#she is not as dumb as she makes herself out to be

[hoshifighting]

subby mingyu getting handjob from reader while hes tied up to the bed, she promises to make him cum but when he’s close she moves her hand away and starts fingering herself. pure torture 🥰

edging sub!mingyu

WARNINGS: smut, edging, masturbation [f. & m.], dom!reader x sub!mingyu.

mingyu looks up at you with those big, dumb, puppy-dog eyes, his wrists tugging at the restraints like he forgot you tied him up in the first place. “please ma'am,” he whines, chest heaving, sweat already glistening on his neck. “ma'am, you said—”

you cut him off with a lazy smirk, your fingers wrapping back around his cock, the tip flushed and leaking like it’s begging for you to make it cum and spurt all over. “yeah, yeah, i said i’d let you cum,” you tease, your grip just firm enough to make him gasp, “but when did i ever say when?”

his head falls back onto the pillow with a pathetic groan, and you swear you can feel the bedframe shudder with how hard he’s pulling against the ties. “ma'am you’re so mean..!”

you pump him slow, so slow it’s borderline cruel, and his thighs twitch like he’s gonna lose his mind. his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, brows furrowed like he’s fighting not to explode too soon. but mingyu’s always been a lightweight when it comes to you, and the way his cock jerks in your hand tells you he’s so close.

you wait until his breathing gets erratic, his hips stuttering, his whole body tightening like a rubber band about to snap... and then?

you pull your hand away.

“wha—wait, no! what the hell?!” mingyu chokes out, his voice cracking, his head snapping up to look at you. his eyes are wild, his cock twitching helplessly, and you almost laugh at the mere betrayal on his face.

“aww,” you pout, not even trying to hide the mockery in your tone. “poor baby.” and then, just to drive the point home, you slide your hand down between your own thighs, your fingers disappearing where you know he wants to be.

“no, no, no—” he starts, but the word cuts off with a strangled groan when you start fingering yourself right in front of him. the wet, filthy sounds fill the room, and mingyu’s eyes are locked on your hand, his cock twitching like it’s physically pained by the sight.

“this is your fault,” you say, your voice breathy. “if you weren’t so greedy, maybe i’d let you finish.” you drag your fingers out, glistening with slick, and hold them up for him to see. “guess i’m having all the fun.”

mingyu thrashes against the restraints, whining, “please, i’ll be good, i’ll do anything—”

“anything?” you raise an eyebrow, and his nod is so desperate it’s almost funny, his eyes big, and his eyebrow knit together. “hmm. maybe next time,” you hum, slipping your fingers back inside yourself with a soft moan.

mingyu groans like he’s in actual agony, his cock leaking against his stomach, his hips twitching into the air while he’s still chasing a release that’s never coming.

[miange1]

HYUN-JU

male reader, reader is a college student, talks of dysphoria, hyun-ju's past, reader doesn't know hyun ju's trans, pining/being smitten, death, crying, scuicidal thoughts, im in love with this woman.

note: i am not trans, im a cis dude. if i ever get something wrong or offensive and you're trans just let me know and i'll fix it. Also I saw something where someone said gyeong-seok probably just thought hyun ju was a cis woman who had a really deep voice and i thought it was funny.

You had been lucky to pass the first game. You were scared out of your mind, and the small group you made from the first few games had died. It was terrible, you had no one. It's surprising how despite everyone being in the same situation— you found no more comfort.

But there was this girl you had seen. She had shoulder length hair, and earrings that truly just suit her. She was really pretty, you wanted to talk to her yet she was always with her own group.

Yet this time, she wasn't. She was just by herself for a moment, was she thinking to herself? Maybe you should talk to her? No, that's a bad idea. Okay, but what else was there to do? You might die without talking to the woman of your dreams.

Mustering up the little courage you had, you went over to her. Hands sweaty the closer you got to her. You wiped it on your slightly blood stained uniform, feeling even more icky realizing you were bloody.

Getting closer to her, you sat on a mattress. Shit, what now? You cleared your throat, "H..hi." you felt like you were back in highschool. Mouth dry as if you were talking to your fist crush. She looked over to you, a small smile on her curious face. "Hi."

She spoke to you, holy crap she spoke to you.

"How uh— how are you?" You stuttered.

But before she could answer you shook your head, blurting for her not to answer that stupid question. Jesus your face was burning up, felt like you had a fever.

"I'm sorry," You were able to get that out. "This is dumb, I just thought you were really pretty and.." She hadn't broken eye contact with you, but you could barely look at her. "In a situation like this it's pretty weird to say something like that to someone isn't it?"

"You think I'm pretty?"

You shut your mouth, looking at her oddly. "Yeah..of course i do. Do you not think so?" She scoffed, thinking you were joking. She had just gotten called beautiful by young-mi, and she believed it she truly did. But hearing it from someone she barely knew? Made her feel like crying again.

"I have been called a lot of things, yet not pretty. I only expected to be called pretty after my transition." That was where you made another face more confused than before. "Transition?" Your voice spoke with genuine confusion.

She raised her eyebrow at you, then rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. I know you can tell." You really couldn't. There was nothing you had against transgender people at all, but it doesn't change the fact you couldn't tell.

"I really wasn't aware, was that offensive to you?" She stared at you for a moment, bursting out laughing after a while and earning some stares. "My voice? Even hearing me, you weren't aware?" You shook your head and shrugged.

"I just thought you had a naturally deep voice." Oh you were making her feel so much better, even if you didn't know it. She couldn't stop laughing, grabbing onto your shoulder as a touch of affection. It made you smile and laugh with her, your own hand touching hers to reciprocate.

The two of you had deeper talks over time until the next game. She told you what you guessed she told the others, about her plan on what to do with the money, how she had others distance themselves from her when she told them she felt like a woman. It made you feel bad, but you were happy she was telling you this because it felt like you had known each other for so long.

You wished it lasted longer

—

"Six." The moment it was spoke, you had been pulled by hyun ju. It was a habit she was making, always grabbing you the moment the she heard the number. But this time, she made a mistake. She realized last minute young-mi was too behind.

She panicked, no one else seemed to have room and it was a moment of time before she absolutely had to close the door.

Hyun ju's grip stayed on you, it seemed to get tighter the more stressed she got. Young mi was just a kid, she deserved to live on.

"10, 9, 8,"

You only had so much time to decide. You yanked yourself from hyun ju's grip, and she instantly gave you a look as if you were stupid. "What are you doing?" She wanted to save you both, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You didn't speak, only letting your lips touch hers quickly, yet you stayed as long as you could. Even in death you would always remember her lips, they trembled against yours, confused, yet wanting and needing more. You let yourself run out, pushing the girl inside. "1."

It was done, and there was nothing that could be done. You heard the yell of her voice, panicking and shaking the door trying to get it to open. "No, no, unlock the door! God damn it!"

"I love you." She stopped, looking at you in your eyes. You were scared too, crying even. You didn't want to die, and she knew it. She was so deeply in love with someone she only knew for a few hours, but it felt like years. She needed you, she wanted you to live. Get to know you better when this was all over, maybe even go further if it could!

She couldn't even say it back while you were conscious. The life left your eyes, and your body fell. "No.." she was in disbelief. No, you weren't dead.

"Please, please, I love you too.." She couldn't be upset at anyone, she couldn't even stand on her own two feet.

"Unnie." Arms wrapped around her, "Come on..you have to get up..the next round." She didn't want to play anymore, she didn't feel like she could. If only it was her, she could have at least had hope for you and young-mi.

Damn it

[gamblersdoll]

college jock! kirishima who is the big boy of the group, dumb goofy grin but was known to have a dangerous mouth.

but when he saw you as the mysterious to herself girl with the prettiest hair and makeup (especially your lip liner), he claimed he has got to talk to you.

“you really feignin’ for a girl that hasnt looked your way, huh?” the nerd of the group, kaminari, asked. he was only a nerd for cars that went fast and instruments. “she doesnt know you exist bro, let it die.”

“you finally said somethin’ that makes senes, congrats dunce face.” the quarter back, katsuki said. he was in a decent mood, sitting in the bean bag couch and the clink of his teeth to his tongue piercing echoed. along the line of kaminari giving a whine to his verbal abuse, he chucked the jarrito bottle into the trash. “have you even asked her out?”

“well…” he starts, bouncing his knee and having eyes on him. “i.. dont know her name yet.”

sero laughs, taking the bottle opener and popping the lid off the soda and tossing it to the side (a trait of his drinking habit) plopping on the bed. “first learn her name, then see if you can rub one out.” katsuki huffed a laugh with sero, his laugh contagious with the men.

“i am, i am.” kirishima whined too, kaminari too busy to be on tiktok to care. “its just.. hard to go up to someone and be like ‘hey, whats yer name?’”

“well, start a conversation, dumbass.” katsuki suggests, he finds everything literal until he faces the problem.

“so uhh..” he walks awkwardly beside you, the height difference lacking. he had a foot over you, added three hundred nd some pounds to you— a tinier human. he felt his throat get tight, “do you.. like the weather?”

you stop dead in your tracks to stare at him like he asked you to take shit and clap your hands, but you keep walking. “i hate the heat.” you reply, watching the nervous laughter in him.

“okay, uhm..” he thickly swallows, hands in his pockets. “whats your name?” he asks, staring down at you. “i hope that isn’t weird to ask…”

“.. you come up to me and ask the weather and then you ask my name?” you asked back, raising an eyebrow. “are you okay?” youre chewing the inside of your mouth, you hadnt been approached since highschool of sophomore year.

“ yeah..?” he asks back in the same tone.

you nod, pulling his hand and take a sharpie to his hand. “there, ill see you ‘round, ‘kay red dye?” you chuckle when he starts to internally panick, checking his roots that were in fact blackened. “see ya later.”

he gets warm and fuzzy, watching your frame.

he hated to see you go, but loved to see you walk away.

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters That Are Big of Heart and Dumb of Ass

Pairing: Vi, Sevika, Vander, Jayce, Loris, Ambessa x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, flirting, cuddles, kissing, sparing, muscles, protectiveness

A/N: This came to me today during my work break. I love himbos and whatever the female version of it is!

PURE OF HEART: She will do anything, put herself in any kind of danger to protect you. Vi is ready to get into a fight with anyone, stand up to anyone if they're bothering you. The bruises might be there after but she knows you'll help her get patched up. Depending on where the bruises are she might get some kisses.

DUMB OF ASS: Charges head first into any situation and that more often than not gets her hurt. One would think she learned to use hear head a bit more by now. And just in terms of headbutting her opponent. However she defends her attitude by saying that she's the muscle here, so you should let her take care of things her way.

PURE OF HEART: First of all she doesn't want anyone knowing she has a soft spot for you. She is very aggressive in her flirting both in public and in private but when you're up close, in her lap she will whisper sweet nothings into your ear. After which she will bite it. Don't blame her, she has an image to uphold.

