#it has been a while that I have posted my writings

[chahnniesroom]

too close to home

pairing: none (platonic ot8 & female reader)

summary: as the only female of stray kids, you've always felt a little out of place. this comeback, the comments and criticism seem to hit a little too close to home and you start to think that maybe the group is better off without you.

word count: 8.5k

tags/warnings: 9th member au, hurt/comfort, angst, mean fans, anxious thinking, insecurities, overthinking

a/n: this is my first fic for my appreciation event! big thank you to everyone who has supported me and sorry this took so long to post.

special shoutout to @kangaracha who is basically the only reason i was able to finish this fic! she was my biggest cheerleader throughout my writing and if you would like to read an amazing 9th member fic, please please go read queenmaker.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

You had known from the start that it would be difficult being in a co-ed group. It was rare, especially in K-pop. But being outnumbered eight to one? It was unheard of.

You had been just as surprised all those years ago, when the company had pulled you into a room and offered you a position in the boy group that they were about to debut.

You had heard about the team that Chan had put together, every trainee had gossiped about how JYPE was trying something new with a self-formed team. You hadn't paid too much attention to it, you were busy enough with preparing for your own evaluations and the possibility of being included in what everybody had thought was a boys group hadn't even crossed your mind.

You had accepted the position almost immediately.

At that point, you had been a trainee for almost three years, but had only been considered for debut less than a handful of times. You knew with each line-up that hadn't worked out, you were closer to being forced to give up on the idea of becoming an idol. If you rejected the offer this time, you might not get another and you had been ready to do anything to achieve your dream. 

Plus, you knew there was a high chance that they'd drop you from the group anyway. The position brought a lot of interest to the group, but you knew the company would be watching closely to determine whether it was worth the risk or not. 

It had been a bit of a rocky start, but now the nine of you were close, you had to be when you spent most of your waking time together. You considered the boys to be your second family and you knew that they felt the same way. 

It was just that there was clearly a difference in the dynamic when you were and weren’t with the group. It wasn’t necessarily bad just… different. The boys never excluded you or made you feel like you weren’t part of the group and you had great individual relationships with each of the members. 

It was inevitable though, you had never shared a dorm with the group, especially earlier in your career when you were less familiar and it would have been entirely unacceptable. You knew that this was the main reason you didn’t feel quite as part of the group, there was just a level of closeness that was formed when you actually lived with someone.

Well, it was that and the nagging guilt because you knew that Chan had hand-picked every member of Stray Kids himself.

Every member except you.

While the members had promised that they were the ones who had the final say, you knew it wasn't quite what they had expected. All of you had been desperate to debut though and even if it wasn't ideal, nobody was going to say anything that might jeopardize this chance.

Still, you could tell that the boys did their best to include you and for the most part, they succeeded. Even early on when things had been a little bit awkward between you, they were fiercely protective. In interviews, they insisted over and over that they wanted you in the group and it had been nice to hear, even if you knew they were just saying it for the cameras. 

They frequently invited you over for dinner or just to hang out, but you couldn't help feeling jealous when it was time for you to leave at the end of each night. It wasn't anything you could change though, so you just tried to appreciate their company while you had it.

So when the company brings up the idea of new dorm arrangements, you're surprised and a bit confused when they don't immediately inform you of where you'll be staying and kick you out of the meeting room. You've never participated in the discussions that the boys have regarding roommates, there has never been any reason to. 

You're shocked by how easily things fall into place, even more so when Chan approaches you, asking if you'd feel comfortable living with him and Jeongin. They assure you that any of the pairings would be happy to have you stay with them though, and that they'd also understand if you preferred to live on your own.

You were hesitant at first. It had been out of the question when you had first debuted. Even if you and the boys had been comfortable with it, which you weren’t, the company would have totally rejected the idea of one girl living with eight boys.

Instead, their solution had been to force you to remain in the trainee dorm even after your debut which meant constantly listening to jealous girls criticize anything and everything about you. It had been exhausting, partly because you were getting used to balancing schedules with practice, but also because you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at them. You were all too familiar with the disappointment and frustration that came with watching the people around you succeeding.

You had briefly considered asking about sharing with the boys when the dorms had split in half because you knew you needed to get out of the toxic environment the other girls were creating, but then the company had offered you an apartment to yourself. It had been one of the easiest decisions you had ever made. 

It had been too good to be true, though. The apartment had given you the privacy that you had craved, there were a multitude of issues that almost made you miss being in the trainee dorms. Whether you moved to a new apartment on your own or into one of the dorms with the boys, you knew that it would be an improvement.

You’re curious what living with the boys would be like and honestly, you’re a bit lonely in your current apartment. It only takes a day or two of thinking before you confirm that you’d like to join them.

The moving process is quick too, at least for you. The boys offered to help you move, but you adamantly refused. Your place had been so tiny that you didn't have the space to store many things and you didn't like shopping that much anyway so all of your clothes fit into the couple of large suitcases that you kept under your bed. Since most of the furniture had come with the room, you were able to bring everything over to the new dorm before the boys had even finished packing.

It's hard to settle in at first. You don't have any siblings and have never had to live with boys so it takes some getting used to. Luckily both Chan and Jeongin are quite careful about being respectful of your space. 

It's also a relief that you get to divide up some of the housework that you used to have to do all on your own. Even though it's not too much, it's nice to have more time in your day for other things and the three of you have developed a system that works well and feels natural.

Chan is meticulously clean and although you don't think you're that messy, you’re more careful to keep things in the right place. The worst part is that you know Chan won't complain or nag you if you leave your things around, he just quietly cleans up your messes which makes you feel both touched and a bit guilty.

You have no regrets about moving in with them, especially when you start to get more busy. It's nice to be living with people who have the same or similar schedules to you so you don't have to worry about losing track of time and being late to things. 

Not only that, but you feel like you have more support. Jeongin reminds you to eat regular meals and Chan checks in when he notices that you're up later than usual. The three of you chat more than you did before and now have a number of different inside jokes.

You're especially grateful because you can already sense that this comeback is going to be hard on you. It's not the songs that have you concerned, all the recording finished smoothly and you're more than happy with how your parts turned out. You also really like the concept that's being proposed for the cover art and all the music videos.

It's the dance that's the problem.

As a trainee, you had always excelled in dancing and had actually had been assigned the role of main dancer in some of the girl groups that you were considered for. It made it especially hard to come to terms with the fact that when you had joined Stray Kids, you weren't even included in the dance line. You knew that your singing was nice and your voice added diversity to the group, but it had never been what you were most confident in and you felt inadequate compared to Seungmin and Jeongin.

But when it comes to this title track, it's especially obvious why you're not considered as one of the lead dancers. By lunchtime, everyone has memorized the moves, you included, but the choreography is definitely more suited for male dancers. No matter how much you focus on trying to match the style of everyone else, you're sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Most of the members take a short break for lunch, but you're determined to keep practicing and Minho is willing to coach you through the parts that you're struggling with the most. On a technical level, you're hitting most of the moves, but you still haven't been able to do a runthrough that doesn't elicit at least a few corrections. You can tell that Minho is running out of patience and you're even more frustrated than he is.

Luckily the rest of practice is working on the different formations and angles for filming the music video, dance practice, and future performances. The details are less important and everyone is mainly focused on not crashing into each other.

You try to sneak in as many solo practice sessions as you can, but by the time filming for the dance practice rolls around, you’re still not feeling confident. In fact, you’ve been dreading the schedule for days and you feel a little queasy every time you think about it. It's far from your first dance practice filming, but something about this one just feels more daunting.

The morning of filming, you force yourself to eat a decent breakfast, knowing that skipping it would just make dancing more difficult for yourself. Chan had woken up early to prepare a simple meal while you and Jeongin had helped set the table and clean up afterwards. You're a bit more jittery than usual and you're pretty sure both of the boys have noticed, but they don't comment which you appreciate.

Everyone goes through hair and makeup fairly quickly, there's no elaborate outfits and crazy makeup for a more casual video like this. Your bad feeling for today just worsens when you see that while the rest of the boys are in their usual loose fitting sweats and shirts, you've been given a tight fitting outfit that reveals a bit more of your midriff than you usually like to show off. Even though you can't deny that it's a flattering look, it just makes you self conscious, feeling like you stood out even more than you usually did standing beside the guys.

Determined to power through filming, you warm up as quickly as you can so that you can spend as much time as possible reviewing the moves with the rest of the boys before the crew finishes setting up.

Your stomach is a flurry of butterflies as you get in position to start filming, even though you know that usually the first try is a throwaway. Not only is this the first time filming for the day, but the group hasn't actually done a performance of your new single, only practices.

You monitor the recording carefully. There's a few things to improve with the camera angles and position, that was to be expected, but you still have the nagging feeling that something about your dancing doesn't match the rest of the group.

You try to make your movements bigger in the next run through, while still looking natural and staying in time with the music. It's not quite right though and each time you try again, there's more and more things that you're unhappy with.

You can tell the rest of the group isn't pleased with how things are going either. You've been doing this long enough that these dance practices usually only take a couple hours to record, but now it's been at least three and none of the takes have even been considered as a keeper. A few times you haven't even been able to make it to the end of the song before someone messes up.

Your choreographer is in the back of the room and although he hasn't explicitly called you out, you can feel his gaze on you the longer this takes. 

“Come on guys,” Minho complains after a short break. “Focus! Let's get it done this time.” You watch as his eyes flicker towards where you're standing for the faintest of moments as he says it. It feels like a blow to the stomach.

You hate disappointing people, you're only human after all, but something feels even worse when you know it's the other members that you're letting down. Especially when it comes to dance, because you've always wanted to impress Minho and his notoriously high standards. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach as you push through your growing fatigue and take your position in front of the camera again.

As soon as both the director and choreographer announce that you're finished for the day, almost everybody collapses on the spot. One-takes are always the most exhausting and everybody has to focus on keeping their movements sharp because it's extremely obvious when you aren't in sync.

You, on the other hand, make your way to the screens where they're showing the playback. Sweat is dripping from your neck and forehead and you absent-mindedly swipe it away as you watch. Someone drapes a small towel over your head and you look over to see that Minho and Hyunjin have crowded behind you to take a look.

“It's good,” one of the managers comments.

Instead of agreeing, Minho hums noncommittally. You feel yourself tense up.

“What?” the manager asks. “Don't tell me you want to do it again.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Minho says mildly. 

“We can do another take,” the director offers. From behind him, one of the camera people groans quietly. You try not to wince at the sound and only partially succeed.

“I think this is the best we're going to get,” Minho replies, before he turns and walks back to where his things are, effectively ending the discussion.

“Sorry for making everyone stay late,” you say quietly, bowing quickly before trailing after Minho. Hyunjin eyes you weirdly as he keeps pace.

“Why'd you say that?” he asks as he packs his bag.

“I felt bad that they had to stay so long,” you say, confused. “We normally tell them that if filming goes over.”

“No.” Hyunjin pauses his movement to study you. You can't help but shrink away, feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope “We normally thank them for their hard work. You made it sound like it was your fault.”

“It's just been a long morning,” you deflect. “Are you heading back to the dorms now?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, flicking sweat everywhere. “Have to shower and I have a bit of time before my vocal lesson. Want to head back together?”

“You go ahead first,” you reassure him. “I have a couple things left to do at the company so I'll stick around for a bit longer.”

“Sure. If you're finished early, feel free to drop by. We can have dinner or something together,” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good! I don't know if I'll have time, but I'll definitely see I can join,” you promise.

Lying always leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you know there's no way you're going to sacrifice time that you could be using to improve the dance just to hang out.

You stay late in the studio that night. Your only other schedule for the day is fittings for the music video and all the music shows, which finishes pretty quickly. Since you don't have much of an appetite anyway, you choose to skip Hyunjin’s dinner offer to continue practicing more. You had asked one of the managers to send you a copy of the dance practice and each time you replay it, the pit in your stomach seems to grow.

You lose track of time, picking apart each and every move to try and figure out what you're doing wrong. It's not until Minho knocks on the door and enters, startling you in the middle of yet another runthrough, that you realise how long you've been practicing.

“You still have so much energy?” Minho calls out as he walks closer to you.

“Just had a few things I wanted to fix up before I went home,” you explain in between breaths. 

“And?”

“And what?” you ask.

“Did you fix them?” he replies, raising an eyebrow as he scans your sweaty form and the empty room. “Have you been practicing this whole time? You've been here so long that even Channie-hyung went home. He asked me if you were at our place.”

“What? I-”

“It's almost 2am,” he says gently. “It's time to go home.”

“Can I do one more run through?” you ask sheepishly. “Actually, it’s good that you’re here, I just want to make sure-”

“You've been practicing long enough.” Minho's voice turns stern and he grabs your hand to lead you to the couch to sit. “Did you even eat?”

“I wasn't hungry,” you say quietly.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho scolds you. “You need to fuel your body if you're going to work it so hard, you know we've talked about this.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to practice more,” you say, staring down at your hands. You’re not allowed to pick at your nails since you just got them done, so you settle for fidgeting with one of the rings that you’re wearing. The sharp edges of the gemstones prick at your fingers but you can’t get yourself to stop. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just couldn’t get the dance right today. We had to film it so many times.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n-ah?” Minho asks, bewildered. “We weren’t- you weren’t the reason we had to redo the dance so many times.”

You look up at him finally and don’t see any of the annoyance that you were expecting. The concern and genuine confusion that you find instead catches you off guard.

“What? But- On our fourth take during the second chorus, my legwork was so sloppy compared-”

“Hannie literally forgot which direction we were supposed to move and he almost knocked into me,” Minho interrupts. “There was no way we were going to be able to use the footage, that’s why we stopped early.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

Minho taps a finger to his lips, deep in thought.

“Fifth take, well that was my fault, so we're not going to talk about that. Sixth try, Yongbokkie and Innie both missed a cue and crouched later than everybody else, that one made me want to pull out my hair.” He shakes his head.

“That’s when we took a break,” you realise.

“Yeah, we were hoping it would help us have a clean run. Jinnie had sweated through his makeup and needed touch-ups anyway.”

“I thought you guys were annoyed at me,” you say in a small voice. “You didn't seem happy with the final video.”

“It wasn't my best take,” Minho admits. “I kind of wanted to do it again, but I didn't want you guys to have to stay even later.”

“Did you even see yourself?” You reach for your phone and unlock it to show the paused dance practice video. “Look, I've been trying to copy how fluid you moved in this part. See there? I looked so stiff compared to you, it's awful.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says carefully. 

“And look at this move,” you say, skipping ahead a couple seconds. “I couldn't quite-”

You cut yourself off mid-sentence when Minho leans forward to pluck your phone our of your hands and throw it off to the side. You don't even fight him, just stare with wide eyes, scared of what he's going to say next. 

“You were fine, you did well. But even if you did mess up, it's okay. This dance is tiring, it's challenging. We all have bad days and it's okay to make mistakes.”

When you don’t say anything in response, he slowly moves closer and envelops you in a tight hug. You sniffle a little bit and when he starts to rub slow but firm circles onto your back, you can't stop the few tears that escape.

“Hey, what's going through your mind, huh?” he asks in a low voice. “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

“I just don't want to let you guys down,” you say.

“Y/n-ah, you're not letting us down if we have to do a few more takes on a dance practice,” Minho says incredulously. “Is that all that's been worrying you?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I was just nervous about filming the dance and disappointed when it didn't go like I wanted it to.”

“Silly girl,” Minho says, ruffling your hair affectionately. “You're doing just fine. It's okay to be nervous, but you don't have to be pushing yourself so hard. Come on, it's time to go home, we have an early schedule tomorrow.”

You follow him meekly as he leads you out of the building and to where a driver is waiting to take you back to your dorm. Even though you feel a bit better knowing that you weren't the cause of the schedule overruns, you're still not satisfied with how you're dancing, but you know that it's pointless to pick a fight. Not only is Minho just as stubborn as you, he's not afraid to bring in reinforcements and you'd hate for the rest of the group to catch on to how you've been spending most of your free time. They already have enough to worry about, the last thing you want is to add to that.

Moving forward, you don't stop practicing, but you do take more care to try and pretend that it's not eating up all your free time. You stop using your favourite studio, you know the dance so well that most of the time you don't even have music playing, and you make sure not to stay out late enough that it's noticeable.

You start to feel a little silly with how much time you've devoted to this, significantly more than the rest of the members, especially when the music video filming goes by without a hitch. By the time the Studio Choom video is filmed, you're a lot more confident about the performance and even starting to enjoy yourself.

The rest of the preparations for the comeback start to fly by, especially after the album announcement goes live. There's not a day that goes by that's not filled with different photoshoots or interviews.

Before you know it, the album is released and even though your schedule is absolutely packed, you spend all your free time reading through comments and reactions. Maybe it was cliche to say, but you really did treasure hearing from Stays and comebacks were always when you felt closest to them.  You especially liked being able to interact with them on a more personal level.

You were almost certain that you were the most active member on Bubble, you liked to send daily updates on what you were doing and reminders to Stay about maintaining their health. It did sting that you were also pretty certain that you had the least subscriptions and likely some of them only stuck around because you thought it was funny to send candid photos of the boys every so often.

