#it matches the brain energy enough that i can get work done

[sapphoismymuse]

neurodivergent noises

What’s your 7th song on Spotify wrapped and what does it say about your future??

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part; Next Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part; Next Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[captainquake42]

> ♡ °. INKED UP

♡ part three

☆ kwon jae sung x fem!reader

> summary:

high on adrenaline kwon invites you to his room on accident.

OR kwon tries to teach you some korean.

> notes:

once again the korean is from google translate

find it on ao3

part one // part two // part four

> 2.1k written by:

S A R A H

By the time their team stepped off the mat for the fourth consecutive win, Kwon had to admit—watching film and researching their opponents had been the smartest thing they’d done all tournament. Hana, Yoon, Tory, and himself had yet to lose a match, and their earlier stumbles seemed like a distant memory. The strategy adjustments had worked, and their confidence had skyrocketed.

Well, most of their confidence. Kwon’s patience, however? That was wearing thin.

“ I told you so,” Yoon crowed on the sidelines as Tory got her hand raised in victory. His grin was wide enough to stretch from Seaford to Seoul. “ Four matches in a row, Captain. Feels pretty good, huh?”

Kwon exhaled sharply, trying to keep his cool. “ Yes, Yoon. You’ve mentioned it.” He raised his own hand for a high five from Tory as she got off the mat which she slapped with a grin.

“ Oh, have I?” Yoon’s smirk deepened with his own high five offer that Tory took. “ Because I feel like it’s worth mentioning again. You know, just in case you forgot how genius my idea was.”

“ Don’t push it, Yoon,” Tory chimed in, rolling her eyes as she tightened her back belt. “ You’re one ‘I told you so’ away from getting kicked in the shins.”

Kwon snorted, finally cracking a grin. “ Now that I’d pay to see.”

“ Oh, ha ha,” Yoon said, throwing a mock glare at Tory. “ You’re just mad because I was right.”

“ You’re unbearable,” Tory replied, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward in the hint of a smile.

“ Unbearably brilliant,” Yoon quipped, spinning on his heel with a swagger in his step following the rest of the team back to the locker room.

Kwon shook his head, trailing behind the others. He hated to admit it, but Yoon had earned the right to be insufferable. The team’s flawless run had revitalized their morale.

As they reached the locker room, Kwon stopped in the doorway, letting his team filter past him. They were battered and bruised, but their energy was palpable.

You walked past him laughing and his attention was instantly stolen. He saw that you won your own solo matches on the leaderboard. It seemed you and one of your other teammates were single handedly keeping your team in. The curly hairy haired boy that Yoon fought in the captain’s game.

“ Hey, Captain,” Hana said, glancing back at him with a smirk. “ Dangsin-i ogo issseubnikka, animyeon uliui mupae haengjin-ui yeong-gwang-eul nulineula neomu bappeun geongayo? (You coming, or are you too busy basking in the glory of our undefeated streak?)”

Kwon watched you, barely registered her words. “ Jamsiman gidalyeojuseyo. (Be there in a sec.)” He said, his voice steady despite the flutter in his chest.

You saw him and waved.

He grinned, raising a hand in return. “ Hey, so-yeon.” he called, his voice carrying just enough warmth to mask his nervous.

“ You still haven’t told me what that means.” You hummed.

He shrugged, “ so it seems.”

“ Why?”

“ Same as before. Not fun.”

“ Lame. I could google it.” You teased, crossing your arms as if issuing a challenge.

Kwon huffed, his lips twitching in amusement. “ Can you spell it?”

You jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “ No.”

His mouth moved before his brain could catch up. “ If you really want to know, you can find me in my room after the matches today.” As soon as the offer was out Kwon flushed, his face warming as his palms grew damp.

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Kwon panicked. Stupid stupid stupid, he thought, what on earth made him say that? Had he been too forward? But then you laughed—a soft sound that made his pulse jump.

“ Well, well,” you said, leaning in just enough to make him sweat. “ Since I got an invitation.”

And just like that you were gone with a flip of your braid.

Tory poked her head out, looked at him and then you, back to him and raised her brows sarcastically. “ Nice job man.”

“ Shut up Tory.” He snapped.

You took your time taking your everything shower, shaved from your armpits down to your ankles, moisturized with a strawberry shortcake smelling body oil, put in a hair mask, the whole shebang.

You were dressed in a spider-man hoodie and shorts, twisting your hands anxiously as Sam re-braided your hair in two dutch braids. You were good at pretending to be nonchalant until it came within an hour of doing said thing when you'd freak out.

“ What are you freaking out for?” Sam said, tugging your head back. “ Maybe you should just come with us to the beach.”

“ No it's ok, I'm tired, I wanna stay here.” You lied, you were not going to stay here, you were going to Kwon's room not that you could tell her that. You secretly wished Devon made it instead of Sam, she wouldn't judge you.

“ Are you sure?” She asked, Sam had always been nice to you but sometimes she could be really judgmental and she would definitely not approve.

“ I'm sure. I- ouch.”

“ Sorry,” Sam murmured, detangling her fingers. “ My fingers got caught.”

“ It's fine, I've done the same to you.” You laughed, you've ripped out chunks of her hair a hundred times by accident, whether it was from your braiding or sparing.

“ You should come, you and Miguel have kept us in. “ Sam tried again, “ come celebrate with us.”

“ No offense Sam,” you started. “ But that's exactly why I'm tired.”

“ Ok,” She conceited. “ Done.”

You felt it, no bumps. “ Thanks Sam.”

“ No problem, I'll leave you to it then.”

“ Have fun.”

“ We will.” And with that, Sam left you alone.

You decided to do your nails while waiting thirty minutes before you left just in case Sam came back so she wouldn't find you gone.

You had face masks you brought to do with Sam but decided to grab them thinking Kwon would be a better victim. He'd probably do them with you, he had nice skin and with the amount of hair gel he uses to spike up his hair like that he definitely has a skin care routine.

But then you started to second-guessing yourself. Maybe this is too much. What if he thinks it’s weird? You picked up the packaging, reading the back like it held some kind of life-altering advice.

With a sigh, you set it down again, pacing back and forth in the small space. Your heart raced, and your hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. What if he was joking? And not actually inviting you?

You took a breath in your nose, held it for 3 seconds, out through your mouth.

You sat down on your bed, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. You stood up again, walking to the mirror to check your hair for the fourth time, smoothing down any imaginary flyaways and pressing your palms against your flushed cheeks.

It's not that big of a deal you told yourself lifting your foot up on the dresser to put your sock on, he already went with you to get a tattoo last night which was first time the two of you spoke. Hanging out with him wasn't any different even if he was really cute and you wanted him to like you. You switched feet and put on your other sock.

Finally you straightened up and grabbed the face masks on the dresser, leaving without putting shoes on – cause who wears shoes just walking down the hall?

Walking through the quiet hotel hallway, you felt every beat of your heart like a drum in your chest. The fluorescent lights hummed softly above you, casting a white glow on the carpeting. You told yourself to relax, that it was just Kwon, and you were just hanging out. But your hands still squeezed the face masks tightly, and you almost turned back twice.

You reached his door, and paused. For a moment, the silence of the hallway pressed in around you. You debated knocking, hesitated, then debated again.

“ Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “ Stop being a pussy.”

Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked.

The door swung open quicker than you expected, and there he was, hair slightly damp like he’d just showered, wearing a plain black t-shirt and sweats. He looked relaxed, but when he saw you, his face lit up in a way that made your nerves melt a little.

“ Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in.

“ Hi,” you replied, stepping past him into the room. It was a standard hotel setup: two beds, a small desk, and a TV. His stuff was neatly tucked into one corner, but his sparring gloves and water bottle sat on the desk, evidence of a long day.

“ I like your hoodie,” he said, motioning to your Spider-Man hoodie as he shut the door.

“ Thanks. Nice… uh… room.” You winced inwardly at yourself, but Kwon just chuckled.

“ You want to sit?” he asked, gesturing to the bed closest to the window.

“ Sure,” you said, plopping down and setting the face masks beside you. You glanced up at him, suddenly nervous again. “ So… what’s the meaning of ‘so-yeon’?”

Kwon raised a brow, amused. “ Still stuck on that, huh?”

“ I’m very determined.” You crossed your arms, leaning back a little.

He smirked, sitting down on the other bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “ Alright, fine. ‘So-yeon’ means ‘bright’, ‘graceful’, or ‘beautiful’ depending on context.”

Your cheeks flamed. “ Oh.”

“ Oh,” he repeated, clearly enjoying your reaction. “ Why? Not what you expected?”

“ I was pretty sure it was gonna mean bitch.” You answered smiling.

“ Promise it’s a compliment,” he said, his voice softening.

Your heart stuttered a little, but you played it off with a teasing grin. “ Well, in that case, thank you.”

He laughed at that, leaning back against the headboard. “ Now, what’s in the bag?”

“ Oh, these!” You grabbed the face masks, holding them up for him to see. “ I thought we could do them, if you’re up for it.”

Kwon’s brows shot up. “ Face masks?”

“ Don’t knock it till you try it,” you said, waving one in front of him. “ They’re good for your skin. And judging by how much hair gel you use, I’d say you’re not a stranger to a routine.”

He blinked, caught off guard, then laughed. “ Fair point, let’s.”

You spent the next few minutes peeling open the masks and carefully applying them, bursting into laughter when Kwon’s didn’t sit quite right on his face.

“ You look ridiculous,” you teased, holding up your phone to snap a picture. You had never been into taking pictures, just wasn’t something you thought about, but you were trying to make it a point to document the Sekai Taikai like you tried doing for all your big competitions.

“ Says the girl who’s about to join me,” he shot back, reaching over to adjust yours. “ There.”

“ Great,” you deadpanned, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Kwon leaned back against the headboard, his face still obscured by the slightly crooked mask. “ You know,” he said, voice casual, “ you’re asking me what something mean in Korean. Would you like to learn a few phrases?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “ You’re not going to teach me anything embarrassing, are you?”

He smirked. “ I’ll save the swears for later.”

You laughed, adjusting the mask on your face as you sat cross-legged on the bed. “ Ok, hit me.”

“ First one: ‘Annyeonghaseyo.’ It’s how you say hello in a formal way.”

“Ann-yeong-ha-say-yo,” you repeated slowly, breaking the word into chunks.

Kwon nodded, his eyes crinkling in amusement as he tried not to laugh at your butchered pronunciation. “ Not bad. Now, informal is just ‘Annyeong.’”

“ Annyeong,” you echoed, this time with more confidence. “ I think I can remember that.”

“ Good. Next is ‘Kamsahamnida.’ It means thank you.”

“ Kamsa-hamni-da,” you said carefully, earning an approving nod from him.

“ You’re a natural,” he said with a grin like the liar he was. “ Alright, one more. ‘Saranghae.’ It means—”

“ Love?” you interrupted, smirking. “ I know that one. I’ve watched enough K-dramas.”

Kwon tilted his head, pretending to be impressed. “ Oh woah, a real, how you say? Genius.”

“ Totally,” you said, laughing. “ Anything else I should know?”

“ Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “ if you ever want to tell someone they’re doing well, you say ‘Jalhanda.’”

“ Jalhanda,” you repeated, enjoying the way the word rolled off your tongue.

“ It’s what you can say to me when we beat your team again.” He teased.

Your jaw dropped, “ ain’t no way!” you laughed. “ In your dreams maybe.”

“ Every night,” he smirked, taking the opportunity you gave him.

[eldritch-spouse]

i-is it possible to get the full, delicious sex scene of this? uwu 'cause the idea of kalymir taking y/n frantically due to her matching his angel-killing-and-woman-in-robes-dream is so fucking hawttt https://eldritch-spouse.tumblr.com/post/769523379185319936/pinnie-pinnie-pinnie-pie-i-thought-of

[Yahoo, pain time!]

TW: NONCON; Gore; blood loss; delusional states; panic attacks; unhygienic moments; Kalymir's caps lock.

You didn't really have time to prepare.

It makes you think about how wars start, at times. How, in some circumstances, people are just outside performing their daily routines, before being subjected to unimaginable horrors at the hands of a force they'd never guess would show up.

Humans and monsters alike have always been tempted, it's natural, it's what leads to deals being established with those who aren't native to the surface. There had been rumors your city was hardly any different, and you've always thought that one day there might be consequences for the figures in power who think they can flirt with the fires- Pull the wool over the eyes of creatures who were made to deceive. Stories of high-ranking beasts unleashing punishment on those who break contracts always terrified you as a child.

There was no way to force judgement on them, their laws are different than ours, you sign and receive your goods on their terms, so any violations of protocol are also dealt with on their terms.

For all that childish fear your parents worked so hard to eventually snap out of you, they must be tearing their hairs off by now.

Because the very city you live in has angered a being so foul and tremendous that you felt the ground heat and shake before they even emerged.

Your night terrors couldn't have made this justice.