DUMB OF ASS: Sevika has always been a badass in Zaun, but not for her brains. As respected as she is some also see her as a glorified bodyguard that's now dating her boss's cute secretary. She hears these rumors of course but they don't phase her when she's had a few shots of her favorite drink. Not her best moment.

PURE OF HEART: He is a family man to the bone. And he sees you as his wife even though you're not officially married yet. It won't stop him from grabbing you around the hips and pulling you into a kiss, his tongue tasting of tabaco and your favorite drink. Yes, your favorite, because he wants to taste good when he kisses you.

DUMB OF ASS: While Vander might be one of the de facto leaders in Zaun he's made his fair share of dumb choices. He's forgotten to lock up more than once, leading to the people thinking the bar open and he walked out in his underwear. What made it more embarrassing is that you were right behind him, wearing just his shirt.

PURE OF HEART: Everyone who met Jayce even once can see that he has a heart of gold. There isn't a challenge he won't try to take out, be it with brains or brawn. Knowing he's smart hasn't stopped you from visiting him a few times in the forge and appreciating the way the sweat rolls down his muscled body. He even flexes for you.

DUMB OF ASS: The amount of times he accidentally burned himself because he was too busy making out with you is astounding. He picks you up easily enough. But then backs up a bit too much, touching or stepping too close to the heat of the forge. Either that or he knocks important tools down when he places you on his table.

PURE OF HEART: No one's got your back like Loris has your back. He's is one of the most supportive boyfriends you could ask for, husband material really. Whenever he notices you're having a bad day he will beckon you over and scoop you into his big arms. You're not getting away from him or his cuddles until you feel better.

DUMB OF ASS: Among the Enforcers he has always been known as the muscle, and as more than a bit of drinker. But he also tells the best stories. He can be a little crude sometimes, flirting with you and forgetting there are other people in the room. The next morning everyone is smirking at him and he has no idea why.

PURE OF HEART: Ambessa will crush anyone who has anything bad to say about her, her family, or anyone in her army. Her strength is in her physique, strategy and loyalty of her people. But on occasion she can show her softer side, when it's just the two of you. It's one of her weaknesses, that cute smile of yours that she would do anything for.

DUMB OF ASS: One of her favorite ways to flirt, and have foreplay, is to spar with you. However that tends to attract more than a few eyes. She always acts insanely possessive over you in those moments, her head still in the fight but also getting in between you and her soldiers. it ends up looking a bit like a dance, much to everyone's amusement.

[voluptuarian]

I'm trying to avoid people's dumb takes on Nosferatu but I keep being exposed to the tip of the iceberg and am annoyed enough about it to rant about it.

There's nothing in there that implies she was a kid. She lived in her family home, in the room she had lived in her whole life-- very typical for an unmarried adult woman at the time, especially in a well off family. Everyone determined that this had to be Orlok "grooming" a "child" are just fixated on that interpretation because it's nasty-sounding enough that they can condemn the relationship as "irredeemable" and "problematic" without sounding like pearl-clutchers. It's the magic word that lets them look vindicated in writing the whole thing off. She's not played by a child, she is dressed and styled as an adult, and the needs she's expressing, for attention, for recognition, for physical and emotional intimacy, are in no way limited to children. She's a young woman yearning for things that everybody wants and she's been denied. Ellen having been neglected, lonely, and starved for affection doesn't negate her adulthood. Her walking into a bad situation as a result of all that doesn't make her "groomed." Plenty of grown adults wind up in bad relationships because they're naive and desperate for love.

Similarly, everyone determined that one side of the triangle here wasn't "real" or that she "actually" only felt a connection with one of them and nothing for the other is similarly ridiculous. Thomas is the relationship Ellen chooses intentionally and conscientiously and which provides her the future she wants while satisfying her physical and emotional desires in a safe, secure, loving environment. Orlok is the first love, the first major relationship that she fell into because she was reckless and desperate for affection, that at first satisfied her needs but turned sour and dangerous-- that relationship becoming scary, unpleasant, coercive, doesn't erase the good things they had together once. Ellen and Orlok is the bad breakup between people who's freak matched too well. In the normal world it'd be a bad breakup with a toxic partner; in hers he's unfortunately also a an amoral inhuman manifestation of consumption.

And as for "Orlok doesn't love Ellen blah blah he's only an appetite blah blah." Love is an appetite. Need is an appetite. Loneliness is an appetite unmet. It's all hunger!! Why the FUCK is a zillion year old ghoul aristocrat holed up in a ruin in Eastern Europe tuned in enough to immediately respond to the random calls of some nameless unimportant woman he's never met a thousand miles away?? Because he's as desperate as she is, and for similar things. He was already listening, was already looking for someone-- he was desperate and searching first. His needs are twisted because he's a literal monster, but they still echo hers. The freak is matched, the freak in this case being deep emptiness and desire to be wanted and embraced. Unfortunately for him, Ellen can look elsewhere to satisfy those desires when he no longer makes her happy and find people who will-- and she does. Orlok can only go where he is called, must be chosen under special circumstances, which, seemingly out of everyone within his considerable reach, only she has offered. If what Orlok feels isn't love, its the survival in his mockery of life of what would have been love. But what ends in real love with union, ends for him with destruction and a return to lonely solitude-- that's his curse.

Ellen saves the man she chose by rejecting their future together, by breaking their marriage vows, and by sacrificing herself. She chooses the sacrifice as an act of autonomy, but one that subverts her own desires and victimizes her. It's a tragedy, but it's also a victory. It's a succumbing to the predations of the lover who wouldn't let her go, but its also making peace with him, taking into her embrace a figure she hates and fears but still feels connected to. It's fulfilling the monster's insatiable need, granting him the union he craves the only way it can be: through his death. Orlok is loved, and betrayed, and saved. Thomas is loved, and betrayed, and saved. Ellen chooses love for both of them, betrays them both, saves them both, betrays and saves herself. All of those things can be happening at once, just as tenderness, rejection, repulsion, evil, and love can all be happening at once. Is it comfortable? No. That's the point! But expressing your discomfort with that story as "I will willfully misinterpret this movie and dismiss its themes in whatever most easy to excuse way I can because I feel uncomfortable" is the path of the hack and the coward, and I think that's the what the majority of these "takes" are really about.

[sturniololuv08]

TreeHouse Prologue

Summary: A glimpse at what is to come...

"The sharpest pain is often caused by the people we love the most." 

"I think I want to be Barbie." She giggled.

Chris sat upwards in a semi-ab crunch to look at her. "Barbie is a dumb choice." He rested his head back down on his interlocked fingers. He inhaled the earthy smell of the freshly cut wood surrounding them from top to bottom and side to side.

"But she's so pretty." Sienna sat cross-legged, gently stroking her Barbies' bleached hair. She fiddled with her pink frilly dress and sighed.

"Be a transformer. At least they have a purpose." Chris scoffed. He wanted to be openly honest with her and tell her how he thought she was prettier than Barbie but decided against it.

"Barbie is useful. My mommy said she is a tool used to empower women." Sienna nodded her head, proud to know that information. Even though she had no idea what it truly meant, she liked sounding smart.

"Nessie." Chris groaned, annoyed. He also didn't know what that meant. He rolled over to look at his best friend. She looked up from her Barbie with big brown doe eyes. "At least transformers have handguns." Chris was ready to fight his case. He playfully pointed finger guns at her and popped them off, making 'pow' noises. "See. Now your Barbie is dead."

"Oh, shut up." Sienna stuck her tongue out at her annoying best friends.

"Kids, it's time for dinner!" They both looked up in the direction of the wooden window to see the sky painted a dull, darkening blue outside. The old Christmas lights half hanging from the ceiling cast a soft false white glow on both of them. Neither of them realized what time it was.

"The last one down is a rotten egg." Chris stood up fast and shoved her back down to the ground when she was about halfway up as he ran by her.

"No fair! You're cheating." Sienna frowned, getting up again. Chris was quick to position himself down the ladder and took one rung at a time hastily.

"You're just slow, Nessie," Chris yelled back up. Nessie peered down the hatch and tucked her Barbie in the corner of the tree house. She slowly took one step at a time down the ladder, upset she wasn't as fast as Chris. He waited for her at the bottom of the rope frame, holding it steady for her. As soon as she hopped off and her feet were in the cold, dewy grass, Chris propelled his body forward toward the house. "I told you!" He laughed. Sienna didn't want to give up without a fight, so she tried to play catch up but was still behind.

"You are so mean, Chr -" Sienna stopped talking when she walked through the door frame. She looked upwards to see her parents talking with Chris' parents. Her parents looked apologetic and his; angry.

"Chris, can't stay for dinner tonight." Her parents tried to sound nice about it.

"Why not? We were supposed to play Transformers after dinner." Sienna whined. She tucked her arms and began to pout.

"It's okay, Nessie. We can play tomorrow." Chris smiled one of his classic big cheesy smiles.

"Promise?" She huffed.

"Secret handshake promise." Chris looked at her with happy eyes. She immediately dropped her angry stance and started smacking, clapping, and even kicking their handshake. They ended it on her favorite move, where Chris would princess twirl her. He hated it, but she insisted she had to have the princess twirl. If she couldn't be Barbie, she was going to be a real-life princess. Her parents were smiling in awe as their babies got along so well. His parents looked irritated.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Sienna waved as Chris followed his parents out the door.

"Bye, Nessie." Chris waved back with the big smile he usually had around her.

The next day, Sienna asked about Chris relentlessly. She had her parents call him over what seemed like a thousand times. She waited by the front door, hoping to see their car pull up or to see him trotting down the sidewalk, which was rare before. She would go and sit in the treehouse by herself, hoping his head would pop up through the hole in the floor and scare her like he loved to do. She waited. Chris never came back. The next day was the same routine of waiting, looking around, and having her parents call his. She waited and waited for him, but she was met with disappointment.

A whole week went by with no word.

Then, a long, lonely month had passed.

She thought it was because he didn't want to be friends anymore.

After every month that passed, she worried less and less about it. She got used to spending alone time in the tree house. She started to get herself to believe he moved away after school started up again and he wasn't in any classes. She would play Barbies and Transformers by herself in the tree house. Even though she pretended not to care, she still looked for him at lunch and during recess. She even hoped he would miraculously show up at their bus stop one day.

It wasn't until Chris missed her 11th birthday party that she realized it was time to give up on him.

She gave up.

She stopped going in the tree house.

She made new friends and began to grow up without her childhood best friend by her side. She started playing sports and excelling in Language Arts. She had a few fights with her parents about personal space. Those very fights made her think about going up to the rotting tree house one more time, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she slammed her bedroom door in frustration.

She was becoming a young woman learning to navigate her life. But deep down, she held onto the little girl who would sit cross-legged in a pink frilly dress that almost matched the Barbie she once held in her hands. She felt a little heart-string break every time she would envision the little boy with blonde hair shifting into brown with a big toothy smile laying down on the fuzzy carpet, staring up at her with icy blues. She didn't think about him often, but when she did, she always hoped he was still a big goofball like the nine-year-old she knew once. She only had one regret, one thing she would have done differently if she could have.

