#or was it more of a thing to show they both still have feelings?

[chronicdelusionistsart]

So I have been watching Danny Phantom for the first time ever with my friends and I'd kind of previously known about its reputation as a show whose fanbase dives a lot more into the lore than the show is willing to. And I guess I hadn't really understood why until now (I just finished Season 2!). Here's my sort of rambling thoughts on it.

Danny Phantom isn't a show about the horror of ghosts and the dead coexisting in the human realm. It's a show about dropping the most out of pocket lore implications you can imagine on people who in turn say things that would kill a therapist dead equally out of pocket, and then neither are addressed but the watcher has to live with the ghost of the plot that is right behind them but they can't turn around.

DP is a little hit and miss in places, but the very thing that drives people nuts about it is actually I think maybe its greatest strength: it really pulls off show, don't tell effectively. How much of that is intentional is up for debate, but the best episodes kinda leave you wondering, or sputtering like "UH, HEY, BACK UP - HEY BACK UP AND UNPACK THAT -" Is Danny's human body technically alive somehow, or is he a walking corpse? Does Danny have a door in the Ghost Zone? Were Vlad's clones feeling and sentient as they melted into ectoplasm, despite Danny's guess that they weren't? What does it say about Danny that he still erased his parents' memories after finding out they'd accept him as he is?

I think the genius of not answering these questions directly is that it's both funnier AND scarier not to. We can laugh about how fucked up it is and kinda hold our heads like "bro.... did they really just imply that, holy shiiiiiit", and that's really consistent with the emotional core of the show as this knife's-edge dance between teen comedy and horror superhero. Fully explaining the lore or being more direct about how the information is conveyed by and to the characters tips that balance and changes the show into something else, for better or for worse. And I really earnestly like it as it is, even if it's very of its time (sexism.......)! It's a really fun show with some depth to it.

Anyway, I can't wait to watch season 3! I sure hope all these wonderful qualities I like about it hold up!

[nipuni]

Alright, time to share my opinions about Veilguard!! I have both criticism and praise so bear with me as I jump from one extreme to the other 😆 spoilers ahead of course!

The game has a very rough start with the dialogue being formulaic and rushed and the characters overexposing. It feels like a heavy handed attempt at summarizing all of previous games' lore for newcomers or in case you forgot but it's so overdone it feels coddling and trivializes a lot of previous events. Luckily this gets better once all of the introductions are out of the way, though the excessive hints and clarifications continue until the end sadly.

The locations are absolutely incredible and very diverse!! This is a highlight of the game for me. There is so much detail and care in every map and there are so many of them. My pc is struggling to reach medium settings and yet everything looks stunning. The verticality of the maps is so imposing and the graphics have a very dreamy quality that I love. I also enjoy the maze-like structure to the maps, it's more linear but makes everything look a bit more intentional. The color and light direction was amazing, all the visual development really!! it has to be one of the prettiest games I've ever played.

When I started I have to admit it did not feel like I was in Thedas and it all felt a bit theme-parky, if that makes sense. A lot of previously important and established world elements that made Thedas what it is were overlooked or made irrelevant. But the more I played the more it started to feel a bit more similar to Inquisition, for better or worse depending on what you feel about Inquisition. But!! this also feels like a selectively sanitized version of Thedas compared to previous games. In it's attempt to stay safe and uncontroversial in some aspects it loses a lot of substance and it changes the tone. The surface level politics, ignoring previously established major societal issues and a tell-don't-show approach makes the world seem more simple and shallow with no grey areas to explore. ( the humor also falls flat and out of place often too, and WHY is everyone always smirking, enough!! godlike beings are destroying the planet please this is not the time for Marvel banter aaaa )

The pacing at the start is a bit of a mess. It is so fast it felt like jumping from one world shattering discovery to the next with no time to process. The characters also seem to underreact to important information and major developments. It felt like the game was rushing me through all this to get to the part of the story it wanted to tell me while I was still wrapped in my shock blanket trying to catch my breath lmao. I really like all the key story points they touched upon, I just wish they dwelled more on them to give them more narrative weight. ( though blaming every bad thing to ever happen on the Elves was certainly..a choice )

I think the writing could have used more subtlety in the first half and more boldness in the second 😆 but I loved the thematic parallels between Rook and Solas and how every quest informs the main storyline. I do wish Rook was given more impossible choices and put in more difficult situations that forced them to lie or betray their own to better drive the point home though ( listen I just love a Trolley problem!! we need more of those, I'm the Trolley problem's number one fan!! ) I feel like they missed the chance to put Rook in Solas' role and be as vilified and hated for it as Solas was despite their best intentions which would make Rook's regrets stronger and in turn make their escape from the fade all the more impressive and give them a better understanding of Solas to either use against him or earn his respect. The line 'they called me the Dread Wolf, what will they call you when this is over' from the trailers was so good I was waiting for this!! But everyone just loves Rook no matter what!!

But I feel like I stated too many negative aspects in a row so moving on to some things I enjoyed!

The characters were very lovable to me. The romances weren't as long or impactful as I would have liked but I enjoyed all the companion quests. Emmrich is a delight and his quest is so wild and fun. I loved learning about Nevarra and I was awestruck by the Grand Necropolis. The mourn watch was so interesting, it showed a whole new side of Thedas' lore I knew nothing about! and I loved Manfred! Davrin is so charming, he became a favorite. I loved his quest too and learning more bits and pieces about the Dalish was great, I wish we got more. Seeing the Wardens through his quest also made me enjoy them a lot. Assan was very cute too and I'm glad he was treated as an animal and not turned into a goofy Disney sidekick too much lmao 😭 Lucanis is hilarious. The fantasy Spain/Italy was a bit silly and off at times but he is very sweet! and I love the Spite possession, that was so fun I'm glad they kept him that way! Bellara is adorable, her first backstory quest made me cry and I just love a nerd! I wish the second part of her story was written better however, and she sort of devolves into 'it's hard, I wish it was easy but it's hard' dialogues too often sadly. Anaris and the Forgotten Ones' portrayal was underwhelming and anticlimactic which was disappointing. Harding is also very cute and her Titan plotline was the most interesting to me, I bawled my eyes out in her quest!! I love the dwarven lore of this universe I'm so happy we got more of it!! ( she also fucking died in my playthrough?! I was devastated what the hell 😭 'whatever it takes' WEUEUGHHHG I'M SO SORRY) Neve was a slow burn for me because of my choices in game slowing that relationship down ( saving Treviso I mean, perdón amor 🙏 ) but I love detective novels and she is such a badass I ended up loving her. Taash was unexpected, I didn't think they would be so young. The coming of age story was sweet, though I found myself cringing a lot too at the handling of it I have to admit ( and the Lords of Fortune in general, and the Antaam...and que Qun..listen- kajshfgf ) but I also enjoyed learning more about the first expedition and the Qunari in general despite the messy writing and choices. I also loved Antoine and Evka! and Strife! And I haven't even read any of the novels they are in 😆 also Mila!!!! and her dad oh my god and Felassan haunting the narrative!! speaking of haunting, I would have loved for Cole to be in the lighthouse too I think it would have worked well 🤔 especially with the whole 'reading Solas' secret diary' thing the game had going on lmao

Everyone seems to get along except for a bit of friction that is quickly resolved at the start, which is hmm missed potential? I would have preferred more tension personally. I enjoy the drama! gives me more to work with and gives you a better grasp on everyone's personality by contrasting values. I think they wanted to speed run a found family trope for the new hero to establish some emotional stakes early on but it ended up making everyone seem like a group therapy session instead. The group meetings also have everyone either state the obvious or repeat the same opinion or conclusion to each other, I would have loved these meetings to have more bickering, have people get mad and storm out and also get to listen to different takes on a situation. Make Rook struggle more to take the reins and keep the team functional, learning how to be a leader.

Speaking of Rook! ( who in my case has a northern British accent that I loved so much 🥺) They seem to have a very established personality. I was expecting more of a blank slate but I'm lucky that the personality they went for kind of matches what I would normally choose in a first playthrough. Though the lack of range in the choices is irritating and takes away some replayability and role playing potential. Rook is very supportive and selfless, I wasn't expecting this tbh! But it all made my Rook turn into the team's weird supportive necromancer mom so it worked out in the end I guess lmao. I can't wait to draw her!!

I was so overwhelmed by the amount of information we got about Solas and his past!! I was expecting answers but not these many and not for them to be such an integral part of the plot!! The game feels like it's about him more than anything else. His arc is the best written out of all. He is mentioned in every conversation, he's the main advisor and the narrative foil, you get to talk to him often, you work for him and with him and go into his memories it all feels so surreal to me lmao I love him so I'm delighted ngl! but also making the other Evanuris so cartoonishly evil makes Solas into such an obvious choice of an ally, god of trickery or not, that it sort of takes the decision out of your hands and makes some dialogue options and companions' opinions seem almost nonsensical. I have no idea how this game would feel to someone who absolutely hates Solas' guts honestly. I suppose I will find out soon enough 😆

About Solas' story, I loved it! I somehow also feel that I knew it already, all the speculation and theories that Solavellan fans were crafting for years were so accurate that it was all very validating. Even the wildest ones! Solas as the Maker, the elves spirit origin, Mythal giving him a body, the war with the Titans, the origin of the Blight, Solas being on your side as advisor, I can go on, we knew!! Also I have to mention this I'm sorry but they made him look so hot!! unbelievable. And the bloodied teary eyed pathetic look in the end ouurghhh I'm cheering and clapping!!

The romance conclusion was so lovely 😭 the Loki and Sigyn ending we deserved to such a mythological epic!! and open ended enough for all of us to cook!! and we got to see him fight and transform into the Dread Wolf!! and whimper and cry!! and bleed and love!! that's all I ever wanted, incredible we were really spoiled what the hell I still can't believe it 😭 GDL acting was brilliant as usual! the visuals were also incredible and exactly what I had in mind when I imagined where the story may go, the eclipse, the giant wolf, the glowing eyes, the Elvhenan ruins, the statues, even the hair lmao it all aligned exactly to what I've been painting all these years but better I was thrilled 😭

Solas backstory with Mythal also offers players that didn't romance him a chance to see him act out of love and show a side they wouldn't be able to reach otherwise and I think it was smart! also very tragic and sheds more light into all of his choices and words and his relationship with Lavellan too and the parallels and reversals and uughh thoroughly enjoying the emotional distress 👌

Pleasing both the Solas lovers and haters at the same time was always going to be hard with him being such a polarizing character by design and the world states being so different but I think they did a good job! at least from my side of things.

I think my favorite part besides the Solas related stuff was the Blight. I loved how horrific and gross and threatening it was! I've always loved the concept of the Blights and I'm glad it was such a huge part of the story in this game. I also loved Treviso!! has to be the most beautiful city in Thedas ahhh and the Necropolis!! the gardens!! Vorgoth!!! Kal-Sharok!!! I can't believe we got to see it!! and a Titan!!! the giant floating face of Ghilan'nain in the clouds??? and the huge archdemons and dragons!! oh and that warden dragon trap in the shape of a griffon?? and the giant blight tendrils!! the siege at Weisshaupt was outstanding!! and the floating panopticon castle situation in Minrathous uughh there is so much I loved.

OH I also enjoyed the Varric arc even though I saw it coming since the trailer it was still played well and it was touching 🥺

The ending felt a bit jarring to me in tone though, a bit too cheerful considering...the horrors. Over half the continent destroyed and most of the problems Thedas had before the game are still there. Veil in place and all 😆

But I had fun!! I'm nitpicking really, the conclusion to Solas' story feels very satisfying to me which was my main worry so I'm happy. It is a good game!! with a sort of soft reboot feel to it and aimed at a younger audience which is probably what they were going for? You can sort of feel the struggle the team went through during production in the way the target audience seems unclear sadly. I also can't help feeling like this is an ending, so much was revealed and resolved!! but maybe I feel that way because that is what I felt after Shadowbringers / Endwalker in FFXIV once my favorite part of the story was wrapped? They can always pivot to a new continent and expand on the world and cultures we know almost nothing about, but that is always harder to sell so I have no clue where they will go from here 😵‍💫

Anyway I'm still processing a lot of stuff that I will probably talk (and draw) about later, this is already long enough!! for now I'll look up how to get the artbook because the art direction of this game is fantastic!! I would love to hear your thoughts too really, I'm curious about the experiences of players who made different choices and with different tastes to mine!!

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[writetheidea]

Too Much to Be Enough

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. In this one, I tried writing with an unnamed character after someone reached out to me suggesting that I shouldn't tag "x reader" even if the character had a short name. They were not this polite in their wording. Kindly let me know if you find this more enjoyable and if you have any advice or feedback.

Pairing:  Franco Colapinto x female character

Plot: everyone thinks she's too much—too loud, too affectionate, too overwhelming—but as long as Franco loves her, she feels enough. When a painful betrayal forces her to question everything, she’s left wondering if even his love can truly be unconditional.

Tag: hurt/no comfort, angst.

Word count: 2077

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

Franco Colapinto had become a rising star in Formula 1—his unexpected debut mid-season with Williams brought attention, intrigue, and the buzz of fans enamored by his unfiltered charm and skill on the track. To the world, he was a formidable talent, sharp in his focus and strategic in his every move. But to her, Franco was simply her Franco—the person she adored with every fiber of her being, the man who lit up her world with his easy laugh and grounded presence. She never tried to share him with the world; her joy was simply in being there. To Franco, she was a grounding force. To her, he was the brightest point of her life.

Their relationship had always been natural, filled with the kind of closeness that felt both unbreakable and safe. She loved to be near him, to catch the quiet smiles he reserved just for her or hold him close, her arms around him like a shield. She had a way of finding him when he was deep in conversation, slipping her arms around him or perching on the arm of a chair, just listening, watching him with eyes that spoke of adoration. She adored him openly and shamelessly, kissing his cheeks, bringing him little snacks between meetings, and laughing at his every story as if it was the first time she'd heard it. It was how she showed love—boldly, sincerely.

In public, her spirited affection sometimes drew raised brows. She was quick to laugh, unrestrained in her warmth, the kind of person who got excited over the little things. When she spoke, her voice had a way of filling the air, especially when she became passionate, her laughter rich and booming. Franco’s teammates would sometimes tease her for it, not unkindly, but she felt Franco’s protective arm settle around her back, his voice lowering to gently bring her back to the moment, a silent reminder that she was safe, that she didn’t need to hold back. She never felt like too much with him; she felt like enough.

When Franco got his F1 call-up, the world saw his potential, his brilliance. He went from a promising driver to a star almost overnight, and with that came the scrutiny, the endless, dissecting gaze of the world. There were new pressures, new challenges—he was praised and criticized in equal measure, and with him, she found herself swept up too. Fans adored him—his directness, his humor, his daring spirit. He was the next big thing, and with that title came every word spoken about him, every inch of him magnified. And suddenly, they wanted to know her, too. Who was Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend?

But their adoration of Franco didn’t extend to her.

She’d never been the kind of girl who worried about attention, but the way the public spoke about her… it was like a slow, smothering weight pressing down on her heart. They saw only a girl who seemed too clingy, too loud, and too unfitting of someone they had put on a pedestal. Her open affection was criticized as immature, her laughter labeled as attention-seeking. They dissected her every move and labeled her a distraction, tearing into her with the kind of brutality she’d never experienced. It felt like strangers were peeling her apart piece by piece, tearing away the person Franco had always loved.

She tried to ignore it at first, comforting herself with the knowledge that Franco didn’t seem to mind, that he even loved her as she was. Franco was all that mattered; his opinion was the one she trusted. He was the only reason she could keep her head up, brushing off the hate as long as she knew she had his love. And when Franco looked at her, his smile never wavered. She held onto that—the belief that he loved her as she was, even when the world made her question it.

But then came Brazil. She’d been watching from the paddock, her heart leaping every time he turned a corner, nerves twisting as he went head-to-head with some of the most seasoned drivers in the world. And then, the crash. It was terrifying, watching him collide and skid, helpless from a distance as her heart stopped, praying he was okay. Her relief was overwhelming when he emerged unharmed, but Franco’s face had been pale, his expression distant as he made his way off the track. She could see the weight of the moment pulling him under, the strain and pressure breaking through his usually calm demeanor. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, tell him she was there for him, that she would carry the weight if she could.

But he’d pulled away from her, muttering that he needed a minute to gather himself. Respecting his space, she’d wandered to the restroom, splashing water on her face, telling herself he’d come around, that he just needed time. She returned to his room, pausing outside, not wanting to intrude if he still needed space. And that’s when she heard it.

“…but don’t you think she’s a bit much?” The voice was that of his engineer, a man she’d thought liked her, someone she’d shared a few laughs with before. “She’s always there. Always talking, always needing to be… close. Must be a lot to deal with when you’re under this kind of pressure.”

She waited, her breath frozen, trusting that Franco’s response would ease her worry, that he’d brush it off as nonsense, defend her like he always had.

But his voice—the voice she trusted, the voice that had always assured her she was enough—spoke words she could barely stand to hear. Franco responded quieter than she’d ever heard it. “Yeah… I mean, sometimes. It’s a lot, too much, you know?”

She could hardly breathe, the words sinking in slowly, one by one, like sharp blades against her skin. He thought she was too much. A lot. The one person she thought she could be her fullest self with, the person who had always made her feel safe to love so openly, to be unapologetically herself—he was overwhelmed by her too. She was his burden, the weight that followed him. Tears began to blur her vision, but she stayed frozen, rooted in place as she listened to them continue, laughing and talking about her as though she were some trivial inconvenience, as though her love was suffocating him.

She backed away from the door, her heart breaking with every step. The tears came fast and hot, her whole body trembling with the force of them as she stumbled back into the restroom. Locking herself inside, she slid down against the wall, burying her face in her hands, feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces. She had fought so hard to believe in her own worth, to convince herself that she was lovable and that her affection wasn’t too much for him to bear. But he agreed. He agreed with them, with the strangers who hated her, who thought she was too loud, too affectionate, too clingy.

She had tried so hard to believe that Franco saw her the way she saw him—as irreplaceable, as the very air he breathed. But hearing his quiet agreement, the confirmation that the one person she thought she could trust didn’t love her as she was… it left her feeling hollow, like a fragile shell of herself.

---

When Franco found her, he looked at her with that familiar softness, his arms coming around her as he held her close. She clung to him, not because it made her feel better but because she didn’t know how else to act, didn’t know how to pretend it was all okay. He asked her why she was crying, and she forced herself to smile through the tears, saying it was because of his crash, that she’d been worried. He looked at her with relief, gently pulling her closer, and she let him, even though his touch felt like fire against her skin, burning with the memory of his words. For the first time in their relationship, being near him didn’t feel safe.

In the days that followed, she withdrew into herself, letting Franco slip away piece by piece. She stifled her laughter, kept her voice low, spoke only when necessary. She still brought him snacks, still sat beside him as he debriefed with his team, but now she was a shadow, a shell of the girl she once was. She didn’t touch him as freely, didn’t drape herself over his shoulders or pepper his face with kisses. She gave him what the world wanted, the perfect, silent partner, standing just behind him, looking at him only when he looked away.

Fans noticed the change, taking to social media to praise her for finally learning her place. They called her refined, mature, supportive. They praised her “new maturity,” applauded her for “knowing her place.” They liked her better this way, in the background, quiet, subdued. For the first time, she fit the image of the F1 girlfriend they wanted her to be. She was a supporting character, there for Franco when he needed her but silent, never in the spotlight, never drawing attention.

But Franco hated it. He missed her laugh, the way her hands would find his at every turn, the way she’d rest her head on his shoulder while he spoke. He missed the way she’d light up a room with her excitement, her laughter like music that chased away the shadows of his stress. He tried everything to bring her back, brushing his fingers along her cheek, whispering little jokes, pulling her close. But she stayed quiet, her smile polite but hollow, her laughter a pale echo of what it used to be.

She wasn’t his girl anymore. She was someone else, a stranger wearing her face.

---

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Franco found her alone in their hotel room. She was sitting by the window, staring into the dark night, her reflection in the glass a ghost of the girl he had fallen in love with. He crossed the room, kneeling beside her, his hand finding hers.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his worry. “Tell me what’s wrong. Where did you go?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of a pain he couldn’t understand, couldn’t reach. “I’m here, Franco,” she whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re… you’re gone. The girl I love is gone.”

Her lips trembled, and she pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. She was quiet for a long time before she spoke, her words barely audible. “I heard you… that day in Brazil. I heard you tell your engineer that I was too much. That I was a lot.”

Franco’s heart dropped, a cold shock of realization rushing through him. He remembered the conversation, the way he’d laughed along, never thinking his words would reach her. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I never meant it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her voice breaking. “You agreed with them. You agreed with everyone. You were the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t too much, like I was enough. But if even you… if you think I’m too much…”

Her voice trailed off, her shoulders shaking as she hugged herself tighter. Franco reached for her, his heart shattering as he saw the pain he’d caused, the light he’d extinguished. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love everything about you. You’re not too much. I need you, all of you.”

He reached for her, but she drew back, her body a closed door, her eyes filled with a sadness that cut deeper than anything. “I love you with everything I have,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I would have given anything to be enough for you.”

He could feel his own tears burning, the agony of realizing that his careless words had stripped away the light from the woman he adored. “You are enough,” he said desperately, his voice thick. “You’re everything to me. I love you just as you are.”

But she only shook her head, her hand lifting to his cheek, her fingers brushing his skin one last time. “I don’t believe that anymore.”

