#so what i'm saying is i constantly mix up your characters' names

[xdarkhowlx]

Hey! That was incredibly unhelpful, actually. :) Could you be more specific? What friend? Can I have their number? What help did you provide them?

This happened to me once! I... am trying to remember how I... remembered it. Hang on. [ user thinks about it for a while. the whole thing was very confusing and muddied ] I made a friend who needed help with something, and when I agreed to help them, they told me my name and I remembered that it was correct. That seems weird, doesn't it? But I swear... I think that is what made it better. Huh.

[cre8inghavoc]

What are friends for?

Note:

This is my first ever post, so please be kind! I've been working on this piece for a few days, and there will be more parts to come, but it may take some time to complete. The story will also include text messages between you and your friends (SMAU). I'll do my best to maintain a good length for the story, but there may be some shorter parts. Also, I'm new to this, so there may be a few errors, but I hope you enjoy the story! :)

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: Whenever I can, no set date.

WC: 2756

Description: Characters are aged up. Y/N's stuck in a toxic relationship with her controlling boyfriend, feeling lost and doubting herself. Now, she's facing a crucial choice: stay put or find the courage to break free and reclaim her independence. Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings: [18+] This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU.

Your friends have been telling you to leave your boyfriend for months now. They warned you about him, about his manipulative, controlling, and narcissistic nature, which contributes to his toxicity. They keep pointing out his flaws – how he always wants. No. NEEDS to tag along wherever you go, how he tries to control what you wear and who you hang out with. And don't even get started on the name-calling and arguments that seem to happen like every single day. But despite all their warnings, you find yourself wondering if maybe it's just his way of showing he cares… it was all out of love wasn’t it? If he didn’t care about you he wouldn’t act the way he does… 

Right…?

You're constantly caught in a loophole of conflicting feelings. On one hand, you can't help but notice the red flags they've been waving in your face. But on the other hand, there's a part of you that wants to believe there's genuine love behind his actions. He loves you?

Right…?

Still, you can't help but question: does all this make him a "bad boyfriend"? Sure, he's not physically abusive, but his mood swings leave you feeling like you're walking on eggshells. As you grapple with these thoughts, you can't help but wonder where to draw the line between love and toxicity.

"Y/N!"

You snapped back to reality as Maki's voice cut through your thoughts, finding yourself now parked in front of Yuta's house, a 15-minute drive from your own.

"Are you okay? You've been lost in thought the entire car ride here," Maki asked, a mix of concern and confusion evident in her tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was just thinking about the exams coming up," you replied with a forced smile, though it didn't seem to convince her entirely. Luckily for you, she didn't question further. 

You made sure to silence your phone before heading out, knowing the argument that would likely occur with your boyfriend over your plans with friends. It wasn't news to you that he disapproved of your friendship with Yuta and Inukami, despite having plenty of female friends himself. Hypocritical isn't it. But today, you decided to take a stand. You were tired of the never-ending arguments and his controlling behaviour. It felt like you couldn't say or do anything without setting him off, and honestly, you were fed up with it.

You felt it was the right decision, even if it meant facing another argument later. You were determined to spend the day enjoying yourself with your friends, and if that meant upsetting him, then you were willing to deal with the consequences. After all, arguments had become a daily occurrence between you two, so what harm would one more do?

You didn’t quite know where this newfound confidence had come from. Normally, the thought of upsetting him would send shivers down your spine, making you hesitant to go against his wishes. But today was different. You were reaching a breaking point, tired of his behaviour and the constant strain it put on you. Mentally, you were drained. Ever since getting together with him, you'd been affected with a sense of unhappiness, a feeling that even your friends had picked up on. All they wanted was to see you happy again, but it felt like an impossible challenge to break free from his control and spend time with them. He dictated every aspect of your life, and you were beginning to realize just how suffocating it had become.

He felt like a never-ending storm cloud, hovering over you wherever you went, casting a shadow of negativity that left you feeling drained and miserable. It was as if his presence drained your strength, both physically and mentally, until you were left feeling defeated. You knew deep down that the only way to find a “cure” was to get rid of him, but it was far from simple. If it were that easy, you would've done it long ago, at the first signs of trouble.

Believe it or not, he wasn't always like this. That's why you were drawn to him in the first place. But as time passed, things only seemed to deteriorate. A part of you held onto hope that he would revert to the person he once was—caring, supportive, and loving. Yet, as months turned into nearly a year, nothing changed. If anything, it only seemed to worsen. 

Why? Why did he change? Was it something you did? Was it your fault? Did you somehow fall short? He always made you question your self worth. He made you believe that this was what you deserved—that you deserved to be hurt, to be broken. He convinced you that you weren't worthy of more.

You and Maki entered Yuta's house, using the spare key you both had. It was a common practice among your close group of friends; you all had keys to each other's homes. After all, you practically grew up together, so there was nothing unusual about dropping by unannounced.

Inumaki and Yuta greeted you warmly as you entered the living room, where they were too focused on a video game. As the hours passed, laughter filled the room, followed by playful teasing and occasional cussing at each other due to the intense gaming moments. You all talked about life, ate your favourite meals, and for the first time in a while, you felt a sense of happiness return. It was as if you were reconnecting with the positive, joyful version of yourself that had been buried beneath the weight of recent struggles.

"I'll be right back! Just need to use the bathroom," you announce before grabbing your phone and heading off.

"Do you want us to pause the movie?" Yuta offers, showing his consideration for your absence.

"No, it's okay! Keep watching, I'll be quick," you assure them with a laugh as you slip away.

Time flew by, and before you knew it, it was almost 9pm. Your peaceful day took an abrupt turn when you saw multiple missed phone calls from no other, your loser of a boyfriend. 

**5 MISSED PHONE CALLS AND MESSAGES BETWEEN Y/N & BF**

Luckily, Maki, Inukami, and Yuta were too engaged in the movie to notice your lengthened absence. However, tears welled up in your eyes as you read the messages, feeling the weight of self-doubt creeping in once again.

"I’m just a bitch. That’s all I am. I'm nobody," you muttered to yourself, your eyes red as you struggled to contain your emotions. You couldn't afford to show weakness in front of your friends. This shouldn't affect you, you reminded yourself. You knew this was coming, so why did it hurt so much?

Knock Knock

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted your thoughts. "Hey, Y/N. You okay in there?" Maki's concerned voice broke through your internal chaos.

Fuck.

Of course, Maki sensed something was wrong. She had picked up on it the moment she picked you up. She wasn't one to pry, though. She respected your privacy, and if you didn't bring up the issues first, she wouldn't force them out of you. That's why you cherished her friendship so much—she was the best friend anyone could ask for.

You wanted to tell her, you really did, but you knew all too well what her response would be, and frankly, you didn't want to hear it—not today. All you wanted was to be with your friends, to immerse yourself in their company and forget about your troubles, if only for a little while. You didn't want them worrying about you or your mental state. So you took a deep breath and plastered on a smile, hiding all the negativity like you always did.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was just on the phone with my mom," you said, forcing a smile as you opened the bathroom door, only to be met with Maki's skeptical expression. Her raised eyebrow spoke volumes, questioning your excuse without saying a word. But she didn't press further. Instead, she offered a soft smile and placed a comforting hand on your back.

"You're missing the movie. We decided to pause it when you didn't return after five minutes. Come on, let's go," she said gently, leading you back to the living room.

You both made your way downstairs and settled back onto the couch, resuming the movie with the others. After a few minutes, Yuta stood up from his spot and took a seat beside you, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear so only you could hear him.

"Hey, I know you haven't been feeling your best lately, and I understand why... But I want you to know that you can always talk to me. To us. We're here for you, no matter what." he whispered, his words causing your heart to stop for a moment. A soft smile spread across your lips as he leaned back, his eyes meeting yours with warmth.

"Thank you," you replied softly, leaning your head against his shoulder as the movie continued. Resting on each other like this was a familiar gesture among your group—it was something you all did since childhood, a sign of trust and comfort. So when you leaned on Yuta's shoulder, it wasn't a romantic gesture—it was more like seeking comfort from an older brother figure. Your friends have always been there for you, caring and supportive, much like older siblings would be.

Finally the movie finished, with the time now showing 11:16pm—it’s very late, thank god you guys had no classes scheduled for the next two days.

"It's getting late, Y/N. Are you ready to head back?" Maki asked, her expression soft with concern.

Before you could answer, Inukami jumped in with a hopeful tone, asking if you guys could stay a bit longer. You could tell he was really loving the reunion, bringing back memories of all the fun times your group had shared in the past… just like before you got into a relationship. 

"Yeah, come on, Maki and Y/N! We haven't had this much fun in a while. It feels good for the group to get back together again," Yuta chimed in, his gaze shifting between Maki and you. The collective attention turned to you, though you knew it wasn't intentional—they subconsciously understood that the decision rested with you, or rather, with your boyfriend's expectations.

Even though it was late, the idea of going home to an empty house, knowing your boyfriend would be out, doing who knows what, filled you with dread. You knew it would only trigger more overthinking and anxiety so with a reassuring smile, you decided against it. Tonight, you didn't feel like going home, and that was perfectly okay.

"Fuck it," you thought, smiling back at them. 

"Why don't we have a sleepover?" You ask, breaking the silence. Their eyes widen in shock, the suggestion catches everyone off guard. It's been a while since the last sleepover, back before you started dating your controlling boyfriend. They've tried to organize some since then, but you always declined, due to your boyfriend's disapproval.

Of course. Typical.

Their initial shock quickly turns into smiles and nods as they exchange glances before turning back to you.

"Let's do it!" Maki says with excitement.

All of them cheered in excitement, and the lively conversation continued throughout the night until exhaustion finally led to all of you drifting off to sleep on Yuta's spacious and comfortable couch. Despite the cozy setup, you found it hard to sleep as your mind continued to race, clouded by thoughts of him once again. Unable to find peace, you quietly slipped outside to the backyard, just to get some air.

Yuta awoke shortly afterward, noticing your absence. He got up from the couch, careful not to disturb Maki and Inumaki and began searching the house, half expecting to find you sleeping in his room. But you weren't there. He started to slightly panic as he considered the possibility of you leaving without informing anyone. How did you get home? Was something wrong? Why would you leave without saying anything?

As his mind rushed with worry, Yuta made his way to the backyard door and spotted you sitting on the stairs. Leaning against the door frame for a moment, he gathered his thoughts before joining you outside, silently taking a seat beside you.

"Hey," Yuta says as he settles beside you.

You jump at the sudden sound, caught off guard by his unexpected presence. "Omg, Yuta," you playfully shove his shoulder, "don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry," he chuckles softly, "didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing out here this late?" he questions.

"Couldn't fall asleep so I decided to get some air."

"Something on your mind?" He asks with concern.

I smile at him. "No."

"Come on, Y/N. I've known you for years; you think I can't tell when something's on your mind..."

You both sit there in silence for a moment before he speaks up again.

"Is it—"

"Mhm. But I don't want to talk about him. I'm here with you guys today, and that's what's important. Not him," you state, trying to change the conversation away from your boyfriend.

Yuta gives you a reassuring smile and nods, but then an awkward silence settles between you. It's unusual; conversations with your friends usually flow effortlessly, so why does it feel so difficult now?

After a moment, you decide to break the silence.

"Yuta..." you begin hesitantly.

He meets your gaze with a soft look. "Yeah?"

"I'm thinking about breaking up with him, you know," you confess.

Yuta's eyes widened in shock, a spark of excitement shining in him. As your best friend, he genuinely cares about your well-being and wants what's best for you. They all do, and they know that leaving your boyfriend will bring out the best in you, bring back the real you.

"Really?! How come... I mean, I already know why, but I'm just curious after all the times we've mentioned it to you, you never really pa—"

"Yuta," you interject, giggling at his enthusiasm.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, and being here with you guys today reminded me of the times we used to have together before him and I got together. And honestly... I haven't felt happier and more relaxed in a long time until now. It's like when I'm with you guys, I'm constantly smiling, laughing, talking, and I never feel judged. But with him, I feel so... miserable. I don't even remember the last time he and I actually talked and had a laugh together. It's always arguments, and he's the one who always starts them over nothing."

Yuta places a comforting hand on your shoulder and gently wipes away the tears on your face. You hadn't realized you were crying. You tried your hardest not to cry for months, but while telling Yuta how you felt, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Shhh... it's okay, Y/N. I'm glad you feel like yourself when you're with us. You deserve so much better than that jerk," he reassures you, his words bringing a sense of comfort.

He never fails to make you laugh.

"Thanks, Yuta," you say gratefully.

"Hey, what are you guys doing outside?" Maki and Inumaki mumble sleepily as they stand at the door.

Yuta grins mischievously and glances over at them. "What's with that ugly grin?" Maki jokes, prompting laughter from everyone.

"MAKI!" you all shout in unison, teasing her.

Yuta can't contain his excitement any longer. "Y/N is planning on breaking up with her boyfriend!" he blurts out.

If Maki and Inumaki thought they were awake before, they're definitely wide awake now. They exchange shocked glances between you and Yuta, repeating the gesture several times. You can't help but smile; despite the gravity of the situation, you feel a sense of pride. Proud that you've finally gained the courage to do something you've been wanting to do for months.

"You're not messing with us, right? Because I swear to god Y/N, if I find out yo—" Maki begins, her voice tinged with concern.

You cut her off before she can finish her sentence. "I swear I'm not messing with you guys. I'm going to do it tomorrow night."

Yipeee!! Go Y/N!!! finally we've all been waiting for this moment.

im currently working on the next part so please be patient!

Also, thank you so much for reading!

[nondelphic]

Hiiii! May I ask for some advice? After a really long time of not writing fan fic, I recently started getting back into it but have been struggling… So I started using a little bit of the chat.ai help me but I feel icky about it but at the same time, I’m constantly struggling with writers block and being burnt out… What should I do?

i'm actually really glad you asked this because i've been preparing a post about using ai responsibly for writing, might just post it here lol:

tldr: this post isn’t about using ai to generate your story for you. it’s about how to utilize ai to enhance your writing process while still keeping your voice and creativity at the forefront.

the rise of ai has stirred up a lot of talk about ethics, originality, and how much tech should really be in our creative space. as writers, our work is highly personal, it's a reflection of our thoughts and experiences. so it’s totally normal to feel icky about bringing ai into the mix.

here's a hot take, though: ai isn’t here to replace your creativity. it doesn’t get the deep, emotional layers that only a human writer can bring. sure, ai can generate text, but it doesn’t really understand what it’s saying. that’s where some of the ethical concerns come in—if we rely too much on ai, we risk losing that personal touch that makes our stories resonate.

on the flip side, when used thoughtfully, ai can actually boost your creative process instead of taking away from it. think of ai as a helpful assistant, it can take care of some of the boring, tedious stuff, giving you more space to focus on what really matters: writing your story, your way. it’s not about letting ai take over, but using it to support and streamline your process.

this is not a post about my experience with ai, but i have to say, that as someone with adhd, ai has been a game-changer for me. it helps me keep track of my ideas, organize my thoughts, and even manage my writing schedule when my brain is all over the place. it's like having an extra set of hands (or, you know, a brain) to help me stay on top of everything, so i can focus more on the actual creative part of writing.

the key is to make sure ai never overshadows your original voice or creative vision. ai should be a tool that helps you bring your ideas to life, not something that writes the story for you. if you’re curious about how to use ai in your writing process while keeping your authenticity intact, here are some tips to do it responsibly:

brainstorming ideas: when you’re stuck on a plot point or character development, use ai to generate prompts or ideas. these can spark new directions for your story, giving you fresh perspectives to explore.

dialogue experimentation: if your dialogue feels flat, try using ai to generate conversation snippets based on your characters. it might not be perfect, but it can give you new ideas for how your characters might interact.

synonym suggestions: tired of using the same word over and over? ai can help you find synonyms or alternative phrases, keeping your writing fresh without losing your voice. i've found this very helpful as an ESL writer!

outline generation: got a rough idea but need a structure? use ai to create a basic outline, then tweak it to fit your vision. it’s a great way to get a head start on organizing your story.

character backstories: use ai to brainstorm character traits, backstories, or names. you can take these ideas and expand on them, adding the depth and personality that only you can create.

quick research assistance: save time by using ai for quick facts or historical details. it lets you focus more on storytelling and less on getting bogged down in research. (disclaimer: never 100% trust what an ai generates, fact check everything). i've found it a great starting point if i have a very niche question for my research.

editing help: use ai for basic grammar and spelling checks to speed up your editing process. just remember, it’s your judgment that will shape the final draft, not the ai’s.

plot analysis: use ai to scan your draft for plot holes or inconsistencies. it can help identify gaps in logic or missing links in your storyline, giving you a clearer idea of where to tighten things up.

tone consistency: ai can help you maintain a consistent tone throughout your story by analyzing your draft and suggesting adjustments where the tone shifts unexpectedly.

pacing adjustments: ai can review the pacing of your story, highlighting sections that may be too slow or too rushed, helping you find the right balance.

character consistency: track your characters' traits, behaviors, and dialogue to ensure they remain consistent throughout the story, preventing out-of-character moments.

theme reinforcement: use ai to analyze how well your themes are being conveyed across the narrative, suggesting areas where you might strengthen or clarify your message.

draft comparison: if you’ve gone through multiple drafts, ai can compare them to highlight what’s changed, what’s been improved, and what might have been lost in the revisions.

to answer your question more personally, i think we can never please everyone, and ai will continue to be developed and get better and better. i understand feeling icky about using ai, and you might get judged for it, but do what you need to do, tbh.

i have found myself in a writing routine where i use most of the advice above in my writing process. i write most of my work myself, but i use ai as a tool to bounce ideas off of, and it's been a life changer. i managed to finish my first novel draft with the help of ai, and it fuelled my creativity to have "someone" (or rather something) to feed my ideas and help them identify what i could do better.

[genericpuff]

I don't know the term for creators who became popular outside the traditional steps to "make it" in their profession; then when people started taking their work seriously and giving them criticism, these creators saw it as an attack because they are not used to mentors and studies.

Smythe's professional training is vague at best, being a folklorist. Then there's the creator of the popular hell cartoon that became her own executive producer and director in her 20s (I'm not going to say her name since it tends to attract her rabid fans) and becomes reactive to any kind of criticism on Twitter. Then there's that TikToker Devon Rodriguez, who became popular for sketching people on subways, and when an art critic gave a mild review to his art gallery, Devon unleashed his fans on him.

Like am I seeing a pattern here for artists? And I guess, what do you think we can learn from it.

Ah, so this is a very interesting (and broad) topic that we've touched on in discussions in ULO and other webtoon-related communities. So buckle up, it's time for an ✨essay��

I think the best way I can sum up my thoughts on this issue is: the vast majority of people who become paid content creators don't seek out a job as content creators, a job in content creation is just something that happens to them.