As screams rang ever closer, drowned out by belted roars and the horrid sounds of flesh being zipped apart, time seemed to slow down to a wounded crawl. You had barely the energy to breathe, forcing your head up towards the epicenter of the ruckus.

One look at him was enough to clamp your windpipe shut with terror. A sensation of vulnerability and hopelessness so nauseating that, when it finished raking down your spine, your stomach tightened into a marble and you held back your dinner.

That's no high-ranker.

That is so much more.

One of them. The embodiments, the focus points of each Ring, the demons who syphon all the sin around them like endless black holes of power. To provoke one of these things is to cast despair upon everything and everyone you've ever known.

This city will be nothing more than a corpse pile when he's done with it.

His generals -if you can call them that- spread out in a circle of gleeful gore. Smashing into crowds, letting no one escape their savagery and going as far as to toss each other people, playing volleyball with the lives of those they shame as weaklings. They seem equally as uncoordinated as they do strategic, hysteric with the freedom to cause as much death as possible yet still sharp enough to let none weasel out.

You've never seen a street get painted in red so fast.

Whatever chants and howls they emit do nothing but cause a ringing to take over your ears, buzzing into your brain. You can't even feel the tears running down your face.

You're outside of yourself in that moment. No longer a bystander in the massacre unfolding, you exist in a separate layer, watching it from above, everything muted to a much more bearable level.

Only the persistent, foggy sensation of touch keeps breaking that barrier. You try to shake it off, to ignore it, but it succeeds.

With a blink, the stench of innards and blood fills your lungs. You've become wet with crimson, things are now on fire. The force at your left ankle tugs again, some kind of gargle following, making you instinctively kick hard at whatever's grabbing you.

It was a man.

It is a man, more dead than alive, his lower body hanging but by a thread to the rest of him, so disfigured that you're sure adrenaline is the only thing powering his leaking, crushed body. When the force of your outburst makes him roll back, he heaves wordlessly, what you can only describe as a massive clot of blood pops out of his dismantled jaw. He stops moving.

And you vomit.

The shriek you let out felt like daggers through your acid-burned throat.

Louder still manage to be the cackles of the demons around, stopping to stare and taunt as if you're no more than a silly clown.

This mess, unfortunately, raises the attention of the entity you least want to think about. A spiked head bolts towards the general direction of the commotion, gluing itself to the miserable sight of you immediately.

Both of you freeze in burning time.

Where are his eyes...? A gaze of scorching intensity fixes you in place, but for the love of you, there seem to be no eyes on his gnarled face, just streaks of marred skin descending from a depraved crown of horns, and exposed teeth.

Aside from his hulking height, you can only focus on the sharp protrusions coming from his chest, the ones torn off his back and regrowing steadily, stalagmites of what you might guess to be bone. You wonder, briefly, sickly, if some of the scars on his form are from tearing these growths off.

When the rest of his body turns, when one heavy clawed foot steps forth, towards you, it must be towards you- It takes too long for you to react.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

Something like incredulity in the way he moves, but not quite hesitation.

Then sprinting.

Even if the whole city were between you, it wouldn't feel like enough distance was established.

Your heart begins thunderously pumping blood everywhere, limbs throbbing with the energy of a lone rabbit in a wolf's den before blind instinct takes a hold of you.

You run faster than you ever have your entire life. Faster than you ever thought you'd be able to.

Frantic legs carry you through sharp debris that stab through your shoes, tripping past corpses and obstacles without landing on your face, dashing and batting everything away with no clear goal. You dare not scream, saving every bit of air for the blood cells racing in your organism.

Large wrathful demons mockingly stand aside, going as far as to cheer -Not that you can hear much with the ringing of your panicked ears- You don't need sound to feel the thump of gargantuan footsteps behind you.

Your chest tightens, physical effort making you spit like an animal when gasps become desperate inhales.

He's too fast, too large, too much- You're going to die.

A swipe of claws across your back disorients you, ripping through your shirt and leaving bleeding welts in its wake. Like a whipped horse, you can only try to run faster.

Not fast enough, however.

Maybe it's because you're in debilitating panic, maybe just because you could never physically compete with such a creature, but everything starts hurting, the muscles in your legs almost pulling wrong, slowing you down, the pain in your chest now a raging headache.

You could have never escaped the shove that throws you to the ground.

Didn't even have the energy to shield yourself.

A wave of agony spreads through your whole face when you make contact with concrete, you fear you might have broken something when blood bubbles from your nose.

" FINALLY. "

His voice barrels through your entire body. He doesn't sound one bit exhausted, not even strained, just mortifyingly excited.

The demonlord rolls you over without a crumb of resistance, your open-mouthed, panting visage weakly staring upwards.

Towering over you is death himself, you don't waste time thinking about how he'll torture you for his own amusement. You don't think at all, waiting for the first blow. Will he kick your ribs in? While he crush your face with a foot? Will he pick you up and twist you in two?

Instead, the massive monster tries to pull you up by the already torn collar of your shirt, growling when that doesn't work. He tears it off brutally, knocking out the air you'd been trying to catch. You're yanked up by the arms instead, likely because if he did that to your neck, your head would have popped clean off.

" WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING YOUR ROBES?! "

...

Robes?

A terrified mind races to understand.

You've never once come in contact with him, he's mistaking you for someone else.

The pain coursing through your arms and shoulders only allows you to grunt, not that he seems very intent in getting an actual response from you.

The Icon of Wrath looks around, easily throwing you onto something hard and vaguely chipped. You realize it must be hood of a car, perhaps a truck, from the way it squeaked upon impact.

No time is wasted as he traps you there, studying you for a pause. There's the sound of something slapping onto the ground, though you can't possibly see it from this angle. In fact, all you can see is his intimidating physique casting darkness upon you.

" THE FOOL I WAS. TO THINK YOU'D COME TO ME IN THE PERFECT CONDITIONS... "

You shiver, though it has nothing to do with temperature.

Something about the way you're being regarded screams trouble is coming. A whole new type of fear encompasses you.

" WHY HERE, OF ALL PLACES?! " A balled up fist slams so hard against the car hood that you're jostled up for a moment. " YOUR HOME IS NOT WITH THESE MAGGOTS! YOU BELONG IN WRATH, MADE AS MY TROPHY FOR THE AGE OF BLOOD I'LL BRING FORTH. "

What can your shaking mind even respond with?

" ... W... What? "

He doesn't deign your squeak of a noise worthy of attention, this rumbling sound emitting from his chest, loud and low, the rattle of a satisfied predator. All at once, he uses both hands to grab the hem of your pants, lifting your lower body when he tugs up and rends the fabric apart, easily peeling it out from under you.

Animal instinct kicks in before you even confirm the gravity of the situation, flailing and kicking with sore muscles.

The beast laughs, this racuous sound devoid of any care, amused, easily holding you down by the midsection while his dominant hand comes to rip senselessly at your shoes, your underwear, your bra. All of it goes flying back. You don't even notice the shards of glass that have stabbed into the soles of your foot.

" Stop! Stop! " The scream rips out your throat, a pathetic sob.

" YES... " He nods, confirming something to himself at the sight of your now bare body. You realize idly that he's allowing you to scratch and hit however you please, entirely unfazed.

Incredulously, disgustingly, he strokes a hand upon his dark, blood-soaked skin, then slaps a warm wet paw over your body. You don't understand what's happening until both meaty hands are caking you in blood.

There's a different quality to his breathing as he paints you in red, it becomes harsher, his chest heaves like a bull about to charge. The knowing revulsion within you causes you to jerk and attempt to weasel away, but every time you get on his nerves too much, he lifts and slams you against the car.

The third time he does that, a sting spreads across your spine, vision swimming. You decide it might not be a good idea to encourage this. It's all you can do not to shake too much while warm and sticky crimson is spread all over your form. He seems to be thinking as he does this, trying to imitate some kind of pattern, deciding the zones where you should be most covered in the gross, foul-smelling results of his slaughter.

Whose blood is this? Your neighbors'? Your friends'?

A bit of it wedges past your lips, you're glad your stomach has already flipped everything it had.

When he passes by your tits, both hands squeeze and roll too hard, catching your nipples in a sharp pinch that zings through your whole figure. Desperation has you opening your mouth to say something pointless, to plea, to cry, but all it does is whimper when you take note of the growth bulging his unique loincloth.

With neither shame nor hesitation, as soon as he notices where your gaze has fallen, the massive monster uses one hand to untie the cloth, toss it aside, revealing a length that nearly makes you feel lightheaded.

It's not just the comparative size, something he seems very eager to display, it's the barbs flaring underneath, no doubt meant to tear into any hole he claims and anchor his cock as deep as possible. The mental image of your body stretching disgustingly to accommodate it is sickening. He looks incredibly hard, you're sure that there's no give to his shaft, that it's heavy and unmanageable for most partners he attains.

Partners... As if this beast doesn't just grab people randomly like he's doing to you.

There's a snort, you realize he's studying the newfound horror on your face.

" YOU DON'T REMEMBER ME. " It's not a question. " I'LL JOG YOUR MEMORY, WHEN I RATTLE THAT FUCKING BRAIN OF YOURS- "

" H- Hu-?! "

In a blink, the Icon is blanketing you in a suffocating closeness, panting against your face as the hand that isn't pinning you by the ribcage darts to his cock and pumps aggressively. While the lurid sound haunts your ears, all you can focus on are his misaligned blade-like teeth. The bits of flesh caught between them when he no doubt bit sections out of people. A dark tongue hovers behind them, wet with drool and shimmering in excitement. His breath is far from pleasant, though there's hardly a way to escape it.

When your head turns in an attempt to abstract from the situation, he forces it back in place and hunches further to lick the mess on your ruined face. A scratchy, far too hot sensation that claims the red he previously caked you in, then bridges over your nose to collect the river that flowed from it when you fell.

The god-awful agony of that location being nudged has a scream belt out of you. Flailing legs thump uselessly against his thighs, your foot nudging his dick at some point. Fuck if he cares. All force you have goes into slapping and scratching at his head, another fruitless effort seeing as he doesn't even flinch. It gets him to stop assaulting your face, to bite your right hand instead.

It wasn't too hard. You know he has the force to tear it right off, to sever all those ligaments and tissue. All he does is give you a taste, aggravate your suffering, cackling at your shriek.

It feels like your extremity's been crushed, fingers struggling to move when a frightening numbness sets in.

Your intact hand has no direction and no goal, furiously swiping at his neck in hopes that it would get him to back away. You mostly succeed in chipping nails.

The demon groans however, apparently incensed by the effort.

" FIESTY LITTLE FUCKTOY CAN'T WAIT FOR MY COCK, CAN YOU? "

...

He's interpreting your fight in the worst way possible.

" I'LL MAKE SURE IT'S ALL YOU GET WHEN WE'RE HOME. "

Home? Home?!

As soon as your bitten hand regains some feeling, the avalanche of trepidation within you just at the implication of being taken to Hell -to this beast's dwelling- makes you swing as swiftly as you can towards his jaw. A punch that pops the fluid between your aching joints yet hardly molds his rictus.

You try everything. Bruising your arms, letting the pain flare through them. There's little hope in your motions by the time you curl both fists around the horns sticking out his head, yanking aimlessly.

" TEAR THEM OFF! " He demands, the want in his insufferable voice utterly transparent.

You can't.

You pull and twist and try to snap them off his skull, but the protrusions stay lodged there as a crown of morbid victory.

" BAH- THE SURFACE HAS MADE YOU WEAK. ANOTHER THING I'LL HAVE TO FIX. "

The demonlord's disappointment is palpable, though enthusiasm quickly replaces it, you can't disappoint him enough to avoid being assaulted, it seems.

His focus shifts to your nethers. You're anything but wet, though he pays no mind to it, suddenly pushing your hips apart so he can frame your pussy.

" TINY FUCKING THING. " He chuckles, observing your fear-clenched hole.

Clawed thumbs trace the rift of your entrance casually, on occasion nudging the bud above in lazy rolls. It's not as if you wish to get aroused, the amount of pressure he uses behind every motion is just inescapably stimulating. The first jolt of your hips, entirely reflexive, is rewarded with a wanton hum.

He slips a thumb inside with some resistance, then the other. You can only wince at the stretch, alarmingly aware of how those claws might slice through your vaginal walls if you shake too much. The fear causes you to tighten further, a painful feedback of sensation that appears to excite him.

A visceral hiss escapes through the gaps between your teeth when he pulls, spreading you out forcibly and mercilessly.

With no inch of lubrication to be found, a burning Hell settles and you start crying quietly again.

" I NEVER GOT A GOOD LOOK AT YOUR CUNT BEFORE... WONDER IF IT'LL FEEL BETTER! "

And that's all you get.

Hot-flashes have you sweating when his thumbs finally leave you alone. A thick tongue swings around, preparing a ball of spit that unceremoniously lashes against your genitals. You realize then that his spit is the only semblance of help you'll have to handle that torture device of a cock.

