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astroyongie · 24 days ago

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Ateez: When You Are Feeling Self Conscious About Your Body

Note: I figure that with Easter here and many of us having big meetings and often they are related to food, that this post could help some of you who are self conscious about these things <3 remember to take it easy and to be indulgent with yourself. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Hongjoong

It was evening, and you were in your bedroom, trying to find something to wear to a dinner with your friends and Hongjoong. The world outside has quieted, but your mind hasn’t no matter how hard you tried. You’re standing in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black tank top and shorts. nothing fancy, nothing done-up since the dinner would be something rather chill between friends and not something classy. You hadn't noticed how Hongjoong was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching you silently. He notices the way your fingers tug at the hem of your shirt. The way your eyes flick away from your own reflection like it hurts to look at yourself.

“You’re doing it again.” Hongjoong says softly, from behind you

You flinch just slightly, half because you’re startled but also because you know exactly what he means. You don’t answer. instead you shake your head a little before you spoke, your voice coming out quieter than intended.

“It’s just… I look like this. And you look like you. It doesn’t feel fair.” There was a silence, before you added, looking away from him,“I don’t want people to look at us and think you settled. Or that I’m… staining you.”

There’s a long pause. You don’t hear footsteps, but you eventually feel Hongjoong behind you, his warmth ghosting your back before his arms wrap slowly around your waist. Not tight. Just present. Just there.

“Staining me?” Hongjoong murmurs, his lips brushing your shoulder, “Is that what you think you’re doing when I can’t keep my hands off you?” he asked, his voice lowering, “When I see you walk into a room and I forget what I was saying? When your voice is the one I listen for even in silence?”

You feel him breathe in against your back, as if inhaling you makes the air steadier in his lungs.

“You want to know what ruins me?” Hongjoong asked, gently turning you to face him, cupping your jaw so tenderly it makes your throat ache, “Watching you shrink yourself because someone, somewhere, made you think your worth had anything to do with numbers, shapes,” He doesn’t say you’re beautiful like it’s a defense. He says it like it’s law. “Wear whatever you want. Let me be proud of you the way you won’t be of yourself. I’ll do it until you can.”

Mingi

Today was supposed to be chill, just a shopping spree with Mingi after a long week of work. And god, you really were trying to be casual about it, pretending to enjoy the process, but you’ve been stuck in the dressing room a little too long now and you hated how each time this was the same. Mingi had picked up this dress for you and he was so excited so of course you had to try it on.

But fuck why did you felt so disgusted by the mere sight of yourself?

The new outfit hugs you in a way you’re not ready to see. All of these flaws, jumping straight to your eyes and you hated it. Why couldn't you just shop in peace like all those pretty girls? You step out of the dressing room hesitantly, tugging at the fabric.

Mingi's sitting just outside in one of whose small couches, phone down, eyes up as soon as he noticed your presence. He looks at you for a full second. Not a polite glance, but a full, slow look. He sighed quietly

“You’re already bracing for me to lie, aren’t you?” Mingi asked

You swallowed. “It just… doesn’t fit right.”

He stood up, stepping closer to you before he suddenly tugged the mirror curtain closed behind you both so no one else could see what you both were on about.

“It fits like it was made for you. The only thing not fitting here is the idea that you’re anything less than stunning.” Mingi whispered, brushing your hair away, fingers grazing your neck, his voice a low whisper, “They don’t make mirrors that show you what I see. That’s the problem.”

And you felt your eyes teary up as he pulled you into a hug. Maybe, just in this moment, he had helped you fix something you never thought was needed to fix

San

You were laying down with San in your share bed, legs tangled as you were scrolling Instagram after an evening out with the whole group and their partners. It was something that has become an habit and tonight, Hongjoong had posted a few group photos that you all take throughout the night together. You clicked on the notifications, only to see this picture of yourself from an unflattering angle, and your heart sank.

You knew, or at least believed, that you weren't very pretty and this pictures and how you looked truly sent you down a dissociative and body dismorphia spiral. You locked your phone and quietly pulled the blanket up, turning your face away.

San was lying next to you, playing some phone games. after a few moments, he finally sensed that there was a shift in your behavior, which made him look over at you

“What happened?”

You didn't answer him, pretending you were asleep which made him sighed since this was a typical scene for him. San gently tugs the blanket down and rests his forehead against yours, trying to get your attention

"What's up?"

".. the picture Hongjoong posted" you murmured ever so quietly

“You saw a version of yourself that doesn’t match the one in your head, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, eyes stinging with stubborn tears which made him sigh and pull you into a tight hug.

“I saw that picture too. You looked real. Warm. Beautiful. Like the only person in the frame I wanted to kiss.” He said, kissing your cheek in a comforting way. Then your jaw and neck, his lips lingering at your collarbone “and if anyone else couldn’t see it… their eyes weren’t meant for you anyway.”

Seonghwa

You just got out of the shower after a very long day of work. Your skin was flushed, hair damp, body wrapped in a towel while the stubborn fog in the bathroom clung into the walls of your shared bathroom with Seonghwa.

To be honest with yourself you were avoiding the mirror ever since last week. You hated how it seemed like your body was unflattering, how you couldn't help but notice the weight clinging unto your hips. You were so self absorbed in your negative thoughts that you didn't notice Seonghwa walked in. He caught the way your arms are crossed, not from cold, but self-consciousness as you looked at the figged mirror, only to advert your eyes and to repeat the process.

Seonghwa paused in the doorway, waiting to see if you noticed him. when he noticed that you didn't, he finally came closer.

“You look like a painting when you’re like this.”

You scoffed, your eyes going to him as you tried to push the towel more securely around yourself. "Stop lying to me"

"I am not lying."

"I look fucking disgusting" you snapped and Seonghwa went quiet for a moment.

Once you looked away, eyes stinging with tears, Seonghwa stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he kissed your head before leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“No makeup. No posing. Just skin and warmth and you.” he murmured. "That's enough"

"You don't understand. I have to try to be more beautiful, try to be--"

You were cut off by his fingers tracing the edge of the towel at your back. “You don’t have to try. You never did.” he whispered the reassurance, pulling you into a soft hug, his heart aching. hoping that one way you would understand that you didn't needed to change to be loved. just to be yourself.

Wooyoung

You swore you were going to just cancel it out because there was no way you would go out looking like a piglet ham. you were halfway into getting dressed for an event with Wooyoung, knowing you needed to look extra fancy tonight. You had chose a dress you loved at first when you bought it, but now, in the mirror of your shared bedroom with your boyfriend, it felt “too much.” Too tight. Too revealing.

A ham. You were about to take it off, curse it out, cry and just tell Wooyoung that you weren't going no where when he entered the room, still buttoning his shirt. He saw the look on your face, frowning.

"What?"

"I look like a piglet"

"uh?" Wooyoung asked confused as he looked at you not understanding, "what are you on about?"

"I am taking this off." You said your hands ready to get rid of the dress

“Don’t." Wooyoung's voice almost sounded like an order, "Please don’t take it off yet.”

You froze, giving him a confused look as he walked over you slowly. Wooyoung brushed his knuckles against your bare shoulders, sighing

“You were made to wear softness like armor. Look at you.. You look beautiful” he reassured you and you sighed, feeling the tears rolling down your cheek

"I feel disgusting Woo"

“That's on your head love. You look like a goddess, so please don't take it off.. I will be the one taking it off for you tonight. and I promise I will show you how much you are beautiful”

and Wooyoung did.

Yeosang

To be honest, you hated summer time. It was always hot, you would sweat bunches and the mosquitoes were your biggest enemy. Or perhaps the second, the first being the way it was too hot to wear sweaters and you had to wear summer clothing, which meant to show more of your skin and body.

And that terrorized you deeply, and it was partially why you didn't understood how Yeosang could love you. you and him were out for a walk, and you had decided to wear a tank top out in the sun for the first time in a while, and every step felt like too many eyes were on your arms, your chest, your thighs.

you hated it.

Yeosang had noticesd the way your hand hovers near your stomach, the way you keep adjusting your shirt. He first tried to ignore, thinking you were just itchy but then it became clear that you were uncomfortable.

Yeosang leaned in, murmuring in your ear, "What's wrong?"

"I feel awful thats what's wrong... I hate summer.. I feel so uncomfortable" you said and Yeosang nodded. he knew how much you struggled with your body and he had always been supportive of you.

“If you’re worried about how they see you… just walk closer to me.”

You glance up at him, "closer to you?" you asked and he nodded

“I’ll absorb their gaze. Shield you." Yeosang said with a smile, "Don't worry love, I will make sure to be there.”

And Yeosang does. throughout the walk, he had rested his hand on your lower back like a promise. He would hold your hand when you felt nervous, or used his body as a shield whenever he felt you umconfortable. Kiss you, whenever he felt you spiraling.

You didn't know but, to Yeosang, you were his favorite sight in the world.

Yunho

You hated mornings after a night out for dinner, usually because you always indulged yourself in the food which resulted by you feeling heavy in the next morning. You were in bed, wearing an oversized shirt from Yunho, no makeup, hair wild from sleep. You felt messy. Bloated. Unsexy. You figured that maybe if you tried to slip away before Yunho wakes up, you could at least try to put some make up and do something about your bloated self--

Too late.

Yunho rolled over the moment you were getting up from bed. He scoffed, one big hand going to your wrist and pulling you in again which made you yelp.

“You trying to sneak away from me?” Yunho asked, voice still husky with sleep

You offer a sheepish shrug. "I try. but you are playing against me"

"Hm. why do you look uncomfortable?"

"because I am huge. I lack discipline" you complained and he clicked his tongue. He tugged you once again so you would be under him, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’re always running from your reflection"

"I hate it"

"it’s the only thing I want to chase.” Yunho murmured, his arms wrapping themselves around you as he gently caressed your body to prove his point. He kissds the hollow of your throat, sighing happily.

"Yunho.."

“shh.. Let me show you how good you already are.”

Jongho

You and Jongho were in a small café patio, in the early afternoon that he was able to take off from work. you were seated at a little round table laughing, sharing food, sun on your skin. You had been nervous to order dessert, but Jongho had nudged you softly

“If you want it, have it. Don’t let shame win.”

So you did.

You were halfway through a slice of this sweet cake when one of your co workers walked by. Out of politeness, you greeted them, doing small talk with a tight smile as they had decided to comment on your food.

“Wow, you’re really indulging today, huh? I wish I had that kind of confidence.” they had say in a laughing tone.

It’s a joke. A joke. But it lands like a brick to your chest. You freeze for just a second, your spoon midair. Your smile doesn’t falter, not fully as you’ve trained yourself too well. You laugh it off, murmuring a polite answer.

But Jongho watches you.

Watches the way your hand pauses. Watches the flicker of shame pass through your eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just turns his gaze to the person who spoke, tilts his head with that slow, unreadable calm of his. The silence stretches, heavy, pointed.

