#not like— good but its what i can offer

[stevie-petey]

﹂gasoline (s.h.)

﹂contains: fem!reader, slow burn, roommates to friends to are they lovers ? (worse), messy feelings and situationship, sexual tension, alcohol dependency, unhealthy coping mechanisms, probably unrealistic depictions of band life in the 80s but idc the vibes are there.

﹂playlist

it starts out simple enough. photograph the februarys in exchange for a cheap place to live. all you have to do is go to their gigs, take a few pictures, and hope that they like them. it starts out simple enough. until the bands frontman, steve harrington, begs for more.

track one: i wanna get off - a friend from college offers you a job and a place to live. its pretty hard to turn down. free concerts, you get to do what you love, and steve harrington will be your roommate. its a shame hes too pretty for his own good.

track two: but youre such a tease - now officially the februarys concert photographer, you hit the road with them on tour. how bad can three months be stuck inside a small tour bus with steves needy hands and songs reserved only for you ?

track three: you did me bad - with tour winding down and an album set to be released, tensions inside the tour bus grows. when the already blurred lines between you and steve get crossed, the fallout of your relationship nearly sends the band spiraling as well.

track four: but i wanna go faster - recording an album is hard enough when the person steve has written every song for cant look him in the eye. its even harder when said person is also his roommate. and it definitely doesnt help that the rest of the band thinks its steves fault. now hes stuck on yet another tour bus with you. and everyone else. for six months.

track five: gasoline, pretty please - screaming crowds and flashing lights with steves name on everyones lips. everyones lips but yours; the lips he cant forget. when you get offered a job that would force you to leave the februarys behind, steve only has one last chance to beg you for more.

⌑ status: COMING SOON

⌑ main masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Everybody’s on the Call Line (Jason todd x gn!reader)

Humor, fluff, established relationship. whole batfam gets involved. Reader is a hacker

This happened because I read the latest coffee shop au from @jjenthusee (and you should too!) and I remembered that I can also write cute fluff. So here this fic is, straight from my drafts where it’s been languishing for months. Anyway.

Swearing, as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is

———

Jason eases himself carefully onto the fire escape, metal creaking beneath his boots. He stifles a groan. He’s taking a risk sneaking into your apartment like this, he knows he is. If you wake up and see Red Hood snooping around outside your window, you’ll probably call the cops. But he’s tired as all hell, patrol was long and stupid, and your apartment was closer. Jason will just slide in while you’re sleeping, stow his gear where you won’t find it, and collapse into your bed. In the morning, he’ll just say he let himself in with the spare key you gave him. Easy. All he has to do is disable the window alarm he’d gotten for you, and then he’s home free.

The alarm trips, and Jason moves to silence it but then realized it doesn’t matter, you’re still up, working at your computer.

He freezes as you glance over your shoulder, then turn around to face him. He still has his gear on. Shit.

“Uh, hi,” you offer, looking at him with a curious glance as he races to figure out an excuse. “I don’t think we’ve met before?”

This throws him for a loop. You’re reacting very well to a vigilante crawling through your window at 2:30 in the fucking morning. But you’ve given him an opening, and he’s going to take it.

“No,” he says shortly, wincing behind the helmet. He’s never spoken to you like this and instantly hates the tone he’s using, but he’s got a persona to keep up. Or something.

You nod, seemingly unfazed. “No worries. Do you work with Red Robin?”

What? Why are you asking about Tim? Do you have some secret Red Robin crush that he’s going to have to push Tim off a building for?

Dumbfounded, Jason answers, “Uh, sometimes?”

You nod again. “Do you think you could give something to him for me?”

What the shit is happening right now?

As if to help tip Jason’s world off its axis, you’re interrupted by a tap at the window. Jason looks to see Red Robin crouched on your fire escape. You wave him inside.

“Hey, Escher,” Tim says. “Hood.” Jason has no idea what the fuck is going on.

“I’ve got the script,” you say, holding out a flash drive to him, but Tim shakes his head. “No good. They updated the security.”

“Well, shit.” You turn and dump the USB stick into a glass of water on your desk. “It’s a paperweight now. Only took me five hours to figure out.”

“I know,” Tim says, clearly frustrated. “They keep outmaneuvering us.”

Wait, wait. Jason’s still three steps behind you. “Escher?” he demands.

Both you and Tim turn to look at him, frowning. “Like, M.C. Escher? But, spelled ‘emcee,’” you say, as if that explains anything. “It’s my screen name.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we work together.” Tim raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”

Jason shakes his head, and Tim looks at you for a flash of a moment before turning back to Jason. “Sorry,” he mouths, shrugging. Jason waves him off. He’ll deal with that later.

Tim turns back to your computer screen, but your eyes stay on Jason, narrowing. “What does it matter if we work together? Do I know you from somewhere?”

Shit. You were always too sharp for your own good. Jason’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. “Uhh…”

You fold your arms over your chest. Behind you, out of your field of vision, Tim grins at Jason, delighted. Asshole.

“We don’t normally work with civilians,” Jason says, fishing for an excuse.

You sniff, rolling your eyes. “And yet, here you are. Which, the way, you haven’t explained. What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Fair. What is he doing in your bedroom? Would it freak you out if he said he was a burglar? Too late for that now.

“I told him to meet me here,” Tim says, pulling Jason’s ass out of the fire. “Sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

You shrug. “S’okay,” you say, spinning back around in your desk chair to face the screen.

Over your shoulder, Tim mouths, “you owe me.” Jason gives him the finger.

“Do you have a safe copy of the new security system?” you ask, looking at Tim intently.

He shakes his head. “Not yet, Oracle is working on duplicating it.”

You slump down in your chair. “Drat. I hate waiting.”

“Yeah,” Tim sits on the floor next to your bed, knees to his chest. “She said it’d be ready in a few hours.”

“Balls.” You fidget with a pen on your desk.

“Hold on. How did you start working with Red over here?” Jason asks. He knows you work in tech, that you’re a programmer, but he didn’t realize you were building code for fucking Batman.

Tim laughs. “I found them solving random problems on a Swedish forum.”

Jason blinks. Okay.

“Well, yeah. You found me there. Oracle found me hacking your comm links,” you grin, pleased with yourself.

Holy shit. “You got into the comm links?”

“Yeah,” you nod, satisfied. “I’ve done it twice now,” you add smugly.

“Don’t tell B,” Tim warns. “He doesn’t know. Oracle said she wouldn’t tell.”

Wow. You must be the real deal. He wonders if he can get you to fuck with Bruce’s plans, just to be a shit. "How long have you been working for the Caped Crusader, then?"

"I don't work for Batman," you say primly, as Tim sighs. "I help him out when you guys can't get your shit together."

Jason snickers under his breath. "Sore subject, huh?"

"They don’t like B," Tim confirms from the floor. "If you did it would make everything easier," he grumbles.

"It's stupid," you insist. "Come on, how is this a viable solution to any long-term problem?"

Jason laughs outright as Tim sputters. "He's a detective! He detects!"

"Then why does he have to dress up like that?" you point out. “You can be a detective in normal clothes, you know.”

"He needs armor, he keeps getting shot at!"

"Explain the cape, then," you shoot back. "Justify that monstrosity."

"It's fucking idiotic," Jason adds, piling on gleefully. "It'd be different if he could fly, but he just hops around."

Tim gasps, affronted, while you crack up in your chair. "Thank you. I mean, look at yourself, Red. You're sitting on my bedroom floor in a goddamn cape."

"It looks cool," Tim says defensively.

"No," you counter, "that looks cool." You point your finger in Jason's direction, and he feels his face heat up.

"Oh, come on," Tim scoffs. "You think his costume is cool?"

"Uh, yeah," you say, eyes taking Jason in as you nod. "Very cool. Very hot."

"Oh my god," Tim mutters. "It's tactically stupid. Why are his forearms exposed?"

"So I can see how muscley they are." You stare at them, eyes wide. Jason coughs awkwardly, and your eyes flit back up. "Sorry," you say, not sounding sorry at all. "I like leather."

"Of course you like his costume," Tim mutters under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you shoot at him, and Tim flusters. "Why do you care if I don't like your costume?"

"Yeah," Jason adds, letting some menace fall into his voice. "Why do you care if they don’t like your costume?"

"I didn't—I wasn't trying to—"

"I have a boyfriend," you interrupt, looking at Tim scornfully.

"They have a boyfriend," Jason parrots, grinning behind the helmet.

"Oh my god. I know you have a boyfriend. Relax," Tim pacifies you. "Relax," he adds, nodding at Jason. Jason grunts.

Before you can argue further, there’s another tap at your window, and Cass slips softly into the room. You light up. “Hello, my love!” you greet her excitedly. Cass raps you on the top of your head, and you beam up at her. Your hands twitch toward her before you stop yourself, folding them in your lap. Cass turns to Jason, placing her hand carefully on his arm. He bumps against her, waiting until she pushes back lightly. She then moves onto Tim, tugging gently on a lock of his hair, before depositing a flash drive on the desk. You snatch it up eagerly.

From Oracle, Cass signs.

“It’s O’s duplicate!” Tim plucks it from your fingers, driving it into your desktop.

“Be nice to her,” you warn, running a hand over your computer as the file loads. Strings of code write themselves across your screen. Jason moves forward to get a better look at you. He can’t help it, he wants to see you in action. Your face is scrunched up, tongue between your teeth as your eyes flash back and forth, following the cursor. “It’s incomplete.” You squint at Tim. “What gives?”

Tim tsks. “I don’t know. Let me get Oracle.” He puts a hand to his ear. “Oracle, come in.”

Barbara’s voice answers in Jason’s ear. “Here. I know, I know, it’s not all there,” she says, annoyed. “Let Escher know that I had to reverse engineer it from what we found.”

“She says she has to reverse engineer it,” Tim repeats.

You drum your fingers on the desk. “Okay, what else does she know?”

“What else do you—”

“Hold on, this is stupid,” you interrupt. “Can you, like, put her on speaker? Actually,” you click over to another screen, enter a command. “You’re broadcasting live, O.” Jason hears Barbara’s sigh through the speakers of your computer. “That’s three times,” you add smugly.

Jason let’s out a low whistle. Damn. You’re really good at this.

“We've got to stop meeting like this, Escher.” Barbara almost sounds amused. “How did you get in this time?”

“Hiya, babe.” You click back to your project. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out. I don’t want you closing your back door.”

Barbara chuckles. “Red and I will shut you out.”

“But for how long? I’m too slippery, baby.” Jason almost blushes underneath his helmet. It always trips him up when you talk like this.

“I had to reverse engineer the code from what it spit out when I tried to get in this time,” Barbara explains. “Can you fill in the gaps?”

“Some of them.” You type quickly, deleting code as you get error messages and retyping just as fast.

“Wait, here…” Tim points to something on the screen.

“Yeah, okay,” you back up to where he’s pointing and add something.

“There’s something about the updated security,” Barbara adds. “I think there’s a pattern somewhere.”

“Where?” you demand.

“I don’t know. Gut feeling. But I think I’m right.”

“Do you think there’s something generating new code?” Tim asks. “Like, a program that’s spitting out new security?”

“Oh.” Your fingers still on the keys, face relaxing. “Yeah. Good call, Red.” You scan the code again, scrolling back to the top. “Okay. This changes things.” You start from the beginning, erasing whole sections of Barbara’s work and typing out new code. “Well, shit,” you laugh under your breath. “This is some sexy-ass code we’re looking at.”

“You can fill in the blanks?” Jason asks.

You glance up at him. “Of course I can. I wrote it.”

“What?” Tim shouts. “This is you?”

“It’s me,” you confirm. “Guilty.” A small smile plays around your lips. “Sorry.” Cass steps forward, pinching your ear until you yelp.

“Fuck, Escher.” Tim rubs the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know you were a traitor.”

“Chill, bird brain,” you say defensively, leaning out of Cass’ reach. “This was from, like, five years ago. I needed some cash.”

“You could be on B’s payroll,” Tim offers.

You snort as Barbara huffs a laugh over the comm line. “Fat chance, I’ve been trying to convince them for months.”

“I’m not a fucking lapdog. I play by my own rules,” you insist.

“Yeah?” Jason can’t help but push you. “And what rules are those?”

You cock an eye at him warily. “The rule of not tying my kite to some lunatic.”

Jason nods. Can’t argue with that one.

“Anyway,” you turn back to the computer. “Because I wrote it, I can build you the malware.”

“To get past the security or to neutralize the program spitting out new code?” Barbara asks over the line.

“Dealer’s choice,” you say, then stick your tongue between your teeth as you squint at the screen. “I can make both happen.”

The comm crackles in Jason’s ear. “Oracle, come in,” Bruce barks.

Tim whips his head toward you with a crack. “Nothing from you now, Escher,” Barbara warns. “I’m patching him through.”

You grin, eagerly pretending to zip your lips.

“Here,” Barbara answers.

“I heard from one of my informants,” Bruce’s monotone growl fills the room. Jason catches you roll your eyes and almost bursts out laughing. “They’re going to get into the controls for Blackgate prison.”

“This is Black Mask?” Barbara clarifies.

Bruce grunts as your eyebrows shoot up. “This is Black Mask?” you whisper, except you’ve never been very good at whispering. Tim slices a hand over his neck to silence you as Jason moves to your computer. He’s been eyeing the program you’re using to broadcast the comm connection, and he thinks he’s found the mute button. He taps a key and then turns his head toward you. “Off?”

You nod. “Off. Thanks. This is Black Mask’s security?”

“Yeah, he’s making a move against the jail. He’s going to get some of his guys out,” Tim explains.

“Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.” You tap your fingers against your chin.

“What?” Tim folds his arms over his chest.

“I originally sold it to the Falcones.” You flick your hair out of your face. “Guess they sold me out behind my back.”

A security program that’s making its way through the mob? That’s…really useful, actually.

“Can you get in and stop them?” Bruce asks.

“Maybe,” Oracle hedges. “Hold on, I have to call in reinforcements.” She mutes Bruce’s line. “Escher, you’re up.”

“Wait, you want it now?” you say, aghast. “Christ, how long do I have?”

“Act quickly.” Bruce orders. “My intel says they’re moving at 3:45am.”

Your eyes fly to the clock on your monitor. “What the fuck!” you screech. “That’s in forty minutes! I can’t do it in forty minutes! I have to break through my own walls!”

“Escher,” Barbara starts, just as Tim says “listen, you have to—”

“I can’t, it’s not enough time!” you wail.

“Hey, hey,” Jason cuts in. “Easy. Don’t worry, love. You can do it.”

You look at him fearfully. “You haven’t even told me what to do!”

“Just get past the security,” Jason says patiently. “Don’t worry about shutting down the whole program.”

You nod at him, eyes wide.

“Deep breaths, now,” he instructs. “Come on, in for two, hold, out for four. We’ll do it together. Ready?”

You nod again.

“Okay.” Jason sucks in a breath, loudly so it’ll register over the modulator. You copy him, inhaling, holding, and exhaling on his rhythm. After a few breaths you shake your head, turning back to the computer.

“Alright. I can make it happen.” You resume typing, eyes narrowed as you focus.

“We’re alright, B, I’ve got someone on it,” Oracle says, satisfied.

Tim turns to Jason, clearly impressed. Jason shrugs. You’ve been together for a while now, he knows how to pull you out of a spiral.

He turns back to you. You’re ripping through code at a hundred miles an hour, hunched over the keyboard. Jason grimaces, he’s always trying to get you to sit up straight to help your tech neck. He’ll have to rub out the knots in your shoulders later.

Jason feels Cass’ eyes on him, and he tilts his head toward her. Less than forty minutes, she signs to him. I’ll have to take it back to the Clocktower.

Jason’s thought of that. He evenly points his chin in your direction. You can handle it, he knows you can. Cass nods.

Tim coughs quietly, and Jason raises his head to look at him. “You want the keys to the castle?” he mutters.

He means code you built that generates new security programs. Jason nods. “But that’s just between us, yeah?” It would be loads easier for Jason if he keeps the code out of Bruce’s hands. Black Mask has been operating in Jason’s territory, and Jason has a long string of investigations against him, well-beyond the scope of this Blackgate shit. Bruce needs to keep his nose out of it.

Tim scoffs. “Fine. Seems like you should get first dibs anyway.” He nods towards your desk where you’re still working stubbornly.

The room is silent, all three of them letting you work. After a few minutes, Tim steps toward you. “Here, you need any hel—”

Jason throws an arm out to stop him, just as Cass grabs his wrist and tugs him backwards, shaking her head. He holds up his hands in surrender.

Fifteen minutes later, you rap your knuckles on your desk. “Oi, peanut gallery!” You spin around in your chair, smiling wickedly. “I solved your case for you!”

“It’s not a case,” Tim mutters, and Jason scoffs.

“Don’t be jealous, RR,” Babs says over the line. “You can both be the prettiest.” Tim splutters as you laugh delightedly.

“Nice job,” Jason says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You grin up at him. He catches Cass and Tim share a look, sees her sign something too fast for his eyes to follow.

“Batgirl’s bringing it to you now, Oracle,” Tim says as you unplug the flash drive and hand it to Cass. You wave to her as she slips through the window.

“My backup came through,” Babs reports to Bruce. “They’ll be obsolete in a few minutes.”

“Copy.” The line fizzles as Babs cuts him off.

“Fuck yeah,” you grin in satisfaction. “Nothing like hearing that overgrown Bat say ‘copy.’”

Jason cackles as Tim rolls his eyes. “Oracle,” he says loudly. “Hood was in the dark about our friend here.” His eyes flick to you before he looks at Jason meaningfully.

And just what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Jason all but snarls at him.

“Huh. I could’ve sworn you were smarter than that, Hood,” Barbara admonishes.