He slaps it on top of your mound, and you don't look down.

You don't want to see how much he'll hollow you out, don't want to see where it reaches, don't want to think about the weight and heat of it on top of your skin.

Your body... Your poor body. What evil did you commit to warrant this?

" I WANT YOU TO SCREECH MY NAME, THE SAME WAY YOU DID IN MY VISIONS. " He giddily reveals, dragging himself lower to line up properly. A foul maw leans to snarl in your ear. " KALYMIR. "

The sound echoes in your mind, adding to the stab of terror when the tip of his much-too-large dick prods at your entrance. You can't breathe, for a second, wondering how he thinks this is actually going to work, morbidly questioning if this is really how you'll die.

As soon as trepidation releases your lungs and the first crack of pain from his pushing arises, you babble hysterically.

" Stop! Oh God stop- I'm gonna die! "

Kalymir does pause, likely because the sound of fear must be arousing to him in some way. He's already smirking before you even say another word.

" Listen- I'll do anything, please I'll do anything, anything you want- "

" HAH. " Bold teeth get a coating of saliva, one brutish hand holding onto your neck just hard enough to silence the rest of your whining. " I WANT YOUR HOLES AROUND ME. "

Perhaps it was a small mercy that he rammed into you.

Maybe, if he was less excited, he'd have taken his sweet time pushing inside, dragging out the pain until your throat is hoarse from screaming.

All you feel is a flash of indescribable agony, vision going black and body tensing like a coil about to break. There's no direction to go and nothing comforting to hold onto as Kalymir's member carves its place within you.

This must be how vivisected bugs feel.

Writhing is all you're allowed.

Distantly, you realize you're bleeding. You can sense the way your torn body tries to lessen the pain, tries to lubricate itself, tries to contract in pulses meant to shove him out, yet only cause him to groan happily.

Every single time Kalymir throbs inside you, he presses into everything and offers a contradicting mix of feedback. There's the scorching of your poor insides begging you to remove the unwanted intrusion, and the creeping pleasure of sensitive spots being crushed into submission.

The monster himself looks vaguely out of breath, drooling openly onto your stomach while he recovers from the suffocating hold your body has around him. Kalymir cants his hips to somehow slide more of himself inside you, but there's no space left, he merely ends up sliding you back.

" LOOSEN UP ALREADY- " The Icon huffs, a note of incredible cruelty following. " OR WILL I HAVE TO FUCK YOU OPEN? "

You know those barbs aren't in use when he pulls back, and thankfully, your insides don't shred into ribbons.

There's no describing the vacant sensation of his retraction. The split second where air chills your abused hole as it tries to pitifully shrink anew, only to be rammed wide again in yet another nauseating piston.

He's too hot to handle, too rough, the mere contact of his war-hardened hide against your skin causes scratches and rashes from unrequited friction.

You wish you were wet. Maybe you are, but it's hardly enough. Only blood can periodically ease the torment of his jarring, mercilessly mechanic thursting. The truck hood bounces while he damn near crushes you to the vehicle, frantic claws finding purchase on squealing metal, perhaps mocking your own cries of pain.

The stimulus becomes too much.

No matter how hard you might want to alienate your mind from the situation, he won't let you. Kalymir's barking comments, the way he'll clumsily paw and grip at your softer sections, the press of teeth around a bare neck- It all stabs alertness into you, forces a figh or flight heave of primal panic whenever you so much as manage to vaguely dissociate.

Perhaps you instinctively can't abstract from this torment at all.

Kalymir yanks at your soul, chewing and tearing into it, all-demanding and all-consuming.

There's no escape from what's being done to you.

A confused body, unable to escape, fights for a different kind of preservation by drowning you in waves of arousal. It's unavoidable, you think through the slightly muted burning, it's predictable. You don't care to stifle the way your cries have shifted, don't try to mask twitching legs and curling toes.

You don't want this, you never wanted this, whatever is forced upon you isn't evidence that your mind has changed.

You just want it to end, really.

Ignoring your own creeping orgasm is impossible, though you try to focus on breathing evenly, shoving away his snarls of pleasure by listening to the squeak of the vehicle beneath you.

You're not too sure what you screamed when he hilted inside you in a telltale erratic grind, when you were claimed in a way so vile it chilled your bones. When it seeped out of your ruined orifice, onto the car, a pinkish hue that reminds you of sickly discharge.

The rest of it coated you, the monster grinning and huffing with pride at his work.

At this point, most of the pain you feel has become unreachable, replaced by an ambiguous throb of physical exhaustion and trauma. You cannot move, as if your limbs were made of cement and your back had rooted itself to the metal contraption beneath.

Yet your eyes still find Kalymir's face.

Inside them, burns an animal rage that creases your complexion into something borderline inhuman.

This demon will die by your hands.

Kalymir must have felt the silent, sweltering fury showering you from head to toe, releasing a delighted swoon as he picks you up like a soaked rag.

You wonder what Hell is like.

[courtingchaos]

Violence Ad Nauseam

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Series Master List

A/N: Would you all like some actual story to go along with the smut chapters? Finally getting into the meat of this after months of being stuck on it. This is going to feel a little out of order with the next two chapters, mainly because those were written first but this bridged a gap I had in my conflict so have at it. This is the tinder to start the bonfire (and also to show off Roy, the world’s biggest bastard). Hope you enjoy, PLEASE read the warnings everyone!

Warnings: Violence, assault (Roy hits reader), depictions of injury, descriptions of injury, talk of violence.

18+ NSFW No Minors

A quiet afternoon on account of the brothers going off for lunch leaving just you in your corner and your father in the house. You saw him through the kitchen window when you stepped out to ask Ty something. He hovers just around the sink so you know he’s cooking, rinsing off the cranberries or breaking down some bird. Wednesday nights mean Family Meetings and when you’re done out here in the garage with this new dash wiring you’ll go in and quietly help him make your mother’s linzer tart.

Between the solder you pinch to the newly stripped wires and the radio droning at the side of your head, it takes you longer than it should to realize the rest of the noise has quieted. Suddenly it isn’t just four brothers gone but the whole homestead seems to have taken off, or at least run away from the heavy footfalls that almost echo in your workspace.

“What are you working on?” Roy’s deep voice is clear without the ring of metal work in the background.

You don’t look up from your work, especially not for him. “Custom dash.”

“Is that for you?”

“You know it isn’t.”

His laugh is anything but jovial, a thin ice pick that hits your spine wrong. You finish with your wires, tucking them back into their casing, before you turn to look at him smiling at you. It’s flat and doesn’t reach his eyes, a startling match to someone else you know. “What do you need?”

“Just came to talk.”

“Father’s in the house. You can talk to him.”

“I already did.” His footsteps seem measured in the last few feet he closes between you two. Those green eyes seem to darken the longer they look down at you, his distaste for you never more apparent. You hazard a look past him towards the open, empty bays and confirm you’ve been left for the wolves.

“There’s not much I can help you with.”

“Oh I beg to differ.” Suddenly he’s reaching for a folding chair leaned up against the wall. Opening it and motioning for you to sit with a wide open palm. “Have a seat sweetheart.”

Your heart pounds in your chest hard enough to crack ribs. “I’d rather stand.”

“I’d rather you sit.” Those eyes turn hard with a glint in the florescent work lights above. “Please.” Again he gestures at the open seat and you stall just a little too long. He grabs your bicep and yanks you forward to stand in front of the chair. “Sit. Down.”

There’s no one out here now. Your phone sits on your workbench, plugged in and on silent. The radio still sings out low and the garage remains quiet like it was the dead of night. So you sit and you swallow the vitriol that rises in your throat because you know when you’re outnumbered.

Roy nods his head when you do as asked and leans back onto the thick wooden worktop, arms crossed too casually across his chest. “You’ve been doing a little research I hear.”

“I do a lot of research, you’ll have to be specific.” You stare up at him with your best poker face, trying hard to leave the disgust out of your features.

“Don’t play fucking stupid.”

“I’m not.” You blink too much as your nerves start to flood in with his sharp tone. “I’m the brains around here, remember?” Licked lips end up bitten lips and you can see him watching all of your nervous energy bleed out into the open. “If Father didn’t know then-“

“I found that P.I. you hired. The one out of Biloxi.” He watches you still suddenly. “Hm. Clearer picture now?”

You nod because you don’t trust your voice to not betray you. Roy is a pain in your ass but he’s a dangerous one, something better left alone until it decides to leave you be. You’ve poked him before with your words and your blatant disregard for his need of Gator but now he has you cornered in silence.

“He sang quite the tune when it came down to brass tacks. Showed me the file on Gator first and then little ol’ me.” He clears his throat. “What are you looking for, bookworm?”

You open your mouth but he railroads you, talks right over your explanation because he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to know about you looking into Gator and finding the hidden rot, the long trail of familial deceit that spanned from the gulf to the frozen plains Roy inhabited.

“You think you know it all don’t you? Think you can just do what you want because you think you’re smarter than everyone around you?” He stands to his full height, hands dropping to hang at his sides. “You’re sticking your nose in the wrong business.”

“He deserves to know.”

“Deserves to know what? That his father is running the same game down at home?” He scoffs at you. “You think he doesn’t know what kind of family he comes from?”

“He doesn’t know about you.”

“And what about me?”

You let your schooled features fall when you realize Roy thinks this is all about his money. “Does your brother know?” You feel bold when you lean into your question. “You two seem awfully close. Is that what you’re afraid of? Him finding out or you loosing money?”

There’s a dawning look on his face when he finally gets it.

“Does your brother know he raised your son or are you only keeping that secret from Gator?”

The air is heavy with every deep breath you and Roy take. He stares down at you staring defiantly up at him and the hollow chuckle from deep in his throat makes your skin crawl.

“You think he’s gonna believe you?” Roy leans down slow to get level with you, crouches in front of you with a creaking knee and violent look in his eye. Only a foot away and you hate how much you can see of Gator here; in the anger and the slope of his nose.

“I don’t lie to him.”

One thing about Roy is that he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. It’s a common misconception because he has a posse behind him willing to do his bidding but in the right circumstances, ones like these with no prying eyes or ears, he sticks his hands right into the muck.

He moves faster than you think someone of his age should, especially with that loud knee, but knuckles wrap into the front of your jacket before you know what’s happening. He’s stronger and taller than you and he hauls you up fast, the chair collateral that gets kicked to the wayside by his boot. Your heels drag for just a moment before your back hits the side of the car you’ve been working on hard, wind knocked out of you while Roy gets in your face.

“I don’t care what kind of shit you’ve been pullin’ with him but I don’t play fucking games.” He shifts you up the door so you’re on tiptoes and supported by just his massive fists. “You’re fucking with things you have no idea about.”

“Then why don’t you enlighten me?” It’s strained out of you with your collar twisted up. Even pinned up against a car you still feel the need to goad him, especially when he’s this worked up. “Is it just about money with you or are you afraid of being responsible for him too?”

Roy pulls away for a moment, faltering enough to let you slip down almost onto flat soles. Your laugh is shallow too when you watch Roy’s face contort into a scowl.

“I’m warning you.” His voice doesn’t waver in anger. It’s flat like the look in his eyes.

“And I’m telling you-“

You hear the crack before you fully register what’s happened. The clap of an open palm that sets your face on fire and snaps your head sideways, brain rattling around in your skull. It takes a moment before you feel the sharp pain in your jaw and realize you can’t clench your teeth. It hangs unnaturally while you slide to the floor heavily, legs tangled under you while you try to make sense of what’s happened.

“You ain’t telling me shit.” He spits down at you, confused on the floor. “Look at me.” He demands but your vision swims and the pain surges into nausea. You couldn’t turn your head even if you wanted to but all your whimpering sends Roy into a further rage. He bends down and grabs your jaw roughly, twisting you sideways to look at him all while you scream in the back of your throat. His fingers dig into the hinge of your jaw and you howl louder with the pain he inflicts.

“I have no reservations with you.” He holds your face tighter and you cry, hot tears that spill over and down your flaming cheek. “I don’t care about whatever pedestal that boy puts you on, you start nosing around in my business?” He shakes your head and the edges of your vision darken momentarily. “I’m gonna put a fucking end to it.” He drops you suddenly and you barely catch yourself from hitting cement. His legs are all you can make out of him while you try to cradle your jaw and you watch him move away from you to your bench. “You’re gonna do whatever you want because you’re too smart for your own good, right?” He shifts things around that you can’t see, sends them clattering before you notice his boots in your peripheral again. “Right?!” He yells down at you and makes you jump before you try to shake your head no. “Well don’t lie to me, darlin’.”

“I’m not.” Only it comes out slurred and half formed from your numb lips. Roy clicks his tongue at you before he crouches next to you again only this time you flinch and that makes him smile.

