#i’m a grown adult. i know the truth and the truth is that YOU CAN LEAVE

[fingertipsmp3]

What no one tells you about trying to get in touch with your intuition and start a mindfulness journey is that sometimes you will have to lie on the cold hard floor of a concert hall you once sang hymns in as a child while a middle aged white woman with zero knowledge of tones or instruments blasts the shit out of your eardrums like she’s trying to perform an exorcism

[nereidprinc3ss]

pretty little things

in which you can't keep hiding your stuffed animals from your boyfriend. spencer would like a formal introduction.

fluff! warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, newish established relationship, they're so cute, reader is still kinda shy around him, I'm really obsessed with this dynamic actually, implied intimacy if you decide to interpret it that way, kissing/maybe mildly suggestive a/n: this is dedicated to my friends @parfaitblogs and @gublersg1rl bc in another universe we are actually just three jellycat plushies on someone's bed which is where the inspo for this little thing came from. and thank u willow for naming your fox. ok bye love u hope u enjoy !! :D

The first time you’d shown Spencer your room, and the handful of times he’s been in it since, you very intentionally hid your stuffed animals underneath the bed. After all, you’re an adult. You have a grown up job. And you don’t need him thinking you’re some kind of freak this early into the relationship. You like him too much. 

Today, however—you didn’t have any warning. He comes over unannounced, which is all well and good, until you bring him to your bedroom so he can sit on the bed while you change from work clothes into something comfier for movie night. As soon as you open the bedroom door, you see them, lined up neatly by your pillow, and you know it’s too late. 

“Uh…”

Spencer runs into your back and takes it as an excuse to settle his hands on your hips as he peers over your shoulder. 

“What?”

You slip out of his easy hold and skitter to your bed, practically throwing yourself on the mattress and sitting unnaturally as the little beaded eyes of your friends dig into your back. Even your brightest smile doesn’t distract Spencer. He’s like a bloodhound for the truth. At least, that’s the sense you’re beginning to get. 

“What are you doing?” He tries again, eyes narrowed and closing the door carefully behind him. 

“Nothing!”

The urgency with which you say it has his eyebrows raising. Obviously delighted by the embarrassing secret he’s sure to uncover, he approaches. You lean back further even as he towers over you until you’re almost on your back and he’s folded over you, menacingly (and dizzyingly) close. This sort of position is still new-ish and has your heart pounding, even if it’s entirely playful and ostensibly innocent. 

“Nothing? Are you sure?”

You nod, still shying away from him into the pile of pillows. Without looking he reaches under you and pulls out your pink bunny. You squeak and hide your face. 

“What is this?” He laughs, and you yank it away, sitting up so he’s forced to give you some breathing room. The bunny is cradled protectively in your arms, though you try to hold it a bit more casually when you notice. 

“I said it’s nothing.”

“What about the other two behind you? The fox and the… what is that? A deer?”

“No—”

“I didn’t even know they made deer stuffed animals—”

“Spencer, stop!”

He does, at the desperate tone of voice and the way you’re still hiding from him. 

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

As usual he’s over apologetic, now sitting knee to knee with you on the mattress and leaning down to try and catch your eye. You huff and grant him some eye contact just so he doesn’t go over the edge with worry. 

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s really not,” he laughs. “It’s cute. I can’t believe you’ve been—what, hiding them from me? This whole time? That’s like not telling me you have kids.”

“It is not like that.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I think you should probably introduce me.”

You give him a look, letting your head fall to your shoulder. “Spencer.”

“I’m serious. I’m going to be apart of their lives now. You can’t keep shoving them under the bed every time I stay the night.”

This nerd is going to be the death of you. 

Eventually, you groan reluctantly. 

“Fine. Okay, um—this one is… well—her name is Bunny. It’s not… very creative, but it’s—that’s just her name, okay?”

Spencer doesn’t react to your unjustified defensiveness—only grabs your bunny’s round little pink paw and shakes. “Enchanted.”

“Shut up.” Your face is so hot as you bury your smile and set Bunny aside, making sure she’s comfortable against the pillow before bringing out your deer. Spencer doesn’t have the shit-eating grin you were partially expecting when you glance up at him from beneath your lashes—he’s smiling, but it’s so soft. A little twisted, like he’s holding back the full extent of it for your sake. But you wouldn’t mind it at full power. It’s like he’s hiding the sun in a saucepan and the lid’s not on quite right. And he’s looking right at you. Like you’re the source of all his joy. 

A moment passes. You clear your throat and look back down. “Um—this is Bambi. ��Cause—you know.”

“I do,” Spencer agrees genially, nodding as if this were a normal conversation. “Kind of a dark thing to name your deer, though.”

“You’re judging,” you accuse balefully. He chuckles and his hand finds your knee, rubbing apologetically. 

“I’m not, I’m not! I take it back. I retract it. Continue, please.”

For a moment you only pout, but it doesn’t deter him—he simply looks at you expectantly, and now those syrupy eyes come with the added bonus of his hand on your leg. Fine. He wins. But not without a deep, tortured sigh from you while you’re grabbing your fox that makes the corner of his mouth twitch up. 

“This one is…”

The name dies on your tongue, too ridiculous to be said out loud. 

“Tell me,” Spencer pleads in that gentle voice and with those big eyes that you’d consider burning him at the stake for because that look on his face has to be witchcraft. 

“Okay but you can’t laugh,” you insist in one quick breath, giving him a serious look that he can only partially reciprocate. 

“No laughing.”

“It’s… Mr. Cuddles.”Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to keep his promise. You melt inside both from embarrassment and from the way it only further defines an already superbly sculpted bone structure. “Do not.”

Spencer scoffs at your warning. “Don’t what? I’m behaving.”

“Don’t make fun of Mr. Cuddles!”

“Does it look like I’m making fun of him?”

“Her.”

“What?”

“Her. Mr. Cuddles is a girl.”

“I see… can you explain that to me?”

“If a human person said I am a girl and I would like you to call me Mister, would you question that? Would you ask them to explain it to you?”

“I guess not.”

“Exactly. Don’t be rude.”The way Spencer is looking at you now, eyes so clear and still so full of affection, like you’ve got some sort of heavenly spotlight trained on you, lips parted as if to say something but still silent, has you forgetting your momentary confidence. You shrink. “What?”

“I just… you’re amazing.” You throw Mr. Cuddles at his chest and fall into your pile of pillows with a groan. Spencer only continues rubbing your leg. It’s very nice, actually. He’s gentle. And patient. “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you came to this conclusion just because I introduced you to my stuffed animals.”

“Not solely because of that. There are a lot of contributing factors. I mean, the stuffed animal thing helped.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you insist for the umpteenth time. 

“It’s adorable.”

Spencer pushes pillows aside and lies next to you so you’re eye to eye. It’s nice how his presence isn’t exhausting the way people sometimes are. He’s easy to exist with. He makes you enjoy existing a little more than usual. Even now. 

You raise your eyebrows and speak, cheek squished against fabric. “I’m a serious adult.”

“I know you are,” he assures with a solemn nod. 

Your eyes narrow ever so slightly. 

“Okay… well… don’t go forgetting that. I’m fun but I can also be not fun.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“No you wouldn’t. You would hate it. You’d be so scared.”

Spencer gives up on holding back a smile and moves his hand to tuck hair behind your ear. 

“You’re right. I’m already terrified. The anticipation… it’s killing me, you know?”

You’re giggling as you roll over on top of him and he roots his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a long, smiley kiss like he knew it was coming. Only when he blindly throws your stuffed friends from the bed do you pull away—just by an inch or so. 

“No respect,” you scold playfully. He kisses you again, tangling your legs and hands wandering. 

“Can I apologize later?”

You’re good with that. 

[pucksandpower]

Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

[kinopio-writes]

Hello dearie!!

How are you? I hope you're doing well!

I saw that your asks were open,and your content is really cool and silly,So I decided to leave you a nice ask to enjoy!

Could I have a headcanon platonic! Alastor,Vox and Husk finding a random child next to their dead mother, except that they don't really understand that she's dead and think she's sleeping,so they pity the child and take them in?

The child is really polite and nice,pretty calm,too. Sure,they do child stuff,like running around,being excited,etc,but they still are more calm than others.

They always talk about their mother,how she's the only one left,and how they love her.

Would the characters say the truth? Would they lie?

I just love hurt/comfort and platonic relationships so :3

Anyways,I hope that's not too much,and that you enjoy writing this!

Have a really nice day,don't forget to drink and take breaks!

Stay proud!

-Nina <33

A/N: Thank you for the reminders, heh. Btw, I’m going to have to change the reasons as to why they took you in because I just don’t see characters like Alastor and Vox taking you in because of pity. Sorry about that. The rest is untouched. You’ll still get a bit of that hurt/comfort (mostly from Husk, lol. Both Alastor and Vox are non-existent, but Alastor is somehow better than Vox).

Warnings: Mentions of death

———

Alastor, Husk, and Vox adopting a deceased mom’s child

Alastor

• Alastor paid no mind to the dead corpse

• it didn’t really look that appetizing anyway

• “How unfortunate.” You heard a weird voice from behind you as a hand was placed on your shoulder. “A child mourning in the demise of its mother. Tragic, really. You have my condolences.”

• “What are you talking about, mister?” You stared up at the mysterious man, watching his eyes flick from your left to right eye while his grin only grew as the seconds went by

• “I think you’ve just found yourself the perfect dwelling,” he abruptly said, letting go of your shoulder to fix his bowtie as he sprung back to life. “Why don’t you come with me?”

• “But what about my mother?”

• “She is in good hands, I can assure you.” He offered his hand to you. “Come along, now. Children shouldn’t dwell long in places like these.”

• and so he took you in to be a patron at his hotel

• I mean, what’s more easier to redeem than a child? (assuming you’re a sinner. I don’t know if it’s canon anymore that only hellborns can reproduce. Look at Cannibal Town’s people)

• he intended to leave you in the rest of the residents’ care while they could only guess what his actual motivation was for taking you in

• but it seemed you ended up favoring him more than the rest

• you’d follow him around like a duckling—a lost puppy—you’re attached to him like a leech

• and you’re so well-behaved, too

• up until he leaves your sight

• he actually leaves the hotel a lot more often now because of that

• he finds you wrecking chaos in the hotel entertaining as hell

• and the fact that the others beg him to come back to calm you down

• I don’t think you would ever know what happened to your mother

• even when you talk about her a lot

• those rambles never really prompt him to say anything

• well, it’s not as if he knew what happened to her

• but, hey, at least he listens!