“Shut up, O,” he grumbles. Jason glances at you to make sure you haven’t caught on to what they’re talking about, but you don’t seem to be paying attention; you’ve pulled up Steam and are scrolling through your game library.

“Maybe it’s time to clue them in. Take off your party hat,” Barbara says meaningfully. Tim nods forcefully.

“Butt out,” Jason says half-heartedly, but it doesn’t stick. He’s been thinking about telling you about Red Hood anyway; you’ve been together for a year and a half. He’s been…well, he’s scared. But maybe he shouldn’t be.

“We’d have to vote on it,” he says gruffly. Tim pumps his fist in the air. “In person,” he says meaningfully. Comm links aren’t safe, apparently.

“You have my vote,” Babs says confidently. “And Batgirl’s, too, she’s here.” Barbara pauses meaningfully. “I’m happy for you, Hood.”

“Me too!” Tim pipes up immediately.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason waves them off, like his heart isn’t pounding. “Can you call everyone over?”

“Roger that.” Barbara seems pleased. “Hood is asking us all to meet near him,” she broadcasts aloud. “Sending you coordinates.”

Dick, Steph, Bruce, and Damian all copy. Jason steels himself. “Alright, RR, time to go.”

You glance at him as he moves toward the window. “Heading out?”

“Yeah,” Tim answers. “Got a big family meeting to get to.” He grins at Jason.

“Okay. See you around. Nice meeting you,” you say to Jason, before turning back to your screen.

“Uh, yeah,” he says uncomfortably, while Tim snickers. “See you later.”

The troops have already assembled two rooftops over. “Hood, what’s the situation?” Bruce asks sternly.

“The situation,” Tim starts happily, “is—”

“Hold on,” Jason cuts him off. “Disconnect comm links.” He watches warily as everyone takes them out of their ears.

“Compromised?” Dick asks with concern.

“Uh, yeah.” Jason scratches the back of his neck. “Listen, uh…” he looks at Tim helplessly.

“Jason’s dating Escher.”

“What!” Dick screams as Steph claps her hands together excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating anyone?”

“Uh—”

“Fuck, yeah!” Steph interrupts. “This is great! Escher’s the freaking best!”

“Language,” Bruce says as Jason takes off the helmet to glare at Steph accusingly.

“We play Minecraft together,” she explains. “I didn’t know you two were dating!”

“Wait, hold on. I thought you all knew about that.” Jason shifts his glare to Tim.

Tim shrugs. “Only me and Babs knew,” he says.

“Timmy, why didn’t you share!” Dick groans, bounding over to ruffle Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes him away, trying to swipe his feet out from under him. Dick dodges easily, throwing a light right hook in return. “Wasn’t any of your business, now was it?” Jason says gruffly.

Tim looks at Dick, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Fair.” Dick grins softly at Jason, bumping shoulders with him. “Nice job, Little Wing.”

Jason blushes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Congrats, Todd, but why are we all here?” Damian interrupts.

“I’m gonna tell ‘em,” Jason says simply. “About this. If it’s cool.”

“Fine with me,” Steph says instantly.

Tim nods, “seconded. Babs and Cass say it’s fine with them, we asked before we went dark.”

“Well, who am I to stand in their way,” Dick half-jokes, but he’s looking at Bruce with serious eyes. So is Jason.

“I’ll follow Father’s ruling,” Damian says stoutly.

That leaves the big man himself. Bruce smiles gently. “Of course, Jaylad. We’re all happy for you.”

Jason blushes all over again. “Thanks, old man.” He lets out a breath.

“But we have to ask Duke,” Bruce adds meaningfully.

“I texted him, he says it’s fine,” Tim says quickly. “But also, uh—” he holds his hand to his ear.

Warily, Jason puts his comm back in. “Jason, what the fuck!” you shriek. “What the fucking fuck is this!”

“I forgot to disconnect,” Babs says sheepishly.

“Jason, you ass! Why didn’t you tell me you ran around in a fucking costume?” you shout down the line. Steph and Dick keel over laughing. Jason realizes everyone has taken the liberty of putting their comm back in.

“Baby, please,” he says resignedly.

“Baby?” Dick mouths, beaming.

“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me!” you holler.

“Babe, you are a hacker,” he points out. “How come you didn’t share that with the class?”

That makes you pause. “Fair fucking point, I guess,” you mutter. Jason sees Bruce try to tug the comm out of Damian’s ear, but Damian dances out of reach.

“Uh, also, can you cool it with the swearing?” Jason asks. “There’s a kid here.”

“…if it’s Robin I am going to throw up.”

“Hello,” Damian says helpfully.

Your end of the line is silent.

“Hey, Escher, it’s Spoiler!” Steph cuts in. “Nice job shacking up with Hood.” She eyes Jason evilly.

“This is a fucking ambush,” you grind out. “Jason, you fucking ambushed me.”

“Language,” Bruce orders gently. Tim just about busts a gut while Jason waves frantically at Bruce, shaking his head rapidly. “Nice to meet you over the phone,” Bruce adds. Dick gives him a thumbs up.

“…likewise,” you say eventually. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but this has been insane, and I’m disconnecting. Jason, get your as— get back here after you’ve finished your family dinner.” Your end goes dead.

“They seem nice,” Bruce says after a moment. “We’ll have to talk about how they got into the comm links,” he looks at Tim reproachfully.

“See you later, Hood,” Dick says easily, nodding at your building.

Jason turns back to your apartment. He can already see you in the window, arms crossed over your chest. You’re trying to scowl at him, but he can see the smile trying to escape.

He shrugs his shoulders, grinning. You throw up your hands but beckon him anyway. Come on, come back.

Don’t worry, Jason’s coming.

[lackadaisycats]

Hello Tracy, I've been a fan of Lackadaisy since the webcomic days and want to ask a quick question regarding Patreon. I'm also an indie creative myself and currently trying to raise funds for a show I'm working on. What are the best ways to market myself online, and what are some ways to obtain money for the production of merchandise that doesn't involve crowdfunding?

Any specific advice I could give about marketing oneself online at this point would be pretty outdated. I started making Lackadaisy years back, when the internet had a rather different geography and culture. DeviantArt was where all the art kids were. That is, of course, no longer the case.

My generalized advice, though, would be to start working on your project, start sharing it in some form, even if it's just concept art or experiments at this phase, and start building an audience. Nothing speaks to the quality and appeal of whatever it is you're making like the thing itself does. Pick your poisons, as far as social media goes, but probably don't focus solely on one. Platforms don't remain useful or pleasant places to be forever. Set up an avenue for viewers to support you (Patreon, Ko-fi, or something like it), but don't expect supporters to come flooding in all at once. The internet is awash with so many creators and shows and influencers and distractions, it's hard to make waves. Tenacity will be your ally, though. You are likely going to be pursuing your project on the side and possibly working at a loss for a while as you build. Keep things small scale, especially if you're working solo, or with a small team of people. Audience growth and support may eventually start allowing you to expand your ambitions. It's important to do the thing you're doing out of love for the art, for the project itself, for the experience of doing it, and not because you're expecting rounds of applause, accolades, and money to come rushing at you. There's no guarantee that last part will happen...so at least make sure you're having fun doing whatever you're doing.

----------------

About merchandise --

You can incur the upfront cost of producing, say, a small run of enamel pins. Sell them on your own shop storefront or offer them to supporters at certain tier levels and see how long it takes to earn back the production cost such that you start earning a little bit of profit. Get a feel for how well you can handle packaging and shipping things yourself. Test the waters before making any large merch orders, and don't order vast amounts of something that you don't have room to 'warehouse' in your own home.

You can go the print on demand route. It's got its drawbacks - like slim returns - but it allows you to offer an assortment of merch items without the huge risk of paying big manufacturing fees upfront. It can also do the fulfillment/shipping part for you. I did pretty okay selling prints this way for a time. (Research and be selective about what services you use here, though. Some have gotten markedly worse over the years.)

I know Patreon offers a subscription level for creators that includes some merch production and fulfillment. I haven't personally used it, though, so I'd ask around to see what other creators' experiences have been like with it.

One thing I would suggest relying more heavily on, especially at first, is digital/downloadable rewards, like PDF ebooks or digital sketchbooks - things like that. Shipping supplies and postage costs are ever-increasing and can easily end up putting you in the red. Also, if you have an international audience, it may be difficult to reach them with tangible merch items.

You might also check out some nearby conventions to see if they'd be a good fit for you and your project. Apply for artist alley space at one of them if that's appropriate, or investigate whether or not it'd be worth it to get a dealer table. You might even find someone willing to share dealer space with you for a trial-run.

At some point, when you have enough of an audience to warrant it, seek out a merch partner. Or, they might come scouting for you if they think you have something going that'd be soundly marketable.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Mantis and His Moth

Yandere FtM Mantis Hybrid Cultist x Male Moth Hybrid Reader CW: Noncon, forced oral sex, aphrodisiac pheromones, musk, scent kink, eating pussy like it's groceries, pussy eating on period, minor character death, human-hybrid sacrifice, fictional religions, indoctrination, brainwashing, cannibalism, terms like pussy and cunt used for trans male genitals, dick riding, biting, overstimulation, non-sexual bondage, drenched in pussy juice, partially suffocated by pussy, public but discrete pussy eating, praise Word Count: 3.6k (Comm for @vanberryhearts, their OC Salem Blackthorn can be viewed HERE)

You grunted as you carried the box. You weren’t very strong, and it was filled to the brim with cans of food to go to the church’s community food drive and you were carrying it around back. The back door was closer to the basement and it was easier to walk it around then go through multiple rooms in the church. Plus the building was all locked up anyway. You had meant to bring the food earlier but you had gotten caught up with other matters.

That was okay though, the fence that led to the back of the property was ajar, so you were just gonna leave the food on the back porch and it would be easy for the priest, Salem Blackthorn, to take it down when he found it there the next morning. He was a strong mantis hybrid man and could carry down much more easily than a small moth hybrid like you.

After you sat down the box you started making your way off the porch, but as you did so the door suddenly opened and Salem stepped out carrying a large object that had been well wrapped in some type of cloth.

When he saw you he seemed surprised but you were already stepping forward and helping him with what he was holding. You barely noticed that the robes he was wearing, while ornate and clearly for religious purpose, were not the typical garb of a priest. They covered most of his body. The hood hid his tan skin, pretty blond hair, and relatively short antennae from the world.

“Oh wow, this is really heavy! I don’t mind helping, where are we taking-”

You tripped on the step off the porch, unbalancing Salem and causing him to drop what he was carrying. It fell right off the porch and landed beside you. The wrapping had been damaged and peeled away and what you saw took a moment for your brain to register.

A bloody corpse with bites ripped out of it in many places.

Before you could think to move Salem was upon you, pulling you into the church and down into the basement with a hand firmly over your mouth as he whispered into your ear.

“I’m sorry dove, you really weren’t supposed to see that.”

The priest took you into the room farthest from the stairs then put a gag over your mouth and left you tied in a chair in the middle of the room before running back upstairs, presumably to take care of the fallen “package” that he had left uncovered outside. He left you alone long enough for you to get a good look at your surroundings. You had never been down here before.

And after taking note of what was around you doubted many people that had seen this place were still alive.

In front of you there was an altar. A medium sized and intricately stone sculpture of a spider lay in the center. In front of the statue was a large silver goblet filled with blood. An offering. The sculpture’s eyes were inlaid rubies and its gaze filled you with despair. It was a depiction of the arachnid goddess, Arachna. She was mostly worshiped these days by small clandestine groups huddled in small dark rooms hidden from the gaze of society.

Much like this room.

Though you certainly hadn’t expected a worshiper of the insect god, The Great Moth Regalis, to be a disciple of the foul Arachna. Though you supposed that’s exactly why it was such a perfect cover.

Not fighting wasn’t an option. You struggled with every ounce of strength that you had. Sweat dripped down your brow. You didn’t want to end up another bitten corpse with your blood in that goblet as a sacrifice to the spider goddess.

You wriggled and writhed in your binds, drawing blood from various places where the ropes chaffed your bare skin. Your wings burned with the effort of flexing and vibrating them to try and squirm free. And your throat ached with the burden of trying to scream through your gag.

The binds were too formidable. Clearly made by someone who was experienced with this sort of thing.

All your struggles amounted to was making the chair you were in lean over and fall, causing your head to smack painfully against the cold concrete floor. You almost wished it had been enough to knock you out or even kill you outright, then and there, then you wouldn’t have to be conscious for the fate that surely awaited you as soon as Salem returned. All that you could do was cry as you awaited death.

Salem was so frustrated. How could he have allowed this to happen? He had left the gate unlocked allowing you to just traipse upon him right at the exact moment that he was hauling out the body?? The timing was absurd! What were the odds?

He ran over to shut and lock the gate that allowed passage to the back of the church before returning to the body. He re-wrapped the body properly, as it was an important part of the ritual, as he pondered what to do about you.

Killing you was out of the question entirely. Aside from the fact that he never killed any permanent resident or their visiting family, to avoid arousing suspicion, he also harbored quite a strong crush on you. He had sense he first laid eyes on you during his first sermon.

Your eyes stared up at him hanging on every word that passed his lips. So devout, so diligent in your charitable works, so deliciously… innocent…

Oh, how he longed to corrupt you. And to make it even better you were a regal moth hybrid. Such hybrids were regarded as being good luck to those around them as the insect god Regalis was a regal moth himself.

Just the thought of indoctrinating you into the cult made his heart flutter and wetness flow from his crotch. It would take his defiling of the mother religion to new heights and surely make Arachna happy.

The mantis had not yet put his desires into motion. He had planned to slowly get you more and more attracted to him before working on getting you addicted to his pheromones until you were totally dependent on him. Now it appeared that he would have to rush forward without much subtlety. But that was okay, he could definitely do so.

He finished with the body, taking it to a pit he had dug earlier, and placed it in carefully before topping it with a small apple sapling. Just one of many that would match the little orchard he had growing in the field behind the church.

You flinched when you heard the door open and trembled with pure fear, your mind conjured forth innumerable horrors, all the manners in which he may torture and eventually kill you went through your terrified mind. You renewed your futile bid for freedom, floundering about as best you were able.

When Salem saw you he scoffed.

“Tsk, tsk.”

He bent down to right your chair and brushed your cheek with all the tenderness in the world after doing so before placing a gentle kiss on your tear soaked cheek.

“There, there, my little moth. No need to be so scared.”

Obviously, those words did nothing to dispel you of the terror that had so thoroughly stricken you, if you even took notice of them at all with all the adrenaline coursing through you and your heart beating faster than it ever had before.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes as sobs racked your body.

“Aww. Please don’t worry, pretty thing, you won’t be suffering too much longer.”

This made you shake and sob much harder. This was it. That was his way of telling you that he was going to snuff out your life. That you’d be joining that other body wherever it had been dragged off to. You’d be offered up like a slab of meat to the vile spider. You were getting dizzy and hyperventilating. This couldn’t be happening. You were a good man and you had so much to live for. So much good to do.

Then something unexpected happened. Salem disrobed himself of the cultist garb he had been cloaked in, revealing a drooling pussy and dizzying your mind now not with a lack of air but with his musky pheromones.

He spoke as if reading your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to fuck then eat you. That’s actually a harmful stereotype derived from feral regular mantises, not something a mantis hybrid does!”

You really had no reason to believe him.

Though he did lure in tasty horny sacrifices in with a promise of sex before forcing them to eat him out, to dose them with his pheromones, before partially eating them alive and then killing them. But that was because it was what Arachna demanded! Not because he was a mantis hybrid!

Still, he had no intention of harming you and you did not require the extra details at this time.

The tall man undid your gag and let it fall away before replacing it with his dripping wet cunt, pushing your head into it gently but firmly. You tried to move your head but were ultimately unable to avoid the smell and taste of his sex.

The smell was just amazing, slowly making you blush and your face feel overheated. The feeling soon spread all over your entire body. It relaxed your tense muscles and caused your member to tent in your pants. You whimpered in need as you began eagerly slipping your tongue into your captor, lapping at his surprisingly sweet pussy juice.

He smiled down at you, removing his hand as he no longer needed to force your face into it after his pheromones took effect.

“Such a good boy for me~”

No one could resist the scent of his pussy when presented directly in their face. They’d feel no pain and every touch would feel amazing. It didn’t hurt that little mothies like you were naturally attracted to sweet nectar-like fluids.

Your moans and overstimulated whimpers were just precious to him. Making him wetter and wetter. He toyed with his clit as he allowed you to drink up his fluid at your own pace. Your face was already absolutely drenched.

It seemed as if there was just no end to the impossibly delicious fluid that flowed from him like a fountain.

He had to push you away so that he could untie you and remove your soaked clothes, revealing your excited cock. You weren’t even paying any attention, just trying to get back into that pussy. When you were finally released you dove right back into it, clinging to him with both of your arms as you slurped his cunt.

When he came it was a fresh torrent of pheromones even more potent than the last. You became so overstimulated that you could barely move. He guided you to another room in the basement, one that was closer to the door.

You could barely stand by the time he got you through the door so he gently picked you up and carried you to a soft bed, laying your pussy juice covered body down carefully as if he was afraid you would shatter to dust in his hands.

If you had been one of his usual victims, one of the tourists he lured in off the street, this is when he would have started devouring you to death before draining out your blood and wrapping you in spider webbing. But you were his cute little moth so he would treat you with the utmost care. And one day you would help kill tasty snacrifices for Arachna. It would be Salem’s perfect relationship.

But until then there was something more urgent that needed attending to.

He lowered himself down onto your hard cock as he placed a finger coated in his nectar for you to suck while he rid you. He took his time, savoring the delicious moment when he took his sweet little new boyfriend for the first time.

