#leaving reblogs on for now as long as people behave

[honeysuckle-fae]

Y'know I will probably regret this post when it's no longer nearly 4am but it's mildly infuriating to see people calling for others to delete their nano accounts and boycott nano over this AI shit when it's just a drop in the bucket compared to the bullshit they've pulled previous years. Were you also telling people to delete their accounts and boycott when there was so much racism among the forum mods and next to nothing was done about it? Were you telling people to delete their accounts and boycott when there was all that trouble last year with the security of the forums and, again, racist mods?

People of color have been having trouble with nano for YEARS and I have never seen this much outrage. I myself was called a reverse racist by a forum mod and threatened to have my account terminated if I didn't stop defending myself. Like I'm sorry but it's a little frustrating that nano having a generative AI sponsor and wording something poorly in a blog post is what gets y'all's attention.

[kivino]

PROBLEM I || HIGURUMA HIROMI X COWORKER!READER

sum. You have quite a crush on your coworker, but don’t know how to approach it. The opportunity to do something presents itself when you both get invited for drinks after not-so-voluntary overtime. 

tags. Suggestive themes, so MDNI; Canon divergent; Higuruma and reader work at a law firm; Japanese work culture is a warning in itself; Reader is a foreigner in Japan but it’s a little glazed over; fluff; cigarettes; alcohol consumption, obviously; Higuruma is a lightweight and a dork, I stand by that.

w.c. 3.4-ish

a.n. I’ve been having this Higuruma itch that needed a scratch (save me overworked lawyer disappointed in the justice system, save me), so I wrote this little fic! Plus forced myself to omit all the Japanese honorifics used cause apparently you kids find it cringe (/lh). Enjoy, and please, reblog/leave a comment, I really want to know what you all think and if I should continue writing for JJK. I’m planning to make a part two for this, so stay tuned!

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

You feel completely lost. Not even lost, abandoned by your consciousness. And not in the tall pillars of paperwork on your desk, that threatened to fall over with a single blow of air from the AC blasting over your desk, as you should be. No-no-no, you’re lost in Hiromi’s deep, almost pitch-black eyes, so mesmerizing that you felt like you were falling right into their endless, warm void. Well, you were not supposed to be calling him Hiromi, it was Higuruma for you. “For now.” – you encouraged yourself. You’ll get there with him. Eventually. 

It only occasionally occurs to you that you were behaving like a dreamy-eyed middle-schooler…again. All that development of your frontal lobe goes right smack-dab into the trash when you notice those tired eyes stop on you for a split second as Higuruma gives you a polite nod with his lips twitching upwards, almost attempting a smile. Even in spite of the sheer exhaustion he is exuding all around. 

You don’t even have to look at him to notice how tired the man is – when you come into work, fifteen minutes earlier, just like everyone else in your firm, you see him sitting in his chair already, reading endless police reports, typing away on his computer, arranging for meetings with witnesses or clients. Even when you are heading for the elevator, calling out “Good job today” to the last people left in the office, hurrying for your last train home – Hiromi is glued to his visibly uncomfortable chair, his head almost bumping into keyboard as he wrestled with the sleep clouding his eyes. And even if you don’t see him around his desk – he is probably out somewhere, hounding for evidence on the case. 

Or in the smoking room. God, after you realize where Hiromi spends at least thirty minutes a day, you consider picking up smoking just to have an excuse to get to know him better. He’s definitely a bad influence on you.

But how can he not be? You physically can’t stop yourself from staring at him when you see him through the glass door of the smoking room, leaned on the wall, droopy half-lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling, dark long lashes pretty as a picture. You can’t help but imagine these puffy eyes tearing up or rolling into the back of his head along with his mouth falling open in a delicious silent plea; or looking down on you with mad fixation that would make liquid heat pool between your thighs. 

And you won’t even get started on his nose. The graceful arch of it, the perfect angle to…You stop before you stray too far, instead letting your mind wander to those beautiful eyes once more, intense and overwhelming, picturing desire clouding them until there is nothing but scorching fire burning up your skin, accompanied by Hiromi’s soft sighs, raspy whines or gentle praise, with those incredible voice cracks he would develop when he was oh-so-exhausted after a long day… you wonder how he would sound, as you grasp and store away in your memory each time your name is called by Higuruma.

Your eyes find your coworker once again at his desk, his deft hands are typing something out on the computer. You can see the way Hiromi’s fingers move, and your thoughts immediately settle on the image of them gently running over your thigh, hooking at the belt loops just to pull you into his warm, frail, charmingly pathetic form. You сan practically melt into a puddle, when your mind gets to his warm, large palms settling on your hips, setting electric currents running right to you brain, when the object of your fantasies suddenly catches your eyes on him. You can feel your heartbeat fall down somewhere to your feet – you’ve been caught! But before you can see how Higuruma reacts…

“Ah, Shimizu! Well done today!” you say with a polite nod to your coworker who emerges right in front of your desk, visibly ready to go home after yet another day’s grueling overtime – cute, mindful bag in her hand, work costume wrinkled after hours of sitting in one place; interrupting your session of staring at your higher-up. Which is probably for the best, you think. You are new compared to everyone else, you are supposed to be working twice as harder, not dedicating your time to undressing the poor, exhausted Higuruma with your eyes. All of a sudden, you feel shame burn at your cheeks. Just a tiny little bit. 

“Oh, not at all, you’re too kind!” Shimizu denies the praise with the dismissive wave of her hand, but you can see that she’s just being polite because you don’t know each other too well. “Yet” – You add in your mind. You’ll be accepted here, you just need a little time. “How are you settling in? Everyone’s nice to our cute kouhai I hope?” 

“Oh, yes! Everyone’s very kind! I’m looking forward to working and getting along with everyone in the future!” You say and add another small bow for emphasis – even though you are already hired it was instrumental to make the right impression on your coworkers. 

“That’s great to hear! About that actually…” You tense up for a moment, already running millions of possible scenarios through your mind. Did someone write you up or complain? That would be very typical for what you were used to here – no direct confrontation with you, instead an anonymous complaint made to HR and you’re out of here faster than you can apologize. Or maybe it’s a complaint from Higuruma himself, fed up with being stared at like he was a piece of meat, by “the foreigner” of the firm no less. You can feel your legs shake under a flimsy desk. “We’re going out for drinks! You’re going, right?”

Okay, false alarm. You are prepared for something like this. Shimizu was obviously putting you in a position where you’re not supposed to decline…But you were so tired, and the workload this week was just horrible, along with all the hours of overtime you did-

“Oh, and Higuruma’s going too.”

Come to think of it, you actually feel pretty energized and ready to go. You don’t catch the cheeky smile Shimizu sends over her shoulder to the previously mentioned man, and the most precious, thankful look he gives her in response.

“I-I suppose it wouldn’t hurt...” you mutter, trying your hardest not to seem as desperate as you are in actuality, to have an opportunity to finally get to know Hiromi somewhere outside work. This work crush has been driving you up the wall for too long, might as well start acting on it, if it’s here to stay. Maybe you’ll get to be friends with Hiromi, and that will resolve your yearning for him. It always dissipates when the person you desire is right by your side. 

However, you don’t get an opportunity for a one-on-one with Higuruma that you hoped for until much later in the night. You caught stray looks from him multiple times, but each time Hiromi met your eyes he would look away in an instant, with his neck turning so hard you were half-sure you could hear it crack. It felt pretty discouraging, looking at him silently pour the drinks down the hatch from the other side of the table, without even attempting to talk to you, while others were trying their best to make you feel welcome. Hiromi just made you so…confused.  

So, you decide to step out for a moment, lost in your thoughts. Lo and behold, there is the man of the hour himself, leaned up against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers. You are surprised at how he can stand up straight, after all these drinks he consumed without eating anything (and you’re pretty sure you didn’t see him eat lunch either), but you just settle on the fact that Hiromi might just be like that – a mystery to you. His face is barely illuminated by the low light pouring out of the windows of the izakaya, a slight flush on his tan cheeks making your mind travel places. 

“Can I have one?” You blurt out, before you can stop yourself. Oh, this is so stupid. You can feel your face heat up, and not even a gentle autumn breeze is able to cool you down at the moment. Oh, you were so about to screw up all of this. Nevertheless, you slowly approach him, as Hiromi’s head slowly turns to you and you can see a corner of his mouth twitch when he registers it’s you speaking. Huh. Interesting. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Hiromi mumbles, taking a pack out of his pocket, clumsy fingers struggling to pull out a cigarette for you. Well, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to see you smoke, since you only did that if you were drunk or stressed out. “I never saw you in the smoking room. Though, saw you pass by. Quite a lot.” Higuruma continues rambling, his head tilted forwards, eyes unsure and watery, staring up from under his eyebrows, focused solely on you. You can practically feel yourself getting hypnotized by the absolutely charming puppy dog eyes Hiromi is giving you, to the point of not noticing the man offering you the cig you just asked for a couple of seconds ago. 

“Uh, yeah. Guilty as charged.” You chuckle, not finding anything better to say, as you gently take what you’re offered. The silence falls over both of you, as your lips squeeze the “cancer stick” between them, Higuruma now fumbles to find a lighter. Well, it’s your chance to talk, but you, sadly, find yourself lost for words. 

Hiromi, much like yourself, cannot find the courage to speak up, as his eyes keep trailing back to your face, now more stunning than ever, surrounded by the blue air of the night instead of synthetic fluorescent lights of the office that rarely do justice to your beauty. He definitely overdid it with the liquid courage. Now he can’t muster up a thought to strike up a conversation with you. And it was supposed to be a chance for him to get to know you better, in an informal way. Way to go, you absolute nutjob. 

“You seem to be a very hard worker, Higuruma. I thought you’d stay for overtime instead of going out for drinks.” You finally say what’s on your mind, when you see Hiromi can’t seem to find the lighter he’s been looking for, for the past minute, maybe. 

“Well, first I was staying so long because of work, and now it’s because of you.” Hiromi blurts out with his eyes looking right at you. When the man finally realizes what he just said, his eyes are immediately drawn downwards, avoiding yours.

“What?” You look at him, for a moment thinking that your hearing gave up on you. Higuruma didn’t just say what you heard him say, right?

“What?” Hiromi’s tone is neutral and even calm, but behind it he was panicking. Why in the hell did he just say that?! He definitely weirded you out and now everything will fall apart, all thanks to his absolute inability to handle his liquor better. “I mean, you need someone to look at while you work, right? Might as well be me.” What was he talking about? If you weren’t standing right in front of him, so perfect and beautiful in the dim lights, with your hair exquisitely disheveled, and his eyes getting drawn to your figure in all the right places, his hands would definitely fly up to his face in exasperation at his sheer stupidity.

“You’re funny.” You finally chuckle out in a hushed tone, like you were saying something absolutely scandalous, and not just bashfully stating your opinion.

“No, I’m just drunk.” He states rather bluntly, and you’re taken aback for a moment. “I’m actually a lightweight. Without...” Higuruma makes a vague gesture with his hand, which you take as him referring to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his blood at the moment. “…I’d be too scared to talk to you.”

“Huh? Why would you be scared to talk to me?” You respond with yet another breathy laugh, feeling an incredibly strong surge of confidence, hearing that the whole time this grown man was scared of approaching you – polite and shy newbie, deeply infatuated with…everything about him. Which, Hiromi was so luckily and obviously unaware of.

“You’re just…” The unintentional pause is much shorter than it feels like, as a sudden hiccup interrupts his heartfelt confession. “Very…gorgeous. But uh…in a professional sense.” You can hear an uneven crack in Higuruma’s voice, and if for someone else it would’ve been a turn-off, you can already feel how breathing suddenly becomes a thing you need to be aware of. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” You echo, with an amused smile tugging at your lips, as an idea dawns on you out of the blue. “Higuruma, could you…” you trail off, immediately bringing his attention to whatever you were about to ask of him. Oh, he was ready to do anything you’d ask. Jump? With pleasure. Drop down to his knees? Gladly. Kiss you? Please.

He freezes in place, as you lean closer to him, a surge of previously known, but supressed feelings rising with a tremble in his chest. The end of your cigarette touches a little burning cherry at the end of his, your eyes slowly drift up to his own, producing an incomprehensible, fiery spark when your gazes meet. Higuruma almost thinks the ground disappeared from under his feet right that moment, because in little less than a second of staring into your eyes like that, alluring, precious gemstones pulling him in with a siren’s song, he’s falling. Hard.

Hiromi’s face doesn’t hide even a sliver of what he’s experiencing at the moment, as he looks at you in awe, half-way sure that his heart is about to burst in a million of pieces while you’re lighting your cigarette with his. He wishes this moment would go on forever. He wished you’d reach out to him, throw out the damn cigarettes, close the miniscule distance that felt like kilometres and kiss him, so hard he’d surely loose his mind for you completely.

The seconds feel like hours, electricity and warmth bouncing inside of him, while cold air blows on his skin, failing to cool him down from the mad high he was experiencing just from your presence, so distant and at the same time, close.

“Thanks.” You mutter a short response, tactfully making a point not to mention the way his face got even redder (which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are). Your lips wrap around the cigarette, inhaling the smoke, the slight hit of nicotine dulling your senses for a moment making you flutter your eyelashes in pleasure.

“You’re always…a problem.” He responds, quietly, and you arch your brow at his strange response. Higuruma immediately looks horrified as it dawns on him just what exactly he said in his…rather unsuccessful attempt to articulate his thoughts, as you mumble out an unsure “excuse me?”. Hiromi’s hands fly up to meet his face, exasperated sigh leaving his lips. Why did he always had to be…like this? He was confident and easily able to keep a cool head in the courtroom, faced with people representing and facing justice. Why, why was he losing face in front of you of all people? It was frankly frustrating, and he…

“Ha-ha-ha…I am, aren’t I?” You return playfully, seeing the sheer distress on Hiromi’s face and deciding to play off his probably unintentional slip-up as a joke. He didn’t, couldn’t mean what he said, right? He was always friendly (even if a little distant, but who weren’t like that to new, unfamiliar people, right?), polite…Unless?

“No! No! That’s not what I was trying to say…” Hiromi immediately corrects himself, a little too eager to fix the mistake he’s sure might cost him your precious attention at the moment. He can’t lose it. He absolutely cannot wait until the next drinking party to get close to you. It already feels like too much - keeping himself in reigns, containing the burn that threatens that spill over from the mere gaze that felt too intimate for his drunk consciousness.

Well…not that you aren’t an actual problem. It’s hard to concentrate whenever you are in the room. Higuruma’s eyes would inevitably drift over to you, observing every motion of your form, desperate for any sliver of attention from you. Didn’t matter if it was a polite nod, a quick half-bow or a smile, he always felt a dull ache in his chest, because that was not enough to satiate the hunger for you, cramping up in his insides, making him feel like he was utterly starved. And he definitely was. For affection, for gentle touch, for a soothing hand and for tenderness that came with it. Yeah, you were definitely a problem. One that needed an immediate solution.

“I was trying to say that…you’re always welcome and it’s not a problem. At the same time.” He finally managed to mutter out, explaining himself. A smile grazes your lips at that, and he can’t help himself but think how he wants be graced by the beauty of that smile first thing when he wakes up the morning. That would make going to sleep at night so much easier.

“Well, I’m glad that you don’t think I’m a problem then.” You say with a tiny laugh. Well, Hiromi didn’t exactly say that, but….

“Of course not. You’re…” Higuruma stops for a moment, before a sudden hiccup shakes his form. You stifle a chuckle from how cute for some reason it was, to hear a frown man hiccupping much like an overfed kitten. “Very hard-working. A good addition to the team.” He gives you a verdict with a nod, further solidifying his words. At that point, he wasn’t even sure what he was talking about, but that’s the first chance he ever got to talk to you informally, and by God, he’s going to make use of it. “If you ask me, you’ve got what it takes to be a great permanent addition.” To him, a sudden thought rushed through his mind, but he managed to keep his lips sealed.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Higuruma.” You say with another one of your pleasant smiles and nods to him, taking another drag of your cigarettes and blowing the smoke out to the side, blissfully unaware of how Hiromi’s droopy, desperate eyes fixated on the pout of your lips. You were truly thankful he had this opinion, but life-time contracts? Here? As a foreigner? It would be easier for you to get to the moon and back, than receive an offer like that.

“You know you can just call me Hiromi, right?” He almost whispered, not daring to meet your eyes after such a bold move on his part. You felt your heart leap inside your chest. If you weren’t right in front of the man, you’d start kicking your feet, giggling, then you’d scream in a pillow, run a couple of laps, high-five yourself and finally face-plant into the asphalt victoriously, but you were a responsible adult, so you had to keep those teenage-esque urges inside of yourself. Despite how much you wanted to let them out at times.

“Alright then…Hiromi.” You knew what you’re doing to him. You had to, right? Because how can your voice can get so alluring and sultry all of a sudden while saying his name? Why did you whisper it, rolling it around between your pretty lips, almost like you were tasting a candy? Higuruma was a goner, that’s for sure.

Higuruma can’t help, but look into your eyes, marvel at you smile and the way your eyes glimmer in the low lighting, how the perfect curve of your lips calls for him, and how your hips beg to rest his hands on them. In that moment he only can think with nothing but his heart, that keeps shoving the thought that rest like honey on his tongue.

He needs you. Utterly and completely.

“So…do you want to have another drink? On me, of course.”

Hiromi takes his shot, and he’s not going to miss it.  

check out this masterlist for more jjk fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[russellsppttemplates]

Daddy's here, buddy (Lewis Hamilton)

A look into the Hamilton household now that they are a family of three

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time on hold (I know it has been a while, like, a really long time), I'm finally posting this one. I won't blame you if you have left, especially since it took me so long, but if you're still around, I hope you like this, anon!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions pregnancy, postpartum (difficulties walking, breastfeeding, soreness)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

As soon as Lewis was able, he flew straight back home, promising Toto and the rest of the team a detailed written debrief he worked on while he was on the plane.

When he landed, one of your friends was there to drive him straight home, "they are both doing well so the doctor discharged them this morning, they watched the race at home already with your mum", she smiled, noticing his antsyness, "we'll stop by my place so you can have a shower and change clothes, and then you'll get to meet him. I know I'm biased, and you'll be too, but he's the cutest little boy ever", she smiled, reassuring him that everything was well underway and that they were being careful with the baby's health.

"Carmen, can I have some water, please?", Lewis heard you call for his mother as he walked through the stairs that led the garage to the living area of the house, seeing the older woman pour the liquid into a mug and bringing it to you along with a straw.

"Hey, look who's here!", you smiled, handing the mug back to your mother in-law when you finished sipping from it.

Lewis walked closer to you, rubbing his mother's arm before he kissed the top of your head, taking a peek at the bundle in your arms. Baby Noah has been sleeping against your chest, pillowy lips agape without another care in the world, but he seemed to stir as he felt his father's presence in the room.

"Someone wants to meet daddy", you cooed as Lewis sat next to you on the sofa, arms expectantly held out as you transferred the baby to his arms.

Taking the baby wrapped up in the beige blanket and placing him on his chest, Lewis let one of his hands rest on his son's back to hold him close.

"Hey Noah", he whispered, looking up briefly to see his mother and wife smiling at them, "You were slightly early, weren't you? Daddy wasn't here when you came earthside, and I'm very sorry for it, but now we have all the time in the world", he whispered, softly touching his cheek and moving to stroke his head, feeling the soft baby hair.

Noah looked up at him as tears filled his eyes, "I couldn't wait to get home to you and mummy. I'm sure a lot of people want to meet you, I got told that much in the paddock", he smiled at the beautiful boy in his arms. "It's ok", Lewis whispered as the baby started getting fussy, opening his mouth and squinting his eyes closed as he cried loudly.

A quick look at the clock made you suddenly reach your arms out for your crying little boy, "he's hungry, it's just about time", you nudged, cradling him to you and kissing his forehead.