I say "content creation" because this is something that applies to a lot of other platforms and online mediums as well, such as the examples you included (TikTok, Youtube, Twitch, etc.). And don't get me wrong, it's not like every successful content creator out there didn't work their asses off to get to where they are, but for many... it still involves an element of luck. People don't go to school for it, people don't "apply" to become influencers, and much of it relies entirely on just making stuff until it gets seen and propelled into success.

I think a lot of these issues arise with the creators themselves and how they view their own work. The reality is that many of us artists have been treated as the "rejects" of society, we constantly feel like we're misunderstood and have some deep inner pain that we express through our art, and instead of going to therapy, we come up with OC's. It's a lot more fun and it's a lot cheaper LOL Webcomics naturally wind up being the perfect lightning rod for people who feel that way, where we can pour ourselves into the characters, the world, the narrative, in a way that perfectly mixes our talents for art and our need to express our innermost thoughts and feelings about ourselves and the world around us. So when our art gets criticized or rejected ... it can be hard for a lot of artists to not feel like it's a criticism of the self, a rejection of our identities, an attack on our feelings and experiences, because we've tied so much of ourselves to our work. And this can make that transition very difficult for people who are trying to go pro, because being professional demands separating yourself from your work, at least enough that you can view it objectively, recognize its flaws, seek out pathways to improvement, and not take every bump in the road personally.

A lot of successful creators are people who just never made that transition. It's led to an abundance of professional creators who know how to film themselves or react to content or, in the case of webcomic artists, write stories about their OC's, but don't know how to actually navigate the industry at a professional level. They don't know how to read and negotiate contracts, they don't know what deals are actually good for them and which ones are better left on the table, they don't know how to manage teams of people, they don't know how to react to the attention, praise, and criticism of their audience - they're just doing what they've always done, but now they're making money doing it.

None of this is to speak ill in any way of the creators who've found success and are still just doing what they've always done for money. None of this is meant to be a slight on the creators who are using webcomics and art as an expression of their deeper selves (I do it myself, it's very cathartic!) because ultimately that's what makes your work your work, the fact that you made it, with all your good parts and bad. Many of these creators are capable of running their platform without any issues because they've learned how to play the game, or because their platform is made up of people just like them so their audience is more like just a social circle.

But many of them still also can't operate on a professional level and those are the ones we often see getting called out and held accountable when they do shit like, I dunno, scamming their audiences for money or making alt accounts to manipulate user reviews or plagiarizing from other people's work or just being really REALLY shitty to their own audience.

Often times these are people who are just doing what they'd normally do as a hobby, became well known for it, and managed to turn it into a living. But they never actually learned how to turn their hobby into a job, and themselves into professionals.

And artists especially are prone to this because, let's face it, a lot of us are just weebs having fun drawing our blorbos, so of course if we get a chance to monetize that, we're gonna! We should! We should want to be paid for our work and time and efforts!

But we also have to remember that it's a different ballgame, especially if you're turning your audience into customers. "I'm just a baby creator doing this for fun" doesn't and shouldn't apply anymore once you start signing contracts, selling your art as products, taking people's money to fund your projects, etc. because now it's not just your art, it's what you're expecting people to pay for so you can eat and pay your bills and live.

As much as our art is often personal and should be cherished as such, you can't expect people to want to pay for it if you're not setting a bar and meeting it, or if you're not treating your audience with any amount of dignity or respect.

I'm not saying you're not entitled to having feelings or still wanting to treat your art as art, but the line between art and products is there for a reason, it's to set people's expectations and ensure that both sides are having those expectations met. Webtoon creators suffer from the same thing that a lot of Youtube creators and other types of content creators suffer from in this transition, and I feel like HBomberGuy summed it up best:

"In current discourse, Youtubers simultaneously present as the forefront of a new medium, creative voices that need to be taken seriously as part of the 'next generation of media' - and also uwu smol beans little babies who shouldn't be taken seriously when they rip someone off and make tens of thousands of dollars doing it."

It's not gatekeeping a medium, it's not telling people they aren't allowed to have feelings or to want to still have that personal connection to their work in spite of the professional level it's achieved, it's simply just expecting people to actually live up to the label of 'professional' that they're using to make money.

And this especially goes for someone like Rachel, who claims to be a 'folklorist' despite all the contrary evidence that says otherwise. This is the same person who copy pasted the first result on Google as her source on a simple word definition:

There's a second part to that HBomberGuy quote that also actually applies to Rachel really well in this discussion, concerning how she labels herself a "folklorist" and how that's affected and influenced the greater discussion surrounding Greek myth:

"But on the opposite end, Youtubers who act like serious documentarians gain a shroud of professionalism which then masks the deeply unprofessional things they do. We just saw that with James. I think [James] partially got away with what he's doing for so long because he acts so professional about it, so people assume, 'there's no way he could just be stealing shit!' so they don't check. And on top of that, a lot of James' videos contain obvious mistakes and made-up facts... but because they're often presented next to well-researched stuff he stole, no one questions it. I've seen James repeat a lie in his videos, and then other people claim it's true, and link his video as the proof. He has helped to solidify misinformation by seeming like he's doing his diligence."

There's always going to be discourse over what's legitimate and what isn't when it comes to Greek myth, there are loads of things we still don't know simply due to the knowledge being lost to time. But there's something to be said about a white New Zealand woman using her self-insert romance comic and platform to build a veneer of professionalism and legitimacy around herself, as if she's the authority on the subject, while simultaneously relying on first result Google searches and citing works that have no real foothold in the way of scholarly or "folklorist" discussion.

All that's to say, you're right, her professional training is vague at best. She's never completed a longform comic prior to LO, she's not doing her due diligence in actually engaging with the media she's trying to "retell" and exposing herself to the voices of those from the culture that's tied to it, and she's not holding herself to any sort of standards when it comes not only to being a professional, but a professional who's been held on a pedestal for all these years. She's still operating the same way she was 5 years ago - drawing and writing whatever pops into her head and sending it to her editor for uploading, with next to no intervention or guidance. Except now it doesn't have the benefit of being new and having "potential", it's getting noticed and called out more now than ever because it's been 5 years of this shit and it's been getting worse on account of her clearly being burnt out (or just giving up/not caring) and the readers can't be sold on "potential" anymore.

And that's all I have to say on that.

[makur0]

Melting Innocence, Rouge Heat, Tainted Soul

synopsis — if putting on an alluring performance wasn't enough for the two members of Adam, you certainly will fulfill their desires on Valentines Day. [nagisa ran x fem! reader x ibara saegusa]

content warnings — nsfw, mdni. sub! reader, hard dom! ibara, dom! nagisa, semi-exhibitionism, dirty talk, penetration, creampie, oral, cursing, stomach bulge, breeding, slightly rushed end

author's note — part one of valentine's fest! god i want to be sandwiched between these two it isn't funny. (and surprisingly... writing to character AI's really helps my burnt out era)

word count — 2347

"HON, AREN'T YOU GOING TO SEE ADAM'S PERFORMANCE?"

Anzu turns to you, her head tilted. You finally look up from your paperwork, blinking. "...huh?"

The lead producer sighs, reaching over to close your computer. "[name], Adam? The sub-unit you produce for? Nagisa and Ibara?"

You seem dazed, not processing her words before finally jolting. "A-ah, yes! Their Valentine's Day-themed live, right? Yes, I'll be there... I think..."

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. "I don't know, Anzu. I have too much work to even take half an hour out of my time... but then again, I was the head of this project, I should at least enjoy it..." You look so conflicted with yourself, Anzu sighs.

"Darling, [name]," The brunette tuts, bringing you up to your feet. "Go, I got the rest."

"But-"

"Shut- no. That's an order," She says sternly, and you finally yield, nodding. At this Anzu looks pleased that she finally convinced you to take a much-needed break. "Good... now, go before they start."

You quickly run out of the office, and as you leave Anzu alone, she smiles to herself slightly.

Besides... Nagisa and Ibara would be extremely dissapointed that their 'main audience' won't even be there...

---

You quickly make it to the Producer's section of the auditorium, meeting many other of your co-workers who are excitedly waiting for the performance. Unlike you, they came solely to... ah, simp for the two members of the popular unit Eden, Nagisa Ran and Ibara Saegusa. You didn't even recognize half of them from the project, which you sigh at. You laugh at yourself- the head of the project showing the least 'interest'...?

You take your seat away from the horny group, making yourself comfortable. Minutes before the Live starts, your phone buzzes: it's Ibara.

Ibara: Are you here? I would be gravely disappointed if you weren't.

You sigh through your nose, texting back a short, 'Yes' before shutting your phone down. Ibara should know better than to text you right before his own performance.

Finally, the lights turn off, and the stage lights up. You can't help but swell in pride of how intricate the stage is, thanks to your designing. As the two members of Adam had requested, you tied it along with their song as well as you could... as well as some suggestions that were strangely what you like...

You had decided not to look into it deeply, instead following Adam's requests.

As Ibara and Nagisa descend, somehow they quickly find you in the crowd, both sending you an unreadable look as they start the performance...

Your breath was caught in your throat.

You had no idea how... uh. Hot their vocals and choreography was.

As the head of the project, you were surprisingly only in charge of the setup of the stage and the light coordination. Then again, Ibara had requested that you pull your full attention on that...

You felt yourself heating up at the lyrics, mesmerized by their movements. If you were in a more attentive mindset, you would have noticed that they were constantly stealing glances towards you. But, paired with overall tiredness, your flustered state did not help at all.

You started to overthink as the Live carried on. They have been sending me mixed signals... No, how could they possibly fancy me? Both of them? I'm just their producer, nothing else...

So why do I feel so uncomfortably hot?

It felt like an eternity, but Adam was finally done with their performance. To say the least, you were proud of yet another successful performance, but so many other emotions were mixed into the mess... confusion, flattery, embarrassment...

Not long after Adam left the stage you feel your phone buzz again.

Ibara: Come meet us at our dressing room.

You can't- don't think much of it as you rush off before the other producers could disgust you of their horny talk, walking through the cold halls as you find Adam's dressing room. You frown, as the door stands ajar and the room is dark inside.

Funny... maybe they got another dressing room? Or did they just leave earlier?

You walk into the dressing room, completely unaware of what was about to happen...

The door shuts as your vision is obscured by the darkness of the room, and you even hear the door lock click as you feel arms wrap around you tightly. "H-hey-!?"

"Shh." It's Nagisa. "...It's just us."

A groan from another man, Ibara you realize, interrupts Nagisa. "Your Highness, I thought we agreed to keep our identities a secret as a special touch."

"...My bad."

With the little light in the room, you see Ibara's glasses reflected in it. Otherwise, he was completely invisible in the darkness. "Dear Producer, what did you think of our performance...?"

You hear his footsteps walk up towards you, and his pair of arms hook under your own and lift you up. Nagisa's body acts as a chair for you as you feel hot breath on both your neck and face... feeling yourself heat up, you completely disregard the previous question thrown at you.

Ibara tsks at your lack of response. "Hm. It looks like the cat has already got her tongue, Your Highness..."

"...I was hoping to be the first one to get her tongue."

"W-what on earth is going on?" You finally manage to get out, squirming although Nagisa's hold around you is strong, tight. "Ibara-san, Nagisa-san, is that you?"

Ibara chuckles. "Indeed it is, dear producer! I am quite glad that you had decided to attend our Live, as my plan would be in complete shambles if you haven't..."

"Plan-?"

Nagisa interrupts you, groaning. "Ibara, make it quick. I can't resist any longer."

The said male exhales. "If you insist.

"As I was saying... tonight is Valentine's day, as you're aware. And also... you seem to have been ignoring our rather obvious calls for you.

"So, we decided, tonight, we shall-"

Ibara is interrupted by your yelp, as you suddenly feel Nagisa bite down your neck, humming. The pain is brief, as he lets go as soon as he bites down, kissing the flushing mark now.

Based on his voice, Ibara is annoyed. "Your Highness, couldn't you have waited a bit longer?"

"...Mm. No." Nagisa quite plainly says, nibbling on your ear. "With her right in my grasp... I couldn't resist any longer."

The younger male sighs, then finally light filters into the room, although red(?) and dimly lit. It's not enough to blind you, just enough to see the two figures starting to swarm around you. "W-what?"

Now it's Nagisa's turn to be annoyed, as you seem to flinch away from him. "We're not going to hurt you... just simply show our want for you.

"We're quite endeared with you, little [name]. I'm quite surprised you haven't caught onto our advances..."

You stutter as Ibara suddenly sits on your own lap, and you're soon sandwiched between the two already-sweaty men, from their performance. Your head is yanked forward as Ibara takes your lips greedily, all signs of courtesy now gone as he seems to have also lost patience to reason with you. As he sees that you're not pulling away, he continues to ravish your lips, groaning softly. You still feel Nagisa's breath on your neck, watching him softly kiss all your tender spots and grinning to himself as he sees you flinch every single time.

"Mm... finally." Ibara finally breaks the long kiss, leaving you gasping like a fish out of water. "You taste just as I predicted... sultry, yet sweet."

You feel your body heat up at his comment... how long have they've been trying to pin your attention? A week? Month? Months?

You thought it was just you, pining for the two handsome idols. When in full retrospect, you weren't the only one satisfied with just the work-acquaintance relationship.

Both Nagisa and Ibara's advances and touches on you become more rushed, heated, the longer you let them do as they please. Even without you saying it, your complete submissiveness tells them loud and clear:

You like this too.

Ibara curses under his breath, shifting as his pants grow tight. "Nagisa," He completely disregards his usual title for the older male. "Lay them down. I'm getting too damn impatient now."

The said idol obliges quite easily, letting you go of his tight hold and setting you down on the wide, long couch. Usually having... ahem, sex on a couch was rather uncomfortable, but it seems that this piece of furniture would suffice well for the three of you... you wonder if they planned this deliberately.

As soon as your set down Ibara immediately hovers over you, Nagisa taking a seat near your head. As the maroon-haired male props his elbows on either side of your head, he leans dangerously close, looking quite... tempting even as his glasses slightly slide down his nose.

"Do you want to know why I didn't allow you to know about the music or the choreography?"

"..."

Ibara hums. "...well, it would just ruin this night even more for us. If you haven't connected the dots yet... those lyrics?

"About this night. About you."

You blink, your cheeks heating up profusely. "...H-how long have you've been trying to- ahem."

Nagisa speaks up. "Around a month..."

Oh dear.

The younger idol shakes his head. "The past doesn't matter now. You're here in our clutches now... god, I can't wait to just ruin you..."

He flips you over on your stomach, forcing your legs up so that your ass is in the air. You let out a faint squeak, reddening even more as your face is quite close to Nagisa's pelvis... quite close to the rather large tent in his pants.

The cold air hitting your bare ass barely bothers you as Nagisa lifts your head up slowly, shifting to his knees as he gets ready to use your mouth. As he tantalizingly takes off his pants, you feel Ibara's fingers prod at your hole, chuckling as he feels that it's decently wet... he needs it soaking, though. He's not going to just rail you for hours to start with a measly arousal.

Your whimpers are soon muffled as you slowly sink your mouth down on Nagisa's now-exposed cock, the tip angry red as the veins bulge. You barely make it halfway before you start struggling, your hands clenching onto the sofa fabric.

Ibara's fingers make their way into your hole, abusing your poor cunt as he quickly brings you to a high. You moan around Nagisa's cock, shivering as you hit your first orgasm for the night... but certainly not the last, far from it. Ibara seems to finger-fuck you faster, relishing your now-twitching finger and muffled whines. Nagisa lets out a pleased sigh, his head bobbing back as his fingers thread your hair as your moans vibrate his cock.

You're pushed into another orgasm again, making your moans more frequent and louder. Nagisa seems to lose his composure, gripping your hair and shoving his entire length down your throat. You choke violently, gagging as hot tears run down your cheeks as you moan shamelessly, being used as nothing but a toy for the two idols.

"God," Ibara curses, scooping up your arousal to taste it. "A little part of me wanted to fuck you on that couch on the stage, right in front of everybody.... what would you think of that, your Highness?"

"..."

Ibara sighs, looking down back at you. "Nevermind... besides, you're already here. Why should I wish for anything better? Public or not, we're still going to ruin you..."

Nagisa lets out a soft groan, pelvis jerking as he comes down your throat. You gag loudly, clutching the sofa as you feel the hot liquid go down your throat. There was so much, too much... your gag reflex triggers, and you feel yourself choking back up some of Nagisa's cum, staining your lips.

The male seems satisfied with your reaction, pulling away from your mouth and wiping your lips clean with a kiss. Just as he finishes, Ibara is taking his pants and boxers off, ready to enter his shaft into you.

He slips into you easily with a groan, your own mewl pairing perfectly. Nagisa watches with piercing eyes as you're propelled forward by Ibara's force, fucking into you erratically without giving you a change to adjust to his size. Your moans are loud, unhinged, and watery due to the previous blowjob. Your hips are about to collapse, but Ibara keeps a death-grip on them, definitely bruising them. Small groans leaves the idol, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he pounds your tight cunt.

You wail loudly, clutching onto Nagisa's thighs in front of you and leaving small crescents into his skin from your nails. Seeing you get railed so effortlessly has Nagisa heating up again, his sex hardening once more. "..."

"Fuck- you're so tight," Ibara laughs breathlessly, picking up his pace just to hear you moan even more. "How many loads will it take before you're leaking with our seed, huh dear producer?"

You whimper at that, clenching around his length. "I- I'm not sure..."

Ibara smirks at Nagisa. "Let's experiment then, shall we?"

---

It took only two loads to fill you to the brim, but the two didn't stop there.

Pounding into you, biting your skin and marking it up, abusing your poor clit and cunt, you were left a mess when they were done with you hours later. Your sex was puffy and leaking with their mixed seed, your stomach even slightly bulging of how much they managed to keep inside you. You're dazed, hazy as they managed to haul you out of the dressing room without being caught.

Nagisa looks at your dumb state. "...Can we do this again, Ibara?"

The said idol barks out a laugh. "Why, of course! You enjoyed this as much as I did, no? Just filling her up makes me so aroused~"

"...I filled her up more."

"No you didn't, Nagisa. Shut up.

Taglist: @ciderwebs @himeru-soulmate @ibaraluvr

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Three

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Four

Word count: 9.6k+

Chapter summary: Jack faces the consequences of his actions, and his past once again, haunts him and you. (Picks up directly from ch. 2. The flashback scene is bold and italicized.)

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: ANGST, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, mentions of cheating, toxic marriage, no explicit content, but suggestive, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: Some of 2017 references. Huge, huge, huge apologies for the late chapter! Long story short, a colleague had to take emergency leave, and I stepped in to manage a project that will be presented in two weeks. My work is pre-written, this one in 2017, but I have to add the translations, and I love making the graphics, even if it takes me way too long. I'll be out of the country for the presentation, but I'll try my best to upload something before then. Thank you to everyone for their patience, and I hope you enjoy this part!