You had always looked forward to fan signs the most though. Before you had debuted, you had loved seeing footage of the cute accessories, silly pick-up lines, and heartfelt messages from the fans. Not only that, but it was the only chance to speak to fans in person, even if it was only for a minute or two.

You were immensely grateful for everyone that supported you, but maybe it was your eager anticipation for fan signs that left you feeling so disappointed and empty. You had slowly grown used to Stays ignoring you for the boys, for always being the one that didn't receive any gifts to play with, for having the smallest stack of letters at the end of each event. But somehow you were always hopeful that the next time would be different.

Of course, it wasn't like you resented everybody else in the group. In fact, you were genuinely glad that they were enjoying themselves because they deserved it. They worked hard, were amazing performers and talented at creating music, and as a result, the fans loved them.

You, on the other hand, were just missing something, and it seemed that nothing you could do would change that. You had bounced through different positions, focused on vocals, dance, rap, music production, writing lyrics, and had enjoyed yourself thoroughly the whole time. If only the fans had liked it as much as you.

At least with fan calls, it wasn't as blatantly obvious that you were the least popular, least favourite member of the group. In fact, sometimes you were glad because you knew the boys often had crazy fans who had absurd or cringy requests while most of the time you spoke with someone who was politely feigning their interest.

It's almost funnier when the company sits you all down in the same room for the calls like they do today because you get to witness and subsequently tease the boys for the aegyo and silly poses they're forced to do. It's not like any of you can refuse anything the fans ask you to do, not with the staff breathing down your neck the whole time.

As expected, most of your calls are fairly generic and you're grateful for it. You have easy conversations about the album, which dances are your favourite, and you get to share some stories from the tour that you recently finished. You're maybe halfway through the calls when things start to take a turn for the worst.

“I even think that you would have done great as a solo artist! Are you thinking of releasing any solo music soon?” the girl that you're talking to asks excitedly.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile back even though the innocent question makes your chest ache for some reason. “I- well, solo music-” You take a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “I don't know about the future, but right now I really can't imagine releasing anything other than music as a part of Stray Kids. I love working and performing with the rest of the members and I wouldn't want to change anything.”

It's how you actually feel, but you can't help the way that your eyes dart over to check on the staff member that's supervising your call. You feel a bit better when you see their nod of approval and try to focus on the fan to finish the rest of the conversation.

Thankfully you get a quick break before the next call. You know the fan was probably trying to be encouraging, she had started off the call praising your skills and was probably just curious. Still, there's a voice in your mind that tells you that she'd prefer it if you weren't a member of Stray Kids. Or rather, she'd prefer that Stray Kids didn't have you in it.

You try to bring a positive mindset into your next call, but it's with a Stay that’s decidedly less interested in talking to you. You exchange greetings and make small talk until she seems to get an idea that makes her sit up straight all of a sudden.

“I have a question for you,” she says, eyes glinting in a way that makes you a little nervous, even though you're not sure why.

“Go ahead,” you encourage her because you're mostly feeling a bit relieved that she's finally showing some emotion other than boredom.

“Which of the boys would you say is best in bed?” she asks slyly.

You stare at her dumbly, thinking that you must have misheard her.

“Sorry,” you say, laughing uncomfortably. “I don't- I don't think I understand your question.”

“You heard me,” she scoffs. “What's the point in having you in the group if you're not sleeping with at least some, if not all of them?”

“No, I- It's not like that, I don't-” Flustered, you stare desperately at the staff, hoping they'll step in and end the call. Instead they just motion for you to continue. “I mean, we're close, but not-”

“If you want, you can just tell me your favourites,” she giggles, as if she's just asked you what songs on the album you liked. “It must be either Chan or Jeongin, if you decided to live with them.”

“No!” you exclaim.

“So it's not either of them?” she says, tapping a finger against her lip in thought.

“That's not the kind of relationship we have.”

Mortified, you find that you're tearing up a bit. You've heard the theories before, know that there's a lot of gossip and rumours because you're in a group of men, but you've never been outright accused to your face like this.

From the corner of your blurry field of vision, you see Seungmin wave bye to whoever he's talking to. He must hear the distress in your voice because he glances over, then does a double-take when he sees just how bad you're doing.

“What's going on?” he demands, stalking over. Before the staff can do anything to stop him, he leans forward and disconnects the call without a warning. “Why didn't you do anything, isn't it obvious that something’s wrong?”

“Y/n-ssi was handling it,” the staff member says. “It’s not fair to the fans if you cut a call short without reason.”

“No reason? Do you have eyes?!” Seungmin motions to where you're surreptitiously trying to blot away the tears without smudging your makeup. He's gotten the attention of everyone in the room now, even the members who are still in calls and have to pretend nothing is happening in the background. You can only hope that the phones aren't able to pick up anything being said.

“Min,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you tug on his sleeve lightly. He glances back at you, eyes softening slightly. “It's okay, I'm fine.”

You're grateful that he's stood up for you, but all the scrutiny is getting a bit overwhelming. You just want to move on and pretend nothing happened because the last thing that you want is for the company to think you're a liability who can't even handle a nosy fan.

Seungmin crouches in front of you and studies you carefully. You're still clutching onto the sleeve of his sweater. You take a deep breath to compose yourself, then give him a watery smile.

“I was just being really sensitive today, I promise,” you plead. “Just let it go.”

He starts to say something, then cuts himself off, eyes watching something happening over your shoulder.

“Let's just take a quick break from the calls,” Chan says evenly. You didn't even notice that he came up being you and is standing behind you protectively. “We'll be back in 10 minutes.”

It's a command, not a suggestion, something that the staff would normally push back against, but for some reason they stay quiet, allowing the nine of you to filter out of the room unimpeded.

Nobody says anything until you find an unoccupied dance studio. Minho is quick to lock the door after you all pile in.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly from where he's been stuck to your side. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah, I don't know what happened. I'm fine now,” you say.

“Are you sure?” Felix asks from where he's sitting on your other side.

“Really, it was nothing,” you assure him.

“If you were upset, then it's something,” Seungmin insists. “We promise we won't think it's silly or anything. It's probably something we've all heard before anyway.”

You have to turn away from the way that he's looking at you with his huge, pleading eyes. But the rest of the group is also gathered around, concern lining their faces.

“She implied that the only reason I'm in the group is because I'm sleeping with all you,” you say stiffly, regretting it immediately when you feel both Seungmin and Felix freeze in place. “Which obviously is not true, so it's not a big deal.”

“Y/n, you know that's unacceptable, right?” Chan says slowly, through what sounds like gritted teeth. You finally tear your eyes away from where you've been staring at the patterns that you can see in the grain of the wooden flooring, to see that his jaw is clenched, neck muscles pulled tight. 

“Fans say inappropriate things all the time, it's not like I haven't read things like that before. It comes with the job.” You shrug.

“That doesn't make it okay. This is serious. You shouldn't have to-” Chan cuts himself off when he notices that he's started to raise his voice and just pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, I know. I just- I don't want this to be a big commotion. It sucks, I didn't respond well, whatever, let's move on,” you say. “She's going to post about it online, but in a few days, nobody is going to remember anyway.”

“Hyung, can't we just end the call if they do anything inappropriate?” Changbin complains.

“You know that we can't,” you remind him before anybody else can say anything. “It's part of our contract.”

“I hate these stupid fan calls!” Hyunjin passionately declares from where he's sprawled out on the floor. “Channie-hyung, can we just cancel the rest of them?”

“Don't say that,” you scold him mildly. “You love fan calls the most out of all of us.”

“I love some of them,” he argues back. “But not if that's the way you're going to be treated during them. Plus, if another person asks me to call them mommy then I'm actually going to quit being an idol.”

“Ew, your fans are weird.” Jisung wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“They're your fans too!” Hyunjin shoots back.

“Okay,” Chan claps his hands together a couple times before things devolve further. “Unfortunately, we do have to continue with the rest of the calls and we can't delay things too much. It's time to head back.”

There's a bit of casual chatter as everybody heads back, but you can tell everyone is still feeling a bit tense. Seungmin only releases your hand when he absolutely has to and you squeeze a couple times before you let go to try and reassure him that you're going to be fine.

The second you sit down, a makeup artist descends on you, tutting her tongue when she sees that you've accidentally wiped away some of your eyeshadow. You obediently stay still, watching as Chan approaches your table too, stopping to lean down and say something in the ear of the staff member that has been monitoring you. The blood slowly drains from her face and she nods rapidly in agreement with whatever he tells her. He claps a hand on her shoulder and even though it's a light and friendly gesture, you can see the way she flinches slightly.

You raise an eyebrow when he looks your way and he just smiles innocently in return and makes his way back to his seat. You don't comment, not even when you notice that the staff's fingers are trembling so hard that it takes her a couple tries to connect you to the next call. You know that it's not her fault, she's just following instructions from the company after all, but you're not feeling very sympathetic at the moment.

Instead, you just try to focus and take on an upbeat persona in the hopes that nobody realises how upset you truly feel. You're hurt and a bit wary of what the fans might do next, but you don't want to take it out on the people who haven’t done anything to you yet.

Fortunately, the rest of the calls are rather uneventful and you leave the company feeling drained, but not as terrible as you had expected.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about what you could have done differently, how you could have handled the call more gracefully, what kind of answer you should give if something similar ever happens again. But no matter what, you just get stuck pitifully thinking to yourself that it's not fair, you shouldn't have to deal with these kinds of questions in the first case. You're sure the company will give you a briefing and some scripted lines tomorrow anyway, so it's probably for the best that you just try to pretend nothing happened at all.

That evening, you try your best to avoid social media, but you knew that some of the other boys had seen videos based on the stormy expression on Jeongin's usually smiley face when you got home and the way that Chan comes back from the gym with more bruises than usual from his boxing session with Minho and Changbin.

They never say anything, but they have been extra careful around you. Chan has brought home your favourite takeout without you asking and Jeongin jumps up to clean up the second that everyone has finished eating. After you decline to watch a drama with them, you can hear one of them pacing past your bedroom every few minutes, pausing right outside your door before continuing on.

You have just decided to muster up the courage to actually watch the recording of the video, it was embarrassingly easy to find one, when Seungmin video calls you. You immediately click away from where your own stupid looking shocked face is paused on screen to answer because you know Seungmin knows that you prefer to text unless it's an emergency.

“Hey,” you greet him warily. “What's up?”

“Felix is trying to kill me,” Seungmin complains.

“What now?”

“Just look!”

Seungmin changes to his back camera to reveal their kitchen, which is littered with baking supplies and seems almost hazy for some reason.

“Is that smoke?” you ask, sitting up in bed.

“I said not to film!” Felix's voice comes from somewhere outside of the frame. Seungmin pans over dizzyingly fast to show where he's crouched in front of the oven, streaks of flour smudged on his clothes and in his hair.

“I'm not filming,” Seungmin comments, unbothered by the fact that Felix is pulling out a pan of what looks like they should be cookies but look alarmingly similar to lumps of coal. “I'm on a call. Show Y/nnie what you made,” he prompts.

“What?? Noooo,” Felix whines. “Y/n don't look!”

“What are those supposed to be?” you laugh.

“I wanted to make something to cheer you up,” Felix says miserably. Seungmin cackles, moving the camera closer so that you first get a close-up of Felix's face, then a better look at the burnt baking sheet. You keel over, stomach starting to hurt from how hard you're laughing. “I was trying to clean up while they baked and didn't hear the timer go off.”

“Well I appreciate the thought,” you say, when you can finally catch a breath. “And you definitely succeeded in making me feel better. Didn't the fire alarm go off?”

“We just got it to stop,” Seungmin says, switching the camera so that you can see his face again. “It's freezing in here now, we had to open all the windows to air out the place.”

“You poor things,” you coo, leaning back onto your bed now that you aren't concerned that they're in immediate danger. “Do you want to come over to our place?”

“I want to, but someone has to make sure that sunshine over here doesn't burn anything else.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, making you laugh again. You hear Felix yell something in the background. “I just wanted a witness in case I don't make it to our schedule tomorrow. I think I gotta go.”

“Yeah, I think you'll be busy cleaning up the rest of the night. See you tomorrow!”

You end the call, plunging your room back into darkness. You lie on your bed for a few moments before unlocking your phone again.

Even though you knew that it wasn't wise, like clockwork you found yourself scrolling through social media after every comeback. It used to be worse, when you had been living alone and would spend countless hours curled up on your tiny bed, face only illuminated by your phone. 

The rest of the members all know that you had private social media accounts, they all had them too even though you technically weren't allowed to. What they didn't know was how many nights you had wasted away, watching funny compilations, reaction videos, and analysis of performances. Sometimes, it even felt like you were subconsciously searching for the negative comments, wanting to understand better the mindset of the haters.

It was an old, but bad habit, so you had tried your best to stop once you moved in with Chan and Jeongin. But tonight you just couldn't sleep. After wandering into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you end up getting distracted by your Youtube recommendations.

You don't know what kind of strings the company pulled, but by some miracle, there's no clips of your disastrous fan call circulating any more, although there were still a lot of people talking about it.

There had been mixed comments. Some of the clips had excluded the terrible questions and people commented on how bad your media training must have been, but a majority of people were furious on your behalf and complained about how out of bounds the comment had been. 

You should be relieved that the videos have been taken down and you are to a certain extent, but just a couple days ago the dance practice that haunted you had been posted. Just one more thing to worry about. As you feared, while a majority of the comments were nice, there's already people picking apart your performance, comparing you to the boys. 

You click from one comment to another, then move onto fan made videos, inevitably falling down a rabbit hole of the many edits that exist where you had been cropped out or digitally removed. It was almost mesmerizing, watching videos of how well the group worked without you, how natural it looked to see what it would have looked like if it was just the eight of them. Some nights, you could almost forget that the edits were exactly that, edits and not the reality.

“Hey,” Chan interrupts. He is obviously trying his best not to scare you, but you were startled anyway, dropping your phone on the counter. “What are you up to so late?”

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, fumbling to lock your phone so that he can’t see the video that’s playing, but Chan had scooped it up before you had the chance to pick it back up.

“What's this-” You could see the moment that he pieced things together, the way that even in the dim lighting you could tell how his brow had furrowed and his hand had tightened around your phone. “How come you're not in these videos?”

“Hm?”

“You were definitely in this performance,” Chan says, studying the paused screen. “You're supposed to be… They removed you.” He finally realises with horror. “Why are you watching garbage like this?”

“I just want to know what Stay are thinking.” You shrug. “I saw this video and couldn't help but watch. It’s not a big deal, I was just curious.”

“They're not Stay if they're not supporting the whole group!” Chan startles you with the sharpness of his voice. He catches sight of your wide eyes and softens his tone. “Sorry, I just hate akgaes and seeing these kind of posts.”

“Oh come on,” you say. “You're telling me that you've never thought about what the group would be like if you weren't being dragged down by me?”

“Dragged down- Y/n-”

“Don't lie to me, oppa. I know you've seen what people are saying about the group, about me. Have you seen some of these edits? Stray Kids looks good as eight,” you admit.

“I’m not lying! None of us would want to be making music or performing without you,” Chan insists.

“You don't have to say that just to not make me feel bad.” You shake your head.

“We’ve been together from the start, why would I have chosen you to be a part of Stray Kids if I didn't actually want you to be on the team?” Chan asks, sounding frustrated, but also genuinely curious.

“Because the company added me to the team at the last minute?” you say, as if it's obvious. Because to you, and basically everybody else, it is. “I know I wasn't part of the group that you picked. It's okay-”

“What are you talking about? You know that I chose you too, right?” he asks slowly. 

“But the company-”

“They couldn’t have just added you to the group without our say.”

“No, I know that you guys agreed it to, but-”

“Y/n-ah, we didn't just agree to it. They told me they wanted us to consider adding a female member to Stray Kids. We thought about it and said yes. I was the one who wanted that member to be you.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Why are you so surprised? I saw your evaluations, you were one of trainees strongest in dance, probably the only one that could keep up with us, your singing has always been stable, and I know that based on your personality and work ethic, you would get along well with the rest of us. It was the obvious choice.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say, mind racing.

“You really thought the company just added your name onto the roster and we went along with it?”

“I don't know, I guess so?” you say sheepishly. “I was just so grateful to debut, it didn't matter at the time. It felt so out of the blue.”

“You know that one of the reasons that JYP didn't have you on that many of the girl group line-ups was because he was considering making you a solo artist, right?”

“Huh? There's no way,” you immediately deny. “Nobody ever mentioned that-”

“He told me when I brought up your name to add to the group. I guess they never wanted to get your hopes up.”

“I thought they were going to drop me soon,” you admit, scratching at the back of your neck. “I uh, I thought maybe I would do at most one more year of training and then move back in with my family. I had even started filling out university applications to keep my options open.”

“Y/n, you were consistently having amazing evaluations, you were being praised so much by everyone. Why would you doubt yourself?”

“Three years as a trainee and nothing to show for it. You know what it was like, how hard it was to see people come and go. It didn't matter how great my evaluations were if I never got to debut.”

