfed the head. He prayed he wouldn’t blackout as she tried to take him all in. “Baby, fuck, not like this. I don’t know if I can last.” There was mischief in her eyes as she moaned. The vibration had him curling his toes into the floor. 

Because…

It happened fast - she turned and pushed him down on the bed. She flung her leg over his waist. He grabbed at his cock, holding it straight. “You’re beautiful.” 

She rubbed the slick of her pussy against the head of his cock. He grits his teeth as she lowered in small shallow pulls. Her hands pushed the shiny crimson-tinted coils above her head. Looking down at his face as she sucked him in bit by bit, inch by inch, with each swivel of her hips. 

Changkyun was no small feat to take in. 

She knew that he could kiss her cervix open if she wasn’t careful. His hands slid against her inner thighs as she rocked him into her body. The squelching noises echoed in the dark space of the room. Then finally, she had him completely and totally inside. She settled down on her throne, utterly full of him.

She rocked her hips in a slow drag, figure eight. He growled, digging painted fingernails into the meat of her hips. She worked her lower body, mouth open on a soft pant. He was in the best kind of agony, ready to cum at any second. “Make love to me,” he says, strained. 

Because to me…

She lifts up just enough to get his legs on the outside of her own. She rakes her nails down his inner thighs; takes great satisfaction feeling him pulse inside of her. She smoothes her hands up the rippled planes of his abs, rocking her hips into him. 

And he feels it, the switch in position as he wraps his legs around her. He could feel her clit sliding across his shaft. He could feel the drip of her arousal down his inner thighs. She moves her hands behind his knees, rocking her body into him at a brutal pace.

“You’re so pretty like this. Letting me fuck you so good like this.” She moans, feeling that molten pool in the pit of her stomach—the electricity at the base of her spine. “Tell me something pretty….” She uses his words against him. 

But he can hardly think watching her fuck him. Looking up at her like the amazon that she is. Vital, beautiful to everyone but herself, and all his. He reaches forward, grabbing more of her ass, forcing her to ride him just a bit harder. 

“You are my Queen.” He moans, pulling her down to devour her mouth. His legs lock around her as pussy quivers around him. She feels like home, and he never wanted to leave. “Come for me….” He breathes against her lips. “Come with me….” 

Their bodies crashed together as their voices rose without care. Lewd, wet body slapping sounds, breathing stops and starts. He cries out first, arms wrapping around her, holding him close to her. He shakes so hard, scared this is a sordid dream, as he chants her name like a prayer.

The orgasm rocks her, blurs her vision, fills her ears with the sound of his prayer. She feels like she’s left her body, but he holds her. He pours his load into her; it mixes with hers, streams down her thighs, and creams his cock.

They pant, drained and spent but locked in a sticky embrace. 

He can’t hear anything for the first few minutes. Her hips still held him captive, and the tiny undulations were driving him mad. Finally, he cups her ass, pushing into her with two long, deep strokes.

He cums again and sees stars. He sees his universe stretch out into the crimson coiled halo laid on his chest. He softens inside of her, but he stays. The aftershocks of their lovemaking sent shivers up his spine. He pushes the hair from her face. 

He watches her bite her lip, lifts her gaze to his, and he’s reminded once more. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Because you are the Queen of my soul.

[moonchildridden]

Don’t Say No The Series: a rant about how Fiat’s mom is a certified gaslighter, narcissist, obsessive, compulsive liar and downright crazy

Hello, beautiful people. Is moonchild here, awake at 12:10am of a Saturday because I can. Also, I miss sharing what I think with you guys, even if I only talked about one topic since I created this tumblr, so I am back here to drop some things tar are roaming around my head. But, this time, the topic (as you can see by the title) is another one.

I need to take this out of my chest while I still have the thoughts fresh in my mind or I might explode because of this. Usually, I take time to fully formulate what is going on in my mind, because I don't wanna people to take things out of context and I choose my wording carefully and think through all of my ideas before exposing them to other people but my levels of rage and indignation are too high for me to just sleep over this. So, consider me an impostor because today I'm gonna vent.

I never talked about Don't Say No The Series because I feel like everything that could've been said had already been said, so I just resort to watch in relative silence and just vibe with how healthy and wholesome the relationship between LeoFiat is (I could write sonnets about them at this point because they are that perfect) but since the last minutes of the last episode and the preview of episode 8, I've been having this sinking feeling that Fiat's mother would be a huge problem, either to Fiat only or to Fiat and everyone around him. First, my concern was that she would be the "homophobic relative", coming to spew all the shit we are very familiar with (as a queer person, we are ALWAYS expecting the people around that to be like that so I was preparing myself for that situation) but then I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and hear what she would have to say about why she disappeared from Fiat's life and decided to reappear after so long, right where he's putting his shit together; as the paranoid person that I am, I didn't feel like she could've be trusted. And then the episode started. And my confirmations just began to be confirmed.

(For the sake of understanding exactly what I am thinking about all this situation, let me break it down by moments)

First: her reaction when she sees Fiat.

The woman left Fiat when he was just a child. Putting that in evidence, I was expecting her to be a bit hesitant and weary of Fiat's reaction but her expressions made it seem like she was expecting Fiat to jump pf happiness, go all "son mode", hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek. Understandably so, because Fiat blocked all the memories related to his mom, after all he was abandoned by her, he's not as receptive as she was expecting him to be and her demeanor changed very fast, something like betrayal. The woman who abandoned her son when he was little, was feeling betrayed because he didn't remembered her. And what was that "how have you been?"; woman, you are talking with your son, who you've, for some reason, ABANDONED years ago, not someone who you haven't been talking for a few months. That was my first red flag.

Second: their conversation on the coffee shop.

For someone who's reaching someone whose relationship is not exactly on a good note, she's still acting like Fiat should be happy for her to be "back" and smiles like this is a happy reunion (I swear, I am not been salty and my thoughts are the most "impartial" I can have right now). She notices that Fiat is tense, as he should be, and chuckles as she pints that out but dropped her happy persona when she realized Fiat was not responding the way she expected him to do (the theme of expectation seems to the be tightly connected with her), to then ask him if he "was angry at her for only having looked for him now", to what Fiat answered that he wasn't (I firmly believe he actually wasn't, because the man idolizes his mother), to which she seemed to see that as an invitation to touch him and gets surprised when Fiat retreats his hand before she can touch him.