[weakformingyu]

Everything has changed | H.J.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Summary: in a game party you find out that your friend, Jisung, might have a crush on you and after that night you might have developed a crush on him too.

Warnings: Han is a loser, awkwardness, jealousy, pool sex 💅🏻, pussy eating, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), a bit of handjob.

Words count: ±3,400

THIS CONTENT IS FOR +18 PEOPLE ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!!!

A/N: I have some weird ass writers block right now(have been like this for months 😭) but I'm not dead, I'm still alive and thinking about a hundred fics a day, I just don't seem to manage to write them 🤓☝🏻 anyways, this fic was inspired in this post because Han Jisung got some crazy biceps going on here and I'm on my biceps biting era soooo 💅🏻(don't come for me if it's trashy, I haven't written in a hundred years)

If you like my writing don't forget to reblog, comment and like too. xoxo love yall

“What do you think about Jisung?” Was the question Changbin asked when you chose truth in the game of truth or dare you were playing.

You smile sheepishly as all the boys stare at you excitedly and the girls have a little smirk on their lips, as if everyone knows something you don't.

“Hm, he's nice”, you shrug.

“You know that's not what he meant”, Ryujin says, raising a brow.

“Well, then be more specific”, you roll your eyes.

“Would you fuck him?” Karina asks, making the whole group gasp with her bluntness. Your eyes dart to Jisung, who's as red as a tomato, his bottom lips are stuck between his teeth while he stares at you anxiously.

“That's- I never thought about that, so I'm not sure”, you answer nervously. Seeing Jisung’s shoulders go down and a pout form in his lips.

“Then, there's your answer”, Karina shrugs, turning the bottle so someone else can go.

You were being truthful, you never thought about your friend in that way. You know he's handsome but you always avoid having second intentions with someone so close to you because you don't want to lose a friendship.

However, after that day and after seeing Jisung's reaction to your answer, you can't shake the feeling that maybe he's into you. You constantly catch his gaze lingering on you, when you guys are alone he keeps stuttering and even when your other friends are around, he treats you differently from them.

A few weekends after that night, Chan invites everyone to a get together in his house so everyone's going to sleep there after. Karina, Ryujin and Lia stop by your house in the early afternoon to get you so you can all go to Chan's together. When you get there, the guys are in the pool playing some sort of game, Felix and Changbin are on top of two floats, fighting while Minho is attacking Changbin with his water gun and Jisung is in the middle of both.

You stop in your tracks, watching as Jisung holds Changbins thighs, his biceps are deliciously showing and flexing as the older man falls out of the float and the younger one catches him, grabbing his bottom slightly but you can't help but wish you could be the one being grabbed by him like that.

Yes, you weren't lying that night when you said you had never thought about Jisung in that way. The problem is, that after you did, you couldn't stop. Everything he did from that night onwards caught your attention. His eyes on you, his lips, the way he smirks when someone says something dirty and he thinks no one's paying attention. The way every piece of fabric he wears hugs his body like it was made just for him. Your girlfriends are already onto you, they know something is off and they have the feeling that you finally opened your eyes to the puppy in love in your group of friends, but they decided not to say anything for now, afraid that they are going to scare you off and make you bury your new found attraction for Jisung deep in your heart, afraid to ruin your friendship.

You shake your head, listening to what the others are talking while you go inside to put your things in the guestroom Chan has prepared for you.

You spend the afternoon mostly just sunbathing while observing the guys joking around and other people arrive little by little taking your attention away from the pool.

While you eat, you can't help but notice a blonde laughing too loudly, catching your attention. She pushes Jisung playfully, throwing her head back, making you huff annoyed, you're sure what he said isn't even that funny.

“I'm gonna get some more beer, does anyone want something from the kitchen?” Jisung gets up, asking around.

“I'll help”, the blonde smiles, following him after some people ask for their beverage of choice and your eyes linger on his figure, as he walks away with the beautiful girl.

“Oh, y/n, can you get some more napkins for us?” Ryujin asks. You frown, you're sure you just saw a mountain of napkins somewhere but you have no idea where it went as you look around and can't find it.

“Sure”, you nod, getting up to go to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter the house you can hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. You take a deep breath trying to gather the courage to go inside and see something you're not sure you want to.

The girl is close to Jisung, too close for her own good, attached to his arm, practically hanging on to him. You scowl, feeling the blood in your body boiling, if you weren't sure about your feelings for your friend, you are damn sure now seeing as you're basically foaming at the mouth with the view right in front of you.

Jisungs gaze lands on you immediately when you enter the kitchen, his eyes grow wide and he takes a step back, detaching himself from the girl.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, knowing well that you are and ignoring the glare the blonde gives you.

“Ye-” she tries to say, but is cut off by the man whose gaze hasn't left your figure since the moment you arrived.

“No”, he gulps, “what are you looking for?” Jisung asks.

“Napkins”, you say, tilting your head and leaning over the counter. Your elbows rest on the surface, purposely bringing attention to your chest.

“Just a minute”, Jisung gulps, turning around and opening the fridge. He takes out four cans of beer and gives it to the blonde. “You can go back first, I'll bring the rest in a minute”

She looks at him for a whole 10 seconds, stunned and then huffs, marching out of there.

“Your girlfriend is lovely”, you tease him, walking around the counter to get closer to him.

“She's not my girlfriend”, he laughs sheepishly, “we were just talking”

“I'm sure you were”, you say sarcastically and stare at him for a moment. “So? The napkins?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah! Here”, he says, turning around to open the door to the cabinet on top of the sink.

Jisung’s arms look especially strong when he's flexing like that to pull the packages, it's something so mundane but it makes you blush the same way. He closes the door after and hands the products to you. “I'm going to get the beer for the others and follow you in a moment”

You nod, realizing that everything is different now that you know that you like your friend. You like Han Jisung.

You wake up the next morning feeling like shit, you tossed and turned in your bed until you finally fell asleep. You thought about all the things that could go wrong now that you liked one of your friends. What if things didn't work out between you two, you're sure it would cause a rift on your friend group.

Most people went home after midnight, Chan lets only his close friends crash in his house so you know everyone that stayed the night. Lia is by your side, yapping about what you're planning to do in the afternoon while you bite into your bread and try to not freak out when Jisung shows up in the living room. You keep avoiding his eyes, like you're guilty of something, and you definitely are, guilty of liking one of your friends.

In the afternoon you go out with Ryujin, Felix and Hyunjin, you all wanna walk around in the city and buy some clothes you definitely don't need. In the car you stare outside, your friends notice you're dozing around but prefer to wait for you to tell them if something is wrong.

After buying a new bikini, you just accompany your friends in their shopping spree. When you have no more room in the car for any more bags, you finally sit to get something to eat and while you wait for your order, you seize the opportunity to ask what's been on your mind in the last hour.

“Does Jisung like me?” You ask, you want to be sure that he doesn't want to just sleep with you.

“Where did that come from?” Felix frowns.

“That night I was asked if I would sleep with him”, you blush, “I was just wondering if he likes me or just finds me attractive”

Below the table, your fingers are pressing and scratching one another, you're nervous.

“I thought it was pretty obvious”, Hyunjin says, shrugging and getting elbowed by Felix.

“I don't think we are supposed to talk about that”, the younger one smiles awkwardly.

“Oh, please. It's not like the guy has made any effort to keep it a secret”, Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Clearly y/n likes him, that's why she wants to know”, your friend completes, laughing as your eyes grow wide. “It's not like you are making any effort to hide it either”

“Yes, he likes you”, Hyunjin says, ignoring Felix’s worries, “but he was very disheartened after that night when you said you never thought about him in that way”

‘It's a lie, but you don't need to know that’, he thinks to himself. Hyunjin is much more experienced in the love field, opposite to you and Jisung, so he knows you just need a little push for things to start working out and he doesn't mind being the one shoving you to each other.

“Oh”, that's all you can say.

That means maybe he doesn't like you anymore, right? That girl from the other night was very pretty, maybe she's his new type. She looked very girly and soft, you don't know if you would be considered any of that. Most importantly, she was clearly interested in him, maybe he wants to go after someone who doesn't reject him in front of everyone he knows.

You toss and turn once more in bed, Ryujin is sleeping right next to you and you're afraid of waking her up because you can't sleep. Your mind is so full of thoughts, a million per hour and you just can't stop thinking about how you ruined everything with the guy you like.

Even with the AC turned on, you're still hot and since you don't want to wake up anyone, you silently grab your bikini, putting it on before going to the pool.

You didn't expect to find Jisung there, he's just floating in the water with a pout on his lips and eyes closed, maybe he fell asleep?

You sit comfortably on the edge of the pool, putting only your feet in the water and watching Jisung. After a few minutes of complete stillness, the man opens his eyes, taking a deep breath and sinking into the water.

He comes back a few seconds later, back turned to you and you can't help but watch him. His back is muscular, broad shoulders with a tiny waist. When he turns around, he flinches, seeing you there, staring at him.

“I didn't mean to scare you”, you chuckle.

“It's fine”, he scratches the back of his head, “I thought I was the only one still awake”

“It's really hot, I couldn't sleep”, you say, it's not the whole truth but you're not sure if you want him to know that he's the reason you're still wide awake.

He nods, awkwardly looking around while his hands play with the water. Since that game, you both have been feeling weird near each other, you for discovering these new emotions towards your friend and him for being embarrassed that you knew about his one sided crush.

‘Maybe it's worth it’, you think to yourself. He already risked it all when he let you know about his crush, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't like you anymore, you just have to ask.

“About that night…”, you ask out of nowhere with a courage you have no idea where it came from. “Do you still like me?”

Jisung opens his mouth a few times, closing it right after, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath before answering.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything”, he sighs.

“Do you still like me?” You frown, repeating your question.

“Yeah, I do”, he shrugs, embarrassed.

“I never thought about you that way before”, you say, seeing the pout growing in his lips, “but after that night I kinda did”

Jisung stares at you for a minute before speaking again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I like you back”, you feel your whole face heating while you wait for him to react. You both are still far from each other, Jisung in the middle of the pool while you're at the edge. His eyes grow wide and his lips open like he has something to say but doesn't know how.

He starts coming close to you, your heart beating faster as the distance between you both lessens, until the man stops in front of you, his hands landing on each side of your thighs but still not touching.

“Can you repeat that?” He blushes, “I don't want you to say you like me back just because you pity me”, he bites on his bottom lip and you smile. You cup his face with your hands, bending down so you can kiss him. His lips are soft and he tastes good, sweet, like something you would never get tired of. His hands finally touch your skin, sliding to your thighs and squeezing the plushy flesh.

“If you knew me at all, you'd know I would never lie about liking someone”, you let go of him, smiling and giving him a peck before growing the distance between your faces.

“I just really like you”, he blushes, biting his bottom lip, finally letting his gaze travel down your body, going through your tits pushed up by the bikini top and going down your stomach, until it reaches your bikini bottom, his hands squeezing your thighs even more to the view of your body in front of him.

“Is that so?” You smirk, “show me then”, you smile, bending down to whisper in his ear. “Show me how much you like me”

Jisung doesn't waste any time, grabbing your face with only one hand and squeezing your cheeks, kissing you harshly. His other hand slides up, pulling the strings of your bikini bottom so he can untie the bow. He pulls away from you, leaving kisses down your neck, he has his hand down on your pussy, putting on a finger and watching your reaction to it.

You moan, grinding your hips against his hand so you can feel him deeper. Jisung has his mouth slightly opened, dazed with the little whimpers you let out when he adds another finger inside you. Your hands go instantly to his shoulders, nails burying in his skin while his other hand unties the top of your bikini, freeing your tits. Jisung watches them bounce with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He can't help himself, coming closer, his mouth closing on your left breast, his tongue playing with your nipple, making you moan.

His thumb slides to your clit and you bite on your bottom lip, trying not to make too much noise — at least not more than you're already making.

The man smiles, kissing down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy and you can feel his breath hitting the skin, making you tremble.

He licks a stripe between your folds, your hands fly to his hair pulling the locks. Jisung's hands slide to your thighs, pulling you more to the edge of the pool. Putting your legs over his shoulders and grabbing your ass so he can eat you out more intensely.

He looks like a man starved, the way he groans and moans just by feeling your taste. Jisung is so turned on he could come just by feeling your tight pussy in his mouth. The sounds you make are divine, he can't believe he gets to hear you like this, because of him, just for him.

“I- I'm gonna-”, you can't even finish your sentence, moaning the moment you try to say more than three words.

“Come for me, baby”, he stops eating you out just to say it, going back to work as soon as the words leave his mouth, he stares at you intensely from down there, working even harder and making you come undone in his mouth.

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed. You can't believe how good he's at this and it also makes you a bit jealous, how did he get so good?

You watch as the man cleans around his mouth with his thumb, immediately taking the finger to his mouth to lick it clean and you hold the moan that wants to escape your mouth.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks, not expecting you to but hoping that you do.

You nod, untying the other side of your bikini bottom, throwing the piece of fabric behind you.

You take Jisung's hands in yours, guiding them to your waist as you push yourself into the water. The man holds you, kissing your lips as soon as you are close enough to him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs when he pulls you towards him, wanting to feel your body on his and you can feel the heat growing all over your body again.

You slide your hand inside his shorts, grabbing his dick and making him whimper in your mouth. You bite on his bottom lip, your hand makes movements of back and forth, making Jisung bend down and bite your shoulder, trying to suppress his moan. You groan, it feels good having him so close to you, marking you as his.

You pull his shorts down all the way down, pushing yourself up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Jisung grabs his cock, rubbing his tip on your entrance, slightly teasing your clit.

“Are you sure about this?” He groans, trying to control himself, “after this I won't let you go”

You nod, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Words”, he whispers, barely being able to hold himself back.

“Fuck.me.now”, you say with gritted teeth, opening your eyes to stare at him, holding onto his shoulders when he finally enters you.

You feel like heaven when he's inside you, your velvet walls tightening around him make him groan.

“Shit”, he cusses, biting on his bottom lip. “You're so hot”, he gets closer, kissing you deeply. His lips are so soft, you could never get over it.

Jisung starts thrusting, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer, fucking you deeper.

Your hands slide to his hair, pulling the locks while his lips go down your neck. He bites on your skin, sucking the area until it's red and you're sure it's gonna leave a mark. One of his hands goes to your clit, rubbing the bud, making you get closer to your climax.

“I'm close”, he says, his thrusts faster and his fingers working diligently.

“I'm close too”, you say, kissing him, feeling his thrusts getting sloppier. You feel the hot liquid being spilled inside you, but he doesn't stop. Jisung keeps going, putting more pressure into your clit until you're trembling around him. He whimpers in your mouth, his hips faltering and both of your breaths growing tired.

He rests his head on your shoulder for a few seconds, before moving away from you, staring at you like you're going to fight him and run off.

“I guess you like me a lot”, you smirk, watching him blush and smile.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” He asks, biting on his bottom lip.

“I thought you'd never ask”, you smile, giving him a peck on the lips. “I even already have the reason for our first fight”, you raise one brow, laughing as his eyes grow wide.

“What?”

“You are going to have to explain to me how you got so good at eating pussy”, you tease and he smiles.

“I guess I'm just a natural”, he shrugs, making you shake your head in amusement and kiss him.

You could get used to this, you definitely can.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part5

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: sadnesses.

previous - next

He’d never thought of himself as someone who could be in a serious relationship. He never thought he could be devoted enough, or love someone that deeply. For Rafe, it was beyond impossible. Fleeting interests had always come first in his life.

It’s not that he found it difficult to connect or share feelings with someone; he just never wanted to. He’d always seen it as a waste of time.

Whether love even existed was something he still wasn’t sure of, because he didn’t believe in it.

But he was sure the feelings he had for you were real. He couldn’t say it was love—he wasn’t even sure love existed in that way. But the affection he felt for you was beyond words.

Yes, he was rich—rich enough to support his family for three generations. But he quickly realized that the bond he had with you was his real wealth.

He’d never thought of you as different from anyone else. To him, you were a typical Kook: rich, aware of your own beauty. To overlook that beauty, he would have to be blind.

Yes, he’d liked girls before. He liked spending time with them, preferring quick, physical flings over emotional entanglements. He was the kind of guy who enjoyed one-night stands.

Until he met you.

You’d met in a completely ordinary way. You already knew of each other; you both came from the island’s wealthiest families. It was impossible not to know one another.

When you ended up side by side at one of those dull Kook events, neither of you thought you'd hit it off. You weren't much of a drinker, usually preferring lighter, non-alcoholic cocktails. But that event was so painfully boring that you thought you couldn’t get through it without a drink in hand.

You hadn’t expected him to be there. You hadn’t expected him to want to escape the event, just like you did. And you certainly hadn’t expected that, while grabbing different drinks, the two of you would start talking.

You ended up spending the whole night together, maybe just to pass the time, maybe because you actually enjoyed the conversation—you couldn’t really tell.

But after that night, neither of you could stop thinking about the other.

Surprisingly— you were the first girl to linger in Rafe’s mind without him sleeping with her. He couldn’t get the length of the conversation, or your laugh, out of his head.

From then on, things began to change. At every party, his eyes searched for you. At every Kook event, he hoped to find you alone—watching for those rare moments when you weren’t with your family. He didn’t see you as some object of desire; he saw you for who you were.

He didn’t just want to have sex with you; he wanted to spend time with you.

At parties, the second he saw you, he unconsciously pushed away any girl sitting next to him. He wanted you to see him differently, even though you already knew his reputation.

When he realized you were starting to show up at every party, he started distancing himself from other girls. Not only did he push them aside, but he wouldn’t even let them come close to him. He acted without thinking, because if he had thought it through, he would have found a way to stop himself.

He didn’t want you to see him as a playboy. He wasn’t sure how he wanted you to see him; he just wanted you to see him as… a good person. Even he couldn’t believe he was trying to change himself, but he couldn’t help it.

Rafe looked at you with the same awe an eight-year-old might have if they saw Spider-Man in person.

He couldn’t help but want you. But it wasn’t just desire—he was crazy about you.

Every time you talked, he wanted more. For you, he’d probably break down the atom just so you two could talk about it for hours.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to share a bed. But for the first time, Rafe didn’t feel fixated on that. He didn’t just have sex with you; he made love to you. Every kiss ignited a warmth in his chest. Every time you moaned his name, his heart pounded for you. Every time you held hands, he couldn’t help but kiss your hand.

He’d never felt this way for anyone. No one else was like you. You were the only woman who made him feel like he even had a heart—aside from his mom.

And it went on like that. Rafe stayed loyal to you. Even when you weren’t officially together, when you were just flirting and spending nights together, he never looked at another girl.

At parties, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether it was your hand, your arm, or your waist… he always stayed close. He liked acting as if you two were in a real relationship.

Rafe thought he was just feeling things more intensely than usual. He’d never felt this way about relationships before. You were the woman who’d stayed in his life the longest.

When you two finally got together, it felt like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect, and it stayed that way. Every time he saw you, his heart warmed. Every touch, every time you called him “my love,” it erased the world around him. There was only you. His whole world revolved around you.

Everything was perfect.

Rafe’s life had been nothing but a sea of gray. But the moment you entered his life, all the colors returned.

During the year and a half of your relationship, Rafe felt like he was lying on a beach, listening to the ocean waves. Every moment with you brought a peace to his life like birdsong.

Yes, there were arguments. But you two always found a way through. It was surprising, but he couldn’t stay away from you; he couldn’t stand being apart. You two never even talked about breaking up.

Not until now.

Neither of you had the strength for a breakup conversation. To do that would mean it was truly over. That the beautiful year and a half was done. Rafe had never wanted that. But somehow, he knew his reactions—the way things had spiraled—had led to this moment, and it scared him.

A few weeks back, you’d sent a message saying you were keeping the baby. He hadn’t known what to say. He was afraid, afraid things would stay just like this. And a message saying you were keeping the baby definitely felt like a breakup message in your language. He was sure of that. His heart and mind were at war.

Every moment with you had made his heart race with love and excitement; he’d never felt this kind of weight—especially from you.

“Earth to Rafe! Get it together, dude.” Kelce’s voice snapped him out of it, and Rafe looked up from his drink to find Kelce looking ready to shake him. He hadn’t even realized how lost in thought he was. His day-to-day was becoming affected.

He was lovesick, but he was the one who’d pushed you away.

Rafe dropped his hand from his chin and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated looking weak. He’d worked so hard to prove that he wasn’t. He wanted to show everyone a breakup wouldn’t break him. His eyes, lips, and face might lie, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice firm. He felt like he was losing his mind when he wasn’t with you, but he wasn’t ready to accept what came with you.

He liked risk, loved adrenaline. He enjoyed going full throttle, ignoring the dangers.

And you were pregnant. With Rafe’s baby.

There were so many times he wanted to erase that thought from his mind. He wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. He loved you like crazy, but this wasn’t the life he wanted or was ready for.

He didn’t feel good enough to be a father. He wasn’t at an age to start a family. He had a whole life to live. He could spend years with you, but he wasn’t ready to start a family. All he wanted was you. Just you, without all that extra.

Rafe rubbed his eyes, feeling suffocated by his thoughts, glancing around. He was sick of this stupid place. Golfing, hanging out at the country club—it all felt so fake. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if he was suffocating even though they were outside.

It was like the sunny sky suddenly turned to pouring rain in front of his eyes.