“But-”

“Don't tell me that you never thought about quitting. Oppa, I thought that you of all people would understand what it was like.” You hate the way that your voice cracks.

“I thought about it all the time,” Chan says. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It's fine,” you mumble.

“Y/n-ah,” Chan asks tentatively, like he's afraid to learn the answer. “All these years that we've been together, did you really think we didn't want you?”

“Yes? Well, not really. I didn't think you guys disliked having me in the group per se, I just always thought that maybe you would like it more if I wasn't? And I guess it didn't help that there are a lot of people who thought the same way.”

“I'm sorry we didn't reassure you more.” Chan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “How did we not see that you felt this way?”

“Because I didn't want you to? It's not like it was your fault anyway, I was just overthinking.”

“You know we're going to have to make it up to you, right?” Chan says, looking a little mischievous. 

“Oh please no,” you say, backing away nervously thinking of how much coddling and smothering you're about to endure. You're pretty sure you're already one of the members that's doted on the most. “Things are good as they are.”

“Nope, I refuse.” Chan approaches you, reaching out and catching your wrist so that you can't get away. “We're going to give you so much love that you're not going to doubt yourself ever again.”

“No!” you squeal, trying to tug away from his grip. “I already-” 

The rest of your sentence gets cut off as Chan pulls you into an embrace and your face gets smashed against his shoulder. He squeezes you tightly and contrary to your words, you just relax into his hold.

“What are you guys doing? You're being so loud.”

Both you and Chan freeze, then turn to stare as Jeongin shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his hair all mussed up. You turn back to Chan for a second before he replies.

“Just having a bit of a heart to heart, Innie. Come here, join us,” he invites.

“Ugh, why would I want to hug either of you?” Jeongin complains, wrinkling his nose before immediately walking over and enveloping both of you in his arms.

Even though you know you're going to have to leave for a schedule in a matter of hours, with both Chan and Jeongin's arms wrapped tight around you, you feel lighter than you have in months. You feel secure, at ease, and finally, like you've found a home in these boys.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[duelfeather]

I told someone that I was sad and bothered by the fact I was losing my copious amounts of joy for Undertale. They looked at me indifferently, said something along the lines of, "Yeah, okay, and?" then changed the topic.

At the time, I didn't understand it was hyperfixation. Honestly, I thought I'd lose all attachment to UT. It helped me get back into art, think about stories, and respark a desire to make webcomics. I was feeling so lost and uncomfortable.

A friend introduced me to Trollhunters around that time. Possibly was the reason.

Still, I am very thankful for that. I love the series. I still love UT, too. (The hyperfixation might actually be crawling back, slowly, now that I think about it.)

The fixation is wavering slightly for Trollhunters, but I know I'll still love it. I understand that my joy may lessen, but it won't completely disappear.

On another note, I find it fascinating how hyperfixations can differ. While I have made characters and thought of stories for both, I've also been more inspired to do other things.

Undertale had me drawing and sketching a lot. There was a deep desire to make a webcomic with characters I'd made. I wanted to make monsters inspired by weird things. (I legitimately have a wooden chair monster. I don't recall anything else about them, though.) Was even in the midst of making a story... that I accidentally made my main blog an UT one so I could eventually post it. (Woops)

With Trollhunters/Tales of Arcadia, I mostly stuck to daydreaming stories. Making characters and storylines that played alongside events happening in the shiw. However, this time, I got more into architecture. I've a slow, rekindling desire to write stories again. I desperately want Paralives to be ready soon so I can start building homes and places. I love this.

Honestly, I think it started with Honestuck, waved around the Young Justice cartoon a bit, landed on Undertale, and now rests with Trollhunters/ToA.

Something about these worlds really sparks my creativity. I'm grateful for them. I hope they continue to push me to make stuff and learn new things.

...

I rambled more than I thought I was going to. Ha ha. But, this has been on my mind a while.

Hope everyone continues to find inspiration to learn and/or be creative.

Having a really long-term hyperfixation that has since faded is terrifying yes but it's also so embarrassing. Hi I used to think about Scrimblo Splungus 25/7. Yeah, for 2 years straight. Nah, I don't think about them anymore except for with a vague sense of melancholy as I recall how they used to make me feel. Anyways this new one, Blimpkins McGee? I'm gonna think about them forever and the cycle will NOT repeat in 2 years. Trust me guys.

[starsforxavi]

further examination

·······•✦ description: It had been so long - too long - since you had the opportunity for some alone time with your boyfriend, so when he asked for help with an assignment, you became a little too excited. But all you had to do was be a good girl, and he would grant you all your wishes and more.

·······•✦ pairing: zayne x fem!reader ·······•✦ word count: 5.4k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with little plot ·······•✦ general tags: Fluff and Smut, Smut. Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Well kinda plot, AU!College/University, Zayne is a med student, fluffy zayne, Body Worship, Medical Kink, Riding, Aftercare, Marking, Kinda possessive Zayne, No Spoilers, no one has an EVOL, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Established Relationship

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

“Okay, so, I just have to sit here and pretend to be sick, right?” You were currently sat at the kitchen island, leaning on your elbows to get a better look at your boyfriend. His white coat fit snugly on his shoulders - if he works out any more, he will have to obtain a more significant size - and you fight everything in you that wants to comment on how hot he looks.

“You’re exactly right, darling. Just sit there and answer my questions like you’re coming into the hospital with an ailment.” Zayne nodded, staring down at his notes. He was utterly oblivious to your gaze, just as he always was. More often than not, you would find your eyes trailing his figure, admiring how handsome he looked.

Humming, you sat back in the chair, your hands falling to your lap. His eyes met yours, and you snapped into your assigned role. The thrill of the roleplay - even if it was just supposed to be innocently helping him practice for an upcoming exam - caused your thighs to rub together.

It had been a while since anything intimate happened between you, and the need you felt for the man in front of you only heightened after seeing him walk through the door to your apartment only half an hour ago. Instead of the enthusiastic response you hoped for, you were met with the smell of delicious food and the question to help him with his clinical for an upcoming exam.

While you did want to jump him right then and there, you relented, placing the food on the counter before digging in. Conversations flowed from exciting things in classes to vocabulary words you learned in your recent readings. That all led to where you sat now, Zayne walking around to your side of the kitchen island, his eyes still reading through whatever was on his clipboard.

Trying to play the part, you sniffled, looking at Zayne through hooded eyes. “Hello, Doctor.” It wasn’t easy getting the hoarse tone to come through but you managed, sinking in your seat. Your skin tingled as Zayne looked up at you, the slight twitch in his eyebrow causing a rush of heat to flow through your body.

“Hello, Miss…” He paused momentarily, looking you up and down before writing something down in his chart. “How are you feeling? What brought you to the hospital today?”

His normally soft voice toward you morphed into something a bit colder. This was the voice he usually used towards patients: gentle and caring but not overly warm. He was a professional; it was his job to help others, not to overstep any boundaries. The unusual shift in his tone sent a shock through you. It was different, but you liked it—you really liked it.

Zayne didn’t tell you exactly what ailment you should pretend to have; after all, he was just practicing general clinicals. It didn’t really matter exactly what it was, just that he followed every protocol on his assignment page and remembered what questions to ask.

So you made something up, the best thing you could think of after sitting there momentarily. Sniffling again, you coughed into your hand, gesturing to your throat. As you tried to speak, your voice came out soft and hoarse, the words cutting off slightly while you coughed once or twice.

“I came down with a nasty cough…” You shivered to make it more realistic, pulling your arms around your body. “And I’ve been really cold, even wearing a sweater.”

Zayne hummed along as you explained, setting his clipboard down and walking toward you. All thoughts of him abandoning his assignment flew out the window as he leaned closer, his hand outstretched. “May I feel your throat?”

After a curt nod, his cold fingers touched the sides of your neck. He brushed over your sensitive spot, causing you to wiggle in his hold. As part of his assignment, he acted like it was causing you pain, and he cleared his throat. Instead of pulling back wholly, his left hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers massaging the muscles to feel how tight they were.

“Any pain or discomfort?” His voice seemed far off as you tilted your head back, pleasure spiking through you as he worked at the knots in your neck. Fighting back a moan, all you could do was nod, and Zayne had to stop entirely so you could come back to reality. “Did that hurt?”

It wouldn’t have been very professional, nor would it have helped him if you flat-out said it felt fucking fantastic, so you nodded slowly, a fake wince causing your nose to scrunch up. “Yes, Doctor. It hurt more on the sides of my neck.”

The stethoscope that hung around his neck was pulled free, his hands positioning the earpieces before he looked up again. His jaw was clenched tight, and the effect you had on him made it very clear how he was hanging on a thread. It took everything in him not to abandon his assignment, but he persisted. After all, he prided himself on his amazing self-control.

Moving around behind you, his hand played with the edge of your shirt. “May I check your heartbeat?” This wasn’t in the assignment, not the teasing at your shirt or gently caressing your lower back.

“Yes, you can,” You gasped when the cold instrument pressed into your back. A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked over your shoulder. “But you may find my heartbeat is faster than normal, Doctor.”

It was minimal, the way he pressed the bell of the stethoscope against your back just a little harder. Or how his jaw tightened for a split second before returning to normal. He knew the effect he had on you just as much as you knew your impact on him. A mutual respect for how you had each other weak in the knees.

“Handsome men just have that effect on me, I guess.” Deciding to play it a little more daring, you pressed the limits. This was an assignment, yes. Yet the excitement and need grew in you as you played the patient, only causing heat to build between your thighs.

The feeling of the stethoscope on your back disappeared, and Zayne’s stoic face came into view, his eyebrows knitted together. “Calm down, darling. Just help me finish this assignment.” He picked up his clipboard again, his fingers noticeably clutching the pen a little too tight as he scribbled down notes. “You’re lucky they didn’t make me film it this time.”

His statement caused you to suck your bottom lip into your mouth. How hot. Though the topic of people watching you never came up, you could assume it would be a hard no from your boyfriend. He was gentle, but he rarely kissed you outside of your apartment or his office. Having others around meant having a hand on your waist or holding your hand, and that was it.

“I just need your help, Doctor.” Every time you used that word, Zayne’s left eye twitched slightly. To the average person, it wouldn’t be noticeable, but you - who had been in a relationship with him for two years now - could pick up on these things. “It really, really hurts.”

Another clench of his jaw, and you knew he was close to giving in. It had been a few weeks, the need in yourself almost certainly mirroring his own. Even though he was better at hiding it, there wasn’t much he could get past you. The lingering touches as he left for class in the morning or the strangled sigh that fell from his lips when he caught you for a few moments between exams. The kisses always seemed the best, the heightened awareness of the deadlines you both faced only causing excitement to spark between you.

“I can only help you if you play along, darling.” He looked up from his paper to lock eyes with you, the pleading look on your face making his cock jump in his black slacks. “Only a few more assessments, and I’ll take care of you. Just be a good girl for me.”

He knew just how to make you listen to him, and he fought a grin as your back straightened up. Another cough was forced out, and he shook himself mentally, pulling himself back into his role. Your skin prickled, and your nerves were on edge as he gently grabbed your wrist, his two fingers pressing into your pulse point.

“Let me just check your pulse,” He continued, keeping an eye on his watch as he silently counted the beats. It was deafening, the silence that pushed in on you. Your heart rate sped up as your eyes scanned his face, down his neck, all the way to his black slacks. Unfortunately, you couldn’t catch a glimpse, but if his tells were giving you anything, you could bet he was at least slightly turned on.

After a minute passed, he released your wrist, moving back to write some numbers on the page. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket, gesturing to your throat. “I’m just going to check your throat. Say ‘Ah’ for me, please.”

The light flashed as you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. It brought back memories of tasting Zayne’s seed as it spilled all over your lips, licking up the remnants that didn’t land in your mouth. Zayne seemed to think the same thing because he cleared his throat, looking around for most likely nothing. Your throat felt fine.

The silence was interrupted by the click of the flashlight turning off, his eyes meeting yours before he looked back at his clipboard for one final time. He spent a minute writing until he moved his attention to you. “All finished, Miss. I will prescribe some medicine, and you should feel better in a day or two.”

“Is there anything you could give me now to help me feel better?” Batting your eyelashes at him, you placed your hand on his chest. On instinct, he stepped closer, his hips fitting perfectly between your open thighs. His hands held your hips gently, fingers threatening to dip under your shirt.

“Hm.” He pretended to think, his eyes trailing over your face before his nose brushed yours. “I know a thing or two that could help alleviate the pain, but we need to have you lying down so I can treat you.”

With a tug, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a slight noise falling past your lips as he hoisted you up. His hands cradled your ass, giving it a few squeezes as he walked toward your shared bedroom. Warm breath spread across his skin, and he shivered, his cock now straining in his pants as he thought of all the time he had to make up for not being with you.

Zayne set you on the bed, ensuring a pillow was under your head. Playing along, you looked up at him, crossing your hands over your stomach as you awaited his next move. That next move consisted of tugging his white coat off and unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt. Heat radiated from him, and the need to just take everything off almost overwhelmed him, but he held it in. He wanted to take his time with you.

“I think that I need to assess more of your body.” His hand held your ankle gingerly, pressing a kiss to your shin before trailing his eyes up your body. “Let me know if anything hurts.”

Zayne let his fingers massage your ankle, feeling the muscles loosen. Pleasure rocketed through your body, and you moaned, eyes closing automatically. The feeling stopped as you shut your eyes, Zayne’s fingers halting their movements.

When you finally looked back at him, he had moved to your calf, doing the same ministrations. The same feeling shot through you, and the same moan fell from your lips. Next came your thighs; both of his hands were now going to work. Zayne always commented how he loved your thighs, and it seemed that he spent more time on them as he worked. The tips of his fingers got oh so close to your core, teasing you with the ghost of touch when he worked his way up to your stomach.

“Doctor.” You sighed, his fingers walking up your navel and into the valley of your breasts underneath your shirt. Goosebumps appeared on your skin, and if this was the effect he had when you were dressed, you couldn’t imagine what it would feel like when you were both finally bare.

His hand cradled your neck, similar to before but more gentle, more desperate, and more Zayne. Not Doctor Zayne, but your boyfriend Zayne, who just wanted to give you a treat for behaving and helping him with an important assignment.

“It’s just Zayne now, darling.” His voice was just above a whisper as he leaned down, lips ghosting over yours for a second. You could feel his breath on your face, and you tilted your head up, pressing a soft kiss on his awaiting lips.

Then, it was like a dam broke. The moment you kissed him, his hand pulled you to meet his lips again. Every muscle in your body relaxed, and your nerves stood on end as he kissed you, his tongue poking at your bottom lip. A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped into your open mouth as your tongues met for the first time in a while.

“Zayne,” It had been a while since you whispered his name like that, and he had to pause, his resolve dwindling until almost nothing was left. “Please just touch me.”

A chuckle brushed against your lips, the statement hanging in the air as he pulled back. Fingers deftly pulled the buttons of his shirt from their hold, the fabric coming untucked from his slacks and falling to the floor in record time. Instead of taking off the piece of clothing you wanted, he climbed onto the bed.

“Your wish is my command, darling.” His hands pushed your shirt over your head, one trailing behind your back to unclasp your bra. Quickly, he unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs; much to your dismay, he kept your underwear on. But he often chose to leave them on until he was ready, and obviously, he wasn’t ready yet. It took him a moment of admiring your body, memorizing every dip and curve in your skin, both with his sight and his touch, before he spoke again. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

His thumbs brushed across your nipples, the ridges and peaks becoming extra sensitive both from the lack of contact and the sudden cold air. Leaning down, he took one nipple into his mouth, the warm contrast causing you to arch your back, pressing your chest further into him. His tongue worked wanders, circling and flicking as he listened to your moans becoming higher and sharper in sound.

For a moment, his teeth scratched against your skin, and you gasped, the mixture of pain and pleasure causing heat to rush to your lower half. At the sound of your gasp, Zayne pulled away, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. “I’m okay. It hurt a tiny bit…” You paused for a moment, biting your lip. “But I kinda liked it.”

Zayne nodded, cataloging that in his memory for the future. Even after two years together, he still liked to try new things to see your reaction to them. “Well, why don’t we try it on the other one?” Before he leaned down again, he whispered, his breath on your nipple causing you to twitch slightly. “Just tell me if the pain is too much, darling.”

As he dove back down, it took everything in you not to moan too loud. Your apartment walls were only so thick, and if you weren’t careful, another noise complaint would come your way in the morning. It was hard, however. The way his tongue flicked across the ridges around your nipple before finally teasing the most sensitive nub caused arousal to dampen your underwear further.

“Zayne,” You pleaded. The sensations were almost too much. No matter how many times you were intimate, the pleasure amounted to nothing anyone else could have given you. You were sure you had found your person, and you intended to keep him close. Close enough that your fingers threaded in his hair, caught between wanting to pull him closer and push him away.

Almost as if he could read the thoughts that spun in your mind, a smirk grew on his lips, causing cold air to seep in and sting against your damp skin. He pulled away just enough to trail his lips down your body, sucking a mark into the skin above your right hip. His eyes trailed up to meet yours, his arousal growing as he saw the effect he had on you. More than anything, he adored seeing just how much pleasure he could bring you.