"I'm going to go, dears, leave you in your newborn bubble", Carmen smiled, "if you need anything, and I mean anything, call me, okay?", she checked, kissing your head and Lewis' before squeezing her grandson's little hand softly, "goodbye, baby boy, behave well for mummy and daddy, okay?".

After she saw herself out, you undid the top buttons of your shirt, unfastening the bra cover so you could feed your little boy, "That's it, good boy", you cooed, feeling your husband's eyes on you.

"We watched the race, congratulations on your podium", you smiled, your hand squeezing your husband's thigh once you balanced your baby on the feeding pillow.

"Thanks", he breathed out, "I still can't believe he's here, that he's ours", he shook his head, "we have our little boy here with us.

"Thank you for doing this for our family, I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner", he expressed, kissing your lips softly as Noah whined, "daddy can't kiss mummy, now? Oh, this is going to be interesting!".

.

"Am I doing this right? I think I am", your heard your husband say to your son as you started to wake up, "looks secured enough. Hopefully we won't have any explosions and nothing comes out of here".

Your hissing while trying to pull yourself up announced you were awake as your husband turned his torso slightly to face you, "mummy is awake, little love", he beamed, finishing popping the buttons on your son's clothes so he was comfortable.

By the time you found a way to pull yourself up and against the headboard, Lewis was sitting next to you, ready to pass Noah into your arms so you could feed him, "are you still feeling sore?", he asked, kissing your cheek.

"It's not as bad as yesterday", you assured him while you moved your boob so Noah could latch, ignoring the sting as his lips met your sensitive skin, "my back feels fine, but moving my legs might be tricky still", you offered.

"The midwife said that would be expected, so we'll just keep an eye out for anything serious, yes?", your husband said as you took the opportunity to rest your body against his naked chest, his arm going around your shoulders and softly tracing shapes on your bare skin.

"Can you burp him while I use the bathroom?", you asked as Lewis as he got up, burping him while standing up as you slowly got up as well, waddling to the en suite bathroom.

"Are you going to sleep now, little one?", he cooed, rocking him to sleep once all of the air trapped in his tummy got out, "you have a clean nappy, full tummy, and daddy needs to go and make sure mummy is okay", he chuckled, "with time, you'll see it takes her a while until she asks for help even though she's usually been needing it for way longer".

"Lew?", you called from the bathroom, "yes, darling?", he called back as he knocked on the door softly, asking for your permission to look inside, "I need to have a shower, but I don't trust my legs to keep me up, and sitting on the floor is not a good idea so, like - do we even have a stool I can sit on? -, I need something to support myself on", you asked.

"Noah is asleep, I can leave him here, in the middle of our bed, keep the door open and help you with your shower if that's okay", Lewis offered, "if I look around, I might find something, but I'm not sure we own a stool that can be put in water".

Weighing your options, you waddled back to your boys, kissing Noah's forehead and looking up at Lewis, "you don't mind helping?", you wondered.

Lewis placed Noah on the bed, making sure he was in an angle where you could see him from the bathroom, "c'mon, shower time, darling", he soflty nudged.

He turned on the warm water as you undressed yourself, disposing the underwear safely in the bathroom bin and walking into the shower compartment, thankful that Lewis insisted you needed a wide and ample space for it as it now perfectly accommodated the two of you once he had no clothes on either.

"Is the temperature good?", he asked and you nodded. Your body didn't feel wrong to you, just new, and Lewis seemed to be on the same page, tracing your hips and tummy softly while you wet your hair.

By now, the routine was so engraved in your lives that Lewis knew which steps followed which, only stopping when you needed to support yourself on him, to steal a few kisses or take a peek of Noah.

"Now he's sleeping well", you muttered chuckling as you wrapped a towell around your body, accepting Lewis' hand as he took you to the bedroom, "I have your underwear ready with those witch hazel round pads to help with the soreness", he added.

Helping you put them on along with the rest of your clothes he gathered from the drawers, your husband left a trail of kisses anywhere his mouth was close enough to your skin as he dressed you, "how about a nap? Noah surely kept us up so we could do with some sleep", he smiled, pulling you to lie against his chest while you cradled your son against your own chest.

.

"I know, baby, I know", you gulped, grabbing the silicone covers for your nipples while bouncing Noah on your bent legs, "mummy is trying to make this better for both of us, hopefully this works", you tried, fitting the piece and pulling Noah to you, encouraging him to suck.

The specialist had told you that using the covers would help you in days where the skin was extra sensitive, but its continuous use could mean that Noah would have to work harder to get his milk in, leaving him to get more tired and eat less, ultimately making him drop his weight.

"Hey, darling, I'm back", Lewis called from the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets as he stored away the things he bought from the shop.

"In the living room", you croaked out, holding the tears that threatened to fall as Noah seemed to drift off to sleep, "ah-ah, baby boy, you have to eat more, otherwise you won't grow", you groaned, taking off the silicone piece and biting your lip as his lips made contact with your skin directly.

The tears you worked on keep at bay fell down your cheeks as Lewis walked inside the living room, "hey, darling, I - what's the matter?", he checked you over, sitting next to you as you looked up at the ceiling.

"It hurts, a lot", you cried, "the only way it doesn't hurt is if I have these on, but with them he won't eat, so I have to compromise that", you allowed him to wipe your cheeks, "what a great mother I am, talking about compromise when I am feeding my baby", you scoffed at your own words.

"Hey, it's okay to talk about it if it hurts, darling. I'm so, so sorry, I wish I could do something to take that pain away", he comforted, kissing your cheeks as he pushed your bodies closing together.

"I will rub the cream afterwards, and we can try the silver nipple covers, we haven't done that yet", he suggested, his hands tracing shapes on your skin and squeezing the area, hoping to distract you from the pain you were feeling.

"I'll put him to sleep, okay? You can go and freshen up, darling", Lewis said as he bounced Noah on his arms after burping him, giving you time to use the bathroom and get a little bit of fresh air.

After splashing your face with water, you lightly dabbed the towell on your face before walking to the kitchen, opening the door that lead to the back garden and standing in the sun for a few minutes.

It was easy to get lost. A lot of people, specially the ones who were brutally honest about the whole experience, told you that much. Not out of spite or because they wanted to scare you, but rather because they cared enough to tell you about all of it. It was easy to lose yourself because all your focus was on your baby. Truth was, if you lost yourself, your baby would end yo suffering, too, so the whole situation required balance. Right now, the sun rays hitting your skin seemed to tip the scales to an even line.

"He's asleep already", you heads Lewis say, baby monitor on hand hand and another one with a cup of tea for you, "here, beautiful", he offered.

"Everytime I look at his face, I can't believe we made him. Such a perfect baby, how is he ours? But, it's also a lot sometimes", you breathed out, letting go of the guilt that was consuming you and recognising that you could love your family unconditionally and still admit that things could get hard. One didn't override the other.

"It's okay to admit that", Lewis said, pulling you to rest your back against his chest, "but we'll go, day by day, see what it brings us. You're doing so well, Y/N, you've been so strong for our family", he smiled, kissing the top of your head, "will you let me take care of you now?", he wondered, guiding you back inside for a little pamper session.

.

"Your tummy really is troubling you, isn't it, little one?", Lewis said as Noah didn't seem to settle down, cries and whimpers leaving the little baby's mouth as he rocked him back and forth, "should we try those massages daddy was taught in the baby classes?".

Laying Noah on the changing table, Lewis unswaddled him before holding his legs, "first we go into frog mode", he chuckled, pulling the little legs into position before wiggling his hips and tummy, "the nurse in the baby classes said to wiggle a little, and apparently you are very flexible at this point, so you're like putty almost. It's a bit scary, but you seem to be doing better, right buddy?", he said, noticing he was passing some gas already and his whimpers had died down.

As you came out of your shower, you watched the replied on your son's face as the noise coming from his diaper confirmed the reason from his previous pains, "Oh, that was a big one!", you giggled, approaching your boys as Lewis grabbed a new diaper, "I'm on it!", he said, kissing your cheek and taking care of changing Noah.

"Do you want to go on a walk this afternoon?", you wondered, "I feel a little better ans I want to start being a little more active. Nothing crazy, but rather a nice way to leave the house", you suggested, being met with your husband's sparkly eyes, "of course, darling. I'll get him a new outfit, we're going to be matching!", he smiled as he noticed the colour pattern you were going for.

[the-final-sif]

This is going to be a bit of an odd tumblr post, that's kind of drama related and also kind of not. Apologies for putting this in the tags too, but given that I'm hoping to inoculate people against misinformation, I do have to stick it here.

To make a long story short, there's a person on tumblr that was recently removed from the Dreblr Discord that Vault and I run. I am intentionally not naming them as I do not want to incite any kind of harassment towards them. If you recognize them from this post, please don't name them or spread their name around. Leave it be.

This person was removed from our discord after having been given warnings about their behavior that they ignored, and after I discovered they'd been behaving in an increasingly toxic manner towards other people in private.

They had a number of people that were formally friends with them in the server, who'd become increasingly uncomfortable with their behavior over time. Their discomfort and attempts to communicate with this person that their behavior wasn't okay went ignored, and eventually, roughly around the same time, several of them grew tired of this person and dropped them as a friend.

Since this went down, the person in question has been obsessively trying to stalk several of the people that made the choice to no longer be friends with them, has been making posts on tumblr clearly vaguing them, and has been threatening to make callout posts about these people. They've been inventing things that didn't happen and trying obsessively to get proof of these things. Including block evading, recruiting people to spy on their behalf, trying to use alts and other people to get messages into our server, etc.

This specific threat is why I'm making this post. They have a habit of either twisting events to vilify other people, and have now begun outright inventing things that didn't happen. Their constant public airing of events and threats to make callout posts, and attempted stalking/ban evading, have made the former friends feel increasingly unsafe and worried.

The purpose of this post is not to debunk anything in specific, it's hopefully to pre-bunk the situation and let people know that there is currently a person that may be looking to stir up drama in the future. It may be directed at me, particularly after this post. It may be directed at the former friends who I will leave unnamed for now. It may also never come. I don't want this person named, I don't want any harassment directed towards them, I don't want people trying to figure out who they are.

What I would like people to do is just be aware that this an active possibility, and should you stumble on a callout post within any of the dreblr/dteamblr/dreamblr communities within the next while, maybe have some critical thinking skills when reading them and be very careful with what you chose to reblog or pass on. It's a good thing to do in general, but particularly when there's active threats around.

[scarlethexelove]

Hello!! 👀

This is like an extension of something I’ve already requested. ‘You’re Mine Now’ was awesome

I absolutely love dark Agatha and if you’re okay with writing it, it’d be much appreciated 🙏🏻 Okay so… Maybe Agatha and Reader already have a dynamic that works for Agatha. Agatha is happy because Reader behaves very well so Reader is allowed to do more things in the house. Then, Reader watches on TV that her best friend is looking for her, it is like a switch is turned on and Reader wants to escape. Agatha realizes it and stops her. Agatha tells Reader that she (Agatha) couldn't let nobody take her precious treasure so she had to make that person disappear. Then fucks reader 🫣 Sorry this is pretty long but yeah! I would like to read it if you are okay with writing this. Totally cool if you’re not ofc

You're Not Going Anywhere

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2088

Warnings: Dark!Agatha, Smut, Spanking, Restraints, Cum Strap, Rough Sex, Forced Submission, Dub/Con, No aftercare, Talks of murder, Choking (Not the fun way).

Part 1: You're Mine Now

A/n: I really hope you enjoy this nonnie. I tried to make her nice and dark with this one. I kind of feel the smut is kind of shit and I'm sorry about that.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Soft sounds play through the air as you watch the tv. The room is dark only illuminated by the beams of light spilling from the sides of the curtains. You know it might not be the best idea to ignore Agatha’s wishes for you to clean the house but you just want to be lazy today. You haven’t even managed to get out of your pajamas today. Your mind barely focused on the tv as you almost stared pass the tv. 

Words start scrolling on the bottom of the tv as your program is interrupted, pulling your focus to the tv. You watch as the scene changes. A woman you find familiar talking to a news anchor appears on the screen. The words scrolling on the bottom states that a woman has been kidnapped and missing for six months. You look back up a picture of yourself now displayed on the side of the screen. It’s in an instant that your suppressed mind comes back to reality. That is your best friend. You’re the woman that is missing and people are looking for you. You hadn’t even noticed that you had been gone for six long months. You’re mind submitting to that of the older woman who has kept you captive. 

You quickly jump off the couch and look at the time. Three hours till Agatha comes home. You have time to pack some things and run. A few months back Agatha had removed some of the locks off the door to keep you here. You have become compliant with her wants and needs. No urge to run from the woman, only the thought of love for her keeping you there. You didn’t see the reason to run from someone taking such good care of you. But now it is like the spell is broken and you have to get away. You remember the horrible things that she did to get you here and you need to run now while you have a chance. 

You make your way into the bedroom grabbing some things. What you didn’t know is that Agatha was watching you. Camera’s scattered all around the house so she can watch you even while at work. She curses as she grabs her jacket leaving work and rushing home to you. If you think you can leave her you are wrong. She will just have to show you again who is in charge and who you belong to. 

Once you're done you finally turn around ready to leave but you hadn’t noticed the clicking of the door behind you. Startled when you see the older woman standing behind you. A gasp leaves your throat before a hand is placed around it. Squeezing tightly and walking you backwards. You grasp at the hand around your neck the more it squeezes. Digging your nails into her arm hoping that she will let go, but there is a fury in her eyes. 

“Please.” You whimper while still struggling against her. She slams your body back against the wall making you whimper more. “You think you can leave me, little girl? I own you. You’re not going anywhere.” Agatha hisses. You can feel yourself getting lightheaded the longer she holds your neck. The woman is much stronger than you so your struggle is futile, her grip never loosening. 

When your vision starts to blur and black spots appear in your vision Agatha finally loosens the grip. Tossing your body on the bed like a rag doll. You cough and sputter as air fills your lungs. Your hand placed against your neck feeling the tenderness of the flesh. Your voice is hoarse as you try to speak. “I just wanna go home.” A dark chuckle leaves the woman. “You are home sweet girl.” 

Agatha is on you in an instant, pulling the shackles out. You kick and scream trying your best to fight off the woman, but it is no use. She flips your body over easily so that you are laying on your stomach. Securing both of your ankles to the bed. She then moves and secures your wrist to the bed. Leaving your spread eagle on the bed. 

“I’m going to have to punish you baby girl.” Agatha’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass. You squirm as her hand touches you. She grabs your pants and underwear and pulls them down swiftly. Bunched up around your thighs as she grabs your ass harshly. “I think 20 each side will do. Now count whore.” Her voice is dark and dripping with venom. Agatha’s hand comes down hard. “O-one.” You cry out. Her hands are rough the more she slaps down hard on your ass.

Your tears stain the sheets below the longer she goes. Your ass is a bright red, tender and hot to the touch. You’re cries and screams only egging the woman on. You have stopped counting but she doesn’t seem to mind anymore. Relishing in the pleasure she gets from your pain. By the end you have no more fight left in you. Your body is already exhausted from the beating. “P-please. No more.” You whimper hoping the woman will hear you. She stops her hand smoothing over your ass which makes you cry out in pain. 

“Are you going to behave from now on?” Agatha asks you, her hands moving down to gently caress your tights. Her hand sliding between feeling that unmistakable wetness, smirking to herself. You nod your head, mind already fuzzy. Throat sore and scratchy from the beating you had just taken. She would normally ask you to speak up but she can see that the fight you had not that long ago is gone. 

You’re relieved when the bed feels lighter. Agatha shifting her weight and removing herself from the mattress. You can hear some shuffling and you turn your head trying to look. Tears still fall, blurring your vision slightly. You can’t see her but the bed dips again as a hand rubs your ass again making you whine and squirm. “So pretty like this.” Agatha leans down and whispers in your ear. 

Agatha’s weight shifts on the bed again. She moves between your legs. She grabs your pants and underwear that is on your thighs. You hear the sound of fabric ripping as she tears your clothes off of you. “You’re fucking mine you hear me?” Agatha leans over you, a weight slapping on your ass. You whimper and nod. “Yes. I’m yours.” She leans back up towering over you. “Good girl.” The weight that once sat on your ass she now swipes through your folds wet with your arousal. Spreading it up and down and coating her strap. 

You have no time to register Agatha’s actions as she lines up with your entrance and thrust the faux cock inside of you. You cry out at the deliciously painful stretch. It’s bigger than what you have taken before. She starts a hard and fast pace, fucking into your tight hole. “Fuck your taking me to well.” She slaps your ass again, enjoying the hiss of pain that leaves your lips. Her hand moving you and wrapping around the back of your neck pushing your face further into the mattress. 

Right now she doesn’t care about your pleasure, only her own. Fucking into you with reckless abandon. “So fucking tight no matter how many times I fuck you.” Her hips slapping against your ass making you whimper and moan. “You wouldn’t survive without me. Just a dumb stupid whore.” You’re already clenching around her strap the faster she drives her hips into you. Your pleasure heightened by the pain. 

Agatha leans over you pressing her front into your back still holding your face down rutting into you. “You fucking try to leave me again I’ll kill you. You don’t get another chance, little girl. I told you’re mine and if I can’t have you no one can. You know that little friend of yours? I saw that she was looking for you. I took care of that little problem. I saw her little TV stunt. I wanted to see what your dumb little brain would do if you knew so I recorded it. Let it play for you. So stupid thinking you could get away.” She whispers in your ear. More tears slip down your face. You’re trapped here forever you know the woman wouldn’t lie. You’re her property now and there is no one else left to save you. 

It is better to let your mind submit now. Let her be your one and only. You’ll be safer that way. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I-I’ll never try again. I’m you-yours.” She smiles, kissing your shoulder before leaning back up and pounding into you. Her hand still smacks against your ass occasionally. Your sounds spur her on to continue. 

You let all your thoughts melt away. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips, the squelching sound of Agatha pounding into your pussy mixing in. You submit as she pushes you into your subspace. Babbling how you are hers and sorrys for trying to leave. She just smirks above you. Her test didn’t go quiet as she hoped but she has you now. The perfect obedient little housewife. Cooking and cleaning for her then being the perfect little fleshlight for her to use. 

Agatha’s thrust becomes more erratic as the harness brushes against her clit perfectly. Her need to cum approaching fast. “Mmm fuck. I’m going to fill this little pussy. So fucking tight.” Her hands move to grip your waist digging in her fingers, sure to leave bruises behind. You’re confused by her words but that thought melts away when she hits that spot deep inside you. The sight of your tear stained face and your reddened ass cheeks sends her over the edge. As she cums her hand moves and you feel a gush of liquid fill you up. Your own orgasm then washing over you. 

The realization of what she meant as you feel so full. Cum leaking out around her strap as she doesn’t slow down. Continuing to pound into you roughly. “Aggie.” You whine hoping she will stop but she doesn’t. You can only see part of her but there is an animalistic look to her. She is going to keep filling you whether you want her to or not. Her thrust rough and hard as fucks you even further into submission. 

You don’t know how many times you cum or how many times she has filled you by the time she stops. You're both panting and sweaty messes. Your whole body hurts from her roughness and the marks she has left on you. You whimper when she removes her strap from your overstimulated aching core. She isn’t gentle about it like normal. She slaps your bruised ass once more before climbing off the bed. The mix of your cums leaking out of you onto the sheets below, as your gaping hole clenches around nothing trying to keep the cum in. 

Your eyes droop as your fuzzy mind listens for her movement around the room. You expect her to release you from your restraints and to clean you up. To place ointment on your bruised ass but it doesn’t come. “I’ve been so kind to you baby girl. Let’s see how you like it if I leave you as a mess. The dumb cumrag you were always meant to be. Maybe you’ll learn your lesson.” Agatha’s harsh tone filters through your ears. You cry out for her. You want her comfort and her soft touches. 

