#my hands always ruining pictures will be the death of me honestly

[humblepoet26]

uhh, hi?

[the-elder-beato]

so I've been going through umineko again for a project i'm working on and it got me thinking about how masterfully the hints and foreshadowing regarding the true culprit and the overall mystery are sprinkled throughout almost every line of dialogue. and like duh it's a mystery story so of course there's gonna be foreshadowing, but it's also hard to strike a good balance with being too obvious that it no longer becomes subtle or being so vague that the reveals feel like they came out of nowhere

looking back on so much of the dialogue even in chapters 1 and 2, so much of it had me practically screaming at myself "how did you miss this the first time through?!" but at the same time, i can totally see how certain details flew over my head given the context the story being told is presented in.

gonna post some specific examples under the cut because one of my good friends is currently reading through it and i don't want to ruin it for him. SPOILERS FOR ALL OF UMINEKO BELOW

a pretty major one that a lot of people bring up is the constant mention of sickly sweet smells coming from kinzo's study as well as the oddly poisonous looking drinks that he partakes in that are bad for his health. this is probably referring both to the odor of kinzo's corpse itself and the preservatives genji and the others are using to prevent it from becoming obvious to the others in the mansion that don't know of his death

but the other things that stuck out to me are the fact that when krauss goes up to his door to do the whole song and dance of pretending that kinzo is in too much of a bad mood to leave his study and see the family during the conferences, he often ends these scenes with a sly smile on his face before handing kinzo off to genji or nanjo, two people who are also responsible for keeping up the charade

This is from one of the earliest scenes in chapter 1 like jesus christ. even ignoring how obvious the "my dad is already dead" line is in hindsight, those coy, knowing smiles he gives are practically screaming that this guy is putting on a show for the other siblings. but on a blind viewing, you could easily wave it off as krauss just having grown tired of trying to make the effort to get his rambling father to come out for like the 3rd family conference in a row and all he can do it laugh it off bitterly

a very similar version of this charade is shown in episode 2 as well, with yet another line with a double meaning that hints to kinzo's real fate. i honestly kind of find it amusing picturing these grown men pounding on the door to their dead father's study, yelling at a volume probably loud enough to reach the rest of the family downstairs to sell the bit even more

these lines also from episode 2 though. holy shit, ryukishi is pretty much giving the answer away here. granted, you can definitely interpret this on a first pass as natsuhi and krauss devising this plan to protect kinzo/their own interests with regards to the inheritance discussion, but the sinister and ominous undertones are there.

speaking of episode 2, it is basically a whole novel's worth of hints towards shannon and kanon's true identities, which makes sense given it's their focus episode alongside episode 6. episode 1 already plants some seeds here and there regarding kanon, what with him somehow always seeming to appear to shannon out of thin air or being described as creeping up on people silently like a cat

one of the biggest hints that most people discuss is how the detective, battler, who is supposed to have an objective view on the proceedings (at least before erika takes over in 5-6) never seems to see shannon and kanon together at the same time when he is present. what keeps up the illusion is the many other scenes sprinkled throughout that take place through other character's POVs where we are shown the two interacting together, particularly with genji and kumasawa. we aren't given any indication this early on that the narration absent of battler isn't to be trusted or is hiding details from us, i don't think until knox's rules are introduced in the answer arcs, so this is a pretty brilliant way of hiding the truth of their characters but without making it feel as if the viewer was completely lied to in hindsight

the fact that jessica is saying this to kanon of all people. oh my god. it's so painful. all of the flashback scenes of shannon and george and jessica and kanon are so sad to watch. sayo is not only struggling with the fact that she's fallen in love with another man while waiting for battler to come back, not only struggling with the realization that she's bisexual when she starts having feelings for jessica, not only struggling with the constant reminders from george that he wants to have many children and grandchildren after she finds out that she will never be able to conceive...

she's now come to a crossroads where (in this world at least) she has to decide whether or not she'll give up hope of battler ever returning and pledge herself to george, while breaking jessica's heart as kanon. and battler coming back after 6 years just throws all of that out the window

this one might just be me overthinking, but i'm curious if anyone else has a similar interpretation. these two batches of dialogue occur in the same scene, the second coming after "kanon" shows up to once again vent out "shannon's" feelings of frustration and anger towards the ushiromiyas. at first it would seem that her lamentation about wanting to be rescued continues directly from the previous string of thoughts, and that she's referring to george again. but the use of quotation marks around "him" the second time around really make me think that this must refer to battler.

the fact that she considers this a sin even moreso feels like it points to battler to me, her sin being the fact that she's still thinking of him in the first place while wanting a relationship with george. she wants to pursue these new feelings with george, but in her mind it would also be weakness on her part to give up on the promise she and battler made together by forgetting about him and moving on. she wants someone on a white horse to come save her, and the thought that this person has changed to being george is tearing her up inside. she doesn't deserve rescue from either of them, in her mind. it's so fucking sad

and the final one for now, since i've only gotten through the first two episodes for this rewatch. i remember thinking back to all the deaths from the previous chapters when faced with the challenge of figuring out who the true culprit was, and just my jaw dropping to the floor when i remembered this detail from turn of the golden witch. none of the other victims of the stakes had them fall out, they were gouged in deeply, but shannon's alone had fallen off to the side.

and of course rosa (the co-conspirator of the episode) conveniently blocks her body off before battler can examine it further and give an objective detective's view of the state of the body. if he was able to, he probably would have been able to see that the hole in shannon's forehead was made by a gunshot wound and not the stake.

not to mention kanon's body just disappearing entirely. episode 2 is where we really start to get introduced to the magic realm and its explanation of events, so it's easy to get sucked into that and go along with the whole "beatrice desecrated him after death by not even allowing him the closure of being a corpse for the rest to discover" but man, it is so crazy how well the pieces fit together once you know the truth. it was simply easier at this stage of the game for sayo to shed the kanon persona entirely so she could move more freely as shannon.

at this point, she had probably given up on battler solving the riddle in this fragment/bottle after his full on mental breakdown in the servant's room following rosa's cold accusations and lack of trust in everyone else. sayo would have planned to die by the end regardless, but this final locked room trick was probably her last ditch effort to give battler a clue as to what was happening, but again this was foiled by rosa barring him from looking closer at the crime scene

anyway that was a lot of rambling about stuff people have probably already discussed to death in the years since umineko's release. but damn i just really, really marvel at ryukishi's ability to write such an intricately written story that simultaneously had me at a loss for the solution for the majority of its runtime while also making me feel like a fucking idiot for missing all of these obvious clues the first time around, in the best kind of way. this sound novel is a masterpiece and i'm so glad i discovered it

rest in peace sayo, i have no doubt the foreshadowing during my replays of banquet and alliance of the golden witch are going to tear my heart asunder once again </3

[yujeong]

as a writing prompt: maybe something with pete and sleep? i mean, as a bodyguard he probably had a weird sleep schedule, especially looking over tankhun—would be interesting to see how that might affect him post-canon :3

(i hope this isn't too unspecific)

Hey there! Thank you so much for sending me this incredible prompt. I have so, so many thoughts about Pete and sleep that I could write a whole damn essay about it. I tried my best here. I didn't want to overthink it - because that's not the point with this imo - so what I've written below is my effort into putting all of those thoughts in order. Hope you like it, nonetheless ❤️ -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pete had always had a strange relationship with sleep. He never seemed to be getting enough of it, but it still managed to somehow sustain him. Just enough to endure hours upon hours of grueling boxing practice, no matter his father's harsh punishments at any minor mistake. Just enough to last in the ring, no matter the number of opponents he faced or the amount of times he lost. Just enough to make it through Chan's training regimen, no matter how his body screamed at him to stop moving, as if unaware of the consequences of such an decision. Just enough for the movie marathons Khun Nu would host on a whim, suspiciously on days Pete accompanied Khun Kinn on missions of high importance to the family. For some reason, they were never nearly as tiring for Pete as whatever Khun Nu planned.

More sleep wasn't what Pete needed. More sleep meant less chances of hearing his parents arguing at night. More sleep meant less practice, less matches, less earnings from fights. More sleep meant less awareness of the moments his father turned more vicious than usual. More sleep meant less opportunities to earn the position of Head Bodyguard, to prove his worth to the main family.

Pete didn't need more sleep. He was fine.

Porsche was the first person to disrupt that reality. Pete could honestly not be blamed for it; how could he know a couple of drinks would have such an effect on him? Heavy sleep was a peculiar thing, he realized. Pete was used to unsettling dreams accompanying his slumbers, but that night there was nothing. No other sensations either; he simply closed his eyes and suddenly, he was elsewhere, with no way of knowing how he ended up there. A fleeting thought had him wonder if death was a similar experience. He pushed it aside. There was a danger to this much lack of consciousness. Pete thought so when he woke up, only to find Porsche's face mere inches away from his own, his lips almost brushing over his. It scared him, how exposed he had let himself be. He vowed to never let it happen again. But then Vegas entered the picture, making him break every self-imposed rule of his, ruining him in the process. It started at the basement and continued at the safehouse; Pete slept and slept and slept, more so than he had had his entire life. It didn't happen willingly. Pete fought it at first, fought the urge to close his eyes and succumb to Vegas' will, let him break his spirit like he so desperately wanted since the moment he had captured him. But Pete was stubborn until he couldn't be anymore, until his injuries got the better of him, and sleep was the only way to heal, besides the pill he tenderly got shoved into his mouth. That's what Vegas told him, anyway, and even though Pete didn't know if he should believe him, he didn't have much of a choice. After he escaped the prison that fleetingly felt like a home, sleep became a constant state of existing. It was as if he was sleepwalking through his new life, the life Vegas threw at him with bloody hands and demanded of him to accept. He never wanted this, he kept telling himself. Sleep wasn't made for someone like him. He wanted to wake up. In a twisted sense, Pete got his wish when Vegas got shot and spent weeks in the main family hospital wing fighting for his life. Pete couldn't sleep. No matter how much his body begged him to, he couldn't do it. He had to watch over Vegas, over the man who owed him fully, completely, and make sure he survived. Pete's responsibility was to stay awake. Vegas' responsibility was to wake up. When he finally did, and later when he told him he was the most important person in his life, Pete finally felt like he was allowed to rest. He would not get punished for it. He would not lose something precious to him again. He could just close his eyes and all would be well. Sleep didn't feel like punishment anymore. It felt like nourishment, like a gift. Now, there were days when Pete slept heavily, days when he woke up and needed a moment for his sight to clear, before finding Vegas next to him, his gaze piercing through every single wall he'd built to protect himself throughout the years. And every single time, Pete got reminded of the safehouse, of a kiss in the form of a pill, and it scared him, before a sense of calmness washed over him. It was fine. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt.