She wished she had known that he was going to disappear that night because if she had known then what she knew now, she would have twirled a few more times under his arm just to make the memory last a few seconds longer.

Treehouse Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @mintsturniolo @wysmols

Random taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @matthewslover @middlepartmatt @thenickgirl @miss-sturn @christophersmiddlefinger @chrisswife4lf @blushsturns @lovesturni0l0s @delusionalbri @abbilmao @sturnshood @sturnkial @sturniolowhore @chrissweetheart

Dividers ALWAYS @issysh3ll (fucking babe)

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse.**

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Fourteen

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary- Fenrys and Y/n take some time to themselves and cross a pivotal line in their relationship

Warnings- Possessive Fenrys, spice and smut(oral f! receiving), angst, there is conversation of Fenrys’s SA trauma, not to detailed, everyone’s healing journey is different and this may not be an accurate portrayal of how one may deal with trauma like his

Series Masterlist

Part Fourteen

      Y/n is sitting on the edge of the small bed, braiding her freshly washed hair when Fenrys finally returns. His eyes narrow in on her, on where she’s sitting, instantly, and they’re dark with that emotion she’s come to recognize as need. 

   Her body heats at the memory of his hands on her hips, on her thighs. The way he’d held her there, looking up at her like she was the moon in the sky. She could still feel that kiss he’d pressed to her shoulder, the way she’d had to force herself not to tilt her head and expose her sensitive neck to him. 

   “What took you so long?” She ignores the slight breathy tone to her voice, “Did you have to cook the poor thing yourself?”

   Fenrys chuckles and shakes his head, crossing the distance between them, “Your brother wanted to have a little chat.”

   Like a bucket of cold water dumped over her head, all the heat drains from her body. She hadn’t forgotten, the way Vaughan had held her heart in his hand and tore it apart with three words, no I wasn’t. She’d simply let herself be distracted by Fenrys and the way he could ignite her blood with a simple touch. 

   “What did he say?”

   Fenrys sits beside her, settling their plates between them. Her stomach grumbles at the smell of the spiced meat. 

   “Eat,” Fenrys says, picking up his own plate. 

   A different sort of heat lights in her veins at the order, similar to the first days of their journey, annoyance and a flash of anger.

   “What did he say,” she says, not a question anymore, a demand. 

   He looks at her, a small grin forming on his lips at the expression on her face, “I like it when you’re angry, kitten.”

   Fenrys turns to his food, tearing a large piece of meat off the bone, shoving it into his mouth. He groans at the taste, and Y/n vehemently ignores the way that makes her feel. 

   She swipes his plate from his hands, setting it on the small table beside the bed. Fenrys shouts in protest but his eyes are lit with humor and mischief. 

   “You can have that back when you tell me what my brother said,” she snaps, putting her own plate beside his so he doesn’t just steal it. 

   She shifts, sitting on the bed with her legs tucked beneath her so that she’s completely facing the male. Y/n waves him on, giving him a hard look that promises hell if he doesn’t start talking. 

   Fenrys sighs, “Oh you know, big brother stuff, stay away from my sister or I’ll kill you. Or something like that, I didn’t stay for long. I told him I had much better stuff to do with you waiting in my bed.”

   “You did not,” Y/n hisses, slapping his chest when he laughs, “Fenrys he’s going to think that we’re-“

   The words catch in her throat imagining all the things they could be doing in this bed and he winks at her when her face flushes. He made it sound like she’d be here naked, waiting for him, aching for him. Somehow it wasn’t far from the truth.

   He captures her hand as it comes back down for another blow, holding it firmly to his chest, “Let him think whatever he wants, kitten.”

   “Fenrys you don’t understand,” Y/n groans, trying and failing to pull her hand away, “He nearly killed the first male I’d been with.”

   His grip on her tightens in response, keeping her hand pressed against him, “First, I can handle your brother if he’s dumb enough to attack me. Second, is that male still breathing?”

   Y/n raises a brow at him, “What?”

   “Is he the one who stole your first kiss?”

   Stole, as if that kiss didn’t belong to the nameless male she hadn’t seen since her brother had ran him out of town. Vaughan had beaten the blacksmith near death, making him vow to never speak of her to anyone ever again. Part of that had been because he was her brother and he was insanely overprotective, and part had been because the male was a demi-fae capable of earning passage into Doranelle.

   “He didn’t steal anything,” she snaps, tugging once again at her hand that he refuses to let go, “I let him-“

   Fenrys lets out a near animalistic growl, cutting her off, “I wish your brother had killed him.”

   There’s a familiar expression on his face, she’d seen it when she’d told him of her first kiss and back in Antica. Jealous, it hits her then, Fenrys was gods damned jealous of the blacksmith like he had been of Kashin.

   “Gods you insufferable male.” Again, she pulls at her hand, again he keeps it pinned to the muscle above his heart. “You’re seriously jealous of a male I slept with nearly a century ago.”

   His growl vibrates through her, and there’s a small, dangerous voice in her head that tells her to push him. She’d ignored it the last time, when she’d felt him hard beneath her, held back by their companions sleeping only a few feet away from them. This time, she pushed. 

   “Is your ego so easily bruised?” Instead of pulling on the hand he has trapped, she shoves, finding him to be an immovable piece of stone. “First Kashin, now this. The mere idea of someone bringing me pleasure, of touching me, of fucking-“

     Suddenly he’s no longer holding her hand to his chest, but tugging her whole body against him. Fenrys moves her so fast, as if he’d used his power to rip her through time and space to place her on his lap, her thighs straddling his own. His hands are on her waist, holding her in place against him.

   “Do not finish that sentence,” he warns.

   “Does it really bother you so much?” Y/n tries to keep herself in check, to not lose this battle of wills, “That someone kissed me before you? That the same male fucked me before you?”

   His mouth collides with hers, no gentleness, only raging passion. They move against each other, both desperate to win this battle. His sharp canine drags over her bottom lip, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp, and then he’s trailing his lips across her jaw and down the side of her neck. She doesn’t fight it this time, tilting her head back, exposing the entire expanse of her neck to him. She is completely vulnerable like this, he could easily tear her throat out with his teeth, yet he only worships her with his mouth. 

   “Yes,” he says against her skin, kissing the spot on her neck that has her seeing stars, “It bothers me a lot that another male has had you like this, it shouldn’t but it does.”

   She wants to tell him that no one has ever had her like this, had her like he does, panting and writhing with need. The blacksmith had satisfied her, had quelled that ache, but it’d been nothing more. This, with Fenrys, was so much more than pleasure. But she can’t say anything, can’t draw out the words past the sighs and moans falling past her lips.

   “It bothers me,” Fenrys continues, paying that spot on her neck extra attention between words, “That I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else, that I crave you every hour of the day, that I want to touch you and please you despite everything that has been done to me.”

   She can feel it, that last bit of darkness he’d yet to explore with her, the one that sat beneath his remaining scar, much deeper than anything else. Y/n wants to pull away, to give him the full attention he deserves, but Fenrys doesn’t let her. She can feel the sharpness of his teeth as he closes his mouth around her pulse point, drawing a whine from her as he just barely bites down, not enough to make her bleed, but enough to make her moan his name.

   He pulls away with a groan, just far enough that he can look her in the eye as he says, “It bothers me that I am scared, scared that I won’t be able to give you what you need, what you deserve, scared that I am not ready after everything she did, what she forced me to do.”

   It hits her like a sword through her gut, “Fenrys-“

   He shakes his head, lifting a hand to her cheek, “I haven’t wanted this, to touch anyone like this, not after her. And then you found me, and those eyes saw everything I am and you didn’t shy away from all the broken and bleeding parts of me. I haven’t wanted anyone the way I want you, haven’t felt that raging jealousy for anyone the way I do when your arm is around a prince’s instead of my own. So yeah, the idea of a male fucking you drives me crazy.”

   He’s back at her neck, his hands tracing over her hips and her thighs and her back and it’s all so overwhelming.

   “Fen-“ She’s gasping his name, unable to do much else but hold onto him, “I- gods.”

   “What do you need, kitten.” He pulls back to look at her again, “Tell me what you need.”

   Gods what did she need? She needs him to stop teasing her, needs to feel his skin beneath her palms and not covered by his layers of leathers, she needs him more than anything and she can’t think, can’t breathe.

   “I- slow down,” she gasps.

   He stops instantly, his hands settling on her sides, a light gentle pressure that keeps her just on the edge of dizziness. Fenrys watches her with furrowed brows and she can tell it is taking a lot of his self control to keep from moving against her. He waits for her to speak and it takes her several breaths before she can even think coherently.

   “You don’t have to,” she finally says.

   “I want to,” he groans, his hands tightening on her waist.

   She reaches for his face, cradling him between her palms, “You don’t have to, if you’re not ready.”

   Y/n trails a finger over the scar above his brow, her power begging to be let out, to take that final piece of it, to heal him. But she could only take the surface level of the pain, not the darkness beneath it. The darkness she now knew, the darkness Maeve had caused. She didn’t need to know the details to know what he had been forced to do for the queen, she could connect the dots easily.

   “Please,” he whispers, letting his head fall to rest against hers, “I won’t let her take everything from me.”

   Y/n whispers, “She won’t, she can’t.”

   “I want to,” Fenrys says, his hand on her side gripping her shirt, “I want to be worthy of you.”

   She leans into him, feeling every desperate desire they held for each other, as if she could feel his right there besides hers. Y/n lifts his face to her own, kissing him, pouring every ounce of emotion into their lips until she is panting and aching.

   “You have me,” she gasps against him.

   And its like a damn is broken within him, the hands gripping her shirt pull, wrenching the fabric up her torso, exposing her skin to the chilled air around them. And she barely has the time to gasp his name before his mouth is on her, exploring her skin with his tongue and teeth, over her collarbone, down the valley of her breast. His hands exploring every inch of her, and if she thought it had felt good before, it is even better without cloth between his palms and her feverish skin. 

   She is practically purring when his mouth finally ghosts over her breast, and she cries out when his lips close over the sensitive peak, his tongue swirling around her nipple. Her hips move of their own volition, grinding down on his lap where she can feel the hard length of him pressed against her core. Fenrys groans and the vibration is nearly too much.

   “Fenrys please.” She has no idea what she’s begging for, whatever he’s willing to give her, “Gods please.”

   He knows what she needs, like he could read her mind and decipher the muddled mess of her brain. Fenrys shifts, lifting her with him effortlessly, turning to lay her back down on the small mattress and then he is kissing down her body leaving her writhing and moaning. And when he finds the seam of her pants, his hands are instantly tugging the material down her thighs, her panties with it, leaving her completely bare to him.

   “Fuck,” he groans, sitting back to just look at her, his onyx eyes so impossibly dark, “You’re so perfect.”