She's pregnant?... She's pregnant... Jack's mind whirls with a mix of surprise and jealousy, the revelation hitting him like a freight train and igniting an uncontrollable fire within his chest. 

"Did you fuck him while we were married?" The question escapes Jack's lips, driven by irrationality and a mix of hurt and anger. If he were more collected, he would have realized the insensitivity of such a question, but his emotions are spiraling out of control.

He doesn't even get to hear what you have to say because, in an instant, Jack gets up from his chair in a sudden burst of emotions and sends it flying backward into the wall. 

His thoughts and emotions collide, just like the chair and the wall, and he feels like he's drowning in a storm of feelings he can't control. Jack constantly thought about you and his child, but without knowing the gender or having a name, his child remained an elusive figure in his mind. A fleeting thought that now lingers is how he always referred to your child as his little angel, never imagining how close to the truth it was.

Just as he discovers the existence of his son, he's confronted with the harsh reality that you've moved on. In the purest sense of the word, you have moved on. She's truly moved on, he repeats in his mind. The pain is overwhelming as he realizes you married Javier, probably raised Ángel with him, and now you're expecting another child—a child that belongs to another man. 

Jack had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance for him, you, and his child to form a family together. But that hope has been crushed. He knows deep down that you would never leave the family you've built, especially not for someone who treated you like an afterthought.

His heart aches at the knowledge that you have built a life without him. You're carrying another man's child, and it cuts deep into his soul. The thought of you and your husband raising a family, laughing and sharing moments together, stabs at him like a knife. 

It's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that he missed out on so much. That he wasn't there to witness the joy of your pregnancy, to see your belly swell with the life you both created. He can only imagine the moments he lost, like not being able to go to the obstetrician with you, to witness the miraculous sonograms that reveal the tiny life growing inside you.

Tears sting his eyes as he recalls the sonogram of Ángel that you had given him, and how he carelessly threw it to the floor in a fit of anger. The regret now gnaws at him, realizing he'll never be able to relive those moments he cast aside.

A heartbreaking sense of loss envelops him, knowing that he wasn't there to hear Ángel's heartbeat resounding in the clinic. He wasn't there to hold his son for the first time, and thank you for giving him such an extraordinary gift. It's like watching a movie of his own life, but he's only a viewer, a stranger to the beautiful moments he should have been a part of.

He knows he hurt you, and Jack knows he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. But he can't help but wish for the chance to make things right, to be there for you and Ángel, to be the man you need him to be. Yet, deep down, he knows that ship has sailed.

Ya treated her like gum stuck to the sole of your boots, a cruel voice whispers in his head. Why would she ever wanna be with ya again?

As the emotions continue to swirl inside him, Jack glances at Javier, your husband, the man who has taken his place in your life. The sight of the wedding band on Javier's finger is a cruel reminder of the life they've built together.

That coulda been me, Jack thinks bitterly. I coulda been the one to marry her, to raise our child, to create a family.

But it's not him, and he can't change the past. He can't go back and be the man he should have been. All he can do now is face the consequences of his actions and accept that he missed his chance.

His heart weighs heavy with regret and sorrow, knowing that he let go of something precious. Your laughter, your smile, your love—all lost to him now. 

But amidst the storm of emotions, there's one thing that remains crystal clear: he has a son, Ángel, a part of him that he didn't know existed. And while he may not have the chance to be the father he should have been from the start, he can still try to be there for his son now.

Jack knows that he can't change the past, but he can choose how to move forward. He can decide to be a father his son deserves, to be a better man, even if it's not the fairytale ending he once dreamed of.

"I meant it. I'll get tested." Jack finally says. It's a small step, but it's the first one toward building a relationship with his son. He knows it won't be easy, and there will be obstacles to overcome, but he's willing to try.

You look at him, your eyes filled with tears. Honestly, when you first contacted him, you didn't know what to expect. But the fact that he's willing to take this step means something to you.

Jack replies, his voice resolute, "I want to be there for him, even if it's late. I want to be a part of his life."

Javier, still seething with anger, glances at Jack cautiously. He's protective of you and Ángel, and he won't let anyone hurt you again. But he also knows that this is a difficult situation, and he's willing to give Jack a chance to prove himself.

"I hope you mean it," Javier says, his voice stern but not without understanding. "Ángel deserves a father who will be there for him."

"I do," Jack says. "Sorry, I overreacted. I've been going to therapy, I swear." He lets out a dark chuckle. "I'm just... it's hard."

"Of course, I'll get tested, and I hope to God- I'm a match." He adds sincerely.

"Thank you, Jack," you say, your voice softening, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implied in any way that Ángel's illness is your fault because it's not. But thank you for doing this- it means a lot to us."

Just then, Dr. Navarro enters the room, breaking the tension. "Woah," he exclaims, looking at the scraped wall. "I never noticed that before. We'll have to get maintenance to fix it."

After Jack agreed to get tested, Dr. Navarro sent him to get a physical to determine if he was in good condition to donate stem cells. Jack passed the tests with flying colors and was then sent to get tested for HLA markers. The doctor explained to Jack that this would determine if he was able to donate his cells to Ángel.

As he leaves the pathology department with his sleeves rolled up and a cotton ball taped to his right arm where the puncture was made, he's taken by surprise to see you waiting for him at the front desk. With his grey suit coat draped over one hand, he quickly tries to adjust his appearance, but the look on his face betrays his attempt to appear composed.

"Here." You say, handing him a red heart candy lollipop.

"Where did you get it?" He laughs, touched by the sweet gesture. Jack reaches out to take the lollipop, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

"From Mrs. Kroos." You say, pointing behind you.

His brows furrow, giving away his confusion.

"The lady that works at the front desk loves Ángel, and she knows he loves these candies. So she always gives him a few whenever she sees one of us. But be careful, don’t drop it. I won't give you another one.” You warn.

"I'll guard it with my life, sugar." Jack clutches the candy tightly, cherishing this small token of kindness from you. His eyes soften, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. It's as if, for a brief moment, he's transported back to the early days of your relationship.

To steer his thoughts in another direction, he examines the lollipop's wrapper, fingers absently tracing its red heart shape. But his eyes instinctively draw to your stomach, where the faint curve is evident beneath your clothes. It's a closer look than he's had before, the first time he's seen it up close since learning of your pregnancy this morning. His eyes linger there, and you can feel him searching for words to say or questions to ask. 

"How far along are you?"

"Five, almost six months." You reply, your hand instinctively resting on your baby bump.

He stays silent, unsure of what to say.

"Oh," he recovers, "Do you know what you're having?"

"Another boy." You answer with excitement.

"Oh." He clears his throat, trying to hide any hint of disappointment. 

"That's good. Congrats." Jesus, Jack, can't ya quit bein' an ass for just one minute?

As you stand before him, Jack can't help but feel a pang of pain. It's envy and jealousy, but it's also the sadness for what he missed out on with you and his son. The family he could have had, the love he could have shown and the joy he could have shared are now experienced by Javier, not him.

"Excuse me for a moment." He says suddenly, and you hear his voice trembling. He nearly runs to the restroom, needing a private space to let his feelings pour out.

Inside the stall, Jack allows himself to cry, and release the pent-up emotions. The tears are a mix of sorrow for the time lost and the regret of not cherishing the moments he had with you and your first child. Memories of the past flood his mind—moments he should have cherished, words he should have spoken with love, and gestures he should have made to make you feel valued. It's a cathartic moment, a release of the pain and the realization of what could have been.

As he wipes away his tears, Jack takes a deep breath and leaves the stall. He washes his hands and gets a good look at himself through the mirror. He prays you won't comment on his red and puffy eyes, but as expected, your concern for him is evident as soon as you see him exit the restroom.

"Everything alright?" You ask, worried about his sudden departure.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jack replies, his voice still shaky but trying to regain composure.

Shortly after, you both take a deep breath and in a moment of eagerness on Jack's part and haste on your own, you attempt to speak at the same time, your words overlapping:

"Can I mee-"

"Do you want to mee-"

Jack's desire to meet Ángel is unmistakably clear in your eyes.

After a moment of contemplation, you speak first. "Yes, you can meet him," you say, voice filled with caution, "But we have to be careful about how we approach it. I think we have to take it slow with the official introduction."

Jack nods, understanding the need for caution. "Yes, ma'am. I get it. I don't want to do anything that might upset him."

"We'll take it one step at a time. Maybe we can start by introducing you as a friend, someone special to us. We can see how he reacts and take it from there. But you have to promise not to push him away," you continue, your gaze locking with his, "As a parent, I know the love one has for their children. I know you will always love the baby boy you lost, but you cannot compare him to Ángel. Each child is special and deserves their own place in your heart."

Jack takes a moment to absorb your words, realizing the truth in them. "You're right," he says, his voice softer now, "I don't want to make the same mistakes again. Ángel deserves better than that."

"He does," you affirm, "And I think you'll be a positive influence in his life. Just take it one step at a time, be patient with him, and be there for him. It won't be easy, but I think it's worth trying."

Jack nods, grateful for your understanding and guidance. "Thank you," he says sincerely, "I really appreciate you giving me and Ángel a chance."

"I want what's best for my son," you say, your love for Ángel evident in your eyes, "And if that means having his biological father in his life, then I'm willing to support it."

"Thank you," Jack repeats, his heart feeling true hope for the first time in years.

"C'mon. He's on the 16th floor." You say guiding him to the elevator. 

This time Jack is more collected in the elevator. Not that he's any less nervous, in fact, his heart is pounding with anticipation. Because he can't believe that after all these years, he has the opportunity to meet his son.  

As you guide Jack down the hospital corridor towards the elevator, he takes in his surroundings. The fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow, and the muffled footsteps echo through the hallway - that's what Jack tries to focus on. Ideally, he would reach out to take your hand in his, and that would settle his racing heart. He gives it a little more thought and correctly assumes that you would probably smack him, so he decides against it, not wanting to upset you. Again. 

You can sense his nervousness as you walk beside him, and it amuses you how, in the past, you would have done absolutely anything to make him feel better. Yes, a part of you feels for him because there was a point in your life when you were in love with him more than anything, more than you had been with anyone. But another part of you is screaming, Don't care, don't let him in, remember all you went through?

The truth is, it feels almost unfair that you still have the instinct to comfort him when he never extended the same care or compassion toward you. It's a reminder of the one-sided nature of your past relationship, where you gave your all, but he held back. You hate that reminder. You hate how he made you feel. You hate how he made you act. You hate how he still makes you feel when you think about your past. 

You try your best to settle your thoughts as you walk together toward the elevator. Therapy had been helpful after the divorce, but it took a backseat when Ángel got sick. Now, considering how you feel around Jack, you realize it's time to prioritize your emotional well-being again. You make a mental note to schedule an appointment with Dr. Ordoñez soon, even if it means being on the phone for an hour and sitting on an uncomfortable hospital chair during the session. 

You'll soon be co-parenting with Jack, and you want to get to the stage where you don't appear like you want to kill him. If it weren't for your son, you would have been just fine never seeing Jack again, but you don't want your son to resent you or miss out on having a relationship with his biological father. 

Ángel already has a father and a wonderful father at that. Javi has been a fantastic father as well as a good husband. He loves Ángel, which is why, when you discussed Jack, he felt that his son shouldn't be denied the option to have another parent. 

You both keep walking, and when you make it to the elevator, you press the button, and the polished metal doors slide open with a soft ping. Jack places his hand on the door, and with a gracious gesture, he extends his other hand, signaling for you to walk through first. It's a small gesture, but it stirs a mix of memories and emotions within you. Before the divorce, you would have melted at such chivalry. His southern charm seemed to vanish right after you married. You had hoped that Jack would return to the man you were once head over heels for, but now, with hindsight, you can see a field of red flags that you had overlooked, perhaps purposely. Looking back at your relationship with Jack, there are moments when you can't help but cringe at your own behavior, realizing you held on desperately, not wanting to let go. Your yearning for him to love you was so intense that you settled for the bare minimum, hoping things would change. But as you stand there pressing the button to take you to the 16th floor, you can't help but acknowledge how much has changed, how much you've changed. You've known how you felt about him for years, but looking at Jack now, without any remnants of love in your heart, brings you a sense of liberation.

As the elevator door glides open with a soft ping, you step out, and Jack follows closely behind, his footsteps echoing lightly as you lead the way down to the front desk. The receptionist warmly smiles as she recognizes you and, with a press of a button, she buzzes you in without any need for further verification or questions. This special perk is granted due to your frequent visits to receive food and welcome visitors.

Unfortunately, you know the path to Ángel's hospital room like the back of your hand. You could be blindfolded and make it to room 43 without bumping into any obstacles- that's how long your son's been here. 

You make your way through the corridor, the hallway branching into two sides. Rooms 1-20 are on the left, and rooms 21-45 are on the right. You direct Jack to the right, to room 43, where Ángel is.

The walls are adorned with a burst of bright colors, courtesy of the children's paintings. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the left, where three adorable minions holding bananas are doodled. Next to it, a watercolored rainbow stretches across the length of the wall.

As you continue to room 43, your gaze shifts to your favorite artwork on the 16th floor- a bright red bear wearing a dapper top hat and a crooked, thick mustache. One eye is bigger than the other one, but you love it. To the left of the bear, there are princesses in their glitter-covered gowns. The last piece of the row is Spiderman. He's shooting webs, and his hand is drawn in the classic pose - his right hand extended with his index and middle fingers bent, touching his palm.

I haven't seen this one before, you think, as you notice mouthwatering donuts, likely drawn by an older child. Each donut has different glazes and toppings, so realistic that they almost look good enough to eat, leaving your taste buds tingling. Weird pregnancy cravings.

Every inch of the corridor is decorated with these precious works of art. The sight brings a smile to your face as you think about the children who must have carefully crafted their art with love, making this corridor bearable to walk through.

As you walked past the 30's, admiring the colorful artwork adorning the walls, Jack's mind was filled with thoughts of his son. ' Does he have her hair or mine? Whose eyes does he have? Lord, I hope he has her nose.' He couldn't help but subconsciously trace his nose's bridge.

You steal a glance at Jack while walking to Ángel's room, and his expression says it all. His brows are slightly furrowed, and his eyes dart around. His neck seems a bit tense, and you can see his jaw clenching and unclenching. Esta comiendo ansias. (He's worrying too much.) You think, looking at the mixture of eagerness and anxiety written all over his face.

"We're almost there." You tell him, your voice gentle, as you approached the 40's.

43. Jack's heart skips a beat as he sees the number on the door. It's as if time stands still for a moment before his heart starts racing with nervous excitement. A million thoughts rush through Jack's mind, and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. I'm going to meet my son. All those years of longing, of wondering what his child would be like, of yearning for a connection he thought he might never have - it's all happening.

As you reached for the doorknob, Jack's hand was slightly trembling. Don't trip, don't say something stupid, he mentally coached himself, trying to calm his nerves. With a mix of trepidation and hope, Jack stepped into the room behind you, taking in his surroundings. The room felt a bit cold, but the soft sunlight streaming in from the window cast a gentle glow over everything.

The room had that familiar hospital scent, a combination of antiseptic cleaners and the comforting aroma of fragrant flowers placed in vases around the room. 

He hears a movie playing in the background and looks at the TV to see little yellow characters with overalls he doesn't recognize. The animated movie's sounds mix with the soft beeping of medical equipment. He can see Javier getting up from the couch to the right of his son's bed, and your husband sends Jack a small, discreet nod of acknowledgment. You step in front of Jack, giving him a reassuring look, and he waits for your cue, staying near the door.

From this angle, Jack can't see Ángel; he only sees you and Javier to the right of the bed. He moves slowly, staying hidden beside the wall, not wanting to startle his little boy. He can't help but feel his heart pounding in his chest, his emotions swirling in a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Mi niño, estas despierto?" ("My boy, are you asleep?") You call out in a soft, tender voice.

"Sí, no se quiere dormir. Quiere minions." (Yes, he doesn't want to sleep. [He] wants minions.) Javier replies playfully, his eyes widening with a playful expression as he tickles Ángel, eliciting sweet laughter from the boy.

That sound, Jack thinks, it's the most beautiful sound I've heard. 

"Se llama Despicable Me, Jav." ("It's called Despicable Me, Jav.") You correct him with a soft smile.

"Es lo mismo." ("It's the same.") Javi playfully groans, earning a swat from you.

You look at your husband, and he knows what you need to do. Javi gives you a smile and gives your hand a squeeze. With his reassurance, you turn back to Ángel.

"Papi, queremos que conozcas a alguien." ("Baby, we want you to meet someone.") You tell your son as you gesture toward the corner where Jack is waiting.

You send Jack a look, and with a deep breath, he steps forward. His eyes immediately draw to Ángel, like a moth to a flame. Time seems to stand still as Jack takes in the sight of his son. He's perfect, Jack thinks. 

Ángel is a sweet little boy, with jet-black hair that curls gently at the ends. Behind his black-rimmed glasses are a pair of brown eyes that mirror Jack's. At that moment, Jack feels an indescribable connection, an everlasting bond. He's the perfect combination of both of us, but I think he resembles me a little more, he thinks, his heart happy that his phenotypes seem to have won.

As he steps closer, he notices Ángel's nose and lips, traits that are identical to yours.

A rush of emotions overwhelms Jack as he looks at his son. His heart swells with love and joy, but there's also a twinge of sadness at the time he missed. His eyes start to water, blurring his vision a bit, but he tries to blink the tears away, wanting to see Ángel clearly, to memorize every precious detail.

"Hi!" Ángel cheerfully says, and that breaks Jack's dam. He starts crying, unable to contain his tears.

"Mami," Ángel whispers, leaning to your side, "¿Por qué está llorando el señor?" ("Mommy, why is the man crying?")

Jack's voice wavers with emotion as he speaks, "Sorry," he says, his voice cracking slightly. He tries to wipe his cheeks and regulate his breathing, "I'm sorry."

"Ángel, this is Jack. He's a family friend." You introduce.

"Hey, buddy," Jack manages to say, his voice still trembling, "Sorry 'bout the tears, I just... I found out a lot this morning."

Ángel stares for a second and then reaches for his bedside drawer. He pulls out a mini-wrapped Crunch bar and extends it towards Jack, saying with a caring tone, "It's okay, Mr. Jack. Here, this will make you feel better. I love chocolate, and this is my favorite candy." He smiles warmly as he extends the mini Crunch bar towards Jack.

Jack is touched by Ángel's kindness and accepts the chocolate with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Ángel." Pull it together, Jack, don't start cryin' again. He mentally lectures himself, fighting back the feelings threatening to rise again. "This is my favorite chocolate too." He says honestly.  

"Here, I brought this for you." Jack says, his heart pounding with anticipation. He removes the jacket from his free arm, revealing a medium-sized gift bag that he had kept hidden underneath. Damn, how long has he been hiding that? He's had the coat in his hand since I saw him after the blood draw, you think, touched by Jack's thoughtful gesture.