“Look,” he squints at you holding your face together and trying to look him in the eye with all the disgust you can muster, “go ahead and call one of your brothers.” He tosses your phone on your lap. “Tell them what happened.”

You shake your head again.

“No?” It could almost be concern that he flashes you but you know better. “Gonna keep this to yourself?”

You nod almost against your own will.

“Like your little findings too?” His voice is soft like he’s trying to calm one of his horses. It has the opposite effect on you though, that roiling nausea replaced by rage in your gut. You nod again though, tears still falling freely down your face.

“Good girl.”

If you could spit at him you would. He stands gingerly to avoid his knee popping and you watch him walk away a few feet before he turns back to you. “Now I’m gonna head back up to the house, let your father know I’m done out here.” He checks his phone before giving you one last look, gesturing at his own jaw. “Should get that checked out.”

[maochira]

idk if you’ve done this already but bllk dads staying up with their kid because reader has insomnia :)

Writing this rn because I know I’m gonna pull an all-nighter tonight 🏃‍♀️ (going on an 8 hour car ride to Italy at 3am(around the time when this posts))

Characters: Ego, Noa, Lavinho

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, reader is a teenager, reader has insomnia

Ego

-does this guy ever sleep in the first place? No (I know he does. He has the type of sleep schedule where he sleeps for 4 hours, gets up, sleeps for 2 hours again, gets up again and sleeps for 2 hours another time

-but anyways the point is, even without your insomnia he’d be awake most of the night

-Ego lets you stay in his office and rewatches recordings of Blue Lock matches with you. They’re either exciting and entertain you when you can’t fall asleep, or they’re so boring you fall asleep in your chair after one or two hours. No in-between

-surprisingly, your father has enough strength in his body to carry you to your room so you can safely sleep in your bed instead of on the uncomfortable desk chair

-if you still can’t fall asleep, you and Ego also spend a lot of time talking about anything that’s on your mind. Sometimes it’s thousands of thoughts running through your head that won’t let you fall asleep, so Ego let’s you talk about what’s on your mind

-it’s also very good bonding time for the both of you. It may not be under the most optimal circumstances but hey, at least you get to spend time with your father

Noa

-he may be tired and just wants to get to bed on most nights, but he always stays awake as long as he can with you. He knows you feel lonely late at night and that can cause bad thoughts to come up in your head when you can’t fall asleep. And to prevent that, your father stays awake with you

-most nights like this are spent sitting in the living room with a random movie on the TV while you and Noa just talk and talk until you get tired

-he always makes your favourite tea, hot choccy, warm milk, or whatever other (non-caffeinated) warm beverage you’re craving

-occasionally, Noa falls asleep on the couch and you always wonder if you should wake him up or let him continue sleeping. Usually you don’t wake him up because you know how tired your father is most of the time

-but sometimes, he wakes up by himself after like 10 minutes and he keeps apologizing. He feels guilty because he doesn’t like leaving you alone when he knows negative thoughts could flood your brain at any moment

-that’s why he also made you promise to immediately wake him up whenever that happens

Lavinho

-he doesn’t mind staying up longer at all. This guy could get 5 minutes of sleep and would be as energized as he always is

-when you can’t sleep, you and your dad play video games together!! Usually competitive ones like Mario Kart but sometimes ones for which you have work together like Stardew Valley

-it’s also the perfect chance to catch up and talk about stuff when you have busy weeks during which you barely see each other during daytime

-but because of your insomnia Lavinho does forbid you to drink anything that has caffeine in it. Cola, energy drinks and coffee are completely banned from the house. Yes, he doesn’t drink it anymore either because if you can’t, he won’t either

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @luvcalico @truegoist @st4rcheese @acacIa @kermitslefteyeball11 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @blueberrryui @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @chaosinanutshell @mang05 @arxliana @zyuuuu @vanitasbrainrot @toruden @mafuyudonutt @weichspuelertrinker @depressed-bitchy-demon @kaiserkisser @yellowelectroslime @0rah-s @yerinsshi @slowlyholypeanut @isagikisser

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @morningberriesao3! morningberries has 15 works in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@steddieas-shegoes recommends the following works by @morningberriesao3:

Sweet Surrender

Sneaky Link

How I’d Kill (to See You Again)

"If I could write a sonnet, it would be about berries. She specializes in that very specific angst with a happy ending that grips you by the jaw and spits in your mouth and then you say thank you because it tastes so good. So anyway love her, love her work, love everything about what she writes and does. 10000/10" -- @steddieas-shegoes

Below the cut, @morningberriesao3 answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Funnily enough, it all started when I exclusively read Eddie x reader on tumblr. I didn't have an account yet, so I made a quick burner and would gobble up anything under the tag. I always saw people on the internet "shipping" characters but never really understood it, until I came across one particular fic called Wild Parts, where the pairing was reader x Steddie. I remember being more excited for Steve and Eddie to fall in love than I was with the reader aspect. It all went downhill from there when I discovered there was a whole community that loves Steddie. I decided one day, yeah, I want to make them fall in love, too!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Honestly, the first thing that comes to mind is the classic friends-to-lovers where Steve has a sexuality crisis because he's falling for Eddie. I could read it over and over and never get sick of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I feel like angst with a happy ending is common ground for, like, 90% of my fics. I also find myself constantly writing miscommunication, and giggling at all the comments that say, "IF THEY JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER!" Yeah. That's a point to be made.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

It's quite literally impossible to choose just one when there are so many talented Steddie writers creating new works everyday. I'll rapid fire a few that pop to mind first (all on AO3): Sea Legs by Midnightdrive. Drought by a_star_danced. Wanna Hurt You Just to Hear You Screaming My Name by DotyTakeThisDown. I've Been Having a Horrible Time Pulling Myself Together by Deadrats. Stupid Cupid by DirtyValentine. Money, Power, Glory by StrangerThings1975.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Definitely! I want to write ALL the tropes! I think the reason writing Steddie hasn't become redundant for me is because each time I write a fic, I want it to be different from the last. I rack my brain like, "Okay, I've already done Kas Eddie, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, No Upside Down, Modern Setting, Rock Star Eddie... What's next?!" 

What is your writing process like?

It's a very linear process for me. I'm somewhat of a daydreamer; I see the things I write in my head almost like a movie. And then I just type it out as it plays in my brain. I rarely outline anything, but I'll have random gibberish in my notes app to remind me of ideas or big plot points I need to wrap up. I'm honestly surprised anything I write makes sense when I'm through with it. I'm waiting for the chaos of it all to bite me in the ass one day.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I don't know if it's a quirk so much as a fault, but I do this thing where I let my comments pile up and pile up. I won't let myself answer one until I can answer them ALL, because I don't want anyone to think I'm ignoring their comment specifically. I also have to match the energy of the comment, so when it's super long I HAVE to write something back that's super long. This makes it an hours-long task when I let them go for as long as I do unanswered. If anyone hasn't gotten a reply back yet, I PROMISE I WILL!!! 

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

In a perfect world, I'd only start posting a project when it's completed so I could keep up with a posting schedule. Reality is: having 20 WIPs saved to my laptop in which I'll post the first couple chapters as motivation for me to finish it. It's a flawed system, but it works out most of the time!

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think it'll always be Sweet Surrender. It was my first fic and the first time I had ever completed something similar to a novel after it was wrapped up at 150K. When I look back, I see some flaws, but I'd never want to change them. If we're talking about which fic I think I wrote the best, I'd say How I'd Kill. The fantasy universe allowed me to get creative with the plot and scenery, and I think my excitement for that is reflected in my quality of writing.

How did you get the idea for Sweet Surrender?

Sweet Surrender is an amalgamation of every fic I read and loved when I first was introduced to the fandom. I basically owe it to all the favourite fics I mentioned earlier. Without their inspiration, I never would have started writing fic in the first place. 

When writing Sweet Surrender, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response. I cannot capture in words how GOOD it felt when people started reading, commenting on, and loving something that I created. You see it mentioned all the time, but it really is true when they say that a comment goes a long way. I was absolutely gobsmacked to see people following along from the beginning. It was such a motivator, and truly a feeling that nothing else could give me.

What inspired Sneaky Link?

I read Must Be a Devil Between Us, Or Whores In My Head by whateverokayFINE (a modern, OnlyFans AU that Sneaky Link could never touch)—loved it SO much that those daydreams I mentioned took off. It stayed as an unposted WIP for a long time because I told myself that I couldn't write a convincing modern AU. I'm so glad I did though, because I've never had a response to a fic like I've had with Sneaky Link.

What was your favorite part to write from Sneaky Link?

There were so many fun side plots to Sneaky Link—the whole thing was a blast to write. One of my favourites was the main conclusion, when Chrissy got to be the hero. Glitter and Chanel No. 5 really saved the day. Of course the first few chapters were hilarious, too. Dumbass, clueless Eddie will never fail to make me giggle, and his obliviousness to Steve's hidden identity really drove everyone up the wall.

How do/did you feel writing How I’d Kill (to See You Again)?

This story really had its CLAWS in me. I wrote the chapters so fast that I think I put out almost 50K words in a matter of four weeks; I've really never written that quickly before or since. The last few chapters were a little slower going, though. I think I was nervous as the plot got a little heavier how people would react, so there were definitely some mixed emotions.

What was the most difficult part of writing How I’d Kill (to See You Again)?

When I wrote Eddie betraying such a soft, loving, trusting Steve. When he pinned that part of his personality against him. I love writing angst, but I had never delved quite this deep into the trope. I definitely teared up a couple times making Steve go through it like that.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Without spoiling much, I think the end scene of chapter 7 of How I'd Kill (The Judas Kiss) was absolutely thrilling to write, and of course the following chapters as well. This whole idea of "morally gray" Eddie Munson was the reason I started writing the fic in the first place. But when I got to the bit where he had to be morally gray and posted the chapter, I immediately had this fear; I didn't know how the readers were going to react, or if I, as the writer, would be able to properly explain Eddie's motivation or make him forgivable for what he did. It was an "oh shit" moment for sure, but I think I ended up doing an alright job pulling it off.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I'm currently writing a piece for the 2024 Steddie Big Bang called "A Thousand Flowers Could Bloom". It's in collaboration with Inflomora-art, so I'm completely thrilled that I'll have gorgeous artwork to go with this fic. I'm sure by the time this is posted, it'll already be live! I'm so proud of this story—it might be the best I've written yet. So yeah, if you're reading this, please check it out!!! 

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I don’t think so, but thank you so much for this! It was really fun to answer all these questions <3

Thank you to our author, @morningberriesao3, and our nominator, @steddieas-shegoes! See more of morningberries' works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 05 -> CH 06

"Didn't you say you had already befriended your neighbors daughter?" "I'd hardly call us friends. She doesn't know I'm crazy yet."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl

"How is your sleep? Is it leveling out or are you still experiencing fatigue?" Jack stretched out in front of the computer screen and yawned.

"It's still weird. Some days I'm too exhausted to function. Other days I work my ass off to clear out the house but when I finally lay down, I just can't shut my mind off." Jack explained.

"What goes through your mind when you find yourself unable to sleep?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Everything...nothing at all...I think about what I might do the next day or working on the book but then I'm too exhausted to even sit in the chair." Jack was growing annoyed with how his meds made him like a zombie. His brain was far too developed to not be able to use it during the day time.

"How about your appetite? Are you eating regularly?" Jack hated having to explain that he was miserable because his body required these meds to stay sane.

"Not as often as I should. Most of that is because I haven't done the grocery shopping yet. I have to put in an order." Jack listened to the hum come from the doctor.

"Have you thought about maybe going to the grocery store? Getting out among the people just to explore." Jack laughed.

"Yeah I'm not sure I have the energy for that. Maybe if I go late at night but I don't want to mingle just yet." Jack couldn't imagine having to walk through the grocery store having people stare at him or offer condolences that are empty and way too late. He wouldn't mind running into Y/n but that's a different story.

"Didn't you say you had already befriended your neighbors daughter?" Dr. Carty questioned making notes.

"I'd hardly call us friends. She doesn't know I'm crazy yet." Jack explained with a self deprecating laugh.

"You aren't crazy Jack. People live completely normal lives with mental illness. It's like any other illness and you are taking the steps towards a bit more normalcy." Dr. Carty had been with Jack since he checked into the facility. He felt like Jack absolutely needed to be hospitalized for the time he was in order to not only get to the root of his trauma but to allow his brain time to come to terms with it. He recognized all the progress he's made and wanted him to feel proud of that.

"Well how does it feel to interact with someone your own age who isn't a doctor?" Jack shrugged.

"She's fine. I mean we have a really cohesive sense of humor. I think if we did hang out, it wouldn't be awful but I'm pretty sure she's a nurse or something. She wears scrubs whenever she's not in regular clothes and when she's in regular clothes she's usually care-giving for her mom." Dr. Carty laughed making Jack tilt his head.

"You like her." He said confidently.

"What? No! We've had two conversations. That's hardly enough time to develop a liking to anyone." Jack defended.

"Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?" Now Jack knew the doc was fucking with him.

"Yeah, thankfully I live in the real world. Plus everyone knows it's more like lust at first sight. No one can fall in love just seeing someone. That's based entirely on physical attraction." Jack was more of a pessimist when it came to love and attraction. Plenty of people could be attractive but love is few and far between. Jack can count on one hand how many people he's genuinely loved in his entire life.

"Well is she attractive?" Dr. Carty pressed.

"She's conventionally attractive, yes. I mean she hasn't cured my lack of sex drive but again, we've only spoken twice. I don't think I could fuck even if I wanted to." Jack had known the Doc for long enough that his random bouts of vulgarity didn't make him flinch.

"So you have decent conversation with a pretty woman who can match your intellect and has a dog you enjoy spending time with...She doesn't sound like an awful friend to make. Maybe you should work on that." Jack pushed away from the computer and ran his hands down his face.

"Why? I don't want to ruin anyone else's life. She's clearly a much better person than I am and she's already agreed to let me take the dog for walks on occasion so why risk ruining that with her getting to know me?" Jack genuinely feared letting anyone close at this point. Shanda had been with him since day one and the only person who has gotten a pass is the Doc and that wasn't something Jack asked for but has gotten used to.

"She's not Cleo, Jack." The mention of Cleo knocked the wind out of his chest.

"I know that." Jack whispered timidly before standing from his chair to move to the window.

"Just because you never received closure from her doesn't mean you can't move forward. You have done your part in taking accountability. We knew going into that you might not received the absolution of forgiveness." Dr. Carty himself had reached out to Cleo and was told she didn't care if Jack had dropped dead, she refused to talk to him after having their child cremated alone. Jack had sent a twenty page letter without any sort of response and when he sent a follow up, it was returned to sender.

The few times he dared to check social media, she had erased him from her entire existence. She had a memorial post for the baby but she didn't use his last name. When he accidentally liked one of her posts, he was met with a block on all outlets. Shanda had assured him that she had moved on and was doing better but he held onto that guilt for abandoning her after such a sudden miscarriage.

"What are you thinking Jack?" Doc's voice broke through his thoughts as he stood at the window. He could see Y/n down in her mother's garden watering the flowers and talking to her mom who was sitting in a wheelchair on the porch with Ace in her lap. He didn't need to know Y/n well to see she was a good person.

"The best thing she could do is to stay away from me. I'm just...I don't deserve that again. I wasted it the first time and ruined someone's life. What would I even do if I allowed myself to find that with someone else after Cleo? How do I explain to someone what I did to someone I loved enough to want to marry and start a family with?" Jack's ranting started to make his chest hurt.

"Jack, I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath." Jack became annoyed but did as he was told counting in his head as he took a few deep breaths.

"You need to remember that we are not our mistakes. We all have flaws and blemishes but it's how we right our wrongs that define us. You are not a bad person." Jack opened his eyes feeling a slight burn from squeezing them so tightly. Jack let out a breath before digging in his pocket for a lighter, picking up a cigarette and opening the window abruptly. The daylight made it hard for his eyes to adjust at first but he didn't realize the sound of the window would draw any attention towards him. He was met with Y/n's gaze as he took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"You have to forgive yourself Jack. If you don't let go of that weight, it will drown you." Jack kept his eyes on Y/n as she smiled at him and waved. Jack returned a weak smile, biting his lip.

"I want to...I really do but I just don't think I can." Jack admitted out loud glancing over at the screen to see Dr. Carty was frowning. He hated ending his sessions on a such a negative feeling but he knew he was out of time today. He knew that Doc didn't want to leave him alone with these thoughts so he gave him self work to do over the weekend so it would keep him occupied. Self work always made him roll his eyes because he could knock assignments out easily but whenever he sat down to work on his writing, his mind would be blank. All he wanted to do was figure out how to feel normal again.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

because i needed the reminder today:

it is okay to adapt & improvise “normal” tasks to work for you. it is okay to break them into smaller steps. it is okay to take breaks. it is okay to approach in a “nonsensical” way.

if it works for you, and it isn’t hurting someone, breaking a law (caveat in tags), or going to lose you a job/get you kicked out of a school that you need (bend rules as far as they’ll bend, but don’t hurt yourself/your future in the process if you can avoid it), do that.

do what works for you.

yeah, do this for more complex tasks.

do your homework one question at a time if you can. use a premade sauce to make your favourite food if you don’t have the spoons to make it the “normal” way.

make the steps smaller and do them more frequently. take longer breaks in-between.

but i’m talking ‘simple’ tasks too.

wash every outfit the day you use it, as soon as you change. ¿is it more water? maybe. but you deserve clean clothes. if it’s difficult to remember or rely on your spoons/energy/physical limits to be able to wash things once a week or once a month, then adapt. find a way that works for you.

also, if you’re also recently discovered autistic &/or ADHD, or you’re newly physically/mentally disabled (or recent ish & still coming to terms with it), I see you.

it’s frustrating to simplify or give up on things you could’ve done before. it’s exhausting to find all the things you can’t do that you always could, especially if you never thought you would see a day you can’t do it.

you are still worthy of love and care. yes, even now. especially now.

(more personal examples & also direct comfort/reassurance below the cut)

i can’t do long staircases anymore. i used to love running up them, running or hopping down the steps. now I shakily take one step at a time, leaning heavily on a cane, and my ankles/knees still tremble and hurt. (i’m hypermobile & some of my connective tissue is deteriorating.)

i can’t read academic texts by myself anymore. there’s so many feelings about that, and it’s the most recent curve of acceptance.

i realized 3 or 4 days ago that the reason i’m falling behind on the readings for astronomy & human development (which I find fascinating) is because of the length of the readings. i keep up in sociology, but it’s smaller chapters & less reading, & I can usually skim for terms & catch enough info to participate in class. but in order to pass my classes, in order to succeed, that requires me to use a text-to-speech website or app, or to have a friend read for me.

for those who don’t know, i’m a creative writer. i write fiction and poems like it’s nothing. i also love the feel of a physical book. i’ve stayed in denial, thinking that i just need to break it into small chunks.

but i got a traumatic brain injury in November of 2019, that most affected my prefrontal cortex. i need that to focus, to self-regulate. i need it to read effectively, let alone long amounts of text.

i’ve stayed in denial about how bad that injury was, because i had enough to deal with due to everything else that nasty concussion did (shaking trauma memories loose, breaking masks & layers of amnesia within trauma disorders, breaking autism mask, severe emotional dysregulation i’m still recovering from).

but i can’t keep up with university classes if i keep trying to force myself to read the same way i did before. i need to use screen readers or text-to-speech, i need to rely on friends or family. i need to accept help.

and it sucks. it’s a terrifying loss of independence. it’s frustrating. there’s a lot of grief.

but this is my life now. i have to adapt.

all this to say, be gentle and kind with yourself. treat yourself the way you want to be treated. learn to tolerate yourself. (i would say ‘accept & love yourself’ but that’s its own learning curve.) adapt your space & your actions to match your current capabilities. prioritize completing self-care tasks, even if you don’t/can’t do it perfectly.

you deserve to, and can, accommodate yourself. the world around you may not be accessible, but as much as you’re able (to your degree of independence & financial limits/budgets), find ways to accommodate yourself.

and treat yourself once in a while. it doesn’t have to be expensive or difficult. sitting in your car (if you have one) in the lot of a nature park is better than never seeing trees. a poor-quality drawing is better than never drawing again. a cheap thrifted or dollar store plushy is better than no plushy. whatever it is you want to do or have, within your limits, do it your way. treat yourself to your favourite things if you can.

we weren’t put into this world to suffer. we weren’t put in this world to lose all our dreams.

we arrived to live. we arrived to have fun. we arrived to create. we arrived to play. we arrived to love (platonic, romantic, etc.). we arrived to dance and sing (even “badly”).

and maybe your disabilities steal some of these from you. but if you can find even one thing that makes it worth it, if you can make one thing accessible again....do it. make it happen. you deserve happiness and relief and love, especially now.

and if you don’t believe it right now, that’s okay. i’ll hold hope for you until you can. 💜

~Nico

[romione-trope-fest]

Sleep Hexed

Title: Sleep Hexed

Author: cheesyficwriter

Selected Trope: Only One Bed

Brief Summary: A No Voldemort tale featuring two idiots in love who don’t quite know it yet. Post-Hogwarts years.

Rating: T

Word Count (if applicable): 3,738

Trigger Warnings: N/A

---

Chapter One

Sleep. 

Interesting, isn’t it? 

All humans need to have the energy to go about their daily lives. Although sleep is unavoidable, the task can become significantly compromised at any moment. 

For Hermione? Sleep has always seemed so simple, yet it causes her much more grief than she cares to admit. 

It’s midday during an impossible season of trials at the Ministry, and she can’t focus on the work that needs to be done simply because she tossed and turned all night long. Instead of her brain deciding that she needed proper rest before a full day of work, Hermione found herself laying awake for the fifth straight night in a row. 

Why can’t she sleep when it feels like she’s tried everything in the books to help her? Hermione always maintains proper hygiene, avoids caffeine as much as possible, performs a nightly Atmospheric Charm to keep her bedroom at an ideal temperature, and even has a set bedtime—no matter how often she has to remind Ron and Harry that the use of her Floo after ten in the evening should only be for emergencies!

Although the cafeteria is bustling with energy during the busy Ministry lunch hour, Hermione’s only point of focus is to mentally strategize ways to get at least an hour of shut eye tonight. Yet she nudges the food around on her plate with her fork, lacking any appetite to eat. 

Her legs are restless beneath the table as she fights the urge to bounce her knee in a jerky rhythm. Ron slides into the empty seat across from her, kinking an eyebrow in her direction as the table shakes from her incessant knee movement. He opens his mouth as if he wants to address it, but says nothing. Hermione bites her lip to hold back a yawn, her eyelids drooping of their own volition. 

“Ron!” Harry plops into the open chair next to Hermione without warning, his eyes bright. She jumps as his lunch tray clatters onto the table. “Mate, that match last night—”

“Was fucking brilliant!”

The two boys fall into a natural conversation, allowing Hermione’s thoughts to drift to topics that don’t involve her. She takes a long sip of her water, hoping the sensation will keep her engaged long enough to excuse herself to the loo without appearing suspicious.

Harry and Ron discuss Quidditch stats for the next five minutes, but her red-headed best friend steals glances her way every so often. A throbbing headache beneath Hermione’s temples grows stronger and stronger with the excessive noise in the room. As she reaches for her glass of water again, her hand collides with the rim and tips the clear liquid onto the table. 

“Bugger!” Hermione withdraws her wand and mutters a quick Scourgify, but nothing happens. She inwardly groans, agitated over her inability to even hold her wand with a steady enough hand.  

Unfortunately, she isn’t the only one who notices. Ron frowns and stops speaking mid-sentence, studying her movements with sudden interest. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?" 

"You. With your wand, just now.” He nods at the 10 and ¾ inch of vinewood dangling loosely between her fingers. “You fumbled a simple spell.”

Hermione scoffs at the critique. “Thanks, Ron.”

“No! It’s just—” He blunders, gesturing towards her face. “I mean it’s you. You’re brilliant. Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel a bit off today. That’s all.” The retort snaps out of her mouth all too quickly. “Maybe I’ll leave early to get some rest.”

“Leave early?” Ron snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You mean actually leave on time with the rest of us for once?”

Hermione rolls her eyes but clamps her mouth shut. It’s baffling how he manages to keep track of her work hours when he’s usually the one cutting out early. But she’s certainly not going to tell him that. 

Ron sighs, propping his elbows on the table as he leans forward. A whiff of sandalwood hits Hermione’s nose, and she struggles to find a way to hold her own underneath the intensity of his gaze. 

The growing lump in her throat is too difficult to swallow down, so instead she averts her eyes while mulling over a way to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Are you getting enough sleep, Hermione?”

He’s so dangerously close, it’s unnerving. Can he spot the dark circles around her eyes? She’s tried so hard to conceal them with magic this week. Hermione blinks as she fights off another yawn. In a curt tone, she responds, “I’m getting sleep, yes." 

Hermione omits the max one hour a night part, but still. 

Both of Ron’s index fingers shoot out from the fists propping his chin up. "Your spell must be wearing off. These weren’t there earlier.”

He’s pointing right at her eyes. Oh Merlin.

The implication of Ron’s words rings loud and clear. But Hermione is determined to remain Silencio regarding her sleep cycle. She just needs time to sort out what to do with her dilemma. 

“You’re still coming to our party at Grimmauld Place tonight, right?” Harry asks through a mouthful of pea soup, cutting in like he hasn’t been listening to their conversation, even though it’s obvious that he has. It’s so like him to want to maintain the peace. “Gin will hex you if you don’t.”