   Having his gaze on her, so heavy, while he was still completely clothed, had her trying to cover herself. Again, as if he understands exactly what she is feeling, his hands work open the laces of his flight leathers, tearing the material over his head, the undershirt with it. Y/n marvels at the golden brown expanse of his skin, the rigid muscle beneath. Yes she’d appreciated him shirtless before, but not like this. She reaches between them and her fingers trace each hard line of him, all the way down to the waistline of his leathers, pulling helplessly at the laces, wanting to see the length of him that is straining in the material.

   “So needy,” he laughs, taking her hands and guiding them to her sides, “I have other plans for you.”

   “Please,” she gasps, straining against his hands restraining her own, “I want to touch you.”

   “You will,” he says, and there’s an edge to his tone like he wants to give into her, “I’ve been imagining this for to long now, I’m going to take my time with you.”

   The ache between her thighs is nearly painful at that point and she doesn’t care what he does as long as he touches her there. Her body moves on its own, her legs falling open as she stares up at him, waiting to see his reaction to her vulnerability. The way his eyes fall to her center, drinking her in, almost has her coming undone right then without him even touching her.

   “Beautiful, kitten,” Fenrys says, his voice low and breathy, “So fucking beautiful.”

   He leans down to press his lips against her naval, trailing those fiery kisses further and further down, going right past where she wants him to the soft skin of her thigh. Her hips chase him and he pins her beneath a single strong arm, his other pushing her thighs further apart so he can settle between them, his mouth so close to her that she can feel each heavy breath leave his lips. She’s on fire, burning so hot as if she were a living flame stoked to life by him, and when he finally leans in, tasting her for the first time, she nearly combusts.

   “Fenrys,” she gasps, her hands finding the golden strands of his hair, needing to hold onto something to keep her from falling into oblivion.

   He is lost in her, groaning as he licks her from her entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves above. Fenrys closes his lips around her and it’s the most intense wave of pleasure she has ever felt. Not even her own fingers had felt like this, he knows exactly how to press his tongue against her to draw out the moans and screams that surely leak through the door and into the aerie beyond. She doesn’t care who hears her, she can’t think of anything beyond him.

   Each stroke of his tongue brings her closer and closer to the peak of her pleasure. Her hands grip his hair, pulling as if she could get him closer, have more of him, and he groans against her, the feeling is so intense that she does it again. The hand on her leg comes between them and she cries out when his fingers swipe through her arousal, she screams when a single finger dips into her and curls against a spot inside of her she hadn’t even known about.

   “Fuck,” she cries out, feeling herself go higher and higher, so close to that breaking point, “Please, gods, I’m so- fuck.”

   She can’t form the words to tell him but he knows, can feel her tightening around him, every muscle in her body going taut in desperation. Fenrys is relentless in his pace, his mouth and his fingers expertly working her until it snaps, that coil in her belly releasing in a brilliant wave of pleasure. Y/n cries his name as she falls from that peak, her body writhing and shaking with the power of it, and Fenrys is right there to catch her, letting her ride out each aftershock until she falls completely limp beneath him. Only then does he pull away, looking up at her with dark onyx eyes full of pride and desire, his lips shining as they pull up into a satisfied grin.

   “You taste better than I’d dreamed,” Fenrys says, and her core tightens when he licks his lips, as if she had been a grand feast gifted to a starving male.

   Y/n can barely draw words to her lips, “You’ve dreamed of me?”

   Fenrys nods, crawling over her whispering the words against her lips, “I’ve been dreaming of you since that first night in Antica, dreaming of you in that little towel, dreaming of licking the beads of water off of your thighs.”

   Despite her exhaustion, the words have her clenching her thighs to relieve some of the ache. Fenrys captures her lips in a slow sensual kiss, she can taste herself on his tongue and she moans into his mouth. He takes the sound greedily like he can’t get enough of her, she knows because she feels the same. She needs all of him, her still shaking legs wrap around is hips, pulling so his weight settles on top of her and she can feel him against her core, still covered by his flight leathers.

   “Take them off,” she orders.

   Fenrys chuckles against her lips, but he doesn’t argue. He shifts back, her legs falling apart to let him, and he sits on his heels. Fenrys watches her as he slowly tackles the laces, pulling them apart one by one until she is whining, begging him to hurry up before she loses her mind and rips the material off of him.

   And just when she thinks he is going to put her out of her misery, someone is pounding on their door, hard enough that she thinks the wood may shatter beneath their fist.

   Fenrys growls at the noise, taking the blanket from the bed to cover her. And the answering growl on the other side of the door has her completely frozen in place, clutching the fabric to her chest.

   “You have five seconds to remove yourself from my sister, Moonbeam,” Vaughan shouts through the door, “And then I am going to kill you.”

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire 

[mysoftboybensolo]

Things I Don't Understand of Audiences Reaction of Nosferatu 2024

Complaints of how this is a ripoff of Dracula, and I am like, of course it is! The original 1922 film is the most famous ripoff in the history of cinema, but it is also one of the best ripoffs ever. Maybe know your history just a bit.

Why are people saying that Ellen dying was stupid or unnecessary? Firstly, that has been the ending in the 1922 and the 1979 film, this wasn't just anything Eggers pulled from nowhere. Secondly, people don't seem to understand that the Gothic genre never not one that allows it's characters to walk away unscathed, whether it is physical damage or mental damage. Blood is demanded, and hardly a truly happy ending is found, at best a bittersweet ending or at worst an ending where everyone is unhappy. I think not only is it true to the films this one is based on, but also the only satisfying ending. Ellen wouldn't have been truly happy if she had survived, because she still will be a seer, she will still have darkness looming inside, and Thomas is either incapable or unwilling to accept it. He's belief that killing Orlok will bring a reset to everything, even bringing Ellen back to how she was before, but the Ellen she was before was still suffered. He brushes aside her nightmares without comfort, he doesn't take into account how she views their marriage (when she insists that she doesn't need material things but he acts as if he knows better), and when she tries to express her suffering, he would prefer her to suppress it. She would never be truly free, but to die doing a good thing, to have control over her death the way she didn't in life, it's an empowering end, if bittersweet.

People complaining about the pace of the film, saying it starts off fine but then drags in the middle? I think the film flowed wonderfully, there was never a moment when I was thinking how much longer to the end or felt it rushed in the story. I personally cannot wait until we get the extended version, but I am happy with how it came out.

Where are people getting "Orlok groomed Ellen" from? Grooming is when someone goes after a minor and gets them to be emotionally attached to them for a long period of time in order to achieve some sort of goal (often times sex). People have been saying Ellen was a "literal child", but we don't know that for certain. Yes, Ellen described herself as a child, but it seems that the term child is used more as a synonym of "inexperienced" or "young". Also, we are not sure how old any of these characters are. If we were to go by actors ages as guidelines, Lily-Rose Depp was 24 when filming this, and all we get in between the first scene to the present day is merely "years later". That can mean two years or ten, we cannot be sure. And while Lil-Rose Depp can look younger than her age, no one better try and say she was playing a 12 year old or whatever in that first scene, because there is no way you can convince me she is as young as that. Also, Ellen hadn't been emotionally attached to Orlok between the years to make it grooming. I can make a better argument of grooming in another famous Gothic movie the 2004 "Phantom of the Opera" then I could with "Nosferatu".

Listen, this movie won't be for everyone, that is fine, but what I have an issue with is saying people are dumb or evil for thinking Ellen x Orlok is interesting/has romantic elements to it. One person commented on another's post about saying that the cast are dumb for seeing this as a love triangle, especially Lily-Rose Depp for not seeing Ellen as a victim. The director, who also wrote it, wanted this version to play up the Death and the Maiden themes, that was their vision, and I don't think it's right or fair to say they are dumb because the original movie wasn't a love triangle. If we were to be really anal about it, so many pieces of media we have we wouldn't be able to enjoy because it's origins are not the same. Sorry Disney's Hunchback fans, you can't enjoy the happy ending because the original was a downer. Sorry Wicked fans, it's nothing like "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz", so it shouldn't be enjoyed. See how ridiculous it sounds? You can debate if whether or not they managed to achieve their goal, but you can't deny that was the intention and say people are dumb for picking up what they had intended.

I also feel that it's quite hypocritical of people to say that the relationship between Orlok and Ellen is evil and creepy, but then go off and say that the scenes where Friedrich has sex with Anna's corpse as "romantic" and Thomas' couch scene as "hot", when both deal with dubious/no consent at all. Just admit it, you are fine with dubious stuff so long as it's a hot guy doing it. The couch scene was quite uncomfortable for me, Ellen is clearly not in her right mind, even if not by some kind of possession, but emotionally, and it didn't sit right what Thomas did. I am not saying he raped her, but she wasn't in the right mind space to have this be a passionate moment. And he wasn't doing because of love or passion, he was doing it because he didn't like hearing Ellen say how he couldn't please her like the Count could. We had seen what they are like when they are in a good head space and the feeling mutual, as we saw in the den of the Harding's home. I feel like this scene wasn't meant to be a hot and sexy moment, but a incredibly distressing moment when two individuals are acting at their worst.

I don't understand how people feel that this film isn't a feminist film. I've seen people claim that the movie shames Ellen and that her not finding out how to stop Orlok is robbing her of her agency. Here's the thing, yes, many characters shame her for what she feels, but the narrative doesn't. As the audience, we feel sorry for her, feel bad for everything she is going through, and given the time period, of course there would be many people (mainly men) who will shame her passions or deny her darkness in favor for a more "womanly behavior". We are meant to see how the human world would never understand Ellen the way Orlok would understand her, why she would have called out a force that is inhuman, because humanity has turned her away. What's fascinating is that Ellen has control of Orlok, being able to call him, speak to him as an equal, and get him, a powerful centuries old being, to admit that she is his affliction, his weakness, and in the end, it's proven right. This mortal woman is able to defeat a supernatural being, all the while him loving her, how is that not awesome and feminist?

In regards to her finding the cure; true, in both the '22 and '79 film, Ellen figure out on her own what needs to be done to stop Orlok, but that doesn't mean '24 Ellen isn't smart or in charge of her own actions. We've seen Ellen say what the future holds multiple times, so it isn't crazy to believe that she would have seen what her fate would have been as it drew closer, and her need to talk to Von Franz read to me as her knowing the cure. When Ellen walks Von Franz to his home, she says that she knows what must be done, and they work together to make this happen, with him promising to keep Thomas away. Out of all the men, Von Franz had been the only one to take her feelings and thoughts seriously, and he does so here, including her in the plan (where Thomas had refused her to help), even giving her the chance to be stop Orlok without interruption. He isn't denying her agency, he's keeping others at bay so she can be the hero.

I like the moustache, just like a Romanian nobleman would have had, exactly what the director wanted. After leaving the theatre, my friend and I were discussing the film, and of course the design of Orlok was brought up, and she said "I liked it, especially the moustache, very Vlad the Impaler". She isn't a massive Dracula fan but she understood what was the inspiration behind it. Y'all are just uncultured swine.