[lovejosephquinn]

Do you do headcannons? If you do, what is it like being married to JQ? Just that thank you <3

I also want to say thank you for your hard work on doing all these request. Each and one of them makes me smile and brighten my days so thank you so so so much! And please do get some rest <3

I've never done one before but I'm about too, I hope it's not shit lmao, fluffy ass husband Joe is ideal 🥰

Thank you so much for your kind words angel, it's people like you that keep me going, honestly means a lot! ❤

Joseph Quinn Headcanon:

What's It Like Being Married To JQ?

The moment he married you he's not called you by your first name since, you're known as Mrs. Quinn

Sometimes he'll shorten it down to Mrs. Q

Even go as far as calling you wifey and giggling after every time that he does

Has you down as My Wifey for Lifey in his contacts

His lock screen picture is your two's hands showing off your rings

Calls you if you're not together just to tell you that he loves you at random parts of the day

Calls you if you're in separate rooms just so he pops up as My Hubby Joseph calling, since Joe ❤ wasn't good enough anymore

Joes always loved his rings, but his silver band wedding ring is his official favourite

He resents taking it off apart from to shower because he's scared that he'll ruin it

He asks to see your engagement ring and wedding ring every day and jokingly asks, "who got you that fine ass rock on your finger?"

He loves watching you write your new signature

He looks at every account now named Y/N Quinn

Joe looks back on your wedding photos all the time

He had his favourite wedding photo printed to fit in his wallet

He shows it to everyone he possibly can

Buys everything Mr & Mrs or His & Hers

Will give you a dead eye or get moody if you use his stuff

He playfully threatens you with divorce when he doesn't get his own way

When he wakes up next to you, he'll find you to pull you close with his hands, nuzzling into your neck and says "Morning, my beautiful wife." every morning without fail

Joe leaves you little love notes on the countertop everyday and signs them Love your Husband x

He'll sneak up behind you at some random points in the day, wrapping his arms around you, peppering your cheek with kisses

Every time you ask him to do something around the house he'll say "I do" rather than "I will"

In private will call you his queen

In public if you're out with friends when you come back from the bathroom he'll point and shout "Hey that's my wife!"

When you say goodnight, the last thing he'll mutter is till death do us part than the usual sweet dreams

[ereardon]

Come Back [Chapter 11][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of death

Series masterlist

You hesitated, the letter heating up in your hand, as you sat in your car outside of Bradley’s house. 

The paper felt white hot and you wanted to drop it on the floor of the car, drive away and pretend you had never made the trek out to Gooseberry Lane. 

It was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, there was only a very slim chance he was home. Still, your heart pounded in your chest as you got out, making your way up the path to the front door. Yes, you had written the letter with the intent that he would read it. But you were afraid to see Bradley in person. Talk to him face-to-face. 

You still weren’t ready. 

Thankfully there was no movement on the other side of the door as you slipped the letter underneath. 

Back in the car, you leaned your head back against the head rest and took a deep breath, your heart still pounding. 

Leaving that letter felt like taking the first step back to him.

***

Dear Maggie,

Tell me something about yourself. Something that I don’t know. I’m desperate to learn about the woman that you’ve become. 

Do you still love banana cream pie, and sleeping during a rainstorm? Have you done any traveling over the last eight years? We talked about going to Paris and London together, and Hanoi in Vietnam. Did you ever make it to any of those places? If not, there’s still time. 

What do you like to do on a day that you’re not working? For some reason, I picture you having some kind of hobby, like a book club with the other nurses, or volunteering at an animal shelter. I wish I had more hobbies, honestly. But most of the time I can barely drag myself home from work, make dinner, maybe veg out in front of the TV for a bit before going to bed. It’s a lot of work, Mags, and coming home to an empty house makes it a lot less incentivizing to come home at all. 

Thank you for writing me back. I didn't expected you to. I read your letter six times back to back until my vision started to blur. 

You’re right. You were always right, even when it bothered me to admit it. You have a habit of always being correct and it would be infuriating if it wasn’t also one of the best things about you. You’re a natural leader. Always have been. 

I hate that you thought I left with no regard for how you felt. Like it didn’t kill me. Every step I took that night that took me further away from you felt like a knife was twisting itself deeper into my chest. 

You’re still the only woman who has ever said she loved me. You’re the only person I’ve said I love you to. I’ve never wanted to be loved by anyone but you. 

You told me a long time ago that sometimes people stay. The boy on the receiving end of those words was too afraid to admit that you were offering a lifeline. He thought you were just saying that because it was what you were meant to say in those types of situations. He didn’t realize that you meant it. He didn’t realize that choosing you would change everything. 

I took you for granted. I took your love for granted, Maggie. And I’m sorry. 

Now I know I promised a letter every day for the foreseeable future, and I’m sorry to have to backtrack on that promise. We just got word that we’re shipping off for a mission tomorrow, so this will be the last letter for a while. Not sure how long I’ll be gone. Could be a week, could be three months. If I get a chance to write, I will, I promise. Don’t worry about me, OK? Not that you would, but if you did just know that we’ll be fine. It’s the job, after all. 

I love you, Maggie Brooms. I’m not afraid to say it or shout it or morse code it or buy a light up sign that says it and put it in my front window for the neighborhood to see. Even if one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in five years from now, you wake up and want to call it quits on me, I will still love you. I’m going to love you my entire life, no matter what. 

I promise to come home soon. It’s different when I know that you’re there, potentially waiting for me. You make everything so much better. 

Love, 

Bradley 

***

A week went by. And then two. No other letters arrived. You resorted to rereading the ones he had sent over the three weeks between your fight and when he left on the mission.

What kind of Christmas traditions did you have growing up? My parents always let me stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve and I’d get to open one present and sit by the fire and in the morning my mom would make chocolate chip pancakes. I still think about those pancakes every Christmas. 

***

Do you remember Professor Keller in the English department? How he always smelled vaguely of Cheez-Its and there would be little smudges of coffee on the papers he graded and handed back? I saw him a few years ago, when I went back to UVA for a visit. I was doing some Naval recruiting and he spotted me and instantly recognized me. I thought that was so funny because I had to rack my brain for a second to remember his name. And he’s probably had ten thousand students in his classes since we graduated, but he still remembered me. Makes you wonder who is just out thinking of you at any given time. 

***

I think I saw you, once, a few years back. At the time I didn’t know you were a nurse. You had scrubs on, and were getting into your car. It was the parking lot of a grocery store. The team had sent me out on a beer run on a Friday afternoon. I saw your hair and part of your face, before you turned and shut the door. It was like every single cell in my body started to hum at once. I felt like I was shaking from the inside out. I thought about running up to you. Part of me was so fucking desperate to see if it was you. But then the rational part of me said there was no way. It couldn’t be that easy to find you again after all these years. But then that stupid darts game. I shouldn’t call it stupid. If I hadn't bet Hangman that he could throw the darts after two shotskis and with a blindfold, he never would have missed. That dart never would have almost taken my eye out, Coyote wouldn’t have tackled Hangman, the three of us never would have ended up in your ER that Tuesday morning. It was fate, Mags.

***

There’s talk of a mission. You haven’t been through this before so I’ll give you an overview. I can’t tell you much. Just when I’m leaving. I won’t know how long I’m gone for, and I can’t tell you where I’m going. All I can tell you is that knowing you’re on the other side waiting for me is going to make this the hardest mission I’ve ever flown. I watched my mother grieve my father for years. I was too young to really understand when it happened. But I know that life isn’t easy. Waiting for someone who may or may not come home. 

***

I can’t believe we’ve spent years living in the same twenty square miles without knowing it. If I had known, all this time, how close you were, I never would have been able to stop thinking about it. I would have driven down every street, rang every doorbell, if it meant that there was a chance one day someone would open the door and it would be you. 

***

I’ve missed holding you in my arms while you sleep. You’re not a cute sleeper, Mags, sorry to break it to you. Your mouth hangs open a little, and you get this tiny patch of drool that pools in the corner, and your hair is always a mess because you never wear it in a braid or a bun to sleep. But guess what? You’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen when you’re like that. I think I fell more in love with you every time I woke up next to you. You captivated me. 