By this point, I was like "OK, I don't like her, because I don’t know what she wants and this uncertainty and doubt in my mind is not leaving me alone" but I decided to still give her the benefit of the doubt before starting the judgments, so I kept watching. This is where things started getting a little weird for me: she starts off by saying that it was her reactions were being cause for her being too hasty when they just met each other again and that of course Fiat would feel uncomfortable in seeing "this terrible mother" (to me, it feels like she was trying to paint herself as a person worthy of pity or something like that), making Fiat reassure her that he wasn't mad at her. After this, she goes on to say that she never wanted to leave him and that there wasn't a single day where she didn't regretted of doing what "that man" (Mait) told her to, that Mait choose Fay instead of her, so she had to go. OK, that's terrible, but here it seems like she wants to pinpoint the reason of why she left Fiat on Mait and Fay, suggesting that they had some sort of influence on her, capable on "forcing" her to do that (for some reason, I felt like she was trying to alienate him and make him see Mait as the big bad guy of the all story).

She continues to paint Mait as the bad guy, by saying that he prohibited her of seeing Fiat and that he was keeping an eye on her, as a way to keep them apart. Fiat asks why she only went to him now and she said that she had just found out that he moved out (meaning that she had some sort of way of getting info about Fiat and could've also tried to find ways to communicate with him if she really wanted) and went to see him secretly, then that Mait doesn't care anymore about Fiat because he left Fay live on the house and had a child with her, that he kicked Fiat the same way it did with her (again, trying to put Fiat against his dad and pity her instead); Fiat said that Mait didn't kicked him but she insists that Mait doesn't care about him (my thoughts in this scene were: "this woman is crazy, you can see it in her eyes"), that Mait is still selfish, only cares about himself and don't give a damn about their feelings (trying to put them in the same context, as people abandoned by Mait because of his decision to be with Fay, again parental alienation in course); she keeps bouncing back and forth between appearing fragile to Fiat and blaming Mait for them to be kept apart for so long.

During this conversation, the words “parental alienation” and “gaslighting” kept appearing in my mind and EVERY SINGLE WORD the woman said gave me major red flags. Like, the alarms were ringing higher than an Ariana Grande high note.

Third: the revelation on Leo's house.

Here is where things got really interesting, for the lack of a better word and instead of talk about everything that was shown there, I will say exactly what those scenes meant:

1. Her saying to Leo that Fiat didn't needed him, that she was all Fiat needs: she is tying to isolate Fiat from the people he loves and make him depend entirely on her. Again: SHE. IS. TRYING. TO. MAKE. FIAT. DEPENDENT. OF. HER! 2. "You are the only I love", "I am everything you need": emotional dependency and isolation. 3. "Your father doesn't love me anymore. He also doesn't love you": parental alienation. Parental alienation is, in simple words, the psychological manipulation one parent does to a child, with the objective of distance the child from the other parent, so she wants Fiat to think that him and his mom are "alone" in the world and only have each other, that Mait simply stands them because they live in the same house. 4. "No one wants you like me. I have only you, so you should only have me": dependency 5. "Your father doesn't care about you anymore", "No one loves you beside me", "Listen to only me": parental alienation. She is trying to cut all emotional ties Fiat have to his father and redirect it all to her. Put also emotional dependency in here. 6. "You must hate all women around your father, because they are the reason I can't be with you", "You must hate everyone", "No one loves you besides me": again, emotional dependency. Also, she is painting in Fiat's head (a child version of Fiat, don't forget that fact) the idea that no matter what happens, it is all Mait's fault and whoever he is in the moment. She was LITERALLY gaslighting a child!

Using the phrases said by Fiat’s mom, gaslighting can be defined as a subtle psychological violence that causes emotional instability, where the abuser lies ("Your father doesn't love me anymore. He also doesn't love you") distorts reality ( "You must hate all women around your father, because they are the reason I can't be with you") and manipulates the victim ("You are the only I love", "I am everything you need", "Listen to only me",  "No one wants you like me. I have only you, so you should only have me"). She checks every point mentioned there, so there is no doubt that that’s what she was doing.

Remember when I mentioned that I thought that she was crazy and all someone had to do was to look to her eyes? After Fiat says that he remembers what she said to her, the smile of pride she had on her face, like she was finally happy that Fiat was “coming to his senses” and that all Fiat “needed” was her, that she was “enough” for him. It was right there and then that the extent of the problems she was capable of causing really started to become visible. No wonder Fiat blocked all those memories and only kept the “happy ones” on the surface. No wonder Mait was willing to be hated by his own son and Fay was willing to take the blame for something she was not responsible for. No wonder Mait looked terrified after his conversation with Fiat. No wonder she was in a hospital and Mait practically forbid Fiat of seeing her.

Fiat’s mom is DANGEROUS! And I never thought I would say something like that but for a brief moment, I really would prefer her to be homophobic because that’s something we can “deal” with. Now, someone as dangerous as she is? Fiat needs protection from her.

Anyway, this was my rant, that turned out to be bigger than I expected. Honestly, I was really scared and apprehensive of how Fiat’s mother would turn out to be and I can’t deny that his episode subverted my expectations by 180 degrees. It was intense and by the preview, it is far from over.

[chussyracing]

☕ charles because I cannot help myself

Our sweetest baby, our little sunshine, the reason we wake up in the morning, our shared community girlfriend, our tiny little cherub, our sweet lil duckling, the cutest darling, the most polite babyboy, the snuggliest cuddle bug.

chrainrot (charles brainrot) under the cut

I can never put into words what he means to me, I like him so much it makes me look silly but I’m past the point of caring now. Everyone loves him (if they don’t, they’re simply not relevant for this conversation and they can die jealous of him) because he has this bright personality that makes u smile unintentionally. He gives everyone those heart eyes and smiles with that sweet soft look on his face whether he is talking to someone on his team or other drivers or in interviews or with fans. He adores his fans almost as much as we adore him, he will spend hours signing stuff just to make everyone happy, he will give out all the caps he brought with him to a race weekend just to give it to someone he meets, he will stop to take pictures although he is all sweaty and tired and hungry and what not. And he is the best brother to Arthur and Lorenzo and you can SEE how strong that bond is and it never changed with the fame, they are still the little boys who adore each other who won’t stop protecting each other although they are more grown up now.