The lamp on your bedside table cast a shadow on one side of his face, the lighting causing a sparkle in his left eye. His nose nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, just below your underwear. Warmth fanned over your core as he breathed out in a sigh, his tongue teasing the plush skin before he sucked another mark. His second one of the night, yet he so desperately wanted to stake his claim on every inch he could reach. It wasn’t that he was a possessive man, but he yearned to be remembered, and a surefire way to do that would be to make marks that you would see for days to come.

“Zayne,” Once again, his name fell from your lips like a mantra, a prayer to whatever deity above brought this man into your life. Except maybe it wasn’t a celestial being… Perhaps it was just fate that decided you two belong together.

“I need more words than just my name, darling.” He purposefully blew air against your core, his cock straining in his pants when he saw the damp spot that was beginning to form. “Although I must admit, I really love hearing you say my name like that.” A smack echoed through the air as he lightly snapped the band of your underwear against your skin. “Like you’re desperate, pleading, needy.”

“Please, I need you.” Your hand returned to his hair, gently stroking the locks. “Please, Zayne.”

A satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, and he decided that his own need to have his face buried between your thighs and the way you begged for him were enough. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, and he slowly sat up on his knees, pulling the piece of fabric all the way down until it was flung onto the floor.

“There you go, good girl.” His hands trailed from your ankles to your thighs, spreading them apart even farther. Taking in your arousal that glistened in the minuscule light that shone from the lamp, he smiled from his place between your thighs. “I think… You need further examination.”

After he spoke, his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, collecting your arousal. His hips met the bed, grinding against it for a moment of reprieve before diving back in. Cold air tickled your skin as he spread your lips, the warmth of his tongue immediately following. He memorized every inch of you; a catalog of every noise or face you ever made to every mark on your body was tucked away in his mind.

When he finally ventured up to flick his tongue against your clit, you jerked your hips up, a spark igniting in your lower belly. With a low moan, you tilted your head back against the pillow, a louder noise falling from your lips as he suctioned his lips around your sensitive spot. The thumbs that were spreading you open pulled back, one of his hands quickly moving to tease a finger around your entrance.

“So beautiful,” Zayne commented before sucking on your clit again, pulling back with a pop. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded quickly before opening your mouth, knowing exactly what he wanted. “Yes,” Your voice came out more like a whine, and you wiggled your hips. “I’m always ready for you.”

His resolve broke momentarily, the way he sucked in a sharp breath or his hips ground into the bed beneath him. Even through the veil of pleasure, you caught the minuscule tells. You saw the reactions and tugged lightly at his hair, causing him to look up at you.

“Who am I to deny you, then.” Gently, he pressed his index finger into you, eyes focused on how your walls welcomed him in. It had been too long since he felt that, felt the warmth surrounding him, and he slowly pulled all the way out before easing back in. Your tight hole offered slight resistance as he pushed in, but as he continued licking and sucking at your clit your arousal helped his gradual thrusting.

“There you go, darling.” The rush he got as he ate you out was unlike anything he ever experienced before. If he could spend eternity between your legs, he absolutely would. His straining cock was an afterthought as he listened to your moans pick up in speed and volume. “I’m going to add another one.”

His middle finger made the intrusion turn into a beautifully tight stretch as he spoke, your grip on him only causing shockwaves to run to the tips of your toes. Once up to his knuckles, he curled his fingers, trying it a few times until he felt your fingers tighten and tug at his hair.

“Zayne, oh my god, right there!” Your thighs threatened to close around his head, and if these were Zayne’s last moments, he would be the happiest man on Earth. However, to prolong his life, his left hand wrapped around your thigh and pulled, spreading you back out for him.

He kept going, stroking that spot over and over. His hair could always grow back, and there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t endure to hear your orgasm run through you. With each thrust and press against the squishy spot, your back arched, and your nerves built higher and higher.

Out of nowhere, the height reached its peak and avalanched back to Earth, your orgasm washing over you like snow barreling down a mountain. It was intense and prolonged by the gentle licks Zayne delivered to your clit. After you were buried under inches of snow, you pushed Zayne’s head away, overstimulation beginning to prick at the edges of your vision.

Heavy breaths mingled together as Zayne trailed his lips back up your body. A line of wet kisses followed until he finally reached your mouth, where you tasted your orgasm on his tongue. His fingers left, and an emptiness filled their place. While he was inches away from your lips, he sucked his fingers into his mouth, collecting the slick that was still there.

He felt drunk, his senses dull, and his need growing. Insatiable hunger grew in him, and he very nearly dove back down for seconds, but he was cut off from that thought by your hands tugging at his belt. His stomach tensed as he felt your fingertips against his skin, teasing the buckle as you tried to remove it.

“Go ahead, darling. Take them off for me.” His voice lowered to a whisper, and his eyes trained on your hands. Your beautiful fingers finally pulled his belt from their loops. It rattled to the ground as you immediately went to work on his slacks. A simple button and zipper before you were pushing them down his thighs. “Let me do the rest.”

Standing up, Zayne hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down along with the rest of his slacks. His thighs tensed as his cock stood, impossibly hard and aching. Kicking them off, he stood there for a moment, a shiver and goosebumps ripping through him as your eyes trailed up and down his body before landing on his cock.

“Lay down.” You started, sitting on your knees and holding out a hand to him. “I think that you need to be examined too.”

A smile curved on his lips as he sat down, his thighs slightly spread and welcoming you. His head tilted towards you, and his hand cupped your chin, pulling you in so your lips were centimeters apart. “Don’t need your mouth, darling.” A soft kiss enveloped you, and he grabbed your hips, sitting you down on his lap. He pulled you down so you ground your wet pussy against his cock, emphasizing his words with a low groan. “I need your perfect pussy wrapped around my cock, right now.” A pause. “Please, darling.”

He didn’t try to hide the need that dripped at the edges of his words, making exactly what he so desperately desired abundantly clear. You. Always and forever you. Nothing else in this world could satisfy him like the sight of you sitting so beautifully in his lap, your body all his to worship.

Giving in to his pleas, you lift your hips, stroking his shaft a few times just to tease him. It wasn’t until a low growl rumbled through his chest that you fulfilled his desire, lining him up with your entrance and slowly lowering down. The stretch was delicious, his thumbs massaging your hips as he guided you.

Once you were sat fully down, you both shared a breath, eyes locking with each other. Time paused; the only sensations you felt were his warm cock buried fully inside you and the gentle rubbing of his thumbs on your hips. To others, being the recipient of Zayne’s intense stare would be intimidating, yet to you, it only brought comfort and the feeling of being loved unconditionally.

“Stunning,” His voice was just a whisper against your skin as he tucked his face into your neck. For a few seconds, the only sounds were your sharp breaths and the light sucking as Zayne made another mark, this one just above your collarbone.

His hands massaged your ass, pulling you apart to rock yourself on him gently. It was a slow pleasure that began building as you ground on him, his fingers gripping your flesh like at any moment you would melt. Each movement caused his curved cock to rub against your walls, his tip pressing into your sensitive spot.

“Go ahead, darling.” The rocking didn’t stop, but Zayne’s hands moved to your hips, no longer guiding you but playing a more passive role. His lips were pulled into a smirk as he leaned back onto the headboard, eyebrow raised slightly as he took in the sight where you were connected. Your arousal dripped down his shaft and would surely ruin the sheets, but all he could think of was the warmth around him and the sight before him. “Grind on me, fuck yourself on my cock.”

Raising so only his tip was still nestled inside you, the emptiness was short-lived, your body missing the feeling and chasing it. The bed creaked slightly each time you brought yourself down, his cock hitting places that neither his nor your fingers could reach.

Need bubbled up inside you as you chased your high, your walls stretching around him each time you fully sat down. Grinding your clit into his bare pubic bone, a loud moan escaped you when you felt him thrust up into you. His own groans fell from his lips as you clenched around him, threatening to suck him dry. And it was all he wanted, to be sucked dry and entirely used by you.

“Zayne…” Your hands rested on his chest as you let the man below you chase his orgasm. It wouldn’t take much longer for you to come, and you wanted to reach it together. “I’m so close.”

“I- I know, darling.” His voice caught in his throat, head leaning back against the headboard and eyes closing momentarily. A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he scrunched them together, his own pleasure amounting to something uncontrollable. “Me too.”

Thrusts became more erratic, and you let your body chase his hips, the smack of his pelvis on your clit sending shockwaves through you. It became too much; your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to quiet your moans. But you couldn’t hold back. It was hard to hold back when Zayne was fucking up into you so perfectly that nothing could come close to the euphoria that washed over you.

“Come for me,” Zayne strained his voice, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that they would probably bruise in the morning. But that’s okay. He would always trail kisses along the marks he made, ensuring that he didn’t actually hurt you. “I need you to be a good girl and come for me.”

Nearly slamming you down onto him, the avalanche fell once again, burying you in indescribable pleasure for the second time that night. Except this was more intense, your hands and feet prickling with the sense of hypothermia. Your vision almost went white as you felt Zayne’s cum filling you. It was too much, his seed escaping from your hole and coating his cock in your mixed releases.

Cool air settled on your sweaty bodies as you sat there, his softening cock still deep inside you. Gently, Zayne pulled you off him and set you on the bed. He knew that you would want to cuddle, and he absolutely could not fall asleep on soiled sheets. While you finished coming down from the peak, Zayne turned the warm water on, setting a washcloth and body soap on the side of the tub.

Once it was complete, he shut it off, returning to the room to find your eyes closed and chest rising and falling consistently. He never liked waking you up, especially when you looked so beautiful under the lamp's soft glow.

“Darling, I ran a bath for us.” His arms cradled you, picking you up and walking the few steps into the master bathroom. While you relaxed, your eyes finally opened, and you took in the change in surroundings.

Zayne changed the sheets in nearly record time, and the need to be back in your presence was so high that he almost couldn’t take it. As soon as he was done, he walked back into the bathroom, settling into the space behind you. With the washcloth and body soap, he lathered your body, taking special care not to tease your sensitive nipples or clit too much. Relaxing in his arms, you leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes closing and body welcoming his loving touch.

His hands wandered up and down your thighs to the plush skin of your stomach, finally caressing the few marks that littered your neck and shoulders. A breath fanned across your skin as Zayne leaned down, soft kisses pressed to each mark. Though the water was warm, a shiver ran through you.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was nearly silent, words meant for your ears and your ears only. Only a shake of your head was there to answer him. Sure, they would sting slightly for a few days, but the following pleasure was worth it.

“No, you didn’t.” You turned your head, kissing his jaw. “You were perfect.”

A small smile graced his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist, enjoying the moment between you. These came few and far between now that he was so busy with school, but when the time did come, he never wanted to let go. He tried his best to satisfy you, make sure you didn’t decide you could find someone else who could give you more. But he didn’t know that you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, that you knew no matter how busy he was, he would always make time for you, and that there was no one else in this world you would rather be with.

“Thank you… For helping me with my assignment… For everything.” He countered, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “You’re always perfect.”

© starsforxavi

[defmaybe]

Wrecked (Deluxe Expanded Edition): Bonus Track - Yunjin

LE SSERAFIM’s Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

1k words (as of now)

Base album

A/N: Title gore, yes, I am aware, my apologies. Need to post this to give myself some motivation to write the entire piece out lol. My first time writing daddy kink. Also, thanks to yieldtotemptation's Easy for inspiring a lot of prose choices!

—

Yunjin’s lips sure are the pair that you’re going to remember.

She kneels down on the floor, painting your length with the fire-engine red of her lipstick and her slick, thick saliva. Hot breath from her nostrils brushes against your cock, making you strain on your couch. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, eyes looking up at you—pleading, begging for your cum.

Her hands grip on your thighs tightly, effectively holding you in your place. The suction is perfect, immaculate, deliberate. You squirm and moan loudly. Good thing the walls are thick here. Never have you gotten a single noise complaint from the other residents fucking women raw—both in the mouth and in the cunt (sometimes even in the ass).

“Keep sucking it, babygirl. You’re doing well,” you whine drunkenly, hands playing with the locks and messes in her hair. They are soft to your touch.

“Won’t leave you hanging, daddy,” Yunjin says, muffled by your thick cock, eyes staring into yours. She breaks the suction with occasional licks on your shaft and balls, pressing her flat, filthy tongue against your sensitive spot, and you’d shriek when she does that. Her hands help, rubbing on your cock while the warmth of her mouth is missing, and you just can’t help but to moan.

“Daddy loves it, doesn’t he?” Yunjin says with a soft giggle, running her hands on your thighs, overstimulating you. “My pussy’s even better than this. Think about it.”

And you think about it—the way her warm mouth envelops you, so unbelievably tight and wet. The image of you fucking her even-tighter cunt elects itself up in your mind as she squirms under you like a slut. Her legs are lifted in the air while you thrust into her with such merciless roughness. Her tight walls contract and heave around your throbbing cock. Both of you moan in unison from the pleasure cutting through your bodies. She’s going to fucking milk you for all you’re worth if you only get a touch of her hole.

“Bet you wanna wreck my pussy so bad,” Yunjin teases, hands cupping your balls, nuzzling her nose on your waist as her tongue laves around the base of your cock. She laps her tongue up your cock once more, making you groan from the depths of your lungs, before taking you whole with her mouth again. “Bet you wanna breed me with that white, hot cum, putting that baby batter inside my womb.”

You growl as a response, “You’re a such a fucking slut, Yunjin.”

She only giggles, diving on your length again, and again, and again. Each time brings you such incomprehensible pleasure through your body. She stretches her lips as far as they’ll go, taking your cock into her mouth like she has been built for it. Her puffy, plump lips take you like she was hard-coded into sucking your cock. Syntax be damned, auto-complete all abused. It’s that hot, slick mouth. She’s a total professional, and you can’t help but squirm and thrash in her execution.

Yunjin doubles her efforts, gaining her tempo on your cock while taking you in deep. You can feel the tip of your cock hitting the back of her throat. She begins to gag, making those poor retching sounds from the depth of her lungs. Her throat pulses and convulses from the sheer size of your cock. 

“Nasty cockslut.”

She looks up, lashes fluttering. “I’m honored to be your little cockslut, daddy,” slurs Yunjin, sounding so slutty that it’s sending you into overdrive, mouth still so fucking full of your cock, tip poking her throat.

“Bet every guy in your department has thought about fucking that mouth of yours,” you snarl, barely coherent, cock aching and throbbing so desperately inside the cavern that is Huh Yunjin’s mouth. Your hands dig into the fabric of your couch as her head goes haywire on your cock, so eager to drink your white, hot nectar.

“You’re the first in the company to fuck my mouth, daddy.”

The idea spurs you on, and you feel it, that wave from afar, ready to crash into you. You’re straining, hands moving to grip her ponytail at the back of her head, thrusting your cock into her slutty mouth clumsily. Her mouth is begging, pleading to be fucked like this, you tell yourself. The suction, the plumpness of her lips, the sound she makes when the tip of your cock hits the back of her throat. You use her, making her take you fully, making her mouth yours, making her yours.

The feeling builds up inside your loins. Your body arches into her, rutting into her mouth roughly. You hear Yunjin gag and retch around your cock, tightly gripping on your thighs for holds. God, she’s such a perfect cocksleeve, taking you in so hungrily.

Until you break.

“Fuck!”

You press Yunjin’s head against your crotch, unloading your balls into her mouth, spraying seemingly an endless amount of cum onto the back of her throat. Yunjin gags on you, but she takes it—every, single, drop. She lets it run down her throat into her stomach, swallowing all of you. Your cock twitches painfully against the confines called her mouth, body unable to stay still on the couch. The sight is nothing short of ugly and obscene—you pressing Yunjin’s head against your crotch while your body twitches from the sheer force of your orgasm.

The orgasm slowly subsides, as you let go of Yunjin’s ponytail, giving her the much-needed space to breathe again. She’s shaking in front of you, trying to recompose herself back up again. Yunjin languidly drags her mouth off your cock, making a loud pop sound once it detaches. She smiles, showing you her prize, showing you the mess she has made. Strings of cum latch onto her teeth, and she moans, so drunk on your cum, so fucking lewdly you swear that you can just cum again. She absorbs your flavor into her tongue, licking the tongue around her teeth.

And she’s doing all this while she looks you in the eye.

“Any errors, daddy?”

“Not at all.”

—

[revelboo]

Revel have you seen the new shining blokee wave 3??? My walket weeps.

I know 🤣 two Megatron variants and Tarn? Yes, please. I’ve ordered the Megs variants while I can still get them relatively cheap. The price of single Blokees has been steadily increasing for months now and they’re killing my budget every time a new wave is released. But yay, they’re getting popular finally so they’ll make more characters. I need a Waspinator so bad

Just a little idea for an AU that’s been in my head for a few days- I was thinking of those Otome dating games. Still figuring out the mechs to play with here, but I know I want to write Cons and Bots both for this storyline. Thinking maybe six, three of each.