You didn’t last very long at all inside the heat of his pussy, quickly mingling his fluids with your cum. You cried as you climaxed, it was all so much. The feel of the silk beneath you, the touch of his teeth gently nibbling and sucking the flesh of your neck, his hands trailing up and down your sides. Every touch against your skin made you shiver in pleasure.

It was all okay though, Salem didn’t mind at all. His naturally drugged juices kept you hard and ready to go several times over, he didn’t stop riding you until your balls had been thoroughly emptied into him and each orgasm began to approach the borderline of pleasure into pain. He had finished while riding you a couple times as well. The sight of your pretty little face gasping and moaning with the burden of too much pleasure, your erratically twitching antenna, your sporadically fluttering wings, practically sent him into a rut. Made him feel a primal urge to fuck you over and over until you were soaked to the bone in his juices and no one could deny you were his and his alone.

You were the only moth worthy of worshiping and giving pleasure. Not that pitiful god of yours. He’d make you convert to his faith with an unyielding flood of sex and love.

And that was exactly what Salem did.

Every waking moment, barring those where he had to maintain his priestly facade, were spent in unfathomable pleasure followed by aftercare and honeyed words. Sex, pheromones, cuddling, doting, feeding (he often mixed his very own pheromone laden “sauce” into your meals). But mostly the sex. You tried to remain devout, to maintain the hold on your beliefs, and while it took longer than Salem had expected the transformation was all the stronger for having been tested so thoroughly.

There was a brief relapse in the early days of the process. One of the church’s nuns had entered the bedroom you were being kept in down in the basement. You begged her for help as hope returned to your heart, only to be dashed as she held up a spider pendant. That’s when you realized all the nuns must be members of the cult too. Later that day, in response to having asked for help, Salem was extra “attentive.”

Despite the brief setback, your mind eventually transformed. You found yourself hopelessly clingy and in need of your Salem. You no longer needed pheromones for sex and were more than eager to taste him or slip inside him and often initiated the encounters yourself. When the two of you weren’t busy making love you clung to his arm. He made you feel happy and secure.

He no longer kept you locked in the basement, instead you attended services as normal. Making up an illness as an excuse for your previous absence.

But the changes to your ways of thinking and behavior didn’t stop at being hopelessly in need of your mantis boyfriend. He had also successfully moved you to the worship of Arachna. It thrilled Salem to no end knowing he had fully converted you, a moth of all things, into being a being of sinful debauchery and Arachna worship.

But there was still one important thing left to do to officially solidify your position in his cult. Your baptism in blood. You were nervous, but eager to appease your new goddess. And of course your boyfriend. In no small part because he said that after you did this with him then you could get married in the eyes of Arachna.

All you had to do was make your first sacrifice. Salem assured you that he would lure them down and drug them, all you would need to do is kill them with him and help wrap them in the traditional way that Arachna demanded.

You were really nervous, but Salem calmed you down. He selected yet another tourist who he said deserved it. Whose greatest contribution in life would be as a sacrifice to Arachna. He assured you that he was doing a service, he only selected the scum of society. He had mystic ways of knowing the kinds of things that they did.

Though at this point your mantis had so much control over you that even if he had told you that you were killing an angel you probably could have been convinced that you were doing the right thing for Arachna.

The soon to be corpse that Salem had selected for you was an ant hybrid. He eagerly followed the handsome priest down, thinking he was getting lucky with a priest of his religion. Which Salem pointed out was further proof that he was vile. Followers of the moth were not to seek pleasure from someone of the cloth, if he was a half decent person he would not violate his own religion so readily.

Salem had him sit in one of the rooms in the basement, they both disrobed and Salem guided the ant’s head to his cunt, forcing him to get drunk in much the same way you had been your first time with Salem.

Though this hybrid’s night started similarly to yours it would end quite differently.

After he was thoroughly inebriated from the musk and pheromones produced by Salem’s sex he was led by Salem into the altar room where you were waiting anxiously.

Since you were unable to bite him to death like Salem you used a knife instead. It was a small mercy as it ended him much more quickly. Not that it would have mattered, he was so drugged that he wouldn’t have felt anything but pleasure anyway.

“A-and you promise this won’t cause him any pain?”

Salem stroked your arm comfortingly.

“Of course not my little moth, he will feel nothing but pleasure and through his death he will be cleansed in the many eyes of Arachna. We are saving his immortal soul by discarding his corrupted flesh.”

With renewed resolve you leaned him over a bucket and slit his throat allowing the warm blood to pool into the goblet before you set it before the statue. Your mantis has you at least lick the knife. It was a jarring metallic taste that made you flinch and curl your antenna in disgust. Salem chuckled and assured you that you’d get used to it.

And you did, during subsequent sacrifices the mantis hybrid would bite pieces off the victim for you since you lacked teeth sharp enough to do so. Then he’d chew the chunks and feed them to you while the two of you made out so you could enjoy the full ritual. You definitely learned to enjoy the flavor of fresh meat and blood.

When all the blood had left the ant man you wrapped the body up in your own silk as Salem guided you in how to do the wrapping then the two of you hauled him out, Salem doing the antlion’s share of the work, and buried him before planting a tree.

Many months after your first kill, on a Sunday morning, Salem was giving a sermon. Your fellow church goers thought you were absent from service but you were present, just not in view. Not in their view anyway. You were closer to the priest than any of them. Right under the pulpit. It was a grand fixture, large and imposing, wrapping around and concealing all of Salem’s sides. Perfect, as it turned out, for concealing a lover worshiping between the mantis’ legs.

You were making out with his pussy, kissing and licking it lovingly and deeply. You started letting out little whimpers and gasps as his extra potent pheromones kicked in. He was on his period and it seemed the blood you were lapping up gave his juices an extra punch. As you began to forget just exactly where you were, getting lost in his bloody cunt, you began to make soft moans and whimpers.

Salem continued his sermon unabashed, passionately railing against the sins of the flesh. Preaching about how Regalis demanded marriage before fornication, as he carefully took one of his hands and pushed you into his crotch to silence your noises before they got any louder.

You had some difficulty breathing as his sex threatened to drown you, but you continued to seek out the unique flavor and musk. Your antenna curled as you came untouched, your moan thankfully muffled by Salem.

Salem came soon after, his pussy absolutely gushing all over you. All the stimulation, all the taboo thrill of getting oral sex from his little mothy while making a mockery of the opposing religion, honoring Arachna through hedonism, the sight of his debauched darling struggling for breath and looking up at him with half lidded eyes lost in pleasure, it all culminated in the best orgasm of his life.

He didn’t let it show on his face though.

Salem wrapped up his sermon, once more reminding the church goers to resist temptation as they filed out the door. When the last one left he stopped pressing your face into him. You gasped for breath momentarily but went right back to licking him clean.

The mantis smiled at the scene below him, you were covered in his lubricant, face smeared with his blood, you looked absolutely ruined just for him.

“Such a good boy.”

He stroked your wet cheek as he allowed you to continue for a while, basking in the pleasant sensation, until finally he took you back downstairs. He’d worry about cleaning under the pulpit later. Right then it was more important he cleaned you up and rewarded you for such a good job.

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 1

pt. 2, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words:

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, fingering, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: for clarification, reader is 20 years old while sevika is her canon age in this (38-40)

you can check out the fic playlist here.

sevika wasn’t the buddy-buddy type when it came to her neighbors.

as someone who mostly kept to herself, she preferred to be left to her own devices, granted she wasn’t necessarily unapproachable. if you’d knock on her door to borrow some tools, she’d likely lend you hers. have some problems with your plumbing? on a good day, she’d offer to fix it herself.

she’d even attend the annual neighborhood barbecue sometimes, but she wasn’t the type to knock on doors and welcome the new people who had just moved in with freshly baked cookies. that’s something she left vander to do.

so when the vacant house adjacent to hers finally got some new occupants after the previous tenant moved out 3 months ago (a friendly old woman named babette who she would never admit to missing, she and her homemade lasagna she’d offer sevika for dinner) she didn’t think much of it.

but she was curious, so she peeked through her blinds to get a good look at the new tenants, trying to assess what she had to deal with.

when she looked, she was simply greeted by a man who looked to be in his 50s hauling out boxes - slouched posture, flannel button-up, and leather boots. he had the tiredness in his eyes that indicated he was just an everyday samaritan. she was happy about that because she liked her peace.

but before she was about to close her blinds again, a new figure caught her eye. this one younger, miles younger, who sported beaten up doc martens, ripped black shorts that ridden up too high around the rear area that sevika was quick to avert her gaze when she stared too long, and a loose fitted top that was sliced around one shoulder, leaving it exposed.

with painted black nails and eyelids adorned with dark eye shadow, sevika watched as you got out of the front seat of the moving truck and inspected the house in front of you with an intense gaze. before a small smirk made its way to your face, the kind she knew only meant trouble.

“looks great, dad!”

sevika couldn’t believe this.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

it’s not that sevika wasn’t fond of people younger than her.

she was just too old to handle any of their shit. not that being forty-one was geriatric by any means, but she liked her peace, and she couldn’t necessarily have that if she had someone twice younger than her living just down the block. the possibility of house parties being thrown already sending shivers down her spine.

she already had vander’s daughters out of her hair, and even then she heard from him they’re coming back home for their semester break this week so that’s another problem to deal with. you couldn’t be too far from their age range either, probably closer to vander’s eldest, violet. which relieved her in a way.

she hasn’t even spoken to you yet but she dreads the day she’ll ever need to. but it seems as though your father heard her prayers because it didn’t take long after the moving truck drove off when a sudden knock came from her front door, making her raise her eyebrow.

she opened it and just her luck she was greeted by your father, a soft smile on his face as he gave her a gentle wave “hi there, me and my daughter just moved in and I wanted to formally introduce myself.”

sevika gave him a curt nod “I noticed. welcome to the neighborhood.”

again, she wasn’t the type to knock on people’s doors and give them a formal introduction to the whole damn block. the only way she ever got to know people was when word got around about her being the town’s mechanic. she was mostly acquainted with the fathers and uncles, meanwhile the women her age she preferred to sleep with. occasional flings here and there, nothing serious.

the only people she’d consider her friends were vander and silco, and perhaps some of her co-workers back at the mechanic’s shop but they lived elsewhere.

it was hard for her to truly get along with someone, albeit she isn’t opposed to making friends, it’s just something that takes time. she’s a tough cookie.

your father, on the other hand, seemed civil enough. sevika didn’t even notice the container he carried with him until he lifted it “well, my daughter baked some brownies and I thought maybe I’d give you some. wouldn’t hurt to befriend a few folks on the first day, and well, you do live next door.”

she eyed the container while she debated whether to return the gesture or not, and as she thought long and hard about it, she didn’t want to appear like an asshole.

“care for a cup of coffee, then?”

and that’s how she found herself sitting across from your father at her kitchen table, with him sipping his coffee while she chugged her third can of beer of the day.

despite herself, your father was pretty pleasant. thirty minutes of mundane chatting and she’s already gotten to know quite a bit about him - widowed and left to take care of his only daughter, your mother dying while you were only eleven years old. breast cancer. she offered a bit of sympathy which he appreciated.

“never got remarried?” she couldn’t help but ask.

your father laughed softly, shaking his head “no, can’t. when she died a part of me died with her, and I don’t think anybody can truly fill that void. plus I don’t think my daughter would be on board. not that she wouldn’t let me, she never cared but I know she still thinks about her mom a lot.”

sevika let out a hum “I get it. my mom died when I was young too. it never got easier.”

“it doesn’t.” he replied “she’s twenty now. a sophomore in college but sometimes I do feel like she’s clinging onto that part of herself when her mom was still alive. she became a bit rebellious after that. threw herself to drinking at sixteen, I tried to stop her which worked when she finally became eighteen, but her habits still kick in.”

sevika would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for the old man. she didn’t have any kids and quite frankly, has no intention of having any in the near future, but she can only imagine how difficult it’d be to see your child spiral like that and have it be out of your control.

“she’s doing a lot better now?” she asked.

your father nodded, although it seemed a bit uncertain “I think so. she’s on her mid-semester break and will be back by the end of the month.”

sevika sighed internally at that, at least she won’t have to worry about you potentially becoming a problem for too long.

her and your dad conversed a bit more after that - about how he decided to move here because he a got new job in town, and how your college was located two hours away, making him think that your visits would be limited given how you don’t like traveling for long hours (again, another win for her) he also asked her about her prosthetic arm ‘bad car crash. got stuck and had to get it amputated’ she explained and he gave a sympathetic look in return.

soon, she led him up to her front door. it was nearing the evening anyway, but she surprisingly appreciated the company.

“sorry if I took up much of your time, sevika.” your father apologized and she smiled. a genuine one.

“it’s no bother. if you ever need help don’t be afraid to ask.” sevika said and she meant it.

your father offered a grateful nod, walking down her driveway and next door to his house. when sevika looked, there you were waiting for him.

you decided to change into something more comfortable since you arrived. a tight-fitted black tank top with thin straps and grey cotton shorts that exposed your legs to the cold air. you didn’t seem to be wearing a bra either and given the weather, she could notice your nipples poking through the fabric even from where she stood.

sevika shook her head. goddammit . she just made friends with your old man and here she was ogling at his daughter. she wasn’t even supposed to like you.

as your father walked up to your front door he sent her one last wave goodbye, which made you finally look at her.

for that brief moment, your eyes locked. she couldn’t decipher that look on your face when you studied her, arms crossed as you cocked your head to side while your father spoke “she’s our next door neighbor, sweetheart. sevika, meet my daughter!” she only smiled awkwardly while you continued staring at her.

suddenly, that same smirk made its way to your face again, opening your mouth to respond “hi sevika,” you said, your voice sultry and sickeningly sweet. sevika hated that it did something to her.

you didn’t give her time to acknowledge your greeting before you turned on your heel and went back inside, and she didn’t even realize her chest tightened the entire time you two made eye contact until you were finally out of sight, making her breathe normally again.

[thebubblesareevil]

Harley Quinn is Danny’s therapist

Danny needs therapy… desperately.

Jazz know this and acknowledges that it’s not a good idea for her to fill that role, so she goes out in search for the next best thing.

While in Gotham for college Jazz breaks into harley and ivys hideout and waits for them to return.

She waters the plants, she does the dishes and she even cooks some dinner setting the table just as they arrive.

The smells coming from the table prevent the immediate attack.

Jazz introduces herself and offers Harley the opportunity of a lifetime

“How would you like to be the personal therapist to a dead superhero?”

Of course jazz is more than willing to pay Harley (Danny gave her some Aztec gold for spending money while at school) but harley refuses to commit until she meets the kid

The 2 join jazz when she goes home for break, introducing them as some upperclassmen

(Her parents don’t really question it. Not bad parents just super accepting, they don’t know about Danny yet, though Danny stopped hiding it awhile ago)

Jazz brings them up to Danny’s room and knocks on the door

“Hey little brother, got a minute?”

A garbled yes comes from the other side and she opens the door to reveal half the room is missing and in its place is a gaping hole in reality where a large woman was cooking

“What’s up? New friends?” he asked looking down from where he was floating mid air reading a book about stars

“What’s with the portal?”

Danny just shrugged “lunch lady’s making spaghetti, want some?”

“Hell yeah!” Harley piped in. “Honey, I think we’re gonna get along swell”

Ivy just sighed.

The two move to amity so harley can have easy access to her favorite patient and Ivy ends up getting her own green house and somehow a job on the city council to reduce pollution and to push green areas in town

Do with this what you will

[michanvalentine]

Another thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is how some narrative threads introduced in Act 1 find their resolution in the good ending.

The first and most obvious one revolves around the beautiful concept of a gift.

When the player offers their blood to Astarion, he receives a gift that goes beyond mere nourishment. In that moment, what Tav/Durge is giving him, beyond blood, is understanding and trust.

And this concept comes full circle after the ritual, where this narrative thread finds its conclusion. That’s when Spawn Astarion thanks the player for the gift they have given him—gently guiding him by the hand toward a new path where he is truly free.

But not just free. As the vampire spawn himself says in that ending, he is honestly free. And for that gift, he is grateful.

I think that’s absolutely beautiful.

But the meaning runs even deeper than that. This ties into the theme of seeing and being seen—not in a superficial sense.

After all, Astarion’s appearance is both a curse and a shield, something he has learned to wield, just like his mannerisms, his charming words, and the sarcasm he uses as a distraction.

It’s an important concept because it means going beyond the surface, seeing him for who he truly is, feeling him, and experiencing him in his entirety.

Astarion deeply struggles with his condition—not just as a slave, but as a vampire. He’s so happy to be able to act human again thanks to the Illithid tadpole, to do simple, mundane things like crossing running water or entering a house without permission. And let’s not even talk about his joy at standing under the sunlight.

When you meet him on the beach for the first time and reveal what will happen if they don’t get rid of the Illithid tadpoles, Astarion’s bitter reaction, complete with laughter, shows just how much it truly weighs on him: "Of course it’s going to turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?!"

In fact, when his vampiric nature is revealed for the first time during the bite scene, he fears rejection and is quick to emphasize that he’s not some kind of monster. The morning after, when Shadowheart tactlessly points out this aspect of him, his expression changes, and we can see how being perceived as a monster wounds him. It keeps him at a distance, sets him apart as something other. Later, he will even say outright that he wants to be treated like a person—not as a slave, not as a vampire. Just a person. Not superior, not inferior. Exactly like everyone else. Because Astarion wants to be part of the world, to reconnect with people.

This is especially clear when he approves of Tav’s perspective—that he could find a place for himself in the world, where he could be accepted, supported, if he is willing to open up and do the same for others. He approves because the idea appeals to him—it makes him feel like he can belong. Not as a monster, but as a person finding his way back into the world he once inhabited.