“You know what’s wild?” he asked the coworker, his voice quiet but clear

The person raises a brow. “What?”

“That you thought you could say something like that and still be welcome in this moment.”

There’s a pause. You feel your heart pound, your eyes widening at Jongho's comment .

“If her dessert makes you uncomfortable, maybe it’s your own reflection you should be questioning.” Jungho added, still calm and gently but not backing down

Your coworker sputters a quick apology, an awkward, fake, and fleeing one before they disappeared inside the cafe shop. Jongho waited until they were gone before he turned to you. Not with pity but with devotion.

“Don’t let them make you question something you earned. You wanted it. You enjoyed it. You deserve it.”

Jongho then picked up your spoon and feed you the next bite himself. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever touched

“You’re not too much. Not too full. Not too anything. You’re mine. And that means they don’t get to touch you. not even with their words.”

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rafedarling · 2 months ago

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hiii, saw your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could write something for dad!drew where his daughter is basically in like a revel teenager phase? she has a boyfriend which is not the best influence and it's just kind of mean to her parents so drew has to scold her but then one day she comes back from school being all sad because her boyfriend broke up with her, so he also conforts her with the break up. thanksss

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

pairing: husband!drew starkey x wife!reader

summary: your teenage daughter, ellie, is deep in her rebellious phase complete with a questionable boyfriend and a sharp tongue toward you and drew. tensions rise as drew steps in to set boundaries, but when ellie’s world crumbles after a breakup, he’s there to pick up the pieces, reminding her what family’s really about.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mild language, emotional themes (parent-teen conflict, breakup sadness), light mentions of a toxic relationship dynamic.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @issabellec7 @alexxavicry

You lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Drew pace back and forth in front of the fridge. His jaw’s tight, and you can tell he’s trying to keep it together. Ellie’s upstairs, door slammed shut like it’s been every night this week, and the air in the house feels thick with unspoken words.

“She’s sixteen, Drew,” you say, voice soft but firm.

“She’s testing us. It’s normal.”

He stops pacing, running a hand through his hair is still a little messy from filming earlier.

“Normal? You heard how she talked to you at dinner. ‘Whatever, Mom, you don’t get it.’ Like you’re the enemy here.”

He shakes his head, exhaling hard.

“And that kid she’s dating? Ethan? I don’t trust him. She’s sneaking out, coming home late, and I swear she smells like smoke half the time.”

You bite your lip, because he’s right.

Ellie’s been a hurricane lately, snapping at you over little things, rolling her eyes at Drew’s attempts to joke with her, and clinging to her phone like it’s a lifeline to that boyfriend of hers. Ethan’s a lanky kid with a smirk you don’t like, always hovering too close when he drops her off. You’ve seen the way he talks over her, the way she shrinks a little around him, and it twists something in your chest.

“I’ll talk to her,”

Drew says finally, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“She’s gotta hear it from me this time.”

You nod, even though you’re not sure how it’ll go. Drew’s always been the softer one with Ellie, movie nights, piggyback rides when she was little, teaching her to surf last summer.

But lately, she’s been pushing him away, too, and you know it’s eating at him.

The next night, it comes to a head. You’re folding laundry in the living room when you hear the front door creak open way past curfew. Ellie’s boots scuff against the hardwood, and Drew’s already on his feet, meeting her in the hallway.

“Ellie, where’ve you been?”

His voice is calm but edged with something harder. You peek around the corner, catching sight of her, her hair messy, mascara smudged, that oversized jacket Ethan gave her hanging off her shoulders.

“With friends,” she mutters, not meeting his eyes.

“God, why do you always have to make a big deal out of everything?”

“Because it’s midnight, and you didn’t text us,” Drew says, stepping closer.

“You know the rules. And don’t act like this is nothing, your mom and I have been worried sick.”

She scoffs, tossing her bag onto the floor.

“Maybe if you guys weren’t so controlling, I wouldn’t have to lie about it.”

You feel your stomach drop, but Drew doesn’t flinch.

“Controlling? Ellie Starkey, we’re trying to keep you safe here. That boyfriend of yours… he’s not good for you. You’re different since you started hanging out with him, and not in a good way.”

Her eyes flash, and she steps toward him, voice rising.

“You don’t even know him, Dad! You just hate him because you hate me having a life. You and Mom are so embarrassing, always up in my business like I’m some kid.”

“You are a kid,” Drew snaps, louder than you’ve heard him in a while.

“You’re sixteen, not twenty-five, and you don’t get to talk to us like that. We’re your parents, not your punching bag.”

Ellie freezes, and for a second, you think she might back down. But then she spins on her heel, stomping up the stairs.

“Whatever. I don’t need this.”

The door slams again, and Drew stands there, hands on his hips, staring at the empty hallway. You walk over, resting a hand on his arm.

“She didn’t mean it,” you say quietly. “She’s just… lost right now.”

He sighs, pulling you into a quick hug.

“I hope you’re right.”

A week later, everything shifts. You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for dinner when Ellie shuffles in, her backpack still slung over one shoulder. Her face is puffy, eyes red, and she doesn’t say a word just drops into a chair and stares at the table.

You set the knife down, glancing at Drew, who’s just walked in with a script in hand. He stops short, brows furrowing.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer at first, just sniffles and swipes at her nose with her sleeve. You move closer, sitting across from her, but Drew beats you to it, crouching down beside her chair.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, voice gentle now, all that frustration from before gone.

“Talk to me. What happened?”

Her lip trembles, and then it spills out.

“Ethan broke up with me.”

Her voice cracks, and she buries her face in her hands.

“He said I’m too boring, that I don’t ‘get’ him. And he’s already texting some other girl from school.”

You feel a pang of anger toward that little punk, but Drew’s already got it covered. He pulls a chair over, sitting close enough that his knee bumps hers.

“Ellie, listen to me,” he says, steady and sure.

“That guy? He’s an idiot. You’re not boring, Ellie, you’re smart and funny and way too good for someone who’d treat you like that.”

She peeks at him through her fingers, eyes glassy.

“Then why’d he dump me?”

“Because he’s a dumbass who doesn’t know what he’s got,”

Drew says bluntly, and you can’t help but smile a little.

“Guys like that they don’t see what matters. You deserve someone who’s gonna respect you, not tear you down.”

Ellie sniffs again, dropping her hands.

“I thought he liked me. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you chime in, reaching for her hand.

“You’re figuring stuff out. That’s what this age is for.”

Drew nods, brushing a strand of hair out of her face like he used to when she was small.

“And hey, I know I’ve been hard on you lately. I’m sorry if it felt like I was coming down too tough. I just… I see you changing, and it scares me. I don’t want you to lose yourself over some guy who doesn’t deserve you.”

She looks at him, really looks at him, and her shoulders slump.

“I’m sorry, too, Dad. For being such a jerk. I didn’t mean to make you guys hate me.”

“We could never hate you,” you say, squeezing her hand.

“Never,” Drew echoes, pulling her into a hug.

She resists for half a second before melting into it, burying her face in his shoulder like she hasn’t in months. You catch his eye over her head, and he gives you a small, tired smile, relief and love all mixed together.

Later, after she’s eaten something and gone to bed, you and Drew sit on the couch, his arm around you.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “She’s got us.”

And in that quiet moment, with the house finally still, you know it’s true.

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drewsbraziliangf · 7 months ago

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nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?"

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to?

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?”

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs.

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to.

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things?

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen.

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent.

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x black reader #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #obx #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #x black reader #x black fem reader #obx fanfiction #obx s4

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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 4 months ago

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This is a really specific request so it's absolutely fine if you don't feel comfortable doing it but protective Liam standing up for his autistic gf to her dad or older man family member who keeps being willfully ignorant and making comments

Support||Liam Lawson x fem!autistic!reader

Word count—769

Liam’s patience finally snapped as the older man—her father—leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smug look on his face. The latest comment had been the tipping point.

“I just don’t get why everything has to be so complicated with you,” her father said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You make a big deal out of nothing, and it’s like… people walk on eggshells around you. Life doesn’t work like that.”

Liam glanced at his girlfriend, who sat rigidly beside him. Her eyes were fixed on her lap, her fingers twisting anxiously around the hem of her shirt. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was trying to shrink into herself, and it made his blood boil.

“Enough,” Liam said, his voice firm and steady.

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said enough,” Liam repeated, standing. “This isn’t okay. And it hasn’t been okay for a long time.”

Her father leaned forward, clearly affronted. “Listen, young man—”

“No, you listen,” Liam cut him off, his tone sharp but controlled. “I’ve sat here all night listening to you talk down to her, dismiss her feelings, and act like her autism is some kind of inconvenience for you. And I’m done with it.”

Her father blinked, clearly unused to being challenged. “I’m not being dismissive. I’m just saying she makes things harder than they need to be. Back in my day, people didn’t have all these labels. We just got on with life.”

Liam let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right. And how’s that working out for you? Ignoring reality doesn’t make it go away. It just makes you blind to it. Autism isn’t a ‘label.’ It’s part of who she is. And what you call ��making things harder’ is just her trying to exist in a world that wasn’t built for people like her.”

“She’s fine,” her father said dismissively. “She just needs to toughen up.”

Liam’s voice rose, his frustration spilling out. “She’s already tougher than you’ll ever understand! Do you have any idea how much courage it takes for her to face people like you every day? To advocate for herself when people constantly dismiss her? You’re supposed to be her family. You’re supposed to support her. And instead, you make her feel small.”

“Liam…” his girlfriend murmured, tugging at his arm. Her voice was quiet, but there was a waver in it that broke his heart.

He turned to her, his expression softening. “No, you don’t deserve this,” he said gently but firmly. “You’ve been putting up with this for too long, and it’s not fair to you.”

Her father threw up his hands. “Oh, come on. I’m her father. I know her better than you do. She’s just being dramatic.”

Liam’s jaw tightened, and he turned back to the older man. “You don’t know her better than she knows herself. And if you think this is ‘dramatic,’ then you haven’t been paying attention. She’s told you what she needs. She’s told you how to support her. And every time, you’ve ignored it. Do you have any idea how much that hurts her? How much that undermines her?”

Her father opened his mouth, but Liam didn’t let him speak. “You think you’re the authority on her life because you’re her dad? You’re not. She is. And it’s about time you started listening to her instead of dismissing everything she says. Because if you keep this up, you’re going to lose her.”

The words hit like a hammer, and her father’s bravado faltered. For a moment, he looked genuinely unsure of himself.

“She’s not asking for anything unreasonable,” Liam continued, his voice quieter now but still firm. “She just wants to be understood. Respected. Loved for who she is, not who you think she should be. That’s not coddling. That’s what family is supposed to do.”

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the sound of his girlfriend taking a shaky breath. She looked up at Liam, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Liam turned back to her father, his tone softening just slightly. “You still have a chance to fix this. But it starts with you admitting that you’ve been wrong. And it starts with you trying. Really trying.”