“This place is boring as fuck. I’m out.” He raised a hand to call for the check, noticing the questioning looks from Topper and Kelce. He didn’t owe them any explanation. Who were they to him anyway?

As if they were so important…

“I swear, serious relationships are a disease. If it’s gotten even to Rafe Cameron…” Rafe exhaled heavily, watching the waiter approach as Topper’s mocking laughter echoed. Even his friends talking like that was getting to him.

He’d already gotten into a fight with Kelce over you weeks ago. Even if things were over between you, he wasn’t going to forgive Kelce, not after he’d slut-shamed you. Topper clearly wanted things to cool down, hoping his two closest friends would both be at his upcoming birthday.

"It's like he's had a serious relationship before and found someone to actually date," Topper snickered, while Kelce nudged him under the table. Kelce looked ready to lunge at him, clearly annoyed, and Topper seemed just as irritated. Bringing up your situation, knowing it would rile Rafe, made him look like he was out for a fight. If they weren’t at the golf club, Rafe was sure Kelce would be on him in a heartbeat.

"Talk like your dating history’s any better, it’s hilarious. First, there's Ruthie—total bitch nightmare. Then there's Sarah Cameron, your best friend’s sister. Clean up your act first, creep."

Rafe could hardly stand it anymore. If he heard Kelce mention one more name from his life, he was going to knock him out. He’d rather throw himself off a cliff than lose more brain cells listening to these two idiots. When their chatter finally died down, Rafe took a deep breath. He hated this.

"Hey Sofia, you look as… Pogue as ever. You guys just love that, don’t you?" Topper grinned, watching the waitress as she met his gaze with a blank look, as if his very presence annoyed her. She quickly shifted her attention back to Rafe. Watching the exchange, Topper nudged Kelce, amused by the interest sparking in Sofia's eyes. He couldn’t help but find it funny.

As Rafe took out his wallet, he listened to his friends’ ongoing conversation. "I can't be alone here with you in this dumb place. I can’t stand you and your girlfriend. It’s like the two of you found your perfect match.” Instead of responding, Topper rolled his eyes and ignored Kelce as he took out his wallet.

Topper, like Kelce and Rafe, took out his wallet, muttering, "Right, says the guy with so many partners he’s practically a walking biohazard."

Kelce's eyes widened as he insisted that wasn’t true, making Topper chuckle. He loved stretching the truth for a laugh. Kelce rolled his eyes, quickly handing his card to the waitress, while Rafe’s gaze drifted to his open wallet. He couldn’t help but notice the photo tucked inside—a picture of you and him.

Was this how you’d keep showing up in his life?

Would you just appear, throwing yourself in his face whenever he least expected it?

He hadn’t seen you in weeks. Rafe wasn’t sure if you were avoiding him or if you were holed up somewhere, in your own world. He sighed as he looked at the photo, memories washing over him. He missed the old days, and the weight of this picture hit him so hard he felt disoriented. Your cheeks pressed together in the photo, with Rafe's arms wrapped around your waist while you snapped the shot. That smile on your face—it was so beautiful he couldn’t look away. He could’ve stared at you for hours, just watching. He had watched you sleep so many times. Somehow, you only grew more beautiful each time he saw you.

His love for you was a flame that refused to die, and it didn’t take a genius to see it. He loved you.

Though he couldn’t admit it, he was scared. It shouldn’t have ended like this, but he didn’t know what to do.

Rafe wasn’t one for big moments. He wasn’t known for making the best decisions. He’d usually take his time, mulling things over until he was sure they were right. But in quick decisions, he tended to mess up and stumble.

Hearing about your pregnancy face-to-face had sent a wave of panic crashing through him. Even though he had no idea what to do, he tried to keep his composure. He couldn’t forget the moment you’d tearfully said the two of you were a mistake. He wasn’t used to seeing you cry. Those red eyes of yours were burned into his memory.

He didn’t want regrets. He didn’t want to wish he’d done things differently.

But the thought of a happy ending with you? That had never even crossed his mind.

As he kept looking at the photo, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t help but remember that day. Time with you had been so perfect, filling him with warmth every time he thought of it.

He remembered it so clearly. It was your third month together, seven months since everything between you had started. You’d shared countless special moments. Every experience with you was a first for him. Whatever you two did, he felt like a clueless schoolboy with a crush—and he meant that.

Who had he ever woken up with, wrapped in his arms? Who else’s hair had he smelled as he fell asleep? Who else’s eyes had he gazed into, getting lost? Who else had made his heart race like this?

No one. In some ways, Rafe Cameron was a total virgin Mary.

For the first time in ages, your family had to go overseas, leaving you home alone—for a week. Being with you felt like a vacation to him. You swam, you cooked, he tried to make you breakfast, you showered together, you slept…

That week was so perfect he felt like he was filled with peace. He’d replay it in his mind over and over again. You and those memories were always there. Always would be.

This photo was taken just after you’d both showered, right before cooking a meal together for the first time. You both made dinner that evening. It wasn’t the best, but because you’d done it together, no amount of money could buy a meal that meaningful.

It was honestly an achievement for you both. You went into the kitchen at six and finally finished cooking by nine. At one point, you even considered ordering pizza but convinced each other you were close to done. And then you spent another two hours in the kitchen—guess it wasn’t so “close” after all.

It was such a beautiful day.

After dinner, you’d made sex.

As he felt his smile widen at the memory, a sudden jab to his leg snapped his attention back. His smile faded instantly, replaced by his usual hard look. Trying to figure out what had happened, he noticed the waitress waiting for him. Frustration bubbled up in him for interrupting his happy thoughts of you. He looked away from the photo, quickly pulling out his card without making eye contact. He knew that if he looked at you, he wouldn’t be able to look away.

"Sofia’s waiting. Just give her what she wants," Topper teased, a smirk on his face, as Rafe sighed and tapped his card.

If he gave attention to every girl who showed interest, like he used to, he’d never be able to keep a serious relationship. Not that he was sure your relationship was even still… ongoing.

But he was certain he’d be off the market for a while. Touching someone else after you didn’t feel right. Embarrassingly enough, he doubted he’d even, well, respond to anyone else.

He stood up, grabbing his keys as he hurried past the waitress without a second glance. As crazy as it might make him to be alone, he couldn’t handle his friends’ stupid conversations any longer.

Even if it drove him mad, he couldn’t stay by Topper or Kelce’s side for another second.

As soon as he got in his car, his phone rang, and he let out a long sigh. Not a single moment of peace today. His thin veneer of calm was barely hanging on, and it felt like the day was determined to shatter it. Starting the car, he glanced at the number on the screen before it even connected.

Wheezie Cameron.

What on earth could she want?

Honestly, if Wheezie was calling him, it’d better be because she was in actual danger or Rose had finally stormed out of the house for good.

He was really hoping for the second one. He didn’t have a penny to spare right now.

“What?” he answered, not hiding his irritation. All he wanted was to get out of this trashy place and be stretched out at home with the ocean in view. No Wheezie, no Rose, and definitely no Ward. In fact, he’d had it with all of them. He was so done with seeing the same faces every day.

All he wanted was silence.

“Hello to you too, Rafe.” Rafe couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her tone. It drove him crazy. He wanted to chuck his phone out the window. Whatever Wheezie needed, she’d better spit it out so he could say no, hang up, and blast Kendrick Lamar.

“Just tell me, Wheezie. I’m not in the mood.” Wheezie was still young, and Rafe tried—halfheartedly—to keep from cursing around her. Ward and Rose had chewed him out about his language, and sure, they had a point. But it was annoying. He was the big brother—though honestly, he’d have preferred being an only child.

“Nope,” she said smugly. Rafe tightened his grip on the wheel, jaw clenched. Why did both his sisters have to be such idiots? It was like God deliberately made both his sisters total morons. “I’m not telling you a thing until you say hello properly.”

Rafe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to yell. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. He was driving, after all, and the last thing he wanted was a crash. But if Wheezie kept this up, he’d be losing control of the wheel voluntarily.

“Hello! Hello, Wheezie! Now, spill it!” The words came out as a shout before he could stop himself. Immediate regret hit him. His temper was awful lately. You were gone. In short, he was a mess.

When he heard her give a dramatic sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t fazed, of course. She was used to this, barely fazed by him anymore. Classic Rafe, right? “So, I was out today. Shopping with Rose—”

Rafe knew how his sister worked—unfortunately. She wasn’t excitable, but she loved to narrate. Whatever the hell had happened, she was going to start from the million hours leading up to it. With a deep breath, he braced himself for the full play-by-play, including the time of day and every store clerk’s name. God help him if she started counting her steps…

The Kendrick Lamar dream was officially dead.

He had zero interest in listening to a full breakdown of her day with Rose, but if he hung up, Wheezie would go ballistic. She’d tell their dad, and Ward would chew him out for that, too. That he couldn’t deal with. Right now, he just wanted a bit of time to himself. Just some peace. Just him, alone.

“Then, I saw this blue dress—”

Rafe wanted to drive the car straight off a cliff. He couldn’t handle this. This was killing him. Every pointless detail Wheezie added wrecked his efforts to calm down.

“...and then we left, and we ran into Sarah. She asked about you. Can you believe it? Then she said she wanted to meet up— Family reunion!”

What the—what is even happening?

Even when you were holding your baby in your mind, all you could think about was ice cream. The cravings were off the charts. Sometimes, you wanted something so badly it felt like the world might end if you didn’t get it. Lately, strawberries were your biggest craving. You couldn’t stop. If your hands weren’t stained red from eating so many, you felt like you’d explode.

But right now, your mind had drifted back to ice cream. You wanted vanilla ice cream so much you could’ve dived into a whole tub of it.

You wanted someone with you when the cravings hit. Someone who’d put up with your fussing—like Rafe.

Just thinking about him made you tense, which was happening way too often these days. Especially now, carrying his baby, it was almost always on your mind, making you anxious.

Being alone was really hard. You’d never felt alone in a crowd—until now.

You waited.

You really waited. When you told him you were keeping the baby, you’d waited for some kind of response. You’d waited for him to call, to come over, to tell you he’d be there. But he never showed.

He didn’t text, didn’t call, didn’t make an effort. He left you to handle this alone.

To be honest, you hadn’t been sure you’d even keep the baby when you first told him. You were just so angry, you’d wanted him to think you would. But even so, your mind never actually veered toward an abortion, though you had the right. There was nothing wrong with choosing an abortion—but you’d decided you wanted this baby.

The idea of a man controlling a woman’s choices was sickening. Having an abortion was a right, just like having a child was.

When you went for your first appointment and saw the baby for the first time, your heart raced. They asked if the father would be coming, and you didn’t want to answer, but a quick “No” slipped out. Your mind wanted him nowhere near this, but your heart couldn’t quite let go.

Luckily, you’d always been someone who chose her head over her heart.

An “almost-man” who’d abandoned you with his child—he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t even a man at all; he was just a boy.

Taking responsibility was part of it. You’d respected his boundaries. He’d made it clear he didn’t want this, so you’d made your choice to raise the baby on your own.

Single motherhood would be hard, but you wanted this child.

And you’d do what Rafe wanted. He didn’t want the baby, so you’d make sure he’d never see it. You’d make sure he’d never touch, never meet this child.

When you were on that exam table, he should have been the one holding your hand.

But he wasn’t.

The support came from where you hadn’t expected it.

Your mom.

She was still upset you were keeping the baby, but it didn’t take her long to understand this was your life. The day you’d left home in anger had seemed to shock her into a full 180.

You knew your dad didn’t approve, either, but they’d never once turned their backs on you. Maybe they were scared you’d leave and never come back. Who knows?

When you learned the baby was healthy, you felt a deep calm settle over you. The doctor told you it was too early to know the gender, but you could wait. That was okay.

You were two months and three weeks along.

Despite everything, all the heartache, when you listened to the baby’s heartbeat, it was like none of it had ever happened. When your mom saw your eyes welling up, she quickly looked down, but she squeezed your hand and smiled.

From the woman who’d once shouted for you to get an abortion, to the one tearing up over her grandchild…

It was strange.

The baby was healthy. There was no sign of any issues. And soon enough, in just a few weeks, you’d know the gender. That made you happy.

Your hands were shaking when they gave you the ultrasound photo. You didn’t feel shy about asking for a few extras—you wanted to put them everywhere. The reality of it struck you all over again. You were going to have a baby, to be a mother, and there were only months left to go.

You’d be a mom, and you’d do whatever it took to give this child a good life.

You

Are you still working at the ice cream shop?

JJ Maybank

Nah, got fired.

Why?

You

Shit. I really need some ice cream.

JJ Maybank

Ok.

Vanilla or chocolate?

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[hereforthehitsbaby]

Careful, Bub | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: I showed my friends, then we high-fived / Sorry if you feel objectified / Can't help myself, hormones are high / Give me more than just some butterflies

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Sexting, Nude Photos, Mentions of Sex Toy Use, Dom!Logan, Logan Talks You Through It, P R A I S E K I N K ! L O G A N, Choking of the Sexual Variety, Shoving, Claws Come Out,  Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Logan is 200 years old), Reader used to have confidence issues but worked through them,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 8.5k

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

It’s fun to relate to the people that live in the same place as you, something about it deepens the connection. Whether it is a mutual bonding over music, entertainment, or even sports – it always makes you feel closer, comfortable. In this day and age, it can be almost lonely if you aren’t connected with others through your phone, making the world feel a bit glummer. Having that safe group is necessary to be one with the world, to feel like you’re going to be okay – like everything is going to pan out. You happened to luck out by living in the same building as some of the most heinous, and hilarious characters the world has ever set eyes on. You have the fortune of calling them your friends.

The group chat was originally Wade’s idea. His way of bringing you into the crew when you worked late, not missing a moment of meet ups you couldn’t make it to. It was a sweet gesture, but with how many others were in there – it overwhelmed you. Out of the twelve people who are constantly messaging the chat, you found safety within two of them. Negasonic and Yukio happened to be your solace when the chat was too loud. Yukio wasted no time in creating a Girls Only chat for you three, where nothing was held back. You three could express yourselves in every way possible, without the guys being weirdos – mainly Wade but still. It was great to have women friends around your own age, that was something you were not used to. 

Any inside joke about the guys or about events being organized was ran through your three separately, making small bets here and there on what Al would say, who Peter would try to have grab his chain, how many times Logan told Wade to fuck off. Logan, that made you tune in real quick. The possibilities were endless and made it eventful to say the least. But the one thing you loved the most about your friendship with Nega and Yukio is how open they are with you; Honest, encouraging, your own personal cheerleaders. When you initially met them, you were a shy little wallflower – getting by on just being a listener over a talker. Always the encourager, never getting encouragement. Shying away anytime someone was nice to you, never accepting it as truth. Yukio and Nega were the opposite of what you were, and everything you wanted to be.

Having a safe space with them meant you could send them anything and they’d listen, give advice, be the best friends you could’ve ever asked for. It was with them that you found your confidence, something you always struggled with. It was one photo you sent them of the dress you were wearing – both ladies telling you how beautiful and gorgeous you are, how hot you looked in it. That small little omission altered your brain chemistry. You hadn’t been called hot before, so it invigorated you to hear that. It was a long dive into the endless pool below, and you were ready for the journey down. Months and months of slowly getting out of your shell with them turned you into a little vixen, the compliments they gave you caused you to thrive. You always reciprocated for them as well, hyping them up through and through. It felt good to feel like you were worth it, like you weren’t just there. It changed the way you saw yourself, and you knew you’d never go back to how it was before.

Tonight was no different, after all you had just gotten back from hanging out with them. A trip downtown to the mall was a call for chaos when it was you three, Wade forcing Logan to stay home with him and reenact The Greatest Showman with Mary Puppins. It bummed you out for a bit, not being able to chill with Logan like you wanted, but when Wade called – no one told him no. It was a secret to everyone who wasn’t Yukio and Nega that you had a thing for Logan. Something about the older man burned right through you in the most sensual way possible, something deep and longing you never wanted to leave. Little glances you two would have together always caused the girls to giggle, teasing you about it later but, it was only a matter of time before the chord snapped, before you gave in. Still that fear sat at the back of your mind, the what if’s. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he doesn’t want anyone? What if? What if? What if?

As you sit on your plush rug right in front of your wall length mirror, you leaned against the side of your bed, humming as you thumbed through the earlier group chat messages. Behind you on your duvet sat the bag full of clothing you had gotten, trying to add more color into your wardrobe. Beneath it all sat a spicy little number you nabbed whole Yukio and Nega were changing, something that felt so right you needed to have it. It wasn’t a secret that you would buy yourself things like these every now and again but, this time around you felt empowered holding this little secret just for yourself, to surprise your friends with. They always said that color duo made you look fearless, powerful, gorgeous – and you’d be damned if you’d pass it up, especially on sale.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you contemplated getting up to take a shower or put on your new set, feeling yourself out, getting some prime photos then showering. The toss up between the two left you unable to choose, wondering if you could go hang out with Wade and Laura instead, maybe even sneak your way into Logan’s room. The thought made your body shiver, needing to close your eyes for a moment to brace yourself. Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind wander, your hand grabbing the bag off your bed instinctively. It was a given deep down you wanted to prance around your room in the set, spicing up your night. Something about wearing it underneath your clothes while hanging out with everyone felt taboo, downright sinful – but you craved it.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, you gently grabbed each piece of lingerie out of the bag, the rustling of tissue paper filling the air as your music droned low in the background. The bra was placed carefully against the bed first, followed by the lacy things and garter set; Your eyes quivered with arousal as you saw it, knowing how it was going to make you feel. There was no wasted effort in stripping completely naked, tossing your day clothes into the laundry basket. The slight cool breeze coming from your central air, mixing with the intoxicating smell of the candles lit around you made your eyes darken, your nipples pebbling against the air. You understood why you were excited and giddy to be putting it in, but in the back of your mind you also felt nervous. It was confusing you.

Pushing it out of your head, you ignored the nagging in the back of your mind, solely focusing on the task at hand. Sliding the soft lace of the thong up your thighs, you reveled in how it felt – how it glided against your skin so softly, like it was a lover. How supportive it felt cupping your front whilst holding your behind helped to quell some of the nerves lying low in your belly. Snapping the elastic band against your hip, you giggled as you grabbed the bra. Even though it was lacy and covered almost nothing, it had good support for your breasts, holding them perfectly to show the most amount of cleavage, but also leaving some to the imagination. In between the small bits of detailing, you could see the color of your nipple, which caused your smirk to grow. Biting your bottom lip, you smoothed your hands over the apex of your breasts, watching as the flesh spilled over slightly.

All that was left was your garter belt, sitting across the middle of your stomach and hooking onto your stockings. You worked quickly to pull them up as you let the music take over you, swaying to the beat so it was less intimidating. As the final strap was hooked to the top of your stockings, you let out a shaky sigh, silently prepping yourself for what you would see once you turned around. Keeping your eyes closed you spun around slowly, letting the anticipation eat away at you until you couldn’t take anymore. Usually you were so confident when it came to trying these pieces on, not giving a second worry to them – this time around you were nervous, as if this particular color scheme made you scared. You couldn’t let that hold you back, not after how far you have come, it wasn’t worth it.

Slowly you opened your eyes as you faced the mirror, the blue tint of the strip lighting giving a whimsy glow to your room. The focal point of your vision started to become clear as you looked at your face, makeup still immaculate and beautiful from earlier. But as your eyes panned down to your body, you felt a fresh wave of goosebumps flood your skin, a shaky moan leaving your lips. The yellow of the bra and thong complimented your figure wonderfully, amplifying the gorgeous glow of your skin. But truly it was the navy blue of your stockings and belt that made your body quiver; The royal deep color punctuating your sensuality with how you stood. You couldn’t believe this was you, in all your baren glory – a fucking goddess amongst men, you could send one to the hospital just with this set. You couldn’t keep your smile back any longer as you stared at yourself, admiring your body and its shape against the lingerie. All the worries, all the small doubts instantly fell away, your confidence skyrocketing.

You knew for a fact Yukio and Nega would hype you up, thinking this was totally you¸ and probably ask if you got it today. But those could wait, you needed to take photos – you needed to see what you looked like on screen. The giddy nature of what you were doing sent shivers through your body, the thought of what positions would look best making you grow excited. You decided that your go-to for new outfits would fit perfectly in this scenario. Who knows, you could save this photo for a rainy day when you wanted to tease someone. You grabbed your phone off of the bed as you dropped to your knees, the plush shag material of your lilac rug feeling lovely against your legs.

Parting your thighs, you left a good gap between both as you sunk yourself down. One hand came to press against the floor directly in front of your clothed core, tossing your hair over to the opposite side. As you held your phone in position with your free hand, you noticed how your arm was pushing your breasts together deliciously, deepening the cleavage, sending your eyes a shade darker. Pouting your lip as cutely as you do, you snapped a few quick photos, getting every great angle you could as you changed your hair direction. A blur of photos filled your camera roll as you felt yourself, “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter coming across your playlist at the best time.

As you laughed to yourself, you finally stopped taking photos, sitting with your back against the bed and crossing your legs. Each photo you took was a masterpiece, amplifying your beauty by tenfold. But out of each one, it was the very first one that felt real, authentic to you. The others you were playing sexy up, trying to get the best fuck me look going, but it felt too artificial for your taste. It was the first one, the one where your eyes were dilated, where your nipples perked beneath the fabric, where your thighs trembled that made you feel like a God. It was a no brainer that this is what Yukio and Nega were getting, there was no way around it now. Clicking the share icon in your camera roll, you clicked on the first green bubble, eyes blurred from how excited you were about this risky photo. I’d be a lot tougher with claws.