But I’m digressing.

The mirror scene isn’t just there by chance—it’s narratively strategic. In that moment, Astarion explicitly asks the player what they see, because he wants to know how the world perceives him. He worries about how others see him precisely because he feels separate, othered, like a monster. And it’s not a matter of appearance—Astarion knows he’s gorgeous. He’s heard it thousands of times over the centuries. But he’s insecure about his place within the group, within society, within the world.

That’s why he appreciates it when Tav/Durge reassures him on the two things that trouble him most—his piercing gaze (the red eyes of a vampire) and his dangerous smile (the sharp fangs of a predator). He relaxes because, in that moment, he feels accepted. Because he realizes his defining traits aren’t the insurmountable barriers he thought they were. Because the person in front of him sees him—not through the lens of prejudice, but for who he really is.

This theme returns later, during the confrontation with Aurelia and Leon, when Astarion deflects the idea of being heroic by saying, "I can’t be what you see in me." Again, the motif of seeing, of looking deeper, of recognizing something more, of reading between the lines—both of the narrative and of his character.

And it’s beautiful when, the morning after the ritual, that relaxed, happy Astarion, with that wonderful smile on his lips, says that Tav/Durge saw something in him. Something different from everyone else. Something beyond his monstrous nature, beyond his darkest intentions, beyond his fear.

Tav/Durge saw him. Saw his potential.

And if you’re in a romantic relationship with him, in the graveyard scene, Astarion will bring up this idea once again. With a heroic Tav/Durge, Astarion feels safe. And he feels seen. Seen, for god’s sake. That’s huge.

This is where this narrative arc—about perception, about seeing him throughout the entire journey—finds its resolution. Astarion is truly more than what Cazador made him to be. He breaks free from the pattern of monster/vampire. He chooses to start living again. To rediscover himself. To reclaim his identity in the most human way possible—through the world and the people around him.

Perhaps his body has not regained its human traits, but spawn Astarion is, without a doubt, the Astarion who has reclaimed his humanity the most.

[psychhound]

announcing spiritkeep: a therapeutic ttrpg

howdy all! some big announcements!!!

first, im nearing the end of my master's program, studying rhetoric and writing, games, and educational psychology. im about halfway done with my thesis, and figured it was time to make an announcement …

my thesis, entitled "designing ​spiritkeep​: therapeutically applied RPGs as a discourse community" is … about what it says on the tin :) in it, I look at the practice of TA-RPGs, which are TTRPGs run for the express purpose of inducing therapeutic growth. TA-RPGs are usually run by a clinician, like a therapist or counselor, or a certified therapeutic game master. my thesis is looking at the needs of therapeutic game masters as a community and asking … what do they need from TTRPGs that isn't currently available?

the thesis takes concepts from rhetoric, linguistics, game studies, literature studies, psychology, and more to ask the question … what would a TTRPG specifically designed for therapeutic use look like? i examine concepts like bleed, close to home characters, dramatic rehearsal, performative speech acts, fixed vs growth mindsets, information processing theory, and more. i also look at criteria set forth by current TA-RPG practitioners for what makes a good TA-RPG, and examine five current games against those criteria. then, i put together the research into a foundation for spiritkeep, a dedicated TA-RPG

spiritkeep is designed around the goal of helping teens and adults heal from complex trauma

that said, its perfectly suitable for a homegame as well, as long as everyone is on the same page and approaches it with the mindset of collaborative growth. all in all, it's still going to be a fun game and a good TTRPG!!

in spiritkeep, you play as a smalltown taskforce with the shared goal of restoring your currently struggling community to a thriving state. you go out on missions like finding resources, diplomacy with neighboring cities, researching ecological problems, and more, while you slowly make your town a better place to live. spiritkeep includes collaborative worldbuilding, a large assortment of playbook options like the Wayfarer, the Knight, the Ghost, or the Shepherd (all designed to hit where it hurts, at least a little!), and a brand new system inspired by PBtA, FitD, BOB, WoD, and more. while the game is designed around grappling with identity and learning how to grow, it can also get a bit tactical and crunchy!! the new dice mechanic makes you think on your feet with every roll

this announcement is also to say that i am beginning the initial crowdfunding of the game through itch. right now, im trying to raise funds to pay the fee to my school to make my thesis open access, meaning anyone can read it. then, remaining funds will go towards things like resources, consultants, art for the kickstarter, and everything else i need to get this project off the ground. ideally, ill be able to team with a publisher to cover the logistics of business while i can focus on the game itself. once the game is finished, there will still be plenty of playtesting, consulting, and other work to do. but!!! this post marks my first steps towards what has been my dream for years now

this sale is how im starting the funding process. it includes the zine preview of my thesis, covering my chapter outline and big concepts, and also my first TA-RPG: with breath & sword, a solo game to help players calm down from anxiety. both items have community copies available: please feel free to grab one if you can't contribute !!

questions, comments, or partnership offers can be sent to psychhoundgames @ gmail(.)com

thanks y'all!!! wish me luck!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[shimmershifts]

how to reality shift

method two: destabilized awareness

these methods basically boil down to two steps. destabilize your awareness, and then shift. basically, you'll be trying to discombobulate yourself to the point your awareness is not focused on 3D reality, and trigger a shift. if you have trouble getting into the state of pure awareness or lack of awareness or it doesn't feel natural to you, these methods may be good to try out! this post is also for my lucid dreamers, meditators, hypnogogia lovers, or people who struggle with 3D distractions, and anyone who likes or feels the need to experience "symptoms" (ie, sleep paralysis or hypnogogia.)

honestly, most shifting methods i see online are in some way doing this. lucid dreams, the hypnogogic state, SATS, self-hypnosis, and also all those iterations of the "raven method" the "staircase method" the "alice in wonderland method" etc are all basically ways to destabilize your awareness from the linear perception it is so used to in this point of reality, offering the opportunity of triggering a shift to a different one. they're all sort of either distracting or subverting your focus on the 3D here in this point of reality.

why does destabilizing awareness help with shifting?

when we reality shift, our goal is to find a way to trigger our awareness into a movement in the 4th and 5th dimensional directions. for some, this is easier to do when your sense of the 3D in this reality is a little distorted. this isn't because it's impossible to shift while aware of the 3D! on the contrary, lots of people shift while totally awake and aware in the 3D, in either their CR, or their DR, or even both. but for most of us, our awareness is really used to and really comfortable piloting our 3D body here. so perhaps try destabilizing or distracting your awareness to help trigger a shift.

how do i destabilize my awareness?

there are many different ways to destabilize your awareness, so you just need to find one that works for you. i'll put a few ways to try out here, but if these don't work for you, do not despair. you can find other ways, or tweak them to your needs however you'd like. my goal is to put the ones that work for the most people, and explain them in a way you may not have seen before so make it more accessible. hopefully, i can! i think that everyone is fully capable of all of these methods, some just will come more naturally to each person.

method 2(a)

hypnogogia. this is, or was, probably the most common "method" on shifting communities for a long while. all those shifting "symptoms" you heard about? those are hypnogogic sensations. now, one important note is that i do not believe hypnogogic sensations are directly "symptoms of you shifting", because many people shift without ever feeling any, and many people feel them without ever shifting. hypnogogia is merely an experience when your awareness is in this reality, but somewhat disrupted from its focus or perception of our normal physical senses. this is what causes you to feel as if you are floating, weightlessness, numb, flying, falling, spinning, vibrating, phantom sensations of someone touching you, hearing sounds or words, seeing or smelling someone or something that isn't there, sleep paralysis, muscle jerks, etc. etc.

these symptoms can also be paired with feelings of anxiety or impending doom, or even a visit from the "sleep paralysis demon" but they're not always! personally for me when i started my journey, hypnogogia made me terrified, and i couldn't figure why because i wasn't scared of hypnogogia in general. it reduced over time with practice.

how to cause hypnogogia: hypnogogia is a natural transitional state between wakefulness and sleep, which we usually don't experience because as we fall asleep our mind sleeps before our body. so, in order to cause hypnogogia, all we need to do is allow our body to fall asleep while our mind stays aware. people tend to over think this, and the most common pitfalls i see are people falling fully asleep, or keeping themself completely awake by accident, so i'll troubleshoot those below! this method will be a meditation method, but if you struggle with meditation then please check out this post for ways to get into hypnogogia without meditation, and just come back here for how to shift from hypnogogia instead of dropping into pure awareness from there.

step one: choose the space you want to do this in, and i recommend choosing somewhere safe where you won't be disturbed. you can either do this in bed where you normally sleep, or in a different place like sitting up on the couch, and there are pros and cons to both. in bed, the upside is that your body is very used to falling asleep here. the downside is that your mind is also very used to falling asleep here, so if you struggle with accidentally falling totally asleep when trying to get into hypnogogia, maybe try a different place, during the day, or a different pose.

step two: relax your body. for some meditations or shifting methods it's not consequential whether your body actually relaxes or not, but if your goal is to reach hypnogogia, it sort of is. don't overthink this though, because your body naturally gets to exactly the right relaxed state every single night when you go to sleep. the only complication is that you need to basically trick your body and mind into thinking you're going to sleep so it naturally lets your body fall asleep, but secretly, your mind is still aware. some ways to ease this process are body scans (ie, focusing on each part of your body one at a time, allowing each section to relax as you move your focus to the next. i prefer toe to head, but you do you.) or progressive muscle relaxation, (ie, tensing each muscle, and then releasing it to deepen relaxation. this means like tensing your lower leg as hard as you can, counting to three, and then letting go. this can help especially if you're naturally tense!) key notes: it's okay to move. do you hold yourself completely rigid and still when you fall asleep each night, refusing to scratch and itch or roll over because you think you'll never ever be able to sleep if you move even once? probably not. it's okay move, it only disrupts the process if you let it.

step three: keep your mind aware. this is the key to hypnogogia here, but don't overdo it. some people have the issue of accidentally falling totally asleep, and this is because they're struggling to keep their mind aware. it may take practice, or trying different things to see what keeps your mind just awake enough to stay aware during hypnogogia, without just keeping yourself the normal type of awake and lying there for an hour while nothing happens. you can hold your focus on your breathing, a mantra, put on a soundtrack or white noise, counting, a visualization, or even a physical sensation. i used to place a small stone on my forehead and focus on the weight of it, since it was a sensation just unusual enough to hold my focus without being entirely distracting. if you struggle with slipping into sleep (or have adhd), try something slightly more engaging or add more than one thing to keep yourself aware.

step four: let your body fall asleep. there is no need to force it. your body naturally knows how to fall asleep, you've done it every day for your entire life. just let it, and don't get in the way. if you struggle with trying to get into the hypnogogic state and ending up just laying there with no results for hours, it's because you're getting in the way (sorry!) you do not need to try to force yourself to start having hypnogogia (i think this is a pitfall for some, keeping their body too awake while they engage their physical senses too much) or push it to fall asleep or force it to fall asleep. that will generally keep it away. it's more of a letting go and allowing your body to fall asleep. key notes: your body may test you to see if you are actually sleeping. during the day, there may be many periods where you are at rest (sitting watching tv, in class, at work, etc) where you're still and calm but it would be highly inconvenient for your body to simply slip into sleep at the drop of a hat. so your system may test you, checking if your body is actually supposed to be going to sleep before allowing it to. this is where you'll get muscle jerks, or hallucinations that make you flinch. think of these like the "are you still watching?" pop up on netflix. your system is trying to check if your body should go to sleep or not, so let them pass. you do want your body to go to sleep.

step five: hypnogogia. at some point, you'll start to experience the tell tale sensations of hypnogogia. you don't need to fabricate or create these sensations, they'll come naturally. let them. congratulations, you are no longer grounded in the 3D sensations of this reality. hypnogogia is already the bridge between wakefulness and sleep in this reality, but it can also be a bridge from this reality to another.

how to shift from hypnogogia: there are two ways you can go about this. you can either focus on the hypnogogic sensations and use/direct them to trigger yourself to shift, or let them pass and focus on the fact that you're not grounded in the 3D of any reality in that moment, allowing that to trigger yourself to shift. generally, the hypnogogic sensations people experience seem sort of "random", so you might get floating or spinning or vibrating, etc, etc. if you're trying to use the sensations you're getting, then gently direct the sensations. meaning, direct your hypnogogic sensations to correlate with your desired reality. you don't need to force or control them, just feel them and line that up with experiences or a visualization of your DR. weightlessness? visualize how soft and light you feel in your DR bed. tingling sensations? direct your attention to the tickling, waving long grasses of the field you're becoming aware of in your DR. hallucinating lights or sounds? think of the sounds or light sources of your DR as you become aware of it. if you're trying to focus on the detachment from 3D (helpful if hypnogogia is scary for you, you can stay calmer by not focusing on the sensations) try to relax and let the sensations continue but pass you by. recognize and understand you are not grounded to the 3D experience of any reality at that moment, your awareness has already loosened its grip on this reality, and turn your attention towards thoughts of your DR, mainly on returning to full awareness there instead of here.

method 2(b)

lucid dreams. ive posted before about how to do reality checks to confirm you're in a lucid dream (check out my pure awareness methods for that tidbit) so here i'll focus on how to have lucid dreams in the first place, since these methods focus on how to get into that destabilized awareness. now, a lucid dream is just a dream. the only difference is that in a lucid dream, you are aware. not of the physical 3D in this reality, but of some of the goings on of your mind while your body sleeps. this means that certain parts of your usual functions here are inaccessible because those parts of your physical brain are "off" or performing alternative functions, so you won't be able to read, and you will be in a dreamlike state even tho you're aware. this dreamlike state is enough to loosen the tether your awareness feels to this reality. now, my other lucid dream method focused on how to get into the state of pure awareness from a lucid dream, and that's not necessary for this method. your goal here is to shift directly from the lucid dream to your DR, which is a little different and has its own pitfalls. the major one: accidentally just moving to another lucid dream instead of shifting. i'll address that below!

step one: have a lucid dream. you can wait for one to happen naturally if you get those, or you can increase the chances of having one in a few ways.

start practicing and repeating your "reality checks" throughout the day. repetition is key, because when you're dreaming your brain naturally processes memories, thought patterns etc and that will reflect in your dreams. the goal is to repeat your "reality checks" so often that your brain does one while dreaming, so that you have the opportunity to realize you're dreaming and become lucid. another way to do this is throughout the day, pause what you're doing and visualize yourself noticing that you're dreaming and becoming lucid in a dream (ie, think about it.) do this often enough you start to do it in your sleep too.

you can meditate before bed. choose any meditation you want, and really try to get at least into a light meditation state, because it really does increase the rate of vivid and lucid dreams for a lot of people, maybe even you!

wake back to bed. this is a common technique, where you go to sleep, wake up, and then go back to sleep. the reasoning is that you are more likely to enter an REM cycle quickly enough that your brain is still somewhat lucid, increasing the chances of a lucid dream.

keep a dream journal. as soon as you wake up, write down as much of your dreams as you can remember, even if it's very vague or half a thought. strengthening your dream recall also seems to increase the chance of becoming lucid in a dream.

how to shift from a lucid dream: now, the most common trouble with this method is when people accidentally just go to another lucid dream instead of shifting. be aware that this is a possibility, and practice your reality checking skills so that you can become confident in your ability to tell the difference. reality check while you're awake, and reality check while you're lucid in a dream. do this so often you become able to notice the differences, because when you do a reality check while awake in your DR it will feel exactly as real as it does here, no exceptions. if there is anything dreamlike, muddled, or "off" about the experience, you likely have not shifted.

anyways, with that in mind, i'm going to give two different ways to shift from a lucid dream. the most common i see online is the "create a portal and imagine your DR is on the other side," but very often i see this cause people to step through the portal and just enter another lucid dream instead of shifting. that's because when you're lucid in a dream, youre capable of creating and changing the dreamscape however you want, so your brain is just creating a lucid dream instead of your awareness shifting. if that's happened to you, try the ones here instead!

1) travel to your DR, do not create it. the instinct to "create" your DR around you can tend to lead you to create a lucid dream. when we reality shift, we do not create the 3D world of our DRs or invent it with our minds the way we do dreams, we shift our awareness from this 3D, to another. when you've firmly established lucidity, think about your DR but do not alter your dreamscape to look like it. just think about where you want to go, and begin to think of your dream self (the body or whatever form you take) as your awareness. use your dreamscape however you'd like to travel to your DR (train, flight through space, falling down a pit, it doesn't matter, do what feels right.) just don't create the destination. when you get there, you should become aware of your DR, but make sure to reality check and ensure you're not still lucid dreaming.