Her father looked down at his hands, clearly uncomfortable. For the first time that evening, he seemed to be grappling with Liam’s words.

Liam reached for his girlfriend’s hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “You’re not alone in this,” he said to her softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. “Not anymore.”

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darkintothedawn · 3 months ago

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POCKET-SIZED LOVE || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Based off of the whole 'He's so cute, I want to put him in my pocket.' train of thought people get.

Word Count — 1037

Warnings — Fluff.

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

It was late, but neither of you were in any rush to move. The glow of the lamp in Stiles’ room bathed everything in warm gold, the only sound between you the faint hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of fabric as one of you shifted.

You were in Stiles’ lap, your arms wrapped securely around his neck, legs lazily draped over his. It was a position you had ended up in a thousand times before—sometimes by accident, sometimes because he yanked you into him with that playful strength of his, and sometimes because you just needed to be close to him.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“You’re crushing me,” Stiles mumbled against your shoulder, though his arms around your waist told a different story.

“You love it.”

“I do, but also, my legs are falling asleep.”

“Sounds like a you problem, Stilinski.”

He huffed out a dramatic sigh, flopping his head back against the couch. “This is abuse.”

You grinned, shifting just enough to look at him. His face was flushed—not just from warmth, but from you, from the weight of your body pressing into his, from your fingers trailing lazily up and down his back.

His eyes flickered open, and even in the dim lighting, you could see the way they softened as they landed on you. It made your heart ache in the best way.

God, you loved him.

You reached up, cupping his cheeks between your hands, your thumbs pressing into the soft skin. “You’re so pretty,” you whispered, almost in awe.

Stiles immediately stiffened. “Oh my God, don’t—”

“Too late,” you interrupted, squeezing his cheeks together until his lips puckered. “I’m in love with the prettiest boy in the world.”

A strangled sound escaped him, something between a groan and a laugh, and he weakly batted at your hands. “Stop it.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll kick you off.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tighter.

You grinned. "See? You’re stuck with me."

"You are physically on me, so yes, I’d say that’s accurate.”

You laughed, pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek just to watch the way his nose scrunched up. He looked at you like he was debating whether to throw you off or never let you go.

“Y'know," you mused, tilting your head as you traced slow circles over his jaw with your thumb, "I think I should just shrink you down and keep you in my pocket forever.”

Stiles blinked. “What.”

“I mean it,” you continued, undeterred. “I’d keep you safe, take you everywhere, make you a little bed out of my shirt pocket. I could set up a tiny desk so you could still solve your little mysteries, and I’d feed you tiny snacks—”

Stiles groaned, pressing his face into your shoulder. “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t,” you teased, scratching your nails gently against the back of his neck. “You love it. You love me.”

His fingers dug into your sides, his voice muffled against your shirt. “I really do, and it’s awful.”

You smiled, pressing your nose against the side of his head, breathing him in. "Would you really let me keep you in my pocket?"

Stiles pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wide, thoughtful, and for a moment, something soft flickered across his face, something he almost looked scared to say.

"If it meant always being with you?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."

The words knocked the air right out of you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling so much that it almost hurt. Your hands slid from his cheeks down to his shoulders, gripping him tighter, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin.

“We could run away, you know,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice light, even though your heart was pounding. “Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. No werewolves, no responsibilities. No one trying to kill us every other week.”

Stiles let out a breathy laugh, but his hands tightened around you like he was holding onto the thought, like he was considering it.

“You really mean that?” he asked after a moment, voice softer than before.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face. His freckles, the scar on his chin, the way his lower lip was slightly fuller than his top—God, he was unfairly pretty.

“Of course, I do,” you said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. You could feel his heart hammering against yours, his breath a little unsteady.

“Okay,” he whispered.

You tilted your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. “If you ever do find a way to shrink me down, just… make sure I get a comfy pocket, alright?”

You let out a breathless laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “I’ll keep you somewhere warm, right next to my heart.”

He groaned. “You have to stop saying things like that, my heart physically can’t take it.”

“Then stop being so adorable.”

“I am not—”

You cut him off with a kiss, slow and sweet, your fingers threading through his hair. He melted immediately, hands gripping your waist, pulling you even closer even though there was barely any space between you.

When you pulled back, his breath was shaky, his eyes still half-lidded as he stared at you.

“I love you,” you murmured.

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just looked at you, like he was still trying to figure out how this was real, how you were real. Then, he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours again.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much, it’s stupid.”

You smiled, closing your eyes.

For a while, you just sat there, wrapped up in each other, whispering quiet confessions into the space between you. And even if you couldn’t actually keep Stiles in your pocket, you were going to hold onto him as tightly as you could, for as long as he’d let you.

And knowing Stiles?

That just might be forever.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #gender neutral reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x reader fluff #stiles stilinski fanfiction

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posttexasstressdisorder · 2 months ago

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https://www.sfgate.com/politics/article/hey-democrats-wake-up-20219559.php

The sky is falling. The United States federal government is being illegally dissolved before your very eyes. The workers you rely on to ensure that you don’t eat ground beef tainted with paint chips are being laid off en masse. Immigration and Customs Enforcement raided your office last week and asked for your papers, even though you were born in Fremont. A fire tornado is due to touch down in your backyard next Tuesday. Your parents are terrified to board an airplane. Your gay nephew is terrified to go to school. Your 401(k) is in the toilet. MEASLES. Measles have returned and want to eat your baby. Every day you look at the news, and you’re told that the president would like to bring back cockfighting. You and I need reassurance. You and I need to know that someone out there is trying to put an end to all this madness. Instead, we get this.

I hate you, Democrats. I hate you so, so much. Yes, I hate Trump and Elon and all of the s—t-for-brains voters out there who were like DURRR THESE FELLAS ARE JUST WHAT WE NEED TO CLEAN UP WASHINGTON DURRR. But I reserve a special place in my black heart for you, Democrats. You are the representational equivalent of being put on hold by customer service. All you do is let me down. It’s like being a Browns fan if every time the Browns lost, a Tesla ran over my dog. You guys make voting feel pointless.

Starting with you, Joe Biden. You still alive, old man? Well, you could’ve fooled me. Great job staying in the 2024 race juuuuust long enough to torpedo your party’s chances, and then pissing off to Cape Henlopen solely because George Clooney asked you to. Were you a good president? I have no idea, because you were too busy huffing oxygen from your bedside tank to sell your agenda to the American people. Maybe you could have gotten everyone on your side by crafting a really clever sign to hold up.

And who’s this? Why, it’s former Vice President Kamala Harris, who got voters excited for exactly one month before huddling with her advisers and deciding to campaign as a Republican, WITH Republicans. And what other brilliant tactician could tap one of the most beloved governors in America as her running mate and then Tim Kaine-ify him by 75%? Hey Kamala, maybe in your free time you can pursue a life sentence for a homeless man who stole a box of Chiclets from a local CVS. I legit thought you would win in November! Why did I think that? Someone should brain me on the head with a baseball bat.

Speaking of head injuries … John Fetterman! I’m a fellow brain injury survivor alongside John. So when this man suffered a stroke during his Senate race against Dr. Oz, I was like, “Do NOT discriminate against this man just because he had a brain injury.” Little did I know that Fetterman’s blood clot would turn him into the second coming of Joe Manchin. I just got rid of Joe Manchin, and now I have to deal with a taller, weirder one?

These are just some of the people I was foolishly hoping would put a stop to the meme-ocracy that’s currently eating the world. Democrats keep responding to our cries for help with, “Get out and vote!” Who am I even voting for? Is it you? Is it some asshole company on your donor roll? Is it shrink-wrapped skull James Carville, whose electoral acumen has aged even worse than he has? I’ve gotten more results voting on a new flavor of Lay’s potato chip.

U.S. President Donald Trump shakes hands with California Gov. Gavin Newsom upon arrival in Los Angeles on Jan. 24, 2025, to visit the region devastated by the Palisades and Eaton fires.MANDEL NGAN/AFP via Getty Images

Now that I think about it, how did a state that offers so much sunshine and terrific produce end up with a whole armadaof s—t Democrats, including Adam Schiff, Nancy “once we all die in a rejuvenated smallpox epidemic, the House will be ours again!” Pelosi and Alex Padilla, who thought that a sternly worded letter to a Trump mole would end the administration’s desecration of our national parks. And don’t forget about Dianne Feinstein! Yes, I know that Feinstein is dead. No, that doesn’t excuse her. Stupid, dead Feinstein. I bet she’s lecturing children in hell because they dared to ask for a table fan.

And if you think that my party has more to offer on the opposite coast, may I introduce you to New York Democrats? Oh look, it’s Little Mister Punching Bag, Chuck Schumer! A Palestinian American resident of this man’s state was just kidnapped by ICE and remanded to Kafka State Prison down south without cause, and Chuck’s first instinct was to essentially say, “Now we all know this young man is brown, which means he hates the Jews.” Totally. Way to see the REAL story going on here, you empty tin of pomade. And somehow Chuck has even greater moral fortitude than Eric Adams, who probably couldn’t commit murder without accidentally leaving his Turkish passport in the victim’s hand.

I can’t believe how useless most of these Democrats have proven in the fight to preserve something, anything, functional in this backwater of a country. Oh, do you want me to give the RBG girlboss treatment to Sonia Sotomayor, who skipped out on retiring while Biden was in office because she just loves writing terse dissents? What about Hakeem “Next Pelosi” Jeffries? Will he bamboozle the opposition with his fearsome repertoire of debate club hand gestures? Judging by those signs from the other night, I’m thinking no. No as all f—k.

I don’t expect you geniuses in charge of my party to listen to my plea, but I’ve been shouting into the wind for decades now so I may as well do it one final time. Democrats need to give voters like me a reason to care. Our current president is an asshole, but he sure knows how to get people to care one way or the other. Part of that success has been from brute force political messaging. Part of it is from the voraciousness of capitalism mutating this country into a place where everyone is told they’re equal but no one WANTS to be equal. When Donald Trump runs on a platform that boils down to F—K OTHER PEOPLE, tens of millions of Americans eat it up because they’ve been conditioned to hate other people: their boss, their movie stars, that guy that cut them off on the drive to work, everyone.

I don’t know how we solve this problem, but actually WANTINGto solve it is a good first step. I see little evidence right now that Democrats — especially you, Gavin — have that desire. I’ll still vote in every election out of obligation, but how many others will just stop doing it entirely now that you’ve failed them so consistently? I have a hard time trusting a bunch of people who couldn’t even think to start up an ASSHOLE chant on the House floor during Trump’s speech last week. I’m wagering that younger generations are even more disaffected. Those people will be lost forever unless you f—kers finally understand what’s happening outside your office window.

And if you don’t get your s—t together now, I’ll know it’s because you don’t want to. I’ll know that you never cared about democracy. That you never cared about fixing the Constitution that’s currently sitting at the bottom of Sam Alito’s toilet. That you never cared about women or gay and trans folk or the poor or Muslim Americans or even Jewish people. I’ll know that you only care about yourselves, same as the president does. If you careerist scum want to prove me and every other voter wrong, you’d better get started right now. The clock is ticking.