You sent off the cheeky message without a second more thought to it, locking your phone instantly. As you tossed the device on your bed, you put on the silk bathrobe hanging off of the corner of your mirror, wrapping yourself up quickly. All that thirst-trapping made you thirsty, the dry mouth you were getting was too much for you. As you opened your bedroom, making it around to your kitchen of your apartment, you opened your fridge up quickly to grab a water bottle. The cold plastic in your hand brought you back to Earth, your body coming back into itself as your reality started to slip back in. The cap was popped off easily by you, finding its way across the quartz top. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you let them wrap around the opening, gulping down the cold liquid. It felt nice with how hot you felt, bringing your internal temperature back down as your mind cleared.

Ding. The tone of your phone going off made you stop drinking, catching your breath as you swallowed down the water. So lost in bringing yourself back to the present time, you forgot you had messaged the chat. You screwed the lid back onto the bottle as you set it on the countertop, promising to come back to it. As you made your way elegantly back to your room, that pull of nausea and nerves made you stop. Your stomach churned as you stood in the doorway, the threshold keeping you upright. That same feeling from earlier was back as you put on the lingerie, not knowing why you felt so nervous and scared all of a sudden. It made you confused, weary as to what your body was trying to tell you. It’s just Yukio and Nega, why are you being so flighty? Groaning to yourself, you rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your bed.

Plopping down onto the duvet, you sprawled out on your stomach as you grabbed your phone, using your face ID to unlock it. Yes you would. Colors look good on you. You cocked a brow at the message, reading the lines over and over again. It didn’t sound like Nega or Yukio to be so short-worded. Usually, they would send a plethora of emojis before screaming in all caps. But that was just the thing, your last message open wasn’t to the group chat, but one individual instead. It all made sense now, why you felt so scared and nervous. Your eyes went wide as you read the contact’s name, not seeing your groupchat. No, instead it read Logan. It wasn’t the groupchat that received the photo, it was him.

You screamed as you threw your phone across the floor, palms shaking as you sat up silently. The noise in your brain was too loud to focus, the intake of your breath and blood pulsing through your ears made everything too much. Anxiety was sitting in the back of your throat, threatening to spill your stomach out. You scrambled across the floor on your hands and knees to grab your phone, still unlocked from a few moments ago. Shaky fingers worked to unsend the photo, blessing the tech gods for that feature. You were too anxious to type, opting for speech to text instead. “I’m so sorry about that! I meant to send that to Nega and Yukio.” Seeing the wording typed out didn’t feel right, as weird as that sounded. Admitting it felt like a sin, more so than sending a sexy photo to The Wolverine. After all, wasn’t this your endgame anyways? It’s not like you haven’t deep infatuated with him since he became Wade’s friend, since you started hanging around him a lot more. Wasn’t it you who stated that by the end of the year, you’d kiss him? Wasn’t it you who said you would fight tooth and nail to make him yours?

Being sucked into your mind by your thoughts caused you to delay in sending your message, instead removing the text with your finger to completely disappear. Ding. Right as you were thinking of your response, you saw another message come through from Logan, one you didn’t anticipate. Put it back. Now. There was no way he said that, right? Oh, but there was. As your eyes shook from excitement, nervousness, and fear you could make out the small letters of Logan’s message, feeling his desire through the text. He wasn’t a big texter, he even said that himself – but to see him say more than two words was insane to you, even now when he was clearly enamored with you. There was no right or wrong way to reply, but no words you could think of held a light to the dominance Logan is showing.

Incoming FaceTime Call: Logan. The red and green buttons at the bottom made you stir, wondering if it would be a good idea to answer. This was one of his favorite ways to communicate, to see how things were going and what you were up to. Granted they never lasted more than two minutes because Wade would always hijack it but still – the little slivers of time you got with Logan was special. This time around though? It felt wired, like if you answered you’d get the shock of a lifetime. But what was life without a little self-indulgence? Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you fixed a few strands of your hair, pulling your robe a bit tighter around your chest as you sat back against the bed, letting your butt hit the floor as you got comfortable. Dragging your thumb along the green answer button, you positioned your phone a few inches away from your face, enough to get your collarbone up in the shot. A slow, pregnant pause caused by your phone’s connection delayed seeing Logan. But once it came to be, you were taken aback.

The dark of the early night was cresting behind his head, the sun starting to descend into the horizon. His eyes glittered against the holiday lights, causing your heart to swell. Once he looked back down at the camera, he couldn’t help himself but by staring at you, a small smile threatening to take over his lips. “Hey,” he let out with an airy breath, the slight chill of the night causing it to puff out. You felt yourself suck in a breath, the energy already charged. Reflecting his own smile, you sent your own through your phone as you waved. “Hi.” Usually you were a lot more talkative, teasing him to make him smile but – none of that felt right in this moment. Even with seeing his face on your screen, you could tell he was hiding something – not really saying what he wanted to. His eyes were black against the horizon behind him, no sight of hazel coming through.

“How’re you?” You managed to let out, your voice lower than usual as you let your legs stretch out, leaning further back against the side of the bed. Logan didn’t miss a second of your movements as he walked down the street, the light bustling of cars filling the sound barrier. From the buildings behind him, you could see he was downtown, more than likely heading to the bar for a quick drink. You silently wished he asked to meet you there, to hang out privately for once. But that playful glint in his pupils told a different story as he rounded the corner, staring down at you. “Did Wade tell you about my suit?”

Logan asked with a slight smirk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he watched for your reaction. Cocking a brow in his direction you tried to understand what he was asking, not sure what suit he meant. You knew that Logan was The Wolverine, it was no secret. But you never saw his suit, only meeting him a week after he jumped into your timeline. Shaking your head at his question, you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing on the skin to help combat the butterflies in your stomach. The swishing of your hair from side-to-side aiding in cooling you down. “Then what made you choose yellow and blue?” His smirk never let off as he asked, prying. He wanted to fully talk about the photo, he wanted to see if it was truly accidental or planned. Your mouth went dry when he asked, not having a concrete answer for why you chose that color scheme. Shrugging you tightly laughed, releasing your lip as you focused on your mirror. “I thought it was a pretty combination.”

Pretty, by association it was like you were calling Logan pretty. Even if you didn’t know about his original suit, still he associated himself with those colors. Logan mirrored how you were before, pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth as he chuckled. Struggling for a moment, Logan managed to flip his camera around to pan at his legs – the clean yellow and blue pants is all he had to remember his original suit. It caused your heartrate to pick up again, hammering in your chest as you got a brief glimpse at his clothed crotch. It took every fiber of your being to contain yourself, to hide the whimper clawing up the back of your throat. Lost in thought of what he could be hiding under there you didn’t notice how the screen flashed a few times – a text bubble popping up you couldn’t focus on. Logan took screenshots of your reaction.

The camera flipped back to Logan’s face, the heat cresting its way up your neck as you stared at him, your own pupils blown out.  “Do you still think so?” He teased, dropping his voice down a few octaves. You could tell he was wearing his headphones to talk, making it more intimate for him to hear than everyone else. It sent your body up in flames at how you could say anything, and it would be only for Logan. “More than ever before.” It was a no-brained response, you didn’t have to think in order to speak. Your mind was already as alert as it was going to be, the filter around Logan you had previously no longer existed on this call. Logan stopped his walking to stare down at you, narrowing his eyes with a genuine smile as he licked his lips, nodding to himself.

Logan jutted his chin out towards the camera as he started to walk up another well-lit street, never taking his eyes off the camera. “You wanna show me what my colors are hiding under there?” He nodded towards your bathrobe, a sliver of the bra showing against the fur collar. There was one of two ways this could’ve gone, either play into it or shy away. This was clearly an attempt from Logan to see how far you’d want to go with him, really a test for if this was accidental. Mutual pining after one another for so long burnt you both out, so if it kept going there would be no tell when it would stop. The power was now in your hands, there wasn’t much else you could play with. Putting on your best innocent eyes, you let the pretty little smile fall to your mouth, puffing your lower lip out slightly. “Dunno – you sure you can handle it?” Game on.

The sassy tone you let on with your question had Logan’s pants tightening, his breath coming out in sharp bursts as he tried to control himself. Having animalistic tendencies meant that anytime he was aroused, he needed to stake his claim. Show the world who you belong to, who his mate was. Even if you didn’t know, he did. He could smell it on you any time you went past him, or when you looked at him. In another life, in another world you were his – and he planned to make you his on Earth-10005 as well. Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Logan snorted as he stopped in his tracks, pressing his back against the brick wall of one of the local pubs. “I can handle you, missy.” Logan hissed, letting his eyes go naturally wide to signify how serious he was. The low growl seeping up from his throat made your body shiver, made your fingers work slowly to undo the ties on your bathrobe. “Don’t get it twisted.”

You couldn’t help but snort to yourself as you heard Logan say that, never expecting the 200-year-old man to say something so modern. Laughing lowly as you stripped out of the bathrobe, you let a sliver of your chest show, how your robe fell off of your shoulder. Logan’s eyes narrowed in to watch you take it off, the silk falling behind you. All that he could see was the plush skin of your breasts hanging slightly over the cups, nothing more. A weak moan slipped past his parted lips as he watched, needing to shut his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t cum in his pants. You knew you had Logan right where you wanted him, letting you take the control back of the situation. It made you feel powerful knowing he was so weak for you, even if it was for a short period of time. “Ew, Wade needs to stop teaching you catchphrases of the early 2010’s.” You weren’t a tease all the time, you could see Logan’s labored breathing through the call, could tell he needed a distraction.

Your remark was enough to make Logan open his eyes again, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes; The whites almost impossible to see. “Why are you changing the subject?” He panted, standing upright again as he pressed his covered back to the wall, cocking a brow in your direction. You weren’t prepared for Logan’s retort, thinking you may have the upper hand while he was aroused, yet he always managed to surprise you. Sucking your teeth, you shook your head in confusion, rolling your eyes away from his gaze. “Aw, is someone flustered?” He pouted, smiling with a hint of smugness. Your mouth falling open in a silent gasp made him chuckle, finding it quite adorable how you’re trying so hard. The burning across your face was a clear indication to you that Logan was getting under your skin, trying his hardest to truly break you. It wasn’t in a callous or mean way, but more to show you who you belonged to. Putting the phone closer to his face so you could see only him, he made sure he was loud and clear. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll be nice and gentle.”

“Fuck off, Howlett.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, exposing your cleavage to the camera without realizing it, your cool slipping through your fingers. The dead giveaway of how he was affecting you came in the form of your camera shaking, your fingers betraying you as you tried to suck in a deep breath. Looking away from the camera didn’t help when Logan stared like he was going to eat you alive, devouring you with every glint his eyes gave. You had to admit it to yourself, your confidence reserve was running out, completely going dry the longer you sat and talked with Logan. If he didn’t act now, he was forever going to hold his peace. “I’d rather fuck you.” It flowed off his tongue so elegantly, never deterring his steps as he managed to walk again. At first you thought you may have misheard him but, you heard him loud and clear, perfect in fact.

The shock written across your face, mixed with desire caused Logan’s restraint to snap. He moved away from the bars entrance and instead kept straight, letting the cold November air nip at him a bit longer. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Mouth hanging open, brow creased with a mix of shock and anxiety, you were going through it within seconds, all because of dear Logan. The confidence, the bravado, the je ne sais quoi you have held on the up and up finally slipping. Revealing itself when the shy version of yourself you thought you buried. The submissive angel, Logan had you wrapped tightly around his hand, reminiscent of his old cage fighting wraps. “Eye-fucking can only get you so far, princess.” Logan knew you wouldn’t pull away now, you were putty in his hands. But he could have a little fun with you, and boy did he plan to. It was a sure thought that you weren’t as obvious as you may have thought when staring at Logan, silently begging him to fuck you. The whole time, he knew.

“You’ve known?” It was a silly question to ask but Logan wasn’t stupid. He’s been around for more than 200 years, he could see through stuff as it came through. He is also very well known for retorting back no but I do now, pretending to know a secret as a way to coax you into telling him. You had to make sure this wasn’t like that – or else you’d implode. Logan nodded at you as the lights started to dim around him, a gentle glow from afar lighting the edges of his face. He was still outside but away from the light pollution, an alleyway most likely. Propping his phone up on the closest discarded shelf near a door, he nodded as he pulled out his flask. “No shit I’ve known, you can thank Yukio for that one.” Yukio, your friend. There was no malicious feelings towards her for telling Logan, in fact she may have done you a favor. But it got you thinking, who else did she tell? Was it one giant secret that the whole group knew, hence why they tried to push you both together constantly? “She tells Wade everything.”

And there it was, the shot heard ‘round the world. It made sense that she told Wade, and Wade blabbed to Logan – Yukio would never face the conflict head-on, it went through a source. Releasing the breath you were unaware you were holding, you nodded into the open air as you sunk further against the bed, a bead of sweat gathering on your hairline. The back of your throat felt tight, dry, highly uncomfortable for your own liking. Trying to swallow was like trying to fit a watermelon into a wine bottle, impossible due to how high your blood pressure was. Now that the light pollution of the city wasn’t creating streaks of orange across his screen, he could fully take in your shocked state – seeing the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. “What? You didn’t think I’d feel the same way?” Logan asked honestly, no longer keeping up the teasing. Seeing the distress on your face caused him to pull back, wanting you to tell him when it was good. He wasn’t going to push further; He didn’t want to ruin this.

The chord of your neck worked to string your words together, trying to find the best match to speak. Nothing felt, nor sounded right on your tongue; It drove you mad. “No, but I thought it was a fantasy more than anything.” You squeaked, coughing to bring some moisture back to your throat. Adjusting yourself on the floor, you brought the camera down a bit, pulling it further back for comfort – a typical position for you. Logan noticed though, how he could see you bright and clear as day, in your pale-yellow bra, that you had just for him. The slightly darker color of your nipple crept through the fabric, causing his pants to tighten, but he wouldn’t tease you further unless you felt better. “Can’t fantasies come true?” It was Logan’s last-ditch effort to ease the anxiety rising in your stomach. It helped, hearing him say that. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, it didn’t feel scary. It was beautiful, the start of something more.

“Are you sitting on the floor?” You pulled your camera back to pan it around yourself, showing off your little number as you sat, pulling your legs into a criss-crossed position. “Yeah, I got spooked off my bed thank you very much!” You stated with a smirk, showing how you were teasing. Logan liked how you said it, acting all sassy as you puffed out your bottom lip. It was cute, you looked precious to him. Everything about you made Logan feel alive, like his life was worth living instead of drowning it with the bottle. You made him want to be a better man, to settle down, start a family – anything you wanted he would give you even if you asked. That, is how much he loved you. “Flip your camera around.” He motioned, twirling his finger as he drank from his flask, groaning at the taste.

Obeying his command, you flipped your camera around as you showed him the mirror right in front of you. Waving cutely through it to him, you fluttered your legs as you sat, anticipation eating its way through you. Seeing the softness of your belly against your thong sent his mind spiraling, his eyes flickering to the fabric down further, hoping to God he could see your arousal. For a moment he took you in, how shy you were getting under his gaze. Hell, he could see the goosebumps forming themselves on your thighs, wanting to sink his teeth into the plushness of your flesh. Nudging his head towards you, his next command was on the tip of his tongue. “Spread your legs, c’mon.” The way it rolled out of his mouth like warm honey had your eyes wavering, threatening to roll back.

Slowly you began by uncrossing your legs, sticking your feet up absentmindedly towards the mirror, making sure to wiggle your toes under the stockings. It was a good tactic for teasing; Logan was living for your control. As your clothed claves hit the rug, you started to swing your legs open, letting each inch of the fabric rub against your soft legs. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by Logan, reveling in how responsive you are. “That’s it, good girl.” The fated words that made you lose yourself every time, fell out of Logan’s mouth so naturally. As he spoke that blissful name to you, finally your legs were fully open, able to see every little bit of you. It felt good, right to have his eyes on you. He wasn’t someone who could hide his emotions well nowadays, utterly losing it the longer he stayed with Wade. But in this moment you saw the true reserve on his face, the realization that even though he’s in some back bar’s alleyway, anyone could see him. The arousal coating his face, how his eyes focused harder to make out that tiny banana-yellow stain of your wetness on your panties, he was so lost in this moment. “Lean back, get comfortable. Eyes on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you leaned back fully against the side of your bed. Reaching to your left, you grabbed at the tripod Nega got you for your birthday this year, shortening the neck of it to sit perfectly to your side. Shaky hands did not make for stable camera work. Something in the back of your mind said this would be the best thing for him; No shaky cam as he directed you, all hands free just for him, it was the perfect pick. Pushing your phone quickly into the top slot of the tripod, you placed your hands on the inside of your thighs, tickling the soft flesh as you awaited Logan’s next words. Beneath the lace, he could see your perky nipples pebbling at the mere instructions he was giving you – silently berating himself for not going over to your apartment and showing you why they call him an animal.

“You’re such a good listener. Don’t think, just do.” You weren’t even trying at this rate, you naturally fell into the submissive role so easily. A commanding personality like Logan always made you fold, obeying each word like it was spoken from God. It’s the reason it made you so special in the bedroom; It’s the reason Logan became obsessed with you. Seeing your submissive side slip through the cracks every now and again made him yearn, a man starved. He could have anyone and all he needed was you. “Listening so well for me.” It was what you could do well in this moment, even with the steady flow of blood pumping through your ears. The whooshing and thumping making it difficult to hear anything other than Logan; The current making room like Moses parted the Red Sea, only he shall walk on through. “Show me, sweetheart.” You felt like you were burning up, from the inside out. Cooking hotter by the words Logan was saying, not able to keep your cool anymore. The husk of his voice, mixed with the lucidness of the alcohol slipping around his tongue made you see stars. If it was possible, you’d cum just from his voice.

Antsy was a perfect descriptor of how you were feeling at the moment, suspense eating right through your chest as the insinuation in Logan’s voice. “Show you what, Lo?” Ah, yes. Your last semblance of control before Logan completely shit-stomped it. An irritated groan fell between Logan’s mouth as he slammed his hands against the wall, the shelving where you were propped up on shaking. His head dangled between his shoulders as he breathed heavily. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.” That was the final straw, the endless teasing towards one another had finally broken. There would never be a way to go back from this, and you fucking thanked whatever or whoever was listening. Check fucking mate, Logan Howlett. That was all you needed to push forward.

You pulled at the side of your panties, swinging it onto the other side of your cunt as you opened your thighs up a bit more. The delicious stretch was aiding in the opening of your folds, letting the crisp air of your room lap through them. Logan drew his head up as he heard your silence, a painful growl slipping through his lips as he drew his brow together in pain. Nothing in this world could’ve prepared him for the sight he sees in front of him, the picture perfect gorgeousness, the thing he wanted tattooed on his brain. It was the purest form of Logan you could’ve possibly gotten; Veins of his neck bulging, eyes slanted so close to being closed, labored breathing like he ran a marathon. This was The Wolverine.

The sight on your phone made a fresh wave of your slick run out of your cunt, seeping onto the thin fabric between your cheeks. Using your first and forefinger to part yourself, you made sure to keeps your eyes on the mirror, eyeing the camera as you rubbed your pearly nub. The bead erect with arousal, begging to be touched. A simple flick of your finger across it had your entire lower half jolting. The sensation almost too much for your sensitive clit. Chewing on your bottom lip to help calm you down, slowly you began to make tentative circles with your first and middle finger, getting used to the sensation as your other hand slipped right under your bed to your secret box, one that no one would suspect.

Logan didn’t miss how you rubbed yourself so tenderly, loving yourself in the greatest way possible, while watching the perverse side of him come alive. He felt so naughty watching you masturbate, listening to his directions in the fucking alleyway. If he ran fast enough, he could be at your apartment before you made yourself orgasm, able to eat you out until you were crying for him to stop. No, this’ll do. He also didn’t miss how you reached frantically under your bed, eyes still on him as you grabbed a velvet bag. The purple glistened against the LED strips lights in your room, the multichrome coloring reflecting rainbows against your fingers. Quickly you worked the bag open, trying to grab at the first toy you could reach. Of course, it was not only the biggest dildo you had, but also happened to be yellow and blue. When Logan saw that, girth and all, he was roiling.

With how wet you were, you didn’t need lube to push your toy into you. Needy didn’t even touch upon how you felt. “Easy there baby, inch at a time. Ease it in, that’s it.” Logan cooed as you struggled to stretch around your toy, the burn already aiding in your arousal. Nodding at Logan’s words, you slowly inched the toy within your tight hole, never letting up on your clit to aid in the stretch. “L-Lo,” you moaned out quickly, eyes rolling back as your head lulled. If Logan was anything like this toy, you’d be unable to walk in the morning, you were hoping for that. “What, sweetheart? Feel too good?” Logan mewled as he gripped his tented cock through his pants, reveling in the harshness at which he was grabbing it. The bark he let out made your body shake, the thickest part of your dildo fully sheathed inside of you. “You deserve to feel this good honey, you’re the best girl.”