• maybe it’s because he feels a little nostalgic hearing the way you talk about her…

———

Husk

• Husk was fucking spooked when he found you lying beside your dead mother

• not because of the corpse, but because of the way you were staring at him

• with eyes dull and wide open, just like your mother

• while Husk wouldn’t have given two shits if it was a grown-ass adult, you were a child

• so he took you in

• “But what about my mother?”

• “Shi—I, uh—your momma will tag along soon. Now c’mon. She wouldn’t want you out here alone.”

• since Husk is constantly around the hotel, there were never really instances where you wreaked havoc

• you just silently watch him tend the bar and sometimes talk about your mother

• your talks about how much you love her make him feel pretty guilty for some reason

• but he’d probably tell you when you’re older enough

• only if you were asking him about her though

• he wouldn’t want to have to sit you down and tell you something that sensitive of a topic when you didn’t even ask

• “Why don’t I have a mother?” you would suddenly ask when you turned 18

• today was your birthday. Charlie insisted on having a little party for you just like every year. But you didn’t want one; you wanted to be with Husk for the day

• the man in question sighed

• he knew you were building up the courage to ask all day

• “I’m gonna give it to you straight, kid, I don’t know what exactly happened to her. All I know is that she’s in a better place.”

• “Oh…”

• “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He continued, voice a little unsure, “Not as a bartender…but as a dad.”

• you smiled, grateful. “I think I’ve already said plenty when I was younger. But thanks, Dad.”

• he smiled back

• you two would then sit in silence together, basking in each other’s presence

———

Vox

• so, uh, I’m going to have to completely skip the taking you in part with Vox because I genuinely cannot see him adopting a random child (unless he could gain something, but, like, you’re just a kid)

• so you’ll just get the aftermath of it (hope that’s okay)

• based on the way he handled Val’s tantrum, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s somewhat good with children

• but he’s a pretty busy guy

• he doesn’t have the time to take care of a random child, so he’d make sure to keep an eye on you on his cameras

• but despite that, your existence in the tower warrants his

• as you’re too chaotic whenever he isn’t around

• but only around the other expendable employees

• you’re relatively well-behaved when Velvette and Valentino are with you

• but he doesn’t exactly trust them to take care of you

• they aren’t exactly good with children

• so he tried doing video calls

• you will definitely grow up as an iPad kid

• he’d hear you talk about your mom during those calls

• he’d let you go on and on, but it’s not guaranteed that he’ll listen

• I don’t think he would ever tell you what happened to her (he doesn’t know, anyway)

• he won’t lie, he’d just work around your question

• skillfully

• like, extremely so

• even if you ask him directly, he still manages to dodge the question somehow

• I don’t know what else to say, he’s gonna be a pretty distant father—

[cameronspecial]

Rafe x reader - camping trip with both families, they are made to share a tent. Maybe she forgets her bedcover and rafe offers his but she doesn’t accept it. She then gets cold and he warms her up.

Flirting, kissing, body warming naked

Stubborn Little Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Jokes and Being Naked Together In A Non-Sexual Situation

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Masterlist

Everyone knows Y/N is stubborn. She can’t be swayed to change her choices for anything and it drives people crazy, especially because it means she won’t admit when she made a bad call. Her parents tried to warn her that she would need more than what she packed for their camping trip, yet she wouldn’t listen. She already decided what she needed and argued that since she was an adult, she didn’t need her parents' input. This belief doesn’t change even with Rafe’s concern. Rafe and Y/N just finished putting up their tent and she is dragging all their stuff inside of it. He looks through the trees to the other clearing where their parents and siblings are setting up camp. There wasn’t enough space for both of the families to be in the bigger clearing, so they agreed that the oldest siblings would share a tent in the small clearing a few feet away. He watches as she pulls out her blow-up mattress because of course, a Kook will glamp. She pumps her mattress and exits the tent. “Aren’t you going to put any bedding on it?” Rafe questions, pointing to the bare plastic. She shrugs, “Nah. I’ll wear a hoodie to sleep. I should be fine.” “It’s supposed to get colder at night, Kitten. You’ll need actual blankets,” Rafe points out. Y/N rolls her eyes, “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, Cameron? And I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” 

She body-checks him as she passes them toward their families. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he yells after her with a shake of his head. Even though they’ve known each other since they were little, Y/N and Rafe have always had a hot and cold relationship. Cordial moments would quickly turn to an argument with the snap of their fingers and vice versa. They may have been closer in age than the other siblings, but Y/N bonded better with his sisters because their gender gave them more in common, while Rafe took her little brother under his wing. It may not have been a great idea to put Rafe and Y/N in the same tent, except it is the only option they had. 

———

After hiking, eating dinner and spending time around the bond fire, everyone returns to their tent. Sleep can’t fall upon Rafe because he can hear the constant rustling coming from Y/N’s mattress. He tilts his head to the side and catches her movement. She keeps switching from side to side, always bringing her legs in toward her chest and her arms wedged between the two. He can see the shivers that wave through her body. Rafe sighs and peels his blanket off of him. He shifts to one side of his mattress. “Come on,” he orders. She looks at him with a crease between her eyebrows, “I’m fine.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Kitten. You are freezing,” he asserts, getting up to pull her by his side. She struggles against him, “I said I’m fine, Cameron. I don’t need your help.” She won’t budge; however, Rafe knows how to get her mind to waver. “Stop being a stubborn little girl. If you get sick, then who is going to take care of Steven after school?”

She freezes at the mention of her little brother, processing the truth of Rafe’s words. Although her parents are Kooks who can afford a nanny, ten-year-old Steven is taken care of after school by his big sister. He is extremely introverted and doesn’t like to be left alone with strangers, so Y/N takes care of him whenever she can. Rafe has seen her loyalty to her family and figures it would be the only thing to get her to change her mind. It does. She stops resisting his hold and rests her body against his. Her front accidentally presses against his front and she feels the stiff member in his pants. She giggles, “Are you sure the only reason why you wanted me in your bed is because I was cold?” His face reddens and he pulls her hips away. “Shut up,” he groans. Eventually, he begins to chuckle with her. The laughter dies down, but her shaking doesn’t stop and this worries Rafe. “I think we both need to strip naked,” he suggests, already preparing to take off his shirt. This causes her to completely detach from him, “Woah, slow down, Cameron. Just because you are nice to me, it doesn’t mean I’m going to have sex with you, especially with our families so close by.” He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. You are shaking like an earthquake and we needed to get you warmed up,” he explains. 

“And how is getting naked going to help me with that?”

“Because my body heat will help warm up yours. I promise this isn’t for any funny business. I just don’t want you to get a cold.”

“You really think this is going to work?”

“I promise.”

She doesn’t voice her agreement and instead, begins to remove her clothes herself. Rafe follows her movement until they are completely nude. They avoid the temptation of looking at their private areas by looking at each other in their eyes. The silence is broken up with laughter. “This is definitely not awkward,” she jokes, placing her hand above her elbow. He places his hand on top of hers, “It doesn’t have to be.” She tilts her head to the side as he brings his face closer to hers. His lips pucker and he gives her enough time to pull away before their lips touch. She closes the distance, lacing her fingers through his hair to bring him closer. His hands fall on her hip to tug her closer to him. They break the kiss for air and place their foreheads against each other’s. “Thank god you are such a stubborn little girl,” he whispers. Kisses and giggles fill the tent until both of them fall asleep from exhaustion and newfound warmth. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[heartcereql]

tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader

when you first read his name on the class list, you freezed, a shiver running down your spine. of course you weren't oblivious as to who the shelbys were or what they did. but he was so young. twelve. you actually had a tiny bit of hope that finn shelby would be different than his brothers were. you were soon proven wrong.

finn and what he called "his boys" soon started doing their business around the school, and, before you knew it, inside the school as well. bringing cigarettes, picking on younger students, terrorizing girls...

you had had enough. it was one thing for adults to get their hands dirty doing whatever businesses. but a kid? hell no. and while you couldn’t do anything about what they did outside school, you could try to correct their behaviour in school.

so that's how you found yourself one grey and cloudy evening in front of the shelbys' door, mustering the courage to knock.

you knocked three times. nothing. as you were about to knock again, you heard the lock and then the door opened, revealing a man with the same ocean eyes as finn.

thomas shelby.

you knew him, naturally, but this was the first time he was so close, let alone about to talk to you.

“good afternoon” you greeted as you tried to ignore the way your chest was tightening.

“afternoon. may i help you?” he asked, hand resting on the doorknob.

“yes, actually. i’m y/n y/l/n. i’m finn’s teacher, and i wanted to discuss certain behaviours of his with you" you explained firmly. “if that’s okay” you added in a mumble.

he just stared at you for an instant. an instant that felt like eternity to you. then he nodded, letting you come into the house.

he led you through the betting house to his office.

he sat on his chair; you took your place on the other side of the desk.

“so” he said, pulling out a cigarette, “is he getting in a lot of trouble, eh?”

you smiled timidly, admiring his sharp features.

"more like he's the one creating the trouble." you watched as tommy lit his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke before resuming. "he and his presumed gang sometimes drink beers or smoke cigarettes, torment some younger kids maybe. mr shelby, i understand that he spends a lot of time at the cut, and that ... um, that..." you were suddenly at a loss of words. you didn't want to say it, but that's how you felt it: he had grown up in a similar environment.

thomas smirked, knowing your thoughts. he knew what your mind instinctively told you. but he didn't feel enraged. quite the opposite, your concern seemed genuine, and you looked like a lovely young woman; even if your thoughts were a bit tainted by the reputation that preceeded him, he knew you meant no harm.

he also took a moment to admire how off place you looked there. your clothes were rose golden, which seemed to accentuate the soft aura that surrounded you. even with the dim lights and the greyish ambience of the office, your skin appeared to glimmer.

"i guess i'm okay with whatever he does outside school, that's what i'm trying to say. but as of late, finn and his boys have been taking their businesses around the school area. and that is of my concern. we can not afford to have children intimidated, girls harassed; hell, if a child were to try substances because of your brother and his friends, and the parents found out, we could be- the school could be sued and-"

"miss y/l/n" tommy interrupted your ramble.