He is so beautiful, like so beautiful he transcends sexuality. I haven’t liked LIKED a man in years and here we are. His hair is so soft and while other drivers ruin it with a new haircut or a ton of hair gel, it never happens with charles because somehow he still pulls it off (and when he takes of his balaclava and his hair is so sweaty and all over the place, some part of me always dies inside he’s just too pretty). His eyes are the shiniest little stars and they bear so many emotions in them they can make u cry or laugh or fall in love in seconds, he’s like a siren. His cheeks are asking to be held in your palms so you can feel it when he blushes underneath and when his dimples appear so u could poke them and make him giggle. His lips are so perfectly heart-shaped it makes u question if he is real or just a figment of your imagination. They look so soft and always so pink and he never stops licking them in interviews and it drives me absolutely crazy, i need to bite my fist just thinking about it. I will skip talking about the rest becasue again, I’m gay and I could genuinely write sonnets about the shape of his tiddies and about the purpose his thighs were shaped just like THAT. Let me just tell you they are perfect exactly the way they are they serve the purpose exactly how god intended. You can shit on his fashion sense all u want but i’m kinda digging it. He just pulls it off although I wouldn’t wear half the stuff in his closet (closet lol, no more gay jokes i know, i will shut up). You know how the clothes would look even better? on the bedroom floor. And his voice and his accent aww I could cry sometimes when he talks and i also wanna make a tape to listen to to fall asleep instead of a lullaby. He is so smart it only makes sense he can switch between like 6 languages. Idk what is bigger his brain his heart or his [redacted] (unrelated but one day we need to speak about his hands and fingers and rings and how he grips the wheel and how he stroked that trophy and how he plays piano gently and about the veins good lord take mercy on me)

Last but not least of course, he is such a talented driver. It was literally meant to be, he couldn’t be anywhere but in Ferrari. The fate threw everything at him and yet here we are, look at him thriving, look at him serving cunt, look at him being faster than anyone else on the track, look at him thinking about the race like a game of chess, knowing where to overtake anyone what is each driver’s weakness, where he gains and losts the most. He worked so hard on himself both mentally and physically and now they provided him with a car to shine and i can’t believe some people are only catching up now like sorry u uncultured swine why don’t u rewatch the whole 2017 f2 season and maybe u realize why he is called il predestinato. He can smash alfa 37902 B on his wheel while drivin 250 kmph, he can wave to the fans while speeding around the track, he has DEVILISH starts and can overtake from outside and from inside, he can pull out a perfect 360° and continue his lap unbothered and he can fucking pull xavi’s leg on the radio in the last lap of a race that ended prematurely for many drivers due to reliability issues. i am asking IS THERE ANYTHING THIS MAN CAN’T DO?

Send ☕ + [topic] for spicy opinions

[kurt-nightcrawler]

How to know if the lost girls have a crush on you

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐚𝐩! 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mentions of drug use and language

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I know requests aren’t open jddndjdj but I enjoy writing for the lost girls so enjoy!!

Darcy

Darcy is a sucker for romance

She’s a bit shy and awkward, despite her semi-scary looking demeanor 

(She’s 6’0 and has resting bitch face)

Darcy isn’t going to be super obvious or up-front about her feelings at first though

It will be the cliche “we’ve been friends for 10 years and everyone knows we like each other except us” 

Darcy will always have a hand on you. She wants to feel your presence 

subtle touches, little “pinky holding” or her playing with strands of your hair

Her poking any freckles you have when she first discovers them

You’re one of the few people she let’s mess with her hair. Which is a telling sign

“Your hair looks nice Darce” “thanks, (Y/N) did it” “oh worm? 👀” 

She loves having you run your hands through her hair, it soothes her

Sometimes, if you can’t make it to the cave— bad weather, car trouble, etc.— shell come over and you guys watch a movie together

Darcy’s got an extensive tape collection of rom-coms, so she’ll pop one into the tv and snuggle under covers with you

She’s probably going to ask to borrow your clothes if she’s “really cold” since she exclusively wears sports bras and her leather jacket

Also she likes that your sweaters and sweatshirts smell like you 

But you’ll definitely have to have been friends for awhile before she even CONSIDERS telling you how she feels

“I live forever. I have to be sure about my feelings and what if I get rejected?” “Anyone who rejects you is stupid. Almost stupid as Michelle—“ “HEY!” 

But overtime she’ll try to make things more obvious— to the point where Pauline and Marcella are teasing you both and then she kind of HAS to come clean

But you find it sweet! 

And a bit shocking, someone as powerful and strong and amazing and gorgeous as her, has feelings for YOU??? damn okay babe 

Dominique 

Dom is going to be a bit cold at first

It’s not necessarily intentional, but she just has this aura of mystery around her

Those icy blue eyes that peer into your soul

And anyway she wants to get to know what you like and if you like her

If not, she can’t exactly force you 

Cough cough Michelle cough cough

 Anyway, Dominique will try to learn about the things you like so you have something to talk about

Even if they aren’t her cup of tea. She’s a good listener and likes seeing your face light up and you so passionate about a subject/hobby

Dom is going to steal buy you things she thinks you’d like

“You said you liked cherry chapstick. I got you some.” “I got you some chips and your favorite soda in case you’re hungry” “Here. I saw this giant care bear and thought of you.”

It’s sweet, but you feel a bit flustered and embarrassed, not giving her anything in return

“Seeing you smile is enough, Kitten”

Speaking of! Pet names! 

Dominique finds using your full/actual name too personal

So if you have a nickname she’ll use it. If not she’s given you pet names— most notable are Kitten and Pumpkin

She’s not big on physical touch but sometimes she’ll put the idea of it into your mind so you want it

She won’t manipulate you, but she wants you to come to her. She’s had too many bad experiences where she confessed first, and she doesn’t want another one

So when you do finally confess to her she’s all smug and knowing

“I um… I really like you… and uh well—“ “I know.” “Oh…” “I like you too.”  “Oh!”

 Marcella

She’s going to be playful and flirty with you but quick to deny anything the other girls accuse her of

“No I don’t have feelings for (Y/N)! Shut up!” “Haha you so do!”

She’s rowdy and high energy but also more quiet than Pauline

So she’s not going to just blurt it out or recite sonnets for you

Instead she’ll give you a patch she was going to put on her jacket. Or make you a cool little pin

She’ll constantly hype you up if you’re wanting to try new fashion styles or wear something out of your comfort zone

“You look amazing! Better than any girl out on the boardwalk” “You really think so?” “I would never lie to you. Honest.” 

She’ll let you braid her hair and stick all kinds of colorful little clips and barrettes in her curls 

(I know they weren’t popular until the 90s but imagining covering her hair in hundreds of little butterfly clips!) 