The praise was too much as you reached the base of the toy, your lower belly feeling so full of it. Carefully you pulled back on the toy, letting half of it out before you pushed it back in. The rigidness of the silicone rubbing against your spongy spot made you gasp, a throaty moan slipping into the night’s air, echoing throughout Logan’s headphones. “That’s my girl, nice and steady baby.” Logan had no idea what he was even saying anymore, or where he was going. All he knew was that his mouth was going and his feet were moving. Where they’d end up? He’d find out sooner or later. Palming himself as he steadily walked, Logan cut down the corner of the alley, making his way left. “Stretch that cunt out for me honey. I’ll fill you real soon.” Looking down at his screen all he could see was your blissed out face, the hearty stretch of your pussy around your toy, and the absolutely hot sight of your glistening body in his colors. “Just keep going, focus on my voice.”

Nodding at his words, you started to move the toy faster inside of you. The grip you had on the base helped it to conform to your cunt, filling in every ridge. Words escaped you in this moment, all you could do was focus on Logan’s face on your phone, watching how he never looked up at he walked, eyeing you like you were the World Series. Cresting behind your eyes was your orgasm, threatening to take you out with one swipe of your fingers. You couldn’t finish so soon, you wanted Logan to see exactly how it was for you. But there was no use, your arousal was so high, you were going to cum one way or another. The small squeak you let out caused Logan to stop in his tracks, glaring down at the phone will his full, undivided attention. “Look at the mirror baby, watch how sexy you are when you cum.” The breathy moan to which he released those words caused you to unleash the deepest groan you could muster, eyes blown out to nothing as you looked in the mirror.

Just like that, like the snap of your fingers, that string tethering you and Logan together snapped. Everything went white. Your ears rang as your throat became raw – yet no sound broke through. The sweetest coaxing could be heard miles away but yet it faded quickly. The world wasn’t spinning or moving for that matter. Instead, it was just staying still, letting you soak in this orgasmic bliss. Slowly the fog began to clear for you, your vision turning solid again as you watched the mirror. Heavy panting made up the sound coming back. The shaking of your body slowing down the longer you twirled the toy inside of you, rubbing your fingers deftly across your clit. Little by little, the blissful nature of your orgasm satiating that deep hunger looming in your chest. “That’s my good girl, making me so proud.” Logan’s tender voice cut through the staticky sound as your breathing steadiest itself. Licking your lips as you let your eyes wander around your room, you noticed that your tripod was a lot taller than you initially realized, almost looming over you as your fingers never stopped. Only that wasn’t your tripod, and that voice you heard was coming from directly beside you.

“Hi, princess,” Logan smirked into the mirror, meeting your gaze as you realized what was happening. It took a moment for it to register, wondering why he looked so much bigger now. Watching the figure of Logan reach between your legs in the mirror, it only clicked to you when you felt his grip close around the base of the dildo, pulling it out of you with cautionary ease. Shivering from the loss of girth within you, you snapped your head to the right as Logan caught your eyes. Smirking, he waved the wet dildo at you, chuckling as he threw it onto the bed. “H-Hey Logan,” you managed to let out, gulping down the pool of saliva in your bed. Nudging his chin behind you, Logan ran his calloused fingers over your chin, gripping your skin firmly. “Get on the bed.” It wasn’t an ask, it wasn’t a question. It was an order.

“Logan-“ you began, but were stopped when Logan grabbed at your throat, pushing against your pulse point with two fingers. The new sensation made your core clench around nothing, pulsating openly as you looked into Logan’s obsidian eyes, trying to make out what was going to happen. “Now.” Logan ordered, grabbing you by the neck and waist as he helped you up. Standing on wobbly knees was not a good idea, but damn it if it didn’t feel good. It took a moment to acclimate back into your body, Logan’s bodyweight kept you upright as you struggled. “Don’t make me tell you again, you won’t like that.” The threat made you want to break it, break him. Playing a brat for him would be a fun adventure, but the desperate nature of your arousal made you reconsider. Yet you were naturally doing it, and Logan was going to love punishing you later. “Very good girl.” Logan praised as you slowly sat back onto the bed, letting the silky material of the duvet caress your body.

How did he get in here? That was a question crossing your mind, nothing else but how. He wasn’t there all the time and you knew it, remembering that you were FaceTiming him. Narrowing your eyes in the direction of the bedroom door, you thankfully had a clear view to your front door, seeing that it was shut but – not quite perfect anymore. A smirk laid across your lips as you noticed the claw marks on the door, specifically around the doorknob, you assumed on both sides. Plus, the small splinter on top of his hand that he is currently picking out was enough tell for you. Logan had used his claws to unlock your door and get into your apartment. He was never going to the bar, this entire time he was walking to your apartment. It made sense now. This whole time he was coming to make you his. The revelation caused you to whimper out of pure love, no longer lust. Of course though, that didn’t last long. For what you saw next, shook you to your core.

Standing in between your legs was Logan fucking Howlett. The Wolverine. No longer did he wear his TVA jacket he was given earlier this year, but instead stood shirtless over you. The sweat on his body caused his chiseled physique to glisten in your room, his natural musk making your hornier by the second. His pants you had seen earlier of the same color scheme you are wearing, brushing wonderfully against your baren thighs. The reinforced nylon feeling like silk across your skin. Panning your eyes up to his hands, slowly Logan started to release his claws, inch by inch. A pained expression crossed across his mouth at the extension, but he fucking loved it. Why can I only see half of his face? As your eyes made their way upwards, no longer could you see his darkened eyes, instead replaced with something that shouldn’t have been considered hot. Across his eyes, around the top of his head was The Wolverine cowl, complete with, as Wade called them, blowjob handles. The animal himself, standing right between your legs.

You sunk back slowly on your elbows, stretching your legs open wider to fit all of him. Biting your lip, you looked up at Logan between your lashes, panting like a bitch in heat as you take him all in. “You want to see the real power yellow and blue really holds?” He growled, lightly tracing the dull edge of his claws against your sides. Yes, you do. Needless to say, this was the start of you wearing his colors, especially if this would happen every time.

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones

[helen-with-an-a]

Putting on a Show (18+)

This is thoroughly, thoroughly self-indulgent as it is my birthday. It's a long one and almost entirely all smut, so I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

Ona Batlle x Reader

Description: Ona has a plan

TW: Smut; 18+ only

Word Count: 8.1k

I am no better than a man

Ona had a plan, one that had been simmering in the back of her mind for weeks. It was a simple idea at first, a fleeting thought that had gradually grown into something more substantial with each passing day. She had nurtured it quietly, letting it develop in the quiet moments between matches, in the late-night hours when sleep was elusive, and in the rare, fleeting minutes of solitude. Today, finally, she was ready to bring it to life.

It was the first day off she’d had in well over 6 weeks. The relentless pace of the season had been gruelling. International camps had wedged themselves between a never-ending stream of commitments – Liga F fixtures, intense Copa de la Reina showdowns, and the high-pressure Champions League matches. The packed schedule had left little room for anything else, least of all for the two of you to spend any meaningful time together. Every moment was consumed by the game, leaving her little chance to focus on anything other than training, tactics, and recovery.

But today was different. The plan, meticulously crafted and eagerly anticipated, was set to unfold. Ona had been waiting for this moment – a chance to break free from the rigid routines and the demands of professional football, even if just for a day. A chance to reconnect with you, to remind herself of the life beyond the pitch, and to bring to life the idea that had danced around in her head for so long.

Her plan had technically started the night before. With a sense of purpose that belied her casual demeanour, Ona had set things in motion. She joined some of the girls for an evening out, knowing full well how the night would unfold. They hit a few favourite spots, laughed over drinks, and soaked in the rare moment of freedom away from the rigours of their usual routine. But while the others might have been intent on letting loose, Ona had a different objective in mind. She made sure to enjoy herself – laughing, dancing, and sipping just enough to reach that perfect balance where she could still think clearly, yet feel a little lighter, a little more carefree.

She was careful, though, never crossing the line from pleasantly tipsy to outright drunk. Every move she made was deliberate, every drink measured. She had a plan to follow, after all, and it required her to stay in control. When the others decided to continue the night, she graciously bowed out, offering an easy smile and the excuse that she wanted to rest up. But really, Ona knew this part of the plan was crucial.

You had opted out of the evening from the start, claiming pure exhaustion after the relentless weeks of training, travel, and matches. The prospect of a quiet night and an early bed was too appealing to resist. Ona hadn’t been surprised by your decision; in fact, she had counted on it. It worked perfectly in her favour.

She made sure to put on a bit of a show as she prepared for the night out. It was all part of the plan, every detail carefully considered. With a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she switched on some gentle music, the kind that filled the room with a soft, inviting rhythm. The melodies flowed through the air, creating an atmosphere that was both relaxed and intimate. As the music played, Ona began to move, letting the beat guide her. Her hips swayed effortlessly, a subtle, rhythmic motion that was as natural as breathing, yet deliberately captivating.

Ona knew you were watching her. She could feel your eyes on her as she made her way through the room, and she leaned into it, letting the music draw her movements out, make them more fluid, more intentional. She moved with a grace that seemed almost unconscious, but every step, every turn, was a silent invitation for you to keep watching.

Taking her time, Ona lingered over her skincare routine, something that was usually a quick and functional process. Tonight, though, she turned it into a ritual. She smoothed the lotions and creams onto her skin with slow, deliberate strokes, as if savouring the feel of the products, letting them soak in not just to nourish her skin, but to heighten the anticipation that hung in the air. She caught your gaze in the mirror, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, and smiled softly to herself, knowing she had your full attention.

Applying her makeup became an art form, each brushstroke and touch of colour done with care and precision. She took significantly longer than usual, drawing out the process, knowing you were watching her every move. The way you followed her with your eyes, tracking her as she moved around the room, was exactly what she wanted. It was part of the game she was playing, a way to keep you intrigued, to keep you wondering what was going through her mind.

For the final act, Ona had saved her outfit – or at least, part of it. She had chosen a tight white crop top, the fabric hugging her torso and finishing just below her bra line, though she had conveniently "forgotten" to wear that particular item. The top clung to her curves, the soft fabric hinting at the shape beneath, while leaving just enough to the imagination. But it wasn’t just the crop top that made a statement. As she sat at the vanity in your shared bedroom, her dark blue thong was on full display. The fabric, or lack thereof, hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her figure and adding an extra layer of allure to the scene.

She knew exactly what she was doing. Every movement, every choice was part of a calculated plan to captivate you, to draw you in, and to leave you wanting more. And as she caught your gaze in the mirror once again, a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. Ona was in control, and she knew that tonight, the night she had carefully orchestrated from the very beginning, was only just beginning.

"Bub, do you have to go out?" you asked from the bed, your voice carrying a note of quiet pleading, as she slipped on her trousers, purposefully turning around and struggling to pull the material over her curves. The question hung in the air; your words softened by the drowsiness that had settled over you after the long, exhausting weeks. You watched her from where you lay, the comfort of the bed pulling you deeper into its embrace, yet your eyes remained fixed on Ona as she moved around the room with an almost hypnotic grace. The dim light of the room, combined with the gentle music in the background, made everything feel dreamlike, and you couldn’t help but wish she would abandon her plans and stay with you instead.

"Why don’t you just stay in?" you continued, your tone taking on a more persuasive edge as you propped yourself up on one elbow, trying to meet her gaze. The thought of her leaving after the demanding schedule you both had endured over the past few weeks made your heart sink a little. It had been such a hectic time, with barely any moments to breathe, let alone spend quality time together. The idea of her heading out into the night, while you remained behind, felt almost unbearable.

"It’s been a long couple of weeks," you argued softly, trying to appeal to her weariness, hoping she would see the sense in staying home. Your eyes followed Ona’s every movement, the way she meticulously finished getting ready, and you couldn’t help but notice the little details – how her skin glowed from her careful skincare routine, how the soft material of her crop top clung to her in all the right ways. Despite how stunning she looked, a part of you wished she would change her mind, slip out of her outfit, and climb back into bed with you, where you could both relax and enjoy each other's company without any distractions.

You could hear the faintest hint of longing in your own voice, a subtle plea for her to choose you over the night out. The quiet intimacy of your shared space, the warmth of the bed, and the comfort of simply being together seemed like the perfect alternative to whatever the night might hold for her outside. You knew how much she enjoyed these rare moments of freedom, but still, you couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd decide that tonight, staying in with you was the better option.

She pouted, her lips forming a soft, irresistible curve, accentuated by the sheen of the lip gloss she had just applied. The gloss caught the light, making her lips look even fuller, the subtle sparkle adding a touch of allure to her playful expression. It was a look designed to tug at your heartstrings, a mix of teasing and genuine consideration, as if she was weighing your suggestion against her own plans.

For a moment, Ona’s eyes lingered on you, taking in the sight before her. You did look thoroughly inviting, wrapped in the familiar comfort of your shared space. One of her ratty old Nike tops, well-worn and slightly oversized, draped over your frame, the fabric soft from years of use. It was one of those shirts that held a certain nostalgia, infused with memories of countless lazy mornings and late-night talks, a tangible piece of the life you two had built together. The sight of you in it stirred something warm and tender within her, a reminder of the simple, quiet moments you both cherished.

The fluffy duvet was tucked around you, enveloping you in its warmth, adding to the picture of cozy domesticity. You looked so at ease, so content, with your head resting lightly on the pillow, the soft material of the duvet pulled up to your chin. Your hair, slightly tousled from your earlier nap, framed your face in a way that made you look even more endearing, and the faint trace of a smile on your lips only deepened Ona’s internal conflict.

The way you looked at her, with that irresistible blend of sleepy affection and a hint of desire, made it abundantly clear that you wanted her to stay. It tugged at Ona’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, as she stood there with those glossy, inviting lips pouted just so, she seriously considered giving in. The idea of abandoning her plans and curling up next to you, of letting the night slip away while the two of you revelled in each other's warmth, was incredibly tempting. The image of the two of you tangled up in the duvet, talking softly or just lying in comfortable silence, made her heart flutter. She could almost feel the softness of the sheets, the way your body would fit perfectly against hers, the steady rhythm of your breathing lulling her into a state of peaceful contentment.

But then she caught herself. No. She had a plan – a carefully crafted plan that she’d been piecing together for weeks. That was the whole reason she was doing this, the reason she’d put on the show, the reason she was dressed and ready to go out.

Ona took a deep breath, steeling herself against the temptation. She reminded herself of how she wanted tomorrow to go, how all the little pieces she’d set into motion would come together. This was the kind of plan that required patience and a bit of sacrifice. And as much as she wanted to climb into bed with you right then and there, she knew that sticking to her plan would make everything even more worth it in the end.

So, she held onto that pout just a little longer, letting it soften into a small, knowing smile. “You know I’d love to stay, bellesa meva” she said, her voice warm and affectionate, “but I promise, this will be worth it.” She leaned down to give you a soft, lingering kiss, the taste of her lip gloss lingering on your lips as she pulled away. It was a kiss full of unspoken promises, a reminder that she wasn’t going out to escape you, but to create something memorable for the both of you.

With one last glance at you, tucked so comfortably in bed, she straightened up and gave a little wink. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she added, her tone playful yet full of intent. She leaned back down, gifting you a sweet kiss, filled with the promise of more.

And with that, she turned and headed for the door, her heart beating a little faster as she reminded herself of what was to come. The plan was in motion, and as much as she wanted to stay, she knew that leaving was the right choice. The night was just beginning, and when she returned, everything would be just as she had envisioned.

When Ona woke up in your arms the next morning, she felt a wave of contentment wash over her, knowing that the second part of her plan was now in motion. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room and highlighting the peacefulness of the moment. She lay there for a few seconds, savouring the feel of your body pressed close to hers, the steady rise and fall of your chest beneath her. She could tell you were awake – your fingers were drawing random patterns on her ribs, the feeling making her tingle and goosebumps rise up on her skin.

Her head was nestled against your collarbone, a spot that had become so familiar and comforting over time. With each breath she took, she could feel the warmth of your skin against her cheek, and as she exhaled, her breath fanned out gently against your neck. The closeness between you was palpable, a kind of intimacy that came not just from physical proximity but from the deep bond you shared. Your legs were tangled together in a way that made it impossible to tell where you ended and she began, your bodies seamlessly intertwined in a comfortable heap of limbs.

Ona marvelled at how natural it felt to wake up like this, how your limbs, no matter how intertwined, seemed to fit perfectly together, as if they were meant to be like this. Her arm was draped over your torso, her hand gripping onto the fabric of your shirt.

She knew you knew she was awake. The subtle shift in your breathing, the gentle tightening of your arm around her, and the way your hand began to drift slowly down her body were all telltale signs. You were playing a familiar game, one that she loved more than she could ever put into words. Your hand moved with an unhurried, maddening rhythm, fingers brushing over her skin with just the right amount of pressure, lingering in places that made her breath catch. It was a slow, deliberate dance of touch and sensation, designed to tease and heighten her awareness of every inch of her body that you explored.

Ona felt a shiver run down her spine as your hand traced the curve of her waist, sliding down the dip of her lower back before gliding back up again, repeating the motion with a rhythm that was both soothing and intoxicating. Each pass of your hand over her skin sent ripples of anticipation through her, stirring a heat that built with each gentle caress. The sensation was enough to make her want more, to crave the touch of your hand moving lower, pressing harder, but you kept the pace slow, drawing out the moment, savouring her reaction.

She couldn't help but shift her hips, instinctively seeking more contact, more friction, as your hand continued its torturous path. The slight movement brought her body closer to yours, pressing her body against yours in a way that her toes curl. Your thigh, firm and strong, pressed against her clit as she shifted, creating a pressure that was nothing short of heavenly. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through her, making her gasp softly against your neck.

The pressure of your thigh against her was perfect – just enough to tease, to keep her on the edge, while leaving her yearning for more. She could feel the heat pooling low in her belly, the tension building with each subtle shift of her hips. It was a delicious kind of torture, the kind that made her want to lose herself in the sensation, to let go of everything except the feeling of you against her. The maddening rhythm of your touch and the pressure of your thigh were driving her to the brink, her body responding with an urgency she could barely contain.

You smiled slyly at her movements, a knowing glint in your eyes as you watched her. The subtle shifts in her body, the way she shifted her hips and pressed closer to you, were all part of a carefully orchestrated plan that you were fully aware of. Last night, when Ona had sat down on the bench in front of you, wearing your favourite blue thong of hers, you had known exactly what she was up to. The thong, with its daring cut and dark colour, had been a deliberate choice – a bold statement that spoke volumes about her intentions.

From the moment she had switched on the slower, more sensual music as she began to get ready, you had recognised the cues. The music set a mood that was unmistakable, a deliberate contrast to the usual upbeat tunes that accompanied her preparations. The soft, seductive melodies had been a clear signal of her plans, an invitation to indulge in a night of intimacy and connection. You could practically feel the rhythm of the music syncing with your own heartbeat, heightening the anticipation for what was to come.

As you had felt Ona climb into bed beside you later that night, her short, tight top still hugging her body and her underwear on full display, it was evident that she was playing a game, and you were more than willing to play along. The sight of her dressed like that, with every curve and contour accentuated, had been a delicious tease. Her presence beside you, her warmth pressing against you, was an enticing mix of sensuality and closeness, perfectly aligning with the plan you knew she had in mind.

If she wanted to put on a show, to tease and tantalise, you were more than happy to let her. You were fully aware of her intentions, and rather than resisting or interrupting, you found yourself enjoying the dance she was performing. Her subtle hints, her knowing smiles, and the way she moved with purpose and grace were all part of a game you both enjoyed – a way to deepen your connection and explore each other's desires.

The way she looked at you, the way she deliberately brushed against you, was all part of the seductive choreography that had begun the moment she had started getting ready. If she wanted to turn up the heat, to push boundaries, or to indulge in promises that had been simmering all night, you were more than ready to let her. After all, it was a game you both enjoyed.

Just as she was about to tip over the edge, her body trembling with anticipation, you suddenly and roughly squeezed the flesh of her arse, halting her movements entirely. The unexpected pressure jolted her, causing a sharp intake of breath and an involuntary gasp that escaped her lips. The sensation was a mix of surprise and intense pleasure, the sudden, firm grip on her body sending waves of heightened sensitivity through her.

She let out a soft, frustrated whimper, her voice laden with a mix of irritation and desperation. “Wh-no, bellesa meva,” she whined pitifully, her words barely coherent in the throes of her near-release. The endearment rolled off her tongue in a blend of longing and annoyance, a testament to the frustration she felt at being so tantalisingly close yet abruptly denied. Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours with a pleading gaze, the heat in her expression both intense and vulnerable.

Her hips were still, frozen in the position you had left them, her body quivering slightly from the lingering intensity of the interrupted pleasure. The flush on her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest only underscored her agitation. She wanted to reach the peak, to feel the release she had been so close to achieving, but the sudden stop had left her hanging in a state of frustrated anticipation.

With a soft, almost desperate pout, she looked up at you, her voice catching slightly as she continued to whine. “I was so close,” she murmured, her tone a mixture of pleading and exasperation.

The way she looked at you, her eyes searching yours with an almost desperate hope, made it clear how much she had been invested in the experience. She had savoured the build-up, every touch, every movement that had led her to the brink, only to be pulled back just before she could reach the climax she had been yearning for. Her pout was an expression of the frustration that came from being tantalisingly close to release but abruptly denied, a stark contrast to the playful teasing that had marked the rest of the evening.

“Trust me, bubba, I am well aware of just how close you were,” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you tightened your grip once more. The firmness of your touch was both punishing and invigorating, accentuating the delicious tension that had been building between you. You knew precisely what you were doing, prolonging the game in a way that made her squirm with both anticipation and a hint of impatience.