"y/n." you corrected, offering a smile. "please, no one calls me miss y/n/l; it would feel weird"

"i see then. y/n" you tried not to feel butterflies tingling on your stomach as your name rolled off his tongue. he smiled as well, more to himself than to you.

"finn is his own man now" tommy continued. "i will talk to him about this, but i can not guarantee that he will do as he is told. truth is, i don't have much power over him now."

he took another drag of the cigarette, eyes finding yours through the smoke.

"what do you mean? i'm sure there's something you can do"

"not really, much to my displeasure. i assure you, y/n, that i will do what i can to correct finn's behaviour at school. he used to want to be like me, y'know? but now he's... he's him. "

"i don't think that's entirely true. you know, one of the only assignments finn turned in this semester was an essay about the person they admired most. not only finn excelled in the task, handing a beautiful composition, well structured and showing a wide range of vocabulary; but the essay was about you, mr shelby. it professed how he wanted nothing but to be like 'his brother tommy'. he truly looks up to you. he still does, mr shelby. so, i think you will succeed at getting him to change his mind."

now it was tommy who seemed to have run out of words, only inhaling from his cigarette. his eyes studied you meticulously. how your eyes fluttered around the room, unable to settle, refusing to meet his; how you clutched your hands in your lap; how your chest rose and fell as you breathed.

“i’ll give it a try, eh?” he finally spoke.

a smile lit your face.

"wonderful. well, thank you for your time, mr shelby", you showed him your appreciation to him listening to you as you stood up.

"tommy"

"what?" you asked, genuinely confused; you thought you hadn't heard correctly.

"if i am to call you y/n, it is only fair for you to call me tommy. i suppose" he stated. though he refused to look directly at you, a smile was tugging at his lips.

"very well, then. thank you for having me this evening, tommy" you offered a tight-lipped smile.

he just gave you a curt nod, taking another drag of the cigarette. you smoothed some wrinkles on your clothes and, after giving him one last grin, you made your way to the door, ready to leave.

"wait" he uttered, his voice low, as if he was rethinking his decision.

you turned to him, hand resting on the frame of the door.

"would you- maybe, consider going for a drink with me?" he hadn't looked at you as he posed the question; but his gaze locked with yours when he was expecting your answer.

you felt heat creep up your neck and cheeks, praying to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.

"only if you stay true to your word, tommy" you responded before heading out, smiling like a fool when you were finally out of sight.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[odinsblog]

This is recent history. Ruby Bridges is 68yrs old and she is still alive.

Emily Conklin is thee definition of a racist Karen, and she is trying to whitewash the history white children learn by erasing a rated PG Disney movie that has already been shown for years in Pinellas County schools, usually as a part of Black History Month.

Two immediate thoughts that come to mind are:

“The people who threw rocks at Ruby Bridges for trying to go to school in 1960 now are upset their grandchildren might learn about them throwing rocks at Ruby Bridges for trying to go to school.”

and

“IF BLACK CHILDREN ARE OLD ENOUGH TO EXPERIENCE RACISM, WHITE CHILDREN ARE OLD ENOUGH TO LEARN ABOUT IT”

Look, Ruby Bridges was six years old when racist white parents (men and women) threw rocks and hissy fits because she was trying to get an education. A full year younger than most of the white children who are now being “protected” from learning the truth about what their grandparents did.

I guess these delicate snowflakes are so triggered by the racism of their elders that they need to get the Republican governor to whitewash away the truth.

I’m almost 40yrs old and I used to wonder how it was that in college, white kids my age genuinely believed that Martin Luther King, Jr. died of old age. But somehow, every single Black person my age knew the truth. How does that happen?? This is how it happens. This is a prime example of precisely how that happened and still happens—because to “protect” them from the truth, white kids weren’t taught that he was assassinated. It’s literally no different than raising generations of white kids to believe that 2+2=5. There’s going to be serious problems when they hit the real world. But what can I say? Conservatives like ‘em dumb and ignorant.

Anyway, this is how you get generations of fully grown white adults who truly honestly believe foolishness like “racism is over,” or “Martin Luther King basically ended racism,” or, “we don’t need affirmative action because there is no more racism; if anything it’s white people who are more discriminated against now.” (The majority of white people polled said the same thing in the 1960s too, btw).

Keeping as many white people as possible ignorant of the truth does not happen by accident. It’s very intentional. And that’s not to say that ALL white people are ignorant of the truth. Some of them, like Emily Conklin, know the truth, but just do not care.

And make no mistake: The same white people who want to keep their white children “pure” and “innocent” have ZERO problems criminalizing and sending young Black children directly to jail for even the slightest misbehavior in a classroom.

Evil, racist cowards (redundant, I know).

[stealthetrees]

I am impatient and not actually finished with it but whatever. I tried to write Fox angst but angst is hard and why make it sad when it can be funny.

The others POV would be sad but the Guard just want Fox to stop being a dumb ass.

When Fox woke up, it was to the sound of children arguing. But that’s not his problem. They were grown adults and could solve problems by themselves. Or Thorn would deal with it.

Fox rolled over and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, after what felt like only a few minutes, the kids were still arguing, but much louder now. Fox blinked his eyes open and tried to focus on what was now apparently his problem.

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! I don’t believe you!”

“Well that’s too bad cause is the truth whether you like it or not!”

“There is no way in hell he’s the youngest!”

God damn it, that wasn’t one of his kids, that’s his medic.

“You weren't even there how would you know!?!”

And that was… Wolffe?

“Well then how is he so much cooler than you?”

“What?”

“If Fox is younger than why did he kill multiple sith when you got your ass kicked by Ventress of all people? Explain that dick head.”

“What do you mean he killed multiple sith?!?”

Well that’s a perfect time to intervene if any, because everyone Fox worked with knew about the feud with Darth Maul, and anyone who didn’t was not going to like the circumstances of his little nap.

Unfortunately, there were circumstances to his current predicament. Sitting up too quickly, Fox nearly passed out again when his vision went black and his ears filled with static. Several arms grabbed him to make sure he didn’t collapse.

Fox breathed deep, trying to stay conscious and not throw up as his vision cleared. He didn’t recognize the room he was in, but he did recognize the people so it was probably fine.

Copper, the Guard’s head medic, was holding Fox’s shoulders while glaring at Wolffe, who stood on the other side of the bed, having let go of Fox because of the intense glare. Ponds, Bly, and Cody filled the rest of the room while Sparrow, still in full armor and fresh off patrol, was crouched in the corner looking like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

“Are y’all gonna sort out yer problems like adults or am I gonna have to deal with your bullshit?”

Copper had the decency to look a little embarrassed while his batch mates avoided his gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” said Fox, nodding. “Now where the hell are we?” He pushed his brothers off him.

“The Jedi temple,” said Wolffe, dropping into the chair beside the bed.

“Those… guys found you in the Chancellor's office and freaked out. Dragged you all the way here. I got pulled into this mess cause they kept asking questions about yer medical history,” Copper said, wisely replacing whatever he was going to call them.

“Do you remember what happened? We found you on the floor of the Chancellor’s office awake but unresponsive,” Bly asked.

“Well, one minute I was working in the safe in the chancellor's desk the next thing I know I’m back on Corellia strapped to a table while some guy peels the skin off my arm. It was crazy,” said Fox, scratching the back of his neck.

That was the wrong thing to say. The uproar that followed his words brought the wrath of a Jedi healer down upon all of them, and after many threats of banishment from the room, everyone quieted down.

“Just an undercover job that went bad. It’s not a big deal, exept when the mind fuck thing happens,” Fox explained.

“What is the mind fuck thing?” cried Bly.

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?” demanded Ponds.

“When a sith makes you relive your worst moments, like with the force or something,” explained Sparrow while everyone talked over him.

“Look, y’all fight sith way more than I do, you’ve probably had it worse,” said Fox, trying to divert their attention away from how he lost his arm.

“No? We don’t?? We fight droids???” Cody’s voice climbed in pitch as he edged towards hysteria. Wolffe buried his face in his hands.

“No offense, but I doubt your batch goes looking for Sith Lords to antagonize,” said Copper.

“I do not go looking for anything! Sidious just likes torturing me,” Fox shot back, causing more dismay from his brothers.

“I don’t think breaking into his ‘secret’ lair and trying to kill him in his bed count,” called Sparrow. Little fucker was always ready to gang up on Fox. How the medics had won him over was a mystery.

“And you said you were trying to get into the safe with the contract, so it’s no wonder Sidious tried to off you,” said Copper dismissively. “Honestly, I’m on his side for this one. Sith Lord or not the old fuck is entirely within his right to fuck you up.”

[holdinbacksecrets]

uninhibited (and drunk) voicemails from seventeen

forever sending gratitude and love to j @un-love for helping assign these

seungcheol: “i watched you tonight with another man. he held your hand and kissed your forehead. he drank your tea first to check the temperature. he made you laugh. for real. i know because you covered your mouth, still feeling insecure about how far it opens when the reaction can’t be avoided—when the something said was so funny it surprised you. you’re wearing red. your arms were exposed for a while, and i felt my eyes prick with tears at the sight of more tattoos on your skin. ones i didn’t know about. maybe ones you mentioned when they were still just possibilities in your head. not once did i think i wouldn’t see them actualized. not once did i imagine another man’s fingers brushing the ink through the motion of draping his jacket around your shoulders.”

jeonghan: “i’m at home and alone, and it’s wrong to call you. it’s so unfair to call you. i didn’t know how to tell you that the wanting is scary. that the way we love each other is impossible—not for a second do i believe it’s possible to have again, and i’m fucking afraid, probably because i know how much you’ve grown. the thought of letting you down leaves a sour taste, and i’m trying not to be so fucking afraid.”

joshua: “i’m sobering up now, sitting on my mom’s back porch. earlier, i was trying to describe the color of your hair. the best i could come up with was blue frosting like the cupcakes she made for my 10th birthday party. isn’t that outrageous? embarrassing? in my head was a poem, but the alcohol released the silliest set of words i could’ve possibly used to describe a part of you.”

jun: “everything is weird. everyone is strange to me today except for you. i’m drunk. i lost my shoes at some point in the night i think. i can’t recognize anyone around me. their voices don’t sound familiar. i wish you were here. i wish you’d tell me this is miserable for you too; it’s not worth it anymore. would you tell me the truth if i asked? sorry. what a stupid question. i don’t know anyone more honest.”