2) become your DR self in your dream. instead of focusing on your surroundings (helpful if you tend to just go to another lucid dream,) you can instead focus on yourself. visualize that you are your DR self, having a lucid dream in your DR. the dream can become whatever you want, whatever your DR self is dreaming about, because you are your DR self having this dream. visualize that when you wake up, you'll be waking up as your DR self. you can either keep dreaming and sleeping as your DR self, or intentionally wake up. either way, you should wake up as your DR self. (check for false awakenings and ensure you're not still lucid dreaming.)

method 2(c)

distraction. our awareness can seem to be quite stubborn, and we can feel like we struggle to direct it to what we want. if that's the case for you, try distracting it. think of it like jangling keys in front of your awareness, or the subway surfers clip at the corner of a video to help stimulate and distract your 3D senses attention just enough you can shift your awareness where you want it. lots of methods involve trying to decrease your 3D sensations as much as possible, calm your mind and body, and be still, quiet, etc. this method is kind of the opposite, because some people need stimulation in order to let go. ever zoned out while fidgeting, daydreaming, or getting distracted? the goal here is to gently distract yourself so your awareness loosens the reigns a bit on this CR, and that's your window to shift.

below are some distractions you can introduce, and a pro tip is that whichever sense tends to be the one that you feel "holds you back" from other shifting methods is probably a key one to try to distract with this stuff.

sound. you can choose any sound, maybe a playlist of songs that fit the vibe of your DR, white noise, binaural beats, environmental ambiance noises, ASMR, whatever. it also doesn't have to be calm or quiet stuff. pick the screaming metal rock band album, or put on jackhammer ASMR if that's what suits you.

sight. almost all methods involve closing your eyes, but this one doesn't have to. put on a movie you've seen so many times you don't actively watch it anymore, a Pinterest board, a handmade vision board, a painting you like, a collection of gifs of your S/O, it doesn't matter.

touch. lay somewhere you usually wouldn't, like outside, on the floor, on the stairs. hold something with an interesting texture or temperature in your hand. put on a weighted blanket. hug a stuffed animal. dip your hands in water.

smell. cook food that smells really good. light a candle, or incense. use a perfume, cologne, or scented soap. grab a fist full of soil, or a sprig of herbs.

motion. this, i feel, can be key for some. pick a repetitive motion, like a fidget. roll something in between your fingers, click a pen, tap your foot, bounce your knee, walk, spin in a chair, etc.

your CR body can stay completely awake. you don't need to be meditating (although you could argue this level of distraction is somewhat meditative? but. you know.) you don't need to be focused, or still, or calm. while your 3D senses are distracted, let them be. think about your DR. visualize where you are, what you're doing. think about what you're going to do. really let your mind wander, the same way it might when you're just thinking about stuff here. at some point, the goal is to reality shift when your 3D CR self here is too distracted to notice you even did it. You'll start thinking as your DR self, and when you "come back to your senses", it's your DR senses instead of your CR ones.

[vandme12]

Hello I love your writing and characterization of Ronin!! You’re incredibly talented and your portrayal of him is so good 🫶

I was wondering if you could write hurt/comfort Ronin with a reader who is maybe dealing with the death anniversary of losing someone who was close to them in the past? This one is a bit self indulgent, you can generalize it more if you’d like!! Thank you lovely ❤️

"goreboy: u died or what?"

Typical.

You stare at the message a little too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Normally, you’d play along—give him something sharp-edged and flirty, toss back a line about only dying if he asks nicely. It’s the game you both play, the rhythm you’ve fallen into. But not tonight.

Tonight isn’t any other night.

You: "Not in the mood, Ronin."

He leaves you on read.

For once, you’re grateful.

The phone screen dims in your hand as you slump back against the couch, trying—and failing—to swallow down the ache curling in your chest. It should be easier by now. Time’s supposed to dull the edges, smooth over the sharp parts. But grief doesn’t play by the rules, does it?

Some wounds never really close. And some people—God, some people—leave fingerprints you can’t scrub out no matter how hard you try.

Your apartment feels too quiet. Too still. The kind of silence that presses in, heavy and suffocating, when you’re left alone with memories you don’t want but can’t let go of.

The phone buzzes again.

"goreboy: u ever gonna tell me why ur playin dead?"

Nosy bastard.

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush him off. But your fingers move before you decide—like part of you already knows the answer.

You: "...Anniversary."

No explanation. No messy details. He doesn’t need them.

If anyone understands how grief sinks its teeth into you and doesn’t let go—it’s him.

The reply comes faster than you expect.

"goreboy: open ur door."

Your heart stumbles.

He’s joking. He’s always joking. Except… when you pad to the door and crack it open, there he is—leaning against the frame like he owns the whole damn building. Hoodie slouched over his shoulders, one hand shoved in his pocket, eyes dark and glinting in the low light.

"Miss me?" he drawls, voice low and smooth. Too smooth. Like he’s trying not to spook you.

You should ask why he’s here. Should call him out on the fact that he’s always talking a big game, but he showed up the second you stopped playing.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back—silent invitation—and he slips inside without waiting for more.

The door clicks shut behind him. Just like that, the world feels a little less cold.

You settle on the couch, knees tucked close, as he drops down next to you—sprawled-out arrogance and lazy grace. Close enough to touch if you wanted. If you let yourself.

His voice breaks the quiet first. "So," he drawls, "you gonna tell me what’s eatin’ you, or do I gotta guess?"

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to answer—but because if you start talking, you might not stop. And God, you hate being vulnerable. Hate giving anyone that kind of power.

Still. It’s Ronin.

And somehow, that makes it worse—and easier—all at once.

"Someone I lost," you admit, voice low and rough around the edges. "A long time ago. But tonight… it just hurts more."

He doesn’t mock you. Doesn’t brush it off with some shitty joke.

For once, he just listens.

"Yeah," he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him. "I get that."

His arm stretches along the back of the couch, casual—but not really. You know the offer when you see it. And without thinking, you lean into the warmth of him, letting his body bleed the cold out of yours.

You shouldn’t. You should keep your distance. But he makes it too easy.

"Don’t gotta play tough with me," he murmurs, voice curling warm at the edges. "I like it when you’re soft."

Your breath stutters. You hate how easy it is for him to disarm you—to find the cracks and dig his fingers in like he’s been waiting for the moment you break.

"I keep thinking about how they’d hate this," you confess. "Me, sitting here, falling apart. I promised I’d keep going." A shaky breath. "Some days, I’m not sure I am."

His hand moves—slow, deliberate—until his fingers are curling against your jaw, tilting your face toward his. And when you meet his gaze, there’s nothing playful about it. Nothing sharp or cruel. Just heat. Just him.

"Bullshit," he says, and it’s almost angry. "You’re here, aren’t you? Breathin��, fightin’. That’s gotta count for somethin’."

You search his face for the usual smirk, the familiar mockery—but there isn’t any.

"Besides," he adds, fingers brushing against your pulse, "if they mattered to you, they wouldn’t want you drowning in this. They’d want you to live."

The words hit something fragile and aching inside you—cracking it wide open. And when you blink, the sting behind your eyes burns hotter.

"Why do you care?" The question slips out before you can stop it—quieter than you mean for it to be.

His lips curl, slow and dangerous—but there’s no malice in it. No game. Just something raw and aching, hidden beneath the swagger.

"Told you already, sweetheart," he says, dragging two fingers against your temple like he could map out every haunted, broken part of you. "You’re mine."

A pause. A breath.

"Even the fucked-up bits."

And for once—you don’t argue.

His hand slides to the side of your neck, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin—steady, grounding. Something you could hold onto if you let yourself.

"Stay in your head too long, it’ll eat you alive," he says, quieter now. "So… how ‘bout you let me keep you distracted?"

It’s an offer you should refuse. You should push him away—cut the cord before he tangles himself any deeper into you. But the ache is heavy, and his warmth is right there, and you’re too tired to fight it.

"You already are," you whisper.

His thumb presses just a little harder against your pulse, and something flickers in his gaze—dark and pleased.

"Good." The word slides off his tongue like a promise. "Wouldn’t want you forgettin’ I’m here."

As if you ever could.

When he leans in—when his lips brush your temple, soft and warm—you let yourself relax against him. For the first time tonight, the ache in your chest feels a little easier to carry.

You can’t blame him for it. Not when he leans against the edge of your world with that lazy, toothy grin like he belongs there. Like he was made for the exact purpose of pulling you down with him.

He’s the devil with his hands on your heart, and God help you—you let him.

And now? Now he’s sitting in front of you, head tilted just so, watching the tears you thought you were good at hiding. He doesn’t ask why you’re crying. Doesn’t need to.

“Remember last Christmas?” he asks instead, low and easy, like it’s the most natural thing to bring up when you’re barely holding yourself together.

Your breath catches. “What…?”

“You were annoying as hell.” His grin sharpens. “Rotten saint act and all. Tryna’ play angel to my devil. Bet if I had the same thing goin’ on, you’d help me, wouldn’t ya?”

And yeah—you would. You have. You always do. Even when you shouldn’t.

He leans in closer, voice dipping to something softer, rough edges catching on a rare kindness. “So… I’m helpin’ you too. Why?” His fingers twitch at his side before lifting, rough and warm against your face. “’Cause I love ya, idiot.”

The words land somewhere in your chest—sharp and sudden. A pain you can’t decide if you want to hold onto or let go of. It makes you laugh, barely—a wet, broken sound. And when you tip forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, you don’t miss the way he stills beneath it.

For once, the devil shuts up.

But only for a breath.

He snickers, recovering like it never happened, like you didn’t just knock the wind out of him with the gentlest thing you’ve ever done. “You wantin’ a grand romance, darling?” A beat. His voice curls sweet and mean at the edges. “If you’re tall enough to reach, that is.”

Cocky bastard.

You almost shove him for it—almost. But there’s something else under his voice. Something raw, half-hidden behind the bravado. He likes it. He likes you.

And if you listen close enough—if you dare to believe it—maybe he needs this as much as you do.

He won’t say it again. Not unless you make him. But he’ll keep his hand on your cheek, thumb brushing over the tear tracks with a touch that’s softer than it should be. And maybe that’s enough.

For now.

[harrywavycurly]

There’s No Rush: Pinky

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, mentions of drinking, mentions of anxiety and reader is very shy.

A/N: I made the decision to make this into an AU of sorts, where Niall is still an artist he just isn’t super famous and Harry works in the music industry but as a songwriter. I hope y’all enjoy this series it’s going to be fun!🎶

Tag List: @isinpfortvdmen @cumuluscranium @justagirlthatlovedtoread @secretisme4 @sweetmoonlove0214 @jerseygirlinca @christianaevans @purplekimijks @thislilmindofmine @jane-blogs04 @latedirectionerera

Summary: You run into Harry while preparing to give a speech at your bestfriend’s wedding and he introduces you to his Irish friend Niall🎶💕

As you scan the reception space you begin to regret agreeing to being in the bridal party. The amount of people sat at the long tables being washed in a warm light coming from the thousands of tiny fairy lights wrapped around the tree branches above is enough to have you breaking into a light sweat at the idea of having to give a speech in front of them. But of course you’ll still do it, Ginger being one of your oldest and dearest friends you’ll do just about anything for her but that doesn’t mean you won’t freak out about it first.

That’s how you end up at the bar mindlessly stirring your drink as you mentally go over the speech you’re due to give as soon as Ginger and Allen take their seats at the small table in the front. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath before you open them and raise your glass up so you can take a sip of your drink through the straw. Suddenly a loud laugh filters its way to your ears making you become aware that while you were consumed with trying to calm down your nerves two men have made their way to the bar. You watch as one of them with short curly brown hair, who you swear seems extremely familiar downs what looks to be a shot of some sort of clear liquor while the one with short brown hair laughs at his friend’s reaction to finishing the shot.

“I don’t know how you convince me to do things like that.” The man with curly hair says revealing his British accent that makes your shoulders drop in relief as you recognize who the voice belongs to, Harry Styles. He’s been a close friend of Ginger’s since she met him in a music theory class back in college, but you didn’t meet him until a few months later and since then he’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has become a very good friend of yours as well. It comes as no surprise that the first time you see him tonight is at the bar, he’s always been quite the party animal.

“Oh right like you needed a whole lot of convincing. Yer arse is the one who dragged me to the-”

“Is that Pinky I spy over there?” You’re too lost in the deep Irish accent coming from the short haired man that you don’t even notice that Harry has taken a step towards you with a playful smirk on his face while the man he’s with steps up to the bar and orders a drink.

“Fuck off Harry you know she hates that nickname.” Allen’s stern voice knocks you out of your trance, bringing you back to reality as you look at Harry who offers you a dimpled grin. You feel a hand on top of your shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze, you know Allen has always seen you as a little sister so he doesn’t hesitate to try to put an end to things he knows make you upset, such as the nickname Harry has been calling you since you met him nearly six years ago at a college party Ginger dragged you to.

“Oh come on we all know she doesn’t mind it.” Allen sends Harry a glare from his spot behind you. “Besides I personally adore how pink your cheeks are all the time.” Harry explains as he takes two small steps so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view of his Irish friend, you feel your face get hot as Harry shoots you a wink. “Come on Pinky get in here.” His voice is soft and sweet as he opens his arms up for a hug and against your better judgment you put your drink down and allow him to wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you into a tight embrace.

“It’s nice to see you Harry.” Your voice gets lost in the fabric of his dress shirt as he begins to gently rock you back and forth while his hands rub up and down your back. You wonder for a moment if he can tell your nerves are through the roof and that’s why he’s doing these little things to calm you down or if he’s just a bit more handsy and clingy due to the shot he just took. But either way you find yourself melting into his embrace, something that always tends to happen with him as if he just knows exactly what to do to get you to relax.

“How’ve you been love?” He asks as he pulls away just enough so he can get a good look at your face making you instantly look down at the cross pendant that hits him right in the middle of his chest, not fully ready to look him in the eyes just yet.

“Uhm I’ve been go-good. Yeah I’ve been-been good.” You stumble through your answer making Harry nod while a small chuckle makes it way through him.

“What’s going on? What’s got you all wound up?” His voice is hushed so only you can hear him as his hands run up and down your arms. You let out a sigh as you slowly lift your head so you can look him in his emerald colored eyes making a smile stretch across his face once your eyes find his.

“Sorry I’m just a little nervous about my-my speech.”

“Oh that reminds me-” You turn to look at Allen over your shoulder as Harry drops his hands from your arms but doesn’t move from his place in front of you. “Ginger said you’re due up there in like ten minutes.” You know he can see the panic take over your face little by little as the words leave his mouth. “Don’t stress it okay? You’ll do great.” Is all he has time to offer you in terms of reassurance before he turns and grabs his drink from the bartender and heads towards his table.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.” Harry mumbles and before you can reply you’re suddenly being pulled into his side by the arm he somehow managed to drape over your shoulder without you even noticing. “Don’t worry about your speech Pinky you’re gonna smash it and besides half these people are drunk anyway so they won’t even-”

“Jesus H is this s’posed to be a pep talk?” You feel Harry’s arm drop down to around your middle as he turns the two of you towards the man with the Irish accent.

“No it’s better than a pep talk. It’s the truth.” Harry says with a playful wink sent your way when he glances down at you before looking back over to his friend. “Oh where are my manners? Pinky this is Niall Horan. Niall this is Pinky she’s the one who I told you used to crack into the campus records and change my D’s into B’s.”

“That’s-that’s not true I ne-never did that.” You shake your head and fumble with your words as Niall looks from Harry down to you with a warm smile that you would return if you could manage to look at him but instead you just decide to look down at his shoes as your whole face feels like it’s on fire as soon as you feel his eyes on you.

“She’s just being modest.” Harry gives your side a soft pinch, something he knows will get a little giggle out of you. “She’s a wiz on the computer that’s why she works in a dark little corner office for some cyber security company and gets paid to try to hack into things to find holes in their security systems.” You want to crawl into a hole as Harry tries to make your job sound way cooler than it is when in reality you’re just an accomplished computer nerd who gets to spend her days in peaceful solitude while typing away at the keyboard and staring at her monitors.

“Really? That’s so cool.” Niall’s voice doesn’t hold an ounce of sarcasm instead it’s full of awe as if he’s actually really impressed by your job, and you’d be able to really tell how impressed he is if only you’d dare to look up at his face but you’re not ready yet.

“Oh thanks but it’s actually not that cool.” You say in one long breath as you begin to mess with the ring on your index finger, trying your hardest not to let your awkwardness ruin the mood. Moments like this make you wish you were more outgoing and not so anxious and shy when it comes to meeting new people, but you can’t help it sometimes especially when your mind is elsewhere instead of trying to focus on forming complete sentences in front of an Irish dude named Niall Horan.

“Looks like you’re being summoned.” Niall’s words have you finally looking up from his feet and that’s when you get a real glimpse of his face. You feel your mouth go dry when you notice just how handsome he is and his eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so blue before.

“Pinky? You still in there or did you leave us?” You blink a few times as Harry waves his ring clad hand in front of your face.

“What? Sorry did-did you say something?” You stutter as Niall tries to hide the smile that wants to take over his face at the fact he caught you staring at him by bringing his drink up to his lips to take a sip. Harry laughs and shakes his head as he turns you around so he can lead you towards the front of the tables where you’re meant to stand to give your speech.

“Take a few deep breaths okay? I really meant it when I said you’ll be fine. This room is full of people who either don’t know you that well so they won’t really be listening or people who absolutely love you so you’re gonna kill it.” His hand is on your lower back as he maneuvers you around people that are heading off to their assigned seats at one of the many tables.

“Thanks Harry.” You whisper as the two of you finally make it to the little set up for the entertainment that’s set to go on after the speeches and toasts. It’s nothing more than a wooden stool and a microphone with two guitar stands and a piano all being lit up by warm fairy lights that are wrapped around some fake trees that blend in with the rest of the decor of the reception.

“I’ll be right over there.” He points towards the bar making you nod as you swallow down the nerves that are beginning to creep back up. “So if you feel like you’re about to panic just look at me okay? It’s the oldest trick in the book. Just pick something to stare at in the back of the room and you’ll be fine.” He grabs your hands as you stand next to the microphone, making sure he has your full attention as he bends his knees a bit so he’s eye level with you. “Deep breath Pinky come on.” You follow his instructions and take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose making him smile as he gives your hands a nice squeeze.

“I think-think I’m good now.” You say with a smile making Harry grin as he stands up and lets go of your hands. “Just please don’t tell me if it sucks.” Harry laughs as he leans over and places a quick kiss to your cheek before he turns to head towards the bar.

“So you and uh Pinky seem close?” Niall doesn’t want to come across as suspicious but he can’t help it with the way he saw Harry treat you, he knows his friend is a very touchy feely person but he hasn’t ever known him to act like that with people he isn’t at least sort of interested in.