Ángel turns to look at you and Javier for permission, and you both give him an encouraging nod.

Jack hands his son the red gift bag, and Ángel eagerly receives his present. Excitement dances in the little boy's eyes as he quickly removes the tissue paper. Jack can't help but overthink, What if he doesn't like it? Is he too big for-

Ángel gasps, and Jack's heart sinks for a moment, fearing the worst. But then, a radiant smile lights up Ángel's face as he pulls out a teddy bear, dressed in overalls and a black cowboy hat. The bear's dark brown coat is fluffy, and there's a heart stitched on the front pocket of the bear's overalls, right in the middle.

"Cool! Thanks!" Ángel exclaims, clutching the teddy bear to his chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Jack's worry melts away as he watches Ángel kiss the bear's hat. "It's perfect!" Ángel shouts, looking up at Jack with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you so much!"

Relief washes over Jack, replaced by overwhelming joy at the sight of his son's delight. It's as if Jack's heart has grown tenfold, witnessing his son's happiness.

Jack's heart swells with happiness as he sees the joy on his son's face. He can't help but smile back, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. "You're welcome, Ángel," Jack says, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm glad you like it."

"My dad gave me a Spider-Man teddy, now Spidey has a cowboy friend!" Ángel cheerfully exclaims, proudly showing off the Spider-Man build-a-bear that Javi had gifted him earlier this year. You don't miss the way Jack's face falls a little at his son calling Javier his dad.

Ángel shares all the details of when Javier gifted him with the Spidey teddy, and you watch as Jack listens attentively to every word. A mix of emotions is evident in his eyes - happiness at finally meeting his son, but also a hint of sadness and longing for the title of "dad" that Ángel has already bestowed upon Javier.

You give Jack a reassuring smile, silently telling him that it's okay, that Ángel's heart is big enough to love both of them eventually. Jack sees your expression and shifts his focus back to his son. He may not have the title of "dad" right now, but he's building a connection with his son, and that's what matters most.

After finishing his story, Ángel immediately turns to you and Javi, his eyes filled with hope. "¿Se puede quedar para c-o-m-e-r?" ("Can he stay to e-a-t?") He spells out the word, not wanting to vocalize it in case his parents don't agree, and wanting to avoid any potential disappointment for Jack. He doesn't want Jack to feel unwelcome or like he's being kicked out by not being asked to stay for lunch.

You can sense that Ángel has taken a liking to Jack and wants to spend more time with him.

Javi smiles warmly at his son, understanding Ángel's hesitation. "Claro que sí, mijo." ("Of course, my son.") He says, not wanting to deny his son this request. You notice the joy that lights up in Ángel's eyes, grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with Jack.

Turning to Jack, you extend the invitation, "Jack, would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Of course, thank you." Jack replies, and Ángel's face lights up even more at his response.

"Danny and Heidi dropped off Pozole earlier." Javi informs.

Pozole, why does that sound familiar? Who are Danny and Heidi? Jack thinks.

You exclaim with delight, "I love your cousin and his wife, and I love Pozole!" 

"And Ángel does too. He gets that from you," Javi says, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before going to the table across Ángel's bed. He reaches for the bag with the Tupperware containers, clearly eager to eat.

As Javier opens the bag, he can't help but playfully tease, "You know I'm more of a menudo guy."

"I know. Your only flaw…" You jest.

Jack observes the easy love between you and Javier, feeling a bittersweet sense of heartbreak. He can't help but compare the deep connection you share with Javier to the time when he was your husband, witnessing the loving moments that once belonged to him.

Javier opens one Tupperware, and the air fills with the rich, savory scent-a tantalizing blend of chicken broth, hominy, and a mix of earthy spices and aromatic herbs. Suddenly, the smell transports him to a distant memory, back to a time when he was your husband.

It was a cold winter evening in December, one of your favorite times of the year when you could savor warm and comforting food and drinks. Tonight, you had finally convinced your husband, Jack, to try Pozole, one of your favorite dishes. You gathered the ingredients and set to work in the kitchen, hoping to create a special meal for him.

The pot was filled with water, and you added onions, garlic, salt, and chicken, allowing the savory aroma to fill the room. In your blender, you carefully blended the sauce, a perfect mixture of chile ancho, chile guajillo, garlic cloves, onions, vegetable oil, oregano, and salt, mindful of not adding too many chilies so it wouldn't be too spicy for Jack, just enough for flavor.

As the broth boiled, you took the time to prepare the fresh toppings, washing and slicing the lettuce, jalapeños, white onion, lemon, cilantro, and radishes. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of the simmering Pozole and your music was playing softly in the background.

With the hominy added to the pot, the Pozole was nearly ready. You carefully ladled it into bowls, adding the toppings to each one, making sure to skip the jalapeños in Jack's bowl to avoid any spiciness.

When Jack came home, you could tell he wasn't having a great day. He didn't greet you, not that he usually did, and there was a hint of frustration in his expression. But you hoped that your efforts would brighten his mood.

"Hi, Love. Welcome home." You said with a smile, hoping to receive some affection in return.

He glanced at you briefly, barely acknowledging your presence. "Yeah." Was his only response.

You tried not to let his lack of enthusiasm affect you and continued, "I made something different for dinner tonight. Pozole, one of my favorites. I hope you'll like it."

Jack glanced at the simmering pot on the stove, but his expression remained indifferent. "Right, you said you would."

As you took the bowls to the dining table, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It seemed like no matter how much effort you put into making him happy, he rarely showed any appreciation or love in return.

He sat down to eat, and you watched eagerly for his reaction. But as he took the first spoonful, his face turned red, and he exclaimed, "You said it wasn't spicy!"

You insisted, "It's not, honey! I made sure to adjust the spices for you."

"Well, Darlin'," he emphasized mockingly, "I can't feel my tongue." He grumbled, looking at you like he was angry, and you rushed to get him some milk to ease the heat.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I really thought it wasn't spicy." You apologized, feeling disappointed in yourself. The excitement and anticipation you had felt earlier were quickly replaced by a sense of sadness as your efforts had once again fallen short.

"I'm never eating that again." He declared, pushing the bowl away, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your heart. You had put so much love and effort into preparing the meal, hoping it would bring a smile to his face, but instead, it seemed to have added to his frustration.

Feeling hurt and upset, you excused yourself to the kitchen, wanting to give him space to cool off. The music playing in the background continued. ‘Miro tus ojos y no eres feliz. Y tu mirada no sabe mentir. No tiene caso continuar así. Si no me amas, es mejor partir. Desde hace tiempo ya nada es igual. No eres la misma y me tratas mal. Y ante mi Dios te podría jurar. Cuánto te quise y te quiero, todavía. Adiós amor, me voy de ti. Y esta vez para siempre. Me iré sin marcha atrás porque sería fatal. Adiós amor, yo fui de ti, el amor de tu vida. Lo dijiste una vez, me lo hiciste creer. Cómo me duele perderte. Me resignaré a olvidarte. Porque me fallaste’ ('I look you at your eyes and you're not happy. And your gaze doesn't know how to lie. There's no point in continuing like this. If you don't love me, it's better for me to go. For a long time, things haven't been the same. You are different and you treat me poorly. And before my God, I could swear to you. How much I loved you and I love you, still. Goodbye, my love. I'm leaving you, and this time for good. I'm leaving without turning back, or else it'd be fatal. Goodbye, my love. I was the love of your life. You said that once, you made me believe it. What a pain it is to lose you.I will resign myself to forget you. Because you failed me')

If only you had paid more attention to the lyrics and your feelings, maybe you would have confronted the problems earlier. But at that moment, all you could do was try to salvage the evening and find a way to communicate with Jack.

Knowing it would only take a few minutes, you decided to make Tennessee Meatloaf. On one of your early dates, he had mentioned it was one of his favorite dishes, and you had learned how to make it, even though you weren't particularly fond of the smell. But if it could bring a smile to his face, you were willing to endure it.

The Instant Pot hummed with gentle pressure, and you took a moment to close your eyes, relishing the memories of how Jack used to love this dish. The way he'd smile and compliment your cooking, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation. But those moments felt distant now.

When the timer beeped, you carefully released the pressure from the Instant Pot, eager to serve the meatloaf to Jack. As you lifted the lid, the hot air brushed against your fingertips, causing you to unintentionally scream, "Fuck!" You rushed to run your hand under cold water, trying to soothe the burn. In a hurry, you grabbed the first aid kit and quickly tended to your wounded hand, the pain causing your eyes to sting.

After handling your injury, you quickly retrieved the meatloaf from the pot – tender, juicy, and with its strong aroma enveloping the room. Placing the dish on a nice plate, you added a generous drizzle of your homemade barbecue sauce, its tangy and smoky scent blending with the meaty smell.

With the meatloaf now ready, you gathered your courage and returned to the dining table, placing the dish before Jack. As he glanced at the meal and noticed your injured hand, a flicker of recognition, concern, and guilt passed through his eyes before he quickly masked it with indifference.

You sat down next to him, your heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He glanced at you, and though his anger had softened slightly, he still seemed guarded. Nonetheless, he gave you a small thanks, a brief glimmer of acknowledgment that you held onto like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry about the Pozole," you said, trying to break the silence, "I really wanted to make something you'd enjoy."

"It's fine." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

You reached for his hand, and he didn't pull away, but there was a noticeable lack of warmth in the gesture, a warmth that hadn't been present in your relationship for a long time.

You felt a knot forming in your chest, wanting to reach out and connect with him, but it seemed like he had built an impenetrable wall around himself. Still, you couldn't bear the thought of leaving things unresolved.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to gently probe, "Is everything okay, Jack?"

He let out a sigh, seeming almost annoyed that you brought it up. "I just had a rough day at work. It's nothin'."

Your heart sank. This was the pattern, the wall he always put up whenever something was bothering him. You felt like you were constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing how to approach him without setting him off.

"I wish you would talk to me, Jack. We're supposed to be partners, and I want to be there for you." You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He glanced at you, his eyes softening for a split second before the coldness returned. "I ain't need you fixin' everythin' for me, okay? I can handle my own problems." His jaw clenched, and you knew he was struggling with his emotions.

"It's not about fixing everything. It's about being there for each other, supporting each other through the good and the bad. That's what a marriage is supposed to be."

He scoffed, pushing his plate away. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't need that right now."

Your heart ached at his words, feeling the distance between you grow wider. You tried to hold back the tears, not wanting to show him how much his indifference hurt you.

He stood up and walked away, leaving you sitting at the dining table, eating by yourself.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, and began clearing the table, putting away the uneaten Pozole and the Tennessee Meatloaf you had made with so much hope.

After tidying up the kitchen, you mustered the courage to follow Jack to the bedroom. As you entered, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, freshly showered, staring at the floor. He seemed lost in his thoughts, distant and closed off.

You went to his side and gently massaged his shoulders, "I'm sorry about earlier. I'm here for you, no matter what. I love you, Jack," you said softly, looking into his eyes with love and concern, "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He looked up at you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. But just as quickly, he shut down again. 

His response was unexpected and detached, "Get on all fours. Face down."

You knew you could say no, but you didn't want to. You wanted his love, even if it meant emotionless on his part. Your brow furrowed, but you did as he commanded anyway. 

After both of you were done, he told you to go pee. When you came out of the bathroom, Jack was already asleep. He slept with his back towards you.

As you lay in bed that night, you cried yourself to sleep. Silently, not wanting to wake him up. You were in a deep sleep as a result of your body being overworked, the stressed cooking made you, and from crying. You thought you felt him wrap his arms around you and heard him mumble a sorry into the top of your head, but you were sure you made it up.

Out of all the things Jack was, he wasn't oblivious. He knew how much he hurt you. He knew he was an ass, but he couldn't bring himself to reflect on how much he hurt you tonight. 

He heard your stifled sobs earlier, and each one was like a dagger in his chest. The pain he inflicted on you was a weight he could hardly bear. But when the sobs finally ceased and silence settled, he assumed you had drifted into sleep, offering him the opportunity he needed.

With cautious movements, he shifted closer to you. In the darkness, he could make out the contours of your face, the lines of worry etched by his actions. Gently, he rolled over and reached for you, pulling you into his arms. Seeking solace from the very person he had hurt. 

Wrapped in your embrace, he stroked your head lightly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns through your hair. He pressed a soft kiss onto the top of your head, his lips lingering there, trying to convey all the apologies he couldn't find the words for. At that moment, he wished he could erase the pain he had caused, the detachment he had shown.

"Sorry," he huffed out, "I'm so sorry, my love." He whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. He wished he could be better for you, offer you the love you deserved, but his own monsters held him back.

Yet, even as he murmured his apologies in the darkness, his touch carried a tenderness that spoke volumes. It was as if he sought redemption through this secret exchange because he wasn't ready to confront the reality of facing you in the light of day. He wished he could hold you close, to make the pain he inflicted vanish with a simple embrace. But he knew that true healing required more than just whispered words; it needed a change he wasn't sure he was capable of making. 

After his silent confessions, he released you from his gentle hold, allowing the fragile connection to slip away as he turned. He rolled onto his previous position. The weight of his guilt and remorse remained, but so did the weight of his fears. And as he lay there, his back turned to you, he faced his own darkness, unsure how to bridge the gap between the man he was and the man he needed to become.

You start talking with Javi about the food, and Jack watches you converse with your husband as you serve the food together, and his heart hurts watching the domesticity.

At the same time, you're caught in a whirlwind of memories, and the rush of them makes your movements stutter. In your distraction, you accidentally cut yourself with the aluminum foil, and some loose lemon juice gets in your wound. A small sound of pain escapes your lips, and Javi immediately drops what he had in his hand, rushing to your side. He gently cradles your hand in his, concern etched on his face.

"Amor!" ("Love!") Javi says, his voice laced with worry. His eyes flicker between your wound and your face, trying to gauge the severity of the cut.

Jack's heart clenches seeing you in pain. He wants to rush over and take your hand in his. He wishes he could be the one to hold your hand and soothe your hurt, but he knows that's not his place anymore, and it kills him.

"Mami, ¿está bien?" ("Mommy, are you okay?") Your son asks, equally concerned as his dad. He moves closer, his little brows furrowing.

"Yeah, sweetie, I'm just overreacting." You brush it off, though your eyes betray the pain you're feeling. You're trying to hide the memories that caught you off guard, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere for your son and Jack.

"You're not, you got hurt." Javi insists, his eyes fixed on your wound.

"Sit down." He commands, his tone still gentle but leaving no room for argument. He guides you to a chair, his larger hand engulfing yours, and he reaches for a nearby first aid kit. His fingers move with practiced ease as he cleans the wound with antiseptic, his touch gentle and attentive. He then wraps a band-aid around your finger, his movements unhurried, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

Your eyes start to water, the flood of memories of Jack and Javi overwhelming you. You can't help but recall the countless times Javi has taken care of you, both the physical and emotional wounds, much like he's doing now. His actions carry the weight of all the love and comfort he's provided over the years. He's always been there for me. Not like- you stop yourself before full waterworks begin.

"Mi vida, ¿te duele?" ("My love, does it hurt?") Javier asks, his voice full of care, taking your hand into his. His brown eyes search yours for any hint of pain, and his brows furrow with genuine concern.

"No, nomás me acordé de algo. I'm okay." ("No, I just remembered something. I'm okay.") You whisper, trying to assure him, your voice barely above a breath. It's not just the cut that's causing your distress; it's the memories that were triggered by the simple act of serving food. You had moments like these, but they hadn't been present in a while. 

"Segura?" ("You're sure?") Javier asks, his concern palpable, his gaze unwavering. He wants to make sure you're truly okay.

"Ya se me pasó. I'm okay, I promise." ("It already passed.")

Javi knows you well enough to sense when you're not entirely okay, but he also knows that this is something you'll want to talk about later in private. For now, he respects your need to maintain normalcy in front of your son and Jack. He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss, his lips warm against your skin, a silent promise of his support.

"No te muevas. I'll serve the food, cariño." ("Don't move. I'll serve the food, dear.")

You nod and then turn to the reason for your tears, "Jack, are you sure you want Pozole? I don't know if you remember, but you already had it once."

Jack's face drops slightly, his mind racing, Oh God, she remembers what I did. He approaches you, whispering an apology, his voice laden with regret. "I do want it. I'm so sorry." He murmurs, looking like he might cry.

You can't bear to look at him right now, so you shift your gaze to Javier. 

Javier adjusts the hospital bed table to Ángel's height and gets ready to serve. He starts with Ángel, ensuring his plate is prepared just right, with no onions, just as he likes it. He places the bowl before him, "Provecho, mi niño." ("Have a good meal, my boy.")

"¡Gracias papi!" ("Thank you, Daddy!") He was going to wait for everyone to start eating, but his hunger for having a light breakfast gets the best of him.

Javi quickly arranges the larger table, despite your offer to do it. He only guided you to sit at the table and served you a bowl of Pozole. The sight of the soup with radish on top made your mouth water. 

“I'll give him some of Ángel's container. Ours has four Chiles de arbol," Javi says to you, glancing over at Jack. "It’ll be too spicy for you,” he smirks.

Jack takes it as a challenge. “I’ll have some of yours.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time? It was too spi-“

“No really. It’s fine,” Jack insists, a determined look on his face.

Javier serves his and Jack's food and all eyes shift to Jack. Ángel is eating his Pozole with ease, but his gaze flickers between his meal and Jack's reaction.

As Jack takes the first spoonful, he tries to maintain a facade of composure. However, within moments, his face turns a noticeable shade of red, and beads of sweat form on his forehead. He manages another spoonful, but as he swallows, a sudden fit of coughing overtakes him.

You quickly move to the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of milk for Jack. 

As Jack's face turned redder, Angel looked worried. "Are you okay, Mr. Jack?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I'll be fine, bud." Jack managed between coughs, his pride momentarily overshadowed by his son's concern.

Observing Jack's struggle, Javi's expression remained calm, a knowing look in his eyes as if he had anticipated this outcome. He leaned towards Jack, "Told you you couldn't handle it." He doesn't say it loudly, only loud enough for Jack to hear, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jack ignores Javier and rasps thanks for the milk, and quickly drowns it. His tongue stops throbbing, and he goes for a third spoonful before Ángel stops him.

"Maybe you should try some from my Tupperware. I only want one bowl," Ángel kindly suggested, not wanting Jack to suffer from the spiciness of the food his dad served.

"Yeah, I think that's the best idea." You quickly chimed in, turning to Javi with a decisive look that left no room for argument.

Javi got up and served Jack another bowl, this time from Ángel's portion so it would be less spicy for Jack. If it were entirely up to Javi, he might have made Jack eat the spicy pozole, but Ángel's compassion for Jack was clear, so Javi complied.

Jack nodded to Javi and then turned to Ángel, his voice sincere as he said, "Thank you, buddy."