soonyoung: “i should’ve watched you all day more often. i dream about that. i wanted to, but something always had my attention or interrupted its focus on you. i’m laying here with my eyes closed, imagining all the moments i did watch and wondering if every single one pieced together could consume an entire day.”

wonwoo: “is it ok that i still have your spare key? i’d like to believe it’s something you’d ask to get back, but i wonder if that call isn’t worth making. if the idea of seeing me makes you anxious. but you trust me. out of everyone to still have access to your home, it’s ok that it’s me. i feel sad thinking about it.”

jihoon: “you baked cookies. i froze half of them. there’s one left, and i’m debating whether or not to eat it today. it’s freezing outside, and any view through my window is ruined by the snow. it feels like the perfect night for a cookie with what’s left of my second americano like i can risk losing sleep, but what will be left from you if i give in? everything else feels lifeless—it’s been so long since you’ve touch the clothes and read the books.”

seokmin: “i’m going to a wedding tomorrow. your old neighbor is getting married, and i thought about so many things when he sent me the invitation. i thought he was in love with you for the longest time. remember that? it took me months to admit. then he told me he’s just protective, and i realized there are so many people who see us and care without us ever knowing. so i wondered about a what if between us… what if our paths crossing was shallow and they never intertwined? what if you were just a woman in the grocery store who i’d see once in a while if the timing was right? how long would i think about you before forgetting your face, before forgetting i ever saw you? unless i never would and end up talking about you in my old age to adult children who only know i loved their mother.”

mingyu: “is it ok to call you in the middle of the night? you told me i could. years have passed since that conversation. *laughs* is it strange to think about us back then? how we started on a park bench, basically dated for two years on a park bench. i still think about how your approach to reach me gave away your feelings. you started poised, avoiding eye contact. then it became goofy looks and confident strides before calling my name and skipping to singing the song stuck in your head while you ran to me. i can’t help but wonder what would it look like now?”

minghao: “if you listen to this voicemail, can you tell me what you want? whatever comes to mind after hearing the question. from something small to something weird and the the thing you believe is better left unsaid as if i’d judge the answer, but i won’t. i have no reason to judge you. all i have is curiosity and love and hope for your every day, every want, every touch, every song you sing, every picture you hang, and every night spent barefoot on the balcony- i want to marry you.”

seungkwan: “there’s something on my mind. i’ve wanted to tell you all day. i thought about it at breakfast and started texting you before my manager called and interrupted. so here it is: i used to not understand how tired you’d be with me around. i thought i was boring you for the longest time until i visited my sisters. they exchanged a knowing smile before telling me you’re completely comfortable, that you feel safe enough to slip into the kind of vulnerability that only sleepiness and sleep allow, with your guard lowered, and your heart open. i appreciate how much of you i’ve seen, how deeply i know you—knew you… know you? hmm…”

hansol: “are you traveling? i hope you’re traveling. i know it’s something you promised to do at the start of your 26th year. where did you go? … are you taking lots of pictures? … how does the moon look? that’s your souvenir: the moon in the sky a thousand miles away from home. when you told me the moon thing, i realized i knew nothing about you, and i wanted to know everything.”

chan: “you were in the audience tonight? i didn’t… i wasn’t… thank you for coming. i mailed a ticket, but it was returned to sender. *clears throat* you’re the only person i couldn’t shake wanting to be there. do you know what i mean? people from our pasts we wish could still be present, especially for things they witnessed in early stages. i could shake off all the other absences… old friends, a mentor, but you… *sigh* no way.”

[dadbodbuck]

WE'RE BREAKING UP

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME.

WHY WOULD YOU TYPE THIS WORDS WITH YOUR FINGERS AND THEN PRESS POST.

GET AWAY FROM ME

hi jack unfortunately we got married when you weren't looking so you have to pay for an attorney :/

anyway

Buck texts him I need to talk to you and Christopher knows it’s going to be a bad day. He was actually thinking about coming home over Thanksgiving break—it’s not as clean as going back over Christmas, but he misses Denny (who’s been telling him a lot about his cool new sister during their nightly meme exchange), and he misses his school friends (even if they’re exhausting to be around sometimes), and worst of all he misses his family. He misses his dad, he misses Buck. He even misses Tommy—despite only having met him a few times, he knows he’s been good for Buck and for his dad. 

He liked seeing his dad smiling so much when he first started hanging out with Tommy, before her. He liked the way Tommy talked to him like an adult with his own thoughts and opinions. He liked the way Tommy talked about Buck, even though it was kind of gross seeing a grown man swoon that much.

But then. I need to talk to you. And it all comes crumbling down around him. Buck even has the nerve to follow it up with Can I call you? like some sort of therapist or school administrator. Chris opts for a video call, because he’s not eighty years old, and when Buck picks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, and he’s nestled in his bed like a stereotypical teenager girl after she gets dumped.

Oh. Oh no. “What,” Chris says, and he kind of regrets the video call now, because Buck flinches back like he’s been physically hit.

“Uh, hey!” Buck says, trying to recover and failing miserably. The smile he plasters on his face looks so forced it’s painful, “How’s Texas in November treating you?”

Chris looks at Buck and decides to play nice. Just a little. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you sounded like you had something important to talk about.”

“You’re right,” Buck sighs, “I’m procrastinating. I just wanted to let you know that Tommy and I have decided not to see each other anymore.”

And, yeah, Chris is pretty sure he knew this was coming, but it still makes him want to cry, or bite something, or throw his phone into the lake. “What happened?”

“Well—uh—Chris, I don’t—the details really aren’t important,” Buck says, with a wince, “What is important is that I love you, and your dad loves you, and just because Tommy won’t be around doesn’t mean you won’t have our support. I’m really sorry, bud. I know you liked him.”

It blindsides Chris, and he doesn’t know why. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away. He shouldn’t have gotten attached. He never should have sat down to watch The Batman with his dad and Tommy and stolen Tommy’s popcorn and talked shit on Buck’s taste in Star Wars Prequels. 

“What did you do?” Chris asks, feeling a startling rage building in his throat. It’s familiar, now. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows this is Buck’s fault. Buck looks like a dog that pissed on the carpet and is waiting for you to step on the wet spot.

Buck clears his throat, and visibly weighs truth and comfort in his mind. “I asked him to move in with me. It was—it was too fast—”

“You asked him to move in with you?” Chris balks, “He has a house!”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Buck hisses, “Listen, I know I fu—messed up. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, Chris. But it—it was the best decision for both of us.”

“You’re lying,” Chris seethes, because he knows so, so intimately the look of an adult lying to protect his innocence. “He made you happy. He made dad happy.”

Buck looks away, chin trembling, and Chris feels bad for all of three seconds before the rage consumes every other feeling in his chest. “Call me back when you find someone who wants to stay. Otherwise, keep your love life away from me. And maybe you stay away from me too.”

Chris ends the call, and two seconds later Buck is ringing him again. Chris doesn’t pick up, just sets his phone on his desk and buries his face in his arms. He doesn’t want to cry. He did too much of that after he got to El Paso the first time. But he’s going to miss Tommy. He’s going to miss seeing his dad smile like that. He’s going to miss the dopey lovesick way Buck moved through the world.

When Chris finally composes himself, he sees two more missed video calls from Buck, and a string of texts:

Love you, buddy. Sorry you’re upset. Call later to talk? Or call your therapist?

I really am sorry. I thought Tommy was going to stay too.

Text me pls? So I know you’re ok

Chris texts back: im fine. we’ll be fine. i need some time and gets a response almost immediately.

OK. Take the time you need. Your dad says if you decide to come back and you’re still mad you won’t have to see me if you don’t want to

Chris, always being left behind, feels a sick surge of satisfaction at the prospect. He could be the one who leaves. He can cut his losses before they’re fatal, he can amputate the limb before it goes septic. He texts Buck a single k back and does not examine the way something in the back of his head tells him, quite viciously, that this isn’t the first time that Buck’s been left this week.

[artist-issues]

I also think sometimes we’re losing the art of simple lessons in kid’s movies. Probably because of the whole self-focus thing. Adults make the movies. Adults use the movies to get through whatever they’re going through.

But like no 6-to-12-year-old kid really needs to jump over “how should I handle a big change” and land straight in “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GROW UP, YOU FEEL LESS JOY”

Like what? Where are we? What happened?

I am not saying that kids don’t experience anxiety or prejudice or whatever. I’m saying—

—nope, one more time, because you weren’t reading, you were responding in your head before the post is finished, without understanding—I said, I am not saying that kids don’t experience anxiety or prejudice sometimes.

I’m saying stop trying to use a kids’ movie to teach an adult lesson, because the majority of kids aren’t there yet. And sometimes when you expose a kid to a problem that never even occurred to them, even in the name of solving that problem, or “telling the truth?” You know what you give them then? Uh, anxiety. Or confusion. Not a real solution.

Kids in a healthy environment, and even kids in an unhealthy environment, are not ready to have an existential crisis about their purpose or the way all of society sees them because of their race/religion/sex/age. They’re usually still figuring out the difference between “sharing” and “selfishness.” “Fear” and “respect.” That sort of thing.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is a good movie for kids and adults to watch because kids know what it’s like to get carried away by fear and selfishness. Snow White can’t just sit and cry because she’s surrounded by scary trees. The Dwarfs shouldn’t be beating each other up over who gets to use the one pillow. They should share their bed with the lost princess. Simple. True. Good. Kids can understand, kids can relate, kids can absorb. And adults? Adults need to be reminded of the simple stuff because we’re too “intellectual” for our own good and we overcomplicate stuff and stop realizing when we’re giving in to fear and selfishness.

But these movies, and these shows, that say they’re meant for kids…when really they’re just meant for people who have the taste for kids’ visuals and kids’ media design, but are actually grown adults obsessed with mental health jargon? They’re walking a dangerous line.

Good parents know not to “awaken” considerations in evil and hard stuff before it’s time in a child. They already have enough to deal with just figuring out how to move on after they scrape their knee, or how to be okay even if their little expectation about their friend coming over to play isn’t met. You don’t need to add on top of that “what happens if nobody needs me” or “what is a panic attack.”

…unless your kid is already having panic attacks. They happen, I know, I was 9 years old. But you get what I’m saying. Kid’s movies should remember that they’re for kids, and simple truths make the best stories. Because usually truth is simple, and it’s our desire to have control over it that overcomplicates it to the point where it’s not true anymore.

Anyway.