In the end, I love this film, and wanted to just share my two cents.

[forcemascexperiments]

Idea: label manipulation? as in, label morphing and evolving?

Butch gently coaxing her femme girlfriend into butchhood by widening the label of femme until it includes butchness.

"You're plenty femme without makeup"

"Femmes can have short hair"

"You don't have to conform to straight girl ideals of femininity."

All of these sentences are true. She's a little scared of being seen in a masculine light as a woman, so the butch proposes that she repeats these things to herself in the mirror for confidence. As the weeks go by, she inches closer to her true form.

"You don't have to shave to be femme"

"Even buzz cuts can be feminine, cis hets just don't understand that."

"Femmes can work out. Gaining muscle doesn't make you less feminine."

Again, these are all true. And as the weeks go by, you find her letting herself be louder when she talks. She puts off that smart, sophisticated act when you're at home alone with her. She lets herself be more bashful, more aggressive, more sexually expressive. You find that she feels more confident exploring expressions and hobbies that are traditionally seen as masculine as long as she has her femme safety harness on.

"Femmes can use the strap. It's a dumb myth that topping makes you less feminine."

"Femmes can like being called handsome"

"You can still be femme and have a masculine persona in bed."

"Femmes can play around with masculinity, it doesn't mean anything."

All true, all true. But is it true for you?

"Hm?"

Are you a femme?

"Well," she's sitting on a folding chair in the kitchen in her boxer shorts - the only underwear she's known for months now as she's given up on bras. She notices herself in a mirror and mumbles with a syringe in hand, "You can take testosterone and still be femme..." You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head forward expectantly. "...but..." Trailing off, she takes a good hard look into the mirror. Tracing her gruff hands across the facial hair that she was so excited about, down her neck and to her muscular arms, over her handsome breasts, and finally to her thickened waist. She smiles. Bright and wide and full of joy. "I don't think I am!" She leans her head back to laugh, and you take the moment to nuzzle her face into your stomach.

Are you my butch?

"Heheheh... I don't know!" She hides her face against you, allowing you to ruffle her hair.

Who's my silly little butch?

"Meee!" She wraps her arms around you.

Good boy.

[dearlot]

NO ORDINARY GIRL | lottie matthews

— pairing: mermaid!lottie matthews x gn!reader

— summary: a collection of stories involving your relationships with the mermaid!yellowjackets, starting with how you meet lottie.

— wordcount: 2,260

The moment you finished unpacking your bags, you headed to your favorite place whenever you're here on holiday: the beachside. It's wonderful there, almost a vacation home in itself. Your parents always reprimanded you for neglecting to spend time with your grandparents since this was their home, but you couldn't care less. Maybe they shouldn't have chosen such a cool spot to vacation. And besides, you were on vacation! You should be spending time at the beach and not at home.

The room that you stay in is filled with seashells and rocks you've collected over the years.

Coming here is all you really look forward to when summer rolls around. You collect things in your hometown, but the nearest beach is miles away, and even though you're an avid collector, you're also lazy. Seashells are your favorite. You love touching them, and you love how each of them is unique to one another. They're never the same. Like snowflakes.

It's an odd day, mainly because there's barely anyone out on the beach with you. Usually, it's packed with tourists and townspeople alike. But today there's just you, the new ice cream man whose name you learned is Chris (the one you remember from your childhood died a few months back. Poor guy. He used to give you freebies on your birthday), the old lady who likes to feed the seagulls, and this weird girl whose head you can see peeking from behind a rock. You've been watching her for a few minutes and wondering if she's alright. She looks alright, I mean, what you can see of her, at least. You thought she was drowning at first because of how long she's been in the water, but she's not calling out for help or thrashing around. Then you realize how dumb you sound. Of course she would be in the water, you're at a beach! You shake your head and scoff in embarrassment, getting up from the bench and thinking you could find more shells by the water's edge. Which just happens to be near where the girl is.

Maybe she's a collector like you? You could do with a friend here you think. You could impress her with your vast collection of shells and rocks. Your lips twist into a smile as you walk closer to the grey boulder where the girl hides behind, thinking about how you're going to introduce yourself later. For now, you need those damn seashells. You've only scored a few of them so far and it's the worst collecting day ever. None are even spilling out of your pockets like they usually are.

When you pass the boulder, you're only able to see the girl's face, which is just as pretty as you thought it would be, and her fiddling around with seashells and other beach junk. She doesn't seem to notice you as she smiles to herself and places her things in a neat line that's color-coded. She's cute, you think. Now you have to work 10x harder to come up with an introduction.

You turn back hopefully, half expecting her to be looking right back at you. But you don't see that. All you see are the waves crashing against the rock and a half-hidden scaly purple tail where her feet should be. You stop in your tracks immediately, leaning forward ever so slightly to get a good look at what you think is your imagination playing tricks on you. Blinking furiously, you brush at your eyes just to make sure, but no, what you see is genuinely real. The girl's tail flaps happily as she hums to herself and messes with her beach junk.

"What the fuck?" you murmur to yourself, definitely a little too loudly.

The girl gasps, her tail slapping the water and nearly splashing you as she scoots herself back. She looks at you, frightened and in shock before she dashes away. She's a blurred streak of white and blue as you watch her swim back into the ocean. You try to call out for her, running into the shallow water to see if she's still out here but there's nothing. Did you just witness a real mermaid?! You're frozen in utter surprise, and you only get a hold of yourself and move back to shore when your feet start tingling from the cold. As you walk back, you notice that she left behind her things, and you bend down to look at them.

Holy shit... she had a pearl?! You've been looking for one of these for goddamn years. Do you take it? No, you'd feel bad. But maybe... You glance up sheepishly before slowly slipping it into your grasp and then into your pocket. You're sure she has plenty of pearls. The rest of the stuff is just beach junk minus some shells you already have, but you decide to take all of it back home. Maybe you could return tomorrow and catch her again?

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

No one says anything about the amount of junk in your hands when you arrive home, and you plop it down by your bed before faceplanting into the pillows that smell like your grandma's perfume. It's not even 6 pm yet and you're tired. You feel like getting some rest... At least sleeping meant you'd be seeing that mermaid girl faster.

When you wake up, you feel something swirling around in your stomach. Something that feels like you're anxiously waiting on something but you can't remember what. The longer you lie in bed, drifting between sleep and consciousness, the feeling gets stronger. You decide to get up and rub your eyes and stretch, washing away the sleep from your body. The smell of breakfast downstairs fills your nostrils and you sit up, tossing your blanket off before planting your feet on the floor.

"Ow, shit!" Something sharp poked your foot. You look down to see the beach junk you brought home yesterday and realize why you felt that strange sensation in your stomach earlier. Okay, maybe you're a little excited to go to the beach today. You really hope the mermaid is there. You'll have to be extra careful if she is since you don't want to scare her off again.

After you scarf down your breakfast and take a shower, you stuff the mermaid's things into a mesh bag and scour through your grandparents' garage to find that old scuba diving gear you know they still have. You've thought it over: if she isn't there, you think you know where she hides out. There's this small island not far from the beach that's perfect for a mermaid to live. You've never been to it, but you've passed by it dozens of times while boating with your dad and grandpa. You hope you're right, but if not, a nice trip to a cave would be nice either way. There are probably more things to collect in there that you've never even thought of.

The trip to the beach feels like the longest walk of your life.

You keep dropping the equipment and some guy tried to buy it off you which took up entirely way too much time of your life.

But you made it. Finally. You walk around a bit to look for her but she's not behind the rock or anywhere in sight. Scuba diving it is. As you finish putting everything on, you feel a little discouraged by the small dot the island makes in the distance, thinking that you might've overestimated your swimming abilities. Whatever. You grab the bag with a small pout and flip-flop into the water, hoping all of this will be worth it.

Turns out this scuba diving stuff is pretty exhausting. You've had to rest your arms and legs by drifting in the water for a few minutes before resuming. And you've been jumpscared by this dolphin a few times. You nearly shit yourself when you saw it first, assuming it was a shark, but it didn't try to attack you or anything. You don't know why it keeps coming back to fuck with you, but it almost looks like it leaves to go tell a friend about it. Fucker.

When you reach the island, you decide to take a 15 minute break for your body's sake. There's a lot more walking ahead and you know you'll thank yourself later.

After you get up and start walking around, observing the trees and nature all around you, you suddenly spot it. The cave. There's no way she isn't in there. You march your way through cobwebs and branches just to reach it but once inside, you're glad for those cuts on your arms and face because goddamn is it beautiful. The water is a cerulean blue and shines brightly in the sun due to the open hole at the top of the cave. You feel a sense of calmness wash over you just from looking at it. The rocky walls of the cave seem almost alive just as you are as the reflection of the water cast shadows upon them. And speaking of the walls, they seem to have markings on them. You walk closer, squinting your eyes to make out what you think are the words S + J. Hm. Maybe this cave is a popular spot for couples?

The more you look around, the more the cave looks lived in. There is some beach junk similar to what you found the girl playing with yesterday placed neatly in a pile in front of a rock. It has a name carved on it.

"Lottie?" you whisper to yourself. Is that the mermaid's name?

"Don't touch it!" Someone hisses.

You let out a choked gasp and turn around, eyes darting all over the cave before you see her. She's in the water with only her eyes above surface level almost like she's hiding from you. They almost seem fully black because of how big and wide they are. You quickly get up and the girl flinches in response. You assume she's going to retreat so you speak up before she can swim away again.

"Wait, I brought you your stuff back." You hold out the bag for her to see and shake it like a human would shake a bag of dog treats to get their dog's attention. "You left it yesterday..."

Slowly, you inch forward and softly place the bag before her. You scoot back to give her some room and wait.

The mermaid eyes you curiously and with some skepticism, but swims forward to swipe the bag from the surface. You watch as she opens the zipper quickly and shuffles through the items with a smile on her face. She looks back up at you when you shift on your feet and pauses before frowning. "Where's the pearl?"

Shit.

You left it at home for yourself.

"Uh, there was no pearl when I found it." you lie, giving her your best confused look. "Must've washed away or something."

She frowns once more and places the bag back on the sandy surface. "Thank you. I like collecting this type of junk. The others say I'm weird for spending so much time by the shore, but I like studying humans."

The others? Studying humans?

"You're welcome. You're Lottie, right? That's your rock?" you nod towards her 'junk' rock.

She confirms with a nod and reveals more of her body as she swims up and places her elbows on the rocks. The bra? Scales? Covering her chest is a magnificent shade of different kinds of purple. Her tail that flutters gently in the water matches it.

"I didn't mean to scare you yesterday," you mention, sitting down in the sand and running your fingers through the grains. "You kinda scared me as well. I've never seen a mermaid before."

"I've never seen a human so up close either. I usually just observe from afar." Lottie replies and puts her chin under her palms. "Why'd you bring my stuff back?"