This bowl was spicier than the one you had prepared for him in the past. Jack's mind had become clouded by anger, causing him to exaggerate and latch onto your cooking as an excuse for his emotions. If he were to eat the pozole you made exactly as you had prepared it before, he would have no issue. It was as if his anger demanded a tangible reason to be directed at you, and this distorted perception had twisted the reality of your dish. Now he realizes his mistake, and it makes him hate himself all over again.

Ángel was engrossed in the movie he was watching, providing Jack with the perfect opportunity to voice something that had been on his mind for a while. “He has your nose. Good,” Jack chuckled.

“Yeah, and let’s hope this one also has her nose,” Javi said, his hand gently caressing your stomach.

"Hey," you interjected, "Both of you stop hating on your noses, right now. It's ridiculous."

As Jack glanced at you, memories of your past flooded his mind. I remember when she used to tell me how much she loved my nose whenever I said I hated it.

"Right. I almost forgot how much you love my nose." Javier said suggestively, breaking Jack's train of thought.

You felt flustered by Javier's comment, and Jack's emotions churned into a mix of fury and jealousy. He couldn't help but feel anger at the casual way your new husband had commented on your sex life. Jack's hands clenched slightly under the table, his fingers flexing as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He averted his gaze, focusing on his plate as a way to regain his composure.

Ángel's laugh pulled him out of his trance, and Jack's head instinctively turned to him. 

"Look," Ángel said between laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "the security guard from Binky Nelson Unpacified kinda looks like you, Mr. Jack!"

Everyone's gaze shifted to the subject of Ángel's amusement, and soon, laughter filled the room as the uncanny resemblance became evident. Jack couldn't deny the similarities: the mustache, the sideburns, the pair of boots, and a cowboy hat. Jack got up from the table and took a seat next to his son's bed. 

"You're right," Jack chuckled, "Even the cowboy part is spot on, but I've got a ranch." He shared with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Actually?" Ángel's amazement was noticeable.

"I ain't kiddin'," Jack responded with a grin.

Ángel gasped in delight, exclaiming, "I love ranches!"

"Well, maybe once you're out of the hospital, we can all go," Jack suggested warmly, glancing at you and Javi. He made sure to add, "If it's okay with your parents."

The idea seemed to energize Ángel, and both you and Javi agreed. Your son's face lit up.

Your son cheered before a realization struck him. "But we have to go before or after Coco because I haven't been to the movie theaters in so long, and I really, really want to watch that movie," Ángel's words tumbled out in excitement.

"You can come with!" Ángel extended the invitation, his excitement contagious. "Mami? Papi?" ("Mommy? Daddy?") Ángel turned to you and Javier, seeking your approval.

"Yeah, if Jack wants to." Javi responded, giving his approval.

"I'll be there. You just name the time and place, bud." Jack assured Ángel with a genuine smile.

Jack's attention shifted back to the TV, and his eyes zoned in on the cowboy hat. "Oh! You need a hat like mine." Jack suggested.

"I do?" Ángel's curiosity was piqued, his eyes widening as he considered the idea.

Without hesitation, Jack reached up and took hold of his own Stetson, lifting it from his head. "Would you like to try it?" he asked, enthusiastic about sharing a special moment with his son.

Ángel's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Can I really?" he asked, his excitement practically palpable.

"Of course!" Jack replied, his smile widening. Jack carefully placed the hat on Ángel's head. He was mindful of the size difference between his head and his son's, so he adjusted the hat to ensure it wouldn't slip over Ángel's eyes. The hat found its place at a jaunty angle, mostly resting on the back of Ángel's head.

In Ángel's excitement to grab the mirror from his bedside table drawer, he moved a bit too quickly, causing the Stetson to slip down over his eyes. The weight of the hat threw his glasses off his face, and Ángel exclaimed, "¡Ahh, mis lentes!" (Ahh, my glasses!")

Ángel's muffled laughter came from beneath the hat, as he tried to push it back up. "It's heavier than I thought." He admitted with a sheepish grin, his glasses now resting on the floor beside him.

Jack picked up Ángel's glasses and handed them back to him, he thanked him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mr. Jack."

Jack settled back into his seat, his smile lingering. "We'll just have to get you a hat your size."

"I'm so ready to get out of here," Ángel remarked, his excitement apparent.

"Speaking of getting out of here, I'll be back," you announced, rising from your seat. "Ángel ran out of towels, and it's better to go up to the housekeeping desk."

"I'll go get them." Jack offered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll go get them." Jack reassured you.

"I'll be back, buddy." Jack told Ángel, his voice soothing as he shared a brief exchange of smiles with his son.

Jack left the room and was on a hunt for towels. He had no idea where the housekeeping desk was, but his eagerness to be useful had spurred him to offer to pick up the towels.

After a short search, he spotted a desk and rushed over. A teenager in a bright blue polo shirt, wearing a badge reading 'volunteer', caught his attention.

"Good afternoon, sir, what can I help you with?" The boy asked politely.

"Afternoon," Jack began, almost instinctively tipping his hat before remembering it was with his son, "Would you happen to know where I can get some things from housekeeping?"

"I can help you with that, sir." The volunteer responded, a touch of enthusiasm in his voice as if Jack had just made his day.

“Perfect! My wife asked for towels for my son. He's in room 43.” Jack stated, happy that he wasn't completely useless.

The volunteer tapped away on the computer keyboard. “For Ángel Peña?”

Jack swallows hard and nods. Fuck, Jack thinks. It should have been Ángel Daniels. My son should have had my last name. 

The boy leaned back in his rolling chair and opened a cabinet. He retrieved three large towels and handed them to Jack. Thanking the teenager, Jack turned and walked away. Lost in thought, he looked down as he walked, and when he turned the corner, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Oh, I didn’t know you remarried. Again. Because surely you’re not talking about my girl.” Javi said with his jaw clenched. “She’s not your wife anymore, Jack. She’s my wife.” 

Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them! I promise I'll try to engage more!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm

The song used in this chapter is called Adiós Amor. I was obsessed with Christian Nodal in 2017, and when I wrote this, that song was extremely popular.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎 (I hope this uploads because I had everything ready to go until I accidentally hit undo. I wasn't able to recover my draft, yay! I definitely did not want to throw my computer for a while :)

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji has helped me in so many ways. I will forever be grateful for the creation of this character. He quite literally means the world to me right now.

(TW: ED/Depression/Suicide attempt mention)

I've always struggled with food. Well, not always. But at the end of middle school (more or less. Give or take. Age 12/13) I became obsessed with what I ate. I still don't know exactly how it started, but I think it has always been a mix of my need to control my life when it's crumbling down and the necessity to look skinny (both things are my mother's fault, mostly. And also lots of things going on at the moment). So I started skipping meals constantly and throwing away food and throwing up. Not gonna get into details, but it ruined my life without anybody knowing until a huge depressive episode came and then I tried to off myself, yadda yadda yadda. Then I just stopped eating food and my meals every day were basically a monster and gum and maybe a piece of fruit. I couldn't even drink milk without crying. Then it got a bit better. Then a bit worse. It wasn't very consistent. And then I started doing exercise but that only made me even more obsessed with calorie intake and healthy food and I still can't drink milk or bread without at least feeling awful about it.

And then I watched One Piece.

I know it sounds extremely silly and dumb, but it has helped me in so many ways. I'm not gonna get into all the things it has done for me, because then I'd have to talk about Robin, Nami, Luffy, Pudding and Buggy which are, like, the characters that have helped me the most next to Sanji, and I would not finish this post.

But Sanji is just so, so important to me.

He speaks about food with such passion. His whole thing about not wasting food literally comes from an experience of starvation and because of the sacrifice his father made for him. He keeps saying he refuses to let people go hungry, no matter what. That we all deserve to eat. He relates food to love and cooking is his whole life. It kind of started as a joke when my brother said "nooo, now you can't waste food because Sanji would be sad" and I- That day I literally ate wayyy more than usual with that thought in mind. And I didn't feel bad afterward for once. And he's just- He just makes me feel so comfortable around food. Which is the normal amount of comfort somebody should have and sometimes it's not even that, but it helps. It helps so much.

Then his whole thing with Germa and the Vinsmokes. It killed me. My relationship with my mother is, uh, you can call it complicated but I fucking hate her so. Yeah. And Sanji's story about rejecting his blood relatives and finding better people who will love him hit so close to home. Him being different. Weak. More emotional. A good person. Sanji refusing to use the name Vinsmoke. It's my whole life. Sanji self-sabotaging himself all the time and constantly sacrificing himself, too? I just can't do it, man, he means the world to me. And then Wano happens and he turns out to have the same body as his siblings but he's still himself. He's still Sanji no matter how much in common he has with the Vinsmokes. And as somebody who's constantly dealing with people telling them that they look like their mom? I fucking love it. I know I look like her and I even act like her sometimes but that doesn't mean I am her. And it doesn't mean she deserves to be part of my family, because she isn't and I can't wait to get rid of her in my life.

It's not only food and family, though. Sanji has helped me accept myself in so many ways too. In the way I perceive others and in the way I act. He has helped me eat. He has helped me realize you don't have to consider your blood relatives family if you don't love them. He has helped me see that my kindness is a strength and not a weak spot.

Not to mention that his whole thing with gender and sexuality, how the fandom portrays him, and how I personally write him has been of so much help in understanding myself. I recently discovered I was a lesbian, and also being genderfluid I just- I just love Sanji so much I be projecting my gender issues and internalized stuff with comphet on him. And let me tell you, it helps.

This whole thing is just something short and sweet I wanted to say because media affects people. In the best of ways. One Piece in general has saved my life in many ways, but Sanji in particular is still helping me every day.

[moremaybank]

COME HAVE A DRINK WITH ME !

hi angels! first thing’s first, i just wanted to say thank you for 4k! i can barely fathom the idea that even one of you enjoy the work i put out. you guys constantly make my heart feel so full, and i'm forever grateful for all your love and support. i could cry (i probably will). that being said, i'm doing a 'lil celebration event! below, you will find a series of options you can choose from to help celebrate this milestone with me! please be sure to add the name of the activity in your ask so that they don't get mixed up with my other asks!

characters i'll accept requests for jj maybank, rafe cameron, sarah cameron, steve harrington, eddie munson, and kai parker.

important please note that i will probably be a little slow getting these out as i try to juggle other things going on in my life and avoid burnout! also, it's not going on for as long as usual because i do have a christmas event prepared! be on the lookout for that next month 👀

EVENT CLOSED !

SEND IN YOUR ORDER ! 🍾✨

🍸 A DIRTY MARTINI ꒰ — nsfw baby blurb with a character of your choice! ꒱

🥂 A GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE ꒰ — sfw baby blurb with a character of your choice! ꒱

🍻 A PINT OF BEER ꒰ — send me a character and i'll give you a couple of fic recs for them! please specify if you prefer fluff, smut or angst. ꒱

🍷 A GLASS OF WINE ꒰ — let me tell you what i love about you! mutuals only. ꒱

🍹 A TEQUILA SUNRISE ꒰ — send me a concept and i'll make you a moodboard! ꒱

# ꒰ — come have a drink with me! ꒱

tagging some moots (sorry if i forgot to tag you, my memory is worse than anything you've ever known): @rafesmuse @rafesveryrealgf @slut4drudy @jjmaybanksgun @jjsbank444 @dreamingwithrafe @perseephoneee @amournoir @inkluvs @moon-in-nostalgia @tinyluvs @drewstarkeysbae @venuslore @cal-flakes @emmalandry @rafeysbafey @madelynie @cantstoptheimagines @maybanksbabe @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @slvttyfied @surftrips @hotchsstuff @sevenwivesofrafecameron @lyndys @rafestar @mvybanks @sweetestdesire @pankowperfection @forevermoreharrington @ghostlyfleur @eventualoptimism

[sh0ek0]

miss you (part 3)

part 1, 2

genre: angst, smut, dark content, all over the place content warning: 18+ !MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! As I forgot to mention in part I + II: aged up characters OF COURSE (college setting), mentions of alcohol and drug use, name calling, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, violent behavior, emotional abuse, choking, dj!choso, rough!megumi, hints of narcissism, obvious mental problems, maddy and nate (euphoria) kinda dynamic, euphoria inspired dialogue, DARK CONTENT, I really don’t know how to do these content notes, I’m sorry, I’m trying pairing: Choso x Reader, Megumi x Reader (kinda???) word count: about 10k

A/N: I really love to include some songs that inspire me while writing, I love music (that’s such a basic thing to say lol) so if you're up for it click on the lyrics. Also I really hope this was worth the wait, I am so sorry 🫠 this is kind of all over the place, like always, but I want to stop being so critical with myself, soooooo yeah. Here you go 🤭

Everything just felt so wrong. It was so hot down here and you were constantly bumping into people. The alcohol in your blood was making you dizzy with every step you took through the crowd and it was definitely messing with your sense of balance. You felt kind of nervous, but it was your own fault.

You were the one who hid in your bed for a whole week, your anxiety now at an all-time high. 

And you were the one who accepted all those drinks that Yuji had mixed for you upstairs.

However, those drinks seemed to fulfil their promise of freeing you from your inner torment, and as soon as the people around you were starting to look a little blurry, you start to move to the loud music blaring from the speakers.

I don't ever wanna see you / And I never wanna meet you again / One thing / When you're angry, you're a jerk / And then you treat me like I'm worth nothin'

"This track goes so hard." 

You open your eyes as you hear a familiar voice screaming in your ear. You see Nobara grinning from ear to ear as she dances to the music, the parts of her body that are not covered were glistening with sweat as the fluorescent lights hit her skin. She looked so damn beautiful.

How much you loved your friends.

This time it was Maki who dragged Nobara and you along with her to a house party off campus so the three of you found yourself in some guys huge basement, loud techno music blasting from the speakers and lots of sweaty people pressing up against each other. It was hot and completely dark except for a few neon lights that made it possible to at least distinguish a few faces. 

Not a single person down here seemed to be in any real control of their senses anymore, most of them were completely out of it already, while you could only imagine what kind of drugs they had in their systems by now. But hey, it was none of your business and you wouldn't judge, so the only thing that mattered was that the three of you were having a fantastic time.

I don't ever wanna see you / And I never wanna meet you again / It’ll happen again / I watch it happen over and over again

Another thing that brought you down here to this shady basement was a rumor that this new DJ was doing a pretty good job. And you knew he was pretty cute too - from where you were standing you could see his face hidden behind a MacBook screen, his hands effortlessly dancing across the array of buttons, knobs and sliders in front of him. Watching him, his body moving in sync with the music, his head bobbing as he worked his magic, you couldn't help but notice how good he looked. His lip was visibly split from last weekend's events and the pale hint of a black eye still marked his skin, but if you were being honest, it made him look even hotter.

You find yourself staring in his direction for a second too long and before you can look away, his eyes lock with yours and you see the realization in them just seconds later.

You feel a jolt of electricity run through your veins as your eyes lock.

Choso turns his eyes back to the DJ set in front of him a few times, but each time he looks up, you can feel him searching for you in the crowd. You can feel his gaze sticking to you like the bodies of Nobara and Maki who were dancing near you.

The heat around you envelops you like a suffocating blanket, while the bass pounds through the walls, pulsing in your chest and guiding your movements.

Don't try to find me / I’m better left alone than in this / It doesn't surprise me / Do you really think that I could care? / If you really don't like me / Find somebody else, it could be anyone else out there

The next time you turn in his direction, it was you who sought his gaze, flashing him a mischievous grin as your eyes locked again. 

Choso raises an eyebrow, but the grin on his lips gives him away. He winks at you, and as you continue to watch, you notice him smiling to himself as his hands skillfully move over the equipment, fading the old track into a new one. A few people immediately start to cheer.

Say yes to Heaven / Say yes to me / If you dance I’ll dance / d-dance / I’ve got my eye on you / you / you / you

The moment you recognise the song, a squeal escapes your lips. Your hips sway effortlessly from side to side, perfectly in sync with the rhythm. Nobara has her arms loosely wrapped around your neck, joining in and mirroring your every move. 

Choso knew you loved this song. 

You fell in love with it the first time you both heard it. That was a few weeks ago in his and Yuji's apartment, you were talking about music and you told him that you absolutely adored Lana Del Rey. It seems that he didn't forget that, because he mixed the song into something completely different, but just as beautiful.

You couldn't help but think that it felt like he'd done that for you. 

But did he?

Either way, he's managed to sweep you off your feet with a little gesture like that, and you can't remember the last time a man did that for you.

It feels like hours have passed before you realise that another DJ has taken over. As the current track slowly fades out into a new one, you notice how the vibe changes and most of the people who came for something with more bpm start to leave to go back upstairs.

Nobara grabs your hand and pulls you with her, Maki follows.

"Hey, I like that song—", you protest but Nobara and Maki were on a mission to get some fresh air. 

You notice how fast your heart was beating as the three of you make your way to the stairs, the pounding music slowly fading into the background.

"That was so good," Nobara sighs and you nod in agreement, still dizzy from all the sensations around you that your drunken brain was having trouble processing, "Choso did a damn good job, I didn't even know he could do that."

"Neither did I," you add, leaning down to take a sip from the straw in Maki's drink, "but he has skilled hands, so it makes sense."

"Oh shut up," Maki groans and you take the drink from her. You couldn't really tell what was in it, but you've reached a point where everything tastes the same to you anyway.

"I still don't understand why those idiots prefer to stay upstairs with Gojo and Getou and play beer pong," Nobara sneers, making you laugh. She was so right.

"Well, they missed a healing experience," you say, staying close to the two girls while more and more people leave the basement, "I thought all I needed was some random guy to fuck me in the bathroom to get Megumi out of my head, but actually this was just as good."

Nobara turns around and stares at you in shock as you take a sip of the unknown drink, causing you both to burst out laughing. 

"A win is a win, I guess," she says and you high-five her. 

"I'm actually so proud of you," Maki says, nudging your side before wrapping her arm around your waist.

You were surprised at how easy it was for you to talk about him. You hadn't heard from him in well over a week, and you weren't about to keep feeding your own delusion by telling yourself that  that hookup in his car was enough to rekindle your relationship. The two of you were over, and not just since he had dropped you off at your apartment at 4am last weekend. Those had been empty words, everything he had said to you that night. You had lied to yourself, thinking you could change his mind by having sex with him. He hadn't even waited until you were safely inside, instead you heard his tires squealing right after you slammed the door of his car shut.

"Who says you can't have both?" a deep voice whispers in your ear, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Well, that was embarrassing.

You immediately recognise his voice. 

Maki and Nobara start to giggle while you just freeze. They couldn't possibly have understood what he was saying at this volume, but the suggestiveness in his voice was enough to make you blush.

You turn and look up at Choso, who was looking back at you with a smirk on his lips. Up close, he looked even more battered than before, but you refrain from saying anything. An apology wouldn't help him and Megumi didn't look too good either.