It kind of feels like I’ve already been hexed.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to see how the rest of the afternoon goes.”

Ron tuts, clearly not happy with her answer. “What are you on about? You have to come!” 

“I don’t think I have to do anything, Ron.” Her scathing reply comes out much snappier than she intends. She can tell her mood is starting to swing in the wrong direction, and she needs to put a stop to it before her friends pry any further. “Look, I’ll try my best to make it. I’ve got to get back to work.”

As she stands up with her tray, Ron mutters under his breath, “Got to get some sleep is more like it.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right, and that’s what’s so frustrating.  

Hermione ignores his comment and starts on her brisk walk towards the Floo, as fast as her legs can carry her. She’s got a stack of files on her desk at home. Maybe taking a half day and tending to those would be a sufficient amount of work for the day. Kingsley will understand, and she’ll make sure to send him notice as soon as she arrives at her flat. 

Although not certain she’ll have the energy to even make it to the gilded fireplaces, Hermione has to try.  There’s a good chance that she might give in to her fatigue before she is even out of view from her two best friends. And she certainly doesn’t want to be caught drooling all over the papers on her desk in the Law Enforcement department if Ron pops in to check on her. 

A part of her still believes it’s useless to go home right now—with the intention of getting some rest—when there is so much work to be done. She already knows that as soon as she crawls into bed, she’ll be wide awake again. 

–

It’s no surprise that Hermione ends up at Harry and Ginny’s party, after all. 

Even though Ron had sent an Owl to persuade her to attend—five times, to be exact—it’s still a decision that she made on her own. 

After giving it much thought, instead of getting her desperately desired sleep, it occurred to Hermione that exhausting herself at a large gathering might be exactly what she needs to fall into a snooze-filled dream tonight. 

So here she is. Along with every other witch and wizard from her year at Hogwarts, apparently. It didn’t occur to her that this would be a class reunion. Harry really does like to embellish when he insists that “it’ll just be a small gathering with a few friends” but there’s no turning back now. 

Music surges over the boisterous conversation as Hermione steps out of the Floo, and the atmosphere is immediately electric. The party is in full swing as she squeezes her way through the sweaty bodies of many familiar faces who greet her upon arrival. 

Luna is twirling underneath the large overhead chandelier in the center of the entryway. The twins are giving out free demonstrations of their joke products to individuals who are none the wiser. Ginny is already the life of the party, stumbling around and singing off-key to a Celestina Warbeck classic. 

The air is hot and sticky, clearly evidenced by the prickle of sweat developing on Hermione’s forehead. It’s quickly apparent that even with so many partygoers pressing in all around her, she still feels alone, as ridiculous as that sounds. 

At least until Ron appears out of nowhere, as if he’s just apparated straight into the middle of the drawing room. It’s a possibility, but it would be an impressive feat for someone holding two drinks in his hand. He thrusts one cup in Hermione’s direction.

Her nose wrinkles as she catches a strong whiff of cheap whiskey. “What is this?”

“It’s a drink,” he yells over the music, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You look like you need one more than anyone else here.”

She knows exactly what he means without needing to go into more detail. Loosen up, Hermione. You’re too proper. 

A heavy sigh leaves Hermione’s lips, but she takes the drink he offers. “Thanks. Great party.”

Ron cups a hand around his ear, leaning closer. “What did you say?" 

"Nevermind,” she shouts, just as her gaze falls on a man standing across the room, waving both hands in their direction. “I think Dean is looking for you.”

He follows Hermione’s point, snorting when he spots Dean and Seamus gesturing to the pyramid display of flipped over plastic drinkware set for another round of the wildly popular House Cup. Before jetting off, Ron’s fingers close over her arm. “Will you stay?”

The urgency displayed in his eyes warms Hermione’s cheeks. She falters, but agrees. “I’ll stay.”

Making such a promise turns out to be a hard one to keep. Apart from frequent check-ins by Ron, she keeps to herself. While her time at Hogwarts was great—fantastic, really—the best memories she has are with Ron and Harry, navigating their classes and gorging themselves on monthly Hogsmeade trips. 

Many of her classmates once spread rumors that she was in a love triangle with Ron and Harry. It was absolutely absurd! None of them had ever crossed that line. Can’t men and women be just friends without any romance brewing? She was there for Harry as he sorted out his feelings for Ginny and helped him come up with a solid plan to tell Ron, which turned out to be not so solid, but Ron got over it eventually. The boys were also there for her when she got her heart broken by Viktor Krum—well, more so Harry. Although Ron used to worship the Bulgarian Seeker, he is always in a foul mood nowadays whenever the subject of Viktor is broached. That particular period of Hermione’s life is now hidden away in the Forbidden Forest of conversational topics. 

Throw Lavender Brown in that forest too, but no need to go into detail there. 

Regardless of her close friendship with Ron and Harry, she’s now surrounded by many people who have better relationships with the boys than anyone else ever did with her. 

Is that Hermione’s fault? Did she not socialize enough at school? Sure, she took her studies seriously and spent more time in the library than on the Quidditch pitch, but Ron and Harry did their part to remind her to take breaks long enough to have some fun from time to time. 

The thought consumes her, enough to crave more breathing space. Hermione scans the olive green walls that seem to be caving in on her, looking for an escape. She locates the grand staircase at the end of the hall, which spurs a new idea. Of course! Harry recently converted one of the bedrooms upstairs into a library. She’ll take a short perusal through the stacks and then return to the party afterward, refreshed and ready to mingle. 

Once she navigates through her schoolmates and reaches the landing at the top of the stairs, her attention goes over the banister to the people down below. Hermione catches a flash of ginger hair in the entrance hall and meets Ron’s gaze. His brows furrow as she ascends the stairs, as if he has been keeping his eye on her the whole time. 

Oh well. He can follow me if he wants.

Hermione continues on her path until she reaches the library, jiggling the rusty doorknob until it creaks open. The darkly-lit room has a faint, musty scent of wood, and she could sneeze from the amount of dust clouding the air. Harry really needs to tidy up the place. 

Yet she could still spend hours in this dark corner, looking for hidden treasures or important insights. Harry’s bookshelf, she soon discovers, leaves much to be desired. It’s mostly filled with miscellaneous titles, such as Charm Your Own Cheese, and a stack of old periodicals, like the Sunday Prophet and Which Broomstick. The real eyebrow raiser though has to be his copy of 12 Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Was that one a Ginny purchase?

And not a single one of their textbooks from school! 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to hide out here all night.”

Hermione grins despite the disruption, knowing that Ron would follow her. His curiosity always wins in the end. After setting one of the books back onto the shelf, she turns to find him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Taking a step forward, she goads, “I didn’t realize I needed a security guard to keep a watchful eye over me.”

Ron’s eyes twinkle. “Did you just label me as a security guard? That’s a bit insulting.”

“Says the Auror with a massive ego—which proves my point, honestly.”

It’s amazing how their banter is doing wonders to re-energize her. Getting into a compelling argument is the only strategy that really works to keep her mind off her present situation. And for that, Ron is the best partner.

“And furthermore,” she continues before he has a chance to contend her claim, “it’s clear that you managed to lose your game of House Cup, seeing as how you have nothing better to do than to visit me in a library—of all places to find the likes of Ron Weasley!”

Ron’s eyes narrow as he takes a slow step in her direction. “Why are you picking a fight right now?”

“I’m not.”

I am. 

“You are, and it usually means you are avoiding something.”

All these years of knowing Ron Weasley, and she had somehow forgotten how well Ron Weasley knows her.

“Are you deflecting?” He continues, not loosening up on his interrogation tactics. “Is this still about our conversation from earlier? Please tell me you at least got some rest when you went home.”

“Rest, maybe. Actual sleep, definitely not.”

His lips press into a firm, thin line. She hates when he gets concerned. Ron is so fussy and determined and stubborn. The minute he sniffs out a problem with her, he gets all bent out of shape until he solves it. 

“Have you taken any Dreamless Sleep? I don’t recommend extended use of that stuff, but if you need something to give you a little push—”

Hermione holds back the urge to roll her eyes, not interested in hearing a list of solutions that she’s already worked through herself. “Tried it. Didn’t work.”

“How about seeing a Healer at St. Mungo’s?”

After two days of minimal to no sleep, it was the first place she went. “They say I’m perfectly healthy and there are no physical indicators as to why I’m not sleeping.”

“Well, have you tried counting Hippogriffs?”

Hermione’s forehead crinkles at the absurdity of his suggestion. “What?”

“You know, as the saying goes?” Ron waves a flippant hand. “Don’t Muggles count to one hundred in their head using some sort of quantifier? Like Chocolate Frogs?”

“It’s sheep, actually.” Hermione covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. 

“Even better!” Ron gives an exaggerated head roll when she doesn’t react. "Well, I think it would be fun.”

She really can’t think of something she’d rather do less, honestly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Ron taps his chin, giving this unauthorized role of being her Healer for the day a considerable amount of thought. “Have you tried keeping your room dark and cool?”

“Always.”

“Ear plugs?”

“It’s almost too quiet.”

“White noise charm in your room?”

“Doesn’t work.”

Ron’s shoulders sag as he slumps back against the wall, blowing out a steady stream of air that removes a stray ginger curl out of his eyes. “Of course you’ve bloody tried everything.”

Hermione releases a frustrated groan before sprawling herself out on the black velvet chaise in the corner of the room. Ron follows her, nudging her boots hanging off the edge of the furniture.

“Budge up.” 

“Fine,” Hermione grumbles, lifting her legs up long enough for Ron to slide in. He lowers her legs down over his lap. 

“Well, you just recently transferred from Care of Magical Creatures to the Law Enforcement Department.” He squeezes her ankles in a supportive manner. “Give yourself some time to sort it all out. You’re probably just in your head too much.”

The longer Hermione goes without so much as a power nap, the less convinced she is that Ron’s theory is true. 

She flops a hand over her eyes and allows a small yawn to escape her. Where did that come from? “I’m actually pretty tired right now.”

“Good. Sleep.”

Although she can feel her consciousness ebbing away, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor because all Hermione wants to do is continue talking to Ron. She needs to convince him that she will be just fine, and that she will figure out a solution on her own. 

Still, her eyelids flutter closed as she allows the world to fade to black.

–

A blazing ray of sunlight filters through Hermione’s eyes. The tingling sensation in her hand indicates that it must still be heavy with sleep, and her eyes shift to find the culprit. 

Ron.

The last visual she can recall is him sitting next to her on the chaise. Now he’s sprawled across the length of the seat, squashed in between her and the backrest. It’s also very likely that she’ll fall flat on her face given the precarious position she is now resting in, much in thanks to Ron’s body taking up most of the available space. 

Her legs and feet dangle off the edge of the chaise, and the lack of proper pillow support has her head tilted downward towards the floor. She’s even got sore limbs and a kink in her neck to prove it.

Wait, is it morning?

Hermione gasps, making a quick attempt to sit up, but she can’t move with the weight of Ron’s arm curled tightly around her waist. 

What in the world—

“Ron, wake up,” she hisses, nudging an elbow back to poke him in the ribs.

“Mmm…no.” Ron sniffs the air, shaking his head down into her curls that are splattered across his face. “Not the spiders, Mum.”

Hermione holds back her laughter, giving him a rougher shake. “Wake up, Ron!”

He groans, an action that only pulls her tighter against his chest. The pressure steals a significant amount of air from her lungs. “Ron, oomph, I can’t breathe!”

“What?” He finally croaks, his eyes clouding over in a sleep-filled haze. “Hermione? Wha—oh, fuck, sorry!”

Unfortunately Ron’s sudden realization of their positioning doesn’t fare too well for Hermione, who tumbles to the ground with a squeak as he releases his hold on her. It’s sheer luck that her forearms break her fall, preventing her from actually landing on her head. 

Ouch. That’ll leave a bruise later. 

“Shit!”

Hermione rolls her eyes, huffing stray pieces of hair out of her face. “Language, Ron!”

“Fu—er, I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know…wait, is it morning?”

She clammers to her feet, rolling out her wrists. Glad you’re catching up, Ron. “We must’ve fallen asleep.”

Ron nods, letting out a yawn and stretching his arms above his head. “That’s good though, right? Looked like you needed the rest.”

A throat clears, alerting Hermione to another occupant in the room. Harry stands in the doorway clad in his pajamas and full of messy bedhead, squinting his eyes through his glasses. 

“Blimey, I thought you two had left. I saw the light on when I was walking to the loo.”

Hermione meets Ron’s gaze, both sets of their eyes widening.  “Uhm, actually we were just chatting. Must have lost track of time,” she manages to get out through shaky breaths. 

Harry’s eyes dart between both of them, appearing unconvinced. “All night?”

“Yeah.” Ron’s gaze remains fixed on Hermione, a slight twinkle in his eye. “All night.”

Hermione’s fists clench into two tiny balls at her sides. If Harry had shown up just mere moments earlier, he would have found them asleep together. What could he have possibly imagined then?