“But you put on such a show last night,” you continued, your tone carrying a playful edge that was both affectionate and slightly mocking. You pouted theatrically, the gesture adding to the teasing atmosphere. “Did you really think I would let all your hard efforts go to waste?” The question was rhetorical, meant to underscore the fact that her deliberate display and the care she had taken to set the scene were not going to be disregarded so easily.

“You wanted me to watch you,” you said, your voice softening slightly as you looked into her eyes, the teasing edge giving way to a more tender undertone. “You wanted me to see you, to appreciate all the effort you put into this.” Your words were turning Ona on even more – she could feel herself get wetter by the second. The fabric of her underwear clung uncomfortably to her, damp and sticky, exacerbating the sensation of need and anticipation. Each slight movement caused the fabric to rub against her sensitive skin, intensifying the feeling of pressure and desire.

Your gaze remained steady, your eyes locked onto hers with a look that was both commanding and affectionate. The way you spoke, acknowledging the care she had taken in preparing for the evening and recognising her desire for you to witness it all, made her pulse quicken. She felt a delicious mix of embarrassment and thrill, knowing that her efforts were having the exact effect she had hoped for.

“So, Ona,” you continued, your voice now carrying a more provocative tone, “why don’t you put on a little show?” The challenge in your voice was unmistakable, the eyebrow you raised adding an extra layer of daring to your request. The playful, almost mischievous glint in your eyes dared her to fulfil your demand, to turn the moment into something even more exhilarating.

The invitation was clear: you wanted her to perform, to take the teasing you had started and turn it into an act of intimate exhibitionism. The thought of putting on a show for you, of turning the tables and making the night revolve around her display of desire, sent a thrill through Ona. Her mind raced with the possibilities, her body aching for the opportunity to respond to your challenge. She could feel the heat rising within her, the urgency of her arousal demanding release.

Ona didn’t like to back down from challenges. She was fearless on the pitch and just as brave off it. She thrived on pushing boundaries and embracing opportunities to showcase her strength, both physical and emotional.

With a determined smile curving her lips, Ona began to slowly shift her body, each movement chosen carefully and infused with purpose. Her eyes locked onto yours, a confident glint of mischief and resolve reflected in their depths. The smile on her face was both sultry and resolute, a clear signal that she was ready to rise to the occasion and meet your challenge head-on. You placed your hands on her hips, not guiding but as a silent acknowledgement that you were there, a subtle reminder of who she was doing this for.

She started by shifting her hips with a deliberate, twisting motion, the fabric of her tight top brushing against her skin as she moved. Her body rolled gracefully; every curve accentuated by the dim light that filtered through the room. The anticipation in the air was palpable, creating a charged atmosphere that seemed to hum with expectation. Each subtle shift of her hips, each arch of her back, was designed to captivate and tease, drawing you in and making every moment feel like a tantalising eternity.

As Ona continued her performance, she made sure every gesture was both seductive and purposeful. Her hands roamed over her body, lightly grazing her curves and creating a visual feast that was impossible to ignore. The fabric of her underwear, already damp with her arousal, pressed against her skin with a heightened intensity, making every movement feel electric. The way she arched her back and pushed her chest forward, the way she traced her fingers over her own body, was all part of an intricate dance designed to keep you enthralled.

You let your eyes roam freely, taking in every detail of Ona’s hypnotic performance. The movement of her body, fluid and captivating, drew you in completely. The dim light that bathed her in a soft, golden glow made her skin appear even more luminous, creating a halo effect that heightened the allure of her presence.

Your gaze followed the way her muscles rippled beneath her skin, the gentle movement of her abs and the curve of her waist as she moved. The sight of her body in motion, so perfectly attuned to the rhythm of the moment, made your heart flutter with a mixture of excitement and admiration.

You knew she was amping up the sounds as well. The moans and whines that escaped her lips were like a symphony tailored just for you. Each sound was a delicate note in the melody of her performance, a musical accompaniment that heightened the intensity of the experience. The soft, breathy moans were punctuated by occasional whimpers of frustration and longing, creating a soundtrack that matched the visual spectacle of her body in motion. The sounds were raw and unfiltered, a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing and a seductive invitation for you to share in it.

The combination of her visual allure and orchestra of moans was almost overwhelming. The rhythm of her moans matched the cadence of her movements, creating a seamless connection between sight and sound that left you captivated. Each time she arched her back or pressed her body closer to yours, the accompanying sounds grew more pronounced, a clear indication of how deeply she was immersed in the moment.

But you knew she wouldn’t be able to come from this – no matter how hard she tried, the thing that she so desperately craved would always stay out of reach without your input. The teasing show she was putting on was exquisite, a perfect blend of effort and seduction, but it lacked the final piece of the puzzle that only you could provide.

Her body was a masterpiece in motion, every curve and ripple a testament to her dedication and desire. Yet, as captivating as her performance was, it was clear that the final release she sought remained just beyond her grasp. The pleasure she was experiencing was intense, but it was unfulfilled – a longing that could only be truly satisfied by your touch, your guidance, and your complete engagement.

You waited for as long as you could. Ona’s eyes, filled with a mix of determination and need, continuously sought yours for reassurance and a hint of what you would do next. Her moans and whines, though beautifully melodic, were underscored by a subtle note of frustration, a reminder of the yearning that lingered in every sound she made.

“Si us plau,” she eventually whined, her voice trembling with a blend of desperation and vulnerability. The plea was soft, almost breathless, and it hung in the air between you, a poignant request for the very thing that had been eluding her. The simple words, spoken in a voice that carried the weight of her need, were a powerful testament to the intense longing she felt. The combination of her exquisite performance and her heartfelt plea made it clear that she was at the edge of her limits, her desire reaching a crescendo that demanded a response.

Her eyes locked onto yours with an earnest intensity, seeking not just acknowledgement but also action. The frustration that had tinged her moans was now replaced by a raw, open yearning that could only be addressed by your direct intervention. The sight of her so vulnerable, her body still quivering from the anticipation and effort, was both heart-wrenching and thrilling.

You took in the sight of her, every detail of her arousal and effort etched into your mind. The way her body still moved subtly with each breath, the way her skin glowed with the sheen of exertion and desire, were all compelling reasons to act. Her plea, spoken with such heartfelt longing, was an invitation to complete the intimate connection you had been building.

Without breaking eye contact, you sat up, leaning in so close that your breath mingled with Ona’s, the warmth of it sending a shiver through her. “Please, what?” you teased, your voice a soft whisper that vibrated against her skin.

Her eyes fluttered, a mix of desperation and desire reflecting in their depths. The playful challenge in your voice contrasted sharply with the raw need evident in her gaze. She took a ragged breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping herself composed under the strain of your teasing.

“Por favor, hazme correrme,” she murmured again, her voice more insistent now, though still trembling with vulnerability. The simple plea carried the weight of her frustration and yearning, a heartfelt request for the final piece of the puzzle that would bring her the satisfaction she so frantically sought. The way she said it, with a mixture of desperation and a soft plea for relief, made it clear just how much she needed you to complete the experience.

“I don’t know if slutty little brats like you deserve to come though, bubba.” Your voice, though soft and teasing, held a firm edge that underscored your control over the situation. The playful challenge in your tone contrasted with the intense longing in Ona’s eyes, creating a dynamic of anticipation and desire that was almost palpable.

Her reaction was immediate; her body tensed, a mixture of frustration and eagerness evident in her posture. The way her breath hitched, the slight tremble of her lips, and the way her eyes widened with a blend of need and playful defiance showed just how much she was affected by your words. She leaned closer, trying to close the gap between you, her movements a silent plea for the release she was craving.

“He sido buena. He sido buena para ti,” Ona stuttered, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and a trace of defiance. The earnestness in her tone, coupled with the intensity of her gaze, highlighted Her plea was not just about the physical satisfaction she sought, but also about the emotional validation of being acknowledged and rewarded for her efforts.

She shifted slightly, her body pressing closer to yours, as if trying to bridge the final gap between your teasing and her ultimate fulfilment. Her movements were slow but deliberate, each gesture an attempt to demonstrate just how much she had been trying to meet your challenge.

You met her halfway, pulling her down into a kiss that was anything but gentle – a filthy, messy kiss that conveyed just how turned on you were by her little performance. The kiss was intense, filled with a raw passion that left no room for subtlety. Your lips moved against hers with a fervent energy, a dance of dominance and submission that mirrored the tension of the moment. The taste of her, the way her breath mingled with yours, and the way she responded with equal fervour, all combined to create a moment that was absolutely electrifying

“Hmmm,” you murmured against her lips, deliberately drawing out the anticipation. Your voice was a mix of mock contemplation and teasing affection. “I suppose you have been a muy buena niña for me, doing exactly as I said, putting on a fantastic show … just for me.” The words were spoken with a playful tone, though the underlying sincerity of your acknowledgement was clear. Ona felt a wash of calm flood over her, your words easing her fears.

“Just for you. Sólo para ti,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice a soft, eager echo of your words. The way she repeated the phrase, her eyes locked onto yours with so much love, made it clear how much she craved moments like this – the push and pull of your relationship made her head dizzy sometimes. The sincerity in her voice and the look in her eyes spoke volumes about her dedication and her desire to please you.

“Only for me? How kind of you, Oni,” you mocked gently, your tone a playful blend of admiration and teasing. The mockery was light-hearted, designed to keep the mood playful. You raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “I suppose I could let you come.” Your words, though teasing, carried a promise that hung heavily in the air. The decision to grant her the release she had been craving was now in your hands

In one swift movement, you had Ona lying on her back, her hair splayed out on the pillows, creating a halo of dark waves around her. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

The room was filled with the soft rustling of sheets and the muffled sounds of her breaths, creating a backdrop of intimate noise that only heightened the tension.

You positioned yourself above her, your gaze unwavering as you took in the sight of her beneath you. Her eyes were wide and full of yearning, a mixture of vulnerability and unspoken desire. The way she looked up at you, her body slightly trembling with anticipation, added to the sense of charged expectation that filled the space between you.

Your hands moved with deliberate intention, tracing a path from her shoulders down to her hips, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin beneath your touch. Each movement was purposeful, a way to both explore and command, to reinforce the power dynamic that had been building throughout the night. Your fingers lingered just long enough to make her shiver, creating a teasing contrast to the more direct pressure you were about to apply.

“Remember,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate, “you’ve earned this. You’ve been so good, putting on that incredible show just for me.”

You let your hands glide further, exploring the contours of her body with a mix of tenderness and assertiveness, placing kisses as you went. Your touch was both comforting and electrifying, a blend of affection and authority that added to the intensity of the moment. The way she responded, the soft moans that escaped her lips and the way her body arched towards your touch, made it clear just how much she was craving the final resolution.

Finally, you reached where Ona wanted you most. The anticipation in the room was palpable as your fingers traced along the waistband of her thong. With a playful snap, you pulled the band gently against her hip, creating a slight, teasing sting that made her gasp. You couldn’t help but smile ruefully, your satisfaction evident as you watched her reaction.

“I like this,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of appreciation. You pressed a tender kiss to her hipbone, the warmth of your lips sending a shiver through her. The gesture was both intimate and affectionate

Her response was immediate, her eyes fluttering closed as she treasured the touch. “Gracias,” she murmured breathlessly, her voice carrying a note of pride and affection. “I bought it with you in mind.” The knowledge that she had chosen this particular piece of lingerie specifically for you, with the intention of enhancing your experience, made your heart skip a beat.

You looked up at her, your gaze meeting hers with a mixture of admiration and desire. The room seemed to shrink around you, the rest of the world fading away as you focused purely on the woman in front of you. Her body responded to your touch, her hips shifting slightly as if instinctively seeking more contact. The heat radiating from her skin was undeniable, a warm, inviting glow that contrasted sharply with the cool air of the room. The softness of her body beneath your fingers was a luxurious sensation, each caress sending ripples of pleasure through her.

You left a trail of kisses down the inside of her thigh, each touch deliberate and gentle, tracing a path of increasing anticipation. Her breath quickened with each kiss, a soft, rhythmic intake of air that was both a response to your touch and a testament to her mounting desire.

Slowly and deliberately, you peeled the damp fabric of the thong away from her, your movements careful and measured. Holding the delicate garment in one hand, you bunched it out of the way, your attention now fully on her exposed skin. With a tender, teasing touch, you settled yourself comfortably, one leg on either side of her shoulders, positioning yourself to offer her the most intimate kind of attention.

You blew gently on her clit, the unexpected coldness of your breath causing her body to react instinctively. Her muscles tensed, and she let out a sharp gasp, a sudden intake of breath that was both surprised and aroused. The delicate shock of the cold air made her entire body quiver, her hips twitching in response to the sensation.

As the initial shock of the cool air faded, Ona’s gasp morphed into a low, throaty moan. When you finally made contact, it was with the softest of kisses, a tender, deliberate press of your lips right where she had been craving. She arched her back, her hand flying down to grab at your head, her fingers instantly taking root in your hair.

With the kiss as a prelude, you began to lick up her sex, your tongue exploring her with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each lick was thorough and purposeful, your movements designed to maximise her pleasure. The softness of your tongue against her sensitive skin, combined with the lingering taste of her arousal, was an indulgent experience that intensified her moans. You traced each contour of her sex with your tongue, cherishing the way she responded to each stroke.

Her reactions were a continuous stream of pleasure; her breathing became ragged, her sounds a mix of soft whimpers and deep, satisfied moans. The way her body responded to your touch – her hips thrusting slightly, her legs trembling, and her head tilting back – was a testament to the pleasure you were giving her. The combination of the gentle kiss, the exploratory licks, and the way you maintained a steady rhythm created a symphony of sensations that drew her ever closer to the edge.

You knew Ona was close; after a night filled with teasing and edging, anyone would be on the brink of release. But as you slipped your finger inside her, you quickly discovered just how near she was to the edge. You effortlessly found that spot deep within her that elicited such a powerful reaction. The instant you touched it, her reaction was immediate and intense. Her eyes screwed shut, her entire body tensing as if a jolt of electricity had passed through her. Her toes curled tightly, her legs quivering with the force of the pleasure that was surging through her.

The sensation of finding that sensitive area was gratifying. Each subtle movement of your finger, each gentle pressure, elicited a series of responses from her – sharp intakes of breath, soft moans, and the way her hips instinctively pressed against your hand. You could feel her body reacting almost rhythmically to your touch, each spasm a testament to the pleasure you were giving her.

You adjusted the angle of your finger slightly, applying just the right amount of pressure and movement to maximise her pleasure. The rhythm of your touch became a steady, deliberate dance, designed to push her further and closer to the precipice.

Her moans grew more urgent, the sound a mix of need and impending climax. The way her body arched and shifted in response to your touch indicated that she was teetering on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure you had meticulously prepared her for.

You could sense the exact moment when her control began to slip, when the dam you had carefully built up was on the verge of breaking. Her breathing became erratic, her body trembling with a combination of pleasure and exertion.

“Voy a... Estoy... mierda” she cried, her voice a mixture of desperation and ecstasy. The pleasure she was experiencing was now all-consuming, her entire focus narrowed to the sensations you were evoking. With each movement, each touch, you were guiding her to a powerful, fulfilling climax.

Ona came with a shout - raw and primal. Her body jerking and twitching as pleasure coursed through her veins. It felt as though she was on fire, her skin radiating an almost feverish heat as the intensity of her orgasm spread through her entire being.

The sheer force of her release caused her hips to buck uncontrollably against your hand, her breathing coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Her moans were punctuated by sharp cries, each sound a vivid indication of the depth of her pleasure. Her fingers tugged harshly at your hair.

As the climax took hold, her body arched beautifully, her back curving in a graceful line as she succumbed to the pleasure. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face contorted in a mask of bliss and concentration. The muscles in her legs and abdomen twitched and spasmed in time with the waves of pleasure that surged through her, making it clear just how intense the experience was for her.

You worked her through it gently, maintaining a steady rhythm as she rode out the peak of her orgasm. Your touch was both deliberate and tender, ensuring that the pleasure remained intense but not overwhelming. Each caress and stroke was designed to prolong her satisfaction, to help her enjoy every last moment of the euphoria that had taken over her senses.

The room seemed to echo with the sounds of her pleasure – the rhythmic gasps, the soft whimpers of aftershocks, and the occasional, breathless cries. As the climax began to ebb, her movements gradually slowed, her body relaxing into a state of deep contentment. Her breathing, still ragged, started to return to a more regular pattern, the intensity of her release giving way to a blissful, tranquil aftermath.

“Merda santa,” she gasped, the words escaping her in a breathless rush. Her body continued to tremble as the last waves of her orgasm rippled through her. Her voice, though still tinged with awe and satisfaction, was now softer, a lingering whisper of the intensity she had just experienced.

Her eyes fluttered open, the heat of her climax still evident in the flushed cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat on her skin. You shifted, kissing your way back up her body until you were face to face again. You smiled down at her, your eyes scanning her flushed face, taking in the way her lips were slightly parted and the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes

“Well, that was fun,” you teased, the playful note in your voice contrasting with the tenderness of your touch. Your smile was a mix of gratification and affection, a reflection of the pleasure you had both shared. You brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering gently on her skin.

Her lips curved into a soft, exhausted smile, the kind that spoke of complete contentment. “You could say that,” she murmured, her voice still carrying the remnants of her earlier intensity. There was a warm glow in her eyes, a look of deep happiness that mirrored your own feelings.

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “You are so beautiful. That was incredible,” you said softly, your tone sincere as you lay down beside her, pulling her into your chest.

She responded with a contented sigh, her body relaxing further into the pillows. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she whispered, her eyes closing as she let herself fully unwind.

You continued to hold her, your touch gentle and reassuring. The aftermath of her climax had left both of you in a state of serene satisfaction, the bond between you strengthened by the intimacy of the experience. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your breaths.

As she began to settle, her breathing slowing to a steady, peaceful rhythm, you took a moment to simply enjoy the closeness you shared. ““T'estimo molt,” she whispered, her voice a soft murmur of affection as she nestled closer into your embrace.

“Yo también te amo mucho,” you replied, your tone equally tender,

You could feel her heartbeat gradually slowing, syncing with yours in a soothing rhythm that spoke of complete trust and contentment. Her body was relaxed against yours, her warmth a comforting presence as she let go of the lingering tension from the night.

You gently brushed your fingers through her hair, your touch both soothing and affectionate. The intimate atmosphere of the room, now filled with a serene quiet, was a stark contrast to the passionate intensity that had preceded it. The gentle hum of the world outside seemed distant, and in this cocoon of closeness, it felt as though time had slowed down just for the two of you.

Every so often, she would shift slightly, her movements subtle but full of unspoken communication. The soft sighs that escaped her lips and the way her fingers occasionally traced gentle patterns on your skin were a testament to her lingering satisfaction and the depth of your bond.

You let your fingers graze her back, your touch light and tender, reinforcing the sense of intimacy and connection between you. As the moments passed, you took in the peacefulness of her expression, the way her features had softened into a serene smile.

You could the moment she finally fell asleep, her breath evened out. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against yours was a soothing, rhythmic lullaby, a comforting reminder of the bond you shared.

Her body relaxed completely, her muscles softening as the tension from the night melted away. Her head nestled more deeply into the crook of your shoulder, and her fingers, which had been lightly tracing patterns on your skin, came to a still, relaxed rest.

“I am going to marry you one day,” you whispered into her skin, the quiet confession escaping your lips as a gentle promise. Your words were barely audible, a tender declaration meant only for her ears, a gently promise to the universe of you love for the woman sleeping in your arms.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3

[nodutra19]

I'll be damned if I said I understood this series, but I'll throw something in about what Kanba sharing the apple with Shoma means. As stated, this series is very much about love.

Now I ask you, what love is there in a world that puts continuous prices on human lives, as Sanetoshi and private health insurance do throughout the show? What love is there in a cult?

In short, I think the apple is a collective love.

We're often raised with the notion of "Blood is thicker than water." But really, it's "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." What it means is, the connections you choose to forge say more about you than the ones into which you were born. But it's also more complex than that. What you're born into shapes who you are and even what choices you make. Oftentimes, people who were abused as children will go on to abuse other people. And yet there are also many people who were raised with loving families who still go on to commit terrible things, and there exist many who are the inverse, people who were raised by terrible parents who still choose to do good. It's both true that we are molded by our surroundings, but we still make choices at our own will (if we ignore the extortion and violence of poverty).

We love to say "Disturb the comforted, comfort the disturbed," but the truth is we are all mixes of it. I'm NB but I was still raised a dude. I had to work out a lot of what I had been taught. And while I never physically harmed anyone, I still feel some dread and culpability hearing what women go through. As sympathetic and understanding as I am, I'm not beyond reproach. I "get it" from an outsider's perspective. I can still relate to anyone regardless of category, but I also must keep in mind how different experiences can be. I was still raised with the comfort of not being sexualized as a child, as little girls often are (obviously boys still face SV, I'm just saying that the experience isn't the same). I still get disturbed in a particular way when I watch something like Revolutionary Girl Utena or Moral Orel, because these are things I don't personally face. Even though I don't commit terrible acts like Akio and the residents of Moralton, I still have to confront these things in order to participate in its dismantling. I still have to reach out. The sacrifice is my comfort and previous understanding in order to grow as a person and help and understand others.

There's a fundamental contradiction to the human condition. The Takakura parents were seemingly normal and almost texbookly loving, and yet they were part of the Kiga group, and Kenzan went on to commit an act of terror.

This "comfort" I had, the "privilege" of more than likely not facing SV if I were to take a walk out at night, also comes at a "price": I had to conform to the ideas of "boy" and "man" which did nothing but stifle me.