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macabr3-barbi3 · 8 months ago

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Dream a Little Dream (of Me)- Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Even more fun new abilities, like making Alastor have a real conversation!

I'm sorry, I know it's been forever- I have a terrible habit of getting caught up at chapter 5 on all of my fics for some reason 🤣 the new banner was created by my beloved @fraugwinska who is this fic's #1 hype woman (ily 💕)

I've hit a point in this story where I think I'm going to start implementing a few more plot elements- I love writing the smut but I have some fun ideas for actual story; they can only do so much before something else is needed to keep it going, so going forward there will be a bit less of a focus on the sexual aspects of the reader's relationship with Alastor and more on some emotional parts and world-building. I hope that's not too disappointing, and that you all will stick along for the ride with us <3

For weeks following your fleeing of his bedroom, Alastor is in an absolutely foul mood.

The night after your argument, your silent lounging on your bed- in your own bedroom once again, sleep deprived and irritated, unwilling again to interact with anyone else’s dreams- is disturbed by a shuddering of the hotel and loud, clattering thumps coming from down the hall. You stumble bleary-eyed into the hallway with everyone else, Charlie identifying the disturbance as coming from Alastor’s room and knocking gently on the door.

When he opens it he looks distraught, eyes wide, smile strained, his hair looking like he’s been running his hands through it constantly, tugging at it. “What is it,” he asks the Princess, and to Charlie’s credit she doesn’t shrink back from him when she asks if he’s okay, tells him that he’s disturbing everyone’s sleep.

He locks eyes with you where you stand a few feet away, still hovering halfway into your own room. “Perfectly fine,” he tells Charlie, but his eyes don’t leave your face. “Merely a… nightmare, I suppose. More of a disappointing dream than anything else, really.”

You duck back into your room with a slam of the door, chest heaving with your anger and frustration and not listening to whatever else he had to say to Charlie. What right did he have to say that you were a disappointment? You didn’t even know what he wanted from you, let alone what you had done wrong- what, not wanting to kill people? You were no saint, having ended up in Hell in the first place, but you had morals still, lines you wouldn’t cross. Regardless of anything that had happened between you thus far, any yearning or feelings that might have resulted from it, you wouldn’t change who you were as a person for him. You came to the hotel seeking redemption, for fuck’s sake- how could he think that he could ask that of you?

You start booking other hotel rooms with the money you’re earning as the Resident Events Coordinator- honestly, Charlie probably pays you way too much, but it's helping you in the meantime so you aren’t going to complain- and you’ll camp out for a few days at a time and practice your abilities in the dreams of others. It’s fun for a while, to innocently mess with people by creating clones and turning things upside down. You find that once you’ve been inside someone’s dreams you can almost tune into their thoughts like a radio broadcast now- a little concentration and you get fleeting snippets of consciousness from them; grocery lists, work tasks, gossip. It’s nothing like it had been with Alastor, like you were deep-diving into his brain, seeing his memories through his eyes. He might have been right about your connection to him being what allowed such a thinking to happen, since you showed no signs of being able to do such a thing with anyone else.

Charlie notices how often you’re away from the Hotel, because she’s doing everything in her power to keep you there aside from having Vaggie physically restrain you. She keeps proposing new activities for you to coordinate, from a night at the club to an outing at LuLu World, and most recently she had you planning a trip to her father’s mansion for some fancy dinner and tour- Lucifer himself wouldn’t be interacting with them beyond the actual meal, he was just opening the space to them so they could all see where Charlie had grown up, another lesson in ‘empathy’ that Charlie hoped would help them make progress.

So you spent the evening making sure that everyone was corralled into the correct locations and not slipping off where they shouldn’t be. Angel had already tried to convince Husk to raid the wine cellar with him, Niffty was lamenting that she wasn’t allowed into the King’s personal quarters to clean, and Charlie was growing more and more frustrated that rooms she wanted to show the group had been filled with rubber ducks. Alastor keeps his distance from you, occasionally fading into the shadows to go do his own thing- you hope Charlie and Lucifer don’t hold it against you that you have no ability to control that man.

Dinner calms everyone down, wine and delicious food putting everyone in a better mood while Lucifer dazzled them with magic and stories about Charlie as a child. You laugh along with everyone but you can feel Alastor’s eyes on you the entire meal, and when you finally steal a glance at him he’s looking away.

Typical.

You help Vaggie herd everyone into their rooms- their own rooms, to Angel’s disappointment at not being able to share with Husk- and leave Alastor to Charlie so she can berate him about not making an effort to get along with her dad, snippy barbs flying across the table at each other between stories. You tell the girls that you’ll stay up a bit later to make sure no one does any ill-advised exploring in the night, and bid them a goodnight as you head off to clean up from dinner. Lucifer seemed to have used his magic to take care of most of the food mess, but he’s nowhere to be seen when you return to the dining room so you take your time in stacking plates and organizing the dishes so that whatever staff he might have has an easier time of taking care of it all.

Just after midnight finds you seated on the couch in Lucifer’s library, your eyes surprisingly not bleary with a need for sleep despite not having truly rested in days. Everyone else is asleep- you focus your powers for a moment and can’t pinpoint anything coming from the others, other than an unpleasant staticky noise that comes from Alastor’s room. The fireplace crackles pleasantly a few feet away from you, the comforting smell of old books surrounding you and making things feel… calmer than they have as of late, with Alastor stomping around the hotel like some angry beast and refusing to interact with you at all. He was always making this expression towards you, like he wants to say something, or wants you to say something, and it was wearing away at your resolve.

You didn’t want to have this distance between you. Even beyond the more intimate moments that you had shared, Alastor had always been good company; he was helping you learn more about your powers, even if it was only to sate his curiosity; outside of his bedroom he was friendly and fun, and would probably rather die again than admit that he enjoyed the company of the others as well. Throughout of the course of this… thing between you, something had changed on your side. You think about the night he tore his stitches, the words you had whispered before realizing he had passed out above you.

“I would be yours. Forever. For as long as you want.”

The words still sit uncomfortably true in your ribcage, make the rift between the two of you feel even wider. Maybe it would be easier if he knew- if you could take his avoidance of you as an answer. You wanted to find him, try to have a proper conversation about boundaries when it came to your power- have a proper conversation about your feelings, and-

A throat clears in the doorway of the library, and when you turn Alastor himself stands in the doorway. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he says stiffly without stepping into the room, and you wave a hand at him to indicate that he can join you. He stands at the other end of the room still, closer to the fire, and won’t meet your eyes. “I heard you telling Charlotte that you would keep an eye on everyone tonight- but I know you haven’t slept. I’m happy to take up the watch if you would like me to place a temporary pocket dimension in your room, or transport you back to the hotel for the night.”

You want to drop it- ignore the fight that still hovers frustratingly between the two of you when Alastor is offering an out. His way of apologizing, perhaps, but your thoughts from earlier are still there. You needed to actually talk about it, or the pair of you would just keep coming back to the same issue.

“It depends. Does accepting your offer mean that we wouldn’t be talking about how you casually mentioned having me kill people for you? Because in that case, no thank you.” You watch the fire instead of him, how the flames twist and dance with one another as he stiffens at your words.

“I… regret how that evening transpired,” he says at last, ignoring your sigh as he comes closer to the couch. “I’ve thought on the matter and I recognize how such a request-”

“A request that you made seem like a command,” you remind him, “with that shit you pulled with the leash.”

He takes a deep breath, the flames flickering green behind him as he tried to keep his composure. “Yes, I can see now how that would have upset you. Regardless- I recognize how such a request was inappropriate, even if we did have a tentative agreement in regards to my limits with your powers. I understand that it is a boundary for you, and I will do my best not to test that again.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he looks… properly abashed. But there was no way he would have come up with that on his own, not with the glee that had been evident in his features when he brought up the idea. “Did Charlie help you with that?” You ask, and he scowls- which is less scary than he probably hopes it is, and is more a confirmation than anything else.

“I may have sought her expertise in handling interpersonal conflict,” he says, his stiff posture finally loosening up as he joins you on the couch. “Apologies do not come easily to me- not sincere ones, anyway. I don’t-” He clenches his fist and turns away from you, dark shadows crawling across the floor in arcs away from him. “I don’t know how to have something in my grasp without possessing it entirely. We have a deal but it’s not one that grants me the liberties that I would prefer in regards to your powers and your actions.”

You take a deep breath and scoot closer to him. “I appreciate you being honest with me,” you offer, and he grimaces like the idea is distasteful. “Listen, I’m sure you think having feelings makes you weaker or something but really, it’s important to talk about these things. And to apologize… which I accept. But if we want to keep, you know, experimenting with my powers and whatever else, I think we need to have specific guidelines of what we expect of each other that isn’t crossing any boundaries for either of us. What, exactly, do you want?”

Alastor seems to struggle with himself for a moment, clenching his hands and refusing to meet your eyes. “I… I’m not quite sure what I want,” he says, like the words of ignorance pain him. “I’ve despised having to keep my distance from you since our disagreement. To see you laughing with the others and turning away from me with that look on your face was unpleasant to say the least. I don’t want that space between us again- if you’re amenable to the idea I think I would like to have you back in my bedroom, once I have repaired the bayou dimension.”

“You want to be closer then- physically.” You hop cushions, sitting right beside him and placing a hand on his knee. “That’s fine, we can do that- you’ll have to tell me what happened to the bayou sometime, though.” He nods stiffly, hesitating a moment before he places his hand over yours on his knee. “Anything else?”

“In regards to your powers, I would still like to experiment if you will allow me.” Alastor lifts your hand from his knee and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “I understand that hurting others is a limit you will not cross-”

“I won’t hurt you either, if that was your idea of trying to get around that.”

He frowns. “Too clever for your own good- I suppose that is part of the reason that I tolerate you. Very well- I will not ask you to cause physical harm to anybody, period. I also still would like to ask that I am the only one who knows of your abilities for the time being.”

“Done. I do have a condition of my own.” You turn to face him fully, and pull his hand to your heart. “I don’t want this to be a proper deal- no soul binding or anything like that. I would want the rope from our wager removed.” He stiffens at that, but he doesn’t jerk away from you like you expected so you continue. “We have to be able to trust each other if we want any sort of relationship to work, whether it be for experimentation or something more. We should be able to follow each other’s requests and boundaries without needing it sealed with a chain- that doesn’t give us any room to adapt or change as my powers grow and situations shift.”

His jaw clenches, and he doesn’t look at you for a long moment, instead keeping his eyes trained on the flames before he finally nods- you bite your lip to keep from grinning or doing something stupid, like shouting in excitement. “I hope you realize what you are asking of me,” he says finally. “I don’t generally keep people close to me that I cannot control or own in some way or another. It keeps me detached from needing people, or caring about their approval. But I do believe I want those things from you, which is why I am agreeing to these terms. Please understand that this is… new territory for me.”