The door slams shut moments later leaving you in darkness. You continue to cry as your body shakes. You want her to come back to comfort you and tell you that you are her good girl. Promise you’ll never do it again. But your mind is tired as your struggle to stay awake. Your whimpers for the woman become quiet as you drift off into a deep sleep. 

What you don’t know is that Agatha is sitting on the other side of the door. Listening and watching you. An evil smirk playing on her lips. She has finally broken you completely and all it took was showing you that you can’t leave her. She had to punish you in order to break that last bit of hope deep in your mind. Soon she will have you as her perfect little housewife. Destined to be with her, tied to her forever.

[skzoologist]

Will you stay?

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

summary: Old wounds are torn open, but Bae has someone by his side, always.

a/n: I am not back yet, I won't pretend I am. But I can offer this short fic, if anything.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

Bae didn’t know what to feel.

In one moment he was just having a relatively good time, joking around with the others and watching as Minho was once again chasing around Hyunjin for whatever the weasel had said. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them, the group loud and energetic even when they weren’t in front of the cameras. And he truly enjoyed that, even if he was the black sheep amongst them, with how quiet he usually was.

But then the next thing he knew, his sight grew slightly blurry, the softest of tremors running through his hands. He was holding his phone, feeling it vibrate in his pocket. So naturally, he fished it out of there, not wanting to miss out on anything possibly important.

The first row of the message in itself was enough to make his breath stop, even though it was only a few words that popped up in the notification.

Glancing around, he saw that everyone else was busy, nobody paying him any mind, thankfully. Bae was also glad that he’d decided to sit alone this time, not squished between two of his bandmates on the sofa. He loved them, he truly did, but because of their closely-knit friendship he knew that they would immediately notice if anything was off with him.

Thus, he unlocked his phone and opened the message with a simple flick of his thumb, eyes quickly reading over the several, long rows of words. With each sentence a weight was added onto Bae’s shoulders, his chest constricting painfully.

Why would he get this? And why now?

It had been long months since he had heard from the person who had sent him this message, someone who Bae had called a good friend of his in the past. The two had hit it off back when they had been trainees, finding solace in sharing their hardships and helping the other grow their skills. Friendly chatter had flowed easily between them whenever they’d met, so much so that Chan and the others constantly teased them of being long lost soulmates, even if only platonically.

And Bae would have agreed back then.

But suddenly, that connection started suffering, becoming strained between the two. It was inevitable to a certain extent, since his friend had failed to stay by Bae’s side, leaving the company and chasing after another dream. Still, they kept in touch, telling stories to each other over text or at a rare café visit. And while there had been a slight rift forming between the two friends, it was still easy to jump over, something Bae had tried to fix.

It was all useless, in the end.

That rift had merely grown in size, so much so that fixing it felt like throwing down buckets of water into the endless stomach of the abyss. It was greedy, swallowing up everything, no matter what he’d tried. Every text had only gotten a dry response, the conversations dying out quicker and quicker with each attempt.

And after a while, Bae had stopped.

It felt useless, chasing after somebody who didn’t even slow down so he could catch up. But Bae came to peace with it. It hurt, yes, seeing those ghost conversations still sit in his phone, but people come and go. Such was the way the world worked. Besides, he had 8 boys now to always have by his side, becoming his second family.

So why?

Why was a goodbye letter blinking up at him from his screen, completely unprompted and talking as if he was the one who’d left his friend?

Why?

The air felt heavy in his lungs, each intake a little harder to perform. His hand had automatically shut the device off it held, knowing that if he hadn’t placed it down, he would look even more obvious to the others. It was hard as it is to hide the tremors running through his body, memories he’d buried long ago resurfacing and tearing open old wounds. Those things happened long ago, each and every single one something he had tried his best to forget and never relive. It had already taken him so much effort to reach where he was these days, to not question every little thing, to believe in others and their words.

Yet everything felt like it was crumbling down, years worth of effort just turning into dust, mocking him to rebuild it all again.

He wasn’t sure he had it in himself to do so.

By the time he’d snapped back to reality, Felix was by his side, concern clearly written on the young boy’s face. Bae didn’t hesitate to plaster on a smile, hoping he would buy the fakeness of it.

“I’m fine Felix, don’t worry. Guess ‘m just a little tired from today’s practice.” - he muttered out, flashing a smile at the boy’s direction before standing up, excusing himself.

He couldn’t bear to be there anymore.

Not when those loathed voices were coming back, making him question if they would eventually leave him too, just like everyone else had done so in the past. Would they find him boring after a while, once his cold facade broke away, his loving yet scared self finally revealed to them?

He didn’t want to think about it.

The door closed with a soft click behind him, the lock shifting in place to ensure his solitude. A deep sigh left his chest as he leaned against the door, too exhausted to try and keep those loathsome thoughts at bay anymore. He didn’t have the energy for it, not when his limbs ached and joints screamed, not when his mind was already filled with worries about their next project and comeback.

This one thing was the last drop to break him, his body shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks, staining his clothes and skin. He was usually strong, always there to provide comfort for the others, but tonight, it felt impossible. As if a weight was crushing his whole existence, not allowing him to continue on his path, binding him in place like a chain secured to the depths of the ocean.

All he could do now was to sit there, face buried in his knees, hands tightly wrapped around his shaking form. A hiccup escaped through his lips, loud in the silence of his room. He tried his best to not let any sound escape him, to ride these emotions out alone, not wishing to disturb anyone, but it was useless. He could only pray that no one had heard him, that none of the boys chased after him.

His prayers were left unheard as a soft knock echoed through the space, the vibrations running down Bae’s back. He stilled, unable to even breathe from the shock, only hearing the shifting of clothes besides the loud drumming of his heart.

A few beats of silence passed before a sigh could be heard, yet there was no frustration behind it.

“Dal, baby, I know you’re in there. I can hear you. Please let me in, it hurts to know you’re hurting.” - pleaded Chan, voice so soft Bae couldn’t believe the man was talking to him.

No reply could be heard as Bae’s silent tears continued, shocking him when a loud thump could be felt from behind, the door gently rattling in place once.

“You don’t need to tell me what happened, or what’s wrong, just… know that I’m here, yeah? I’m always here if you need me, always have been. Or so I’d like to believe.” - Chan chuckled, his voice turning into a hushed whisper near the end.

Bae slowly wiped at his eyes, a soft sniffle letting Chan know the boy was still awake and listening.

“You know, I’ve always admired you. Even when we were just young trainees, hardly knowing each other. If someone had a hard day you tried your best to put your differences aside and lended them a shoulder. Even me, no matter how hard I was on you in our training.” - a soft sigh could be heard, one filled with mirth and memories.

Bae remembered those days clearly, being one of the first ones to join the group. He was standoffish and cold, often getting into arguments thanks to that. But at the end of the day, Chan always stuck to him, adamantly chipping away at the walls he had built up.

“I know you might not believe me, especially with how stubborn you are, but we care about you. We all do, me included. Your pain is our pain. And knowing that you’re on the other side of this door, suffering, it pains me. Please, Moonlight, let me in. I can’t bear to hear you cry any longer…” - the elder’s voice cracked at the end, filled to the brim with emotion and hurt.

Clothes shifted and the lock clicked, their leader not hesitating to tear the door open and scoop Bae into his arms. The younger clung to him desperately, hands looped around Chan’s neck, face buried in his chest. The waterworks never really stopped, silently flowing even while the older had been speaking.

The door slowly clicked shut, the two now laid on the soft sea of blankets and pillows.

For a while, Bae just laid there in Chan’s embrace, hiding away from the entire world in his hyung’s steady hold and gentle touches that nearly lulled him to sleep with each stroke over his hair and skin. But he couldn’t sleep, not yet, not when doubts continued plaquing his mind constantly, feeding his fears until they grew impossibly large.

A question left his lips, so quiet that not even Chan could make sense of it.

“What was it, baby? Could you repeat that for me?” - he asked, gently drawing Bae’s face away from his neck to look at him.

“You… you won’t leave me, right?”

Nothing could have prepared Chan for that question, his eyes widening in pure shock and disbelief.

It only took a second longer for his own eyes to water, those warm nebulas looking at Bae with such emotion that it nearly broke the boy.

“Of course not. I’m here to stay, now and forever.”

The two fell asleep in each others’ hold, Chan curled up around Bae as if he was trying to shield the boy from the entire world itself. And for once, Bae let himself be held, desperately clinging onto the other, as if he would disappear in the blink of an eye without any prior notice.

[eilaafterhours]

Resonance [Zayne]

Content: Smut, AFAB Reader, Overstimulation, Misuse of Evols, Mildly Dubcon, Oral Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Kitchen Sex, Couch Sex, Mating Press, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Creampie, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity! 2040 blocked and counting :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Resonance. That was the name of your Evol. It made you sensitive to Metaflux, and a powerful supporting ally on the battlefield. However, in just a few days, you would learn of something else that triggered your sensitivity, as well as a different way to boost someone. 

You were not a greedy person, well, not more greedy than the average human. And yet, here you were, sitting beside Zayne on the couch as he typed away on some report. 

While you were incredibly horny. 

You wanted to push the laptop to the side, replacing it with yourself, so that you could rile him up enough to take you to the bedroom. But no, you were behaving yourself.

‘I need to get away from him for a minute,’ You thought as you stood. If you had to watch those deft fingers fly across the keyboard and not work your pussy, you’d scream. 

You made your way to the kitchen, set on getting one of your favorite snacks that you had hidden away from you to keep you from gobbling it all up (outta sight, outta mind as they say). You opened the cabinet and reached for it, but felt nothing but wood. Even getting on the tips of your toes did nothing to help. You were on the verge of jumping on the counter to get it when something hot and firm made itself known against your back. 

You bit your lip hard, trying your damnedest to not tense up. You knew that Zayne knew exactly what he was doing. But you knew him, and he’d rather watch you squirm and beg, or wait patiently for him to finish his work to finally work on you. 

But god, it was so hard, especially when his dick was pressing so hard against your—

Wait. 

His wait was wait now? There was no way. Zayne had incredible self-control. In the few times that you’d stolen a peek, you’d seen nothing to give away his desire, unlike your squirming self.

Which, speaking of squirming, you were really losing yourself by this point. If Zayne didn’t move in the next second, you were gonna show him a real kitchen nightmare. 

“Fuck.”

Your eyes widened as Zayne’s hot breath fanned against your neck. He had closed the cabinet, letting slam as his body moved in closer, trapping you between him and the counter. You froze, unsure of what to do next. To be or not to be greedy, that was the question.

Thankfully, Zayne took answered it for you. 

His hands made their way to your waist, while his mouth began moving against your neck. 

“Z-Zayne..!” But he didn’t give you any time to react because he was already pulling your pants off, one hand cupping your sex while the other worked your breast. 

In just a few moves, he had panting out for breathing, unable to beg him for more. Suddenly, he moved away, leaving you cold and wanting. Though, it wasn’t for long because the hard counter replaced his hand on your breasts and his mouth replaced the one that was working your pussy. 

It didn’t take long for you to come undone. Everything was just too hot. You could barely hold on to coherent thoughts at this point, the only thing you could focus on was getting full and reaching your release.

In your daze, you could hear him fumbling with his belt. You could understand why he was eager, but you were tired—actually, you weren’t tired at all (if your throbbing pussy was anything to go by). 

“Fuck—!” You must have been wetter than you thought, since he was able to slide in so easily. He pressed up against you again, enveloping you in himself and what he was doing to you. 

You turned your head, wanting to get a glimpse of him, even if just for a moment, but he was faster, and captured your lips. It was wet, sloppy and fucking amazing. 

Again, it didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, but you weren’t expecting Zayne to follow suit. You loved it, the feeling of being so full and ravaged.

And yet, you wanted more. 

You needed more.

“More…I need more, Zayne.” You began babbling, hips moving, against him. “I need more of your fat cock.” You needed him to fill you to the brim till you couldn’t hold anymore.

And then fill you fuller than that. 

“Please, please please, I need you, Zayne. I know you want to, so—fuck—just do it.” The girl he had on your hips tightened, and you clenched around his cock in anticipation, but all he did was sharply exhale through his nose.

“I’ve just barely just grabbed a hold of myself, and this is what you do.” That may have been what he said, but his hips joined yours in a steady beat. “What ever will I do with you?”

“Fuck me.” You were done, time to give into your greed. You were gonna milk the fuck out of this man. 

“Wait, wait.” He stopped the both of your movements. “Do you realize that you’re using your Evol right now?”

You squirmed in his grip. What was he talking about? Why wasn’t he fucking you? He should be fucking you, not running his fucking mouth.

“Fu—ha…” He started moving again, good. “You are…fine.” He pressed down on you again, “This is the last time—I’ll fuck you just how you want me to.”

He pulled out, and you were quick to whip around, ready to snap at him, but he picked you up instead. Returned to the living room, he dropped you on the couch before making quick of his clothing. 

As he moved closer, you lifted your arms, wanting to bring him as close to you as possible. You wanted to feel everything, you needed every inch of him. However, he pushed them aside.

Why was he pushing you away? Did he not feel what you felt? No, that can’t be true. He was just being mean for no reason, obviously.  

“What are you—ah!” You were caught off as your breath was stolen by him suddenly shoving your legs toward you and damn neat folding you in half. 

Wasting no time, sliding back into your warm cunt, setting a brutal pace. He made sure each slam led the tip of his dick to kissing your cervix. 

“Yes, yes—mmmm fuck, yes, Zayne, right there, fuck ha—mm” You honestly didn’t know you were saying at this point, not like it mattered. Above you was the man who had turned you into this bumbling mess, saying your name like a prayer. Not only did he sound divine, but it was you who did this to him. 

You loved it, you loved him.

At your final climax, you clenched down on him—keeping him firmly in place despite the slick that coated his dick. Suddenly, there was a blinding light that caused you to screw your eyes shut as a wave of freezing air passed over you. 

When you opened your eyes, you found the surrounding space covered in a layer of ice.

“Oh.” Zayne breathed, “You really did take all of me.”

“So you’re telling me that because I was so horny, I accidentally activated my Evol and had you resonate with my horniness, leading us to fuck in the kitchen like animals to the point that you used your Evol?

Zayne nodded. “There’s also the fact that we left quite the mess in the kitchen and on the couch, especially you, but yes, that’s the gist of it.”

You slapped your hands over your face. “Oh my god—I am so sorry!” That’s it! You were done with the sin of greed and would now heed the word virtuous word of charity.

“You’re fine.” He assured you. “I was going to do all of that after I finished my report anyway.”

Knowing that Zayne knew you were horny the entire time did not make you feel any better.

“However, you’ll have to repay me for your impatience.” He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Maybe then we can really experiment with your Evol.” 

You shivered, in fear or anticipation, you didn’t know (see: eagerness and anticipation). “Maybe, but you’re gonna have to wait a while. You very much fucked me into oblivion.” 

“And I’ll gladly do it again. All you have to do is ask.”

As per usual, this took a turn, lol. It was supposed to be more of a rewrite/rework of Amplification, but honestly this turned into its own thing...as per usual.

Oh! So, Mildly Dubcon, yeah cuz like, y'all both very much wanted to fuck, but the circumstances in which it happened makes it a bit dubious.

ANYWAY, um! The horny demons possessed me yet again, and there's a very funny joke in here, please laugh loudly.

10/23/24 Update: I somehow added like 300 words to this, and added 2 more tags (tbh Kitchen Sex, Creampie and Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation were supposed to be on there from the jump lol). Anyway! This got a lot more filthy and those few hundered words, so I hope y'all enjoy this mean update/edit.

Add on: What If Scenario

Masterlist

[marclef]

new About Me post time!!!

hello there! i'm Marclef/Marcus/Marc/whatever you wanna call me, i'm 24 yrs. old, he/him pronouns, and welcome to my blog! here i mainly post fanart as well as dumb things i like, here's a little bit about me!

my biggest interest right now is Pizza Tower, which is probably what most stuff i draw is gonna be, but i may end up doing more in the future! the main tag you can find all of my art here is #my art !

i also do a lot of OC art! the OC i post most about is Eyhm the Cat, who i've been mainly using for Pizza Tower art lately! here's some information/references for her though if you need them!

feel free to draw her (and any other OCs i might post) if you want, i absolutely love seeing other people's art!!

BUT, importantly, here's some important Rules and information you'll need to know while you're here!

i'm proudly and openly Transmasc! 💙💗🤍💗💙 this means you'll probably see me reblogging a lot of silly posts and art i can relate to. if you have a problem with that, i strongly suggest you leave. ANY hate or otherwise offensive speech i see on here will result in an automatic block!

as an adult, i may also sometimes reblog/draw some raunchier content, so if you're younger, please be aware of that! i WILL allow those 17 and younger to follow me, as long as you behave and don't get upset just for the "weirder" things i might post! once again, any misbehaving here will result in a block!

on a similar note.... i will admit that i'm kinda a big Weirdo sometimes. but, if i ever draw/post something that's especially weird, i will make sure to properly warn you about it, so if you still look at it and get weirded out, that's on you!!! please do not leave any rude/weird comments on anything i post or reblog though. likewise, any disrespectful comments on any art here (mine or otherwise) will likely result in a block, so PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL!

i'm still a little shy around new people, but i do like getting messages and talking about my art! feel free to send me asks/messages about stuff, i'll do my best to respond! if i don't, either i don't want to answer, or i'm too nervous to respond right away, but i do see everything that gets sent to me! i might be a bit slow to respond to asks as well, please be patient, but i will try to answer as many of them as i can!

i'm open to art trades, but be aware that i usually only accept if you ask for characters i know! generally this means OCs or characters from stuff mentioned above, i'm more likely to respond if you're somebody i know as well. sorry, i'm still a bit socially anxious, so please don't get upset if i don't respond to you about them!

any other questions you might have though, feel free to ask!

oh, and here's some important links to look at as well!! ⬇⬇⬇

My KO-FI (please feel free to support my art if you like it!!!)

My Artfight

DUMB STUFF I'VE DONE!!! :

Pizza Towerria (Pizza Tower texture pack for Terraria)

Fake Peppino for Don't Starve Together

Monster (short story about Fake Peppino, Peppino, and Eyhm)

other than that, as long as you follow my rules and respect everything, we should be good here! have fun checking out my blog, and feel free to message me with art requests if you'd like! but... HAVE FUN!!! ✨✨✨

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day six

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : angst, fluff

length : 4k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3 @kageyasma

a/n : hope you're prepared for a bit of angst, I hope I managed to do it justice because it's definitely the genre I'm least used to, but here we go! enjoy and leave a reblog or a comment and I'll love you forever 🥰💗

•••

day six

I barely slept. One reason was the lingering alcohol in my veins making me so dizzy that closing my eyes seemed like a punishment. The other was the fact that my brain was desperately trying to make sense of everything that had transpired that night. I knew, I was fully aware, that this had been what I’d been wanting in a way. But fantisising about these things and actually going through with them were two entirely different things.

I had kissed Noah. I had kissed Oli. They had kissed each other.

It sounded perfect on paper or in a romance novel that was guaranteed a happy ending, but the more the morning light emerged and hit me through the curtains I’d never closed, the more the reality of it weighed on me. Last night, we had crossed some lines that we’d only been eyeing before. Kissing Oli had felt more intimate than all the stuff we’d gotten up to before. As far as I knew, last night also marked the first time Oli and Noah had gotten that close.

How were we going to behave around each other now? We could go and blame it on the alcohol, but I didn’t think that anyone in this constellation could honestly say that it wouldn’t have happened anyway, at some point in time. The temptation had been lingering between us for days. Maybe longer in some cases.

I turned off the alarm on my phone as it blared through the silent room. It hurt my head. A noisy reminder that life had to go on. That I would have to face both of them, without any idea of how they would react. If they regretted it. If they would pull back now. If everything would change for the worse. Or the worst.