Honestly she’ll be like those movie scenes where “do you like it?” *it’s hideous* “if not you don’t have to wear it!” “No. I’m never taking it off.” 

She asks you to help care for her pigeons so you guys can bond together more

“Does Pauline or Sebastian usually help you feed them?” “No. No one does. I don’t let them.” “Oh…”

If someone upsets you she's ready to go and have them as her meal for the night

Sometimes you have to stop her

“Look! Cathy from my work is a total bitch but you can’t kill her! I won’t have anyone to cover my shift tomorrow”

“Fine… You're lucky I love you”

“What?”

“What?” 

She’d probably accidentally tell you and then act like she has no idea what you could be talking about

“Well I like you too. But I dunno… Dom’s pretty cute too—“ 

“Oh that’s it!” She’s definitely smothering you in little kisses and tickling you, getting you say you’re sorry and say you think she’s the cutest

 Pauline

She’s just going to blurt it out point blank. 

Why wait? If Pauline likes someone, she likes someone! She may be immortal but she’s also immortally impatient 

She tells you she likes you so much you start to think she’s kidding

But she’s not! 

She’ll bring you baked goods edibles and take you out to concerts and maybe steal your shoelace to wear on her wrist

Sometimes you’ll have little “sleepovers” and you’ll hangout at the cave. Usually this means sharing a joint and watching her play songs on her guitar

She’s definitely not exclusively playing romantic songs for you

One night she’ll get high and just pour her heart out to you

“And I think you’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of people, babe… And sure, I’m definitely a bit ditzy but I’m not completely stupid! I know you don’t believe me, but I really really like you! I think about you a lot and I hate when you have to leave right before the sun rises. And on nights you can’t hangout with us it’s so boring! We do the same things every night, but you always make them special. I really like you babe… I really really like you…”

She’ll wanna take you out on a little date to one of the small bands playing on the boardwalk and you’ll both dance together and she’ll be real giddy and excited and probably kiss you but it’s really messy and quick because she was just so wrapped up in the music! 

 Michelle

She’s really obvious

Like, staring at you with heart eyes when she first sees you out on the boardwalk

She’ll try to not-so-subtly follow you around. She’s not being creepy, but she just wants to admire your beauty 

She thinks she’ll never see you again

Imagine her surprise when she sees you again! 

“Told you! She probably lives around town” “Shut up Sam!” 

You’ll eventually confront her and ask what her deal is

“Oh! Uh, um, well, I just— I... like... your outfit?...” 

She’s bad at coming up with an alibi

“thanks. I get most of my clothes at the thrift store away from the boardwalk. Wanna join sometime?” “Uh yeah! Sounds good!” 

She’s going to do some dumb things to impress you— racing on her bike, getting more piercings, dressing in lots of leather, offering to buy you food— but you think it’s cute

She’ll follow you around like a lost puppy at times, partially cause she’s new in town

Sam likes you though!

When you and Michelle hangout, you’ve usally got the braincell and you don’t tease Sam for liking comics so much

“No Samantha, I’m not taking you to the comic shop” “Aww Sammy I will!” “Thanks (Y/N)! You’re the best”

Honestly you knew the whole time she liked you! You had moments of doubt but she’s always so obvious about it. Once you even swore she drooled over you

A bit gross, but you were also eating ice cream so…

Visiting her at work! She’s a lifeguard down at the beach! She’s definitely trying to get you visit her ;) and go swim and sunbathe ;) maybe have her “perform cpr” on you ;)

But you’d still have to make the first move if you wanted it to go any further 

 Sebastian 

He’s got this aura of mystery around him 

But he’ll steal glances if he spots you in the crowd, thinking you’re cute

The lost girls will want him to bring you back to the cave

He will, but not for awhile

It will be small one on one hangouts and dancing together on the boardwalk 

Walking in and out of shops, saying you’ll buy things but you never will

Sebastian will offer to pierce your ears and paint your nails 

Night swimming together! 

Sebastian definitely has really floral swim trunks, almost like tacky dad Hawaiian shirt print 

He’ll do the thing where he’s under water for a long time and then jump up and scare you

Once you meet the girls you’re all playing games together like sharks and minnows, chicken

Sebastian always wants to team up with you though. Even if teams aren’t a part of the game

He likes to read. He’ll spend a good amount of time at the bookstore on the boardwalk, staying there for hours reading books, and leaving with a whole stack

If YOU have a book he wants to read/borrow he will definitely maybe leave a little sticky note in it as a thank you

“thank you! ur sweet :D <3” 

Laura will love you!! 

She’s very close to Sebastian and everyone thinks they’re siblings, and they most definitely have the dynamic 

So if Laura likes you, Sebastian will definitely like you. I mean, he already does, Laura just kind of seals the deal, ya know?

Dominique and Pauline will be the most blunt about Sebastian’s feelings for you

“He’s like Darcy. Not necessarily the most obvious but you can tell” 

“It’s so obvious. He like, talks about you all the time when you aren’t around and he’s got this real love sick look in his eyes”

Dominique is going to interrogate you to see if you’re “worthy” or not of Sebastian. 

“Sebastian is my— our friend— like a brother almost. Hurt him and I will kill you :) that is a promise” 

Once she deems you good enough she’s going to push Seb into asking you out. “You guys already go on enough ‘dates’ just make it official” “no” “-_-“ “hhh fine”

Sebastian is going to be really simple with it but also kind of coy and shy. He’s nervous. He’s much rather you asked him out or confessed your feelings but he’s willing to go first. He finds himself trying to compete and keep up with the girls. He’s the only boy, and while it may not matter he doesn’t want to seem weak and pathetic while they’re big strong vampires

Anyway once he tells you how he feels he’s all red in the face and nervous!! Poor boy

He’ll constantly ask to kiss you all the time, worried maybe you don’t want him to but you’re always reassuring “yes, Seb. you can have a kiss” “thank you” 

[the-duke-of-nuts]

Is This Coffee Hot Or Is It Just You?