“You do realize it’s morning now?” Harry continues on with his line of questioning. 

Ron tilts his head towards the window in the room. “Worked that out for ourselves, thanks.”

“Got to be honest, Ginny was pretty miffed when she thought you two left without saying goodbye.” Harry crosses his arms, a devilish grin curling onto his face. “Wait until she sees that you’re still here!”

“I’ve got to go actually,” Hermione blurts out. There is no possible universe in which she will stick around long enough for Ginny to take the mickey out of her over this. “Crookshanks needs his breakfast and he’s a right terror whenever it’s late.”

Ron harrumps. “Bloody cat. Want me to see you home, Hermione?”

“I can get myself there, thanks.” With a brief wave at both of the boys, she exits the room in a hurry before either of them can see her flushed cheeks. 

She fell asleep. She fell asleep.

And it was all because of Ron Weasley.

[minheelovelee]

i’m having fuma brain rot and i’m going crazy for this man rn so do you think you could do a nsfw a-z if you haven’t already? I love your work btw <3

fuma nsfw a-z

thanks for requesting anon!! im glad you like my writing :))) this took a long time hehehe

warnings: nsfw.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

oh he is the sweetest. cleaning you up with a baby wipe and making sure you're clean before you drift off to sleep in his arms. he'll take a bath with you if you have the energy. and he always makes sure to give so so much praise and so so much love. if u have tears or feel sad, don't worry! superhero fuma is here!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

bro likes thighs. a lot. he's so sweet buying cute shorts and thigh highs for your growing collections! if you could be a doll and squeeze your thighs together just a little tighter, he would love that :)

he's worked hard to earn his dream body. he doesn't necessarily have a favorite part of himself. but when he has the strength to fuck you while standing, he can't help but give himself a pat on the back.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

on your back after backshots. he's got a polaroid of that scene in his wallet. he also likes cumming inside. he hates laundry. you're a lot easier to clean than the bedsheets.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he's really come around to the idea of touching you while you're asleep. there's something so enticing about his little girl being so full of peace while he does dirty things with your bodies.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he fucks. no reason to beat around the bush. he has experience, and if he didn't i would be so surprised. he seems to be wise beyond his years, so i don't think this is his first time around the block.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

anything from the back is a strong contender. he loves hitting it from behind. he's a bit mischievous, so he likes when you face away from him. you can never guess what he'll do next.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he fills any role gracefully. he can be silly and lax if that's what supports his partner the most. he can also be the opposite.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he doesn't care to shave. things are pretty natural down there. he knows what an everything shower is and he HATES them.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's actually very romantic and can show a lot of love during sex with his partner. but, he can pull back and be okay with a "no strings attached" relationship. he's in tune with his emotions and understands his partners well.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn't jack off that often. he has horrible post nut clarity. he would take a cold shower before he decided to get off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

his strength kink goes crazy. he's worked hard for his muscular build and loves to show it off. sex against the wall is his favorite thing. he also loves when he uses his arms to make his partner ride his cock. :)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the bedroom or bathroom. specifically the shower. he likes shower/bath sex for the intimacy aspect of it. otherwise he will keep things in the bedroom.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

short clothes.

begging

lingerie

offering blowjobs :)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

won't push his partner's limits. he has rules for you to follow in and out of the bedroom. he can read his partner like a book, so he knows when things have gone too far.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he love love loves sloppy head. if you're not crying by the time your done, you didn't try hard enough. he leans more on the receiving side.

but hes really good at giving head, too. he's very attentive to his partner. 69 while STANDING. woah. i just got dizzy.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he's rougher than most. he likes to take things slowly when there's time. slow, deep, rough. all the buzz words.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he's not crazy about them. he would rather leave you hanging until he has time to devour you. :) he likes to take his time. he also has performance anxiety when he is on a time constraint :P

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think he's willing to experiment. that's how he found out about his strength kink and love for manhandling. he always wants to try something new, and makes sure you're comfortable before moving on.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can have too much stamina at times. sometimes he just has so much pent up energy, he'll go for hours. but he knows when to stop. he keeps the multi-hour sessions to a minimum.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he owns a fleshlight. i don't think it sees the light of day often. he owns a couple vibrators that he lovesss to use on you. watching you squirm and beg is one of his favorite things.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he can be a bit of a tease. he loves watching his partner enjoy themselves. but he also loves seeing their expression when he says something naughty in their ear. he's the type to get you riled up with his hands and words, leaving you needy all day.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's pretty quiet in bed. he moans when he finishes and when you deepthroat him. otherwise he sticks to small grunts and dirty talking quietly.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he's a head pusher. a nice head pusher! he's also a throat fucker. he's become obsessed with laying you on your back and fucking your mouth so he can see the bulge in your throat. :)

"atta girl. taking my cock in your mouth so well. there's a little more for you, love. can you open up wide for me?" head pusher...

"breathe through your nose. good girl. look at you working so hard to make daddy feel good. keep going, sweet girl."

"fuck, you are perfect. i bet you're soaked right now, sweetheart. come sit on daddy's face so i can see."

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

his body is tea. he works so so hard and has the craziest pecs.

his dick is average length. but he's quite thick. you'll feel a stretch every time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive isn't as high as you might think. he's more laid back. he can make out with his partner and have it not lead to sex. he's a strong soldier.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he's awake for a while after sex. he's gotta look out for you and make sure he didn't fuck you up too badly. if you struggle to walk afterward, he'll carry you. even if he's a little tired. :) he waits for you to sleep before he shuts his eyes.

[onmyyan]

NEW PATIENT with Delmont brother brain rot! It’s an infectious disease as this point doc! Gotta share some stuff in my head that I’d love to do to them! ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

Cas: We on a cute date and are in a private isolated area in a park/hiking trail/forested area. We brought a cooler of ice cream and other goods. I am deadlocking eyeing this man as I’m licking this long and thick white ice cream pop. Cas’s is beginning to melt on his fingers and he doesn’t notice it cuz he too busy looking at me his baby. I lick his fingers clean from the ice cream and make sure to get his fingers nice and wet in my mouth and eat his ice cream too while I’m at it. I want his own cream seeping from him as well

Gabe: He playing video games and is with his friends doing a team game or something. It late at night and I want him in bed with me. I look at him and bring a finger to my lips to signal to him shush and continue talking to his friends as normal. I crawl up to him and pull down his pants and part his legs. I give him that mad head and make sure to give ‘em balls plenty of love and attention too. I want this man fighting for his life over the mic head set tryin to act like nothin going on while still gaming and supportin his team

Ricky: I’m just feeling really sadistic today and put him in a cock cage the entire day. I’ll tease him over the phone too the entire day and won’t give him any peace while he’s at work, on lunch break, etc. When he comin home I’m tying him to the bed, and even though he’s begging for sweet release of his friend to pound me, I ain’t having it today. No. I’m riding his face, teasing his balls, and makin it so that he’s perpetually edged the entire night. It’s all about my pleasure only tonight, and when dawn comes and he gotta go to work. I still ain’t taking the cage off despite the overstimulated mess he is. He go to work, no sleep, no sweet release, and what he find that I sent him in his lunch? The key to the cage, with a cute little note that says, “Round 2 tonight?”

Marcos: I’m gonna force this motherfucker to buy me a custom made gold ring with my initials on it so he can wear it cause he’s mine, ya know? Then I’m gonna drip lots of burning hot wax on him and press the ring into the wax on his skin to see if it’ll leave a cute mark or two with my initials indented into his skin. After that I’ll allow him to breed me. Oh and this’ll be filmed secretly, and I’ll only let him watch it if I think he performed well enough for me

Manny: Vibrator dildo up his ass, as his hands and neck is harshly pulled and tied to the bedpost. I learned fancy knife play with butterfly knives just for him, and I’m gonna carve my name onto his skin over his little heart where his tattoo is. And you bet I’m gonna make it pretty as I can. I’m taking my time, calling him pretty things, being his lil cheerleader and everything. When I’m done and satisfied with my art, then it’s his turn to pleasure me, but no knife or blood on me

Sorry it got more demented as it went on. I guess I just naturally matched each brothers energy. Whatchu think?

Love 🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon

👀👄👀 I adore you for this omfg thank you for sending it in I love everything about this

[artemisandhersilverbow]

Ok, if you don't want to engage in some (queer) tin foiling... scroll away.

So first off, I think this song rules. It was one of the few that I let just vibe instead of doing what my brain usually does, which is scrutinize lyrics/marvel over the layers of meaning. It feels like it has Kill Bill energy and that was good enough for me.

My Albatross variation of the TTPD vinyl showed up yesterday — TTPD is perhaps the best her team has done btw — and was pouring over the lyrics last night and paused on I Can Fix Him (No, Really I Can) in particular.

The last line has been one that most people have chuckled at. Like she spent a whole song building up this menacing conceit: "this boy is bad news, but he can't hold a candle to me — I'll handle him." Only to be like, lol jk at the end.

But seeing that last line written out this way scratched at my brain... she really doesn't scream that line at all. Why is it in all caps? And while we're at it... I mean it's an accepted spelling, but technically the incorrect spelling of 'whoa.' It kind of felt, by putting it in caps, like she was calling attention to it. Was it an acronym? Not that I could tell.

But... just to double check... how had she spelled woah/whoa prior? The only song I could think of off the top of my head to check was Better Than Revenge. When reading her lyrics you really wont find 99% of the "whoas" in her discography written because they're more like instrumentals.

And that right there is a "whoa." Of course my eyes twitched at the matching colors of the two vids, but I'll get to that. And then I was only able to find one more written "whoa."

Ok, cool.

But back to Better Than Revenge... It struck me that something had been "fixed" about the song. The famous "she's better known for things that she's done on the mattress" line had been swapped out in the rerecording for "he was a moth to the flame she was holding the matches."

So I looked back at I Can Fix Him... could this be a joke/hint about "fixing" him. Like fixing the pronouns? "WOAH" is an intentional misspelling just by comparing it to her own body of work. But it would be rather clever if the "he" she's referring to (at least on this one layer of the song) was her use of that pronoun in her work. It would make the lines "I can fix him / No, really, I can / And only I can" make even more sense, imo. She's the author of this music and she's rerecording it/making it.

What's more is that the collaged flower in the lyric booklet and the aesthetic of the lyric video are giving me um... big Reputation vibes?

Hey kids, spelling is FUN! Am I absolutely living in delulu thinking that Reputation could also be "fixed" re: pronouns? Oh, I don't doubt it. But I needed to get this out of my brain, out into the world, and let the chips fall as they may and always do.

And at least Taylor Nation is also in on the joke...

[goysus]

Hello! I’ve never actually posted to the fit pac page before, but have been reading it since before purgatory, so I thought it was about time.

I recently rewatched JJBA (Jojo’s bizarre adventure) and realized that it is absolutely necessary that I make a qsmp au for it. Or at least for fit. They’re perfect for each other. Both are about silly goofy gay buff men getting into shenanigans. This is gonna be long, so get ready 😬

starting off, I’m gonna explain an important mechanism in the show. In the show certain people have abilities called “stands”. Stealing this from the wiki here:

“A Stand (スタンド, Sutando) is a visual manifestation of life energy (in other words, the manifestation of the soul of the user). A Stand is an entity psychically generated by its owner, referred to as a Stand User (スタンド使い, Sutando Tsukai).t[1] It generally presents itself as a figure hovering over or near the user and possesses abilities beyond that of an ordinary human, which, depending on the Stand User, can be wielded for good or evil.”

tldr: stands are manefestations of the sole that have cool abilities. important note: only other stand users (people with stands) can see stands (for the most part, there’s like 3 exceptions ever), and if the stand gets hurt, the user gets hurt in the same way.

now, finally getting into characters, I actually reread through all of the stands in the show to find some that I thought would fit 😂. I would highly suggest checking out the wiki if you’re interested or I didn’t clarify enough. Now, characters!!!!