My tired body dragged itself through the motions. Shower. Getting dressed. Packing my stuff. No flattering outfit today, just a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable hoodie.

I didn’t meet anyone in the hallway or the lift or the lobby. A few people were already around in the car park, loading in everyone’s stuff, mingling about, smoking another cigarette. I pulled the hood up into my face. I’d avoided the mirror pretty successfully this morning, but I just knew I looked rough. Some people knew I’d been out with Lia last night and they would no doubt love to get some mocking remarks in about my perceived hangover. I didn’t have the nerves for it.

A glimpse of Noah.

My feet immediately stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, really. Of course, he would be around sooner or later.

He looked just as beat up as I felt. I wished I knew if it was because of the late night or if he’d stayed up wondering too. He looked at me for a second, face paler than I remembered, dark circles appearing under his eyes, and gave me a wave. No smile, no urge to move toward me, no words, just his hand in the air without much conviction.

I waved back, unsure of how to proceed, but someone patted Noah on the back to get his attention. Free from the burning stare, I got onto the bus. I was armed with a few personal things, when I climbed the stairs and made a beeline for my bunk. There was no noise around me. Either everyone was still getting ready or people were being extremely quiet.

The curtain on Oli’s bunk was drawn shut. I tried hard to remember if he’d left it like that the day before or if it was an indication that he was here already, but I came up short. It didn’t matter, in the end. I slipped into my own bunk and closed the curtain. 

Unless Oli decided to go the route of “pretending nothing at all happened”, he probably wouldn’t talk to me anyway. I’d known him long enough. He was the type to battle things on his own for as long as the world allowed him to, before he would talk to anyone or ask for help. I felt like the three of us had that in common. It wasn’t the greatest mix of people when it came to bumps in the road.

I pushed the thoughts away, just like I ignored the slight lump in my throat that I refused to let grow. Picking up my phone from where it had burrowed in my bunk, I took the plunge to check my regular mails again, something I’d been avoiding since getting on this tour. It held the usual disappointments.

A rejection from a job I’d applied for that would have started right after tour.

A mail from my father which got deleted unseen.

Another rejection.

Spam.

An old employer saying they didn’t have any capacities for me any time soon.

More spam.

A mail from my roommate.

The last one took me by surprise, but the content cleared it up immediately. “Got a new phone, lost your number but found your e-mail address on some junk paper in the kitchen. Call me when you can.” With a groan, I put my phone away again. I didn’t know what this was about, but it couldn’t be good. We both weren’t terribly keen on each other, but it was the only place in London I could find that only had one other person living there instead of four, so it seemed like a good deal. I made a mental note to call her later, without much motivation.

Turning on my side, I snuggled into the relatively comfortable bunk. Exhaustion draped itself over me like a heavy blanket. I fell asleep, the hours awake finally catching up with me, and was granted a dreamless few hours.

•••

When I woke up, the curtain to my bunk was disturbed, not closed all the way anymore and I wondered if I’d moved it in my sleep or if someone had come to check up on me. If it was the latter, it was probably someone trying to figure out if I was actually on the bus or if they’d left me in Manchester by mistake. I thought that wouldn’t be all too bad. However, we had arrived in Glasgow, apparently, and there was work to do. With a heavy sigh, I heaved myself out of my quarters. Time to check in to the hotel, check on Oli, get to the venue, soundcheck, the usual.

I found Oli in the hotel lobby, getting his room key. I quickly waved down another receptionist to get my own, only half-heartedly listening to their introduction to the hotel and then legged it after him, only just managing to make it into the lift before the doors closed. I wasn’t going to take silent treatment for an answer. I’d accepted that kind of behaviour more often than I’d like to admit in my life, I wasn’t going to go down that road with Oli.

The doors closed behind me, leaving the two of us in silence. I mustered him, trying to figure out where we were at, where his mind was, how to approach whatever had shifted between us. He didn’t look overly stressed. Or like he hadn’t slept. But I knew he also had a talent to hide it well. My brain was fumbling over what words to choose when he finally looked at me.

Then, without warning or giving me time to prepare, Oli was on me, kissing me hard and fast, and I couldn’t do anything but wrap my arms around him and reciprocate. I helplessly moaned into his mouth, completely at his mercy, and then the lift dinged and both of us flew apart just as the doors opened to our floor.

I stepped out of the lift ahead of him, momentarily confused as to where to go, the sudden kiss having erased all memories of my room number, but Oli passed me by easily, walking into whatever direction I figured was probably the correct one for me too.

“Oli!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop until he was at the door. I watched as he unlocked it and shoved his suitcase in so it would stay open. “Aren’t we going to talk?”

“What about?” I could practically see the shield he had put up. It was a sight that hadn’t greeted me in years, taking me aback and confusing me. Him being distant, hiding away, not letting me in, not letting me see the real him felt like a punishment. But it was exactly what he was doing, hanging about in the middle of the doorframe, an arrogant look on his face that I knew was nothing but a mask. I hated this side of him as much as it worried me.

“Last night? Starting with the fact that we kissed?”

He cocked his eyebrow at me with a smirk, but it wasn’t honest and it wasn’t reassuring. It was annoying. “Yeah, and? We just did again. Ain’t that what we’d been working towards? Having a little snog? Well, there you go.”

I swallowed my anger at the way he was presenting things, twisting what was happening, downplaying it. It took a deep breath to convince me to stay calm. He was doing this to keep himself from being vulnerable, not to be an arsehole, I tried to remind myself. Unfortuantely, it didn’t help that he sounded and looked every bit like a cunt in that moment.

“What about Noah then? Also just a game to you?”

There was a flicker of something on his face, something that was threatening to break through his facade, but he quickly regained his composure.

“What if it is?”

I didn’t have an answer to that, stunned by the audacity. Both of us knew that he was lying, but he was clinging to his version of things so adamantly it made me want to punch his face. I couldn’t tell where I found the strength to keep myself from doing it. Probably the idea of what this whole mess could do to Noah.

I needed to talk to Noah.

“Right, that it?” Oli asked, apparently bored out of his mind. “If you want a quick fuck, you’re welcome to come in. If not, I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

The door fell into the lock before I could respond. Fucking prick. I thought he had learned, in the past years, I really did, but this just proved that he was a stubborn as ever. With a noise of frustration, I harshly stamped my foot into the carpet underneath, just to rid myself of some of the tension. It didn’t work.

•••

Neither Oli nor Noah were anywhere to be found when I got to the venue. My messages to both of them had somehow gone unread, which frustrated me even more. One of them was supposed to be my boss which made my work impossible. The other didn’t seem like the type to not check his phone which was equal parts weird. It wasn’t until someone tipped me off that at least Noah had been seen getting back to his dressing room that I finally had some success.

Well. Technically, I had twice the success because Oli was leaving the room right as I reached it. I was about to ask him what was going on, why wasn’t he answering my mails, did he really have no need for me today, but he simply nodded in recognition and sauntered past me. One problem after the other, I told myself, knocking and letting myself into Noah’s dressing room.

Noah was sitting on the sofa, cross-legged, looking up at me with wide eyes. I let myself fall onto the cushions next to him, utterly exhausted by the day and it wasn’t even showtime. Without a word, Noah put his arm around me, allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder. The comfort spread through me like a hot cup of tea.

“Are you okay?” I asked simply because I was afraid he would ask me first. “What did Oli want?”

“Just checking if we were okay, I guess,” Noah sighed. I internally scoffed at the fact that he had bothered with Noah but not with me, but I pushed the thought away. “Wanting to make sure I still wanted to Antivist tonight.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know when someone is talking and talking but they’re not actually saying anything? Oli is an expert at that, isn’t he. I have no idea what he thinks about last night. I can’t even pinpoint if I asked.”

“Oli can be all smoke and mirrors and leave you more confused than before you talked to him,” I agreed. “How do you feel about last night?”

I didn’t lift my head. I gave both of us the chance to speak as freely as possible without having to look at each other. The same way the darkness gave you the freedom to reveal your secrets at night when you’re a kid, before you came to regret your honesty the next morning.

Noah’s answer began with a big sigh. “I liked kissing him,” he admitted. “I liked kissing you, too. I liked watching him kiss you. But I’m not…” I allowed him as much time as he needed to find his words. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to get involved… with anyone. I can’t give anyone what they need. I’m away and I don’t talk about my feelings and I’m a terrible partner and-”

I couldn’t help myself as I interrupted his speech, sitting upright and taking his face in my hands to force him to look at me. Even self-doubt looked handsome on him.

“You’re talking about your feelings right now, Noah, and you’re doing just fine.”

His head dropped low, now finding my shoulder as I awkwardly hugged him. The scent of his hair was in my nose and I had to actively stop myself from inhaling loudly. He smelled like comfort, I decided. Noah looked back up as I raked my fingers through his hair.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked, carefully.

“I just know I don’t want to stop kissing you.”

It was all I needed, right then and there. I kissed him with all the intensity, all the desperation, all the need inside of me, all the frustration about Oli, all the feelings I had for him but couldn’t or wouldn’t yet name. His mouth was starting to feel familiar against mine, familiar but never boring in the way it moved, the way he tasted. He held me close, pressing our chests together, my breasts heavy between us, his hands all over me in sweet gestures that still had me burning for more.

Both of us were breathless when we separated, but I couldn’t help peppering a few more kisses to his lips, short and soft but saying it all, until it came to a natural end. The smile on his face, directed solely at me, his brown eyes, so enticing, smiling along, was more than enough.

I didn’t want to stop kissing him either.

•••

Oli kept himself much less approachable. He finally read my message but left me without a reply. I managed to run into him several times before his band’s set, but he more or less sent me away every time, claiming not to need anything at all. Just relax and sit down somewhere, he had told me with a dismissive wave of his hand. He was stubborn, but so was I. The last hour before his stage time, I simply followed him around the arena like a lost puppy, just in case he found a use for me. He didn’t. But I felt stupidly pleased that I didn’t let him get away with whatever game he was trying to play.

Still, I was annoyed and felt the rage simmering inside of me. Oli managed to put on a good show, but I felt like his mind wasn’t quite in the right place. Mine wasn’t either. I quickly spoke to Bring Me’s tour manager when I caught him at the side of the stage, purely to let someone know, before going the long way round and finding myself on the arena floor among the fans. I had been a fan myself, long before I’d been working on tours, and that hadn’t changed, no matter how many I went on. I knew that being in a crowd, surrounding by people, screaming the lyrics and moving to the music, would help me clear my head like nothing else could. Besides, it felt about time I got to witness their show from the perspective of the audience, the very people everything from the setlist to the production to the sound design had been specifically made for.

I squeezed myself into the middle of the crowd, made easier by the amount of movement around me, and took a deep breath that was unfortunately filled with the sweat of people who never learned to use deodorant. It made me move a little further, just until the air was slightly more breathable. And then it felt like home.

I wasn’t Aubrey, personal assistant to Oli anymore and he wasn’t Oli, decade-long friend that turned into the most stubborn person on the planet when faced with his vulnerability anymore. I was nothing more than a fan enjoying the music of one of her favourite bands and getting positively lost in the experience. So I went crazy for Diamonds Aren’t Forever and Parasite Eve, kept my eyes on the screens for Antivist just to catch a glimpse of Noah, getting closer to the front of the stage through a number of moshpits, fought hard not to get emotional for Drown.

The fact that Can You Feel My Heart followed didn’t help. The words travelled through my body, taking hold of me, and I was sure I’d never quite felt them the way I did right then and there. And then…

And then Oli didn’t do the speech. His cheesy ass speech he did in the middle of the song, that he constantly joked about backstage but that I knew was so important to him. And he didn’t do it. Could he not bring himself to say the words? Was he too scared to be vulnerable tonight? Could he not bear the thought of baring his soul like that? Had I made it worse?

I hate to get close, and I hate being alone, I long for that feeling to not feel at all…

The world seemed to close in on me. Oli was being a dickhead, yes, but had I pushed him too far? Had I played his stupid game without taking into account that I knew how much he struggled with allowing that type of intimacy? I had been so preoccupied with my own need for him that I didn’t stop to think if I should check up on him instead of teasing him further and further, allowing him to escalate our friendship into something that could be beyond repair. My head was spinning so hard it made me feel dizzy.

I didn’t notice the moshpit opening up around me until someone crashed into my body, sending me flying to the floor. Someone’s hands were on me, possibly multiple, getting me back on my feet, checking on me. I felt something wet on my face but didn’t think to check, people were shouting at each other over the music, coming to an agreement that someone should get up and crowdsurf to the front where they would get help quicker. Me. They were talking about me. Something dripped onto my eyelid and I wiped it away in annoyance as I got lifted up. Blood? The crowd carried me easily. The song was almost over when a security guard caught me and I briefly looked up to see Oli staring down at me, worried. I wasn’t sure why.

Next thing I knew, I was backstage again, a medic shining a light in my eyes which was awfully annoying, Oli and Noah crouching next to me, being asked questions that were easily answered.

“She’s okay, she probably got a slight concussion, but that will be fine by tomorrow. The cut on her eyebrow is minimal and doesn’t need stitches, it just looks bad because it bled, but that’s stopped which means it’s not too deep. Just make sure it’s kept clean and it should heal just fine.”

“You okay?” Oli asked, carefully grazing his fingertips over my cheek. Awfully soft, really. “I need to get back on stage, but Noah will take you to the dressing room and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’m fine,” I hissed, still high on adrenaline but slowly catching up with what was happening around me. “You don’t need to suddenly care again just because I got injured.”

I could see that my words had hurt him but I didn’t care. Even if my heart pounded heavily. I allowed Noah to help me up and lead me to Oli’s dressing room where he sat me down on the sofa and inspected my wound.

“Do I look sexy all bloody?”

The laugh erupted from his throat out of nowhere. “The medic cleaned you up, but sure, very sexy.”

Silence settled over us as I leaned against his side. The exhaustion of the whole day was washing over me and I was suddenly glad for a little peace and quiet. Neither of us spoke again, simply enjoying the physical contact, until it got louder again from outside the door and we knew the concert had ended.

“Done with your ego trip, then?” I asked as Oli entered the room. He had the decency to look ashamed which I thought was a step forward.

“Never,” he mumbled, but there was no malice in his voice. I raised my eyebrow at him, which shot a dose of pain through my head. My wince softened him immediately. Idiot. “I’m sorry you got hurt. That shouldn’t have happened.”

I genuinely couldn’t tell if he was talking about my mosh pit incident or…

“I guess some people just need to be a little more careful with those around them. Just because they didn’t mean to doesn’t mean other people don’t end up with a headache.”

“You know, some people try very hard, but they’re also very slow learners.”

“I feel like there’s a metaphor here that’s flying right over my head,” Noah interrupted and I couldn’t help but laugh, pressing a short kiss to his temple. Poor Noah, having no idea what he was getting dragged into with Oli and me, but taking it in his stride that neither of us was willing to let him go unless he genuinely asked for it.

I reached my hand out to Oli, deciding to be the bigger person despite knowing that it wasn’t on me to make that first step, but I was impatient and Oli would take forever to be brave enough to come crawling back. “I’m not saying this is over or that we don’t have things to talk about, but as long as you stop pretending to be this cruel and heartless version of you, you’re allowed back into the cuddle pile.”

Oli didn’t take my hand immediately, but looked at Noah, as if checking in with him if he was of the same opinion. I decided to give him credit for it. Noah nodded and in an instant, Oli had draped himself over both our laps, hot to the touch and rather sweaty. The tension between the three of us hadn’t vanished, but it had lessened. Questions remained unanswered and discussions were still to be had but maybe Oli wasn’t the only one reluctant to dive into the deep end.

He mouthed sorry, Aubrey at me and I hated the way my heart melted and my resolve slipped. Then Noah softly stroked his hair and I was sure that some other hearts in this room were melting just the same. I couldn’t help it. I was in love with the mess we were creating.

[yeosboba]

perfume - l.mh

another one i'm transferring here from @yeosluvr

______________________________________________________________

Perfume - Lee Minho Featuring: Lee Minho of SKZ

Genre: Angst, a little fluff

A/N; This is an idea I’ve been thinking of for a long time, and is actually part of a series that I’m currently (slowly) working on, so for now, just enjoy the random word spill huhu. Do leave some feedback and reblog

Disclaimer; this is just a fanfiction and doesn’t portray how lee minho or any stray kids member behave irl. sorry for the late updates.

...

Minho stares at the bottle of perfume now standing - out of place - on the top of his vanity, away from all of his other belongings. It’s cheap perfume, still a quarter to be full, and he doesn’t even remember the brand - maybe there was no brand, to begin with? - but he remembers her being used to coming up here, to his room, lying down on his bed and having breakfast in bed with him, having that cheap perfume stashed in her pocket for emergencies. He remembers the first time he ever officially talked to her - scratch that, it was her who talked to him first. It was about his perfume.

“Where’d you get your perfume?”

He also remembers at the time that it was after his very first breakup - and he even liked her a lot too despite his flirtatious ways- and after that, she came into his life through a simple tap on his shoulder and a seemingly trivial question with a much more trivial intention. She didn’t really expect that it’d hurt to fall in love. He grimaces at the thought and stands up to take the bottle of perfume on the stand.

Twelve months ago, she had come up to him, jet black eyes behind thin rectangular glasses, in a librarian uniform with her name tag stuck proudly on the left side of her vest. He remembers her looking down at her polished leather shoes and the frantic eye language she gave him - the wrong person to ask for help actually since she needed help asking him a question. He chuckles at the memory, and remembers that he answered, “It was a gift from an old friend.”

His ex. Anyone would refer to their ex as an old friend, right?

He could see the surprise and embarrassment eating up on her when she bit her inner cheek and crimson flooded her cheeks, and he thought to himself that he found this girl cute. Awkward, sure, also highly introverted, and not to mention her addiction with books and the school library was beyond what he could fathom, but she was cute nevertheless. Her chuckles rang through his ears, and he found himself smiling over that little action alone.

And without even thinking through, the words passed through his lips.

“Are you free tonight?”

Minho lays down on his bed, legs hanging off the edge as he sighs quietly, closing his eyes, the quarter-full bottle of cheap perfume held tightly to where his heartbeats quicken over a memory he’d do anything to replay.

*

Waking up to her tidying his room was one of the most wonderful things in life that happened to him. He’d rate her existence as a blessing, God-sent. He had needed this kind of person since the breakup and she was the perfect fit for the requirements.

“So…

You want me to help you forget about her?”

No, certainly not in a dirty way. Not to such a pure, innocent creature as herself, who admitted to never having been asked out on dates or even been in a relationship, although she had embarrassedly confessed to wanting to know what real love feels like.

As if he knew. He scoffed at her request at first, because he thought that he knew what love was. Before the break-up, he thought he knew what it was. Post-breakup? Not very sure. But he wasn’t sure as to why he wanted to grant her wish when he saw her looking down to his hands hesitantly.

“I really wanted to know what love is, Minho.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know what drove him to agree after only the second time she asked. After all, it wasn’t unknown that Minho was one of the people who were very hard to convince.

Minho looks across his room and finds the tulips she sent him months ago in a vase. One of them is starting to wither, he observes. “Red tulips,” she once said to him, he recalls. It’s one of his favourite quotes from her still, and he tries to remind himself of her everyday. “To love someone so great is a wonderful gift. I wish I could love and be loved like that.."

He grumbles at the squeaking pipe at the kitchen sink, and the slow flowing of water into his glass, and as Minho impatiently taps his foot on his kitchen tiles, his cousin Felix walks in.

"Hey."

"Morning, cousin.” Felix chuckles, and Minho shakes his head at the younger man before he notices that the glass is already full, so he retreats into his room quietly. He doesn’t miss the pity in Felix’s eyes as he slowly retreats to his room, not wanting to miss watering the tulips that she gave him months ago.