He hugs you briefly, his hand remaining on your lower back even after you pulled away.

"Your set was great," you say, suddenly feeling a bit shy. Even though you meant it, you just wanted to fill the awkward silence. The fact that Maki and Nobara were standing right behind you didn't help, and Choso caught you so off guard that you didn't really know what to say or do. 

In the end, overthinking was what you did best.

Choso smiles at your comment and you catch his eyes roaming over your body for a second. 

"Thanks, I could see you enjoyed it," he replies, looking you straight in the eye. 

You can barely stand his gaze, your face could hardly get any redder and just as you open your mouth to say something, he clears his throat, his hand still on your back.

"Let's go upstairs, I need something to drink," he motions to Maki and Nobara to take the lead, "it's so damn hot down here."

"Oh, it really is," Nobara says, taking Maki's hand and dragging her through the crowd and up the stairs.

You and Choso follow, him being so gentle as he makes sure you don't bump into anyone, as you still have trouble walking a straight line in your knee high boots.

"Oh - careful," he says, catching you just before you could stumble up the stairs, "you know I'd do anything to get that goddamn asshole out of your head, but you really can't make me take advantage of a drunk girl."

Again, the words were only meant for you as you fell back against his chest, strong arms holding you, his hot breath brushing your neck, his lips just below your ear. 

He managed to get you up, and once you were both surrounded by even more people and loud music, you turn to face him.

"I might be drunk, but I'm not a girl," you say, looking at him challengingly.

"Oh," he laughs, "did I miss anything?" He looks at you for a moment, the grin never leaving his lips.

You just glare back at him.

"Fine, excuse me, ma'am," he says, making you giggle.

"But you are drunk," he observes. 

"Then let's get even more drunk together," you decide, taking his hand to lead him into the kitchen. 

"Sounds like a plan," Choso says, laughing, "Lead the way."

If you had turned around, you would have seen the adoration with which he looked at you. At that moment, he would have followed you anywhere. 

Maki was already sitting on the kitchen counter and Nobara was standing next to her, giggling at something she said. The two were drinking from red plastic cups when Yuta made his way over to them, waving at you. 

You wave back at him before you look around to see Yuji still mixing cocktails.

You and Choso push past some people to keep Yuji company, who hands you both two cups. Yuji grins as you taste his secret recipe and you immediately grimace. Right now you can definitely taste more than four different kinds of alcohol and that should be enough of a statement to make a final judgement about his creation

"I mean, it does it’s job but please don't ever start bartending anywhere," you groan and take another sip.

"Yeah, listen to her," Choso says, but he empties his drink before you do.

"Hey, don't hurt me like that," Yuji protests, "you weren't complaining earlier, though." 

"Well yeah," you say, "But I don't take any responsibility for the fact that you had the plan to get me drunk."

"Oh, I would never do such things," the pink-haired boy says, pouring another cup for Choso before changing the subject.

"My brother was doin’ a pretty good job down there in that basement, huh?"

"Yes, he definitely was," you gush as he reminds you, "but where were you? You missed something."

"Oh, I didn't," he replies, "I was right next to him, watching all the magic happen right in front of me."

"Really?" The music changes and you had to shout over it.

"Yeah, but I guess you only had eyes for someone else," Yuji grins, making you blush.

You sip from your cup, cheeks red and the grin still on your lips, but you don't say anything, instead looking up at Choso. 

"I'm going outside for a smoke, join me if you want," he says in a low voice, letting go of your hand, only now realising that you've been holding it the whole time.

You nod and watch him until he disappears through the kitchen door and out onto the patio. You see him join Gojo and Getou who had been sitting outside with Hakari, Kirara, Nanami and Haibara for a while. Before Choso could even sit down, Hakari was already holding a joint out to him.

Yuji snaps you out of your thoughts and you take another sip of your drink.

"Hey, what's going on, huh?"

You weren't sure what he was hinting at.

"What?" you ask, trying to concentrate on what he is saying.

"You and my brother," he replies, getting straight to the point, "what's going on with you two?"

"I don't know," you say, not even lying, "nothing? Something? I don't think I can say."

"Mhm," Yuji pauses and looks around before turning back to you, "Megumi's here tonight, I saw him earlier."

"Great," you say and put down your cup, "I don't care."

"I think I've heard that before," he sighs while looking at you with worry in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I don't really care," you say, slightly disappointed, "he doesn't care about me either."

"I doubt that," Yuji tells you, without specifying what exactly he doubted. 

You lean against the counter next to him and watch the people standing around in the kitchen. Most of them were talking, shouting at each other over the loud music, dancing or laughing.

You had already drunk a lot and no decision you would make now would be a good one. Your senses were far too clouded for that, but you needed that kind of ease, you wanted to turn off your racing thoughts. So you didn't have too many options, either you could bang your head against the wall to stop thinking about him, or…

"Let's do some shots," you suggest, almost immediately hearing Yuji groan. You grab a bottle of tequila from the bar and pour yourself and Yuji two glasses.

"What about lemon or salt?", Yuji protests, but you just clink glasses with him.

"What an amateur," you retort, raising the glass to your lips, downing the contents and immediately refilling it, "works just fine without it."

"I hate you," you hear Yuji groan as he does the same, "this is fucking disgusting."

You both start to laugh at Yuji's disgusted expression. The tequila burns as it runs down your throat and you realize just how much you overdid it already.

But wasn't that half the fun? You always had the best nights when you and Maki would stumble into your apartment early in the morning, still completely drunk, with Yuta struggling to somehow try and get you two into your beds.

You start to refill your glasses when Yuji puts the half-empty bottle aside and looks at you with that worried look on his face. Before you can protest or tell him off for looking at you like that, someone else catches your attention.

That couldn’t be.

"Oh, he wouldn't do that…", you say under your breath, completely in disbelief, "that fucking..." 

Yuji holds you by your wrist. The two of you just stand there and watch as Megumi stumbles into the kitchen.

He was holding the hand of a blonde stranger. A stranger, at least until she turns around and sits down on the kitchen island in the middle of the room. You see Maki and Nobara turn to them as well, with Yuta looking at you instead.

You recognize the blonde girl right away.

And just when you think this scene couldn't get any more absurd, you watch as Megumi kisses Yue. Yue, the girl from the party last weekend, the one who went to the same class as you. The girl who tried to stop you from looking for Megumi. 

The girl who was so "worried" about you.

"What the fuck," you curse, trying to free yourself from Yuji's grip, "I'm going to fucking claw her eyes out, I fucking mean it."

Yuji was the only one who could hear you, loud music was still blaring from several speakers throughout the house.

"Am I fucking dreaming?" you yell over the music, "fucking let me go Yuji, I'm gonna..."

"That's his ex-girlfriend." Yuji says. Nothing else, just 'That’s his ex-girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend?

"I saw him talking to her right after he tried to beat up Choso," he adds.

He didn’t. That couldn’t be—

"No, he..." That couldn’t be true.

"I saw his car outside her dorm the morning after the party when I was walking over to football practice."

It took you a moment to process this information.

"He didn't..." You wanted to throw up. Maybe it was just the tequila, but there was still the tiny chance that this bizarre scene was to blame for you suddenly feeling sick to your stomach.

"Get a fucking room, you disgusting piece of shit." You hear Nobara screaming over the music while Megumi and Yue were tightly entwined, standing right in the middle of the fucking room.

You were still standing next to Yuji, leaning against the kitchen counter and if looks could kill, the two of them would probably have turned to dust by now. You stared at Megumi, watching him as his hands wandered up her thighs and ass, caressing her waist while they made out as if they were the only people in the room.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, your eyes met. 

You could swear he was looking you straight in the eye as his lips trailed down her neck. His eyes were as dark as ever, almost pitch black, and if you were being honest you couldn't be sure if he was just drunk or if he took something else. Even by his standards, the show he was putting on was truly out of character

If that was one of his sick fucking games he liked to play he definitely did not give you a heads-up. What was he trying? Getting back at you for last weekend? What was he trying to achieve? And Yue was his ex-girlfriend? How come you're only finding out now, and how did she have the audacity to even look you in the eye last weekend, let alone try to comfort you?

"You don’t threaten someone you love with a gun."

Well, good for her that he was obviously treating her completely fucking different.

He seemed unfazed by Nobara's comment, and after your brief eye contact, he closed his eyes again, focusing entirely on the blonde in front of him. 

You were almost boiling with rage and the faces you made, made it really difficult to hide your anger.

"Let go of me," you say again with such emphasis that Yuji actually let go of your wrist.

"Don't do anything stupid," he says, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"Oh, I would never." Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

'Don’t do anything stupid.' - You didn't even know what to do. For a moment you thought about going up to Yue and ripping out her ugly blonde extensions and telling Megumi how pathetic he was, but instead you did...

Nothing.

You gave Nobara and Maki a quick look, then turned on your heel and stormed out the kitchen door. The cool night air helped you to calm down and it managed to clear the chaos in your head a little.

You take a quick look around before you realize that Choso is still sitting outside with the others, who have spread out over the various seating areas on the patio.

You walk over to them with a determined stride, Kirara sees you from afar and greets you, causing Choso to turn around in your direction. He was sitting comfortably in a two-seater and as he looked at you, you immediately notice his heavy eyelids and dark red eyes. You smile at him and as soon as he realizes it was you, a wide grin appears on his lips.

He makes some room for you, but before he could move to the side you were already sitting next to him, leaning against him, your legs casually stretched across his lap. Not averse to the sudden physical contact, he puts his arm, which had been resting on the back of the two-seater, around your waist and his other hand on your thigh.

"Hi," he says quietly, "what took you so long?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me," you whisper back, "your brother really hates tequila and I felt bad for making him do shots with me."

Choso laughs, not asking any more questions. 

"But I’m here now," you say, placing a hand on his chest, "guess I missed you."

"Did you smoke already?", you tease, looking up at him.

"Well, do I look like it?", he asks, that big grin not leaving his lips.

"Mhm, couldn’t tell," you lie while trying your best to hide your feelings from him.

You turn to look at the others and notice that Kirara is watching you. Gojo also looks at you from time to time, his gaze wandering from Choso's hand on your thigh to your hand on his chest. He raises an eyebrow, but you ignore him.

"Hi, y/n," Kirara says with a warm smile on their lips, "how are you? I missed you in class this week."

You could feel that they was really just concerned about you. After all, Kirara had been at the party last weekend as well.

"Yes, I'm better, I think," you answer and try to fake a smile, "Thanks for asking.

Kirara smiles at you again, "I can send you all the important stuff we did. It's not much though."

You watch as Hakari pulls them closer to him, his large body making them look so much smaller in comparison. Hakari and Kirara were one of your two favourite couples, the other one being Yuta and Maki, of course. He adored Kirara and wasn’t afraid to show that every chance he got.

You hear Getou clear his throat and you turn your gaze away from the two to look at him. You see that he is holding a joint out to you.

"You want some?", he asks and you politely decline.

"Oh, no, I think I need to chill for a bit." You smile at him. Your head was already spinning and you couldn't handle the sensation of another drug right now.

"Come on, you've got to try it, Hakari brought the good stuff," Gojo says, making you think for a moment before you reach out for Getou's hand.

"You're so easy to convince," you hear Gojo snort. He grins at you as you take a drag, but you just stick out your tongue.

"Or, maybe you’re just really convincing," you tell him, taking another drag before passing it to Choso.

"I'll remind you who's easy later tonight," Getou says, coming to your defence. You and the others break into laughter at his comment and watch as Gojo crosses his arms over his chest.

You hear the two of them start bickering and notice that the others, Hakari, Kirara, Nanami and Haibara, were also returning to their heated conversation.

"Did something happen in there?", Choso asks a little while later. He was observant even when he wasn't. Of course he had noticed something. You sigh, Hakari has just handed you the joint again and you hold it between your fingers. You take a drag, then a second one.

"Yeah," you say, blowing out thick, white smoke, "but I really just want to forget about it." 

It had already worked. Since you went outside, you had pushed the thought of Megumi and Yue far away from you. It was all so confusing, this time you couldn't understand what his motive could be. Of course he was angry that you had made out with Choso at the party last weekend, but you two had broken up. Why had he waited for you that night in the first place, was he really so shallow that all he wanted from you was sex? And what did he need you for anyway if he had spent the night with her after he dropped you off? 

The look he gave you earlier had been intentional. He wanted to make sure you were watching him, no doubt about that.

"It doesn't seem to be working very well," Choso says as you rest your head on the arm he has wrapped around you. You look up at him as your hand moves to caress his cheek for a moment but as soon as you notice, you pull it back. Even though Choso doesn't seem to mind. It just felt natural, you wanted to touch him as you enjoyed the feel of his hand on your skin as well.

"Being with you helps," you say, without breaking eye contact. That was the truth. Being with him felt peaceful, you didn't have to be afraid that he would snap at any moment, at something you said or did.

You didn't even notice that Nanami and Haibara had already gone inside, presumably to leave the party. Only when Hakari puts out the joint and says goodbye to take Kirara home, you look away from Choso to look at the others. 

Gojo does not make any effort to leave until Getou gets up, standing next to Gojo and looking at him expectantly.

"Come on, Satoru," you hear Getou say, "it's almost two o'clock, we have training tomorrow."

"Yes, but not until ten," the man with the white hair replies, not understanding why he should move now. Getou gives him a meaningful look and Gojo's eyes widen as he rose to his feet.

"Oh, uh - let's see what's going on inside then, I guess," he says, propping himself up on his knees to get out of the chair he was sitting in, "see you guys." 

Getou waves goodbye before pushing Gojo in front of him towards the patio door.

You’re all alone now, besides a few people standing outside and talking. You admire the night sky for a moment while neither of you says a word. It’s so quiet outside, peaceful even.

"Just the two of us, huh?", you say as you look up at Choso. You think for another moment but then, before he's has a chance to even say anything, you kiss him.

Choso wasn’t exactly surprised and instead kissed you back. His hand, which had just rested on your thigh, moved a little further up until it cupped your ass, moving up under your tiny skirt in a swift motion. 

You put your hand on his chest to support yourself and Choso pulls away for a brief moment. 

"You're so beautiful," he mutters, looking down at you through heavy eyelids and making you giggle, "I missed you." 

Then, your lips meet again. You move to straddle his lap, now sitting on top of him you were the one looking down at him.  

"You’re not so bad yourself, y’know," you whisper into his ear as you cradle his face in your hands, your thumb gently caressing the split in his lip.

When he said he missed you, you knew what he meant. 

Because you did, too.

Last weekend wasn't the first time you two had kissed. When Megumi had broken up with you, Maki had to study for some important exams and you had forbidden her from rotting with you in your depression cave. To make it easier for her, you had taken yourself out for a few evenings to Yuji’s place. He welcomed you with open arms in his new apartment, which he had just moved into with his brother. This was also the first time you got to know Choso properly, away from parties or those few casual encounters on campus.

It started innocently enough, your movie nights, the two of them watching every romcom with you that you had picked out beforehand. However, Yuji usually had training the next day, so he had to go to bed early. Choso promised to drive you home later, and as soon as Yuji disappeared into his room, you moved on to other things. He showed you some new songs, and sometimes a friend  of his would come over and Choso would sell him some weed. 

And at the end of the night you would find yourself spread out on his black leather couch, with his head buried between your thighs. 

It became a habit until Maki's exams were done and she wanted to spend more time with you.

You were glad that the couch you were sitting on had its back to the window in the kitchen, protecting you from the prying eyes of those who went outside to smoke or enjoy the cool night air. As you climbed onto Choso's lap, your skirt had risen up quite high, almost to your waist but you were past the point of caring what others would think.

You’re planting small kisses up his neck and jaw, watching him and how he enjoyed having you in his embrace. After a little while he pulls you into another kiss, this time you’re feeling exactly how hungry he was for you. You bite down on his bottom lip, hard, before you pull away for a moment to gasp for air. While you were grinding down on him, you could feel the thin fabric of your panties slowly getting coated with your slick as you were searching for some kind of friction. 

"How about…", you pause, while kissing his neck up to his earlobe, feeling him slowly but surely getting hard beneath you.

"How about we take this inside, maybe look for an empty room?", you finish your sentence.

You didn't have to ask twice before Choso had already grabbed you. He had one arm around your waist, his other hand digging into your hips while you let out a little squeal before wrapping your legs around his middle. He carried you a few steps until he gently set you down in front of the door into the kitchen.

"You’re going to have to walk real close in front of me," he mutters into your ear as he turns you around to take the lead. You could feel how hard he was already as he was pressed up against you and you couldn’t help but giggle at his remark. 

"I promise they’ll be way too drunk to notice," you say, "but let’s get inside and help you with that." 

***

"Shit—" You hear Choso curse under his breath as he was standing behind you, pumping his dick in his fist a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. He had you bent over the bathroom sink right in front of him, his other hand digging into the flesh of your hips, surely leaving bruises on your skin.

You hear a loud bang at the door, but decide to ignore it. The person could find another bathroom, you were sure the house was big enough to have a few other options. As the person knocks a second time, this time even louder than the first, you feel Choso getting impatient.

"What the—", he mutters, turning towards the door. "Fuck off," he shouts, getting distracted for just a second while you were so desperate for him to fuck you already. You scoot your ass back against him, feeling the leaking tip of his cock sliding through your dripping wet folds and turning his attention back to you.

"Hold - fuck - hold still," he groans before pushing you down with his hand on your back, holding you in place so you were unable to squirm under his touch. 

"How about you hurry up a bit?", you tease from underneath him, earning yourself a slap on your ass almost immediately. You jerk forward a little, not expecting him to do that, but enjoying the stinging sensation to your skin all the same.

You let out a small moan as he pulls you back up against his chest, cupping your breast with one hand while pinching your nipple, "You’re in a hurry now, huh?", he groans and without giving you another heads-up, he pushes into you slowly. 

He was stretching you out already without even being all the way in, locking eyes with you in the mirror before bottoming out completely, letting out a loud groan as he did.

Choso watches as your lips formed an O, needy moans escaping your mouth while he is thrusting into your wet pussy at a devilishly slow pace. You could feel the perfect curve and every ridge of his dick, stretching you out so well before he pulls out almost entirely, just the tip prodding at your needy hole.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. His hand squeezes your breasts and you moan at his request, his low voice going straight to your core, making you even wetter than you already were.

"Tell me, did you miss me?," he groans, not breaking eye contact with you, "did you miss my dick?" He plants kisses down your neck and before you could give him an answer he pushes into you again, picking up his pace this time. You cry out at the sudden sensation, the stretch making your eyes roll back while loud moans were falling from your lips. 

"I miss— fuck…", you whine, "'missed you, 'missed your cock inside of me" You had to grab onto the edge of the sink, unable to form another thought besides how good it felt to have him bully his dick into you. 

"Please…", you beg as he continues to fuck into you, holding your trembling body tight against his own.