I think the apple represents unconditional love, a Tolstoyan love, one not bound by personal biases. Tabuki had to conform to his mother's idea of talent, intelligence, while Yuri had to conform to her father's idea of beauty. But of course, these are all impossible standards set upon fluid, abstract concepts. They are inherently inhuman ideals born not from a love of humanity but the exaltation of a non-existent archetype, of a past that never existed, hence the dealing with the economic crisis.

Sanetoshi doesn't hold a gun to Kanba's head but he still extorts him to do his bidding, to carry out another cycle of violence for a fiery cleansing of the world. Sanetoshi permits Himari to live not because she is human, but because someone is willing to work for him in exchange. No one in this society is given that unconditional love. The condition is you must conform to the cogs which make the system turn.

Kanba asked nothing of Shoma when he split the apple and handed the other half to him.

A child is born with no state of mind Blind to the ways of mankind God is smilin' on you but he's frownin' too Because only God knows what you'll go through You'll grow in the ghetto livin' second-rate And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate The places you play and where you stay Looks like one great big alleyway You'll admire all the number-book takers Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers ---The Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

For as self-centered as children are due to their very nature, they're still purer, in a sense, than most adults. I've always had anger problems due to the environment in which I was raised, but people still call me empathetic and caring, because I still make that effort. Kanba made a grand gesture by offering Shoma the apple. It shows he cares. And there was no condition to it. Kanba asked for nothing in exchange. He saw a human being in need of help like him, and when he was blessed, he decided to share. As horse-girl-anthy writes, Kanba would later go on to resent Shoma due to the fact Shoma had such a loving family and yet Shoma disowned his parents upon learning of their original sin. Kanba, the orphan taken into the Takakura family, resented how Shoma disowned them because he saw it as ungrateful and selfish because Shoma possessed that of which Kanba had been dispossessed. For as illogical as it is, you and I can't fully blame him. We understand where he's coming from in spite of the Walter White of it all with his trapping and strapping.

There are many differences between them as little children and as we find them as teenagers in the show, but one of the main differences is that neither one of them had been shaped by society yet. That's why Shoma leant a hand to Himari, why Momoka leant a hand to Tabuki. We're told we're inherently selfish and cruel. I'd say humans aren't any one thing, neither inherently good nor evil. To subscribe to any essentialism is to erase any collective responsibility we have about the world and for each other.

I still have trouble understanding the sins of the father current of the series, but I think the ultimate punishment in life is how finite our existences are.

"Whenever I start thinking of my love for a person, I am in the habit of immediately drawing radii from my love - from my heart, from the tender nucleus of a personal matter- to monstrously remote points of the universe. Something impels me to measure the consciousness of my love against such unimaginable and incalculable things as the behaviour of nebulae (whose very remoteness seems a form of insanity), the dreadful pitfalls of eternity, the unknowledgeable beyond the unknown, the helplessness, the cold, the sickening involutions and interpenetrations of space and time." ---Vladimir Nabokov Speak, Memory

No matter what we do, we'll die. Death is the one guarantee in life. The greatest irony of life is the intensity with which we love, with which we burn, and yet it will all turn to vapors and disappear. We construct things like God in order to give our suffering meaning. But we also imbue God with our authority. God oftentimes becomes a thought-terminating cliche and ad hoc justification. But atheists also have similar mental workings, hence why the atheist movement in the U.S became reactionary after 9/11.

For as much as Sanetoshi talks about the cruelty of the world, for as right as he is to bemoan businessmen and the cogs of society, he is not a solution in himself. Atheists have a point in criticizing Christians and Christianity, but they fall into the same trappings. The Christian man says women belong in the kitchen because God decreed it so. The atheist says women belong in the kitchen because she has a womb. Both, in spite of their seeming opposition, believe in capitalism and complimentarianism and other institutions.

I think this is why Kanba ended up going Kiga rather than Shoma. You'd expect the biological son whose parents participated in the original incident to go that route, but no, it was Kanba. Everyone is fighting against the cruelty of the world and life itself. The core struggle is finding meaning and love. But we all suffer the collective punishment of death, of eventually turning to ash. We just also live in a world filled with inequality and alienation.

Shoma felt responsible, because as a descendant he kind of is. What his parents did is his cross to bear. But he's the one who made Himari a Takakura. The Penguindrum ended up being the siblings' bond. This means what they had to sacrifice in order to keep Himari alive was the end of their bond. And yet in spite of that, in spite of the fact that they no longer know each other, a remnant remains, a spirit of their love. That's why the stuffed animal remains. The sacrifice was hard and unideal, but Kanba and Shoma truly cared for Himari. The true test, the true exhibition of their love, of their sharing of the apple, was sacrificing their bond in order to give her a normal life. There is no exchange there. There is no reward. They wanted to lift the curse of their parents and paid the price. And yet even in that do-over, Himari feels the spirit of that love, hence why she cries.

She feels love beyond a death she knows nothing about, a love that transcends space and time. That's the pure love we all seek. Kanba sharing the apple was the start of this. I think that's why that scene isn't revealed until so close to the end. It's meant to be paralleled.

I hope I made sense, My mind has been sloshing with this series, so I hope I managed to give my thoughts some sensical form.

Night on the Galactic Railroad, or the Apple, the Scorpion, and the Stars

From a series on Mawaru Penguindrum’s literary influences.

This place is cursed with spoilers.

Night on the Galactic Railroad (1927) is a novella by Kenji Miyazawa. It takes place in the fictional fairy tale country resembling Italy. There, on the night of the annual Centuarus Festival, two boys, Giovanni and Campanella, are whisked away on the titular Galactic Railroad to tour the heavens. While on this journey, they confront the nature of human connection, transience, and sacrifice. At the end of the story, Giovanni and Campanella part ways. Campanella was on the train because he drowned during the festival and was on his way to the afterlife, while Giovanni, still alive, was allowed on the journey with his friend.

Mawaru Penguindrum specifically seems to be influenced by the 1985 anime adaptation directed by Gisaburo Sugii. It’s a faithful adaptation, but it plays up the story’s somber parts. The darkness at Penguindrum’s core seems borrowed from this version of the story rather than the original. Shouma and Kanba resemble Giovanni and Campanella as realized in this version.

Giovanni (right) and Campanella (left) on the Galactic Railroad.

Like Giovanni, Shouma is associated with the color blue and has a sensitive, demure personality. Like Campanella, Kanba is associated with red and is determined, distant, but ultimately devoted to his friends. Unlike NotGR, however, Shouma and Kanba depart together at the end. It seems to me as if Ikuhara has dwelt on the sadness of Giovanni and Campanella’s parting at the end of the original story and, in Penguindrum, created a version where they could be together in the end. Penguindrum also explicitly references Kenji Miyazawa in its first and last scenes. Near the beginning of the first episode, a pair of children are walking out side the Takakura’s home discussing what the apple means in NotGR. You can tell because they mention Campanella and someone named Kenji - the novella’s author Kenji Miyazawa. This exact conversation repeats in the final moments of the last episode, but this time the boys have Shouma and Kanba’s hair colors and the audience follows them as they keep walking into the stars.

THE SCORPION FIRE

Night on the Galactic Railroad also contains the explanation for that scorpion metaphor! A lot of people get stuck on this - Kanba is referred to as a scorpion several times throughout Penguindrum, and allusions are made to him burning up. This is actually direct reference to NotGR, where the story of the burning scorpion exists as a fable told to the main characters as they’re on the train. You can see it in this clip:

“"My father told me its story: A long time ago in a field there lived a scorpion that ate other bugs by using its tale to catch them. Then one day he found himself cornered by a weasel. Fearing for his life, he ran but could not escape it. Suddenly, he fell into a well and, unable to climb out, began to drown. He started to pray then, saying: 

”‘Oh, God. How many lives have I stolen to survive? Yet when it came my turn to be eaten by the weasel, I selfishly ran away. And for what? What a waste my life has been! If only I’d let the weasel eat me, I could have helped him live another day. God, please hear my prayer. Even if my life has been meaningless, let my death be of help to others. Burn my body so that it may become a beacon, to light the way for others as they search for true happiness.’

“The scorpion’s prayer was answered, and his body became a beautiful crimson flame that shot up into the night sky. There he burns to this day. My father was telling the truth…”

From Night on the Galactic Railroad, translation by Julianne Neville. 

The fable of the scorpion fire is about sacrifice. The scorpion, who lived his life as a foul predator, faces something more powerful than him - the inevitability of death - and regrets that, after a life of heedless consumption, he couldn’t die in a way that aided the proliferation of life. The gods hear his prayers and set him on fire, turning him into the red star Antares, heart of the constellation scorpio, whose light aids life. 

From episode 12. Kanba offers his life to the Princess of the Crystal’s in exchange for Himari’s and, due to the purity of his sacrifice, it is acceptable. Unlike later on in the series, here Kanba is exhibiting the true nature of sacrifice.

This fable gives insight into Kanba’s motivations but not his actions. While the scorpion discovers his kinship with all life, Kanba is rushing headlong towards a sacrifice that nobody wants but him. Kanba views himself as a predator and wants his final, massive act of predation - the terrorist attack - to lead to some concrete good:  extending Himari’s life. His role as a man of action rather than a man of reflection (Shouma) binds him to Sanetoshi’s will, which offers a convenient means of achieving his goal. But those outs don’t exist in the real world, and these justifications can’t be made ahead of time. Shouma knew this and Kanba should have known. Maybe that’s why it’s Shouma, the brother with a more intuitive understanding of sacrifice, who bursts into flames and not Kanba, who fades away. Kanba’s identification with the scorpion represents misguided, emotionally selfish sacrifice - egoism - while Shouma, Ringo, and Momoka’s association with the purer flame represents true, transcendent sacrifice. 

From episode 24. Ringo casting the spell (“Let’s share the fruit of fate!”) and subjecting herself to the scorpion fire. 

THE APPLE

There’s a scene late in the novella where Giovanni and Campanella encounter some people who died on the Titanic. The trio consists of two children and their governor, who allowed them all to die to make room for more people on the lifeboat. These people tell Giovanni and Campanella about the scorpion fire, and this is also where apples come into play. A lighthouse keeper, traveling down the train, gives them some apples, which they disperse amongst themselves. The film actually makes it so that the flocks of birds that they see flying outside the windows turn into the apples - something that wasn’t present in the original story. Apples as a metaphor for live sacrificing itself for the sustenance of more life seems to originate here, since that wasn’t tied to the apples in the original story. 

Christianity, apples symbolize knowledge and defilement. NotGR however, reclaims that image. Here, they represent people understanding their limitations as individuals and accepting community - and the necessity of making sacrifices for humanity’s greater good -  as a way to make up for their flaws. NotGR stresses over and over again that people value humanity or some abstract conception of “life” over themselves, and that this path leads to profound spiritual contentment. Penguindrum borrows this idea and the apple symbolism wholeheartedly, but emphasizes valuing one’s interpersonal relationships as a proxy for loving all life. 

From episode 20. Himari reinterprets the biblical Fall of Man as a good thing because it allowed humanity to experience connection and joy, however transient, alongside pain. 

One of the biggest mysteries left in Penguindrum to me is what Kanba sharing the apple with Shouma represents. I know what happened between Shouma/Himari and Kanba/Himari. Shouma brought the abandoned Himari into his family and Himari brought Kanba into the family after his father’s death. But what happened between Kanba and Shouma? How did Kanba have to save Shouma by sharing his fruit of fate? It’s left purely abstract - Shouma and Kanba were starving, Kanba shared his fruit, and both were saved by the gesture. Maybe Kanba helped Shouma by being assertive and dedicated in situations where he wasn’t naturally inclined towards that? Like Giovanni and Campanella, Kanba and Shouma have complementary existences. Giovanni couldn’t exist on his own without adopting some of Campanella’s traits, while Kanba and Shouma, although they acquiesce to each other a bit, ultimately reaffirm their paired existence. I opened this up to discussion with some people on twitter and Bryan Baxter suggested that the two boxes Kanba and Shouma are in during episodes 23 and 24 are their mothers’ wombs, and that by sharing the fruit of fate they became spiritual twins (they were born on the same day). Yoni Linder suggested that Kanba helped Shouma survive the KIGA group’s brainwashing when they were children. It is odd that Shouma, the Takakura actually born into the cult, is the one least susceptible to it.

The idea that there’s something beyond what we consider life is central to NotGR, which uses Christian imagery and often seems overtly Christian in its themes. Kenji Miyazawa was a devout practitioner of Nichiren Buddhism, but like many Japanese people his life was saturated with Christian imagery and scraps of biblical scripture. Christianity exists and is portrayed positively in NotGR, but neither Giovanni nor Campanella seem to be practitioners. When Giovanni and the children get into an argument over whose god is “real,” the tutor reconciles them by raising the possibility that their gods are one and the same and reminding them that the point of religion is true faith in what you believe. NotGR is thus a neutral but positive synthesis of Christian and Buddhist images towards a more generically humanist message.

“"And who says he’s the real God? I’ll be he’s a fake!”

“How would you know? Maybe the God you believe in is the fake.”

“No! He’s the real one!”

“Then tell me, what kind of God is your God?” asked the young man with a gentle smile.

“Well… to be honest, I’m not quite sure… but I do know he is the one true God,” Giovanni replied.

“Of course he is. There’s only one true God.“ 

"And my God is that one!”

“I agree. I can only pray that the two of you are seeing us off before that true God now,” the young man said, clasping his hands together. Kaoru also clasped her hands together.

Everyone was sad to be parting, and Giovanni was about to burst into tears.“

From Night on the Galactic Railroad, translation by Julianne Neville. 

Over time, it becomes clearer and clearer that one of the railroad’s purposes is to deliver people to the afterlife, two of which are represented by giant glowing crosses. "Dying for love” thus means something more concrete in NotGR than it does in Penguindrum. There’s an actual reward for doing it - entrance into heaven. The same isn’t true in Penguindrum, where the existence of an afterlife is much more abstract. Sanetoshi and Momoka were humans with some supernatural powers who died and became ghosts, but that form of afterlife seems much more a curse than a reward. In the last episode, Momoka vanishes from this world for good through some sort of opening, but exactly where she goes is unknown. Penguindrum’s final shot is of Shouma and Kanba, having died for love, walking into the stars. While characters do allude to god, the show as a whole seems nonreligious, more concerned with taking the aspects of stories it deems meaningful and applying them towards a new, secular humanist message. Here, god is synonymous with fate, chance, or destiny - the circumstances outside human control that one is subjected to and dictate life. So what is Kenji saying? I think he’s saying that humanity’s survival up to this point has been due to our ability to love each other, to willingly sacrifice for the greater good, and that this is the foundation for human existence. That's where everything really begins. 

[daisymbin]

[19:51] - choi seungcheol

a/n: as you can tell by now, im down so bad for this man...the amount of fics I've written for him....sickening

check out my masterlist!

"if you don't love me anymore, you can just tell me."

the words tumble out of seungcheol's mouth as if they’ve been sitting on his tongue for hours, maybe even days. his voice is quiet but firm, and it catches you completely off guard. the two of you are sitting together on the couch, the usual comfortable silence between you both now feeling...strained.

you turn to look at him, your eyes widening at the unexpected confession. "what?" you ask, the confusion evident in your voice. you’ve been in a relationship with him for so long that you never expected him to say something like that.

he doesn’t meet your gaze right away. instead, he stares ahead, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you can tell he’s trying to look calm, but there’s a tension in his shoulders and a flicker of doubt in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it makes your heart twist, and you instinctively reach out to touch his arm.

"cheol..what are you talking about?" you ask softly, your fingers brushing his skin. "why would you even say that?"

he finally turns to face you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen. there’s a sadness there, like he’s been carrying something heavy for a while, unsure of whether he should put it down.

"i just... i don’t know," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "i feel like things have been... different between us lately. like maybe you’re not as into me anymore. and it’s been bothering me, but i didn’t know how to bring it up."

your heart drops at his words, and you immediately pull him closer, your hand on his cheek. "cheol-ah, that’s not true," you say urgently. "i’ve been distracted, busy with work, with life. but i still love you. nothing’s changed."

he sighs, his eyes softening as he leans into your touch. "i don’t know," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "it just feels like we’ve been drifting apart. and i’m scared. scared that you don’t love me the way you used to."

you shake your head, a lump forming in your throat. how could he think that? how could he even question your feelings after all this time?

"choi seungcheol," you say, your voice firm now, trying to reassure him. "i’m not going anywhere. i love you more than anything. but i don’t always show it in the ways you expect, and maybe that’s where the disconnect is. but i love you. i always have & i always will."

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitance. "you still love me?" he asks, as though he needs to hear it again.

"yes," you reply, your heart full of emotion. "i still love you. i always will."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face slowly breaking into a smile. it’s a small, relieved smile, but it’s the most genuine one you’ve seen from him in days.

"okay," he says, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "i just needed to hear that."

you smile back at him, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "i’m sorry i made you worry," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "but i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere."

seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "well, don't even think about that then, it won't ever happen."

seungcheol pulls you into a hug, holding you tight against him. "i love you," he whispers, his voice full of sincerity.

"i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling in your chest.

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Review Time : Fluffy Treatment

Note: This is my personal take to Zayne's most recent memory. Noting has been confirmed by Infold, so this is just full delulu mode as I dive in to Fluffy Treatment. Spoiler Alert for those who hasn't seen the memory yet.

Infold is really giving Zayne girlies the stablish relationship vibe with Zayne. And the fact that MC again reciprocates Zayne's affection is definitely win for me.

Once again, MC willingly volunteers herself to take care of Zayne and honestly, they become more playful with each other. The stiff and aloof Zayne has becoming more and more accustomed to banters and jokes. He even openly teases MC referring to the whole box of chocolate she ate at his place.

And speaking of her place, remember that pajama set she bought for Zayne in Cozy Afternoon? he is wearing them again at his home. Come to think of it, only Zayne have a pajama set.

And about sleeping and napping, they were sleeping on the same bed/couch again. There is no stopping them being so cozy around each other. Let's also note that feeling each other's warmth is making them relax and sleepy. At the ending of the Fluffy Treatment, lets take in the fact the even if the are both half asleep they are taking care of each other. Zayne is such a gentleman covering them up because the blanket slip on the side.

Zayne is also being territorial with MC (Note: Territorial not Jealous because he knows she belongs to him), he was never rude and he still let her choose what she wanted to do. This was shown when MC wanted to enter the Pet Café. Even though he was clearly upset by wanting to pet another cat, he still doesn't force MC to do what he wants.

When MC reluctantly leave the Pet Café, Zayne wants to make up to her by dressing up as a butler without 2nd thought so MC can both have a Cat and a Butler. This is another heart warming event of them compromising to ensure no hard or ill feelings between them. If they couldn't do one thing, they will surely find a way around it.

Zayne also shows how submissive he is to MC, he did not put a hat when she stops him, he comes with her at the mall even though he is really anxious in going out, he let's her take care of him and most importantly, the way he knelt down to returns MC's shoes. I take this act as a complete surrender.

I have 2 favorite part of this memory. - First, is when he sniff MC a few time and confirms that he have his scent on her and saying "You're all mine!" Gosh it's so hot I almost peed my pants. And after claiming her as his, his tail wraps around her waits. I did a little research and found out that when a cat "Tail Wrapped Around You: Touching you with the tail or wrapping it around you is one way your furry friend expresses affection, relaxation, and love." I lost it! Zayne really is in love with MC and he is saying it by doing thing more than word can say. Oh my gosh, I can't tell you how much I swoon at this. He is friggin hot!!! - 2nd is when he bites and lick MC's finger and tell her that it was his way in showing affection and then!!! MC reciprocates his affection by rubbing his cheeks. His reaction is so overwhelming. We have to remember that he is a cat at that time and his senses are heighted. Try to imagine how Euphotic he must have felt when she rubs his cheeks. His facial expressions is sensational. It seems like his eyes are rolling back.

Once again, Zayne and MC shows us what being equally in love is. It was always give and take for them. Always compromising and always so affectionate towards each other.

Zayne and MC becomes a safe haven for me. They give me happiness. I just hope that in their future memory, we will get to see them lounging in together in the Kindled moments.

[redflowersociety]

Saying “I Love You” for the first time. - Mouthwashing HC

These are written with the pretense that… THEY LIKE U BACK!! (Except for Swansea cause he’s married…sorri) THIS WAS SO PAINFUL CAUSE I WAS WRITING THEM IN PARAGRAPHS AND THEN… boom. 1000+ words lost. Never writing on tumblr again, rookie mistake. Anyways, enjoy!! Promise next post will be higher effort

Curly (Pre-Crash)

He’s quick to make a teasing comment on your unprofessionalism, confessing to your captain and all. But he’s honestly super flustered and trying not to grin like a kid on Christmas Day.

He takes a moment to sit with it. It’s likely that you two would have made advances toward each other for a while, as Curly is the type to take things slow if he’s serious. After a year of pining, you two were finally dating! But hearing those words from your lips brought him to such happiness because he knew you meant it unconditionally, without expecting anything from him.

After this instance, it became common practice for both of you to remind the other of your love. Curly had never been a “words-of-affirmation” kind of guy, but this was an exception. “I love you” turned into his favorite phrase, as it was the perfect way to release the tension building in his heart from just how badly he had fallen for you.