*

Climbing up to his upstairs apartment was a routine for her, because God knows how Minho can get freakish headaches in the morning if he wasn’t woken up the right way. Minho discovered that she had approached him moderately, just the right amount as to not let the pain rise to his head.

There was a pattern to it too.

Of course, he gave her the spare keys to his apartment so she could help him get up in the morning. He’d groan first, before finding one of her cheeks and pecking it, give her a little smile, and he’d greet her afterwards. “Morning, beautiful,” was an accustomed one that even she got used to.

Afterwards they’d be eating their breakfast together, her snuggling into his chest, and he’d make comments about some random reality show that came on TV. An hour before his first class for the day, she’d get up, tidy her clothes and fix her hair before she’d kiss his forehead - her kisses were always longer than his. It made him feel somewhat strange, something stirring inside him that he couldn’t name. She’d wish him a great day and to text her if he wanted meals together, and he’d follow her out after he gave her a kiss on her cheeks.

Another thing he got used to doing was to walk her back to her studio after classes and meals. They didn’t even talk much on the way back, just comfortable silence and her asking if she could put her hand in his pocket, and later on he’d hold her hand in his pocket. He couldn’t explain why he loved it when she simply smiled at this little skinship, but it felt so pleasant and familiar that he didn’t even disagree with it.

Were they something more than friends when they had that, he wondered.

Perhaps it was something else. It was also possible that friends would do that. It would be the feelings that come with it that’d be inappropriate, in his opinion. Feelings that made him feel his cheeks go warm, feelings that made him stutter in his words, feelings that simply told him that he wanted her with him always, feelings that told him she deserved better. So he had to shake it away one way or another.

They were friends, he’d remind himself. Very close ones. He’d tease her and she’d smile through it, and truthfully it made him happy that simple gestures that told him that the weird friendship they had didn’t go one way made her happy. Simple things in life like buying her her favourite coffee. Remembering to wish her good morning first thing - if she wasn’t in his apartment, that is. Remembering to wish her good night.

In truth, he was scared of it.

It grew to be even more frightening when she accidentally left her cheap perfume- the one that he’s holding at the moment- in his apartment. He was so curious that he picked up by means of teasing her when they’ll be having Literature in a few hours. That was until he smelled it and thought, ‘she smelled nothing like it.

She smelled better.’

Literature was fun. She was one of the tutors in their year, and he’d always tease her when she came round to teach his group about literary components. It usually amused him to see her cheeks flare in red and she’d swat his hand in furious embarrassment, but that one specific Literature night class was … he didn’t know how to describe it, but he felt all giddy reminiscing that one particular night.

“Ah, hey guys. Need help?”

“I think we’re kinda good here, princess.” He was the one who answered, and he had ideas in his head that might’ve shown on his face that made Seonghwa choke on his water and Hongjoong had to poke Minho on his shoulder. “Yeah well, stop kissing her in your head, Lee,” Hongjoong smirked, and if that didn’t make his heart race he didn’t know what would. And surprisingly, her face had seemed to be the same shade of a ripe tomato- if it wasn’t redder.

And then came the teasing.

He didn’t know what drove him. He really didn’t know, but the only thing in his mind at the moment was to see her smile goofily. He had to do it, right?

He leaned forward in his seat, closing the proximity between them two, until their breaths mixed with each other - which actually took her by surprise because she was too focused on drawing a mind map on their whiteboard- and said, “You left your perfume in my apartment, sweetheart.”

At the sound of his voice so close to her, she whipped her head up to see his smirking lips first, then his incredibly shining eyes - that was what she said to him anyways - and she leaned back. Her face was red. She was stuttering on her words.

It was nice to see he wasn’t feeling one-sided about all the arrangement wasn’t it?

“I’ll see you later, honey,” he winked at her.

She nodded, before walking to another group, fanning herself.

*

Minho really badly wants to cry at the amount of memories that are replaying in his head as he clutches the perfume to his chest. Where it hurts. He’d see her smile, and the glow in her eyes whenever she looks at him. Looked at him. It’s getting harder to breathe, so he walks up to his window and for the first time in months, he draws the curtains open.

Senior year was about prom. Of course it was always about prom.

Lee Minho asked her if she’d wanted to be his date- “As friends, of course. Single friends,” he laughed- and she had agreed to it. Which led to the agreement that they’d go with matching colours. That time, she made a request for him to take him out shopping for black ties. He’d groaned, actually, but it came out a whimper, then a sigh, when he glanced her way and saw her big hopeful eyes, blinking at him.

“Okay.” He smiled.

It didn’t help that on the day of said purchase of tie, she’d hurriedly took some cash out of her wallet and handed it over to the cashier before he could even protest. “I’ll pay for this,” she affirmed firmly, and the cashier squealed over how cute of a couple they were. Which led him to the first of his many regrets in their 'friendship’.

“We’re just friends,” he chuckled, not noticing the way her smile faltered and the cashier nodded awkwardly at her. By then she felt very weak in her knees, but he didn’t really notice it because she was too quick to hide it when he turned to her and asked her if everything’s okay. Of course, she’d answer that it was all fine. All very very fine.

He didn’t get a good night reply that night.

She seemed okay in the morning, though.

She had told him how excited she was for prom, and when curiosity came to him and urged him to ask her about her gown for the night, she just gave him a plain smile emoji and told him that she wanted to save the surprise for the night. He’d smiled at that comment and had waited patiently for the sun of the day of prom to set.

Minho takes in one breath as he remembers the night where he first sees her in the black gown. He wants to remember taking in the sight of her in that black gown of sequins and the frilly neckline and her face was shaded with the lightest tones of make-up and even her hairstyle was simple, her bangs pulled back in bobby pins, and her hair was pulled back with a flower scrunchie, flowing in a wavy side ponytail.

Beautiful. He tells her, the her in his memory.

Thank you, the her in his memory replies. Same voice, same shyness.

She got him tripping and she didn’t even know.

“You look gorgeous, Lee Minho,” she smiled.

“Likewise.” He bowed his head, knowing full well that in her eyes he’d be very flushed-face in the mere presence of her. In a black gown. With that hairstyle. At that point, he was very confused with the border that separated friendship and something that he’d labelled as 'something more’.

The rest of the night, to him, was a complete haze as he kept his hand firm on her waist, keeping her close to him at all times. He didn’t know why he acted like it, but she seemed to not mind, only excusing herself at one point because she needed the toilet. He thought the night went perfectly, and her presence with him had kept him at ease and composed, and he didn’t even remember that he used to have someone that wasn’t her.

Well actually, that thought was interrupted by a gentle poke on his shoulder, and what greeted his sight - to his shock - wasn’t her, but his ex. All in her glorious emerald green dress, all smiley. All beautiful for someone that wasn’t him. His heart stopped at the thought and for a moment all he could think of was how pretty she looked. If only she was his.

“Hi, Minho.”

“Hey yourself.”

A moment of awkward silence passed as she sheepishly grinned at him and he struggled to keep his breaths in check, because he finally remembered what it was that made him stay with the girl in the black gown all along. She was able to make him forget his misery. Had he really used her for his own good? He didn’t know he was capable of doing that, but when his stomach turned and flipped and made him feel sick, he realised that maybe, it wasn’t love that he felt for the girl in the black gown.

So why was he crying?

So why is he crying?

“You came."

"Yeah.” He gulped, not wanting to meet her gaze.

“I saw her just now.” She chirped, and from that voice alone he knew she was genuinely happy for him, thinking he had found someone for him. Someone that could make him happier than she did. “She’s really pretty isn’t she?”

He couldn’t speak.

“I’m glad you’re happier with her, Minho.”

Supposed that she only made him believe in temporary happiness, and not actually him feeling happy with her? The girl in the black gown? Then what should he do? What had he done to himself?

What had he done to her?

“I’ll see you around, Minho.” She smiled, and before he knew it, she had tiptoed up to his cheek, felt a brief second of a kiss on his cheek, and left without any more words exchanged. He felt slightly ashamed of himself, felt as though he was undeserving of any kind of love at all.

But he didn’t know why he’d feel so, so terrible when he looked up to see the huge eyes, those huge, terribly tearful eyes - in terms of trying trying hold back tears from overwhelming - looking at him, who stood in the middle of the room, and her, from the entrance to the hall where the prom was held.

He didn’t even know why he felt so broken, felt as though he’d begged her to stay when she let one of her tears fall and wiped the others away with her hand. He was waiting for a slap - some kind of physical pain on any part of his body - as she crossed the room in small steps. But there was nothing.

She’d crossed the room, took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently, and he felt some more tears falling onto his fist.

“Was I not enough, Lee Minho?"

"No, sweetheart,” his breath hitches at the memory, and he feels his gut kicking against the walls of his stomach as he says so. “You’re more than what I deserve, more than what I asked for,” he says to her in his memory. The words that he didn’t say to her that night.

“Minho?” Another hand came to hold his knuckles and he felt her shake. And of course, the tears. Waves of slow music echoed against the walls and Minho was so thankful that nobody had noticed her. Or him. Crying.

“Hey.” He whispered, bringing his hands to wipe the streams of tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered close to his touch, and he felt the pain throbbing inside him again as he kissed her eyelids. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s dance,” he whispered, and his arms went down to her waist as he buried his head in her neck.

She nodded quietly, soft sniffs still loud in his ears as he took in her scent, and before long he felt her arms gently going around his neck, and felt her wet cheeks against his chest. Still shaking, he felt her swallow her sobs, prompting him to slide his hands against her back in an attempt to calm her down.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to her in his memory. “I thought it was for the best.”

“I know, Minho.” Figured that he had said the same thing, because he had remembered her saying this all, and her looking up to him, wet eyes and sad smile. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffed again. Minho ignored the urge for him to kiss her right then and there.

Shaking his head, Minho swiped his thumb across one of her cheeks and she smiled. The lump in his throat remained as he felt his cheeks becoming wet after seeing that broken smile of hers. As if she was somehow… just giving up her happiness for his. Although he couldn’t really explain why that thought that might’ve run through her head made his heart sink.

Afterwards Minho had taken her to the photobooth, by means of making her smile. At least they could make funny faces at each other when they sit there, right? At least they’d laugh at each other right?

But he couldn’t really do anything at the moment. Not when she seemed to force herself to enjoy the night because of him. The first take she was laughing because he had tripped on her and she had pulled him to sit down on the seat beside hers, and the cameras flashed on their faces before he could comprehend anything.

The second take was more like him laughing at her as he teased her about how beautiful she looked in that gown. How he wished he could make her his, the voice in his head had whispered. A pleasurable shade of cherry red again coated her cheeks, like the previous times where she had been teased by him, and the second take was her stifling a silly grin and playfully shoving his shoulder.

The third take was him pulling her to sit on his lap, and that the cameras had caught her surprised look on the cameras made his stomach turn. She had her arms around his neck to keep herself balanced, and for that matter she needed to look up.

The fourth take was unexplainable. She was sitting on his lap, and the cameras caught him looking at her with the same confusing emotions he had felt the whole time he was with her. And he had mistaken those feelings to be similar to what he’d felt for a friend when he knew she wasn’t just a friend. She was smiling so beautifully, looking into his eyes as she did so, and he knew he felt warm, as though something inside him was melting to the sensations she was making him feel.

“Lee Minho, I love you."

Between the bright lights of the camera flash and the sound of shutters being clicked open and close, he heard the small voice of her amidst everything.

That night had somehow ended with shaky breaths and hushed voices as he walked her back to her studio, and somehow it felt as if it was the last time he’d hold her hand.

Minho stands up from his position and walks to his desk. His very, very dusty desk, pulls out an old book - that’s for another story for him to tell - and takes out the set of four black-framed polaroids they had taken that night. Brushing his hands across the pictures, he sighs at the sight of her in that gown he adores so much.

But even without the gown, she looks so much more beautiful than any other girls he’d ever known.

Is this love?

He brushes his thumb across her cheek in the picture and feels a weird sense of … something unnamed overwhelming his five senses. Bringing the perfume in his hand to his nose, he gently sniffs on it, before he brings the Polaroid set to his nose. It smells the same, he hears the voice in his head speaking fondly. It smells wonderful. This is her smell.

Brushing the pads of his fingers against her wet cheeks, he bent to her forehead, leaving unspoken feelings and hidden meanings behind a simple lingering kiss to it, but it wasn’t just that that broke her. He had said something that made it particularly difficult for her to forget- and it was such a Lee Minho thing to do when parting ways.

"Don’t ever change for anyone, darling.

You’re perfect the way you are,

Stay the same, love.”

Goodbyes were hard, but it was extremely- surprisingly- difficult for someone who had said a lot of goodbyes such as Lee Minho, and he hadn’t expected that to happen with anyone. Except he didn’t expect meeting her would be the end of that statement for him.

He turned on his heels after the kiss, begging his heart to not even spare a glance, because this was her. She’d make it especially difficult for him to leave.

But long after he reached his apartment, changed out of his suit, and drank a mug of hot choco that Felix had made for him, he found himself staring into darkness, his mind drowning in the remaining memories he had of her.

He sighs again, clutching the two items to his chest and takes in the smell of her. As he closes his eyes, he remembers feeling a sense of warmth flooding him as her smell engulfs him in what he can only as her comfort hugs. How can she smell good even without perfume?

She always does that when she knows he’s upset.

Somewhere in between his consciousness and his dreamstate, he hears a little voice pleading with her in his memories.

If I ever get to meet you next time, I’m praying to God that even if you find someone that’s not me, please don’t ever change.

*

It’s early morning the next day when Minho next opens his eyes. Since his curtains were drawn open yesterday, he’s greeted first thing by the little rays of sunlight. The sun is rising. Groaning, he fights the urge to curse the sun for being up too early. It’s the weekend, what the heck?

The first thing that he registers is that he hears Felix singing as he makes his usual pancakes, and that if he’s very much awake he’d realise Felix is actually having a pleasant conversation. With a girl. But Lee Minho’s not in his right mind, so he doesn’t think of it too much when he realises that the voice is hers- because he thinks he’s still dreaming.

“Hyung!”

He hears Felix’s three soft raps on his door, and he swears that he can hear Felix smiling when he presses his ear to the surface of the wooden door when Felix says, “Someone’s out here to meet you, hyung.” Minho doesn’t think too much of it, because Felix usually invites his friends over, and his friends- Hyunjin, Jisung and Seungmin- he can say they’re basically fond of him.

What he didn’t expect was to see her.

With a box of Pepero sticks that he remembers mentioning to her that he craved for. That was over a year ago.

He blinks, grip tightening on his door handle as she lowers her gaze in a small bow. Minho feels all his senses heightening at an alarming rate, so he turns to Felix, who throws worried looks in his direction as if wanting to ask if he’s okay with her coming. He notices her gulping, wondering if the anxiety hits her the same way it’s currently hitting him.

“I’m just stopping by,” she stutters. “To drop this.” She gestures at the big green box, giggling nervously as she picks at the skin of her arm. When his gaze finds hers again, she looks down to her stockinged feet. She’s still the same, he whispers to himself.

Felix eyes him nervously, an eye language of, “Maybe I should leave you guys alone.”

Minho nods at him, and before she can look up to stop Felix, he’s gone.

The sound of a slammed door surprises her and makes her jump in her position, but Minho stifles his chuckle because he doesn’t want to scare her away like he did last time. It seems as though they’re both thinking the same thing, because Minho notices another gulp going down her throat, and that’s what he’s currently having a problem with. His throat feels dry and it feels particularly difficult to breathe.

“Hey.”

She looks up.

“Let’s sit down. Talk.”

“Like old times?"

He sighs. He knows that it won’t feel like old times anymore.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up.”

“It’s okay, darling.” He says, and he feels the nerves in him relaxing. “I wanted things to be the way they were too."

He sees her open her mouth, but then she closes it. Considering her words and actions before she regrets it.

He walks towards the couch in front of the TV, prompting her to follow him. She doesn’t sit when he sits, slightly troubled and confused, but he knows she can’t refuse him when he holds out one hand and something else in his eyes that begs her to do so, so she sits.

He then carefully slides his arm around her waist, glancing at her to assess her reactions. Under his touch, he notices she tenses, the red spreading to her ears and he sighs and before anxiety can creep back up to eat him from inside out, he pulls her closer to him, putting his chin on her head.

An involuntary content sigh leaves his slightly parted lips, and he relaxes into her figure. Gradually, she leans against his chest too, and he hears a heavy breath coming from her. Another bold move that he attempts is to take her other hand in his, and he cheers quietly when she doesn’t budge, instead leaning more into him, and this time he hears a happy hum from her.

It’s so tempting for Minho to sway her in that position, so he does that, and he hears a giggle from her. The giggles that he’s deprived of for over a year. Immediately he feels as though a huge amount of oxygen is being returned to him, as though his sleepless nights will be no more.

"Minho.”

He hums.

“What are we?” She looks up to him, and he lifts his chin so that he can see her expression.

She’s hopeful.

Tired, but hopeful.

“Are you willing to wait for me?” I promise I won’t be long, he promises quietly, tightening the grip he has on her hand.

“I’m willing, Min,” she affirms, responding to him with a reassuring squeeze of her hand around his. “So long as it makes you happy,” she adds, before leaning into him again, another happy hum escaping her lips.

“Then let’s just stay like this for a while,” he whispers into her hair.

“Okay, Minho."

It takes a minute for him to take in the smell of her, this fresh her, smelling like that perfume he has in his pocket, like the Polaroid set in his old notebook. Everything’s going so perfectly, the way he’s holding her, the way she’s fitting so adequately into his arms.

"We’ll be alright this time.

I won’t run away again.”

She doesn’t look up to meet his eyes when he lowers his eyes to meet hers, stiffening in her position, but remains there on his lap, and Minho understands her too well that he knows she’s slightly uncomfortable with his promises. Ones which he knows that she knows he’ll struggle to keep, and she doesn’t want that. No hurting Lee Minho if she could ever help it, she’d say. If anyone is going to get hurt, it should be her.

“I don’t want you to promise, Lee Minho.” She sighs, playing with the fingers that are intertwined with hers. “I’m more than willing to wait for as long as I must, so please, don’t hurt yourself,” and Minho just doesn’t know what it is that stabs him deep inside but it really hurts to hear the pain hidden in the fake calmness of hers.

“I won’t promise then."

Her perfume in his pocket long forgotten, and the Polaroid set lies abandoned in their shared notebook, Minho takes in the scent of her wafting through the air around them. It’s the first time in over a year that he’s able to sleep so peacefully, and he doesn’t even need her perfume to help him sleep.

She never changed.

[eri-pl]

Forgive me for asking, but when you say you like Morgoth do you mean you find him an entertaining character or that you think he had a point?

Oh. This will be long. Thank you for asking! (And I guess the parts that you feel needs forgiving is assuming that I may agree with him? I don't think you had enough data. Anyway if there's a need, I forgive you. I hope it's not "forgive me for sending asks", I like getting asks, especially actual asks! (As opposed to reblog chains and other random fun stuff which I sometimes like sometimes not))

No, Morgoth did not have a valid point in his rebellion. More details under the cut (it's long).

But he had a point, in the sense that he existed for a reason. (He much failed this point.) I think it shows through at times. Even if he wasn't evil, I think he was meant to be a trickster, challenger and the starting point of changes.

Like, I can see a situation where stealing the Silmarils would not be wrong (and not involve murder. It is far from canon, but if Feanor got obsessed with them without Melkor's "help", stealing the gems and leaving them in some funny place could be helpful. The classic fairy tale trickster.

So, in this sense he had a point.

But his actual goals as started in the book? Nope. 100% nope.

Like, yesterday I had my own teenage child look at me strangely when I said that I relate to Hurin's reaction. Not with the name-calling, but the "nope you are not as powerful as you say, this is not true and I don't care what you do to me about it" part. It is the valid reaction, in my opinion. L

But there's more in my liking for Morgoth than "I find him entertaining" (however this is true too at some points, mostly BoLT).