***

What you didn’t realize the first night we met was that I had been watching you for weeks before that night. Not in a creepy, stalker way. We had intro to art history together that semester. I spotted you right away. Shiny brown hair, your easy laugh as you slid into a seat next to Kailey in the second row of the cold auditorium. The way you pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt and hunched over your notebook in deep concentration during the slideshow presentations. Anyway, I had spotted you weeks before you laid your eyes on me that night at Trinity. I watched you make out with Bernie Colemine that gross junior. Watched as he flicked his inexperienced tongue down your throat, saw you almost gag right there into his mouth. So I spilled that full beer down his back. It might have been the only shot I had with you. Despite what you thought, Mags, I was not as much of a player as you made me out to be. From that night on, you were the only girl for me. You showed up to my room and stripped down to your underwear and I swear I almost had a heart attack. It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done not to touch you. My hands burned at my sides all night from the deep desire to run my fingers across every inch of your skin. Memorize you. Map you. Worship you. But I didn’t want to scare you away. A part of me has always been terrified of scaring you away. I know you like puzzles, Mags, but sometimes I worry that I’m one problem you just can’t fix. 

***

The team wants to see you again. Bob got all pink in the ears when your name was brought up and I have half a mind to tell him that you’re mine. But it wouldn’t be true, would it? I can’t stop you from dating Bob. He’s a good guy. Now if you got within ten feet of Hangman, that’s another story. Anyway, they liked you. Phoenix asked where my friend was the other day. They don’t know about our fight. They don’t really know the whole story. So what do you say, Mags? Come out with us again. I promise, I won’t let you get as drunk as last time. 

***

Twenty days after his last letter, you came home to see the corner of a new letter wedged inside the mailbox. You couldn’t pull it out fast enough, bending it in half trying to yank it free from the metal jaws of the letter box, swinging open the front door of your townhouse and tossing your purse haphazardly on the ground, finger already sliding under the seam of the seal. 

Dear Maggie,

We made it. I’m writing this letter on the carrier home as we speak, and I’ll drop it off the moment we hit land. 

That wasn’t an easy one. They never are, but seems like lately they keep getting worse. Every time I look around at the team we look older. Wearier. It weighs on us. 

I missed you. I wrote you a few letters while we were gone, but I never got a chance to ship them off, so I’m sorry about that. I’ll give them to you sometime soon. 

Sorry for the short note tonight. I’m exhausted, sweetheart. I wish more than anything that I could come home to you. Wrap my arms around you from behind, breathe in the smell of your hair. Do you still use rosemary and mint shampoo? I used to love that smell. 

I miss the way you feel in my arms. I miss the way the mattress would dip as you’d crawl in beside me. I miss the way you press your thumbs into my temples to rub away a headache. I miss the sound of your voice in the morning and the way you sigh when you think I’m being insufferable. I miss the fact that you butter your bread before making a peanut butter sandwich and the way that you insist on driving with the windows rolled down even when it’s cold outside. 

I realized on the carrier that I am so fucking lucky to have loved you enough to miss all of these things. You have no idea the hole you left in my chest, Maggie Brooms. 

I love you. 

Bradley 

***

Your fingers hit dial before you could even put the letter down. 

“Hello?” his voice was groggy, like he had just woken up. You looked down at the phone screen. It was almost midnight. 

“Bradley? It’s me.” 

“Mags?” You heard the rustle of sheets, like he was sitting up in bed. “Honey, is everything alright? What’s going on, why are you calling me?” 

You rolled your eyes, mostly to yourself. “Friends call, Bradley.” 

You had expected him to chuckle at the call back to your first friend date months before. But there was only silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “I don’t want to just be friends, Maggie,” Bradley said softly and you felt yourself gripping the phone tightly, your fingers wrapped around the edges. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need. But I want you. I want all of you. I promise I will do my best not to fuck it up this time. But God, Maggie, I want you to come back to me. I really do.” 

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” you admitted quietly. 

“No?” he asked, shock threaded through the word. 

You shook your head. “How soon can you be here?” 

Tag list: Tag list: @abaker74 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @luckyladycreator2 @marantha @tayrae515 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @bradshawsbitch @lilianashomaresparza @double-j @hangmandruigandmav @blue-aconite @shawnsblue @minamisulemisa @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav @seresinhangmanjake @taytaylala12 @pulisvertz

[mikeysbabygirl]

Snippet from my future Mikey x reader fic :

-" You think you broke me, Sano ?"

And just by that question, you could've sworn there was some sparkles of him shining through those dark night eyes.

-" I let you down-"

-" You're the one who put me back together. "

Same old story, same old love.

Manjiro Sano who could reduce the world to ashes, and you looking at him as if he was the rising sun behind those flames.

Love soaked in the ocean of you, he was, finally releasing the anchor of fear holding him from sailing freely.

-" Then say yes. "

He saw confusion painting your picture perfect features, and rubbed his jaw slightly before reiterating.

-" Fuckin' marry me "

Right, only love could steal the words from a writer, the way Manjiro stole your breath from you, and left you no choice but to stay dumbfounded.

-" Be the Elizabeth to my... Darcy, right ?"

Were your body still holding your mind, would you have laughed and honestly been surprised he still remembered when you talked about pride and prejudice, but with the way he looked at you, like the whole world could crumble and he wouldn't blink, it... It was absorbing...

Mikey ran a hand through his hair, sighing and pulling the white strands away from his face. It was messy, he was speechless, it wasn't like he had ever expected to propose to someone.

But isn't it the way you two loved ? Intoxicating, consuming, hazardous, going in blindly.

Tearing every piece of yourselves from the inside out, writing them with blood on paper to tell the world what has become of that romance.

-" Shit, be the Emma to my Draken, and fucking be mine."

-" 'Jiro... "

Because he saw the beauty in the tragedy, after dancing through the avalanche.

And he knew, somewhere deep inside that disastrous beating tomb of living he called a heart...

It would take blood, flesh, bones to rip you away from him.

-" Say yes, and let those motherfuckers think twice before touching Sano's wife".

It was messy. It was raining, the kingdom on fire, they took the crown and the castle crumbled. Roses were dying, lily's wilting, and your wounds were still open.

It always been this way, chaos and mayhem, and you two standing in the middle of the death, feeling alive.

Living has a way of leaving you swollen , does it not? There are bruises anywhere. You're battle torn from trying to find your way from around storm clouds

And then he's there, mad king sitting in his throne, in his castle of bones.

This was the boy you fell in love with, a little bit messy, a little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster, just like you.

Idk, I just was scrolling through my drafts and saw this line, got the sudden urge to make a teaser.

This will probably come after dead girls tell no tales is finished, since there only like maybe 5 chapters before the end.

Oh, it also will be a Manjiro x reader and contain a slight Wakasa x reader, yes, yes I know what a hell of a crossover

I'll stop rambling now, goodnight ✓

[call-sign-shark]

Seeing your asks about au love stories for Heaveb, and i got to ask: how would an Eva x Heaven story look like?

Ref to this Ask AU

JULI. THIS IS A FANTASTIC QUESTION. I’m enjoying this far too much, so my ask box is definitely open for this kind of shipping game with Heaven. (Arthur is yelling now lmao “stoppp stealing me angel arghhhhh 😭”). Honestly, I got a little bit excited with this because my mind buzzed with ideas for our two witches.

“You’re the moon of my life, Eva.” “And you’re the light in my darkness.”

• Following Arthur’s death in the boxing ring attack, Heaven went into a downward spiral. The women meet for the first time in the nearby forest when Heaven attempted to kill herself by drowning in a river. Eva was wandering in the wild, needing a pause from the city’s noise, when she was struck by prophetic instincts.

• Her witch’s visions led her to Heaven and, when she sensed she was a witch like her (the very first and incredibly powerful she’s met) Eva saved her. In fact, our elegant Eva didn’t mind ruining her expensive black dress.

• Back to the ground, she pressed her soft and intoxicating lips on the pale woman’s to breathe her back to life — As soon as their flesh collapsed together, Heaven reopened her eyes and felt an indescribable fire lighting up within. A fire she had thought extinguished when her sweet Arthur died in her arms.

• “Dying is for the weak, ángel, and you’re no weak.” She whispered, “You’re a wonderful creature and I’ll make you reach your full potential.” Her voice lost itself in the wind, like the threatening rumble of a far away storm. That’s how Eva decided to bring her home.

• Luca and Eva had a heated argument about her: “She’s Arthur Shelby’s fucking window!! We’ve killed her husband, don’t you think she’ll be a danger to us? She’ll avenge him. Please, my Queen, this is not a good idea.”

_ “She stays or I leave with her.” That was the only thing she said in the whole discussion, her dark eyes glistening with confidence and authority. Luca knew he had lost.

• Eva took care of Heaven for months, for the poor angel was in a half-catatonic state. She would spend most of her time with Heaven, taking baths with her, changing her whole dressing, and bringing her in art galleries to change her mind. Soon, Eva became the only person she trusts and loves with all her heart.

• When Heaven starts getting better, our powerful Eva teaches her to use her power properly. One night they are in the forest, dancing around a bonfire, and pulls even in her arms to kiss her. They make love for the first time.

• At first Luca was jealous, but he rapidly understands that the two witches are inseparable. Somehow, they end up forming a polyamory couple.

• Heaven loves sex with the two of them, and it can get very tender and sensual, but her favorite moments are still when she’s alone with her Eva.

• She sometimes weeps when Luca hugs her in bed, for the sensation of his slender arms around her body reminds her of Arthur. Eva, behind her, kisses her shoulder tenderly and whispers lovely and reassuring sentences in Spanish to soothe her.