[eternal-love]

Hii, I'm in a really angsty mood lately. It's kind of similar to the one you already wrote. I was wondering if you could write a fanfic where reader is heavily pregnant, And Austin is cheating on us with Kaia. Reader and Austin have a fight about it, Reader tries to leave but he stops them saying you're too pregnant to leave.

Thank You

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

Pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!reader

Summary: While pregnant with your second child, you find a horrible truth and you’re forced to choose.

Warning: cheating

Note: sorry I took long but damn, I couldn’t really write. I’ve been all over the place lately with work. But I really do hope you like it!

For as long as you remember, it had always been Austin and you. Then Robert joined in and suddenly now, you were pregnant with your second. Your life was complete. And you were happy because you were making Austin happy. You were finally giving him the complete family he had lacked as a child.

But lately he was distant, a lot more distant. You understood, he was busy, with the press tour of The Bikeriders, so you didn’t press too much on it. Instead, you tried to focus on your children. You spent your alone time decorating the nursery of your unborn baby. Buying plushies and bed sets.

You were also debating if to give birth at home or at the hospital. You had given birth to your first in your house, with Austin by your side.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. Yeah, fifteen hours of labor aren’t for the weak. And damn did it hurt so bad. And you also didn’t like that Austin had invited his sister to the birth. You felt like shit and he invited people!

But still, he was by your side. All throughout the pregnancy.

But this time he wasn’t even there when you were told the gender of the baby. A baby girl. And this pregnancy was very harsh on you. Truly harsh, you tried to be strong because of Rob, but it was hard. You felt the best when you took baths, and only then, if not then you felt uncomfortable.

But, of course, something had to fucking go wrong. When you found out that he was sleeping with another woman, you didn’t believe it, you thought it was just your imagination and hormones. And that those texts and photos on his phone meant nothing.

But you were an adult. You were grown. It was true. He was fucking another woman, a much younger one, a model at that. While you stayed, back home, playing house with his son and unborn daughter.

He knew that you knew about it, but he played dumb, he kept sneaking around, coming home late. One night you waited up for him, sitting in the couch, a hand in your bump. You were about to burst. He came back, you heard his boots and his keys, the door closing.

“Took you… long enough.” You said, rubbing your baby bump. Your back was killing you, so were your feet, and you had a cheating husband. You won the lottery.

“I was out.” He said, taking off his denim jacket.

“I know. I’m not blind.” You scoffed, you felt irritated, again, thanks to the pregnancy. One that took its toll on you.

“Then don’t ask.” Austin answered coldly, he was being very rude lately. And that hurt your feelings too. “I don’t even know why you’re awake. You should be asleep, then you complain next morning.”

“I was worried. I’m worried about where you are, where you’re going, who you’re with.” You said, you worried like any normal wife would worry.

“You don’t have to worry. I can take care of myself.” Austin said, he walked in front of you towards your bedroom.

“Wait!” You called for him, making him stop. He turned around.

“What?”

You gulped, you already felt the tears pricking your eyes.

“I know about you, and that model.” You said. Your voice a bit strained. He stared at you and the color drained from your face. As if you had been the one caught cheating.

“So?” He said, nonchalantly, it put you off. And it hurt you again. Did he care so little for you?

“So? That’s all you can say?” You said, your voice gave away that it hurt you.

“What else would I say?” He asked, his voice showed annoyance.

“At least you could deny it. Fight for our marriage.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Austin bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know what else to say. It’d not like he actually wanted to hurt you, but that was very hypocritical for him to say.

You stared at him. Oh, he was pathetic. Really pathetic. Cheating on his pregnant wife with a young model who didn’t even care for him?

“You’re pathetic.” You said as you never broke eye contact with him. You saw how that hurt him, you knew him deeply and you too knew how to hurt him.

“Am I? You’re the one that’s willingly staying with me. I think that’s more pathetic. Being a broodmare. A doormat.” Austin said, oh, he meant it. His tone told you that he meant it from the bottom of of his heart and soul.

“At least I have a reason to why I’m staying here. Because of Robert, because of this baby.” You said but he only scoffed.

“Oh, please. You’re only here because of the money. Everyone knows.” He spat bitterly, mocking you.

Everyone had said that you were a gold digger, all because of how quickly you how had moved on with your relationship. But you truly loved him, although money was important to you, it was never something you primarily looked for. So him saying that, it was a low blow, to hurt you as you hurt him, with your words.

Now you wondered, had anything in your relationship been real. Because you didn’t know who the fuck was this man standing before you. The Austin you married would have never cheated on you. Or maybe he would’ve. Perhaps you didn’t even know him through and through. A once loving man had turned into a man that shoved you to the side, that didn’t show you off anymore so you sank into oblivion.

“That’s not true, and you know it.” You clapped back. No, you truly loved him, if you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t be here, trying to go through this painful pregnancy. “I’m here because I love you.”

“Well, I don’t. Not anymore.” Austin said, his words cut through your heart. You swore you could hear it crack in half. “For a long time now.”

“No. You can’t do this to me. Not now.” You said, you stood up with the strength you had. You would look more vulnerable than you already were, but he could not do this to you, not when you needed him the most.

What had you done but what was expected of you to do? You had been a good woman to him. Since when had the thought of betraying you? Had he always been faking? Did he sleep with a gun underneath the bed you two slept, in the bed you two made love in? Was he a secret spy all along, living a fake life until the mission was complete?

“Why?” You asked, your voice strained as your eyes were filled with tears. But he stayed silent.

Will he ever confess why he did it? Probably not. Austin was a mystery. But he knew you, you wouldn’t leave him. You simply wouldn’t. You were too… weak.

But the pain was greater. Greater than the pregnancy itself. Yet this, this made the pain two times worse. Your baby bump started to hurt, contractions came in and you moaned in pain, you wondered if he had done this purposefully, to sour what was supposed to be a time of relaxation for you, for any woman.

“So you decided to wait until now to tell me all of this? I’ve been putting up with this pregnancy for you and-” He immediately cut you off before you could raise your voice even more.

“I don’t want to yell but you’re playing with fire.” Austin raised his own voice, there were very few times where he did that but when he did, he scared you. “I don’t have to give you any reason. People fall in and out of love every day. You don’t have to take it to heart. I’m not saying I’ll leave you. Jesus fucking Christ.”

That’s what hurt you the most. That he thought he could treat you like this, that he could leave you alone with your unborn child and two year old boy and come back like nothing. What did he think you were? Some kind of doormat that he could walk over and clean his shoes in when he pleased?

He had kicked out the set lights but he was still acting. Like he could play the part of the perfect husband and father and then stop acting to go back and screw another woman.

The pain was getting worse, so much so that it made you want to scream, kick, puke, everything. Your hand went to your baby bump again.

“That’s it. I’m leaving.” You said, your voice coming out in more of a whimper than anything. You felt like dying inside.

His face fell immediately as he saw you walk slowly towards your son’s bedroom, you didn’t meant that, did you? You wouldn’t leave him, you wouldn’t take his son.

He thought you were too weak but once he saw you grab one of your bags, he took it from your hands.

“No, you’re not fucking leaving.” He said as he gripped the bag in his hands. “We can surely work this out, c’mon, babe.”

You couldn’t even fathom what he was saying. What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

“You are an asshole.” You whimpered out. Damn, you still felt contractions. Maybe it was because of how quick your stress levels went up in less than ten minutes.

“You’re too far along, you can’t leave. No. You’re almost popping, what’s your brilliant plan, huh?” He scoffed.

“Going far away from you.”

He stayed back, he thought you were bluffing him, just to scare him off, but when you came out Robert’s bedroom with him in your arms, holding his baby bag, he knew you were fucking serious. You were having contractions and you were still dead set on leaving.

He didn’t know what to do, his mind was a puzzle.

“You’ll crawl back to me, y/n, you know that.” He tried to mock the situation but he was shitting his pants.

“The only thing that you’ll get back from me will be divorce papers.” You have had enough, of his abandonment, his aloofness, his nonchalant attitude towards you, Robert, your pregnancy, your marriage. “I’ve given you the best of me, I’ve given you endless empathy. Through the bad, the good, the ugly, and this is all I get in return!” You snapped at him.

You were dead set on leaving. You were going to punish him for this one. But under all this rage and pain, you felt truly betrayed by him. The pain went deeper than the physical, like the one in your chest. It went deeper and you didn’t know if it would ever stop. A part of you wanted to forgive him but you couldn’t. How would it be for Robert and your unborn child that their father completely destroyed everything? That he didn’t love you anymore?

“You know what? I hope you have an amazing time with that woman. I hope that she enjoys our bed. I hope that she enjoys knowing how you hid her in plain sight. I hope you two feel shame on all of this. Because I did not deserve this. I hope that people talk shit about you. And I hope, I really hope– that she does this back to you.” You said with all the loathing you could, maybe it was your pain and sadness speaking too.

“Y/n, wait. Stop…!” He tried to catch your attention as you were walking out, with Robert in your arms and two bags. “Don’t expect me to take you when you crawl back to me!”

He prayed that you turned around, but you didn’t. He couldn’t even fight for you to stay. He gave up so quickly and now he was regretting it. He sank down into the floor, his hands on his face. He could’ve chased you but God, the shame was drowning him. He had fucked up baldy, real bad.

Oh, he sobbed like a baby in your bed. Hoping that you’d come back. That you’d be here with him, holding him like you had always done, but you didn’t p. He called Kaia a couple of times, she didn’t pick up. You always picked up the minute he called, now when he needed the woman he had ruined your marriage for… she didn’t even pick up.

He deserved this, he did.

He was what he did.

You cried in the taxi silently as you went to your best friend’s house, Rob’s tiny frame asleep leaning on you. You wondered if Austin would ever come clean about why he did what he did. Maybe in ten, twenty or fifty years everything would be declassified. When he started the affair, since when he had stopped loving you, since when you and your children became an inconvenience.

You didn’t want him back. No, you weren’t that stupid, you just wanted to know why?

He didn’t even measure up to the man the man he had once been. No, he was different.

He was the smallest man who ever lived.

[stuck1nthelimbo]

im so normal about them — 📌 post | masterlist | ko-fi

6 》Masturbation - Squirting - Dacryphilia ― Truth or Fuck [Fushiguro Toji x f!reader]

Everyone knows about the 'Truth or Dare' game, right? How about the adult version?