Day 3: Coffee Shop @dukexietyweek 

Summary: Virgil finds out that a certain someone happens to work at the local coffee shop

Pairing: Dukexiety

Word Count: 1389

Warnings: Food Mention, Innuendos, Violence Mention, Literally all of my fics contain swearing so there’s that I guess

Tag List: @idontcareaboutcanon (If anyone else wants to be added just let me know)

Ah Coffee shops. Virgil never understood the appeal about a place filled with nothing but caffine, free WIFI, hipsters, and pastries. He certainly also didn't understand why he agreed to go to the local one near his apartment that his friends kept oh so begging him to go to for some reason. Well, by "friends" it was mostly Patton and Roman. His other two friends could care less about the place just as much as him. But here he was opening the door to the quiet semi-crowded shop. There was an oddly comforting atmosphere to it. The lights were dim, random relaxing music can be heard through the speakers, various different tea boxes and mugs hung on the shelves. "Maybe this place isn't so bad." Virgil thought to himself as he looked around the room. He walked forward to the counter as he happened to be the next person in line but then he saw him.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Remus Pierce. The same Remus Pierce that always flirted with him in high school. The same Remus Pierce that casually ate juiced bread at lunch to gross people out. The same Remus Pierce that Virgil secretly had a crush- 

"Well hello there customer~ What can I get you~?" The said mustached, silver streaked hair barista asked smirking. "Coffee." Virgil deadpanned. "I'm afraid you're gonna need to be more specific than that." "Like my soul." Virgil glared. "Alright so black it is. And a name?" Remus smirked as he uncapped a marker and held an empty coffee cup. "Oh my god Remus you already know my-" Virgil took a deep breath in so he could stop himself from getting angry and causing an unnecessary scene and answered with a fake smile "Virgil." "I'm sorry can you spell that for me please? I don't wanna misspell a hottie like yours name like everybody else here does to the other customers."

That damn cocky smirk.

Virgil just wanted to kiss- punch that smug look off his face. "V-I-R-G-I-L." "Okay S-E-X-Y got it. Your beverage should be hot and ready for you shortly." Remus winked and booped Virgil's nose as he walked off to go make the emo's coffee. Virgil growled blushing and buried his face in his hands.

Damn him for being so hot- horrible!

Remus soon came back with Virgil's coffee and dramatically bowed as he held the cup for him to take."For you, my 'Bittersweet Symphony'. "Thanks..." Virgil hesitantly took the beverage. "How much?" He asked as he placed the cup down and reached for his wallet. "Oh for you it's on the house!" "Thanks I guess?" Remus smiled and responded with a nod and a hum.

You gorgeous fuck stop smiling!

Virgil's heart started beating a little faster. Surely Remus wasn't having this effect on him right? They've known each other since high school. There was nothing to be nervous about. The only reason Virgil didn't hear much about the barista after that was because Roman hardly ever talked about him. "So... You work here." Virgil stated as he tried to start a conversation. "Yup! Have been for a couple of months now. What about you? Do you do anything nowadays?" "Of course I do I do a lot of stuff!" Virgil immediately answered. " Oh really? Like what?" Remus asked amused. "Stuff..." Virgil half mumbled as he looked away. Remus cackled.

That disgustingly beautiful laugh.

"Vee Vee, I've known you long enough to know that you're not fully being honest because you're either 1, ashamed or 2, scared of what I'm gonna say. Now c'mon what do you actually do? I promise I won't judge." Virgil blushed. Was he really that readable?

"Fine. It's not like you care or anything but I write poems and sell them."

"Nice. Maybe one of these days you can read me one of your angsty emo sonnets. OOH! Or better yet I can help you write some juicy-"

"Not happening!"

"Fine fine suit yourself." Remus chuckled. "So what brings you here Finding Emo?"

"Prince Drama Queen and Chocolate Chip Cookies."

"Ah so Romano and Patty. That figures. You sure it wasn't for another reason~?"

"No?"

"C'mon admit it. I know you missed me~" Remus smirked playfully pinching Virgil's cheek. "I didn't even know you worked here!" Virgil blushed as he swatted Remus' hand away. "Yeah but now you do and you can see me aaaaanytime you want." "Whatever..." Virgil crossed his arms and looked away.

There soon became a silence between them. Since when did Remus' eyes get prettier? Maybe it was the eyeshadow? No he always had that. Maybe it was because they were a deep chocolate brown? His hair and lips definitely looked softer and- Shit! Virgil was staring!

Get out of there! Get out of there now!

"Anyways I should get going and uh-" Virgil cleared his throat as he picked up his coffee and turned around to leave as quick as possible but Remus stopped him. "Wait uh Virgil, can I ask you something?" Ah yes every anxiety-ridden person's favorite question. "You just did." Virgil deadpanned trying to play off his anxiousness. "You know what I meant!" Remus said slightly irritated.

"Fine. What is it?"

"Okay so I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out together later after my shift?"

Virgil blushed. "Like a date?" "If you want it to be~" Remus wiggled his eyebrows and winked. "But in all seriousness yeah kind of." A date!? Remus was far from being the romantic type. This had to be a trick right!?

"Remus I-"

"Look, I know you don't like me much and you probably hate me, but just give me this one chance... Please?" Remus took Virgil's hand and gave him a pleading look. Virgil unconsciously held Remus' hand tighter staring into his eyes. He felt bad. Did Remus really think he actually hated him? That was far from the truth. Virgil loved him. He loved him so damn much since the moment he first laid eyes on him. He just didn't know how to tell him. Let alone show him. 

Virgil sighed. "Fine. One date and that's it. If I actually have a good time, I'll maybe consider going on some more with you. If not, then whatever we have going on between us isn't happening.” That was an obvious lie. Virgil would've agreed to go on countless ones regardless of the outcome and accept to being Remus' boyfriend if he asked but he never wanted to actually admit that to the barista's face.

"I won't disappoint!" Remus smiled getting a little excited. "Yeah yeah whatever. Just out of curiosity, what exactly is this date?" Virgil asked knowing fully well that this "date" the barista had planned was far from his twin's definition. Remus smirked and leaned forward for only Virgil to hear. "Two words. Baseball bats and breaking shit." There's the Remus he knew and loved.

Still chaotic as ever.

Virgil smiled. "Alright you've piqued my interest." "I'm glad I did. If I'm lucky, we both know what happens after the first date~" Remus smirked wiggling his eyebrows. "Shut up. You wish." Virgil blushed holding back a laugh and playfully pushed Remus' face away. Remus cackled.

"A man can fantasize."

"Yeah a little too much."

"So you have thought about-"

"Pierce! Stop flirting with the customers and get back to work!"

Remus rolled his eyes annoyed at his manager's voice in the distance. "I gotta go. My shift ends in like 2 hours and I put my number on the cup so just call or text me or come back by then." "Alright." Remus smirked. "What!?" Virgil blushed confused but immediately realized what that smirk meant.