It's mostly "he's spawning a lot of headcanons in my head and I relate to them". It's a difference between "Morgoth as Tolkien seems to have intended him" and "Morgoth as I read him", which is a small difference in a way, but also a big one.

Ok let's address the elephant. I have no problem internalizing "Eru is God". But at the same time I have a lot of a problem internalizing "and Melkor is the devil".

This is a strange combo but that's what my brain does and I can't much avoid it.

His reasons are too relatable. Wrong but relatable. Very human. "I was not paying attention, busy with fantasies of power to soothe my insecurities and now when I have to do a creative activity with people, I can't sync with them" is a very relatable situation to me (I played a lot of ttrpg) and trying to fix it by being a jerk is something I have done. It's wrong but... I can't condemn a character for things I have done too.

(I realized I started explaining me reading of Melkor|Morgoth through his whole career, so here it goes)

And then he gets angry, which is stupid but still relatable. And makes orcs from elves which is awful but also canon cannot decide what exactly happened also it's too easy to assume he didn't realize they were actual persons...

And he corrupts humans? The tale of Adanel? What was her name? That one in Morgoth's ring, close to Athrabeth... It's one of 2 places where he actually reads (for me) as satanic as intended... Until the part where am obvious void-spider-related trauma shows. Which makes no sense in the timeline, but the whole story has huge timeline problems.

Then he gets captured. And again, my angst-living narrative brain assumes that he did try to behave better, just didn't put much effort in it. And then he met Feanor, and I have a while essay on how this triggered Melkor's narcissistic injury or whatever to call the issues he had. Not for Feanor's fault, just... Wrong time, wrong place, wrong family drama.

Yes, his reaction to that was unarguably evil. But also I can't stop myself from imagining extremely strong emotional pain behind it. It's like... I can't force myself to be so angry at him to enjoy the idea of "Morgoth's gonna get destroyed, yay!". There's too much pain on this (which is not in the book just in my head, I know)

He streaks the Silmarils, and keeps them when though they burn, because to do otherwise would be a period that he was wrong. And all his further decisions (again, unarguably evil) are made under extreme pain and distress of holy gems judging him all the time. (Look how they impacted Maedhros and Maglor. How much despair they got. And Morgoth is so much more).

He's evil, but also I can't with confidence say that I would never do similar things, especially in the circumstances. Evil but who am I to judge.

Like, at the end of of, it comes back to "I can't see the Valar ( including Melkor) as 100% good or bad, they're too human to be proper angels". Even Manwe (semi-)canonically makes a moral mistake. Some texts (not in published Silm) day that the Valar showed lack of estel by (making Valinor? Inviting elves? Sorry, I forgot the details) and that is a moral falling.

Don't get me wrong, it is a very small one, and I'm not trying to equate Manwe with Morgoth or anything, just to say that the Valar are less absolute than I would expect angels to be. (Not an expert on angels though)

(I love Manwe, he's wonderful, overworked, burned out but still trying, he's a sweet, good, idealistic birb. Who is not an angel. I love them all, even Orome who is canonically vengeful and I consider this a problem, and Yavanna who is really irritating at times. And let's not forget poor, bullied Aule who is a walking proof of the "not 100%".)

And with all that I've said before, I can't help but to project many of my issues and character failings at Morgoth. Yes, he's evil. I've also been evil. Technically less so, but I like to go things to 11 when projecting.

And another huge topic is how wonderful he would be if he wasn't evil, because he's got some of my favorite aesthetics and themes (void, paradoxes, out of the box thinking, trickster archetype, jak of all trades... Even the fire and ice thing has its beauty).

Sometimes I really want to punch him in the face for wasting all that. Just, not lethally.

And the beauty of what he could be is probably what pushes him in my head from the "I'm sorry for them being evil" category of evil and evil-leaning characters (which includes Sauron, fir example ) or the "eeewgh but I'm sorry for them anyway" (Ar-Pharazon , Gollum, all the exceptionally uncool bad guys) to "I'm sorry for them but also I like them no matter how little sense it makes". Ymmv, I have a strange aesthetics sometimes.

Also, he got defeated in the book and that gives him compassion points in my brain. I do feel sorry for him. No matter what I try to do with my brain, I can't stop. I just can't. One day I'll figure out how to untangle it but now I don't know.

Last but not least, I love some comedic takes. For me, comedy didn't ask what's right or wrong, just explores ideas... It's like a brain cleaner, a bit like dreams. It's allowed more than more serious genres. I do enjoy comedic Morgoth (Hurinovy Deti does it really well, also some fics and comics with that one ship... It's just funny. And it's not like they portray him as being right, just... Don't focus on him being evil, just in the comedy?)

To clear something that I left hanging: the second scene where Morgoth is as-probably-intended is "the words of Morgoth and Hurin" or what's it called. Sorry, I'm on vacations, so I'm doing less fact-checking. It works for me. If Tolkien gave Morgoth more dialogue, my mental image of him would probably be more as intended.

Also, to not leave it unsaid: he canonically tries rape, I think twice. I am aware of this. This is very awful. And evil. Still, doesn't make me see him as irredeemable. I just don't see people as irredeemable and I can't read the books as (probably?) intended and not see Morgoth and all the Valar in the category of "people".

It's probably more complicated by the fact that Tolkien's intent did change in time, but I'm not an expert and I don't know how it changed about the Valar, especially Morgoth. So it's not like there is one canon that is 100% coherent, and I'm not even sure which parts of my reading I should call a headcanon and which not.

Tldr: I don't like Satan (that was an understatement), I like Morgoth probably because I have issues which I like projecting on fictional characters and he works well for that, also I make some (hopefully) interesting headcanons and that's it. Hope this answered your question.

[messrmoonyy]

okay how about Tess and reader having a bet to see who can crack first without sex and reader cracks and begs Tess to fuck her? Thank you our lord and saviour messr 🙌🏻

Bet on it

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/n- hello. Thank you for the manners lmao it’s ben annoying me people don’t have the decency to be polite. ANYWAYS. I was really looking for an excuse to write about going down in Tess cause it’s been rattling around in my head for so long, so I took this as the excuse. Pls tess gimme one chance I beg tho I won’t lie I don’t like this one all that much but. Have it. What are you gonna do, ask me for a refund?

Warnings- 18+|| tess. Smut: mommy kink. Like it’s pretty strong, oral ( Tess receiving ) , fingering ( Tess and reader receiving sorta )

Word count- 3.7k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated

It was all Joel’s fault.

Him and his stupid fucking mouth. And maybe Tess too. Either way, you refused to take any blame.

It wasn’t your fault you were… loud. It also wasn’t your fault the walls were paper fucking thin and he just so happened to live next door. The man was damn half deaf and 9 times out of 10 he was passed out anyway, some brain rotting concoction of pain killers and whiskey knocking him out for the count. So it’s not like you’d made any real attempts to be quiet anyway, you just assumed he couldn’t hear.

How were you supposed to be quiet when you had someone like fucking Tess between your legs. You’d like to see anyone keep their mouth shut with her fucking the life out of them. Well. You wouldn’t actually. But that was besides the point.

He was probably just pissed because his sex life was non existent.

‘ you can’t go a single day without goddamn jumpin each other. It’s like livin next to a pair of rabbits ‘ he’d said. Of course you being the stubborn fuck that you were, had said you absolutely could go a day. Joking that it was Tess who couldn’t keep her hands to herself. And she had scoffed at the mere thought of her being the needier of you two.

So that was how the bet had been born. To see who could last the longest. Who would crack first. You’d expected it to only last a couple of days at the most. Tess jumped your bones every chance she got normally, couldn’t keep her hands off of you. But now she was behaving like a fucking nun.

The first few days had been fine. But by day 3 you were regretting it. So by day 8 you’d had enough. You felt like an animal in heat, like you were going insane. She wasn’t even doing anything particularly alluring. Just her presence alone was enough to make you insane. Her voice. Her face. The way she held you when you slept. The confidence she oozed in any and all situations. You were head over heels for the woman, how were you supposed to behave any differently?

Bit knowing how stubborn she could be you’d almost immediately accepted that she wouldn’t break. It wouldn’t stop you trying though. You were trying your hardest to make her crack, from deciding walking around the apartment in your underwear was perfectly normal. To ‘accidentally’ brushing against her when you shared the rationed water in the shower. But other than the occasional glance up at you she wasn’t breaking. In fact when you’d tried another tactic of leaving your button up only half way done up. She’d simply stood and buttoned it right up to the collar for you, leaning in close to your ear and whispering ‘ nice try ‘

By day 10 you decided you didn’t give a fuck about honour or pride anymore. You were done.

You were sat at the table, fingers drumming against the wood as you watched her. She had the sleeves of her shirt rolled in a way that showed off her forearms, she fucking knew you had a thing for that. She was doing it on purpose, knowing you’d snap. You were sure.

You needed to touch her. Needed her to touch you.

You didn’t think it was actually humanly possible to be as desperate as you were. Before ending up in Boston you’d gone years without anything. And yet, now you weren’t even going to make it to 2 weeks. Were you that enthralled by her? That addicted? It was almost embarrassing.

Especially when she seemed as cool and collected as ever.

You tried to ignore her, looking back down at your rota of assignments for the week. But you could still see her from the corner of your eye, wetting the pads of her fingers to turn the page in her book more easily.

You didn’t know if you should be mildly offended or not. That she seemed to be doing much better than you were. Though she had always been the better of you both at masking her true emotions and feelings.

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Waking up every morning to soaked underwear because your dreams had been filled with nothing but her, missing the way her fingers felt on your skin, how her teeth felt nipping at your neck. You missed the hickeys, the bruises she always left on your hips when she was feeling particularly rough. The scratch marks you’d leave down her back in response.

You were done.

You got up from your spot at the table and made your way over to her in purposeful strides, plucking the book from her hands and climbing into her lap. She quirked at eyebrow at you, a smug smile already creeping it’s way onto her face.

“ I was reading that “ you shrugged running your hands down over her shoulders and arms, over her chest and grabbing at the collar of her shirt.

“ this bet is fuckin stupid. I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore “ you whispered, a whiny tone to your voice like some spoiled little kid that was being declined something they wanted. She simply scoffed

“ it was your fuckin idea “

“ I know I know. It was stupid. I’m stupid. Joel’s fuckin stupid “ you tested the waters lightly, pulling open her shirt where she already had the first couple buttons undone. Not revealing anything particularly scandalous, but still overjoyed just at the sight of more of her skin “ please. Please fuck me. Touch me. Let me touch you. Anything. Mommy please “ you whimpered the last part, pulling out every trick in the book to make her crack.

“ oh you’re begging now? “ you whispered a yes, nodding you head. You unbuttoned her shirt with haste, her hands still placed firmly on the fabric of the chair rather than you. You rolled your hips against her, pushing her shirt from her shoulders and tossing it carelessly behind you. But before you could touch her she grabbed the back of your neck, making you look at her.

“ this was your idea baby girl, and you want to end it? “ she looked far too smug and you hated her for it. But you were so desperately horny it was making your brain fuzzy. Your hands traveled down to her jeans, desperate to unbutton those too “ I know your tricks. You just want to win ”

“ I don’t care about winning, Fuck if you won’t touch me let me touch you “ you said, dropping your head to press kisses across her neck “ please mommy” her spare hand that was still on the armrest shifted slightly, still didn’t touch you anywhere you particularly wanted her. But moved. You were working her down “ please let me touch you. Let me taste. I’ll be so good I promise. You win. You win “

You hands trailed back to her chest, grabbing at her through the material of her bra, grabby hands groping at her with no shame.

“ you wanna make mommy feel good? “ the low, sultry, tone of her voice made butterflies explode in your chest. You lifted your head, nodding and not letting your hands stop their wandering.

“ please “ she looked entirely too smug and you knew you would never hear the end of it. She would hold the fact that she had won over you for the foreseeable. But you’d be pissed about that later, in that moment you didn’t give a fuck. The only thought whirring around in your brain was getting your mouth on her, you wanted to taste her on your tongue, wanted to make sure she’d never want to go so long without you again “ can I? Please “

She observed your face for a moment, then gave you a small nod and it was all the confirmation you needed. You slid down from her lap and onto your knees on the floor.

“ always look so pretty on your knees for me “ she mused as you grabbed at her jeans, tugging them down her legs as she lifted slightly so you could get them off “ just so we’re clear, you know this means I win and I’ll be tellin Joel that you lost and not me right? “ you nodded fervently, mildly surprised that she was actually letting you rid her of her clothes. Almost expecting the entire thing to be a joke, making you keep going with the stupid fucking bet until you actually exploded.

But clearly she was as desperate for it as you were. She was just better at controlling herself. She always had been.

“ I know. I don’t care “ the way she was already clearly wet when you tugged her underwear down her legs too, was proof enough that she was well and truly done with the bet too. You practically drooled at the sight, already anticipating the familiar taste of her in your mouth “ wanna taste you. Can I. Please mommy “ you begged and she reached down, lifting your chin and making you look up at her.

“ my poor baby, so desperate “ it was almost mocking. She was fucking loving the fact that she had won “ gonna show mommy just how desperate you are? Hmm? “ in response you ran your hands over her thighs, pushing them apart and tugging her closer “ show mommy what a good girl you are “

She took a sharp intake of breath as you buried your face between her legs, sighing blissfully as the taste of her flooded your tongue. You wanted to reach every part of her, your tongue dragging between her folds, devouring her. No desire in making it last, a burning primal desire to have her coming on your tongue the only thing you could think about.

You spread her with your fingers, lapping at her hole and not letting a drop of her arousal go anywhere but your tongue. Relishing in the small sounds it earned you.

“ that’s mommy’s good girl “ she sighed, her hand threading into your hair and tugging lightly so that your scalp prickled. You hummed a response, not slowing in your ministrations, tracing a pattern with your tongue from her entrance to her clit. Your chin and lips were slick with her. She filled all of your senses.

Your nose. Your eyes. Your mouth. The velvety feel of her walls when you dipped your tongue inside of her, the sounds of her quiet breathy moans and vulgar sounds of how wet she was. It’s what you had been yearning for for days, what your dreams had been filled with. A never ending stream of praise as you made her feel good. You moaned against her, the vibrations clearly doing her wonders.

You own cunt was flooding your underwear, your clit desperate to be touched. You were half tempted to reach down and touch yourself, but she deserved your undivided attention. So you settled with squeezing your thighs together.

“ makin mommy feel so good. Just like that baby “ her voice was breathier and you couldn’t help the smile that crept it’s way onto your face. It was no lie that she was a god when it came to making you feel good, she knew exactly how to pull you apart in minutes. But she was much more difficult to navigate, harder to read. She wasn’t like you. She often urged you to be loud, to make noise and be vocal. But she was the opposite.

For someone so rough and confident she was much more gentle and soft in her reactions. It was all in her breathing, the sharp intakes and the shuddering breaths, the quiet curses that never usually went much louder than a whisper, only getting anything else from her if you managed to get her completely relaxed.

And the near breathless commands and instructions she still gave you, keeping you in check. Keeping you exactly where she wanted you doing exactly as she wanted. And showering you in the praise she knew you so desperately craved from her.

And nothing made you feel better than watching her fall apart. Because of you.

The tight grip on your hair grew impossibly stronger when you slipped in a finger, adding a second when your first was met with no resistance, burying them inside her to the knuckle.

“ fuck “ she whispered under her breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment. You watched her face carefully as you worked her open on your fingers, scissoring and curling them in some attempt to touch as much of her as you could. Stretching and massaging her velvety soft walls with your fingers, honing in on one spot when you noticed her reactions change.

“ such a good girl doin so well for me baby “ the way she was clenching around your fingers told you she wasn’t going to last much longer. So you kept at the pace, fingers curling up and hitting the same spot over and over. Tongue and lips practically abusing her clit in a way that was making your jaw ache, not that you cared “ like makin mommy feel good? Huh? “ you hummed an answer against her that drew another heavenly sound from her throat.

Nothing brought you more joy than watching her fall apart above you, knowing that only you could get her like that. Only you got to see that blissful look on her face, her eyes closed and soft breathy moans leaving her throat and going straight to your cunt.

“ that’s my girl. Like that. Gonna make mommy come. Is that what you want baby? “ you nodded, detaching yourself from her with a mildly obscene wet sound.

“ Wanna feel you come on my tongue“ you practically whined, begging for the privilege of being the one the push her over the edge. To gift her with the same earth shattering orgasm she so often gave to you “ please mommy “

“ since you’ve been such a good girl for me “ you didn’t wait a second longer, withdrawing your fingers and replacing them with your tongue. You gripped at her thighs, holding her in place, your eyes fixed on her face so you could watch every second “ that’s it baby, make mommy come. That’s my good girl “ her tone was higher, breathes quickening the rise and fall of her chest.

You started to rub soft circles into her clit with your thumb, relishing in the way she was clearly losing her composure. Squirming slightly in the chair, pushing your face closer until she was all consuming in your mind.

It was becoming slightly difficult to breathe but you weren’t about to complain. If you were gonna die you figured that was pretty alright way to go out. The searing heat of her on your tongue was enough to make you forget every single other thing in your mind.

A few more thrusts of your tongue and she was gone, head thrown back and her eyes screwed shut, heavenly sound after heavenly sound falling from her lips like music to your ears. You didn’t stop for a second. Lapping up every drop of creamy, sweet release she offered you.

You didn’t stop until she gently tugged your head back, your actions clearly bordering on being too much for her. You rested your head against her thigh, looking up at where she was running a hand through her hair and attempting to regain her composure.

“ you couldn’t have done that a week ago baby? Fuck “ a grin found its way onto your face, happy for the verbal confirmation that she had been struggling just as much as you had. She was just far better at hiding it.

“ I do good mommy? “ you asked softly, pressing a kiss to the silky soft skin of her thigh. She looked down at you with a soft smile and nodded.

“ so good baby. Come here. Up here “ you crawled back up into her lap, readily accepting her kisses when she pulled you in, the taste of her still lingering on your tongue “ seriously baby I needed that when you decided to walk around in your fuckin underwear “ she said when she pulled back, tucking her fingers under your chin.

She looked otherworldly. Her face flushed and glowing, the light sheen of sweat on her forehead and the hazy look in her eyes that could only come from having your lover between your thighs. It made you squirm a little in her lap, your panties completely soaked. You almost wondered if she could feel it.

“ I don’t know how I made it this long “ she laughed at that, her eyes flickering down to where you were wiggling around. She gave you an almost sympathetic smile, the backs of her fingers brushing along your jaw before pushing your hair away from your neck.

“ does my baby need some attention from mommy now? “ you almost sighed in relief, nodding your head “ you want mommy to fuck you? Hmm? “ her nose traced along your neck, lips brushing against the skin and making your cheeks flush and goosebumps follow in her wake.

Her hand came up, palming at your tit through the thin material of your T-shirt as she began working a deep purple bruise onto the tender skin of your neck.

“ mommy “ you whimpered, eyes falling closed as she marked you up in the way you adored most. It made warmth pool in your belly every time. Knowing she wanted to mark you. Brand you. You were hers. You belonged to her. Completely and utterly. And she wanted people to know it.

The friction of the cotton of your shirt against your nipple sent sparks straight to your cunt, your clit throbbing. Desperately wanting to be touched. You needed her fingers. Her mouth. Anything. You were so desperate you even wondered if you’d be able to get off just from the way she was grabbing at your chest.

“ please I can’t- “

“ it’s okay baby “ she cooed, soothing the last of her possessive marks with her tongue before lifting her head again “ tell mommy what you want. Use your words “

“ you. I. I want you. Anything just please- “ you cut yourself off with a pathetic mewl of a sound as she dipped her hand past the waistband of your sweats, fingers brushing over the soaked cotton of your underwear.