TAGS!!! 2.1k, age gap, toji fucks son's friend (20s), masturbation, squirting, rough-ish, creampie, no beta

With the perfect freezing weather and knee-deep snow, a small group of friends has gathered at Fushiguro’s cottage. We were greeted by the host’s father, Fushiguro Toji. I became smitten with him when I met him months ago and after gathering the courage to admit it to my friends…

“I dare you…” Yuji pretends to come up with a dare, yet I’m aware of what he’s about to say. I roll my eyes and blow lip bubbles. Nobara hides behind him, giggling at my upcoming disgrace, “I dare you to go and kiss Mr. Fushiguro, on the lips,” the audible gasp slips Megumi and he nudges his friend, who’s impatiently squirming. My friend points at the vodka shot, which can negate the dare, however, I’m conflicted: between being unaware of what the diabolical trio has in plan and the fact that I don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“I’ll get back to you,” I flick Yuji’s forehead as I walk by him, trudging to the kitchen. Peeking in, my eyes discover broad shoulders and a muscular back with a skintight black t-shirt. For a moment, I envy his ex-wife, who enjoyed all these and bore his child. Well, let’s focus more on the conception of said child and less on rest. “Um, Mr. Fushiguro?” He turns head while fiddling with something in the fridge, then twists on his feet, squinting at me.

“You kids involvin’ me now?” he blatantly mocks the group, puffing air through the nose.

“They dared me to kiss you,” shuffling on the spot, I mutter, and he scoffs. His head drops to the side, crossing arms over the puffed-out chest. That shirt is holding on its dear life.

“What are you, twelve? You’re older than those punks,” Toji’s peeved, yet leans forward and sticks his cheek out. I shake my head and point at my lips with an index finger. The scoff’s louder now, gives me a peck on the lips, and dismisses me with a hand gesture.

Not enough. So I’ll make sure I end up with another opportunity. The second time doesn’t quench my thirst either. Maybe the third time’s a charm? Now with the gust in my stroll, I prance in the kitchen and heartily grin at the eldest. The sudden aggression alarms me: large palm grabs my face and his lips crash onto mine, tongue slithering into my mouth. This grown-up kiss leaves me breathless.

“The fourth time you’ll wobble out of here,” he’s so fine when his eyes gleam with malice and a sly smirk contorts his face.

I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Now I’m tiptoeing down the stairs for water while fixing an oversized shirt. Caught a glimpse of the clock on my way, it’s around two in the morning. Everybody’s asleep, it’s dead silent until I step foot on the first floor and hear the faint sound of the TV. I waltz into the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and plop on an empty sofa, sipping.

“Hey,” the low disembodied voice startles me, I jump, almost spilling the liquid. Something huge slouches beside me. Now shirtless Fushiguro Toji glances at me. A sculpted chest and abdomen and the gray sweatpants leave so little to the imagination, “Someone dared you to kiss me at midnight? You’re a tad late.”

“Come on, Mr. Fushiguro, give me a break. They dared me, I didn’t have a choice,” I lie through my teeth, averting gaze from him to the TV. He looks back at the screen, his hand tampering with the remote.

“First,” the index finger raises, the rest hold the remote, “You didn’t drink, shots were untouched. And second,” the middle finger flicks up, “stop calling me Mr. Fushiguro, Toji’s fine,” he mutters. The silence lingers between us, the low volume of the movie relieves the awkwardness.

“Hey, wanna play ‘Truth or Dare’?” I break the silence and he glances at me with an embarrassed smile.

“And you’re gonna ask me who’s my crush? Pass, kiddo,” he brushes off the idea without considering.

“Come on,” I straighten between the cushions, my digits tap on his veiny forearm, “truth or dare?” his eyes bounce to my dimly shadowed face, and a sigh of defeat escapes him.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever…” I wander off, sweeping the room with my eyes before they land back on him, “had sex outside the bedroom?” Toji shoots me a dumbfounded look, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. The shock shifts to a flirtatious smirk.

“Oh, you meant with a twist,” his lips pucker, eyes tag along the flickering TV, “alright,” he clears throat, “almost always. I don’t remember the last time I had sex in bed,” chewing on the inside of my cheek, I anticipate the question, “truth or dare?”

“Truth,” half-lidded, verdant eyes stare at me.

“Have you ever hooked up with a man twice your age?” He knows the answer, the stuck-up grin plastered on his scarred lips. I audibly swallow and shake my head. He faintly nods, proud of himself.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you prefer slow and romantic sex or rough fucking?” He chortles, air eagerly puffs out of his nose, and his eyes glance at the TV. In a moment, his head turns back to me and drops a bit, staring from under the lashes.

“I prefer to hold down brats and turn them into incoherent, blabbering messes. I like leaving a mark,” his husky voice reverberates in my ears, and my tailbone tingles. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I maintain the eye contact, holding my breath in. He’s pleasantly surprised. His tongue glides across the teeth.

“You should kiss the player in front of you,” he’s so casual, and his eyes trail down to my lips. I lean forward, supporting my weight on open palms pressing down the cushions. Poising face near his, he mumbles, “for thirty seconds,” I barely register the statement before his large hand clasps the back of my head and pulls me in a sloppy kiss. His teeth nibble, fleshy tongues lap, fingers on my nape claw along the hair, steamy breath spills over me and half a minute runs out with the spiderweb-thin threads of saliva spreading between us. Glazed eyes gawk at me, stirred breathing heats my throat, and he skulks toward me, tossing the remote on the floor.

“Truth or dare?” I somehow utter the sentence and hear him click his tongue and mouth the word ‘Dare’ without halting the predatory movement. “Just touc–,” Toji’s low chuckle prickles my skin with goosebumps and I’m unable to finish. His teeth ready to feast on my delicate neck freeze midway, his hand crams between the flimsy underwear and soft pussy, index and middle fingers plunging in my sopping cunt without an ounce of resistance. I mewl at the intrusive sensation and glance at the older male. He’s dead absorbed in the sounds and the texture my gummy walls exude with each knuckle-deep thrust, occasionally the thumb flits across the clit, and I twinge with each brush.

The other hand lurks under the shirt, feeling around before grabbing onto my breast, kneading it with his fingers, possessing the softness of the flesh. Buried digits quicken the pace, the forceful thumb rubs against the bud, drawing few quiet whimpers out of me. The prominent squelchs of my wetness echo. Something pleasant swirls in the depth of my stomach, coils several times and pours downward, between the thighs. His long fingers meticulously slip the soaked underwear to the side, before pulling out and relentlessly sinking back in.

"Wait, Toji," I protest, yet he positions himself between my legs, spreading them further apart; I feel something coming, the unfamiliar sensation and without the proper amount of time, the ecstatic pleasure swallows me, my legs tremble and I gush all over him. Literally. Under the heavy eyelids, I notice how half his body glints, as if splashed with water, "oh, my God," the audible whisper under the heavy breathing snaps his attention. He straightens and I see droplets of transparent liquid on his torso, guiding down the chiseled figure.

"First time squirting?" the cynical tone annoys me, but I'm still under the influence of soft, gentle waves of post-orgasmic bliss and prop myself up, "Clean up," now the tone has changed into demanding, irritating me further. Reaching hand for the paper towels next to the sofa, his palm seizes my wrist, "no, not that," the sharpness makes me tingle again; I push my tongue out, and after his validating smile, I press it flat on his damp chest. The skin feels smooth under my muscle as it glides around the muscular chest, under the collarbone and finishes close the crevice of the neck. I can feel the vibration of his throaty laugh and I pull back, searching for his eyes, before being pinned down on the sofa by a strong hand around my throat.

With one hand, fingers tightly envelope under my jaw, the other yanks his sweatpants down, and even in the dimmed TV light, I make out the silhouette of his fat veiny cock, bouncing out of the boxers. His fingers pull my underwear aside, straining the fabric and harshly grazing his manhood against my drenched pussy. I whine and buck my hips, but he pulls back in time. Brushing the tip of his cock against the swollen clit, he pity smiles the following childish pouts from me. The index and middle fingers press down on his cock, firmly nudging the head of his cock on my sopping cunt until I fling legs around in frustration.

"Truth or dare?" Both of his hands wrap around my thighs, hooking his girth at the entrance of my cunt, teasing. I ignore the question, but the nails digging into my skin bring me back to his expression.

"Uhhh," I reluctantly mutter, "truth," he leans forward, leveling his face with mine, and one of my hands tug on the strands of hair on his nape, closing the distance between us, Toji’s shaky breath seeps under my nostrils. The stillness agitates me, until he bucks his hips, bottoming out inside. My mouth gapes, but before any sound escapes, his palm blankets over my trembling lips, and the pillow under my neck dampens his grunts.

“Everything you wanted?” the ‘truth or dare’ question flies over my head, my brain short-circuited and drunk on the smell of sweat beading on the male’s temples. He hasn’t moved since he bottomed out, forcefully stretching my cunt around his thickness. Each spasm around him runs a shiver up my spine. The pain is buried deep between the ecstasy that radiates from the depths of my stomach. The nails I've dug in his hair nearly break the skin. The other hand weakly pushes against his flat stomach, to which his response is pushing himself inside to the hilt, grinding his groin against my sensitive clit. I swiftly shut my eyes and he, in a painstakingly slow manner, thrusts. Moving back and forth, reminding me with each thrust how enormous he is. He quickly picks up the pace, chipping away at my sanity with each hit. The room's filled with the quiet buzzing of TV and short, sharp grunts his throat echoes, alongside the wet sounds that emit between us.

With each passing second, another round of pleasurable waves swirl in the depth of my stomach. The hand over my mouth tightens as his hips stutter with each forceful thrust. The stuttering turns into hips bucking erratically, teeth grinding, sinking into my flesh, and throaty grunts, soon replaced by barely audible moans, as I feel something fill each nook and cranny of my gummy walls up. The grip on my face loosens while my hips shake following a stomach-churning, body-rippling orgasm.

His weight pulls away, and straightens in his seat: strands of damp hair glue to his forehead and cheeks, mouth hanging, Toji regains his steady breathing. I struggle to close my legs, the strained muscles ache with the smallest movement. The hot, viscous fluid leaks onto the sofa cushions from the apex of my thighs and the elder man groans in frustration, yet does nothing. With difficulties, rises off the sofa, trudging to the kitchen. I reach for the water bottle, almost spilling the contents of it all over my sore, tired body. My pussy stings and I know, this will be hell in the morning. But oh, well. He won this round of ‘Truth or Fu– Dare’.