He watches how your body reacts to him as he was pounding in and out of your pussy relentlessly, your walls squeezing down on his cock so hard he had to use everything he had to not cum into you right then and there. 

"Look at you," he moans right into your ear, "look at yourself taking this dick so fucking good." 

His hand that was just digging into the soft skin of your hips moves further down, his fingers meeting your slick just seconds after. His thumb starts drawing harsh circles on your clit, earning  him a few loud moans that fell from your lips.

"Fuck— Choso, right there, plea—", you whine, eyes squinted shut, "please, 'wanna cum - fuck— don’t stop." 

"I said look at yourself," Choso groans into your ear as you suddenly feel him pulling his hand away, forcing you to obey him and open your eyes. You swallow at the reflection you see in the mirror in front of you.

You were already looking so fucked out, mascara smeared along your undereyes. Your tiny denim skirt was dangling around your waist and that high neck, sleeveless crop top was pulled up above your breasts, squeezing them together. 

"Good girl," he praises, pressing a kiss to your sticky temple while his fingertips continue to rub and pinch at your clit without any mercy. You cry out, louder than anticipated, and watch how tears start to prickle in the corners of your eyes. 

It was too much for you, you were barely able to contain yourself beneath him and you felt yourself getting tighter around him with every harsh thrust of his hips against your ass. Thank god the music outside was so loud, the heavy bass lining up with the lewd noises the both of you made. 

"Shit - you’re getting so fucking tight," he grunts before you hear low moans falling from his lips, "you wanna cum, pretty girl?"

All you can do is whine in response, as you already lost your ability to form meaningful sentences a while ago. "I’m gonna - gonna—", you cry, brows knit together at the overwhelming feeling of him hitting your cervix over and over again. 

You watch how Choso stares at you through the reflection in the mirror, your body almost going limp as you feel your core tightening and the only thing you were being able to do was moan his name, again and again.

"Then cum for me, babygirl," he whispers, his fingertips circling your nipples and pinching your swollen clit while he fucks into your throbbing cunt, getting you closer and closer to your release, until…

"There you go," Choso coos as he feels your walls pulsating around him. Your fingernails claw and scratch at the arm that he had wrapped around you, while you were trying to hold onto something, anything…

Then your orgasm washes over you and it made your thighs shake almost immediately. Choso doesn't stop fucking you through your overwhelming peak, giving you no time to breathe until he finally cums into you as well, thick ropes of hot and sticky cum painting your pussy white while  you had your eyes closed again and you hear him moan into your ear.

You lean back against his muscular chest as the two of you try to catch your breath, raspy moans and small whimpers fall from both of your mouths while neither of you was able to say anything.

You shiver as Choso slides out of you, goosebumps prickling across your body, before he turns you around and you open your eyes to look at him. Your cheeks were flushed and your legs almost too weak to stand on, but you manage to pull your top down, covering yourself up as Choso presses a kiss to your lips. 

He helps adjusting your skirt after you put your panties back on, stumbling against him as you were standing on one leg.

"Careful—", he says and catches you, almost giving you a Déjà vu. 

"You alway got my back, huh?", you ask playfully while you’re trying to fix your hair and makeup in the mirror. 

"Doing my best," he chuckles, pulling up his pants and putting on the hoodie he took off earlier. The shirt he was wearing underneath had stains at the bottom - well, his fault for not taking it off as well. "Let’s get out before they break in the door."

You reach for your bag, now that you can stand in your knee-high boots without holding on to anything, and just as you are about to head for the door, Choso beats you to it.

He holds the door knob as he looks down at you.

"Hey, let’s do that again sometime," he grins and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, "and text me if you want me to get you home."

"You're a gentleman after all," you say and take his hand, grinning as you stand on your tiptoes to give him another kiss on the cheek. "Actually, 'lemme just find Nobara and tell her I’m leaving, I won’t be taking long," you mutter before pulling back. 

"I’ll wait outside for you," Choso says after the both of you have left the bathroom. Not a lot of people were still left and those who were, were not paying attention to the both of you. You feel him squeeze your hand once more before he lets go of it and disappears into the hallway. 

***

You try and make your way into the kitchen, as a familiar voice startles you.

"Stop using my brother to make him jealous," Yuji says, his voice unusually cold as he suddenly pulls up behind you.

You freeze and turn around, slowly.

"What?", you ask, not willing to believe what you’ve just heard. 

"I'm sorry, y/n, but you heard me right," He was serious. Where had he suddenly come from? Had he seen or... heard you? 

"It’s not - it’s not like that, I mean, I," you stammered, completely taken by surprise, "I’m not using Choso."

"Honestly, Y/N, I don't care what you say, I care about my brother, and all you've been doing lately is destroying yourself. You don't give a fuck about your friends, we're always here for you, and yet you go back to him every chance you get."

Ouch.

You could tell he was drunk. This was unusual for him, he was an athlete and although he liked to go to parties, he rarely drank alcohol himself, apart from a few shots for fun. And it took a lot to get Yuji drunk, you were speaking from experience.

The words that came out of Yuji's mouth hurt you. He was right, but none of your friends had called you out on your bullshit yet.

"I can't save you, Y/N. I've given up on that, but don't drag Choso into this. He has no bad intentions and he would actually treat you well, I know you don't want that." Yuji was so serious and you couldn't even argue with him because he was right.

"Your brother is a grown man," you reply coldly, not even able to look him directly in the eyes.

"Yeah, exactly, he’s a man. Plus - he likes you." 

It wasn't as if you denied the way Choso looked at you with absolute adoration in his eyes. You knew he would move heaven and earth if you asked him for something, and even if he wasn't pushy, you could count on him. He was thoughtful and gentle, he knew what you liked and didn't like, and sex with him was fun, so what exactly were you missing?

"Listen, Yuji, this in none of your business," you say, trying your best to keep your calm, "I don’t need saving and your brother is perfectly capable of looking after himself, so—"

"Yeah, whatever," Yuji barks, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand that you only noticed now, "don't come back crying if he hits you again."

Wow. 

You watch him leave as you realize that you've never seen your best friend so upset. You take a step back, startled by the feel of the wall behind you. You feel your way along the cold wall, down the dimly lit hallway, not sure where you want to go, but you wanted to get away from here. Looking for a door to get out, you pass a few couples making out. 

You push down the door handles of a number of locked rooms and people coming towards you bumped into you. Some of them apologise, others look you up and down, whistling or shouting something at you, but your tunnel vision prevented you from noticing anything. 

You had your guard down while the things Yuji had said to you played over and over in your head. 

Just as you reached the door at the end of the corridor, it was a glass door and you could see the starry night sky through it, someone slammed you hard into the wall. You were pushed into the chest of a much taller person who opened the door to your right with one hand and pushed you in with the other. 

"Hey—", you protested, but you had no chance. The man was much stronger than you and at least two heads taller. The familiar scent that rose to your nostrils as you were pressed against his chest set off alarm bells ringing in your head. 

And as you looked up, even the last doubts you naively had were erased.

"Megumi…", you gasp, and immediately try to get a few steps between the both of you. You hear him lock the door behind him and you instantly feel like a cornered animal. Your eyes scan the room for ways to escape, but unless you wanted to climb out the window, the door was the only way out. 

He looked you straight in the eye, all emotion gone from his face. It was obvious that you, on the other hand, were scared. You hadn't seen anyone outside and you were alone in some guest bedroom that was located in a part of the house where you couldn’t even hear anymore music playing.  

You clutched your bag and pulled your big leather jacket, which you had put on on the way out, tightly around you.

As if that would somehow protect you.

Megumi was still standing by the door, motionless. The grin on his lips never reached his eyes as he stared at you.

"I heard you were having fun in there," he says as you watch him closely.

Fuck.

"Yeah, and I want to leave now," you reply, trying your best to contain your voice, "why don’t you go back to Yue and leave me alone?" 

"Mhm." He seems like he’s thinking about it for a moment. "I don’t think so."

You gather all your courage as you decide to walk towards him.

"Cut your bullshit, Megs," you demand, "let me out of here."

He grabs you roughly as you try to reach for the door, pushing you back into the room.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?", you hiss, not willing to hold back anymore.

"You show up here, with your ex-girlfriend, making out with her, in front of me, in front of all my friends, and when you don't get the reaction you want, you jump me?" You almost yell at him and he was still just standing there in front of you with no reaction.

"I'm not doing this anymore Megumi, this isn't one of your little games anymore," you add, on the verge of tears, "why are you doing this to me?"

"I'll do whatever I want to you," his voice was as calm as always, scaring the living shit out of you as he walks towards you.

"I don't care about Yue, she was just, well, there," he says, watching you closely, "I wanted to know if you meant any of what you were saying last weekend, but as soon as your cute ego gets hurt you’re letting the next best guy fuck you in the bathroom."

You feel tears prickling in your eyes, and your attempts to blink them away only cause them to trickle down your cheeks.

"Oh," he mocks you, "now you’re crying." 

"Fuck you," you hiss and wipe the tears from your face. 

When he was standing right in front of you, you could smell not only his familiar scent, but also the smell of alcohol as he spoke to you. He was tense, you could feel it, and in the darkness his eyes looked almost pitch black as he stared at you.

"Watch how you talk to me," he says through clenched teeth, "just because you can't stand that you act like a fucking slut every time, just to get my attention."

What he said made you cry even more and you didn't bother trying to wipe off the tears anymore.

"I don’t wanna talk to you right now," you sob, but of course he doesn’t care what you want.

"But I wanna talk to you," he barks, grabbing you by your wrists as you try to shuffle away from him, "what is it about him that you go back for a second and a third, huh? Want me to beat him up for good this time?"

He was squeezing your wrists so hard that it hurt. 

"I’ll kill him if he ever touches you again," he spits, "fucking dirty whore."

You weren't sure what hurt more, his words, or the way he twisted your arms to bring you closer to his face.

"Shut the fuck up and leave me alone," you manage to get out, "you’re pathetic. I don’t need you."

You try to break free of his grip a second time, only this time he lets go of you to push you away from him. He does this with such force that you lose your balance and stumble backwards into the bed frame, which was now right behind you.  

You land on the mattress and before you know it, you feel his hand clench around your throat, pulling you up to his eye level again. You have to stand on your tiptoes to take some of the pressure off your neck.

He didn’t squeeze much but it still hurt. His grip was strong as ever and you couldn't move, so you stayed still, hoping he wouldn't hurt you any more.

You grimaced in pain and tried to look him straight in the eye. Somehow he had to realize what he was doing, didn't he? He was delirious and that frightened you. You knew this kind of situation all too well and it made you freeze. There was nothing you could do about it, you could only beg him to stop or try and keep still.

"Megumi, please, I’m sorry, you’re— you’re right," you sob, cheeks wet with tears, "just let me go, please…"

Suddenly you feel his hand tighten around your throat, but you don't realize it until he grabs you  by your neck and slams you right back into the mattress behind you. You have no time to react, you just feel a sharp pain as your head hits the headboard and then he finally presses down hard on your throat. You're helpless, gasping for air, barely able to process what he's just done.

"You’re such a fucking whore, Y/N," he fumes, shaking you and pushing you even deeper into the mattress, "you deserve to get treated exactly like the little fucking slut you are."

You whimper and cry, while hearing the blood rushing through your ears as you struggle against his grip.

Panic rises in you and you feel your eyes begin to sting with more hot tears running down your cheeks. In your desperate struggle you feel your muscles ache and your body give in, the shock knocking the last bit of air out of your lungs and you can't breathe, you know you're about to pass out.

"Tell me again who’s pathetic?" His face was right next to yours as he whispered into your ear.

You couldn't stop crying, even though you couldn't even make a sound. You were sure he was going to kill you this time. 

You had to fight back, but he was so much stronger than you.

"Megumi…", you groan.

"I— I need to—", you cough, desperately trying to claw at his arms, "breathe…please…stop—"

You cry and plead and try to free yourself, all while your strength slowly but surely leaves your body. And then, just milliseconds before you were about to lose consciousness, you feel the air flowing back into your lungs. 

You're so out of breath, coughing and choking and crying all at the same time, while your throat burns so badly, that for a moment you're not even sure he's really let you go.

The moment he lets go of you and stands up, you pull your legs towards you and crawl as far away from him as you can, putting your hands around your neck for protection, pulling the high-neck of your top up over the bruises that were probably already starting to form. 

You shake uncontrollably and can hardly stop crying, while he just stands there watching you. You wrap your arms around your legs, concentrating on your breathing as your body continues to shake.

Then he turns and leaves the room without another word to you.

And you wonder if this is your fault.

***

"I'm so sorry," you say, standing behind Choso after you finally found your way out of the house. He was sitting on the steps outside the main entrance, a bottle of beer in his hand, waiting for you. You snuggle into your much too large jacket as you sit down next to him.

"You've been gone for half an eternity." Choso gently nudged into your side and you wince, barely noticeable.

"Nobara was throwing up downstairs," you lie, "I couldn’t leave her."

"Oh, really," he says, you couldn't know he'd seen her leave almost an hour ago, "poor girl, I hope she's feeling better now.

You say nothing, tugging at the high neckline of your top, your legs bouncing nervously.

Choso notices and puts a hand on your thigh. You flinch again and this time he feels it.

"Are you all right?", he asks worriedly, looking at you. Your long hair hides the bruises on your neck, but what it can't hide is your blank stare, your swollen lips and your red, watery eyes.

You nod. 

"Yeah, I'm just cold," you say, trying to smile. Your throat's still hurting when you speak.

He puts the bottle to the side and shuffles closer to you. 

The both of you were sitting on the stairs for a while, neither one of you saying a single word. Choso sensed that something must have happened, but what could he do? He knew you lied to him about Nobara, so he figured you wouldn't tell him anything he didn't want to hear.

"Sometimes I just want what they have, y’know?", you sigh after a while and lean into Chosos side, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

"I know I will never find that kinda love."

You're talking about the scene that took place in front of you, a scene that caught your attention immediately. Yuta and Maki were about to leave the party together, and Maki was completely drunk. Yuta had his arm around her to manoeuvre her into the car. They both giggled while Maki tried to wrestle her boyfriend, making it harder than it had to be for the poor boy to get her home quickly.

As you look away, you notice that Yuji was sitting in the passenger’s seat with the window down.

He was getting impatient, waiting for them to finally get into the car, and as he turned to see what was taking them so long, your eyes met briefly. 

You saw him open his mouth as if to say something, but then he noticed Choso sitting next to you and he immediately turned away.

He was still mad at you.

Yuta had finally made it and Maki was sitting safe and sound in the back seat. He planted a kiss on her forehead before gently closing the door behind her and walking around the car. You looked away but he caught you watching the scene and stopped for a moment, flashing you both a smile before he waved goodbye, got into the car and drove off.

"What do you mean?" you hear Choso's voice after you have sat in silence for another while. The car disappeared and you just stared into the distance, trying to find the right words.

"I don't know, there's just no...", you pause for a moment, thinking how pathetic you're going to sound, "there's just no darkness."

That's it. Everything about their relationship was genuine, they cared for each other. There was not a hint of jealousy, no one was trying to control or manipulate the other.

"It's just sweet, they're just... sweet," you swallow, feeling so vulnerable in that moment, "they don't hate each other, there's just so much love. I don't know if that would ever be enough for me. Doesn't it get boring?"

Once again, you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm going crazy," you mumble.

None of you says a word after that. At some point, you lift your head from Choso's shoulder to look at him, almost as if you want him to say something.

"You’re not," he says, his voice sounding determined.

"I mean, you're pretty fucked up, but you're not crazy." Choso pulls two cigarettes out of a pack and hands you one, lighting yours first. He stuffs the pack back into his jacket and takes a few puffs, immediately blowing the smoke out into the cool night air before turning back to you,

"I don’t fuck with insane chicks, learned my lesson." 

He nudges your side again to make sure you understand that he was joking, but you were already too far up in your head. You smoke your cigarette, breathing in the smoke as if it might bring you some kind of clarity.

"I think I'm going to get back together with him," you whisper, almost as if you don't want to hear what's coming out of your own mouth.

Choso does not answer. 

Of course he doesn’t. 

What was he supposed to say? He didn't know what exactly was going on between you and him, but at this point he knew that there was something, at least from his side. It was unfair of you to talk to him about it, of all people, and at the same time he knew that you couldn't talk to anyone else at the moment.

"Y/n, tell me, what do you want to hear from—" 

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"It's a mistake, right?"

"Don't do it, just…", he pauses and takes a drag, "don't do it."

"I don't know if I can help it," you tell him, sounding defeated. 

Inhaling, you feel what you had been blocking out all along. Your throat hurts. The cigarette smoke that keeps pouring into your lungs only makes it worse, and the sudden pain in your chest when you inhale too deeply makes you wince.

You knew that those bruises would form. Like splashes of blue and green paint they would cover your neck, spreading all around your throat. 

Choso doesn’t reply to this, either. 

His head was hanging low. Not because he was disappointed or pissed off that he wasn’t able to make another move on you tonight, but because he was afraid to lose you. 

Because he knew he couldn’t really do anything to save you.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I do or the rest of the world does, really," he sighs and pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting you rest your head against his chest. He wanted to say so much more but he stopped himself before opening his mouth. 

He knew it wouldn’t change a thing. 

@bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9 @arminsgfloll @chifuyusfingers @kokonoiscoconut thx for motivating me to keep on writing <3

[naughtynoodle056]

oh wtf did they mean by that like .. your characters are obviously Black - you could post just the lineart and it'd be obvious??

okay first of all I LAUGHED when I read this ask because I literally feel the exact same way, but allow me to take you and the rest of my followers on this journey that has made me decide I'm a villain now. Buckle up, this post will be lengthy xD.

Person (not artist) confused my OC Shay (the girl right next to Leo) for my OC Xander (the boy on the far left). I got really frustrated because I chose Shay to sit next to Leo in this piece SPECIFICALLY to drive home the contrast in weight and that even though Shay is in a baggyish hoodie, you can still tell she's slim compared to Leo.

I asked if I was just going crazy or if these people mixing them up werre either 1) visually impaired somehow or looked at this for 0.2 seconds because these are obviously not the same person?? an IRL said that Xander and Shay looked too similarly because of their hair and body type and SKIN TONE and I was like. First of all, 2000s emo kids often had similar hair, that's kind of the fucking point here. Second of all, Shay is obviously shorter and skinny and Xander is CLEARLY on the chubbier sie, so what the fuck are you yapping about? and FInally. SKIN COLOR??? SKIN COLOR??????

Here is this same exact piece but with the lighting effects turned off. Just loud and wrong as fuck

So aforementioned artist offers their constructive criticism that was this

and like no offense but the longer I thought about it the more pissed off I got because first of all,

I LITERALLY DO????? and second of all and the reason I'm evil now is that they don't. RECENTLY they actually drew a black person, but it was still a frustratingly ambiguously black person.