Needs and Wants

Transformers x Reader

• Breath fogging in the chill morning air, you glance down at the card in your hand, the little map drawn on the back and a time. Heart racing as you look around at the closed storefronts. This part of town quite so early. Would much rather do this during the day, but by then, the shop will have moved. You understand that this is a one time offer that won’t be extended again. And you’ve heard whispers of Maccadam’s. Walking down the street, your skin prickles as you spot a shop wedged among the other brick buildings, looking out of place. Looking suspiciously solid for a shop that supposedly moves nightly. Lamps tinted red dangle from posts on either side of the door, the sign above simply saying ‘Maccadam’s’ and in smaller script ‘Change Your Fate.’

• Inside, the air is thick with a musky incense underlaid by a metallic bite that makes your sinuses burn. Everything is in subdued shades of red and black. And then there’s a man waiting at the big desk across the open space of the lobby. For some reason, it’s hard to focus on him. To hold onto details as he stands and greets you. “I was expecting you. Come, come. Let’s get started,” he says and like his appearance, you can’t really hang on to the sound of his voice. Is he tall? Thin? Heavyset? You look at him and the details just slip away, bleeding from your mind. Is it the incense? Because you feel oddly light breathing it in and you don’t even realize you’ve crossed the floor until you’re at the desk, extending a hand.

• Watching him cup the back of your hand, holding yours palm up as the fingers of his other hand ghost just over you, not quite touching. “Hmm,” he murmurs. “You’re not quite sure what you wanted, are you? A challenge then. No one clear path.” Unsure what he means by that, you look around the room. This place ornate, walls hung with thick tapestries. It doesn’t fit in this age and time at all.

• “You’re the matchmaker,” you say, voice breathy from the smoke hazing the air. And he smiles up at you as you try to figure out how old he is. All the uncertainty and jitters fading away and you’re almost positive it’s the incense calming you down. Because part of you was honestly surprised to even find the shop at all. Half expecting it to be a prank. A shop like this that moves nightly? That can give you exactly what you want. It’s too good to be true.

• “I make the introductions, but the rest is up to you,” he says, letting go of your hand and pulling out a funny looking tablet that’s completely at odds with the old world luxury of everything else in the room. Setting it down on the desk between you, for a moment the characters aren’t right. But you blink and it’s in your language. “There are rules. First, if you’re not committed to this, you have no place here. That said, you’ll be compensated for your time.” Touching screen a sum appears on the screen and your lips part. There’s no keeping a poker face, because that amount? It’s almost ridiculous and he’s smiling again. That part you hadn’t heard about in the rumors. He’s paying you to date these matches? And even if the idea of being paid for this makes you oddly uneasy, it’s not like you have to really do anything with any of the matches. You don’t have to sleep with them unless you want to. “You won’t be allowed to leave these premises as long as you’re still contracted and the minimum length of your stay must be a month or you forfeit your compensation. As soon as you back out after the month, you won’t be allowed to return. Ever.” And his eyes are blue and serious when he looks up at you, that detail a certainty when the rest of him is still hard to focus on. “You’re free to talk to those I introduce you to. You’ll have your own private space as will they. Get to know them intimately, but if there’s a match made, you’ll be bound to honor it. At a certain point, there’s no turning back.”

• It’s kind of like an old school arranged marriage then? Sort of. But he’s offering you multiple choices and up until whatever point he’s talking about, you can still back out. And what does he mean by a match? Or is it only a scare tactic to make sure you’re not wasting his time? That you’re serious? Because it seems like you can hide out and just talk to these guys occasionally without making any real commitments if you wanted to and just take their money at the end. All of the rumors you’ve heard about this place are vague. It had seemed more urban legend than reality. But supposedly he can give you exactly what you want at no cost except your time. The matches are the ones bankrolling this operation, you suppose. Hoping to find someone. A match. But why all the secrecy? “Do you agree?” He asks, touching a finger to the tablet and you’re reaching out, writing your name with a finger before you can overthink this. Talk yourself out of it. So tired of the dating scene, of games. And what can it hurt to just look? You can always decline the matches.

Next

[mossworth]

There is so much we can do as librarians, you're right in that. Talking to communities about the library, I want them to know they have the power to influence and help their local branch. Library worker to library worker, I'd probably talk a little more in-depth and a little more frankly. I'm sorry if I read the text tone wrong because ultimately, I agree with you! The "Let's not pretend" just really rubbed me. I left the "librarian" action info out because the post wasn't directed at librarians, it was directed at patrons. More specifically, fellow queer activists.

On the day I had made it, I was going through the weeding cart and was faced with the reality that... despite the queer activist communities presence in the library space, their use of our venue as meeting areas, their queer bookclubs meeting at our branch, and their vocal support within those meetings telling me, to my face, that they are glad we have materials they want, none of them had actually gone to the stacks to seek them out. I learned I couldn't trust them to do that, and that fucking sucks.

Now, in writing what you can do as a librarian, this DID remind me of something I saw a while back from the Library Freedom Project. In their article about Reproductive Justice and information seeking, they gave this chart:

We know what we can do as library workers, not a lot of variation in that, however if you work in a hostile or just a very tentative system (like mine, being more rural, notices bias in a... what my patrons would call a "woke" direction immediately), first and foremost, you must figure out who is on your side. I love this because it lays out a degree of nuance in differentiating "vocally in support" from "actionably in support". Your branch coordinator being hostile creates a whole hell of a lot more possible conflict in your attempts to keep certain materials than, say, the other information specialist you work with on Wednesday/Friday.

The conclusion is the same, though. Library workers, do what you can do save these materials. Just like you said! But now's the time to start figuring out what you can do without losing your job.

A little bit ago, I had a patron ask me what I "planned to do".

"About what?"

"About... you." She's an old lesbian, lived in Provincetown in the 60s, has been everywhere. One of my favorites. Have no idea how she ended up where I am. She kind of motioned to my whole body and said, as if I didn't know this information, "You're *Transgender.*"

"Yes... I am?"

"So what's the plan? Are you going to shave? Start wearing skirts again for the next four years?"

I told her, no, I understood the risk, but I felt there was a benefit to my visibility at a time like this, in a position like mine.

She disagreed, "You can't be visible here if you're dead or fired."

She's one of the oldest queers I personally know. Normally, I'd take that in stride, but from her... from someone who'd seen this play out before, it stuck with me.

This is more off-topic than I intended, sorry about that! But just... library workers, figure out who your people are *now*, and figure out how you're going to get each other, and the materials we hold close to our hearts, through... whatever we're going through. I'd just say the next few years, but I've seen international librarians on this post, and that tells me we'd all benefit from some planning ahead!

Guys, queers. Specifically my fellow queers.

I work at a library. We do this thing where, every so often, we weed the collection. It hurts to see books go, but it's necessary to make sure there's room in the library for new materials.

I have seen so much support for the library in text, and I've seen folks pass around those beautiful "queer your library" flyers. Keep doing that. That's great. Nothing wrong with that. But you HAVE to turn your words into action. We MUST remember to actually go to our local organizations and libraries and actually, with our own fucking hands, interact with these materials we want to see more of.

My branch is medium-sized for a library, maybe a little small. We don't have as many materials as I'd like, but we have fundamentals. Tell me why, even with all the verbal support I've gotten from my local community for the library as a resource for our LGBT+ community, every single trans biography and a good chunk of our vaguely queer theory books were on the list. This isn't a scheme to take the books off the shelves, it isn't another bigoted American governmental push. The only thing we look at when we weed is how long it's been since the last time the item was checked out.

Three years.

No one in my community interacted in any meaningful way with the few books on trans life and history we physically had on the shelves for three fucking years.

I promise you the materials you want and need are there, but this isn't a horde. This isn't a static safety net. You have to use them. You MUST use them or, in the future, maybe in three years, they *won't* be there anymore.

This isn't a vague post, there's no one person I'm hinting at or calling out. I'm not even talking directly to anyone who's directly in my line of sight. I just want everyone to hear this. Big library, small library, whatever. Doesn't matter. Please, we cannot be losing our shelf visibility like this.

[juricel]

requesting precorrupt smc x reader x corrupt smc... 🙏🙏 do whatever!!

a/n: I apologize for the late reply! I have finally gotten artistic inspiration, but in exchange for my writing inspiration. there's not much content warning in this post aside from the slight canon divergence, because obviously, two versions of shadow milk cookie won't exist in a single universe, that would be, simply put, a destiny much horrifying than hell itself.

— corrupt! shadow milk cookie x reader x pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie

𖦁 pre! corrupt shadow milk cookie, in all his decadent rot, would not hesitate to part with a morsel, for after all, it isn’t cheating, is it? since it is still him, however, in an alternate universe. ah, but the latter on the other hand... corrupt! shadow milk cookie harbors a less benign disposition. even if it is an echo, a mere specter of his own self, the act of sharing you provokes discontent, nor was it in his in his written script; for you, in your ineffable singularity, are /his/. and his alone. It matters not if the proposed rascal being woven through your relationship was an alternate version of himself; the principle remains immutable — you are HIS. and no, you don't get to a say on this, who even are you to set such boundaries?

𖦁 It wasn't possessiveness, no, not at all! such word was not in his dictionary; it was simply put an unvarnished statement of what was blatantly true, and if pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie couldn’t handle such a reality, then let him return to where he came from and rot into ashes of flour, forgotten. he had no intention of sharing you with anyone—anyone—not even with a version of himself. If pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie desired you so intensely, why not settle for an alternate version of you, hmm? let him make do with that. and if he didn’t like it... well! that, my dear, was certainly not his problem, was it? let him stew in his discontent. the truth had been laid bare before him, as it was meant to be, and if it stung—well, that’s the nature of truths, isn’t it? not something to be coddled or softened for his fragile sensibilities. his discomfort was of no concern to you, nor to him. however, much to his displeasure, it was not as if pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie would simply leave. no, for after all, you were first his, and abandoning you to the clutches of greedy and possessive hands was not part of his modus operandi—not at all. he was not the sort to let go so easily, nor was he inclined to stand by while others claimed what was rightfully his.

𖦁 the two are like little rascals, always caught in some petty exchange, either passively-aggressively bickering or downright squabbling—yet, curiously, never once resorting to anything physical in spite of their frequent squabbles.

𖦁 neither of them intend to leave, so brace yourself for frequent invasions of privacy. pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie is the more polite of the two—if only slightly—but still finds amusement in your predicament, indulging in it much to your displeasure... corrupt! shadow milk cookie, on the other hand, has abandoned even the pretense of respect, constantly attempting to pry you away from pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie's "grubby" hands. very frankly, this arrangement could have worked—if corrupt! shadow milk cookie was the type to tolerate such things. but alas, sharing has never been his strong suit, and the very idea grates against him like an insult. a lingering glance, a presence too close—unforgivable, the mere thought of sharing isn’t just unwelcome—it’s absurd. for in the first place, there was never anyone else to begin with until now.

𖦁 pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie tries, truly, he does... but his efforts are mostly futile. no matter the approach, the reasoning, or the circumstance, it’s simply a concept that refuses to take root in corrupt! shadow milk cookie’s mind. sharing is not something he does—not naturally. however, on the rarest of occasions, in moments few and far between, he does allow it. but make no mistake—such generosity is fleeting, and it is never without cost.

a/n: i genuinely forgot i had tumblr... anyway, the new cookie is so adorbs and she's so good in living abyss too!! i fear pumpkin pie cookie's place in my top 3 is getting taken...

[maxtermind]

hi love!! when is the next part of ‘you were never not mine’ going to be uploaded?? i am in loveeee

SCENE 7 :: WE'LL PAY THE PRICE, I GUESS ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; smut; fluff ★ : words :: 3.8k separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their wayback to each other? ★ : a/n :: i made lots of social media posts/texts for this but decided to scratch it and write it at last. shows the dynamic or carlos and y/n more than anything. it's mostly nsfw so yeah enjoy? writing is a bit dusty and not proofread

( series masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

The first thing you feel is warmth. A hauntingly familiar one.

Not the kind from blankets or the sun creeping in through the curtains, but something heavier, something real, something that wasn’t making you sweat but making your chest ache. 

Slowly, you registered the weight of a hand resting on your hip. The press of soft lips against your cheek. A breathy chuckle against your skin when you scrunch your nose but don’t wake up.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know who it is.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy from sleep, lips grazing the corner of your jaw before trailing lazily toward your lips.

You make a sleepy sound in protest, burying your face into the pillow. “Go away.”

He hums, amused at your cheeks burning up, but doesn’t back off. His fingers tighten slightly at your waist as he leans in again, brushing his nose against your cheek before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Never.”

Your brows furrow, eyes still closed when you hear an exhale of breath. “What’s wrong?”

Carlos sighs again, shifting slightly, making the blanket move and suddenly you realize why he sounds so strained. His arms are awkwardly folded at his sides, barely moving, like he’s trapped. 

That’s when you register the tiny limbs sprawled across both of you and you pursue your lips in order to not burst out laughing.

One of your twins is half on Carlos’s chest, little fingers fisted into his shirt, while the other is wedged between you two, his foot pressed right into Carlos’s stomach.

“Ah,” you whisper, taking in the sight. “You’re stuck.”

Carlos groans dramatically. “Sí, and my arm is asleep.” He tilts his head toward you, lips brushing your temple as he speaks. “I have been trying to wake you up, but someone wouldn’t move.”

You smile sleepily, your fingers finding their way to his naked chest, gently tracing patterns over his skin. “You could’ve just moved them.”

Carlos gives you a look, like you’ve suggested something ridiculous. “And risk waking them up? I love them but it’s too early...”

One of the twins stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before curling further into Carlos. He stiffens. “This is a dangerous game, baby. We have to get them back to their room before they take over completely.”

You glance at them, at the peaceful little faces snuggled into the safety of their dad’s arms, and suddenly, you don’t feel like moving. But Carlos nudges you gently.

“Come on,” he whispers, “help me.”

Carefully, you both begin the delicate mission of untangling yourselves from your children. Carlos shifts first, expertly maneuvering one twin into your arms before you slide out of bed. He follows immediately after, scooping up the other in one practiced motion.

It comes so naturally to him that it has your poor stomach twisting.

The hallway is dim, the house still quiet as you make your way to their room.

Carlos walks ahead of you, stepping lightly, a hand cradling the back of your son’s head to keep him from stirring. You follow, watching as he nudges the door open with his foot before stepping inside.

There’s a soft glow from the nightlight. The room is neat, save for a few scattered toys and a forgotten stuffed animal on the floor.

You place the first twin into his teddy bear-shaped bed, tucking the blanket over him gently.

Carlos lays down the other twin in his race car bed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead before stepping back beside you.

For a moment, you both just watch them.

“They move so much in their sleep.”

“Like their dad.” You smile, whispering back.

Carlos nudges you playfully with his elbow, making you stifle a laugh before he tilts his head toward the little red car bed. “We should change that color, you know.”

You arch a brow at him. “What, so my baby can have a McLaren instead?”

Carlos scoffs, his eyes pointed at you in disbelief. Only you really could find humor in joking about that so early in the morning.

You bite your lip, stifling another laugh. “So dramatic.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’m serious.”

Carlos doesn’t argue further, choosing to ignore the mention of Oscar. Instead, his fingers ghost over your wrist, a barely-there touch, before he gently takes your hand in his. His thumb runs absentmindedly over your skin, slow and deliberate.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice softer now.

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to the twin nearest to him as you do the same but when you turn your head toward him, your heart skips slightly at the way he’s looking at you warm, familiar, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Good, you didn’t want him anywhere but here either.

You hesitate, but Carlos doesn’t rush you. He just tugs lightly at your hand, pulling you with him, step by step, back toward your bedroom.

The moment you cross the threshold, his hands settle on your waist, guiding you back onto the mattress. He follows soon after, his body fitting easily against yours, like he was always meant to be there.

Neither of you speak for a moment. The world outside is still.

Then, quietly, almost hesitantly, you hear him say, “I missed this.”

The words steal your air and your throat tightens as you look at him. He looks exactly the same, his familiarity making you relax but at the same time, he’s so different. It didn’t make any sense and you hoped your brain wasn’t fucking with you right now.

When he watches you lose yourself in your head, Carlos kisses you slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to feel every second of this

His lips brush over yours, not demanding, not urgent. Just there, waiting, savoring. His hands move with purpose, tracing familiar curves with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

And okay, you feel the shift immediately. He’s been yearning for this. The way his breathing is almost non-existent and his hands are secured around your hip.

This isn’t about erasing the past or proving something.

It’s about being here, in this moment, together because being anywhere else would be a crime. The last time you guys were together had been rushed. Pathetic. Desperate. 

It had been hands fumbling, mouths clashing, bodies colliding in a mess of need. A frantic attempt to reclaim something you both thought had been lost forever.

You hadn’t spoken much then, just whispered names and broken sounds, drowning in something neither of you had been ready to name yet.

Carlos exhales against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. "You’re so beautiful," he whispers, voice raw, like the thought physically hurts him.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, warning him to tone down the cringe. "You always say that." Rolling your eyes you hum as he sucks at your pulse point. Eyes closing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. "Because it’s always true."