Oh no.

Remus practically made this phrase a tradition everytime they said bye to each other. "I love you no homo." Yup there it was. Virgil sighed and facepalmed "I love you too no homo..." Remus smiled satisfied that Virgil still said it back since the day they first met.

"Later."

"Later."

 Virgil picked his coffee up and left and smiled to himself as soon as he went outside. After all of these years, he's still a dork. That's what Virgil always loved about Remus. And with that final thought, Virgil finally sipped his coffee and his smile grew wider.

He remembered exactly how I liked it.

[juminly]

Le Comte de Saint-Germain as Your Lover 

These headcanons were inspired by a few songs and if and only if I’m to turn this into a series, it will be called: The Darkness of Love. 

Lyrics/songs that inspired this:

“Is there anything I could do, just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you. Where are you?” - I Love You (Quintet Version) by Woodkid “The curves on your body become waves and swallow me up, I keep sinking, Your body temperature keeps me live, I’m trapped in your arms like this, let me hide. Feels like I’m surfing in your heart, Feels like I’m falling into the waves, Into you I wanna dive, In your heart, I wanna hide”- Dive by Jooyoung

Warning: fluff, possessiveness, suggestive and mild NSFW content, a bit of angst.

You are Comte’s treasure and he is prepared to do everything possible to ensure that you know it, feel it, see it and believe it.

Pampering you with lavish gifts , even if you don’t even ask for them, even if you didn’t want them, he would always want to let you know that he can and absolutely will go the extra mile for you. Travel the entire world for you if he has to. Give you the world on a plate made of gold.

This might make you think that he is extreme in his affections and to be completely honest, you’re not really wrong to perceive things in that manner. This would manifest not only in your domestic life but also behind closed doors, in your intimate relationship.

Comte was no poet. Or, that’s what everyone thought.

Alexandrines whispered in your ear, sonnets murmur against your skin as he peeled each and every single layer that would dare separate him from you.

Shakespeare, Honoré de Balzac (I bring him up a lot because his love letters are some of the most beautiful creations), Baudelaire and many more held nothing against this man.

The words that spilled from his lips would make you tremble, heat building in your core and sending shivers over your skin, the words he would write to you and for you would be enough to make men and women all over the world weep, yearning for a lover like him. Yet, you were the lucky one that was chosen by him, the one his heart has chosen and he was fortunate enough to be chosen by you.

Comte wanted to surround you with his love in your every waking moment, even in your dreams. Every time you close your eyes, every time you take a breath or at every beat of your heart, he wanted to be there. A part of you… just like you were a part of him. 

Your blood was not only his sustenance but one of the reasons he was alive and well.

You owned him and had him caught under your spell. Once a broken man, he was now even more breakable than ever before. You could do anything to him… but as long as he had you in his life, in any shape or form, he would be happy.

Louis Aragon had said: “by the time we learn to live it’s already too late”. Comte had an eternity to live… but you didn’t. Whether he turned you into a vampire or you remained human, you would still be vulnerable and a victim of the human condition… as ironic as that sounds.

The happiness that he held onto so tightly, was as ephemeral and fleeting as the life of cherry blossoms. One day, you would be taken away from him… whether he liked it or not. Deep down, he has hidden those dark thoughts, stored them away… far from your reach so you wouldn’t be affected by the vileness of despair.

Comte would treat you like a Goddess and worship you, every single day of his life, as if it were his last day on Earth, despite him being a pureblood.

Your body is his temple, your heart is his shrine and your heart is his most prized treasure.

As Pablo Neruda said, Comte wanted to do to you what the spring does with the cherry trees. Comte would be selfless in the abandon of pleasure that he gave you but his intentions were always not necessarily so.

Splayed before him on the bed that you shared, his lips would worship you with tender kisses, tasting and caressing every inch of your skin. The gentle touch of his hands as he explored the depth of your love for him, coaxing you to show him how much you truly loved him. Your cries, your moans, your whimpers, they were what he wanted but they were still not enough. 

They would never be enough to calm the raging storm in his heart and his soul. Comte would be selfish, the only thought spurring him on was to have you only think of him, his name the only prayer that falls from your bitten lips and tears trickling down your heated cheeks.

As he would ravage you for hours, long nights where you would bathe in nothing but the moonlight that kissed your skin and Comte. He did this quite often, without even taking you. Making love to you with his words, tearing you apart until you saw stars with his lips... his tongue... his teeth and heaven was where he was, whenever he touched you with feather-light caresses. Claim you as his, over and over again until you would eventually succumb to sleep.

You would not dare look into his topaz orbs, in fear of being consumed by the desperate yearning that they exuded. But you couldn’t… wouldn’t miss feeling yourself… drown in the sea of love that he was. You were not allowed to look away from him. He would never say it but everything about his wanton, vulnerable yet dominant demeanour expressed it.

Beneath the strong and graceful man that everyone knew, he was a man starved for your touch, your love and your affection and just a look in his eyes would make your chest tighten with pain, knowing how much this man is devoted to you.

He yearned for your warmth, to feel you writhing under his touch, the heat of your skin teasing his lips, the delicate sound of your heart beating loud in your chest and the invigorating rush of blood running through your veins… all signs that you were alive… and his. He would watch and take in every breath you took, every move you made, every step you took, he wanted all of you… all for himself. No one else.

He would seek your attention, all of it. Endlessly, relentlessly. He would be constantly chased by the thought of losing you, just like he has lost lovers before you. He is, was and always will be damned and cursed with immortality yet blessed to live a long life knowing that he was bestowed with pure bliss by having loved you and being loved by you.

He knows the day will come where he will lose you, where you will no longer be by his side and the void inside him that you had filled would be empty again. Under the veil of poise and utter grace that he wore would linger an abysmal apparition of what is left of a man.

Completely crazed and lost without you.

If he could, he would want to be the centre of your life… world…  your universe. If he could, he would keep you all to himself, away from everyone and everything in the world but he knew that it wouldn’t be possible.

It was eccentric behaviour that was not befitting of a man of his stature nor would it be right by you. Would you be happy isolated in a life where you only had him? 

Your life was already too short compared to his, so he could never do that to you, even if it was his strongest desire to do so.

You would be his princess that he pampered and spoiled. 

You would be the queen that reigned over his immortal heart. 

You would be the only Comtesse he always dreamed of.

You were his precious.

And he will make sure with every ounce of his being that you will be so, until the day where the fates forcefully bring your days to an end. 