• Loved and cared for, Heaven’s hatred for Tommy grows more and more. She firmly believes that Arthur’s and John’s death are his fault. She just remains worried for Polly and Ada.

• As time passes, Heaven is always by Eva’s side. She has become Eva’s lover and personal body guard, even if she’s far more able to defend herself. I like to picture our goth Queen Eva sitting on a sofa with a glass of wine in her hand, and caressing her angel’s hair with the other. Heaven would sit on the floor scattered with comfortable cushions, next to the sofa. She would be ready to poison and kill at her command.

• Heaven is the only one who manages to calm down Eva when her bad memories come to haunt her. She lays with her in bed, all naked, and gently stroke her long dark hair until Eva falls asleep. Sometimes, Heaven sings for her.

• “Eva is the Queen, and God has mercy on those who disrespect her royal mistress.”

Okay gonna stop her because I could write a whole series about the two of them. I know it’s quite original so I hope you’ll like it, Juli. 🤍✨

✞ Heaven is you in the Arthur x Reader!OC Heaven in your Eyes || Read last chapter

[promiscuouspomegranate]

could we get more on ezra? his character seems interesting and i wanted to see more of him in the oneshot! IT WAS STILL REALLY FOOD THOUGH !!

Me fucking rambling

TWs: Bullying, harassment, self harm, physical violence, stalking, manipulation, unstable home life, Lenore isn’t a good person, and Ezra just sucks.

(I hoped someone would ask for more because I focused on adjectives and “Oo, this sounds pretty” more than the plot… erm.. my bad 💀)

When Ezra was nine–maybe ten, he can’t remember anymore–he witnessed his dad strike his mom across the face. His dad cussed her out over a minor inconvenience and then left her alone to go for a drive. His mom needed her “beautiful boy” to hold and coddle with saccharine affections. She whispered in Ezra’s ear, “You are far kinder than your dad… Never turn out like him, Ezra.” Ezra’s father came home an hour later with a bouquet of roses, and he heard his parents kiss from his room. At that age, Ezra took to heart the interaction and prayed that God helped him flourish in love the way his parents did. God never answered his prayers, but the devil did.

When Ezra was twelve–he could never forget the moment–he felt his childhood friendship with you change. You were starting to flourish and grow in ways he never knew someone could. Your mother had passed away, your father became a deadbeat, but you managed to thrive in your miserable conditions. He viewed you as someone capable and strong.

You ruined his perception when he heard you sobbing at the pond. You were crying for your mom to come back. That’s not what you were supposed to be like. You were meant to prevail by yourself. He already has to take care of his poor mother, now you?

The next day at the cafeteria, Ezra handed you a packed lunch from his mom. He waited for you to thank him and swoon–maybe confess your love if you felt like it–but you were so ungrateful. You hoarsely muttered, “I don’t need this, but thanks.” That’s definitely not how you were supposed to react. Weren’t you needy? You needed him. Stop being so confusing.

Your pessimistic attitude and nihilism–as philosophical as a middle schooler gets–were apparent to others. You arrived late to your classes, you cried in the bathroom stalls, and you were no fun to be around. People used to show false sympathies and whisper amongst each other, “Oh, poor thing, I hope they brighten up soon.” Even teachers pitied you and would murmur in the lounge between gas station cigarettes, “Can hardly believe what it’s like to be so young and lose your mom. I knew her well before she passed, lovely thing. Such a shame she didn’t pass her optimism to her child.”

You first experienced bullying when Ezra, enraged by your unwillingness to acknowledge you needed him, spread a rumor about you freshman year. A tale so disgustingly detailed and grotesquely exaggerated, it just had to be true. He told others in a hushed whisper in the band room you caused your mom’s death, whether willingly or not, he left for people to interpret. The car accident was your fault; you told him in tears, “Couldn’t handle hearing complaints about your father anymore. You snapped and lost her in a second.”

He showed them pictures of you in the hospital and old diary entries about your mother. Soon, people felt revolted by his lie and found you guilty of your mother’s death. Rumors stacked, and suddenly, you were getting things thrown at you in class; people would fight you when you least expected, and you were violently bullied and belittled by everyone.

Ezra realized his plan was working when he overheard a group of girls gossiping, “Bet they miss their mom so much they’re trying to join her in the afterlife. Someone saw them cutting themselves in the bathroom… like; get a fucking life, honestly. I knew them in middle school, and they always had a horrible vibe, y’know?”

Yet, not everyone believed Ezra’s story. The school’s book club knew a plot hole when they saw one, and there were quite a few in Ezra’s rumor. The polished president of the club, Lenore, extended a hand and invited you to her group. She would defend you when one of Ezra’s friends harassed or threatened to hurt you. Although her reputation was battered and she became a target, she stuck with you.

At a snail's pace, your personality resurfaced, and your mind soothed itself. By senior year, you laughed alongside your friends, defended yourself from verbal altercations, and debunked Ezra’s rumor. Only Ezra’s friends believed it, and many had apologized to you for their actions.

Yet, the wound was still bleeding, and you could only apply bandaids to patch it. Yes, your depression faded, but it persisted. Yes, you could walk in the hallways without getting your hair dragged, but you still faced violence. Yes, you had a friend group and a fantastic soul to defend you, but Ezra was still there. Why couldn’t he leave you alone? You used to be friends.

Lenore tried to patch your grief with positivity and smother sorrow with her sweet smile. Lenore would hold you close and whisper, “I’m here for you. Isn’t that all that matters? You have someone to look after you.” In contrast, Ezra would open wounds and stab you with words. He’d always repeat, “Just give up, fisheyes. Some people will always know the truth that you’re a murderer.”

tbh I’d move to Wisconsin in this situation and make cheese for a living !?

[ereardonlibrary]

Come Back [Chapter 11][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of death

Series masterlist

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You hesitated, the letter heating up in your hand, as you sat in your car outside of Bradley’s house.

The paper felt white hot and you wanted to drop it on the floor of the car, drive away and pretend you had never made the trek out to Gooseberry Lane.

It was the middle of the day on a Wednesday, there was only a very slim chance he was home. Still, your heart pounded in your chest as you got out, making your way up the path to the front door. Yes, you had written the letter with the intent that he would read it. But you were afraid to see Bradley in person. Talk to him face-to-face.

You still weren’t ready.

Thankfully there was no movement on the other side of the door as you slipped the letter underneath.

Back in the car, you leaned your head back against the head rest and took a deep breath, your heart still pounding.

Leaving that letter felt like taking the first step back to him.

***

Dear Maggie,

Tell me something about yourself. Something that I don’t know. I’m desperate to learn about the woman that you’ve become.

Do you still love banana cream pie, and sleeping during a rainstorm? Have you done any traveling over the last eight years? We talked about going to Paris and London together, and Hanoi in Vietnam. Did you ever make it to any of those places? If not, there’s still time.

What do you like to do on a day that you’re not working? For some reason, I picture you having some kind of hobby, like a book club with the other nurses, or volunteering at an animal shelter. I wish I had more hobbies, honestly. But most of the time I can barely drag myself home from work, make dinner, maybe veg out in front of the TV for a bit before going to bed. It’s a lot of work, Mags, and coming home to an empty house makes it a lot less incentivizing to come home at all.

Thank you for writing me back. I didn't expected you to. I read your letter six times back to back until my vision started to blur.

You’re right. You were always right, even when it bothered me to admit it. You have a habit of always being correct and it would be infuriating if it wasn’t also one of the best things about you. You’re a natural leader. Always have been.

I hate that you thought I left with no regard for how you felt. Like it didn’t kill me. Every step I took that night that took me further away from you felt like a knife was twisting itself deeper into my chest.

You’re still the only woman who has ever said she loved me. You’re the only person I’ve said I love you to. I’ve never wanted to be loved by anyone but you.

You told me a long time ago that sometimes people stay. The boy on the receiving end of those words was too afraid to admit that you were offering a lifeline. He thought you were just saying that because it was what you were meant to say in those types of situations. He didn’t realize that you meant it. He didn’t realize that choosing you would change everything.

I took you for granted. I took your love for granted, Maggie. And I’m sorry.

Now I know I promised a letter every day for the foreseeable future, and I’m sorry to have to backtrack on that promise. We just got word that we’re shipping off for a mission tomorrow, so this will be the last letter for a while. Not sure how long I’ll be gone. Could be a week, could be three months. If I get a chance to write, I will, I promise. Don’t worry about me, OK? Not that you would, but if you did just know that we’ll be fine. It’s the job, after all.

I love you, Maggie Brooms. I’m not afraid to say it or shout it or morse code it or buy a light up sign that says it and put it in my front window for the neighborhood to see. Even if one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in five years from now, you wake up and want to call it quits on me, I will still love you. I’m going to love you my entire life, no matter what.

I promise to come home soon. It’s different when I know that you’re there, potentially waiting for me. You make everything so much better.

Love,

Bradley

***

A week went by. And then two. No other letters arrived. You resorted to rereading the ones he had sent over the three weeks between your fight and when he left on the mission.

What kind of Christmas traditions did you have growing up? My parents always let me stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve and I’d get to open one present and sit by the fire and in the morning my mom would make chocolate chip pancakes. I still think about those pancakes every Christmas.

Do you remember Professor Keller in the English department? How he always smelled vaguely of Cheez-Its and there would be little smudges of coffee on the papers he graded and handed back? I saw him a few years ago, when I went back to UVA for a visit. I was doing some Naval recruiting and he spotted me and instantly recognized me. I thought that was so funny because I had to rack my brain for a second to remember his name. And he’s probably had ten thousand students in his classes since we graduated, but he still remembered me. Makes you wonder who is just out thinking of you at any given time.