"Dunno." you shrug. "You collect stuff like me. Thought maybe you'd appreciate it or something..." You trail off at the end, looking down and blushing. "Plus, I thought you were pretty."

Her tail splashes against the water hard at your comment and she clears her throat, feeling embarrassed. "What do you collect?" She's curious, she'll admit it. She's not even supposed to be interacting with humans under any circumstances, but you intrigue her. You don't seem like a threat anyhow.

"Anything. Shells, rocks, fossils, random things I find off the street. I have a whole collection of receipts from when I go out to eat."

"Can you...show me your collection?" she murmurs shyly, removing her face from her palms and nervously tapping her nails against the rocks.

"Sure, but how? I don't think I can make it here again, no offense. It's a hell of a swim." you chuckle, smiling at how her eyes shine brightly after you agree.

"I can help with that. I can bring you back to the beach in seconds!" she exclaims, her voice high and excited. "Or you can piggyback on one of my dolphins."

You barely have time to process what she just said before she speaks again.

"Can you show me right now? Please?"

You feel like everything's happening all at once and don't know how to reply, so you simply nod.

Hey, maybe you can even bring her back the pearl you stole from her. She'd probably like you even more.

lottie taglist: @heliolottie

[luvsfics]

LADY OF THE LAKE — House of the dragon

Aemond Targaryen x Tully!Original character

Description: The one-eyed prince is betrothed to a Tully. A fish and a dragon, a horrid match. Perhaps, with time, the two find they fit each other well after all. A dragon rules the skies, while the fish rule the sea.

Chapter warnings: mentions of arranged marriages.

Authors note: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, let’s hope I’m not too rusty. I tried to keep on theme with the Sesame Street names and I didn’t really like ‘Abby’ for a Tully so Natasha it is!

As beautiful as the maiden herself, many said about the daughter of Elmo Tully. Long locks of auburn hair and eyes as blue as the ocean, the perfect image of effortless beauty and innocence. Yet, beauty wasn’t all that mattered to the one-eyed prince. A pretty face isn’t all he wanted in a wife. What if she was dull, or just plain dumb?

“An alliance with the Tully’s will be a great opportunity for us, Aemond.” His mother explained, her face painted with annoyance. His eyebrows furrowed, why must he suffer the same fate of a loveless marriage just like his mother and father? Many thoughts raced through his mind.

He would’ve much preferred the solace of never marrying and becoming commander of the city watch. Many women have expressed behind closed doors their distaste for the prince, how hideous his scar was, or how he would never have time for a woman with his studies and training. why would he want to condemn anyone to such a fate of being wed to the maimed prince?

Yet, sometimes, late at night, he imagines what it would be like to have a wife. Someone to hold close, someone to protect, someone to start a family with. Nothing like the marriage between his parents, he would be good to his wife unlike his father.

“It is not up to you, anyway. You will meet the girl and you will serve your part as prince of the realm.” Alicent said, huffing out a sign of anger.

His nostrils flared. Aemond stormed out of the council room where few lords sat, swiftly making his way through the halls of the castle. His head swirling with anger as he made his way to the training grounds to begin his practice for the day.

Natasha’s heart raced in fear. Many accounts of people have spoke of the second son of the king’s gruesome looks and rough attitude.

“It is a great opportunity and honor to be considered for this,” her handmaiden said as she laced up her corset. Her father had broken the news to her earlier that morning. They were preparing to set off to kings landing in before noon to reach kings landing by the morning.

She gulped. The horrid feeling of nausea flooding her stomach.

What if he didn’t think her worthy of him? What if he was the cruel man rumors say he is? What if he is ugly? Her thoughts racing around her head.

Of course, she dreamt of becoming a wife to a loving husband and mother to beautiful babies. Yet, it felt as if her world came crashing down at the thought of her betrothal to the prince of the realm.

“You will be a princess!” The young girl exclaimed with excitement as she tied the laces into a bow. Natasha let out a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten her own mood.

She prayed to all seven gods for their mercy, for she might need it in the days to come.

The roads to kings landing were long, with her brothers Oscar and Kermit’s immature mocking, singing of their sisters betrothal to the prince.

“Nattie will be a princess! All prim and proper!” Oscar exclaimed, Kermit laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

Natasha scoffed. “So hilarious, Oscar.” She rolled her eyes.

“Imagine having to marry AND bed the prince Aemond, commonly know for his horrific looks!” Kermit was almost dying of laughter as he spat out.

“Father!” Natasha turned to her side, the lord of riverrun barely listening to his children as he shoved his nose in scrolls.

“Stop tormenting your sister, boys.”

The brother’s laughter just barely died down as they whispered jokes to themselves.

Natasha shifted her gaze outside the window of the carriage, taking in the beautiful scenery of the kings road as dawn rose. Her nerves slowly returned, nausea seeping back into her stomach as they approached kings landing.

The heavy sound of gates opening made her heart stop, they were there. They were finally there.

The carriage came to a stop. “Lord Elmo Tully, Lord paramount of the trident and Lord of Riverrun and his children, Kermit, Natasha, and Oscar Tully.” The Guard announced.

Her father stepped out of the carriage to be greeted by the hand of the king, Otto Hightower. The boys went next, bowing to the Hightower lord. Lastly, Natasha.

With her beautiful grey-blue dress with sliver embroidery to represent her house, which contrasted prettily with her Mahogany colored hair and blue eyes. Fitted perfectly to her features and picked by her hand-maiden herself.

“My daughter, Natasha.” Her father gently took her hand and presented her to the hand. She gracefully curtsied, “A great pleasure, my lord hand.”

“Indeed, my lady. The Queen asked me personally to escort you all to the Godswood where she and the Prince Aemond await your arrival.” The hand said with a soft grin.

Natasha took in a breath, which was hard with how tight her handmaiden, Elissa, tied it. The hand led the family through the keep. Elissa quickly caught up to them from the other carriage, linking her arm with her lady’s.

The beautiful weirwood tree came into view as the guards opened the doors to the Godswood. Standing under it, the Queen of the seven kingdoms and the Prince Aemond with Guards and maids roam the area.

“Please, we have refreshments over there. Help yourselves.” Otto said as he made his way over to his daughter and grandson, most likely to prepare everyone for this meeting.

Elissa and Natasha stood to the side as her brothers raided the table of food and drink. “My heart feels like it might burst.” Natasha whispered.

Her back was turned to the prince, she was too frightened to meet his gaze. “It is alright, my lady. You are kind and smart and very beautiful. What isn’t there for the prince to like?” She caressed her arms.

Elissa peaked beside Natasha to look upon the prince. His sharp looks and long silver hair weren’t completely…unpleasant to look at.

“He is actually quite handsome, my lady.” Elissa smiled.

The River-lady slowly turned her head to the weirwood tree. Her eyes meet the side of the prince. His face chiseled and strong, his long silver hair pulled half-up, his Valyrian features graced her vision.

Her gaze raked over his form. His strong arms in his tunic and small waist she was almost jealous of. He looked as if he walked out of one of her romance books. A dashing knight for her to love and to hold.

Aemond’s gaze met her own. Her heart hammered in her ribcage as if she looked upon the face of a god. His own eyes widened, mimicking her own.

Through his own eyes, he felt the same. Her long, locks of red, shining in the sunlight of dawn, almost like a halo. Her striking ocean blue eyes staring into his own, and her delicate features. She was like an angel, cursed to live her life with him.

Her dress fitting her body perfectly, though he shamed himself for the those thoughts. For all have said she was beauty of the maiden herself.

“She’s quite beautiful, is she not, Aemond?” Otto asked his grandson.

“Quite.” He hummed.

[glitter-stained]

She doesn't take so well to grief.

Neither does anyone, she thinks. Her mom smiles and plays with the alliance she wears around her neck and tells her time heals all wounds, doesn't erase the pain but makes it bearable, like an old ache in a twisted ankle that never healed quite right. It's been years, and despite her grandma's insistence, her mom refuses to try dating again. She sobs in her bedroom when she thinks Rena is asleep.

Liars, the lot of them.

Rena's dad dies when she's eight in a car accident driving home from work. Her mother hugs her tight and cries into her hair, and her grandmother holds her hand through the whole funeral, and Rena feels a little like she's having a bad dream; not a nightmare, just a very sad one where all the colours are faded. Absurdly, the first thing she thinks is that he'll never take her to the diner on Saturday nights after dance class again, and then she hates herself a little for being sad about this, rather than the fact he is dead. That remorse goes away with time. Grief, she thinks, is a lot of sadness for the joy we thought we'd have, and the memories of things we'll never get again. There's also anger, sometimes, not always. Her dad gets his neck snapped in a car accident because he was driving too fast and some asshole didn't put on his blinkers. That's not fair. It was dumb and cruel and totally preventable, if only one of the two had just been a little more responsible about driving their car. She's angry at her dad, and at the idiot who took him away from her. She stops going to dance class in retaliation.

Rena's grandmother dies when she's twelve, and she's surprised to find she isn't angry. It feels fair, in a sense; her grandma was eighty, and she smoked like a pirate with something to prove (or how she imagines that a pirate would smoke.) She doesn't know what to do with herself in the absence of anger, so she uses all her savings to buy some green wool and a knitting kit. She doesn't really take to it, it's not fun, but her grandma had been in the process of knitting her a scarf before her heart stopped in her sleep. She knits herself a green scarf. It's not too cool, nor too stylish, she doesn't wear it to school or to hang out with her friends. It stays hung on her door, and she hugs it tight when she's sad, when she misses her grandma and her dad, and cries into it because her mother is a liar and the grief doesn't get easier and she doesn't even like knitting anyway. Jason thinks the scarf is pretty, but Jason would think anything is pretty if he knew she'd done it, because he's sweet like that. He says she looks good in green; but again, Jason always seems to think she looks good. She starts wearing green eyeshadow anyway.

Her cute, nerdy, dorky highschool boyfriend dies in an explosion in Ethiopia at fifteen years old under mysterious circumstances. They'll never get to pass notes with little hearts in algebra class or share a milkshake with two straws while he gets whipped cream on the top of his nose or watch a disappointing romantic movie at the theatre while holding hands the whole time again. It takes her a year to find the place he's buried, far from the family plot of the people who adopted him, under a gloomy angel statue. She learns it's custom practice to put angels over children's grave. It looks like a guardian, warding the tomb, protecting him. But he needed a guardian angel when he was alive, not now that she'll never see him smile again, stand on his toes to kiss her on the lips, put her favourite song in the jukebox at the diner. That's not fair. They shouldn't have touched him, shouldn't have hurt him and taken him from her and she'll never know what happened and they dumped his body out like an old worn-down shoe under a heap of dirt. Jason is dead.

There's the anger.

[eldritch-spouse]

I’m hanging out in the sloth ring, on the phone quietly with a friend or something, nobody is paying me much attention so I don’t mind having a bit of a scandalous conversation in public:

“- look I adore somnophilia, I really do, but in practicality it doesn’t work. I wake up far too easily,”

Conversation moves on to other kinks or related topics, me not paying to much attention to who just overheard me.