Taglist: @kisara-16 @shhhlikeme @sweetlittlemouse @nafeary @ikefool Hope you enjoyed this 💜 Please feel free to leave comments/feedback! Masterlist Literary references, if you are interested: Pablo Neruda - Every Day You Play; Louis Aragon - There Is No Happy Love; Honoré de Balzac - Lettres à Madame Hanska

[marumafan]

A Guide For Yuuram Fans

Hello fellow yuuram fan! Have you ever caught yourself thinking:

- Does Yuuri like Wolf? - No, but I mean like "Does he REALLY like Wolf?" - Am I getting invested just to find out it's clickbait? - Is Yuuri ever going to accept Wolf's feelings? - Does Yuuri like guys? - Will they get married or not?

You have questions? I have source material-backed answers!

The Basics

First, you need to understand that there's a variety of so-called canons. There's an anime canon, a manga canon, a drama cd canon, a musical canon, and then some other random things that you can't really call canon but exist: such as games, radio shows, tv stuff not written by the author, etc.

All of these canons and non-canon stuff are fine, and you can enjoy them as much as you want, but they're NOT the source material. Source material are only the novels and stories that have been written by Takabayashi-sensei (anything in written form and some dramas also written by her according to interviews).

Takabayashi-sensei is the author of the novels (the source material out of which everything else is derived), and her word is "god's word". By the way, she used this term to refer to herself in regards to the maruma series, I'm not fangirling, but using terminology she herself used.

Please understand that most of the material that isn't 'source material' has been altered in many ways to appeal to a 'larger audience' (manga and drama cds), or to make it palatable to the more homophobic society of the 2000s (in the case of the anime). When the anime began social media didn't exist. And when the anime ended (in 2009), social media was in its infancy. That's how long ago these media were adapted from source material.

The Fandom

The fandom has influenced the source material itself at times (such as Conrad fans throwing a hissy fit when he died in novel 5 to the point that Takabayashi-sensei had to resurrect him and change who the key was and many other plot points since then). Certain shippers still force sensei's hand to write fanservice here and there, and despite that, one thing has been clear from the beginning:

Takabayashi-sensei's 'main couple' is the one she got engaged back in novel 1: Yuuri and Wolf, the royal couple.

The Bias

Before we get into the thick of this, let's take a moment to understand bias. I'm sure that if you're reading this far into this you really like yuuram and don't have a problem with homosexuality, boys love, etc. (I use yuuram to mean the royal couple: Yuuri and Wolf, nothing to do with 'who's on top' or anything like that, just a name for the ship with these two characters).

Despite that, anyone reading this has been born and raised in a highly hetero-normative society where if a girl so much looks at a boy she must be into him, and vice-versa.

Who can forget the "He was a boy, She was a girl, Can I make it any more obvious" lyrics of the 2000s? Same applies to 'ships' all across the board.

If any, and I mean any 'boy-girl' relationship was 10% of what the yuuram relationship is, there wouldn't be a single doubt that those two are in love, dating, married, and living happily ever after.

But when it comes to Yuuri and Wolf it feels like pulling teeth to get people to accept that they’re in a relationship. I blame mostly the anime for including weird non-canon ideas into fans minds, as well as heteronormative societies.

Please don’t be this person:

Finally, please take a moment to read THIS as an introduction to my next section.

The Royal Couple

Begin by forgetting everything you consumed from other canons (TV, manga, fanfics) if you truly want to appreciate the Royal Couple in its source material form.

1) Romantic interest

The source material has made Yuuri very interested in Wolfram since the very beginning. Of course, at first, he was only interested in Wolfram's physical appearance. But the more he got to know Wolfram the more he cared about him and the less he cared about his physical appearance.

To get a full picture of how madly he falls for Wolf, you need to read the novels, but here are some excerpts to illustrate my point:

How it started:

Source: Novel 1-Chapter 1

"Even if our bodies are evenly matched, when I just glanced up, I've already been defeated. How can he be this beautiful! (どうよ、この美しさ！) At the same time, his head is emitting an aura. Although it's likely that it seemed that way because of his dazzling blond hair. His looks and voice are like an older Vienna chorus boy. His white skin seems transparent, and his irises are an emerald green that make me think of the bottom of a lake, and furthermore he doesn't have a split chin. He's an angel, definitely an angry angel. However, because he's in this place, he's probably a beautiful demon."

-> Yuuri writes a fucking sonnet in his head about Wolf's beauty when they meet.

Source: Novel 1-Chapter 10

 From the far side of the corridor, the blond with wavy hair comes running. The intense navy blue uniform suits him; the mazoku Prince Wolfram. I muttered in a sigh 'Although he's a man, he's this beautiful, Günter'.

-> Yuuri complains to Gunter that Wolf is too beautiful.

How it's going:

Source: Novel 17, Chapter 7

"Those words hurt me deeply inside my heart, a pain as though I was burnt in an instant. Because I had an experience like that, in which I nearly lost the most important person to me, just because he was wearing someone else’s clothes."

-> Yuuri calling Wolfram his most important person, code in the maruma series for person you're in love with.

Source:  Do you want an exorcism? 2 (post novel 17)

"And because of that rich VARIETY in the configuration, mazoku is more an ethnicity than a race.

You have from kotsuhizoku, kotsuchizoku, and bone fish who are living creatures, even though they are just bones, to the seasonal migrating tribe of half-humanoid, half-fish maidmer princesses. As for the humanoid ones, there are regular looking ones like me or Conrad, but there are also some who are super beautiful like Günter or Wolfram............. as for the last one, this is just a little bit of my own personal bias, but it makes no difference if he's beautiful or not."

-> Yuuri saying that the beauty he went head over heals in novel 1 for, doesn't matter to him anymore because of his 'personal bias'

Source: Misepan 2: (post novel 17, arguably the last story written near the release of the novels)

"If I was in trouble, and I was missing something important. And you had one that was exactly the same ...."

"I'd lend it to you, of course"

I thought about this, literally with my hands on his chest. In fact, with my hand, that was pressed against his chest, I could feel that the speed of my partner's and my heartbeat was the same. Anyone would get blood rushing to their brains when they're seriously thinking about something. When I could calm down a little, I let out a small sigh.

"Or rather, when it comes to things that I can give you, I would give you anything, Wolf."

-> Yuuri tells Wolfram he would give him anything in the world.

2) Sexual interest:

-There are several times when the source material implies that Yuuri and Wolf don't just sleep at night.