“I’ve known her for years.” Harry answers with a shrug all while never taking his eyes off the stage area as he leans back against the bar, Niall copies his movements after placing his half empty glass down on the bar top. “I don’t see her as often as I used to when we were in college because she doesn’t really get out much.” He adds as he runs a hand through his hair while Niall turns his focus towards the stage just in time to see you mess with the microphone stand trying to adjust its height.

“She seems-”

“Shy? Anxious? Awkwardly adorable?”

“Honestly? All three.” That answer makes Harry look over at Niall who is staring at you with a soft expression on his face making a smile tug at the corner of Harry’s mouth because he can tell Niall is at the very least intrigued by you.

“She doesn’t like large crowds or meeting new people. That’s especially tricky for her. When I met her at a party back in college it was because I accidentally bumped into her and when I went to apologize I swear her whole body turned pink she was so embarrassed as if it was her fault I ran into her.” Harry laughs at the memory of meeting you back in his wild party days when he had long hair and walked around with an attitude that made it seem like he didn’t have a care in the world, you’d argue that the only thing that’s changed about him is his hair is shorter now.

“And you managed to get her to want to be friends with you?” Niall questions with a quirked brow as he turns his attention away from you and over to Harry who shoots him a glare.

“I didn’t really give her a choice. She made me nervous to leave her alone after that because she just didn’t seem comfortable and I was worried someone would be an asshole about it so yeah I just forced my friendship on her and eventually she gave in.” It all starts to click in Niall’s mind as Harry divulges more details about his friendship with you. You’re someone he feels protective of and that seems to be a common thing among your friends, they all want to make sure you feel comfortable and safe.

“Uhm hello how is everyone?” Niall and Harry both turn their attention towards the stage as your voice hits their ears, amplified by the microphone you have a death grip on. “Incase you don’t know me I’m the maid of honor.” Niall smiles as you introduce yourself and he finally gets to hear what your actual name is.

Harry watches you like a proud older brother as you start in on your speech, his eyes are glued to you as he watches you look around the tables at all the people sitting and staring at you. Only when he sees your cheeks get flushed does he being to slightly panic that you’re about to have a moment where your nerves get the best of you making you stutter and stumble over your words. But to his surprise you seem to have taken his advice, he watches as your eyes shift over towards the back where he’s stood leaning against the bar but it’s not his eyes you’re staring into it’s the sapphire blue ones that belong to his friend that’s standing right next to him.

Everything happens in what feels like a blur and suddenly people are clapping and the best man is walking up towards you so he can begin his speech. Offering you a warm smile and a quick hug before he takes the microphone from you, whispering his praises for the kind words you spoke about Ginger and the happy couple in your ear making you blush. You give a few small waves to your friends and blow a kiss to Ginger and Allen as you pass them on your way to the bar so you can get something to wash your nerves down with.

“That was a lovely speech Pinky you did so good.” Harry’s voice is full of pride as he approaches you with open arms right before you reach the bar. “I’m so proud of you.” You smile as your arms wrap around his middle while his go around your shoulders pulling you into a warm hug.

“It didn’t suck?” You ask quietly making Harry laugh as he gives you a squeeze.

“It was perfect.” He answers as you pull away and look up at him. He leans down so his lips are close to your ear. “Niall was quite impressed as well. Couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.” He whispers making your heart feel as if it could burst out of the chest with how fast it’s beating.

“Oh uh really? I didn’t-didn’t notice.” Harry just laughs as your face gets warm and you stumble a bit trying to get your words out in a rush.

“Is that so?” You know he’s teasing you as the two of you pull away but Harry keeps a hand on your arm. “You didn’t notice he was staring at you while you were also staring right at him?” You feel your eyes go a bit wide at Harry’s question, you didn’t even realize you had been staring at Niall until a little towards the end of your speech when you looked away from him and towards Ginger and Allen. “Don’t worry I’m not jealous or anything.” He jokes as he gives your arm a squeeze before leaning in and placing another kiss to your cheek.

“Keep a seat open for me okay? I don’t want to be stuck at the losers table.” You roll your eyes as he drops his hand from your arm and steps around you towards the stage area where the best man is still giving his speech.

“My table is for the bridal party Harry you can’t sit with me.”

“I know the bride and I know how to party so that sounds like the exact table I should be at.” You laugh and shake your head at his response, not bothering to argue with him because you know he will just work his charm on an unsuspecting bridesmaid and end up sitting at the table anyway. With a final wink and grin sent your direction Harry is off leaving you able to finish the short walk to the bar so you can order a drink.

“Sparkling water with lots of lemon please.” The bartender just smiles and nods before working on your very uncomplicated drink order.

“Aren’t you missin somethin with that order?” Niall feels a twinge of guilt hit him when he sees you jump at the sound of his voice. “Sorry didn’t meant t’scare you.” He quickly apologizes as he takes a small step towards you just as you get your drink handed to you.

“Oh you-uhm uh did-didn’t scare me.” You want to curl up in a ball at how dumb you sound trying to get an extremely simple sentence out but you just blame it on the post speech jitters and try to move on. “And uhm I don’t really drink but I like-like the bubbles and it looks like a cocktail so no one notices.” Niall nods along as you explain your drink choice to him, feeling a small bubble of pride grow in his chest at the fact you’re sharing a personal little fact with him.

“That’s brilliant.” He can’t help but smile as he leans his hip against the bar so he is now fully facing you, he doesn’t mind that you haven’t looked at him yet he knows you’re shy and honestly he is enjoying the freedom of being able to look at you without the worry of being caught. “Your speech was great.” He catches the way your cheeks get red and a smile takes over your face as his words hit your ears.

“Thank you Niall.” The way your voice sounds when it says his name makes Niall wants to hear you say it over and over again because it makes his heart flutter a bit in his chest. “So are you uh here with Harry?” You finally find the courage to turn your head to look at him, or at least down at his hand that is wrapped around a glass of brown liquid with two ice cubes that he has resting on the bar.

“M’actually the entertainment for tonight’s festivities Harry got me the gig so he’s gonna be my guitarist for a few songs he helped me write.” Niall takes a moment to let his eyes roam over your figure as you continue to just look at his hand that is now gripping the glass with a little more force than he was a moment ago.

“Oh I uhm didn’t know Harry played guitar.” Your words snap Niall out of his only slightly inappropriate thoughts as his eyes find yours. If he didn’t have such good control of himself he would’ve been startled by you suddenly deciding to look him in the eyes but instead he just stares right back at you, matching your intensity.

“Ah well then yer in for a treat tonight. He’s actually pretty decent at it.”

“And you-uhm you-”

“Sing? Yeah I sing and play the piano as well as the guitar.” He finishes your question for you making you give him a soft smile as a silent thank you because it lets you know he can tell you’re a little flustered but he isn’t making a big thing out of it like some people tend to do.

“I’ve always wanted to learn the piano.” You tell him as you look away, needing a moment to regather your thoughts and get your heartbeat under control.

“I could teach you.” Niall tosses the offer out there in hopes it’ll give him an excuse to get your number but when you look like a dear that’s been caught in a set of headlights he regrets how casual he made it sound because surely you’re probably assuming that’s a line he uses all the time but it’s not. Niall honestly hates teaching people how to play instruments especially since the last person he taught how to play something was Harry when he begged him to teach him the guitar, but for you he’d make an exception because he just wants to spend more time with you.

“I uh don’t-”

“We have a situation.” You feel a hand on your shoulder taking your attention away from Niall and over towards Heather, a bridesmaid and Allen’s younger sister.

“Oh okay what’s wrong?” You try not to panic while a few dozen scenarios begin to play out in your mind of what the situation could be as you turn so your back is facing the bar.

“Harry is trying to add a seat-”

“I’ll get him.” Niall’s voice makes both you and Heather turn to look at him, he downs the rest of his drink setting the empty glass on the bar before he heads off towards the curly haired man causing havoc at the bridal party table.

“Who is that?”

“Niall Horan.”

“He’s cute.”

“Oh I uh yeah if you’re in-into that kinda look.”

“And Irish.”

“Is he? I didn’t-uhm didn’t notice.”

“Right.” She drags out the word while giving you a knowing look as your eyes land on Niall as he grabs Harry by the shoulders and begins leading him off towards the stage set up.

“Harry you’re gonna get us kicked out of your own friend’s wedding for Christ sake get it together.” Niall whispers harshly in Harry’s ear as his grip on his shoulders tightens.

“Oh relax I was just checking if any of the bridesmaids needed anything.” Harry says with a laugh like him trying to squeeze himself in at the table wasn’t that big of a deal, he shrugs himself loose of Niall’s grip and sends him a playful smirk. “Besides you’re the one who would get us kicked out with how much of a poor mess you’re making Pinky over there.” Niall stops in his tracks the moment Harry mentions you, not following Harry up onto the stage.

“What do you mean? I’ve been nothin but polite to her.” Harry grabs his guitar that’s set up on stage and turns to face Niall who looks like he’s about to have a mini panic attack making Harry laugh.

“She hasn’t been this much of a blushing and fumbling mess since-well since I met her.”

“I think it’s cute the uh way she blushes all the time and messes up her words a bit.”

“Yeah well the way you’ve got her acting like a shy little schoolgirl surely won’t go unnoticed by Allen and Ginger.” Harry explains as he begins to mess with his guitar making sure it’s good to go for the first two songs Niall has set for the evening. “Those two are like her personal security but don’t worry Ginger is a sweetheart but Allen he-he can be a real wanker when he wants to be.” Niall runs a hand through his hair as he steps up onto the stage and grabs his own guitar.

“So if I win over the bride you think I could maybe get her number? Or you think she’d freak out if I asked her for it? M’not trying to push her over the edge or anything.” Niall looks at Harry as he adjusts the strap of his guitar he has over his shoulder. Harry takes a moment to think before he gives Niall a grin and reaches for his phone in the front pocket of his slacks.

“Oh what the hell you’re a nice guy.” Niall rolls his eyes at Harry’s statement as he watches him tap the screen a few times until he finds your contact information. “I’ll give you her number.” With that Harry shares your contact information with Niall who stands there with wide eyes, shocked that Harry just tossed all caution to the wind and sent him your information without even checking with you first.

“But if you hurt her I will kill you with my bare hands.” It’s the casual way Harry threatens Niall that has him believing he really would make good on it, the way the smile leaves his face as he looks Niall dead in the eyes making Niall just swallow hard and nod his head in understanding. With that the smile returns to Harry’s face and he slips his phone back into his pocket before going back to adjusting his guitar strap.

As Niall stands on the stage and gets himself ready to start his set he feels as if someone is looking at him. So when he looks up from the guitar in his hands he quickly realizes who it was as his eyes scan the tables that are situated next to the small dance floor in front of the stage. He watches your face turn a deep shade of pink as you look down at your lap, the bridesmaid sitting next to you giggles as she leans in and whispers something in your ear making you place your hands over your face in embarrassment. He smiles to himself as he looks down at the instrument in his hands, he knows he just met you and that you don’t know each other at all but the idea of you letting him learn more about you has a sense of excitement bubbling up inside of Niall. He just hopes you don’t mind how he ended up with your number but that’s something he is willing to risk because you’re not someone he can see himself forgetting about anytime soon.

[blkkizzat]

Hello Kali-Love!

As i watch Love is blind season 8, I think , a blind date with a Jjk man.

Satoru is making an ass of himself. But he's so funny that you can't stop giggling the whole night. He fully thought it was going to be stupid, but he's forreal having a good time.

Suguru didn't want to go but he came just to meet you. He thought it would be a one date thing but suddenly he's having a fun time and he finds himself asking you on a second date before he even thinks about it.

Nanami, He asked for the set up when he saw your picture on a friend's phone. He wanted this. He went for it. And he's dressed to impress. Hair done well. There's no playing on this. He's going to impress you....and he does that...by not trying too hard. It's a nice restaurant. Nothing too big his biggest indulgence is dressing nice. The second date is happening.

Sukuna only agreed to be there because Utahime was the one vouching. He assumed worst case was he had a snack....but you look a vision. You're well dressed. You don't irritate him. He enjoys sitting in silence with you. Honestly though you're just scared silent. You think he doesn't like you until he gets up, offers you his hand, leads you out and tells you to return in 4 days for your second date.

- 🧠

hiiiii my big 🧠 nonnyy boo! how r u? Doing well i hope babes!

Haha I watched the first episode of s8 (honestly havent watched s7 yet lol) but I need to catch up.

Gojo - Awee i could def see that tbh. hes so goofy and would charm the literal pants of of you.

Suguru - ahh my snobby king, I definitely feel like he would be going in with LOW expectations but hes more obsessed with you than you are with him by the end.

Nanami - that man could bring me a ring on the first date and i'd say yes lmfaoaoao.

Sukuna - (haha i think u mean uraume) but omg thats so hilarious, you just sitting there being like wtf I hope this big monsterous man doesn't eat me and you haven't said anything beyond your name and he is inviting you back for a second date.

Choso - super nervous. he thinks "wow you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen" and to his horror accidentally ends up letting that slip thinking aloud. You think its endearing though and your maternal instincts are screaming, ovaries activating when he talks so proudly about being a big brother and you already can tell he'd make the best daddy.

Toji - is late. he has blood on him that isn't his, from his "job" and you know better than to ask what he does for a living. He at least buys you drinks, although he isn't very talkative about his life or his past. You think the date might be a dud until a drunk guy slaps your ass on your way back to the bathroom and before you can blink Toji proceeds to kick his ass for putting a hand on yours. call it primal instincts but the show of manliness and chivalry has you ready to drop your panties immediately.

[meguwumibear]

The first time Zayne asks you to his house, you bring him a sprig of jasmine. You pass by the flower shop on your way to his apartment on a whim and are inexplicably drawn to the thin, white petals. The shop owner tells you the plant signifies new beginnings which seemed fitting at the time.

The look on Zayne's face when he sees the jasimine is one of pain. The light in his hazel eyes dulls, and the skin between his brows wrinkles. You resist the urge to smooth the folds away with your thumb.

"Sorry," you say, unsure what to make of his expression. You scramble around the kitchen looking for a trash can. He's rich, so it takes you some time to find it. You open cabinet after cabinet in search of the thing. "Didn't want to show up empty handed."

After some awkward fumbling, you manage to locate the can. It’s hidden to the left of the sink behind the recycling bin. The trash is empty save for the bag which smells lightly of lemons.

"Wait," Zayne replies with some urgency, his usually calm voice the most panicked you've ever heard it. His hand presses your fingers securely around the stems before you can dump the arrangement into the trash. "You just surprised me is all."

You let him slowly guide the flowers away from the maw of the garbage, lips still weighed down by an unknown force.

"Don't overthink it," you tell him, unable to guess at the cause of his sadness. Seems you may have crossed some sort of unspoken boundary in your efforts to appear polite.

"They're lovely," he concedes, forcing a smile onto his face, "but they'll die in a few days."

Is that what's got him so upset?

"Hang them upside down before they begin to whither,” you offer. “They'll hold their shape, and after a few weeks you can stick them in a vase and keep them forever."

His brows knit together contemplatively.

"They'll still be dead," he tells you, wearily eyeing the plant.

You shake your head at him, "No, their form will just have changed."

"I'm not very good at tending to plants," he insists.

You shrug at him, busying yourself with finding a vessel for the jasmine.

"Lucky you have me then. I can help you string them up when you're ready to."

He lets you fill a glass with water and plop the jasmine into its new home.

Zayne doesn't say anything for a while. He just stands there, statue still, like he’s an android with stalled programming. His eyes remain fixed on the white petals of the plant, almost accusingly. It feels inappropriate to move for some reason, so you fuss with the placement of the stems, waiting for him to take the reins.

"I was thinking," he eventually starts, gaze still stuck on the jasmine, "that I'd like to dom for you exclusively. As previously stated, I believe we are compatible and that I can provide you with the subbing experience you need."

"Oh," you reply, cheeks heating. You chance a sideways glance at him, but his sights haven’t changed. "Yeah, I'd like that. I haven't seen anyone else since we started our sessions anyway."

"It's settled then," he agrees, eyes finally flicking to you. “Moving forward you’ll come to me when you need something.”

“And you’ll come to me when you do,” you add.

He looks at you funny, but doesn’t argue.

“How do you feel about shower sex?” he asks suddenly, as his mind visibly reconnects with his body. He turns toward you, awaiting your reply.

You flash him a cheeky grin, “Lead the way.”

[thewritingrowlet]

The Road Back to You, ft. tripleS Lee Jiwoo

tags: creampie, (light) daddy kink, rekindled love

length: almost 6k words

author's note: well, here it is: one of the fics that was stuck in the WIP dungeon—have at it, you.

-

“The Cavendish Group says—oh my God, who is it?”

You look at your buzzing phone; Jiwoo’s mother is calling you. You take a few deep breaths to clear your mind before picking up the call.

“Good afternoon, this is Shin Hyunwoo,” you greet her.

“Hi, son—have you been well?”

“Yes, I have, madam. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The woman on the other side pauses for what feels like an eternity.

“It’s about Jiwoo,” she pauses again, “she’s… been quite ill for the past two weeks, and I thought maybe you should pay her a visit.”

Your heart races: you haven’t talked to Jiwoo for almost a year now ever since she walked out your door that one night, and the prospect of seeing the cause of your heartbreak is rather… unsettling.

“I know you’re busy, but if you have time, please consider visiting her.” You can hear the sincerity in her voice, and it’s getting difficult to say no. Your gaze is locked on the large monitor in front of you as you thoughtfully consider her mother’s words. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, you agree to see Jiwoo at her place.