That makes you shiver beneath him, and it’s not from the cold.

Carlos kisses his way down your body, slow and reverent, his hands steadying you as he moves. When he reaches the hem of your shirt, he hesitates, fingers curling into the fabric.

He looks up at you. Waiting. It makes your heartbeat race and you curse yourself in your head as you nod.

Not giving you enough time to overthink, Carlos lifts your shirt over your head, his gaze never leaving yours. But the moment his gaze travels down towards your flesh, his expression changes.

His breath stutters. His entire body stills.

You know exactly what he’s looking at.

His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to touch you but doesn’t trust himself. His lips part, a shaky breath slipping through, and then-

Then his eyes glass over.

You watch the moment it hits him, the realization that your body carries proof of everything you went through without him. How you have to live through it everytime you catch a glimpse of your naked self.

The scars are faint now, healed over time, but they’re still there. Marks of the past. Marks of pain. Marks of life and loss. The one you made together but you lost alone.

Carlos presses his lips together, his jaw tightening like he’s trying to stop himself from breaking. But it’s no use.

A tear slips down his cheek and it makes your heart clench.

"Babe," you whisper, reaching for him, but he shakes his head quickly, closing his eyes like he needs a second to pull himself together. And you nod to no one in particular.

Then, very gently, after moments that felt like forever, he touches you.

His hands are warm, calloused, shaking as they trail over your stomach, mapping out the places he never got to hold, the changes he never got to witness. He traces one of the scars with his thumb, his breathing uneven, his shoulders trembling.

“I… I-” His voice cracks. He swallows, blinking rapidly, his thumb pressing slightly firmer against your skin like he’s trying to ground himself. "I should have been there."

You freeze for a second. Of course, he should have been. You remember it like yesterday, when he was on the way to the airport. You called him because it hurt. The hurt was killing you and he dismissed it with a simple,“Please visit the doctor, sweetheart.” 

Before he was on the flight while the doctors cut open the baby from your stomach only to find that…

You shake your head. It was too dark, you never want to relive it. Cupping his face, you wipe away a stray tear with your thumb. “You’re here now.” It was pointless to think about it now. You have let that hold you back, too much. You deserved to be more than that.

Carlos lets out a choked breath, half a laugh, half a sob which pulls you back to the present.

He presses his forehead to your stomach gently, lips brushing the scars like a silent apology.

Your fingers thread through his hair. “Do you still want me?” you ask softly. It was heartbreaking to be this vulnerable with him again,“I need to know, Carlos.” Maybe you could have worded that better but the need for physical intimacy was too overwhelming.

His hands squeeze at your waist, as if the idea of letting go physically pains him. "You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted."

You gasp when you realise it, and suddenly, you’re the one who can’t breathe. 

You’re pulling him up immediately, guiding him back to you. His lips crash against yours, but there’s still nothing rushed about it, just aching, consuming want.

When you reach for the waistband of his sweats, he lets you. When you push him back onto the mattress, he mutters a ‘yes, please’. When you straddle him, lining up yourself against him with slow, deliberate movements, his breath shudders beneath you.

Carlos is breaking apart beneath your hands, but he lets you put him back together.

His hands grip your hips, but you set the pace: slow, deep. Making sure he feels all of it. The first roll of your hips is met with a broken sound from his lips.

The second, with a whispered, "I love you."

By the third, he’s crying again.

You lean forward, brushing your lips over his, swallowing his shaky breaths. "It’s okay," you whisper. "I’ve got you."

Carlos exhales sharply, fingers digging into your thighs. "You feel so-" He cuts himself off with a strangled sound, his body shuddering beneath you. "I don’t deserve this."

"Maybe." You press your forehead to his. Was that mean? Maybe. But you weren’t gonna hide or lie. Not anymore. "But you have me anyway."

Carlos lets out a cracked geoan, his arms wrapping around you, holding you as close as humanly possible as you move together, slow and steady. You grind against him and he lets you do whatever you want.

When you finally reach the edge, you press your fingers against your swollen clit but Carlos quickly replaces it with his own, pushing up to increase the speed as he takes back some control.

You let go and cry out as his teeth sink to your shoulder, your nails gripping his back, as your back arches. It feels so good that you’re almost sad to have come. The climax ends in contracting your muscles making him shake before he weakly tries to pull you up. 

You whine and push down, relieved that he’s still inside you. He groans again, forehead pressed to yours like he never wants to leave but he’s shaking all over,”Baby, I’m gonna-”

"You don’t have to pull out."

Carlos stills.

For a second, you think maybe he didn’t hear you, but then his entire body tenses and you feel his sticky release fill you up.

His eyes snap open, wide and searching, like he’s trying to make sure you’re serious. His lips part slightly, his breathing suddenly uneven.

"What?"

Your fingers slide into his hair, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips.

"We’re way past worrying about that now."

Carlos doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

You can feel the exact moment it registers.

His hands tighten on your waist, his breath shaking as his mouth opens like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. His eyes flicker over your face, as if he’s waiting for you to laugh, to tell him this is a joke-

But you just hold his gaze, nodding softly.

“Yeah.”

And that’s when it happens.

Carlos’s hands fly to your hips, and suddenly, he’s flipping you onto your back to regain control as if he just wasn’t having a breakdown. You gasp in shock, his body hovering over you, protective, panicked, completely wrecked.

“Y/N.” His voice is low, almost scolding, but you can hear the shake beneath it. His jaw tightens, eyes darting over your face like he’s checking, searching- like you might disappear if he looks away. "You- are you serious?"

You cup his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. "Carlos- "

"You should have told me." His voice is raw, laced with fear he’s trying so hard to bury. "You- fuck, cara, you should have told me."

Your breath catches at the way his hands clench into the sheets beside you, at the way his forehead presses to yours, like he’s holding himself back from completely falling apart. THis was also a breakdown, just a mental one this time.

“You know now,” you whisper.

Carlos lets out a shaky exhale, his fingers twitching like he wants to touch you but is afraid to.

“You almost- ” He swallows hard, closing his eyes for a second, as if the memory of what happened last time is too much.

He shakes his head. “No, I'm so fucking sorry for doing this to you. You can’t- I can’t go through that again.”

Your heart clenches. “Carlos- ”

“Y/N,” he breathes, pulling back to look at you fully, his hands framing your face, thumbs brushing over your skin like you’re something delicate, something he’s terrified of breaking. “You don’t understand. I- I nearly lost you."

His voice breaks on the last word.

You inhale sharply.

Carlos’s throat works, his breath heavy and uneven. "I wasn’t there. I didn’t even fucking know- " His eyes squeeze shut, his entire body trembling as he shakes his head, "...and if it happens again- "

"It won’t," you whisper, cupping his jaw.

He exhales a quiet, pained laugh, his eyes snapping open. "We don’t know that."

You pull him closer, pressing your lips to his softly, trying to erase the ghosts he’s drowning in.

Carlos doesn’t kiss you back at first. He’s too stiff, too overwhelmed, his hands still holding your face like he’s checking if you’re real.

Then, you whisper against his lips, "I want this, Carlos."

He lets out a low, strangled sound, like the weight of those words is too much.

“The doctor said it’s all safe,” you say again, voice soft but sure.

Carlos’s jaw tightens. His hands fall to your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin like he needs to feel you, anchor himself in you.

"You- " He stops himself, inhales sharply, then exhales, voice barely steady. “You want this?”

You nod, firmly. Funny how he only focused on that part. “With you? Always.”

Carlos searches your face, like he’s still afraid, like his body is still buzzing with the panic of almost losing you again. But then, his forehead presses back to yours, and he breathes you in- breathes this in- and something shifts.

Something clicks.

His lips brush against yours, soft, hesitant, pleading.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers.

"You won’t. I want you."

Carlos lets out a slow breath, presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your collarbone. His hands move slower now, gentler, as if relearning you, as if making sure you feel every single touch.

And this time, when he pushes inside you again, it's not desperate, it's deliberate.

Carlos moves like he’s memorizing you, like he’s worshiping every inch of you, like he’s trying to replace every painful memory with this.

His lips find yours in the quietest confession, his hands gripping your waist, steadying himself as his forehead presses against yours.

His voice is barely a whisper.

"I love you."

You whimper, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

His lips find your throat, pressing kisses so slow and sweet it makes your chest ache.

Carlos shudders against you, his breath uneven, his arms shaking as he moves with you, not just in you, but with you. You are quick to reach your finish, too overstimulated to take time. Your walls sucking his orgasm out of him.

And when he finally lets go, when his body tenses and his hands clutch you tighter, it’s not panic that follows.

It’s relief. It’s acceptance. It’s home.

Carlos is heavy on top of you, completely boneless as he breathes against your shoulder. His weight is comforting, his warmth all-consuming, and for the first time in what feels like forever…

Everything feels right.

Your fingers move lazily through his hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp. Carlos hums at the sensation, pressing one last, slow kiss against your shoulder before pulling back just enough to look at you.

His eyes are still soft, heavy with emotion, but there’s something else now. A sort of calm that wasn’t there before.

“You’ve ruined everyone for me.” Carlos exhales, lips quivering into a tired smirk. 

You make a face, pushing at his chest as if he wasn’t piecing you back together minute by minute. “You’re so dramatic.”

Carlos grins, rolling onto his side, but he doesn’t let you go completely. His hand slides over your stomach, fingers tracing absentminded shapes against your skin.

At least he doesn’t look panicked anymore.

“In this forever now, huh?” he murmurs and your heart stumbles. 

You cup his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and deliberate. “We as in us, Alisa and Oscar?”

“For fuck’s sake, baby,” His eyes flutter shut for a second, like he’s calming himself down, before he exhales.

You bite back a smile, arms wrapping around his neck. “You are a big boy, you can take it.”

“Only for you.” He nips at your bottom lip, grinning when you gasp. "You’re stuck with me now, cariño."

And for the first time in months, you believe it.

For the first time, there’s no uncertainty, no lingering fear that this will fall apart again. Just Carlos, tangled up with you, holding you like he’ll never let go.

It’s perfect. It’s peaceful- your phone suddenly rings and you both groan.

Carlos drops his head onto your chest dramatically. “Ignore it.”

“It could be important.”

“I am important,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your skin as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

You snort, pushing his head away before reaching over to grab your phone from the nightstand, only for Carlos to groan louder. “C’mon.”

“You’ll live.”

Carlos lazily kisses your shoulder again, completely unbothered as you listen to Lily, until you freeze. His lips pause against your skin, instantly aware of the way your body tenses beneath him.

Your heart is pounding.

Carlos lifts his head, brows furrowing as he watches your eyes dart across the screen.

Then, quietly throws in a,“What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard, blinking at the text message shared with you, lighting up your phone screen.

BREAKING: Alisa speaks out about her relationship with Carlos Sainz.

The world tilts.

Carlos’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t even have to read all of it to know that it’s bullshit, it’s revenge. Revenge for what he did to her but he knows, it’ll hurt you more.

"She gave a statement."

Carlos snatches the phone from your hands, sitting up immediately, he doesn't want you to read this. You watch the way his shoulders lock up, the way his fingers tighten dangerously around the device.

He stares at the screen. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

And just like that, it’s happening again.

The world, which had just felt steady, just felt right, is crumbling beneath you.

Carlos inhales sharply, shaking his head. "No."

You press a hand to your stomach as you bend over to read the part highlighted, the part making noise, your chest tightening. It was the part you never wanted anyone to know.

No, no, no. Carlos thinks.

It was supposed to be over. It was supposed to be your turn to be happy.

Carlos curses under his breath, throwing the phone onto the bed like it burned him. He rakes a shaky hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before turning to you as you speak.

“Why would she- she… it wasn't a miscarriage-”

You swallow, unable to talk, your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you, your own breathing suddenly uneven.

This isn’t just gossip. It’s your life. This isn’t just drama. It’s your real life.

This is Alisa, with the entire world watching as lies are being spread about your stillborn baby that was ripped from you too soon.

This is your past mistakes, Carlos’s past mistakes, coming back to ruin everything.

Again.

Carlos watches as you struggle to breathe, as your shoulders shake, as your hands tremble against the blankets.

And for the first time in a long time…

You see it in his face.

The same panic you felt when he walked away for that race. The same helplessness he wore when you left. 

Like no matter how hard you hold on, the universe is determined to have you fall apart.

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©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[xelinielx]

Even Broken, I Still Love You

The ending of book 7 has just WRECKED me and I wrote some hurt/comfort because I have feelings about my dragon boy. I put a link to the AO3 post as well. I usually never post writing on here but this piece doesn't fit in on my other blog so here it is.

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF BOOK 7

Header by MagicPaint. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793984

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

Malleus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet, tone so low that you had to strain to hear him. The question hung heavy in the air.

He still hadn’t turned to face you, staring out of the small window of the bedroom that he slept in during his stay at S.T.Y.X. There wasn’t much of a view out of the windows besides dark, moving water, so it was clear that Malleus was using the window as an excuse not to look at you.

It was clear just by looking that the overblot had taken an immense toll on him. He looked completely different from his usual self. Not only had his usual dark robes been changed to the S.T.Y.X-themed clothing that test subjects wore, but there was something about the way he held himself that was fundamentally different from before.

The noble dragon fae usually held his head high in a regal posture that was hard for anyone else to replicate, authority and power exuding from his very stance. It was a far cry to the way he was posed currently, hunched over as if trying to make himself seem smaller, trembling fingers clutching onto the windowsill. 

There was also a different aura surrounding him that was different from how his emotions could manipulate the weather around him. It wasn’t the feeling of crackling electric anger, or even the heavy, suffocating pressure drop as rain clouds formed. It was a deep, exhausted sorrow that seemed to weigh the entire room down. 

As Malleus had a collar to monitor his magic usage, the aura was, for once, not physical, yet it somehow felt more tangible than any emotional outburst you had seen from him. More real despite not actually being there.

A few days had passed since the final battle that had marked the end of Malleus’ overblot. When he had been reassured that Lilia was alright, Malleus had been taken by the Ferrymen as well as both Idia and Ortho to S.T.Y.X for monitoring and data-collection. No one had wanted to take the risk of leaving him in a state where he risked a second overblot, so once he had stabilized enough, the Director allowed him to request visitors. 

It had not seemed like a wise decision to keep Malleus cut off from the rest of the world as was S.T.Y.X’s norm since almost losing Lilia was what had brought on the overblot in the first place. Leaving Malleus not knowing how the people he cared about were doing was too high of a risk.

The first visitor that Idia had (begrudgingly) been tasked with delivering to the Isle of Woe was Lilia - to the surprise of no one. Both the Director and Idia had been hesitant to risk putting the strain of travel on Lilia so soon after everything that had happened, but Lilia had been uncaring of the worries and insisted that he had to go. 

Silver and Sebek were still in recovery - where Lilia was also supposed to be - and while Malleus had wished to see both his retainers as well, the Director had put his foot down. It was too dangerous to bring all three over already, so after negotiating, Malleus had agreed to let Sebek and Silver heal for a while longer before he got to see them. 

Lilia had also threatened the director, saying that if he refused to pick him up to go see his ward, Lilia would jump into the water surrounding Sage’s Island and swim until he managed to find the Isle of Woe. 

Besides researchers checking cameras and vitals to make sure both fae were alright, the two of them had been given space to speak alone. Whatever they spoke about was kept between them and S.T.Y.X, but it had involved lots of hugging and tears.

Two days after Lilia’s visit, Ortho had contacted you through your phone, telling you that Malleus had requested your presence at the Isle of Woe, which is where you currently were, staring at his trembling form for the first time since he had been taken in for monitoring. 

Normally, you’d have cracked a smile seeing the fae-prince surrounded by this much technology that he had no idea how to use, but the items in the room were the furthest things away from your mind.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you walked over to Malleus’ shaking form. With a gentleness that Malleus wasn’t used to feeling, you placed your hand softly atop his. It felt a bit strange at first, feeling his cold skin instead of the gloves he tended to wear, but the feeling of strangeness quickly disappeared. 

A pair of wide, emerald-green eyes stared down at where your hand rested on top of his, filled with an unspoken question.

Why?

For a moment, the two of you stood still in silence as you searched for the right words. Eventually, you took a calming breath and spoke up, voice soft and calming.

“Mal,” you began, using an affectionate nickname to hopefully help him relax.

His breath hitched for a moment, surprise evident. 

“I understand why you used your ultimate magic. Why the circumstances caused you to overblot. You wanted to protect the people that were precious to you and keep them from harm, protecting both them and yourself from getting hurt.”

A single tear ran down Malleus’ cheek as he finally turned to fully face you, leaving a wet track across his porcelain skin. He still refused to meet your eyes, scared of what he would see reflected in them.

“You had good intentions. There is nothing evil about wanting to keep your loved ones safe. If I had been in your position, I think that I would have overblotted too,” you admitted quietly, giving Malleus a small, weak smile. “So there is no way that I can possibly blame you for making the same choices I would have if I were you.”

In a silent plea, Malleus turned his hand around to face palm-up. You responded by lacing your fingers together with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please look at me?” you asked in a small, yet hopeful voice.