Again, please remember that in the novels Greta does not sleep with Yuuri and Wolfram. This was a TV addition to appease homophobic minds. In fact, in the novels, Yuuri forbade Greta from sleeping with them because she's 'too old'. Also source material Greta is rarely in Shin Makoku as she's studying abroad half the time.

Source:  Novel 2- Chapter10

"If I leave it up to you, it will never get settled."

"So, what kind of settlement do you want...?" My voice trails off as he sways his hips closer.

The former mazoku prince's face brightens and he pulls me down by the arm.

"Wah!"

"So you finally feel like settling things!?"

"I don't ~"

I'm scared to think about what sort of settlement this is. I'm not going to lose my life or anything, but I do feel like there's something else I'm going to lose. I desperately extract myself, fly into the bathroom and lock the door.

"Yuuri!"

"Wait wait wait! I gotta take a bath first, okay!? You don't wanna do it with a sweaty guy, right!?"

Do it...? I blanch at my own words.

-> Yuuri's subconscious is clearly working against him.XD It looks like Yuuri doesn't want to lose the v-card yet (he barely knows Wolf at this point), but he still says  to Wolf he should take a bath before they do it. Gambare, Yu-chan

Source: Novel 4 - Chapter 1

-> Yuuri and Wolfram have been sleeping together for 3 months at the beginning of novel 4! Please! If this was a guy and girl you wouldn't be wondering what they're doing! He has a lock on the door! He can keep Wolf out , order him out, but he never does. Don’t be the gray haired lady!

Source: Never Ending Poison Lady 1

- "As a measure against Wolfram, who somehow even on our trips sleeps in the same bed as I do, I made a wall with three pillows which also had cute egg shaped buttons. I tucked my shirt into my pants, so that my stomach wouldn't get cold. After all, in the mornings when I woke up, both my clothes and my sleeping posture were always preposterous."

-> Yuuri says he puts some pillows to avoid getting into the weird sleeping postures and getting his clothes messed up and shirt untucked, but he never thinks of 'not sleeping with Wolf'~

Source: Never Ending Poison Lady 1 (same book as last)

- "While watching Wolfram's cheeks get red in excitement, a surprised Josak swallowed the question" You even sleep together when you're out on a trip?".

-> Even Jozak (the spy who's supposed to know everything) seems surprised that they're "sleeping together all the time". They're clearly hiding it from people.

Source: Maru maru maruMA-  (book with series info and interviews)

Takabayashi-sensei replied to a question about Yuuri and Wolfram and what would happen once they get married... and she said it clearly: They'll have sex.

("Please answer my maruma question", maru maru maruMA)

Source: SS: Murakenzu 2018-11-13 (Paper 1 accompanying cd72) "Yeah, my father was talking about it, and she's still being called 'Gokumi', huh? At any rate, even if he was smiling way too much, his footsteps started to sound louder and faster as he got farther away. In that moment we thought: Eh? Is it that bad? Maybe they saw something while we were sleeping, or rather, maybe they took peeping photographs and want to do something bad with them."

"Rather than while you were sleeping, before going to sleep?"

"You mean like, when I do practice baseball swings naked or something?"

"Yeah, naked practice."

"Or maybe like, a picture of Wolf's butt when he's wearing his sexy negligee or something?"

"Ah! If a picture of it peeking out is released it would be bad, huh?"

"Then, I suddenly realized that "secret" might just be a hook. In other words, those trick titles that often appear in sports newspapers."

"Yes, yes."

-> Yuuri talks about Wolfram's butt showing as a common place and about himself being completely naked doing 'baseball practice' in the room with Wolf, whatever that may mean.

3) Illustrations

The 4 wedding pictures. Yuuri and Wolfram have been illustrated as married four times by the series' illustrator:

1  | 2  | 3 |  4 

And I like to add this fifth one (used in There's Valentine's Day in Shin Makoku!? DVD special), since in the black and white version, there's a comment by Takabayashi-sensei that says: "With this we've finally won against the anime team! ", meaning they beat them to the wedding. 

4) Terminology

Yuuri and Wolf are referred to in tweets by Takabayashi-sensei, GEG-san and Temari-sensei as the Royal Couple (ロイカプ). The author, editor and illustrator all know already what they are and that's why they call them that.

More information:

Please, please read the source material. But if you won't, at least read some of the analyses I've made to find out more about yuuram. Yuuram is here, it’s canon, and their ship has sailed a long time ago, in novel 1. They were always meant to end up together and they have. (”The dream ending” was how the author wanted yuuram to end, happily married). This isn't clickbait, or fanwork. The author likes the Royal couple and will see that they end up together no matter what.

Additional information:

Yuuram in novel: 1 |2 |3 |4 |5 |6 |7 |8 |9 |10 |11 |12 |13 |14 |15 |16 |17  

* Novel Analysis:  Crossheart and Love Letter

* Novel Analysis:  Misepan2

* Novel Analysis: Do you want an exorcism?

* Bias in KKM: English version of KKM

* Novel Analysis: Yuuri confessing to Wolf (w/quotes)

* Novel Analysis: Physical and mental development in mazoku

* Novel Analysis:  Yuuri and Wolfram’s daily routine (with quotes) 

* Novel facts: No mpreg in Shin Makoku (I get asked a lot)

[mangosimoothie]

For Atticus and the ask meme hehe - ❣️👗 🏳️‍🌈

Yessss yum yum yum more tasty asks

I love atticus thank you for asking about him!

❣️ - What are their love languages?

100% gift giving and acts of service. He’s such a giver and LOVES a grand gesture. He’ll get random gifts for his loved ones like beautiful clothing or jewelry from his collection, he’ll write poetry and sonnets for loved ones, you’d wake up to him drawing you a bath with like a million lush products in it - he’s a real gem tbh

👗 - How comfortable would they be wearing a skirt or dress?

Atticus’s wardrobe is pretty gender bendy - lots of corsets, jewelry, makeup, heels, fancy undergarments 😳 - but he’s so slender and tall so I think the only reason he wouldn’t wear a dress or skirt is because he feels like he doesn’t have the shape for it lol.

🏳️‍🌈 - What do they identify as? What are their pronouns?

Atticus is a 300 year old vampire - he does not give a single fuck. Image being 3 centuries old and immortal and still being STRAIGHT - foolish. He doesn’t understand all the labels (again: 300 years old) but is queer af.

Here’s the ask meme just in case 👀 y’all wanna ask 👀 another q 👀