You lace your fingers through his. “It is for me, too. But that’s where the trust comes in- I have to trust that you’ll respect my boundaries without the compulsion of a deal, and you trust that I’m here with you because I want to be- whether you just want to continue experimenting with my powers or… anything else.”

Alastor’s red eyes glance at you from his peripheral. “Anything else, you say? I take it to mean that you also wish for things to return as they were between us in an intimate manner?” Your face flushes but you nod, and to your relief he smiles softly and reaches across the scant distance between you to touch your shoulder. “I would like that as well,” he says, and cups your cheek in one hand, leaning in so your foreheads rest against one another. His breath ghosts across your lips, and you realize with startling clarity that this would be the first time you’ve kissed him outside of dreams; the first one in reality, a milestone to mark the resolvement of your disagreement. You embrace it, leaning in and letting your lips meet, a gentle pressure before your mouth opens with a gasp when he trails his free hand up your thigh to caress the skin under your shorts with his thumb. “So soft,” he murmurs into the kiss, almost absently, and then he’s pulling you to him, maneuvering so you sit sideways in his lap. He lets his fingers creep a bit further under the hem of your shorts. “May I?”

“Please,” you whine, and he grants you mercy by snapping your clothing out of existence so he can make unhindered contact with your skin. His fingers move slowly, tracing through the wetness along the folds of your entrance before he parts them and slips a digit inside. The short weeks that have passed since the last time you were with him feel like a lifetime, but he still knows the intricacies of your body like a well loved instrument; a second finger follows, and pressure against the spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Fuck, Alastor…”

He steals the rest of your words with his mouth, his tongue snaking in to tangle with yours, drinking down the sounds you make like ambrosia. Another finger, and you twist in Alastor’s hold to grind yourself down against them, to angle your hips to guide him more effectively where you want him to go. “Someone is eager, hm?” He pulls back to whisper in your ear, hand finally leaving your face to come around your back, pulling you as close as he can to his body while still working his fingers inside you. His thumb comes into play, brushing with perfect pressure on your clit, dipping into the wetness that coats his fingers so the slide of it is slick and perfect. Tension builds inside you, muscles shaking as you ride Alastor’s hand towards a sloppy orgasm. He brings his mouth to your chest, sharp teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there before sucking gently, still making eye contact when you glance down at him through the haze of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. “Go on, darling,” he says softly, laving his tongue over the marks he’s sucked into your skin, fingers thrusting more insistently as everything in you coils tighter than a spring. “Cum for me, go on-”

You cry out his name as it takes you over, the electric flash of ecstasy that consumes you from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers as Alastor works you through it. You can feel your heartbeat in your eyes from the force of it, a soft throbbing that you know Alastor is experiencing where his digits are still inside the grip of your internal walls. Everything is tingly and fuzzy afterward, as your pulse returns to normal and your breathing slows, aware now of the soft kisses that Alastor is pressing into your collarbone.

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his mouth to drag his tongue up and down the length of them while you blush. And despite the pleasure he’s already given you, you want more- you grind your hips down to convey the sentiment, the mess of your orgasm still evident and soaking through the front of his trousers where you can feel the hard ridge of his cock. He hisses at the friction, twisting a hand up into your hair while the other grips your hip and pulls you down harder. “You tempt me, my dear,” he says, “but someone is coming.”

“I don’t hear anything,” you mutter, continuing to rock your hips in little circles. Even with how sensitive you are, the pressure against your clit feels damningly good, too good to stop or heed his warning. “And if someone comes in, I’ll handle it.”

Alastor laughs out loud. “Oh, you’ll handle it, will you? By all means then, have at it.” He gestures vaguely towards his pelvis, unaware of the trick that you’ve been holding up your sleeve in your recent solo experimentations. You would never get a better opportunity to surprise him, you think, as you rip the belt from his pants and help him shimmy them off, his thick erection beading with fluid at the tip when it’s freed.

You lean back against the couch cushions, pulling him down with you and using a gentle hand to guide him to your entrance. You let out a soft whimper as he pushes into you, breath punching out of you with a gasp when he sinks to the hilt in one swift thrust. You tangle a hand into his hair, gripping the base of one of his antlers and grinning when his hips jerk against you at the action. His eyes are half-lidded and soft as he stares down at you, seeming to have to focus on slowing down when he pulls out and slowly presses back in. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, and your pulse leaps into your throat when he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind is flooded with images when he makes contact, emotions that ride through your veins along with the physical pleasure you’re feeling- evidently he’s been watching you the last few weeks, following you when you left the hotel to make sure you weren’t in any danger, sending his shadow to watch you sleep. You can feel the bitterness in your pulse as he watches you interact with the others, only to turn away when you notice him. The vague sadness that night that he had destroyed his room, his bayou, because how could he remain there when there were traces of you everywhere?

You break the connection with a gasp, using your grip on his antler to pull him back to your mouth as he continues to fuck into you at a steady pace. He groans into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, marks that you can come back to when the need was to great, more tangible proof that this was real, that he wanted you outside your abilities. “Alastor, please,” you beg, letting the fingers not currently brushing the base of his horns to trail down his spine, tracing the vertebrae beneath your touch as he shivers. He shifts his legs, brings himself closer to you, the angle changing and pushing the tip of his cock exactly where you need it.

The door to the library creaks open, and you both freeze.

“Hello?” There’s a hint of pain as Lucifer’s voice echoes in the room, where Alastor has tightened his grip enough to break skin with his claws. His other hand untangles itself from your hair to press against your mouth, silencing your heavy breathing. “Who’s in here?”

The couch you were seated on was high-backed- he wouldn’t be able to see you from the door, but if he entered the room, came around the front, you would be fucked in a far less pleasurable way than you currently were. Alastor’s nostrils flare above you as he hears the soft clacking of the King’s boots as he takes a couple steps in, apparently not able to help himself from bucking his hips forward, his teeth bared in a snarl when he feels your muffled groan against his palm.

More light blooms in the room from the wall sconces- you had been sitting in here with just the fire, and the glare of more lighting makes you squint your eyes, Alastor silhouetted beautifully above you. “I know someone is in here,” Lucifer demands, and you take a deep breath against Alastor’s hand and snap your fingers. “You were all told to-”

“Why, good evening, your Majesty!”

You almost wish you had manifested in Hell like the CEO of that tech company, with some sort of electronics built into your head so you could record the look on Alastor’s face at hearing his own voice respond to Lucifer. Your eyebrows are creased, trying to focus on the figment you’ve conjured to keep the King’s attention away from the couch.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Lucifer says, and you can hear the hint of disdain in his voice- you wonder, not for the first time, what the issue was between these two- some conflict that had started before you were at the Hotel that no one felt necessary to fill you in on. “I thought you were told to keep to your own quarters past eleven.”

You make the thing twirl it’s cane, snapping it back to the ground and inspecting it’s fingernails. “Yes, well, I had some business to attend to. And might I add, sire, you are also out past your imposed bedtime.”

Maybe it was something about using your powers to sass the king of Hell with some false puppet, but Alastor seemed to react well to it- his eyes dark, teeth bared, he plants a foot on the floor to brace himself so the couch doesn’t shift and thrusts into you hard, his hand pressing harder against your mouth when you whine at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. There’s wonder in his expression, something akin to adoration; this was what he wanted from you, you realized, displays of power, shows of your abilities that he could see and benefit from, that showed that he could trust you.

Lucifer scoffs across the room. “This is my house, if you’ve forgotten,” he retorts. “I can go where I please. And I heard you talking to someone!” Rapid footsteps, like he’s coming further into the room, and even as it makes Alastor buck his hips wildly against you, you don’t think he really wants to be caught in such a compromising situation.

You make the figure step forward- if you really concentrate you can almost see through its eyes, a vague image behind your eyelids of Lucifer standing before it with his arms crossed where you’ve blocked him, his gaze frustrated. “I was talking to myself,” you make it say. “I must have intelligent conversation on occasion, you know, and with everyone else in bed and only you left awake, I had to make do.”

Alastor grins above you, pleased with the tone and the words of this replica you’ve created of him; refusing to use his likeness to submit or offer pleasantries to get him out of the room; you were doubling down like Alastor himself would. You can hear the inaccuracies- you’re sure Alastor can, too- but Lucifer appears none the wiser as Alastor begins to fuck you in earnest, the couch thankfully staying still and not squeaking or moving as he holds his hand over your mouth harder and leans down to nibble at your collar.

“Of all the disrespectful-”

“Careful now, your Majesty,” it says, and you make shadows appear to crawl across the floor towards him, tendrils approaching the couch as well. When Alastor notices them he groans into your skin, and through the copy’s eyes you see Lucifer snap his head in the direction of the sound. “You wouldn’t want Charlie to catch us in a disagreement, would you?” And thank whatever beings heard prayers down here, Lucifer deflates- you had made a gamble with that, assuming that Charlie had spoken with her father about getting along with her hotelier, but knowing the princess the way that you did you figured there was no way that she would allow them to be at each other’s throats like they were. You let the false shadows sink back, and have your illusion give him a cheeky little wave. “There’s a good King. Now, may I get back to my business?” With the last word, Alastor stills, waiting for a confirmation or denial, possibly preparing to phase the two of you out of the room if Lucifer came further into the room-

“Do whatever you want,” Lucifer grumbles, “Charlie and that little coordinator need to keep a closer fucking eye on you, but I can’t be bothered.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that to our event planner,” you make it say, and Alastor makes another soft noise into your throat against where your pulse beats steadily, replicated in the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his still hard length. The interruption doesn’t seem to have doused your arousal, nor Alastor’s- the possibility of being caught like this makes your blood boil in the most pleasant way, Alastor’s cock still filling you perfectly even as he’s stopped actually fucking you for the time being. “I’ll bid you a good night, sire; I still have matters that need tending to, free of distractions.” You see Lucifer cast a middle finger back at the image of Alastor as it speaks, and then mercifully he’s storming out, a swirling golden portal opening for him to step through and then closing with a loud crack.

In time with the noise of the portal slamming closed, Alastor pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again- his hand is removed from your mouth with your gasp, and he moves it to your hip to pull you more forcefully into his thrusts. “You,” he growls against your jawline, “are perfect.” He kisses you, licking into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs as it’s punched from you with every rock of his pelvis. “The audacity to pull such a stunt- the control you maintained over the illusion was breathtaking, I don’t- fuck,” he concludes eloquently, fingers coming between your bodies to rub at your clit again as he races towards completion. It reignites the fire in your abdomen, heat flashing through your body like a strike of lightning that burns across your skin, making you cling to him tighter. He looks down at you with dark, unfathomable eyes while he fucks you, his pace growing uneven and broken as he approaches his end. “Please, darling,” he whispers against your lips, “cum for me, I need-”

The plea is what breaks you, every muscle in your body tensing and releasing as the orgasm slams into you like a car into a brick wall- messy, sudden, destructive. You don’t leave your own mind this time, your consciousness firmly rooted in reality as you watch Alastor lose his composure, his eyes fluttering closed with a gasp of your name while he spills into the slick heat of your cunt, his hips still rocking as if he means to fuck his release as far into you as he can. You shiver with the aftershocks, Alastor still maintaining a gentle swiping across your clit, and you can feel the way your walls twitch around the length of his cock while he stays buried in you to the hilt.