Slowly, Malleus’ green eyes moved from your intertwined hands up your arm, then neck, where they paused briefly before finally meeting yours. 

The hate and anger he had expected to see was nowhere to be seen. He could see his reflection, and was unable to determine whether the sadness he saw came from you or himself.   

You lifted your free hand to his face, letting it gently rest against his cheek. Your thumb moved to brush another tear away. 

“Malleus Draconia,” you said, staring deep into his eyes.

“You are not a monster.”

Those words seemed to snap whatever makeshift dam he had constructed to keep his emotions at bay, shattering it completely. 

Malleus began to cry. Tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs tore their way out of his heaving chest as he finally let go of control and allowed his emotions to run free. 

Unable to stand up anymore, Malleus fell to his knees on the floor, burying his face against your stomach as he cried. His arms wrapped around you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright. He held you like he would collapse if there was even as much as a millimetre of space between the two of you.

His devastating sobs and the desperate way he clung to you broke your heart. You wasted no time sinking down to kneel in front of the dragon fae so that you could properly return his full embrace. 

Tears soaked your shirt as Malleus clung to you so desperately that it felt like you would bruise or your clothes would tear from his strength at any moment. That didn’t matter, though. Bruises didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. S.T.Y.X didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the sobbing fae in your arms.

Malleus sobbed out apologies in between cries, and you did your best to calm him, whispering reassurances as you alternated between rubbing his back and petting his head gingerly, being extra mindful of his horns.

At some point, you ran out of new things to say, defaulting to a reassuring ‘it’s okay’ as you held him. Hopefully, he would feel better after letting it all out. You weren’t going anywhere.

It could have been anything from mere minutes to several hours, but eventually, Malleus’ sobs began to die down to sniffles.

He lifted his head from where he had buried it against your shoulder, glancing up to meet your eyes with his red-rimmed, puffy ones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For everything. All the people I hurt. The things I-” 

Fresh tears spilled past his lash line, and you didn’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands, brushing them away as they fell. Malleus leaned into the warmth of your palms, seeking the reassurance your touch held. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Not to me. Never to me.” 

Leaning forward, you pressed a featherlight kiss against the scale on his forehead which peeked out from between tousled locks of hair. 

“There was nothing unforgivable about what you did. The people who were hurt are recovering, the school is being rebuilt, and everyone is safe.” 

Malleus’ breath hitched. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and across his long lashes like tiny diamonds. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked, voice still quiet and trembling. The ‘of me’ was left unsaid, but you knew it was there. 

Your immediate smile was all the reassurance Malleus needed, but you still decided to verbally reassure him as well.

“I could never be afraid of you, Mal.”

The relief Malleus felt was palpable as he finally relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he leaned his weight into you. 

His head shifted to press a pointed ear against your chest, listening to the steady and even thumps of your heartbeat.

To better support the body weight of the dragon fae, you shifted your sitting position so that you could lean your back against the wall. You refused to let Malleus get up so you could move, holding him close and carding your fingers through his hair with soft, comforting motions. 

“But I saw…” Malleus’ voice cracked. “When my horn broke, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked terrified.” The last part of the sentence was a mere whisper, but the close proximity between the two of you made you able to pick it up. 

“I was scared, yes,” you began, feeling something in your chest ache as you felt the powerful mage in your arms flinch. “But not of you.”

Malleus tilted his head to meet your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You let out an airy laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I was afraid for you. Afraid that you would have to be killed to stop your overblot. Afraid that I would never get to hold you like this again.”

You could feel tears brimming in your own eyes as you poured your heart out. “Mal, I love you. Nothing you have done or will do could ever change that.” 

Cold lips pressed against yours with a soft reverence. The kiss was slow, unhurried as the two of you conveyed a thousand words between each other in a silent, intimate moment. 

When you pulled apart, Malleus rested his forehead against yours, the cold of his forehead scale comforting. “You wish to stay by my side still?” he asked, knowing the answer deep down, yet still fearful he would be mistaken.

“Always.”

“Even if I look like this now?” he urged, leaning away far enough to do a sweeping motion towards his face and now uneven, damaged horns. “Even if-”

You cut him off with another kiss, this time more demanding than the prior. You tried pouring all your love into the kiss, trying to clear the insecure thoughts from Malleus’ mind. Taking the opportunity provided by Malleus as he had leaned away before, you climb into his lap, making yourself comfortable. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you cradled his face gently but firmly in both hands, making sure he couldn’t look away from you.

“Malleus, if you think something as insignificant as you looking different is enough to take me away from your side, you are far from correct.” You let your left hand travel up his face until it was gently tracing the base of his broken horn. 

“You could have four horns, eight and a half horns, or no horns at all, and it would still have no impact at all on my feelings for you.” 

Carefully, you gently ran the pads of your fingers over the broken part of the horn where it had snapped off. Malleus shuddered beneath you as your touch danced across his exposed, extra sensitive nerves.

“I love you because you are you. Not because you’re a Draconia, or a powerful fae. None of that matters.” Your hand returned to cradling his face once more. 

“Of course, having a strong, handsome partner is a bonus,” you added with a giggle, delighting in the small, pale blush that crept across Malleus’ cheeks.

“But I’m not with you because of those things. I’m with you because of all the things that make you you. The care that you show for me and those you care about, how fireflies follow you at night and circle our clasped hands. The cute way you pout when Sebek mixes up gargoyles and grotesques, itching to correct him. The childlike wonder you show to every new thing you learn…”

You take a breath, wishing in vain for your voice to stay strong, but failing miserably.

“- the way that all you’ve ever wanted is for people to see you for who you are, and be able to be yourself, unburdened by expectations and prejudices.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks now, making you feel embarrassed. Right now, you needed to be the strong one supporting Malleus - not the other way around. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you placed your hand against his chest, right above his heart.

“I see you.” 

A relieved, genuine smile - the first one you’d seen since the overblot - stretched across Malleus’ lips. He leaned into the touch of your palm, eyes shining with both residual tears and adoration. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head in outrage. “What do you mean deserve? You silly, silly dragon. You didn’t have to do anything at all but exist.” 

Letting out a sound that was something halfway between a laugh and a sob, you continued as Malleus’ arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. 

“If anything, I’m the one undeserving of you.” 

His mouth fell open in shock, about to cut you off, but you forced yourself to continue, undeterred.

“You’re the prince of Briar Valley. Not only do you have magic, but you’re one of the most powerful mages in the whole world! And the most ethereal, gorgeous person I have ever seen. I’m a nobody compared to you. A magicless human from another world with nothing really special about me. My life is so much shorter than yours, and I-”

This time, Malleus refused to let you continue and cut you off. A slender finger pressed against your lips as he let out a dry laugh. “My love, do you hear yourself? You are bringing up all the things you said didn’t keep you from loving me to put yourself down. Just as these things don’t matter to you, it is the same way for me. I did not fall in love with you because you’re a human or because it would benefit Briar Valley. I would renounce my claim on the throne in a heartbeat for you.”

Malleus cupped your cheek, mirroring your own earlier actions. 

“I fell in love with the first person outside of my country who truly saw me for myself, was undeterred by how awkwardly I engage in conversation, and extended invitations to me - being the first person to see me as a choice, someone they wanted to be around. You have never looked upon me with the fearful gaze of a subject kneeling before me, and have never made me feel excluded in any way due to being a prince.” 

He let out a laugh, gazing fondly up at you. “Any and every day with you is an adventure. No matter where you take me, what we do together, or what people around us whisper about, it’s the fact that I’m doing it with you that makes it special.”

“Even though I laughed at you when you were startled and jerked back when they were popping popcorn at a market stall and me and Silver had to fight to keep Sebek from drawing his sword at the poor owner of the stall?” 

Malleus let out a loud burst of laughter. “Moments like those are my favorite. Spending time with people I care about, and learning new things while not a single thought about my royal lineage crosses my mind.” 

Falling quiet for a moment, Malleus seemed to ponder something. With a resolute nod to himself, he resumes speaking. 

“Like you said, I am aware that the differing length of our respective lifespans is a source of conflict and worry. I do not wish to ever lose you. You saw what happened when I was afraid I would lose Lilia…” he trailed off for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

“Even though that is a fear I harbor, I do not wish to give up on loving you. If you are willing to stay with me despite all that I’ve done, we have many years to find a solution… and…” Malleus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze again, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“...and should we not find a solution, then so be it. I would much rather have lived a life with you in it and then lose you than never having had you in my life at all.” 

Terrified of loss and sadness, and knowing the potential consequences of that, he still wanted nothing more than to spend as many years as possible at your side. A century is a short time for a fae, yet even if that is all the time with you that he gets, he is certain that it will be the most memorable and most valuable hundred years he ever lives.

“You ass,” you choked out with a laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m the one supposed to be sappy and reassure you - not the other way around.” There was no mirth or anger in your eyes, and the remark was playful, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Malleus let out a chuckle, chest rumbling. “Who is to say that I am not supposed to be the so-called ‘sappy’ one?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “You are truly precious to me, and I cannot in any amount of words in any language properly convey just how much you mean to me.” 

He fell silent once more, peeking up at you through his lashes. “Are you truly certain that you wish to be with me after all this?” 

There was no need to pause and think. You already knew your answer and had known it for a long time now.

“There is no place I would rather be.” 

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep cuddled together on the floor, clutching each other tightly as if fearing that the other would disappear otherwise. Your head rested on Malleus’ chest, lulled to sleep by the soft, rumbling purrs he let out as he slept curled around you like a dragon guarding its hoard.

And for the first time since the overblot, neither of you worried about what you would find in your dreams, content to exist in the perfect reality that could only be found in the other’s arms.

[pythoness94]

Need to talk specifically about these tags. I always hear people hating on Mike for not having romantic feelings. And while we all probably know byler is endgame at this point, even if Mike didn't like Will, that is no reason for any of the characters to hate him.

Heres something the Fandom doesn't get that I think the show portrays really well, you don't owe someone your love and they don't owe you yours. Steve loved Nancy, but Nancy didn't love him back. She didn't owe it to him to stay in love, she didn't owe him shit. Robin may have loved that girl but that girl wasn't in the wrong for not being in love with her back. Joyce doesn't owe Lonnie shit, that's why she throws him back on her ass. And here's the part where the Fandom struggles most,

MIKE, despite being Wills best friend since kindergarten, DOESN'T OWE WILL JACK SHIT.

And here's the kickers, THATS THE POINT. WILL KNOWS THAT.

Will KNOWS that Mike doesn't need to fall in love with him, he isn't owed it by some mystical power of the universe. He knows that the universe doesn't owe him anything just because hes been given a bunch of shit to go through. Despite what some of this Fandom thinks, just because poor Will Byers is targeted doesn't mean he automatically gets a get out of jail free card. Will knows that because of the circumstances he is in, he doesn't get to pass go. he doesnt get to collect 200, he gets to sit there and try to cope and theres not much he can do about it.

Mike is his own person and has much as Will wants to mope about it, he can't force Mike to love him back. That's the point of this. Will is so upset, he's so angry because hes been dealt a bad hand and no matter how hard he tries, he just cant find a way to get over his crush. The point of the story is for Will to realize that mike loved him all along, that the only thing holding them back is that they were both to scared and angry to do anything about it. They let the fear win when they knew that they shouldn't have.

So what's all this yapping for? Well, I see some people in this Fandom talk like Mike owes it Will to do this. Or that Mike owes it to Jonathan or the Byers, or that he owes it to the party even. Fact of the matter is, Mike is his own person and when you write Mike, you have to write it like that. Don't write Mike with the intention of him ending up with Will, don't have that be your only goal in mind when you put the pencil to the page. He isn't some barbie that is made specifically to be Will's little boyfriend like I've seen some posts treating him. He's a person, he's the heart of the party, he's dating El, he loves Will, and he's scared. He's scared and he doesn't know what to do when everyone looks at him for answers. When Will says that he could lead them, he's touched but he's hesitant. He doesn't know what to do. If Jon were to cut Mike off, not only would that be a disgrace on Mike but one on Jon too.

Jon knows, more then anybody, that you can't make someone like you. Constantly isolated, parents divorced, bullied, unloved, and his first relationship being Nancy who was dating Steve at the time of him gaining his crush, he knows. He knows that you can't make someone love you, he knows that you can't make people fall in love AGAIN. So when he comforts will, he's comforting him with the idea in mind that even if Mike doesn't love him, it's none of their faults. If he were to confront Mike, he wouldn't be pissed or prickly, he would be understanding. He would be a bit cold that Mike was treating Will like that but at the end of the day, the actions of 5 months of change don't outweigh over 10 years of good friendship. A friendship that Mike and Jon bonded over almost dying for. They know each other in a way that mist don't.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my Ted talk lol.

Chat, I desperately need to know how to write Jonathan's and Mike's relationship without Jonathan hating Mike. I FUCKING hate it when I see that trope, Jonathan would never hate Mike for simply not reciprocating his brothers' feelings. That's stupid has hell. Mike is basically Jonathan's second brother, he knows Mike, he's known him all his life. He's seen how sweet Mike is to Will, he was there when Mike starting sobbing while Will was possessed. HE WOULDN'T HATE MIKE! He would be CONCERNED! But all the fics and character analysis I'm reading for the two always paint Jonathan as hating Mike, so you see my dilemma here >:(

[raycatzdraws]

Wind and Spirit have a bad time in the Sacred Realm!

It's my Spirit Tracks x LU fic / concept / thing! There are a couple written scenes which can be read on AO3! This is one of them and can be read [here!]. I don't see myself continuing this project, but even so, I want to say some thank yous (under the read more)!

The animatic has no audio, but if it did, it would be Robot Soldiers from Castle in the Sky.

---

The project isn't something I think I'll be finishing, but that said, it's been fun to work on.

I know it's just a silly unfinished fic and some art and maybe I'll come back to it, however, I am just a little guy with so much gratitude! It meant so much to me to be so welcomed by the LU fandom when I initially posted that Spirit Tracks LU art compilation in 2021. (this one!) The art and fic couldn't have been made without the incredible art, writing, support, and headcanon brainstorming from the people around me and the inspiration I found in their works and ideas.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and kind tags!

Thank you to @esthelle-wanders for the excited comments and support over the years.

Thank you to @snowylynxx for her Spirit Tracks LU comics which gave me so much motivation and whose Spirit design I've been borrowing.

To @theegh0st. I adore your art! A frame from the pump trolley animation has been your header for so long and it's so fun to see it when visiting your blog. It's been an honor!

And thank you so much to Wicked (@spirit-tracks) and Train (@fuckit-hero-of-trains) for 1) being unhinged in the best possible way about Spirit Tracks and 2) for your incredible writing <3

If you like Spirit in LU fics, then I really recommend Keeping Track of the Little Things by wickedcriminal. Wicked started a headcanon post about Spirit [here], it got picked up and added to, I made some art, and Wicked made a fic. Spirit worrying about his place in the group and stressing about time management is a headcanon I'm fond of. Worrying about schedules is something Time can probably relate on, and so it's something I wanted to include for them to connect over in a moment of downtime. Though the setting and stakes are different, Wicked has already written something similar to how I imagine the scene would play out, and it's absolutely wonderful.

!!! The project meant so much at the time! Some of the work I did on the lore is so cool!!! There's a bit of lore about the Triforce that was given in OoT which we hadn't seen happen in a game, but that I wanted for the Spirit Tracks fic, so I plotted it out. So then (spoilers for Echoes of Wisdom) to see it in Echoes was really cool!!!! It was really validating that, yeah I read that right and executed it how it was meant to! >:) There's other stuff too, but anyways aaaa

I just don't see myself completing it, though. It feels kind of bad to give it away but I also need to be free of it. It's been nearly four years... which is wild!

Thank you again for reading and for the support and enthusiasm up to now. It means a lot to know there were people invested in a story I made. It's small and fragmented, but still. Thank you.

(maybe maybe maybe I'll draw a couple more scenes as I have been, but for the fic, I am releasing writing while also saying it's going to be unfinished and discontinued asjdsahdgs sorry 'xD is that a thing people can do? I think the scenes are cool! That's just,,, all I'm able to write I think. Can people post just- isolated scenes? ,,,, That's definitely a thing. I still felt like I should say something. ANYWAYS <3 See ya!)

[eepwriting]

Vessel story request. Probably a foul request but anyway…Vessel watching reader get off (maybe w a toy🤷‍♀️)but reader cant make themselves cum so she ask him for help. Maybe with some plot too like she had a rough day tried a lil sum and it didn’t work out or oooo this could be good they come home from something and things get hot and heavy, he tell her to let him watch and you know how the rest goes.

Watch ✶ Vessel x Fem! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fem masturbation

Anon I like this very much so thank you. I decided to write a blurb for both scenarios cause I couldn’t just pick one. ALSO, I’m so sorry I’ve been gone 😭 I have another Vessel fic that is almost finished soooo I hope to post that soon.

!! mdni !!

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✦ taglist: @ghostlygothicgay @skellyflowers @evisnotok @jeriiicho @adenobabe @rain-down-on-me

Join my 🏷️ taglist here ♡

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Certainly not what he expected to find when you he got home, but he would never complain.