“I’ll tell her you’ll be coming after you get off work.” You can hear the joy in her voice, and it’s getting difficult to calm your racing heart. Your gaze shifts to the window next to you, and reflected on its surface is your smiling face. Eventually, with a chuckle, you admit to yourself that you are indeed excited to see Jiwoo at her place.

-

You take exactly 6 deep breaths before knocking on Jiwoo’s apartment door. Initially, no answer is heard from the other side, but as you prepare to knock again, the door suddenly shifts.

“O-oppa, you’re… actually here…”

You offer her a tentative smile, unable to tell whether she’s excited to see you or not.

“Yes, I am—erm, your mother asked if I could visit you, so…” You trail off, hoping that Jiwoo will catch on. A smile of similar nature stretches over her face. “Please get inside, oppa.”

Jiwoo invites you to sit on the sofa with her, and after you’re seated, she asks for permission to rest her head on your shoulder for “old times sake.” With a smile on her face, you grant her that permission. “Thank you,” she mutters softly as she leans against you. Your eyebrows furrow when you feel her hot temple on your skin. “You’re that sick, baby?” Jiwoo pretends to have missed the endearment, biting her lower lip to stop herself from blushing. “Yes, oppa; it’s been pretty bad.”

You offer Jiwoo to rest her head on your thighs, and without saying a word, she takes you up on it. Not only that, but she also guides your hand towards her forehead. “Hm, hot,” you blurt. She nods slightly. “My head hurts too,” she complains, sighing deeply at the end. You bite your tongue slightly as you think whether you want to ask her this question in your head. “Ah, screw it.” The suddenness confuses Jiwoo. “Screw what, oppa?”

“Can I take you to the bedroom, baby?”

Jiwoo’s blinks rapidly; she hasn’t heard you say such a sentence in a long while, and now, merely minutes after your return, she hears it again, thus causing her cheeks to turn pink.

“Y-yes, oppa; p-please take me to the bedroom.”

Jiwoo nuzzles her face in the crook of your neck as you’re lifting her bridal-style to her room. “Mm, you still smell the same,” she comments. You chuckle a little. “I just keep buying the same perfume and cologne,” you say. She nods against your skin. “Don’t ever change them, please; I love the smell of you, oppa.” Your eyebrows rise; does Jiwoo realize she’s saying all this like she was still your girlfriend?

“Ah, whatever—not the time to think about it.”

You carefully lower Jiwoo onto her bed, and that is when she tightens her arms around your neck. “Don’t leave me—please, not again,” she begs. You sigh deeply. “What do you mean not again, Jiwoo-yah?” She looks at you in the eyes. “You know what I mean, oppa, so please don’t leave me, not when I need you most.” You sigh again. “You were the one who broke us up, sweetheart; I was just respecting your decision.”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she feels the weight of regret of the decision that led to her stepping out of your door and, in turn, your life. “I-I was… reckless, to say the least—I-I’ve now realized that I can’t leave without you.” You stay silent, indirectly asking her to keep talking. “I’m so, so sorry for leaving you, oppa,” her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, “I should’ve been more patient, more understanding…”

It warms your heart that Jiwoo understands the significance of her decision to leave the relationship and is welcoming about your return. Before guilt overwhelms her, you throw her a lifebuoy in the form of a soothing touch of hand to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I think we’ve both learned our lessons—for now, let’s just focus on recovering.” She smiles slightly. “Please join me in bed, oppa.”

You slide onto the bed as she asks, spooning her from behind just like how you used to. “This is… so nice,” she sighs, seemingly in relief, “thank you for making time for me, oppa; I know you’re busy and all that.” You give her a soft peck to the back of her head. “You have a special place in my heart and mind, Jiwoo-yah—not to mention that your mom was quite good at persuasion.” Jiwoo giggles. “A chip of the old block, or something like that.”

-

Time ticks by as you spend a few hours spooning the sick woman, and now that your eyes are open again, you see that it’s quite dark outside the window.

“Jiwoo-yah,” you whisper softly, “I think we should find something to eat.” Jiwoo stretches languidly as she gets herself together. “What time is it?” You look at your watch. “Almost 9 p.m.” She exhales deeply. “Can we have food sent here, because I don’t feel like going out.” You ask what she wants to have. “Anything that’s warm like you.” Your heart jumps. “Warm like me, you say?” She nods with a smile. “Warm like you, oppa—that’s what I need right now.”

You quickly order some noodle soup for both of you. “Food will be here in around 20 minutes, sweetie, so please hang on.” Jiwoo places a hand on yours. “Thank you, oppa; I appreciate it.” Once again, you give her a peck to the back of her head. “The pleasure is mine, sweetie—thank you for welcoming me again.” She sighs deeply. “Can’t we just pretend like we never broke up?” Well, isn’t that a good question. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean we haven’t seen each other for almost a year.”

You spend the time cuddling the sick woman whose (literal) hotness gradually becoming a source of concern. Thankfully, however, you’ve received notification that the food has been delivered to her door, which means that she’ll soon be able to take her medicines and get some rest.

Jiwoo reluctantly lets you go from the embrace. “Come back quickly, oppa,” she begs, her voice barely above a whisper. You give her a nod before stepping out of the bedroom to get the food from the door. You prepare the noodle soup for her, opening the bowl-like container and putting a spoon in it.

You help Jiwoo sit and lean against the headboard to support her weak frame. “May I feed you?” She nods with a faint pink on her cheeks. You take a spoonful of only the soup for her to taste. “Is that good?” Jiwoo sighs. “Not as good as expected, but that’s probably because I’m ill.”

You tend to Jiwoo with utmost patient, feeding her carefully until she finishes her food—or not; she’s weakly pushing your hand away from her lips. “That’s enough food,” she says. It’s unfortunate that she’s calling it quit now that there’s only two spoonsful of noodle soup left. “Baby, finish it, please?” She turns her face away from you, signaling that she really doesn’t want it. “Okay, if you say so.”

You place the unfinished food on the bedside table and ask where her medicines are. “I don’t want them too.” You sigh. “Baby, please, I just want to help.” Realizing that she can’t counter-argue, Jiwoo points at the drawer of the bedside table. When you open it, you notice that she has only taken her medications twice. “You’ve been skipping your meds, baby?” Jiwoo doesn’t answer your question, and that is when you sigh for the nth time.

You carefully turn her face towards you. “Baby, what’s happening right now—you’ve been ill for almost two weeks, but you haven’t been taking your medicines.” A tear flows out onto her cheek. “I-I’m sorry, b-but I just… I haven’t been feeling so well recently, if you know what I’m saying.” You hesitantly reach to pet her head. “Will you please cooperate for now? I’ll walk out of your life again when you’ve gotten better.”

Jiwoo breaks down into tears. “A-are you listening to yourself, oppa? Y-you’re saying that you’ll leave me again—are you fucking serious?” You wipe her tears with your thumb. “Baby, that’s not what I was trying to say; I’m just saying that I need you to work with me so that you can fully recover.” She closes her eyes tightly before looking back at you. “A-alright, I-I’ll… I’ll cooperate—j-just promise that you won’t leave me after this.” You offer her some assurance that you’ll stay, and that is when Jiwoo signals that she’s willing to take her medicines.

You prepare her capsules and pills along with a glass of water. “Ready when you are, baby.” Jiwoo takes the medicines from your hands and quickly swallows them. “Are you happy now?” You shake your head. “I won’t be happy until you’re healthy again.” She chuckles. “Hard to please, as always,” she snarks. A flicker of hurt crosses your features, but you quickly shake it off; right now, Jiwoo’s health is more important than your feelings.

Jiwoo moves to lie down, facing away from you dismissingly. “I’ll be at the living room if you need me,” you say. You give her some soft pats on the thigh as you make to leave to give her space to rest. You stop at the door, hoping that she’ll call you to cuddle her to sleep, but it doesn’t look like she wants it. “Yeah, okay,” you mutter as you close the door behind you.

You take a few deep breaths after sinking your butt into the fluffy cushions of the sofa. “Jiwoo has taken her meds and is sleeping right now,” you send a text to her mother, notifying her of Jiwoo’s current condition. “Thank you, son,” she replies soon after, and with it, you close your eyes to get a taste of peace.

Just minutes into your slumber, you feel someone wrapping their arms around you from behind while placing their chin on the top of your head. “Hm? Are you okay, sweetie?” “No,” she answers weakly. “Cuddle, please?” You collect yourself and stand up from the sofa. “I’m sorry, I just thought maybe you needed some space.” Jiwoo bites her lip in uncertainty. “I thought so too, but I think it’d be better if you’re with me.”

You follow her back to the bedroom, lying down square on your back while Jiwoo puts her head on your chest. “I’m sorry for being difficult, oppa; you’re here to help, but I’m not playing along.” You pet her head softly while offering some assurance, denying her attempt at guilt-tripping herself. “I wish… we hadn’t broken up…” she trails off as she drifts to sleep.

-

-

Subtle taps on your stomach stir you awake, and through your half-open eyes, you see Jiwoo sitting in bed next to you with a bottle (that’s more akin to a jerrycan) in her hands. “Can I help you?” She nods as she brings the bottle closer to you. “Can you, erm, get me some water, please?” You rub your eyes to wake up and take the bottle from her. “Sure, baby.”

You arrive at the kitchen where the dispenser is—wait, what is that hanging on the fridge?

You free the folded paper from the magnet and read the content, noticing the frequent strikethroughs right away.

“Dear ex-boyfriend,” the letter starts. "Thank you for making the time to come here and take care of me. It means a lot to me that you still care about me, and I don’t want to sound too hopeful, but I wish we can start over from square one.”

“So, can we start again?” Her voice makes you jump. “Answer me, oppa; can we start again? Will you give me another chance?" You turn to her with a sigh. “Let’s… focus on getting better for now.” Your indecisive answer disappoints Jiwoo, her eyes shining with unshed tears of unspoken dismay. “Sure, if you say so…” she trails off as she enters the bedroom again with slouched shoulders.

When you return to the bedroom, you find her curled up in bed, hugging her knees. “Jiwoo-yah, your water,” you say, hoping that she’ll get out of that position. “I’m not thirsty,” she replies, her voice barely audible. You set the filled bottle on the bedside table. “Well, it’s here if you need it.”

Your hand lingered on the bottle just a second too long, and Jiwoo is quick to find your wrist, gripping it weakly. “Stay,” she begs, “I don’t want to be alone again.” It’s disheartening to see the usually cheerful girl like this. “Alright, I’ll be in bed with you.”

Jiwoo tangles her long limbs around your body to keep you close. Not only that, but she also puts her head on your chest. “Your heart is racing,” she comments. You chuckle. “So is my mind.” She looks up at you with hopeful eyes. “I hope you’re thinking about getting back together.” You exhale deeply. “Well, I am, actually.” Jiwoo is getting excited. “So?” You take a deep breath before replying.

“Well, I think… I think I’m falling for you again.”

Jiwoo gathers her strength and moves to straddle your lap, a mysterious grin spreading across her features. “Why are you looking at me like that, baby?” She chuckles. “I want to make love to celebrate getting back together.” Blood rushes towards your cock at her words, but you don’t give into lust as you would’ve in the past. “Baby, you’re still sick—weren’t you complaining about a headache earlier?” She shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she deflects.

Jiwoo’s grin falters when she gets the signal from your stern expression. “Ah, well, I suppose I should get better first.” She then proceeds to let her torso rest on yours. “Thank you, oppa,” she mutters. You press your lips against her temple. “We will have time for celebrations, baby—not now, though.”

-

When you wake up the following morning, Jiwoo’s limbs are still entangled with yours as she sleeps oh-so-peacefully with her mouth slightly open. You carefully free yourself from the embrace, not wanting to disturb her slumber any further, but despite that, Jiwoo wakes up.

“Going somewhere?” she asks, her voice hoarse. “I have to go to work; we’re trying to strike a deal with Covington.” Jiwoo furrows her eyebrows. “Covington? The same Covington from years ago?” You nod. “The one and only.” Jiwoo offers you a supportive smile. “Go get them, then, tiger—make yourself rich.” You chuckle. “Thanks, baby.”

Jiwoo’s smile begins to disappear as she watches you put on your jacket and walk out of the bedroom. “I miss you already, oppa,” she mutters, too quiet to reach your ears. She sighs deeply when she hears your car driving away. “See you later, I guess.”

Jiwoo spends some more time rolling around in bed, and at one point, she wonders if she could pretend like her illness is coming back just so she would have a chance to call you back home. As she scrolls down on her contact list, however, she decides against it; Jiwoo remembers that you’re trying to strike a deal with Covington.

The unhappy-but-understanding Jiwoo eventually gathers her will to leave the bed, stretching around and yawning as she gets herself together. She walks over to the mirror to take a look at herself; her hair is a mess, her lips are anything but red in color, and her eyes are, well, red.

“Whatever”, she shrugs, “still good enough for him.”

Jiwoo proceeds to make her way to the bathroom for a quick soap-less shower before heading towards the living room to entertain herself while you’re away doing God-knows-what. She picks up her handheld console to play the new game she bought some days ago, but she puts it down after a few minutes of gameplay; the bright and flashing lights are proving to be difficult to bear in sickness.

Jiwoo lies flat on the sofa, her mind wandering beyond the walls of her apartment. “What are you doing, oppa, and when are you coming back,” she wonders. A ding from the door makes her jump; could it be you coming back early to surprise her?

Jiwoo rushes to look through the peeping hole in the door, and excitement instantly goes away because it’s not you who’s at the door, but rather a food delivery guy. She puts on a face that screams “I’m sick” and opens the door to accept the food. “A delivery for Mrs. Shin,” the guy says as he brings the bag closer to her. Jiwoo blushes at the reference, but before her mind scrambles even further, she quickly grabs the bag from him. “H-has m-my husband tipped you?” The guy nods with a smile on his face. “Your husband was very generous with the tip, actually.” Jiwoo smiles in pride. “That’s… how he usually is.”

Jiwoo quickly sends the delivery guy on his way, closing and locking the door behind her before high stepping towards the sofa while giggling, the discomfort of illness forgotten for a moment. She pulls out the contents of the bag, which turns out to be a large box of pizza and a side of snacks from a place named Primo, her old favorite.

Jiwoo’s forehead furrows when she notices a folded piece of paper stuck on the cover of the pizza box. “What is this,” she wonders as she unfolds it.

“Hi, baby,

I’m sorry for leaving you alone this morning, but I promise I will come back as soon as possible. That is, if you’d let me come back.

Meanwhile, please enjoy the pizza and garlic bread. I asked for extra tartar sauce because I know how much you like Primo’s tartar. By the way, feel free to finish it all.”

With a smile on her face, Jiwoo presses the letter against her chest, both touched and entertained by the gesture. “Come back to me soon, oppa; I can’t stand being away from you for too long.” She puts down the letter on the table and shifts her attention to the 8 slices of delight and deliciousness in front of her.

One slice after another enters her mouth and towards her belly, and before she knows it, there’s only one slice of pizza left while the box of garlic bread hasn’t been touched at all. “I’m keeping you for later,” she says.

-

Another ding is heard from the door, and this time, she’s certain that it’s you instead of another delivery guy, considering the current time.

Jiwoo squeals when she sees you through the peephole, and in a moment of excitement, she happens to incorrectly enter the code of the door. “Oh, are you serious right now, Lee Jiwoo,” she’s annoyed at herself, “come on, come on—there we go.”

Jiwoo greets you with arms wide open, no longer showing signs of weakness from the illness, and you’re quick to fill the space in her embrace. “Oppa, welcome home!” You give her a peck to the temple. “Thank you for welcoming me back.” She returns the peck, but it lands on your lips instead. “You’re always welcome here—after all, we’re getting back together.”

Jiwoo pulls away from the embrace momentarily and looks at you in the eyes. “Wait, we’re getting back together, right?” You chuckle. “Only if you want to; I won’t force you into giving me another chance.” She takes the turn to chuckle. “You don’t have to force me; I’m already falling for you for the second time.”

Jiwoo drags you towards the sofa, the box of reheated garlic bread waiting on a table in front of it. “I finished the pizza right away, oppa, but I saved this for you.” Her cute joyfulness makes it irresistible to not smile. “Thanks, but can I ask you something first, baby?” She nods. “Ask away, oppa.”

“You didn’t forget your meds, did you?”

Jiwoo’s gaze strays away from yours at the realization that she forgot to take her medicine twice today. “I-I forgot, oppa…” she trails off, no longer as joyful as earlier. “You forgot, huh?” She gulps to swallow the anxiety that’s stuck in her throat. “Y-yes, oppa; I-I forgot, a-and I’m sorry.”

You get on your knees in front of her. “What could you possibly have been doing that made you forget about your meds, hm?” Jiwoo’s chin gets stuck to her chest as tears begin spilling out. “O-oppa, p-please don’t get angry.” You sigh. “I’m not angry, sweetheart—I’m a bit disappointed, though.”

You ignore Jiwoo’s sobs momentarily to get the bag of medicine from the bedroom, and with it in hand, you kneel in front of her again. “Take them, please,” you say, placing the bag on her thighs. She holds the bag tightly, still unable to calm herself down from getting the brunt of your stern attitude.

You carefully reach for her cheeks, wiping her tears with your thumbs. “Baby, you know I mean well, right? I just want to help you recover as quickly as possible.” Jiwoo sniffles. “B-but you’re still as s-scary as you used to be, oppa.” You sigh again, and you can feel anger dissipating from your mind. “I’m sorry, baby; I didn’t mean it like that.” Jiwoo suddenly hugs you tightly. “Leave your businessman charade at the door; I-I need my boyfriend right now,” she begs. You nod. “Of course, baby.”