***

I think I saw you, once, a few years back. At the time I didn’t know you were a nurse. You had scrubs on, and were getting into your car. It was the parking lot of a grocery store. The team had sent me out on a beer run on a Friday afternoon. I saw your hair and part of your face, before you turned and shut the door. It was like every single cell in my body started to hum at once. I felt like I was shaking from the inside out. I thought about running up to you. Part of me was so fucking desperate to see if it was you. But then the rational part of me said there was no way. It couldn’t be that easy to find you again after all these years. But then that stupid darts game. I shouldn’t call it stupid. If I hadn't bet Hangman that he could throw the darts after two shotskis and with a blindfold, he never would have missed. That dart never would have almost taken my eye out, Coyote wouldn’t have tackled Hangman, the three of us never would have ended up in your ER that Tuesday morning. It was fate, Mags.

***

There’s talk of a mission. You haven’t been through this before so I’ll give you an overview. I can’t tell you much. Just when I’m leaving. I won’t know how long I’m gone for, and I can’t tell you where I’m going. All I can tell you is that knowing you’re on the other side waiting for me is going to make this the hardest mission I’ve ever flown. I watched my mother grieve my father for years. I was too young to really understand when it happened. But I know that life isn’t easy. Waiting for someone who may or may not come home.

***

I can’t believe we’ve spent years living in the same twenty square miles without knowing it. If I had known, all this time, how close you were, I never would have been able to stop thinking about it. I would have driven down every street, rang every doorbell, if it meant that there was a chance one day someone would open the door and it would be you.

***

I’ve missed holding you in my arms while you sleep. You’re not a cute sleeper, Mags, sorry to break it to you. Your mouth hangs open a little, and you get this tiny patch of drool that pools in the corner, and your hair is always a mess because you never wear it in a braid or a bun to sleep. But guess what? You’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen when you’re like that. I think I fell more in love with you every time I woke up next to you. You captivated me.

***

What you didn’t realize the first night we met was that I had been watching you for weeks before that night. Not in a creepy, stalker way. We had intro to art history together that semester. I spotted you right away. Shiny brown hair, your easy laugh as you slid into a seat next to Kailey in the second row of the cold auditorium. The way you pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt and hunched over your notebook in deep concentration during the slideshow presentations. Anyway, I had spotted you weeks before you laid your eyes on me that night at Trinity. I watched you make out with Bernie Colemine that gross junior. Watched as he flicked his inexperienced tongue down your throat, saw you almost gag right there into his mouth. So I spilled that full beer down his back. It might have been the only shot I had with you. Despite what you thought, Mags, I was not as much of a player as you made me out to be. From that night on, you were the only girl for me. You showed up to my room and stripped down to your underwear and I swear I almost had a heart attack. It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done not to touch you. My hands burned at my sides all night from the deep desire to run my fingers across every inch of your skin. Memorize you. Map you. Worship you. But I didn’t want to scare you away. A part of me has always been terrified of scaring you away. I know you like puzzles, Mags, but sometimes I worry that I’m one problem you just can’t fix.

***

The team wants to see you again. Bob got all pink in the ears when your name was brought up and I have half a mind to tell him that you’re mine. But it wouldn’t be true, would it? I can’t stop you from dating Bob. He’s a good guy. Now if you got within ten feet of Hangman, that’s another story. Anyway, they liked you. Phoenix asked where my friend was the other day. They don’t know about our fight. They don’t really know the whole story. So what do you say, Mags? Come out with us again. I promise, I won’t let you get as drunk as last time.

***

Twenty days after his last letter, you came home to see the corner of a new letter wedged inside the mailbox. You couldn’t pull it out fast enough, bending it in half trying to yank it free from the metal jaws of the letter box, swinging open the front door of your townhouse and tossing your purse haphazardly on the ground, finger already sliding under the seam of the seal.

Dear Maggie,

We made it. I’m writing this letter on the carrier home as we speak, and I’ll drop it off the moment we hit land.

That wasn’t an easy one. They never are, but seems like lately they keep getting worse. Every time I look around at the team we look older. Wearier. It weighs on us.

I missed you. I wrote you a few letters while we were gone, but I never got a chance to ship them off, so I’m sorry about that. I’ll give them to you sometime soon.

Sorry for the short note tonight. I’m exhausted, sweetheart. I wish more than anything that I could come home to you. Wrap my arms around you from behind, breathe in the smell of your hair. Do you still use rosemary and mint shampoo? I used to love that smell.

I miss the way you feel in my arms. I miss the way the mattress would dip as you’d crawl in beside me. I miss the way you press your thumbs into my temples to rub away a headache. I miss the sound of your voice in the morning and the way you sigh when you think I’m being insufferable. I miss the fact that you butter your bread before making a peanut butter sandwich and the way that you insist on driving with the windows rolled down even when it’s cold outside.

I realized on the carrier that I am so fucking lucky to have loved you enough to miss all of these things. You have no idea the hole you left in my chest, Maggie Brooms.

I love you.

Bradley

***

Your fingers hit dial before you could even put the letter down.

“Hello?” his voice was groggy, like he had just woken up. You looked down at the phone screen. It was almost midnight.

“Bradley? It’s me.”

“Mags?” You heard the rustle of sheets, like he was sitting up in bed. “Honey, is everything alright? What’s going on, why are you calling me?”

You rolled your eyes, mostly to yourself. “Friends call, Bradley.”

You had expected him to chuckle at the call back to your first friend date months before. But there was only silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “I don’t want to just be friends, Maggie,” Bradley said softly and you felt yourself gripping the phone tightly, your fingers wrapped around the edges. “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need. But I want you. I want all of you. I promise I will do my best not to fuck it up this time. But God, Maggie, I want you to come back to me. I really do.”

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” you admitted quietly.

“No?” he asked, shock threaded through the word.

You shook your head. “How soon can you be here?”

[squeiky]

Another thing about how I might write eggman, have I had my paws on this guys character.

When I here "evil scientist" (but eggman is obviously an evil engineer but whatever) I think of lab experiments, and unethical testings. The type of shit that you'd BELIEVE would revoluionize or doing good by whom ever this testing and info is to "help" but in reality is only purposing yourself and doing harm.

Now, I think this is a little too far from what his character IS per say, but It just reminds me of how he calls sonic (at least in the english versions) a "rat". like.. a guinea pig. a lab rat. a scoundrel.

While Sonic is gunning for his throat, Eggman only perceives him as nothing more of a pest, and a nuisance at best. (though he's definitely obsessed with defeating (or even killing) the guy in the same way a chef would be obsessed with eliminating a mouse in the kitchen who keeps eating and ruining his shit.)

I think that saying that is important because it helps remind me that throughout all the fun and games of this universe, eggman probably wouldn't hesitate to make sonic suffer. (just as one would let a rat slowly starve to death in a trap.) He is after all, the sole guy who keeps getting in his way.

I also enjoy to idea of Eggman being very opportunistic. Something about that makes it seems like he's always going to the next best thing. (that might be the one endearing trait of his, that stubbornness. Either way both the spikeball and the eggman wont give up till the other is out of the picture.)

uhh something something something, If given the chance eggman would probably do some experimental shit on sonic because he's done it multiple times and honestly I need that arc where sonic actually gets to have deal with effects of that.

ALSOALSO Eggman and infinte. What??? Personally, I believe Infinite to be more of a cyborg (half bot half live) but if he's not fully bot, then I'd have to consider that fact that either eggman got someone (idk who or how) to do actual surgical operation on this guy and implant a fucking magic ruby into his TORSO (y'know like where you MOST IMPORTANT INTERNAL ORGANS ARE) or eggman just knows how to rip people open and insert (or take out) shit into them using whatever bots or his own hands like a classical surgeron.

either way, the idea that Eggman has medical knowledge of anatomy and can perform or at least have access to that kind of levels of bodily fuckery is scary. Because I have no idea what the hell created Infinte the jackal, or even WHO or WHAT Infinte is.

but if he wasn't a bot to begin with, then everything gets a little darker... and straight into my writing territoy.

[nyxneon]

1, 5, 15, 28, 34, 45, 51

hey there, thank you @milverton!

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

First real fandom i checked out online was the X-Files. Back in...1996 more or less, when I first got an internet connection. I was in middle school and my knowledge of english was....limited. But I learned a lot!!

(For n5 I'm copying and pasting from the other ask I got...)

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for?

on an old ao3 account, I posted fic for Sherlock and Supernatural; on my current ao3 I posted stuff for the Sandman, Gotham, Bleach, and die Aerzte and their 80s film (Richy Guitar). When I was a teen (more than 20 years ago), I also posted a couple of Harry Potter ficlets on the diagonalley forum. During my final years of HS and then at university I wrote also for Death Note, but never posted any of those. I also tried something about Duran Duran, also in HS.

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

I'm not sure if the Rose/Kira (Bleach) ship is...obscure. But it's definitely a lot smaller (as far as fanfic production) than other ships. In the same fandom, also Shinji/Momo... I didn't get hooked on them back in the day, but now...damn... i love them.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

I have absolutely no idea. Anything would make me extra happy. On the other hand, i do take inspo from fanart sometimes...

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

I tend to write drabbles and ficlets only, nowadays. It's 1,527 words on Insignia of Despair, considering my current ao3 account. But, yeah, I write short stuff... lol.

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

OMG, I don't know... first of all, I have lousy memory, and anyway, it really depends on the period, the mood, the fandom... I wouldn't know, honestly.