FIT: I decided pretty early on into looking for a stand for him that, while most stands are used for combat, I think his should be used for something else. I feel like he already has so much in the ways of combat, and I feel it would just be a little boring if he just got better at fighting. That’s why, I instead gave him the ability of moody jazz! Also know as moody blues. Moody jazz has the ability to show what’s pretty much a rewind. It can shapeshift into anyone and then replay their movements from a specific point on. They use his ability several times in the show to figure out what happens in certain places, and I thought that would be perfect for Fit with him being a historian! I think it would be fun to let him actually replay what happens so he can get all his historical events in order. They also use it to fake out people by making them think it’s a real person and using it as a decoy, considering harm done to it does not always hurt the user (there are some loopholes). I think this would be good for 2b fit to use. I imagine he would have developed his stand earlier on, and also used it to keep him company during 2b2t (similar to Kakyoin in the show using his stand as his friend growing up).

next up, PAC: PAC’s actually took me a lot longer to find. I knew I wanted his to be more combat focused, but I thought it would be better as a defense. I at first thought it would be fun and kinda silly to give him the stand that was literally just a f*ckin gun, but eventually found a much much better match LOL. I decided to give him the stand Lovers! This stand actually manifests as a bunch of little guys, instead of one big guy (it’s the rathinnos >:D). Their ability is that they can attach themselves to someone’s brain stem (yes, they get THAT SMALL) and whenever the host, pac in this case, gets hurt in the slightest bit, whoever the stand is clinging on to feels the pain like 50x as bad. Unlike most other stands, this stand has infinite range, so it can’t be ran away from. I think this stand would have manifested much later on, so it’s after his leg is gone. I think, because this stand is so focused on such a heavy defense, it’s very fitting because it kind of works as a counter to his past trauma. He knows now that all of that can’t happen again because of his new ability (he hopes). I also think it would be fun to explore him being so cautious to use it because pac genuinely doesn’t want to just hurt people for fun, and would use it decently sparingly. I also think it would be fun to explore him questioning his ability and still worrying about cell coming for him, even though he knows logically that he’s prepared now.

That’s we’re I’m gonna leave characters for now! I have many many many more ideas, but I don’t wanna kill y’all with the length of this, so I’ll make a separate post very very soon.

next, location/setting

this show takes place literally across the entire globe, which is another reason I thought it was kinda perfect for the Qsmp. While I had so many good options for the setting, the answer was kinda goddamn obvious. There’s literally an entire part that takes place in a prison. Not only a prison, but a prison in FLORIDA!!!! Could there be a better setting for a hideduo au? I think not. In case you’re wondering, it’s the part that (at the time of writing this) is the last to be animated, Stone Ocean. It also takes place closest to modern day, which is great. story line:

I think if I do ever right this out or expand upon this I would change the story line very drastically. I honestly don’t really know where I’d go with the story, but that’s future me’s problem!

name: I have no clue what to name this au. I might honestly just be lazy and name it

“Fit’s Bizarre Adventure”

just so that the acronym is FBA, which looks like FBI, which my brain finds funny. If anyone has better ideas for a name, please tell me!

fan art: I am an artist, and will be making art for this au hopefully soon, but I am very busy right now, so who know =\(.-.)/=

can you use this idea? Sure! I’m probably gonna make more material for it at some point, but I’m okay with other people making stuff for it too, just so long as you PROPERLY CREDIT IT!!!! I would like to have credit for my idea, and honestly, I wanna see what people think of this :) - also, you can repost if you want! :D

if you have any ideas or suggestions or questions or anything, please leave comments and tags!!! This is my first time writing a post (on any social media actually, dang) and I wanna know what people think!

I really hope at least someone out there likes this,

signing off,

Mayo

[joyswonderland1108]

Koomibruary?

Well hello there Loves 💜 i seem to be officially back (i guess?) well i’m no longer really busy so i guess i have more time for my blog now. Though the first long post i shared was just me ranting but hey, sue me. 

Anygays, i don’t think i have much to say as i’ve been expressing my excitement through dms with my friends so like, i poured the whole energy in there but i thought i would still have my fair share of talk about the koominology that happened the past few days. I mean..

Army : Hel- Jungkook : I need Jimin here right NEOW!! Right this instant! Jimin-ssi come over!  

I mean damn boy okay chill no one is going to kidnap your Jimin-ssi (can’t promise tho wassup) I mean would you look at his face lighting up when he spotted Jimin in the comments

(Credits to Dalto on Twitter for the picture) 

Please that was so fucking adorable felt like opening a Christmas gift. Besides all that i was really happy to see my two babies after a while, hearing from them, seeing them interact with us (Though i won’t say it enough but we really don’t deserve them they’re way too nice considering the shit Army pull towards them) but nonetheless i was happy to see them

Just look at them LOOK!

Now going back to JK’s live precisely the “Chicken live” i know most people were excited about him asking Jimin to come over like second nature (and i was too) but i want to point out at something else, precisely this: 

Now, i don’t even think you need to be Korean or understand Korean to get the point. The way he dropped them honorifics and the tone he used to tell Jimin to take care of himself or well to be healthy, I- FSDHJSDHFDHG!!!!!! My brain stopped braining and i was outside that day i couldn’t even properly scream to the world that THIS was such a boyfriend behavior like.. JEON JUNGKOOK!!!! 

Again, talking about each other on their lives, complimenting each other’s songs, etc.. Okay i see you. With that i wanna talk about some points, well as best as i can i’m really bad at organizing those so if i forgot to mention anything feel free to remind me.

Jimin is busy, JK is not :

From the past contents and their lives we basically understand that Jimin have been really busy preparing to drop his Album now confirmed to be in March rather than February (Someone is getting in trouble for that previous article tho) and well just because we’re assuming that he’s already done with the tracks it doesn’t mean he’s done with everything so understandable, that boy is very busy lately, so far he has been working in silence for a long time but it’s starting to come to the surface now. 

For JK, he already told us back in his Qatar live that he didn’t have any upcoming schedules, he was enjoying his free time, doing his meat tours, maybe spending time with his family, and doing other things 👀. Anygays, he yet again confirmed during his last lives that for now he wasn’t working on his album, that he mostly stays at home, doing nothing, yada yada. 

Why did i even mention the obvious? Well we both know how some people want to discredit their bond so badly that they come up with any kind of excuse for how Jimin and JK are “distant”. Sorry to break it to you Suzan but their schedules are very obviously different and even married people have that issue when the schedules don’t match. 🙄

Jikook won’t be doing lives from home

I guess we’ve all established by now that JK would be doing his lives from Brunnen and Jimin would be doing his lives from the studio. Even before you click on the live notification you already know what to expect, though JK gave us a new background during his last live but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. 

Again for the fools out there who think that JK lives in Brunnen.. I feel bad for you, with that logic Jimin lives in the studio as well. These two are very private and it’s smart of them to be it really, considering how people seem to be unhappy about every other detail about them, i feel like it’s only logic to not want to show not one bit of their actual living spaces. 

Back to back lives

When i asked the Universe for a Jikook live i should’ve been more specific as in, a Jikook live, with both of them physically in the same place, in the same frame Universe-nim!  제발 😭

I’m not complaining tho that is the closest thing to a Jikook live (or selca) we’re getting like.. 

🤷‍♀️

Although it had me wondering do they just play eenie meenie miney mo to decide who goes first or? 

JK’s entourage seem to know Jimin on a different level

Does that even make sense saying it like that? But to explain it better, i’m taking the example of JK’s coach Tommy, when he talked about Hobi yes he of course knows Hobi who doesn’t but he also talked about him as in someone he knows as JK’s best friend and band mate that he saw before maybe once or twice or on rare occasions anyways.

Whereas with Jimin, it’s like coach Tommy is used to seeing Jimin, used to have him there, not just once or twice but on multiple occasions and well considering how Tommy is JK’s coach (unless i’m missing a detail here), it means that Jimin accompanied him many many times before to the point where Jimin is basically friendly with him too. 

Jimin’s reaction or behavior towards JK’s boldness 

Here i meant the difference between last year and this year. Remember how back in beginning of 2022, JK was starting to be a bit bolder about Jimin just really putting it out there that he will keep on holding onto Jimin, that Jimin is his, that he did go see Jimin in his room and hugged, giving him the finger hearts on stage, etc.. And Jimin seemed to be setting some limits to how much was okay to show (I’m not even sure how to put it but i hope my point was clear)

But this year, i mean listen i feel like Jimin just threw the limits out of the window cause while last year he was okay with the forehead “kiss” moment he also shook his head no after JK gave him the heart finger like.. Jimin-ssi, i’m pretty sure JK taking a chunk out of your peach and your foreheads kissing is way bolder than that small gesture but i guess the quota for boldness was over for that day lol 

As i said this year Jimin seems to just go for it, commenting under his baby’s live that he’s cute, that he wants to tie his hair back neatly (don’t get me started on the cute fanarts OMG), calling him baby again, that he wants JK to grow and protect him, etc.. I mean damn i expected everything but this honestly like yes nothing new, just Jikook Jikooking but i didn’t expect it to be so explosive (Not complaining give me more)

Which had me thinking, were they maybe testing the waters back from September? All the cute lil comments Jimin posted about JK and that whole “Army are waiting for an answer 🙄” during the Busan live, i’m just speculating of course but who knows.

I’m just glad that whatever is going on now, means that they don’t give a fuck anymore about what people think and as long as they’re not doing anything that would be scandalous to some people’s eyes, they should be allowed to interact freely without having haters weight on them with their hateful comments and their twisted narratives. 

And as always, haters will hate no matter what

Whether these two interact or not really haters will always find a thing to complain about and find a way to twist shit to fit their own narrative. I mean from my yesterday post you could already tell, a whole ass mistranslation because they can’t accept facts, and are we even surprised that the people defending the “translator” are part of the cult? No not really. 

People will always try to discredit their bond no matter what so they might as well just not give a fuck about them and do what they see as fit for now, i mean if they’re going to stop doing this and that to please a bunch of hateful rats.. I’d rather they virtually flip the bird on us all and do their thing!

I guess that was all i had to say? I don’t know i literally wrote the points i could think about on a bloc note not even sure if i got everything, lemme know if i skipped anything. Take care 💜

[blowflyfag]

WRESTLING ALL STARS: Heroes and Villains : February 1993 

Ready for something really scary, boys and girls? CACTUS JACK’S A MANAGER! 

By GEORGE NAPOLITANO

The wild, weird and wacky Cactus Jack has taken up a new career. He’s now a manager in the WCW. Cactus is managing the affairs of the unpredictable Barbarian and the one-time “Mr. USA” Tony Atlas. It wasn’t that many years ago that people said Cactus Jack was unmanageable! How can a man known for his unpredictable and bizarre behavior come to manage two veterans like the Barbarian and Tony Atlas?

[Cactus says, “People say I’m nuts–but I know exactly what I’m gonna do every time I enter the wrestling arena!”]

It defies logic but it’s true. Several months ago after suffering a severe groin pull, Cactus Jack approached the Barbarian about helping his career. The Barbarian surprisingly agreed and the two have been together ever since.  Cactus confided in the Barbarian that he knew how to make him a champion. Cactus Jack has been putting the Barbarian through a very rigorous training regime. The training may be unorthodox by normal standards but why would anyone think that Cactus Jack would stoop to orthodox tactics for his stable of contenders?

“No one gives me any credit at all,” Cactus moaned after putting his proteges through another strenuous routine. “I know exactly what I am going to do every time I climb through the ropes. My job is to win in any way I can and I will use anything I can to get the job done. If it means using a chair, the ring posts, the guard rails or the stairs to beat my opponent, I will use it. People say I’m unorthodox. People say I’m nuts. Some say I’m crazy–but tell me what’s wrong with using stairs if they’re there? It doesn’t matter how you win just as long as you win and the Barbarian understands this now. He’s a man after my own heart. He’s tough, strong, powerful and a little crazy too. That’s what makes him so good. Besides the Barbarian, I now have Tony Atlas in my stable too, and my new killer is the same way. He used to be soft but my good friend Tony Rumble taught him a better way. Now he’s ready to be champion in the WCW. With the Barbarian and Atlas I’ve got the next champions in my corner.”

[While wrestling for UWS a few years back, Cactus was managed by wrestling legend Maniac John Tolos.

While the Barbarian looks on, Cactus explains to WCW announcer Jim Ross just how he and the big guy are going to conquer the world!]

It’s still hard to fathom how Cactus Jack–never a champ himself–can instill enough knowledge into his men to make them champions. Although this may seem impossible in theory, there are many other managers who fall into this category. The renowned Captain Lou Albano never won a title; neither did Bobby “The Brain” Heenan. Paul E. Dangerously, Jim Cornette and Jimmy Hart never even donned a pair of tights! Using this as a barometer, Cactus Jack then certainly has the credentials to be a manager! If Cactus is even half as successful as these other great managers, the Barbarian and Tony Atlas could be championship bound.

[The maniac’s table of wrestlers is already impressive. Cactus has taken The Barbarian and Tony Atlas beneath his dement wing!

A horribly bloodied Cactus Jack screams at the crowd following a match in the Orient.]

Whether the Barbarian and Tony Atlas can achieve championship status remains to be seen, but Cactus certainly has them believing in themselves. With their new positive energy, their strength, agility and skill and unpredictable behavior of Cactus Jack at Ringside, the Barbarian and Tony Atlas could be championship bound.

[Here’s how the Barbarian looked back in the days when he was one half of the WWF tag team known as The Powers of Pain.

Cactus Jack may seem like a complete lunatic in the ring, but insiders say he isn’t as crazy as he acts. Yes, there's a method in his madness!

Cactus Jack’s new main man is Tony Atlas, shown here working over Greg “The Hammer” Valentine.]

Don’t laugh, stranger things have happened in the crazy world of professional wrestling!