© stuck1nthelimbo; do not redistribute, repost, modify, or use in any way, form, and/or shape. re-translation by asking for permission first.

[dsireland86]

I physically can't stop picturing Folio bending me over his drums and fucking me until im dumb

Shit. Like this thought hasn't ever crossed my mind before....

Drummers Always Hit It Harder

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey

The venue was empty at eleven at night. While everyone else was either sleeping, playing video games, or chilling, I chose to get a head start on setting up merch stuff for the following day. Actually, I was sick of being surrounded by five guys who were constantly getting on my nerves with all their immature antics and conversations. I needed a girl moment. The sound of a door opening and closing startles me. I didn't think anyone knew I was here. I’m surprised to see Folio as he comes into view a few minutes later, holding two cans of beer.

"You want one?" I smile, knowing he already knows the answer. Opening it, he hands it to me. "Why do you work so much?" I shrug, sitting the can down after taking a long sip. "I think you need to get laid." My head turns up and I stare wide-eyed at Folio. “What the hell, Folio! Where did that thought come from?” "From watching you all the time. You work and sleep. That’s it.”

The twinkle in his soft brown eyes makes my heart flutter and his confession of watching me makes my panties instantly wet. It's no secret I have the biggest crush on the band's drummer. I have for a while. Matt, my brother, told Folio that if he ever touched me thought, he was a dead man, and to my disappointment, Folio listened. It's not as if I was willing to throw myself out to anyone; just Nick. Only Nick.

I don't know if he knows how much I like him, but there are nights when he's the one helping me get myself off in a desperate attempt to satisfy a natural hunger and need for the opposite sex. In my mind, Folio's the only one worthy of getting between my legs

"Are you okay?" He grins at me and I almost lose it. "Um, yeah, I'm fine," I lie, taking another drink from my can. I hear his adorable chuckle and it takes me a moment to get my head back into what I was doing. "Do you want some help? I don't even know what you're doing?"

He comes over to me as I reach for my drink, beating me to it instead. As both our hands wrap around the can, our fingers touch, sending shivers all over my entire body. I smile, looking up at Nick only to find he's already staring at me. There's a look in his eyes I swear I've never seen before. It's dark, alluring and needy. Clearing my throat, I watch his lips curl up into a grin.

"First, you show up here when I'm completely alone, telling me I need to get laid and now you're asking me if I need help? Help with what exactly, Folio? Getting laid or setting up merch?” Nick’s speechless for a moment, fighting the urge to laugh. “You know you're skating on thin ice,right? Matt says you're a dead man if you and I,"

"I don't fucking care what your brother thinks or says, y/n. We're grown adults."

My abdomen clenches tight, the tingling sensation running through my sex is maddening to the point I think I actually whimper. The same overwhelming need to suffocate myself in Folio is taking over everything thought at the moment.

"So, what are you saying, Nick? I’m supposed to tell my brother to fuck off?”

He chugs the rest of his beer, tossing the empty can into the tiny trash can against the wall. He comes over to me, his presence instantly making my knees weak. My thighs tighten together as the unmistakable feeling of how wet just the thought of Nick makes me, soaks my panties.

He stares at me, his dark gaze tearing me apart already. I'm at this mercy at this point. "Will you hate me and swear to never speak to me again if I tell you the truth?" At first I think he's joking, but then I quickly realize he's serious. "No," I shake my head. "No I won't." Folio relaxes and holds his hand out to me. "Come with me." I don't question. I take his hand, feeling that same intense spark spread through me.

He leads me through the empty venue floor, through the dark, around the side of the stage and up the back steps to the stage floor. Besides the small light coming from his phone flash light and the soft glow from down below in the merch table area, we're surrounded by darkness. His kit is the only thing on the stage, centered perfectly in the middle of a large drum rug beneath our feet.

"Nick, what are we doing up here?" I'm nervous. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. Not out of fear, but out of intense anticipation. "Wait here," he says quietly, setting his phone down on the stool.

I'm left alone to look around the vacant venue, thinking how crazy it is that by this time tomorrow night, this place is going to be jammed packed with people, enjoying the utter chaos the guys are going to bring. Dim lights come one above, giving off just enough light to see what's around me. Moments later, Folio returns to the stage, finding me instantly.

He doesn't waste any time, snatching me up in his arms and pulling me into him. He's already hard enough for me to feel him through the zipper of his jeans, pressed against my abdomen. My breath gets caught in the back of my throat as his arms snake around my waist and slip down over the curves of my ass, pushing our bodies closer together. My heart is pounding in my chest, loud enough that I'm sure he can hear. But as nervous as I feel, this feels right. Folio's arms around me feel right. His hands on me feels right. His body pressed against mine feels right.

"Are you going to answer my question?" I ask, voice barely above a whisper. I hook my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, tugging on him lightly. "Yeah, I will, but I need to be sure of a few things first." "Like what?" My brows draw together in confusion. Folio's eyes dart over my face, trailing up and down before landing on my neck. "I want to kiss you," he says, eyes finding mine again. "Then kiss me."

In an instant Folio’s lips are on mine, his tongue diving deep into my mouth. I can taste the alcohol as it slides over mine, drawing out small little whimpers and cries from me. The connection between us is better than I ever thought it could be; wild, needy and so fucking hot, causing me to becomeI’m a panting wet mess for Nick and willing to do whatever he wants. What was supposed to be a quick try turns into a deep need. Folio slips his hands around my face, cupping it gently while my hands travel to his waist, gripping his black Harley shirt and tugging on him. The world around us is suddenly blurred, slipping away quickly. I have to hold on to his wrists to keep from slipping away with it as the sensation and realization of what's happening roars to life inside me.

"Ugh, fuck," Folio curses against my lips while staggering, trying to keep the two of us from falling over. His hands slip under my shirt and slide up my back, undoing the clasp of my bra, I let him, but not before pulling back to look at him.

"You want the truth?" he asks, hoarsely, licking his lips. I want his tongue again, in my mouth, on my body, and sucking between my legs. The tendrils of hair falling over his forehead only add to the irresistibleness of his strong body holding me tightly. I run my hands up the back of his neck and into his newly cut hair, sighing at finally feeling it between my fingers and nod in response to his question.

"I like you, a fucking lot, and I know you like me too. I hear you at night; when everyone else is asleep, and you think you're being quiet."

I lower my face in embarrassment.

"Are you thinking about me when you fuck yourself?" he asks, lifting my chin as he reaches down and palms my sweet spot. "Oh, god, Nick," I whine, gripping his forearms. "Do you?" "Yes," I weakly confess. That smile. Fuck. "I thought so."

Nick kisses me again, hungrily, rocking his pelvis against me in hopes of easing the frustration. His lips trail over my jaw and down my neck, where he licks my skin before sucking on it. Gasping from sheer panic I pull his face away.

"No hickeys! Matt will kick your ass," I scold him, but see the playful glint in his eyes.

"He'd kick my ass regardless, especially if he knew the things I think about when it comes to you and me,” slipping his hand inside my leggings. I know I should stop him, but I don't want to. I want whatever he wants, whatever he wants to give.

“Spread your legs for me.” I do as he tells me, holding on to him for balance. Folio doesn’t waste a second getting what he wants. Pushing my panties to the side, he runs his finger up in between my soaked folds, inserting a finger, knuckle deep into me. He pumps his finger, in and out slowly, twisting the further in he goes. I hold back a choked moan, swallowing the cries of how fucking good this feels. 

“You like this?” I nod, lowering my forehead against his chest. “Fuck you’re so wet. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten myself off to the idea of being inside you.” I gasp when Nick pushes further up, hitting that certain spot “Nick!” I cry, grabbing his biceps and digging my nails into them.

A feral growl emerges from deep inside his chest. Quiet curses fall beneath Nick’s breath as he continues his slow, burning pace of fucking me with his fingers. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s like Nick already knows everything about my body and how to please me. He grabs my ass and pushes my pussy harder into his hand, forcing me to grind down harder on it “Fuck if I’m not hard for you,” he whispers, his breath just shaky as mine and I can tell he’s struggling with composure just as much as I am. “I never thought I’d get this hard just from watching you ride my hand. Holy shit!” I clench and tighten around his hand, biting the inside of my cheek and lips in order to suppress the moans dying to escape. I can’t get to Nick’s hand the way I want to, so I yank my leggings down, exposing his hand buried deep inside me. I look down, watching his fingers thrust in and out of me, moaning over how fucking good it feels. I grab his wrist, keeping him right where I want him while I help guide his hand harder into me. 

“That’s it baby, feel me in you. Ride my hand baby girl,” Folio coos, praising me. His soft kisses on my forehead and the side of my head melt every worry and anxious thought away. 

“You’re fucking beautiful, y/n, you know that don’t you.” I shake my head, whining

Folio’s hand starts to move faster, pushing through my inner walls harder than before. The much welcomed assault is making the coiled heat tighter and tighter in my belly. 

“Well you are; so fucking beautiful. I want you. All of you. I want to give you all of me. Every single piece.”

The pressure of his thumb circling my clit draws out a slew of choice words.

“Fuck Nick, oh god, I’m going to cum, I can…. Mmmm, fuck! Don’t stop, please!” I moan.

Folio drops to his knees, forcing my legs further apart, and presses his mouth right onto my clit, almost making me scream. His sucks my bud, pulling it between his teeth, then swirls his tongue around my clit, while he continues to fuck me with his fingers. He holds my gaze as I shamelessly begin grinding on his face, feeling him hum in approval as I do so. He builds speed inside me, determined to watch me fall apart right here like this, all over his fingers, all over his mouth.

“Nick! Oh god, Nick, I’m about to cum! Baby, fuck!” I scream, grabbing Folio’s hair and holding his head right where I need it to stay as he works me through my orgasm. I feel his teeth skim my folds as I thrust my pussy against his tongue, forcing him to lick and swallow everything

My legs are trembling. I grip Nick’s shoulders as he stands up, wiping his mouth on his shirt.

“You good?” he asks, helping me balance while I step out of my leggings. Breathlessly, I nod my head pressing my hands on his now bare chest as he helps me out of my shirt. The soft, easy feeling of Folio’s hands running down my sides and over my bottom makes me realize I'm completely naked, standing before him. 

“Hey, look at me.”

Raising my head, I meet Folio’s gaze, feeling my face heat up. 

“You're beautiful.” 