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

ok, two parts, rant first. I dislike how drabbles and ficlets and even sometimes just one-shots are seen as "lesser stuff" by some people. Not just because I write short stuff, i also like reading one-shots, and they do need effort too. Some people dismiss them as... idk, not worthy. I don't understand the hate for present-tense narration, because different tenses have different effects, and they all serve a purpose. I'm not particularly fond of the AUs that basically end up being about characters that just share a name with the original character, if you know what i mean. I mean, i like the idea of AUs, but sometimes some fanfics get super-famous but the characters have changed so much from the source material to be...hardly recognisable... I can't read reader inserts at all... they... are not my cup of tea, so to say. Ok, this is not a rant, but a list of pet-peeves...ooops. I could go on...

Gush: I love the concept of fanfiction. I think it's one of the best things that has happened to me. It really... helped me a lot growing up. Also, it made me practise my English. (Which in turn kinda ruined my life a bit...but this is.... besides the point.) I like the endless creativity of the world of fanfic, the passion behind it. I mean, i don't like everything (my petpeeves are an example of that) but... I believe fanfic is a worthy hobby, a super important part of fandom in general. I like writing, I've always loved it, even if...I can only do ficlets and hardly ever finish longer stuff. But, it's part of me.

[db-entries]

I wish I could stay around for longer, but im afraid I cannot do that. Daeos has won, yes, Daeos is the one who goes by “D”. This is B talking to you right now.

You could say this is my “final words” before my death. He’s been planning this for a while now, he’s been pushing me out since the beginning. I barely got to stick around, to prove to the boy that I was the one to trust, instead of that “angel” who seems to only know how to lie his way into things.

Even if my line of work is… questionable, working for the tall faceless man, I don’t have any regrets in doing so; working for Father has been a pleasure. I had true family, true friends. So, if any of my family are seeing this, please know listen to what I have to say:

Witness, I know we never got in that well, especially with you… attitude; but that doesn’t mean I regret meeting you. Stay alive, cause I don’t know if he’ll target you next after the boy.

Seth, you are a brother to me, you always have been. I remember seeing you be created. It’s quite funny really, im your older brother, yet you act older than me. Ironic, isn’t it? You still have your camera, right? You should have all the pictures we took together, mine is still back at home, so you can probably easily find it and use it how you please. It’s yours now. Look after the rookies for me, I know they can be a handful, but you’re gonna have to be their new role model now; taking the place as the oldest sibling I guess huh! I hope we can meet again in another lifetime, or a new vessel, perhaps.

Dr. Florance, I don’t miss you at all. You can go fuck yourself honestly >:3

Chief, ngl, you were like a mom to me. But other than that, there’s not much left to say.

And for the rest of the BystandersFromBranches, make sure to look after yourselves, don’t become like me. It’s a shame I couldn’t stay around long enough to watch you all grow into strong cultists, I wish I couldn’t stayed around a few more years, but it seemed that Daeos had other plans.

Devin, you’ll never see this, at least I don’t think. But I feel like I need to say this. None of this was your fault, it was mine. If I hadn’t possessed you in the first place, Daeos wouldn’t have targeted you. I take responsibility for my mistakes. I’m glad to have been able to take care of you when you were young, a way that your mother didn’t. I’m just afraid that it wasn’t enough. I didn’t do enough for you, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to have your life ruined because of my selfishness.

If you are somebody else who is reading this, Daeos isn’t someone to trust, if it wasn’t obvious enough already. As much as he may wish he could still call himself an angel, he lost the right to call himself that a long time ago.

To defeat him? Good question. We’ve been trying to figure that out for a long time.

I will not die. This isn’t death.

I am just being locked away, probably forever until Devin dies. I will be stuck in that store, walking down those aisles, just like Devin did, until my sentence is over, if it ever is.

I’m sorry.

God, have mercy on my soul. Please.

Signing off,

—Bystander

[molly-millers-writings]

The Man I will Fall For

I will probably fall in love with

A poet

Who uses words I could never find

And fantasizes life

Just to survive

I’ll probably fall in love with

An artist

And when I ask him to paint love

He paints an old couple

Holding hands

I’ll probably fall in love with

A musician

Who writes songs from his overflowing heart

“You say you will burn me

But I’ve been cold all my life

And you are not unlovable”

I’ll probably fall in love with

A flirt

He’ll probably tease me

Saying I’m weird I’m weird

And hes normal

No worries though

He loves weird

And I have to respond honestly

I love normal

I’ll probably fall in love with

A performer

He will look at me

Like the world was on fire

And I was the only thing he was 

Searching for in the blaze

And seeing me allowed him to breathe

I’ll probably fall in love with

A photographer

We would make every picture

No matter how big the crowd behind us

Look like it was a picture of a world

Belonging entirely to us

I want us to be described as

A pair of wooden chopsticks

Afraid you would ruin them

You don’t dare pull them apart

I want us to create and make

Together

With plenty of

Dance breaks in the sunlight

I will probably fall in love with

A dancer

I want us to dance with hands

Together

Held so tightly

Who could pull us apart?

I want people to say

One of us could live without the other

But the other could not live without the one

And the one that could

Would never dream of it

I will probably fall in love with

A writer

I know that life writes a good chunk of our story

But I want him to help me write our chapter

I’ll probably fall in love with

A hopeless romantic

That might not believe in finding love

But making it

I want him to tell me about his favorite

Romance story

And I’ll tell him mine

When he asks what my favorite flowers are

I’ll tell him 

He can’t buy them

They have to be picked at the side of the road

Like my father did for my mother

And when he tells me he loves letters

He will find them in every drawer

And a letter in the mail

With no return address

I’ll probably fall in love with

A friend

That thinks very much like me

I want him to read my favorite book series

So he can learn lessons I always carry with me

Book one, regret is meaningless 

Time is fleeting

Live like this moment happens only once

Because it does

Book two, live is pain, suffering

And so much beauty, laughter, joy

And to truly live

You must choose life over and over again

Book three, there is no reason to fear death

If your life was lived well

And full of love

He would be the first to read my poetry

And his fears will vanish

Because I love the fleeting

Too much

I pray he would be a lifetime

And I will love him

Like hes a moment

I will probably fall in love with

A sunset

That never seems to last long enough

[killerlookz]

omg congrats on 1.5k darling!!! that’s amazing!!

i think you know what i’m here for lol, you know what they do to guys like us in prison + eddie munson

ah well, first of all, bex- thank you so much <33 !! second of all, can't blame you for wanting some eddie smut hehehe... anyways.... here it is ;)

this request is part of my 1.5k celebration? want to join? look here!

EDDIE MUNSON | NSFW HEADCANONS

pairing: eddie munson x f! reader warnings: pure smut! (obv) 18+ onlyyy

so, starting of I know a loooot of people are into eddie's rings- but actually when the two of you first started having sex he was really good about always taking his rings off before touching you too heavily. he honestly believed they would just prohibit him from using his hands correctly and he thought they'd totally bother you- that was until one time when he'd forgotten to take them off and the cool metal brushed against your clit as his finger was making its way to your hole- he will never forget the way your body shivered and the pleasure filled sigh you let out- just from the simple touch.... ever since then he always keeps his rings on during sex.

HUUUUGE into praise- giving and receiving- he's just a super sweet guy outside of the bedroom, so it's only natural that that aspect is taken into the bedroom too, the whole time you're fucking he's constantly praising you.

"Oh, my pretty baby always doing such a good job for me"

"-'m so lucky to have such a perfect angel who takes my cock so well"

AND IF YOU PRAISE HIM? oh my god, one "pretty boy" or "you always treat me so well baby" and he's cumming, literally right there.

maybe this is kind of, fucked up sounding... but i feel like eddie is the sort of guy who gets horny during horror movies... i can't quite explain it- it's not the death and murder that turns him on... just the thrill of it, the anticipation, they get his blood going... and that blood just goes straight to his cock.

likes listening to music during sex, he thinks it "sets the mood", also, it helps with his nerves- but don't worry he's not going to be playing any Slayer or Death in the moment (unless you're into that) he'll probably set the mood with something more mellow, like doom metal... or if he's feeling real sensual he'll show a different side of him and play some Depeche Mode or early 80s Cure

Really into spit... spitting on his fingers/cock before he slides them inside you, spitting on your cunt to get him ready for you, watching you drool all over his cock when it's shoved down your throat. its gross and he loves it.

loves when you're a little mean to him, you making smart remarks or just being a little snappy at him even in just an everyday setting will immediately have him popping a boner.

he's got a box full of dirty polaroids of you- in all different sorts of positions and various states of undress- and he looooves looking at them. if he was living alone he'd definitely have them taped up to his wall.

has a HUGE thing for innocence and corruption- he knows deep down he's not the bad guy everyone makes him out to be, and you know that too- but it's so sexy when he plays into the role.

"My sweet little angel loves getting ruined by the town freak, doesn't she?"

"God, I've just turned you into a big fucking whore- how would everyone at school react if they found out sweet, perfect y/n lets Eddie 'the freak' Munson do whatever he wants to her?"

Steals your panties... yeah sorry... he's a little bit a HUGE perv. you'll be out of your room for a moment and he'll snoop around, poking through your drawers until he finds a pair of skimpy lace panties and he's practically drooling, picturing you in them while desperately trying to shove the bunched-up material into his tight pockets.