[I don't exactly know if you were aiming at anyone here, so I rolled the dice.]

Sloth is a quiet Ring.

The lights are dimmed, sounds are muted, movement comes in bursts then settles, even the sky in this part of Hell appears darker to keep its residents sedated. And, sure enough, even a human like you feels tired, for no apparent reason, in the grounds of the slothful.

Precisely because of how quiet and still everything is, foreigners assume that they're safe, that no one is giving them an ounce of scrutiny and there's hardly a need to watch themselves.

Any good prey knows that the absence of sound is trouble.

Closed eyes and softly rising chests don't mean anything. The streets are lively, you just can't tell.

Absorbed in conversation, you've been walking gradually slower, until you all but halted in the middle of the sidewalk. Sloth expects people to want to lay down just about anywhere, so you had a seat waiting for you.

Little did you know, you were right in front of a demoness' hair salon.

Lucidia takes her time to work, she'll admit it, but the benefit of such is that she can put her professional perfectionism in front of everything, the knowledge of her success helping her through the sludge that is cleaning up after a client. She'd been sweeping snipped hair off the floor when she noticed you out front.

You talk loudly. Foreigners always do. Shamelessly too. The woman subtly evaluates you from top to bottom.

It's impossible to tell, but Luci assumes you're here to visit someone, everything about you screams 'excited to be here'. You're decently dressed, and when you turn your head around a bit, she finds beautiful features on a human complexion. It's a shame that, having such natural beauty, you walk around with such lackluster hair.

The demoness blinks when the topic of your conversation becomes increasingly obscene. She's sure the neighboring businesses are hearing this too.

Somnophilia...? Someone's going to approach you sooner or later. You're dumb.

Did you come here for the experience? Because your surfacer bedfriends can't do it properly? You certainly sound frustrated about it. Lucidia murmurs to herself that this could be a trap, that you're intentionally baiting slothfolk to come onto you because you know they can keep you under, they can make your fantasy a reality.

But even then, you're so ignorant.

What makes you think they'd stop at touching you in your sleep? What makes you think they'd have any reason to let go of you when you're at your most vulnerable? You could never wake up again, if they wanted to feed off you for as long as possible. The number of horrid things that could happen to someone as airheaded as you if you were to fall into opportunistic hands is endless.

Your conversation seems to die out when another demon exits a store from across the street, staring at you knowingly.

Luci doesn't realize she's moving until she's nearly fogging the hair salon window, glowering wordlessly behind you, at the other stranger. Adrenaline irritates her, she likes to avoid it, but the woman definitely feels her heart hammer in her chest at the thought of someone coming over and trying to mess with you.

They seem to get the message, looking between you and her, then hurrying down the street.

Lucidia sighs almost gutturally, and decides you can't be outside for much longer.

The demoness may be tall, yet her footsteps are near soundless. She settles beside you casually on the sidewalk, getting to stare you over again for several moments until you take note of the shadow suddenly cast onto you.

" Hello... " She greets softly and quietly when you appear to startle. " Do you want to sit... Inside? "

While you hesitate to answer, Luci can almost see the sweat starting to form on your forehead.

" ... It'll get dark soon. Things'll... Pick up. "

You don't respond again, some lost 'hum's and 'ha's escaping.

" Your conversation... I heard it. " She doesn't bother to hide a small smile when you pale a couple shades. " So did the whole street... If I had to guess. "

" Oh God- " You murmur under your breath.

" ... Let me style your hair. " She daringly suggests, threading a long-fingered hand through locks of it. " I won't let anyone bother you... "

Anyone but herself, naturally.

If you just so happened to doze off while Lucidia carefully shapes your hair, then who is she not to give you just a little taste of what you so shamelessly crave?

There's no hiding the rumbles of satisfaction when you nod quickly and let her lead you into the hair salon, the chime of a little bell signaling Luci's victory.

[homestuckreplay]

has anyone else noticed that homestuck is getting kinda long?

(page 1145-1148; some thoughts on pacing and accessibility)

Jade’s bass playing to grow or move the lilypads works, and was well foreshadowed – in addition to both her bass playing pages where the garden atrium grows because of the amp in there (p.822, 1026), Jade captchalogues the bass (p.823) and the narration specifically notes ‘You take the PORTABLE AMP from the WALL SOCKET too.’ It feels like Act 3 has been entirely leading up to Jade entering these ruins.

In ‘[S] Jade: Pester John’ (p.1073), Bec guards the mystic ruins on Jade’s island, and a glowing white spirograph in the ‘same’ location mapped onto Prospit. So it’s a fair guess that the white spirograph was also present on ancient Earth, and may have been the cause of the ruins’ construction. And that means it might still be within the ruins, and could act as a portal to Skaia, which would allow Jade to go there while she’s awake. If she did that, could she travel to Prospit and find her own dream self? Or is her dream self only present on Prospit when her waking self is asleep? Either way, I think these ruins will be Jade’s backdoor into Sburb.

I love all three of these Jade pages for the visuals – 1145 because it’s cool when two panels match up into one bigger one (and interesting to think about why this was chosen instead of one bigger panel – maybe because one is Jade and one is the amp, and they’re two separate focal points?) and 1146 because Jade imagining herself as a frog as she jumps over lilypads is so fun and silly. I checked Wikifur and apparently amphibians such as frogs are classified under scalies, which is different to her interest in a ‘proud snout’, ‘the hunt’ and ‘claiming the night’ (p.797) but still fits with her desire for ‘a more visceral sapience’ and escaping the confines of humanity. So I feel like Jade doesn’t have one specific fursona, and wants to keep her options open with different animals.

And 1147 is just incredible – the glowing green symbols look like something from a hacker movie, like Jade’s entering a digital space, but at the same time we know this is physical stone and ancient hieroglyphs. Those things being meshed is very cool to me, and it makes me wonder just how much of all human technology was originally from Skaia. The mesmerizing soft glow gives the page a dreamlike quality, a reminder that Jade doesn’t have a plan, she’s just following instructions from her dreams and acting on faith.

John told Dave ‘i think you should use your copy of the game to help [rose]!’ on page 294, and it has taken 854 pages and over half a year in real time for him to install the game and help, but they are finally making this transpire. I was saying yesterday how Jade challenges Rose, and today I’m saying that Dave doesn’t challenge Rose at all. They have great banter, but Rose always has a leg up on it – and I think she types and/or thinks faster too, as she gets in her ‘Go on.’ before Dave can finish his ‘where making this’ sentence, when usually he’s the one to send a bunch of messages in a row.

Here’s the thing. I am speaking directly to Rose Lalonde here. Hi Rose, I understand that your house is burning down and things suck right now and you should not have to be the person who has to micromanage all your friends and deal with this entire situation alone. However. You are being dumb as shit by not giving Dave some basic instructions on exactly what to do the second he loads the game. You know that kid is not gonna read your GameFAQs. You know he can dish out those giant long monologues but he cannot take them. Please Rose, for your own safety and possibly the future of humanity or something, give the guy like three bullet points.

...no? Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff reference instead? Okay then.

This update also comes with a newspost, which I’m going to quote in full below.

That's my cue to disappear. Time for me to vanish into the animation abyss for a while. Let's give it a week, tops. If you're one of those people who has trouble keeping up with all the updates I bury you with, maybe now's a good time to catch up. And if you're one of those people who's finding everything going on in the story to be somewhat confusing and overwhelming, then maybe now is a good time to go back and reread it all. I'm pretty sure about 95% of all MSPA readers huddle somewhere beneath this umbrella. (/news 8 January 2010)

I have been thinking about the update frequency, and thought I was projecting because I definitely put an above average amount of time into Homestuck, but maybe this is a bigger issue. People only have so much time in the day, but some people do have more time than others. Relative to other webcomics, Homestuck asks readers to put a lot more time into it, a lot more frequently – both because the updates come fast and because the story is complex. It rewards people who do put a lot of time into it, because the small details, patterns and parallels, time loops, etymologies, and opportunities to predict and even influence (via user commands) the story encourage people to stay up to date, to read closely and reread often. The more effort you put into reading Homestuck, the more you get out of it, and that’s incredible, but it’s definitely made by and for people who have a lot of leisure time. So, young middle class people, especially teenagers and college students who don’t need jobs, and people who are socially isolated for whatever reason, will be way overrepresented. (I do this project because I love it and I do it by choice, but balancing this with work and school and relationships and my other major hobby is not easy especially with what’s felt like a recent increase in update frequency!)

This quality also makes it more competitive with other webcomics – someone might have time to keep up with, say, 20 webcomics that post a once per day or three times a week strip that stands alone or is part of a relatively simple story. If that person wants to follow Homestuck, they might have to drop down to 15 or even 10 other comics, because this one takes up such a disproportionate amount of space. This idea of creators putting out constant content to stay afloat on a transient internet, such that it could be a full time job to keep up with it (and sometimes is – there’s franchises that have in-house lore experts because creators themselves struggle to keep track of stories) will become huge in the future. And when we can all only pick a couple pieces of media to stay up to date with, life gets harder for smaller, newer and part time creators, who can’t provide that yet. And yeah I’m probably part of that problem.

I might also disappear for a few days to work on end of act 3 stuff! or I might not! if I have anything to say in the meantime or any fun asks then I will post. but at the absolute latest I will post on the day EOA3 drops and if I don’t do that then send an ambulance to my house.

> John: Ascend to First Gate.

[leaawrites]

I can’t tell you the way I feel

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam takes on a dare from his friends, he doesn't believe of finding himself making the biggest mistake in his life.

Warnings: suggestive content, allusions to sex, angst, Liam being a dumb cunt

Wordcount: 1.6k

Masterlist

Waking before Liam did meant she had all of his peace to herself. No thought in his mind disturbing them, nobody around that could harm them. It was just their two bodies, tangled in love and sheets.

Reluctantly she began tracing the outline of his face. Her finger moving over his jaw, his lips, down his adam’s apple and over his collarbone. Softly tracing the bone that was stretching his skin towards her, calling for her.

Focused on her finger and how it found it’s way so effortlessly over his body, she didn’t notice Liam’s eyes opening. Confused at first, though softening when seeing her by his side. His arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer. The sheet covering her chest falling down, exposing her cold skin to his warm one.

“Morning, love,” he greeted her, leaving a soft kiss on her lips. His voice raspy and still lower than she’d ever heard it before.

“Morning,” she answered back, a slight heat rising up her neck and rushing to her cheeks the longer he looked at her. His eyes never wavering from her own gaze, fixated on him.

Drawing small circles on her hips, he smiled as she took his other hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. Slowly leaving a trail of kisses up his arm, over his chest and on his neck, he let out a soft groan in reaction. His nose pressed against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her bare skin.

Her soft lips gently sucked against the flesh under his ear. Giggling against his skin when she felt his arms around her waist tighten. His hands squeezing her hips.