“No mind traveling today, I see,” he asks quietly, another kiss pressed softly to your forehead, and while no mental images come forth you can feel what he’s feeling now; the lingering ache of pleasure, the pride he still feels at your show of your new ability, an overall sense of happiness that you wouldn’t expect to be able to bring Alastor. He had put aside his discomfort to have an honest, responsible conversation with you to fix what you had both thought might be irreparably broken, and you were thankful.

You hum against his throat. “I’m content where I am,” you tell him, and the vibration of his laughter on your lips is perfection.

From the previous tags list: @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @minamilinaqueen

if any of you would like to be removed for any reason, please let me know! <3

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #ily frau <3 #x reader #alastor the radio demon #dream demon

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our-queer-experience · 1 month ago

Note

(1) I'm about to go to my top surgery consult and am very excited

(2) I just finished up an email response to my uncle's response to my coming out email

here is a few excerpts I'm especially proud of that lack any personal info:

Him: “As a God-fearing Christian, it would be wrong for me to hate anyone or be prejudice. I may not like someone or their decisions, but hate is a strong word. If I might not like someone, I’ll avoid them. I judge people by the content of their character, not their skin (Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.).”

Me: "I do appreciate your position on hate as a concept, but I don’t personally think avoidance is a perfect solution. In my opinion, understanding those who are different from you is the greatest thing you can do to guard yourself from becoming prejudiced. As Martin Luther King also said, 'People with good intentions but limited understanding are more dangerous than people with total ill will.'"

Him: "My questions are these: After all of the OUTWARD changes, after the mutilation, operations, procedures, drugs, etc, etc. Do you believe all of this is going to satisfy what you’re chasing? Are you going to be satisfied with the end result ??? Once you go down this road, you can’t come back. What is the end result you are chasing? These are questions only you can answer. I don’t ask these questions out of anger or hostility; I ask out of concern. Has anyone asked you these questions and can you answer them (to yourself) honestly?"

My response: "Well in truth that's not really something I can answer. For one I wouldn't say that I'm 'chasing' anything. I'm making informed choices about what I want today. Part of the information I take into account is if I might change my mind later in my life, but that is all I can do. As for the end result, I don't think there will ever really be one. People never stop changing and growing, not until they're gone. So I can't promise that I'll be happy with my choices 5 or 10 years down the line because I'll be a different person then. I can however make an educated guess based on who I am today and the things I know would make me happy now, and that's what I've been doing.

"And I can say that it's been working. Since I've socially transitioned, I haven't felt as though I've been drudging through life anymore. I feel lighter and freer, even more so since going on testosterone. The more changes I experience, the less I want to crawl out of my skin. I cannot conceive any reason as to why I'd want to go back."

Him: “Are you sure all of these outward changes are going to satisfy you? Your soul and your mind are not going to change because of any of this. What happens when you get to end of the road and you don’t like where you’re at ??? You can’t go back.

That absolutely worries the crap out of me.

You are [Full Legal Name*]. God has sent you into this world as [Full Legal Name]. Although you might be able to change the outside, you cannot change the inside.”

*I should note that I do not have a dead name otherwise this would be significantly more fucked

Me: "You're right, at the end of the day I'm still going to be me on the inside, but the outside is going to better reflect who I am. I am [Full Legal Name], I am a guy, and that isn’t going to change. Your concern is touching, but it's not necessary. I know who I am and I know what I want. This journey is mine, but as a prominent masculine presence in my life, as my Uncle, I hope you’ll be here for it."

despite everything going on outside rn, life keeps going, I keep going. ig I just forgot that for a second but today is a nice reminder. I'm going to keep going until somebody stops me, and probably a while after that too. to all of us: don't hide, don't shrink away, show them what you are. if they don't stick around, if they refuse to learn, that's their fault. we've seen time and time again what happens to those who are intolerant. and if we know anything it is that history repeats itself. thank you.

man you handled that really maturely. congrats on the consult and i hope things improve 🫂

#our queer experience #asks

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tarotchariotpickyourcard · 2 months ago

Text

General Macabre Message

Hi guys, here's a smaller reading. I hope it gives you a bit of help or understanding.

Here are the choices, 1 2 or 3 across from the left. (The dog, live laugh love, or courage)

GROUP ONE (sausage dog)

NIGHTMARE OF DAGGERS (KNIGHT OF SWORDS)

This seems to be talking about yourself or someone who is important.

The guidebook suggests impulsiveness, quick to act.

It says ‘laser focus and won’t be kept from their goal. An enviable drive, tackles tasks with precision, and without warning. Channel this energy, face your goals head on and don’t be afraid to act.’

Going intuitively and off the image, I would agree for sure there is encouragement to act on a goal or desire because the eyes of this creature seem to hint a past of watching others getting something that they want. Piercings might be a thing, yourself or someone important might have lots. Maybe you want more, and it’s a green light.

Don’t let yourself shrink. You are no wildflower, you are the breeze. You’re the wind that carries. You are the freedom and the movement. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than that. You can do anything. You can change the situation through your will and intellect. Just pick up that sword and fight for it.

5 of daggers supports this card. You’re allowed to fight for what you want, you deserve to have a place when people would only take anyway. Why not have a say in the situation from now on. I don’t know, it just seems like you’ve been painted as an aggressor or someone who is too much, as a mechanism for not allowing you certain things or rights. If this is going on for you, you’re being given permission to stand up for yourself. You’re bigger in presence and strength than you think. Pick up the d*** sword.

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GROUP 2

EIGHT OF BONES (WANDS)

Momentum, sudden movement.

“Move. Go. Don’t let yourself lose momentum. It’s right on your heels. Catch your breath. You’re so close, just keep moving, keep running, keep going”

8 of daggers supports this card, da** they’re right, keep going, eek. Whether you’re escaping a weird relationship, a place, or work, keep going. Don’t let people guilt trip you. Whatever people say to you right now about your plans… don’t think too deep about their opinions unless they have directly had experience. You might be in the middle of that precious moment to take a breather like the summary says, so don’t let yourself get trapped with other peoples words. Think things through and why it might or might not benefit them. I can’t help but get the idea at least one person may have their own agenda. Look at peoples past, it’s usually a good reflection of what to think. (sure some people can change, but it would show in time. There would be proof).

You might be getting news soon that can help you, or you might be getting that breath before you need to get back to your plans. This can be overwhelming so take care of yourself best you can. Another thing with 8 of wands is that you can feel overloaded mentally, with nowhere really to anchor yourself. I encourage you to seek mental health assistance, find someone you can let your thoughts out with, or something that can give you an outlet. 8 of wands usually is for the best result wise, but oh my, it can be relentless. Don’t let yourself get stuck in a thought loop either! Ground yourself. Get in nature. Eat something really tasty and don’t think of a thing. Take your time with it. Be empty headed lol. Let a tumble weed blow around.

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GROUP 3

You got lots of cards.

ACE OF DAGGERS, THE GUIDE (HIEROPHANT), JUDGEMENT, THE WORLD.

Ace says “Your way of thinking and processing things is changing for the better. You’ve been lost for a long time but now you’re finally finding your path. You’re exiting a fog and experiencing clarity.”

The world says you are whole and filled with priceless lessons.

Wow, it’s clear you’ve really gone through something serious and come out the other side wiser and a winner in the long term. I’m not sure if you feel that way yet, but I feel like you will be rewarded for this. The guide suggests yet again spiritual learning and lessons. This is all… I’m so impressed with you group 3. What have you been doing? Was it even on purpose?

Sometimes these lessons can be in every day life and sometimes it’s purposeful practice. Whichever way, be ready for a much better life in the genre of what you’ve just handled. If it’s a relationship thing, be prepared for better and healthier. If it’s work politics, be ready to be confident in workplaces from now on. Whatever it has been related to, you will be blessed in it from now on.

Your guides are proud. Even if you feel rough right now, let yourself have this. It’s a victory, believe it or not!

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Bye!

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cinnaminyoons · 2 years ago

Text

!! jungkook

[ event masterlist ]

assassins after the same target

alone in the darkroom together

“here to finish me off?”

"i'm going to kill you, ln jungkook."

"wait, nobody told me we're married – babe—"

"don't you dare 'babe' me after ignoring all my texts and declining all my calls," you interrupt with a growl, looming over him as he shrinks back against the wall. "who the fuck do you think you are? you stole my kill."

with an awkward smile, illuminated just barely by the red light in the corner of the darkroom, jungkook says, "i don't know if you're talking about last night's call of duty round or this morning's fiasco."

"fias—" you suck in a hissed breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with the hand not trapping him in place. it needs to be there. jungkook is very good at escaping when he wants to be. "you killed my mark!"

"but you said we share everything," he mumbles cluelessly. "our jobs are the same, so i thought you'd appreciate it if i checked him off your list for you. y'know – acts of service as a love language?"

"that applies to washing the dishes or refilling my gas tank," you sigh, "not stealing your boyfriend's contracts."

he twiddles his thumbs, a tiny pout pursing his lips as he stares at your shoes. or the shadow of them, really – it's much too dark to see a whole lot. he wishes you'd let him step outside for this conversation. "i'm sorry, baby... i just wanted to help out, you know? you're always so busy and i miss you sometimes. like, i know that basically being your househusband would keep me from seeing you as often, but it's hard not to get sad when you're halfway across the world and the only thing i have of you are your clothes. i killed him so that we could spend more time together..."

you can't handle how adorably pathetic he looks, on the verge of tears. your anger dissipates with a breath. you bring him into your arms and kiss his temple, feeling his fists twist in the back of your jacket. he buries his soft, sweet face in your shoulder with a quiet sniffle.

"don't cry, doll," you murmur, stroking his soft, glossy hair. you twirl a lock between your fingers. "i'm sorry for blowing up at you earlier. i was worried that they'd trace and find you because of who that guy was. i was taking my time on purpose, and you just strolled in and popped his head like a grape."

he smiles, nosing your neck. he kisses the curve of it and pulls back with bright, sparkling eyes. "it's okay, baby. i should've asked you first. i'm a big boy – nobody is tracking me. i learnt from the best, after all."

he taps your chest and you smile softly, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes. they hold the galaxy, red dwarves and quantum foam and everything in between. you kiss his eyelids.

“that you did, dollface. that you did."

you turn towards jungkook's chemical setup, the tubs holding rolls and enlarged prints of your life with him, placing your arm around his little waist. "how's everything going? will we be able to hang these up soon?"