You lift Jiwoo on one shoulder—while your free hand grabs the box of garlic bread—and carry her towards the bedroom. You then lower her onto the bed, positioning her to sit right on the edge of it. “Can I entertain you with some garlic bread, baby?” She nods feebly. You guide a piece of bread towards her lips while using your other hand to pet her head tenderly, and Jiwoo rests her head against your shoulder as she munches.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart; I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Jiwoo hums. “I know you meant well, but there’s something about that stern look of yours that always scares me shitless.” You chuckle a bit. “Yeah, anyway,” you stand up and hand her the bag of medicine, “I want to see you take these meds right now.” Jiwoo does as you demand and takes her pills together with one swig of water from the glass you’ve provided. “Satisfied, my lord?” You scoff. “Yes, I am.”

“Now,” Jiwoo’s voice drops to a sultry tone, “don’t you think I deserve a reward for being such a good girl?” You exhale deeply. “A reward, you say—what kind of reward are you seeking, my sweet?” Jiwoo palms your crotch with one hand. “One that will make me scream until I lose my voice.” She smirks when she notices the way you’re getting hard under her touch.

“Please, daddy.”

Jiwoo beams when your suit jacket falls off your shoulders, going as far as biting her lip—quite sexy, admittedly. She follows your hands as they undo the buttons of your shirt from the top. She halts your movements when your fingers land on your belt. “That’s mine, daddy.” She unlatches your belt and swiftly zip down your trousers.

“Daddy,” she looks up at you with big eyes, “may I…?” Your permission comes in the form of a wordless nod, and that is when Jiwoo yanks your boxers downwards. Her jaw drops when your sizeable and hard cock is laid bare right before her eyes. “I’ve missed you, daddy.” You scoff. “Me or my dick?” Still enamored with your cock, Jiwoo answers, “Yes.”

You gently push Jiwoo backwards, thus making her land on her back on the soft mattress. Jiwoo invites you to touch her further by parting her legs as wide as she can, and you take this most welcome opportunity by placing a finger on her nub. “Oh, fuck.” Jiwoo arches her back at the first contact. “More, please,” she begs. You continue your teasing ministrations for some time, making Jiwoo’s moans become louder.

“Oh, I’m so close, daddy—God, how am I so close already?” With a smirk on your face, you remove your finger from her nub. Jiwoo screams in agony as orgasm eludes her. “No, no, no, please,” she begs tearily, “w-why did you do that, daddy? H-how could you be so mean to me?” You chuckle. “I’m the mean one? Remind me, who decided to break us up?” Jiwoo slams her head onto the pillow in frustration. “I-it was me, daddy; I-I was so selfish and immature.”

Jiwoo moves to sit and guides your hand towards her cheek. “If you want to slap me, oppa, then slap me.” She tenses as you lift your hand, seemingly to prepare to slap her, but she quickly relaxes again when your touch is a soft one. “You know I would never harm you like that.”

Jiwoo rubs against your hand like a cat. “That doesn’t change the fact that it hurt so bad, though,” you say. She nods. “I understand—hell, I still ask myself as to why I decided to leave.” You smile a little, hiding the pain behind a simple charade. “Well, you said you were looking for something I didn’t have.” Jiwoo looks up at you with shiny eyes. “I’ve learned that the safety and comfort you provided were second to none—you were the right person who came at the wrong time.”

For some reason, her declaration sends shiver down your spine; you swear you’ve heard this somewhere before.

“So, what convinced you to take another chance to be with me, baby?” A tear escapes Jiwoo’s eyes. “I long for the warmth and love that only you can provide, my love,” she answers, her voice thick with emotions. “And I just—”

Before she can finish, you crash your lips into hers, thus interrupting her speech. “I love you, Lee Jiwoo; I love you so, so much.” Jiwoo nods as more tears come out of her eyes. “I-I love you too���t-thank you for giving me another chance.”

Jiwoo suddenly pulls you onto the bed with her. “Hold me close, oppa,” she begs, and you comply right away. She lets out whimpers into your chest, showing vulnerability like she would in the past.

“I don’t know if this will help make you feel better, but I never saw anyone when you were away from me,” you confess. Jiwoo looks up at you. “R-really? Y-you kept yourself, erm, clean?” You nod at her question, and that is when she hugs you more tightly than earlier. “You knew we’d get back together, didn’t you, oppa?” You give her a peck on the top of her head. “I guess I did.”

After crying to her heart’s content, Jiwoo pulls away from your embrace. “Now, where were we before you made me cry, oppa?” You chuckle. “Well, I denied your orgasm,” you say. Jiwoo reaches for your arm, grazing it with the tip of her fingers. “Would you be so kind as to let me have an orgasm, daddy?”

“Only if you’ll ride me.”

Jiwoo agrees to your term, straddling your lap without being told twice. “You know, daddy,” she licks her bottom lip, “I didn’t see anyone when you were away from me either.” She bends down until her mouth is next to your ear. “It will feel like you’re popping my cherry again, daddy.”

Your grip on her hips fastens at the prospect of feeling her tight walls around your cock. “Excited, aren’t you, daddy? I know I am—after all, I haven’t felt your glorious cock in so long.” You pinch her waist. “Just get on with it already, hm?” Jiwoo chuckles. “What daddy wants, daddy gets.”

Jiwoo guides you towards her entrance and slowly impales herself on your shaft. “Oh, fuck, I feel like a virgin again.” She moves her hips up and down along your length at a relaxed pace, taking her time to get reintroduced to your size. “Fuck, daddy,” she moans, “fuck, you’re… stronger than before.” You groan heavily at the feeling of being gripped by her tight walls. “And you’re… tighter than before.” Jiwoo’s aroused face is decorated with a satisfied grin. “All for you, daddy.”

After getting used to your shaft, Jiwoo picks up the pace, and it’s getting harder to ignore her cute, bouncing tits. You pull her closer towards you so your lips can reach them. Jiwoo gasps loudly when you nibble her nipple. “Oh, yes, daddy; suck it, nibble it, bite it—do anything you want, daddy.” With her urge in the back of your mind, you increase the stimulation on her tits; you take turns putting each nipple in your mouth to make sure one doesn’t get jealous of the other.

While you’re busy playing with her tits, Jiwoo is busy riding your shaft while moaning loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—oh, I’m so close already,” she announces. With an ear-piercing scream (that you’re certain can be heard by her neighbors), Jiwoo comes undone on your lap. In her weak state, she crashes into you, panting so heavily because of the intensity of her orgasm. “I… I’ve missed you, daddy—I’ve missed us.” You grit your teeth as her silky walls spasm wildly around your shaft, as if trying to make you blow inside her. “I-I’ve missed you too, baby,” you reply amidst the heavy pants.

After getting down from the high of orgasm, Jiwoo pulls away slightly; her hair is a mess, her eyes are shiny, but her smile is sweet and soft as always. “Oppa, I want…” she trails off as she tries to string together some words. Your eyebrows rise, urging her to continue. “I don’t know,” she sighs, “I just… I want to be tied to you, if that makes sense.” You think about the meaning of her words. “You want something more serious, baby?” She nods, and your brain comes up with an idea.

“Well, in that case, will you marry me, Lee Jiwoo?”

Your sudden question has her in tears.

“Yes, oppa—a million times yes!” She crashes into you for a tight hug. “I will marry you in this life, the next, and the one after that.” Her answer is as good as you hope, making you shed tears of your own. “I will truly be yours, oppa; your queen, your friend, your everything.” You nod, your cheek rubbing against hers. “Thank you, my love—thank you so, so much.” Your embrace grows tighter as you bask in emotions. “Thank you to you too, oppa,” she replies.

Now that the tears are starting to dry up, Jiwoo rises from your lap, thus letting your still-hard cock slip out. She lies square on her back next to you. “Come on, my king; make love to your queen.” You waste no time to take your rightful place between her spread legs. “Can I—” “Yes,” she interjects. “Come inside, my love; fill me with your essence and make me bear your child.” You chuckle. “Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, sweetheart.”

Jiwoo was about to say something else, but before the first syllable could leave her lips, your cock invades her lower ones. “Oh, yes, just like that,” she moans out, “make love to me just like that, my lovely king.” You move your hips at an unhurried pace, savoring the sensation of her tightness. “Oh, God, how are you this tight, baby,” you wonder out loud. She chuckles lightly with a blush on her face. “That’s just how much I love you, oppa.”

Jiwoo closes her eyes as the calm lovemaking progresses, finding it more intimate and enjoyable than kinky or rough sex. Quiet hums of approval also leave her lips occasionally amidst the soft moans. “Mm, yes, my love,” she mutters. “But a bit faster, if you don’t mind?” You smile. “Of course, baby.” You turn up the speed of your movements a few notches, thus earning a smile from Jiwoo. “Yes, that’s perfect, love—now, let’s run to the gates of orgasm together.”

Jiwoo’s sexy moans serve as fuel for you in this final stretch of the sprint towards completion, and the signs of orgasm are getting more apparent; you’re starting to throb inside her. “Fill me, my love.” With her permission in the back of your head, you lodge yourself inside her entirely and just… let go.

In your post-orgasm bliss, you fall limply onto Jiwoo, who is also as weak. “Thank you,” you whisper. A soft peck lands on your cheek. “Thank you, oppa,” she returns the gratitude. “It’s now clear to me that I can’t live without you—I mean, no one can understand me like you do.” You hum. “Promise me that you won’t get bored of me again.” Jiwoo sighs. “Saying it was a huge mistake anyway,” she adds.

-

“It is with utmost joy that I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Shin. May their love grow stronger with each passing day.”

The hall that is filled with family members and closest friends explodes into deafening cheers, as those present are as happy as you and Jiwoo are for the new status.

You and her turn towards the crowd, waving at them, and you happen to spot your brother and his wife giving you four thumbs-ups. You put your hand on your chest to express gratitude to them for their wonderful, restless support for the past few months during the preparation of the wedding.

Jiwoo steals your attention by turning your face towards hers. “I love you, my boring husband.” Her words make you burst out laughing. “Boring means safe, yes?” She nods with an eye smile on her face. “Yes, I feel safe with you,” she says. You quickly capture her lips with yours.

“I feel safe with you too, baby, and I love you more.”

[callme-holly]

dallas x reader where reader is sick and dallas takes care of them ‼️ i love your writing sm your my favorite writer

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 [𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: sorry for not posting y'all. im back tho !!

The room felt too hot and stuffy, despite the open window just beside your bed and the breeze coming in cool from outside, the curtains swaying gently from side to side. Your cover had been kicked to the floor after much battle, and despite the oppressive heat that washed over you whenever you wrapped it around you, without it you were trembling with cold, your whole body prickling with goosebumps. 

You had been drifting in and out of sleep all morning, and despite your parents' protests, you'd convinced them to go to work and that you'd be fine. Your nose was stuffy, your throat raw and burning, your limbs heavy as lead. You felt miserable; there was no other way to put it. You felt down right miserable. 

You were so exhausted that you weren't even aware of the boy climbing in through your window, not until he landed on the floor with a soft thump followed by a resounding groan. It took a lot of effort to lift your head, to force your eyes open, and for a few seconds, his face was blurred and unfocused.

“Dal?” You mumbled, voice barely audible, scratchy and dry.

“Man, you look rough, doll.” 

You felt your whole body sag in relief, all the pain melting away for a second as he stepped towards you, hovering by the edge of your bed uncomfortably. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing: taking care of people when they needed it most. It just wasn’t his forte, but to see you like this, clearly suffering, it created a strange mix of emotion within him.

“Thanks…” You rasped, letting your head fall back against the pillow, and he merelyhummed in response, pressing the back of his hand to your clammy forehead.

“No problem,” he smirked, watching you for a few seconds. “D’you want anything?” The offer was sweet in a way that was so uniquely him, spoken in a way that, to anyone who didn’t know him, would come across as blunt and heartless… But to you, you knew he cared and that he wanted  to help you.

You shake your head, swallowing thickly and forcing your eyes open once more. Your vision was hazy, swimming with nausea. “Just you.” 

Dallas scoffs quietly, chuckling to himself, but he kicks off his shoes nonetheless, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over the back of your chair. “You know, you should have called if you felt this bad.”

You fix him with a pointed look, though it is weak and pitiful. “I did call. You didn’t pick up.” 

“Oh, well…” You watched with a semi-amused expression as he struggles to say something that wasn’t an apology. “I’m a busy guy.”

That earns a small, chesty laugh from you, the action drawing a pitiful little cough from you, and you settle into his side with a tired huff. struggled

“Sure…” You sniffle lightly, closing your eyes and letting your body melt. “I hate feeling sick…” 

Dallas hums in a way that sounds almost sincere for him, rubbing your back gently; you’re surprised he’s here, surprised he knew something was wrong. “Yeah. I know. Ain’t nobody like bein’ sick.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, tender and lingering, and you gasp dramatically, pulling away so quick that your head spins.

"Dal! I've got germs, remember!"

He only rolls his eyes in response, giving you a weird look. "what? On your neck? Ain't like I'm kissing ya properly."

"So? You can still catch whatever this is!" You sound almost exaspered, like a tired mother, your voice hoarse and grating, the mere act of talking making your throat burn like hell.

"Calm down, doll. I'm already sick." And with that he gets comfortable, laying down next to you and reaching for the blanket thrown haphazardly over your legs, cocooning yourself inside its warmth. 

You frown, confusion washing over you. "What? You're sick?" 

"Yeah." He drawls, tracing patterns against your skin. "Love sick." 

[neverenoughmarauders]

A cursed blessing

Written for @Jilymicrofics | WC: 921 | February 2025 prompt: Fables

'Can we read the Tale of the Three Brothers?' 

Harry is looking at Lily with pleading eyes. She knows the look well. It is not too dissimilar to the one she would use as a child to bully her parents into reading her favourite bedtime stories.

It would have been endearing.    

'Not today,' Lily says, feeling her stomach tighten in painful, guilty knots. 

'Please!' 

'Another day.'

'Never, in other words,' Harry says, crossing his arms and sending her an annoyed look.

Even at seven, he is so much like his father. His dark hair sticking up at the back. The same incredulous expression when he doesn't get it his way. He is perfect. 

Lily wants to be the mother Harry deserves. But that is only one of the many things she desires for her son; one of the many things she is unable to give him. 

'Why don't I read it to you?' 

Lily turns to see Sirius in the doorway. He's leaning casually against the wall. Typical. She should have known he would ignore her instructions to wait downstairs. 

Sirius' visits are frequent, but not frequent enough to avoid exciting Harry. It had been a struggle separating the two earlier, convincing Harry he had to go to bed, when Harry knew Sirius wouldn't be there when he woke up again.

Sure enough, upon hearing Sirius' offer, Harry immediately sits up.  

'YES!' Then adding hastily: 'Please, mum!?'

His green eyes are shining brightly with excitement. His favourite story, read by his favourite person. Lily wouldn't have been able to say no even if she had wanted to. 

'Of course,' Lily says, trying to smile; trying to sound like she's not swallowing a sob. 'Just behave yourselves, both of you.'  

She tucks the duvet tighter around her son's body as he lies down again. Despite the painful throbbing in her chest, Lily cannot help but fall even more in love with her son, who is now trying to look like the picture of a well-mannered boy. Unfortunately, he's at a considerable disadvantage. He is James' son after all. 

Once Sirius starts reading, Lily escapes downstairs, closing the door to the living room for good measure. She can't bear to think of that cloak. Sirius had been the one to give it to Harry this year. The last time Lily touched it, she swore never to use it again. 

She hated it. She hated James for giving it to her. To Harry, really. 

The owner of the cloak cannot die, if the legend is to be believed. When James had thrown that cloak to her as the door burst open, he had made his choice. In the fraction of a second he could have grabbed his wand, he had chosen the third Hallow, the way his ancestor had. The real power of the cloak is to protect others. Dumbledore had tried to explain this to her later. 

The cloak remains a cursed blessing. Safety at a great cost. The offer of a future, but one which Lily has only partially been able to live. 

James' quick thinking had enabled him to fool Voldemort. He had raced into the corridor, knowing, perhaps, that he was running towards his own death. His last words had been a plea to Lily to take Harry and run. A lie. Lily was not to run. She understood that much. Not then. Just keep still until the right moment.

There had been a flash of green light. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor. It's not James, she had told herself, knowing she was lying. Then she had seen the hooded figure moving towards the stairs. Voldemort had not seen her. Or Harry, who she had pressed closely to her chest, reminding herself why she couldn't fight. Why she couldn't take her revenge. Why, above all, she had to keep living. 

James' cloak had done its job. As she heard Voldemort reach the upstairs landing, she had started moving as quickly as she could manage towards the door. There was no other way out. 

Silently. Invisible. Petrified. Harry's life depended on her not getting caught before she could apparate. 

What kind of mother puts a silencing charm on their child? What kind of wife steps over her husband's corpse? 

'You okay?'

Sirius' question pulls her back to the present moment. He has taken an armchair across from her. 

'No,' she answers bluntly. 'You?'

'As well as I can be,' Sirius says, leaning back and studying her with his grey eyes. 'Spending my day with my Godson and - you.' 

There's a moment's hesitation before he says the final word. Once upon a time, Sirius had used to call her his best friend. 

'And what in Merlin's name does that make me?' James had complained. 

'I would have thought that was obvious,' had been Sirius' constant reply, often accompanied by raised eyebrows. 'My best friend's husband, of course.'

But with James gone, some words; some phrases; some feelings had been stripped away from both of them. Sirius could no longer use the two words because they belonged to someone else. James. His James. Her James. 

Lily met Sirius' eyes. It was a very Sirius like reply. As well as he can be. Because 'fine', 'good', 'happy', are unavailable words—are unavailable emotions. They're not fine. 

They are alive, because they owe James that much. And because James left her something more precious to her than anything else in the world. He left a bit of himself. He gave her Harry.