LOVES fucking you while you wear his Hellfire Club shirt. you throw it on after you take a shower at his place one day and he's immediately fucking breathless watching you tote around in his clothes- he's kissing on you just about the second he lays his eyes on you, and you're moving to take the shirt off to give him better access to your chest but he's immediately pushing your hands down, "no, this stays on"

LOVES BEING MARKED, whether its hickies on his neck, or lipstick stains on his clothes, or scratches down his back, oh he fucking loves it. he loooves when you get possessive of him, he's yours, and he fucking loves being yours.

into pain (for himself) not like... a huge masochist, but... but light sprinkles of pain here and there really get him going. you pulling at his hair, or nipping at his skin, scratching him up, maybe even giving him a light slap across the face- he could cum right there.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[nctdeeznutz]

The Sun Sets Better With You

Author’s note: This is my first time posting my own work on here....A little nervous. I just hope my imagination was accurately described during the smut. To think this started because of Taeyong and his sunset lamp light that he uses in some of of IG stories. Because in my story he’s just a bottom!b*tch. He honestly will be the death of me. The OC has the restraint I WISH I had for this man jfc. PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE!!!! 

Warnings: dirty talk, oral, (self)handjob, unprotected sex (wrap it up like pig in a blanket, yall. frfr), established relationship, descriptive usage of lights and shadows, just pure, filthy, unruly, and insatiable sub!Tae, OC is kinda domish (if you squint one eye just a wee bit)

Sneekie Peekies👀: He smiled from her question and his own ministrations causing him to shiver. It felt too good to finally be seen. The look in his eyes was so intense but his eyelids laid so low. Almost making him look sleepy. “Tell me I look pretty in our new light.” His demand was soft but so loud.

“Izzy~! It’s here! It finally came!” 

Taeyong busted into the shared bedroom of he and his girlfriend’s apartment. There was a small box in hand from what his girlfriend, who sat in their bed, could see. He vigorously shook the package above his head like an excited child. Unamused she looked up from her laptop.

“Whatever it is…I’m sure it’s broken now.” It was so sassy. Izzy just looked back down at her laptop screen continuing her work. Pursing his lips with force and squinting his eyes.  

“It is not broken! Just watch…” To prove a point he stomped across the room. There was a bedside table sitting to the left of Izzy. Taeyong stood hunched over the box in pure concentration as his eyebrows furrowed together mumbling to himself. His mouth formed a thin line that slide to the left of his face while pushing his lips outward. He was cute as he tried to get the tape off the box. He was always very careful for some strange reason about opening all of his packages. 

Fixating on lights and colors was a hobby of his. Ambiance was just something he had an eye for. It got him the job he had been hoping for at G&J Entertainment as their light show specialist several years ago. He loved his job. Taeyong encouraged himself to always work on his craft, even at home. The lighting in their home was picture worthy. Straight out of a Pinterest post. It was something he loved to do; Izzy got to be enchanted by the different colors and patterns that danced around her ceiling. Everyone was happy. She did like his eye for colors and detail. When he saw this sunset light lamp on Amazon he was enthralled. The orange hue was something he knew would look great against her soft flesh. Bring out the yellow undertones in every curve and bump. The product was so small but had so much potential. His mind immediately imaged how it would look in their space. On them. Together.

“Prepare to be amazed…” Taeyong said aloud but more so to himself as he unraveled the cords to the electronic.

“Amazed? How can I be amazed when you keep buying lights? Our bill was $379.68 last month. Lord, help me. If you bring another light into this house I’m going to skin you alive and wear you for Halloween like a latex suit.”

The man was too stunned to speak. “That’s kind of sexy.”

His eyebrow arched as he thought about his lover in a latex suit. That thought scurried away when he registered her tone. Big eyes were wide as he stood there with his shoulders hung over. Slouched and obviously sad.

“Did you have to remember it down to the cents though?” He groaned. “That was one time!”

“It’s been climbing but now it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Don’t ruin this for me.” The “me” in his beg was drawn out which caused him to drop his shoulders as low as he physically could, the box in hand dropped onto the floor with his arms. “I thought this was a safe space.” His faux cry reached her ear but not once did she did stop clicking.

“Send it back.” She deadpanned.  With slight force the laptop closed. This was not something up for discussion right now. It was the truth. She shifted picking up her laptop to finish her work in their shared study room. Before she could get too far his comment made her stop.

“But it has fifteen different settings.” To the left of his head was his arm raised at a 90º angle with the small remote between his fingers and thumb, loose wires in the other. On his face was a still a pout.

“Now.” Still unamused she walked past him.

Three hours had passed since then. She had heard him grunting in annoyance at the light fixture and the overpriced, weak wifi. Something was off when she really began to listen. Silence in the house was not unusual but Taeyong has been quiet. Too quiet. Izzy’s project has come to an end and she was hungry. Lazily, she walked down the hallway to their bedroom. There was a soft red tint that changed to orange. Figuring it was the light that he just bought she shrugged it off. The door swung open with little force as Izzy pushed herself the rest of the way in. Nothing could have prepared Izzy for what he was doing. The orange sunset lamp reflected off of him and the white bedding. Taeyong’s hair was in his eyes but they were shut. Silver-ish hair looked orange only for a second before it flashed a soft purple and blue light. Blue light radiated off of his sharp features making a shadow under his jawline. His cheekbones, nose, and lips were illuminated. His dewy skin made it look as though he wore highlighter. He looked beautiful. She almost forgot what he was doing before a hand slid up onto his neck. The hand came across the width to grasp it firmly. Izzy’s breath caught in her throat. She could hear a consistent slight slick as he worked himself.  

“Tae?” She sounded curious and soft. Taeyong moaned; his eyes still closed. Two brown eyes watched his hand slide from around his own throat to collect some oil that had been applied to his upper body and spread it to his privates. His muscles looked even more sculpted. The way his triceps moved under his smooth skin made her mouth go dry. The veins in his forearms showing. Pink to purple hue of light bounced off the oil. Four soft steps were taken. Only a few more to go as she grabbed the bed post to get a closer look.

“How long have you been doing this?” Izzy noted that she sounded so breathless. As if she was the one touching herself in the middle of their bed. Finally Taeyong opened his eyes to make eye contact with her.

“So long. For so long. I’ve been edging myself…waiting for you to find me.” Her brain trying to process what he said had put her brain into overdrive for a moment. It left her with one question.

“Why?”

He smiled from her question and his own ministrations causing him to shiver. It felt too good to finally be seen. The look in his eyes was so intense but his eyelids laid so low. Almost making him look sleepy.

“Tell me I look pretty in our new light.” His demand was soft but so loud. “Look. Look at the wall.” Izzy’s eyes watched his head drift to the right. What he saw made his own breathing uneven.

“Izzy?”

Stuck. Izzy was stuck. Her eyes were the first thing to move then her head followed. On the wall was the shadow of his body’s outline.Taeyong moved his head back to its original position. The round of his forehead, point of his nose, curve of his lips, and bumps of his Adam’s apple making a hill on the valley of his neck.  She let her eyes travel lower past the plain of his toned chest and stomach to the hard on in his hands. The sight she’s been teasing herself with this whole time. In the shadow she could make out the knuckles of his hands at the base of his dick. The ridges created a contrast to the smooth curved black figure. Slowly the top hand slid up, circling around the tip only to come back down to meet the other again. To her left Taeyong was releasing moans that made her core pulse. He did this multiple times. After those strokes he intertwined his fingers together, wrapped his palms around either side of his dick, and connected his wrist. The shadow of his muscular leg combined with the flatness of his resting other leg, created a triangle against the wall before he brought his other leg up. Only his shoulders and flats of his feet touched the bed as he began to thrust into his hands. Hips touched his hands with relaxed, even strokes. Izzy was dazzled by the performance before her. The dampness in her pajama shorts was unwavering. She wished his delicate hands were her own. Her immediate grip on the bed post kept her grounded as she blinked a few times then he called her name again.

“Izzy. Tell me. Please.” By now, she was standing next to him. Her figure in the light now. The light is no longer the color it once was. It has changed to the original setting to start all over. Seemed like Taeyong figured out how to put it on some sort of repeated cycle. Orange and Yellow. His dick looked stiff and red. Past his privates was his abs, chest, neck, and finally his face. He looked at her with expectancy. A pink tongue coated his lips. Now they glistened just like his upper body. So tangible. Silently, her hand closest to him reached out to graze his thigh.

“So pretty, baby. You look so pretty.” That compliment sent Taeyong to jerk his dick a little faster. Silently, Izzy undressed. To say that he was excited to see his girlfriend going along with his antics was an understatement. It made his finger tips tingle. He grabbed the remote to set the light to his favorite just to sit it back down. Eagerly he got up to touch her naked frame.

“Why haven’t you kissed me if I look so pretty? You know I’m doing this for you.” Her and her mate saw eye to eye. His pouty lips looked so enticing. She felt his hands skirt along her hips to remain there; he pulled her body against his. Naturally, the exposed skin collected some of the oil from his body. Izzy could feel it pressing into her pores. They're foreheads touched but no lips connected fully. Just a few grazes here and there. They were teasing each other. Izzy smiled into the kiss. Only because Taeyong cracked first. She could feel him press himself into her like a puzzle piece. The kiss made him whimper. Long awaited intimacy that he had been craving since he started this game. He felt like he deserved it. He had been so patient. Soft smacks of kisses could be heard in the silence of the bedroom. Taeyong needed more. So he took the lead to pull her flat against him. They casually fell onto the bed in their heated kiss.

“You’ve been here stroking yourself this whole time…hoping for me to come back from the study. It’s only fair I get a chance to get pleasure too.” Izzy took advantage of the oil and used her thumb to subtly flick Taeyong’s nipples as she pulled his earlobe into her mouth. His hips ground up into nothing hoping for something.