"they're chugging along nicely," he replies softly, hooking his thumb into the belt loop of your crisp black trousers. you're still dressed up from the flight you took a few hours ago to return to him. "just a minute or two more – i can't remember, need to check the clock. then i can start with the fixer and the washes, and we'll be able to take a peek tomorrow and scan them up. i already have one in mind that i'd like to set my profile picture to – i hope it came out well."

"i'm sure it's gorgeous," you hum, "just like you."

he laughs, separating from you to wander closer to the bench, checking the clock. he hovers around the tubs, watching the second hand closely and extracting a roll and a print at the exact moment the hand touches the twelve. he submerges them in the next tubs along the bench. "thanks, baby. i was, um, really scared if you'd kill me. as in, honest-to-god murder me. your opening sentence didn't help, either. i planned this whole, like, dramatic scene for if you were really upset – i was gonna say, 'here to finish me off?' and turn around in a spinny chair and you'd laugh and everything would be okay again."

you chuckle, eyes crinkling, and wrap your arms around him as he transfers the final roll in the dedicated 'wash' basin. "you know me so well. i wouldn't have been able to be angry at you."

he giggles, twirling around and pecking your lips. "mmhm." he entwines his fingers with yours, and his smile sparkles like the diamonds he adores so much. "i love you, baby. i always will."

"i love you, too, kook. once i have a shower, we can do whatever you like to spend those hard-won hours together." he gasps in delight and you grin. "let's watch the first iron man. that one always makes you turn into such a cutie."

"ba-by," he whines, blushing. he's never been more relieved that the room is both dark and lit by red – the same colour as his cheeks, he's certain. "you're so mean to me."

"sorry." you kiss his cheek. "it's my love language."

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #bts x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #1k event

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veritas-scribblings · 11 months ago

Text

hold - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 967 [mature: discussions of sex and under-age sex, some references to gender dysphoria]

[follow-up to 'teach', (y)earn universe | because @rayjkss said 'second part' and then this was on my brain all day]

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Barty demands. He drops himself onto the bed opposite Regulus and stares with such intensity that Regulus is forced to look up from the book he’s reading. ‘We need to give it a name. I don’t know what to call it.’

‘Deimos,’ Regulus says. ‘I’ve always liked that name. And in my family, we name things after stars. Granted, it’s one of the moons of Mars, but Narcissa is a flower name, so I think we can bend the rules.’

‘No, I meant your dick.’ Barty says this so bluntly, angrily, that Regulus feels his heart leap into his throat and suddenly he wants to shrink and die on the spot. ‘Evan told me about it.’

Regulus frowns. Because surely Barty isn’t stupid. Evan can’t be that stupid either. So, Regulus doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. Barty seems to be on a different wavelength than he is, which isn’t unusual since Barty is normally on a different wavelength than most people.

Only, Regulus can normally keep up with him. Now, however, Regulus’s world is dust.

Regulus closes the book in his lap with a snap and tries not to close his eyes as well, because Barty looks so angry and frustrated that Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if he started crying. ‘Barty,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I don’t have a dick. I thought you’d realised that from all the times we’ve, well, been naked together.’

Barty flops down onto the bed dramatically, groaning. ‘This is why we need to give it a name,’ he says to the roof. ‘And you’re not calling it Deimos. Because, I fully respect your right to name your own body, but calling it Deimos while we’re in bed will make it feel like there’s three of us.’ And then quieter, sounding almost sad, he says, ‘I didn’t realise it wasn’t good for you. I’m sorry, I thought it was good for you too.’

‘Barty,’ Regulus sighs. ‘Respectfully. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’

Barty sits up, eyes wide. ‘Sex. I’m talking about sex. According to Evan, you’ve never had an orgasm and I’m doing it all wrong, and I didn’t know! I’m sorry, there aren’t books in the library on “how to have sex” or “how to make sure sex is good” and I just don’t know where to find that sort of information, because it’s not like my parents keep sex guides in the house. I guess I could rob an adult book store, but I just didn’t think I’d need to because I didn’t think I’d need an instruction manual to do this properly!’

Oh.

‘I didn’t realise I needed to draw you a map,’ Regulus says, flushing. 'And you didn't do it all wrong. It felt just fine.' It comes out flat, curt, which makes Barty even more upset. But Regulus just really doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now.

Right now, Regulus wants to know how he can kill Evan without hurting Evan. And maybe only temporarily. Because he’d been pretty damned clear when talking to Evan that the conversation and the contents of it were to remain entirely between the two of them. Forever away from Barty’s ears.

‘I don’t need a map,’ Barty mutters. ‘I just…need to know of its existence.’

Regulus sighs, shuffles back so he’s leaning against his pillows, knees pulled to his chest. He thinks, perhaps, he can set the bed curtains on fire, run away in all the chaos, because he doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now.

The thing is, Regulus has never been uncomfortable about his body around Barty or Evan, not in the way he feels uncomfortable around others. The way he avoids using the Quidditch Change Rooms because he doesn’t like the eyes of others on him, people wondering why he's different.

Regulus trusts Evan and Barty implicitly and has historically been very open with them. Comfortable dressing and undressing around them. Laying in bed together, cuddling, curled up in their little ball of comfort, when there’s been limbs and body parts everywhere.

But things with Barty are different now. When Barty touches him in a way that isn’t the normal way friends touch each other. Makes Regulus feel in ways friends don’t normally make each other feel. Regulus just doesn’t know how to deal with it, with the topic of his body when he willingly gives Barty access to it. He wants Barty to just know, the way Barty generally just knows everything.

And Regulus is aware that this is unfair of him, to lay those kind of expectations on Barty. Even Barty can’t just know everything.

Barty shuffles over, wraps an arm around Regulus and curls against him so he’s in Regulus’s arms. He looks up at Regulus, all doe-eyed in what he probably thinks is a ‘seductive’ sort of way, and says with a small smile, ‘Evan says we need to “communicate more”. Apparently communication is important.’

‘I hate talking.’

‘Sure, but you love me. And,’ Barty grins, ‘I want to make sure it feels good for you.’

‘It felt fine.’

Barty rolls his eyes and nudges Regulus in his side. ‘It shouldn’t just feel fine. It should feel incredible. Like, the best thing you’ve ever felt. I want to make you feel good too.’

Regulus sighs and slides down so he’s laying on his side, face buried against Barty. The thing is, it’d genuinely felt good. Nice. Sure, he'd been aware that it'd felt nicer for Barty than it had for him. But Regulus hadn’t seen a problem with that, even when Evan had called it a ‘problem’. Because apparently Regulus is not allowed to have, what Evan had called, ‘subpar sex’.

Regulus nods into Barty’s chest, hoping desperately that Barty intuitively knows (the way Barty naturally seems to know most things) what he means. Regulus will try—he will—to work through this.

#no but I really love the idea of barty just not being able to cope with not knowing things #he's really like 'I will research sex in a book that will solve my problem'#barty accepts the challenge he will tackle and solve it enthusiastically #harry potter #fanfiction #myfanfiction #microfics #regulus black #barty crouch jr #bartylus #starkiller #mybartylusmicrofics

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luckypunklemonade · 4 months ago

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(shamefully, with my hands deep in my pockets and my head hung) i fucking loved your dan akroyd fic and it was amazing. i would love more of him flirting with reader and being super annoying only to be ignored by her.......... im so sorry world..........

lmao I love this message don’t apologize and I’m so, so glad we’re on the same wavelength because I have more thoughts! I plan on more with just him but I don’t have a ton of time to hash them out the way I want and this is how I build up to it.

*Me handing this to you in a crumpled envelope with hearts and stars on it* here. for you! :)

| Dylan O’Brien as Dan Aykroyd in Saturday Night

All week has been ramping up stress, especially as the sort of crew, cast, and tech liaison that Lorne needed but wouldn’t admit he needed. Of course the night of, only half of the bits and sketches were prepped and put together. It didn’t help that Lorne was yet to organize a final say on the entire run, who’s in and who’s out. It would break your heart seeing cast members rehearsing their sketches, cutting bits to fit into a box of time we may have to keep shrinking or toss altogether, but you were too busy.

You were never usually involved with the cast, mostly because their pre-performance rituals involved coke and, otherwise, you just couldn’t find them. They were always wandering, gathering and dispersing just to torture the poor crew runners. One of the things you had to make clear to Lorne, you are not their wrangler. “Look around, Lorne-“ You had to snap to get his attention, waving a list of things the ‘talent’ needed that Neil delivered to you.

“Lorne! You have legions of spineless interns who dream of getting threatened by execs like you do. Ask them to keep these guys contained. I believe in you, but you’re gonna have to designate jobs to someone who isn’t already drowning in tech crew tasks.”

“You’re dependable.” He muttered, eyes tracking a rack of clothing. The implication that this would placate you made you clench your fists.

“I’m serious, Lorne. I’m not your jack of all trades. As if handing out Donoghue’s pages and having to bring him back complaints wasn’t enough, I had to call maintenance to the south hallway twice. I can’t be responsible for-“

“You’re doing great.” Lorne patted your back as he walked past you toward the control room, eyes glazed over in stress.

Sure, he was stressed. We were all stressed. You were sure you’d find time to feel empathetic toward him when you didn’t have a novel’s worth of papers in your hands.

Onto the set after the lighting equipment crashed down, yelling at the guys who rigged it, turning to yell at Belushi as he wound his fist back. Right in the middle of him and the target, telling the light director to cool his jets before he gets in trouble and you get put in charge of finding his replacement, Dan caught Belushi’s arms and pulled him away. You threw an exasperated “thanks” at him, to which he winked and corralled his steaming costar toward the hall.

Finding Dan was easy. Anywhere a cute girl was or, surprisingly, where you needed him. He was a flirt and a distraction but, when something felt unmanageable or a shelf was too high, he was dependable. You didn’t even have to ask. What you couldn’t figure out was if he was like this with all the crew that needed his help.

While it was helpful, having him at your disposal when it was needed, you wished you could have the help silent. He was a smooth talker with more charm than most girls knew what to do with and half the brains to use his pick-up line a little quieter. Having heard his whole spiel three times over on every girl he knew, you rolled your eyes twice just so he got the idea.

“Danny, aren’t you supposed to bring a sort of ‘new wit’ to the cast? Is that really the only line that works?” You asked snatching a roll of twine from the hands that just retrieved it from the shelf for you.

“It hasn’t failed me yet.” He began reaching for the twine to untangle it for you, accepting defeat when you pulled it out of his reach, eyebrows furrowing at the knots.

“And telling girls you’re a manwhore gets has a high success rate?”

“So far.”

He liked the way you scoffed like he was funny. His type of dry humor always got laughs, but not like yours. Yours was sarcastic and challenging and it made him want more.. You started walking away quickly to something you could do at the same time as untangling, he followed.