“ holy shit “ she mumbled mostly to herself, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at just how wet you were for her. She hadn’t even touched you “ my baby’s so desperate huh? “ you nodded, dropping your face to her shoulder and hiding from her gaze “ my poor sweet baby “ she cooed, running a soft hand up and down your spine “ if only you weren’t so stubborn you wouldn’t be in this mess would you? Mommy could’ve been eating this perfect little pussy days ago “

Your face burned at her words, still squirming as she ran her finger lightly over your swollen clit through the soaked material of your underwear. It was too light to really do anything, but just enough pressure for you to know she was there. It was infuriating.

“ I need more. Please mommy I can’t take it anymore “ her spare hand gently nudged your face up from where you’d been hiding, cupping your cheek in her hand as her eyes scanned your features. You wondered if your desperation was evident on your face.

No. You knew it was.

“ can you do one thing for me? “

“ anything. I’ll do anything “ she smiled, clearly pleased with your willingness to obey without even knowing what she was going to ask. No questions. No second thoughts. Just complete obedience to her every command. She brushed her thumb across your bottom lip before pushing past and hooking it into your mouth. Her smile grew as you moaned softly, sucking without her even having to ask.

“ I wanna hear all those pretty noises you like to make for me. Can you do that? “ you nodded quickly, knowing there wasn’t even a remote chance you’d be able to keep yourself quiet. Not after 10 days of absolutely nothing from her “ that’s my good girl, mommy loves when you’re loud for her “

You rolled your hips, no patience left in you anymore. She took the hint, rubbing at your clit through your underwear with two fingers. The friction of the cotton, the pressure of her fingers, and the fact that you had been wanting to come for days, meant you were going to be done ridiculously fast.

“ I know baby, I got you “ she cooed as you whined in a frustrated desperation, fingers wrapping around her wrist as you rutted against her hand some more. Your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it “ I know you’re so desperate to come, don’t fight it baby. It’s okay. Mommy’s got you “ you closed your eyes, focussing solely on grinding into her hand, cheeks on fire at the crude squelching sounds your cunt was making as you moved.

“ mommy- “ you whined, biting down lightly on her thumb that was still in your mouth, not holding back a single moan. Letting them all tumble out of your throat without a care.

“ I know baby girl. Gonna show me how pretty you look when you come for me?” You nodded, increasing the pace that you rolled your hips, ignoring the way your legs were beginning to cramp up “ such pretty sounds “ she mused as your moans increased in pitch, your orgasm teetering on a ledge already.

Maybe you should’ve been a little embarrassed. She wasn’t even touching you properly, a barrier of cotton between her fingers and your cunt. But you weren’t at all. A Selfish desire to come being the only thing you could think about. You’d be embarrassed later.

Your climax was intense. 10 days of lusting after her with no release finally coming to a head. She praised you all the way through it, and only withdrew her hand from your sweats when you slumped against her with a content sigh.

She ran her hand up and down your back lightly, pressing kisses to the side of your head.

“ better? “ you hummed a response, trying to live in that afterglow for as long as you could. If you were being completely honest, it had been good to finally get… something. But you weren’t entirely satisfied. Thankfully Tess was rarely ready to call it a night without making you come at least twice. And was also as if she could read your mind.

“ don’t get too comfy baby. We have 10 days to make up for. Mommy’s not done with you yet “ you squealed as she stood up, taking you with her and carrying you over to the bed. You wrapped your arms and legs tightly around her as she lay you down, not wanting her to go anywhere “ now. Let’s teach that fucker next door a lesson shall we? “

[bonearenaofmyskull]

The OP has turned off reblogs at the time I'm posting this, so it seemed wise to move this discussion about the authenticity of Hannibal's love for Will over here. I want to give it its due, and the open invitation to discuss was out, so here is some context and my response.

The original ask went:

Hi! I've wanted to write about this for a long time, and your blog seems like a safe space. Let me give you a heads up—I am not against shipping at all. I am aware of the antis in your ask box, but I promise I am not affiliated with them. This is just a friendly direction. So, if you are truly open to discussion, I want you to view Hannibal as a selfish, manipulative, and extremely violent person. Notice how he is power-hungry and wanted to keep Will in his chokehold, never viewing them as equals. Hannibal created this delusional image of Will in his mind and inserted himself into Will's delusional world. Look at his actions again in season 3. Can you point out one scene where you can write, "Oh yes, Hannibal loves Will"? The problem with the antis is that they are questioning Will's feelings for Hannibal when they should question Hannibal's feelings for Will. Hannibal only liked Will when Will behaved like Hannibal—notice that in season 2. Does it change your view on them now?

OP didn't have anything to say to this, and my response was critical of anon's choice to bring this to OP's inbox, but the relevant part of what I said to the current discussion included the following:

...the basic rule [of writing discourse] is--if you're the one to posit the claim, then it is your job to support it.... You can't possibly do the leg work needed here to give your side its due. This is such a hefty claim that you've posed--that Hannibal's worst personality defects negate any authenticity/sincerity in his emotional response to Will--that the support it needs is probably running in the 6k words range. Or more.

To which @melancholymournia responded:

Let's start a discussion then --

I believe Anon has a valid perspective. They were seeking opinions and I believe it's within their right to do so. Anon's main argument is that Crimson should view Hannibal as an antagonist, as he embodies a sinister role in the narrative. Hannibal's love for Will is portrayed as selfish, driven by desperation for understanding. Anon points out Hannibal's creation of a false image of Will in his mind, particularly evident in Season 1's exploitative and abusive behavior. Anon contends that Hannibal only appreciates Will when he mirrors Hannibal's actions,evident in s2 and Will's attachment stems from trauma and a sense of justice. Will attempted to kill Hannibal numerous times and even succeeded, but Hannibal's plot armor consistently saved him. Despite this, according to Bryan, it's "Will Graham's story," implying that Hannibal's eventual demise was always a possibility. Hannibal maintained manipulation over Will even in Season 3, from start to finish. People's justification of the Dolce scene and romanticizing the gallery scene surprises me, considering both instances involved plans for mutual harm. Despite Will expressing fatigue with the chase, questions about why he fell for Hannibal linger. After discussions, it became clear to me that his attachment wasn't love but a trauma response to his abuser. In Season 3, even when Will urged Hannibal to leave, Hannibal surrendered, manipulating the situation rather than acting out of genuine love. Hannibal caged himself to ensnare Will, who later moved on with a family, but the fandom struggled to accept it, mirroring Will's Stockholm syndrome-like attachment to Hannibal. Hannibal continued harming Will, sending the Dragon to kill Will's family to manipulate him into a meeting. Ultimately, Will chose death to escape both Hannibal and himself, feeling a resemblance to Hannibal in his mind. Throughout the seasons, Hannibal's actions show a lack of genuine love, portraying him as a greedy figure taking relentlessly from Will and ultimately causing his destruction.

I think this is a teachable moment about meta and what it needs to be successful. So this is my response--partially aimed at the content of what you've said here, and partially aimed at talking about meta itself and what it needs and how to do it justice.

I think when we're thinking about writing meta that is successful, we need to be thinking about what it is we're trying to achieve. Personally, I ascribe to the belief that "the aim of argument, or of discussion, should be progress, not victory." This doesn't mean I or anyone else won't fall victim to being petty once in a while--we're all human here, I think--but that if we're doing our jobs the best we could be doing them, then we should be focused on getting to a shared deeper understanding of the text, rather than on trying to "win." Above that, I think our fandom has lost a sense of this in its discourse in the past couple months.

In pursuit of that, I don't think how you opened, with defense of anon, was wise. This argument, if it needs to be made, needs to be made for the perusal of the fandom, not specifically for one person. Crimson neither needed nor wanted to be a target. "They were seeking opinions" and having a "main argument is that Crimson should view Hannibal as [anything]" are essentially exclusive statements. Anon was not trying to get Crimson's opinion: they were trying to sway it. You stepping in to defend anon when more people than just myself have recognized the troll-y or even malicious aspects of the ask puts your argument in a bad light, which honestly doesn't serve you well. If your primary purpose is to make the argument (and actually sway opinions yourself) rather than to defend anon (create teams/advance fandom drama/"win"), then it would be better delivered if you maintained an air of neutrality by at minimum, avoiding commentary on anon themself.

That could be done by starting your own post and tagging the interested parties and just focusing on the topic at hand and ignoring anon. Or this could be done in your response by saying something along the lines of just "This is an interesting idea that I haven't seen discussed enough. I think..." and then proceed to say what you think. That then shifts the conversation to the claims being made rather than the people who make them, and how they made them. (Note my primary objection to the original ask is exactly about anon's behavior and choices rather than to the points themselves.)

So setting the issue of anon's choices aside, we next need to look at who the audience is (the broader fandom) and how they can be swayed. Because isn't that the goal, here, ultimately? It sounds like what you and your friends want is to shift general fandom attitude away from the merry-murder-husbands interpretation and into something more cognizant of the fucked up nature of the show.

And this is not in and of itself a bad goal overall, depending on how far you take it. But whether you succeed in this goal or just end up driving people out of the fandom because of the drama or because they become disillusioned with the ship itself is a very fine line to walk, and I'm not sure the people who have been walking it lately realize just how delicately they need to step (not necessarily you specifically--I don't remember seeing your name around before this tbh). It's not progress unless people come around to your way of thinking without becoming fed up and hurt and leaving.

(Obligatory reminder to my own follower base here: I don't condone people going around to anyone's inbox or comments specifically to harass them, regardless of what their opinions are. I am fully of the opinion that we can all play in the same sandbox together without throwing sand in each other's eyes, even if we think the other sand castles are ugly.)

One troubling fact of the whole-fandom-as-audience as it exists currently is that people have differing notions about what the fandom believes on the whole. To sum up, there seems to be three camps: "merry-murder-husbands," "Hannigram-BAD," and "Wtf happened to my peaceful fandom."

If you haven't deduced it already, I belong to the third group.

Merry-murder-husbands and Hannigram-BAD both seem to largely think that everyone who doesn't belong to their own group belongs to the opposing group. But I don't think that's a useful place to write meta from. Tonally, it's going to be off-putting from the very start to anyone who isn't in your own camp, even if their camp is just "Wtf." Getting your point across is also going to be extra difficult if people are from the opposing group--they're going to feel attacked or at the very least, condescended to.

For starters, your (and anon's) talking points aren't going to be focused on what matters to the Wtf crowd. Where this comes up in this particular discussion is with these points here:

Hannibal as a selfish, manipulative, and extremely violent person.

He is power-hungry and wanted to keep Will in his chokehold.

Hannibal as an antagonist, as he embodies a sinister role in the narrative.

Hannibal's love for Will is portrayed as selfish, driven by desperation for understanding.

Hannibal maintained manipulation over Will even in Season 3, from start to finish.

People's justification of the Dolce scene and romanticizing the gallery scene surprises me, considering both instances involved plans for mutual harm.

Hannibal continued harming Will, sending the Dragon to kill Will's family to manipulate him into a meeting.

Hannibal caged himself to ensnare Will.

To the Wtf crowd, this is sort of like arguing that water is wet. Is Hannibal, the biggest pile of dicks that ever existed, actually a big pile of dicks? Well, iunno...you tell me? Nobody from this crowd is arguing that Hannibal isn't a big pile of dicks. So this is basically spinning your wheels.

As to the merry-murder-husbands crowd, this is all justified because deep down, Will is just as big a pile of dicks as Hannibal, and Hannibal being a big pile of dicks to Will just uncovers Will's true dick pile qualities so they can go off and live as merry-piles-o'-dicks together. Now, personally, I think this particular response is full of circular logic and just plain wrong, but the point here is that you're never going to win against it by writing points that play into it. This crowd will move the goalposts on this discussion to a discussion about Will's character, and then you'll be dealing with that instead of the points you want to be making about Hannibal.

This also sets aside that some of these points could be argued against on their own specific merits. Does Hannibal really want to keep Will in his chokehold, or does the real excitement for Hannibal come when Will turns the tables on him? That's a whole meta post by itself, frankly, and more than we can discuss here feasibly. But it does highlight another problem with these points: some of them are interpretations and conclusions in and of themselves, not actual points of evidence.

There's an additional problem in the overall argument with multiple points being about Will rather than Hannibal:

Ultimately, Will chose death to escape both Hannibal and himself, feeling a resemblance to Hannibal in his mind.

Despite Will expressing fatigue with the chase, questions about why he fell for Hannibal linger. After discussions, it became clear to me that his attachment wasn't love but a trauma response to his abuser.

Will's attachment stems from trauma and a sense of justice. Will attempted to kill Hannibal numerous times and even succeeded, but Hannibal's plot armor consistently saved him.

Will…later moved on with a family, but the fandom struggled to accept it, mirroring Will's Stockholm syndrome-like attachment to Hannibal.

Despite this, according to Bryan, it's "Will Graham's story," implying that Hannibal's eventual demise was always a possibility.

The original anon defined this problem as "The problem with the antis is that they are questioning Will's feelings for Hannibal when they should question Hannibal's feelings for Will," but these all shift the discussion back onto Will, into places that serve your opposition rather than serving you. So even if you "won" this part of the argument--which is easier said than done--you still wouldn't have proven your point about Hannibal, you will have just made observations about Will.

Again, this is all beside the point for the Wtf crowd, and playing into the hands of the merry-murder-husbanders.

So what do we have left? These are the rest of the statements:

Hannibal surrendered, manipulating the situation rather than acting out of genuine love.

Hannibal's actions show a lack of genuine love, portraying him as a greedy figure taking relentlessly from Will and ultimately causing his destruction.

and

Hannibal created this delusional image of Will in his mind and inserted himself into Will's delusional world.

Hannibal only liked Will when Will behaved like Hannibal—notice that in season 2.

Anon points out Hannibal's creation of a false image of Will in his mind, particularly evident in Season 1's exploitative and abusive behavior. Anon contends that Hannibal only appreciates Will when he mirrors Hannibal's actions,evident in s2.

I've grouped them like this because they are each united by theme: one, that, as I put it in my original reblog, Hannibal's worst personality defects (his selfishness, manipulation, and sadism) negate any authenticity/sincerity in his emotional response to Will; and two, that Hannibal's image of Will in his mind is incorrect enough that it means that he's fallen in love with his idea of Will, rather than with the man himself.

I think we can all see that the second of these--although perhaps the more accurate one--is going to be plagued by the moving goalposts I mentioned above. In order to prove it, you've got to prove that Will isn't the person Hannibal perceives him to be. That might be doable with the Wtf crowd (probably why I see it as a more accurate concept, since I'm in this crowd), but it's going to be MONUMENTAL to try to get the merry-murder-husbands to see it this way. If you're willing to fight those off, well, you might make some headway with people who are more open-minded.

But it's going to be complicated by the fact that you're going to have to also prove the first claim in order to make the second stick, because the problems with the first one will set up problems with the second. And that first claim is going to be real difficult to prove.

Here's why: the basic presumption of the first claim--Hannibal's worst personality defects (his selfishness, manipulation, and sadism) negate any authenticity/sincerity in his emotional response to Will--is that it defines love in the kind of platitudes people use when they're teaching their children not to allow others to mistreat them. It's syllogistic.

A. Hannibal is greedy and manipulative and destructive with Will.

B. Love is not greedy, not manipulative, and not destructive.

C. Therefore Hannibal's feelings for Will are not love.

But we all know the problem with a syllogism: if either of the premises are false, the conclusion is also false.

In real life, premise in B. may or may not be a useful way to look at love, but that's beside the point here. The question is, Is the premise in B. the way the show Hannibal presents and defines love?

Fortunately for us, the show has given us two explicit statements on love and what it is and what it means, one in "Shiizakana" and one in "Secondo."

In "Secondo," the conversation is between Hannibal and Bedelia:

B: What your sister made you feel was beyond your conscious ability to control or predict. H: Or negotiate. B: I would suggest what Will Graham makes you feel is not dissimilar. A force of mind and circumstance. H: Love. He pays you a visit or he doesn't.

This view of love is that it is outside of the control of the one who experiences it. In order to support that Hannibal does experience this kind of love when it comes to Will Graham, then all you have to prove is that he had super strong feelings toward Will that caused him to be out of control, to badly predict his own behavior, and that he did stupid shit rather than negotiate his choices well. I think...well, these are all fairly easy to prove. Hannibal set his whole neatly curated world on fire for Will, all the while thinking he was in control when he was totally out of control. This would be the "Did you think you could change me, the way I changed you?" problem. Up until the moment that Will points out that he already did change Hannibal, Hannibal really thinks he's negotiating this force of mind and circumstance just fine. Meanwhile, he makes himself sad by getting Will incarcerated and mad at him, he plays his get-out-of-jail-free card with Miriam Lass, and then this loses him his very favorite murder identity of the Chesapeake Ripper, and eventually his home, practice, ability to live under his own identity and ultimately his freedom. The fact that he tries to control something that is very much out of his control is evidence for, not evidence against, defining his actions as motivated by love. At least by this definition.

The other definition presented in "Shiizakana" is probably the more damning one:

H (in Will's mind): No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them. By that love we see potential in our beloved. Through that love, we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love, our beloved's potential comes true.

If we stop after the first statement ("No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them") then it might seem like we have something workable with regards to the idea that Hannibal is in love with an idea of Will rather than the man himself. By this reasoning, because he's focused on his image of Will--his imago--then his love is less than fully aware of who Will really is. So maybe it's not really love.

But unfortunately that isn't the end of the statement. Seeing that person's potential (Hannibal's idea of Will) is part of being fully aware of them, by this definition. Will then coming to see that same potential in himself--the cause of him throwing them both off the cliff instead of just Hannibal--happens through Hannibal's love for him. And if Will does go full dark murder husband (the jury's still out on this, obviously, and will probably be out forever), then that would be because Hannibal expressed his love, in all those selfish and destructive and manipulative ways. Even if Will doesn't go full dark, where he has expressed his darkness--with Chiyoh and her prisoner, with touching Frederick Chilton's shoulder, with attempting to kill Hannibal himself, with his deceptions and manipulations and obvious enjoyment of terrorizing Freddie Lounds, etc, etc, whatever--is still that potential coming true.

This is going to be a really difficult point to argue past, especially because the show is largely concerned with transformation as an expression of love, all the way back to Garrett Jacob Hobbs and most of the murders of the first season. It may not be the way one should view love in the real world, but it's the way love is defined in the murderworld of Hannibal.

And that even leaves aside numerous other points, including but not limited to:

violence as an expression of love and/or sex

Bedelia--who herself disagrees with Hannibal's assessment of Will's character--nonetheless defining Hannibal's feelings as "in love"

the imago as an image of a loved one carried by the unconscious during a person's entire life, which is still defined as love even though it idealizes that person

the fact that Will planted Hannibal's imago himself

So if this is something that you really want to pursue, all this is what you're up against. It's a tall order, and that's probably why no one has really broached the issue much in the past except as a sort of moral judgment against shippers.

The limits of what I've laid out here include the interpretation of the cliffening being Will's rejection of going full dark. That's got some room to move, but it's problematic because if he fully rejected the concept of that being his potential, then he doesn't actually need to throw himself off the cliff, and additionally, it's undermined by the Bedelia leg-eating scene which suggests Will's involvement. Ultimately, it's also fully speculative--you only have those two scenes to work with, and everything else that falls under the general umbrella of speculations about S4 and beyond are just that--speculations. Not evidence.

There's probably an argument somewhere that the show draws a distinction between wholesome love (like Jack and Bella) and Hannibal's kind of love, but I don't know if that distinction is strong enough that Hannibal's love is not love at all, in the show's terms. Especially because Jack and Bella's love is partially defined through how her coping with death changes them both. But you still have the problem of it being about different types of love, not one thing being called love and another thing not. Overall, this would be hard to find all the pieces of and would require a lot of studying the stories about love that are outside of Hannibal and Will, and this would be challenging even to me, but it might be worth a look if someone wants to do that massive amount of homework.