“Anything. Anything you want.” Pale fingers gripped the comforter under him while his hips never stopped grinding up. His girlfriend looked down. Slender gold-ringed fingers braced themselves on the sides of Taeyong’s head instead his nipples.

“If you don’t stop thrusting like that you’re going to come. Calm down.” Her tone was soft. Her warm lips caressed his own from left to right. She did not want to pull away from him completely. All Taeyong could do was nod his head. Their breaths calmed down.

“Get comfortable on the bed, baby.” Taeyong rearranged some pillows to lay in the top middle of the bed. Following his lead Izzy kneeled over him. Her knees inched past his shoulders, ears, and stopping then the tips met the top of his head. From above Taeyong was so pleased. His pale hands slid upward to her hips that followed the same trail back down. With ease, Izzy lowered herself over his mouth. The heat that escaped his open mouth made her stomach bubble with anticipation. Eating pussy was one the things that he was best at. If Izzy were too look back on all of her exes Taeyong still took the crown. He did it with so much passion and confidence. He knew he was good too. She could feel it in the way his mouth greeted her clit much like it was doing at the moment. Lips kissed hers with slow appreciation. All Izzy could do was grip the headboard, moan, then look down at her boyfriend. Deep, determined eyes met her lust filled ones. The technique had changed to his mouth suctioned around her clit with his tongue pressed right against it. Somehow he managed to make a pulse like sensation that made her so wet. Izzy’s back glistened with sweat. She was so hot from being on top; it took a lot of effort to control her stability while her abdomen shook with pleasure. Loud slurps followed by obnoxious eating noises only made her more weak.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” Taeyong, who sounded intoxicated, questioned. Izzy stopped to open her eyes. When she looked down, Taeyong was giving her this stare all while he licked his lips.

“Maybe even come around me? Because I want you to.”

There was a strong grip on her ass as he spoke. He was right. She was more than wet enough from the prior show then the immaculate head had kept her on the edge long enough. Without a word she scooted back to sit on his lap. Taeyong placed himself with his back rested against a pile of pillows. Izzy’s thighs on either side of his. Straddling him. Her lean thighs always fit so perfectly in his hand so that if he wanted to grip them with force, the skin would bulge beneath the pressure. Making the prettiest impressions. So warm, so soft. With her right hand she rearranged their genitals so her lips were spread over the underside of his hard-on. Her wetness smeared as she began to rock back and forth. Every once in a while her clit would rub the tip. Taeyong was enjoying this dry humping all too much. His focus was on the way his penis was now glistening. Thrust so eager that they would falter past her pussy. Izzy moaned. Two grinds later when Taeyong’s tip caught Izzy’s hole on his thrust up. He did not push all the way. The enjoyment of sliding into Izzy was that it should be done slowly. He felt everything clenching and pulling him in. Soft and wet. It evoked a carnal desire to be so sub. Izzy was fully seated on him now. Not moving, just feeling his length hard inside of her. Her nails dug into his ribs as she leaned forward to kiss him. To his surprise she brought her hips up, rolled around the tip, and fully sat him inside her again. Taeyong’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. The toes on his feet bending with restraint. Then her thrust became more persistent. The muscles in her ass, hips, and lower back flexing beneath the skin as she rode him. This was his favorite. Her chest grazing his as she proceeded to rotate her hips. Giving his tip attention that caused his chest to move in a way that looked shaky. His moans went higher in pitch. Her hips swiveled in a slow melodic pace. Her touch was a contradiction. The way one hand had a stronghold on his shoulder and the other in the back of his head, gripping the patch of silver hair there. Taeyong closed his mouth trying to swallow whatever saliva had accumulated. Though it was not much because he was breathing through his mouth rather harshly. Everything just felt so good. Every time his girlfriend brought her hips forward her walls would grab him in a way that made his mouth fall open again. Caramel skin in the light of his sunset light lamp took his breath away. Looking up at her with his mouth open, eyebrows slightly raised, and eyes so glossy. They shimmered when he looked at her. The different hues of orange and yellow made her look celestial. If he looked to his right he could see the shadow of their figures on the wall adjacent to him. He looked absolutely fucked out. Both of his hands gripped her ass to press his hips into hers.

“Please…” Taeyong leaned forward. He honestly couldn’t tell if the pull was from her gripping him harder while riding him faster or the sheer weakness he felt from all pleasure. Either way he was addicted. His mouth lingered on the area where her neck and shoulder met. Slowly, he opened his mouth, letting his tongue lick the area with hunger. Finally letting a low whimper out. His hips stuttered in her. Although he danced, for some reason, he couldn’t help but to give stammered pumps while she expertly swiveled hers.

“Fuck…Izzy—“ Taeyong felt dizzy. He was so hard and on the edge. She could tell. What Izzy loved the most was to watch him fall apart. He wasn’t coming but she drooled over how easily he got worked up. Similar to a loose string in the stitching of a fabric. So easy. He had always been like that. She smiled to herself as she pulled him closer to her chest. The feeling of adoration and pride seeping from her sweaty frame. It felt good to put in this hard work for the reward to be a whimpering boyfriend who is eager to please. Allowing him room to breath but cradling him so closely, she slowed her hips again. This torture continued as Taeyong ate it up.  The way she held him and whispered praises in his ear was forbidden. 

Taeyong felt his head gripped by the top of his head and chin. Moving shadows on the wall came into view. It’s not something anyone would make out immediately but it did look like two people intertwined. The height advantage his girlfriend’s head displayed over his, her head hung back and her open mouth made a gap in the outline. The loose curls in her head that bounced as she worked him to completion and the outline of her back along with the curve of her ass was all on display. His eyes and head rolled back again. Silver hair that was once covering his forehead now split down the middle. Allowing Izzy to see his face fully. His eyebrows were raised higher than before as he took a deep exhale.  

“B-Baby. Baby… Stop.” His chested heaved to gather some oxygen from the deep exhale he blew out earlier. Izzy, who was still looking at her boyfriend, smiled. Hunched over she kissed up his neck only to top it all off with a lick from his collar bone to his chin. He shivered and laughed. Hands moved from her ass to her face. Taeyong was the best kisser. Always a quick leaner. He took Izzy’s breath away every time. They're lips locked with slow, intimate kisses. Sometimes his tongue would slip into her mouth grazing her tongue to slip out of her mouth again. Izzy groaned with impatience.

“You wanna know what I think?” She asked in between wet, plush kisses. Affected by her words Taeyong briefly let his imagination run free.

“God,” he exhaled. Taeyong’s lips ghosted over Izzy’s. Hands on either side of her face kept her still so she could feel his lips move while he spoke: “I’d let you do whatever you want to me. I just want to be your good boy. So, please. Let me be good for you…” Everything he just stated came out in a hushed, used whisper. Too fast. Too desperate. He couldn’t help it. With another loud deep breath he kissed Izzy hard. Lips messily slid together with immense amount of primal want.

“I haven’t said anything yet, Tae.”

“Let me cum for you…” He managed to let another plea let loose. Their kiss and closeness encouraged them to began rocking again. Lightly his hips rocked up into her warm heat. Every thrust meeting her grinds. He was so deep in her. As many times as they have been intimate Taeyong could never get used to Izzy riding him balls deep, lingering kisses on his neck, and telling him he deserves to come. Truth be told he does. Letting her drive the boat was something he preferred. Being used, grabbed, bitten, and anything else under the sun just so happened to be something she found out he liked. 

She angled her chin upward as she looked down on him. His balls tightened. By now, Taeyong’s legs were extended outward, a basic reaction when he gets close to coming. Every once in a while he would flex his butt muscles to emulate some form of undulation. The tension in his muscles only applied more pressure toward his orgasm. Her walls gripped him a few more time so he held his breath. A vein in his neck grew in visibility the closer he got. He was holding back. Trying not to let feeling to the orgasm completely sweep him away in the waters of euphoria to later drown.

“‘m so cl-ose.” Eyes closed. Lips dry. His Adam’s apple bobbed with need. Taking advantage of his eyes being closed Izzy leaned forward to grip Taeyong’s chin.

“Open those pretty eyes of yours, baby.” Izzy’s tongue peeked from her mouth and traced the small circular opening of her partners parted lips. Taeyong’s big, round eyes landed on Izzy. She felt like a star. “I want you to look at me as best you can while you come. Can you do that for me?” His eyes just followed her every movement. There was no response but she knew he was going to do it.

“…gonna make…make me come s’hard- Oh shit.” Naturally his breaths became deeper and deeper. The grip on her hips had tightened. With two more swirls of her hips, his orgasm had hit him hard. Taeyong had managed to uphold the eye contact but only for a second. He most certainly was not looking at her directly. One of his eyes managed to roll in a different direction. His pupils had almost rolled past visibility before his eyes fluttered closed. His mouth released the longest, loudest moan accompanied by a drawn out “fuck”. He was breathless. His body was completely locked up as he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm. He could not control the shake of his right leg or the jerking of his abdomen.

“You ride me so good…” He chanted absent-mindedly.

Mindlessly, his hips still stuttered into her heat. The combination of him coming and his thrust had her come undone with a shudder.

“God damnnit.” Proclaimed his tired girlfriend. Izzy was out of breath; her thighs burned. It was all worth it to see him with his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Taeyong laughed to himself as he hugged her. She stayed in his lap while he rubbed circles into her lower back.

A single kissed was placed on her neck before he spoke: “So, we’re keeping the light?”