“It’s not like there aren’t any other girls to harass, Danny. Since you get to take it easy with the rest of the cast.”

“Not half as fun as harassing you, pretty girl.”

“I’m busy.”

“I like ‘em busy.”

You grabbed a crew member carrying a box of hats, “Did Neil tell you those go to props instead of costumes?”

Your conversation served two purposes: checking another thing off of your list and ignoring Dan. He stood with his eyes bouncing between you and the other guy as you told him of a few other things he could do for you. Of the “runners” in the crew, you were by far the most productive, effective, and reliable. When the tasks were handed off, he stepped back in front of you. “Y’know, this past week, I’ve been picking up your hints, pretty girl.”

You scoffed again, “Danny, the only thing I’ve been dropping for you is your pages and complaints from the crew about your marks. If I’ve been flirting with you, it’s practice.”

He smiled, a cocky smile making you dread his response. “I’m working on the punctuality.”

You smiled back sarcastically and walked past him, “I’m working on the flirting.”

Throughout the day, your list had shortened despite how many well-meaning questions Gilda asked and how immovable Donoghue was about his pages. You walked out of his office, middle finger raised accompanied by “You’re my favorite coworker. Never change,” you turned right around to Dan. “I need help in my dressing room.”

“Right.”

“It’s true, I’m helpless. You are here to help, right?”

“I’ll get Mark from costumes down soon. You’ll have to wait.”

“I need help from you. Mark can’t help me like you can.”

You turned to face him, “Don’t insult Mark. Mark is what you get and Mark is what you‘ll like, got it?”

Dan looked down at you, then up as if he was pondering, then back down at you, “Yes, ma’am”

He grabbed your waist to pretend as if he needed to squeeze past you in the hallway despite all the room he had. He laughed at your reaction as he walked away. “Jesus, Danny, don’t hurt yourself.”

Dan had never been flirted with like this. In his industry, girls sort of fell into the directors’ box. They did what they were told, meaning they fawned when he swooped in or made it clear they wanted nothing to do with him. You were backstage, jaded to his kind, and not intimidated by anything he could throw at you. You flirted back by teasing him, by sarcasm and wit to match his. He asked once why you weren’t on stage with the crew. You said you weren’t a circus clown, you only worked with them.

While Lorne and Dick were stuck in a room full of creepy old men, Neil was ran off somewhere, and the control room asked for more cigarettes, you walked through the hall with a fresh pack. Leaned against his dressing room doorframe, watching you walk quickly past and toward the control room, he called, “I met Mark.”

“That’s great, Danny.”

“Mark doesn’t call me ‘Danny’. It’s just ‘Dan’, he doesn’t know me like you do. I only accept the best service, you know.” He catches your arm, “So, what do you think about my part in the construction sketch?”

“Danny, not now. Those pricks are demanding things and, even if they’re pricks, they could switch to Carson any time they want and I have too much faith in Lorne to let-“

“Well, have faith in me for a second, will ya?” He pulled you into his dressing room and directed you to his mirror, sitting you down and sliding his hands over your shoulders. “Take a few deep breaths. Jesus, you’re tense.”

“What do you want?”

“I just wanna talk.”

“Quickly, Danny. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Twenty minutes later, you emerged from his dressing room, smoothing your shirt down and beelining to get those cigarettes to the control room. This ordeal was to be added to the list of setbacks tonight. You left Danny on the couch, buttoning up his shirt, with the door open for the few who weren’t too busy to see the spectacle. He grinned at you as you turned the corner regardless. For once, he felt like he was the one being used. And he liked it.

#dylan obrien #✰lucky writes #dylan o’brien #saturday night movie

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lovekz · 1 year ago

Text

it’s seasonal

syn -> the seasons are changing, and so are you

warnings : depression, ran overthinks a lot

note : for all the fine people that have seasonal depression

you were gone.

disappeared off the face of the earth.

since early wednesday morning.

when you were leaving your boyfriend's after watching a few movies.

and now ran is worried.

it isn’t like you to just fall off the face of the earth without mentioning anything to rindou at least.

the two of you were pretty close, and ran was glad his two favorite people get along.

so when rindou says he hasn’t heard from you, the bottom of ran’s feet begin to sweat.

he called multiple times and only reached your voicemail.

did you break up with him? he had no idea.

but he knew he missed you.

so he gets in his car, and drives over to your house.

he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he wasn’t mad at you for doing this at all

just worried.

he pulls into a park in front your house and walks to the door, knocking on it.

after a bit of shuffling and moving around, you open the door.

you were in one of his hoodies and a pair of pajama bottoms.

you looked to be fresh out the shower.

“what are you doing here ran? is something wrong?” you question firstly, looking at him a bit confused.

ran analyzes your face a bit more before deciding to respond.

you look tired and physically upset with something.

“I missed you. a lot.” ran breathes out, feeling his heart slow a little more at the sight of you relaxing.

you don’t respond to that, however. just staring at ran like he’s grown two heads.

“where have you been? why haven’t you responded to my texts?” ran asks softly, glancing behind you.

the house was definitely a mess, clothes and tissues lingering here and there.

were you sick?

“home. here. I just.. needed some space.” you say hesitantly, glancing away from him.

and oh- he sees it.

the way you were fidgeting, looking like you haven’t slept, and the dryness of your face.

you weren’t fresh out the shower.

you had been crying previously to ran knocking at the front door.

ran’s heart aches at the thought of it, unable to hide the pain and guilt from his facial expression.

you notice it, and flash him a fake smile. one ran reads almost immediately.

“I’m okay, I promise. you did nothing wrong.” you say with a little laugh, giving a thumbs up for clarity.

ran shakes his head and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you just a bit in his arms.

"should've been here. should've noticed." he whispered into your hair, rubbing your back comfortingly.

and he feels you shaking and sobbing in his arms almost immediately, clutching onto his hoodie.

the two of you stand in your doorway until you stop crying even a bit. and even then, ran doesn't want to move.

but he knows the chilly air on your legs would get you sick, so he brings you into the house.

it doesn't matter to him that the house is a complete mess, because his girlfriend isn't at her usual 10.

though ran can tell you tried to keep it even the slightest bit of neat.

your eyes are red when ran sits you onto the couch, and you shrink into yourself.

ran doesn't know the feeling you had, but he knows he's familiar with the sight of it.

it's happen to everyone around him. his younger brother, his closest friends, and even izana.

and maybe it skipped past him. maybe he'd passed it on to someone else without knowing.

but he's never felt it for himself.

so now he sits beside you, beating himself up because he's got no fucking clue how to make you feel better for even five minutes.

but then he remembers

he stands up with a start, cupping your cheeks with a smile like he's just solved world hunger.

"i've got this really amazing idea. wanna try it?" he questions, wanting your consent for it.

you look at him a bit confused, before nodding at him slightly.

and then he's running to his car with you in his arms.

you fall asleep on the way to his house, and wake up in his comfortable bed.

the sheets are warm and fluffy, and smell like his laundry detergent and his natural scent.

it's only after you let out your fifth yawn is when you realize you're in here alone.

the lights are off and his orange lava lamp is on in the corner to give a bit of a hue in the room.

you climb out of bed and venture out of the room to find ran.

he's in the kitchen beside rindou, both of them stirring a huge pot with giddy grins.

the sight warms your heart almost immediately.

as if he senses you, ran whips around and gives you a huge smile.

"good morning gorgeous." ran calls, waving his hand for you to come over to him.

you listen, adjusting your self you walk over to the brothers.

ran gives you a kiss to your cheek and rindou bumps your hip with his own as a greeting.

you assume he doesn't hug you because of the amount of flour he had all over him.

ran shares the same reasoning, also being the one stirring the pot while rindou adds the dough.

"what are you guys making?" you question, trying to see from your tippy toes.

rindou nudges your head away with his elbow and ran laughs at the action, before looking at you.

"don't worry, babe. it's a surprise. how about you go ahead and freshen up? you'll know when it's ready." ran suggests.

you nod, going back upstairs and into ran's personal bathroom.

there was already a fresh change of clothes sitting on the counter and a few of your skin and body care items.

you know you used up the last of it when you were here, so he probably ran to the store while you were asleep.

turning to the bathtub, you realize it was full with bubbles and warm-hot water.

a plate of strawberries sliced into hearts sat on a plate nearby with a letter reading 'enjoy yourself, love you'

your heart swoons with the thought of how thoughtful your boyfriend could be to you.

when you finished, you got dressed in the hoodie ran had left and the pair of sweats that were definitely rindou's.

but you didn't mind, you were comfy anyway.

you walk downstairs only to find rindou and ran placing the food into a bowl.

it seemed to be soup, which was good because of the decreasing temperature outfit.

"what kind of soup is it?" you questioned, walking up to the brother's with a slightly intrigued look.

ran ushers you to the couch, following behind with your bowls.

rindou was in front of the two of you with his own bowl, trying to claim his seat before ran did.

"it's chicken soup. comfort soup. i don't know." rindou answers for you, shrugging and sitting in the seat before ran could try.

you don't miss the curse that leaves ran's mouth, before turning on the lights just a little bit.

he had gone as far as to decorate the living room too.

it had little fairy lights hanging around, along with another one of his lava lamps.

comfortable blankets hung from the back of the couch, along with a little heater in the corner that warmed the room a bit.

though because of it's size, it barely did a good job.

the tv was already on netflix, and the remote was placed next to you once you sat.

"this is so sweet of you. thank you." you say to the brothers, flashing them a quick smile.

rindou makes a 'pssh' sound before waving you off and tucking a nonexistent hair behind his ear.

ran laughs, before pulling you closer to him. "of course. eat your soup before it gets cold." ran suggests.

you nod, and began to eat it.

it had potatoes, chicken, carrots, a bit of sweet potato (rindou isn't a fan, so there's only really little chunks), and dumplings.

"when did you learn how to make this?" you ask curiously, putting on your favorite movie.

the two brothers look at each other, silently counting.

"about.. 4 years ago. rindou's first therapy session." ran explained, making rindou snicker.

"yeah. thank goodness he had enough practice. it was so bad the first time." rindou teased, looking at his brother.

ran's face flushed a bit, as he attempted to shrug off rindou's teasing.

"in my defense, it was my first time cooking." ran scoffed, looking at you with a smile.

rindou shakes his head almost immediately, putting his soup onto the coffee table in front of him.

"nuh uh. he was cooking for a year before that. and still couldn't cook!" rindou exclaims, laughing.

ran placed his soup down as well, before whipping his head around to look at his younger brother.

rindou gives him a smug little 'what' look, ready for whatever ran was about to throw at him.

the two begin to bicker, making you giggle and pay more attention to them (and your soup) instead of the tv.

as they argue playfully, you realize how at home you feel with the two being around you.

and it makes you happier knowing that these two you do anything for you, as a girlfriend and a sister.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers ran #tokyo revengers rindou #ran x reader #tokyo rev x reader #long hair ran #fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #tr fluff

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