I guess that's kind of where all this ultimately leads me, and back to the original point I made about why this kind of discussion doesn't belong in any one person's inbox. These are big questions: they can't be fully argued in a couple paragraphs. At least not well. The fandom is sorely missing meta writers at the moment who are willing to take the trouble to do the full amount of homework and effort that is required to really say something insightful. Mostly it just seems like people want to toss off a couple paragraphs and "win."

That's always been a problem with meta in fandom. It isn't a problem we're newly inventing. Everyone has opinions, regardless of the amount of thought they've put into them--but for the Hannibal fandom specifically there used to be more people who were willing to really dedicate themselves to getting to the bottom of things, to making progress understanding the show be the purpose of discussion and analysis, rather than achieving victory over a perceived group of people who are understanding the show "wrong." Right now there's...maybe one?

To be clear, I don't count myself as in that group of one person who is willing to work that hard. At least not for the most part. There's nothing wrong with opting out of that effort.

But there is something wrong with pursuing that "win," if it comes at the expense of people's peace of mind, the fandom family's unity, and deeper understanding of the show.

So if you want to have these discussions, please have them, but have them at the level that they deserve to be had. If there has to be a call to action at the end of the post, I suppose I'm asking people to do the homework--to watch the show ten more times, start to finish, to have the episodes ready to go at a moment's notice during a discussion, research existentialism and Christianity and Revelations and the original books and films and what Bryan Fuller and the cast have said and what the other meta writers said over the past eleven years.

But at the very least, let's stop letting our annoyance with each other dictate our understandings of the show itself. Yes, some interpretations and some people can be super annoying (believe me, I've been there!), but that has no place in generating bias over what the show itself has to say.

[ffcrazy15]

Y'know...

I'm kinda getting just...burnt out, man. I don't know what it is, but the fanfic community these last few years has just been really difficult to engage with. There are a lot of reasons, but I think among the biggest is this: (warning: long vent incoming):

So. I've been writing fanfic for...gosh, fourteen years now. And back in the day, we had our fair share of problems, I won't lie. Now I came in after the major flame wars of the '00s, but still, there were the shipping wars and the shit-stirrers and the people who took other people having a different opinion on their faves WAY too personally.

But! There were rules of engagement. People might not have always followed them, but back then you could say to someone, "hey, you're not behaving in the way we all agree people should behave in this space. You're being a jerk." And people would either lose their shit at you and you'd block them, or they'd apologize and not do the rude thing moving forward.

This went especially for new writers/readers. They'd make a mistake, people would inform them, and they wouldn't make the mistake again moving forward. That was how we built a health community back then.

*Now: a disclaimer. I know not all new fans are like this, and to those of you who do listen when people inform you of the etiquette of fandom spaces, I want to give a sincere thank-you. The following does not apply to you.

However, and not to be an old woman yelling at the kids to get off her lawn, but:

I see people trying, politely, to tell newcomers the basic rules of engagement for how to interact in fandom. "Don't complain about things that are clearly marked in the summary or tags." "Do not get into dumb shipping wars. Ship and let ship." "Don't leave harsh or unasked-for concrit." "Don't demand updates in the comments."

And instead of saying "Oh wow, sorry, I didn't know about that, I'll do better next time"—I see some new folks responding with things like "Well this just makes me NEVER want to comment/engage/participate!"

And writers are so scared of not getting ANY engagement in this landscape of already dwindling comments and reblogs—or worse, ruining things for other writers—that they immediately capitulate and say oh, we're sorry, we shouldn't have told you you were being rude, please don't stop commenting on fics, we were in the wrong.

And I'm here to say: No. Enough! It is our job as the older citizens of this space to set the expectations for community behavior. If the new arrivals get mildly embarrassed for being politely informed (key words there) that they've committed a faux pas, then that's okay! It's a growing experience. Learning how to be polite in new social settings isn't traumatizing them or causing them emotional harm. They will survive the couple seconds of embarrassment, and then they will go on to be kinder and more conscientious citizens of the digital landscape.

Now, if you're a newcomer who is intimidated by people telling you the rules of etiquette in fandom spaces:

Look. I get it. I was new to fandom once, and I know that that can be intimidating! But sometimes there are going to be situations where you will be new to a social setting and have to awkwardly feel things out, and you will make mistakes and be corrected by others. That's just part of life. Thankfully, fandom is a space where folks have really tried to cultivate clear rules of engagement and want to hand it on to new people! There are guides on the "ao3 etiquette" tag of how to leave polite comments and interact in fandom, and there are lots of people who will help you learn the ropes if you ask them nicely.

I promise you, you have the ability to learn the rules of social etiquette in this online space. You will be able to emotionally withstand the minor embarrassment; all of us have before you, and you will too. And if you are not able to emotionally handle someone politely taking you aside and informing you that you're making some social mistakes and how to fix them, then you are not mature enough to participate in fandom spaces.

Now, for folks who've read this far and would like some quick tips on fandom etiquette, here they are. Remember, none of this advice is meant as a criticism, and if you've done some of these things without knowing better, then that's okay, we all make mistakes! This is simply to help us all have a good time in this space and build each other up as readers and writers!

"Don't like, don't read." — The most important rule of fandom. If you come across a fanfic that has something in the summary or the tags that you don't like, then do not click on that fic. If you do choose to read it anyway, you have no right to blame the author for your reading something you didn't enjoy.

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat." — A more extreme version of "Don't like, don't read," this means that there is content in the fic that most people would find disgusting, frightening or morally objectionable. Do not read that story if you do not want to read that sort of content.

"Ship and let ship." — Other people will like different ships or romantic pairings of characters than you do. Their doing so is not an insult to you or to the characters in question. If you do not want to engage with stories/fanart/etc. of that ship, then do not read those fics, and block those tags here on Tumblr. Do not go onto other people's fics/art/etc. and tell them that they are wrong for liking that ship (This includes if you find the ship morally objectionable; see "DL:DR" and "DD:DNE" above.)

Tagging – If you are a writer, make sure to tag your story appropriately. This includes the romantic ships (indicated with a slash, / ) and the friendship ships (indicated with an & or the word "and"). It also includes things like graphic depictions of violence, non-consensual or dubiously consensual sexual content, characters who are under the age of eighteen engaging in sexual situations, and major character death. It also includes "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" (see above), which you should include as a tag if you have content in your fic that the majority of people would find disgusting, frightening or morally objectionable.

Rating – Make sure to rate your story appropriately. If there is explicit sexual content or graphic violence in your story, it should be rated as "mature" or "explicit." Do not label it as "teen" or "general" (or K, K+ or T on FF.net). If there is any sexual content or more-than-cartoon-violence in your story, it should not be rated as "general" (or K or K+).

Bookmarking — Be aware that unless you set the bookmark to "private," the author can read any comments or tags you leave on the bookmark.

Commenting — Almost all writers love comments, and many writers depend on comments for their motivation to continue a story. Leaving comments is both a great way to show a writer that you enjoy their story, as well as provide the writer with motivation to keep writing! A comment can be as elaborate as you like and list every detail you loved about the story, or as simple as "this was good, I really liked it!" Either of those is fine. Keyboard smashes are also fine, as are emojis if you're too shy to write a full comment.

Commenting on Older Stories — Is absolutely fine, and in fact highly appreciated!

Demanding an Update — Do not, however, demand that a writer update quickly or ask them when the next chapter will be. Writers are doing this for free, and demanding an update is considered impolite at best and guilt-tripping at worst. (Examples: saying "This is really good, excited for more!" is fine, since this does not put a timed expectation on the writer. Saying "This is really good, when is the next update!" is considered mildly impolite, and simply writing "Update" is considered highly rude. It is seen as demanding another free gift right after you've received one.)

Concrit/Constructive Criticism — Different writers' mileage will vary on how much they like constructive criticism, so best practice is to check their author's notes, summary, or author page to see if they say they are okay with concrit. If they do not say so, then default to assuming they don't want concrit.

If you do provide constructive criticism, make sure to include at least two compliments as well (preferably more). State the criticism politely and briefly.

Also, be aware that an author might disagree with your advice and choose not to take it. This is not a slight against you personally, and you should not treat it as such.

Do not offer criticism that is not meant to be constructive or help the author grow in their writing skills.

Do not offer "constructive criticism" about you disliking things the author has clearly tagged or noted in the summary. That is not constructive criticism, that is just flaming. (See "DL:DR" above.)

And finally: Never Ascribe to Maliciousness What Can Be Attributed To Ignorance. — If someone is rude to you, remember that they might be new to the space and not be aware of the rules of etiquette. Politely inform them that they've screwed up, and assume that everyone is well-intentioned until they prove otherwise.

And there you have it! By following the above advice, you can help to build up a thriving fan culture of happy writers and happy readers. Remember, we're all here to enjoy our favorite works together and create fan content for them, so let's all work together to create a pleasant digital space for one another. :)

[nekoannie-chan]

Competition?

Title: Competition?

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X STRIKE member!Reader.

Word count: 426 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Brock wanna have your attention.

Major Tags: Friends to lovers, kisses, little spicy, insinuation.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash, Valentine’s day card & square 2:

"Stupid sexy friend.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammitt @kmc1989 @somegirlfrom

You had a fixed gaze; you didn't even blink to stop looking at your ”target." Being on the Strike team was strange, or at least that's how you felt. They didn't even treat you badly, but there was something strange, not to mention that it seemed that Brock wanted to provoke you. You weren't sure if it was a simple coincidence, but whenever you showed up at practice, he was without a shirt.

You had at least ten years of knowing him and being friends, but lately, it seemed that he was behaving a little strangely. No, rather, everything was different since Rogers had appeared; it was as if Brock was trying to compete against Steve.

“Could you stop acting like an idiot?" You told him a few days after a training session while they were storing what they had used in the warehouse.

“What?”

“Stop competing against Rogers; you're better than that, Brock," you replied.

“Compete? Do you think he can beat me?" He questioned you, standing in front of you while taking a quick glance at the door to check that it was closed.

"Training without a T-shirt..."

“Does it make you nervous?" Brock approached you as he noticed you were starting to get restless.

“No, we've known each other for a long time."

Brock came closer and kissed you.

“I didn't want Rogers to have your attention," he said, kissing you again.

The temperature was rising, and you knew what would happen.

“Wait, not here; I don't want them to see us." You pulled away a little.

“I don't care if we get caught," Brock said, pulling you to him.

“Do you want anyone else to see me?” you challenged him.

“I'll wait for you ten minutes before six in your office, and we'll go to my place, then we'll finish this," he said, kissing you one last time.

You needed to stop feeling the heat on your face, and you could leave. As soon as Brock opened the door, he came face-to-face with Steve.

“Is something wrong?" Steve asked.

"Nothing; we were just setting things up."

“The team always leaves a mess, Cap," you interjected before Steve asked any more questions.

Steve nodded, peeked into the cellar, and saw that what they had said was true.

“We have a meeting in fifteen minutes. Fury wants to see the whole team," Steve said before leaving.

“We'll be there," Brock assured him.

“He almost spotted us," you mumbled.

“I'd pay to see his face if he had.

“You're an idiot, Brock."

“That's how you knew me."

[tapioca-puddingg]

One, the Goddess of Diligence: A Drakengard 3 Analysis

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Hey, it's been a while since I've done one of these. I took a break from doing these long analyses in favor of shorter and quicker content just because it's easier on my brain. I apologize to those that I may have kept waiting with this one, but I'm back now.

If you're new to my blog, I post analyses about video game characters that I think are interesting, amongst other things. This is my Seven Deadly Sins/Heavenly Virtues series of Drakengard 3. And do be sure to like, reblog or leave a comment if you enjoy my insane ramblings.

"Facing the people crowding the streets, I gave a wave from atop my steed. This caused them to cheer even louder, and I felt the animal tense beneath me. I am not fond of horses due to their strong odor, but in this case I could sympathize with the beast. We were both being forced to parade our way from the harbor towards the cathedral. I would have preferred to have snuck back after sunset; I wanted to be alone. My mind, exhausted from battle, sorely needed a rest. But I was not allowed to be so selfish. It was my duty as an Intoner to symbolize order and peace having returned to the world, even if that meant being made a spectacle of. And how could the innocent people know that their cries of elation were causing me, with my heightened senses, to feel as if my head were being split in two?"

One is the second eldest Intoner sister and is the head of the Cathedral City. As the second eldest, she is the leader of the Intoner sisters. She is level-headed, intelligent, and capable. Not to mention the fact that she is well-respected by her younger sisters. Of the Intoner sisters, One is the most interesting in my opinion. She's the only Intoner that becomes self-aware and questions the world around her.

As with the others, One's novella gives us more insight into her thought processes, as well as her struggles and curiosities. She behaves as you'd expect; calm, composed, deliberate, thoughtful, calculated. Every move she makes has an intent and a purpose, and her logic is always sound. As I said a second ago, she’s the only Intoner to question their collective existence; where they came from, why they’re so powerful, etc. Her assessment of her sisters is objective, as she sees the good and the bad in all of them. As such, she does her best to position them for success as leaders in each of their respective lands, and tries to play to their individual strengths. For instance, she tasks Two with governing the Land of Sands in hopes that her optimistic nature could lift the spirits of the citizens, given how hard life in the Land of Sands is.

And yet, One has her own struggles, just like any of us would. Each Intoner deals with a certain bodily aspect that continuously grows at an alarming rate. Two's physical strength/muscles, Three's hair, Four's fingernails, Five's breasts, and One's senses continue to grow far faster than that of a normal human. For One, it is easy for her to become overstimulated due to her heightened sense of smell, hearing, touch, taste, and sight. The taste of food is too intense, the body odor of humans and animals are too strong, and even the feeling of clothes on her body can be uncomfortable. It's the reason why she's always in solitude. Damn, she just like me fr. Anyway, on top of having to shoulder so much responsibility on her own due to Zero's absence, she also is having to battle with heightened senses that hinder her everyday life. That takes a lot of strength.

"A disciple is a tool for battle. But it didn’t feel right using someone else as a weapon. So instead, I created a copy of myself. And since it was a copy… no matter what happened to it, it would always forgive me. Or I would forgive myself, I suppose. I used the Cathedral’s magical energy to infuse my copy with disciple-like powers. More than enough to take on the lords of these lands. Thus, I gained a partner I could rely on. And a way to forgive myself for what I had to do."

Not counting Zero, One was the only Intoner to not be given a disciple. She created Brother One from one of her ribs as both a combat partner and a failsafe in case she died. She also admits in her Prologue that she was lonely, so I'm sure that also may have been a factor in this decision. One is also vastly introspective, always pondering over philosophical or moral dilemmas. She notes the benefits of having a disciple and lists her sisters' main motivators in their lives: sex, honor, cruelty, and romance respectively. But she struggles to answer what it is that she truly desires in this life. In being the primary leader, she's bound by so much responsibility and duty that she doesn't really get to be herself, whatever that may mean. She always has to put the needs of everyone else before herself.

"You pretend to be all grown-up and mature, but you haven’t changed since childhood. We all need some kind of mental support, you know? Even Intoners. Heck, you probably need it MORE than the rest of us." "I suppose there’s some truth to that. Perhaps we’re weaker than we’d like to admit." "Aw, come ON! You’re supposed to get all mad and yell and stuff! I don’t like this pensive you. Quit messing with my head!"

Gabriella, being the boss bitch that she is, calls out One for shouldering too much responsibility on her own. One agrees with this, which, surprisingly, catches Gabriella off guard. What I find really interesting is that she says, "I don't like this pensive you." This implies that One used to respond negatively to Gabriella's brutal honesty but has grown since then.

And speaking of Gabriella, I wanna talk about her for a bit before I move on. Her personality so unique from all the other characters in the game. It feels like if you took a person from the real world and plopped them into a video game. They say that a dragon can see a person's heart, their true nature. And she always lives up to that expectation. The One/Gabriella partnership is almost opposite to the Zero/Mikhail partnership. Mikhail is a literal child and Zero is sort of motherly to him. She softens up to Mikhail more and more as you progress through the other branches. Even though their dynamic is short-lived, Gabriella is like an aunt. She doesn't mince words, but I got the impression that she does care about One at least a little bit. She sees some good in her. So that has me wondering, what the hell happened to her? By the time the main game starts, Gabriella has been replaced by Gabriel, and Zero states that he's a demon dragon whose power has been enhanced to fight off her and Mikhail. She was about to talk about the consequence of doing such a thing, but she trailed off before the line was finished. One of the last things Gabriella says is that she's the boss of her own fate. With her being so headstrong, I can't imagine her going along with being transformed in this way. Perhaps she agreed to do it because she grew to trust One? We may never know this tidbit.

"If you think you’re the only one suffering here, you’re out of your goddamn mind! Two, Three, Four, Five… You gave life to each and every one of them. Then you went and killed them all! What did you expect? Cursing the world then saving the world. You thought you could do everything by yourself? Well, THIS IS WHAT YOU FUCKING GET!"

As for the events of the main game, she is the voice of authority, as usual. By the end of Branch A, she's killed by Zero and is then killed by Two in Branch B. But come Branch C and D is where things get more interesting. By both branches, One is completely self-aware. She knows that the Intoners originate from Zero and that the Flower won't stop until it destroys the world. One has reached the same conclusion as Zero in that the Intoners should not exist, as they pose a major threat to the world. However, this is where they clash. Their goals lie within their names. Zero wants all the Intoners to be killed, including herself. One believes that she herself should be the only surviving Intoner. Maybe that's why the two of them share the same color scheme: they're more similar than they are different.

One hopes that her and Zero are able to understand each other since they both have a mutual understanding of their place in the world. But Zero of course shuts down the idea, calling her an "offshoot." Despite literally fighting for her life, she remained calm for a lot of this fight, but she does break her composure in the above quote. It's about time. She points out the contradictory nature of the situation, the fact that Zero created the Intoners just to destroy them in the end. She's technically not wrong, but we know that it's not the whole truth.

I mentioned One's loneliness earlier, and another wrinkle in this is the fact that she becomes the only sentient Intoner. Throughout the entire main story, she's aware of the aforementioned info about their link to the Flower, but she keeps it to herself. Maybe she thinks that her sisters wouldn't understand. And during the later branches, when the other Intoners start to become driven insane by the Flower's influence, she's the only one to remain sane. By sheer willpower alone! She is killed in all branches, never getting to bring peace to this world the way she envisioned. I start to feel bad for her when I think about it like this.

Because I gave her the title of the Goddess of Diligence, this would make her a foil to Three, as diligence and sloth are opposites. Both women have proven to be highly intelligent and curious. The difference being the way they wield their knowledge, right? Three constantly uses her intelligence for her own self-indulgence, without a thought or care of the people she's victimized. One, whether you agree with her actions or not, does what she believes is the right thing for the greater good of humanity.

Her last appearance is in the Final Song. Because she is an odd number, her dance is asymmetrical. One is usually so composed, and yet here she is, thrashing and flailing about. She's not at all timed to the music, nor is there a direction. Her movements are more controlled than Three's, for instance. But not as controlled as the others. Almost seems as if she's fighting. Fighting for control of her fate? Fighting for the peace that she envisioned? Perhaps fighting for her own autonomy.

TLDR: One was an intelligent, capable leader that only sought to do the right thing. Because Zero had no intention of being a leader, she was given a mountain of responsibilities to bear alone, until she created Brother One. She was also someone that dealt with her share of loneliness, as well as overwhelming sensory issues. She died by Zero's hand and shared the same fate as her other sisters, never getting to enact the peace that she wanted.

AFTERTHOUGHT:

Phew! I changed things up this time around bc I felt that it flowed better this way. If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading and I do hope you enjoyed it. And I do apologize again for those that had to wait such a long time for this. I promise that I never forgot about these analyses, I just put them off bc they require a lot of brain power. Anyways tho, that's the post. Dunno when I'll start doing Zero's, but it'll probably be in two or three parts. Thanks again, until the next post!