He was almost shocked at how fast his cock stiffened in his pants, not even a full minute of watching you before it almost became unbearable.

The deep look of concentration on your face has him wondering how long you’ve been lying there. The sheen of sweat on your chest makes his mouth water, has his mind wandering with a thousand different fantasies. Where he wishes his mouth was, his teeth, fingers, his-

“Hm. Please-fuck.”

The sudden noise from you pulls him out of this thoughts, makes him shrink away from the doorway he’s watching you from. Your concentration has turned to desperation. Chest heaving, your bottom lip held tightly in your teeth as you click the button on the vibrator that’s pressed against your clit. The change of pattern should have helped, aid in pushing you to the brink you’d been desperately trying to reach, but you just couldn’t get there. You give yourself another minute or two before letting out an exasperated huff, pulling the toy away from yourself, clicking it off and tossing on the mattress.

You feel like crying- you had actually planned on doing just that the second you got home, but thought a different kind of release might help a bit more. You just wanted to feel something other than sadness tinged stress, but ready to accept you weren’t getting that release today.

You open your eyes to prop yourself up on your elbows. The figure in the doorway makes you yelp and reach to grab whatever you could to cover yourself. Vessel is quick to step into the room further, his palms held out to you, a true look of apology on his face, “It’s just me, sorry, love.” His eyes are wide as he looks at you- cheeks a bright red, hands still clamped tight over your chest, as if he hadn’t seen every part of you hundreds of times before. “How long have you been there?”

“I don’t want you to feel embarrassed.” He steps to the end of the bed. “Continue. Please, wanna watch.” He pleads, eyes trailing over whatever exposed skin he can see. “I can’t. Can’t get there.” “I know.” He leans forward, one hand on the bed, one finding your calf, his warm fingers massaging the skin there. His touch calms and warms you at the same time. His hooded eyes watching you, the evident bulge in his pants, the quiet whine he lets out when he notices you watching, it all makes you ache. “Well are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me?”

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The way he touched you never got old. His big, warm hands gripping your hips, fingers scooting under the hem of your dress to heat the skin there. His thigh he always pushes between your own to give you some relief while he focuses on your mouth and neck. His teeth that dig into your bottom lip, leaving a pleasant sting before he licks it away. It’s a corner of heaven he’s pulled you into, keeping his promise of wine and dining you. The dinner had been fantastic, a loving treat from Vessel, and this was the perfect, maybe the only way to end the night.

Your impatient whine has his smirking as he pulls away from your mouth. Lips cherry red and plump from his incessant kisses and bites. He huffs out a laugh when you buck your hips against his thigh, leaning down to peck your lips, “I wanna try something.” He peppers kisses over your cheek. The sentence lights a fire inside you, mind racing with all the possibilities. You knew the man had some interesting fantasies. “Tell me.” Fingernails dig into his back as you try to pull him impossibly closer. He hums, “You cum, I watch.” He sits up to look at you, hands still teasing the hem of your dress. “I know about that little toy you have.” He smirks again, “Use it and I’ll watch. Try to keep my hands to myself.”

The idea makes you circle your hips again, hands reaching up to run along his chest and stomach. “I think I’d like that.” Heat rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah?” You nod and that’s all he needs before untangling himself from you, standing from the bed to retrieve his helping hand from your bedside table. He hands it to you, leaning down to kiss you again before making his way to the arm chair in the corner of the room.

His looming presence makes you shiver. It’s always had that effect on you. You swear you can feel his eyes watching every part of you. You close your eyes and move to take your dress off when you hear him, “Leave it on. I like that color on you.” The comment makes you blush and you listen. You calm some of the needy ache, massaging your chest through fabric, teasing yourself with fingers on your neck and exposed skin, imagining they were someone else’s. It’s not long before the need becomes too much, makes your hands slip under the fabric to pinch and pull. You can’t help but open your eyes, lifting your head slightly to find the man watching you. He sits there, hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes are hungry, laser focused on your hand reaching for the black vibrator on the mattress. He looks just as ready for something to happen as you are.

He shifts in his seat when you turn the toy on, watching you feel the weight of it in your hand, running it along your thigh. Your eyes shut again when the toy rests where you want it most.

The image of you, dress bunched around your hips, eyes shut tight, panties pulled to the side, core glistening, etches itself in Vessel’s mind and he’s happy to sit quietly, taking in every little detail to store away. It takes no time before quiet moans fills the room. The delicious vibrations on your clit, the buzzing of the toy, and the dark, hungry eyes watching all have your head spinning, chest heaving.

Your toes curl and you reach out for Vessel, beckoning him over. He’s quick to his feet, sitting next to you on the bed but never lets his hands touch you. Not even when you reach over to palm over his cock, enjoying the way his breath visibly stutters at your touch. Not even when you grab him by the shirt, pulling him down to press a kiss to his mouth.

It’s all you need; his tongue in your mouth, his hands finally massaging over chest, his painfully hard cock resting against your palm, and of course, the toy buzzing its patterns. It all comes together, blending and mixing, has your head spinning. Not a care in the world for how loud you’re being, the orgasm spans all your senses. Vessel’s hand covers your own, pressing the toy tighter against your clit. He enjoys the overstimulated whine you mewl into his mouth. He pulls away to watch your face, replacing the toy with his impatient fingers.

“S’good for me, love. Letting me watch,” comes out as a whine, “Love watching you touch yourself.” His mouth is back against your own, swallowing your cries.

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Might be tmi but if you’ve never done something like this I would recommend, it’s a fun time.

ANYWAY, I hope y’all enjoyed!!!!

K. Bye bye.

[kuronarnze]

Hellooo!♡

1. How about a Sae oneshot where he has a privat relationship with reader and the Media thinks he is still Single? But at one of his games,somebody is flirting with reader and Sae is not having it so at the End of the Match,he walks calmly to the stands where reader Was watching the whole game and just kisses reader infront of everyone. The next day its all over the news....

2. (Again) a Kaiser oneshot (sorry he is my favorite with some others...) where you are the younger sibling of Noel Noa and one day you are helping Noa with Training so from this day on Kaiser is really intrested in you. He starts beeing nice but is still flirting so everyone is kinda surprised to see Kaiser beeing nice to someone...

a/n: thank you sm for requesting again !! Im sorry for the late replyy, ill write the sae one first :) enjoy the oneshot !

Itoshi Sae x Reader !

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Public Secrets

For the longest time, the world believed Itoshi Sae was single.

The media loved speculating about his love life, linking him to models, actresses, and even other athletes, but none of them knew the truth. None of them knew that, behind the cameras and away from the prying eyes, Sae had already given his heart to you.

It was a private thing, something he wanted to keep for himself. He had never been the type to flaunt his emotions, much less his relationships. You understood that. You never pushed. You were content with the quiet moments, the stolen kisses behind closed doors, the whispered confessions before he left for training.

But today… today was different.

You were at the stadium, seated in the VIP section, watching Sae dominate the field with his usual cold precision. His movements were sharp, effortless, as if he were dancing between defenders with ease. But while you were focused on him, someone else was focused on you.

The man beside you had been trying to talk to you for the past fifteen minutes.

"You here alone?" he asked, leaning a little too close.

You barely glanced at him. "No."

"Really? I don’t see anyone with you."

You sighed, keeping your eyes on the field. "I’m not interested."

That should have been enough, but the guy didn’t seem to get the message. "Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just a conversation. Let me buy you a drink after the game—"

A sharp whistle blew, signaling the end of the match.

Sae's opponent team had lost.

Sae had scored the winning goal.

And now, he was walking toward you.

No—stalking toward you.

The moment you met his gaze, your breath hitched. His teal eyes were locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. The entire stadium was still roaring from the match, reporters scrambling to get post-game interviews, cameras flashing in every direction—

But Sae didn’t stop for any of them.

He walked straight past his teammates, past the staff, past the security trying to control the crowd. He climbed the stairs to the VIP section, his expression unreadable, his body language eerily calm.

The guy beside you straightened, probably realizing that something was off. "Uh… is he coming here—?"

You didn’t even get to answer.

Because in the next second, Sae was in front of you, standing so close that you could see the sweat still clinging to his skin. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

His hand cupped your face, fingers tilting your chin up—

And then he kissed you.

Right there. In front of everyone.

It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, deliberate, a clear statement. His lips moved against yours like he had nothing to hide, like he wanted the whole world to know exactly who you belonged to.

The stadium fell into chaos.

You could hear the gasps, the frantic clicking of cameras, the commentators losing their minds. But none of it mattered. Not when Sae was pressing into you like this, not when his thumb brushed against your cheek in a silent mine.

When he finally pulled away, his voice was low, meant only for you. "That guy bothering you?"

You swallowed, feeling your heart race. "Not anymore."

Sae scoffed, casting a cold glance at the man beside you before turning back to you. His lips quirked up slightly—something smug, something dangerous.

"Good."

And with that, he walked away, leaving the entire stadium—and the world—shaken.

—

The next morning, your phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

"BREAKING: Itoshi Sae’s Secret Lover Revealed!"

"Football Prodigy Takes a Stand for Love in Viral Moment!"

"The Kiss That Shook the Sports World!"

You groaned, burying your face into your pillow as notifications kept flooding in. You barely had time to process before a familiar voice interrupted.

"Stop looking at your phone."

You peeked up to see Sae leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered.

"Sae," you mumbled, holding up your screen. "We’re literally all over the news."

He shrugged. "So?"

"So?! You literally kissed me in front of thousands of people!"

His teal eyes glinted with something smug as he walked over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You didn’t seem to mind last night."

You glared at him, but your red cheeks betrayed you.

Sae smirked, slipping into bed beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into him. "They would’ve found out eventually," he muttered against your skin. "Might as well make sure they know you’re mine."

You sighed, melting into his embrace. "You’re unbelievable."

"And you love me for it," he murmured, lips brushing against your ear.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

Yeah. Maybe you did.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

UGH i actually made this a bit rushed, so im super super sorry if there are any mistakes! Thank you for reading, have a nice day (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

I just found out my DPxDC trans Danny post got SCRAPED.

AI video on TikTok of shitty ass gameplay, with dumbass AI reader.

I honestly would not even be upset, if the person had 1) properly credited me AND ALSO 2) just read it without the AI. Seriously! If you want to read one of my posts on your YT series or something? Tell me, don't use AI, and give me credit! Don't just scrape my blog and steal my shit to profit off of MY work.

I put effort into posting - especially being chronically ill, my fingers lock up horribly while typing, and it's physically difficult sometimes to write. I love writing, and I will continue to do it, but I don't want to have to shut down my blog or move or something just because other people can't respect me.

Whoever did it, did it *so soon* after I posted it here that I'm genuinely thinking 1) they're a tumblr user. They have a real account and they probably even follow me. 2) they're probably following a LOT of the same people I am. Because, lo and behold, the rest of the page is FULL of my favorite Moots and accounts.

I legitimately looked through several of the most recent, and then came to tumblr to look at when the originals were posted, and this specific TikTok account is managing to get super recent posts. Almost so fast that they'd have to have been notified when they dropped.

So. Here's a direct call out, in a way I don't actually enjoy doing but I will because FUCK. THIS.

I don't make writing prompts, or posts, or fics, to just be shit on by scrapers monetizing MY content - content I don't make money off of! I have a Cashapp, and I don't push it very hard because despite being broke I also know that my intent behind creating is creativity not profit. I accept donations! Sure! But I don't monetize my works, and other people have absolutely zero right to profit off of me when even I don't.

As you can see, @nightingale-prompts @mentallyunawareofpapaya and @nerdpoe are just three creators being stolen from- and I just happen to follow Nightingale and Papaya, as well as a few other accounts being used by this guy.

I'm not even a big blog! I'm literally just got to 100 reblogs for a post for the first time today! 😭 I celebrated my milestone only to find out this person has THOUSANDS of interactions for literally stealing it. And with how the creator fund works there? They're making money.

Again! I wanna say. I personally do not mind if someone reaches out to me to ask "Hey, can I read your post in this video I'm making? This is how I'm doing it." as long as they're respectful, give me due credit, and don't use AI for it! I like channels like "The Click" who read posts because they're actually doing VA and giving credit to people. But this? I'm so tired.

[voitier]

Before reading Blame Morpheus for your sins...

Disclaimer, infos and index!

Synopsis:

❛❛ You and jungkook had been attached by the hip since you were little toddlers learning how to live in your own bodies, which led you two to spend most (if not all) of your life together. One weird dream makes your whole view about your best friend change. How will you live with that? ❞

Contains:

[MINI-SERIES!]; friends to lovers, college au, jungkook is whipped for reader but she's oblivious to it all, descriptions of wet dreams, second-hand embarrassment, learning how to deal with new found feelings, sex and all the good stuff, HEA.

Index:

01

02

Please check every once in a while for updates! I cannot promise to post every week, but I'll do my best to post as soon as possible!

Disclaimer:

English is not my first language, so I hope you'll excuse any mistakes I might make while writing.

Also, I'm used to writing shorter stories whose word count ranges from 500 words up to 1k. Longer chapters aren't exactly my thing, which is exactly why I take longer to write since I want to give you a piece that has at least 2k words.

I'm also aware that my writing needs improvement, both description-wise and from the storytelling point of view. I believe that dialogues are the best part of my stories, but I'm trying to improve overall to give you all a better reading experience.

Constructive criticism is always welcomed as long as you're not rude about it!

And as you probably already understood by the synopsis and table of content, this series will contain mature themes. I'll flag all the chapters containing smut, still I invite you to not read and/or engage with it if you're a minor. Please and thank you 🙏

The characters might piss you off a little, just putting this out there.

Taglist:

If you'd like to be tagged, please comment under this post, under the chapters or in my inbox. please make sure to have your age stated in your bio/pinned post or to state it in the comment.

@mia7732 @tastykookoonut @koooobi

The members are used for visual purposes only. Nothing in my writing is real or based on real life experience.

© voitier 2025

[deadsetobsessions]

The first person who asked me to put my writing on AO3, thank you for your appreciation and I'm honored to have a piece of my work considered so highly... but also count your days bc I genuinely believe my life spiraled after posting that first chapter. The curse is real, and that website is like moldavite istg.

----

Tim made a miscalculation.

He wasn’t aware of the true nature of Deathstroke’s tension with his older brother until he witnessed it first hand.

Creep. He thought uncharitably, nay, spitefully.

No. Absolutely the fuck not.

He ruined Catalina’s life. Considering Deathstroke had no life, Tim will just have to go the extra step to end it. So what if the man was Ra’s former student and one of the best assassins around? Tim used to foil League plots for shits and giggles. Maybe the 8 year old Tim of old would never have considered going against a big baddie, but 24 year old Tim ran circles around bigger fish.

Tim scowled, stowing away his binoculars before shimmying down the fire escape. He counted at least three propositions! In the five minutes they were duking it out! His big brother was too bright for those losers! Maybe he could get Sandra Wu-San to do something about her fellow student? Or Tim could hit two assassins with one Robin and get David Cain to murder Deathstroke while nabbing Cass?

Ooo, he likes that idea. Maybe he'll get lucky and they'll kill each other while fighting and then Tim won't have to worry about how to keep Cain away from Tim's sister.

Bruce would have been disappointed about how cavalier his approach was in terms of preservation of life, but Tim had always thought that ideology applied to his days as a Bat-affiliated vigilante. And since Tim was an itty bitty civilian instead of an (older, taller) ass kicking vigilante, Tim has concluded that Bruce's mildly irritating morality didn't apply to him in his current state. Besides, it wasn't like he was an angel during his tenure as Robin anyways.

"Guess I gotta embezzle some more money." Tim grimly put his backpack to his front and ran to catch the first bus home. Too bad. Deathstroke had proven useful.

————

David Cain leaned against a transport cargo box, breathing heavily from wounds. His commission was done, and the amount promised would allow him to buy an island and then some. His fellow student laid at his feet. His bank account was fuller than Ra's, he was sure.

He never sees the tranquilizer dart coming.

And really, Tim’s had enough experience to hide the mark from the dart and more than enough to murder the man and make it seem like he bled out.

——

“Odd.”

“Tell me about it.” Nightwing crouched, his sparkly costume hidden partially in the shadows. “Why’d they have to duke it out here?” He whined. Honestly, he’s been down in the dumps with what happened to Jason but having Deathstroke dead and gone for good was a balm to his soul.

“Hn.” It’s true. Bruce knew that it was weird Ra’s al Ghul’s students would murder each other like this. He searched the bodies, lifting up a burner phone and a bunch of weapons.

“Can’t you say something other than monosyllabic grunts, B?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to?”

“…No.” Bruce made a funny and seemed rather proud of himself.

Duck stared at him. He lifted a hand, watching Bruce’s face fall into dread.

Dick pulled the zipper down on the top of his costume down to his navel, flaring the collar and exposing his mesh covered chest.

“No.”

“Fuck you.” Dick flips away, leaving a despondent Batman behind with two dead bodies.

In the distance, the girl who would be come Cassandra Cain took the hands of a boy who would become here brother.

Tim Drake grinned, like an adorable, blood frenzied baby shark.