Two bare chests pressed against each other, falling and rising in sync. Breathing as one.

“Wait, love. Stop.” His voice sounded desperate, like she hurt him. Soft, gentle kisses pierced a dagger through his heart, every single one a mark now on his skin. A reminder of his sin.

Bagging away slightly, she draped the sheet over her chest again. Looking at him with wide eyes, fear soothing through her that she’d done something wrong. Was it too much? Was it not good enough?

Seeing the look in her eyes, thoughts clearly spiraling through her head, he couldn’t form a good excuse. What seemed so easy with everyone else felt like a burden with her. Normally he’d say something like, ‘I promised my mum to be home already’ or ‘I should go, not that your parents find out’. But now, lying seemed to be too harmful.

“I need to -” he started talking, his finger pointing outside the window.

“You need to go?” Finishing his sentence for him, he nodded his head, shameful looking down, not catching the eye roll and sarcastic grin on her face before it disappeared again just as quickly as the realization came. Of course it was all just for a quick laugh with his friends. It was Liam Gallagher, for fucks sake. “I hope I’m not keeping you from going.”

Picking up her shirt and underwear from the floor, she quickly put them on, before walking over to the other side of the room and taking his clothes as well, throwing it his way before walking out the door.

A, “Wouldn’t dare to,” falling from her lips as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Still leaning on his elbows, Liam stayed like this as if he was frozen. The shower went off in the other room and that was when it hit him. He fucked it up completely. Throwing his head into the soft pillow he let out a groan. How could he not even find a good excuse to make it less shameful to walk out of her house?

He deserved it though, he decided ultimately as he found himself back out on the street, walking with his head low. He totally deserved it.

Unlike her.

Head leant against the door of the bathroom, she waited until she could hear the front door close before turning off the shower and letting the water from her eyes flow down her face. Of course he didn’t mean anything he said. Why did she even let him invite her to the gig anyway? Why did she have to go too?

When his body rushed towards her the night before, eyes lighting up as he found her and excitement being written all over his face, she believed that - maybe, somehow - Liam Gallagher wasn’t as much of a twat as she always assumed he was.

Though female intuition is barely ever wrong and that’s what she should’ve been listening to. Not the hammering of her heart or the lovesick thoughts in her brain for finally being seen by someone as more than just another face. It was her own fault.

Noel sat in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes fixated on the telly, though he noticed when Liam walked in, the heavy stomp of his feet being too familiar.

Falling down in the seat next to him, a beer now in his hand, he popped open the can and starred at the people talking too. Neither acknowledging each other more than with their mind.

Until Noel spoke, “You weren’t too shite.”

“Thanks.” Taking another large sip, he tried ignoring his brother as much as he could.

“Though the songs sound like they’re written by a toddler. Did you write them then?” Noel was sure Liam would throw the telly at him as he said that with his sour mood, though he only chuffed, sinking further into the cushion. Trying to escape from this conversation. He knew where it would lead to.

“Not everything that’s shite in your mind is from me, alright? Cunt.”

Noel’s brows furrowed, why wasn’t he trying to strangle him yet?

“I’m not too opposed to the idea of joining anymore,” he tried it differently, trying to make his mood lighten.

“Cheers, mate. Gonna tell the others then.” His voice staying monotone and unwavering. Nothing could be a worse conversation topic at the moment in his opinion.

“Your bird’s fit.”

Jinx.

“She’s not my bird,” Liam tried, his voice growing defensive. Molding in the same tone that he had when talking to ehr the first time.

“So, she’s free?” Noel asked back, quite enjoying how deep in denial his brother was. Finally, Liam’s eyes snapped over to him, filled with horror and disgust.

“If you even try something, I swear-” before he could talk further, Peggy came in, a grocery bag in each hand.

“Would you boys stop fighting for once and help your mum carrying in the groceries?” she said, to which Noel immediately jumped up and went outside. Liam following him shortly after. The thoughts still running through his mind. He didn’t actually think she was fit, did he? Well, she was, but who was he to think that?

Later that night, when Liam was already laying in bed, cigarette in between his lips, Noel came walking in. He noticed how off his brother was for the whole day, of course he did. There was barely any talking done at the table, when normally Liam couldn’t shut up even if you’d sew his mouth shut. That night he was simply staring down at his food, not even eating it all. The worrying glance which Peggy sent Noel’s way after seeing her son this abnormal wasn’t easing his nerves.

“What’s got you so twisted?” He asked, sitting down on his own bed.

Liam leaned over, blowing the smoke from his mouth out of the window. “Nothing.”

“It’s about that girl, right? You fancy her and she didn’t want to hear any of it, because she knows you’re a cunt and rejected you, or what?” He asked further, remembering how defensive he got the first time Noel asked about her.

“I don’t fancy her,” was all he got as an answer.

“Sure.” Noel rolled his eyes, laying down himself. “She seemed nice though.”

“She is,” Liam agreed, making his brother’s head turn at the soft tone of his voice. “She’s too nice.”

“How so?”

Closing his eyes for a second, he knew he’d regret telling him what happened, nonetheless he did it. “I took her out because of a dare, and when she realized in the morning she didn’t even try to slap me or summat. She just-” his mind went back to her face, how she looked so distant yet like reality came back to her in the moment she realized. “She just walked out as if she should be ashamed.”

“You dumb cunt,” Noel groaned when Liam finished the story. He talked to her once, but from how she talked about Liam and defended him when Noel said that he had no trust in his brother’s abilities and interest in music, it made him feel proud in a way. Proud that Liam actually got somethin together for once in his life, he should’ve seen the downfall coming. And he did, just not that soon.

“You don’t just disrespect girls like tha’, especially no girls like her, alrigh’?” Noel threw his pillow across the room in Liam’s face, who only threw it back after complaining. “You make her feel seen and then you just push her off, that’s shite.”

“As if I’d listen to your advise,” Liam scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette. Looking out of their window and down the street to where her house stood, he knew that Noel was right. Of course he was. You don’t just treat girls like that, especially not girls like her.

“Then don’t,” Noel shrugged. “But at least remember what Mum taught us.”

[queerweirdness]

After being friends for long enough, Steve and Robin had managed to almost completely merge into one person. They shared a bed, a cover, a shower, two closets, and as of late, one gender.

Robin had never been the girliest girl in the world, so she didn't really question having the urge to dress more masculine. Steve however, had been the king of Hawkins high. He did sports, he acted tough, he got in fights, all the normal macho man things. After hanging around robin long enough, he realized that she wears her jeans so baggy and he wears his so tight that they could just share clothes. Her shirts always looked a little short on him, but he knew he was a bit of a slut.

She liked to say that he infected her with his ‘white boy ways’. He taught her how to shotgun beer, how to scale a tree then a roof so she could sneak into Nancy's. They both knew she could just walk in, Karen and Ted liked her enough to let her sleep over, but she liked the thrill of sneaking around, as well as randomly showing up and surprising Nancy. She started walking around his house in a sports bra, the closest to shirtless she felt comfortable walking around. She starts wearing backwards baseball caps. They stand on top of the quarry and throw rocks in together. Any time one makes a big splash they say “hell yeah” in unison. The first time they went to a party together he made her play beer pong and almost cried because of how proud he was when she won.

She in turn infected him with white girl ways. She gave him crop tops, she styled his hair more feminine, she converted him to using strawberry lip gloss instead of chapstick, and made him jump and dance to Madonna with her. What he didn't expect though was that he grew to like looking feminine. He let his hair grow out a little, cut the hems off some of his shirts so they were a bit cropped, wore short shorts in the summer, and eventually let robin paint his toenails since he always wore close toed shoes. It was a personal enjoyment, only for the two of them. 

One day he made a leap and asked her to do his makeup. They weren't going anywhere that day, just sitting around the house making fun of each other while her parents were on some anniversary vacation. He had let Nancy do his makeup once when they were together and secretly loved how it made him look. She of course agreed, practically dashing up the stairs and dragging him by the wrist. She sat him on the bed and wheeled over her makeup cart. She didn't do her makeup that often, just wore eyeliner most days, but she still had a fuckton of makeup for some reason. 

She made him lay back on the pillows while she straddled him. It wasn't that odd for them. They were always touching in some way, and always in each other's lap when they were able to be. He let her climb on top of him, a little nervous about getting his makeup done for some reason. He knew it was just some powder and lipstick, but it still gave his hands a slight shake. They talked casually as they did it, Robin explaining what everything was and what it was for. 

“Babe I love you and you know I don't mind you sitting on my lap but can you please scoot up a little? You're squishing my dick every time you lean in.” Robin immediately sat up and gave him the bitchiest look as she moved forward to balance her weight more on his hip bones.

“Please don't talk about your dick while I'm straddling you,” she laughed.

“Well next time don't sit directly on my dick,” he shot back. The way she repositioned herself was much better though. 

“Okay, time for the serious talk.”

“Oh shit. What's going on?”

“I’m having a bit of a crisis. I don’t really know what I'm feeling. I know I'm a guy. I've always known that. But sometimes.. I don't know, it's almost like I feel like a girl some days. And I know that sounds dumb. How can I only be a guy some days? That doesn’t make sense. But sometimes I get in my crop tops and tight jeans and I feel like a girl. And I love it. But I don't know what that means. Please help me.”

“I think I know what you mean. I feel like a boy sometimes. I feel so good walking around practically shirtless and acting like a guy with you. I thought I was the only one who felt that way. Some days it even feels like I'm neither. I’m just in some kind of middle space. I don’t know what it means either. But I'm glad to know I'm not alone in that feeling.”

“Do you ever not like your name? Sometimes on my, like, girl days I hate being called Steve. I like being around you and Eddie on those days because he calls me princess and sweetheart and all that shit. You call me Stevie or babe and I like it more than Steve. I also like being called all of that on my boy days too.”

“I'm okay with Robin most days but sometimes on my boy days I like Robbie more. Are you Steve or Stevie today?”

“Stevie, I think. I feel like a girl. Can you also use she on me? I think I might like that.”

“Yeah babe. I can call you she. I’m also a girl today. C’mon. Your makeup is done. Let's go look.”

They walk to the bathroom together and Stevie can feel herself sweating. She’s excited to see it but also terrified. When she finally sees herself in the mirror, she can’t stop smiling. Her cheeks and eyelids are dusted with a pretty pink color, and her lips are all glossy. Her eyelashes look ten times longer. She thinks it’s because of the mascara Robin put on her. She turns and scoops Robin into a bear hug, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 

“Stevie, if you cry off that makeup I will skin you in your sleep. C’mon I want to get a picture. She follows Robin back to the bedroom and sits on the bed while she waits for her to find her camera. Robin finds it after digging in her closet for a moment.

“Say cheese” Stevie is already smiling so hard she thinks her face might crack open. Once the picture prints, robin grabs a sharpie and writes ‘Stevie’s first makeup as a girl’ along with the date. She sticks it in her drawer along with all their other pictures.