Like what does this even mean bro my art style is like ALL SHAPES?? Like I'm really glad you said what you said in this ask because you're so right, you CAN tell my characters are black or otherwise POC just by the lineart. You cannot do that with the artist that gave that criticism. and then they doubled down when people called them out on how wack of a criticism it was and that they were wrong. I won't be naming them by name publicly because like I said before, I will look like the smaller bitter artist that can't take criticism from this BIG POPULAR WELL MEANING artist, but it felt like they were throwing stones from a glass house at a BRICK ONE.

I was also told my art "has a lot of potential" which is the polite way of saying "your art is mid", generally speaking lmaO.

At the end of the day, it felt like they were making huge sweeping judgements of my art and offering criticsm that was like?? unwarranted and felt more like them outting themselves as never giving my art more than just a passing glance because I dont draw 800+lb fatties constantly. Which is fine, you don't have to look at my art. But don't fucking give me criticism that not only doesn't apply to me, but you don't even follow yourself. Its kind of like if an abled bodied artist who NEVER draws anyone with visible disabilities told a visibly disabled artist that DOES draw a myriad of disabled folks in a loving way that they aren't doing enough and then doubling down with "All criticism is fair critism".

I don't think I'm the best artist in the world or in this kink community, but I know one thing for sure. I'm one of the most consistent at drawing black people in a way that's obvious and with lots of love, so don't you EVER fucking imply I don't do enough while your black people just look like color pallete swaps. Don't come for me on that regard if you have never drawn afro textured hair. And no, I WON'T just roll over and accept that "most feedists favor white or pale eastern asain people". I'd rather die a niche artist who actually gives a shit about representation than to just grovel to people that would not respect me because of my race.

[respectthepetty]

So, I saw your post about the JoongDunk, PondPhuwin, ForceBook ultimate gym bros bl. And I had a very important question.

If, hypothetically, gmmtv were to actually make this a thing. What would you want their color coding to be like? Even, how would you want their color coding to change as the fall in love?

Feel free to be as specific or generic as you like! I'm just very curious about the idea 👀

I have eighty million things to do, Anon, yet here I am, excited to answer this question, immediately! *pushes all my responsibilities to the side* There are no pictures because I'm being wild today and doing this from my WORK COMPUTER!

First, the premise of my Gym Bros BL, tentatively called

Flex Appeal

*I'm using the actors' names, but this is about their characters, not them. Force owns a gym. He has trainers Dunk, Joong, and Pond. Book and Phuwin work together at a food marketing company, so they eat a lot of snacks throughout the day. Phuwin wants to start working out and drags Book along. Dunk and Joong are super competitive, but it's all really them flirting with each other. Pond instantly likes Phuwin, but Phuwin thinks he is nothing but a meathead until he realizes Pond is super smart and kind. Book likes Force and starts bringing him tasty treats from the office during the workout sessions since he notices Force never leaves to eat properly. We could have cameos from other people who workout or companies trying to market their food. We could have Force trying to keep his business open, and Book helping him with marketing. WE COULD HAVE GYM QUEERS!

Now for the colors:

Dunk and Joong - Red Rascal and Green Guy. Dunk has the Red Rascal look aka beautiful. His character would always be up to some tomfoolery, and Joong as the chill Green Guy would always be down to join in on the shenanigans. I call them my troublesome tykes for a reason, and I think their natural personalities would easily lead to characters who are the matchmakers of the group too. Like constantly setting up situations for the other pairs to fall in love while unknowingly falling in love themselves.

Pond and Phuwin - Pond is a Blue Boy in this imagined series. He falls quickly for Phuwin and is devoted to winning him over. He is good with his hands and very intelligent when it comes to building, like say for props for an ad that Phuwin needs help with. Phuwin on the other hand is a Yellow/Orange Oddity. He is creative and works in the visuals area of the marketing department. He likes to talk and Pond likes to listen even if Pond doesn't understand it all. He wears glasses.

Force and Book - Give them the dark versus light dynamic. Force is a Brooding Boy, in black most of the time because his life has been rough, which is easy since it'll be black tanks, black shorts, black car. Yum. Then, Book is the Happy Human in his cream and white cardigans with khaki pants or some basic boy attire. Force will teach Book to take risks, and Book will open Force's heart!

Cameos:

Mix works at the company with Book and Phuwin, but he is a higher-up who we see three times. He mentions his boyfriend goes to this gym nearby, which gives the boys the idea to try it out.

Earth is the boyfriend who shows up occasionally at the gym. He never speaks. I just need to see his back tattoos.

Fourth and Gemini can play baby interns at the company who just randomly pop in with the wrong orders of coffee and the wrong mail for people.

Neo is an asshole from another rival gym who is a meathead and Phuwin's ex (see what I did there people who have been around since Neo x Phuwin?).

Louis works in the IT department, and we see him exactly once when Phuwin has to go ask for help with his work computer, and Louis notices an old picture of Phuwin with Neo on it.

Papang is the guy constantly getting hit on at the gym. It's a running joke throughout the show, but in the second-to-last episode, his HUSBAND shows up to drop off his phone since he left it at home, and it's revealed to be Mark, who appeared earlier in the season as an up-and-coming baker who the company is trying to woo, which is why Papang works out all the time since he loves his man's baked goods. Neither wears the ring because rings should not be worn when working out or baking.

Book convinces Mark to come out with a line of healthy after-workout snacks, Force is used as the model, and his gym sees a rise in customers since his gym is the only place to get these snacks, and EVERYONE WINS!

I have spent a lot of time thinking about my gym bros bl. I need it like I need air. These men are too built to let it go to waste. Film them in a gym. Just let the camera roll and half of the footage would be just them bs-ing with each other. It's a win-win for everyone involved including the audience.

[chrissdollie]

I SAW THAT YOU WERE DOING THE MOOD BOARDS/SCRAP BOOKS AND I WANT ONE PLEASE!!

can I please get a mood board!!

my name is Fay and i want to be paired with Chris

i like to swim, sing, cook, read, and watch movies/shows

ENFP personality

im a yapper and I'm extremely extroverted and hyperactive, I love making people laugh and try to treat everyone kindly

100% a girls girl

My favorite flowers are pink tulips and white roses

My favorite animals are cats and swans

My favorite colors are pink & white

my favorite songs as of right now are "good graces", "Juno", "Bed chem", - sabrina carpenter. and "Sofia" - clairo, "wildflower" -billie eilish (you can use any lyrics from any of those songs I don't mind!!)

any picture of Chris smiling is fine with me!!

I CANT WAIT TO SEE IT OMGGGGGGGG please tag me when you post it!

hehe hi fay!! i hope u like itt (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) @sturniowhore

🥛 DOLLIE MAGAZINE 🎀

VOLUME 001: LOML Looks ! page two

light academia moodboard + chris hcs for fay! 🕯️🍨🐈📖

you and chris get along super well! your bubbly and hyper traits drew him towards you almost immediately.

yap sessions!! i could see u guys talking about anything for long periods of time without any distractions. there's definitely late night talks but also times where you could be surrounded by other people like your friends, nick, matt, etc and chris would prefer ranting to you than anyone else :(

u like to swim + chris does as well and omgomg just think of all the silly stuff he'd do. definitely the type of person to start splash wars, see who could make it to the other end of the pool faster, taking pics of u in goofy goggles !!!!

binge watching shows constantly. and u both talk during them too lmaoo. most people would find it annoying but sometimes chris doesn't understand what just happened so u explain it hehe

^ i also think watching shows tg would stir up plenty of inside jokes. specifically mocking a character's actions ! u could be hanging out w/ nick on the sofa and chris would come over to u, oddly slap ur cheek (SOFTLY of course), point his finger at you, and say "no, bad!" and nick is like wtf

^ this is in reference to a not so popular show called dexter LMFAOO

your tastes in music definitely clash a bit but he'd probably randomly mix some of ur fav songs into his playlist just bcuz c:

cook for him PLEASE!!!!! that boy orders doordash far too often and he's basically best buddies with the delivery guy atp

i chose that pic of him holding cats in ur moodboard bcuz think of adopting kitties with him eek!! would probably say he doesn't want them at first but then is obsessed with their soft fur + playfulness

[solarmorrigan]

Desperate to know more about Steve's mom and Steve having OCD - ej mrbutchdyke/theysherobinbuckley

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET TO, but bless you (no christo) for asking about Steve's mom @theysherobinbuckley

(The OCD one was answered here)

This one started first with the idea that Steve learned his Mean Girl skills from his mom, which turned into the question "What if Steve and his mom used to be really close, but grew apart as Steve got older?" Following this came the idea that we have the usual setup: Steve's parents come home, find out he's been doing something they disapprove of, and kick him out. But instead of agreeing with his dad, or saying nothing, Steve's mom leaves with him

After that, it kind of spread into this whole story about Steve's mom actually trying to be a mom and trying to get to know her son again after realizing that he's gone out and had a whole life without her even noticing. And on the one hand, Steve is happy - there have been times over the last few years when he's been scared and alone and just really wanted his mom, and here she is! But on the other hand, he's pushing against the feeling that maybe it's too little, too late - where was she when he needed her? Why does she think she can just swoop in now and try to be a good mom?

I also named her Barbara because it just really suited her, and poor @azure7539arts (who is practically a co-creator of this character, at this point) has had to talk me out of renaming her on at least four separate occasions because I'm constantly worried she'll get mixed up with Barb Holland

It's something I'd really like to finish one day, but in the meantime, here's a bit of what I have written!

Barbara Harrington never wanted to be a mother. She never thought she was cut out for it – the caring, the mess, the noise. It’s not her. But that’s what you do, right? You meet a rich, handsome man, marry him, and secure your place in his life by popping out a kid. So that’s what she does. She marries Richard Harrington and gets pregnant (yes, in that order). She’s doted on during her pregnancy – by Richard, by family members, by the other elites of Hawkins. She’s radiant, she’s glowing (she’s miserable; pregnancy sucks). And then she gives birth to Steven. (And thank god it’s a boy on the first go around; Barbara has no doubt that Richard would have wanted to try again and again until he got the son he so clearly wanted, but she is most certainly Done With All That. No more pregnancy for her.) Barbara hires a nanny to care for Steven—little Steve—as soon as they get home, immediately and without shame. She isn’t too proud to admit that she has no idea what she’s doing when it comes to babies; she’d glanced through the new parenting books she’d been given during her baby shower and put them back down once her anxiety started mounting after the first five pages. In fact, if she were to tell the truth, she’s kind of terrified. He’s just so small. He’s completely helpless and defenseless and fucking small. She holds him and she’s afraid she’ll break him. (She’s afraid she won’t be enough.) But as Steve ages, something odd happens. He develops a personality. Like, who knew kids did that?

[sotwk]

Writers Truth or Dare Ask Game - SotWK Answers

Link to game is HERE,

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

I was in 4th grade and my friends and I really wanted to date the Backstreet Boys. We discovered fanfiction was the most fun way to do it. We would write our lil’ self-insert love stories in notebooks that we would pass around and share. 

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Pumped Up Pop. I’m a 90s kid and Pop runs deep in me. 

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I don’t think anything can be considered weird for a writer doing research anymore. But one thing I remember working extra hard on was researching how to pilot a jet for a Marvel action fic. That’s why I admire and commiserate with @scyllas-revenge for her helicopter piloting scene in BLCI. 

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

Mix of both. Reader Inserts to make others happy, OC fics to make myself happy. 

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I would write an entire essay explaining this one, but in the SotWK AU, Elvenking Thranduil and Elvenqueen Maereth are metaphorical avatars for the Valar couple Oromë and Vána, and were destined to be such (as they were destined for each other). The qualities they each possess which make them similar to these Valar--Thranduil's strength and skill as a protector/warrior and Maereth's gifts for nurturing and fertility--are what safeguard and sustain Eryn Galen for thousands of years, holding their people fast even against Sauron.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis 

@talesfuzzy is constantly on my notifs since she likes so many of my posts on a daily basis. She also reblogs some of the best Tolkien content, which I often put into my own queue. We don't really talk, but she's like that friendly person you see on your daily commute whose name you might not know but you smile and nod to each other till they've become a comfortingly reliable part of daily life.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I would LOVE a thrilling action fic where Thranduil and all five Thranduilion Princes march into battle at the same time and completely crush the enemy because there is possibly no greater or more fearsome fighting team left in Middle-earth. However, such a plot would violate my own AU’s headcanon, because in Thranduil’s family, there is a hard rule that the Thranduilions can never all be fighting in the same battle at once; Thranduil simply refuses to risk his family that way. 

I would hire/nominate/beg @ass-deep-in-demons to write it. If you’ve read her fic, “Under Our Darkening Skies”, you’ll know she’s the top pick for incredible and cinematic battle scenes. 

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I find myself reusing a lot of the same lines and expressions, especially when describing character emotions and actions. Sometimes I feel my writing is pedestrian and boring, especially compared to many other writers in the Tolkien fandom who have such eloquent, sophisticated styles and brilliant, creative word choices. I'm quite soppy and sentimental too, but that's just my thing. 

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Sadly, I have not had a pet since my early 20s. I had plenty of them growing up, though, including my beloved yellow Lab. Once my kids are old enough to share in pet care duties, we are definitely getting a dog. 

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

Talk to me about my Thranduilion Princes, pretty please! (There are many easy ways to be Moots with me, but this is a guarantee and the fastest way!)

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

I am lucky and grateful to have a solid band of supporters, but I want to grab this chance to send a special shout out to @achromaticerebus. She has been a big supporter of my Thranduilion Princes since she discovered them early on, she comments on ALL my Thranduil/Thranduilion stories, she gushes about them to me and with me, and her enthusiasm just keeps me motivated. She is not herself a writer, and it's so rare to find a friend so willing to just be a reader and supporter, when there's really no way to “pay back” her kindness.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Point out even just one specific detail or line of dialogue and tell me how it made you feel, your thoughts about it, or even ask a follow up question! I am most impressed when a Reader points out an Easter egg or interesting tidbit/headcanon/lore I included. I am over the moon when their comments show they are familiar with my other fics or my SotWK AU as a whole… it means they've really invested in my stuff.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

I enjoy being wholly surprised (good surprises, of course), but I don't like being told “a surprise is coming” and having to then think about it or stress out until its arrival. 

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

A work-related reminder, which is boring. So I'm gonna answer this question by sharing something I wrote in my “Scratch Dump” document that I use for my headcanon drafting: Inscribed on the blade of the sword was Mirion’s personal oath to his people, written in Silvan: “Until my last breath, I will serve.”

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

It’s probably because I’m fairly new to it (and because I enjoy the song/video), but the concept of internet friends Rickrolling each other as a prank seems so funny and wholesome to me.  

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

I made a separate post answering this HERE.

Thank you to all my awesome friends who jumped in to send me these Asks! This was fun and made me feel good about myself as a writer. Love you guys! 

@lady-of-imladris @erathene @unethicallypleistocene @fishing4stars @Hobbitwrangler @quillofspirit @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @niennawept @malzenn @melpomaenofimladris and that one Anon friend!

[misc-obeyme]

it’s 🍓 anon! i’d like to talk about my MC :)

his name is Tommy. He’s tall asf with black hair down to his waist and is missing an eye from a birth defect. he has a large scar over it from an incident when he was younger.

he’s a real sweetheart but in the “acts of service” and “quality time” ways instead of verbally expressing it or being outward with it. i wouldn’t say “tsundere”, he just genuinely doesn’t know how to express emotions most times or how to say things but he’s doing his best. he enjoys being in social areas even if he’s not super social (he likes feeling included), and blunt as hell, too.

i like the idea of him and Azzy together because you have this gorgeous demon and his… weird human bf hat is WAY too quick to try to fight anything. throw solomon in the mix and… i just think it’d be a fun trio. the three of them or Tommy and Barb is a fun dynamic too… even him and Luci… i can’t make my mind up LOL

him and Belphie got mad beef though. he definitely never forgives him for choking him out. sorry Beel.

OHHH he sounds so interesting!!

I totally get that not tsundere, but just kinda emotionally repressed lol. But if you can figure out what his expression of love is, such as with acts of service, you can tell that he feels love even if he doesn't say it! I think Asmo would pick that up pretty well, personally.

Making up your mind is soooo hard when it comes to who your MC is dating. I mean I dunno I'm sure there are people who have their one and only, but I'm constantly changing my mind about who my MC is dating lol.

But I also think it's fun to explore all the possibilities. Like maybe your MC exists in different timelines and therefore can date a different character (or group of characters) in each one!

And yeah I get it about Belphie... sorry Beel indeed lol!

[palespawn]

MUN MONDAY THURSDAY: GETTING TO KNOW YOU

respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.

roleplayer name: courtney roleplayer pronouns: she/her muse name: astarion ancunín

preferred communication: i say discord, but i'm terrible at keeping up with communication anywhere you find me. a lot of the time i read messages and think i've replied when i haven't 💀

experience: i don't remember what year i started writing but i know it's been more than a decade, damn. i've been all over the shop, from disney to star wars to marvel, where i was for a long time and i took a break when life got busy, tried a multi muse half a dozen times, the witcher, briefly dabbled in asoiaf, and then the animanga & final fantasy rpc leading up to astarion's debut ✨

preferred roleplay type: it really depends but i'm a waffler so i do prefer at least one paragraph. i like a mix of dialogue and descriptive writing, so i suck at one-liners. if we're talking genres, i'm not overly picky but i find conflict and dynamic exploration the most interesting to write. despite absolutely loving slice of life in media, i struggle to maintain interest in actually writing it out for an extended period.

pet peeves & dealbreakers: i guess breaking general rp etiquette, guilt-tripping or vague posts of course, particularly in regards to activity or engagement.

plot or memes: honestly, i'm better with memes. i can struggle to come up with plot ideas right off the bat, so memes help get the braincells going and writing juices flowing. i also find it can be a nice ice breaker if we're new mutuals!

long replies or short replies: i do prefer long replies so long as there's context and purpose, if that makes sense. i'm not going to give you five paragraphs of nothing to work with or try not to.

best time to write: i am mostly available on weekends, but the best time for me to write overall is at night. if i have the day off, i will find something else to do until then, unless i'm overloaded with muse inspo. however, overall, i'm trying to not place so much pressure on myself to be constantly dishing out replies and it's helped with keeping a hold of his muse tbfh.

are you like your muse?: i definitely think we have some similarities. i can take a little while to honestly open up to people or just drop bits of personal lore at random times lmao. i do have my own stuff that i'm working through, so i can have moments where i distance myself from people i care about. it's like tunnel vision, so i can hyperfixate on something and neglect other aspects of my life both online and offline. i can also lean into humor or sarcasm in situations i'm uncomfortable in ( ˶˘ ³˘˵)♡

tagged by: sacredflorist 🤍 tagging: @sarastuss , @darkrelic , @dekarsus , @fjaorhamr , @vydmak + anyone else who's interested!