He kisses the tip of my nose and then my forehead, leading me over to his drum kit and forcing me gently to bend over his biggest and tallest floor tom. I suck in a huge breath from the sudden coldness against my breasts and stomach. I lay there, body shaking, from over stimulation and fear that we’re going to get caught. 

"I wanna fuck you, just like this. Harder and faster than necessary. I wanna think about your breast flush against my toms and the sounds you make when I fuck you, pounding into you sweet little cunt until you can't walk, every single time I play.  

Nick presses me down with his hand on the middle of my back, running his hand over my ass.

"You have such a perfect ass, god damn!"

His hand comes down hard on my ass causing me to cry out a shrilled moan. “Fuck, Nick,” my words coming out through a choked sob. 

"Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

I hear his jeans unzip and fall to the stage floor where he kicks them to the side.

Despite the pain on my bottom, I nod quickly, desperately aching for Nick to fill me.

"I need words. Do you want me to fuck you baby?"

"Yes, Nick, please. Hurry up and fuck me."

"I won't be gentle."

"I'm not asking you to be."

Folio grabs my hips and forces my legs apart with his knee, aligning the tip of his cock with my entrance, probing it in and out a few times. The pressure that he puts on my folds alone, gently rutting against me, has me whimpering.

“Baby girl, you’re so fucking wet, it’s dripping into my tip, holy shit,” he mutters, still rutting against me. He sinks a little further in and already I can tell he’s going to fill me completely just from the slight stretch of my walls. 

“Fuck, honey, you’re really fucking tight,” Nick sighs, gripping my hips harder. “Are you ready for me?” “Yes. Just fill me, Nick. Stretch me, fill me, do whatever, just please let me feel you,” I beg. Without a word, he enters me, pushing into me with one quick thrust after another, sinking further down into me each time. Biting my tongue and the side of my cheeks to keep from screaming out, our muffled needy moans and grunts fill the air around us as Nick fills me completely, his thickness gliding right through my walls as if his cock was made for me.

"Motherfucker," Folio groans, throwing his head back. With his hands locked in a tight grip on my hips, he works me open, stretching me to fit his hard, thick cock that he barely gives me enough time to adjust to. His skin slaps against my skin as I grip the side of the tom the best I can while he fucks me at a brutal pace like a savaged dog. With every grunt, every deep and needy growl, we're shaking his entire drum kit, making cymbals crash together and creating sounds that hopefully drown out the sounds I’m making.

Nick’s hand snakes around my throat and lightly squeezes it, lifting me up a little. It has me arching my back and pushing my ass out a little more, creating a new angle for his cock to go in at.

"F-fuck, Nick, baby, you're gonna make me cum again," I cry out, moaning louder the closer I get. My skin is on fire, as Nick fucks me to towards the precipice of my climax. His hands find my breast, cupping them entirely to fill his hands. He massages them, rolling them around in his hands and squeezing their nipples so hard I can feel it in my pussy.

“I want you, y/n,” Folio confesses, panting as he slows his pace for a moment. “I want you to be my girl. I don’t want to share you with anyone else. I want this every day, every night with you. Stay with me baby.”

He kisses my shoulder, dragging his lips down the spine of my back and making goosebumps cover my skin. Nick's confession hits me right in the heart. I've wanted him for so long, that hearing him say this makes me cry.

"Yes," I cry through a whimper. "Fuck yes, I’m yours. I’ve always been you, Nick.” “Yeah? Really? You will?” The excitement in his voice is unmistakable. “I will. I am.”

Without a warning, Folio brings his hand down on my ass again, officially claiming it as his. It’s enough to snap the building tension inside me, as I throw my hand up and cover my mouth to silence the loud scream as my second orgasm crashes through me. Folio continues pounding into me, never letting up even though I’ve long abandoned my hand over my mouth and allow every word and sound to roll right off my tongue.

“Just like that, sweetheart, keep moaning like for me,” he encourages me. Droplets of sweat drip onto my back as he grunts, thrusting in and out a few more times before finally reaching the edge.

"Fuck! Fuck, baby, I'm about to cum. I wanna cum inside you,” he pants.

"Do it. I'm good," I assure him.

"You sure? Shit your pussy feels so fucking good! Fuck it!"

With one more sharp grunt, Folio cums, filling my entire insides with his release. My body is shaking so badly that I think I might collapse.

"Holy shit," Folio groans, falling over me gently, covering me with his body.

"Nick, my arms are about to give out," I whisper.

"Okay, come here, I've got you," he says breathlessly, slowly pulling out of me. Gentl, he pulls me back against him, lowering us to the floor, and collecting me entirely in his arms and into his lap. I cuddle deep into him, not at all caring about how hot and sweaty he is.

"Here, use this," he tells me, handing me his shirt.

"What's this for?" I look up at him and melt over how adorably cute he is.

"Um, well given the fact that your thighs aren't wet, I'd say you might need to,"

"Oh god! Yeah, okay," I laugh shyly, taking his shirt and shoving it between my thighs. The moment I let go, the intense pressure inside me begins to fade.

"Come here," Folio coos, pulling me tight against him. His heart is pounding as we sit quietly in the middle of the stage that will be a chaotic mess by tomorrow night.

"That was intense."

"Just a little. I'd say you hit pretty hard."

Folio snickers, running his hands through his hair.

"Drummers always hit it harder."

"This drummer always likes hitting you harder," he teases, kissing my forehead.

I laugh, shaking my head at his corny joke.

“You gonna let me hit that ass harder every time I fuck you?” 

I look up at him and he leans over and kisses me.

“Mmm, maybe. You’ll just have to be a good boy and wait and see.” 

“Fuck, you’re such a tease.” 

We sit in silence for a little while, listening to the sound of our hearts returning to their normal beating pattern. I love it here; being completely alone with Nick, safe in his arms.

"Were you serious when you said yes? You'll be mine."

I smile against his chest that I lightly pepper with kisses.

"Were you serious when you asked me to be?"

I gaze up at him, my eyelids heavy with tiredness. Folio grins, caressing my face gently, before laying a soft kiss on my lips.

"A thousand percent."

"Then I'm a thousand percent serious, too."

We eventually dress, cuddle for a little more before walking off the stage after Folio turns off the light. He looks back up at it, smiling widely.

"What?"

"I'm not going to be able to play clearly tomorrow after tonight. All I'm gonna be thinking about is you bent over my floor tom, ass naked.” 

"Oh, really?" I giggle, throwing my arms around his neck, freely kissing him before we leave the venue.

"Yeah, really. And the way that perfectly little round ass looked after being smacked a few times."

"Yeah, which by the way hurt, a lot."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I did it."

I glared at Nick.

"That's not the point."

"Well get used to it. This ass is mine now. I'll smack it, bit it and fuck it whenever I want."

"Hmm, I think I could get used to that."

"Yeah, me too," Folio grins, giving me another kiss.

"So, what are we going to do about my brother?" I ask, addressing the monkey in the room.

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of telling Matt."

The door to a mechanics room suddenly opens and my brother emerges, holding a box of cables. I freeze instantly as pure panic takes hold of my chest.

"There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere!" Matt exclaims, setting the box down.

"What have you been doing over here? Where were you just now?" His gaze shifts from me, over to Folio, then back to me. Then he notices my hand laced with Folio's, and I watch Matt’s face fall a thousand feet.

"Y/N, why are you and Folio holding hands?”

Fuck.

[sophsicle]

Okay, I understand hating Snape as an adult. He's a bully. But as a kid? As a teen? The result we see of Snape, him as a shitty adult, is an imperfect victim. Someone who had a bad life, made bad decisions, and was impacted by everything that happened to him. Not everyone can be abused, bullied, grow up in extreme poverty, and then pull through to be amazing people. SOME people can, and that's so amazing, but I don't think it's healthy to look at a child/teen with literally every social determinant of health against them and say 'well, they should've been able to do better'.

Does Snape suck as an adult? Yes. Did he also make decisions which saved Harry's life and allowed them to end the war? Also yes. Does he ultimately sacrifice his life for Harry? Yes. Does young Snape have a lot of potential, especially in spaces such as fanfiction, to explore the effects of one's upbringing and subsequent choices/life path (which you have explored so beautifully, carving out a life for a character in your stories with the very same themes)? Definitely.

I'm not saying he is a perfect person, or even a good guy, but a lot of people can and do relate to him as imperfect victims of bullying and abuse. Sometimes you can't rise above life's circumstances on your own, and you aren't this 'amazing' person. And that's okay. It's okay for victims of things like abuse to struggle, and it's good for people to acknowledge that things like bullying AREN'T okay and have lifelong consequences for their victims. Snape is a good example of what happens to a lot of people who aren't able to 'rise above' the things that happen to them and make mistakes. I think blind hatred for him is a very narrow-minded view, and ignores a lot of his story and nuances.

So two things a) I think perhaps you are missing some of the silly fun spirit I was attempting to infuse into my hatred of snape who is a character not a person

b) listen, I think snape is a super interesting character to play with because he offers a counter point to the marauders especially where issues of class are concerned, even the insults the marauders use against him, about him being "dirty" have clear class connotations and I think that allows you to critique the biases of the "heroes" of the story so to speak and that’s something I really like, so I’m not trying to suggest that he should just be dismissed because I don’t think he should be necessarily

What I am suggesting, is that JKR writes a grown adult teacher who abuses his students consistently and brutally for seven books (students he knows are already traumatized because the group he was a part of tortured or murdered their parents) and at the end of the series we are meant to forgive him because he loved a woman one time kind of maybe I guess

Now, fanfiction can do whatever it wants and make characters whoever it wants

But I have a fundamental problem with the way that snape is used in canon and the way that people accept that narrative

His behaviour as an adult towards the children he is in charge of is gross and unforgivable, but is absolutely forgiven by the narrative of the original text (without, I would argue, any of the nuance you are suggesting)

So I just find it less compelling to use fanfiction to continue to forgive this character

And like maybe if JKR didn’t explicitly write him as someone I was supposed to love I would feel differently, but because she does I don’t

I think you’re giving this character a lot more depth than he has

Which you totally can do with any character you wish, but for me, personally, not universally, cause there is no universal truth about a fictional character who does not exist, he deserves to be hated, in my opinion, again, cannot stress this enough, I’m not saying there is a right way to feel about this character because I don’t think you can say that about characters , but this is my way and I hate him and these are my reasons

Like you can hate characters without being narrow minded

I fear this is a thing you can do