Curly (Post-Crash)

He honestly couldn’t believe that you could stomach looking at him, let alone still sit with romantic feelings for him. It brought him to tears when he heard it, unable to comprehend how somebody could show him such boundless affection and care. He wasn’t used to unconditional love.

He forced himself through the immense pain to slur the words back, and that’s when you began to cry. He forced it out again and again, until you convinced him through pleading not to speak. You knew how much it hurt him, so you assured him that knowing was enough. You didn’t need the reassurance.

Upon your return to Earth, Curly not only had surgeries to make his face a little more structurally sound, but he had attended speech therapy to make up for the years he spent in near silence. One of the first things he learned was your name, and then “I love you.” It brought you to tears hearing it again for the first time in so long. It was okay though, as he could hold you in his scarred arms as long as you needed to cry it all out.

Daisuke

At first, he thought you were being silly. “Aww, I love you too,” he giggled. It wasn’t until you spoke up again with a more serious tone that he realized, and you swear you’d never seen a man turn red so fast. He was so taken aback, asking you at least five times if you were serious and if you were sure. Once his nerves were satisfied, he returned the gesture.

“I love you too. Like a lot, a lot. Soooo much. Like, I really thought I was tweaking out or something from like, the way my whole body would go numb around you and my brain would get fuzzy-“ his drawn out explanation on how his romantic feelings for you overwhelmed him made you laugh. Within the next day, you two were dating.

Even before you two got together, Daisuke ranted to anybody who would listen about just how perfect you were. Now? Oh, man. Swansea has been really considering throwing him out into space after hearing about your confession for the twentieth time from his loud-ass mouth.

Anya

It was honestly a relief to her that you had said something first. She had been trying her best to stay professional, but seeing you all the time, your smile and laugh, the way you spoke passionately about what you loved; it made it harder every day as she fell further for you. You were one of the first people she grew close to on the Tulpar, and the first she went to when Jimmy… did what he did. The trust between you both was ample and strong.

She was quick to say it back, like it was a breath of air she’d been holding in way too long and needed out. You two laughed from the sheer relief on her face, teasing her thoroughly about it. She didn’t hesitate to grill you right back for being the one who confessed first. It shut you up pretty fast. You both agreed within the hour to start dating!

There were mixed reactions among the crew. Some extremely supportive, and then some straight up bitter and resentful (Jimbo). Jimmy began to treat you especially cruelly, and you refused to stand by and let it happen. Curly also helped to defend you when he could, seemingly coming to his senses about Jimmy’s behavior. You could tell that Anya felt intense guilt for your pain, but you assured her that it wasn’t her fault. It was your decision to date her knowing everything you did. You were happy by her side. She certainly cried over that privately, completely enamored.

Swansea

Swansea is married, so he knew to take your words in a familial sense. He didn’t return it, saying something like, “You’d better kid. With all I do for you.” But when you him on his lonesome in the utility room? Yeah, he smiled about it.

f you had a bad childhood due to your parents, Swansea could tell pretty quick. He never considered it his problem, but even still, he took you under his wing with Daisuke. He wanted to give you guidance in the ways he knew how. You deserved that, at least. He would go out of his way to help you when you needed, mostly with solving practical problems. He had never been the most emotionally aware, but he tried with you. He figured even if he couldn’t assist you much, it’d be good practice for his daughter on the way.

That’s not to say he never had any advice. He struggled to comfort, but he was quick to pick up on your mistakes and told you the blatant truth. You appreciated that, even if he was harsh at times, cause it helped you become a better person.

Jimmy

Your confession was certainly an ego boost, but nothing past that. He couldn’t believe that you could say something like “I love you” to someone like him without there being pity behind it. Even still, he returned the gesture because he knew that getting with you would make you so much easier to use. He took the opportunity.

The entire crew, aside from you two, were completely flabbergasted when they found out you two were together. Swansea was quick to ask “Why,” hoping to understand the reason behind such a horrible decision on your part. He didn’t get a good answer from you. Anya felt such pity for you, sure that a good person like you had been manipulated into that position. Even still, she couldn’t help you without putting herself in danger, so she kept her distance.

After the crash, Jimmy took out all his frustrations on you in private through abuse: sexual, physical, verbal, and however else he felt in the moment. Nobody was confused when you started wearing more covering clothes beneath your uniform. Swansea was the only one to really step up against Jimmy when he found that he was hurting you. You had to beg Swansea not to kill Jimmy for that alone, and even still, jimmy got a beating. Daisuke checked on you as much as possible, worrying constantly for your well being. Curly found your relationship to be one more thing to feel guilt over, as he once again couldn’t do a single thing to protect somebody from him.

[kawowoa]

wrote this so fast if it’s messy .. shhhh… no it’s not🌀🌀🌀

imagine toji finding out he has a thing for praise. it wouldn’t get somewhere downstairs up and going, but it would make his heart race a little faster and his cheeks a little warmer.

he would realize on such a random day too. it would be around midday, just after you put megumi down for his after lunch nap. it was a hassle trying to get the tiny one year old to sleep when all he wanted to do was bang his plastic cubes together and watch some kids show you refuse to even mention.

after what felt like hours to you but in reality was just a few minutes, you would come back downstairs to see toji halfway done with the dishes.

he wanted to be useful to you, make your life a little easier instead of leaving all the shit to you and watching his game.

“huh, didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you joked, bumping your hip against his. you picked up one of the dishes laid out on the dish towel, it was pristine, you shot a sideways glance to toji. “good boy, ‘ji.” you patted his back before slipping away.

toji didn’t even have a witty remark to respond to you. it was like all the gears and circuits in his brain just suddenly decided to stop working simultaneously. he knew you were just joking, yet the sound of your voice calling him a good boy echoed in his mind like a broken record.

you started to catch on after that, he wasn’t good at hiding his reactions as he thought. you found any reason to give him subtle praises, whenever it was when he was holding megumi, mumbling how good of a father he was or when he was working out and you’d loudly exclaim how he’s so good at lifting weights.

it didn’t matter to him because it all affected him the same way. and eventually he started looking forward to hearing you praise him, though he tried to be slick about it.

but, it took him even longer to fully come to terms with it. after a mission that took an entire day where toji sluggishly came through the door. to his surprise, you were still up despite how late it was. the low murmurs of the tv broke the still silence, you both just stared at each other before your arms stretched out, beckoning him over.

he didn’t think twice to be in your arms, laying on your chest as you petted his hair.

“you did good, ‘ji. y’know i’m proud of you, right?” there’s that fuzzy feeling coming back. his eyes staring up at you through his shaggy bangs.

“why do you keep doing that?”

“doing what?”

“complimenting me ‘n shit.”

you chuckled, which only made his eyebrows furrow and his lips curl into a frown.

“do you hate it?” toji didn’t really have a response to that. as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it more than you think. when you say it out loud or pat him on his back that reassures him that whatever he’s doing is right, he all reacts the same way: feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

“i don’t.”

you pressed a kiss onto his forehead, “that’s what i thought, you deserve to know it.” you whisper against his forehead, he can feel your cheeky grin forming against him. “i always knew you had a praise kink.”

“don’t fuckin’ call it that.”

[malereadermaniac]

Totally non-toxic behaviour ~ Ex!Dabi x Male Reader

Reader who's just a smidge toxic towards his ex - but it's like fine! m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI Word count: 884

Dabi asking for his hoodies that he'd left with you back, only for you to try every trick in the book to make him think about you~

For one of the jaded man's sweatshirts, you decided to sleep in it for a week and spray your signature perfume on it. The second Dabi grabbed the black top from you, he took it to his nose and immediately gave you a chilling stare; he didn't voice any complaints though, just gave a brief 'thanks' and left. What you don't know is that the scarred man huffed on that thing all the way back to his place, and didn't wash it for literal weeks; he would just smell it whenever he felt that empty feeling in his chest which you used to fill for him.

When Dabi texted you about another hoodie of his, he did mention that "You coulda washed it before giving it back" - guessing that your smell made him miss you a bit too hard... So that time, of course you had the decency to wash the damn thing..... it was just that you'd accidentally spilt some of your body wash in with your fabric softener; so not only did your ex's hoodie smell like your clothes, but also you.

Another time, you decided to try make the cold man jealous by handing him the wrong clothing and saying "oops... not yours?". That one really set him off. In the moment, Dabi laughed it off and went and found the pair of sweats he was actually looking for, but GOD DAMN did this man go crazy on his way home. We're talking talking to himself in the car, extreme road rage for absolutely no real reason, and conducting a deep social media stalk on you to try n find out who's fucking sweats you tried to give him!

Your break-up wasn't exactly civil, but you and Dabi both agreed that you needed to end things or you two would just keep being bad for each other. Don't get it twisted, when it was good, it was incredible - you and Dabi were seemed like the perfect boyfriends, just simply in love. The taller man would always pamper you and was like a puppy around you (with an attitude but he'd listen to you nonetheless). Dabi was happier than ever when he was around you, you filled that hole in his chest, you were the missing piece to him. It's just that Dabi would get insanely possessive over you because you meant so incredibly much towards him - and we're talking not being allowed to go out with friends without him, literally getting into fights with other guys who were close with you and much, much more. And you yourself weren't innocent either! You would flirt with people to get attention from Dabi if he had been more frigid that day, and you were partial to a little guilt tripping if it meant getting what you wanted... But breaking up because of the bad definitely didn't negate the good - so you two are stuck being apart, whilst still being fucking in love with each other!

Dabi still having notifications on for whenever you post a story, because he was so down bad for you that he wanted to always be the first to see you stories (and sometimes approve them....). But his already cold blood runs colder when he sees that you've posted a selfie with some muscular, tatted arm around your shoulders as you lay your head on whoever this guy is. Dabi must've rewatched that single story of your at least fifty times, just staring, internally screaming, trying to figure out whose FUCKING ARM THAT IS. And of course, it's just you trying to make the man jealous (and it working). Good thing your friend from childhood was visiting, cause he made the perfect fake soft-launch!

Light stalking is another one of your tactics when trying to occupy Dabi's thoughts (and succeeding). It's never anything crazy! Just showing up at parties he's at and making sure that he notices you - which is usually done by openly flirting with guys at said party. Sometimes, if you're bold (and drunk) enough, you will just straight up flirt with Dabi's friends - never if he's with them in that moment, but always when he will notice. And it works like a CHARM! It does help that all of Dabi's friends find you hot as fuck, they're willing to risk getting their heads burnt off if it means getting to hit it from the back yk! They always start off with a coy "Dabi wouldn't be very happy to see me talkin' 'ta you" but they never mean it. And holy shit is it a sight from horny heaven to see Dabi walk over to you once he notices you antics; his taller, muscular frame looming over you and whoever your flirting with, his arms folded to show off his muscles even more, his eyes narrow and burning a hole into your own. Whenever you push enough of his buttons, Dabi will almost always fold, and he's not proud of it! The man just can't help it, he knows it's bad but he just loves waking up in your bed the next morning~

[kathleenkatmary]

Yes. All of this. And to piggy back off of it, I feel like one of the big ideas the show highlights, particularly in the second season, is the way that trauma and pain can isolate us (especially women), especially when we're made to feel that expressing our pain and seeking help would be an annoyance or a burden to others and/or like our pain is misplaced or wrong because the perspective of everyone else seems to be that what we're experiencing isn't that bad, or isn't even bad at all. And in that isolation not only do we do things that close ourselves of from getting help from others, but it makes closes us off from seeing the pain the people close to us are struggling through.

I feel like the show was pretty explicitly critical of the way our culture treats trauma and the pain that comes from it and the way that "socially acceptable" ways of trying to deal and cope inherently isolate us from being able to both seek/receive help from others and offer help to those who need it.

Alison resorting to plotting to murder Kevin from the beginning of the show really highlights this, IMO, because it's made clear - particularly throughout the first season - that she's been made to feel like there's nowhere else for her to turn. She's surrounded by people who think Kevin is the greatest. Even the other women around her prop up this idea. There's at least one point where Diane talks about how great Kevin is and how lucky Alison is. Since she's known her Patti has been, from Alison's perspective, 'just one of the boys' when it comes to her relationship with Kevin. So when Alison looks around, it seems like she's alone. There's nobody who sees what she's going through, and with the way things are she understandably doubts that anyone would take her seriously.

And even when she and Patti do team up and start to see each other differently, there's still a lot of friction between them that comes almost solely from them continuing to operate like they were when they were alone because even though they are working together, they don't really know how to reach out to each other and ask for an offer emotional support. The culture they exist in doesn't teach them how to do that. And for them I think that's true twice over, because they both clearly grew up in families where that was the case, and the community they live in is clearly one where that kind of thing isn't really common or encouraged. It's not a coincidence that their relationship started getting healthier and more functional the more they both realized that they actually weren't alone in the things that they'd gone through and learned to both accept and offer support.

Patti and Alison really do represent the two different sides of this problem. Alison is self absorbed, she uses people, especially Patti, she often doesn't recognize what other people are going through, and she takes whatever help Patti will give her and then some without offering much in return. Patti, on the other hand, is constantly offering herself, her help, her support to Alison, even when it's detrimental to her life and relationships, even when she's getting very little, if any, help and support in return... but for much of their relationship, she doesn't really ask for it. There are points here and there where she blows up and points out how uneven their relationship is in this regard, but she always lets it go after that.

Alison doesn't know how to offer help and support, and Patti doesn't know how to ask for it. And when you look at their stories, it makes sense why that's the case. Alison has spent so long being so isolated, not really having any friends, the closest relationship she seems to have is with Diane, and even that seems pretty shallow. She's been stuck with this abusive asshole who sucks up all the air in the room, all the money she makes, all the attention and love from everyone in their lives, and through that all she has to watch and listen as people fawn over how great he is. She's been so alone in it for so long, with no relationships of any real depth. She's so self-focused because she's had nobody else but herself for so long, and nobody to see what she's going through. So when someone does see it and offers some kind of help and support, it makes sense that she would just take and take and take. It's like she's been stuck in the desert for so long and she's finally stumbled upon someone who's offering her a bit of water.

And in turn, it makes sense that Patti would continue to just keep giving, to just keep letting Alison take and take and take. She's been taking care of her brother for so long, even when he's an adult and he doesn't really need it, even when she know he's manipulating her so that he doesn't have to take care of himself. She found herself in this position when she was young where she had to take care of her brother, without anyone there to really offer and tangible help or support. She didn't really have any friends or close relationships of her own. Her life revolved around taking care of Neal, so the only 'friendships' she had were the ones she had through him, and while those relationships were shallow and empty they were the only ones she had. And she had them by way of taking care of her brother. She felt like she didn't have anyone to go to for help and support with her pain because not only did she not have anyone close enough to her to feel safe doing that with, but the position she'd been in since she was young made her feel like she was the one who had to take care of other people, not the one who was taken care of.

Alison and Patti were two women who had been traumatized at least in part by these roles they kind of ended up forced into, these roles that are very much consider expected and accepted roles for women in society. And society can be nasty to women who chafe against those roles. Especially when the men who make those roles miserable for them are so beloved by the community. Which just makes the women experiencing those traumas isolate themselves even more, and that results in them not being able to reach out to each other. It's also not helped by just the general way society teaches women to look at and think about each other. Both Patti and Alison express some pretty unflattering and stereotypical assumptions and perceptions about the other, which are based on (1) those cultural ideas about women, (2) the roles the society/culture they lived in forced them into, and (3) the roles they ended up in and the image they projected as a result of their isolation.

That's the tragedy that I think the flashback where they meet at the bar is really hammering home. These two had existed in each other's orbits for a long time, so close but just out of reach because of the way the culture and community they lived in taught them to isolate themselves, to wall themselves up, to shut up and deal with it themselves. If they had just been able to reach out to each other sooner, to both offer and receive help and support from each other, their situations never would have reached the extremes they did. But because they were made to think that they had to go it alone, that there was nobody else who could see what they were going through, that they needed to just keep their mouths shut and not make a fuss, they ended up having to struggle through it all by themselves for so long when they really didn't need to.

I've always felt like one of the biggest messages the show was trying to put out there is that there's no such thing as a 'perfect victim', and that a big reason for that is because our culture's relationship with trauma and emotional pain inherently puts people who have experienced trauma in a position that fosters those 'imperfect' things that can make victims selfish and mean and reckless and self-centered and irrational. No matter how much you'll see people online or in the media talking about self-care and mental health support and getting help, when it comes to actual people experiencing actual trauma and its aftermaths in an actual community, our society and culture is still very much set up in a way that discourages people who have been abused and traumatized isolated and alone, and I think Kevin Can F**k Himself did a really amazing job at really laying bare that reality, exploring just how damaging those norms are, and showing how powerful finding someone who understands and learning how to both seek and offer help can be.

A thing I find really important about the way Kevin Can Fuck Himself goes about its job: Allison is kind of a mess. She’s self-centered, she doesn’t put other people’s needs first, she makes reckless choices that endanger herself and others. And the show says: yes. Right. She’s flawed as fuck. And she still does not deserve any of what’s happening to her. It could be argued that she is, in fact, this flawed as a direct product of her trauma. Her self-absorption, unlike Kevin’s, is actually self-preservation. It puts Patty in danger. It tunes out Diane’s pain. It capitalizes on Sam’s relationship problems. And still, the show says: yes. Right. She’s going about this in fumbling, worrying ways. And she still does not deserve any of what’s happening to her.

Know how we know this? How we really know this, outside of our own objectivity, our own awareness of the abuse she’s enduring even to the soundtrack of laughter?

Because Tammy is the one to find her. Because Tammy is the one holding the cards at the end of the game. Tammy, who does not like Allison. Who sees so clearly the complicated, messy, dangerous person Allison can be. The mistakes she is prone to making in the name of desperation. How imperfect she is at every level. And Tammy, who is the character most explicitly set to call Allison on all of her shit, to drag her before a court of law, to lean on that hot-button of whether or not she’s a “good person” until it breaks—lets her go. Folds the cards up, puts them in her pocket, and leaves.

Because Tammy, like the show, like the thesis statement of abuse is never earned, never deserved, never warranted, understands. This is a world that so often sanitizes women after it’s too late to save them. A world that insists she should have done more to get out. A world that insists you should be kind and moral and perfect, or maybe you got what was coming to you. This is a world that sees fighting back as an equally heinous crime. As punishable, if not more so, than the actions of the instigator.

But this show doesn’t want to play that game. This show doesn’t want to fuck with it at all. Allison doesn’t have to be perfect and moral and above reproach. Allison has blood on her hands, and a DUI neatly ignored, and knowingly has an affair with her married boss. Allison hurts her friends sometimes, and she makes awful decisions out of desperation, and she doesn’t always pay attention to other people’s plotlines. And the show says: yes. Right. She’s making choices you probably should not agree with.

And she still does not deserve any of what is happening to her.

[marzipanandminutiae]

the one thing I am full-bore conspiracy theorist about?

daily contact lenses

or, well, not their existence, period. they're a valid health option that is best for some people, medically. but the sheer aggressiveness with which they're being pushed nowadays

the last few times I went to the eye doctor for my annual check-up, she was HEAVILY on my case to switch to dailies. like, to the point of arrogance and condescension when I said I preferred to stick with monthlies (I've worn contacts since I was 12, for reference). I also posted about it on a forum and got massive negativity in response, as well as being talked down to by someone claiming to be an optometrist himself

now if this were like...anti-vaxxer sentiment I'd understand that reaction. but from what I've heard, while monthlies do carry a higher risk of eye infections and such, they're not medically unsound or unsafe across the board. I'm willing to accept that risk, and since science has not found that they're terrible and should immediately be discontinued, I feel like my wishes should be respected and not belittled

point two: plastic waste. they say it's somehow less than using monthlies, but frankly I just don't see how that's possible. 365 of those little eye chips- times two! -and their packaging, add up to less than a case and a bottle of solution every few months, plus 24 contacts and their packaging? it doesn't make sense to me, and it doesn't help that I mostly see contact lens websites repeating this "fact." of course all contacts produce plastic waste, and I'd be perfectly willing to accept this as one of those You Have To Consume; You Just Decide What Areas Of Your Life Are Optimal For Minimization of Waste And What Aren't things, if dailies weren't being pushed so hard

(also I found two studies showing that monthly-replacement soft lenses produce less plastic waste than daily disposables. which, like. yes, this should be obvious, but here we are. granted, that's only two, and both studies emphasize that dailies and their accoutrements can be recycled, but see below)

some big companies have "contact recycling programs" but like. who's to say that's not greenwashing? where's the oversight? where are the investigations into what these programs actually DO? god knows we've been there before with recycling and corporations trying to pull the nylon-poly-blend Vegan Wool(TM) over our eyes

they're also more expensive than monthlies, which like. does not lend a positive slant to optometrists pushing them so stridently

on top of that, I and some other monthly users have noted that our contacts aren't lasting as long as they used to. for me, it was 17-18 years of smooth sailing with barely any problems, and as of like a year ago my contacts barely last two weeks without clouding up, ripping, chipping at the edges, causing my vision to blur, becoming uncomfortable...my brand did change around that time, so I hope it's just that, and the sample size of other monthly users I've pooled is VERY small. but it sure seems interesting that they suddenly started pushing a product that doesn't last long enough for people to notice low quality, around the time that at least some users of the longer-lasting version start having problems

you're pooh-poohing all of my concerns- which are indeed backed up by science, it seems! -with a "fix" that relies on big companies being honest about recycling, to push me from a non-ideal but still medically sound option to another that makes you more money?

I'm normally a pretty grounded person but I'm full-on tinfoil hat about this one